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achillieus · 3 years

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let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

quick note: i wrote this back in 2018 after meeting sebastian in greece but i redited it now, so if you see any mistakes or typos please tell me :)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning

part: 2/6

(other parts) (masterlist)

It’s Monday when they come back from their small trip to the south. You’re watering the jasmine in your balcony when you hear the engine of Argyris’ car slowly shut down and see two figures getting out of the back seats.

It’s him and a blonde woman. You remember meeting her that night in the terrace. You’ve learnt that she’s a great actress and will play the other main character in the film.

When she notices you looking at them, she waves.

“Hey, Sebastian it’s your friend there.” She gives his shoulder a soft nudge.

We’re not friends. That’s what you almost yell back at her.

His head shots up, smiling.

He’s always smiling. It’s getting annoying.

You can see him going through his bag as he calls your name.

“Look, I brought you some traditional sweets.” He’s holding a small wrapped up package. He starts wiggling it in the air.

He looks so jolly and proud of himself. It makes your throat dry.

And before you can control it, you laugh. You can’t see it from where you’re standing but he bites his bottom lip at the sound.

Two hours later he’s sitting in your kitchen devouring half of the pastries he got you.

“These are actually so good, how can you not like them?” He says and it comes out all garbled. His mouth is full of sugary dough.

You do like them. But he does too. And you can find them anytime you want here. You doubt it’s the same in New York.

“They’re just not my favorite,” he nods “but thank you anyway.”

“Well let’s say you owe me,” you furrow your brows in confusion “and will repay me by sending me some of those once I’m gone.”

He laughs before taking another bite.

And as you stare at him, you notice that he’s different. His gaze is tranquil, his voice is soft and he has some cream at the corner of his lips.

Like that, he looks more like a guy you met at college than a well known actor.

Like that, we could be friends, you think.

You talk a lot. He tells you about his time in Romania and his first audition. It makes you realize you are far more interested in acting than what you thought. You tell him how you think team Iron Man is the superior team. He gasps, as if he is hurt.

He doesn’t mention his girlfriend. You don’t ask about her. It’s easier for both of you this way.

A stifling heat rises to your body as you walk under the burning sun. You don’t realize how Argyris gets you to give Sebastian a tour around the city, but you can remember a pair of light eyes pleading you.

You can easily hear him humming to himself. You turn to look at him. He’s wearing a hat and his forehead is sweating. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’re in a very good mood today.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Well I’m stuck with you for the day so what choice do I have?” You shrug.

He makes a face at you. You crack and a huge smile forms in your face.

He leans closer, mouth to ear and then he speaks.

“You know, I can’t tell if you hate me or just like me too much.”

His breath hits your cheek.

You try not to blink at the sudden foreign touch.

His words find your skin and they’re so clear and powerful. Suddenly you’re an open page to him.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest and waits for an answer, a nod, a glance.

You are still standing close, the city sounds doing nothing to ease the heated silence between you two.

He realizes you’re not going to give him any response so he lowers his eyes.

And then, when he looks up again, it almost feels like he gives you mercy and agrees to let you get away with it this time.

He smiles.

“So where is Acropolis?”

When he’s lying on your couch after six hours of being a tourist and under the summer sun he looks exhausted. Still he’s his typical talkative self.

“You are always so pumped.”

“And you rarely are.”

“Doesn’t it get tiring?” you ask each other at the same time. It seems like you are two different sides of the exact same coin. One body. One heart.

“Today was nice.” He stretches his arms. “Thank you.”

You open the window. There is barely any wind out there. The air smells of hot cement and flowers.

The man on your couch has closed his eyes, breathing softly.

You try to ignore him over and over for the last days. Until you cannot ignore him anymore; your world has come to an end.

So many people know who Sebastian Stan is.

Only few will ever know him like this; falling asleep on a cheap brown couch with his hair messy, his chest rising and falling and his mind empty of thoughts.

These are photographs of your memories now.

An involuntary smile spreads across your face at the thought.

You see him swift and his hand clenches tightly around a throw pillow.

“Stop looking at me like that you creep,” he says.

“Come closer,” he means.

The sun is long gone and he’s still asleep when there’s a knock on your door. It’s Argyris.

“Please tell me he’s here.”

You nod and motion towards Sebastian’s drifted away body.

“When I left you this morning, I didn’t actually think you’d last this long together.” He tells you the moment he sees him.

The words fall out of his mouth too easily for your liking. “But I should have known better.”

You don’t understand much. You take a step out of your door. You don’t want to wake him up.

“Do you know how many times he mentioned you while we were away?’

Everything stops and falls quiet in the hall.

The words choke you. You shake your head.

“I need you to be smarter than him.” He says and touches your shoulder. “His world moves too fast for people like us.”

It’s effortless not to look at the man in front of you. It’s hard not to shallow his saying.

He wakes up an hour later. He looks at you and it feels sacred. His eyes are still red and the pillow has left a mark on his left cheek.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep here.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it was rude, you should have yelled at me to wake up or something.”

“But you looked tired.”

You carry on with doing the dishes and you hear the couch squeak as he stands up and steps towards you.

The water is refreshingly cold on your skin and the soap smells like lemon.

His hands find your waist and his touch is burning. You wish he disappears. You wish he stays for the night. You don’t even know what you’re wishing for anymore. He comes closer and rests his head on top of yours.

And then he wraps his arms around you and you get flashes of days and nights where there was not enough air for you to breath and your ribs ached.

His action is not so noble. It feels like his body steals all the rationality you have. But it gives you this feeling that there will be no more starless skies at night. And that’s enough for now, so you don’t complain.

His skin feels soft and he smells of sweat and vanilla. Somehow you find that alluring.

He looks at you for a second, like he’s trying to memorize your face. And then he pulls away completely silent.

You try to understand what he’s thinking but he gives nothing away. You were never good at reading people.

You blink and he’s almost out of your apartment.

“Goodnight” he shouts.

“Goodnight” you whisper.

You close the window. You wonder how he will spend the night. He probably won’t sleep soon. He just woke up.

But you can’t sleep either. You just move around in your bed. You sink into the sheets and try to close your eyes.

Your phone buzzes.

He follows you on Instagram.

I need you to be smarter than him.

You go through his profile. You want to think he’s doing the same. You want him to do the same.

His world moves too fast for people like us.

You sigh. Perhaps there could have been a time when you would have stayed away from him, but you can’t pretend to ignore it for much longer. And you’re scared of it. And you’re scared of him.

But you’re more scared of how hard it’s for loneliness to fade. And you wish this doesn’t end like a greek tragedy.

One day of the following week you go out for coffee. The curly haired woman comes with you. You don’t understand why. And while you’re adding more sugar to your espresso, she tells him she loves his acting. She uses all kinds of adjectives to describe it; hopeful and poignant, celestial.

You like the way she talks. She sounds beautiful. You almost envy her abundance of words.

But Sebastian stops listening.

He watches the way your fingers wrap around the sugar box. He can see your nerves and your synapses move underneath your skin and he thinks he’s watching a dance show.

He will never tell you, but it’s then; under the morning sun and with sugar in your hands, that he feels his heart beat with the power of cymbals for the first time.

He thinks you don’t have to know.

He’s wrong.

You learn the girl is an actress herself. They’ll be in the movie together. They look stellar together.

Looking at them, gives you a violent feeling that wrenches your stomach around.

You can’t hate her for that. You feel like it’s more your fault than hers. That feeling however, grabs you by the shoulders and doesn’t let go. You try not to let it show.

But for some reason when Sebastian almost touches your palm, you look at her and you’re certain this is entirely mutual.

You make a silent agreement to not include him in any of this.

“You were extremely quiet earlier.” He says as you reach the building you call home.

He wants to spend time together until his scheduled shooting. You don’t complain.

“You always say that.” You try to joke. He looks right at you.

And then you notice that his eyes aren’t the color of the sea. They’re more grayish blue. They’re like a frozen lake in December.

“I know,” he starts messing with his hair “But you can’t deny you barely talked back there.”

When you enter your apartment, he immediately throws himself on your couch. These last few days it feels like he owns that right spot there in front of your big window.

“I’ve told you, I talk when I have something to say.”

He smiles at your words.

“Then I must be lucky you talk to me.” He whispers softly.

You sit next to him. If you move a little closer you could touch him, feel his warmth. You don’t.

You never thought of how easy it has become to talk to him. You don’t keep your thoughts locked and your teeth clenched around him. And that’s a novice feeling for you.

You let your eyelids fall close and lay back.

There’s a language between you two. It starts with secret glances and whispers and now it contains words that build and ruin bodies and souls.

Sometimes you want to say them all together. Sometimes you just want to open your mouth and let everything flow out but then you’re scared you’ll make him mad. Or you’ll make him love you.

You can’t decide which is worse and that’s enough to stop you.

“What is this thing between us?” He sounds all tender-like, but his blood feels heavy at the moment. He’s not sure if he can keep breathing. He regrets the words that leave his lips, when it’s already too late.

You have the answer figured out long time before he asks. But you’re not ready to give it to him.

“I don’t know” you open your eyes “I don’t know.” You repeat.

He doesn’t tell anyone but sometimes he feels nauseous before a shooting. You can clearly see that now. His pacing up and down the room and his roaming eyes give him away.

You are surprised. You never thought he could be nervous. He looks so confident and radiant all the time; you sometimes forget he is still a regular human being.

“You have no reason to worry.” His lips twitch.

“I know.”

“But you still worry.” You grin and catch his arm to stop him from moving.

The look he gives you is acute.

“You have no reason to be sad,” he starts, without breaking eye contact “but you still are.”

You feel naked and hug yourself close.

It’s very strange to have someone scratch everything from you and see your raw truth. You’re not certain it’s something you enjoy. You wish it didn’t make you quiver.

Sebastian wishes he could scratch deeper under your dermis and your fingernails and slither there between your muscles and your heart where blood runs thick and melancholy hasn’t conquered yet.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head.

“You didn’t say anything hurtful.”

You worry your words may come out bitter. You don’t want that.

“It won’t last forever.” he says and then your name appears in his tongue. You like the way he says it. It almost sounds like poetry. “You won’t be sad forever.”

You smile and, in that moment, you aren’t a worldwide known celebrity and a girl in her early twenties. You are just two people seeking comfort.

The same night there’s a party for the first day of shooting. You don’t feel like going, but he doesn’t let you stay home.

What did you do last night?

Went to a party with Sebastian Stan, typical Thursday night.

You can picture the look on everyone’s face. It makes your lips turn upward just a little.

“I told you to be careful.” The voice sounds almost far away but your neighbor is standing right next to you as he mutters.

“I am.” You say with a laugh. He crosses his arms.

“No, you are here, watching him starry-eyed.”

Your fingers start playing with the rough fabric of your dress.

“I don’t know how to stop it.” You whisper.

He tells you to not entail yourself in something you don’t know the way out of. But what does he know about solitude and rushed breaths?

What does he know about a pair of eyes that look like a frozen lake?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

He’s watching you from afar while you talk with Argyris. He notices how your chest moves along with your breathing in a way it looks like it’s made of pure glass.

For a while he thinks of staying there and keep observing you but then Argyris leaves and you’re all alone. And he starts walking closer to you.

All eyes are on him as he goes through the main dance floor. The curly haired actress stops moving to the beat and follows him with her gaze.

They both reach you.

And you know he’s moving towards you before you can see him. It’s like your body is aware of his presence madly fast.

His eyes seem darker under the hazy light.

He grabs your hand.

You almost heave.

“Let’s get out of here.” He breaths.

You walk for some time. It’s late and Athens is quiet around that time. There is only a soft broken sound of cars and you think about that time you saw a car crash happen in front of your eyes.

You sit close in an old dirty staircase in a forgotten back alley. The city has a lot of those, but people don’t notice. They just walk past them, always in a hurry.

Sebastian sighs heavily. He looks at you in a way it makes you think he’s trying to memorize everything. The way midnight air caresses your body, the way red lighting falls in your hair from that street lamp. He looks at you for an indefinite and long period of time and it feels exquisite.

You place your fingers on his palm and the world flickers. He’s still wearing the rings they gave him for the movie and they feel cold against your skin.

“Do you ever miss Romania?”

The question startles him.

“Every day.”

You nod. Maybe he knows more about sorrow than you give him credit for.

“I remember the dog fence and our neighbors’ daughter and the orange sky through my window, minutes before sun set.”

Your hand locks around his and you stay silent for a while.

“This is the Lyra constellation.” His eyes light up as he looks up.

You remember reading about how much he’s into space. It’s intriguing.

“Where?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand. Instead he picks it up and guides it with his own. His body moves closer. There’s no cold in the air.

As your eyes search for the stars that your hands point at, he watches you and he’s certain that one day he’d love to lay on his back, with you on his side and show you all the little dead planets in the sky. Show you the secrets of the universe.

And he feels like this is the type of beauty that musicians try to write songs about.

“Ah!” Your grip becomes tighter and you smile. “I can see it!”

He laughs at your childish enthusiasm.

You laugh too.

And then you let your head fall on his shoulder, your hair touching his bare skin. You don’t blame them for making him wear sleeveless shirts for the film.

You can him feel shudder at your sudden motion, but then he exhales and his muscles relax.

He observes the features of your face from this angle. He almost traces them with his fingers.

“They’re probably going to kill me for stealing you away from the party.” You whisper.

“I think I was the one who grabbed your hand and left.” He laughs again and you can feel his chest pounding.

His phone buzzes. He doesn’t look at it. He closes his eyes.

“Δείξε μου όλα τα αστέρια. ”

He doesn’t understand a word but your voice sounds too close. You feel too close. And that’s almost tearing him apart.

“What does that mean?”

You turn to look at him. The neon sign on the old building behind him keeps trembling.

“It means, show me the stars.”

And he does. And he feels like he could burn alive.

And you will never tell him; but you still think of him when you catch a glimpse of burning stars.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :)

tagging: @lharrietg @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic @itsaliceheree

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #monday the movie #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #letyoudown

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sunlightwoo · 3 years

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Run With Hell | Ride Along Prequel

☀︎ pairing: bad boy!sunwoo x fem!reader

☀︎ genre: summer fling au, angst, squints of fluff, bad boy au, lovers to exes au warning: suggestive/sexual language and content, mentions of alcohol and partying

☀︎ wc: 4.1k

☀︎ plot: summer hues may bring in the summer blues, but this one person you spend your summer with just so happens to be the one person that you needed in that moment. instead of the place that he needed to end up being in, he lets you take him back to your place and see where it goes from there, thinking that maybe it might just be a summer bet and nothing more than that.

☀︎ a/n: this was originally a scrapped idea back from like 2018 and i never brought it back up to surface until recently these last few months actually from when i started planning ride along and then sunwoo’s verse in hate came out, which sparked more ideas!! so i hope you guys enjoy the prequel to it, in which you learn more about the history between Sunflower and Sunwoo’s relationship, even though this is not one of my best oneshots im sorry :( it can be read as a standalone, but it’d be cool if you read this and then ride along if you haven’t read it yet!!

read ride along here!

track one: moonlight | i never knew, you could hold moonlight in your hands

The soft breeze of the summer winds blew past your hair, your arms wrapped around yourself as your eyes were trained on the scenery in front of you. Comforts of the beach seem to have always made you calmer than you have been, and you think that these last two years of your life had been a fever dream considering the roller coaster of events that you have been through.

You remember waking up in a hospital the night that your brother, Jacob, had an important race to compete in, and because of that, you didn’t want to break his winning streak by being bad luck. The moments prior to that were unable to be recalled for as the only reliable information you can get was from the doctor, explaining that you had consumed something before you had blacked out that had made you almost comatose, if it weren’t for someone that had saved you that night.

There were often times where you thought about what had happened at that exact moment, but it didn’t distract you from where your mind had been leading you the following day when you were discharged already because of Jacob. You weren’t sure where he had gone that moment, but all you could remember was reading a note with his scribbles that mentioned where he had left it.

A final decision that he had to decide on with a gig that he had gotten for his music career was what he had been working on, and you couldn’t be happier for him. That following morning, you found yourself at the cafe that was across from where you were staying temporarily, eyes darting across the beautiful cursive chalk that was written on a board for the menu, and you couldn’t help but feel like there were a pair of eyes that were stuck onto you.

With a quick glance around the shop, even if there wasn’t a line behind you, you noticed a guy that sat by the window with his eyes trained onto yours. An accidental eye contact, you might’ve thought to yourself as the handsome stranger had given you a small smirk across his lips, but you have already turned back around to quickly place an order for a tea that was taken to go.

You had known who he was, considering his name was already spread among the city that you lived despite it being your summer before your first year of college. How it had easily slipped from your own tongue if anybody were to ask you, who is the biggest playboy that is known in your graduating class, and it had to be him. If it weren’t for the fact that he had an overpowering aura that radiated from him, then maybe you would’ve gotten to know him more.

But you didn’t want to, because you knew what guys like him were like.

It was guys like him that made you want to hide away into the comforts of your personal safety net because you knew he was too beautiful and confident to be good. A chaotic driven force that you think was meant to be encountered with was what he had seemed like, ready to clash into your lawful good that the more that you thought about it, you wondered what more of him was like if you were to say hello.

Now it was a little over a year later in the summer before your junior year of college and you think that it’s comical that somehow the same stranger had caught your heart. After a semester and a half of trying to win you over as a friend throughout your first year, he was able to convince you that maybe hanging out one spring night at the beach wouldn’t be too bad, right?

“Sorry I’m late, Sunflower. Got stuck trying to find a way to park the car without dealing with some asshole again.”

Your eyes look up to meet the same warm ones that welcomed you as the red hair he had coated this time around seemed to have blended in with the night sky. He takes a seat next to you and wraps his arms around his knees that were being hugged close to his chest, until he takes a look over to you once more with a soft smile on his face.

