#and every time I speak to a stranger or a colleague my voice goes up

[kowabungadoodles]

dumping some thoughts in the tags

[letarasstuff]

Notice me!

(A/N): This was requested by an anon. I hope you like it1

Summary: Teenagers at JJ's daughter's school get attacked. Does she fit the victomology?

Warnings: feeling uncared for

Wordcount: 2.7k

✨Masterlist✨ ___________________________________

“Good morning, my lovelies. The good news: The case is local. The bad news: Somebody is attacking teenage girls from the same high school”, Penelope starts the briefing, dressed in a bright pink dress with matching accessories.

“Are they from the same class? Age?” Hotch asks, looking over the file. Upon opening her own, JJ feels like her heart stops. “Negative, the three girls are from different years even. The only connection is the school.” “It’s (Y/N)’s school. She-she is a Junior there. I-Hotch?” Desperately she looks at her boss.

The team’s eyes soften. It’s already difficult with minors involved, but when it gets personal the case is a thousand times harder.

“Call her and tell her we get her to answer a few questions. At this point we can be sure it’s someone from the staff or a student. Time is the essence. Reid and JJ, you get (Y/N). Morgan and Prentiss, you question the first two. Dave and I take the last one and then go to the crime scenes. Garcia, I want you to find out anything about the victims and their families. Check their social media sites and look out for anything that connects them”, the Unit Chiefs orders.

Everybody gets up immediately. JJ has her phone already at hand. The longer it takes her daughter to take the call, the more nervous she gets.

“Mom? Did something happen? You know exactly I’m at school. I don’t wanna get in-” “Honey, Uncle Spence and I come to get you. There is something we have to question you about.” The teenager is silent for a moment. “It’s about the girls that got beaten up, isn’t it?”

Her mother sighs. Of course nothing like that stays quiet for long. “Yes, it is.” JJ doesn’t see the point in lying to her. “Ok. Uhm, can you just question me at school? I really don’t wanna leave, because I have soccer practice after school for the game this evening.”

A little light blinks at that in JJ’s mind. “Isn’t it that important game, where scouts are coming?” (Y/N) begins to smile. Her mother remembers it. Maybe she does pay attention to her. Maybe, just maybe, she pays enough to come and see her. After all she even took a day off for Henry’s recital last time.

“Yes, you said you will come and cheer for me.” JJ’s heart aches. She knows that her oldest often backs down due to her mother’s job. More often than the blonde agent likes to admit she has stood her daughter up to save someone’s life. “I try to be there in time, Honey. I can’t promise you anything, though. Just let us hope we solve this case quickly, ok?”

(Y/N)’s shoulders drop. Of course, how could she be this naive to think her mother cares enough to at least try to make it to her probably most important game? “Alright. Text me when you are here or just get me excused at the secretary's office. Bye.”

JJ looks at her phone in puzzlement. The teenager always is understanding of her job and the sacrifices it takes. One night under a lot of tears she confessed to her mother that everytime she is away on a case, she is in the greatest state of worry. Will reported repeatedly that (Y/N) is miserable whenever her mother isn’t at home.

So she told her daughter about the pact she made with her sister. Any time they miss each other, they go out and look at the moon, knowing that they see the same. JJ also admitted that she and Henry are the reason she is even working as a profiler. The agent wants to make the world safer for her kids. A safe space, where they can grow up and go to the park without worrying about Stranger Danger or anything else.

“Is everything ok?” Spencer asks as he sees his best friend frozen on the spot. JJ looks up to him, spotting concern in his eyes. “Yeah, no. I don’t know? It’s just, (Y/N) has an important soccer game tonight with scouts coming and such and I’m not sure if I can get there in time because of the case. She sounded really sad when I told her that. You know, I’m incredibly proud of her for getting this far and she plays really well. Scratch that, she is amazing. Especially knowing (Y/N) is responsible enough to think about college in her junior year makes me swell with pride”, she gushes unknowingly.

Spencer smiles. “I see, she is just like her mother. I’m sure (Y/N) will come around, she loves you so much and knows how difficult our job is.” JJ nods, trying to believe him.

Not long after that the duo enters the secretary’s office, explaining the situation. He immediately notifies the teenager’s teacher and a few minutes later (Y/N) opens the door. “There is an empty classroom we can use, I already asked Mr Boyle. He is such a sweetheart”, she tells her mother and uncle.

“Thank you for consenting to answer our questions. (Y/N), do you know the girls?” Spencer begins after settling down. “I do. One of them, Amy, is on the soccer team with me. We mostly talk about her family. She is in love with her little sister. The other two, Rosa and Gina, are in Freshmen. I tutored Gina briefly until her mother said she doesn’t need it.”

Unfortunately (Y/N) isn’t able to tell more useful information. “Thank you so much, Honey. Have fun at your practice later”, JJ tells her while embracing the teenager. “Yeah, thanks. Do you come home tonight?” Her mother sighs.

“I get it, you don’t know. Ok, I don’t wanna interfere any longer. Maybe you are able to solve the case faster. Stay safe. Love you!” Quickly she picks her bag up and leaves the room.

JJ looks at the genius with a face that says “Do you know what I mean?”

“My lovelies, all three girls don’t have the best connection to their parents. They often complain about the missing approval. Do you think that it’s a kid from their classes?” Garcia informs them as the team gathers back around the round table.

Rossi shakes his head. “The crimes are too organized for a kid. Every girl was drugged, but we don’t know how. Then the UnSub waits for the drug to kick in and takes her to a vacant spot, where the beating occurs. And all of this happens right after classes end. It has to be a staff member, probably a teacher.”

“Yeah, but there is one detail that doesn’t sit right with me”, Derek pipes up, “The connection between the girls is the bad relationship with their parents. It has to be someone, who is reminded by their own dysfunctional family.”

“Garcia, look for someone from the area, his comfort zone shows that he knows remote areas that you don’t find by accident. He has to be from D.C.” Spencer instructs her.

“Okidoki, boy won- Wait, are we looking for a male?” Hotch nods. “We are, the amount of strength used to beat up the girls suggests a male, same with the amount of hatred.”

Emily looks unsure. “This sounds all right, but why is he choosing the girls? What does he relive by hurting them? How does it help him?”

JJ wants to partake in the mindstorming, but a ping from her phone distracts her from saying her thoughts out loud. It’s a text message from (Y/N)

If you find the time in your busy schedule to read this, be informed that Will and Henry won’t come to the game tonight, because Henry has a spontaneous playdate. Don’t worry, he brought me my inhaler to school already.

(Y/N) sighs after sending the text. Is it really too much work for her mother to make room for her? This is probably the most important event in her whole school carriere and she decides that a team of masterminds need her more than her own daughter.

Hurt by the clear ignorance she shoulders her bag and makes her way to the counselor’s office.

“Come in”, a warm voice invites the teenager after her knocking on the door. “Hey, Mr Pembroke. Uhm, I have a class before soccer practice and I wanted to ask you if I can put my bag here? I know I got a locker, but I still got my mom’s birthday present in there and I’m scared I’ll leave it in my classroom and have to run back to get the bag if not another kid already took it away.”

Mr Pembroke looks at her with a smile. “Of course, (Y/N), I don’t mind. Speaking of your mother, will she be there tonight? I really hope so, because you are a star on the field. She’s missing out otherwise.” At the end he winks. He is just that kind of guy. Working with kids makes him desperate for appearing younger than he really is, but that is also part of Keith Pembroke’s charm.

“Unfortunately my whole family isn’t able to come. It is like- I mean I get it, serial killers are dangerous and it’s important and the right thing to chase them down. But do I not deserve some time with my mother?” Mr Pembroke evolved into a moral support over the past school year since he started his job at (Y/N)’s high school.

He always has something noice and wise to say. “You do. Everybody deserves some time with their family and especially with their parents. Why don’t you talk to them after all this is over? I can help you work on what you can say.”

Happily the teenager takes the offer and rushes to her class.

“Guys, I might be onto something”, Spencer rips everybody from their train of thoughts. JJ looks at the watch on her wrist. (Y/N)’s game ends in about five minutes. And she sits here, stumped one the case she stood her up for.

“So we thought about how he chooses his victims. The only connection we found was them having a bad relationship with their parents. But how would the UnSub know? They didn’t share any classes.

“But there always is one person, who knows about the student’s problems. They tell them voluntarily”, he finishes, giving his colleagues the opportunity to answer it themselves.

“The counselor!” Rossi exclaims, wondering how they oversaw the obvious.

Penelope’s keyboard is practically on fire from her fast typing until she nearly shouts: “I got him! Keith Pem-” The rest goes under in the loud ring from JJ’s cellphone. “I’m sorry, but this is… (Y/N)’s school! I-” Hotch nods, giving her permission to take that call.

“Jennifer Jareau?” She can’t wait until she is out of the conference room. Now that they know who the UnSub is, JJ is more on edge than ever. “Uhm, Mrs Jareau, I call about your daughter, (Y/N). She is on her way to the hospital, she collapsed during the soccer game. We suspect an asthma attack, even though she used her inhaler.” The teacher on the phone gives her a few more information before hanging up.

“I-I’m - (Y/N), she is- hospital. Her inhaler.” In that moment she makes all the connections. “Garcia, look for the girl’s medical history. Pembroke exchanged (Y/N)’s inhaler, I’m sure he did. Look for it in the other girls. I have to go, she is at the hospital right now.”

In a way even Derek Morgan would describe it as reckless JJ speeds to the hospital, ready to fight any regulations keeping her from seeing her daughter sooner. “I’m here for (Y/N) Jareau. J-A-R-E-” She tells the woman at the reception breathlessly.

“Oh I got her. She is in room 99. (Y/N) was unconscious for a certain amount of time, but she is slowly regaining her senses. A doctor will meet you there.” Before she even finishes her sentence, the blonde leaves the desk into the direction of the appointed room.

In fact there is a doctor waiting for her, updating the mother on her daughter’s condition. “I advise you to not overwhelm her. Her mind is still foggy and there may be things that don’t make sense right now coming from her. But (Y/N) will make a quick recovery, being good as new in only a matter of days.”

Cautiously she enters the room. The teenager might be awake, but her mind clearly is elsewhere. “Hey, Honey. It’s me, your mom. How are you feeling?” JJ asks softly, taking her daughter’s cold hand into her own gently.

“Oh, hi Mom. I didn’t know you found the time to actually come here. Isn’t there like a bad guy out there waiting for you to slap some handcuffs on him?” Ouch, she doesn’t expect that kind of honesty. But it’s true and JJ knows what (Y/N) is talking about.

She sighs. “I’m sorry, Honey, for being seemingly absent from your life. I swear, you can’t imagine how proud I am of you. I mean, you play soccer and there might be a scholarship in sigh. And even if you don’t get one, you can do anything and I would still be proud to call you my child.”

(Y/N) turns her head around, looking deeply into her mother’s eyes. The blonde can see all the pain she brought onto her bundle of joy. “Mom, I don’t even enjoy soccer as much as you think. I only do this, because I thought there would be finally something we can bond over. But I clearly didn’t calculate your stupid job in.”

JJ kicks herself for overseeing her daughter this much. She never stopped to acknowledge her oldest child’s accomplishments in front of her team and family. She always told everybody in the BAU what (Y/N) is up to, if they asked or not is not her problem. But in the whole process the agent forgot the most important person, the one who reached all those goals.

“Oh Honey, I’m so sorry for letting you feel like I don’t want to partake in your life. I- I was just so invested in your life that I didn’t think about you. You don’t have to do anything that I like to get my attention. You can join the school band playing the triangle and I would practically make t-shirts for the whole team sporting your logo.

“Anything you do is enough for me. You don’t need to change yourself to appeal to others, not even me. I’m sorry for letting you down. I love you so much and I hope you can forgive me.”

It seems like (Y/N) needs a few seconds to comprehend her mother’s statements before answering them. “I just need a mom, who is there more often. That would be enough for me. Just once every three games is enough. To let my friends know you care. To let me know you care.” JJ gets tears in her eyes. She promises to be there more often, fully intending to keep that promise.

“Good, now that we have that sorted out I need you to come into bed with me. I feel I could sleep for at least a year because of Mr Pembroke’s really weird tasting substance in my inhaler. Can we just cuddle until I feel like I’m my old self?” JJ smiles while happily laying down next to her daughter, engulfing her in a hug, still being cautious of all the tubes she has going in and out of her.

“I love you so much, Honey Bun”, the blonde murmurs, stroking a few strands out of her daughter’s face. But (Y/N) is too tired to answer. She just nods and cuddles closer to her mother before falling asleep.

Meanwhile, JJ watches over her like a hawk. Not even Will is allowed to come closer to her than two meters (or roughly six and a half feet for Americans), not wanting anyone to disturb her daughter’s peaceful sleep.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

[juniorgman187]

Be Forever Young (Reid Fluff Fic)

Summary: After Penelope’s resignation from the BAU, she attempts to set up her tech protégé, Reader, with Reader’s intellectual match yet much older counterpart - Dr. Spencer Reid. 

A/N: The POV switches between Reader and Spencer, just use context clues to detect who the narrator is.  Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: 21 year age gap, headcannon proposal Playlist: Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny Word Count: 6.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Prologue

Events like these weren’t exceedingly rare. They weren’t anything like Halley’s Comet, by any means, where it only happens once in your lifetime - if you’re lucky. But they weren’t exactly sunrises - something that you can count on occurring every day without fail. 

The best celestial phenomenon I could compare it to are blue moons. Rare enough to still have an element of surprise when they came, but not so rare that I should never expect them. 

These ‘blue moons’ are actually the events in which I meet an intellectual match. 

It’s not too often that I find a mind quite like mine, so you’ll forgive me for the reaction it elicits to watch them transcend the physical level and connect with me on the psychological one. There’s only been a handful of people who’ve ever had the exact standard of aptitude to be permissible into this metaphysical world with me, but now - there’s a handful and one. 

The newest addition to the list is her. 

_ _ _

Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia is nearly impossible. Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia about Dr. Spencer Reid is impossible. 

I couldn’t tell you when the first time she brought him up was, but I could probably tell you just how many times since then she’s mentioned him. 

A trillion. At least. 

For months on end, he was the only thing she would talk to me about. Morning, noon, and night. Every single day she’d gush about him with the same unrelenting zeal as she had the day before and the day before that. It was both scary and impressive how she never seemed to run out of good things to say about him. 

“You would just die for his apartment. It’s got this super chic dark academia thingy going on. You’d be really into that,” she would say. Or something to that effect. I was never really listening. 

Not that I wasn’t interested in learning about Dr. Reid - I was very interested in him.

As a superior. 

I first learned of him when he taught my Psych 101 class. Freshman year me was simply enthralled with him as a speaker, probably due to the charm of his awkward humor. I found it eerily relatable and touching, in a way. That was probably my favorite class, minus the assholes who made it less than enjoyable at times. (That’s a story for later).

The next interaction I had with him happened not even a year later when he came back after temporarily teaching to sit in on a philosophy class. Even though he was only auditing the lecture, whereas I was enrolled in the course, he ended up sitting in the seat right beside me. Had he not been gifted with an eidetic memory - a fact I found out during one of my obsessive research sessions - I doubt he would’ve even remembered sitting next to me.

Our shared field of work helped to bring us back together repeatedly throughout college. I would run into him at seminars, workshops, once even at a library where we were both looking for the same book. 

But for the most part, our relationship was parasocial. It largely consisted of me learning from him at a distance. I would use his brilliant research to support my own assignments, read the books he recommended, audit the classes he would teach. 

Rather than accurately interpreting my very limited, very professional connection to Dr. Reid, Penelope was deliberately using it as ammunition for her arsenal of reasons why I should consider dating him. 

“You guys are basically already friends, and nothing is cuter than the friends-to-lovers trope!” Now that she actually did say, and the only reason I remember it verbatim was it was so outrageous I couldn’t not remember it. 

And probably because she just said it to me right now. 

“We’re not friends! We’re ... acquaintances. Colleagues, if you will.” My attempts to gain distance from Penelope and this topic of conversation were crashing and burning. The more I tried to walk away from her, the faster she would chase me. It was inconceivable how she managed to do that and continue to pelt me with her perky persistence. 

“Even better! You know I’m no stranger to workplace romances.”

That I did. One Derek Morgan or one Luke Alvez ring a bell?

“Dr. Reid and I don’t work together,” I reminded her, if only to burst her bubble of insanity. 

“Exactly my point! If you two don’t work together, then there’s nothing keeping you apart.” 

I was stopped dead in my tracks, almost causing Penelope to trip since she was right on my heels. 

“Nothing? Really? Try 21 years.” 

That surely kept us apart. 

Our age gap was one of those glaring disparities Penelope couldn’t wave away with her magic wand. Frankly, it wasn’t an age gap so much as it was an age Grand Canyon. He was a whole person of legal drinking age older than me!

Hell - our age gap itself was older than me!

Maybe there weren’t any contracts or agreements or supervisors to keep us apart, but there was still one significant thing doing that. 

Time. Arguably the most important thing you needed to get right for a relationship to work. 

If there were any chance that he and I were good together, that was squandered by our divergence in age. 

Right person, wrong time ... but wrong time by more than two decades.

I could see the smallest fragment of hope wither away in Garcia’s eyes, and it actually hurt to have known that I caused that. Her voice was more solemn when she said, “You don’t have to date him, I just want you to go on a date. Get to know each other better. Who knows? You might finally graduate from colleagues to BFF’s.” 

Not that I was seriously considering the possibility of growing closer to Dr. Reid, but there was one question lingering in my mind.

“Does he even want to go on this date? Have you asked him how he feels about it?” 

Part of why I was wondering was on the off chance that she’d tell me he had the same objections towards this that I did, which would be good news for me since it would mark my reluctance as a sound judgment. If there was anyone whose opinion was worth something, it was his, right? After all, he was the provable genius in the same compromising position as me. 

“Trust me, he’s been dying to do this.” In spite of her preface to trust her, I didn’t. I couldn’t be sure if she was suggesting that he’d been dying to go on a date with me or if he’d been dying to go on a date in general.

No offense to him, but I guessed it was the latter, and if that was the case, he was only being a team player because she hadn’t told him it was me she was setting him up with. Already suspecting that I’d probe further to navigate through her vagueness, she cut in with one last Hail Mary. “One date! That’s all!”

Whether you believe me or not, 100% the only reason why I said what I said next was to put an end to this madness. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Maybe 99.99%.

_ _ _

I never knew how I could lose so much time. Sure, if anyone asked, I could probably account for everything I’d done in my day, second by second. But still, there was this cloudiness, a fog, inhabiting my brain, casting this haze on whatever else dwelled in my mind, too. 

I couldn’t focus on anything for more than 4 seconds at a time, and while that wasn’t incredibly concerning for the average human, it was disconcerting for me. 

What was going on? 

What is going on?

“What’s going on?” 

Suddenly, a hand began to wave in front of my face. “Yoo-hoo? Anybody in there?” JJ wondered aloud, causing me to realize it was her voice that asked the question from before. 

“Yeah, sorry,” I shook my head to regain some clarity, but that did me no good. My foggy brain still remained. It goes without saying my words were worth nothing as well. JJ saw right through me in a way that never failed to scare me shitless. I could never conjure up a lie good enough to follow that look she’d give me. So I settled for the truth. The question that cast the haziness in my brain to begin with. 

“What do you think about me dating again?” 

If I thought that first look was bad, then the one she was giving me now was something of a nightmare. At least with the first, I knew what she was thinking. With this one, I hadn’t a clue. 

To relieve us from some of the insufferable silence, I found myself speaking again in my defense. “Garcia mentioned something earlier about setting me up with someone and it got me thinking.”

Thinking about Max that is. 

Being my most recent girlfriend, it made sense why she was freshest in my mind. That being said, we’ve been broken up for 14 months, which in any other context would seem like more than enough time to start dating again, but therein lies the catch. 

We didn’t just break up. She said “no” when I asked her to marry me, which, if you ask me, is one hell of a way to break up.

So from that perspective, it obviously begs the question: is 14 months too fast to move on from something like that? 

JJ sharply inhaled. “Well, are you ready to start dating again?”

I still didn’t have an answer for that myself. “I don’t know. There isn’t exactly a rulebook on how long you have to wait until it’s socially acceptable-”

“Lemme stop you right there, Spence,” She placed her hand on top of mine. “You can’t just do whatever statistics or studies or science say is right all the time. You not only need to be more in tune with your own needs but accepting of them, too. Screw what anyone else has to say about you dating again - including Socrates, including Einstein, including Aristotle ... including me. Do whatever you think is acceptable by your standards - not society’s. Do what you wanna do and I’ll support that.”

There was something special about having JJ’s approval. It was like getting permission to be excited, something I didn’t know I needed or wanted. 

“I’m ready.”

Born ready, as Penelope herself would say.

_ _ _

I was starting to get suspicious that maybe I had an invisible string attached to me and on the other end of that string was Penelope. It was the only explanation as to how she managed to trail behind me at an isochronal pace. Perfectly equidistant, perfectly equal intervals of time. Must’ve been some form of magic that she was able to synchronize that connection for as long as she did as we pranced around the office, basically chasing me.

“Okay, I know the date isn’t until Saturday, but I really think we need to amp up your wardrobe choices ... like stat.”

Hearing that I was seeing my superior still didn’t settle well with me. I don’t think I could ever get used to the thought. 

I should’ve been offended at her suggestion to change my clothing taste as it implied my stylistic choices weren’t up to par, but a part of me, a very small part of me, knew she was right. And just because I wasn’t keen on the idea of going on a date with Spencer didn’t mean I didn’t want to look nice for him for it.

“I’m assuming you’ve got some ideas in mind,” I said in a teasing voice, knowing that’s precisely why she brought it up.

“See! You are a genius! Exactly why you and Spencer are meant to be together!” Her exclamation was just as loud as it was outlandish. 

“Alright, calm down sparky,” I shot a warning look. “It’s just one date - we’re not soulmates.” 

Then, talking in the quietest voice I didn’t think Penelope was capable of speaking with, she said, “Not yet.” 

I knew the minute I showed even the littlest bit of interest in Penelope’s fashion guidance, I’d end up draped in ruffles, sequins, glitter, tulle, rhinestones, or all of the above. Nothing again Penelope’s personal style - it’s just not mine. 

I was scared to ask, but I had to know. “So what were you thinking?” 

Before my very eyes, Penelope’s constantly-there smile transformed, something akin to the mischievous grin of the Cheshire Cat. “I was thinking …” 

In a Mary Poppins-esque fashion, Penelope produced a dress that in no feasible reality should have been able to fit within that little Hello Kitty side bag. 

I suppose it must’ve been absolutely backbreaking for Penelope to refrain from choosing a multicolor or at least pattern-riddled dress, so as compensation for the fact that it was only one singular color throughout, it had to be a bold one. 

Red. 

“Not too shabby, right?” Her eyebrows jumped on her forehead, knowing she’d made a good choice. 

And a part of me actually died saying this, but it was pretty perfect. 

_ _ _ 

My life didn’t flash before my eyes, per se, the moment I finally arrived at the delicatessen. It was more like a very specific, singular memory had flashed before my eyes. 

That story for later? This is the one. 

Psych 101 was my best class in Freshman year ... by a long shot. Come rain, wind, or snow, I was always excited to go. It was a standout course on its own, but not because it was terribly spectacular or the most fascinating subject in the world, but more so because of how it changed my own person. It challenged me, like all worthwhile things do. 

There were more judgmental meatheads - boys, if you will - than not, who would jump down my throat for being a smart ass or a teacher’s pet if I so much as answered one of Dr. Reid’s questions. Par for the course, really. 

As a result, I had a proclivity to avoid raising my hand. It wasn’t that I was hyper-fixated on managing my reputation, just that participating wasn’t worth the eventual harassment from my dimwitted classmates. 

Nonetheless, one day, I felt compelled to answer Dr. Reid when he asked what our thoughts were about the sampled, pretense manifesto.

No one else was jumping at the chance to speak, perhaps they were just as cowardly as I was, and it was clear that he was going to stand there waiting until someone finally would. The silence was painfully awkward for everyone and so I felt obligated, as a student who was actually enrolled in the class for credit and not just to audit like 90% of the other girls here, to break it.

Slowly, ever so slowly, my hand hesitantly inched up into the air until it floated just high enough above the student in front of me’s head. As soon as I knew he saw it, I let it plunge straight back down. 

“Yes, Ms. (y/l/n)?”

I could already feel the dirty looks and snide comments coming before I even said a word. 

“I know we’re all collectively referring to this unsub as a man, and while that might just be a general assumption or Freudian slip perhaps ... I think the language is steeped in betrayal and contempt. And it would be ignorant not to notice how it reads more like the wrath of a woman scorned than your typical jilted male lover.” 

“Lover?” Someone two rows back snickered quietly, clearly to mock my choice of words. I didn’t even have to look to know it was Brad who had said that. Nevertheless, Dr. Reid was impressed with my answer. His lips curved into the faintest smile as he nodded his head. If he had heard the commentary of one Brad Sterling, he made no visceral reaction to it.

With an extended hand, palm facing up, he gestured for me to, “Please. Stand up.”

I fumbled my way up and out of my seat to possibly delay the shit I’d get for this mere action.

“That, ladies and gentleman, is what it looks like to have courage,” He underlined his words with a grand flourish of his hand in my direction. “Putting yourself on the line even in the event you’ll be mocked and ridiculed or deemed wrong. That’s something you’ll need if you are seriously considering being part of the BAU, or the FBI at any capacity.”

My face was flushed from the acclaim he was showering me with. Suddenly, I was glad I volunteered. 

