#also gun laws has nothing to do with this

[smoothriverrocksrock]

GOD I WOULD KILL FOR TF1 DECEPTICON BEE!! The thought of him not wanting to leave Megatron alone after something so horrific warms my heart. I need a fic of them becoming friends. (do you have any more headcanons?)

I really hope to get to writing a fic for this, and I’ll definitely link it if I do! Kinda busy with other fics tho and since one is close to finishing I wanna start it after I’m done with that one

Well first and most obvious headcanon is that Bee has to have some MAJOR respect for D-16/Megatron purely because of that scene with him standing up to Sentinel. Genuinely, seeing Bee watch that had me in the theaters wondering why tf Bee would be horrified by D-16 killing him. B-127 is a better person than me because of I saw one of my friends get CARVED INTO it would be my last straw

My main idea for a Decepticon tf1 Bee story kinda looks like this (warning this gets LONG):

-He sees Megatron and the High Guard leaving, and he can’t believe it. He just got a friend group, he can’t just let it split apart! Especially not like this!

-With a quick number exchange, Bee tells Elita that he’s going with Megatron and it’s nothing personal he just wants to stay with him ok byeeeee

-Elita is kinda baffled, and Optimus absolutely takes it personally but in a sad “wait what if I’m in the wrong, oh no, now I lost two friends” way. Optimus wants to go after him and Megatron but Elita stops him. They both agree it’s probably best to give them all space and let Bee try and figure it out

-Megatron is also baffled that this guy is coming with him, but he feels relieved that at least *someone* familiar agrees with him. He won’t admit it tho, it’s a cold comfort after everything else that’s happened

-The High guard doesn’t really care rn, they just got banished (AGAIN!) and a friend of their new leader is probably good enough to keep around

-I imagine some of them are probably injured (most importantly Megatron), so Soundwave helps them highjack a train where they can take temporary shelter, get supplies/food, and rest. Starscream finds out the base got blown up and appropriately grieves about the loss of his awesome throne. Shockwave is revealed to be the best thing they have to a doctor. Rough times.

-Bee keeps trying to get Megatron to talk about what just happened, but he refuses. Bee eventually talks about how horrible sublevel 50 was because of the isolation, and promises Megatron that he won’t leave him alone

-Still cold comfort to Megatron. He just lost his longest companion, and he knows Bee could never compare. Bee also realizes this, but he’s trying his best

Lotta places the story could go from there, but I wanna keep it as a “Bumblebee inadvertently becomes the moral backbone of the Decepticons” type of story. I also wanna clarify that Bee is still totally down for murder, he just convinces Megatron to keep the guns pointed at the Quintessons for now

He also shares soooo much Decepticon gossip to Optimus and Elita, but never anything that could ever compromise the Decepticons. He’ll be like “You’ll NEVER guess what Skywarp just said today” and Elita will ask for boring stuff like “where are you based” and “are you eating enough” and Bumblebee refuses to have his friendships compromised by politics. Optimus appreciates this, and does the same. Eventually Elita will conform and send him memes

Also Soundwave and Bee become scout friends. This is the law. Bee is one of the only people who will contribute to the community playlist

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

you afabs are always so fucking defensive when youre called out for your terfism. keep defending a man who wrote about child orgies and supports jkr. terf.

Anon I genuinely sincerely hope you're having fun

[toytulini]

i made an oc thats at least nicknamed "Stupid" and im constantly thinking about what a power move that is tbh

[homunculus-argument]

Finland has mandatory military service for all able-bodied men. The summons come to every man on the year they turn 18, and your service status is visible on your government records - whether you've done your service, are yet to be summoned, or deemed excempt from service and for what reasons. Even if you're blind, deaf, in a wheelchair and cognitively impaired, you still need to show up for the evaluation, though ideally you'll already have a doctor's note for the occasion that basically just says "I mean just fucking look at this guy", and the military doctor will look at you and go "yeah" and sign you off as unfit for service for the time being.

And if you get your legal gender changed, your military status updates accordingly. When I got my gender marker changed to male in my late 20s, I automatically showed up in the government systems as an adult male who has not done military service yet, and I got summons the same year. However, back then being transgender was a diagnosis that you need a doctor's evaluation on, and being trans was one of those medical conditions that give you the option to opt out of service - in the "you can go if you think you can handle it" way, but you have no obligation to volunteer. So I didn't.

I met a friend recently who mentioned that he's going to wait a few years yet before getting his gender legally changed, so he can age out of the conscription system and avoid summons altogether. I said that I was released from service due to trans diagnosis, and asked if he can't do so as well. He said no - the law has been changed since I transitioned, and now that you no longer require a medical diagnosis to be trans, it is also not a diagnosis that'd make you excempt from the military.

So the finnish government basically just said "if you're a grown man with nothing wrong with you, then you're a grown man with nothing wrong with you. Now grab this fucking gun and do your duty for fatherland."

[reiderwriter]

hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)

A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚

Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.

Masterlist

Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were. 

“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized. 

“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight. 

“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-” 

“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.” 

The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot. 

He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans. 

“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.” 

“Turn around.” 

You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day. 

You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist. 

“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”

“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”

“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.” 

Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest. 

His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him). 

With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all. 

“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you. 

Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life. 

The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.

“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention. 

“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet. 

“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-” 

“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.” 

“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”

“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”

The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on. 

“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter. 

“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question. 

“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?” 

The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?” 

xxxxx 

A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance. 

You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime. 

You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character. 

“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave. 

Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view. 

The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair. 

A girl could dream. 

“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.” 

Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw. 

“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.

“What? Why?” 

“I don't hit women.” 

“And I do? Emily, wha-” 

But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame. 

Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?” 

“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.” 

“You make a good point, shall we begin?” 

He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?” 

You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it. 

You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane. 

There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.

“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”

He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head. 

“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight  but not bruising yet. 

“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?” 

He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs. 

“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.” 

“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.” 

He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention. 

“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little. 

You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints. 

He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again. 

“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow. 

“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes. 

“Y/N, put it down.” 

“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab. 

“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.” 

His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward. 

“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged. 

“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”

It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat. 

You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun. 

Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning. 

“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?” 

You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat. 

“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”

You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back. 

“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.” 

His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties. 

“I can tell.” 

If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute. 

“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.” 

He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach. 

“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.” 

His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better. 

Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers. 

A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor. 

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun. 

“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.” 

He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you. 

“Yes, yes, please touch me.” 

The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently  urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue. 

The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table. 

You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.  

Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy. 

“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure. 

The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you. 

“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.” 

You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window. 

“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path. 

“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…” 

Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free. 

You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick. 

As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple. 

“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.” 

Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release. 

But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him. 

“If you need something, use your words, Agent.” 

“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged. 

The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting. 

“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls. 

Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster. 

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. 

His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair. 

“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-” 

“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck

“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.” 

Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms. 

“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?” 

[marvellous1917]

Icarus

(Part 1)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x tattoo artist!reader

Summary: you come home from work, only to find a mob boss in your house looking for your roommate.

Warnings: mentions of a gun, mentions of arms and drug trafficking, murder, kidnapping, torture, swearing, tattoos, gambling, think that’s it

A/n: I’m a simple girl. Mob!Bucky makes my brain go whurrrrrr. This is pure self service because I have this tattoo lol. Been along time guys what’s up?

————

“Late night?” The deep voice came from the dark.

“Holy-” fear spiked through your heart from the unfamiliar sound, your arms dropping the bags and your back crashing into the closed front door, “-who.. who are you?” You asked the unfamiliar voice. Turning slightly you see the long haired, leather covered man sat in the dining room. His left arm rested on the table, the prosthetic shining, the light from the street lamp outside shining through the window. His face was half shrouded in darkness, the other half showed his eyes, a little confused but also amused.

“You’re not Caleb.” He replied, sitting back in the chair, tilting his head to the side and moving something that looked suspiciously pistol shaped off of the table and into the inside pocket of his jacket, you reached up and flipped on the light.

“N-no no, I’m not. I’m his roommate.” You said, finally registering who you were talking to. The now fully visible metal arm was a pretty big giveaway, if nothing else. ‘There is a mob boss sat in my kitchen, what the fuck’.

“What do you want with Caleb? Does he owe you something?” The thought was out of your mouth before you could stop it. “Oh god no sorry forget I asked. Sorry... sir? I don’t-”

“I’m assuming from that reaction you know who I am,” He said, smirk on his face as he stood and moved closer, your back pressing flatter against the wall beside the door with every step he took.

“Of..of course I do, everyone in New York knows who you are..Sir” You replied.

“Hmm, I’m gonna take that as a compliment doll,”

“It is! Sorry! Congrats on all the… mafia shit.” Did I just say ‘mafia shit’ to a gangster.

The silence is awkward, his face blank and all you can think is ‘Oh my god I’m gonna die.’ His face twists into a …smile.. you think, y’know its hard to tell, fear has your vision all fuzzy.

He then starts to..laugh. He’s laughing? He’s actually laughing.

“Is this something you do before you kill people? You laugh, give them a false sense of security then shoot them?” You ramble quietly, confused at what’s happening.

He moved his left hand to rest on his stomach, the metal catching the light, shining right in you eye and it fully registered that, holy shit, James fucking Barnes, The Winter goddamn Soldier is in my house. This man is literally wanted by every law enforcement agent in the country, he’s in control of one of the most ruthless organisations in the world, they traffic arms and drugs and gun down anyone that gets in the way. Apparently, at least that’s what the news said. The stories about him though, way more upsetting.

The rumor was that after he left the special forces, he was captured by an organisation that wanted him to work for them. When he tried to escape the first time, they took his arm, and he was stuck working for them for a decade. The story goes that after he finally escaped, he tracked down everyone that was a part of it and killed them all, by himself. Alone. Just him. On his own. Then he took over their supply and demand and built his empire from the ground up.

“Oh god.. ‘congrats on all the mafia shit’, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while…” he pushed out while chuckling. “I’m gonna get that shit tattooed, I swear,” he said.

“I could do that for you,” it was out of your mouth before you could stop it. ‘Oh my god, shut up Y/N’ you thought to yourself.

“What?” He asked, eyes flitting over to yours, his piercing stare causing all sorts of feeling to rise inside your chest; fear, confusion, attraction. Attraction? What? Damn him and his pretty face. He’s a killer Y/N, remember that?

“Nothing, sorry” you answered, looking down at your feet.

“No what did you say Y/n?” He asked again, his voice more stern than before. If you weren’t so scared, you would have questioned how he knew your name.

“I said that I could give you that tattoo, sorry, just slipped out” you replied, unsure what his response would be to your completely unnecessary comment.

“Stop apologising would’ya doll, there’s no need.” He said, sort of sweetly, a small comforting smile on his face, the pet name causing all sorts of lovely feelings inside.

“Sor.. yes Sir,” you corrected yourself.

“And stop calling me Sir darlin, only my employees call me that,” he said, “well my employees and some others..” he said with a dirty smirk, causing your eyebrows to raise sky high.

“Sorry Sir,” you said quickly, not even thinking. “…shit.”

“Seriously doll, you don’t need to be so scared of me,” he stated, his right hand reaching out and landing on your shoulder, your muscles tensing for a second then relaxing when you saw the look in his eye, he was telling the truth

“Ok.. then can I ask why you are here?” You ask, some fear creeping it’s way into your voice despite his reassurance. He kept his face carefully still and he looked you up and down, the feeling of being examined was strong, like he was trying to decide if you were worthy of knowing his business.

“You got it right earlier, your roommate owes me something, and I came to get it from him,” he removes his hand from your arm as he spoke after a tense silence. He was being purposely vague, trying to gage your reaction, to see if you were really clueless or you were playing with him.

“It’s money right, I mean it has to be, what else could he owe you. I told him to stop freaking borrowing money I swear I tried to stop him, but he never listened to me..l”

“You’re rambling darlin, you realise that?” He cuts you off with a smirk on his face.

“I’ve been told I do that when I’m nervous. I don’t know how much Caleb owes you and I don’t know what the situation is but.. if you.. I mean..”

“What doll? What are you trying to say. I won’t be mad, I swear,” Barnes responds, one side of his lips tugging upwards at your mumbling.

“Could you give him some more time?”

He was not expecting that. ‘Brave little thing’ he thought.

“I mean I don’t know how long he’s owed you for but he’s getting back on track I swear, he’s getting better, he is, in-fact he’s at a gamblers anonymous meeting right now, and he has a job interview tomorrow so he can pay rent and pay back people he owes money to.” You rush out, trying to help your friend, “Of course he never told me that he owes money to a mobster but that besides the point” you add quieter, more to yourself than anything but Barnes still heard it. He chuckled and ran his flesh hand through his hair, pushing back the long strands out of his face.

“He does owe money to a mobster, quite a lot in fact so I’m gonna have to say no to that request darlin, I’ve given him long enough.” He responds, his tone dripping with authority, the Brooklyn drawl on the pet name he threw out made your heart beat faster.

“Please. Please just think about it Sir.. uh Mr Barnes.. Sir. Caleb’s had a rough go of it lately, he lost his father not too long ago and he’s been a mess ever since, if you could just give..”

“I already said no once doll, I don’t like repeating myself.” His tone was final, and even though his words were not that intense, the threat in his voice hung in the air like poison gas before slamming into your chest, the fear that had previously been quelled came racing back, sitting on your shoulders like a lead coat.

The silence stayed for longer this time, you eyes firmly fixed to the floor to a sound even the possibility of upsetting the man that had broken into your home.

“So you’re a tattoo artist huh? He asked, his low voice calming you some. Huh he’s trying to make me less afraid of him, what kind of ruthless criminal is he?

“Yes..um I am,” you answer, incredibly aware of the position you were in, better to go along with whatever he did.

“You got a flash book?” He questioned, genuinely interested.

“Uh yeah I do.” You reply awkwardly, not sure where this new line of conversation was coming from.

“Can I see it?”

“…sure,” the word came out as a question.

He nodded at you, and you took it as a sign that you were good to move. Turning slowly and moving away from the wall to your bag on the floor, you reach down and grab your flash sketchbook and hand it to him.

“Are all of these available?” He asked, flipping through the pages, taking in each design.

Seeing him like this, calmly looking through the sketchbook makes it very easy to forget who he was, a ruthless calculating Mob Boss, wanted for almost every crime under the sun.

“The ones with the X’s over them have been done before but could be repeated if someone really wanted it,” you answered, slightly more confident in yourself as you were talking about something you loved.

“This is Latin, right, what does it mean?” He asked, moving to stand next to you pointing to a design in the book, an alien inside a bottle of wine.

“‘In Vino Veritas’, it means ‘In wine, there is truth’” you say, “ I though it was funny, y’know.. ‘the truth is out there’..aliens..” you trailed off, not sure how to explain that design

He let out an quiet amused sound, his shoulder brushing yours, sending a trail of chills down your spine.

“This one is beautiful,” he said, pointing to a different design on the next page.

“Thank you, it’s Icarus, I have it tattooed on me, it was hard as hell doing it on my own leg,” you say, proud of the design you created.

“Icarus, what’s his story? I can’t quite remember, ” he asks.

“It’s a Greek myth y’know, Icarus and his father were held captive by King Minos in a tower, his father created wax wings so they could fly away from their captors. The father warned Icarus from flying too high or too low, but he ignored his fathers warnings and flew too close to the sun and his wings melted. It’s a moral story to warn against the dangers of complacency and hubris, but to me it’s just a tragedy.” You say, turning to face him, making eye contact with the man. He listened intently to the story, his face unreadable but you thought you saw a flash of something in his eyes, maybe he related to the myth, a man that was once held captive, now with everything in his hands, in danger of losing it all if he flew too close to the sun himself.

“A tragedy huh? I don’t think there’s anything tragic about it. He was warned not to do something dangerous and he went and did it anyway, it’s his own damn fault,” he stated, something slightly argumentative in his tone.

He looked straight at you while speaking and you couldn’t help but feel as if he was looking into your soul, like his statement was some kind of test.

“I agree with the idea that he got what he deserved, but I meant it as a tragedy for his father. Creating something so pure for you and your child to escape from captivity, only for your child to ignore your warnings and pay the ultimate price for it. His father probably spent the rest of his life regretting escaping his prison because that was the action that ultimately lead to his sons death. It’s heartbreaking if you see it from a different perspective,” you say back, not really expecting him to engage you in a philosophical debate.

“Hmm.. that’s an interesting way to see it, I’m not really one for looking at different perspectives, mine suits me just fine,” he answered, the fact that this man was dangerous came screaming back to you with the look on his face, blank like he was devout of all emotion at that moment. You got the feeling he wasn’t speaking metaphorically anymore.

The tension was palpable, you not knowing what to say next and him deciding he was done talking for the time being. He placed the book down on a side table, and turned back to you. “Y’know what, I want it.” He said, confusing flooding your brain.

“Want what?” You ask calmly, not wanting to push your luck with the man.

“That tattoo, the Icarus one, I want it.” He answers, leaning back against the side of the table he was sat at earlier. His crossed his arms, which should have been intimidating, but for some reason the only thought floating through your head was Damn his arms are bigger than my head. Gimmie.

“You want the Icarus?” You ask, somewhat stupidly and he had just said that.

“Yes I do,” he answered simply, “Are you free tomorrow?” He asks, smile on his face.

“Umm not really, I have a few appointments tomo..”

“Move them, hell cancel them. Block out a spot long enough for me to get this tattoo.” He states, cutting of your sentence.

“I can’t do that, it’s too short notice and I could loose..”

“I’ll pay what ever you lose for cancelling the appointments. I’m getting this done, tomorrow.” He cuts you off again, a finality in his tone that warns you it would be pointless and probably rather stupid to argue.

“Uh..ok” you respond, shaking your head a little, still trying to figure out what just happened.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together and the sound made you jump. Barnes either didn’t notice it or just didn’t care. “Give me your phone.”

“Huh? Why do you want my phone?” You question.

Barnes just rolled his eyes, walked forward until he was stood right infront of you, toe to toe, staring down at you with a semi amused look on his face.

“How am I supposed to find out where your shop is if you don’t text me the location?” He said sarcastically.

Literally a million different ways, google it for starters, get one of your goons to find it, stalk me and follow me there.. c’mon man think. Obviously you kept these thoughts to yourself but Barnes smirked as if he could hear them anyway. Pulling out your phone and handing it to him you ask, “What time do you want to come in for?”