“It’s okay, Sunwoo. I haven’t been here that long anyways.” You reply quietly, giving him a smile back as you bit back everything that was on your tongue.

You had already been there for almost two hours waiting for him, collecting your thoughts as you wondered what the two of you were in that exact timing. There were times where you wanted to just kiss him as a way to shut him up whenever he rambled or said something dumb, but there were also the mixed signs that made you wonder if he had ever thought about you the same way that you did in the past two years.

One too many shared secrets and kisses were often exchanged, but the two of you had always remained friends with too many benefits as you found your way back to the other. It was almost as if you were magnets, opposites that attracted to another and now you were trying to find a way for it to make sense under the moonlight that was brightly shining tonight above you.

“Can you sing me a song, bubs?”

His eyes turn to look at you, who had been staring at him after breaking away from your own thoughts, as he nods in response and opens his arms for you to find your place in them. He wraps his arms around you securely, holding you close to his chest as the soft voice that came from his throat produced a sweet song that you easily recognized as one that he had told you about for a while.

It felt like you were being put under a sleeping spell as you looked at him, wondering how even under the moonlight, he was almost the most ethereal being in the world. It was as though he was carrying that luminescence in his hands and placed it above his head at all times, making sure that whenever you needed to just be held, he was there to do so for you; another reason why you were so conflicted with what you both had.

However, maybe it was after a confession or two after that soft lullaby that it ended up being enough for you. Maybe being with him was enough for you, and for that you had also regretted it at the same time, because you knew that you were in for a ride with hell’s spawn.

track two: sometimes | cause we’re collecting moments, tattoos on my mind

“Are you ready for our getaway?” You hear someone say behind you and turn to look at Sunwoo, who had been standing at your front door for a moment now.

It was the hot morning of July first after a long night being with him, and it was a spontaneous decision to head out on a little road trip away from the city. You wanted to go to the seaside, you had told him just hours prior, and he had told you about a little place that he used to stay whenever he was in a mood to go on vacation and escape the realities of the world.

So you packed your bags and were ready to go as you walked up to him with a big smile on your face, one that mirrored his own as he pulled you close. By placing his hand against your lower back, the space between you both becomes almost invisible as he pecked your lips in just a quick second, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sudden action that came from him.

Even after a month or so of dating, it still felt like you were floating on cloud nine despite the fact that you had been doing this for two years or so already. Being with him felt like you were able to conquer on the world, and you knew that might not stay long despite the shared whispers of the cursed eight letters that were often said when you spent nights together.

You wanted to tattoo every moment that you were with him into your mind, because from then until now it had only felt like you were living in a daydream. He had given you nothing but love and made you happier than you would’ve imagined making yourself, but you were okay with also accepting the fact that it might not last long considering there were often times where you might clash thoughts and argue.

By the time that you both made it to where you were staying, you were amazed with how elegant it looked on the inside, despite the fact that it seemed smaller on the outside. You think that maybe you were in a movie as you looked around, but it wasn’t until you turned around to see Sunwoo being busy on his phone that you wondered if this mini getaway was going to be worth it.

“Everything okay, bubs?” You ask while putting down your stuff, sitting on top of your bag as he gives you a small smile before nodding in response.

To him, he thinks that you are one of the most beautiful things as the sun was practically shining on your face as it seeped through the large glass windows of the house. It’s almost amazing that he found himself falling for you quickly, but he wonders how much of that smile will last on your face before he does something to mess it all up.

He wants to tattoo the moments where he’s able to make those smiles on your face with his sincerity, the him that he wants to be with you rather than the person that he decides to be to everyone else. Yet somehow, there was something about your innocence to him that made him want more than just what you had then and now, but he was scared of what he might become if had actually gotten it all for himself.

“Yeah, everything’s okay. Let’s go sleep for a bit before we spend the night having fun, hmm?”

track three: bad decisions | You've become my favorite sin so let 'em keep on talking

He knows that he isn’t good for you.

His reputation of being the residential bad boy was no match for your heart, and you both knew that. After spending the first two weeks getting to know the ins and outs of the bay, you made some quick friends even though you spent a majority of your time back at where you were staying with Sunwoo. The way that his hands had always felt like fire on your skin was exhilarating as every kiss you shared was more intoxicating than the last.

You could tell that he was getting tired of it already, because you’ve noticed that the fire that was once in his eyes was dying out, and you were scared of it. Even his words of reassurance of loving you and for not leaving your side by then was made, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to trust his words every time that he spoke of them.

“Are you sure that you’re in love with me?” You whisper after the highs and frustrations that were spent into what you had done earlier had been let out.

The two of you had argued about how he never seemed to have paid more attention to what you were doing when the two of you were out at the street markets today, his phone seeming more important than exploring the depths of shops that were opened by small businesses. You confronted him about it, thinking that maybe he was involved with someone else and that you were just wasting your time putting your love into a relationship that was one sided.

However that wasn’t the case, as he told you that one of his friends was updating him on a situation that involved their family.

“Why wouldn’t I love you?”

Those toxic eight letters felt so foreign at the tip of his tongue as he looked at you, who laid your head on top of his chest. He didn’t know what love was, and he felt like the biggest jerk for also leading you on knowing that in the end, he was going to leave. He wasn’t sure when he was going to do it, but he knew that you were slowly catching onto his plan, and he hated himself for making you feel as though you weren’t enough for him to stay.

He wants to give you the pain that he had felt once in the past, and ruin the sweet innocence that you held in your eyes. He’s heard stories about you as well, the same way that you had heard stories about him, and he knew then that there was something about the way you talked and expressed your beliefs that made him want to be indulged into you more.

“We don’t feel the same anymore.” You whisper, eyes meeting him as the moonlight that used to capture his eyes so perfectly seemed as though it was dying out.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you watched him stay silent for a moment, his eyes still looking into yours but he still held you close to his heart. He doesn’t know what to say at all and he regrets it a little more for dragging you into this game that he started playing with his own heart on his sleeve, but he doesn’t know when he should stop, because to him, it feels like this game that he made was still not done yet.

But he can’t find the heart to tell you to run, before he can do it.

“I promise I’ll love you more than I should be loving you. You’re my sunflower, the same way that I’m your sunshine, and it’ll stay that way.”

track four: leave me lonely | you’re a dangerous love, maybe you’re no good for me

It was a little over a month into your getaway, and it feels emptier than it was when you first started the entire trip.

The nights that you shared together were less filled with meaningful words and actions, but more filled with moments that were there to make the empty void that was present full with whatever you two had wanted to do. You could tell that he was on the verge of just walking out the front door and leaving you because of how the increasing arguments that were made continued to be more present, and you could’ve sworn that if he wasn’t going to be the first to leave, then you would.

It was another occurrence tonight where you had gone out to eat as a date, since you wanted to fix what might’ve been missing these last few weeks of summer that you might’ve not done. However, it didn’t happen to work as you noticed how Sunwoo was already preoccupied on his phone almost the entire time, and you were fed up by the end of the night as he was driving you both back home and he had taken the time to text back whoever it was that seemed more important than you, who had been nothing but patient the entire night.

“Am I seriously not fun anymore, that you’ve spent the entire date texting whoever it is on the other end?” You half jokingly asked while turning to him, watching as he had given you a confused look on his face while the two of you were waiting for the traffic light to turn green to go.

“I haven’t been texting someone the entire time-”

“Then what did we do today, besides eat at the restaurant because we sure as hell didn’t talk the entire time that we were there.” You retort, the joking tone that was previously in your tone no longer there as he looks at you for a split second before putting his phone into the cup holder that was between you both in silence.

The green light finally switches and he drives again as you could tell that he knew you were right, the silence overbearing you both as neither of you spoke afterwards. You wanted him to bite back, but you couldn’t help but be impatient this time around with what he had to say, because he always seemed to brush it off these days about what he has been doing when he wasn’t with you, or when he leaves mid-argument and comes back the next morning making it up.

“You’re just overreacting, don’t worry about it, Y/N.”

He hasn’t called you by your name in a while considering he had only been calling you by Sunflower for a long time now. It was almost like whiplash as you stared at him, who was now driving back to your place with the night sky behind him and you wondered what you had even done wrong when you were just wondering who he would keep texting.

Maybe he was cheating on you and he didn’t want to admit it, you think to yourself as you curled up into a ball in your seat and looked outside your window to hide the pain that was present in your heart. Was there could’ve been something that you might’ve done wrong that could just made him bored throughout the last two years that you’ve known each other, where it was you that might’ve been in the mess up stance?

That night, you couldn’t even remember whether or not you have slept properly considering he didn’t sleep with you, but rather slept on the couch in the living room.

Was this what the start of heartbreak was like?

track five: touch it | Why do you say you want me, then tell me you're not coming in?

“How long have you been lying to me about everything?”

Tears were pricking the corners of your eyes as you stared at the individual in front of you with your heart on your sleeve, wondering what his next move was. Your throat was raspy from how much you were yelling out of anger and frustration earlier, and you wanted to know how long you had been playing his game.

“Two years.” He replies, his facial expression never faltering as his hands were in his pockets and eyes boring into your own.

His phone was placed on the couch beside you as you had found his texts with his best friend about how being with you was all for a bet of money; and he had won. All he had to do was to make you play his game and purposely break your heart, only to win some sort of prize that he would win at the end, but at what cost.

“I didn’t mean anything to you, did I?” You whisper as you cross your arms in front of your chest, waiting to hear whatever else he had to say, but you couldn’t help but wipe away the stray tears that were already falling down the apples of your cheeks.

Yes, you meant everything to me, he wants to say as he looks into your heartbroken eyes, and he was willing to give up everything to walk over to where you were to wipe your tears for you. But there was also the thrill in his blood that made him feel a bit prideful that he succeeded in being the asshole that he made himself out to be to everyone but you.

He had won the game, he acknowledged and it was over for him but he also knew that there was just a little bit of guilt that still lied inside of him. He doesn’t know what to say as he watches you start to crumble in front of him internally, and he knows you’re tired of all the lies that he had been feeding you since the first day.

So he had decided on running away after he said his last words, because like you had predicted, he was hell’s spawn that loved creating a chaotic masterpiece. As much as you hated him in the moment, he knew that you wouldn’t be able to let go for a bit, and maybe this was his chance to leave so that he doesn’t have to think about you anymore.

And he does as he walks away with the wind as he closes the door on you both, leaving with the sounds of his car already leaving and you know that he wasn’t coming back.

You think that it’s your fault anyways for wanting to believe in what you had was genuine, with every time that he had said it was true. But like you thought in the first place, where guys like him wouldn’t last, was true, because now you were in the place that held everything that reminded you of him. You wanted to trash the beautiful pain that was in front of you, but you also felt numb at the same time, not wanting to do anything but to just mourn the stained heart that was on the sleeve of your arm.

It was there for the world to see; tainted with toxic love that only you had for him, and it was now spilling out with his last words echoing in your head.

“I never loved you in the first place, because you were only just a game to win.”

bonus track: lovesick girls

The loud silence of the crackling fire resonates in your ears as you stare at the burning car that was less than 50 feet in front of you. Your knees were tucked into your chest as you stared at it, wondering where it all began to go wrong as the numbness of your heart continued to stay there. He had been gone for weeks, as you had expected him to run away for that long, and you hated yourself for falling for a guy like him in the first place.

He was intoxicating, addicting; the one person that you had given your entity to, only to have it crumble up in the palm of his hands.

You hated him and knew that this would be the last time you’d ever want to see him, since you were going to start going back on track with your goals and dreams. Starting next week you were set to start the fall semester into your junior year of college as it was now almost mid September and ready to run for the life that you wanted to have from the start of the summer before you had met him.

You think to yourself that maybe it was him that had ruined it all, or maybe a piece of you didn’t want to admit that it was also your own for not being cautious enough. The entire summer felt like you were running with the devil himself, and that the air you were breathing in now, the very one that you can finally collect your thoughts in, were your moments of freedom as you blinked back the tears of the memories that had played in your mind of last night that ended it all.

“All you ever did was run away from us in the first place, Sunwoo-”

“And I was wrong for doing it, that day that I walked out and left,” He says and you could see his eyes glimmer with what seemed like sincerity in the form of tears, just as the sun that was setting around you both began to make your skies darker than they were before.

“But that doesn’t mean that I regretted walking out, because I knew that we would’ve only hurt each other more if I had stayed.”

The silence that was overtaking you both was faster than that as your eyes continued to lock onto one another’s. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do in this situation, because you very much so loved him and all his imperfect beauties. However it felt like he was the constant fire that was burning your skin with every touch that he was able to make, and you didn’t want to be a part of that cycle that would continue with him, especially after finding out about his bet with his best friend at the most.

So in retaliation, you did what you should’ve done in the first place, resent and ignore him, as you knew that this should be the last time that you see him again in this life.

“Then I think you should just leave for good then, Sunwoo. Don’t ever try to find me again, and if you do... we will never do us again.”

#ficscafe #destinyverse #deobiwritersnet #tbznetwork #kdiner #kpopscape #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz angst #the boyz oneshots #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz angst #tbz oneshots #kim sunwoo #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo angst #sunwoo oneshots

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nctsjiho · 3 years

Text

How Haechan And JiHo’s Friendship Evolved Over The Years [Part 2]

PART 1

[2018 | Role Model | New York]

“And I have a question for JiHo.” JiHo turned her head towards the interviewer who just mentioned her name. “You’re a fairly new addition to the group.” The girl nodded along with his words. “The boys have been singers for a few years now, is there anyone in the group who you particularly look up to?”

The fans in the studio ooh in interest as JiHo looks at the boys in thought. Meanwhile, Johnny, Mark and Jaehyun translate the question to the other boys who now look at her expectantly. “Hmm. I guess...” She then looks to her right and motions her hand towards Haechan.

The boy looks surprised - as do the others - when he realises he got chosen. The fans on the other hand begin cheering. “Since we’re only a few months apart in age I can relate to Haechan a lot more. He’s really good at everything he puts his mind to and he also has a great personality.” She explained seriously but Jaehyun on her left side can’t help but smile brightly.

The interviewer noticed how Jaehyun and Mark whispered among themselves and asked what was wrong. “Oh nothing.” Jaehyun said between chuckles. “JiHo just fed Haechan’s ego, he’s not going to let her live this one down for a while.” Mark added.

And by the looks of it Mark was right, because right after Johnny finished translating JiHo’s words to Haechan, the youngest boy had a big grin on his face. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as looked down on his lap. This caused JiHo to sigh. “You can never just be nice to anyone here.” She said in a light-hearted tone.

[2019 | Cheat Day | Rooftop Café in Seoul]

“And let’s work hard during our promotions! NCT fighting on three!” Yuta yelled holding his glass up high. Everyone followed and Yuta started counting. “One, two, three!” “NCT fighting!” Everyone yelled in unison.

The promotions for ‘Superhuman’ were beginning the following week, so NCT and their staff had decided to have a little kick-off party to start things on a high note. They were all gathered together on the rooftop of one of Seoul’s café’s with the best view, cooking food and grilling meat together - of course with the required drinks for everyone who was legal and wanted to drink.

Haechan stood with his plate next to Johnny who was in charge of grilling the meat. “Can I have some more hyung?” He asked, acting cute. “I already gave you so much.” Johnny laughed but continued adding more meat to the younger boy’s plate.

As Haechan moved over to the next table with food he noticed JiHo sitting alone poking at the food on her almost empty plate. He carefully approached her and sat down next to her. “Are you not eating?” At his voice JiHo jumped a little and then sat straight in her chair. “You scared me.” She gasped causing the boy to chuckle. He then pointed his chopsticks at the girl’s plate to redirect her attention.

“I’m not really hungry.” She sighed. “Well don’t mind if I do.” He reached out his chopsticks and grabbed the half of a boiled egg that was sitting on her plate. Shoving it in his mouth he sent her a wink. “Yah! You’re so annoying.” She pushed him by his shoulder and watched as Haechan choked on the piece of egg. He quickly regained his composure though so JiHo wasn’t worried.

He watched carefully as the girl grumbled to herself whilst continuously poking at her food. “Somethings wrong. Tell your role model what’s wrong. Maybe my sexy brain can think of a solution.” Completely taken aback by her member’s word, JiHo sent Haechan a disgusted look. “First off all, you should stop referring to yourself as my role model, I already regret calling you that a year ago. And secondly, I never said you had a sexy brain.” She fake gagged. “But you were thinking it.”

The smirk on Haechan’s face definitely annoyed the girl, but she had gotten very used to it by now and actually found that his annoying attempt to cheer her up was working. “The new manager put my on a diet again, and I seriously hate eggs, chicken tastes like cardboard to me and I’m sick of eating raw tomatoes and salad.” “Why don’t you just get food that you like?” Haechan asked nonchalantly, grabbing the other half of the abandoned egg from her plate. “He’s watching me like a hawk up there. He almost grabbed my plate to pick up the food for me.” She sighed.

Haechan took a few seconds to think and scratch his non-existent beard. “He doesn’t let you get the food you want. That’s what you said right?” JiHo nodded and watched as Haechan’s face lit up. “Wait here.”

JiHo waited alone for a few minutes until she saw Haechan approach her again with Jungwoo and each had two plates with them. Placing them in the middle of the table Jungwoo and Haechan sat down next to the girl. “Let’s feast!” Haechan beamed. She just watched as her 2 members began eating carelessly. “He isn’t watching. Just eat.” The youngest of the two boys said patting her shoulder.

A smile found its way on JiHo’s lips as she finally dug in, grateful that her friends were there to help her cheat her diet and feel more comfortable.