Taking me completely by surprise, Dr. Reid wasn’t done yet.

“So, Mr. Sterling,” He began, directly calling out the boy in the back who without a doubt made the remark. I wouldn’t have had any reason to believe he heard it since his attention never diverted away from me long enough to catch the comment, much less the culprit. I wonder if he’d heard all the times Brad made jokes at my expense. Was he finally at his wits end with the sarcasm? “Make fun all you want, but might I suggest that if you like a girl, you do the opposite of that.” 

His sickly sweet drawl was followed by a short wink at me as if to say ‘I have your back’, and I was lucky to have already been in the process of sitting back down because my knees would’ve given out underneath me from the sheer exhilaration of his praise. 

The thought never once crossed my mind that Brad was so fixated on me because he had a crush, but it all made sense once it did. And if I didn’t know any better, Dr. Reid only humiliated him and brought it up because the realization dawned on him, too.

Was it possible that Dr. Reid was ... jealous?

In the spirit of complete transparency, that suspicion may have lit the tiniest wildfire imaginable in my chest. A wildfire that, even now, has yet to extinguish. Perhaps that little flame is the 0.01% of the reason I said yes. I could only imagine what kind of omnipotence it would soon gain if this date went well. 

If he could light such an enduring kindle with simple praise, think about what would happen if he smiled at me. If he laughed at my jokes. If he held my hand. 

If he kissed me.  

Dr. Reid’s validation would be something I actively sought from all walks of life, I knew that much. What I didn’t know was how far that desire would take me.

I would have never guessed it would lead me here. 

Standing in front of a fancy restaurant in a pretty red dress with the tenuous hope that the professor inside might just like it so much that he’ll end up liking the girl wearing it, too.

_ _ _ 

No matter how many times I adjusted the bouquet of poppies, they sat perpetually crooked on the table. Much like the dark gray tie around my neck that tightened around my throat with every passing second. I had to keep messing with it to loosen the noose-like grip it had on me. Who knew if it actually was becoming more restricting or it was the flourishing bundle of nerves in my stomach that made it harder to breathe. 

I was never very good at lying in wait patiently. Especially if I was expecting something. Now that I was expecting someone? I could say with perfect clarity - I was not good at waiting. 

I don’t wanna seem the way I do 

Every time the door opened, my eyes flashed to it instantaneously. And every time it wasn’t her, a little part of me was disappointed. It was still too early to say for certain that she was standing me up, but my mind was doing what it did best. It wandered. There was nothing else to do after all. 

Except maybe adjust those blood orange poppies one more time.

I’d picked them out specifically because Penelope slipped in a not-so-subtle comment about her dress being “a perfect match to the color of papaverales” - her words exactly. I thought if she went through that much trouble to find a color coordinated plant and say the scientific name for me to decode, it was worth picking up a bouquet of them on the way. 

It was only the most ironic occurrence in the world that when I went to rearrange them one last time, I devoted my full attention to the action, missing the very moment I was on the lookout for the past hour and a half. 

I didn’t even see her until the red poppies camouflaged into the identically colored setting of her dress. 

Then there she was.

All the disappointment in the world was worth that first time I saw her with fresh eyes. 

I was dumbstruck for a moment, long enough that it warranted an apology for not standing up sooner. 

“(Y/n)! Hi!” I accidentally squealed. I couldn’t control myself, let alone control the pitch of my voice apparently. 

I could see, in her, youthful naivete where, in others, I saw their age. She paradoxically had not aged a minute, and yet a new womanhood was piercing through her ultimately adolescent appearance. 

“Hi, Dr. Reid,” She said through a laugh and a smile, shaking my hand politely and professionally. She was greeting me like I was still her professor and she’d just happen to run into me on an errand. Next, she’d be attempting small-talk for as long as it took for me to let her go. 

Unfortunately for her, I had no plans for that. 

But I’m confident when I’m with you 

“Please, it’s just Spencer,” I reminded her, hoping to break down that governing image of me she surely maintained. 

“Spencer,” She tried again; doing it more to be obedient to my instruction than to satisfy her own desire. It sounded so unnatural to her, just as it did to me. I found it adorable, actually. It seemed like she was breaking this unspoken, and very much illusionary rule to say my first name. “It’s nice to see you again,” She added after I pulled out her chair for her.

“Is it?” I asked when I rounded the table to get to my seat. “I get the feeling you’re a little disappointed.” The only reason I pointed it out was that it was true, not just that I’d observed the notion grow more poignant in her face for the past minute.

“Not at all,” She shook her head, which luckily for me, drew a line of congruence between her body language and verbal language. At least, she was being truthful. “It’s just that I’m sort of embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” I repeated in astonishment, unable to cultivate a list of reasons that would justify her feeling that way. I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d done to provoke that emotion, and it nearly broke me to consider her internal being substantiating it. 

“Embarrassed isn’t the right word, but I can’t find a more accurate one for what I’m feeling,” She shied away from my eyes when she lowered her head as she spoke. 

“You could try to explain it to me?” I offered gently. It took an overwhelming amount of self-restraint to not offer my hand with it. It would’ve been so easy to slide my hand across the threshold to enter her territory of the table, but who knows if doing so would just make her that much more uncomfortable. 

“Well for one thing, I don't really go on dates,” From this alone, I could already relate to her enough to laugh at the fact. “Don’t laugh at me! You know how dangerous first dates can be,” She swatted her hand in my direction to chastise me. 

“I do! I do! I think it’s really good that you’re protecting yourself to the point of avoiding dates,” I was teasing the implication that she wasn’t asked to go on very many, which was thankfully delivered well enough to make her laugh again. 

“Hey! Many people have wanted to go on dates with me, thank you very much. You included.” 

“Me included.” I nodded in approval. We sat in a short period of silence while we exchanged one soulful glance, borne from the insinuation of what I just said. 

“And for another ... I respect you too much as a figure of authority to see you in that way.” 

_ _ _ 

“In what way?” 

Rather than tossing me a lifeline, he was feeding me to the sharks. Forcing me to dive into the deep end. He wanted to see me struggle to stay afloat in the sea of his sticky toffee eyes. He knew I'd get suspended in them when he gave me that look. How much I’d be willing to get lost in them just so I could wander in the depths of his honeyed orbs for a little bit longer. 

That look ...

“You don’t find it weird?” This was the most honesty I could’ve demonstrated. 

“Find what weird?” For someone with such a high IQ, you’d think he’d be quicker on his feet. 

“This! You - me. On a date!” I gestured to the space between us. “You’re ... well frankly, Spencer, you’re old enough to be my father.” 

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” He genuinely cared about the answer.

“Only in theory. Not in actual life,” was the most precise response I could give.

“So what is making you uncomfortable?” Again, I could tell my answer mattered to him. 

“You were my professor once, and now I’m just supposed to go on a date with you and see you as my equal when I’ve spent the entire time I’ve known you, putting you on a pedestal? Do you know how much pressure that puts on me? To be perfect?”

“Who says you have to be perfect? Who says you’re aren’t already?” 

That one caught me off guard. I had to gulp down the lump of shock. 

“You think I’m perfect?” 

“That, or you’re pretty close to it.” 

Lately all I feel is bad and bruised

I could’ve smiled, I could’ve thanked him, I could’ve fallen at his feet and thrown my dignity down there along with it, but I just laughed. I laughed. 

“That’s ridiculous! You barely know me.” 

“You’re wrong,” He simply replied with a firm shake of his head and a cavalier sip at his drink. It showed just how confident he was in his answer. How cocky he was. 

“How am I wrong?” 

He cleared his throat as though he were preparing to deliver the world’s greatest speech. Then, he leaned forward, motioning with his fingers for me to do the same. 

“If I’m remembering correctly, which you know I am, you were the student who had the gall to raise your hand and correct me on my gender identification of the unsub, right?” 

The second the sentimental thought, ‘aww he remembered’, came into my head, it was soon followed by, of course, he did, idiot. Eidetic memory, remember?

Tired of tripping on my shoes

“What does that have to do with me being perfect? Or so you claim?”

He was piercing deep into my eyes now, his gaze overwhelming my senses and sending shockwaves akin to the feeling of butterflies everywhere … and I mean everywhere.

“Bravery is the audacity to be unhindered by failures, and to walk with freedom, strength, and hope, in the face of things unknown.” 

I recognized the quote as one of Morgan Harper Nichols, but the words went right to my chest like they were his own. 

That damn wildfire just got a whole lot bigger. 

“I’ve always thought about how if I could be unfazed by failure or even just the prospect of it, if I could just be strong enough or have enough hope to face what I couldn’t predict, I’d be set. I’d be golden,” He paused. “I’d be perfect ... but you? You, little one, have already got that figured out. So whether that means you’re perfect on your own because of your bravery or you're a perfect match for someone fainthearted like me, is up for you to decide. Whichever interpretation of being perfect you choose would be correct, but you should know - I meant both either way.”

But when he loves me I feel like I’m floating

When he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody

Even when we fade eventually to nothing

You will always be my favorite form of loving

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asked when he finally refound his voice. 

“Since the minute I walked in.” I replied after refinding mine. 

_ _ _ 

“You always take girls to your apartment on the first date, Doctor?” Asking this in the name of taking a jab at him was the most clever way I could think to conceal my underlying motive of trying to gauge how giddy I could let myself feel about the fact that he’d taken me to his ‘super chic dark academia’ themed residence - Penelope’s words, remember?

“Well, in my abundant dating history,” He sarcastically began, “I can’t say I ever have, no. You’d be the first.”

That shot another quick bolt of lightning to the wildfire in my heart that I’m ashamed to admit made the heat reinvigorate. The flame must’ve been too much for my chest to contain so it had to relocate to my face, where my cheeks were left to burn under his gaze and thanks to his admission. 

I was the first. 

He must’ve seen the glint localizing on my countenance and decided to speak on it. “Why does that amuse you?”

“I don’t know,” I dumbly but truthfully replied. He didn’t need any more information to get his answer, though. Because even if I didn’t know what amused me about being his first, I never denied that it did, and that was more than enough confirmation for him. 

“You promise to be here when I come back?” He wagged a cautionary finger at me like it might persuade me to stay and hold me accountable if I didn’t. 

Spencer needed to go into his room to collect an item that ‘shall not be named’ but was apparently essential for our super secret plans tonight (secret to even me) and he was leaving me in the living room while he did so. I guess being the initial girl he took home on a first date was okay, but being the initial girl he took into his bedroom on a first date was crossing a line. 

That was alright with me, though. I was in this for the long haul.

“I promise I pose no flight risk, Your Honor,” I taunted with a coy tone. “But I can’t promise I won’t snoop around some.” Hey, at least I was telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 

“Snoop around all you want,” He laughed ruefully, demonstrating an openness I quite envied and admired. “You’ll probably learn a lot about me that way. And you won’t even have to talk to me to do that!” I knew he was only saying that out of self-deprecating tendencies he harbored, but I couldn’t help feeling that a small part of him actually believed that I wasn’t interested in talking to him.

“Spencer, you know I do like talking to you right?” I caught him just before he ran into his room. Already halfway in the door, I could still catch the megawatt smile on his face. 

“So stay then,” His smile grew impossibly bigger. “We can talk all you want when I get back.” 

The door closed, and then suddenly reopened to let just his face through, a face that said, ‘Don’t go anywhere.’

After a few minutes of loudly sorting through his room, I heard the sanctimonious cry of victory. “Found it!” 

I could hear the little pad of his feet and he happily trotted out of the room. “Ta-da! My stargazing kit.” He said it as though he were introducing the basket he was holding to me, and me to it. Like it was a real person he wanted me to know. I almost felt obliged to say, ‘Hi stargazing kit! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m (y/n)!’

“Let’s go,” He smiled, reaching for my hand. 

I unabashedly took it, because although it meant that I was truly leaving his apartment, I had a very strong feeling that I would be back here again one day. 

_ _ _ 

We were lying there on this big quilted comforter that was stashed away in that stargazing kit of his, staring up at the sky, drunk on the sound of our occasional fits of laughter. 

“It’s Earth Day, you know that?” I wondered aloud in a state of complete euphoria.

“I actually did,” He said through a sheepish laugh, almost as if he was admitting the knowledge of it against his own will to protect my fragility. 

From out of nowhere, there was a small tug on the skirt of my dress. I looked down to find Spencer’s hand there, playing with the fabric until it lay perfectly on my leg. 

I coughed to possibly relieve the tension brewing in my loins. “So then you know the Lyrid meteor shower is tonight,” I moved the tiniest bit closer to lean into his touch.

“At exactly 4:33 a.m,” He moved too.

“Is that why you brought me here? To watch the shooting stars? To make a wish?” I thought for a second that I would appear exceedingly childish - more so than I already did being 21 years his junior. But he didn’t judge me at all for the kid-like notion of making a wish on a shooting star or the implication that I still believed in those things. 

In fact, I piqued his curiosity, telling by the way he moved only his head to the side to watch my reaction. “Say I did. What would you wish for?” 

In the throws of dreamy elation, I softly murmured the only honest answer. “To be older. But not the unfulfilling 9 to 5, loveless marriage, ‘I do my taxes for fun’ older. I want to be old in the ways that the stars and the sky are old. I want to be infinite.” 

“...To be infinite.” He whispered my wish back, sounding sort of in awe of me. 

Just then, the overhead horizon grew larger. With no buildings or people to block the view, it was just us, the stars, and the sky. I could actually feel that I was lying on a planet. It was so wide. So infinite. 

“Can I hold your hand?” I asked softly, in a manner so vulnerable it scared me.

Without any words or hesitation, he put my hand in his.

“The universe seems so big right now. I just needed something to hold onto.” I explained quietly, practically with the hopes that he wouldn’t hear me. But he heard.

“I’m here.”

We didn’t know what was ahead of us then. We were just two people, looking up at the sky on a cold February night. We weren’t divided by power, or age, or space. We were ourselves and no one else. 

My eyes fluttered shut again and a smile stretched across my face. “Stargazing was a good idea.”

The world and the sky and the stars and I - we were all infinite. I couldn’t have felt bigger in my own body. In the best way possible, I was taking up so much space. I was occupying the earth. I was made up of matter. I mattered. 

Just as I began to open my eyes, I caught a glimpse of a fading shooting star. Though I had wished to be older, I still felt like a child. Then it hit me. I didn’t feel older because I wasn’t older.

I was infinite. 

Yes, I was a child, but not in the pinch your cheeks, bottles and pacifiers, babyish way. I was a child in the ‘you have a life full of possibilities ahead of you’ way.

You are young. He tells me with his eyes. And that is a good thing. Be forever young. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

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[pars-ley]

Bare yourself (part three)

Pairing: CEO Jimin x female reader

Summary: After a serious hack from your office building, fingers start being pointed but in which direction is the right one and where will that leave you and your boss, Jimin?

Genre: CEO au / smut / angst / series / workplace au / strangers to lovers au / boss/employee au

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Phone sex / Masturbation m and f / Police interrogation / Explicit language / CEO Jimin

Word count: 3.5k

Beta: @erotikkook thank you!

Notes: Ok, so this took me a ridiculously long time to finish, life is manic but here's the next chapter. Thank you for being patient. Hope you all enjoy!

Taglist: @jungkooksbroski @unoriginal-username15432 @yoobikook @vonvi-blog @itsohhonney @kpopnoobsstuff @namyoongles @btsmosphere @autumnbear @ownthesunshine @btstista​

"Miss l/n, we know the hack came from inside the building. All I want to do is find out who's responsible. Which means I need your cooperation." Detective Kim Namjoon peers at you over the frames of his dark glasses. 

"And like I've said, you have my full cooperation. I cannot tell you anything more than I already have." You respond leaning forward on the table, desperate for him to believe you.

He slumps back in his seat and sighs. "Miss l/n, we can't keep doing this back and forth routine. I-"

"Sir, I love my job and I love this company," you interrupt. "I also think very highly of my boss, I. Would. Not. Do. This."

"How high?"

You freeze at his sudden change of questioning. "What?"

"How high?" He repeats. "Is something going on between you two?"

You straighten your back, looking at him through narrowed eyes, feeling the rock of a lie settle in your stomach and weigh you down. "Mr. Kim, I am a professional."

He puts both his hands up in surrender. "No offense intended ma'am. It's just that some of your other coworkers seem quite smitten with him."

You almost roll your eyes, knowing you were probably just as dreamy eyed as your co-workers but too proud to admit it.

"Oh, and they did mention the two of you cosying up at a recent work party."

You resist the urge to swallow as your heart pounds violently inside you, panic squeezing your pumping organ in a vice grip. You thought no one had noticed your exchange or your absence when you both left.  

"We were talking, yes. He offered me a promotion and wanted to discuss it."

He looks impressed. "Wow, what a good opportunity, he must trust you a lot."

"He did." 

"Until this?" He scrubs a hand over his smooth face and you nod.

"Um-hm. What would you say you could hack into?"

You frown, not understanding the question. "Sorry?"

"Could you hack just about anything?"

Thinking about it you shrug, "Most things I'd say."

"Even something as impenetrable as this program?"

You laugh. "Sir, I designed the security portion of this program, I wouldn't need to hack into it." You lean forward again. "Let me explain something to you, if I were to do something like this, I would have been in and out without anyone knowing. I would know how to cover my tracks without being detected."

You pause rubbing your temples, "If you ask me, this was done by someone with a limited knowledge of hacking and computers. Either that or this person is trying to frame someone in the company. They're your two options."

He smiles at you, two dimples forming an endearing crevice in his cheeks.

"They told me you were smart."

You rub your face ignoring his remark. "I have been here for hours. Am I free to go or are you going to charge me with something?"

"Just one more question. What were you doing last night?"

Your heart stutters before pounding guiltily against your ribcage, with every beat you're almost sure you can hear Jimin's name. Ji-min. Ji-min.

Folding your hands in your lap to disguise you pinching your wrist under the table, trying to do anything to keep your hectic mind calm as you know you have to lie.

"I was at home."

"Alone?" 

The smirk he gives you makes your stomach churn, as if he can see right through you and your lies, as if he can see everything that transpired last night flashing behind your eyes. 

"Yes." Your voice comes out raspy, a sudden dry patch in your throat makes you swallow involuntarily.

"Run me through your evening." He sinks lower into his seat, you're almost waiting for him to pull out a footstool and put his feet up.

"We set up the project, waited for it to go live-"

"Who's we?"

"My team, myself and Mr. Park."

He nods and gestures a hand for you to continue.

"Once it was live, we monitored it for a few hours, checked everything was in working order and most of my team went home for the night. It was pretty late by then."

He jots your account down on his laptop, the keys clicking furiously as you speak.

"What time is 'late'?"

"Around 10ish."

He raises his brows. "Is that a typical work day for you?"

You shake your head. "No, it was only because we wanted to make sure everything went ok with the go live, a few tweaks and adjustments had to be made, nothing major."

He nods, eyes focused on his screen. "Is that usual at the end of a project, tweaks and adjustments?" 

You shrug. "Sometimes yes, on big projects, sometimes you can't see certain errors until a go live."

"Ok, so it's 10 o'clock and your team have gone home, leaving you and Mr. Park. What happened next?"

You massage your temples. "We spoke in his office."

"About what?"

Your hand slams down on the table, an action you didn't intend. "Is that relevant?"

He looks up startled, then smiles. "Why? Have I touched a nerve?"

You resist the urge to lean across the table and pound your fist into his smug face and instead lean back in your seat with your arms folded, an attempt at shielding yourself. "We spoke about the project and the result. It seemed to be successful, at the time, so we had a celebratory night cap."

He shoves his laptop aside, leaning forward on his elbows, ears pricked and ready. "Let me get this straight. You and the - forgive me - handsome Mr. Park are alone in the building, in his office and having a night cap, late at night?"

"Yes." You reply bluntly, the arrogance of him, so sure he'll find your lie, flaming your veins with rage.

"Does Mr. Park regularly have his colleagues in his office for a night cap?"

"I wouldn't know sir, I'm not his secretary."

"Even if you were, she'd have gone home hours ago, according to you." He pauses watching you, his eyes so intense they feel smothering-suffocating. 

His stare eases, releasing you from its hold. "Ok continue, what happened after your night cap?" He relaxes and goes back to typing. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, air feeling light and free again.

"We talked, I finished my drink, then I went home."

"How did you get home?"

You pause. If you lie, they're bound to see the footage of you and Jimin leaving the building together, with you getting into his car. 

"Miss l/n? How did you get home?" 

Here he goes looking expectantly over the rim of his glasses again.

"Mr. Park gave me a ride home."

And there was that infuriating smirk again. "Is that so? Was his driver there or did Mr. Park do the driving?"

You feel the heat on the back of your neck as you're reminded of how Jimin's hands felt on your skin, hot and eager in the back of the car. "His driver took me."

"With Mr. Park."

You nod slowly. 

"And I suppose he just said goodnight and off you went?"

"You're correct, sir." 

"And Mr. Park will vouch for this story of yours?" He taps his bottom lip with the pen he just pulled out of his pocket.

You nod. "He will because it's the truth." You're both praying and hoping you'd have a chance to speak to Jimin before he got interviewed...if he hasn't been already. God, if they found out you were lying about this, it would make you look so guilty.

"Uh-huh. One other thing…"

Fighting the frustrated growl boiling up inside you, you give him a false smile.

"Do you have any idea why someone would want to hack this software?"

You mull it over briefly, "I would imagine, seeing as it's a security breach for information, that it's to steal. Most of our clients are..." you struggle to find the appropriate wording.

"Rich." He intejects.

You nod agreeing.

"Ummm." He adds watching you, before sitting up and closing his laptop abruptly. "Ok, miss l/n, you're free to go. But we'll be in touch, I assure you." 

He stands up and you quickly follow him out of the room. When he shows you the direction the exit is in he turns to face you and holds out a hand. 

"It's been a pleasure, miss l/n, I know you probably won't be able to say the same, nevertheless." He shakes your hand with a half smile causing the dimple to return, somehow completely softening his face.

You nod and leave as quickly as your tired body will let you.

The cool, night air hitting your face immediately calms your panicked mind. You need to speak to Jimin but it might not be safe to do so.

"Are you ok, y/n?" A deep voice sounds from beside you, silencing all your other chaotic thoughts.

You spin and see Taehyung leaning casually against the pillar of the building smoking.

You relax at the sight of a familiar face. Jimin's personal assistant has always been friendly and kind towards you. You weren't sure but rumours in your company suggested that the two of them were even brothers, although you doubted it as they didn't resemble each other in the slightest.

"Yeah, glad to be out of there though." You reply, massaging the back of your neck.

"I bet, you've been in there a long time. I saw you leave to go to the station with them hours ago."

You nod. "It's been a long and very trying day. Are you waiting to be interviewed?"

He nods, taking a long drag, you watch as the end illuminates orange. 

"Well, I hope they don't keep you in there too long."

"They shouldn't. I've been away, only got back last night. Don't see how much use I can be to them."

He flicks his cigarette into the road and closes the distance between you.

"Listen, if there's anything you need or if you just want to talk or rant, anything. Don't hesitate to give me a call." He hands you his card. "This is a tough situation for everyone, we all need someone every now and then."

His bright, boxy grin has your mouth upturning before you know it. You thank him and hail and cab. Glancing at him, you see him watching you as the car drives away, unsure as to whether he's flirting or you're reading too much into it and he's being his usual cheerful self.

You shrug it off. All you can think of is getting home, running a nice, hot bath and forgetting this day ever happened.

*****

Back to reality as you sit with your silk robe wrapped around you, your laptop positioned neatly on your thighs, going through every possible way someone could have hacked into this, looking for how they got in. 

But nothing made sense, this was definitely not a hack done by someone with limited knowledge as you originally thought. 

There was no trace of anything left behind, no mark that anyone had even been in. Which only means, the hack had to be someone with inside knowledge of the project already, it definitely wasn't an outside hacker.

A more alarming finding was discovering the computer used for the hack was actually yours.

But why make it so obvious where the hack took place and which computer...unless...someone is trying to frame you. This wasn't something you had realistically considered. 

If you were honest, no one was even jumping out at you as a suspect. You trusted everyone in your team and everyone who helped on this project.

You sigh, massaging your temples as you try to clear your mind.

A harsh knock on the door makes you jump and you glance at your phone. 

02.31.

Who on earth would be knocking at this hour?

You head over, opening the door slightly with the chain still pulled tight across, to see a man; hat pulled down covering his eyes, standing there handing you a small, brown package through the gap.

"It's from Jimin." He says quietly. You watch his mouth - the only part of his face you can see - stretch into a gummy smile, before turning and exiting the building. 

Bewildered, you close the door and rip open the box. Staring at its contents and searching for some kind of note explaining what on earth this is for. 

A phone. 

What are you supposed to do with it?

You take it out, examining it and noticing the mistletoe background. Just like the mistletoe you first kissed Jimin under.

You jump out of your skin, fear firing an ice bolt right through you as it lights up and starts ringing.

Hesitantly, you answer. "Hello?"

"Y/n," Jimin's breathy voice sounds in your ear and sends a scattering of goosebumps across your skin. "I'm sorry for the cloak and dagger but I'm unsure if I'm being watched."

"By the police?" You ask, worried at the urgency in his voice.

"Not just them. Listen," he starts before you can interject. "I want you to know that no matter how it seems or what I say in front of other people, I do believe that you had nothing to do with this hack."

The relief that floods you has your shoulders relaxing instantly, not even aware they were tense. "I am glad to hear you say that, thank you."

"I also want to apologise, I did not mean for your involvement with me to put you at risk of any trouble."