“Around 1-ish doll, that ok?” He asked, knowing that it is, as he’s already told you to move/cancel your other appointments.

“That’s fine by me Bar..Mr Barnes” you answer, slipping up, almost forgetting the level of respect you should probably show to the gangster in your home.

He calls his phone from yours, adding the new number to contacts in both phones, “there, now you can let me know the address of your shop.”

“I’ll sent it to you tomorrow.. unless you want me to send it now?” You asked he hands your phone back , uncertain of what he wanted

“Tomorrows fine” he answers, walking backwards towards the front door, “I’ll see ya in the afternoon doll,” he says while opening the door and mostly leaving until he pauses completely, slowly turning back towards you.

This is it, he’s been messing with me this whole time and now he’s going to shoot me.

“Tell Caleb he has 6 weeks to get my money back to me or I’ll be paying him another visit, ok doll.” He says, no question in his voice. He waits until you answer with a “Yes, Mr Barnes,” and disappears into the hallway outside your apartment.

It takes about 5 minutes for the shock to fully wear off, and it causes you to stagger over to the couch, fall backwards onto it an ask into the empty room, “What the actual fuck just happened?”

As soon as the question was out of your mouth , your phone buzzed in your hand.

James:

Don’t ever call me Mr Barnes again Y/n.

It makes me feel ancient.

I hate that.

[dyns33]

Obvious

Most of the time I see him as the cool silly big bro, but I love Deadpool, so here's a long Deadpool x female reader.

Normally nothing destined Y/N to meet Wade Wilson.

A normal life, without enemies, without superpowers, without contracts on her head. She didn't fight, respected the law (at least for the most serious and important things) and she considered herself to be a good person.

The first time she had passed Saint Agnes Orphanage, she hadn't really paid it much attention. The second time, she found it a little strange that an orphanage was in this part of the city, which was not really made for children.

Then one evening, when she had had a bad day, she realized that it was a bar and she decided to go in for a drink.

Since she thought an orphanage was strange in that place, she might have thought it was odd for a bar to have such a name. She could also have been scared when she saw the other customers, who all turned towards her, indicating that she might not be welcome.

But Y/N was tired, and she just wanted a drink before going home, so she smiled politely as she sat down at the counter.

The waiter frowned, but he agreed to serve her with a shrug, muttering that as long as she was an adult, it wasn't his problem.

A tall, bald, tattooed guy then approached her, putting a hand on her arm without worrying about her private space, asking her if she wanted to follow him home.

"… No thanks."

“Come on, don’t be a slut.”

"Please."

“Come with me, you stupid bitch.”

"Now, that's really not very nice. The lady said no, a gentleman should know it's time to leave. But no Hector, not only are you insisting, but you're being rude."

"Fuck you, Wade, don't get involved in this !"

The waiter continued to mumble about cleaning, while this Wade guy smashed Hector's head against the counter. A tooth even flew close to Y/N’s face.

That might have been enough to scare her completely. In addition to the surge of violence that was happening right next to her, there was the red suit, the katanas and other guns, which could make you want to flee as quickly as possible.

But when he finished kicking Hector's ass, Wade turned to her, and despite the mask, it was obvious that he was smiling, extending a hand towards her.

"Miss, my apologies for that boor. He knows nothing of good manners."

"… Thank you."

"You're very welcome, lovely angel ! Wade Wilson, Deadpool, Merc with a mouth, at your service ! Oh, he spilled your drink… Bad Hector ! Or was it me ? Maybe it was me. Weasel, the same for the little lady, on my note !”

“You already owe me a fortune.”

“I will kill whoever you want for free !”

“I thought you didn’t kill anymore.”

"Ah yes… I'll suck you for free !"

“Here you go, two drinks, just shup up Wade.”

In the end, Wade was a bit special, but not evil. He stayed with her, partly because he loved having someone to talk to, but also to make sure no one else was going to bother her again.

And he talked a lot. Everything he said didn't always make sense, he even seemed to be talking to himself sometimes, but he was funny. It seemed to please him that Y/N laughed at his jokes. Behind the counter, Weasel was still muttering that she was doing something silly.

Among the long tirade he delivered that evening, she understood that Wade had not had an easy life. That he had done some things that could make him a criminal, but he had been trying to improve for some time.

"Colossus already wanted me to become an X-men but it wasn't for me. Wait, there are X-men in this universe ? I do not know anymore. Anyway, there's Spidey and Devy. No, he's right, this nickname isn't great, Devil. Like Daredevil. They want us to be Team Red, but only if I stop unliving people. It's not fair because they're friends with Frank, and Frank keeps unliving people, but he lost his wife and his kids, so I guess he has more sympathy points than me."

"I don't understand everything, but I guess Spidey is Spiderman ?"

"Yes ! He's super cool ! And his ass ! People confuse us sometimes, it annoys me, but it's a bit of a compliment. He's my role model."

Like a true superhero, Deadpool insisted on taking her home. He was terribly honest, saying that he could leave her a few blocks away, but that was useless, because as a former mercenary, he was very good at stalking people and he could find her address without difficulty, even if he only had her name.

"Which I wouldn't do ! Normally. I might want to see you again, and ask Weasel to find your number, but I know myself, I'll put it in my phone, and I'll hesitate for weeks, then I'll send a lousy message, you'll be scared, you'll block me, I'll be ashamed and I'll shoot myself in the head because I'm a moron."

“I can give you my number.”

"And I… Huh ? Huh ?! For real ?!" exclaimed Wade, jumping like a child on Christmas Day.

Wade called her right away, specifying that it was not to verify that she was giving him a false number but a little. Despite the mask, his face showed surprise when he saw that she hadn't lied.

"I should put a bullet in my head to make sure I'm not dreaming."

“You wouldn’t wake up.”

“Baby girl, we only just met, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

When Deadpool talked about shooting himself, he meant it literally. It often happened that he died, either because of an enemy, an accident, or by his own hand. But he always came back. A gift like a curse.

They became friends. It was obvious, and quite sad, that Wade didn't have many friends.

Most people around him couldn't stand him or were afraid of him. It was true that he could be quite unpredictable, especially when he got lost in his discussions with the boxes, or an imaginary audience. But he was never mean.

Weasel was more of a collaborator, Al was forced to accommodate him, and the other heroes, unable to get rid of him, tried to make him a nice guy.

And he was really nice. Crazy but adorable, funny and wanting to do well.

Very quickly, Y/N started to have a crush, and even more. Even after seeing him without a mask. He never took it off completely to eat, repeating that he didn't want her to lose her appetite or feel like throwing up.

But after landing in a trash can after a fight, and forgetting that he had invited her to watch Princess Bride, Y/N had seen him. Yes, his scars were a bit impressive, but they weren't that bad.

With an embarrassed smile, he waved his hand while remaining frozen near the entrance.

"… I can move if you want to run away. I won't follow you. I may look like Frankenstein's monster, but I only pursue young girls who ask me to. Or who deserve it. Because criminals have no gender, I don't discriminate."

“I brought popcorn.” was her only reaction.

"... Oh. Sweet ? Salty ? Caramel ? Al must have beer somewhere, hidden with the cocaine."

After that, he was a little less afraid to show his face, even though it was obvious he wasn't comfortable. It wasn't easy to reassure him, repeating that she didn't care about his appearance.

Y/N didn’t remember how they ended up having this conversation. The only thing she knew was that she was pressed against him, laughing, when she had innocently said it would be fun if they went out together.

This made Wade laugh, but a very serious laugh, leaving no chance and hitting where it hurt.

"You and me ? Ah ! No chance."

"Why ?"

"It's obvious."

A simple little sentence could sometimes do a lot of damage. Too busy making fun of the characters on the screen, Wade didn't see Y/N's look of sadness, just as he didn't feel her body stiffen.

Still, she should have expected this response. Of course it was obvious that they had nothing to do together. Deadpool was a super hero (in training), he was tall, muscular, funny, rich.

She had seen photos of his deceased ex, Vanessa. She had observed him flirting with beautiful women and men before. It was already fortunate that she was only friends with him.

So Y/N swallowed her pride, accepting the obvious, and not talking about the subject again.

But it was hard, because the more time passed, the stronger the feelings became.

It was even harder when Wade entered his depressive phases. He kept putting himself down, insulting himself and accepting insults from the boxes in his head. It took a lot of patience and perseverance to get him to put down his gun.

"Anyway, I'll come back later. Bad luck for the world. People would be happier if I wasn't here anymore. Maybe they'll miss me a little, for a few minutes."

“I would miss you, Wade.”

"Yeah… You say that because you're adorable, baby girl. But you'd be better off without me too. I'm a real drag."

“You saved me the first time we met.”

"And since then you think you owe me a debt. You know, every time we're in the street, the others look at me and they're afraid. If I wasn't there, you could be with them. You could have lots of friends.”

"I don't want lots of friends, Wade." Y/N sighed, taking him into her arms. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

“Oh, sweetie pie, me too !”

It was rarer for them to find themselves in the opposite situation. Not because Deadpool wasn't capable of empathy, but because she didn't like talking about her problems, preferring to keep everything to herself and cry out of sight.

Unfortunately, she had made the decision to become friends with a former mercenary who loved to jump from roof to roof, only to come visit without warning by tapping on the window.

Y/N had no time to hide her tears, holding back a sob as her eyes met those of Wade, who had stopped mid-movement, fist raised against his window.

He didn't hesitate before entering, terribly serious.

"Who ? Who did this ?"

“Wade…”

"Who made my baby girl cry ? I want a name. Spidey and Dev will understand. Yellow wants decapitation, White wants emasculation. Tell me who."

"It's really not necessary. It's not important."

“It’s important if you cry.” Deadpool growled as he looked around the apartment for clues.

Once he had an idea in his head, it was almost impossible to divert his attention. If it wasn't so important, it was possible with food or talking about Spiderman's butt. But this time he considered it very important.

Tired, Y/N thought that all she had to do was say that it was just a ridiculous heartbreak for him to calm down. He had no reason to kill someone just because they didn't love her back.

This actually seemed to calm him down a bit, as he patted his cheeks with his hands in a dramatic gesture.

"What ?! Someone doesn't love you ?! Someone doesn't like my sweet little angel ? Are they crazy or stupid. You deserve the best !"

"Actually… He's the one who's too good for me."

"Bullshit ! The important thing is love ! If a woman can marry a space duck, then everyone can be together, as long as it's legal and consensual !"

"… What ? No, wait, it doesn't matter. Wade, please forget it."

"A name. Let me prove to you that this fool doesn't deserve you, and not the other way around !"

"No."

"A name !"

"You ! It's you !"

For the first time since they met, Wade was silent for more than a minute, staring at her like he wasn't sure she was real. He often had hallucinations, so this happened to him.

Then he muttered incomprehensible things, probably speaking with his boxes to check that he had heard what she had just said.

"… Me ? As in, me ?"

“I know what you’re going to say.” Y/N sighed, wanting to disappear. "You've already said it, it's obvious that we're not meant to be together. You're charismatic, and strong, and funny, with powers. You save people, you have an extraordinary life, while I… I am me."

"… Baby girl. Do you have a fever ? Did you lose a bet ? Because… You saw me without a mask. You know I'm crazy and dangerous. There are several bounties on my head, I've unlived more people than the population of New York, and my favorite movie is Zoolander 2. When I said it was obvious… I meant that you were too good for me."

There had been a misunderstanding, each being convinced that the other could never want the other, because they were too different. But even though he was special, with skin problems and an inability to concentrate for more than ten minutes, Wade was much better than a space duck.

However, while she was sure of what she wanted, he hadn't clearly said what he expected next.

"I mean, if you just want to be friends, I'll understand."

"You can't tease me like that and then break my heart. Don't play with me, woman !"

“Wade…” Y/N sneered, as he gesticulated like a degenerate, declaiming his great love for her and her smile, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Taking advantage of his inattention, she approached him, until he froze when he felt her hands on his mask.

With a look, she asked him if she could take it off, and as he didn't move to stop her, she took it off first up to his nose, before hesitating.

Y/N didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but she also didn’t want him to think that she didn’t want to see him if she didn’t go further. So she took out the whole mask, she observed Wade, smiling before kissing him.

"… Don't take what comes next as a bad thing." he whispered as their lips parted.

"What ?"

"I'm going to have a heart attack…"

As always, Y/N thought he was joking at first, until he collapsed in front of her, looking delighted even though his heart had stopped beating. Fortunately she was used to seeing him die, even if it was still a little traumatic.

It took almost an hour for him to wake up. Y/N had time to take a shower and make herself some tea, sitting on the couch to wait.

"Shit !" he shouted as he opened his eyes, looking around the apartment before looking at her. “Did we kiss ?”

“Yes and you died.”

"It's weird. Normally you go to heaven after you die, not before. But I probably don't have enough superhero points for heaven yet, so the other option is that I became totally crazy."

“Wade…”

"I know, White and Yellow would have told me. They're already saying that all the time, but they would have insisted, especially for me to escape from the asylum. It's no fun fighting with fake people and hippos. Was I dead long ?"

“No, a little over half an hour.”

"And you stayed with me, it's so cute. Nurse Y/N. No, Doctor Y/N, and I'll be Nurse Wilson. Oh, Doctor Y/N, I made a mistake in the dosage of a patient, I'm a bad nurse, punish me."

"… Let's see Nurse Wilson, we're in the middle of an intervention, calm down."

"Uh oh ! You're playing along !" Wade exclaimed, pouting from the ground. "I didn't expect that ! Wait, I need a blonde wig, and a white dress. You'll see, I look super sexy in a dress. Wait, we do this now or it's quick and we should have a date first ?'

“I wouldn’t say no to a date.”

"I see the genre, like in novellas. Doctor Y/N takes me to the restaurant to talk about my future promotion, but in fact, you are going to admit to me that I am pregnant with you, before I even enter your bed !"

“As long as you’re in my bed before the hundredth episode.”

“UH !”

The small, high-pitched cry of pleasure preceded a second cardiac arrest, Deadpool's mind imagining Y/N and him in a bed, with a stetoscope.

When she asked him if he was going to have a heart attack every time, he told her that he would probably die for good the day he saw her naked, or that they made love for the first time.

But Wade was a gentleman, he ate lots of vegetables, exercised, and begged Daredevil to teach him meditation techniques.

So he had the courtesy of having the next heart attack only after they were finished, and in the toilet. And every time after that they were together, Wade would go out of his way to just get a nosebleed.

Especially on Weasel's counter, telling him everything they had done or almost everything, which annoyed the poor waiter a lot, even if he knew that it would happened from the start, the moment he saw Deadpool with Y/N.

[pprodsuga]

secrets untold (part 1) | sunghoon

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

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

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

SECRETS UNTOLD PLAYLIST

WORD COUNT: 24.1K

MASTERLIST + TAGLIST SIGN UP

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

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

warnings under the cut!

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

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon nods. “Hey.” 

“You already said that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it that bad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon sleeps with a smile on his face. 

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

“That blows,” Jay says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake shrugs. “You said she was hot.” 

“I said she was pretty.”

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

“There’s something incredibly wrong with you.”

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

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

“Why is that a bad thing?” 

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

“Ouch,” Jake winces. “That bad?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You would totally be upset.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know. It’s just…hard.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He raises his eyebrow. “This?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. “That’s a shame.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You work in finance, right?”

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

“Sounds tough.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry you feel this way too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened next?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you feel like you can trust me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell just happened, Y/N?” 

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

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

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not an answer.” 

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

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

“Fine.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I understand, I think.” 

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

“So that’s it? I just leave?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have a nice apartment.” 

“Thanks.” 

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

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

“We’ll need to bring both of those.” 

“What for?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think the adrenaline is getting to me.” 

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

Sunghoon looks at you quizzically. “What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trained?” 

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

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

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t meet his eyes. 

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

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

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

“So where do we go?” 

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

“Jinju? Why Jinjiu?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like carrying out a hit.” 

His stomach plummets. 

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

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

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

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

“You owe me more than that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’s that?” 

Sunghoon crashes. 

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

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

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

“But your job keeps you from that freedom.” 

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

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

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

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

“Me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” 

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

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

“Or, he’s working for someone.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you?” 

The room is silent. 

“Someone you can trust.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can we call anyone for help? No. 

How about taking the bus instead of walking? No. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look at him. “I didn’t.” 

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

“You’re assuming correctly.” 

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

“Tell me about yourself.” 

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

You nod. “Who are you, Sunghoon?” 

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

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

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

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

“Why a coffee shop?”

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

“That sounds like a really nice dream.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’s that?”

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

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

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

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

“I guess so.” 

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

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

You break the silence.

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

Sunghoon is speechless. 

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

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Back to your apartment.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guys, I can explain–”

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

“Guys—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullet?” 

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

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

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

“This is crazy,” Jake mutters. 

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

“Don’t tell me–”

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

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

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

“What the fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bugs?” Jake asks quizzically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure thing,’ Jay nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Command?” 

“Command is the organization that employs me.”

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

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

“H-Harm?” Jake chokes on his words. 

“By any means necessary.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think you know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Why me?” 

You speak above a whisper.

“Because I was taking too long.” 

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

It clicks for him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This Heeseung person, is he close by?” 

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

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

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

“You saved Sunghoon’s,” Jay comments. 

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

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

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

“Yes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, well we needed answers.” 

You let a tear fall. “I’m sorry.” 

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

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

“But you did.” 

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

“So you just…gave up that life?” 

“I suppose so.”

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

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

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

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

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

Jake sighs when he hears the bathroom door close. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if she’s lying?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll need to eventually.” 

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

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

“Still.” 

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

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

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

Sunghoon huffs. “Trust. Sure.” 

“It seems like your best bet.” 

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

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

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

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

Jay and Jake share a look. 

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

“What do you mean?”

“We’re coming with you,” Jay says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“None more than you did.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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[the-twst-cast-needs-therapy]

Unhinged headcannon time! Please do not take them seriously:

-Lilia drinks polish Tesco value beer (in moderation)

-Lilia has gaming headphones with cat ears on them

-Silver snacked on melatonin gummies accidentally once too many times

-Azul tried to make a Cryptomarket pyramid scheme (it failed)

-Azuls most amazing discovery on land was the stock market and labour law violations

-Jade and Floyd love feasting on shipwrecked humans. They filmed a muckbang once.