[2020 | Su Casa Mi Casa | NCT Dorm, 5th floor]

“He definitely fell on his butt.” “Wasn’t he embarrassed?” “It’s Mark I’m talking about, of course he was, but we’re so used to it now. So no one called him out for it.” JiHo giggled. She was video chatting with one of her friends from back home in France, while getting ready for bed. “I swear to God, your friends are so weird!” “Hey, you’re also my friend.” JiHo reminded the girl on the other side of the screen.

Suddenly the door to JiHo’s room opened and in walked Haechan. Wearing comfortable clothes and with a Nintendo Switch in hand he blindly fell onto JiHo’s bed. “Wait a second.” JiHo told her friend and turned her attention to the intruder. “What are you doing?”

Acting as if JiHo’s presence was new to him, Haechan looked at the girl with a raised eyebrow. “Hmm?” She shook her head at his clueless tone. “I’m talking to my friend right now. What are you doing here?” “I’m not bothering you right? You can just continue. It’s not as if I can understand what you’re saying anyway.”

JiHo rolled her eyes and decided to ignore him. “What’s going on?” JiHo’s friend asked with a giggle, amused by JiHo’s I’m-so-done-with-him look. “Haechan mistook my room for his again.” Haechan perked up at the mention of his name, but JiHo continued to ignore him. “Ow, don’t act like you mind. You’ve told me otherwise before anyway!” Her friend exposed her and JiHo rolled her eyes. “Okay~ Whatever.”

The conversation between JiHo and her friend continued on for another 15 minutes and when JiHo finished her night skin-care routine the friends ended the call.

“Move.” JiHo motioned Haechan to move over as she sat down next to him and watched the game he was playing. “Did Johnny oppa get mad at you bothering him too much or what?” “Nope, I just like your room, it smells nice here.” A puff of air escaped JiHo’s lips, which were turned up into a smile. “It’s called ventilation and a lot less hormones.” This time it was Haechan’s turn to roll his eyes.

When Haechan didn’t say anything - which JiHo did not expect - the girl spoke up once more. “Okay, I know you like how my room smells or whatever, but it’s still my room.” “You don’t care when people enter your room.” Haechan stated. “I don’t, but not at midnight when I’m about to go to bed.” “You don’t care if it’s Lucas.” “It’s because I like Lucas more than you.” JiHo stuck out her tongue and Haechan mirrored her mockingly.

Getting slightly annoyed JiHo pushed Haechan by his arm. “I want to sleep.” “I have every right to be here.” “What? No you don’t. It’s my room.” JiHo countered.

Finally Haechan put down his Switch and turned to the “annoyed” girl. “What’s the saying? Su casa mi casa?” “It’s mi casa su casa, you idiot.” JiHo couldn’t help but snicker at the boy’s mistake. “And also that doesn’t work here, because it’s both our house. We live together.” “Well more reasons that I have every right to be here.” Haechan grabbed his Switch again and laid back in a comfortable position. “Now move, I’m about to beat this level.” He bit his lip, focussing on his game.

A loud groan left JiHo’s lips as she stood up and grabbed her pillow. “What are you doing?” Haechan asked wide-eyed as the girl turned towards the door. “I’m either sleeping in Doyoung’s room or stealing your bed.” She explained and started to walk away, but Haechan stopped her and pulled her by her wrist. “What?” “How am I going to annoy you when you’re not in the same room?” JiHo squinted at Haechan and tried to walk away again, only to be pulled back once more. “Haechan-” “Wait, just stay here and watch me beat this last level. Please.” He pleaded sweetly and JiHo couldn’t help but sit back down next to him.

For about an hour JiHo watched over Haechan’s shoulder as he tried to beat the boss level of his game. Once he finally finished it he noticed how she had already fallen asleep. A chuckle left his lips as he climbed over her until he was standing beside the bed. Haechan pulled the blanket over her body and made his way back to his room.

[2021 | Lara Croft | SM Practise Room]

Dream was definitely one of the louder and more chaotic units within NCT. So when Mark entered the room he wasn’t surprised to see Jeno trying to fight Jisung and Chenle trying, and succeeding, to annoy Renjun. What he didn’t expect to see was Jaemin watching Haechan braid JiHo’s hair with the most focussed expression.

“What’s going on here?” Mark chuckled confused as he settled next to Jaemin. “He wasn’t going to stop bothering me until I let him braid my hair.” JiHo explained. “Your hair is finally long enough, I don’t get why you always kept your hair short.” “Why? You don’t like my hair short?” JiHo questioned looking slightly offended. “No! I didn’t mean it like that.” He then placed both hands on her cheeks and turned her head so she was facing the front - away from him - again.

Mark gave up on asking more questions and decided that a conversation with Jaemin would be a better idea. A few minutes passed until Haechan let out a loud screech. “DONE!” “Don’t yell like that!” JiHo scolded the boy and hit his thigh.

JiHo then looked at Jaemin and Mark expectantly. “How does it look?” “Uhm. I guess you kinda look like Lara Croft?” Mark said hesitantly. JiHo seemed to be pleased with the answer and started walked towards the mirror. “Yeah if she took a big ass tumble.” Haechan quickly added just as JiHo could inspect her reflection.

“Lee Haechan!” The braid that fell over her shoulder looked, for a lack of a better word, rough. The three strands of the braid were completely uneven and some parts of her hair stuck out of the braid. “I thought you knew what you were doing?” “I thought so too. I guess I just need more practise.” He bashfully replied, fingertips scratching the back of his head.

Soon enough the choreographer entered the room and the guys began their practise. JiHo had filled in for Mark while he had to miss the first 2 practises, so she was there to help him find his place in the different formations.

Going through some of the moves JiHo ended up getting knocked over by Jeno. He quickly helped her up and apologised. “Don’t worry about it.” She smiled and the other boys began teasing her for “messing up”. The comments were all very light hearted and JiHo could laugh with all of them, but Haechan decided to throw a little harsher comment. “JiHo, you had one job and you couldn’t even do that!” He dramatically threw his hands up in the air.

“Excuse you, Haechan-ssi.” She emphasised the formal way of addressing him. “I came to help you guys, but if you want to I can leave.” She said while making her way to the door of the practise room. “Wait! Don’t leave!”

Haechan pulled the girl towards him, enveloping her tightly in his arms. “I’m sorry!” He apologised profusely to which JiHo, and the other boys, began laughing. “Why? You don’t really need me, I think Mark got everything down. No?” She eyed Mark and he nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m all set.” “No! You know Mark hyung. He forgets easily, you need to stay until the last practise.” Mark scoffed at the minor insult towards him, but couldn’t help but smile fondly watching how clingy Haechan was towards the girl.

“Okay, I was just joking. I’ll stay, so let me go.” “What are you talking about?” Haechan said while still suffocating the girl in a tight hug. “You’re still holding me. Let go.” She tapped his arm a few times to signal he should let her go. “No I’m not.” His smile wasn’t visible to JiHo, but the rest of the boys could see how much he enjoyed teasing - or it could be holding - JiHo. “Guys please help.” She reached her hand out towards the other boys, but they just watched the girl struggle while Haechan seemed to be having the time of his life.

#jiho.guide #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct female member #nct imagines #nct extra member #nct additional member #nct haechan fluff #nct haechan imagines #nct female addition #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

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JK Day 2021

...and what a day it was. I know we’re a bit late with this when looking at KST but in our time zone it’s still September 1st so it counts, right? Besides I wanted to wait until the day was over for them so I could have everything the members would post for JK so I could put it in this post as memory for us to look back on in the future.

Furthermore, as extension for the celebrations, I want to finally sit down, write and post our post about JK and his bonds with the hyung line since it’s been so long since two anons asked us about that so what better time than the weekend after JK day, right?

Anyway, let’s get into it, shall we?

The day before JKs birthday he came onto Weverse and posted three different things, including a cute selca:

Everyone of course turned up their creativity to post something for JK and also wondered among themselves what he planned on using those lyric comments for, and if he would use them for anything at all.

Sometime later before the new RUN episode aired, Seokjin appeared on Weverse and, for whatever reason, commented birthday wishes for JK under the Weverse post about the upcoming RUN episode. Because of course he did.

More than an hour before midnight KST everyone got a notification from vlive that JK had gone live:

And truly, considering it was about to be his birthday, I love how it felt more like it was ours with the gift that kept on giving that this vlive turned out to be.

Lots more below the cut:

Remember those posts that JK made in the morning on Weverse? As many, including myself, had guessed, JK gathered some of the lyric comments he liked most, or thought would work best, and proceeded to turn them into an actual song right before our eyes. The instrumental was gorgeous with a acoustic guitar and ballad like melody and it was truly fascinating watching him figuring out how to sing the lines, record them, redo them whenever he felt he could do it better, add adlibs in some places, and slowly but surely a song was created with lyrics in both English and Korean.

This really was the content I’ve always craved and I’m so, so happy we got to watch JK do this instead of him just showing us the final thing. You could see him having fun, even when he got a little frustrated at times or he wasn’t quite sure how he wanted to continue or how he wanted the words to sound like, and that he really knows what he’s doing. So many claim that Bangtan have no idea about producing and recording songs, which truly is such a stupid argument to make considering Yoongi is literally Producer SUGA and we know that, if the members want to make mixtapes they have to do them themselves, which we know Namjoon, Yoongi and Hobi have done. So JK doing all of that in the vlive? Checkmate against those idiots. Especially since it also isn’t the first time we’ve seen members work on tracks, like the behind the scenes of rap line working on DDAENG or Hobi working on songs, or even JK with Stay, even if we didn’t know it’s Stay at the time.

Once the song was finished JK went on to show us several more instrumentals he could’ve worked with, each one with a different vibe, before switching to singing a song by Justin Bieber saying he really loves his songs a lot. And then it was nearing midnight so he unpacked the cake he got, white icing/fondant with purple lettering spelling out STILL WITH YOU JK, very cute.

Right as midnight hit someone started to bang on the door so JK got up to see who’d come and, surprise, it was a very excited Hobi wishing him a happy birthday including singing the birthday song for him upon JKs request while JK lit up his golden heart shaped candle.

Hobi again returned two minutes after he’d left (between when at 1:18h JK mentioned that, for the first time that night, he’d do one more song to finish off the vlive, ha) to give him an ice cream cake he’d prepared, but also to get his phone which he’d accidentally forgotten in the room JK was in.

Once Hobi really left and JK got a taste of his ice cream cake, as well as the white cake which turned out to be chocolate flavored, the vlive concert began and, at the time, none of us knew what we were in for since we all thought he’d really do one or two more songs and that would be it. And yet that very much is not what happened, at all, and I’m so grateful for it.

This might just be the funniest screenshot in existence (please take note of the time stamps):

No wonder that, eventually, Seokjin decided to come onto Weverse to post wishes for JK a second time while also saying this (the picture is from their unit photoshoot for Winter Package):

The imagine of Seokjin just sitting in bed or whatever watching JKs vlive and hearing him say last song every like ten minutes and every time he just kept going...and going...and going while Seokjin is just waiting...and waiting...and waiting? Hilarious. But it’s also really cute how he’d wanted to wait until JK was done to not interrupt him or pull ARMYs attention away from the vlive. Truly I adore their bond, it’s adorable and chaotic and so wonderfully them.

Yoongi also posted his wishes for JK while the vlive was still going.

The one who waited until it was over was actually Namjoon who, with what he said in his tweet, actually revealed that he’d watched JKs vlive as well. In his vlive JK said that at the end of their concerts Namjoon used to always give his speech like a (school) principal, as in his long ending ment speeches, and that’s why Namjoon ‘signed’ his tweet with principal as well.

Truly I love how JK was just having fun singing their songs, taking requests from ARMY, rediscovering songs, like him wondering if they really have a song called Paradise (since the Korean title is different) and finally fulfilling ARMYs wish of hearing BTS sing it live, as well as being surprised and confused by requests for Heartbeat asking himself if them really have a song like that. But since ARMY kept asking for it, he finally looked it up and his reaction to realizing that, yes, it is a real song of theirs and also that that’s the song we were talking about which he’d completely forgotten about? Hilarious but also kind of heartbreaking for all the Heartbeat enthusiasts.

Here is the full list of all the songs he sang, some for longer, some shorter:

One thing that this vlive showed really well was just how amazing of a singer JK really is. It’s easy for people to dismiss his talent during concerts or performances, since they could always argue that him and the others get help due to the backing track etc., but here we had his raw voice singing along to their songs much the way any of us do. And he sounded stunning beginning to end. He’s such a talented singer and he’s worked so hard on his technique and voice and it’s really showing. Thinking back to what he said in his BE comeback Weverse interview about how he’d like to one day he brave enough to do a three hour concert on his own, I’d say this vlive shows that really shouldn’t be any kind of problem at all. If ARMY can listen to him essentially do karaoke for one and a half hours, then attending and enjoying a full on JK concert would be no issue whatsoever. It’d actually be amazing, I’m certain, and I’d totally be down to seeing that potentially become a reality one day in the future.

After two and a half hours, the vlive ultimately came to a close and JK said his goodbyes.

Hours later Hobi appeared on Weverse wondering what pictures of JK he could/should post for his traditional picture “spam” and everyone was immediately super excited. Hobi’s gallery holds some wonderful treasures so we all looked forward to what he would end up posting, though it would take a few hours until it would happen.

The funny thing is that he posted the first twt twice since the picture with Namjoon in it had Hobi’s iPhone in it which, as good Samsung representative, was a no, no, so he deleted the twt and posted it again with some stickers covering the phone. So cute. And his picture choices are wonderful. I particularly love that picture of JK in the white room dressed in black from back in 2019 when they performed Boy with Luv. And also their picture from a dinner the two of them went on together back in 2018.

In the meantime before Hobi posted his pictures, as requested in the picture that BH had posted for JKs birthday on the staff BTS account at midnight, one of the members posted his meal though it’s unclear which one of them it might’ve been. Looks super yummy though, wow.

And eventually the final member to come and wish JK a happy birthday was Jimin (and yes, I know Jimin’s twt came before Hobi’s but considering Hobi already wished him a happy birthday at midnight, that makes Jimin the last one):

Trans (cr. haruharu_w_bts):

our maknae happy birthday i wish <you a happy birthday> a lot and a lot #KkookieHappyBirthday #JIMIN #HAPPYJKDAY

Taehyung didn’t post anything but considering his track record of doing something for the members off social media for their birthday, like giving Namjoon a forehead kiss, sending birthday wish videos to Seokjin (including roping others into doing it as well), or wishing Jimin a happy birthday as part of the MOTS ON:E exhibition, I wasn’t all that surprised by this.

And with that JK day 2021 came to a close. It started with a surprise (as in both the song based on ARMY comments and also the concert afterward) and ended with one as well, as in the In The SOOP Season Two announcement.

I hope JK had a wonderful day, celebrated happily with his members, friends and family however much that’s possible in these times, as well as with their busy schedule, and that this new year will be a happy one for him full of success, personal but also career wise. I’m curious and excited to see what will happen.

#Jungkook #jungkook birthday #Jungkook vlive #BTS #Namjoon #Seokjin #Jimin #Hoseok #Yoongi

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ggukkiedae · 3 years

Text

Hi, I’m Hannah...

notes: a very very very late nct 127 anniversary post where we dive into the members’ first impressions on hannah... i’ll have some stuff up soon for hot sauce and hello future hannah as well as 2018 hannah!

also she never actually says “hi, i’m hannah”

reminders: italic conversations are spoken in english

Suh Johnny

Something felt different that day. Johnny was peacefully walking around the company towards the cafeteria when he remembered why. There was allegedly a new foreign kid joining the company, around twelve to fourteen years old, he wasn’t too sure. He shook his head. Another young one trying to work for their dream in a foreign country.

That’s when he saw her. An unfamiliar face, confusedly checking each and every door she passed by. She was caught up in her thoughts of how to catch up with everyone else when she bumped into him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking,” were the first words that came out of her until she seemingly remembered where she was. She bowed hastily. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s no problem,” Johnny answered her, making her freeze.

The girl bowed a little deeper before straightening out, suddenly more aware of her posture. Johnny looked at her curiously, trying to see things from her perspective. She was met with a very tall man looking down at her, making her eyes avoid his as she bowed again.

The elder chuckled and bent down so he was closer to her height. “Hey, no need to bow. Are you new here? I’m Johnny.”

Needless to say, her slightly relieved sigh in response to his English was a good sign. “I’m so sorry, again. Do you perhaps know where the conference room is?”

The accent he heard baffled him just a little. It was strong and took a little longer than it should for him to comprehend it.

“I do,” he confirmed while tilting his head in the direction it was in, “I’ll show you the way.”

Her hesitance didn’t go unnoticed, and neither did her slight flinch when he straightened out. This made him make sure to stand at a distance as he began walking.

To ease whatever nerves it looked like she was feeling, Johnny animatedly spoke about the different areas they passed by as well as some of the other girl trainees who he was sure she’d meet in training. Before long, they made it to the conference room.

“Well, here you are,” he smiled while patting the wall next to the door, “the conference room. Not a lot of trainees here speak English, so you can come to me if you need anything, okay? Hopefully I’ll see you around...”

The clenching of her fists caught his attention as she took a breath and nodded. “Hannah. My name’s Hannah Lee. Thank you, Mister Johnny.”

Nothing else was said between them as the girl quickly bowed and rushed into the room. Johnny chuckled. Looks like he found someone he wanted to look after. Besides, she’d probably need an English buddy while starting out.

(others under the cut)

Lee Mark

Mark was just the slightest bit irritated.

Johnny had promised him he’d be at the practice room by 3, but it was already 3:45 and he still wasn’t there. But, Mark being Mark, he just decided to work on his rap while waiting for the elder. They had the room scheduled to them until 5 anyway.