You frown, trying to make sense of his words. "I really don't see how the two are connected."

He sighs and the urge you have to comfort him, to wrap your arms around him until his stress is eased, almost has you putting on your shoes and coat. "It doesn't matter. Things are complicated with me and it wasn't fair for me to drag you into that."

"Hey, hey," you sit down on the edge of your bed. "You didn't drag me anywhere. I'm a big girl Jimin, I can make my own decisions, last night being one of them and I definitely do not have any regrets about that."

You're met with silence as you find yourself fiddling with the bedsheets, reminiscing his touch. 

"I most definitely do not regret it either." He finally says. You think you can hear a slight smile in his voice. "That was a moment I had wanted for longer than I care to admit."

His unexpected confession causes a furious blush to creep up your chest.

"I wish I could see you." The desperation in his voice makes you hot underneath your robe.

"Why don't you come over?" You ask, hesitantly biting your lower lip.

"I wish I could, lord knows I do, but I can't risk it, for your sake." 

You collapse back on the bed in frustration, his scent jumps up and captures you, pulling your mind into filthy places. "My bed sheets still smell like you." You say the words before thinking them through. 

"Do they?" His voice is suddenly husky and full of want. "And what is going through that impressive mind of yours?" 

"You are. Your touch, your taste, how I wish to feel your perfect lips on me again." Your hand makes its way down to open your robe, cool air hitting your skin and puckering your nipples.

"Hmm-mm, and what are you doing while you're thinking about me?" He asks.

"What do you want me to do, Jimin?" You accentuate his name, knowing how much he loves it when you say it.

"Touch yourself." He whispers.

You waste no time in obeying, as your fingers travel quickly down to your throbbing clitorous. The feel of your fingertips massaging your sweet bud makes you moan.

"Oh god, this makes me want to see you even more." He groans. 

You use the phone to snap a quick photo of your actions and send it to the number you're on the line too. "Incoming message, sir." You say teasingly.

"Oh, fuck," he says in the distance and instantly followed by the sound of his trouser zipper being undone. "You make me crazy." His voice is right back at your ear.

"Jimin, I wish it was my mouth around your rock hard cock." 

"Me too, angel. God, what I wouldn't give to feel you around me. Tell me, what would you want me to do to you?" He grunts, the sound of him pleasuring himself causes a gush of arousal to spill from your eager hole and you spread it over yourself.

"I'd want your mouth on me...everywhere, tasting just how wet I am for you." You pant.

"Just for me?" 

"Yes, all for you." You lightly trace circles over your swollen sweet spot, toes curling when he breathes your name down the phone.

"I want to be inside you, again." 

"Anytime, anywhere, just tell me." You whisper, that undeniable build up already at peak point. "I'm going to cum." 

"That's it angel, cum with me." 

You unravel, back arching off the bed and burying your face into the sheets, relishing his scent. You hear him orgasm, repeating your name continuously. It makes you smile inside and it makes you feel powerful knowing how much he wants you.

"I have to say," he says, after you both get your breath back. "That was not the reason for me sending the phone."

You can't help but laugh at that. "What was the reason?"

He sighs again. "Mostly, to apologise and to have a way to speak to you that I know is safe. We have to be careful, now."

"Why, what are you so worried about?"

A long pause. "I can't," you can almost hear his inner turmoil, the fight with himself. "I'm just trying to protect you. You don't need to be involved."

You're about to argue but something inside you stills. If you push someone like Jimin too much, he'll only clam up further, he'll open up when he's ready...you hope.

"Keep this phone on, ok?" He pleads.

"More late night phone sex?" You tease, chewing your lip.

"I wouldn't say no," he laughs. "I do, however, just want to be able to talk to you, if that's ok?" 

You nod and realise he can't see that. "Of course, anytime."

"I wouldn't say that, you'll never get me off the phone." 

You feel yourself smiling like a cheshire cat, feeling like a lovesick school girl again. What has this man reduced you to?

"Goodnight y/n. Sleep well, angel." He hangs up the phone, leaving your heart stuttering and your stomach flipping with excitement. The prospect of something new on the horizon, even with all the current problems you're facing, something still seeming positive might come out of this. All you can do is hope.

******

Getting ready for work the next morning you felt conflicted, part of you was on cloud nine, drifting blissfully along on nothing but hope and dreams. The other part was dreading the work day and what it could bring, plus you still had your own discreet investigating to do.

A harsh, yet cheerful rap on your door, startled you. 

Rushing to the door to see who it is, a small part clinging onto a chance it could be Jimin, only to be disappointed when you open the door and find detective Kim Namjoon staring back at you.

"Ah Miss l/n, I'm so glad I caught you before work, could I come in?" The same smug smile stretching his full lips as he leans casually against your door frame, his laptop hooked under his arm.

"Really? Right now, I'll be late for work." You reply, feeling a bit like a deer caught in headlights.

"That's ok, I've already informed your boss of your late arrival." He assures you cockily. "So, can I …?"

You grit your teeth and step out of the way, gesturing for him to enter. 

You watch as he studies every inch of your living area, peering into your bedroom.

"What is it I can help you with, detective?"

He turns to you, "Ah, yes of course." 

Setting his laptop down on your dining room table, hitting a few keys and spinning it round towards you. "You might want to sit down for this." He says, as he hits the play button.

You ignore him and watch. 

Video footage of your office building, of you walking to your office partition specifically. You watch yourself sit in the empty building, at your computer and leave again. You look up at the detective, confusion marring your brow and he simply taps the screen where the date and time stamp are.

You follow it, and re-read it at least three times, eyes open wider than ever, as if that'll somehow help you see different numbers.

The frown creases deeper into your forehead as your brain catches up with the fact that the video shows you, alone in the building, at the exact time and date of the hack. 

[consumeconstantly]

Who Are You (and what will you become?)

1(you are here)| 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: “Over the years, I have found that blood means very little.” 

The ice clicks against the glass almost inaudibly, condensation dripping down the side. 

“So tell me, M. Wayne, why do you think I should even begin to consider you my father?” (all biodad bruce can be read as stand alone but are posted in chronological order)

__________________________________________________

At the tender age of nineteen, Marinette Dupain-Cheng has already become a jaded woman. It doesn’t shine through very often, hidden behind a carefully crafted facade of Parisian-brand carefree attractiveness and pigtailed youthfulness, but there exists, in Marinette, a certain bitterness.

“For a vigilante, you’re not very secretive,” Marinette remarks, keeping her tone measured, almost playful, so as not to draw attention to herself. 

“Marinette.” Bruce inclines his head and allows the bartender to serve him a whiskey sour. He doesn’t drink alcohol because it alters his mental state in ways that are unpleasant, but ordering a drink helps him fit in, and with Marinette, the person he wants to talk to, right at his side, he can’t have his normal ginger ale substitute. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mmm.” She takes a sip of her French 75, playing up an interest that Bruce knows is a lie. “M. Wayne, you say that as though we’re familiar with each other.”

“Sabine and I were close,” he says. 

Sabine is one of the few people who knew about his existence as Batman that didn’t live in Gotham. Many years ago, they were friends. Colleagues. (More.) Of course she told her daughter about who he was. How could she not have? 

Sabine is-- she was--

“Close, you call it,” she says with mock awe, words slurring together. “Closer than close, really. Too close for comfort— at least, too close for you.”

When Bruce and Sabine’s paths crossed all those years ago, he was struggling trying to raise Dick. Sabine was equal parts a mother and a mentor to Dick in all the ways that Bruce couldn’t be. When she left for Paris so abruptly after the two of them parted ways, Dick didn’t take it very well. Even moreso when communications halted permanently. The fact that the radio silence coincided with Marinette’s birth is something only Bruce is privy to.

However awkwardly he and Sabine left off, it doesn’t change the facts. Bruce’s lips thin. “I’m here to offer you a home.”

Swirling her French, Marinette taps at her phone, swiping away at a few messages that she’s not interested in. “I’m nineteen and more than capable of taking care of myself. Though I suppose it stands to reason that it would be difficult for you to know that, what with how busy your extracurriculars keep you.”

“I’m not doubting your capabilities.” He’s looked into what Marinette has been up to over the past nineteen years of her life. He’s never been particularly concerned with her upbringing, not with a woman like Sabine at the helm of her childhood. Bruce was right not to be worried; Marinette has grown into a multi talented, extremely well connected entrepreneur based on her own hard work. Judging by the crowd that she runs with and the multiple charities that she supports both financially and with her own time, she will be a force to be reckoned with in a few years; Tim regularly extols the virtues of the brand MDC, and if he knew that he was sisters with the designer, he’d never stop raving about her. MDC is already being compared to the likes of Dior and Gabriel when they were first starting out. Her finances aren’t anything to scoff at, and at a few galas and charity parties that he’s had to entertain, anyone who's had the privilege to wear an MDC original talks about how sweet and kind the head designer is while complimenting the CEO’s business savvy.

Bruce has to admit that he’s impressed by how she manages to keep her identities separate. No one suspects the head designer to also be manning publicity and business. 

He’s been watching her for the past day, and he has to say, for somebody whose parents just died, she carries herself with remarkable ease. If not for the red around her eyes and line of shots on the bartop, Bruce would believe that Tom and Sabine’s death didn’t phase her at all. 

“There’s a but, isn’t there?” Marinette says bitterly.

She’s right in that assumption. As skillful as Marinette is in her field, she has no practical combat experience. A brief stint in fencing and martial arts but nothing beyond that. Even if she practiced martial arts for years, that wouldn’t be enough to convince Bruce to let her go off on her own. Martial arts as a hobby is an entirely different game than fighting for one’s life. 

Marinette is simply not the kind of person who can face down a League member and come out of it alive. 

“It’s for your safety.”

For the first time since entering the bar, Bruce sees a flash of true emotion cross Marinette’s eyes. It’s hard to see the color of her eyes in the dim lighting, but it’s impossible not to see Sabine in how her eyes narrow. Perhaps the dim lighting makes it easier to; in the light of day, Marinette’s eye color— it’s too similar to the shade he sees in the mirror. 

“My safety? What about my parent’s safety?” 

At that, Bruce internally cringes while keeping his face carefully blank. Tom and Sabine… their end wasn’t pretty. Not the most gruesome deaths he’s ever seen, but it was up there. Bruce never thought the League would do something as cruel as desecrating the corpses of the people they murdered. They may be assassins for hire, but most times, they do have some sort of morals. 

The worst part about it is that their death is most likely a result of Sabine’s past relationship with him. Last month, a tabloid that drew comparisons between Marinette and Bruce. It didn’t take long for another person to dredge up pictures from when he was still with Sabine. Tom and Sabine didn’t have enemies well-off enough to hire the League. But Bruce? Bruce did. 

“I’m not interested in any protection you have to offer me.” Marinette shakes her head. “Don’t worry. I’m not like you. I won’t become a vigilante out of rage or as a coping mechanism. I’m not going to go chasing after the League in a foolish pursuit of misguided justice.”

But Marinette doesn’t understand. She has a target on her back with her newfound association to him.  

“I haven’t been active in your life--”

“Understatement of the year,” Marinette mutters.

“--but I’m not going to let you die when I can prevent it.”

Downing the rest of her French, she takes the Moscow Mule away from Bruce’s hands, eyeing the liquor up on display. She drinks the cold alcohol and revels in the burn that slides down her throat. Marinette swipes on one of the notifications she’s received on her phone in order to respond to it. “You’re a good man, Bruce. But your desire to protect me— what does it stem from? What do we have in common? Why would you use your time and effort on what’s essentially a stranger?”

Bruce has no good answer for this, but he has an obvious one. As soon as it leaves his tongue, it feels wrong. “We share the same blood.”

He can’t bring himself to call Marinette his daughter. That means that he would be her father and he’s not deserving of that title.

Marinette pockets her phone, eyes trained on a set of unusually shaped glasses on the shelves. “If that’s your answer, M. Wayne, let me tell you something. Over the years, I have found that blood means very little.” 

The bartender comes around and tops off the whiskey sour. The ice clicks against the glass almost inaudibly, condensation dripping down the side. Bruce can’t tell whether the bartender knows Marinette or not, but he certainly looks concerned enough to, with how his eyes shift between Marinette and himself rapid fire. When the bartender’s gaze settles on Bruce, mouth turned downward, clearly suspicious of his presence, Marinette just waves him off with a gentle smile. 

Her smile turns up the same way Tom’s did. She’s right; family is more than blood. 

“Your answer to why you want to protect me is that we share blood, but you speak nothing of our relationship. Shouldn’t that have been the first thing you brought up?”

Bruce shifts uncomfortably on the bar stool. Marinette just laughs at his apparent awkwardness. “Talking of blood relations seems to be something you don’t enjoy, and yet the entire premise of your protection rests on it. Tell me, M. Wayne, do you think I should even begin to consider you my father?”

Even as inebriated as Marinette must be, she brings up points that he himself wondered on his way to Paris. Wanting to see Marinette safe goes beyond a simple duty to morality and virtue. Though Bruce is known for adopting kids with tragic backstories, it simply isn’t feasible to adopt every single one he comes across. To bring Marinette into his family at this age, to expose her to the life he lives would be beyond cruel. In essence he’d be replacing two parents with a ticking time bomb: himself. 

“Don’t consider me a parent, just a guardian. It’s in my best interest to see you safe, and the best way to do that is to have you move to Gotham, where my colleagues and I can assure you around the clock protection.”

At first, he distanced himself from Sabine and Marinette because he didn’t want to disrupt her current relationship with Tom. Even if the two of them insisted that he could still be part of Marinette’s life, it just didn’t feel right to have the title of father when he wasn’t the one to put in any of the hard work. Then, as Tom and Sabine grew more comfortable in their life together, settled down and opened up a bakery, he was blindsided by Jason’s death. As his daughter grew older and older, there were just too many things in his own life for him to ever hope to kindle a relationship with Marinette.

Marinette laughs, but it’s really more of a bark. Her voice is too hoarse for it to come out any other way. Bruce can’t imagine how much she’s cried this past week. “If you wanted to keep me safe, where were you a week ago? Where were you two years ago? Where were you when I was thirteen? M. Wayne, I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you throughout the years, and I’ve always brushed them off as nothing more than tabloid gossip. But perhaps they got one thing right about you: you’re a liar.”

Marinette stands, swaying slightly.

“This— if you truly want me to uproot my life, I need more than you saying it’s in your best interest. I need—” Marinette reaches up to her earrings and allows her eyes to flutter shut. She needs more than a distant guardian. She needs someone to confide in. Someone she trusts. “It was nice meeting you, but I don’t need your pity. Not now.”

As she weaves through the crowd, Bruce can’t help but wonder whether he made the right decision all those years ago to not be apart of her life.

@biodad-bruce-month

Late to the game as always. This will be a multichapter fic but all parts can be read as one shots (and also as always anything posted to tumblr is never checked for accuracy and stuff so whoop)! They’ll be released in chronological order. If you want to get tagged in all things maribat, instead of commenting it under a fic, I’d appreciate an ask or a dm instead! I haven’t been able to go back through all the previous comments and create a taglist yet but perhaps. eventually. 

[styx1an]

A Grey Night

An unfinished writing WIP I had for a somewhat personal Irish Lads Noir! AU. I don’t plan on finishing it (it’s been like, almost a whole year now I think). If anyone’s interested, I can find some of my other AU fics.

Premise: A night of interrogating a possible suspect in Sean McLoughlin’s disappearance goes wrong, and the promising detective Daniel finds a possible new ally.

Daniel's boots skidded on the wet concrete, rain drenching the slender man as he chased Kevin into a crowd, his tall silhouette towering over most of them. Pushing people aside, the young detective cussed under his breath, wondering why he thought that going into a shady bar with gang connections in all but name and playing along with a possibly criminally insane man's mind games would help him find McLoughlin. And would anyone be surprised that he's now chasing someone who might be an accomplice to what might be murder? Fuck no, he spent the night drinking crappy alcohol and this is the price he's gotta pay.

Now his heart is pounding in his chest, he can feel his blood rushing through his veins while he chases after Kevin, now barely visible in the vast sea of people. His lungs are burning, his knees trembling but he has to go on. He can't just give up, could he? He's worked so hard for this, throwing all of this away would just be irresponsible. 

And they say I'm the brightest one out there, the only one able to solve the case... God, I should've just said no when Ms. Smolders told me that the police had given up, should've taken that as a sign.

He could feel the tiredness seeping into his bones again, wishing he was back in his flat with George, a hot mug of coffee in a hand and a book in another, snug in his armchair, enjoying the rainy weather inside. And yet, here he is on the sidewalk, his coat and hat soaked in rain as the sign above him flickers, advertising a cheap night's stay. Oh, if his old colleagues saw him now, how would they react? But it's not the time to think about that, Dan told himself while he hailed a cab to go home, not now at least.

---

Well, this wasn't what he was expecting when he was told that he's got a guest. But he supposes any help at all is appreciated, really. At first he expected poor Miss Smolders ready to tell him that his services were no longer needed, but he didn’t consider meeting a man even taller than Kevin.

"So kid, how did your evening at Millie's go? Wonderful place, ain't it?"

His voice is comparable to what a rosebush given the power of speech would sound like, he thought. Daniel kept the thought to himself- Wait, how’d he know that he was there? The realization didn’t make him speak up either; he resigned himself to the almost constantly broken coffee maker.

"Not much of a talker, are you? Well, let's just get to the point then."

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, snooping 'round those bastards? Are you fucking insane?!" The bearded man swore, slamming down his hands onto the wooden table. The coffee almost spilled out.

"Months of research, surveillance, and secrets only to almost be ruined by some fucking random kid! Just..." he sighed, "seriously, what the absolute fuck were you thinking?” 

Dan could only stutter out a "W-what?"

The stranger stood up from his chair, towering over almost everything in the cramped kitchen. "Listen, lad. I've been studying that place, learning every single bit about Millie's to get back on him when you decide to just waltz in and," he spreads his arm out, frustration etched into his face, "do all that. And on top of that, you probably pissed off O'Reilly as well."

"O'Reilly? Wait- Kevin?"

"Yeah, he's not exactly the best person to piss off. Used to work there, performed songs with him every week. Then we had... a falling out. When you cross one of them, you're dead. Well, you’re supposed to, anyways."

[miss-tc-nova]

Five More Minutes - Eraqus x Reader

Hey, you guys remember the Five More Minutes - Brain x Reader story? Well thanks to a CERTAIN SOMEONE, the character for the prompt changed from Eraqus to Brain because Nova is a petty bitch. 

And AT LEAST ONE OF YOU UNDERSTANDS THAT! THANK YOU!

However, I’ve been thinking about this WIP for a while and I put myself out there, so I’ll kinda forgive ffm-non’s heinous crime for now and post Five More Minutes with Eraqus. 