- Cater livestreamed and documented many of the fucked up moments at NRC, including the schools invasion by STYX

-idia uses his gamer rage to cook ramen (he has also been used as a fireplace to roast marshmallows)

-Ortho probably has an attachment for a HUGE Lazer ray gun somewhere and I want him to use it

-The shrouds will NOT go bald if they enter water, they will cause it to cook/heavily steam tho, so they can't really go in the pool (I mean...Ortho probably can't go regardless)

-Jack :) (There's nothing wrong with him, I just wanted to mention him, because he is very polite)

-Kalim spends obscene amounts of money on gacha games and in game currencies (Jamil and Ruggie are astounded by this and told him to stop multiple times)

-Jamils ponytail functions as a tactical weapon if he spins it fast enough

-Ruggie is the Twst equivalent of an American

-Rook has unfortunately decided to keep his haircut indefinitely

-Rook takes pictures of his hunts like men do with fish

-Epel used to bite people

-Ace is convinced Naruto running makes him faster

-Deuce held a funeral for the eggs he dropped at the beginning of the game. He also does this every time he steps on a bug

-Sebek has a Malleus shrine in his locker, he's super secretive and is oblivious that everyone knows about it.

-Rollo prays regularly and asks god to smite people who mildly annoyed him today (his prayers have not been heard as of yet)

[mottlemoth]

Re: "But don't you find it beautiful and meaningful that Izzy got to experience happiness before he died? He ended his life surrounded by love and that was great for him."

You folks are sailing right past our one main issue here. Namely, why did he have to die at all?

It's a comedy show - a comedy show where not-really-deaths outnumber actual deaths by ten to one - why did Izzy have to die? Some of you are talking as if he died the way that people in real life die, like it's one of those things you just can't change. But this wasn't like that. This was a constructed narrative where a decision was made that not only should he be dead at the end of the series, but that it should be confirmed beyond all doubt with OFMD's only grave. Even the Badmintons weren't shown in their graves.

So why did Izzy have to die?

And why do so many of you find it fitting and appropriate that he died? This is a good opportunity to sit down with yourself and maybe examine your own thoughts around ageing and disability. Con O'Neill is in his 50s, not his 90s, and a missing limb is not some kind of down payment on death. The show even went out of its way to fit him with a new leg, breathe new life into him. So "he had to die because he was basically halfway out of the door" is rooted in some nasty ideas about ageing and disability, ideas which you should not allow to fester in yourself. Dig those out. If you're healthy and young, this might seem like a very remote issue to you. It won't always be.

David Jenkins has indicated in interviews that Izzy had to die because (1) he was Ed's 'mentor', a frankly baffling assertion which is contrary to nearly everything established about Ed and Izzy's relationship in the show, and (2) "it's a pirate show."

Okay! It's a pirate show. Seems fair at first.

Until you remember it's also a comedy show where guys turn into birds and people routinely survive explosions and gun shots and being stabbed through the liver on a regular basis. Throughout the narrative, OFMD has established and confirmed over and over and over again that it upholds the comedic law that death is never really death. You can relax seeing Roach fall from the rigging because it's a comedy show - they're not going to do that to you.

But then they did.

They reversed that fundamental law within the world just so that Izzy could die - and so that Izzy could just die. Nothing came of his death. It didn't open up a new section of plotline or change anything. The show could have ended with Izzy off on adventures with the crew he'd grown to love.

Instead he just died. And we're struggling to understand why.

Telling us that he got to be happy before he died doesn't make any sense. If it was all so beautiful and meaningful to see him experience temporary happiness, wouldn't it have been nice to see him happy ever after?

So why did the writers give him death instead?

We're scared that it's 2023 and some folks still think it's just fitting for visibly queer characters to be tantalised with happiness then struck down. We're scared that at the bottom of this, it makes sense to you that Izzy died because you think he was old and broken and no use to anyone now. We're scared to have discovered that even the show which said kindness, kindness, kindness right from the start had none for this character we loved, and we're scared that you find it so beautiful.

[whereisloe]

Tough

“Like a .38 made out of brass” ꗥ arthur morgan x fem reader

a lil dutch x reader action cuz i’m just that girl - warnings n/a

𓆝. 𓆟

“You have my condolences for your father. He was a very valuable man” You watched Angelo Bronte carefully from your black fan that covered half of your veiled face. You had to really sell this mourning look if you wanted to fool such a powerful man so, that you did. Getting all dressed up in your black attire everything matching from the black, layered ruffles of your petticoat to the lacy parcel carried by your escort. “Because of his loyalty, I will extend my offer of protection onto you so as long as we still do business together, hm?” He took a sip of his glass before leaning back onto his loveseat with his legs crossed.

“I thank you, truly, Mr. Bronte. But, the extra protection won’t be necessary. We’ve got our own guns for hire on our land” You maintained a harsh stare onto the man across from you as he savored another sip from his wine glass. He laughed amused with your simple answer before tipping his glass to you. “Ha, your father says the same thing. Like daughter, like father then”

“Mr. Bronte, I am no fool to business. With all due respect, I did not come here to reminisce nor, have you invited me here to, no?” Bronte gazed up at you from across the table. Eyes narrowed and unreadable as though he couldn’t figure what to think of you. “You are a very…smart girl” You felt your mouth twitch as he continued his speech. You couldn’t stand the man’s voice, how degrading his words were as you feigned oblivion to obvious exploitations that were about to leave his mouth. “Your father received 10% of all government related endeavors. Whether it was busting criminals or busting vaults, didn’t matter to me just so long as I got 20% of his business.” He paused as he licked at his lips. “Your father did not remain in good standing with me for the money. Instead, he wanted security. Security, that nothing would happen to him or his precious daughter while he worked with me, and security I provided” This man reeked on lies, your father had been shot doing a job for this man but only after he demanded a raise in his cut.

“I can assure you I am not my father. I am here for money, security is something I may provide myself” You gestured over at the guns you hired not too long ago before this meeting. “Daddy was never too smart when it came to funds. Thinkin’ our oil plant would be enough with no back up money to lean on” You lightly began to fan your face as you felt yourself get worked up. “Then we was robbed, Daddy may have turned a blind eye to it but, I ain’t one to show weakness”

“I take it you want my help with this” He gestured to the air before pulling a cigar from a tray. “this show of strength” You nodded and carried on with your story.

“Those boys you’re in good spirit with robbed us good and as a long devotee to your cause, Mr. Bronte, I don’t take too kindly to it”

“My dear, as much as I appreciate your kindest regards, you must understand this business. If I was worried about my clients opinions of one another I’d be the poorest man in Saint Denis. The most I can do is keep them out of your business but, they’re fickle men…not to be trusted” He blew the the smoke of his cigar off to the side as your foot tapped rapidly. You were ready to lay your cards out, prove a point that your father raised woman fairly gifted in her trade. “I completely understand, I just request that I may also be in kahoots with these outlaws”

“Why? So you can get them arrested?”

“Precisely, Mr. Bronte. Of course, on your word. But, if I get in good standin’ with the law they’ll send some men over to the plant. That way we produced more, with less risk” Your foot halted its tapping pausing as the man in front of you thought carefully of your words. On paper, the plan was foolproof and a win-win. “So, whaduya think?” You attempted to expedite the man’s response but was only met with another deafening silence.

“I think I’ve been doing business with the wrong (l/n)” Angelo stood from the loveseat before offering you a hand to follow. You smiled, accomplished with the reaction you received before resting your freehand in his. “I must ask one favor of you, though” You nodded before lifting yourself from the seat. “I need you to host one of my official parties. To test if these men can be trusted, I’ll give subtle hints about your booming business.”

“Are ya fixin’ these men to rob me?”

“I’m fixing you an opportunity to meet these men…” He took your silence as compliance before continuing on. “The plan is, you catch these rats red handed and negotiate, later you tell me if they’re treacherous. If not then I’ll set up a meeting for you and the boss.” He scoffed at word as though he was amused by the thought of it. “And do not worry, I’ll have men everywhere for this event”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Bronte” You both shook on it before he walked you up to the front gate. The sun beamed down on you the second your foot met with the cobbled path of the front patio. Your escort was quick to your side with your parasol before you could even muster the words to complain. “The details will be delivered shortly, a presto, miss”

Today was the day.

You could finally put the face to the name that robbed you. Van der Linde Gang. You sighed at the name, as you fixed the headdress adorning your maintained curls. You still kept your attire relatively dark as your father’s death was still fresh in the press. All you had to do was briefly preside over the party from your balcony, allowing Bronte enough time to present you to his friends new and old. Maybe you’d commute down to your gardens to briefly acquaint yourself with your guests.

“Are you ready, Miss” Your maid questioned from your balcony doors. You adjusted yourself one last time before standing from your seat. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose” You promenaded your way towards the doors as your maid rushed behind you as to raise the dragging silks of your skirt just enough to hover the dirty concrete of the balcony but not enough to reveal your petticoat or bustle. You stood straight presiding over all your guests that took it upon themselves to socialize. None of these men meant anything to you except two.

You noticed Bronte with two men, who cleaned up well considering their circumstance, as they prattled on about god knows what. That was until one of seemed to motion up to you.

Nice shaven beard, tall and broad, with a subtle slick to his hair. None of these men would be able to tell but, you’d been admiring the man from afar staring down at him with shameless eyes. “Miss, your stares could be noticed as rude” Your maid whispered to you having you straighten yourself out before giving the man one last glance. Now, the other one had looked up at you but only briefly. He wasn’t too bad himself.

Perhaps, you wouldn’t mind going downstairs and acquainting yourself.

“My goodness” You spoke breathlessly to your maid. “Aren’t they some neat lookin’ fellas?” She hid her smile as she giggled at your unserious behavior.

“They are quite the sight—”

“Ohh, I bet you were lookin’ at the boss, Mr. Van der linde, hisself, huh?” You waved for the older lady to follow you inside as you teased her with your antics. “Well” She began while she laid the train of your dress neatly against the wooden boards fixing the bunched up silks that rested on your bust, “I won’t deny such a thing” the maid smiled softly as you laughed, briefly allowing yourself to calm down.

“Shall we get acquainted with them?” You turned to your maid, fixing her cascading curls as you waltzed past her. “C’mon, this is excitin” By the time you and your maid made it down stairs you could practically feel your heart beating out your chest. You hadn’t the slightlest clue why you were so nervous like some young faced girl talking to a boy for the first time. “Goodness, I’m nervous” You turned to your maid with a hand resting on your cheek.

“It’ll alright, miss. Just remember, you’re here for business negotiations not suitors” She chimed amused with your rather inappropriate reaction. You laughed to yourself as her words hit you. “I’m actin’ ridiculous…alright, cmon”

“Ah, There she is, the woman of the hour” Bronte was quick to call as you approached the men now facing you. You felt your nerves burning you up inside as you grabbed Bronte’s forearm and greeted him with il bacetto, an Italian courtesy you’d learn amongst the time you’ve spent with Bronte. Once you pulled back your attention was instantly on this so called boss standing off to the right of Bronte.

“Missus (l/n)” The man held out his hand as his eyes never left yours. You smiled, masking the slight in embarrassment you felt as you corrected him. “Miss, is just fine.” You placed your hand in his allowing him to kiss your knuckles. Amongst all the intense eye contact, you would think with how you felt moments ago, you’d be a flustered mess just right about now. But, your gut was telling you something serious was up about this man. You’ve been played a fool by many before, and you’ve caught almost just as many amidst their schemes. That glint in his eye, even the courteous gesture was a warning. This man was plotting and it all began with buttering you up.

Subtly, you recalled your hand before carrying on conversation. “I take it, you’re the one that runs things. Mr. Van der Linde, if I’m not mistaken”

“You wouldn’t be, miss. And here my…consort, Mr. Morgan” You noticed the slight pause in his speech before motioning over to the other man. Your head was quick to turn as you stared over at him. Eyes widening as you noticed his attractive features now closely. You smiled and nodded as a greeting to the man. “Ma’am” He returned your gesture with his slight acknowledgment. Couldn’t really hear it in the boss’s voice but, with Mr. Morgan’s you’d instantly picked up on the western candence.

“You don’t sound local, Mr. Morgan. You all from the west, I take it?”

“We’re from all over, Ma’am” He was short with you and rather mysterious, more than likely to hide his western drawl. But, they’ve got something greater to hide, you could feel it. “Mr. Bronte, may I ask a favor of you?”

“Anything, dear” He took a huff of his cigar before you suspiciously looked around for any ‘peering eyes’. “I’ve got the money but, there’s been talk of some group of boys runnin’ around robbing folk—You boys wouldn’t know anything of them, no?”

“No, we certainly do not. Saint Denis is new to us as well as its crime” Van der Linde was quick to respond. You nodded and grabbed his hand with a feigned concern and furrowed brows. “You all stay careful out there. They’re robbin’ houses and coaches from what I’ve heard. I could lend you both a couple of escorts, tonight as well”

“We appreciate the concern but, we’ve got ourselves handled” He reassured with a palm covering your hand.

“Alright, alright” You turned your attention back to Bronte. “The money’s in Daddy’s old office, I a-ain’t know what to do with it—”

“Calm down, the money will be fine. Go on, enjoy yourself.” Bronte played along with your little performance you put on. “What should I do with it? I ain’t never ran a business before.” Bronte tutted his tongue before leading you further into the gardens where all the officials rendezvoused.

“We’ll be back, boys. Help yourselves to some drinks while you’re here” Bronte spoke back to the men as the both of you, alongside your maid, disappeared in the crowd.

“Go find out where that money’s at, Arthur” Dutch wasted no time before turning to Arthur and bringing his voice down to a whisper. Arthur looked over toward him with a practical disbelief.

“Jesus, you ain’t serious? The girl’s daddy just died, now we’re robbing her of her own inheritance”

“Her daddy just died. Meaning that other people are gonna to rob her and, I’m not too sure about you but, I’d rather it be us that gets that money” His voice stained against the low volume he attempted to maintain before lighting a cigar. “I need you to trust me, Morgan, now…” Dutch backed away before tipping his hat to the man. Arthur sighed and made his way inside where the more quiet and intimate conversations took place.

By the time, Mr. Morgan had snuck his way upstairs you’d already been sitting in your father’s office chair shotgun light in your grasp. You had snuck your way around toward the back entrance of your estate which led straight up into the room. You double check the chamber making sure that you were sure to shoot if needed. Growing anxious with nothing but the drowned out voices from outside to distract you, you placed a cigarette to your lips before striking a lonesome match against the underside of your heel.

You’d get through half your cigarette before the soften floorboards creaked from the other side of the door. Quickly, you smothered the stick with the ashes of previous cigarettes your father burned through.

The door crept open and you were slowly met with the deadly end of a revolver and soon after an arm. “I’d put that down if I were you, Mr. Morgan” You stared down the barrel of your shot gun as the man slowly crept from behind the door. “Nobody has to get shot, I’m here to negotiate. Come sit with me, Mr. Morgan”

“Arthur.” He said curtly, clearly fed up with this whole event. He slowly holstered his weapon before seating himself in the chair sat on the opposite side of your desk.

“Arthur Morgan” You let his name slip your lips as you tested it. “You’re quite notorious, you know that?” You spoke clearly and watched him with your gun pointed toward him as you figured him out. “I’ve got family, down in Blackwater, sir. Say, they know all about you.”

“Do they now?” You nodded, slowly as your heel tapped against the wood. “What exactly are ya lookin’ to negotiate, Miss”

“I want to hire your gang as some guns and in turn I’ll keep this and your relation to the Blackwater massacre secret. And, if things play out as I’ve planned, I could probably get those Pinkertons off ya, for a moment anyway” You leaned back into the leather chair before setting your gun off to the side. “I’m tired of listenin’ to these men talk, empty promises followed by another all they is. Leviticus Cornwall for one, Angelo Bronte for another”

“Don’t you have your own men to escort you, why us?” Arthur questioned before leaning back as well, in his wooden seat legs spread and arms crossed. “I ain’t hirin’ y’all on a babysitting job. I need money, gold. I’d be sending y’all on robberies, I need experienced men not no, rich cat on a high horse” You licked your lips before getting desperate. “I’m tryna to buy off an oil plant from Cornwall but, I can’t do that without Bronte keeping the police distracted off of my daddy’s debts. With my daddy dead and me being a woman, my percentages have taken a hit. I can’t pay ‘em both”

“You sure are in a situation—”

“So are you. You need Bronte to trust you and the Pinkertons to fuck off. You need me.” You both stared at one another for a moment before letting your eyes soften. Even though, you’d been mid negotiation, you couldn’t help admiring his blue eyes, warmly lit from the lantern in front of you. God, what you would do just to be able to hold his face in your palms as your thumb rubbed the rosy blemishes of his cheeks.

“You ain’t wrong.”

“I know I ain’t. Now, would you escort me down to your boss, Mr. Arthur Morgan” You spoke sweetly before making your way over to his side and grabbing his arm. You would be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying every second of holding this man. With your one hand wrapped around his elbow and the other gently gripping his bicep, you followed his lead as you both left the room. “You know, you had me fooled back there…playing all helpless” You looked up at the man with a curious gaze mostly because you hadn’t heard the first half of what he was saying to you. “That was a set up, right? There ain’t no money.” You shook your head and smiled up at the bachelor to keep up a friendly appearance as you passed up some guests of yours.

“Bronte wanted to see if y’all were worth trustin’. ‘S nice to know if you lot like robbin’ helpless women” You winked before laughing at the matter only to get a rather dry chuckle from Arthur in return. “It’s alright, I won’t tell a soul, I promise” You placed a reassuring hand to his chest before letting it fall once you both reached the garden. “You know, you’re a handsome fellow, Mr. Morgan. Are you married? I can’t imagine that bein’ easy being in a gang and all.” You started up some small talk as the two of you walked around in search of Dutch.

“I ain’t married, no”

“What about your boss?” You urged.

“Well, he ain’t neither. Got a woman, though…back at camp” They had a woman traveling with them? You held back questioning about her before carrying on. “I take it you don’t, then? No women waitin’ on ya at home?”