Just as he was about to leave and find his rap teacher for help on a certain flow, he heard the doors open.

“Dude, finally! You’re literally almost an hour late, what happe— oh, hi.” The Canadian boy stopped in his mini accusation when he saw a girl with his older friend.

“Sorry, Mark,” Johnny chuckled as he gestured to the girl slightly behind him, “I looked for Hannah. I thought she’d like to make more friends. Turns out she’s pretty good at hiding from everyone.”

Mark observed the girl in front of her. She stood behind Johnny almost like she was using him as a border, but she wasn’t so close to him that she was completely comfortable. Her stance felt defensive, yet her face was settled in a way where, if Mark saw her on the streets, he wouldn’t try to strike up a conversation. But Johnny looked like he was cool with her, so he reached out his hand.

“Hey, I’m Mark. Hannah, is it?” There was a slight pause as she cautiously looked at his hand. Thinking she was slightly uncomfortable, he smiled and tucked his hand away. “It’s nice to meet you. Where are you from?”

“Depends,” she shrugged. “Recently? San Francisco. Grew up in Newcastle though.”

Mark was visibly taken back by her accent. It was strong enough that he could get confused with what she said if he wasn’t paying attention.

“Oh, is that from Europe or something?”

“England, yeah.” He almost missed the way her hands were curling in on themselves. “You from America or something?”

“Vancouver, Canada. So what’s your specialty then?”

There was a slight hesitation in her while Johnny looked down and nodded at her encouragingly. “Tell him what you told me.”

She looked at the Chicago boy them back at Mark. “I dance. I mostly did cheerleading and gymnastics, but I’ve been going to a dance studio for hiphop since I moved to Cali.”

“Well, miss Hannah,” Mark smiled and walked off to the side where computer connected to the speakers sat, “if it’s alright with you, how about you show us what you’ve got?”

At first, her steps forward were hesitant. If Mark had to guess, she just wasn’t used to dancing in front of new people. He settled by the mirror with a smile and brought Johnny down to sit with him.

“Come on,” he encouraged, “let’s all do a short freestyle just for fun.”

The tall boy next to him groaned, “I can’t freestyle for shit.”

Mark glanced back at her and grinned when he noticed a small smile make its way onto her face. The first he’d seen so far. Her body had loosened up and her smile became more comfortable as she started grooving to the music before fully freestyling. He took note to introduce her to the other younger girls, and maybe she’d smile a little more.

Lee Donghyuck (Haechan)

“Ah, hyung!”

“Donghyuck, I told you. She’s not so comfortable with new people.”

Donghyuck huffed in frustration. For the past week, he had been hearing about the new trainee who apparently had a dance style that was loved by Lee Sooman as much as the SM founder loved his singing style. Not only that, but he heard she was a shawol as well! Good taste and talent meant Donghyuck got curious.

From what he knew, she barely spoke to anyone aside from Johnny, Mark, and Goeun. Apparently she was also quite elusive to the girls as much as she was to the guys. That made him even more curious, and slightly competitive. He wanted to befriend her before anyone else.

“Donghyuck, listen to me,” Mark turned to the younger boy, “even with us, she’s still pretty closed off. Besides, she’s still trying to get used to Korean. I don’t want her to get overwhelmed.”

“Well, you can’t stop me.” The 00 liner stuck his tongue out at his friend and left the room, the frustrated mumbles just barely audible to him as he walked out the door.

The cafeteria was the first option. According to the girls, they were on their lunch break, so he decided to start his search there. True enough, he saw the foreign girl settling into a corner table on her own. Needless to say, he rushed to grab a soda and a plate of pasta and a small side dish of salad before approaching her table.

“Hannah, hi!” Her surprised to confused expression made him laugh while he settled in front of her. “My name is Donghyuck.”

“Hi,” she slightly bowed her head at him before proceeding to pick at her salad.

Donghyuck frowned. He forgot that the girls were usually only given salads for lunch a few days a week. Today was one of those days.

The way she moved the vegetables and bland chicken around made him feel upset. It looked like she wanted to eat a lot more. As a trainee specializing in dance, she probably would need more as well.

“Oh, the chicken breast looks good,” Donghyuck leaned over a little exaggeratedly as he pretended to take a whiff of Hannah’s food. “I kinda want to eat that. Could we switch? Can we change food?”

Of course, he left her no room to answer and just switched their trays around. He gave her a cheeky smile before looking down at the salad. Something was different. She had very clearly separated the carrots from the rest of the dish. Looking at the salad that was his side dish, Donghyuck quickly reached his fork over and picked out the carrots.

“You don’t mind if I get the carrots, do you? I like carrots.”

“Thank you.” The small smile on her face as she bowed her head towards him made Donghyuck grin even wider.

“No problem, Hannah.” A thought crossed his mind. “Hey, do others know you don’t like carrot?”

She shook her head.

Donghyuck cheered once he found out he was the only one who knew that fact about her. “Nice. Starting from now, let’s be close, okay? You and me, friends, okay?”

The smallest of chuckles escaped her lips as she nodded. “Okay.”

And just like that, Donghyuck began to chatter her off about how trainee life had been for him so far. A new friend had been made, and he was satisfied.

Lee Taeyong

To say Taeyong was confused was an understatement.

Johnny had been spending considerably less time with the rest of the guy trainees recently, and it was all because of a new recruit. Never once did he see Johnny like that, not even when Mark first arrived. This made Taeyong curious. Who was this new trainee who had caught Johnny’s eye for the first time?

It’s not like the 95 liner disliked his friend’s new kid, it’s just that he’s never actually seen the trainee, much less interacted with her. Lee Hannah, he recalled the name. Elusive. Practically aces dance classes and is rapidly improving in vocals as he heard the rumors, yet still stays within the same circle of five people. What was with her? Was she so shy to the point where she couldn’t make friends, or was she cocky enough to see them beneath her?

Taeyong shook his head at that last thought. No way would Johnny hang out with someone like that. No way would Mark hang out with someone like that.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard music playing from one of the vocal practice rooms. Those rooms were normally pretty soundproof, so the noise confused him. Upon closer inspection, one door was slightly ajar, allowing the music to flow out of it, together with vocals he hasn’t heard before.

Curious, Taeyong approached the room an peaked through the little glass window of the door. Inside was a girl with a slight upturn to the corner of her lips as she switched to humming along to the melody of the song. Her eyes were closed, and her fingers were lightly tapping on the wall next to her almost as if she was trying to keep the rhythm. He had never seen her before, so he came up with the conclusion that this was Lee Hannah.

Upon the end of the song, he knocked on the door, shocking her into jolting her eyes open. He tilted his head in confusion when, the moment their eyes met, she scrambled up and hastily bowed towards him.

“Hi, I’m sorry for taking up the room for longer than expected.”

“No problem,” he tried to keep his voice reassuring, “the rooms are free to use, and there are a lot of them. You’re pretty good, by the way.”

She was picking at her nails as the 95 liner spoke to her. “I don’t know. I’ve only been practicing my singing for a few weeks, so it’s still really unstable.”

“Relax,” chuckles escaped from him, “you are good. Don’t worry, though. I was a lot worse than you are when I first entered SM.”

“Thank you.”

A small silence passed over them before Taeyong realized she probably wanted to practice on her own. With that, he nodded at her in the slightest and smiled. “I’ll leave you be now. Hey, if you want more company that isn’t Johnny, you can come look for me, alright? Any friend of his is a friend of mine.”

He didn’t wait for a response anymore as he left. So it seemed like she was shy. Not for long, though. She was, after all, friends with Johnny and Donghyuck.

Jung Jaehyun

Jaehyun was in a rush. He had ended up staying late in school because he was the one assigned to clean up that week. Of course, he had completely forgotten about that, so he had told the SM staff that he’d be in time. Of course, not wanting to admit he forgot, he still rushed to training rather than correcting. It was good conditioning anyway.

But Jaehyun forgot the different factors that could go wrong. He could trip, drop something, get too tired, or run into someone. Which he did.

“I am so sorry!”

The dimpled boy immediately knelt down and offered his hand to the young girl he had accidentally knocked over in the halls of SM. He had hit her hard enough that she hit the ground with a loud thud, the contents of her bag slightly scattering around them.

“No, it’s fine,” she had told him. “I’m sorry, too.”

“No, I wasn’t looking where I was going...” Jaehyun trailed off when he saw a small meal scattered on the ground. He cursed to himself. Her food was all inedible now because he had knocked it all over. Looks like it was a good idea to bring a handkerchief that day.

“I’ll do it, it’s okay!”

The girl went to pick up her stuff, waving her hands at him, but Jaehyun shook his head. He bent down to help her clean up.

“No, I’ll help,” he told her. “I’ll buy you new food, too.”

“I’m really okay!”

The way she was avoiding his eyes made him think that perhaps she was angry with him. Then that’s when he fully processed who she was. It was Lee Hannah, who he had often seen with Johnny during breaks! Remembering she was still new to being immersed into Korean, he decided to switch to English.

“Hannah, right?” Jaehyun smiled at her as she looked at him in surprise. “I’m Jaehyun. I’m a friend of Johnny’s too. Sorry for literally running into you. I’ll get you more food.”

Her eyes widened, “It’s fine! You don’t have to, I can just go and get more.”

“I insist.” He helped her up as soon as she was able to collect all her things into her bag. “It was my fault, anyway. I really shouldn’t have been running, especially not in here while the younger kids are still out and about on their break.”

She had closed her hands around her bag strap while thinking. Jaehyun tilted his head in curiosity. His initial thoughts of her being mad all faded away when he realized she was just being, well, shy. That was interesting considering she spends most of her time with Johnny, Mark, and Donghyuck. Then again, those three could be friends with literally anyone. Maybe she needed to befriend someone of a little less energy than the three.

“Hey,” Jaehyun began, “really, I’ll get it. It was my fault you dropped everything. Besides, think of this as a peace offering.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re friends with my friends, so why not we be friends as well?”

A grin grew on her face when she nodded, although a bit shyly. With that, he led her out to the small hidden restaurant he just found a few weeks prior. Training be damned, it’s not like he was never late before.

Kim Dongyoung (Doyoung)

Doyoung was just adopting trainees all around.

Not literally, of course. It just so happens that he likes taking the younger boys out a lot and bringing his foreign friends home for the holidays. This time around, he was bringing home Mark. Just Mark. If he was right, Yuta and Johnny would be hanging out in Taeyong’s place.

Usually, Mark went with the flow and did as he was told without asking for anything. That’s why he was a little surprised when Mark brought up a favor.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want, hyung,” Mark fumbled with his words. “I have a friend, and it’s either this friend goes with me or with Hyuck for the holiday. You know how overwhelming Hyuck and his siblings could be, so could you maybe ask your mom?”

“I guess that’s another one for the table,” Doyoung smiled. Who was he to deny Mark’s wholesome request especially since it was probably his first time asking the elder for a favor? “Let’s just surprise mom. You know she likes having guests over.”

“Nice!” Mark cheered. The younger boy then looked past Doyoung and grinned. “Hannah! Get over here!”

Doyoung jumped slightly at the name. Familiar, yet not at the same time. He put on a gentle smile as a younger girl made her way to them. It was the first time he had seen her, which was surprising since Doyoung did spend a lot of time with younger trainees.

“Hannah, this is Doyoung hyung,” Mark began, “and he’s taking us in for the holiday. Hyung, this is Hannah, the friend I was talking about.”

“Oh, um, thank you for letting me come over.” The way Hannah fumbled with her fingers lightly tugged at his heart. She looked so nervous, almost as if she felt like he would take back his offer any second. Doyoung couldn’t do that. Not when his fondness that he felt upon meeting her was starting to mirror the fondness he felt when he first met Jeno.

“No problem,” he reassured her. “It’ll be fun, okay? I promise.”

Her flinch didn’t go unnoticed, but Doyoung decided not to pry. He had just met her, anyway, so questioning her was out of the question.

“We’ll have a lot of good food there,” he began as Mark nodded along. “We’ll watch movies, too. Or we can go hangout at the playground.”

He watched as Mark lightly nudged the quiet girl with his shoulder, an excited look on his face. A brief whispered exchange went between them, one he couldn’t understand with both the volume and the language used.

“I’m looking forward to it,” she bowed her head to him, the smallest of smiles on her face.

Doyoung let out a small laugh and patted her head. Looks like he might just adopt this kid as well.

Dong Sicheng (Winwin)

Staying later than everyone else became normal for Winwin.

He was still getting used to it. The different dance style, that is. The things he was learning and practicing in SM, they were non-existent to him in Chinese traditional dance. He wasn’t used to it, which is why he tried to stay behind often just to get himself a little more used to the different grooves and steps.

This night in particular, though, he was struggling with the way he had to move his legs in order to swing his whole self. It was in a different manner than what he was used to, so he did tend to do it the way he knows. This frustrated him to no end.

With one more mistake, he let out a groan and just dropped to the floor. Through the mirror, a flash of movement caught his eye. There had been someone standing by the door, but whoever it was left as soon as he had fixated on the mirror.

“What?”

It wasn’t a ghost. Winwin had his fair share of horror stories in the company, but this felt different. There were no sudden chills or ominous feelings, so who was that? And why were they still here?

He went over to the training room’s door and opened it, looking outside. His eyes widened in the slightest as they met another pair. It was one of the younger trainees, he knew that.

“What are you doing here?” He asked. “I thought all the younger trainees have to go home by 10? It’s midnight now.”

The girl’s face shifted to one of guilt. “Sorry. I wanted to practice a little more. I didn’t mean to watch you!“

Winwin just nodded. That was basically the same reason he was still there, anyway. He opened the door a little wider and tilted his head towards the inside.

“Come in. This is the only room they leave unlocked. Everything else is used by the sunbaes. You can connect to the speakers, I was just about to clean up anyway.”

He went in without waiting for her. Her footsteps quickly followed his, the sound of the door shutting slightly echoing through the room.

A simple beat filled the room as he organized his things. Eventually, his eyes were drawn to the way she was warming up. It was familiar. She was stretching areas of her body that the other trainees didn’t really do much, but he did.

He looked at her curiously. “Did you do some type of ballet or modern dance before?”

A smile cracked onto his face when she jumped in surprise.

“Gymnastics and cheerleading,” she explained. “What makes you say?”

“Your stretching.” Winwin mirrored her straddle and began demonstrating. “I did traditional dance back in China, so I could see the differences. The others tend to do it like this, but you do it differently. You extend past your toes and fingers, and you’re graceful, um...”

“Hannah.”

“Hannah. I’m Sicheng, but everyone here calls me Winwin.”

“Oh, you’re Chinese, then? I’m half-Chinese.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Do you speak, though?”

“No,” she bit her lip, “but I’m planning to learn.”

He nodded at her. “Alright then. If you need to practice with anyone, then come talk to me, alright?”

“Okay. If it’s not a bother, could I see what type of traditional dance you did?”

Winwin glanced at his bag. He was ready to leave, but maybe he shouldn’t. Besides, even he knew that letting her walk alone at ungodly hours would be a mean move. He could stay until she had to go.

“Sure.”

Nakamoto Yuta

Yuta wasn’t oblivious.

He had noticed Hannah hanging out with some of his friends, so of course he knew her. He just never actually met her. Well, not before the last monthly evaluation of the year.

The young girl sitting a few seats from him was quite obviously struggling with her phone and the portable battery she had with her. This grabbed Yuta’s attention. For the first time in the months she had been in the company, she looked nervous. Curious, he silently made his way closer to her.

“Are you okay?” His voice must have startled her since she jumped in her seat when he spoke. A spark of fondness lit in him when he saw her expression. She looked like a fox caught stealing food.

“Oh, I’m okay,” she nodded, “I just can’t get my phone to work.”

One look at the gadgets in her hand and Yuta could tell they were both drained. Damn, he was supposed to bring his own portable battery, but he decided against it since his phone was fully charged anyway.

“I don’t think you’re going to get any power from that.” He watched amused as she followed his finger when it tapped her gadgets then unlocked his phone. “What song are you doing? Maybe I have it here.”

“Oh, um, are you sure?” Her voice was the slightest but hesitant.

Yuta pressed his lips into a line with a small smile. “Yeah. There’s quite a while between out turns anyway. So? What is it?”

“Everybody by SHINee sunbaenim.”

He let out a hum as he searched his music library. “Instrumental or the song itself?”

“Just the song,” she confirmed. “I’m still focusing on dance first.”

This was interesting. From what Yuta heard from Johnny, Hannah had a good set of vocals on her. Donghyuck said so as well, and god knows how picky Donghyuck could be with vocals.

“Is that so? Ah!” The Japanese boy tilted his phone to show her he had it secured. “I’ve got it right here. Anyway, I’ve heard you’re quite a good singer.”

“Not so,” she shrugged. “I’m still learning, and I know I’ve got a long way to go. I think I’ll just show what I’m good at for evaluation.”

The older shook his head. “I’ve been here for almost a year, and I think I can say that they want to see your progress. Next month, why not try something else, hm?”

A thoughtful look crossed her face, making him chuckle. He quickly removed his passcode from his phone and placed it in her hands. This made her look at him in confusion.

“It’s almost your turn,” he nodded towards the center of the room, “so hold onto that. You can give it to me when you finish. I’ll be right over there. Good luck, Hannah.”

“Thank you,” she bowed to him as well as she could in her seat. “Good luck to you, too.”

With that, Yuta went back to his original seat next to Taeyong. His dragon-eyed friend lightly tapped his leg.

“Hey,” Taeyong nodded in Hannah’s direction, “you went to talk to Hannah? She didn’t back away from you or anything?”

Back away? Why would she back away from him? Was he intimidating? Maybe she was shy?

“No, I think she was too nervous about her phone dying to worry about being shy.”