Music Inspiration: Hikari (Godson Remix) by Hikaru Utada

~~~~~

              Rushing through the streets of Scala, I bob and weave between unsuspecting citizens on my way to the theater. Today’s the day—hopefully. I’ve spent the last week trying to get a ticket for this show but it’s been sold out every day. Both my saving grace and the bane of my existence is that they aren’t pre-selling tickets, so it’s first come first serve for who gets to see the show.

              I’m heaving like I just ran halfway across the city—because I did—but I finally make it to the theater. Unlike the last few days, I find myself in luck at the sight of the relatively short line. With excitement bubbling in my chest, I race to join the queue.

              Just as I reach the line, something jumps in my way. I garner the embarrassing attention of several people in the vicinity as I topple to the ground, taking the obstacle down with me.

              Hastily, I pull my face from the white fabric.

              “Oh gods! I’m so sorry!” I say, scrambling my feet and taking the strangers hand to pull him up. “Are you okay?! Did I hurt you?!”

              Suddenly, I hear my name and finally get a look at the young man I’d practically tackled. I know him. While my family does not follow the noble keyblade warrior tradition like his, our magic has been revered so our families have been amicable for years. At least once or twice our year, our families get together for dinner and we almost always see each other at events for the more affluent people in the city.

              “Eraqus?”

              A beaming smile crosses his lips. “Hey! What’s up!”

              Heat surges into my ears. While I’ve been forced to be within proximity of this boy for years, I’ve never been caught alone with him before. He’s certainly cute and, while our parents may not think so, I find him kind of funny. Still, while I kind of know him, because of our families’ differences we’ve never actually been friends.

              “Uh, not much. I was just trying to get in line for tonight’s show. But seriously, I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”

              This kid’s laugh stirs something in my chest.

              “Yeah, I’m good. My friends hit me harder than that in training.”

              The sheer happiness rolling off him is distracting. “I…I don’t think that’s a good thing.”

              “Nah, it’s alright; we make each other stronger.” His eyes glance away. “So, I guess you wanted to see this show too?” An arm gestures to the moving line that we scoot along with.

              “Yeah. I’ve been trying to see it the last few days, but it’s been sold out. What about you? I wouldn’t have guessed theater to be something you enjoy?”

              He folds his arms. “Mmm, I like some of them, but my friends really wanted to see this one.”

              I take a moment to take in our surroundings. “Um, what friends?”

              His cheer is bright and captivating, but even the defeated frown it morphs into is somehow endearing.

              “Nobody wanted to come early to wait in line, but we probably wouldn’t get tickets if we came on time.”

              I nod, understanding the dilemma.

              “So Bragi suggested rock-paper-scissor.”

              Now it all makes sense. “And you lost, so now you’re here to buy tickets for everyone.”

              “Yeah…” His pouting is so cute.

              A small giggle escapes me. “So it’s sheer coincidence I happen to literally run into you today?”

              That smile’s back. “Or! We could call it luck.”

              “I would assume bad luck; you lost a game of chance and I literally ran into you.”

              “Details.”

              And so we keep each other company. The more I talk to the boy, the more I can confirm how fucking adorable he is. His smile is infectious and I find myself hanging on every word, no matter how wild the tale is. I can barely even drag my gaze away long enough to take a few steps before I’m staring at his beautiful face again. Before long, I can already tell I’m head over heels for him. Even after tickets are purchased, we find a bench nearby to continue our chat.

              It only ends when someone calls his name. There’s a small herd of people making their way closer.

              Getting to his feet, Eraqus greets his friends. “Hey guys, what’re you doin’ here early?”

              “Early?” snorts the girl with silver hair. “The show starts in twenty minutes.” Her golden eyes catch sight of me. “Who’s this?”

              I wave to Baldr and Hermod, both of whom I know from similar family social events. They do the honor of introducing me to the gaggle, which is both a bit lighthearted and overwhelming. They seem like a great group of friends to have, despite their differences.

              “It was good to see you again,” Hermod says, leading the mass towards the entrance. “But we’d better take our seats before the show starts.”

              “You got the tickets, right Eraqus?” Xehanort asks.

              “Right here.” He pushes all but one into his friend’s hand before turning to me. “Which seat are you in?”

              I look at my stub. “E7.” The look on his face is disappointment. “Where are you at?”

              “N24,” he mutters. That’s literally on the other side of the theater from where I am and I find myself similarly disappointed with the arrangement.

              “Guess I’ll have to get your opinions on the show some other time,” I say, trying to make the blow a little softer.

              Our eyes meet and I feel myself being drawn in.

              “Maybe we could meet up at that little café around the corner?” he asks.

              “The one with the fancy s’mores?”

              “Yeah! That one!”

              Eraqus detours the conversation with a tale about the time he and went there with his friends and one of them ended up spilling a drink on everyone—pretty sure it was Eraqus by the way he kept switching names. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but laugh.

              “Eraqus, the show’s about to start!” I don’t even know which one it was that yelled at him.

              “’Kay! Just gimme five more minutes!”

              Excited chitchat continues, following tangent after tangent and never with a lull. I could continue on like this for ages, happy to spend hours in his presence, enamored by the boy I never really knew.

              I drag my hands down my face. “And then, because I stupidly thought things couldn’t get any worse, I tried to use a fire spell to dry him off and set him on fire.”

              Eraqus is laughing so hard he’s crying. “Wait wait wait! I remember Hermod came to school with a huge hole in his jacket! Was that you?!” I nod in sheepish shame. “Oh my gods! We thought he got mugged or something! He wouldn’t tell us what happened!”

              “Every time our families get together, our parents won’t let us live it down. Mine won’t even let me join them anymore without asking me to ‘please not light their colleague’s kids on fire.’”

              “And here I thought you were the smart, cool type,” he teases.

              “As much as I’d love to be, I’m actually a total mess.”

              “That’s okay; I am too.”

              “Oh really? I always thought you were laid back and easy going. With our families’ prestige, I was always kind of jealous of how calm you are about everything.”

              “Then you have clearly never seen me wake up late for class.”

              The laughing between us dies down, but before I can make another comment, I realize that he’s watching me. This isn’t watching like two people waiting for cues in a conversation, but watching as if he’s looking for something very specific.

              Beneath his scrutiny, my brain starts to malfunction, causing my ability to speak to take a hit. “Um, I…I’m pretty sure anyone would…would panic if they woke up late for class.”

              “I guess.” The softness suddenly introduced into his voice feels like an arrow through the heart. “But it’s probably not the same when it’s a weekly occurrence.”

              Is he leaning in?

              “No…I guess not…”

              He is—he is very much leaning in.

              “Eraqus.” I can’t even speak above a whisper.

              “Hmm?”

              My heart is pounding in my ears, trying desperately to drown out my thoughts.

              “I think our show’s started,” I breathe.

              “Five more minutes,” he murmurs against my lips.

              Not a single protest is heard from me. No, I’m too preoccupied with electricity coursing through my veins. For a moment, Eraqus leads the way, soft and slow, likely assessing my shock. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what my reaction should be, but my body tells me to just see where this goes. And with each passing second, I’m falling down the rabbit hole with him.

              The world suddenly jars to when the source of my euphoria breaks away. His brows pinch together, concern written across his face.

              “I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice wracked with uncertainty. “I thought—”

              Without asking my head for permission, my hands snag his haori.

              “Five more minutes,” I say softy.

              Our lips connect again and, though I’m prepared for the jolt, I still feel the weight of the world disappear around us. This time, I lead, hoping my confidence sends the right idea to the young man. I think he gets it, happily matching my every move. His little sighs cause my stomach to squirm, making self-control difficult. But there will be plenty of time for the rest later, for now, I want to take my time and get a grasp on how his lips feel against mine.

              I pull away, using a deep breath the calm my racing heart and ground me back in reality. Eraqus, too, breathes a little heavier, and yet he continues watching me as if he’s still fully enraptured. That look is hypnotizing, subtly—easily—luring me in again.

              That quickly goes out the window.

              “Eraqus!”

              Flinching, he whirls back, where his entire group of friends is standing with mixed expression. My blood freezes.

              “What?!” he shouts back.

              “Are you comin’ back to the dorms with us or not?” Urd demands.

              My eyes dart to the sky. It was dark when the show started, but the moon sat higher among the stars than it had moments ago—or what I thought was only moments ago.

              Eraqus’s gaze flips back and forth between me and them. “Did…Did we miss the whole show?!”

              “Yes, you dingus!”

              Hermod gives a soft smile. “C’mon guys, give him a break.”

              The red-head, Bragi, snickers. “Yeah, the kid’s only been dreaming of this moment his whole life.”

              My mouth falls open but I can just see Eraqus’s face burning brightly.

              “BRAGI!”

              “Oops.” The offender grins unabashedly. “My bad.”

              Xehanort folds his arms, smirking. “Ooooh, so this is that cute little mage he’s been crushing on.”

              “You mean that one he always talks about after he visits his family?” Her tone is full of innocence, but the grin on the little blonde’s face is pure evil.

              Oh my gods, I might implode.

              “YOU GUYS!”

              “What was it he said last time?” Urd asks, also basking in Eraqus’s flustering.

              Baldr answers, “I believe it was something along the lines of ‘I would give up naps for an entire year if the gods would just let me have a single—‘”

              “I’LL DO EVERYONE’S HOMEWORK FOR A MONTH IF YOU JUST GO AWAY!” Eraqus yells, waving his arms as if he might fly away from this mess.

              Hermod begins ushering everyone away. “Seriously, guys, let’s go.”

              “Wait! I don’t want him doing my homework!” Bragi protests. “He’s failing like half our classes!”

              Glancing back with one last devious look, Xehanort responds, “Let him have his moment; we’ll just make him do something else later.” The expression softens when he gives me a genuine wink.

              Finally, after instigating all the butterflies in my stomach to the point I might vomit sparkles, they leave. We sit in suffocating silence for an awkward moment. Then, one of the butterflies must’ve escaped into my brain when I suddenly crack a laugh.

              “An entire year without naps, huh?”

              Still cherry red, he looks at me, mortified.

              His floundering gives me the bit of confidence I need to close the gap once again. “And what was it you so desperately begged the gods for?”

              Eraqus’s back meets the wall, but he still puts on a smile, even if it is bashful. “Let’s just say I’ve already lost my napping privileges for the year.”

              “Yeah? So if the gods were to grace you a second time, would that be two years without naps?”

              His nerves seem to melt and those stunning gray eyes glitter in the moon as he watches me. “You gonna stick around and find out?”

              “How long were you thinking?” I slip my arms around his neck, unable to stop myself from twirling a strand of ebony hair between my fingers.

              “Oh at least five more minutes.”

              “Just five?”

              He feigns mulling it over in head. “And maybe five more after that.”

[simpsiren]

lee donghyuck x reader, ft. johnny and dreamies

description. I’m working at an arcade, but I’m also the top scorer of the DDR machine. It was easy to guard my position till a sudden regular comes by and tries to beat it. But we somehow ended up at the beach?

genre. angst (at first), fluff, arcade au, strangers to lovers au

word count. 8.2k

a/n. hEllOo i felt like writing this just because i crave going to the arcade but its way too expensive for my broke ass so i can only write what i wish :’) so eNjoY!!

“How do you still have the energy to play that?” I hear the familiar voice and footsteps walking towards the DDR machine where I was at. I glance to him for a moment, seeing him sipping on his Starbucks coffee.

“Working at an arcade is probably the easiest job ever.” I breathe out, my eyes and feet concentrated on the game. I feel Johnny’s hand leaning on the handle behind me while he watches me.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Johnny mutters sarcastically. I stomp on the last beat and wait impatiently for my score, the numbers increasing at an extremely fast rate.

“No fucking way!” Johnny exclaims, his hand beating the handle vigorously as the two of us see the final score. I chuckle and got off the plate, snatching Johnny’s coffee from him to take a sip.

“I’m amazing.” I say with utter confidence, shoving the coffee back on Johnny’s chest, causing him to fall back a little while I make my way to the staff’s room.

Johnny silently follows behind me, waiting in front of the counter while I grab my bag and check if I left anything behind before going up to him. “Thanks for always fetching me from work.” Johnny and I made our way out of the arcade. I didn’t bother to close up since it was my other colleague’s job anyways.

“Yeah so where’s my pay?” Johnny puts his hand out and motions it to me as if he’s asking for money. I roll my eyes and faked my exasperation. “You aren’t my Grab driver so shut it.” I nudged my elbow to Johnny’s as the two of us chuckle and left the mall.

While Johnny’s driving me home, the two of us didn’t speak, with only music coming from the radio can be heard. Johnny clears his throat suddenly. I assume he was trying to break the silence so I turn my head to him and wait for him to say something.

“One question.” Johnny stated. I hum as a sign for him to continue. “Has anyone ever tried breaking your score on the DDR before?”

I pucker my lips as I try to think of an answer, quietly laughing to myself after thinking about it. Johnny raise an eyebrow at me, confused at my sudden laughter. “Plenty of times actually. But no one has ever officially beaten it.” I answer with a scoff.

“It’s so funny watching people get curious about KSY. They would never guess that it could be a worker at the arcade.” I elaborate. Johnny laughs, now knowing why I was laughing to myself earlier.

“Let’s make a bet.” Johnny suddenly announces, his eyes off the road and to you, a mischievous grin appearing on his face. I copy his expression, tilting my head to the side. “Bet on what, John?”

“The first person that beats your score.” Johnny replies nonchalantly. “Within three months, if someone actually beats you, I win. If not, then I don’t.”

“What’s the prize for winning?”

“If I win, you get me an unlimited arcade card like yours.”

I gape my mouth at his statement, gasping and widening my eyes. A card is used as an access system in the arcade, meaning that you need to have money in your card and scan it on the machine as payment before you can play. Having an unlimited card meant that you didn’t have to pay for any of the games at all.

“You do know that’s for staff only right? It’s off limits. Choose another prize.”

Johnny simply shrugs, clearly saying that he doesn’t care how rare the card is, as long as he could get it. “If I lose, I’ll treat you to all the bubble tea you want for three months.” Johnny raises his hand that was laying on his thigh and slicing it through the air.

I bite the inside of my right cheek as I thought about the bet. I already knew I’d win. In my whole two years of working there and playing DDR, no one has beaten me. Not once. And I never needed to try hard to keep my title. But for the fun of if, I accepted. Who knows? Maybe someone will sweep me off my feet unexpectedly.

Two months have passed and the bet Johnny made with me still stands. I had my eyes on the DDR machine every time someone gets on. Half of them played for the fun of it while the other are trying their best to beat me. But I could tell from their moves that they didn’t have what it took to even reach my standard.

“Honestly let’s just call off the bet and have me win.” I tell Johnny who’s here during my break since he wanted to visit me. I rest my chin on the palm of my hand as my body leans forward on the counter and my eyes fixated on the DDR machine which currently has no one playing.

“Bitch I still have a month to prove that one person- One person, can beat you.” Johnny holds out his index finger, shoving it in my face with fury. I heaved a sigh. Johnny’s a determined man indeed.

Just as Johnny and I were talking about having dinner after I get off work, a guy walks in the arcade. I don’t know why but, he caught my eye. I glanced at him but did a double-take instantly.

He comes striding in with a lazy posture, hands in his black jeans while he wears a white shirt and black leather jacket. The most outstanding feature of his is the face. That was probably the reason why he caught my eye in the first place.

He goes to the top up machine, probably to put money in his card. And the first place he goes to is the DDR machine. Suddenly, Johnny starts slapping my arm vigorously. My unimpressed reaction didn’t seem stop him. “We should watch him! He’s going to play.” Johnny seems so excited that he’s jumping a little.

“Oh my God calm down.” I smack Johnny’s arm hard, making him wince in pain but recovered soon enough and quiet down.

The guy stands on the plate and scans his card, shoving it in his front pocket. He starts choosing a song. To my surprise, he chooses the song that I played yesterday with a level difficulty of hard. Clearly, he’s aim is to beat my score.

Someone from the entrance suddenly calls out a name. The guy turned his head to the voice, raising his hand up to greet the other while he walks towards the DDR machine. I couldn’t hear what they were saying due to the sounds from the other games that dominates the whole arcade.

He finally starts to play. The moment he presses on the first beat, my mouth gaps open. My jaw practically dropped to the floor due to the wave of shock I suddenly felt. Whoever he is, he’s definitely a professional at DDR. His feet moves at immense speed as he hits every single beat perfectly, his hands casually chilling on the handle.

He seems unfazed by the difficulty of the song, tilting his head while he watches the screen, as if boring his eyes into it. “I can’t believe this...” I mutter in awe, completely mesmerised by the way the guy moves.

A large crowd slowly starts to gather around him as everyone whispers to each other and being amazed. He hits the final beat. Claps and cheers can be heard from all over the arcade. All the attention went to him and the screen as everyone waits anxiously for the score.

“Seems like he can beat you.” Johnny whispers to me, his elbow nudging on mine. I let out a ‘tsk’ and throw him a glare. “Let’s see the score first.”

The numbers increase rapidly. It going as high as mine usually would. The number finally stops as it enlarges on the screen. Disappointing sighs and noises can be heard.

“Five points away?!” Johnny shouts unbelievably. I place a hand on my chest and give myself time to get my breathing back to normal. “That was so close. Too close.” I say.

The crowd starts to disperse as the arcade goes back to its normal state with only the one guy that called him out at the entrance. The guy gets off the plate as I would just assume the other to be his friend, patting his shoulder as a sign of a job well done.

The two proceeded to play other games and exit two hours later. I didn’t have my eye on them the whole time, obviously. But I wouldn’t be surprise if he comes by regularly from now on to try and beat my score. On top of that, I’d be intrigued if I get to see a new face around here more often. At least I’ll have someone with breathtaking looks to admire about if work gets boring.

Since it’s a Monday, the arcade is not crowded. Meaning that I’d have a lot more free time. I decide to do the homework that I have for the holidays. All I can think about is completing it all so that I can focus on work and get money.

Money. That is all I care about honestly.

However, my eyes lifted off my math paper to meet the eyes of him. The guy that almost beat my score. This is the second time I’m seeing him since he didn’t come by for a week after the huge uproar he brought to the arcade.

Our eyes only met for a split second before he walks by. My eyes are still on him, watching his back. His extremely good looking face still amazes me nonetheless. He didn’t play the DDR machine, and instead went to the motorcycle one. He stayed there for quite some time actually. He didn’t play other games.

I continue to do my homework. Just when I’m going to place my pen on the paper, I hear the sound of the DDR machine. I lifted my head up again, seeing him standing on the plate. He picked the same song, same difficulty. Is he going to try again?

The music starts and he starts moving his feet. I’m still amazed by him. It felt like I was watching him play for the first time. It’s shocking how I’ve never seen someone this good come by the arcade ever. It felt refreshing in a way. He felt like a competitor almost. He gets me anxious when I see him play.

The music finally ends. I wait for the score. The moment I did, my pen drops. My fingers releasing its grip on it as my eyes widen and blinked rapidly.

He jumps on the plate happily, seeing the score as his username goes up the rank and tops mine. He ran a hand through his hair flawlessly. How is he still looking so good after playing that intensely? I have mixed feelings about this.

I start to grow furious. The title I’ve been holding on to for so long suddenly got snatched away. Now that— just set off the competitive side of me. He’s definitely a challenge, an opponent. No doubt in that. I didn’t need to watch him play any more to know that.

He jumps off the plate, shaking one leg recklessly and did the same to the other. He turns his head back, seeing his username as the top ranked.

LDH. I’ll have to take note of that username

Before he left, his eyes scans across the arcade. His eyes meets mine and we made eye contact again. He lets out a small smile. A very small and effortless one. He looks extremely proud of himself, almost arrogant in fact. I’m pissed at him but I couldn’t get the fact that he’s good looking out of my mind.

Well, that settles it. I’m going to get my title back the moment I end my shift.

Later that night, the moment my shift ended, to be honest it didn’t exactly matter since my boss would only come by an hour later, I immediately went to the DDR machine, scanned my card and played.

I played vigorously. With immense concentration. My only thought was to keep LDH off my rank. My top rank. I played so seriously that I didn’t even notice Johnny coming in to pick me up.

“Are you mad or something? Letting off steam?” Johnny asks when I finish and wait for my score, almost sounding concern with how I played. “You won.” I let out.

Johnny doesn’t reply, probably taking his time to process what I meant. “I won the bet?!” Johnny finally shouts. My score appears on the screen. Luckily, my rank went back up to the top. Johnny looks at the screen and laughs hysterically, slapping his thighs and clapping.

“It’s that guy, isn’t it?! The handsome dude!” Johnny skips behind me while I went to the back to grab my stuff. I got back to him and run a hand through my hair, taking deep breaths. “I’ll get you your card, damn it.” I suspire in defeat.

“I remember him clearly because of how attractive he is. What a refreshing sight for the town.”

No shit, Sherlock.

Johnny leans down and places a quick friendly peck on my cheek, causing me to furrow my eyebrows and scrunch up my nose in disgust.

“So, how about bubble tea tonight?” I stop in my tracks, sharply turning a full forty five degrees to Johnny. He flinches back and shivers at my sudden move.

“Bubble tea? I thought I won’t be getting any.” I say with suspicion filling my tone, a raised brow as well as narrowed eyes. Johnny chuckles and shakes his head, bringing a hand out to pat my head.

“I said I’d treat you to all the bubble tea you want for three months. But I didn’t say I won’t treat you if you lost the bet.” Johnny replies casually.

I grin widely and link my arm around his. “Let’s skip our way to the car, shall we?” Johnny could only laugh.

We bought our bubble tea and decided to just sit on the roadside in front of the store. The two of us stare into the night sky, comfortable silence filled the air.

“Hey.” Johnny suddenly lets out. I bring my head down to look at him. “Aren’t you curious to find out who LDH is?”

I raise a brow in confusion. “I already know him? His looks make him unforgettable.” I say, swirling my drink around.

“No, idiot. I meant his name. LDH must be his nickname or initials.”

I look up and start to think about it. Johnny waits silently for my answer, hearing him sipping on his drink and chewing on the pearls. “Mm I can’t think of a korean name who’s initials are LDH.” I reply back

“I don’t know. I’ll have to get to know him soon if he’s going to come back.” I let out.

“Maybe he’ll see that I topped him.” I mutter with a light shrug.

And of course, he did. He comes back the next day and goes to the DDR machine. His eyes are stuck to the screen. I assume he’s surprised and confused as to how his rank dropped back down to second place in the span of one night.

He jerks his head to the side and take no hesitation to scan his card. Wanting to be the first again. You would think I am surprise to find out that he scored higher than me, but I wasn’t. I knew he was capable, and a strong competitor.

Once again I had to play after my shift to claim back my rank. And after that day, it got hectic. He would come by everyday and see that I’ve been ranked first. And he’ll have to play again. It went back and forth. Everyday it felt as though I was competing with him. And he never seems to give up either.

Over the days, people would come by and have looks of confusion, question marks floating around them as they wonder why KSY and LDH keep switching ranks every single day.

There was no end to this. It feels like I’ve been doing it for months (though it has only been three weeks). Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t tired of playing DDR. I’m just annoyed at the guy who keeps wanting to steal my rank.

He’s without a doubt the first person that has ever shaken me off my calm pride.

Haechan and Jaemin decides to have a lunch date with Jaemin’s brother, Mark. The three eat happily, talking about how each of their lives are going.

“What have you been doing? It’s your school holidays, isn’t it?” Mark asks Haechan, scraping off every last bit of food on his plate.

“I’ve just been going to the arcade.” Haechan replies simply. Jaemin suddenly slams his hand in front of Mark, making him flinch in shock as it seems like Jeno wants to tell Mark something.

“I saw him play DDR. He was amazing! He even beat the top ranker who apparently hasn’t had anyone beaten them for two years!” Jaemin exclaims. Mark gapes his mouth open in shock as a wide smile appears on his lips.

Mark reaches his hand out to pat Haechan on the side of his arm. “Those dance lessons seem to pay off, huh?”

Haechan nods happily, but his expression soon changes to a weird one that Jaemin and Mark couldn’t make out. “But you know...” Haechan starts.

“Every single day I come by, I always find my rank going back to second. I kid you not the top scorer that I beat always comes back to play and rank first. It’s tiring how I have to constantly play to beat them.” Haechan complains, scratching his head and ruffling his hair.

“Look at you being all furious because of your competitive ass.” Jaemin teases. Haechan could only throw him a death glare.

“Maybe they come by everyday too? I mean of course they would want to keep their position as the best one at DDR.” Mark shrugs. He picks up his drink, wanting to take a sip but realises that he already finished it and went to place it back down on the table with a slight frown.

“How?! I come by everyday but I see no regulars there!” Haechan shouts softly, he would have been screaming if he’s not in a restaurant right now.

“I agree. I mean I don’t go there often but whenever I do I don’t see anyone that goes there everyday like Haechan.” Jaemin adds.

“It’s like it changes overnight!”

The table grows silent. Haechan’s eyes were specifically on Mark, wanting to see his reaction to this. Mark leans in, glancing down at the table before meeting Haechan’s eyes. “I’d say you just stay there the whole day and wait for this KSY to play.”

A line appears in between Haechan’s brows as his forehead creases, looking skeptical. “You want me to stay there from the time they open to when they close?! Mark that’s like ten hours.” Haechan shakes his head and waves a lazy hand to Mark.

“It’s not a bad idea. You don’t know when KSY comes so the only way you can know is if you stay the whole time.” Jaemin adds.

“You go there everyday. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

Haechan sighs and looks down on his empty plate. If he’s going to settle this once and for all with KSY, he’ll have to meet him at some point. He guess that this was the only way.

“It’s worth the shot.”

Unfortunately, I had to work the whole shift from morning till night today. But it didn’t really matter to me, since I know I’ll be seeing LDH again today.

To my surprise, he’s the first one here. And I just opened the arcade an hour ago. I couldn’t help but wonder who would come this early. Usually people would start coming in at least three hour after it opens.

His hair looked messy, yet it’s able to frame his face perfectly. His features still effortlessly beautiful despite wearing a baggy sweater and sweatpants.

He goes to play other games. He’s been playing for two hours now before leaving the arcade. I assume he left completely but he comes back with a McDonald takeaway, bringing it to the lounge area and eating breakfast there.

I found it extremely suspicious. I have never seen anyone acting like this in arcade before. Was it some kind of challenge? To stay in the arcade the whole time?