“Not in that sense, no” Arthur said plainly as he maneuvered the two of you through the crowd carefully accommodating for you. “Y’all got more women traveling with you boys?” Your eyes brighten with the assumption you made. He nodded and watched as your face lit up. “You should bring ‘em over if this conversation with Mr. Van der Linde goes over well” You spoke outwardly not even thinking about what context the two of you were in currently. “You’re quite odd, Miss” Arthur chuckled before waving Dutch over with his freehand.

“Arthur. Miss (l/n).” Dutch greeted the both of you before visibly growing curious of the atmosphere. Your smiled faded as you grew more serious with the other male.

“Mr. Van der Linde, how would you feel about bein’ business partners?”

[luna-andra]

Domesticated!König Headcanons: Meeting the future In-Laws ✨

Image: @Skavod29 on Twitter (Source)

I was floored by how much attention my first headcanon post got. Y'all had me fucking emotional and I am so happy it's something people actually like. It keeps me coming back to post more of my silly little ideas. Forever grateful for your support! ❤️

I also need to reiterate that my blog/posts are 18+ so MDNI, this one has some NSFW bonus HCS 💋

If you missed the first one, here :) StepDad!Konig is here!

I got other stuff! Masterlist pinned on my blog

When you decided it was time for your parents and König to meet, you were tempted to slip a Xanax into his morning coffee. It is not like he hasn’t said a polite hello and a few words over the phone or when you facetime them, but now he was finally meeting them in person. You’ve seen him more calm talking to two- and three-star generals than this, the kinds of things that rattled your nerves.

You swore he changed attire more times than you did. The sight of him re-rolling his sleeves on his button up shirt made you intervene before he undid them all over again. He paused when your hands held his, then flicked his azure eyes up to you. “They’re gonna love you, my king.” Your gentle smile and comforting words got through to him.

They welcomed you and the mystery man with open arms at their front door. Mom never knew how to keep her thoughts to herself, but she really did mean well. Of course, the first thing they all notice is how König has to duck under their doorway to come inside. “You weren’t lying when you said he was tall,” mom said. You gave her a warning look followed up with an apologetic smile to König. He managed to chuckle it off, it was nothing new for him. It did make him curious about what else you’ve said to your mom about the two of you.

You gave König a tour of your childhood home, nearly having to pry him from the wall of photos of you and your family. He had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face of the little timeline displayed in pretty frames; your first elementary school photo, a photo of you in a boy/girl scouts uniform, another of you during extra-curricular activities (band/orchestra, JROTC, sports, theater, robotics team, etc.), a prom photo with you and old friends, and lastly your high school graduation picture. König wanted a copy of one of them to keep in his wallet, mom promised to get him one behind your back.

König's field day got better when you showed him your childhood bedroom. Depending on how you last had it decorated, you were either low key bashful or regretting even showing him. It was like traveling back in time for him, giving him a glimpse of the kid and teen, you used to be. A chance to fall in love with every facet of you.

He was getting more comfortable when he found out your dad wasn’t out to get him as much as he thought. They ended up sitting in the living room, talking about a topic after your dad played twenty questions to figure him out. Something either about guns, hunting, hiking, fishing, blue-collar work, and if your dad is a veteran, they got along faster than you could imagine. You and mom caught up in the kitchen as you helped her finish up with cooking and setting the table.

If you have siblings, they showed up in the nick of time before dinner, to share embarrassing stories of you when you were a kid, or the stories you all waited to tell when you all were adults to avoid from getting in trouble. König watched and listened as you got more animated with laughter. Loving every second of this. He had a handful of memories he could count on his hand that were of happier times, but your memories became his favorite ones.

Everyone pestered the two of you for the story of how you met. And since you’ve been doing most of the talking, you looked to König to tell the tale. Your eyes never left him as he started the story from his point of view, recollecting the moment he saw you and how he was trying to come up with an excuse to try and talk to you. It donned on you that this was the first time you were hearing the way he saw you. “And now we’re here,” he concluded, looking over to you with a grin and a touch to your hand underneath the table.

NSFW Bonus:

König couldn’t stop thinking about taking you in your childhood room, nearly fantasizing what it would’ve been like if the two of you met as teens/younger adults. Indulging in the idea of sneaking into your bedroom window or standing outside with a boombox in 80s/90s style fashion.

Of course, your parents offered you to stay with them, not wanting you to have to rent a hotel room or travel back (depending on how far away you lived from them), so the later the night got, the more distracted König became with fulfilling his dirty thoughts.

It was just like the old days, having you home and hearing the music coming from your speakers when someone passed by the doorway. You were just showing König your CD collection, right?

It definitely wasn’t because you were trying to muffle your moans and screams as he pounded you into that fucking mattress. Making you a drooling and brainless mess under his rutting hips. He kept praising you for taking him so well and for being so quiet like the good little fuck thing you were, making it harder not to cum so fast. Secretly, this was your fantasy too, and you wanted it to last a little longer than the 10 minutes of foreplay and fucking you had already endured.

Likes & reblogs are always appreciated! Stay tuned for more to this unexpected series! Asks are opened for requests & ideas for others.

[aziraphales-library]

Hey y'all, first off, thanks for the great work you're doing!

I'm looking for Aziracrow fics with like,, one of them as an FBI agent and the other as art consultant or something like that. I already checked if there's anything in a possible art heist tag, I also looked for crossovers with White Collar, which has a similar premise, and I didn't really find anything. Maybe there's nothing, but I thought maybe you'd have an idea :) Thank you!!

Hello! So, the best I can do is fics in which one of them works in law enforcement of some kind, and the other works in either a different department or completely different job, and they work together in some way. Hope this was the kind of thing you're after!...

Containing Seeds of Destruction by feathereddino (T)

Lower Tadfield is a rural, sleepy little village that is trying to be a town. The crimes that Police Constable A.J. Crowley usually responds to are mundane but never evil. His husband, police psychologist Dr. A.Z. Fell appreciates that their combined caseload reflects that banality. That all changes in 2008 with a call about an abandoned baby. Adam Young's surrender will spark a series of events that will impact their village, their careers, and their personal lives.

What Will Destroy You by EveningStarcatcher (E)

London, 1888 Police Inspector Aziraphale Fell forms an unlikely alliance with Reporter Anthony Crowley to investigate the Whitechapel Murders. Can they solve the mystery and stop the so called Ripper before he strikes again?

Tadfield's Finest by angelsnuffbox (E)

The sleepy town of Tadfield is thoroughly shaken by the arrival of DI Crowley. Where barely anything ever happened before, there is now a bustle of low grade criminal activity, and everyone knows where to point the blame. Gabriel thinks he's a bad omen for the town, many others are quick to agree. Meanwhile, Aziraphale from SOCO just thinks he's hot. Ridiculously so.

and salt the Earth behind you by sunrisesinthesuburbs (E)

Detective (well, Profiler actually, not that anyone seems to care) Aziraphale Fell should have dropped his one and only Criminal Informant the moment he realized he was already falling in love with the man. Alas, he's never had good ideas regarding his self-preservation: when Anthony Crowley calls, he always comes. He will always come. If this wasn't already very bad, his feelings are apparently reciprocated and, in the meantime, his unit has to catch the worst serial killer Washington D.C. has probably ever seen. Crowley has no intention of leaving Aziraphale to deal with this on his own; Aziraphale has no intention of letting Crowley do something stupid just for his sake. Ah, if only love could ever be something easy. “Sometimes I wish I’d met you in a park.” Crowley’s hands move lower, down, down until he reaches Aziraphale’s palms and intertwines their fingers. There isn’t a single chance this gesture can fall under the umbrella of ‘plausible deniability’. Though nothing about this sort of impromptu confession could. “A park, uh? Nice.” A squeeze. “I always imagine something like a library. Or a bookshop or, not sure, whatever place is full of books.”

For His Eyes Only by AFrenchFanWriter (M)

Anthony J. Crowley has been an MI6 spy for 10 years, completing successful mission after successful mission under the guidance of his quartermaster, Aziraphale Fell. But this life is starting to take its toll on him as he is getting older; and when, one day, his past comes back to haunt him, Crowley realizes that it might be time for him to hang up his gun and face all the things he has left unaddressed… (Yep, it is basically a James Bond/Q AU!)

On Espionage and Prophecy (or How to Accidentally, but Wholly, Fall in Love With a Soho Bookseller) by RockSaltAndRoll (E)

1941 is the London Blitz and the year that MI5 really comes into its own with the now infamous ‘double cross’ system. The service keep tabs on suspects, root out enemy agents and try to turn them into doubles. Anthony J Crowley is fucking great at this job. He can be sneaky, underhanded and damn ruthless but also charming and kind. It’s what makes him good at turning. Aziraphale is just a regular Soho bookseller who loves his shop and books and good food and wine when he’s approached by a woman claiming to be MI5, wanting to recruit him for espionage. The poor man is too trusting and gets the shock of his life when he’s approached by a charming but dangerous-looking man also claiming to be MI5. Crowley recruits Aziraphale to double cross a double crosser and Aziraphale takes to espionage like a duck to water. Danger, hijinks, and sex ensue.

- Mod D

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

(I feel kinda shy but I rllly need smt smutty jsjs)

Imagine the reader purposely buying some sort of pheromone perfume (ik they dont rlly work in real life but for the sake of the request they do🫡🔥) and cause matt has high senses he is quite turned on by that. She works at the law firm, and he tries to control himself, but after some weeks, he can not do that anymore. (The reader and Matt are already dating, and she does this as a way of teasing him).

UwU mercii

hii!! never be shy around here, ask for whatever it is you wanna read. also I feel kinda mean sorry in advance, this drabble is like im gonna edge you all (sorry if that’s gross to say😭😭) not necessarily smut per-say, just teasing and kinda suggestive. but I have wrote office smut if that’s more up your alley, I just don’t remember what it’s called😭 thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

…

(un)lucky number seven

matt murdock x fem!reader

word count: 601

warnings: suggestive and teasing

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

You love to tease Matt. It's simple, really. Nothing else to it. You loved to work him up and have him wrapped around your finger. 

So, two weeks ago, when you browsed the perfume department, you stumbled upon a selection of pheromones. You knew that they were often iffy, but with Matt's heightened senses, you were sure to get some kind of a reaction. You picked it up with a mischievous grin and went to the checkout to pay.

Since then, you've been wearing small amounts of the perfume when you were around Matt- which was almost all the time, considering you worked together too. You increased the spritzes every few days to see how much you could get away with before getting a reaction.

Today, you were wearing seven sprays of the alluring perfume and were hoping to get a response, something, anything. You wanted Matt to crack, so you pulled out the big guns.

Foggy and Karen were out collecting lunch, so it left you and Matt together at the office, left to your own devices.

You knock on the inside of Matt's door. "Where do you want these papers, boss," you tease, purposely wafting the papers against you as you walk into his office. "Finished them, just like you asked."

"Thanks," he nods, avoiding you and your games. "Put them with the others."

"I think we should have a break," you suggest, dragging a chair to sit in front of his desk. "You seem a little tense today."

"No, I'm fine," he brushes you off, ignoring your advances. He loosens his tie and then rolls his sleeves. "Just warm."

"Yeah, it is pretty hot today," you say, a slight breathy tone to your voice. "Meant to be like it for a few days." You tempt, ignoring his counter attempts of turning you on.

He stands, walking around his desk to sit at the edge facing you. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you say weakly, swallowing thickly when he pushes back his hair, subtly flexing his arms. "Supposed to be very hot," you say almost pathetically, steading your breathing.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" he grins, head cocking to the side in amusement. 

"Nothing, nothing," you reply, shaking your head as you gathered your things to leave. "I'll let you be."

"Stay," he whispers, halting your movements with an open palm. "You wanted a break, right?" he stands again and places his hands either side of your shoulders, gently pushing you back into your chair. "What's wrong? Don't like being on the receiving end?"

You slowly shake your head. Your breaths grow heavy and strained, looking up at Matt as he leans over you with his signature smile slapped on his face.

"Is that no?" he mocks, quietly speaking as he hovers against your lips. "Not so nice, now is it?"

"No," you admit, whispering.

He lingers to your lips, mimicking a light kiss as his hand faintly trails up your throat. "Exactly," he whispers back, grazing his spare hand over your thigh. "Better get back to work. They're back." Matt nods to the door, counting up on his fingers until the door swings open.

You mumble a curse under your breath and stand, collecting yourself and your papers. "So that's the part I need to correct?" you lie, speaking loud enough for Foggy and Karen to hear. 

"Yeah, change those parts, then it's perfect," Matt nods. "Mine. After work." He whispers to you, hiding his mouth behind his fist.

"You got it," you reply, your tone perky and upbeat as you leave his office. "Oh, hey, guys, I didn't see you there."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

[wardenparker]

For Protection

Joel Miller x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit Word Count: 16.1k Warnings: Cursing, food, references to unplanned pregnancy, past pregnancy, mentions of lost loved ones/family, some talk about bodily functions (nothing weird, I promise), angst, comfort, so much yearning, flirting, fingering. Joel calling his daughter ‘baby girl’ gets its own warning. Summary: The chance to stop and rest while on the road with Joel, Ellie, and baby Caroline ends up giving you and Joel a chance to talk about some things that have been building up again since you reunited in Lake City. Notes: The third part of the “For” series is here, my loves! We just absolutely love this little found family and were so excited to visit them again. And it happily coincided with a chance to see my fairy goddaughter again, who is the real-life Caroline that I love and adore. Big love and hugs to @becsworld for finding it absolutely silly that I named a character in a story after her baby girl 💗

Also in the series: For Her For Pleasure

“Oh god.” The dramatic gagging tears Joel’s eyes off the road to the rear view mirror. Finding Ellie slapping her hand over her nose and turning green. “I think she shit again.” She groans “Why do babies shit so much?”

He rolls his eyes, nose twitching as the first waft of the pungent aroma of baby shit works its way to the front of the car. The very proof needed that Caroline had indeed shit herself and it was going to be a foul diaper. “Babies shit. They eat, sleep, cry and shit.” He grunts, looking back at the road and for a safe place to pull off for a quick pit stop. It was an opportunity to scout for more gas as well. “That’s all teenagers seem to do too.”

"I won't make you change her diaper this time, El." You chuckle from where you are twisted slightly in the front seat, wiggling your finger in Caroline's mighty grip to make her coo and giggle. Joel had insisted that Ellie learn a few basics of taking care of the baby before the four of you set out on the road together and that included changing diapers. And while she had learned, she certainly hadn't been happy about it.

“God, it’s so gross.” Ellie whines. “I’m rolling down the window.” She huffs, trying to wiggle closer to the window to reach the button but Joel presses the locks.

“No.” He grunts. “We’re stopping.”

There's the fading remnants of a big food mart up ahead. One of the ones that has a gas station in the side parking lot, and you know you'll at least find a counter inside that you can spread Caroline's blanket out on to turn it into a changing station. "Do you think we could go inside?" It doesn't look too decrepit. There might even be some kind of food or supplies left if you dig hard enough.

“Let me check it out first.” Joel won’t deny you the opportunity to try to scavenge for supplies but he has become over cautious with where he lets you go with Caroline in tow.

"We'll stay put and stink up the car while you scout." That draws a groan from Ellie, but you just shake your head and laugh. It had been a miracle to get the car in the first place – trading the house you had renovated and lived in to two families who had pooled their resources to make it a fair trade. Now they have a home, and you have a car with a trunk full of gear and some food.

“Just a quick look.” The car pulls to a stop and Joel throws it in park. Anxious eyes find yours and he pulls the gun out of the holster on his hip to hand to you. “Get behind the wheel.” He reminds you. The same order that has been drilled into your head every time a stop happens and he is out of sight. He pops the trunk to retrieve the rifle, not wanting to stash it in the backseat with the kids.

"I got it," you promise him, climbing over things to get into the driver's seat. There are rules that need to be followed out here and you and Ellie both had promised Joel that what he said was law while you were traveling.

“Good girl.” He grunts, quickly walking back to grab the rifle and checks to make sure that it is properly loaded, even though he had checked it just this morning.

"These places used to be so much fun to come to when I was a kid." Sometimes when it's just you and Ellie, you slip into this odd sort of nostalgia and end up telling her odd things about the past. "My mom would make a whole day out of it. We would come up to the store like this near us in the late morning and eat all the samples they were handing out all over the store for our lunch."

"Samples?" Ellie tilts her head and then her eyes widen when she understands what you are meaning. "They gave away free food!" She exclaims, leaning forward to both escape the noxious fumes and to talk to you. "That's so cool. I bet it was good food too!"

“Sometimes it was. Sometimes it was weird. But that’s why you had to try it and find out.” Even while you’re talking, you keep your eyes on the door where Joel disappeared. The fact that he goes and does these sweeps without Ellie for back up drives you insane, but there’s nothing you can really do about it. Not when he reminds you quietly how important she is and turns those great big brown eyes on you.

“He’ll be okay.” Ellie assures you, her own eyes on the door and tense. It’s better now that you and the baby are with them, she feels safer, but there’s still a whole lot of shit to deal with. “He’s old, but he’s fucking tough.”

“I know he is. That doesn’t stop me from worrying though.” That’s your child’s father in there, and you tell yourself that that is why you care so much.

“I know.” Ellie looks over at Caroline as the first sound of unhappiness starts to wind up from the baby. “Oh shit, he needs to hurry.”

“You know she always calms down.” The first time Ellie had borne witness to a long crying spell she acted like it was the end of the world, which honestly you could understand. It was only the first time. But sweet little Caroline always calms down eventually, and this one makes sense as you reach your hand out to her again to see if you can distract her with finger puppets. “You’d be upset too if you were sitting in your own waste.”

“I know.” Twisting in her seat, Ellie puffs up her cheeks and crosses her eyes. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” She chants softly, scrunching up her nose when Caroline pauses mid-squawk to stare at her. It might be temporary, but it was a good distraction from waiting for Joel. The kid was cute, when she wasn’t covered in baby shit.

“She really likes you.” Caroline has a sort of fascination with Ellie that you can’t place, which has resulted in some very sweet – if temporary – moments between them. She will look at the older girl with absolute awe sometimes and just start giggling happily, leading the teen to ask once if it was possible the baby was plotting her murder.

“She’s really cool.” Ellie admits, grinning when Caroline reaches for her and squeals happily. Her hand immediately is grabbed by the younger girl and she tugs like all babies do. “For a poop machine.”