The confused look on Taeyong’s face made Yuta laugh. It looks like Yuta was able to become friendly with someone faster than Taeyong. That’s something he had to tell Johnny.

Moon Taeil

Many things had been lost within the company and found by someone who isn’t the owner. Phones, water bottles, clothes, even notebooks. This is why Taeil was surprised with what he found inside the vocal practice booth.

A binder.

It was filled with sheets of popular song lyrics, both western and Korean. There were also multiple scribbles on every single page, annotating the intonations, emphasis, and whatnot of the lyrics. It was something he did himself, but not really to this extent. It seamed every other syllable had some type of note written for it. Whoever owned this must have been working quite hard to sound the way they want to exactly.

Taeil closed the binder and looked at the cover. Who owned this? Sure he’d normally leave a lost thing behind, but the amount of effort placed in this binder made him want to look for who owned it and give it back. He flipped the binder and scanned the back.

Lee Hannah.

The English letters written in silver market stood out to him. Ah, one of the younger trainees. If Taeil remembered correctly, then she was probably in one of the dance practice rooms just wrapping up a dance class with the rest of the girls.

That’s how he found himself on the fourth floor and looking for the girls’ practice room. Of course, he got a little lost and ended up face to face with some of the younger boys.

“Taeil hyung!” He was immediately greeted in a tight hug by none other than Lee Donghyuck.

“Hyung,” Mark greeted him with a smile, “what are you doing down here?”

“I was looking for Hannah,” the elder explained as he let his free arm rest across Donghyuck’s back. “She left this binder up in the vocal rooms, I thought maybe she’d want it back.”

“Oh, let me see!”

Taeil could only laugh as Donghyuck took the binder from him and flipped through the contents.

“She’ll be here in a bit,” Mark explained. “Jeno and Jaemin usually invite her to hang out here during their break.”

True to what Mark said, the two boys walked in with the girl of the day in between them. Taeil smiled and waved at them as they came, noticing how Hannah moved to stand a little behind her two friends.

“Hey, Hannah,” Taeil greeted her, “you left your binder upstairs. I brought it down to give it to you, but Donghyuck took it.”

Her eyes widened as she bowed to him in thanks. “Thank you so much! Yah! Lee Donghyuck!”

The young girl practically yelled as she stormed over to her friend who was currently trying to apply her annotations to the way he sang. He chuckled as she pulled her binder from his grasp and lightly smacked him. Jeno and Jaemin had come over to try and look at the binder as well, but she had shooed them away. So the quiet Hannah he very rarely saw in the company had a loud side to her as well.

A sigh from Mark caught his attention.

“They’re always so excessively loud when all four of them are together.”

“That’s what you get for being the eldest among them,” Taeil laughed. “Hannah’s like this often, too?”

“I thought she wasn’t,” Mark shrugged, “but I think she finally warmed up enough to be like this.”

“Well then,” Taeil nodded as he went towards the door, “good luck with the kids, Mark. Check on Jisung, I think he’s hiding from the mess of the millenium kids.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

Taeil shook his head in amusement as he left. There was definitely more to the younger kids that he didn’t know.

Kim Jungwoo

(pls i can’t find predebut jungwoo pics 😭)

The rumors were getting to Jungwoo’s head. This was why he decided to talk to Jaemin about it. The current NCT Dream boy on hiatus had been visiting him a lot, and he had let slip that there was a rumored lineup change and that Jungwoo would be joining NCT in the next year.

“I don’t know, Jaemin,” Jungwoo began. “I don’t think they think I’m ready. What if I—“

“Na Jaemin!” A familiar voice had cut him off. “What are you doing here?”

Jungwoo watched as the one and only female member if NCT raced towards them and stopped right in front of Jaemin. The 00-line boy pulled his friend into a hug, which was quite a heartwarming sight.

The younger girl had just newly dyed her hair green in preparation for their comeback, and it was a stark difference from her previous brown hair. Seeing her hug Jaemin back warmly made him a little confused. She was known to be on the colder side and refuse affection, so this was new to him.

There she was, though, being all fussy over Jaemin and not even pushing him away when he squished her cheeks together. Caught up in his staring, he almost didn’t notice the way she noticed his presence and stood behind Jaemin while looking at him.

Not knowing what to do, the 98-liner bowed then gave her a wave, hoping he had the warmest smile on his face instead of an awkward one.

“Oh, right,” Jaemin coughed, “Hannah, this is Jungwoo hyung. Hyung, this is Hannah. She’s shy around new people, so please excuse her.”

“You didn’t need to tell him that,” Hannah muttered to Jaemin.

Jungwoo cracked a small smile. So the infamous Lee Hannah could also look like a kid outside of her Dream performances...

“It’s nice to meet you, sunbae,” He greeted her. “Hopefully you don’t feel too uncomfortable with me.”

Hannah nodded at him with a shy smile. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“I’ve been meeting a few trainees recently,” Jaemin told her. “I hear Jungwoo hyung is possibly going to be added to our lineup for the rumored project next year.”

Ah, right. The lineup. If the rumors were true, Jungwoo would be able to work with Hannah, maybe. Would he be able to see more sides of her like this? Different from what the public see?

“Well then,” she turned to him with a gentle smile, “if the rumors are true, I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He was taken back by this. Straightening in surprise, he bowed his head to her in the slightest. “Thank you.”

Jungwoo zoned out as the two kids in front if him spoke. It still seemed strange to him, honestly. From what he knew from SM’s promotions of NCT Dream, Hannah was a cold princess who didn’t really speak to anyone outside of NCT. This is why Jungwoo wouldn’t believe it when his fellow trainee mentioned he was put into a group chat with her and Jaemin and that she was quite chaotic.

He was brought out of his thoughts as Jaemin placed a quick kiss to her cheek. Just in time, too, since Hannah had bowed to him. He bowed back and watched as she headed down the hall.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Jaemin chuckled affectionately. “Actually soft in her own way, she just doesn’t know how to show it.”

“Not like how SM paints her.” The older of the two looked back onto her public imaged and compared it to what he saw.

“No,” Jaemin shook his head, “I’m sure you’ll see what she’s really like sometime soon. Who knows, maybe she’ll warm up to you real quick, hyung.”

Jungwoo could only shrug. “It’d be an honor if she did.”

#hannah.misc #nct 24th member #nct female member #nct female addition #hannah #lee hannah

64 notes · View notes

jessbakescakes · 3 years

Note

"30) things you said on the highway"

for the prompt thing :)

30. Things you said on the highway from this post.

Post-series Josh/Donna since I am me.

July 2016

Donna opens her eyes and stretches, adjusting in her seat. Josh must have heard her stirring because almost instantly, his hand is resting gently on her thigh.

“Sleep well?” Josh asks.

Donna nods and yawns, taking his hand in hers. “How long was I out?”

“Forty-five minutes, maybe,” Josh guesses. “We should be back at CJ’s in about an hour.”

“I’m guessing the girls are still asleep,” Donna says.

“Haven’t heard a peep out of them,” Josh confirms.

The Moss-Lyman family, at the tail end of a trip to visit CJ in San Diego, had spent the day at Disneyland. They started the day with a carefully planned itinerary that was almost entirely thrown out the window by ten o'clock, much to Donna's dismay, but everyone (even Josh) thoroughly enjoyed themselves anyway.

Donna peeks in the rearview mirror to get a look at their daughters. Nora’s Jessie hat has fallen off onto the floor, revealing just how wild her brown curls have gotten throughout the day. She may have inherited her dad’s messy hair, but her pink cheeks remind Donna that despite the near hourly reapplications of sunscreen, Nora also has Donna’s alabaster skin.

Caroline, seated in the middle in the back row, is clutching her lanyard with her growing pin collection, having completed her first trades without assistance. Her homemade Minnie Ears, the fruit of hours of her labor, held up surprisingly well throughout their day’s adventures, still perched safely on her head unharmed.

Leah, despite having fallen asleep on Donna’s shoulder for about an hour shortly after lunch, also seems thoroughly exhausted. Her brand new stuffed Stitch is just about as big as she is, squished next to her car seat and buckled in thanks to some creative thinking from Josh. She’s still holding Stitch’s hand, snoring softly in the seat beside Nora.

“CJ know we’re on our way back?” Donna asks, giving Josh’s hand a squeeze.

“Yeah,” Josh says. “I texted her before we left. I think I may stop at this next exit and get something to drink, though. I’m thirsty.”

“Okay,” Donna agrees, reaching for her phone. “I’m going to send some of these pictures out before I start getting angry texts.”

Josh changes lanes to get to the exit ahead. “I sent that video of Nora yelling at Gaston to the group chat.”

Donna laughs. “Oh, yeah?”

“Toby was disappointed that Gaston didn't hear her. Ainsley asked if Nora was certain she wanted to be a veterinarian because she could make a very good lawyer,” Josh says, pulling into the gas station. “And yes, I reminded Ainsley that Nora is five. I’ll be right back. Want anything?”

Donna reaches for her phone. “No, thanks.”

Josh walks into the gas station as Donna sends a few photos to her parents, the Santoses, and the Bartlets, promising to send more later. She also promises to call and let the girls talk about their day at Disneyland when the Moss-Lyman family arrives back in D.C.

There’s a little part of Donna that doesn’t want this trip to end; the anxiety of starting something new is beginning to set in, and the thought of spending less time with Josh and the girls is getting more and more painful.

She’s jolted out of her thoughts by the car door opening. Josh hands her a bottle of water and a package of peanut M&Ms, putting his own bottle of water in the cupholder before starting the car. “You didn’t have to get me this,” Donna says, tearing the package open anyway.

Josh shrugs. “I learned in 1998 to get you something even if you said you didn’t want anything.” He leans forward to give her a kiss, then pulls back onto the main road.

They ride in silence for a few minutes until Josh sticks his hand out toward Donna, indicating that he wants a handful of M&Ms. She obliges, rolling her eyes despite the fact that he can’t see her do it. He pops the M&Ms in his mouth, not bothering to chew before he speaks again. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Donna says. “I’m fine.”

“Thinking about Monday?” Josh asks.

“A little,” Donna admits.

“Only way you can go is up,” Josh reassures her. “The guy’s poll numbers are in the gutter. You’re walking into a mess, but you’re going to manage a Congressional campaign. Even if you don’t win, you can set him up for 2018.”

Donna sighs. “His polling is terrible.”

“Of course his polling is terrible,” Josh agrees, “his old campaign manager had probably never heard of Wisconsin before they hired him, let alone lived there.”

“You’re right,” Donna agrees.

Josh finishes off the M&Ms and reaches for her hand again. “It’s just until November. We’ll all manage. It’s the Virginia 8th, it’s not like you’re in, I dunno, Alaska. You’ll basically be home every night.”

“Feels far,” Donna sighs. “I like working in the District.”

“Well, when you run for Congress, you can work in the District,” Josh says, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

Donna laughs. “Whatever you say.”

#josh x donna #the west wing #my fics #there's absolutely a bartlet admin group chat and i will not be taking criticism at this time

21 notes · View notes

jenoptimist · 3 years

Text

you may have only gotten half a pudding cup but you got yourself a real life Disney Prince, so who’s the real winner?

✮ Pairing: kunhang x reader (gender neutral)

✮ Genre: fluff

✮ Word count: 5.8k

♡ Yakult says: hendery!!!!in!!glasses!!!!!!! pls i love him sm 🥲

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There was a phone number in you calculus textbook that you were one hundred percent sure you never wrote down. Not that you could, anyway, considering that it was a library book. Well, no, techincally you could write it in but you wouldn’t dare. The longer you stared at the handful of digits, the more you freaked out. You absolutely could not afford to be fined! The whole reason why you borrowed it from your college library was so that you didn’t have to spend money in the first place!

After gathering your materials and stuffing them into your bag, you hurriedly left your local library. You fished your phone out of your pocket, scrolled through your – admittedly pathetically short – list of contacts and called the person who you suspected wad the source of your small dilemma.

“‘Sup?” Yangyang greeted.

“Be honest with me,” you said seriously, immediately cutting to the chase, “were you the one who wrote the number?”

There was a beat of silence, and then, “what number?”

“You know,” you urged as you neared the apartment complex that the two of you lived in. “The one in my calculus textbook? I borrowed it from the college library and I don’t want to get into shit if they find it.”

“That wasn’t me!”

“Oh really?” You asked in disbelief as you hopped into the elevator and punched the number to your floor. After what you dubbed as, ‘The Spaghetti Incident of 2018’ you could never be too sure with him. When he replied that he didn’t, you asked him another two times. Throughout your friendship with Yangyang, you found that the trick to getting him to admit the truth was to keep badgering him until he either: got fed up or thought that whatever he did was no longer funny.

“I swear on my Hot Wheels!”

You hummed in consideration. His Hot Wheels collection was his utmost pride and joy - second only to his large sneaker collection - especially since he owned a handful of exclusive and rare ones. They were all displayed neatly on several shelves on one of the walls in his bedroom. They were even color coordinated and everything! Sometimes, when you went to offer him some food, you found him staring at them with a wide smile, his eyes full of admiration.

“Oh,” you frowned as you grabbed your keys from your jacket pocket but before you could slot your key into the lock, the door opened. Yangyang, the dork, greeted you over the phone even though he stood in front of you, a boyish grin displayed on his face. You rolled your eyes, not able to smother your smile as you hung up and stepped inside, locking the door behind you. It was noticeably warmer than usual and the apartment smelled if something toasty, which only meant one thing. “Pizza?” You guessed confidently.

Just as he gave you an affirmative, the oven began beeping to signal that it was finished. As Yangyang brought everything to the coffee table in front of your couch, you slipped off your shoes, dropped your bag and shrugged your coat off. While he cut the pizzas into almost even slices, you grabbed two cans of soda from the fridge.

Although it was still piping hot, you couldn’t help but take big bites. Your slice of doughy goodness was diminished within seconds. Solving calculus problems did thay to you. It was your least favorite module of the semester and brought on a headache whenever you left your lectures.

“This is so good.” You remarked as you took another slice. You loved a good margherita from Dominos but there was nothing like a frozen pizza from your local supermarket—the additives was probably what made it delicious, the cheap price just happened to be a bonus. Yangyang definitely felt the same, seeing as how the two of you devoured both pizzas within minuts, silence taking over the room.

You took a sip of your soda after popping open the top. “I”–you didn’t like the mischief that danced in uour room-mate’s eyes–“dare you to call the number.”

In your haste to swallow it, the soda passed through your throat uncomfortably, as if it were a large stone. “Nuh-uh.” You said with a shake of your head. There was absolutely no way you were going to call that number! You were just going to forget that it was even there. Or maybe you would return the book and hope that the next unfortunate student who will borrow it would be the one to pay whatever fine they had for ‘defacing public property’, as the college liked to call it. You didn’t know how many people had a calculus module in their course but you sure hoped that it was a large number.

“Awh come on, y/n!” At the firm shake of your head, he folded his arms and pouted slightly. A moment of silence passed and then, “I’ll give you a twenty.”

You took another sip of your soda as you mulled it over. “How about a ten and your last mango pudding cup for a text?”

Yangyang sucked a breath through his teeth. “That’s a tough bargain.” You shrugged, he hogged the other five pudding cups for himself so if he really wanted you to call this mystery person, he would have to give up the remaining one. “Okay, what if I give you fifteen and we split the pudding cup.”

“Better than nothing.” You conceeded after a second of thinking it over.

Yangyang’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he held out his hand for you to take. Once you shook it, the two of you quickly cleaned up. Not even ten minutes later, the last pudding cup and two spoons were on the table along with the textbook, opened on the page with the number on it. Yangyang leaned closer to your shoulder, his head practically resting on top of yours as he watched you type in the number and text.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

hey! i found ur number on a textbook i borrowed from the library so i thought i’d say hi i guess?

“Now we wait.” Yangyang said as he returned to his seat and opened the pudding cup. He handed you your spoon and the two of you dug in, eventually fighting for the last bit.

The reply came when you and Yangyang were watching Into The Spiderverse. Neither of you paused the movie when you heard the notification sound your phone let out—you had seen it countless times; twice when it was in cinemas and every so often whenever it was on Netflix.

You were slightly nervous about the reply, which was silly considering that you didn’t even know the person, but you opened up the text anyway so that it would be over and done with.

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Hi. My friend just told me he wrote it in there before I transferred. I’d be grateful if you could rub it out or use correction tape to get rid of it. Also, please delete my number.

You pursed your mouth at the response. It wasn’t as if you were hoping to be best friends or anything but the prospect of befriending someone had definitely excited you. You had college friends but that was liferally what they were: friends who you only saw in college. None of them hung out with you outside of college and whenever you did offer, they would either say yes to humour you – which, unfortunately, was blatantly obvious – or came up with an excuse. Which sucked, for obvious reasons but you would survive. The only people you had actually managed to successfully befriend were Yangyang (because he was looking for a room-mate at the time) and his best friend, Dejun.

“Uh-oh,” came Yangyang’s voice. “What did they say?” He was quick to read the text after you turned your phone to show him the screen. “Whoever it is, they’re very, um,” he paused for a moment while he thought of a fitting description, scratching his head, “grammatically correct?” At your nod of agreement, he added, “at least he said ‘please’.”

You shrugged as you typed a quick reply. “I guess.”

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

sure thing

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Thank you.

The two of you refocused your attention to the movie, the texts completely forgotten once you received his reply. Later that night, you did as you were requested and used correction tape to hide the number—which was written in neat, tiny green ink. You were aware that covering the numbers in correction tape would also be considered as ‘defacing public property’ too, but it was for the sake of the stranger’s privacy. It seemed as though you were the fiest to contact the number but, still, if you were in their position, you wouldn’t like your number to be in public property either.