Hours went by, I did my work as usual. He’s still here. Sometimes he would be playing, and sometimes he would be in the lounge area. What surprised me the most is that he’s constantly looking at the DDR machine. His eyes immediately went there the moment someone stood on the plate. It looks like he’s keeping track of who’s going there. And I can only wonder why the whole day.

It’s now closing hours. My colleagues and I are cleaning our assigned areas and doing our jobs. I make my way to the lounge area.

I open the door and his eyes instantly went off his phone and to mine. “We’re closing now. You should get going.”

His lips form a thin line. Again he moves his head aside, looking at the DDR machine. I turn my head back, acting as if I didn’t know what he’s looking at. “You’ve been here the whole day. Care to tell me why?” I ask, going to the trashcan in the corner and taking out the plastic bag.

“Uh no reason. I’ll leave.” He simply say, rising from the couch and walking past me.

“Why didn’t they come today...?” I hear him mutter as he scratches his head. He leaves the lounge area. I look back, watching him walk out the arcade.

My lips purse into a thin line as I try to make out what he said to himself? Was he waiting for someone? He was looking at the DDR machine the whole day.

As I walk out to throw away the trash, I didn’t take me long to figure out why. “Was he looking for me?” I ask to myself. A wide smirk appears on my lips absentmindedly as I giggle softly, walking back to the arcade and seeing Johnny waiting for me by the counter.

“You’ll never guess what happened today.”

I see Johnny holding my bag in his hand. I assume he went to the back and took it for me. He hands it to me as we walk out of the arcade. “What happened?” Johnny asks curiously.

“Handsome dude was in the arcade the whole day.” I answer, brushing away strands of hair from my forehead. “The whole day?! Since you opened?”

I nod instantly. Johnny looks up to the sky with a weird face. “I mean I know he has the lounge area but being there for ten hours?”

I let out a chuckle. “He eats breakfast, lunch and dinner there too.”

“Why would he do that though? Does he not have a life?” That’s when my wide smirk appears again. Johnny gives a suspicious look to my reaction.

“He was looking for KSY.” Johnny’s mouth gapes open, laughing hysterically after a moment of just staring at me in disbelief. “Are you serious?! He waited all day and he doesn’t even know that it’s you!” The two of us laugh for a whole minute, finding it funny and unbelievable.

“I feel bad though. He didn’t even play DDR today.” I comment. “Won’t be surprised if he comes back today and stays there again.”

“You’re so mean if you just let him wait and not find out that it’s you.” Johnny shoves a hand in his pocket.

I bob my shoulders and shrug. “We’ll see how long he can hold up then.”

The next day, he comes back again. He did the same routine. Getting meals and staying in the lounge area. He did play some games, but his attention was solely on the DDR machine. I don’t know how he’s not sick of doing this since it’s been a week now. Though I find it funny at first, I started to feel bad for him.

“Are you perhaps waiting for someone?” I ask, wanting to tease him a little as I walk in the lounge room. His body slumps into the soft couch. He grabs a pillow from behind and hugs it tight.

“No shit I’ve been waiting for a week for this person to show up.” He mumbles in frustration. Letting out a soft chuckle, I fold my arms and shifted my weight onto one leg.

“Is he or she a regular like you?”

His eyes slowly lifts off from the pillow and to me, going from the bottom up before meeting my eyes and glaring. “I guess? I don’t know. They keep getting back their rank in DDR after I take it. It’s driving me insane.”

I laugh, quickly covering it by looking behind and changing my expression back to a composed one. “What’s your name?” He raises a brow at my sudden question. “Lee Donghyuck.”

“Or just Haechan.”

My mouth opens slightly as I let out a soft “Ah...” while nodding my head. Beautiful name for a beautiful face. At least now I know what his initials meant. “I feel bad so it looks like I have to tell you.”

“Tell me what...?” I start walking closer to the couch, bending down to meet his eye level. He looks at me suspiciously with his blank expression.

“KSY is me.” I let out, grinning widely.

Haechy tilts his head to the side, his eyes looking at me up and down as he blinks rapidly and scoffs in disbelief. “There’s no way.” He runs a hand down his face and glances to the side constantly. I puts a finger in front of me, moving it up and down. “You? A worker? KSY?!”

I nod, bringing all my hair down to one shoulder. I open the door, turning my head to Haechan and jerking my head to the side. “Aren’t you going out?” I couldn’t help but think about how funny his face looks right now.

The two of us stare at each other for at least fifteen seconds before Haechan shakes his head vigorously and stands up, dashing past me and out of the room. I turn back to look at it one last time before switching off the lights and leaving as well.

“So you’re KSY? The annoying one that keeps ranking first after I beat you?!” Haechan exclaims. I laugh, clapping my hands and nodding happily. Jaemin runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe this.”

“Of course you won’t. Who would’ve thought it’s a worker?” I lift my shoulders up and give a cheeky smile. Haechan folds his arms as he stands in front of me. “I don’t know if I’m currently mad or surprised.”

“I can confirm it’s both.” I say with confidence. Since Johnny’s busy tonight, I unfortunately have to go home alone.

“Let’s battle.” Haechan suddenly announces with a smug and arrogant look on his face. I scoff. “You should really just be happy you’re second. You know I’ll just take back the first ranking instantly after you beat it.” I satire.

Haechan frowns and lifts a finger in front of me, waving it in my face while he shakes his head. “The one who wins the battle gets to claim the top for life. We’ll settle it once and for all.”

I nod my head slowly while I grab my things and head out. For some reason he’s following me. “Hello? I need an answer.” Haechan lets out, running up and walking beside me. I turn my head and give him an unimpressed smile. “Fine then. Though I can only play once my shift ends so.”

Haechan claps his hands once and shouts, making me flinch back slightly at his loud voice. “So that’s why it keeps changing overnight!”

I brought a palm to my forehead. “Duh.” I deadpan.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night then.” Haechan walks in front of me, walking backwards while he gives a cheeky winks and runs off.

I scoff and raise an eyebrow as I watch him running out of the mall. I shove my hands in my pockets and tilt my head. He’s interesting.

“Oi! You guys won’t belive what I just found out!” Haechan burts into the dorms, dashing to the living room where all the members gathered.

“What now, Haechan?” Chenle asks sarcastically, slamming a card down on the table. “It’s your turn Renjun.” The room grows silent as Renjun squints his eyes while trying to find a card. “Plus four for you, Jeno!”

Haechan steals a seat from Jeno, pushing him off to the side and slamming both hands palms down on the table. All heads instantly turning to Haechan. “Are you guys seriously playing Uno without me?!” He places a hand on his chest and gasps with a sarcastic shocking look.

“Jaemin told us that you’re going to be at the arcade the whole day so we were having fun by ourselves.” Jeno adds, pushing Haechan away slightly so that he’ll have some space at the table.

“Anyways! I finally found out who KSY is!”

Everyone lets out a sigh in unison. Haechan narrows his eyes at his members’ weird reaction. “It’s been a week. That took you long.” Jisung replies.

“Do you guys want to guess who?” A wide smile appears on Haechan’s lips as he waits for his friends. “A guy with strong arms like Jeno?” Jaemin asks back, resting his elbow on Jeno’s shoulder while he leans in close to Jeno’s face. Jeno turns his head to Jaemin and smiles softly before roughly throwing his elbow off.

Haechan shakes his head vigorously. “A nerd?” Renjun guesses, bobbing his shoulders. Heachan gives the same answer.

“Just tell us already, idiot!” Chenle reaches his hand out to smack Haechan in the head lightly. Haechan lets out a loud ‘tsk’. “It’s a girl. And she’s working at the arcade.”

The room grows silent once again. Some had their eyes widen with opened mouth while the rest had a blank expression that Haechan assumes to be their ‘disbelief faces’.

“You serious? A girl?” Jisung’s the first to speak, a hand moving up slowly to cover his mouth. Haechan nods. “Can you believe a girl can have that much strength to be ranked first?!” Haechan exclaims.

“Well that was unexpected.” Jeno adds. Renjun replies with a similar comment as well. “There’s more!”

No one replies, urging Haechan to continue. “I’m going to have a battle with her tomorrow night!” This time, everyone’s faces become mors shocked than before. “Oh my God we should all go!” Jaemin smiles widely while clapping his hands.

“I’m so down to see Haechan get wrecked by a girl.” Chenle says with a slight smirk. Haechan stands up and walks to him, sitting down next to him to give a smack on the head, making Chenle wince due to the force.

“You don’t know that. He’s been switching the first place ranking with her for so long. Anything can happen.” Jeno retorts lazily with a shrug. “Thank you for the nice word of encouragement, Jeno.”

“I said anything can happen. You still have the chance of losing.” Jeno adds on carelessly, causing the group to burst out laughing. Haechan rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Just follow me to the arcade tomorrow.”

Everyones nods their heads, looking over at Haechan. He smiles widely and claps his hand once. “Alright it’s settled. Now let’s play some Uno.” Haechan beats his hand on the table.

Renjun gathers up all the card and starts shuffling them.

Before my shift starts, I went to play a few rounds of DDR machine to warm my legs up for the game I’ll have with Haechan tonight. I’m not sure if I’m excited to be battling against such a handsome guy or be scared at the fact that he can actually beat me. I know I won’t be able to play anymore so this morning’s my only chance to prepare.

I texted Johnny during lunch, telling him about the unexpected battle i’ll be having. He replies me instantly with a, I’ll be there by seven! Can’t wait to watch you! I chuckle at his reply and continued to work till evening.

It’s seven now and as promised, Johnny shows up from work. “You ready?” Johnny asks.

I crack my neck swiftly and nod my head. “Ready to beat Lee Donghyuck.”

“So that’s his name?” Johnny asks again, looking slightly surprised. I frown and shrug my shoulders. “Apparently so.”

Johnny and I had our eyes on the DDR machine, no words being exchanged for about three minutes. “What time is he coming though?” Johnny turns question me.

“I’m not sure. He told me he’ll be here at night.” I reply simply, resting my chin on the palm of my hand. Johnny copies my posture as the two of us allow time to pass by with talking about anything.

Johnny eyes suddenly widen. So wide that it looks scary to me, as his finger point to the back of me. I turn around to the entrance. I see Haechan walking in, though I feel slightly intimidated with who he brought in. They looked like a gang or something.

Haechan raises a hand and waves at me. I bowed my head slightly in response. All of them head to where Johnny and I were at.

“So this is her?” One of them ask with a skeptical brow. Haechan nods bringing a hand up to motion go me. “Yeah! She’s... Uh sorry I didn’t get your name last time.” Haechan stutters.

“Oh it’s _____” I reply with a soft smile. All of them nod their heads. “When we starting? I wanna watch you and Haechan!” The small figured one asks with excitement filling his tone.

“Should go warm up first. She’ll smash you if you don’t.” Johnny brags out, placing his elbow on my shoulder and using my height as a leaning device for him. “He scares me. Look he’s so tall.” The same guy voices out, pointing to Johnny.

Johnny gasps, overreacting. “Told you that you look intimidating. You’re too tall.” I say, forcefully shoving his elbow off me. “Not my fault!” Johnny whines. Haechan nods his head and goes to the DDR machine, his friends following behind him.

Johnny and I were still behind the counter, so comfortable in our seats that we’ll practically whine if we’re dragged off. We both had our serious faces on in a way to intimidate them. But that’s a fail since everyone had their eyes on Haechan as he scans his card and picks a song.

“Saving your energy?!” I shout across to them, noticing that he picked a relatively simple song at medium difficulty. Haechan turns around and smirks widely. Not sure whether to find that hot or annoying. “Of course.” Haechan shouts back, a chuckle appearing slightly after.

I wasn’t actually paying attention to him play. My eyes are glued to my phone screen while I scroll through Twitter to catch up on the drama I’ve missed. Time felt like it flew by in a second when Haechan call up my name. I tilt my head up, seeing him motioning one hand up that signaled me to go there. I place my phone screen down on the counter and make my way to the DDR machine, with Johnny following behind me and joining Haechan’s group of friends that’s surrounding the plate.

“Song?” Haechan asks. I jerk my head to the side, leaning back and placing my hands on the handle behind me. “Your pick.” I reply casually. Haechan chuckles and starts browsing through, picking a song in no time, difficulty level on high and setting the game to battle mode.

The screen starts showing the countdown in both screens. Haechan and I lowered our bodies in a stance position as the numbers start going down from ten.

5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

“Go!” Everyone shouts in unison.

The amount of concentration I had in this game shocked me. The last time I put in this much effort into something was my finals this year. I didn’t bother looking at Haechan since I’m focusing on myself only, making sure my feet were in sync and I’m getting a ‘Super perfect’ every time.

Everyone’s silent, only the music filling the entire arcade. The song finally ends, Haechan and I desperately gasping for air while the rest gives up an applause. Our heads shot up to the screen, seeing the numbers on both screens increasing rapidly.

“Woah!” Johnny shouts. My eyes widen, making sure I’m seeing the score correctly. I immediately jump happily and off the plate, going to Johnny and slapping his chest with my arms. “I won!”

Haechan and his group of friends are currently silent, with Haechan’s heavy breathing to be the only noise surrounding them. Disappointing sighs and groans came soon after.

“Get off the district of this town!” I burst at them mockingly with a devil-like laughter. Haechan runs a hand through his locks, shaking his head vigorously and glancing upwards before turning to me.

“You win.” Haechan mumbles in defeat. I giggle and walk over to him, lightly punching the side of his arm. “You did well.” I reassure Haechan. He suspires once again. “I don’t owe you anything then?”

“Oh right we didn’t discuss the prize!”

I fold my arms and look up, proceeding to think. “Treat me a meal. And bubble tea. For three months.” I cock up both eyebrows with an evil smirk. Haechan scoffs, refusing to believe that’s my request. “I mean I did make a bet with Johnny and since I lost that I am now going to take advantage of this situation.” I lean back slightly with one shoulder down.

“Fine.”

I got his number and we made a decision of meeting at the bus stop today. I’m the first here, looking down at my phone while I scroll down my playlist to find a song to play. It wasn’t even twenty seconds in till a finger taps on my shoulder.

I frown slightly, not being able to listen to my favourite song but quickly smile as I see Haechan taking a seat beside me. “Where we headed?” I ask curiously. I did say to me out for a meal, but he didn’t specify where. “Are you okay with travelling on the bus for about an hour?” Haechan questions me back.

I shrug my shoulders, leaning back against the glass behind the seat. “I love long bus rides.” Haechan nods his head and grins. “Good. I have a perfect place.”

“Aren’t going to kidnap me are you?” Haechan chuckles at my skepticism. “Want me to do that?” I furrow my eyebrows, laughing softly after and shaking my head.

A few minutes of silence passes by. I hate the awkwardness that filled the gap between us. Luckily, Haechan stands up suddenly, signaling that the bus has arrived.

We got in and took a random spot. Haechan allows me to sit inside, motioning his hand out to the seat. So he’s good looking and a gentleman? Shit.

“You’re seriously really good at DDR.” Haechan suddenly speaks up. I pucker my lips. “Been playing ever since I worked at the arcade. Which was two years ago.”

Haechan clicks his tongue. “I’m guessing you like music a lot?” I nod in reply. “Very. It’s like my emotional support for when I sometimes feel like jamming my head into the wall.” Haechan laughs loudly at my comment, surprised at my unique, but also not, humor.

“I love music, too. I actually sing.” I widen my eyes at his sentence. Haechan chuckles for a quick moment. “You won’t hear it, unfortunately. I only sing for my friends.” I let out a pout, punching him in the chest gently. “Oh come on. I beat you at DDR that day. Why not let me listen to you as a bonus?” I wink at him playfully. Haechan huffs. “When we get there, then.” He shrugs. I giggle and look out the window. Once again silence overtook us.

Haechan and I wear our earpieces at the same time, proceeding to look down at our phone and playing a song. My eyes were looking out the window, admiring the plain view of the town. I wasn’t sure how much time has passed, but I know for a fact that I went through a lot of my songs in my playlist already.

Suddenly, a beach comes into view. I see the sand and the sky, to make things better it’s currently sunset hour. Beautiful colour and shades from red to yellow and even pink filling the sky, matching the vibe of the beach perfectly.

Haechan taps in my shoulder and jerks his head to the side, telling me this is our stop. The two of us got down and remove our earpieces, the bus driving past us and the view returning back. “We’re eating by the beach?!” I question Haechan.

He smiles softly. I look down at his outfit. His shorts and button up shirt suiting the location perfectly, along with his hair that framed his face and eventuates his features beautifully.

“Come on.” Haechan grabs my wrist and drags me off, having me to run while he picks up the speed. I laugh, somewhat happy that he brought me here.

Haechan slows down, his hand still on my wrist as we end up in front of an open restaurant. There isn’t any inside, only the kitchen and serving area being hidden by walls. The place is beautiful. It was fairy lights hanging over the wooden ceiling that was bare to allow us to see the night sky, colourful wooden planks as the floor and wooden chairs and tables. There’s also swings and hammocks too. It’s the whole vibe of the place that’s bringing me so much happiness.

I guess it’s too obvious when I feel Haechan swinging an arm around my shoulders. “Already liking it I see.” He leans down to whisper to me. His voice sounded normal but it sent shivers down my spine and his voice echoed in my head while he leads me to a seat.

I sit down while he takes the seat opposite mine. He leans forward against the table, his elbows resting on his casually. “Trust me, the food here is great.” Haechan speaks. “The best I’ve had so far.” He adds, bringing a hand up and slicing it in the air, sticking his tongue out slightly.

I simply smile and nod, looking around the place after as I still couldn’t believe that I’m here. It’s been so long since I’ve been in such an atmosphere so it really did an impact on me. “Are you like popular in the DDR realm?” I suddenly ask, my head shooting down to him. Heachan lifts the side of his lips ever so slightly. “I mean in a few towns where I took over all the arcade mall.”

“Talented indeed.”

We ordered our food and ate. Surprisingly, we were able to talk a lot. We didn’t have an exact topic. We just speak whatever came to our mind. Haechan really did keep up the conversation well and it wasn’t hard to talk to him at all. I liked it. Quite a lot actually.

I only thought of eating and going home. But now, I just can’t pass up the chance of just sitting by the beach. And that’s what we did. We borrowed a matt from the restaurant and sat on it while looking out into the scenery ahead of us.

It got windy as the night settles in, the cold breeze passing by and making contact with my skin that made me feel at ease almost instantly. “You do this often? Going to the beach?” I whisper, hugging my knees into my chest and laying my chin on one knee. I tilt my head to the side.

“I used to. Until I got busy with life and shit.” Haechan whispers back. I couldn’t help but keep my eyes on him. The way his hair flows and got messy due to the wind, his side profile looking as perfect as I first saw it. And the night sky that served as a background for him to shine.

“Why not we have a battle once a week? Or whenever you’re free. Whoever loses treats the other to a mea at the same restaurant.” I suggest. Though my hidden agenda to it was so that I could see Haechan more often.

“I think that’ll be too tiring. Let’s just come here whenever we’re free.” Haechan retorts back, placing his hands behind him and leaning backwards. “We can hang out more.” Did he really just read my mind or something?

I let out a calming sigh, taking a moment to breathe in the sea air and watching the small waves come to shore, with the water reflecting the light of the night.

“I’d love that.”

Ever since then, I went out with Haechan more often. Going to the same beach, same restaurant and spending time together by the beach, doing anything basically. Though as time passed and we were getting more busy with our separate lives, we never fail to exclude one day from our week just to be with each other.

Our relationship eventually escalated. We naturally started holding hands and giving each other light pecks on the lips, cheeks or forehead. His subtle actions always sending a shock through my body, but it soothed me at the same time as well. My feelings for him bloomed more over time. And Haechan reciprocated it in a heartbeat.

Today was no different. We’re at the beach yet again. But this time, our nosy friends decided to come along.

We are huddled together, everyone relaxing as we watch the scenery. Despite it being the afternoon, the sky, sea and sand is still as beautiful. We spent the day playing a lot of games. Card games, hand games, even burning bridges. We really did everything. And I loved every second of it, since I had Haechan sitting beside me.

“You guys want anything? We should get more drinks.” I say, pointing to the plastic bag that was filled with empty canned drinks and bottles. Everyone nods their head in unison. I smile happily and stand up, wiping the excess sand on my bottom while reaching out to grab the plastic bag.

“Haechan, follow me.” He looks up to me. We had the same thought. Wanting to be alone together. “What am I, a servant for these idiots?” He jokes, though I know he’ll follow me regardless. “Idiots?! Look at you dumbass!” Chenle retorts,

The groups laughs, shaking their heads. Haechan throws them a death glare and immediately sent the group into silence as they see his intimidating expression. He stands up and walks over to me. “Text what you guys want.” I wave my phone up in the air before leaving to the restaurant with Haechan.

“Why did they have to come today? I wanted to be alone with you.” Haechan whines after checking if we’re out of our friends’ sight.

Haechan pulls me close by the waist. I laugh and place my hands on the side of his arms. “We’ve been doing that for so long. They lighten the mood up.”

Haechan frowns but gives a soft peck on the crown of my head. My phone dings. I lifted it to check and see that Mark sent me a list of their wanted drinks. Haechan still had his arm around my waist as he keep me close from the time we ordered to the time we were walking back, putting his arm down till the last second when our friends come into our view.

When we got there and take our seats, the group was oddly silent. All eyes were on us, with suspicious expression on their faces.

“So when are you going to tell us you’re dating?” Jaemin cocks up a brow while everyone folds their arms in unison.

I turn to Haechan, who looks at me as well before looking back to the front. “Huh..?” I say, acting taken aback.

“Don’t lie! I saw you two kissing while I went to the toilet!” Renjun exposes. I scrunch up my face and pout.

Haechan rolls his eyes and leans back. “I thought it was pretty obviously since I ditched a lot of my plans with you guys.” Haechan replies smugly.

“He got stolen by _____ from us!” Jisung huffs out. Haechan and I burst out laughing hysterically.

“He’s better taken away, though.” Jeno adds. Haechan lets out a loud ‘tsk’.

I can only blush and laugh loudly as I watch Haechan beating up Jeno for his comment. Who would’ve thought it be here with a guy when we bonded over a DDR game?

[yehetalltheway]

A BORING SUMMER

Description: meeting him was fate. I remember his smile, his eyes they gave me comfort but then it was all gone. Will I ever meet him? Or are my insecurities going to win again.

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Word count: 1,205

A/N: this picture does not belong to me. credits to the owner. 

The most boring time of the year was here, I wish I could say that I was excited but honestly this time of the year was as boring as it could get. Being a second year student at a university is easy as long as you ain’t working, but the second you take a job, well there goes your happiness. I too had plans for my vacation up until my stupid best friend decided to ditch me and go for a little couple’s adventure with her boyfriend. 

And so here am I at 10am in the morning, working at a café (where my best friend and I were going to work together btw). But its okay, I can do this. Here comes a customer. “Smile y/n smile.”

Just like this, a smile would always appear as soon as he would arrive. A complete stranger, I don’t even know his name or how old he is, but something felt just right but wrong at the same type. We all have an aura and to put in simpler terms his one was dark and luminous at the same time. I guess that it why I fell.

It’s been 3 weeks since his first arrival and at this point I know his proper schedule. He comes in at 11:30, orders an Iced Americano or sometimes when he is happy he choses Chocolate Boba Tea (but that is rare), he sits beside the window and stares. His eyes wonder as if they have no particular destination, as if they are just trying to take everything and everyone in, but soon after they land, they find my own. 

Today was different, he walked in just like he always does, a freshly steamed suit adores his body. Shockingly today he speaks for longer than 5 seconds, his beautiful voice melts and I am dumbfounded. 

“It’s a beautiful day, don’t you think?”, says he.

I try to find my words but they don’t come out.

“What I mean is that although the sun is at its peak, the rays they dance as if they are meeting the ground for the first time.”

“Ummm... the day... yeah its pretty.” oh lord what, why am I fumbling. Stop acting as if you have never met a hot guy before!

“I can’t help but notice that you are quite dressed up today. Any special occasion?”

OH MY GOD, does he know that I dressed up extra today (face palm). Wait is he noticing me? 

“Ummm... No. Just felt like it. Uhhh I don’t have a boyfriend.” wait what, did I just say I don't have a bf. What is wrong with me???

But then I heard it the most beautiful thing in this world, his laughter. Not to sound weird but I can listen to his laugh all the damn time. His calm and serious composure broke in a second and his eyes curled beautifully. How can someone be so handsome and cute at the same time?  

“Well then isn’t it my luck day.” And with that he left, he didn’t even sit down, he just took his coffee and left.

God I have never been as embarrassed as I am today, after what happened yesterday I hope he forgets that this place existed. For a minute I thought that he had. As soon as the closing time came around my stomach was filled with nervousness and anxiety what an idiot am I. But then the door opened and there he, only this time he smiles and waves AT ME!! 

“Hi. You look as pretty as always. Can I get 1 Chocolate boba tea and 1 whatever your favorite is.” he said as if I hadn’t said anything embarrassing the day prior.

“Right... my favorite?? Are you expecting company??” , to be honest I would get jealous if he says yes. Weirdly enough I have developed a crush on him and i would break my tiny little heart if he says yes.

“YES... yes I am.” he says, or should I say he screamed it out. Well he didn’t have to rub it on me like that. 

“YOU.” wait what did he just say.

“ME?? You are asking me to coffee??” 

“Yeah if its okay with you.”

That is how we got close, his scheduled changed, instead of coming in the morning he came during the evening close to the end of my shift. We would drink some coffee, talk a lot and walk our way back. 

His name is Oh Se Hun, his work - he doesn’t talk about it much but from what I know he works in a family business. Although he is 4 years older than me, never have I ever felt uncomfortable with him.

“You know, there are people in this world who enter your life at the right time, just when you need them the most. They stay with you until they are needed and then just like they entered, they leave. Honestly, you came into my life when I needed it the most, but I am scared that you want me to leave yours as quickly as I entered.”, he says, while he played with my head was lying on his lap and he was caressing my hair. 

“What do you mean? Are you telling me that you are leaving or is it just one of your lame philosophical talks. Se Hun, you are scaring me, would you please answer!” I don’t know why but I am scared, as if all of this was just a dream and that I am going to wake up and become my old, unhappy, introverted self. 

Being with Se Hun has changed me, my shy self has started talking more, everyone around me is shocked by this change. I have started smiling more, my colleagues definitely think I need to see a doctor cause my lips are always up. He is a ray of sunshine in my dark boring life and without him I’ll be broken and damned.

That was the last time I ever saw him. With those words he disappeared, into thin air as if he never existed. My summer love. That day, I wish I would have kissed him, hugged him, told him how I felt. But I didn’t, I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking why would someone like him, like someone like me. Would he have stayed if I would have confessed? Was he trying to tell me something every time he held my hand as if I was a baby who would get separated from him? Was he just a summer feeling or was he my knight in a black tailored suit? 

Whatever the reason may have been, I had lost him forever. I lost him to my insecurities, to my doubts and now he was gone. 

Here I am 3 years later, applying for a job at a company just minding my own business when I bump into someone. It’s the same old smile, the same dark eyes, the same scent, even the way my name rolls out of his tongue is the same. 

The only difference is, that I have changed thanks to him. This time I have held onto him and I won’t let go that easy. 

[missorgana]

everything i do (gonna think of you)

pairing: finn/poe dameron

fandom: star wars (sequel trilogy

rating: teen and up

word count: 4690

warning: swearing, alcohol

summary: Finn and Poe are on a break. Neither of them are okay. But Finn hears Poe singing about him on the radio, and they'll be okay. Always. (musician poe, artist finn, long distance break-up + getting back together)