You’re laughing softly when Joel appears at the door of the large store again and waves to give you the all clear. “Looks like we’re okay,” you tell Ellie before turning back to make sure Caroline is all set. “Come on, baby girl,” you coo at her, having picked up the nickname from Joel. “Daddy says it’s safe inside, so let’s go get you changed.”

Joel watches as you take the baby out of the car seat he had stolen from an abandoned car and put her in the basket you would carry her in. He had been thinking about trying to find one of those things that strap a kid to your chest. That might be easier and leave everyone with two hands to use. “There’s still some stuff in here.” He assures you. “Doors are still good. Maybe we can camp early tonight.”

“That would be nice.” Four walls to sleep inside of again would definitely be a trade up. You could roll out the sleeping bags and actually stretch out instead of sleeping cramped in the car. “What kind of supplies are still hanging around?”

“Some that I think you’re going to be very happy about.” Joel chuckles as he motions to the box that is on the ground just off to the side. Disposable diapers. He had done a quick sweep of the store, but that aisle had caught his attention. There was also one case of baby wipes left, although they were probably no good.

“Holy shit.” Your appreciative groan is very real. Cloth diapers on the road are not an ideal situation by any means. “I could kiss you for finding those.”

Ellie snorts, smirking. “Kissing got you into this situation.” She reminds you, making Joel roll his eyes.

“Just for that, you change her.” He grumbles at the teenager, trying to ignore the urge to collect on that kiss.

“I’ll change her.” The way Ellie looks so dismayed at being tasked with the job practically has you giggling. “You should watch though, Ellie. So I can show you how these diapers work.”

Joel does chuckle, lifting his brows when Ellie swings a glare towards him and just waits her out as she huffs.

The agreement that all three grown people should know how to take care of the baby’s basic needs has caused no end of huffing and puffing from Ellie, but still she always learns. She’s aces at feeding the little girl, always good for some play time, and likes to tell the baby stories that she’s read in old books or comic books. In another life – the life before this one – she would have made an amazing big sister. Even in this world, she’s a damn good surrogate for that role.

When you pick Caroline up from the basket, Joel takes his rifle off his shoulder and shoves it into Ellie’s hands. “I’ll do it.” He volunteers, having plenty of experience with dirty diapers before the Outbreak. He had raised Sarah by himself, with Tommy lending a hand sometimes.

“Sure.” You have intentionally encouraged them to bond – Joel and his daughter – and now you hand her over without a fuss. She waves her little fists in the air as if cheering to find her daddy in view again, then promptly remembers she has a full diaper and the terrible tremble of her chin starts all over again. It’s wails this time instead of squawks, and you tut in sympathy as Joel carries her over to an empty counter to get her cleaned up.

“It’s okay, baby girl.” He coos softly, chortling at her with a soft smile on his normally serious face. It’s hard not to lower his guard around this baby, his baby. “We’re going to get you cleaned up,” he looks over his shoulder. “Open up the diapers and see if those wipes haven’t dried out, will you?” He asks, concentrating on unwrapping Caroline from her little sleeper and chuckling when she kicks a foot. “I know, I know. We’ll have you changed in no time.”

One of the diapers is pulled free of the package easily and you set it next to him, but frown when you pry open the package of wipes. “These are goners,” you tell him, obvious disappointment lacing your frown. “That would have been too good to be true.”

“That’s alright.” Joel tuts and shakes his head. “I’ll just set up a soaking bucket like we’ve been doing.”

“I’ll do it.” There is a rhythm to things already. Just a couple of weeks together and so far you haven’t wanted to kill each other or yell or disagreed on the way things should be done. It’s given you…thoughts that absolutely won’t go away. Butterflies in your belly, a spike in your heart rate, sweaty palms from nerves that make no sense because what do you have to be nervous about? You’ve literally already had this man’s baby. It doesn’t get more intimate than that. But still you feel like a schoolgirl half the time you look at him.

“Thanks.” He nods and keeps his eye on Caroline as he unpins her diaper, well aware that the squirming baby could work her way off the counter. Or spray him with a geyser of urine. The myth that only boys sprayed like a water hose was well dispelled when he was a young father.

It takes a little coordination, but Caroline gets changed with only a small amount of fuss, and soon she’s a happily babbling little baby again with no concept of the dangers of the world or the fact that you’ll be sleeping in an abandoned box store tonight. “Next time she cries it will be for dinner,” you predict, unable to keep the little smile of your face at the sight of Joel holding your little girl.

“That’s okay. Maybe we can find something to make a carrier for her.” Joel murmurs, enjoying the cuddliness of his daughter for another moment before she has to go back in the basket.

“That would be good.” It would be much easier to carry her, certainly. “Maybe we can go take a closer look around while she’s not being fussy?”

“Yeah.” Holding out his hand for the rifle, Joel sends Ellie a pointed look. “Stay close by.” He knows the girl wants to go scout for her own supplies, but she also has a tendency to find trouble. Joel’s anxiety had more than tripled since leaving your old community, aware of how vulnerable all of you are out here with the baby.

It’s a slow and steady pace, working through this empty store. There are a few things left but they tended to be punctured or broken containers so the items were already spoiled. You’re feeling like this pit stop might be a waste except for the diapers when the group of you come across the stairs that lead up to the store offices. “It’s worth a look,” you suggest to Joel with a shrug, knowing that he would be the one to go up there first. The stairs are fine, but if there’s a clicker or a raider up there, he won’t want either of the kids anywhere near that.

His flashlight shines on the steps before he places his foot, tilting up so he can see in front of him and then back down again. Slowly climbing, he’d rather take his time than alert anything that might be up there. He looks over his shoulder at you when he gets to the top and then adjusts his grip on the handgun he had traded for the rifle. It was better in close quarters like this.

Ellie reaches back, one hand on your shoulder where Caroline is currently resting, as Joel disappears out of sight. For her, with the way she is coming to feel about Joel even unconsciously, it is now her job to make sure you and the baby are safe. The rifle is in her hands and she is the protector, watching over people who need it. It makes her stand up a little taller. Hold her chin a little higher. And you have that thought again about what a wonderful big sister she would have made.

The door is closed, making Joel pause for a moment before reaching for it. Feeling the handle turn easily, the door creaks open and the sight has Joel jumping back, startled.

The dried husk of an infected, separated from its group, is plastered to two of the walls, limbs akimbo and mouth open in the impression of a blood-curdling scream. Whoever had been hiding in here hadn’t been discovered for a very, very long time, and neither had their stash. Once Joel can tear his eyes off of the figure in front of him, his light sweeps the room and falls upon stacks and stacks of cans, bottles, and boxes. A small mountain of supplies has been sitting untouched just waiting for no one — until now.

Grimacing, Joel steps towards the body and checks with the barrel of the gun just to make sure that nothing moves or sprouts. When nothing does, he’s satisfied and steps back outside the door. “There’s a stash up here.” He tells you. “And a body. It’s dried out.”

That has Ellie on the move instantly, and you carefully climb the steps behind her with Caroline valiantly fighting sleep on your shoulder. This was definitely an office – there’s a desk and faded bullshit corporate motivational posters peeling off the walls to prove it – and whoever had been here had obviously intended to stay. “Holy shit is that bottled water?” You gasp, finding your eyes drawn to the bottom of the pyramid of packages.

“It is.” Joel chuckles and shakes his head. “It was a good idea. Staking out a store and keeping a large portion of the supplies for themselves.”

“It would have been a good idea,” Ellie snorts, barely inches away from the body on the wall. “If they hadn’t gotten themselves fungi-fied.”

Joel rolls his eyes, but his lips curve up in a quick smirk. “Let’s see what they have stored up here and hopefully have ourselves a good meal tonight.” The idea of carrying everything downstairs makes him groan, but more supplies are more supplies.

Boxes of beans, lentils, and rice come down the stairs. Jars of popcorn and bottles of soy sauce and honey. Salt, sugar, vinegar, even bottles of real maple syrup. There is powdered milk and even bottles of wine along with the water. Hand sanitizer and cleaning products. More than they could possibly fit into the car. When it’s all piled up in front of you, you almost can’t even laugh in amazement. “That guy really was just going to live his whole life in that office if he could.”

“Looks like.” Joel snorts and shakes his head. “Too bad he didn’t stock up on tampons.”

Ellie has clearly already thought of that and makes a grumbling sound, but you nudge her with your elbow. “You should find this place’s bathroom,” you suggest to the teen. “See if maybe the coin op machines or supply cabinets still have anything in them. Sometimes public bathrooms had little vending machines for tampons or pads.” They usually weren’t the best quality, but something is always better than nothing.

“Heyoooo.” Ellie smirks and nods. “I’m on it.” She grabs her bag, making sure her gun is in it and darts off into the darkness.

******

“We’re not going to be able to take all this with us.” The stash is honestly pretty impressive, and you stand next to the old Customer Service Counter where everything is piled with one hand on Caroline in her basket as she naps. “We should pick out the stuff that will be the best to use on the road and use some of the other stuff while we’re in one place.” Talking business - being practical - it helps you focus. There’s less time to get lost in Joel’s endless brown eyes if you’re planning three steps ahead.

“Diapers come with us.” Joel huffs. “And all the powdered milk. Maybe–” he scratches his chin. “Do you think they have bottles here? At least one or two? Or those sippy cups?”

“I can take a closer look at the non-perishable aisles.” On the road it’s a lot harder to feed Caroline anything besides the obvious times you breastfeed, and the milk will be invaluable. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s been in here in a long time so I don’t think we should have trouble tonight.”

“No, we shouldn’t.” Joel nods. “Why don’t I go check for gas?” He asks. “I can take the baby with me.”

“If you’re sure.” You never say no to him wanting to spend time with Caroline, and you keep your deeply felt competency kink to a damn minimum with just a smile. Joel doing chores and being a dad only reinforces what you’ve had to admit to yourself over these last few weeks – that you did, in fact, fall in love with him that night a year and a half ago. And that it may have faded a little, but it came screaming back the second he reappeared in your life.

“Course I’m sure.” He sends you a small wink and puts the gun back in the holster so he can take the basket. “Go do some shoppin’, I’ve got our baby girl, honey.” If it weren’t for the fact that there hasn’t been power, or employees, in this store he could have passed for any husband encouraging his wife to have a break from the baby.

The fucking mess of a cliché you become when he does something so normal and so sweet is why you’re rooted to the spot gazing longingly at the door when Ellie comes back from exploring the bathrooms with her backpack stuffed fuller than it was before. “Found a lot of tampons and pads.” She crows happily, tossing her bag down with slight relief. It’s a pain to bleed through shit when there’s nothing to put in her panties but ripped up clothes. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Oh—um—Joel took Caroline to go scout for gas.” You snap back to reality from your little floating fantasy of being a normal family in normal times and offer Ellie a smile. “I’m gonna go look for bottles or sippy cups or whatever else we can find. You wanna come?”

“Sure.” She shrugs slightly and then grins at you. “So were you daydreaming about baby daddy?” She coos teasingly. Even if she doesn’t understand what you see in Joel – he’s a man, ewww – she recognizes the looks you sometimes get when you think no one is paying attention.

Joel and Ellie might have a weird, sarcastic, father-daughter thing going on without either of them admitting it, but your own relationship with Ellie is a lot easier. You’re fairly comfortable together. Laugh together. And occasionally tease each other about girly shit to boot. “What if I was?” You ask her, side-eyeing the teen as you head for the baby supply aisle. “You gonna tell on me?”

“Might.” She jokes, knocking into your shoulder playfully. “Nahhhh, I’m not a snitch.” She laughs at her own comment and points her flashlight around. “Do you— do you regret it?” She asks after a moment. “Having her and not knowing if you would ever see him again? I mean, I know you did see him again, but….before?”

“No.” It’s a surprisingly easy answer for you, considering everything that raising a child in this new world entails, but you shake your head. “I was upset a lot when I was pregnant. Blaming him…or missing him and pretending it was blame. But the second she was born I knew that what he’d actually given me was a gift. Not something to hold a grudge over or regret.”

For a teenager, Ellie is surprisingly introspective. “It’s like you got to keep a piece of a single good moment?” She asks. “That’s something that’s rare.”

“That’s exactly it.” Knocking Ellie’s shoulder in turn gets her to smile again. “She’s my little reminder to remember the good times when things are hard.”

“Yeah.” She never met her mother, never even knew her name, and she frowns. Thinking about what Marlene had told her during those precious few hours before she was handed off to Joel. “She’s cool. And funny when she makes herself laugh.”

“And you’ve been a huge help in taking care of her.” It may not be her favorite thing, but she does a good job at it and it shows in her pride. “Didn’t think you’d ever get to be a big sister, did you?”

“Nahhh.” She shakes her head. “They kept the little kids separate from us in the FEDRA school.”

“And now look at you. An old pro after just a couple of weeks.” The demand for baby supplies when this store was last looted seems to have been small, thank god, and there are even some packages with old school basic baby toys like teething keys and some packs of things like toddler socks and baby bibs - things you never thought you would find anywhere. There is a whole one sippy cup remaining intact on the shelf and you could practically cheer over it.

“That’s a cool little cup.” Ellie takes the package from you and examines it. “So she doesn’t spill anything, right?”

“Exactly.” You nod, checking the shelves over for anything you might have missed. “All that powdered milk that Joel found in the office is going to be great for her.”

“That’s cool.” Food for Caroline is important, even Ellie can understand that. “I can’t remember the last time I had milk.”

“Do you want to have a sip the next time I make some up for the baby?” It won’t be the same, obviously, but you’re with Ellie. You can’t remember the last time you had a glass of cold milk. It sounds like the most amazing thing in the world right now.

“No, no, you save that for her.” Ellie knows how precious that can be and how much Caroline will rely on it. “I’m good. Hey–” she grins at you. “You can use that bottled water to make up the milk for her.”

“Yes we can.” And you cannot say what a relief it is that you won’t have to figure out how to get water and boil it clean before being able to make milk. “Between me and the boxes of powder, we should be able to keep her fed and happy until we get to Jackson.” Of course her diet is lacking, but it’s not like you could cook her fresh applesauce on the road or have access to bananas or puréed baby food of any kind. As soon as you get settled again, you’re restarting your garden with all the seeds and saplings you packed before you left Lake City.

“You know…” She frowns as she thinks about the foods that she had carried down. “I think there are some freeze dried fruits in those boxes.” She tells you. “Could you rehydrate them and feed them to her?”

If there are, we can absolutely do that.” The idea that the stash Joel found is actually a goldmine is a little overwhelming. You knew things would be hard on the road but you don’t want your baby girl to have to suffer for it.

“Cool.” She flashes you a proud grin. “I’ll look for them when we get back over to the pile.” She wants to help and contribute. Looking back at the shelves, she shrugs. “Anything else she might need? I have room in my pack.”

After a moment you almost climb the shelf, seeing something up a little too high for you to grab that might be the biggest find of them all. “If I boost you up, can you grab that box?” You ask Ellie, pointing to the corner of the green and white cardboard just out of reach. Joel would be able to get it with no problem, but he’s outside.

“No problem.” She scoffs at you and hands you the sippy cup back so she can scramble up the shelving with only a curse or two.

She’s a scrappy kid, and in under a minute she’s back down to you with a prize so precious you could cry. “Ellie,” you gasp when she hands it over. “You have no idea how great this is!”

“A breast pump?” She’s bewildered when she reads the box and just looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “What’s so great about that?”

“You know how sometimes your boobs hurt when you’re on your period? Or they just feel a little swollen or sensitive?” The teen nods and you blow out a sigh. “Being able to breastfeed Caroline is fantastic, but it means I always feel full and sore. This way, I can pump some of the milk and put it in water bottles after we empty them. I just have to figure out how to keep it from spoiling.” If that’s at all possible. It’s not like you have a cooler full of ice in the trunk. “And the bottle means that either you or Joel can feed the baby now.”

“That would be cool!” She nods, grinning at the idea. Babies aren’t too bad, especially one that is as cute as Caroline.

“Let’s head back to the front of the store and see if you were right about that fruit.” With your hands full of baby things you are bordering on feeling normal all over again and it’s so soothing. New things for Caroline are rare, and chances to see Joel feeding her might be playing into that domestic fantasy you entertain right before falling asleep at night…and sometimes during the day.

******

Outside, Joel sucks on the hose until the gas hits his tongue and he quickly shoves the hose in the can. Spitting and coughing as Caroline gurgles and squeals in the basket beside him. “So that’s funny, huh baby girl?” He demands roughly, coughing slightly still but he can’t help but grin at her spit bubbling coo. “Fuck, I can’t believe how sweet you are.”

Caroline burbles, waving her hands like she’s at a rock concert and clapping every so often. She’s gotten the hang of single syllables like mah and guh so far and they’re peppered in her little sounds, making Joel chuckle again. “Tell me about it.” He hums, watching the level on the gas can rise. There’s another one nearby and it seems like this place is literally a gold mine for supplies. Which makes Joel sigh in relief.

“Da.” The giggling little mass of limbs and blankets proclaims, putting her hands out straight before wriggling with joy again.

Joel’s heart stops, or maybe it starts. Another layer of the icy protection he had built up around it cracking and falling away with a gasp and nearly physical pain. “Yeah? Da da! That’s me, baby girl.” He swaps the cans over quickly and bundles her up into his arms. “Da!” He prompts.

“Da!” She squeals again, apparently delighted to have gotten her message through to him. She swings both little fists down onto his shoulder with as much force as a seven-month-old can muster. “Da!”

“Oh my godddd.” Joel chokes out, tears springing to his eyes as he holds her close. Remembering Sarah’s first time saying Da and feeling so overwhelmed that he is experiencing it again, already in love with his new daughter. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He rasps. “I promise.”

"Joel?" Leaving Ellie with the stash inside, you had slipped out the front door of the store again to check on him and see if he'd been able to find any gas. Instead you see him sitting with his back to the Volvo with Caroline cradled to his chest and tears streaking down his cheeks. "Oh my god." Instantly you're at his side, only not fully panicking because Caroline is babbling happily at his shoulder. "Is everything okay? What happened?"

“Hey– no, it’s– it’s good.” He shakes his head as you rush over, checking her. He doesn’t blame you, he would do the same. “She– she said Da.” He explains. “And I–” shrugging helplessly, he looks at you as if you should know how he is feeling.