As for the text, you took a screenshot of it for Yangyang, who asked for it so that he could show Dejun while he typed away in your groupchat, and then erased the number from your phone.

Two weeks later, you found yourself sitting at the study desk in your room, staring helplessly at the blank answer boxes of the calculus assignment you had been told to complete and submit before the end of next week. You wanted to cry in frustration as you redirected your gaze down to your notebook where you had been trying to solve the equations. The entire page was a mess and your desk was coverd with eraser bits. It had gotten to the point where some parts of the page had gone grainy, like it always did when you repeatedly erased something on the same area. There wasn’t a single problem that you managed solve—no matter how hard you tried. It was pathetic, really.

With a sigh, you decided to take the break that you had put off, not wanting to take one until you solved a problem (ha!) as a reward. Maybe you would rewatch the entire Twilight saga again (Dejun had managed to convince you to read the series a couple of months back and the movies had become something like a guilty pleasure of yours,) because it was clear that you were going absolutely nowhere.

Just as you had started Eclipse, you heard the door open but didn’t bother moving from your spot. In fact, you hadn’t moved since you started your movie marathon a few hours ago because you were all too comfortable buried inside your fluffy blanket on the couch.

“Perfect timing!” Dejun’s rich voice bellowed, “it just started.” There was the sound of socked feet running towards the couch and then he lifted your legs, sat down and laid them down on top of his lap.

“Hey Dejun.” You greeted, raising your hand for a high five.

When he slapped his palm against yours, he asked, “how’re you doing?”

Just as you opened your mouth to answer, Yangyang spoke up. “Judging from the Twilight marathon that’s going on,” there was a hissing sound of a can opening and the audible sound of him taking a quick sip of whatever canned beverage he was holding, “not very good.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed but your your friend only shrugged, smiling amusedly. “He’s right though,” you grumbled, “I’m really struggling with calculus at the moment.” Struggling was an understatement. You really wanted to pass it because you definitely didn’t want to repeat the exam. That would be a nightmare.

Dejun looked at you sympathetically before he made an affronted noise in his throat, one that you felt deeply in your soul as he turned to face Yangyang. “The Twilight saga is a cinematic masterpiece and you absolutely cannot change my mind.”

“Okay,” the blond replied, clearly up for the challenge. “But it’s not better than Shrek now, is it?”

“Shrek?” Dejun repeated incredulously. “Shrek is an iconic classic but the Twilight saga? Definitely on a different wavelength. The scene in New Moon where Bella just sits on her chair looking out the window soullessly? Perfection! It was a fantastic book to movie adaptation. And don’t even get me started on—”

“As thrilling as your debate is becoming,” you said, interrupting the point that the brunet was about to make, “I’d really love to continue the movie so I can hear young BooBoo Stewart say, ‘newest, bestest, brightest’ to help me feel a crumb of joy.” You were unable to find it in yourself to feel guilty about cutting in. They could take their debate somewhere else while you continued to wallow in your feelings of failure.

The pair read your mood easily and shrugged at one another in concession. Dejun patted your leg lightly in comfort as Yangyang jumped on the couch to sit on your other side, giving you a quick side-hug before focusing on the movie. It was silent up until Rosalie finished telling Bella her the story about her past.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dejun spoke up.

“Uh-oh.” Yangyang muttered playfully to you, his voice purposefully loud. You huffed out a laugh before lightly digging your elbow into his side, knowing that he’s had an awful share of ideas in the past.

Dejun stuck his tongue out at him but continued with what he began saying instead of retaliating. “Why don’t you text that person? The one whose number was in the textbook you borrowed? They must have done the module or something.”

You considered what he said seriously, even pausing the movie so that you could discuss it with him. “What if they didn’t though? What if it was their friend who borrowed the textbook? They did say that it was their friend who wrote it there.”

“Then you could just ask their friend for help.” Yangyang piped up. It was a statement that you couldn’t counter but that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t try to.

“I don’t have their number anymore,” you said to them. “They asked me to delete it, remember?”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Dejun told you as he reached into one of the pockets of his jeans and fished out his phone. Yangyang leaned over slightly and the two of you watched as Dejun quickly swiped his finger up his phone. “Here you go!” He said brightly, turning his phone so that you were facing the screen. And there it was: the screenshot that Yangyang asked you to take so that he could send it to Dejun. There was no way you could weasel your way out of this situation now.

“Okay,” you relented, “I’ll text them after we finish this saga.”

“If you text them after this movie, I’ll pay for take-out.” Yangyang bribed, eager for this idea to take place.

You weighed out the pros and cons briefly before agreeing with him. It would be a win-win situation: you would get take-out and a possible tutor. It seemed as if time moved quicker because the movie felt as though it finished within a few minutes. As Yangyang dialed the number for a local take-out place, you slowly typed out a text, him and Dejun watching you with hawk eyes.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

hi! it’s me again. i know you don’t know me but could you please help me with calc? or your friend, whoever borrowed the textbook. please. i feel like my brain is melting

You flung your phone on the table, laid back down on the sofa and released a long sigh. It would be a lie if you said that you weren’t hoping that they would say yes. You were trying your best but it was as if your brain refused to coorperate with you when it came to calculus. If only Yangyang or Dejun were enrolled in the same course as you. It was often that you thoughr that wistfully, especially during times such as this.

It was when you were about to shove a huge lump of lo mein into your mouth that your phone lit up, indicating that you received a notification. You stuffed the noodles into your mouth and grabbed your phone off of the table, dropping your wooden chopsticks into the rest of your dish.

“What did they say?” Dejun asked as he bit into an egg roll.

“Depends,” you read out. “Would I get paid for it?” You practically exclaimed the last part. It was fair that they were wondering about payment after all, who would want to tutor for free? The thought of the amount in your bank account had you cringing, you couldn’t afford to pay for a tutor at the minute. Although, you couldn’t afford to fail your module, either. So it was a lose-lose sotuation. You sighed before shoving another chopstick full of noodles into your mouth as you thought of a reply, eyes never leaving your screen. “How can I say, ‘no I cant’t but I really need your help’ without sounding desperate?”

“You can’t.” Yangyang replied matter-of-factly, chewing on his mapo tofu.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

no but u’d have my gratitude forever???????

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Oh.

[typing. . .]

I’ll have to think about it.

[typing. . .]

Just kidding! I’ll help you out, free of charge. Would you like to do it over the phone or meet IRL?

You cheered loudly when their last text delivered. “I’m guessing they said yes?” Dejun said, smirking smugly. You nodded, grinning widely as your fingers flew on the keyboard in your phone.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

omg ur a lifesaver!!!!! maybe over the phone?? it’ll probably be more convenient foe the both of us :)

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Gotcha. We can discuss our schedule sometime tomorrow.

Your tutor, Wong Kunhang, was surprisingly really helpful. He was much more friendly than you thought he would be, immediately introducing himself after greeting you over the phone. For the entire three hours that the two of you were on the phone, he was nothing but the epitome of patience. Not only that, but he explained everything in a way that you could easily understand and even cracked a lame joke or two to break the tension whenever he noticed that you were becoming incredibly frustrated. By the end of the session, you felt microscopically better about calculus. While you couldn’t say that you were especially ecstatic for the upcoming lectures and assignments, it was safe to say that, while you had a long way to go, things were sort of looking up.

from: Wong Kunhang (tutor)

Same time next week?

to: Wong Kunhang (tutor)

definitely!!

[typing. . .]

also if ur comfortable with it can we pls video chat instead?? i think it would be much quicker than us sending each other pictures back and forth

from: Wong Kunhang (tutor)

That’s a good idea! I can’t believe we didn’t think of it earlier ahahaha.

As you worked through the practice problems that Kunhang prepared for you, you couldn’t help but sneakily stare at your phone to catch a glimpse of him repeatedly. It sure came as a surprise when it came time for the video call and you found yourself face to face with a Disney Prince who came to life. There was no other way to sum up how handsome he was. He somewhat reminded you of Prince Eric—what with his black hair, wide, bright eyes and kind smile. It wasn’t as if you thought or expected that he would he unnattractive. In fact, you hadn’t really wondered about what he would look like at all since you had a long list of priorities. None of which included thinking about whether or not you would find your tutor attractive.

But still. Kunhang was definitely one of those people who were blessed with beauty and brains. One of the Universe’s favorites, if you will.

“You good? Are you stuck on something?” You started at Kunhang’s voice, eyes flying from your phone to your page and back to meet his expectant look. You murmured a negative and resolutely kept your gaze on your work for the next half an hour to avoid a repeat of what had just jappened.

After nearly two months, the tutoring session had become a bi-weekly thing. Sort of. Somewhere in between you whining about every question but toughing it out and him encouraging you while also lightly teasing you, you and Kunhang became friends. One of the two sessions somehow always ended up with the both of you chatting, completely abandoning the unsolved equations in favor of getting to know one another, or, mostly recently, switching back and forth between the show that the two of you suggested to one another.

This week you would be tuning into his suggestion, Love Death + Robots. Kunhang would talk every now and again during some parts, especially when it came to his favorites, but you found that you didn’t really mind. Not when he sounded so (adorably) excited about it. The series itself was pretty good so far albeit short – six episodes in total, and the two of you were already on the fourth one – which meant that the you that you recommended (The Office because you were astounded that he hadn’t watched at least one episode) would soon become the primary source of entertainment since the two of you were only on season three.

As you stood in the snacks aisle, internally debating one which type of popcorn you should purchase (salted or buttered? the microwaveable kind or loose kernels? also, which brand? there were so many options, maybe too many,) your phone vibrated in your pocket. Swapping your basket from your non-dominant hand to your dominant one, you pulled out your phone and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Kunhang greeted back brightly, “uh, so listen, I know we have our thing later but one of my sisters is moving out of her apartment and she asked me to help. Is it okay if we cancel?” The poor guy sounded super apologetic.

“Yeah, totally! Help her out!”–briefly, you thought about offering your assistance before deciding against it because that would be awkward and weird. Weirdly awkward. Awkwardly weird. Whatever–“I mean, it’s not like what we do is a set thing, anyway. I’ll probably ask the guys to hang out instead.” You eyed your basket full of snacks and made a mental note to grab the particular brand of potato chips that Dejun liked, already predicting that he would agree.

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on for hours on end. You would have assumed that the line dropped or went dead for some reason but you could definitely hear some shuffling sounds on the other side and, in a totally non-creepy way, Kunhang’s breathing.

“Right,” he finally replied, drawling the word out. There was another silence that felt extremely awkward. You wondered what facial expression he was making at the moment. It could have possibly clued you into what he as thinking. “Well that’s all I wanted to say I guess.”

“Oh,” you mumbled and then after a beat, you followed up with, “do you prefer salted or buttered popcorn? I’m trying to choose right now but I can’t decide.”

“Definitely salted. Buttered always leaves my mouth feeling weird.” You hummed while trapping you phone in between your ear and shoulder so that you could grab the generic box brand of microwaveable salted popcorn. The conversation carred on without anymore awkward pauses. You picked up a couple of items that he recommended every now and again, trusting his judgement. “Hey, you know what we should do?” Kunhang said as you queued up for the self-service checkout line, eyeing the items on display. When you hummed in response, he followed with, “we should hang out next week. In real life. We could do it on Sunday so you’ll still have one day of tutoring.”

It felt somewhat embarrassing that you agreed so quickly to his suggestion. You definitely should have played it cool but you had been meaning to ask him the same thing for a while now, so you were glad that he suggested it. “We can meet up at a café or something! Maybe have lunch? I’m paying, though!” It was only fair since he was helping you out for free.

“Lunch sounds good.”

“Great!”

“Great!” Kunhang mimicked, just as enthusiastically. “I’ve got to go but I’ll text you later?”

Both of you said your goodbyes then hung up. After tucking your phone back into your pocket, you made your way to the till that just freed up and began scanning your items. Once everything was paid for and bagged, you retrieved your phone to shoot a quick text in the group chat with Yangyang and Dejun, asking them if they felt like watching a movie franchise with you. They agreed, but only after Yangyang asked if ‘you’re weekly date with Kunhang got cancelled’ which earned him a picture of you flipping him off.

“Today’s the big date, huh?” Yangyang asked teasingly as you checked your appearance in the mirror once more, sprawled out on the couch as he made his way through his third mango pudding cup. From beside him, Dejun and Yukhei – the newest addition to your friend group since he and Dejun had to do an assignment together – gave your form an assessing once over.

Dejun, smiling mischievously, said, “obviously, can’t you tell by how nicely they’re dressed.”

You mock glared at the pair while Yukhei lightly slapped Dejun for his comment. Then he, bless his heart, beamed at you and said, “you look great!”

“Thank you,” you replied, smiling sweeting at him before addressing the other two, you firmly said, “and it’s not a date. We’re just hanging out, like the three, now four”–you corrected, glancing over at Yukhei–“of us do on a regular basis.”

“Oh, are they just a friend from your course then or something?” Yukhei asked curiously while Dejun and Yangyang hummed in unison, disbelief clear in their tones.

“No, it’s this guy, he helps me out with calculus. We’ve never met in person but he’s really nice.”

“I should hope so,” muttered Yangyang, peeling the seal off another mango pudding cup. “You’ve been crushing on him for a while now, so it would be a bummer if he wasn’t.” He said through a mouthful.

“Am not!”

“Are too!” Dejun countered for him.

��Am not,” Yangyang mimicked. “So what about all the times you’ve mentioned him then, huh?” And then he placed his pudding cup on the table, clasped his hands together by his cheeks and, in a voice that was meant to sound like yours, said, “‘oh, Kunhang told me this stuff is really good, we should try it out!’, ‘Kunhang is so smart!’, ‘can you believe Kunhang volunteers at the animal shelter and the nursery home as much as he can? Isn’t that so sweet?’, ‘Kunhang has such a Disney Prince smile!’. You gush about him all the time, it’s kinda sickening.”

You threw your arm out at him as you looked towards Dejun, hoping for some back up but you should have known better. They were your best friends after all. Dejun simply shrugged as he snatched a pudding cup from the coffee table and said, “to be fair, you do gush about him a lot. And! Whenever you text him, which most of the time, you get this goofy smile one your face.”

“Huh,” Yukhei mumbled, his tone full of thought. “This guy sounds a lot like one of my buddies.” The three of you looked at him with wide, curious eyes. When he noticed, he added, “it’s probably just a coincidence?” Although his tone suggested otherwise.

“Probably,” you replied as you grabbed your keys and shoved them in your pocket. “I’ve gotta get going or else I’ll be late.” You said as you made a beeline towards the door and slipped on the shoes you thought best suited your outfit. “Don’t wait up!”

“Why?” Yangyang replied just as you were about to close the door, playfulness evident in his voice, “I thought it was just lunch.” The other two cackled at that but you flipped him off and left the apartment, trusting that one of them would like the door behind you.

It was fortunate that you managed to catch the bus on time. After paying the appropriats fare, you made your way towards the back, earphones plugged in so that you could listen to some music along the way. Once seated, you took out your phone sent a text to Kunhang to let him know that you were on your way. His response was immediate, informing you that he was already nearby because his sister had asked him to run an errand for her, and asked you to text him when you were close.

Horizon was a cute little place that served as both a café and restaurant. It was sandwiched between a thrift shop and music store but, surprisingly, didn’t look the least bit out of place among the buildings. As you walked closed to it, you saw Kunhang standing by the entrance, bopping his head as he used his phone.

“Kunhang!” You called when you were close enough, after taking off your earphones and stuffing them into your pocket. Judging from the way he jolted slightly, you startled him. “Hey,” you greeted warmly when he removed his earphones. “You could have waited inside.”

Kunhang shrugged, a brilliant smile etched onto his face, “I thought it’d be easier if we walked in together.”

When you entered, you thought that you would have to find somewhere else to eat due to the amount of people present, but the staff who was waiting by the door only asked if you were eating in and then lead you to a table in the far corner of the room, right beside the window.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, y’know, in person.” Kunhang said as he browsed through the menu.

“You too,” you replied, peeking up from your own menu to find him wearing a hint of a smile. “I can’t believe it took us this long to be honest.”

Kunhang chuckled at that and nodded in agreement.

The meal seemed to fly by even though you left Horizon a little later than expected. You were still laughing as you headed out, thanking the waiter that served you one more time as you passed by him, at a story that Kunhang recounted that took place during his childhood. Although his texting style suggested otherwise, Kunhang was hilarious—which you knew already since he often made you laugh whenever you were on the phone with him, it was just a different feeling compared to the experience in person. You were almost sad at the thought of your time being over with him, until he jammed his hands into his pockets and, rocking back and forth on his herl, asked if you wanted to go get some ice cream since he knew a really good place nearby. And who were you to say no to that offer?

After fighting, again, over who would pay, the two of you roamed around for a bit, slipping into this store and that to window shop. Only when the stores began to close did you realize how late it had gotten. It wasn’t dark out, not yet, and you were surprised that several hours had passed since you first met up with Kunhang.

“Ready to call it quits?” You asked as the two of you began to make your way to where you would wait for your bus.

Kunhang shook his head and pointed somewhere behind you. “Let’s go to the playground over there. Race you.” And with that, he took off, leaving you to stare at him dumbfoundedly until your brain registered what he said and you ran after him.

“Cheater!” You huffed when you reached him, hands on your knees as you caught your breath.

Kunhang did nothing but through his head back and laugh at you. Attractively. It was something to ignore—his attractiveness, that was. But it was awfully difficult and all you could do was hope that he didn’t notice how you were looking at him. You couldn’t help it! Even though his outfit was relatively basic – just some gray-brown sweatshirt, black joggers and a pair of white sneakers – he looked effortlessly good. And it wasn’t just his appearance that made him attractive, either, oh no, because that just wasn’t enough. He also had to have an amazing personality.