(it’s been ages but my space bfs, it’s good to be back!! a long overdue installment in my finnpoe alphabet series. did not expect e to be the most difficult letter to work with !!! thank you to Cat / @wendigostag​ as ALWAYS for beta reading and supporting my messy ideas 🥰 love uuuu. enjoy??)

read on ao3

“And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, I’m sure!”

The audience erupts in a half-laughter, half-cheer, and the host smiles, looking a bit too tired for his age.

“Tonight’s special performance is by someone who has, quite frankly, taken the whole of America - and dare I say the world? - by storm!”

Previous cheers resurface, louder and more certain than before. Even a few wolf whistles, making the presenter laugh as well.

“Here to perform his new single ‘cardigan’ from the debut album ‘folklore’, Poe Dameron!”

Quite literally everyone in the studio goes crazy, and as the camera directs towards the stage, a light turns on and reveals the curly haired man in all his glory.

He smiles slyly to the audience. A few noises, bordering on the line of screaming, makes him chuckle, but he puts all his focus on the guitar. Snaps, strums, and as the piano starts accompanying him, a soft voice forming strange and unfamiliar words.

Finn wipes the tear away in frustration before it even gets a chance to move, just tiny droplets stinging his vision. He’s sniffling, and biting his cheek, staring at the already half-empty bottle of red wine on the table.

Never in his life has he ever felt more pathetic, that’s true.

He doesn’t know why he’s watching this. And judging by the two texts pinging in on his phone, his best friend Rey somehow knows he’s doing it, too.

His vision’s too blurry to type, he thinks. Fuck it, pour another glass of wine. Who cares?

On the screen, Poe smiles while singing each word. But Finn knows the man better than anyone in that studio to know that it’s not really a smile. It’s the kind that his boyfriend- ex-boyfriend put on at their last FaceTime call. The one where he suggested they took a break.

He figures he should turn off the television when the performance comes to an end. No need to rub anymore salt in the wound, as Rey said.

Yet Finn sticks around for the interview because… because what? He hates himself? He hates Poe?

Neither. Maybe he misses him. Of course he misses him, enough to fight back the sobs, far from sober. But he’ll fight that obvious realisation, as well.

“Thank you for coming in tonight!” the host tells the singer, who thanks him in turn for the opportunity. Always the golden boy. The image of polite, kind, heart full of love, yet so goddamn stubborn.

“Mothers love me.” Poe had told him, back in college, the smug idiot. Finn’s mother loves him.

It’s mostly questions about the album, the upcoming tour, pictures of his parents and his pearly whites gleam when he speaks of them, how proud they are of him. It envelops Finn like a warm embrace. Huh. They haven’t hugged in five months.

They haven’t seen each other in five months.

Then the host starts grinning like a maniac, and he’s got a hunch what’s coming now is what he’s been wanting to ask all along, “Evidently, you got a lot of ladies who love you here.”

Audience cheers. Poe runs a hand through his hair. He’s so nervous, it’s adorable.

“You got a special lady in your life?” a question that quiets the audience significantly, still, waiting.

The singer glances at his shoes like they’re the most fascinating thing in the universe. Finn can’t hold his glass still, because, yeah. He looks like he’s thinking about it too hard. He wants to save him from that situation.

And although it feels like a million years pass, it’s probably only ten seconds before the reply settles, “Not at the moment, no.”

The crowd is nothing less than thrilled. And not only women, as the host implied, nah, everyone in that studio recognizes what a heartthrob Poe Dameron is. Finn couldn’t agree more.

What he knows about his ex-boyfriend that the strangers in the TV don’t know is, obviously, that Poe’s not interested in the ladies.

So does his family and close friends, anyone out of show business, really.

He also knows why his ex-boyfriend isn’t out to the public about his sexuality, yet. Or he’s got an idea. Maybe. Finn convinces himself of that, because then, he can also convince himself that he’s not the only one still feeling he’s being torn to pieces by this breakup. Feels better.

*

Although the screen connecting to his boyfriend’s call tugs on his heartstrings with its familiar warmth, Finn is, above all, pissed.

And for some reason, he feels ashamed for that. He knows he shouldn’t.

Poe hasn’t been home in a month. He was supposed to be here two weeks ago, but due to press bookings, credit to his boyfriend’s brand new agent, he called Finn late at night apologising like a broken record and promising to make it up to him.

And it makes him feel like shit.

Every apology made him feel more guilty for… harboring his time. Which is crazy, because they’ve been going steady for three years. They talked about this, the possibility of long distance, and knew, definitely, that it was gonna be hard, especially since they’ve been attached by the hip for so long.

Thing is, this has happened three times now, and it’s made Finn question himself.

Is he good enough for Poe? then later, another thought creeps in, Is Poe tired of him? or… is he not in love with him anymore?

Finn feels like he’s going crazy.

And even when he sees his boyfriend’s soft curls and eyes full of sunshine pop on his phone, it’s those thoughts that still inhabit his head. Fuck.

“Baby!” Poe says, excitement gleaming right through him and into Finn’s bedroom. They’ve been talking about moving in together, but, well, with long distance, mostly only talk for now. He’s off chasing the fame, which he deserves more than anyone, thank you very much, and Finn’s already booked up with art galleries and auctions eagerly grasping for his paintings. It feels like they’ve made it.

Except, “Phasma’s got me on Jimmy Kimmel! Like, can you believe that?!” his boyfriend spills out everything from this week, and it warms Finn’s chest, his gut, all the way down to his toes. But at the same time, this being Poe’s first words to him stirs weirdly alongside that warmth.

His career’s important. Of course. Finn’s happy for him, like, over the moon, all the way across the solar system happy.

He wants him to be successful. So then… then why does it feel like Poe prioritises it over them? It’s probably him overthinking it, he reasons. Again.

Finn can definitely feel he’s supposed to be sleeping right now; that’s another thing, cursed with being in vastly different time zones. He listens, smiling half-tiredly, thoughts wandering to everything and nothing.

Which is why he finds himself, all of a sudden, replying to his boyfriend’s, “I, uh, I’m actually writing you another song. Don’t laugh, please,” with, “A secret kind of song? ”

It takes Poe by surprise, visibly, and it takes himself, as well.

Finn bites down on his tongue in the cringe of it all. His boyfriend’s blinking, slowly, probably waiting for some sort of elaboration, but when he has no idea what to say, Poe inquires, “What do you mean?”

He sighs. Wholeheartedly, wistfully, nostalgic.

Finn thinks about when Poe asked him out, driving up to his window in true cheesy romantic comedy style and having offered to write essays in exchange for a school marching band performance.

Their first date, eating cotton candy and the curly haired boy insisting on trying and failing to win Finn a prize, until finally facing defeat. He won Poe a prize instead, first try, so the previous grumpiness faded in a matter of seconds. The butterflies threatened to burst his stomach the entire day.

Their first time, clumsy and awkward, teeth clanging in kisses and stupid buttons in Finn’s shirt being stuck and they laughed until they were out of breath. It was more perfect than anything either of them could’ve imagined.

He thinks about this, because neither of them were out before they got together.

This coming out thing? It scared the shit out of Finn. He was so lucky to have a supportive family, supportive friends. The school was a mixed experience, but he and Poe were in it together. His boyfriend tried to play it cool, but he knew how scared he was, too. He knows like the back of his hand, almost.

And this concern, it makes him feel so guilty he might vomit.

“I just… I was just wondering if you wanted to be official.”

“We are official, Finn.”

“No, I-I mean, public.”

He gulps around the growing lump in his throat. Poe goes scarily quiet.

This is also something they’ve talked about before. Fame is so new, it’s a whole new leap, learning how to handle all this, so it didn’t bother either of them to be secretive about their relationship, so to speak.

Their close network still knew, obviously, but the music industry, Hollywood, that’s way, way different than Finn’s newly established and growing network of artist connections and colleagues.

It wasn’t a problem. Until it was.

Coming out is personal. But ever since his boyfriend said he wanted to go public, then didn’t, as they were both on edge, then decided they should move in together and go public to slam down journalists linking Poe to a member of a girl group he met last summer, then didn’t.

It’s happened a couple of times. And finally, it seems, Finn is coming to terms with being tired of being ready and then backing out.

He’s terrified. Terrified of Poe being embarrassed of him, which he knows sounds crazy, also. But fuck.

“Baby, we’re gonna do it,” his boyfriend reassures him, but he’s distraught now, “You know we are. My agent just talks about my image, you know, I need to make sure-”

“Your image?”

That… that pisses Finn off. Conclusively. Because what the fuck?

“Phasma thinks we should do it at Christmas, season of love, you know?” Poe smiles shyly, he always loved the holidays. And he just doesn’t know how to react. “She’s fine with it, like, she didn’t ask me to fake being straight, like the guy I talked with before. Just-

“Are you embarrassed of me, Poe?” he finds the words slipping out before he can stop his mouth.

His boyfriend’s eyes widen significantly on the small screen, opens and closes his mouth several times, and there’s definitely a yell from somewhere in the studio, but Poe ignores it completely, “Of course not. Finn, I’m the luckiest guy in the world because of you. I just really… really think we need to time this right.”

“I,” Finn starts, but he’s barely sure where he’s going with the sentence. All he knows is that he’s scared Poe might tell him that all this time meant nothing to him. He doesn’t know why he leaps to that, but he does. His boyfriend might find something better than him in the limelight, “I know. You’ve told me, and I get it, I do. It’s just difficult being so far away from you, and then…”

He feels himself drifting off into a cloud of numbness and nothing, but Poe interrupts the sentence, “I thought you’d be more supportive of my career.” Finn nearly jumps. The words don’t sound cold, per say. But it’s weird. The good old butterflies flutter hesitantly, sort of in question.

“I am, darling, I-” he sighs again, “I’ve always been. You’ve just seemed like you’re ready, and I got the feeling that your agent didn’t want you to, and-” “Phasma wants it.”

“But on Christmas, Poe. This Christmas. I’m just scared you’re…” Finn shakes his head at himself, decides to be completely honest, because that’s how relationships work. Right? “Waiting for the moment to end this.”

“End this?” his boyfriend’s voice raises just an octave, looking perpetually confused. He also, admittedly, looks pissed. Hurt. “Do you want to break up with me?”

“No! Why would I-

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

Finn rubs his eyes, feels like they’re on goddamn fire. Poe’s biting his lips, rummaging around after moving what he assumes is a more private room than before, and avoiding eye contact. They shouldn’t be doing this on the phone. They shouldn’t be doing this at all.

He wishes his boyfriend was next to him, so he could curl up on his chest and sleep the entire weekend. It’s all he wants.

Ultimately, Finn makes the suggestion, “Baby, I’m sorry, I just… why don’t I call you next time you’re free? Or can you… are you getting back anytime soon?”

He doesn’t know how to describe this feeling, what’s happening, in any other way than it seems like Poe’s on a different planet than him, drifting in a meteor rain.

What Finn doesn’t expect least of all is his boyfriend’s answer, “Nah, you know, if you feel like that, we should take a break. A breather.”

And Poe smiles, but he sees through that bullshit. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

He’s trying to play it cool. Fuck. Why are Finn’s eyes stinging, now?

“A break?”

“Yeah.”

That’s so much to process. Fucking process it. The protests are bubbling under his skin, boiling and ice cold at the same time, but he doesn’t get the time when the yells on the end of the world resume.

“I really should go.” Poe tells him, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to.

“Poe…” he tries to breathe around the butterflies currently panicking inside of him. He’d scream at them to stop for just five seconds, if he could. His boyfriend’s already getting up from the seat, which is why Finn pinches the bridge of his nose and tries not to look at him, “Okay. Okay.”

The silence that settles between them, then, until they end the call in confusion and boiled up emotion, is far from the comfort they’ve been accustomed to. It ends without a goodbye. Without an I love you.

So, naturally, he gets absolutely zero sleep that night.

*

Whenever Rey told them they were being overdramatic, she was probably right. This is no exception.

Ever since the damnation of their FaceTime call, Finn tried to get into his head what went down. Namely, him and his boyfriend speaking over each other’s heads. It settles in the morning, the realisation that Poe assumed the worst of what he said, while he himself didn’t understand why he couldn’t come home . Just one day. Just to talk this out.

But in a recognizable stubborn fashion, his boyfriend ignored his calls and texts for the weekend. Finn tried so, so hard not to get pissed again. But also, Poe actively avoiding him made him want to cry. Not being able to just hear his voice made him want to cry.

Naturally, the following week, when his boyfriend decided to reach out, Finn became the one to ignore all forms of contact. It felt like they were walking in circles.

This is new and raw territory.

Finn and Poe don’t fight. It’s a basic law of the universe. 

Which is why he doesn’t blame Rey for widening her eyes in shock at this new development. He also knows that she wants to intervene, badly so, given how protective she is of them, but because she’s lovely she always somehow knows when Finn needs his own space to think. Or scream into the void a little bit, whatever does the trick.

He’s pretty sure she didn’t expect this to go on for four months, now. He sure as hell didn’t expect it.

But… they’re both to blame. Finn’s pretty much dug himself a hole in the ground filling up with all his feelings, and as every week passes by, waits for his boyfriend to make the first move. He expects Poe to do the same. Nothing’s moving forward.

So, if Rey didn’t know him as she did, she’d ask him why.

Why don’t you just call him? He could. When his boyfriend stopped ignoring him, that is. Thing is, Finn’s world is sort of crumbling right now, and a confrontation with that isn’t something he can handle, he thinks.

It’s the thought of losing Poe for good. It’s the thought of Poe thinking Finn doesn’t want him anymore, when in fact he fears the exact opposite.

After watching that interview, though, he could breathe a little easier, he’ll admit.

And it’s weird. He felt inherently about a hundred times worse during it. The day after, he just kept thinking about Poe and his stupid curls and his nervous smile and what he might be doing while Finn was helping his sister with the dishes.

Maybe it’s knowing his boyfriend- ex-boyfriend (?) is okay. Does look more okay than himself.

It calms him. The next day, it makes Finn want to burn up all their polaroids and mail the ashes to the singers’ hotel in a massive envelope. As said before, this hole is deep, too deep, making it difficult to be rational.

A week after the interview, he’s just about on the edge to complete numbness.

Maybe he’s been reading those hilarious dumb gossip magazines whenever his boyfriend was on the cover. Shut up. If he acknowledges the ridiculousness of that, it’ll only make it worse.

Finn feels weak for being this torn up after a breakup… or break. He’s had breakups before Poe, but none of them hurt like this. Does it ever just fucking stop?

Apparently not, because when he picks up the phone with Rey’s name flashing, Finn expects it to be another question of what’s going on. How he’s doing, or not even a question, but an order to let her in as she’s probably already standing in front of his building carrying ice cream and bad horror movies.

He doesn’t get why she doesn’t just use the key he got her already, but it’s still endearing. Except, “Turn on the radio.”

“What?

“Finn, turn on your radio. Trust me.”

And so he scrambles around, the determination in her voice definitely not something to mess around with. Finn eventually uncovers it underneath the mountain of Poe’s vinyl records, and while his best friend doesn’t even tell him what station she’s referring to, he’s got a feeling about it. Also, it’s the first station that pops through the speakers when he turns it on, so.

Then, he has absolutely no idea what to listen for. The hosts are making some jokes about the song they’re gonna play next, thereozing about a “lost love” , and Finn’s about to ask until he realises Rey’s hung up on him, and a text.

just wait. u won’t regret it.

It’s too ominous for his best friend’s usual shenanigans. He’s a little worried.

But unlike the last hellish, unbelievable four months, Finn doesn’t have much time to worry, before the voices announce, “We present an exclusive live performance from our new favorite heartthrob, Poe Dameron!”

Oh God. Oh God, oh shit, oh my god.

Naturally, Finn’s anxiety kicks in like a punch in his gut.

In fact, he’s about to pull up his best friend’s contact again, sick of hearing the single that Poe wrote for him and not even being able to revel in the feeling anymore. Only it’s not ‘cardigan’.

Four months ago, a few days before they decided to take a break, his boyfriend sent him a couple of voice notes, containing lyrics and guitar pieces and other bits for the album he wanted Finn’s approval on. He always wanted his opinion first. It makes him all warm again.

This song, however, is brand new, unheard to everyone’s ears. Including Finn.

  “I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit

Been saying "yes" instead of "no"

I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though

I hit the ground running each night

I hit the Sunday matinée

You know the greatest films of all time were never made”

  The melody has the same calm like the other songs he’s heard, an image of fairytales and bare feet dancing in the woods and stars twinkling in the night.

The melancholy is unfamiliar, though.

  “I guess you never know, never know

And if you wanted me, you really should've showed

And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

And it's alright now”

  Finn’s thumb hovers over Rey’s contact name, but he can’t bring himself to move.

It’s the alright part. Except, despite how much he tries to lie to himself, he swears to everything god that his boyfriend’s voice breaks over the word. It’s subtle enough that the interviewers could pass it on as him being hoarse, he reasons, but Poe can’t fool him.

He wants him to be okay. Actually, no, because being okay means not missing Finn like Finn misses him, and that would hurt more than anything he can imagine. But also, he’s too far away for a reassuring hand. That’s why he wants him to be okay.

  “But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you”

  For some reason, it’s only then it settles into Finn’s mind.

Oh.

Oh.

The song keeps going, and his emotions keep going, from the chaotic jumbled mess he’s become accustomed to a quiet buzz. He feels like his breathing’s slowed down, and a pocket in his heart is being emptied onto the floor.

Poe feels exactly the same way, he imagines. He has to.

Finn’s abandoned his phone somewhere unknown between the couch cushions, and he’s stuck staring at the empty wine bottle he hasn’t had the energy to get rid of, his microwave dinner half eaten, until his ex-boyfriend’s song comes to an end.

‘the 1’ is the title. He doesn’t know if he’s crying or not, which sounds a bit dumb in his own head.

“Poe Dameron!” one of the interviewers yells obnoxiously, clearly trying to hold in their excited giggling, “Those were quite emotional lyrics. I’m guessing there’s a story there somewhere?”

Finn could roll his eyes into the next century at that comment. Jesus Christ.

The singer’s complained about these kinds of people before, of course, he chuckles, politely, hesitantly, probably spinning the best way to avoid opening that door of vulnerability on open air, “I think everyone writes from their own experience, really.”

His voice has the same elegance and softness and gruff that makes Finn think of home, despite the tinny speakers and distraction that vibes off of him, all the way over in the states. It’s unbelievable.

The interview keeps going in the most standard way possible, a couple more questions Poe subtly circles around (including about dating, obviously), some jokes, and they eventually get to that segment where the listeners can call in and ask their own question to the dreamy man.

Some are boring, some are weird, some are intrusive, some are just teen voices in awe of his relatability and what not, mountains of flattery which his boyfriend is all too shy and starstruck to handle.

Finn bites his lip.

They repeat the number of the radio twice. The programme ends at nine. That means about forty five minutes of fan questions.

He shouldn’t. This is ridiculous. But what if… what?

Poe’s voice somehow carries his hand to fish the phone up again, though, like a strike of magic. And then the tone sounds, one, two, three, and it’s too late to take it back now. Shit.

“You’re live! Can our next lucky listener introduce yourself and your question?”

He tries so hard, desperately so, to swallow around the lump in his throat, seeming impossibly massive. The eerie silence is simply too painful to bear, though, so Finn squeezes his eyes shut hard for two seconds, before forcing the reply out.

“Yes, uh, hi. This is Finn Solo. From Pennsylvania.”

A beat. “Pennsylvania?! Well, honey, that’s actually Poe Dameron’s home state, isn’t it?”

Two beats. The singer clears his throat. “Yeah.” Clearly, he recognizes his voice in an instant. Well, obviously, he’d be shocked if he didn’t. Still, Finn feels like curling up in a ball and hiding from the world. He wonders if Rey’s listening, right now.

The interviewer seems unfazed from Poe’s hesitated answer, or they just choose to ignore it, he supposes. “The floor is yours, Finn. Ask ahead!”

So… how is he supposed to do this, again? 

This is the worst idea Finn’s had in his entire life. Seriously. And he accepted Rey’s dare to swing all the way up and around the swingset in fifth grade, he’s well aware of what reckless looks like. This is it.

Still, he’s stuck now. Poe’s listening to him. Kind of forced to.

And against his own better judgement, Finn silences the million overthinking thoughts in his inner ear by simply saying whatever hits him first, “Did you mean what you said? In the song?”

Seconds feel like fucking hours right now.

“Sorry, can you-” one of the hosts start, but he feels moved to continue. “When did you write it?”

It’s low, the feedback of his boyfriend’s microphone can just be made out. He prays that was only comprehensible enough for Poe’s own ears, because Finn could never possibly live with himself if he outed the person he loves most in the world. Seems so, given the interviewer once again asks the singer in confusion.

“What do you say, Poe? Do you need, uh… for him to elaborate?”

“No.” the man says simply, shyness seemingly having faded away in a glimpse. “Finn, I wrote this back in May.”

Four months ago. Same month as their FaceTime call.

“Only a week after our call. Took me five hours. I needed to get every word just right.” Poe says those words so steadily it shocks Finn. His hand feels numb and itchy around the tiny device, and one of the hosts gasps.

“I-” he starts, but has no idea where to go, where to turn. Finn didn’t expect any of this tonight. A deep breath is needed, “Do you mean… you wrote it about me?”

He feels like an absolute idiot for asking, even doubting it, but given the emotional rollercoaster he’s been through up until now, he’s grasping for straws of confirmation. Poe chuckles, barely audible.

“All my songs are about you, darling.”

What the fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Another gasp is heard in the studio, a little louder this time, but he sends a silent thanks, still, to them being too taken aback to intervene.

Okay, these are definitely tears in Finn’s eyes, now.

One rolls down, cool against his hot cheek, and he almost wants to laugh widely, processing what’s happening over and over in his brain.

What’s mostly replaying is the nickname that he’s missed… too much.

If they were in the same room, in front of each other, alone , he could say and ask a million things. This conversation is impossibly too vulnerable for open air, but Finn really thinks, really, that this step was needed. At least, it’s something he’s been longing to hear.

Instead of breaking down in the happiness and sadness he’s feeling, instead of talking about the miscommunication they’ve been the victim of, he smiles. Can’t stop. It’s hurting his whole face, actually, but his chest feels endlessly lighter.

“If… uh,” Finn chuckles at himself again, him and his stupid emotions, probably laced obviously in his voice, “Is there a chance that you still want to write songs about me?”

Poe laughs back, warmer and wobblier than before. “Of course. Of-fucking-course. There’s no one else I’d rather write about.”

Those hosts over there are probably freaking out big time, but Finn can’t bring himself to care much.

They sigh rather in unison. Him and his boyfriend. Breathing shaky and yet steadying themselves, almost. Together.

“Okay. Okay. Thank fuck,” he finds himself sniffling, “Okay.”

“They’ll always be about you.”

[drivingsideways]

in search of a better dream

This is about three pieces of South Korean media that crossed my path recently: the dramas Search WWW and Flower of Evil, and the novel Kim Ji Young, Born 1982.

Disclaimer and context : I'm not Korean, I don't speak the language, and I've watched a very limited set of kdramas. The criticisms I make in this piece are not to single out kdramas, or kdrama fandom,  as what I've described exists in Western and other Asian media and fandoms as well.

 Under the cut for length:

There's a scene in the first episode of the hit 2020 k-drama "Flower of Evil" that made me want to quit watching the show within the first ten minutes. The scene goes like this: our protagonists, Cha Ji Won and Baek Hee Seung meet Baek Hee Seung's parents along with their four year old daughter. The occasion is Baek Hee Seung's birthday, and loving wife Cha Ji Won has set up a special birthday dinner for them. On the way to the restaurant, the daughter has already complained about how she's scared of her grandparents, and they don't like her. When we meet the grandparents, we see the truth of this- they are as cold as the Arctic to all three, but especially to their daughter-in-law and granddaughter. In a bid to smooth out the social awkwardness, Cha Ji Won instructs her daughter to greet her grandparents the way they had "practiced" earlier- a cutesy little greeting where the adorable Eun-ha makes a heart over her head and chirps "I love you grandma and grandpa". When this fails to soften them, Eun-ha retreats, looking scared and disappointed. Not to worry, Cha Ji Won has this completely figured out: if you try harder, she tells her four year old daughter, they'll eventually love you.

Reader, I was, as they say, mad.

We find out soon enough that this stellar bit of parenting follows from an abiding principle in Cha Ji Won's life. Her romance with Baek Hee Seung starts when a handsome oppa walks into the family store, and is a saga of her stalking and pursuing a man who repeatedly tells her he's not interested, until he finally gives in. The power of her persistence pays off when the emotionally distant and abrasive man, in a classic beauty-and-the-beast transition, becomes a loving boyfriend, and then later, husband and father. It's a fantasy- some might even say feminist fantasy come true- he's handsome, supportive, reliable, artistic,  the primary housekeeper and caretaker of their daughter while she pursues her demanding "dream" job as a police officer, and they have enough money to live in a charming and lovingly set up two-storeyed house in ruinously expensive Seoul. This is heterosexual female wish fulfilment at its peak, and it is all made possible because she persevered.

It all threatens to come apart with the discovery of the perfect man's dark past- for a brief period, she's forced to contemplate the idea that he's actually a serial killer who's conned her for the entirety of their relationship of fourteen years; that the perfect life was, in fact, a lie.  

However, since this is written and billed as romance melodrama, this horror is short-lived. As the story progresses through increasingly improbable, violent and sometimes downright hilarious twists and turns, we grow closer to the (inevitable) happy ending. Baek Hee Seung/ Do Hyun Soo is no killer, just a traumatized child with a horrific past. The lies are the result of psychological damage inflicted by a society that unfairly deemed him a monster; the cage of repressed emotions that he'd locked himself in needed only the unshakeable conviction of Cha Ji Won's love to be broken open. "I wish you could see yourself as I see you" she tells him, in one of the show's endless supply of tearfully emotional moments, "I wish you could understand yourself the way I understand you."

This framework continues right to the end, when a bout of short term amnesia (!!) has Do Hyun Soo questioning himself and her: do you know, he asks her, when I'm lying to you, and when I'm not, because I don't.  The show answers that almost immediately- it doesn't matter, because it's her vision of him that he wants to be; in other words, he chooses the version of himself that she wants. The horror of the lie was a red herring, Cha Ji Won was right from the start about her husband- all it took was the power of her love and her perseverance to overcome the lie at the heart of her marriage,  to restore it to its previous shape- quite literally. The dream house they built together, which was destroyed by the villain, is shown in the last shots as unchanged from how it was in the beginning. One of the last shots we have of the couple is of them kissing in the artisan husband's workshop, an almost perfect recreation of the first time we see them. Paradise Regained, and all of us- and Cha Ji Won- can breathe a sigh of relief. You, the twenty-first century woman, are the architect of your own fantasy and can have it all. What could be more powerful than that?