"Oh..." Suddenly you're biting your lip and holding back your own tears as you look at the two of them together. Gently brushing the whisper soft hair on Caroline's head away from her eyes, you end up leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead and sigh. "Sometimes I can't wait until she's old enough to be talking to us and being her own little self, and then other times I can't believe how fast she's already growing."

“I— I can’t believe it.” He reaches out with the hand that isn’t holding Caroline to him. “I never– after Sarah, I never thought I would– I would have this again.” The words come out soft, broken. “And yet– she’s here.”

When he reaches for you you're helpless but to take the invitation, curling against his side so that the three of you are a little pile of cuddles on the ground beside the car. "Thank you for her." Your voice is just as quiet as his is, hushed in the intimacy of the moment. "She's the best thing that ever happened to me."

“It was distinctly my pleasure.” He jokes quietly, chuckling. “I— will keep both of you safe.” He promises again. “On my life.”

"You're not tied to us, Joel. You know that." The deal has been fairly clean cut. Once you get to Jackson, you're going to find your family and set up house again in the new community, so that Caroline can be raised safely if safety is at all possible. What Joel needs to do or not do with Ellie is his own business, and you've never had the guts to ask him what he planned on doing after that was over. Whether or not he would want to come back to make a life with his daughter. With you. "It's always up to you what you want to do."

He frowns and shakes his head. “I am tied to you.” He insists. “This is my daughter and you….” He breaks off. “You…are…important.” He has a fucking hard time admitting his emotions but his eyes are soft and pleading with you to understand. More expressive than his face could ever be.

"You're important to me, too." That is the very least of it, but it's the most you can manage without grappling a whole lot with emotions that you have barely sorted through. "And I'm not saying that I don't want you to be with us." It is, honestly, the biggest thing that you do want. But you know that you're talking about something big and you have absolutely no reason to believe that he's there yet. Or if he ever would be at all. "But I don't want you to feel forced. That's all I'm saying."

“I’m not feeling forced.” If you only understood how often he stays awake all night, watching over you and Caroline. It was bad enough when it was just Ellie, but now… he runs off the pure need to protect all of you.

"Good." You gently tighten your hand around his and nudge closer to him. "Because we're your family. And I've seen enough bullshit families in my life to know that when those people force you into staying around, you end up resenting them." The people you're going out west to find are the best of your biological family, in your opinion. The ones who never forced and always supported. The ones you want to be like now.

Family. He had told Ellie that you keep going for family and that’s what he’s doing. “I could never resent you or Caroline.”

"Ellie asked me if I regretted it." It comes tumbling out of your mouth faster than you can stop yourself, and you end up hiding your face from him so he can't see that feeling in your eyes. "But I don't. I can't. Not when that night gave us her."

“I don’t regret it either.” Joel hums, smirking and rolling his eyes. “But I also didn’t grow her for months and have to push her out of my body.” He regrets not being there, no knowing even if there was no way he could have known. He had thought about taking you back to Boston if you hadn’t adamantly said you were going west. “If it had happened before the Outbreak….” He shrugs. “Who knows what we would have done. Don’t think sleeping in a car counts as livin’ together.”

"If this was before the Outbreak, my father would have had you proposing at gunpoint." The visual makes you shake your head, laughing ruefully as you remember insisting that Joel put down his gun while you both stripped to prove you weren't infected the night you met.

“There are worse ways to end up married.” He chuckles and rubs Caroline’s back. “We should get set up for the night. We can load all the supplies up in the morning. Even make a fire in the building once we get it locked down.” He smirks. “I think there were some mattresses we could lay out.”

"A mattress." You groan happily and push yourself back to your feet before taking Caroline from him so that he can stand as well. After sleeping in a car, even a mattress on concrete sounds amazing. "Did you find enough gas?"

“Two cans worth.” Joel nods. “And there might be more, but I got distracted.”

"She's a cute little distraction." Cute, and grasping at your earlobes like they're pull toys. "Come on, baby girl. Let's let Da finish up and I'll feed you dinner?" Shooting Joel an excited grin, you shift the baby up on your arms. "You'll never believe what Ellie and I found. An untouched breast pump."

“Really?” He arches a brow in surprise. “That’s amazing, although I’ll miss watching you feed her.” He hums. You had allowed him to watch, especially at night, and it was still breathtakingly gorgeous. Even if the surroundings are crumbling and moldering, you with his daughter at your breast looks like Madonna and Child to him.

"You'll just have to be horny while I pump instead," you tease, knowing that that was not at all the primary reason for letting Joel in on the intimacy of Caroline's feedings. But still, you're in a good enough mood to tease him about it.

He grunts, not willing to voice the small feeling of guilt at how accurate that will be. It’s been a long goddamn time and he hasn’t tried to make any overtures towards you. “I’ll keep it in my pants.” He promises, smirking slightly.

"That would be a first for us." He hands you the baby's basket and you toss him a wink like he had given you earlier. "I'm gonna go back inside. You coming with me or are you gonna work on getting more gas before you lose the light?" He can always go back to it in the morning, but you know that Joel sometimes overprepares with good reason.

“Have the kid make a fire and I’ll bring in the sleeping bags as soon as I’m done.” He decides. “We’ll block the door and then sleep peacefully.”

"Sounds like a plan." Peaceful sleep hasn't happened since leaving Lake City, so that part of the plan sounds absolutely amazing.

Once he’s watched you walk with Caroline back into the store, Joel gets back to work. There are three other cars to check and he wants to strap as many cans of gas to the trunk as he can.

******

By the time he comes back inside things are looking more organized and Ellie has a fire going inside of a stone lawn decor oddity and you have some supplies laid out to put together a dinner for the three of you. There was a working kitchen in this store at one point – they must have sold pre-prepared foods – and you managed to find a decently sized saucepan and big metal spoon to essentially just have a functional stew pot. These are definitely things that can come with you to cook over an open fire on the road.

The doors shut behind him, Joel starts to push the large shelves that were nearby in front of them. To keep prying eyes out as well as to provide a barrier against anyone who might come during the night. He had hidden the gas and made the car look like it was one of the others in the parking lot.

"Beans and rice for dinner." You inform him from across the front of the store. Ellie had jumped up to help him with the shelves but Joel's seemingly inhuman strength got the job done before she could get to him. "I wonder if that popcorn still has any pep in it. Ellie says she's never had it before."

“Wouldn’t doubt that.” Joel hums. “I know I saw some hot sauce in the supplies but were there Tums?” He asks, lifting a brow. Getting older sucks and he knows he doesn’t want to stay up all night with heartburn.

"In my backpack." There wasn't a huge amount to be had, but what there is is precious. Heartburn had been the bane of your existence during pregnancy. "Hot sauce makes everything better."

“Everything.” He chuckles. “Especially when it’s Ellie’s turn to warm up food.” He smirks when the teenager stops poking the fire to glare at him.

Caroline seems to protest on Ellie's behalf and you chuckle, looking over at her basket to see her pouting at you heavily in that way that implies crying is imminent. "Uh oh," you hum, reaching for the baby. "I think it's dinner time for this one before it is for us." Typically you just cover yourself when you need to feed her, not wanting to make Ellie uncomfortable or even incur that conversation. This time you push up onto your feet and coo at your baby before offering the other two a smile. "I'm going to take a little stroll around the store while she eats. Pretend it's just a normal ass shopping trip."

“I’ll cook.” Joel nods, handing you the flashlight and leaning down to kiss the baby before he moves away reluctantly. He would walk with you if he could but everyone needs to eat and tonight will be a hearty meal.

"I can do it." Ellie insists, looking between the two of you like she's sure there's some kind of adult code going on that she doesn't quite understand. "It's just making sure it doesn't boil over, right? That's easy as fuck."

He’s doubtful but as he stares at her long enough for her to roll her eyes and sigh like all dramatic teens do. “Come on, man.” She huffs and he rolls his own eyes.

“Fine, but if you burn it, you eat it all.” He warns her.

The soft smile you aim at Ellie when Joel’s back is turned is for her eyes only, and you nod a small thanks to her before stepping away. She understands on a basic level, even if she doesn’t get why you feel so strongly about Joel, and you have to wonder if she’s had someone special to her already. Or worse, if she had lost them.

He tells himself that it’s just to make a final check of the building. Make sure there’s nothing he’s missed. Or hold the flashlight he’s already taken back and is holding steady as the two of you start to walk. “Feels like we should have a shopping cart.” Joel jokes, filling the silence as Caroline suckles hungrily.

“Just a little Sunday shopping trip for the family.” The slow and steady stroll is positively intimate, even though you don’t reach for his hand or anything like that. You’re focused on not jostling Caroline too much, even though she likes when you move around during meal time. “This place is huge, it’s nice for a walk.”

“It is.” Joel nods and imagines what that might look like before the outbreak. “When Sarah was younger, didn’t have much money. So it was about buying the most I could with what I had. Sunday was about my only day off.”

“What did you do?” You ask, realizing that because careers don’t much matter anymore, you don’t actually know what he used to do for work.

“Contractor.” Joel shakes his head. “By the end, I had my own business. Building a house that same damn day everything came crashing down. Never finished it.” Ironic that he’s nostalgic over a house he had been cursing all that day. Maybe because if he had finished it, it would have meant the world wouldn’t have fucking burned and Sarah would have been right beside him still. Or married and made him the grandpa Ellie keeps teasing him that he is.

“I was right to figure you for a hands on kind of guy.” Thoughts of him while you were apart had gone all kinds of ways, but the image of Joel as someone who worked hard and built things himself was always your favorite. He had been meticulous in the way you were together and you couldn’t see him being anything else in his work.

He chuckles and looks over at you with a sideways grin. “Have that look, huh?” He teases, knowing that he looks his age, and god knows he feels it.

“For a long time, my only memories of you were very hands-on,” you remind him with a smirk.

“Apparently I did a very thorough job.” He huffs with an ironic smile, reaching over to caress Caroline’s head as she eats. “The greedy little trophy is right here.”

A rueful laugh escapes your lips as you shake your head, smiling down at her regardless. “My nipples will never be the same.”

“They were nice nipples from my recollection.” Joel hums, thinking about that one night you had together.

“You seemed to be a fan.” When you laugh it’s more of a huff, and you peak down at Caroline again to see she’s starting to slow down. “Now they have a big stamp on them that says ‘Property of Miss Caroline Miller’, don’t they, baby?”

“What can I say? Imma guy.” He jokes, shrugging his shoulders. “I think it’s ingrained in our DNA.”

“Oh believe me, I’m not upset about it in the least.” Looking up at him beside you, you nearly sigh – that dreamy feeling in your chest coming back full force. “Not at all.”

He catches the look, his own heart clenching and flexing under the force of it. Knowing that this is his – to keep and protect – and it is something that scares him down to his very marrow. You, the baby, Ellie, all of you counting on him. Caroline gurgles, pulling your nipple out of her mouth and Joel immediately stops, setting the flashlight down and reaching for her. “I’ll hold her. Burp her.”

“Here.” The cloth you had on your shoulder is just a length of ripped sheet from your old house, but when it’s folded up it makes a decent burping cloth and you put it on Joel’s shoulder instead so you can rearrange your clothes once he takes the baby. It’s perfunctory, but these are the moments of intimacy that you have with him now. All revolving around your daughter.

“Thanks honey.” Joel smiles as he hoists his daughter up onto his shoulder. “She likes to soak me. I think she’s getting me back for not helping you when you were carryin’ her or pushin’ her out.”

“You know I don’t begrudge you for that,” you tell him quietly, picking up the flashlight after you straighten yourself out. “It’s not something you have to beat yourself up for, Joel. You didn’t know.”

“I wish I was there.” He pats Caroline’s back with a steady, firm hand and rubs it every third pat. He had used the same pattern with Sarah when she was a baby. “I woulda been there for everything.”

“If I had known how to tell you, I would have.” Short of traveling to Boston and probably being shot for walking up to the gates, there was nothing you could have done. It’s not like there is a mail service anymore. “I’m just…I’m glad you’re here now. That you get to be with her.”

“Me too, honey.” Joel continues to burp the baby until there is a loud belch that comes bursting out and he chuckles. “She’s gassy tonight.”

“Always an elegant little princess.” You laugh right along with him, obviously not meaning a word of it.

“We all will be after the beans and rice.” He jokes, winking at you and transferring her in the cradle of his arms so she can look up at him sleepily.

“And then we’ll all be instantly sleepy, just like that.” It isn’t the same as it used to be. A full belly doesn’t automatically mean relaxation and security. But a full belly is also rare enough that you’re looking forward to what you once would have considered a sparse meal. “At least we won’t be hotboxing the car tonight,” you observe with a laugh.

“Thank god.” Joel rolls his eyes. “Ellie is the worst, I swear to Christ, that kid could lay out an elephant.”

“Whoever said teenage girls were delicate must never have spent any time around actual teenage girls.” The two of you start walking again, lulling the baby into contentment in Joel’s arms as you go. “So…we should be out of Illinois tomorrow morning. We’re making good time.”

“Maybe we can stay another day?” Joel poses, looking over at you to see what you think. “It was late when we got here. Tomorrow we can reassess and see what all we can squeeze into the car.” It’s also another day with solid four walls around you and the girls, and enough food to fill your bellies to bursting. “Wash clothes, rest.”

“Sounds positively domestic.” And like a dearly needed rest, so you nod. “Another day here will give us good rest and then we can make a push on the road the day after. Getting to Jackson will just seem like a family road trip.”

He has his doubts that it will be that easy, but he nods. “Maybe we’ll actually all get a good night's sleep.”

“We’ll sleep and snack on popcorn and pack up the car. Ellie can tell us terrible jokes and the baby can stretch her legs with plenty of space to crawl. It…actually it sounds like exactly what we need.” And if you maybe take some time tomorrow to sneak away to read, that will be entirely while Caroline is napping. Joel still doesn’t know that you stole the copy of Lady Chatterly’s Lover that directly led to your affair, but it’s in the bottom of your backpack and reading it is now a lot more sentimental than arousing.

“I’ll get those mattresses set up when we get back.” He had brought the sleeping bags in and wishes that there was a playpen in the store for Caroline. “What do you think about us sharing?” He ventures. “Putting the baby between us rather than in the basket.”

“You asking to sleep with me, Joel Miller?” It’s playful. Teasing. Because there’s honestly nothing more that you want in the world – that is attainable at least – than to sleep next to this man again.

“This time is slightly different than the last time.” He retorts, just as playfully. “But yes. Always yes.”

“The answer is also always yes.” You admit quietly, looking down at your hands so he doesn’t see anything too deep or hopeful in your eyes.

The silence between you draws out, purposeful and full of silent, unspoken words. Words that Joel isn’t the best at. “Don’t know how you could be even more beautiful today than in my memory.” Joel speaks after a moment. “But you are.”

Fully stopped on one end of the store, you soften completely under that kind of praise and swallow down the words you want to say immediately. Joel isn’t the kind of guy you just dump that on, no matter what the circumstance. “Probably has more to do with the whole giving birth to your child thing.” You joke weakly, though your heart has started beating double time.

“Not really.” Joel shrugs, wondering if you weren’t happy with the compliment. He knows he’s bad with women. He only had to look at his relationship with Sarah’s mom and Tess.

“No?” That could be taken a lot of different ways, but you’re trying not to get your hopes up. Or to take it badly, since he had just called you beautiful.

“Nahhh.” He looks down at the life that you created together and smiles. “She looks just like you.” He compliments. “Thank god. Because you are– I’m surprised you didn’t have men sniffing around you, wantin’ to get close to you.”

“I had been living with all women,” you remind him, flustering under his gaze. “It just so happened that the first guy I stumbled across in the wilds happened to be the sexiest guy I’ve ever met in my life.”

“Yeah but even pregnant, I’m sure you had men wanting to be the one to help you.” He knows he would have been fiercely protective over you if he had been around.

He isn’t wrong, necessarily. Your pregnancy had attracted plenty of men who wanted to feel important or masculine. Or who thought you might be just that easy. Of course, it had also pushed away just as many potential partners. But it didn’t matter. You hadn’t been looking for one in the first place. “They weren’t you,” you murmur, barely able to look him in the face.

“I’m not–” Joel shakes his head and hates telling you this. But he’s never shied away from what he is. “I’m not a good man, honey.” He admits quietly, looking down at the innocent face of his daughter. “Things I’ve done…you’d hate me for.”

"You've survived." No one in this world is actually good anymore. It's not how things operate anymore. Goodness gets you infected or killed or taken advantage of. The fact that you had trusted Joel a year and a half ago had gotten you knocked up – and to some people that might have been horrible, or they might have thought he did it on purpose, as insane an accusation as that would be considering he did actually pull out. But goodness like it used to be? It can get you killed. "I don't expect anything from you, you know that." You shake your head sadly. "But I know you wouldn't hurt me, and you wouldn't hurt Caroline. Hell, look what you're doing for Ellie. I just—" It's so much to wrap your head around, and you shove your free hand in your pocket, letting the other shift on the flashlight nervously. "I can't help the way I feel, Joel."

“I don’t want to disappoint you.” He admits, to you and to himself. He had disappointed Tess, not even able to say anything at the end. Too closed off, too far into his own misery to admit that he had loved her. He had, in his way. But it was different from the way he loves you, loves Caroline. Even Ellie, although he hadn’t quite admitted that to himself.

“You can’t disappoint me if I have no expectations.” The reminder isn’t meant to be cruel, just realistic. You’ve never asked him for anything, he’s always been willing to give himself to you in whatever way he’s been capable of. Whatever that means to him that he isn’t able to voice, you’ll take it. “One day I might ask you for something, but not yet.” He’s promised to protect you and your daughter. To take care of you and to bring you safely to where you think your family is in Jackson. He promised those things without being asked and you accepted. Which is a very different arrangement. “What I’m never going to do is ask you to feel the same way about me that I do about you. That’s…that’s just unfair. And I don’t want to be unfair to you.”

“Maybe you should.” Joel frowns, looking off into the darkness of the aisle and sighs. “It’s – maybe you should ask me to feel how you feel.”

“No.” He’s still holding Caroline, the little angel having completely drifted off in her daddy’s arms, and you swear you wish you could take her back just so you would have something to do with your hands other than fidget. “Because then I’ll spend the rest of my life – or however long we’re together – wondering if you told me you love me because you actually do or because I asked you to. And that isn’t fair to either of us.”