“Let’s go over there,” he said after he sobered up, nodding towards the spring riders. “No racing this time.” He added with a wide grin. You weren’t able to suppress your own grin quick enough, rolling your eyes as you shoved his shoulder.

“I’m glad we met up today,” you admitted sincerely as you rocked back and forth on the spring ride. “You’re even better in person.”

Kunhang stopped rocking on his spring ride and looked at you. “I’m glad we met up today, too.” He told you with a smile that turned into one that was more sweet and shy as he said, “we should do it again some time, y’know, when we aren’t flooded with assignments and stuff.”

“Totally!”

“How about, maybe,”–Kunhang’s tongue darted out a sliver of his to wet his lips–“as a date?”

You stared at him in shock which he met head-on, that sweet, shy smile of his still present. You could feel a smile threaten to rise and you allowed it, messing with the hem of your top as you nodded in agreement. “That would be nice.”

“Really?” He asked, his tone both excited and unbelieving. When you assured him that you would be really looking forward to it, he said, “that’s– that’s great! I can’t wait, either.” Then, he jumped of his spring ride, held out his hand and pressed a feather light kiss to your knuckles like the Disney Prince he was when you placed your hand in his.

“We should probably head home.” You said, hand still in his. Kunhang never let go, so you figured he was okay with you interlocking your fingers and swinging your hands back and forth.

Like the gentleman he was, he waited for your bus with you and waited until you got on it, blowing kisses at you through the window. Your smile was so big your cheeks began to hurt as you pretended to catch the kisses.

(Later, after you had told Yangyang about how the day went swimmingly, you received a text from Kunhang and couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh. Your room-mate shot you a curious look so you let him read the text.

from: kunhang 💘

You know Yukhei?!?!?!!!!)

#this took a much different turn than i thought it would andnsk #but i hope it was worth the read #also question: do my fics ever sound like a self-insert???? like i mean not reader insert but like y/n is me if that makes sense????????#cause i sure hope it doesnt omg its not meant to be i promise #i’ve been thinking about it recently cause of this tiktok i watched 😫#but yeah anyways i keep listening to first love + good time on repeat #when mark says ‘ur my my’ and ‘tell me tell me’ and sichengs parts in good time 🥲🥲#sicheng’s parts in good time has been my sole reason for existance lately #i felt it so deeply that AND his insta post from 2 weeks ago affected me so much that i started a draft for him #but i also have drafts for other members that im like hmmmmmmm #although i havent done a sicheng fic since i wrote that pocket!sized sicheng fic and also the smau i started #(and kind of abandoned but i’ll get back to it in the summer maybe)#also 7dream cb 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲#i’ll keep rambling if i don’t start typing the Official tags so here they are:#wayv #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv au #wayv fluff #wayv hendery #wayv kunhang #wong kunhang #hendery fluff #hendery imagines #hendery scenarios #nct #nct au #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct hendery

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trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

four christmases

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings: slight violence, angst, fluff, smut && SPOILERS

word count: 16k

description: part 2 of 5. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE FILM. you’ve been working for the thrombeys for four years now,the last three years of your service being a glorified babysitter to the most annoying, self-absorbed, dickhead hugh ransom drysdale. These are the four christmases you’ve spent with the thrombey/drysdale clan during your times of service.

a/n: this story is brought to you by season 4 of schitt’s creek and maybe 12 cups of coffee. it felt like it took forever to write, but i’m happy to bring it to you. this is the follow up for my other ransom one-shot ‘the assistant’. i hope you guys like it!

2018

What a fucking asshole.

“You have to be there, it’s your job.” Ransom huffed indignantly. You rolled your eyes from the passenger seat of his beamer, tablet open in your lap as you scrolled through your sister’s amazon wishlist.

“I have a family too Ransom. I can’t just abandon my own family on Christmas just because you can’t get along with yours.” His knuckles turned white against the gear shift. Nothing else mattered, only him it seemed, and his whining Mommy complex.

“You were hired to assist me,” Ransom pulled into the drive of his house, tires crunching on the gavel, “So assist.” What a fucking tool. He quickly exited the car not looking behind him to see if you were following into the house, but leaving the front door wide open with the expectation that you were coming right behind.

You had just hopped onto this assistant gig a few months ago. There you were minding your own business as fall began, working for a temp agency, when Linda Drysdale rang you up and asked you to come work for the family again. You had recently been tutoring one of the youngest of the clan, Meg, with her English coursework for her last school year. The pay was good and you were kind of let down when they opted not to keep you on after summer concluded.

Babysitting Ransom paid well, better than it had been to help Meg out, but was it really worth the price? Ransom was a fucking child. You cooked his meals, washed his laundry, and were forced to tail him as he went about whatever business he deemed worthy of his days. Just until 9 pm, that’s all you had to do. Twelve hours a day, five days a week. Off Sundays and Mondays.

It felt like too much and not worth the paycheck. Even if the trust-fund asshole spent his days flirting around from one party to the next. More often than not he found himself a body to bring home leaving you to get an uber back to his place just so you could get your car to go home, or worse yet having you sit awkwardly in the backseat of the car as whoever was in the passenger seat desperately tried to give him road head.

He loved it. You know he did. Eyes flitting to yours in the rear-view mirror as a girl ten years younger than him fumbled with his belt. A fucking smirk on his face. You wanted to punch him, but your sister’s private school tuition held you back.

You followed him into the house, one you had just spent the entire morning cleaning as Ransom slept off his hangover. The prick had dropped his coat on the floor adjacent to the coat hook, shoes haphazardly kicked off beside it, glaring at him as you picked them up while he drank orange juice straight from the carton.

“I’ll pay you time and a half if you come.” He bartered.

“You don’t pay me anything,” You scoffed. “Your Mom pays me.”

“Exactly.” He tossed the carton back in the fridge, coming around the counter to get closer to you. He dropped his voice in what he probably thought was a seductive whisper. The fire it lit in your core would lead you to believe that it actually was a seductive whisper and you just fucking hated him. “I’ll make it worth your while.” He drug a finger down your cheek softly. It only caused you to roll your eyes, batting his finger away and stripping yourself of your coat you turned back to him,

“I want triple.”

Your sister was going to be pissed, but she’ll survive once she realizes you were able to get her a new laptop for school. A compromise.

She cried.

The Thrombey’s were probably the worst people you’ve ever met in your entire life. Harlan was prideful, pompous. He cared about his family, to an extent. He created them after all, his monsters.

Linda was okay, but she was a lot like her father. She felt as though she was better than everyone else simply because she ‘built herself from the ground up’ yeah, if the ground was a million dollars gifted from Daddy. Her husband, Richard, was a glorified sugar baby, you were sure at one point he was a real estate broker, but Linda had the business, he just rode on her coattails.

Walt was a whiny bastard. He was meek. He walked around with a cane and you weren’t sure he even needed it. It could totally be a ploy to try and gain more sympathy from his father. His wife was a drunk, you couldn’t remember her name, but it didn’t matter because she wouldn’t talk to you anyway. You can’t talk if you always have your mouth wrapped around the lip of a martini glass. Their son, Jacob, was a little alt-right shit. Every comment that came out of his mouth was a dig on some less privileged 99% and if you didn’t need this job you’d shove his head in the toilet yourself.

That leads you to Joni and Meg. Joni and Ransom had both been given an allowance every month. That’s the way they were mostly the same. How they differed was that Joni was at least attempting to have some sort of entrepreneur business where she gained some income, but not enough to live the lifestyle she was accustomed to. She had Meg in this expensive ass private school that cost more than your salary a month and Meg found this group of liberal women and now she was becoming the extreme opposite of Jacob. They often bumped heads, with Meg slowly giving in. She always gave in. This was her family and as much as she wanted to fight for the 99% she never actually wanted to be one.

But it was fine.

It didn’t really matter.

You just wanted to go home.

Ransom hasn’t had an empty hand all day thanks to you. “If I’m ever without a drink,” He said on the way over, “You’re walking home.” So this is where you’re standing, with Marta and Fran, you sipping on a weak mimosa that Marta had compromised on, waiting for the day to be over.

Ransom’s eyes met yours from across the room, hand raising his glass, the last little mouthful swishing against its side. You sighed and rolled your eyes, turning to grab the decanter behind you, walking over to fill his glass. “So I told him to shove it up his ass,” Linda was telling Harlan a story, “If you think for one moment I would give in to anything less than market price you’re out of your mind.” Please love me, she was saying, please see that I’m the best child you have. Harlan’s eyes were dazed, not looking at hers. Thinking. He was always thinking.

The only time Ransom didn’t need you was when he disappeared into his Grandfather’s office. Presents were handed out just before, new iphones, apple watches, macbooks, cartier bracelets, rolexes, a couple of little bonus checks to their allowances, the spirit of Christmas was definitely lost on this family.

It doesn’t matter.

You had just filled Ransom’s glass before he entered the study and you knew he wouldn’t need you until some kind of argument broke out with his Grandfather and you had to be ready to leave the house at a moment’s notice.

“How’s it goin’ kid?” Richard always kind of made you uncomfortable. He seemed normal, but you were uncomfortable in a ‘this is a rich older white man who liked to corner you alone’ kind of way. For the most part he’s been harmless.

One time, this was early on when you first started to tutor Meg, he found you in a similar way. Alone, in the kitchen. This was one of the first times he had met you and he was sure to let you know, “You’ve got a really pretty face, you know that?” Ew. Thanks? He had gotten close, too close. “How’d a pretty girl like you end up as a tutor?” That’s worse. And cheesy. This looked like one of those times, except he’d been drinking since 8 am.

“I’m fine thanks.” You had been trying to find a minute of peace. There was always someone talking in this house, during ‘debates’ there were usually three or four. This was supposed to be a break. Ransom having been passed off to another wet nurse he could suck off of while you got some rest, and maybe sneak a couple of those expensive chocolate artisanal cookies for good measure. Richard grinned at you, not in the way Ransom would when he was fucking with you, but something more predatory. He was feeling ambitious.

“I just wanted to give you this,” He slipped an envelope across the counter to you, hand resting on it, waiting for you to take it. As your hand met the envelope, he did the fucking worst thing he could possibly do in this moment, and took your hand. Your heart was racing and you felt wildly uncomfortable. He held your hand, taking a step into your space, body crowding yours against the counter. You stared him down, please just let me go. Please just fucking let me go. “How’s my son treating you?” He asked. What exactly did he think you were doing for his son?

“Fine.” You swallowed harshly. Please just let me go. You could smell the whiskey on his breath, face coming closer to yours.

“If you ever need anything…” Closer and closer. You wished you could pull back completely, get out of this situation, but the vice grip he currently had on your hand was making it difficult.

“Y/N.” Your eyes snapped over to the doorway, Ransom. His jaw was clenched, face flushed from what you were sure was an argument with Harlan. “We’re leaving.” Richard turned and smiled at his son, releasing your hand. You quietly slipped the envelope into your jeans pocket, backing yourself away from him, and joining Ransom across the room where his eyes hadn’t yet left his father. It wasn’t until you made it to the front door, grabbing your coat from the coat rack did he stomp his way out of the house, digging his car keys from his pockets.

“Ransom I don’t think you should be driving-” You started, but he turned to you, eyes wild. This scared you.

“Get in the car.” He demanded. Fuck, he’s drunk.

“Ransom you’re drunk, you can’t drive right now.” His eyes looked behind you and you turned to look at his family, peeking out through the curtains to watch the show. He quickly grabbed your arm, tugging you to the passenger seat, wrenching the door open and shoving you in, slamming the door behind you to circle around to the drivers side. “Just let me drive.” You pleaded. He slammed his own car door, revving the engine and quickly whipping the car out of the driveway.

He wasn’t saying anything and Ransom always had something to say.

“Ransom-”

“Shut the fuck up.” His knuckles were white against the wheel, eyes staring straight ahead as he began gaining speed.

60 mph,

65 mph,

70…

“Slow down!” He was scaring you, these roads were winding and dark, his high beams only did so much and you weren’t sure how many deer you’d be seeing tonight. His foot was heavy on the accelerator.

“Ransom please!” You cried. His breathing was heavy. His eyes were moving wildly left to right as he moved the wheel to turn.

100

You were going to die. This was it, this was the end. The car hit the open road, the interstate, and to the left of the on ramp you had just flew through was a cop. Their lights started flashing, red and blue filling the car as Ransom kept accelerating. It wasn’t late at night, probably around nine or so. There were other cars here as Ransom kept gaining speed, swerving in and out of traffic. “You’ve got to pull over!” You yelled at him.

105

110

115

“Ransom for the love of god, fucking stop!” His eyes looked in the rearview, two cops now. It was then he began to slow down, moving over to the side of the road, your heart still racing in your chest. You relax your fingers which you didn’t even realize was gripping Ransom’s bicep in a steel grip. Both of you breathing heavily inside the car. It wasn’t until the cop heavily banged on the window that either of you even moved.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle.” A bright flashlight in your face as you dug around for his registration and insurance in the glove box. Exiting the car and circling to the trunk as Ransom was handing the four cops bills from his money clip. Why the fuck did Ransom have a money clip full of hundreds? Ransom’s eyes met yours as he stuffed his money clip back in his coat pocket before tossing you the keys which you caught awkwardly.

“Take me home.”

You looked over at the cops who were getting back in their squad cars before quietly getting in the driver's seat and shutting the door. Your heart was still pounding and as the adrenaline began wearing off you suddenly grew very tired.

“Drive.” You didn’t want to hear his voice. You never wanted to see his face again. You never even wanted to hear his name again.

“You’re the fucking worst.” You could feel yourself crying. That was the most terrifying experience you’ve ever had in your life.

“Well you’re fucking my father so,” He sunk down in his seat. “I think I have some competition.”

“I’m not fucking your father!” You exclaimed, hand hitting the steering wheel. You hear him scoff from the passenger seat.

“Not today since I walked in on you. Which is funny, you put on this whole show about not wanting to be around my family and what was it all for? A fucking ploy so I didn’t know.” Ransom didn’t fucking know how much of a goddamn idiot he was being right now.

As the gravel crunched beneath the tires of the beamer, your argument continued. “I’m not fucking your father, I’ve never fucked your father, and I never will fuck your father.” He wasn’t hearing you.

“Is this why Linda pays you so much?” He scoffed, exiting the car. He looked at you from over the roof and continued, “So you keep Richard out of her bed?” You hadn’t stopped crying. Still half going from fear and the other half from frustration. It was so goddamn cold out that the tears were freezing against your cheeks.

“Ransom, I am not fucking your father!” You yelled, “The reason she pays me what she does is because the exact fucking thing you’re doing right now.” He rolled his eyes, walking up to the front door of his house,

“Give me my keys.”

“No.” You were still standing by the car, keys fisted in your hand. “You’re being a fucking asshole right now.”

He clenched his fist, slamming it into the front door before turning back to you and yelling, “Give me my fucking keys Y/N.” You both looked at one another for a moment.

You took a deep breath. “I have nothing to do with your father Ransom. My only job is to wait on you like a fucking servant and that is what I get paid to do. Not be your fucking punching bag when your family turns out to be a bunch of dicks-”

“Give me-”

“I’m not finished!” You screamed. Tears were still streaming heavily down your face and Ransom stood five feet away from you awkwardly letting you continue. “I don’t deserve this Ransom. I really fucking don’t. You literally almost just fucking killed me. So you’re going to say you’re sorry, you’re going to go into your fucking house, you’re going to give me what you promised me for even having to deal with this shit tonight, and you’re going to give me the rest of the week off.”

It was silent for a moment. The two of you standing in the cold Massachusetts air in silence. Your face was starting to burn and as the silence stretched on you began to doubt everything you just said. Fuck this could cost you the job. The envelope Richard had handed you weighed heavily in your pocket. Hopefully it would be enough to hold you over until you could get back to the temp agency.

Ransom let out a breath he had been holding, turning fully to you, and walking down the two steps of his porch. You flinched back away from him, looking at his knuckles that were split and bleeding from punching the door. His eyes met yours and he looked like he was debating something.

“I’m sorry.” His words were soft and whispered, hand coming forward with an open palm, waiting for his keys. You gently gave them back to him. That soft, whispered, ‘I’m sorry’ stunned you. You didn’t expect your yelling to actually work. You expected to be fired. His keys jingled as he reached in his pocket and brought that money clip back out, extracting a bundle of hundreds and holding them out to you between two fingers. “Go home.”

That was never spoken of again. The thing with Richard in the kitchen, being pulled over on 95, the screaming match that ensued, and nothing was ever said about the solid gold, $6,500 cartier bracelet that was by no doubt wrapped at the store that was waiting for you when you arrived back at work five days later.

2019

“What did he do?” You were sweating. It was so fucking hot in here, but you were afraid to take off your coat. The fanfare in which the detectives had pulled up to your apartment complex was embarrassing, quickly bringing you down to the police station and shoving you in an interrogation room.

“What did who do?” The man who had introduced himself as Lieutenant Elliot asked you. Shit. What the fuck did Ransom do? The death of Harlan Thrombey was sudden, right after his birthday just two weeks ago. It was unsettling, the suicide. The funeral was uncomfortable to say the least. Ransom told you to go and then didn’t go himself so you stood there like some weird interloper on the tails of everyone’s grief.

You were going to throw up, you’ve never so much as gotten a speeding ticket but suddenly you had a kilo of coke on you and an unlicensed gun. “Where were you the night Harlan Thrombey committed suicide?” You picked at your fingernails.

“I was at the party,” Your throat was so dry, you were afraid to touch the glass of water they had set before you, “I always feel strange around the family so unless Ransom needs me I try to hide out in the kitchen.”