 In Kim Ji Young, Born 1982 , a novel published in 2016, and often credited with kickstarting a new conversation about feminism in South Korea, the eponymous protagonist's story is also one of perseverance. It's a starkly written tale, an everywoman tale, a dryly narrated fact finding mission report complete with citations and references, about a woman born in the late twentieth century into a rigidly patriarchal culture, whose very existence is an aberration- her parents didn’t opt for a sex-selective abortion unlike many of their contemporaries when they found that their second child would also be a girl. Kim Ji Young, like the rest of us, grows up immersed in a misogynist culture. Even before she understands it, she learns to work around it and through it, rationalizing the micro-aggressions, burying the anger at the casual and institutional sexism that permeates her life, compromising and coping with it all, and achieving some semblance of having it all: a job, a decent, loving husband, a child. However, it's when motherhood arrives that it all falls apart- Kim Ji Young, faced with the exhausting carework of having a baby at home and another regular, full time job, does what so many women in her position do- quits her "outside" job for her parenting one. Fighting exhaustion and depression, a casually cruel and misogynist remark from a stranger in a park proves to be the proverbial final straw; Kim Ji Young suffers a mental breakdown, dissociating herself completely from her own life, and "seamlessly, flawlessly" taking on the personalities of other women she's known- her mother, her friend, her colleague. The novel ends with a narrative twist that's both horrifying and appropriate:  we learn that our narrator is actually her male psychiatrist. Kim Ji Young doesn't even get to be the voice of her own story; instead, it is told by a man cocooned in his own privilege, who displays the same paternalistic and misogynist behaviour that he correctly identified as the cause of her breakdown.

There is no escape here for Kim Ji Young save that of a complete break from reality. In the light of the narrative that leads her to that point, it feels both inevitable and even more horrifically, a blessing. This is a horror story told as it is shorn of any hope; the ending is death or insanity.

Reading Kim Ji Young, Born 1982 was to confront the familiar and heart-breaking and horrific neatly distilled into 200 odd pages; it's "fiction", but not really. My only surprise was how similar the culture described there was to my own in specifics; how incidents in Kim Ji Young's life were things I had actually experienced myself or seen other women experience, in a country several thousand miles away.

I read this novel just after watching the 2019's Search WWW, a show with a bit of a cult following, I think. Before I started watching it, one friend assured me that I would love it, that it was made for me; another said that  she dropped it because it "rang false" to her at the time. I've seen the show described several times as a feminist power fantasy, sometimes, if the reviewer wanted to demean it, with the qualifier, unrealistic.

This seemed an odd sort of criticism to me- after all, who turns to k-drama romances or really, any romance, for realism? Female wish fulfilment, which is the cornerstone of romance as a genre, whether in books or film, is still written and recognized as fantasy. So what was particularly unreal about Search WWW?

Well, simply put, it is written like the patriarchy doesn't matter, and has never existed.

The three female protagonists are all in their thirties, in powerful positions in their careers. As such, they are constantly walking into meetings where women speak more than 33% of the time. There are men in the room, but they never outnumber the women, and they don't silence the women.

The interests and decisions and choices  of women in the show- even the lead antagonist, who is an older woman whom we often see casually making beefy young men pose nude for her paintings- matter, not just to domestic and private realms, but to society at large; the antagonist is a power broker whose reach goes right up to the highest echelons of the country's politics; the younger women's ethical choices directly affect the republic's functioning as a democracy.

What about the men? It's not that they've been ignored; it's just that their place in the narrative has been decentered. Do with that what you will, the writer seems to say, as she writes in speaking roles for women wherever possible—every second side character is a woman— I have no time or inclination to justify that choice.

As for romance- it's not just that two of the three romances fall into the "noona romance" category, which is subversive in itself. It's that the power of decision making in these relationships clearly rests with the women.

In the "main" romance track, in a reversal of the usual trope, the woman is the one who is emotionally unavailable, and whom the man has to convince to take a chance on their relationship. What was hugely refreshing was that the reason for her emotional unavailability isn't trauma, that the man has to help her heal from, unlike the gender reversed versions we often see, eg in Flower of Evil. Instead, it's a difference in perspective that has its roots in the years of experience she has compared to him; it's the difference in life perspective of a twenty something man, and an almost-40 woman. She considers the implications and possibilities of entering into a relationship with a man who wants marriage and kids, while she doesn't want either and is unlikely to want them in the future. She thinks through it, and sees the pitfalls of it, perhaps all too clearly. In the end, when she makes a decision to commit, it's with the understanding that she's choosing to live in the moment, that he makes her happy; that they make each other happy and it is worth something, even if it doesn't last.  But both of them understand that her happiness is not centered in him or their relationship being successful. The other two romances end on a similarly open note- the possibility of love with the man you just divorced, but there's no hurry to get there; and a long distance relationship that may or may not last the two years of military conscription the man has to undergo.

The happily ever after in this series is not the perfect heterosexual family unit; it was always going to be the complicated, thorny and intense queerplatonic relationship between the three women, who, in the end, literally drive off along an endless open road under a blue, blue sky, to "a place with no red lights", as one of them describes it.

For a week after watching Search WWW, I wandered around in a daze. How did this show get written, I kept asking myself? How did it get produced? Aired??? What magic was worked to put it in my eyeballs, and how can it keep happening?

That feeling intensified when I read Kim Ji Young, Born 1982. But the book also provided the answer, at least to the first question. Because it is Kim Ji Young's voice in Search WWW. This is the fantasy that Kim Ji Young would have wanted to live in; a society and a life where she's seen as a person, entire, and it's not something she has to fight every day for. The gigantic leap of imagination that the writer of Search WWW took was only because that fantasy has been yearned for, in a way only a person growing up in Kim Ji Young's world- our world- could.

"Flower of Evil"- and other dramas like it— are also, undeniably, products of this world. It's unsurprising to me that in many ways, Cha Ji Won's little fantasy domestic world in Flower of Evil, on the surface, looks exactly like a post-feminist world. If the real revolution is men doing housework and childcare, then that fantasy has already been achieved on the individual level for Cha Ji Won. Sure, she's the only female member on her squad, and maybe the entire police force, for all you see women in her workplace. Sure, the other female characters with speaking roles exist mostly to be tortured for manpain by the narrative or literally by men as part of the plot. She seems to have no friends outside of work, which means that all her friends are men. As for relationships with other women, except her mother, who exists mostly to share the burden of childcare, and her mom-in- law who turns out to be an evil sort herself, there are none. When she meets her sister-in-law, the entire scene gives off a strange catfight vibe- her sister in law is the only other woman who can legitimately be said to have a claim on knowing the real Do Hyun Soo, and Cha Ji Won's reaction is to deny that claim and tell her to buzz off, basically. "I'm his family now" she tells her sister in law, "He has a wife"; firmly establishing the primacy of a heterosexual romantic relationship over all others.

Her "dream" job means nothing much despite the work she has put in to get it; for most part of the narrative she ends up betraying every professional ethic and her squad- her only friends. Of course, she is easily forgiven for it, without doing any of the work to earn that forgiveness, but that's really because who has the narrative time to develop those relationships which do not matter, like her work, which is shown up for the narrative prop it is, just like her daughter?  Even her sociopath (but not really, poor baby) husband ends the series with a tentative sort of friendship with a person he's not married to, but not Cha Ji Won, whose entire world by the end of the series has narrowed down to the four walls of her perfect little house and her perfectly-rescued husband. "I can't be happy if he's not happy," she tells her mother, who suggests that maybe it's time she let go of her not-so-perfect husband. "So please accept him."

In the end, the fantasy is based on this : self-improvement as the winning strategy, not structural change. Try hard enough and you'll get what you want. In the fine print, easily ignored: as long as what you want falls within the bounds of heteronormative patriarchal standards. It's an attitude that is passed down to the next generation; Cha Ji Won's early conversation with her daughter is an example.

The writer's vision is clear- what could have been an interesting and intimate look at our deepest fears in a relationship- that the other person will see us for who we are and horror-struck, leave; or even a deconstruction of the heterosexual woman's fantasy of The Perfect Man, is instead a tired repetition of the Beauty-and-the-Beast trope. You can dress it up and put a gun-toting, career woman wig on it, but that disguise falls apart pretty quickly. Cha Ji Won openly states not once, but several times, that she would rather live the comfortable lie; it's only when even that isn't an option- and not because of her choice or agency, but circumstances and the man coming to a decision, that she begins to let go. But only for a little while- barely ten minutes in show time- because ultimately, this is a female wish fulfilment fantasy, isn't it? Her longsuffering perseverance is rewarded when he decides to mould himself to her fantasy version of him, and the past is erased, and time reset, complete with soft lighting and soaring soundtrack.

Some love stories are horror stories, but others are horror stories masquerading as love stories. Why are we so often sold the latter, and so accepting of the narrative gaslighting? When I look at the popularity of Search WWW vs Flower of Evil, I feel bitter despair and quite a lot of anger. Why do so many women- and it is women, who are producing this work, for women, primarily (I mean, romance, as a genre)- settle for so little? It's the twenty first century, I think, why are we still here, I rage, gnashing my teeth, and indulging in the vicious satisfaction of giving Flower of Evil a single star rating that will make not a dent in its popularity. If we can't demand and aspire to a better class of fantasy, what hope do we have? As you dream, so you will do.

I often think that these days feminism is made toothless because we're shaping it into something that will validate every little feeling of ours;  we don't want to be made uncomfortable by it. But feminism is not meant to make anyone comfortable; interrogating your own desires and pleasures is as much a part of smashing the patriarchy as fighting for fundamental human rights like bodily autonomy.

I guess, in the end, what I want to say is this: for the love of sanity, dream better.

[samanthadalton]

You’re latest Ina Fanfic was sooo lush! Can you write one where Ina and MC bump into each other in NYC on Christmas Eve? Just think that would be super romantic ❤️

hi anon, im sorry it took a while, im slowly trying to get back into my requests, hope you enjoy ❤️

pairings: Ina x Bea

taglist: @cloud9in @kulaykape @citybornchick @helpconfusedpersonhere @astrangeandunusualgirl @jenxespinoza @thedaft1 (added people from my ina taglist if you wanna be added in future fics let me know 😊) 

word count: 1.7k 

Holiday tour date

You wade through the busy streets of New York as the streets are in full pandemonium, as patrons roam the streets, most likely doing their last minute christmas shopping. You take a minute to watch the looks on their faces, so full of worry, so far from the christmas cheer they’ll most likely plaster on their faces tomorrow morning. As you look around the streets you see a woman who kinda looks like Ina, she even has the same glasses as Ina- wait… that IS Ina. What is the coincidence that you’ll bump into her on Christmas Eve??? 

You’re about to approach her, until you notice the crestfallen expression on her face, her corner of her lips drawn downwards as she wishfully stares up at bustling crowds. After a few more moments of deliberation you decide to take the plunge and approach Ina, after all it's Christmas Eve and no one should be sad on Christmas Eve.  

“Hey stranger.” You announce as you edge closer to her. As if startled by the sound of your voice, Ina jerks her head towards your direction, her eyebrows shot up. 

“Bea!” She looks at you like you’re not real, unable to hide the sound of surprise in her voice. “What are you doing here?” 

“I saw you from across the street and decided to say hi to my favourite professor.” You give her a sweet smile and see some of the shock dissipate from her face, as her expression softens and relaxes. 

“I meant what are you doing in New York?” She quirks an eyebrow up at you. “I thought you said you were going home for the holidays?” 

You sigh sadly, and pointedly glance away, “yeah, I was planning on going home a couple of days ago but there’s a storm back at home so all flights got cancelled.” You give her an empty smile, sadness swimming in your eyes as you draw your gaze back to her. She frowns slightly, her expression solemn as she looks at you apologetically. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. What about your roommate Zoey? Surely you aren’t spending Christmas alone?” 

You are but for some reason you don’t want Ina to know that so you give Ina a teasingly smile and retort, “wouldn’t you like to know?” Ina huffs, her cold breath clouds out of her mouth as she does, and you can’t help but smile. “So what are you doing here professor?” 

Ina gazes at you, a calculating look on her face, and you can almost feel her building the walls around you, but as the intensity of your gaze darkens, Ina sharply inhales before running a hand through her hair. 

“Lexi decided to crash my Christmas Eve party and try to parade me around my colleagues like I’m some trophy she’s just won.” At the mention of Lexi you feel your blood beginning to boil, that try hard wouldn’t know what’s good for Ina even if it slapped her in the face, and with how arrogant she acts, you would just love to give her a nice slap on her stupid face. Ina glances over to see your fists balled up and places a sweet hand on yours, her fingers gently rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles. “Something the matter?” You see the amusement glistening in her eyes which just frustrates you more. 

“No.” 

“Are you sure,” she playfully asks, and you feel the walls she put up before, crashing down as she teases you. 

“Lexi needs to get a job and stay away from you,” you grumble. 

“She’s a renowned anthropologist.” 

You sigh, “no, it’s a saying.” You relax your hand opening it up and Ina slips her hand into yours, fingers intertwining. You’re not sure if she’s purposely done it or not. “Enough about Lexi, I don’t want to hear about her anymore than I have to.” 

Ina flashes you a wide grin, “and what do you suppose we do?” 

“It’s Christmas Eve, why don’t we live a little?” You gently tug Ina towards you, her slender fingers tightening against your hand even more. “It’s my first Christmas in New York, why don’t you show me around?” 

“Okay, but be warned this won’t be an ordinary tour, where we go to the conventional places every other tourist goes. I’m going to give you the full New York experience.” Ina’s gaze darkens and just as the air surrounding the two of you begins to feel dense with anticipation, she pulls you out of your trance as she trudges along the soft snow begins to cover the ground. 

Ina first takes you to a food stand where she orders apple pie nachos for you to share

“What the hell is apple pie nachos?” 

“You’re about to find out.” 

The vendor hands Ina a box and she slips a $20 bill in his tip box and places her hand on the small of your back to guide you away from the stall as other customers begin to order. You look at Ina as if she’s heaven sent, your heart unable to take the softness overload of this woman. 

Ina licks her thumb after opening the box and raises a confused eyebrow at you, “what?” 

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a saint?” 

Ina lets out a small laugh as she hands you the box, “everyone could use something extra during the holiday.” 

You take the box, your fingers brushing against hers as you do, “so this is the famous apple pie nachos?” You inhale the sweetness of the food, your entire body going into sensory overload just by the smell of the cooked apple infiltrating your nose. You lift up one of the nacho pieces and all but moan when you crunch into the apples, “oh my god this is heaven.” Ina watches you eat, as her gaze drifts down to your lips and when you catch you, you catch her cheeks dusting with red. “You want a bite?” You take a piece of the nachos and hold your hand out to her, inviting her to have a taste. Ina leans forward, her eyes never leaving yours as she wraps her lips around the piece of food and all makes a satisfied groan and she relishes in the taste. 

“Mmm.” You feel transfixed by the way her tongue darts out to lick the glaze on her lips, unable to look away. Ina’s lips quirk up a little and you feel like it’s your turn to be flushing red. Once you finish the box you look at the time on your phone. 

“Don’t you think it’s getting late? You should be getting home.” You try and hide the sadness that’s lurking in your tone. Ina’s eyes search yours, before she gives you a small smile. 

“Why would I leave now when I haven’t even shown you the best part?” You feel your heart doing somersaults as Ina’s hand finds yours once again and she pulls you into a cab and whisks you away to an unknown place. 

… 

“Trust me Bea, it will be worth it.” You trudge behind Ina, your legs beginning to burn as you walk up a secluded hill, you mentally groan and berate yourself for not being fitter but you don’t mind the view of Ina’s ass in front of you and she effortlessly ambles up the hill. “Almost there.” 

Once you reach the top you triumphantly cheer, your legs slumping over as you sit on the slope of the hill looking out to the rest of New York, the brightness of the christmas lights glowing every inch of the town. 

“Wow.” You breathlessly say as Ina sits next to you, your legs brushing together. 

“Wow indeed.” Ina wistfully gazes at the town, her eyes contemplative. You bask in the silence for a few moments, reflecting back on the night you’ve had so far with Ina. It’s been a while since you’ve seen her so free, so careless. Ina breaks the silence, when she speaks her voice is low and soft. 

“Charlotte loves christmas, so does Lillian.” You hum as you recollect the time Ina told you about her sister and niece, you remember the cheerful glint in her eyes as she told you about the time she took her niece to a theme park. “Sometimes Lillian gets mad when I place work over her, but sometimes I have to sacrifice things for the sake of my career.” In your peripheral vision you see her eyes move to yours, filled with sadness and longing. She sighs dolefully before speaking out again. “It’s why I love Christmas so much, it gives me an excuse to be with my family and put them first no matter what.” 

“Ina?” Ina hums in response. “If spending Christmas with your family is so important, why are you here with me right now?” You gaze up at her, anticipating her answer. You see a smile ghost around her lips as she meets your eyes, her brown eyes glistening under the reflection of the lights, “because we should all have some company during the holidays. I can’t imagine how you’ve been feeling without your family.” 

You nonchalantly shrug, trying too hard not to think about being away from them, “it is what it is I guess. I can’t control the weather. But thank you Ina. Tonight was great.” 

“Bea,” your name escapes her lips in a breathy fashion, “I know that this,” she gestures between the two of you, “is unconventional to say the least. But you must know I,” she pauses, her eyebrows furrowed together as she looks away from you, unable to finish her sentence. 

You cup her chin, bringing her gaze back on yours, “I know Ina. Let’s just forget about everything else tonight. Right now we’re just two people with a connection we can’t ignore.” 

“Right,” she nervously chews on her bottom lip before leaning down, capturing your lips in a soft and slow kiss. Before she can pull away, you lean in more, your hands hooking around her neck as you draw her in closer, the kiss becoming more fuelled as she slips her tongue into yours and you involuntarily moan. You enjoy the sensation of her lips on yours for a few more moments before pulling apart resting your forehead against hers. “Merry Christmas Ina.” 

“Merry Christmas Bea.”

[ushioink]

(Part 1 of Careful,)

The world’s a little quiet today, or maybe she thinks this way because the AC is on full mode. Her earphones are pressed on her ears, and her fingers are running over the laptop keyboard in light speed. Everything she’s doing is an example of tranquility. She’s trapped in this sphere of solitude, and she loves it. The library is entirely empty, too, considering it’s early in the morning for torture. But whatever, she likes when things are clear and monotonous.

Of course, every good thing is bound to the burden of decomposition, and so her quiet is disturbed. At first, it’s just a body that’s hovering over her table. A large body. Enough to darken her desk and wide enough to block the cool air of the AC gushing over her. She’s intending to ignore it, but she’s not exactly good at that. So she takes off her earphone and pauses her monstrous clicking. She looks up, glare taking place over the dead shapes of her bitch face, ready to confront the person stripping her of her cocoon. Only, she doesn’t see a stranger.

It’s a man, and she’s not familiar with men - usually she’s just a virgin in all aspects of the opposite sex - but he’s not a face well forgotten. He’s one of the dudes that people whispered about in the hallways, and even her, an antisocial not-give-a-shit girl has heard about him. She’s a bit mortified about his sudden station over her table, but she forgets about her curiosity to resume her glaring. He winces a little because of her harsh glaring, especially when she pulls her earphones so she can hear the sound of her eyes going absolutely still in the dangerous motion. Besides him stands another man, a taller one, and he, too, sparks recognition in her well-organized mind. But she doesn’t give this other man attention; she only looks at the shorter guy.

“I have a proposition.” He says, trying to keep his voice steady. She’s a little - a lot - annoyed about his demanding tone, as if he’s used to dropping requests that take no for an answer. So, she scoffs.

“No.”

His eyes, which were narrowed down in a way to intimidate her (as if) widen a little, and he splutter. “You didn’t even hear what I have to say!”

“Don’t care, still no.” She returns back to her speedy typing, just to have something to do and to irritate the guy. God knows how well-versed she is in the effects of ignorance. She hopes he too, is immensely annoyed by it.

His narrowed eyes go a little wide, before he narrows them again. He looks down at the unoccupied chair across her chair, then at her, who’s still pretending to be immersed in her ridiculous writing, before pulling the chair out from under the table and plopping his pretty little butt over it. She doesn’t give him the attention he desires, not even when he releases a big sigh of relief. She keeps on clicking on her keyboard, completely unbothered. This makes him annoyed for some reason. No other female has ignored him like that when he graced them with his pretty, dark presence, and no other person has taken it so far to pretend he doesn’t exist, either. He’s damn well-aware of what he does to people, both genders, whatnot with his beautiful kohl-ridden eyes, his thin, pink lips that perfectly curl into a pout that’s deadly, and his killer body. What’s wrong with this woman? He actually came here by the stupid, stupid convincing tactics of his friend to beg for help, and he’s being swiped off like dirt? Ridiculous!

He curls a fist over his mouth like a fake posh man and clears his throat, making her look at him with her deadly, iridescent eyes. “What if I offered you ten thousand dollars for catching a mice trap in the Dark Dungeons?”

The Dark Dungeons is a place in the university’s library where everyone just pretends doesn’t exist for some reason - probably because of all the boring past researchers of the graduated students stacked there - and ultimately ended up being deserted. A lot of students are scared to venter there alone, recapping fake tales about pale ghosts and demons that are there to hunt them. She’s not afraid of such stupidity.

“Okay,” she shrugs casually, pausing in her rapid typing and closing her laptop. The student blinks at the quick gesture. “Pay it in cash?”

He’s dumbfounded; of course he is. He hadn’t anticipated his dumb proposition (which isn’t even real) to be met with such ease. He continues to blink, “But you just said no.”

She shrugs again, crossing her fingers over her laptop like a CEO waiting for a colleague’s destruction. The fist he’s holding against his mouth is put down on the desk. He wipes his expression clear of his flabbergast. She doesn’t allow him to say anything, though. “It depends on the proposition, really, and my capabilities in doing it. I can catch a mice trap in the presumptuous Dark Dungeons, and I will agree on it for ten thousand dollars. This is, knowing you, the only good offer you’ll be willing to give. I don’t want to hear the rest, because I know the rest, and I refuse the rest beforehand.”

“So you know who I am?” He sounds delightfully surprised. It’s the only thing he caught from her monologue, the fact she knows who he is despite only discovering about her recently.

She gives him a look as if he’s an idiot. Then, she returns to her work and opens the laptop. His cheeks flush at that look, still surprised that she’s not even remotely affected by him. He finally gives his companion, a tall guy who casually slipped on the seat beside him and practically occupying the entire space with his large body, a helpless look; and his friend merely shrugs disinterestedly.

“Hey,” he changes tactics by knocking on her desk with his knuckles, his eyebrows slightly growing narrowed as he frowns.

The man’s a little bit upturned by the mischievous twinkle that goes on like a bell on her eyes as she ignores him, a spark that would have gone unnoticed if he hadn’t been sitting close to her. But it’s strange nevertheless to see her, a woman so poised, a woman full of confidence and empathy, show such molecular emotion. Mind blowing

“Look at me. Hey!”

She looks up at him, the twinkle shifting into deep, rooted annoyance. “Yes? Is there anything of significance that you want to tell aside offering a proposition to a complete stranger?”

He’s dumbfounded yet again. “Is that a way to talk to someone? What a potty mouth you have! Do you use it to kiss people?”

She’s the one dumbfounded now, fooled at her own game of ignorance. “Excu.. excuse me! Potty mouth! Me? I’m a polite person, thank you very much. I’m just in tune with reciprocation at the moment.”

He sounds extremely frustrated when he says, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

The companion of the rotten boy clears his throat before she can retaliate, and she gives him her attention for the first time since he sat himself next to his friend. His face is long and droopy, lazy, and his eyes are squinted as if he’s trying to make sense of her tiny figure sitting across. When he speaks, his voice is husky. “Yah, don’t yell. We’re in a library.”

They glare at him, their eyes holding icicles. He huffs. “The last time I’ve been here, the librarian kicked me out for knocking one of his shelves. If he knows that I’m here again, which he will by your loud voices, I’m going to be staked. I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve seen a lot of vampire movies. Staking seems really hurtful.”

They shoot him disbelieved eyes. He puts a hand over his chest. “I have a sensitive heart. A wooden stake will make my delicate organ scar. That’s not good on my resumé.”

The first guy gapes at his friend, whereas she shakes her head in disappointment of being a part of this conversation. She goes back to her work while poking her tongue on the insides of her cheek, trying to restrain her growing fury.

“What?” The tall companion looks at his friend weirdly, “You haven’t seen the resumés I’ve seen online. They have applications out of this world. What if my beautifully intricate heart is required? Don’t want it marred!”

“Why the fuck would anyone ask for an image of your heart, Yeol? What job even requires the internal lookout of your organs?” His friend rebuts.

“How’d I know? I’m not logged in to alljobs.com!”

“Maybe you should, so you’ll be prepared to have a reasonable answer to your dumb shenanigans!”

“Will you both just shut up!” She snaps, smashing her laptop closed (again). They turn to her, blinking. “Why the fuck you’d even sit in front of a person you don’t know and have this conversation while they’re listening?”

They look scorned, cheeks going red. They regretfully look down at their laps, fiddling with their fingers.

“Now,” she exhales from her nose angrily, resembling a red-faced dragon (she doesn’t actually blush, but the running fury that’s gobbling her up leaves her face looking like a swollen tomato). “What the fuck do you want?”

The smaller man opens his mouth to say his demands once again, but she rudely raises an open palm up, squinting. “Speak gently. And slowly. And politely.”

He glares but complies. “I have something to ask of you, a proposition. Actually, you’re not a stranger, at least not as if now. I know who you are.”

She quirks a sharp eyebrow up, unrelentingly and very judgmentally. She’s not the type of person to be swayed over anything, definitely not over this man, too.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re one of the smartest students in our batch, and I kinda have been going through a lot with one of my assignments, so this idiot here told me to ask you for help.” He points to his companion, who salutes mockingly using two of his fingers. “It’s about the aftermath of war, and the effects it leaves on the intermingled classes of eighteenth century China. I’m very bad at writing shit. I confuse my statements; I fail at rearranging my paragraphs; I suck at choosing intellectual perspectives; and I most definitely can’t be on the neutral side to the point of sounding extremely radical. Would you help me write my research? It’s worth a bit of my marks considering I didn’t take the midterm for, ahem, certain reasons,” there’s a soft hue of red that glows in his cheeks, and feeling his blush, he scratches them with his long nails awkwardly.