He closes his eyes, having some idea that you might say that word. He wishes he could open his mouth and say that he does. He would kill for you, he would die for you. He will break his back to make sure you are happy and healthy and he wants to see you smile. To light up when you have a moment where the weariness of the world doesn’t weigh you down. “Okay.” He opens his eyes again and stops you, wanting to look into your eyes. “Then don’t ask me.” He murmurs softly. “Just remember that I’m a hands on kind of guy.”

“And I’m a words type of girl.” It weighs on you more than you expected, to know that your ways of communicating are so different, but it isn’t the end of the world. You never expected to have him in your life at all and now he’s here, so that is still more than you thought you would get from the man who gave you your miracle. “So…now I’ve said it. And I’ll probably say it again. But you never have to. That’s just…it’s better that way.”

Joel reaches out with the hand that isn’t holding Caroline to caress your cheek. Watching as your eyes flutter and he wonders where the man who had seduced you had gone. Not sure what had come over him that one night and wishing he could bring that man back. To give you what you so obviously want right now. Instead he leans in, hunching over so he doesn’t smoosh the baby between you and kisses your forehead.

“Dinner is probably ready.” It isn’t. You know it isn’t and he knows it isn’t, but if you keep standing here you’ll either outright kiss him or maybe cry, and both would be a mistake. This thing with Joel, whatever it is, it’s too big to fuck up by being impulsive. It’s your little girl’s family. It’s her whole future. And all you can hope is that it keeps building, which is why you refuse to chase him away by moving too fast. Fucking laughable considering how you got started, but here you are.

“Gotta make sure she doesn’t burn it.” Joel takes the hint and he turns to start walking back towards the front. “Get little miss sleepy back in her basket for now. Until we are ready for bed.”

“Right. Bed.” It had slipped your mind already that he asked to share a mattress with you, and now you feel even more foolish.

He wonders if you are regretting offering to share the mattress with him. Quietly and slightly bouncing a sleeping Caroline, he is slightly relieved to see that Ellie hadn’t set the area on fire as she comes back into view.

“How’s everything going over here?” Shifting focus entirely, you immediately move to where the baby basket is sitting to uncrumple the blankets so you can tuck Caroline into it.

“It’s, uh, it’s going good.” Ellie assures you, stirring the pot furiously and barely looking up.

“El,” you catch the girl’s attention with a hand on her shoulder and an amused smile. “Let me take over, honey. Maybe you can help Joel bring some mattresses over? We’re thinking of staying here an extra day to rest so comfortable places to sleep are going to be good.”

“We get to stay an extra day?” Ellie’s brows shoot up and she grins. “Cool. I’m going to sleep like a baby.”

“You’re going to cry in the middle of the night to demand cuddles?” You tease, knowing full well that that phrase is not a realistic one.

Ellie shakes her head. “Ewww no.” She huffs. “Joel will grumble and tell me to go back to sleep.”

He huffs like she isn’t completely correct but you just smother a laugh. “By the time you grab those mattresses, this might be ready to go. I’ll stay here and be Mama Bear.”

“Come on brat.” He rolls his eyes but he’s glad to have a moment alone with her. Wanting to check in and make sure she’s okay. It’s been a change to have you and Caroline along and he’s been mindful of that.

“Mattress!” Ellie groans out the word like it’s a victory, which it really is. Sleeping in the car isn’t as hard on her as it is for you or Joel but it’s still not great most of the time.

“We’ll getcha a good one.” Joel grunts as the two of them walk. “You find everything you need here?” He asks, wanting to make sure he shouldn’t hunt for anything in particular.

“Bathroom had the good stuff.” Ellie pronounces proudly, considering it her own personal stash. There’s plenty to share with you, but you don’t need them as often as she does and Joel definitely doesn’t want to hear about that. “And Mom’s gonna make popcorn while we’re here. Big day for Ellie.”

“Mom, huh?” Joel chuckles, actually enjoying the fact that Ellie has a maternal figure. Her language has softened slightly around Caroline. “Too bad we don’t have any butter. Used to coat popcorn in that shit. The more the better.”

“She said it was okay because there was salt in the stash.” Without ever actually having butter, Ellie has no reference for what she’s missing out on and just shrugs. “Whatever. Food is food. Even better if it’s good food.”

“Best popcorn was from the movie theaters.” Joel hums. “Too much popcorn, a huge Coke, a pretty girl. Perfect date.” He side eyes the girl to get her reaction.

Biting her lip, Ellie tries to banish the thoughts of Riley that immediately bubble to the surface and shrugs again, this time to shake off the shadows. So naturally, she puts the focus on embarrassing Joel. “You got two out of the three. Should I disappear for a while so you can make Caroline a big sister?”

“No.” Joel huffs, flushing in the darkness since he’s being called out. “Just goes to show you no matter how careful you are, sex isn’t fool proof.”

“It is if there’s no dicks involved,” she grumbles under her breath, nearly leaping forward to grab at the large mattresses leaning against the wall. They’re far bigger than anything she ever slept on and thicker too, convincing her again what an amazing night’s sleep she’s going to have.

“Two should do it.” Joel grabs the large mattress and grunts at the weight. He’s getting older and shit like this reminds him of that. “Feel good on my fucking back.”

“She doesn’t get to be comfortable?” The eyebrow Ellie raises at him is completely judgmental. “We need three.”

“We’re gonna put the baby between us.” Joel grunts at her, shaking his head. “That way she doesn’t roll off.”

“Oh.” Shouldering the weight of her own large mattress, Ellie side eyes Joel for a second before frowning. “So you guys are okay? It seemed pretty fuckin tense when you came back.”

“It’s alright.” Before Lake City, he would have just ignored her. Just sparing her an annoyed glance that would speak volumes. “Just– adult stuff.”

“Eww.” She has no desire to hear about their sex life. None at all. “‘Nuff said.”

“Not that.” He grunts, uncomfortable about the fact that Ellie assumes he’s sleeping with you. “That hasn’t happened.”

"You don't like her anymore?" Unendingly curious, Ellie finds the questions popping out before she can filter it. It's obvious how you feel about him, even if she doesn't quite get it, you're not very good at masking it.

Joel stops suddenly, making Ellie run forward into the mattress. “What?” He frowns. “No– I– it’s not–” he shakes his head, unable to really discern what to say so he just doesn’t and starts walking again.

"Alright, I didn't mean to make you short circuit, damn." She shakes her head in an unconscious echo of him. "It's your business, I guess. But I am here for everything."

“What would you know about it?” He hisses, annoyed that he doesn’t have a better answer.

"I'm not blind or a moron, Joel," Ellie hits back, never liking when he gets combative with her for just trying to talk. "I know she's completely fucking in love with you for some dumb ass reason."

“Yeah, well, she shouldn’t be.” He tosses back, striking on the issue that bothers him so badly. You had one night with him. One night where he wasn’t really acting like himself, rather he was more like pre-outbreak Joel. Like you were a woman in a bar that he had decided he wanted to try his luck with. Not the miserable piece of shit he is right now.

"I don't think you get to decide that for her, jackass." She huffs, annoyed on your behalf. She sure as fuck hadn't been able to choose who she fell for. It's not like being gay is easy, even if the world has supposedly changed. She's still a target just like every pre-Outbreak story of gay kids she's ever heard or read.

“I’ll – fuck, I’ll disappoint her.” Joel stops again, aware that he doesn’t want this conversation to happen where you could hear. “Or ruin her, fail her.” He’s failed everybody else, including Ellie. If he hadn’t failed her, he would have already had her to the Fireflies.

"Pretty sure the world is already ruined, and doing nothing is worse than trying even if you don't get the ultimate victory or whatever." She knows this is a serious discussion, but she's fucking fourteen years old. Her worldly experience isn't exactly at pace with his. And while most of the time she's glad about that, it does make it hard to be helpful sometimes. Like right now. Ellie shrugs again, shifting the mattress at her back and lowering her voice a little. "If you really thought you couldn't help, or didn't want to help, or take care of her and the baby, you wouldn't have said they should come with us." Ellie reasons. "Something in that thick fucking skull thought you could take better care of her on the road than she could take care of herself in that commune. And that's saying something, considering how nice that place was."

Joel sighs, knowing what she’s saying is right. He had wanted you to come, needed to be able to see you and the baby. To make sure that nothing happened to you. Instead of admitting that to her, he rolls his eyes. “Get moving. We don’t have all night.”

******

When you lay down that night with the flat pillows and patchwork blankets from your house in Lake City, all your focus is on keeping the baby comfortable. It doesn't matter that she’s been out like a light for hours now, it only matters that you don’t let yourself have illusions about sharing space with Joel.

Joel lays down, shucking his jacket and his boots. The store is locked up and the fire is still crackling between the two mattresses. Ellie is already snoring away and he can’t help but watch you as you fuss over the baby. Reaching over the small space, he sets his hand on your hip. “Are you comfortable, honey?” He asks quietly, wondering if there is something else you need.

“Yeah.” Your eyes snap up to his when he touches you, not expecting it at all. “Yeah…I…I’m just…” You’re aching for him, stupidly. For a kiss to anywhere other than your forehead or hand. To be wanted the way you want him. It’s something you’re going to have to continue to tamp down daily. “It’s nice to not be out in the open,” is what you decide to say.

“It is.” Joel can admit that. “I never sleep out there. Not well.” He’s too busy watching you and the girls sleep. Listening for any sounds of infected or worse, humans approaching. “Surprised you aren’t already asleep. She’ll be awake in a few hours, wanting some milk.”

“It’s been a while since we slept in a bed,” you reason, knowing that the real reason you’re fussing is that you’re trying to wait him out. If he passes out first, you can get yourself off quickly in the dark and get rid of this insistent ache between your legs. “I just want her to be comfortable.”

“She’s fine.” Joel frowns and looks between the baby and you. “Would you rather I not sleep here?”

“No,” you shake your head and wonder if you’re going to have to tell him the truth. “That’s not it. I promise. I’m just fidgeting.”

“Then why don’t we put her in the basket?” He might not know why you are fidgeting but he doesn’t want you to not rest. Maybe you’re worried about her moving or getting away or hurt sleeping between the two of you. “I’ve got it right next to me.” Without waiting for you to answer, he sits up and gently picks up his sleeping daughter to transfer her to the basket.

“O—okay.” Worse. This is definitely worse. You swallow thickly and watch him situate Caroline in her basket right above your heads where you can both reach. Now, with nothing between you, he feels unbearably close.

He hums softly as he lays back down, letting the silence fall between you again. It doesn’t seem like you’re too happy but he’s not good at guessing.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur after the silence has stretched too long. The sound of him breathing is like an unintentional taunt, reminding you that he’s close but so very far away. It’ll drive you crazy if you let it. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Earlier, I mean.”

“Why?” He edges closer to you, turning his head to watch you squeeze your eyes closed. “You shouldn’t be sorry. You – you just need to know that I am – that it’s–”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up because I need words and you don’t. And it’s okay that you don’t. But it’s unfair to ask you to use them when they clearly make you uncomfortable.” Whispers in the night won’t wake either of the girls, but your heartbeat feels like it is racing and screaming. “I wouldn’t have even known you were coming on to me that night unless you had been so blunt. And that’s okay.” You know not everyone communicates the same way. He had straight out told you that he communicates with actions, and that’s just who he is. For him, you’ll work hard to make the adjustment. “I’m not upset with you or anything. I promise. I just…am gonna need some time to learn how you communicate. That’s all.”

“No.” Joel closes his eyes and reaches for your hand. “You deserve the words.” His fingers lace through yours and he squeezes gently. “I– Sarah’s mother hurt me. Real bad.” He tells you quietly. “She up and left us when – hell, Sarah was about four months old. Said she didn’t love me, never wanted to be a mom and vanished.”

“That’s…a hell of a time to make that realization.” Your other hand covers his gently, sealing in the warmth and sealing in the signal that you’re listening. “I’m sorry, honey. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Didn’t matter.” He huffs. “I couldn’t wallow in my misery, I had my little girl to raise. So I did.” He sighs softly. “Never really dated much. Didn’t want to bring some woman around that could leave her again.”

“You were protecting her.” From what little he’s said about Sarah since you first learned his oldest daughter’s name, she was his entire world. She was everything that mattered on earth, and just like your sister had been taken from you – the panic of the Outbreak had quickly decided that she didn’t matter. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You took care of her and loved her enough to be her whole family and…and that’s wonderful.”

“After– when she was gone–” the words make him close his eyes, squeezing them shut from the painful ache in his chest. Twenty years gone and he still missed her like it was yesterday. “I fell into a dark place. Real dark.”

“I can only imagine.” He had had Sarah for thirteen years. Even after only seven months with Caroline, losing her would destroy you.

“I– there was someone else.” He confesses softly. “Tess. She– we were…comfortable together. She didn’t push and I didn’t give. She lost her entire family, son and husband in the weeks after the outbreak.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a comfort to each other.” Two of the women you lived with in Maine had found comfort together – if not joy – after losing damn near everything. You know how lucky you were to have friends to hold onto. “I’m glad you had someone for that. Even if it didn’t last too long.”

Joel squeezes your hand and pulls you closer. You might be upset at him when he tells you the truth of it. “We were never…committed.” He admits, knowing Tess had her lovers even though he had only ever slept with you. “But I don’t – she died thinking I didn’t love her. I don’t ever want you to believe in your last moments that I don’t love you.”

“Oh.” He wraps one arm around your waist to pull you closer and you respond automatically, always wanting the closeness of having him near without hesitation. “Joel, I—” Everyone has lost someone. Most people lost everyone. But for him to continue to lose people must be terrifying. Rather than having everyone he loves lost in one fell swoop, he keeps having people turn away one by one. That kind of heartbreak isn’t easy to mend. “I’m so sorry, honey.” Nothing you can say to bring back the people he’s lost, but you can damn well acknowledge his pain. “My last moments are a long way away, if I can help it. I have a little girl to watch grow up,” you flash him a smile in the dim firelight. “And a grumpy Texan that I want to get to know a lot better.”

“Honey…Tess died a month ago.” He murmurs softly. “I – when you and I met, she was – she needed some time away from me. It’s why I was on that run by myself. She was with…an old friend.” He swallows and sighs. “I felt guilty when I got back. Not because I had done anything wrong. I hadn’t. But because I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. About that night.”

“I guess…” That takes a little extra time to process. He had been on and off with someone and just happened to be at an off point with them at the time that you met. It should make you feel awkward, or upset, or maybe like he lied to you. But what you had had was just an old-fashioned one night stand. It was nothing that turned out to mean something. You hadn’t expected it, clearly. Neither of you had. “I’m glad I didn’t go up to Boston, then. I thought about it a lot…about coming to find you. But…” With a minute shrug of your shoulders, you squeeze his fingers in yours gently. “But that would have made things hard for you. So I’m glad I didn’t.”

“It would have been alright.” Joel knows Tess would have given him shit, but he’s glad you didn’t risk it. He wouldn’t want you or Caroline in that shithole. “Honey. I want you to know that I do care about you. I didn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Wonderin’ if you had made it out west. Where you were, if you had reread that book for the thousandth time and if it reminded you of that night.”

“I—” A sheepish half-smile cracks your face and you reach into your backpack beside Caroline’s basket and come out again with the well-worn volume. “How did you know I’d taken it?”

“I doubled back to grab it and couldn’t find it.” Joel admits with a low chuckle. “Seems like we had the same idea.”

“It’s actually a good book.” Which seems downright beside the point, when the reason that you have it is that it reminds you of him, and you end up flustering a little. “Might have half of it memorized by now. I…I used to read it whenever I caught myself missing you.” Which was virtually every damn day, so you’ve read it a lot.

“You’ll have to read it to me, sometime.” Joel hums, sensing you are a little embarrassed but he doesn’t mind that you kept it.

“Only if we have a babysitter and Ellie’s otherwise occupied,” you snort, grateful for the darkness so that he can’t see your embarrassed face. “In a world without porn, this is pretty sexy stuff.”

“Better than the memory of our own porn?” He asks quietly, remembering every moan you made and how good it felt to be with you.

“Oh god no.” Again you have to stifle yourself, but this time it’s a groan. “We definitely outdid ourselves that night.”

He chuckles. “At least our baby girl will know the exact night she was conceived. And it was a good one.”

“Somehow I don’t think I’ll be telling her exactly how mommy and daddy met as a bedtime story,” you laugh in turn.

“Maybe changed a bit for tender ears.” He concedes with a grin.

“Just a bit.” Like this, curled up in his arms and laid out on a mattress on the floor, the whole feeling of the night is oddly nostalgic.

The silence isn’t heavy, but it is almost anticipatory. Waiting to see who speaks first. “What was the pre-outbreak food you craved while you were pregnant?” He asks softly, smiling at the idea of it.

"Pepperoni." You giggle quietly, bowing your head close to his chest to stifle the sound and not disturb either of the girls. "I used to dream about pepperoni. On literally anything, not just pizza. And Reese's cups."

“Pepperoni.” Joel groans quietly and nearly drools. “Do you know how many ham, bologna and pepperoni sandwiches I lived off of on job sites?”

"We used to get omelets for brunch at the house...during college." It hadn't exactly been a tradition that you could keep up with after the outbreak. "Every single Sunday I'd make normal ham and cheese or veggie omelets for everybody else...and then make myself a pizza one. Mozzarella, pepperoni, and basil in an omelet. Fucking heaven."

“That sounds great.” Joel chuckles and bites his lip. “Sarah made me breakfast the last morning. Eggs and bacon. We didn’t have pancake mix. Thank god.”

“Last I heard from my cousins, they had said…they had figured out what happened to everybody.” A soft sigh against his shirt is muffled, but that’s for the best. “My parents had gone out to dinner with my aunt and uncle that night. Something about having an adult night out.” Your eyes drift up, meeting Joel’s with sadness lacing your expression. “My aunt wanted to try a new bakery. They all…we lost them all pretty quickly, apparently.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” His hand rubs your back soothingly. Everyone still here had lost someone but that didn’t make the loss any less painful. “I really am. Hopefully we can get you back to your people so you can be with what’s left of your family.” He thinks about Tommy, about his own quest to get to him.

"If we're lucky, we'll find my cousins and your brother in the same place." The best you can do is shrug about it, knowing that luck is not something that the world has a lot of anymore.

“Maybe.” There are far more odd things to have happen, like finding the woman he had a one night stand with and learning he became a father again at fifty-six fucking years old. “We can hope.”

"I have all the hope I need right in that basket." You look up at the basket above your heads and sigh. "She's proof that good things are still possible."

Yes she is. Joel smiles softly, looking at you as you look up at the baby. “She might be the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.” He murmurs softly. “Didn’t realize how much I missed it.”

"You're good with her." It's a particularly solid nudge at your competency kink, if you're honest with yourself. "Born to be a girl dad, I guess."

“I was a single dad at twenty-three.” He reminds you. “Had to be good at it. Depended on me for everything.” Just like Caroline does you and he’ll be damned if she goes without.

"You've come back to it just like riding a bike, then." You won't press the point that he also treats Ellie like a daughter, but it's obvious to everyone who isn't them.

“Some things you never forget how to do.” He’s a bit smug about that, the fact that he had impregnated you the only time you were together hitting the pleasure zone of his dormant caveman genes.

"Yeah, yeah." The smirk on his face makes it abundantly obvious what he's referring to and you stifle a laugh. "You remember that like riding a bike, too."

“Hard not to remember when you were so responsive and beautiful for me.” He tells you honestly. It had been a night to remember.

Huffing, softly, you aim his smirk right back at him. "I had finally calmed myself down and now you're gonna get me worked up again."

Joel frowns for a moment and then works his face into a very smug smirk. “That’s why you were movin’ around, huh?” He asks teasingly. “You were horny?”

Rolling your eyes is the best you can do for a defense since you just admitted, but the atmosphere between you is a lot lighter now. "I was trying to wait until you fell asleep to take care of it."

“You don’t have to wait on me, honey.” He promises, sliding his hand down slightly and then under your shirt lightly to caress your back. “That’s something I’d be mighty interested in.”

"Oh yeah?" Earlier might not have been so playful, you can't be sure. Either way, the feeling of his large hand on your bare back makes you tingle in that very specific way.

“Don’t think you know how gorgeous I think you are.” He grunts softly. His fingers dig in slightly, massaging your skin.

“Doesn’t come up in conversation a whole lot,” you tease, knowing that things don’t get said for lack of privacy but also for Joel’s tendency to show and not tell.

“You are gorgeous.” He insists. “You with Caroline…it takes my breath away. It’s– it’s amazing.” He could watch you with her all the time. “But you are just beautiful by yourself too.”

It’s precarious, the way he’s crept closer to you and you’ve inched deeper into his arms. He’s the closest he’s been days and you can feel his breath on your neck like a wave of much-needed heat. It would be so easy to kiss him right now. “Joel…”

“Yes, honey?” He keeps his voice low, but he’s wanting to know what you want. What you need.

Without the privacy for acting on all the thoughts that have taken over your mind, you swallow thickly when you finally make yourself find his eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

His hand slides farther up your back over your shoulder to urge you up. “Of course, honey,” he murmurs softly. “I wouldn’t turn you down.”

The thread of restraint snaps almost instantly, letting you push forward and close the last inch or so between you to press your lips to his. As needy as you might feel, it’s fairly contained – chaste and earnest and full of love, instead of the desperate clash of two bodies that it had been when you kissed him first a year and a half ago. The feeling of the kiss is freeing, wonderfully plush and warm against his lips. Making him instinctively curl around you more and drag you closer so he can feel you.

Slow exploration and learning each other bit by bit is a far cry from how it had happened the last time, but your relationship – if you could call it that – is very different now. In that random abandoned home in Massachusetts, you were each other’s own means to an end. Now there is an intimacy that shakes you to your core.

It can’t go beyond kissing and maybe a little groping. There’s the baby right above your head as living proof of how he still has bullets in the chamber. And he can’t risk that. Beyond the lack of privacy, he can’t risk you getting pregnant out here, he won’t risk it.

The build is delicious, moving through those first tentative presses to something deeper. You have to have some self-control, obviously, but right now all you can think about is how much you've missed him. How much you've missed this connection that you had even without ever meaning to forge it. It was just something that you discovered together, and it's that much more precious for being so natural.

His tongue slowly maps your mouth, swallowing your sounds as he does. Keeping you anchored to him, although he doesn’t think that you would go anywhere. Encouraging you to throw your leg over his waist and straddle him.

It’s his hand on your leg that brings you back to reality, the encouragement to come closer and to feel him underneath you being too tempting to give in to. “That’s gonna get us in trouble again,” you hum against his lips, grinning into the thick tension that almost swept you away.

“Nahhhhh.” He hums, smirking. “Just gonna make sure you don’t have to get yourself off when I go to sleep.”

“That’s very indulgent of you.” Though you’re not sure if it surprises you or not. Joel may be a bit closed off but he was never a selfish lover.

“How do you want to cum?” He asks you quietly, sliding his hand down to squeeze your still jeans covered ass. “You want to grind against me until you cum? Or do you want me to finger you?”

Given that you would happily commit several crimes to feel his hands on you again, the answer is easy, and you shiver a little at even being given the option. “Your fingers,” you whisper, like saying it louder would break the spell. “Please?”

He had washed up after the dinner, needing to keep his hands clean for handling Caroline. So he’s not worried about being dirty. He rolls you over and smirks. “Slide your jeans down, honey.”

Happy to obey instantly, you pop the buttons on your fly and shift to pull the fabric over your hips. This is a very intimate thing to do in close quarters, but also a compromise. What you want to be doing is far more intimate, and you just don’t have the privacy or safety for that.

Joel throws a leg over yours, pulling your thighs apart and hums when you keep your panties on. There are covers but he knows you want to make sure that Ellie doesn’t wake up and see anything. He slides his hands down to cup you over the material. “You want my fingers?” He teases, pressing lightly.

You'll beg if he wants you to, considering when you try to roll your hips back to tease him his leg holds you steady in place with much more strength than you thought just one leg could possess. "Yes," you end up breathing in surprise.

“Good girl.” He wants to make sure this is good for you, it’s the very least he can do. “I’m going to make you feel good but you need to be quiet.”

With him dominating every atom of air around you it's all you can do not to break and beg for more, but you nod obediently, enjoying the momentary praise of being called good more than you expected. If it gets him to slip those thick fingers into your panties, you'll be as good as gold.

Joel nudges his nose against your cheek, humming softly when you lay pliant for him. Sliding his hand back up so he can dip his fingers underneath the well worn waistband of the panties. “Do you know how often I’ve thought of this cunt?” He growls quietly, his fingers parting the thatch of curls to find the warm, wet folds of your sex.

"Maybe half as often as I've thought of what you did to it?" If he's going to tease you through this, you're going to at least be honest. And try desperately not to let your voice give away what he's doing to you.

“I know I got blamed when you were pushin’ her out.” He chuckles quietly and kisses along your jaw. Fingers finding your clit and pressing.

You swallow a gasp when the pads of his fingers connect with all of those brilliant little nerve endings in your swollen nub. Of course he's right – Caroline's birth was far from a walk in the park. But that isn't what you want to be focusing on when his fingers are a fraction of an inch from slipping inside you. "The getting her was fun, though."

“Yes it was.” He lets his teeth scrape over your skin, enjoying the way you shudder and would push your hips up if he didn’t have your leg pinned. “If I didn’t think it could happen again, I would say we need to repeat it.”

"We do need to." And the pout on your lips is extremely apparent in your voice over the fact that it can't happen right now. "I swear I've never been more desperate for a condom in my life."

Joel chuckles and kisses away the pout on your lips as his fingers slide deep into your walls with surprising ease.

"Shiiii—" Barely able to cut yourself off, you swallow the rest of the curse and let your head fall back on the pillow in utter delight. It's every bit as amazing as you remember it and all he's done is slip two fingers into your pussy.

“Fuck, you’re so hot and tight.” Joel groans into your ear, keeping his voice low so only you can hear it. “Nearly blew my load when I first slipped inside you. Hadta calm myself down.” He enjoys the slickness of your walls as he pumps them once, twice and then curls them up slightly to search for that little spot that makes you clench.

You whimper as your hips roll forward, one hand grasping for the blankets piled up at your side. His voice low in your ear is so much more of a turn on than you expected. Joel knows he can’t spend all night working you up and tearing you apart but he can make sure that you shake in pleasure so you are drowsy with it when he gets done with you. “You feel so good around my fingers, even better around my cock.” He rasps softly. “If I had been here, after findin’ out you were pregnant, you’d been filled with my cum everyday.”

"Joel!" Even whispered it's easy to tell that that idea is a desperately missed opportunity, as your tight walls clamp down on his fingers.

“Yeah, I would have kept you full.” He pumps his fingers in deep, slow curls. “Any time you wanted to drip into your panties.”

"I was so needy during my second trimester." Different than how you need him now, It was like a never-ending itch that no amount of self-satisfaction could ever scratch.

“Fuck, honey.” He groans, his cock twitching behind his jeans. “If I’d have been there you would have been wrung out. Tired from my tongue, fingers and cock.”

It's on the tip of your tongue to insist that if you did it once you could do it again, but this isn't a world that that joke is okay in. "I would have let you," you gasp instead, twisting to kiss him. While his fingers are buried in your cunt, his tongue delves deep into your mouth. Licking and curling around your own tongue to suck on it lightly.

Joel's hand picks up speed, the dexterous movement of his fingers inside you hitting each perfect spot like it isn't only the second time he's been knuckle deep in your pussy. Kissing him muffles a few noises that would otherwise definitely be too loud, and it's a good thing that this mattress is lying on the floor otherwise the creak of bedsprings would have been loud as well.

He can feel your thigh start to tremble under his and he knows you are going to cum soon. Pistoning his fingers in and out of your tight walls as if he were playing you like an instrument or tuning you like an engine.

The hand that had been clutching blankets snaps up, your fingers wrapping around Joel's forearm instead and hanging on for the last two – three – four strokes you need to hit your peak. Your whole body tightens, cunt drawing his fingers in as deep as they'll go and your own fingers clutching desperately to his arm as your mouth falls open on a silent cry. Everything about it is too much and exactly perfect, and the world blots out around you for just a few seconds while you float away on a cloud of pleasure.

He swallows your sounds. Every desperate, broken sob that you push out is absorbed by him. The rumble of satisfaction comes from deep within his chest as he feels the heat and liquid coat his fingers in a torrent from your contracting walls.

You might as well be a puddle when you finally fall back on the mattress half under him, smiling like the love drunk idiot you are and sighing softly into the night. "Well damn," you chuckle under your breath, kissing him again but much more softly.

He’s slow to pull his fingers out of your wet heat but he manages to pull them free eventually during the leisurely kiss. Pulling away and enjoying the completely blissful haze that is on your face. “Think you’ll sleep good now, honey?”

"Better than I have in about a year and a half," you joke quietly.

“Good.” Joel kisses you again softly and pulls back so he can roll onto his back and pull you into his arms. He’s throbbing but ignores it. This was about giving you what you need and not his own wants.

“Do you…?” Glancing down his body, you know there isn’t a chance in hell that he isn’t hard as a rock in his own jeans. Asking him to get you off and then ignoring his own needs would be selfish as all hell.

"I'm...okay." Joel groans softly, not wanting you to feel obligated. "It's a lot more mess with me than you." He reminds you, nudging his nose against yours and kissing you again.

There’s also no way to hide it, and two sets of eyes nearby. “How about we find some privacy tomorrow?” You suggest in his ear, knowing that another day in this place really will give you that chance.

"You don't have to, honey. I hope you know that." Joel is aware that you probably want to get him off, but he still feels like he should remind you.

“I know.” Which is why you’re not riddled with guilt right now, but rather have your mouth watering over the prospect. “I want to.”

Joel's eyes flutter slightly and he curses himself for not trying to find more water to wash up with so you could do what you wanted. "Okay."

“Get some sleep, honey.” The near-groan in his voice is obvious, and you bite back a devious grin. Your goal was to give him something to look forward to in a world with almost none of that – and you’re pretty sure you just succeeded.

There's a moment when he wants to argue, to tell you to do what you want but you are right. He needs to sleep. He will actually sleep rather than just pretend to sleep so he cant watch over you and the girls.

“I love you.” It may be a whisper in the dark, but that isn’t because it’s a secret. It’s because you’re safe. Because he keeps you protected – all of you – and in this world there’s no greater show of love. After all, he shows. He doesn’t tell.

______

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[ao3cassandraic]

As far as they can

At the end of the Job minisode, Crowley inaugurates Their Side by proclaiming Aziraphale "an angel who goes along with Heaven... as far as he can," parallel to his own stated relationship with Hell.

Only it... doesn't actually work that way. Their exactlies are different exactlies.

Crowley defies and lies to Hell as often as he thinks he can get away with it. He never disabuses Downstairs of their misconceptions about his contributions to human atrocities. He cheerfully lies in his reports Downstairs, something Aziraphale briefly turns on his Baritone of Sarcastic Disapproval about in s1. Crowley even turns evil homeopathic in the latter part of the 20th century, likely in hopes that it will look good to head office while accomplishing essentially nothing. (This, of course, is another way he Crowleys himself, both with the London phone system and the M25.) After Eden, Crowley's default given an assignment from Hell is to see how he can subvert it.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, defies Her and Heaven as little as he possibly can. Sometimes, as with his sword giveaway, his compassion gets the better of his anxiety. Sometimes, as with Job's children in the destruction of the villa, he can try to stay within the letter of the law by leaving the defiance to Crowley.

His default, however, is "'m 'nangel. I can't dis- diso -- not do what 'm told." This comes out most often as respect for the Great/Divine Plan, which to him is sacrosanct. He sounds quite sincere in s1 when he says "Even if I wanted to help I couldn’t. I can’t interfere with the Divine Plan."

Aziraphale quite frequently Good Angels along by parroting Heaven's party line, whether it's "it'll all be rather lovely" or "I am good, you (I'm afraid) are evil" or droning on about evil containing the seeds of its own destruction, or condemning Elspeth's graverobbing as "wicked" (a stance he offers absolutely no reasoned support for, no logic, no "but She said," not a word -- that's very Heaven; most of Heaven's angels have the approximate brainpower of paramecia). Maestro Michael Sheen even has a particular voice cadence -- I think of it as Sententious Voice -- he uses when Aziraphale is thoughtlessly party-lining.

When the angel's conscience wars with his sense of Heaven's orthodoxy but (and this is an important but) he can't feasibly resist whatever's wrong, he offers strengthless party-line justifications he clearly doesn't agree with (as with the "rain bow" in Mesopotamia) or resorts to a Nuremberg defense: "I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crowley!" Once or twice, he's even vocally aware of Heavenly hypocrisy: "Unless… [guns]'re in the right hands, where they give weight to a moral argument… I think." This isn't Sententious Voice. It's I-can't-disobey-and-I-hate-that voice.

But at base, the angel prefers obedience (not least because it's vastly safer), and he'd rather have someone else do his moral reasoning for him. Honestly? Pretty relatable. I know lots of people like this -- hell's bells, I've been this person, though I grew out of it somewhat -- and I daresay you do too. Moral reasoning is hard and often lonely (since it can be read as self-righteousness or even hypocrisy) and acting as it dictates can hurt. Nobody would need ethics codes if The Right Thing was also invariably The Convenient Thing.

Many GO fans find these Aziraphalean traits frustrating! Especially his repeated returns to parroting Heaven orthodoxy! Sometimes I do too! (Not least because I'm rather protective of my own integrity, and it's cost me quite a few times. I'm well-known in professional circles for picking up a rhetorical spear and tilting at the nearest iniquitous windmill. I often lose, but I sure do keep tilting. Every once in a blue moon I actually win one.)

The key, I think, to giving our angel a little grace on this (beyond honoring the gentle compassion that is pretty basic to his character) is noticing how often he can be induced to abandon an unconsidered Heavenish default stance. As irritating as his default is, and as consistently as he returns to it, it's not really that hard to talk him out of it. Crowley, of course, is tremendously good at knocking Aziraphale away from his default -- he's had to be. But Aziraphale even manages to talk himself away from his default once, in the form of the Ineffable Plan hairsplitting at the airbase!

I think the character-relevant point of the Resurrectionist minisode is making this breaking-the-Heavenish-default dynamic as clear as the contents of the pickled-herring barrel aren't. "That's lunatic!" Crowley exclaims, when Aziraphale Sententious Voicedly parrots Heaven's garbage about poverty providing extra opportunities for goodness. Aziraphale isn't quite ready to let go yet, replying "It's ineffable."

But Dalrymple (who, I think, parallels Heaven, perhaps even the Metatron -- there could be something decent there, but it's buried too deep under scorn and clueless privilege for any graverobber-of-souls to dig it out) manages to break Aziraphale's orthodoxy by explaining the child's tumor.

Once released from his orthodoxy, Aziraphale can't be trusted to handle moral reasoning well; his moral-reasoning ability is not-uncommonly (though not always) portrayed as vitiated. When he gives Elspeth the go-ahead to dig up more bodies, his excuses are just as vacuous as they were when he was convinced of her wickedness. He knows that he's crossed Heaven's line, too, and just as at Eden it's worrying him. That's why he has to talk to Crowley to nerve himself up to help Wee Morag... only he spends too much time talking, and it's too late.

But Crowley can then talk him into bankrolling Elspeth toward a better life. Aziraphale doesn't even put up any fight, both because he's compassionate and because Crowley is temporarily taking the place of Heaven (he's even Heaven-sized and staring down at them!) as the angel's moral compass.

S1 has an even worse example of Aziraphale's moral wavering, actually. Crowley yells "Shoot him, Aziraphale!" and Aziraphale sure does try to murder Adam. Again, he's adopting his morals from the nearest (and loudest) convenient source. Madame Tracy, thankfully, has enough of a moral backbone to save our angel from himself and Crowley.

(With my ersatz-ethicist hat on: this is a fight between utilitarianism and deontology. Crowley is the utilitarian, which is actually a bit of a departure for him, but he's admittedly desperate. Madame Tracy is the deontologist: One Doesn't Kill Children. Aziraphale is caught in the middle.)

I wouldn't be surprised if part of the reason we start s3 with Aziraphale and Crowley separated is so that Aziraphale finally has to do his own moral reasoning, without Crowley's nudges. I don't think it'll be easy for him. It will absolutely be lonely. And it may well hurt.

But I will watch for it, because it's how he will become his own angel, independent of Heaven and even of Crowley. And he must do that.