“No.” The cute color doesn’t deter her at all, and she begins to collect her laptop and books to leave. Or, pretending to. She does not have any thought about leaving, not even when there’s a handsome stranger trying to invade her tranquil space. But, regardless of her wants, such gesture made the man nervous. He snaps his head up, eyes wide, and pushes himself to his feet quickly to stop her from leaving.

“Why not?” He begins to be angry. “Is this because you know who I am? Does my... Does our reputation precedes us?”

She gives him a cooly leveled look. “I only give favors to friends. You’re not a friend. Very simply. I couldn’t care less about your reputation, which does in fact precedes you. People tend to talk about things they don’t understand. The juiciest the gossip, the more people want to talk about it.” She pauses a little, confusedly staring at them. “Don’t you guys know that? When you wear these clothes, pierce all parts of your body, flash all of your tattoos, and walk around intimidating people, they will talk badly about you. Huh, I thought you guys are smart enough to discover this much about the nature of people.”

Whereas he looks startled out of his way with the sincerity in her words, It’s the companion who takes the time to speak. He asks her, his eyebrow raised. “Why’d you think we’re smart?”

She smirks at him, and he’s surprised that it’s actually playful, not malicious. “It’s only those that rebel the constant demands of society that have their heads teetered towards either intelligence, or insanity.” She slings her bag on her shoulder, her face going back to its previous expressionless slate. “Bye now.”

She doesn’t leave. She merely just stands and watches them watching her. It takes the two university boys a second to understand the implications behind her words, and when they do, they groan. They stand up, albeit slowly, and the shorter one dares to shoot her a grumpy, malicious glare, before walking away. The taller one simply tilts his head downwards in a respectable nod before following his friend.

Once they leave, she smiles, and the curl of her lips makes her face radiant, a whole lot flowery than the actual blanket of monochromatic nothingness that usually sticks on her all the time. She sits back down on her seat, opens her laptop, and begins to type again.

-

Oh the long road. Oh the long road. She sighs in her head, her legs heavy and unbalanced, almost sending her to the ground with how weak they feel. After almost six hours in university, with three classes and breaks in between, she’s finally done with all the nonsense that she, daily, has to face. Actually, university hasn’t been on her mind before in high school when she was in her senior year for this exact reason. She is too lazy for something overloaded like university. But, if she is being honest with herself, she doesn’t see herself in any place besides university, especially if she wants to have a ‘decent’ job. So, she tries to succumb to the voice compelling her to move forward, and ignoring the one that tells her to fuck everything and flop on the ground, dead.

A sound calling her name stops her in her long, angry strides, and she turns to the back to see her friend, Sami, waving for her, smiling so preciously that actual stars appear on her eyes. She’s not oblivious to the crowd gathering behind Sami, all males (and some females) staring at her with eyes twinkling with hearts. She reluctantly wave back, and Sami comes running towards her, beaming once she’s standing in front of her.

“You’re heading home?” Her friend asks.

She hums without a verbal consent. Her friend beams again.

“Great!” Sami loops their arms together. “Lets go together, and while we’re on the way, buy me a cocktail.”

“Alcohol this early? And why should I buy you one?” She raises an eyebrow up in ridicule, even though she already knows the answer to her rather dumb question.

Sami rolls her eyes. “No, an actual cocktail, with fruits and all. And you should buy me one because I’m your humble friend who asks nothing of you at all.”

“You ask for things all the time,” she narrows her eyes, and points at Sami’s earrings. “I bought you those earrings,” she points at her bag. “And I bought you this bag. And those shoes. I might as well buy you a house to live in if I’m already this much husband material.”

Sami grins, beaming, and her grip over her arm tightens. “It’d be so great if my future husband actually pays for all of my things. I’ll be a pretty, studious, working housewife that do things for him and accommodate all of his precious needs. Aw, I miss him already.”

“You should be careful not to say this in front of another woman that isn’t me.”

Sami blinks cluelessly. “Why? I didn’t say anything infuriating, did I?”

She pats her head sympathetically, her hand calloused despite the gentle, sardonic gesture. “Not at all. Not at all.”

They walk out of the university’s large grounds with Sami the one doing most of the talking, the bouncing, and the gleeful intervals; her grip tight around her arm, and her soft laughter surrounding them whole. She wouldn’t say that she was entirely comfortable about the concept of having a friend, but it has been two years now since she knew Sami, and she began to understand that in order to enjoy something beautiful, you have to watch it burn first, which’s why she, despite not liking it, disposed herself of her antisocial behavior, and stuck around with Sami.

Upon the huge gates of the university, she catches sight of the two students who had interrupted her morning study with their obnoxious presence. They’re standing in front, one of them - the tall one - is leaning against the large beige wall beside the gates, and the nuisance - the one requesting - is crouching on the floor right beside him, a fake cigar made of paper in between his fingers. They’re already staring at her, anticipating her exit. When her eyes meet the dark ones of the crouching guy, he smirks, his pink lips thin and inviting. He puts the fake paper in his mouth, pretending to inhale, and then pulls it off to exhale loudly, his eyes suddenly half lidded. He’s staring at her. She stares back, then she narrows her eyes, ticking her chin to the side in a silent request for him to look away. His smirk widens, and he doesn’t look away; his eyes invading her soul to the point she feels something scratch at the surface of her skin, begging to be released.

She scoffs. And almost as if he’s hearing her, he waggles his eyebrows teasingly. She blanches, disgusted, and her facial expression catches Sami’s attention.

“Who’re you looking at?” Sami turns to follow her friend’s eyes before she can look away, furrowing her eyes upon seeing the two boys. She turns to her friend curiously; nervously. “Do you... do you know them?”

She’s quick to shake her head, “Nah, I don’t know them outside the rumors that I heard circulating about them. I think one of their names starts with a B? Or an H? Anyhow, I don’t know who they are.”

“Why are they looking at you?”

She shrugs. “Beats me. Probably think I’m a visible, touchable time loop or something. That’d be cool. Have you ever seen Doctor Strange?”

Sami stares at her as if she’s an alien. “What on earth are you talking about?”

She shakes her head. “Never mind. Let’s quicken our pace. Maybe we’ll lose them in the crowd.”

As if hearing their words, the two boys jump to their feet (the one standing merely bouncing around) and they follow after them like two little creeps. They don’t say anything for a while, like announce their already large presence, and she ticks her head backwards with raised eyebrows, meeting their amused - yet frustrated - faces. She tilts her head, silently asking them about what the fuck they’re doing, and the shorter one of the two shrugs, the taller one smirking a little, the cigarette roll that was wrapped around the other’s mouth now in his. She looks away.

Sami notices her friend’s head going forward and backward, and turn around to give them a funny look, a little nervous for some reason. She looks back at her friend and pulls at her sleeve, a frozen smile on her face. “They’re following us.”

“If there’s an ice cube, large enough to have legs and is following me, and the world is so flabbergasted by it’s appearance, but you’re only concerned about taking your way home without interruptions. Would something happen if I gave it attention? No, you know why?“ she leans closer to Sami and with her big, wide eyes, she whispers. “Because it’ll melt away.”

Sami shakes her head in exasperation. Even after two years of being friends with her; she’s never getting used to her random thought processes. Either-way, Sami doesn’t feel entitled enough to say anything against that, and although she releases a little grumble from her chest in irritation at the skin contact, she doesn’t remove her arm away. Smiling, she leans her head on her shoulder.

“Yah. You can’t just pretend we don’t exist.” The shorter one says, or yells really.

His friend scoffs, and it’s strangely shudder-inducing because of his low grating voice. “We’ll follow you home if destiny calls.”

Sami lifts her head to peek at them, then quickly looks at her calm, astute friend. “Are you not going to answer?”

“A bird could constantly peck on my window and I wouldn’t shoo it away. I’m too lazy.”

Sami’s eyes mellow down, and her lips smile. “But that’s exactly what you do, sweetie. You can’t handle disturbances, especially when it affects your general surroundings.”

“You’re right. I’m going to kick their ass.” She stops in her gait, turns around, and glares; Sami stopping next to her. The two university boys pause in their strides, blinking.

“Question, exactly why was I chosen among the high grades receiving bastards in our class?” She raises her eyebrows up. “Is it because you think I’m easy? Or I’m a woman? Is it because you think I’m nice?” She says nice as if it’s a heinous word created for her personal offense.

The boys share a confused look. Then, the tall one clears his throat, readying himself for the paragraph he’s about to spout. “I’ve never once thought you’re easy, and neither have Baekhyun. We’ve seen the way you talked back to the teachers, and man, do you have a temper. I’m actually a bit shaky right now because I’m asking this favor of you. I’m not a misogynist, man. Why’d you make me something I’m not. love women. I love all wonen. Perhaps a little too much,” Baekhyun, the short guy beside him, is nodding his head sadly, “I’d have told Baekhyun to choose Dahyeon if I thought she was as responsible as you are. But the girl’s a klutz. She ruined a paper of mine once. Won’t let her do it again,” he then tilts his head, his confused face getting graver. “I’m sure as fuck you’re not kind, or nice. I wouldn’t have already been going through emotional trauma just by the thought of approaching you, yet, here we are.”

“Here we are.” Baekhyun spreads his arm with a surrendering look flashing on his handsome face.

Sami turns to her friend and analyzes the stone cold expression on her face. She hesitates, for a second, before she says. “They do have a point. You’ve traumatized half of the population in this university.”

“We still have two more years for you to traumatize the rest.” Baekhyun comments cheekily. When she shoots him a glare, he winks. She’s a little surprised. She hadn’t met anyone who winked at her deadly stare-offs. People are terrified of her, not amused of her.

“How many pages do you want your assignment to be? Mine’s going to be a minimum of eight, considering it’s only a meager homework, so I’ll try to shove your own pages between my breaks to save time.”

Their eyes go wide. Baekhyun actually gulps, unprepared for the challenge. “You write eight pages for an assignment worth ten marks?”

She raises her eyebrows. “You’re here begging for help for this stupid assignment, so I guess we’re both pulling up our shits, right?”

He shuts up.

It’s the tall one that answers. “Any page number is fine. Take your pick.”

She nods, “You’ll have five pages, then. I take breaks in between my classes. I have two-to-three classes for five days aside Saturdays and Tuesdays, so we’ll write two pages every week until its due date in three weeks’ time,” she takes her phone and shoves it in the chest of the short guy. “Give me your number so I text you the hours I’m free on. I don’t give a shit if our schedules overlap. When I tell you to come, you come, with your laptop and all of your writing necessities with you. One mistake and you’re out, get it?”

Baekhyun sweats, especially since her expression is deadly serious and her hand, which is still clutching her phone on his chest is cold, deadly so. He gulps anyway and nods. “Thank you, really. Appreciate it. Is there anything I can do for you to repay the favor?”

She smirks, and pulls her hand off of his chest after he accepts the phone. “A bad boy who knows how to say thank you? That’s a new one. And keep the favor until after you deliver your assignment. I’m not sure you’ll wanna give me any favors after I’m done with you. Say, are you willing to pay money?”

He pales. “I’m poor as fuck, ma’am, expected of a university student, right? Please say yes.”

She smirks again, amused of the panic in his eyes. “Relax, idiot. Just wanna check something.” She turns to the tall one. He’s staring right back at her, eyes wide and brown hair fluffy. For a bit, she’s taken aback by the actual fact of how gorgeous he is. Wide, almond eyes, soft hair, tall girth like a skyscraper, and she fucking loves skyscrapers, the taller, the better. He’s wearing a weird mesh of jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket, but he’s also wearing a sweater on top. He must be sweating in there. His wide eyes turn a little confused when she merely gapes at him, and she notices. She clears her throat, and rolls her eyes so the spectators don’t notice she’s a weird bitch.

“What’s your name?” She asks coldly. There’s a strange warmth circulating her body, but of course, she ignores that.

“Sorry?” He splutters.

She lifts a sleek eyebrow up, holding herself from smirking widely. “Your name,” she points at Baekhyun, who’s blinking down at her phone like it’s a foreign industrial scam. “This moron’s Baekhyun. Kinda noticed you mention his name. What’s your name? I’m a bit curious to know about the chaperone’s name, considering they’re always so ignored and unappreciated in movies.”

He looks a bit flustered, as if he hasn’t noticed he has been a chaperone all this time. He wipes the slight vulnerability that flashed earlier, twirls the paper stick in his mouth, and gives her a mock salute. “Chanyeol, ma’am, but don’t bother memorizing it. We wouldn’t be seeing each other enough for the need of that.”

She doesn’t comment on his words even though she’s curious. She merely tells herself he’s as weird as she is, probably a little arrogant, but of course not as her. No one’s as arrogant as her. She sits on the throne of arrogance. Her parents once thought she had narcissistic syndrome, those assholes, but dismissed it later on when she gave them enough evidence she wasn’t. She pays attention to Baekhyun, coughing to alert him of the actual fact he has been taking too much time typing gibberish on her phone, and not his phone number. She swears to God he probably failed to reach her contacts. He looked like a dumb loser up close like that, but she didn’t want to judge him so severely. A guy who winks at her instead of shit his pants must be a dumbass, but again, she doesn’t want to judge.

Baekhyun looks up from her phone upon her cough, smirks his annoyingly attractive smirk, and juggle the phone towards her (after locking it, for some reason) she tries catching her phone, and thankfully she succeeds. She glares, about to scold him about the degrading act of her precious gadget, when he all but announces.

“We’ll go see our own way now. Thank you for such precious moment. Perhaps we’ll be able to create more while avoiding chopped heads, from your part, of course. May the grounds open up to present you with a fortunate gift,” he does a whole theatrics of bowing, while simultaneously taking a step back, bumping into an unamused Chanyeol. “Adios, my lady.”

He turns around to Chanyeol, who whispers something to him. They begin to walk away, and Baekhyun says something to the taller guy, in retaliation, which earns him an eye roll. Not taking this lightly, Baekhyun jumps - to reach the tall giant - so he can wrap his arm around his neck, and pulls him into a headlock. Chanyeol doesn’t fight. He lets himself be dragged like a deadweight doll, like he’s used to such abuse, and she shakes her head. Chanyeol seemed cool with his indifference, but perhaps he isn’t the one in total control here.

Sami calls her softly, and forgetting her only friend for a bit - the two boys have extremely large presence - she turns to her. She offers a small smile, showing a dimple to her left side, and Sami beams.

“I’m not even going to ask what the heck just happened,” she offers her a hand, Sami; and she looks at it weirdly. “Ready to go home?”

Sighing, she accepts the hand, and agrees to be dragged home. Sami looks down at their hands; and thinks a little, her brows going all intersected. She shrugs, cooly intertwining their fingers together. She doesn’t even blink at the gesture, having been used to it. Out of character, the only thing on her mind at the moment is those two, strange university men.

-

Author Note:

So?

We haven’t got anything grounded yet. We still have a lot to cover! The personality of ChanBaek is beautiful, stick to see our dumb yet gorgeous boys.

Also, if you haven’t noticed already, our OC is freaking DANGEROUS! Chanbaek are in for a ride!

[voice-of-barsoom]

A vignette for @tangleweave

The Jeddak of Helium stared out across the rooftops of her city, ignoring the wine in her glass and possibly the Jedwar sitting across from her. Kantos Kan, admiral, long time adviser, and close confidante of the woman sitting across from him, watched her silhouette in quiet amusement.   "Do my eyes deceive me?  Is that a little smile I see, my Jeddak?" Dejah's lips quirked and she cast an eye towards Kantos. "Your eyes see more than they should sometimes, my friend." "So it is a smile. I do believe it has been more than fifty ords have passed since I last saw such a smile. Dejah Thoris, have you finally met someone?" "Bite your tongue, Jedwar."  That smirk morphed into a proper smile and she looked away again. "I have not 'met someone'." "By the Goddess, I do believe you're lying to me now." "Kantos! I could never lie to you." "And yet here you are, telling me that this," the color of the word 'this' turns golden in his thoughts, "smile of yours is not driven by someone who has touched your heart. You have spent too much time on Jasoom, to think you can deny such a thing.  And to me, of all people.  I am wounded!" "You are insufferable, you know this, don't you?"  Dejah's laughter rung in her words regardless of her denials. "I am missing a certain someone, it's true." Kantos leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hand with a rakish grin. "Who is he?  Or she? I want to know everything." Dejah couldn't keep the smile hidden any longer. "All right, fine."  She reached for the carafe, refilling her wine glass and his.  Her movements are measured and serene, letting him feel the bloom of her thoughts deepen and resonate with the memory of his Mona Lisa smile.  "It's a he." Kantos's eyes widen at the revelation. "A human." "Yes."  She met his gaze for the first time and for the first time since his best friend's passing, he saw none of the grief and sadness, none of the despair that had haunted her for so long.  "He is a warrior of significant metal. Honorable beyond the telling of it.  Soft-spoken. Gentle. As fierce a soul as I have ever known." "Go on."  Kantos prodded, smiling as he watched his friend speak of this person she obviously cared so much for already.  That much is obvious as the more she spoke, the more energetic she became. "He isn't a glory seeker, Kantos.  He appears unassuming, almost harmless, and I tell you, he is anything but. His first instinct is to protect those who cannot protect themselves, or even protect those who do not believe they need protecting. He is fearless in executing his duties. Lethal when he needs to be.  And when he is not..."  Her voice tapered off, and again, her gaze went a little starry-eyed.  "Oh Kantos." "Dejah, finish your sentence."  Kantos chuckled behind his wineglass, sipping as he watched her come undone a little. "He is so kind, so gentle.  Blindingly insightful.  He has this wry sense of humor, and so self-deprecating.  He is the last person to trumpet his victories or accept accolades.  He simply goes about his business, so clear of vision." "I'm sensing a but..." Dejah took a breath, her brow furrowing as she shook her head.  "He is so lonely, Kantos.  Behind his implacable façade, there hides a man who has no family beyond his colleagues, no refuge save for his quarters." "Sounds strangely like someone I know." "Do you remember how attached John became to his thoats?" "Yes.  We thought it strange at first, but now, we treat them with the same respect.  Out of regard for his memory."  Yes, that's it. "He shows that same kindness and attention to all of his people.  Ever single one of them receives a hand on the shoulder, or a full human embrace when they need it most.  I have never seen someone so giving of himself.  And he has been no less with me." "You have embraced him?" "No," she answered quickly, sitting back in her chair.  "No I have not.  Though he does this thing that breaks my heart every time." "What is that?" "Well, I was injured in combat, and while we were waiting for rescue, he -- he reached out his hand and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear." Kantos's eyebrows floated up to the very pinnacle of their range.  "He touched your face?" "Without fear.  Without hesitation. It was just a simple touch, Kantos, but my heart..." "Does he know?  That you're in love with him?" Dejah sat back with a scoff.  "I am not." "More lies." "Kantos, you might be my closest friend but I am still your Jeddak." "Then quit lying to me.  My Jeddak." His lips thinned as he shot her a look. Dejah sagged in her chair, defeated.  There was a reason she kept him around.  "I might be completely head over heels.  Possibly." "You're using their metaphors again." "Shut up, please." Kantos laughed, settling back in his chair.  "You are.  You are in love with him." Dejah couldn't help but laugh as well, still shaking her head, even though she knew it was true. "He is a remarkable person, that is all.  I would be honored to have him as a suitor, should he ever decide that I turn his head."  In a breath, a dark cloud descended over her and the fire he saw in her eyes dimmed.  She settled back in her chair, her eyes closed.   Kantos leaned over and placed a hand on her arm.  "You should tell him." Dejah rested her hand on top of his, grateful for that small connection to reality. "I should. I want to." He sat back in his chair again, his lips pressed in a thin line. He is not good with matters of the heart.  "So.  Why haven't you?"  He could feel her drifting back into her thoughts. It hurt his heart to see, after seeing such life in her.  Whoever this man was, he needed to open his eyes and see the gift the Goddess had given him. "I don't know." She turned the wineglass a quarter turn, her finger running around the rim. "I am afraid he does not feel the same way about me." "If he doesn't, he is an idiot." She looked back to him, a sad smile on her lips now. "Kantos, please. I am grateful for your ire on my behalf, but this is a delicate situation." "Then why are you talking to me about it?" If he cannot make her smile one way, he will try another. "I don't know," she said, glancing back to him, appreciating his effort regardless.  "I suppose I needed your blunt wisdom to advise me." "Tell him.  That is my blunt wisdom for you." Dejah rolled her eyes at him and lifted her glass.  He immediately lifted his own to received her toast. "I shall take it under advisement." "You have been spending too much time among humans. But I understand, he is wary of you still, as is only right.  You are a stranger to him.  Do not be a stranger to him, Dejah.  Let him see your heart.  Let him hear it from your lips.  Be fearless for him.  If he is the man you say he is, he deserves no less." Dejah listened quietly, and nodded.  The silence stretched between them until she finished her wine and stood up.  She gathered her skirts and smoothed her hair. "I should return soon." The Jedwar stood as she rose, not saying that she'd only been home a day.  Some things would not keep and he understood this.  "Your chamber awaits you, my Jeddak.  At your leisure." "Thank you, Kantos. For everything."  Her right hand rested on his right shoulder, and he mirrored the gesture, touching her in respect and affection. "Always, my Jeddak, I am at your service.  Helium is in good hands until you return.  Stay as long as you need to." She nodded and smiled, inhaling a breath.  She had always done what was required of her as Jeddak.  Perhaps it was time for her to do the same for her heart. Perhaps.   For him, she would be fearless.  And nothing she had done in her long life terrified her more. 

FIN @tangleweave, a belated natal day gift for you.  You are such a gift, and I’m so glad I overcame my fear of reaching out to a new rp partner to make your acquaintance.  You have this amazing serene energy about you that is so wonderful to be around. I love your writing, and I adore you. May your coming year be full of all the good things.  You deserve all the good things.  💙💙💙

[seonghwa-is-babie]

Stress

 What does one do when stressed? Well certainly not lash out at their significant other. Unfortunately, that's exactly what y/n did, and now he has to fix it

Warning: light angst(swearing and slight violence) happy ending though :)

Note: I'm trying to improve my writing by taking some fics I wrote on watpad and rewriting them on here, I hope I did well and that it meets ur standarts, also if anything seems wrong or off about the writing please tell me

Sincerely, a very shy boi(ーー;)

y/n got back to the dorm from work, frustrated and exhausted, his boss has been a pain in the ass all day and to top it off, some of his colleagues still haven't gotten the message that he's not interested in them, because they're still trying to get with him even though they know he's taken.

"y/n, you're back! how was work?" speaking of which "fine San." San looked at him a bit confused and went to hug him "Did something happen? You sound a bit ti-" before he could even finish the sentence, y/n pushed him away "leave it San" y/n raised his voice "but i-"

y/n slammed his fist on the wall next to him "I said leave it! why are you so fucking clingy?! You don't need to know everything for fucks sake!" y/n yelled, not processing what he was saying. Only when the door shut, and San was no longer there, had y/n realised what he said" FUCK!"

🐍

the others came down, wondering what all the noise was, Hongjoong being the first one to approach y/n, who was now crouched over"what happened? why were you yelling?" he got back up and looked down in shame "I got back from work, all stressed and frustrated, then San came to me, asking how work was and if something was wrong, and I accidentally lashed out at him, and called him clingy" he explained, some tears coming from his eyes

"you fucking dumbass!" wooyoung shouted "you know how sensitive he can be about that, yet you yell at him, saying the things he's insecure about! Do you know what you've done?!" y/n glanced up at wooyoung "wooyoung, I-I didn't mean it"

A loud smack could be heard across the room, Wooyoung stood there in front of y/n, his hand red, and y/n face with a red mark on it

"Wooyoung! that wasn't necessary!" yunho pleads "no, that's what I deserve" y/n said as he goes to grab his coat and car keys "where are you going" seonghwa, along with the rest looked at him a bit confused "I'm gonna go find him, if I'm still searching and he comes back, please call me" the rest of Ateez nodded, wanting San back as soon as possible

y/n started the engine of his car, the first place he could think of where San could be was at the park not that far from the dorm, it's where y/n confessed to San. But after searching around the park for nearly an hour, he still found no trace of the boy being there, so he decided to go back to the car and drive around to see if he could find San.

🐍

It was dark outside and y/n was starting to lose hope that he would find San "maybe he's hiding on purpose, maybe he really doesn't wanna see me again" his thoughts got interrupted when he got a call from Jongho, he parked somewhere besides the road and picked up "is he back yet?" he could hear a sad sigh from the other line "no, that's what I was gonna ask you, everyone's worried for him. He's never done something like this"

with every word that came from Jongho, y/n started to feel more and more guilt "I'm so sorry this happened but I'm gonna do my best to fix it, I'll search around for a bit more, and I'll call you if I find him" "good luck hyung" he hung up

🐍

It's almost 11 pm and y/n's still searching for San "come on baby, where could you've gone off to" in the time that passed with searching, y/n couldn't stop thinking about wanting to hold San, tell him sorry for everything y/n said. He started crying, but was disrupted by his phone ringing, he semi-parked beside the road and looked at the caller id, it's Jongho "yeah?" "hyung, San just came back, he seems okay, but you should still try to get back as soon as you can" he felt so relieved knowing he was okay "be there in 10 minutes" he hung up and started to head back home

Back at the dorms🐍

All the members were still patiently waiting for one of the two to come back, but they were starting to lose hope that y/n could find San "what do we do if he can't find San?" the others looked at the youngest rapper "then we'll have to contact every person we know San's friends with, maybe he's staying the night with them." Hongjoong responded

A few minutes later, the door opened and there was San. the other members were staring at him like a stranger just walked in "ummm, why are you guys looking at me like that?" wooyoung was the first to get up to go hug the older "you have no idea how worried we were about you" he said as he hugged the older "yeah, y/n has been searching all night for you" seonghwa said as he also went to hug the younger "I'll call him to tell him to come back"

San widened his eyes "he was looking for me?" a wave of guilt washed over the boy, if he hadn't run off like that, this mess wouldn't have happened "come on, let's wait for him to get back, he'll be here soon. you should change into something more comfortable" San nodded and went up to his and y/n's shared bedroom to change

🐍

After only a few minutes, y/n came through the door "where's San?" as if on queue, the mentioned male came downstairs, facing his lover "y/n....." he began "I'm sorry for running off, and making you and the rest worry so much..." the other stood there a bit shocked, why was San apologising? "baby, you don't have to be sorry for that, I understand. I should be the one apologising to you, I was stressed from work and instead of talking about it, I lashed out and hurt you, and I'm so sorry for everything I said, I didn't mean any of it. You are my happiness, my love, my sunshine, my sannie, and I promise to never hurt you again"

San was in tears, he ran over to hug his lover, snuggling into the taller one "I forgive you, but if something like this happens again, please just talk to me about it." y/n nodded and looked down at San, he noticed the smaller was wearing one of his hoodies and he looked absolutely adorable in it

"You tired baby?" the smaller nodded, his head still buried in the taller's chest. y/n picked him up, carrying him to their bedroom, gently laying him down and getting in on the other side after changing into his nightwear

"y/n" the other hummed "can we..... cuddle? Please" the other smiled and turned to San, wrapping his arms around the smaller one "of course baby" they both smiled, snuggling up to each other, giving each other a good night kiss and falling asleep peacefully.