“You’re his assistant?” Elliot asked, “He doesn’t have a job, so what exactly do you assist with?”

“I’m pretty much his babysitter.” You explained, “I make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble…” It’s ironic right? You bit your bottom lip. “Why am I here exactly?” The other man in the room, Wagner, spoke up,

“Hugh Drysdale has been arrested in the murder of Harlan Thrombey’s housekeeper.” Elliot gave him a dirty look.

“Fran’s dead?” The shock was evident on your face. You leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair, discarding your coat and scarf and taking a large mouthful of water.

“You seemed surprisingly absent from Hugh’s side throughout the aftermath of Harlan’s suicide, why is that?” The third man spoke up from his spot sitting in the corner of the room, the thick southern accent was almost comical.

“Ransom gave me time off,” You recalled, voice trailing off as you finish your sentence, “He said I could go to my sister’s cello recital…” Did he really kill her? “Why would he kill Fran?” It made no sense. “I mean, he’s an asshole, but murder?”

They played a recording. Ransom in his own, self-righteous, pompous voice. Fuck me. What a fucking idiot. “So tell us where you were on the dates in question, spare no details.”

You had thought it strange, Ransom had left you stranded at the Thrombey house and you were forced to find your own way back to his house to get your car. It wasn’t at all strange that when you got to his house his car wasn’t there. You’d just assumed he’d gone out. It wasn’t uncommon for him to go out after finding arguments with his family. But the next day when he suggested that you take the week off, spend time with your sister, go to that recital you didn’t know he knew about, you checked his forehead with your wrist.

“Are you sick?” You had asked. He gently pushed your wrist off of his forehead, giving you a terse look.

“Harlan committed suicide last night, the funeral is tomorrow, but after that you should take some time. I need some time.” Your heart broke a bit. Yeah Ransom and Harlan butt heads all the time, but they were practically the same person so it made sense to you that they would fight. Both prideful assholes.

“I’m so sorry Ransom.” Should you hug him? You didn’t know. You two didn’t have any physical contact really. You’d never seen him hug anyone. So no, no hugs. “Is there anything I can do for you?” You opted to just gently lay your hand on his wrist. His eyes met yours for a moment, silence.

“Just come to the funeral.” With that he stood up and walked away.

That’s why it was so off-putting when the bastard didn’t even show up to the funeral and as you stood there with his sobbing family you figured next time you saw him you were going to spit in his coffee.

“I haven’t seen him since the day before the funeral.” You admitted to the officers. “He asked me to go, and didn’t even show up.”

“If we have any other questions we’ll let you know.” And you were released from questioning, but you had so many questions yourself. Arson? Fran? He attempted to murder Marta. Was this worth it? The fucking asshole never had to work for anything in his life, and even now as you stood in the courtroom waiting to see what bail would be set as so you could relay to Linda, you wanted to smack his pretty little face for being such a fucking idiot.

A bailiff read out the case number and in walked Ransom. You’d never seen him in any outfit that cost less than your rent and here the bastard was, walking in with a black and white striped jumpsuit, the county jail logo stamped in red on the back. You were the only person that showed up for him. Linda was half waiting for you to text her a dollar amount so she could pay his bail, the other half of her was debating on whether to leave him there or not. At least, that’s what she told you anyway.

You could only imagine what you looked like to him. Your eyes were puffy and red from just crying in the parking lot for an hour in between getting questioned and coming to his hearing. Before that the detectives had taken you practically from your bed. But you were here, in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, coat pulled over the ratty thing, and snow boots on your feet. It started snowing this morning.

His eyes caught yours as soon as he entered, but he quickly looked away. It was like a goddamn movie, his wrists cuffed to his waist, a chain leading down to the cuffs around his ankles.

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone.

A chill went down your spine, “Bail set at a million dollars.” And a gavel. Cameras clicking behind you. Thirty minutes later you were waiting for his release. You handed a dry cleaning bag with clothes to the officer at the front desk.

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone.

It wasn’t long before the secure, thick, metal door behind the metal detectors opened and Ransom was walking through it back to you. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, quickly circling to the desk to get his phone, wallet, and keys back. The garment bag was shoved back in your hands containing the clothes he was wearing when he was arrested, and then he was out the doors of the county jail, speed walking to your car. His was taken in as evidence.

You used your key fob to unlock the car, Ransom wordlessly climbing in the passenger seat and slamming the door behind him as you settled in the driver’s. This was uncomfortable. You drove in silence for a minute, awkwardly leaning over to turn on the radio. The song only played for a second before Ransom leaned over, smacking the button to turn it off again.

“Just say it.” He spat out at you. Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Say what, Ransom?” You were scared of him now and he could tell. He breathed harshly through his nose. You could feel his eyes on you.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I did it? Why I did it? Yell at me for being a fucking idiot?” He threw his hands up in frustration. There was a beat of silence more, “Say something.”

“I don’t know what to say!” You really didn’t. What do you even say? You’ve been cursing him for a while. In your head. Cursing him since you left the interrogation earlier. You didn’t know what any of this meant for your job, if you’ll be able to keep your sister in school, if you’ll be able to even afford the apartment you two live in right now. And all because Ransom wasn’t getting anymore fucking money from his Grandfather the fucking prick.

“Anything. Fucking say…” He leaned over in his seat, growing close to you. “Are you scared of me?” He smirked. Not in his, I’m playing with you and getting my way, smirk. And not in his, I’m making you weirdly uncomfortable and it really gets me off, smirk. But some sick sinister type of smirk that made your stomach roll.

“You fucking murdered someone Ransom.” You said between clenched teeth. He studied you for a minute before settling back in his seat. Silence took over until you made it to the front door of his house. Lawyers should be coming by in about an hour to start working on his case, his parents should be here soon as well seeing as they were backing all of this.

“You think I would hurt you?” Ransom asked as he stripped himself of his coat, purposefully letting it fall to the floor just so you’d have to pick it up. You left it there. He turned to look at you, still in the doorway of his house. “I killed Fran because I had to.” He spat. “It was for the bigger fucking picture. You want to be paid don’t you? You like having money right?”

“Your Mom pays me Ransom.” You stated calmly. His voice was escalating in volume as he continued.

“So fucking what? Who bought you that fucking coat, huh?” He was talking about the expensive wool coat you are currently wearing. He bought it for you after seeing that your old bubble coat had stuffing pouring out of the right pocket. You didn’t ask for it. “Who pays for your fucking phone, huh?” You had a month-by-month plan before. Ransom gifted you and your sister iphones sometime in the spring, saying that he needed to be able to reach you without having every call get dropped due to bad reception. Your sister’s was just because they were buy-one-get-one, or so he said. You didn’t ask for it. “And that fucking bracelet on your wrist too? Is my Mom buying you jewelry? Or just me and my fucking Dad?” He was still under the impression that something had gone on between you and his father apparently.

“That’s it! I’m done.” You yelled back at him. “I fucking quit.” You stripped the coat off your shoulders and tossed it on the floor beside his watching his mouth snap shut. You wiggled the bracelet off your wrist and threw that down on top of it before slipping your phone out of the side pocket of your yoga pants and throwing that on the pile. “I’ll mail Julia’s phone back to you.” You still hadn’t stepped foot inside the house, turning to walk back to your car when Ransom’s thundering footsteps could be heard behind you.

Fuck he was going to kill you.

It had continued to snow throughout the morning, the soft white stuff still falling heavily from the sky as you rushed to your car, you had to get away. You didn’t make it far before Ransom’s arms wrapped around your body from behind, tugging you tightly to his chest. You let out a loud scream before he covered your mouth with his hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He whispered quickly into your ear. “Please stop, I’m sorry.” His large body was bent over your back as you were crouched over trying to get him to release you, both of you breathing heavily as you settled against him. “Y/N I’m sorry.” He slowly started walking the two of you back toward the house, “I’m not gonna hurt you!” He shouted as you tried to bite his hand. He uncovered your mouth, arms loosening. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” He repeated a little more calmly.

He brought you back into the house, shutting the door softly behind him. You wanted to leave, eyes tearing up. What the fuck were you supposed to do now? Ransom stood for a moment with his back against the door before peeling the wet socks off of his feet. You hadn’t realized that he took his shoes off when he originally came in. His feet were bright red from the cold. You glanced to your left at the knife block there, slowly backing away.

“No, no, no, I’m not going to hurt you.” He sunk down to his knees. He looked like a fucking idiot, face flushed from the cold, kneeling in front of the door. He slowly made his way over to you, not rising from his knees, shuffling forward with his hands open and facing you. Your heart was racing as he stopped at your feet, slowly moving his arms to wrap around your waist, burying his face in your ratty old college sweatshirt.

He was hugging you. Actually hugging you, on his knees, face turned into your belly. You could have sworn he whispered, “Please don’t go.” But you couldn’t be sure.

A pot of coffee was made, coats picked up, and floor mopped before the lawyers and his parents arrived. The only evidence of your earlier fight was the absence of the cartier bracelet you refused to put back on. It sat heavily in Ransom’s pants pocket. Their discussion was loud in the living room and no one looked up as you lay the coffee and finger foods on the coffee table, Ransom’s cup unmade for him out of spite. As you turned to make your way back to the kitchen, Richard’s hand shot out to grab you harm, halting your movements,

“Grab me some Macallan for me, would you sweetheart?” Your eyes flit over to Ransom, who’s jaw twitched, sharing a look with you before looking back to his lawyers and mother.

This was none of your business, but you needed to know what your future was going to look like. Were you out of a job? If Ransom went to prison there would be no one to babysit. So yeah, you would be. He admitted on tape to arson and murder. Pre-meditated arson was minimum of 10 years, Murder was 30 years. He’s looking at at least 40 years in prison. He would be an old man before he was even allowed parole.

The group grew silent, or you couldn’t hear them as you started dinner for that evening. You were sure the four of them would be staying. “Y’N, would you come here please?” That was Linda.

You made your way over to the group, shuffling nervously in your wool socks. “Yes Mrs. Drysdale?” Linda smiled,

“It’s back to Thrombey now, but that’s another issue.” Hmmm. “If I was willing to pay you…. Say four times what you’re making now, would you take Ransom’s house arrest? That is, if we are able to work the judge down to that.”

“House arrest?” You looked to Ransom confused, he wasn’t meeting your eyes. “Murder and Arson-”

“The only proof they have is the recording, the only thing they’re going to be able to pin on Mr. Drysdale here would be the attempted murder of the nurse.” A chill went down your spine,

“You tried to kill Marta too?” You asked Ransom, incredulously. He didn’t respond, popping a cube of cheese into his mouth. His lawyers made you uncomfortable, they were definitely sleazy and you knew money could get you far in the justice system. If that recording was 75% of the evidence against Ransom and it was suddenly and accidentally destroyed, they would only have what was actually witnessed.

“Well, would you?” Linda asked again.

“I uhm… I have a sister who lives with me, I can’t just-”

“I’m sure there’s someone else who can take care of her. How long would it be for?” She looked to the lawyers, “Two or three years?” This was impossible. You couldn’t. Linda looked back at you. “How about this…” She leaned over and clasped your hands softly. “We will pay for your sister’s school, her housing, everything she needs while you’re doing this for us, and you’ll still get paid what I originally offered.”

“If Ransom gets house arrest?” You asked.

“Yes ‘if’.” She was selling it hard. Julia could stay with your aunt. She didn’t live far from where the two of you currently reside. The majority of your income went to her school, books, clothes, rent, and groceries. Having all of that taken care of would mean you’d be getting four times your current salary and not having to spend any of it. Just for a couple years.

“If Ransom gets house arrest,” you looked over at him, his eyes briefly meeting yours, studying you it felt like, “If he does, I will do what you need me to do. But I don’t even know how-” Linda’s hands quickly released yours.

“We will figure that out when the time comes,” Linda has a shit eating grin on her face, “Write up a contract.” Directed at the lawyers, “Now, how are we going to get our hands on that recording?” That’s it. You were dismissed until they needed you again.

“Why would you do that?” Ransom asked you. Everyone had left a little bit ago, you were busy washing the dishes, knowing as soon as this task was finished you’d be able to go home and this day from hell would be over.

“Do what?” There was a piece of cheese melted on the side of the casserole dish that wouldn’t fucking come off.

“Agree to take my punishment?” You paused in your scrubbing,

“That’s if they actually settle on house arrest.” You finally unwedged the cheese, rinsing off the casserole dish and placing it in the dishwasher.

“Hmpf.” Ransom had been cold and distant since he burrowed his head into your belly. Has to make up for his extreme weakness then. “But why?” He asked again.

You turned to him, eyes staring directly into his. You watched him fiddling with the gold bracelet you had taken off earlier, it was in his hand down by his side. “It’s what you said earlier right?” You scoffed, removing the rubber gloves from your hands and throwing them in the sink. You walked closer to him, not breaking eye contact. “Because I need the fucking money.”

The two of you didn’t talk for the rest of the weekend. Usually there was texting here and there, ‘Where are my grey socks, the ones I usually wear with the navy Ralph Lauren slacks?’ or ‘Next week when you meal prep for my weekend can you make me this?’ with a link to a recipe. ‘Pick me up a pack of magnums on your way in.’ Fuck you.

You got him regular Trojans.

Monday was Christmas luckily enough, and you knew you weren’t going in. Ransom didn’t even text you to see where you were. His account was rapidly depleting funds, you checked every once in a while.

234.72 ETRN-STD

523.50 DRNK

435.62 HAWTHNE

The list went on. Multiple spots a day over the weekend. That’s who he was going to be now, the old fucking white dude who sits at a bar all day hitting on girls uncomfortably too young. How many giggling 18 year olds would you kick out crying and screaming the next day? Disgusting.

“Do you have them?” Them meaning the cookies that were currently at the bottom of your reusable Aldi bag. Your sister, Julia, was off to your right, setting a pot with water on the stove to boil. It was Christmas, just the two of you, and with the aftermath of everything that was going on with the Thrombey/Drysdale clan, you were happy to get some time off to relax. You might even push it so that you wouldn’t have to work tomorrow. We’ll see if Ransom texts you.

“Of course I do.” This bag has been in your closet all weekend. There’s a bakery near your apartment that your Mom would take you to all the time, every time you got an A, won a game, gotten an award. Everything they made reminded you of her, and it was something you craved more than anything. Every Christmas they would make these fresh baked cookie packs with all kinds, chocolate chip, double chocolate chunk, snicker doodle, gingerbread, white chocolate macadamia, chocolate and peanut butter.

Every Christmas, after dinner, you and your sister would slouch in front of the TV with scalding hot cups of hot chocolate and devour almost the whole box. Every year except last year when at the time your sister was home alone watching The Grinch you were in a car with Ransom going over a hundred miles an hour and scared for your life. This Christmas, Ransom would not be getting between the two of you, food was cooking, lights in the living room were dimmed. The tree was all lit up and the presents you had exchanged earlier that morning sat unwrapped beneath it.

Christmas music was playing softly on the tv as you heard someone knock on your front door.

“Coming!” You yelled. It wasn’t uncommon for a neighbor to have forgotten something, sugar, butter, milk, that they needed for dinner. It wasn’t uncommon for you to answer your door without looking through the peephole. What was uncommon was Ransom Drysdale standing sheepishly on the other side. His cheeks, nose, and eyes were red. The cheeks and nose from the cold, the eyes probably from the alcohol you could smell on him. You sighed heavily, feeling a headache coming on, “What are you doing here?”

“Bar called me an uber and I didn’t want to go home.” He explained quickly, words slurring slightly.

“Your parents-”

“Fuck my parents!” He yelled, you quickly shushed him, looking down the halls to see if anyone was peeking out into the hallway. “Fuck my parents.” He said quietly.

“Ransom…” You sighed, stepping out into the hall, closing the door softly behind you. “What do you want?” His eyes were glazed, he shrugged dumbly, swaying forward. “Okay big guy,” I guess this is happening, “Come on.” You quietly ushered him inside, shutting the door softly behind you.

“Who is it? Oh, woah.” Julia’s eyes bugged out of her head, shifting over to you. ‘Murderer’ she mouthed.

“Go set the table.” You ushered Ransom over to the small table that could barely seat the two of you let alone a third, quickly brewing a pot of coffee and keeping an eye on your sister who was scared to get to close to him. “He’s harmless Julia.” You reassured her, or were you reassuring yourself so that you didn’t feel like such a bad guardian, letting a murderer into your home. He was past angry drunk Ransom, which is probably why the bar kicked him out, he was sad Ransom right now. You’d never seen him cry but this was probably the closest you were going to get to it. He was quiet, sat in the chair just staring as you and your sister finished dinner.

You poured him a cup of coffee and a glass of water, hoping to sober him up enough that you could safely send him home later on. The three of you sat down to eat. Ransom staring listlessly out the window. You made him a plate and told him to eat. And he did. You told him to finish his water. And he did. You told him to finish his coffee. And he did. This was almost terrifying. He hadn’t said anything since ‘fuck my parents’, and he looked dead on his feet.

“Send him home,” Your sister pleaded. The man hadn’t moved. Cleanup had already started and finished, he was still nursing the third glass of water you’d given him. Cookies were warming in the oven. His eyes were less glassy now. He was slowly sobering up. The large helping of mashed potatoes and three bread rolls he ate didn’t hurt either.

“He’s my boss, I can’t really kick him out.” You explained, “Let me get him sober enough that I know he’s okay and then he’ll go home.” She rolled her eyes at you, stirring the pot of hot chocolate on the stove, adding more chunks of chocolate to melt. Ransom, still unspeaking, didn’t protest when you moved him into the living room, setting him up in the recliner with his own cup of hot chocolate and three cookies, before snuggling down with your sister and watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas. You moved only once when he tapped the mug against your arm.

More.

“I’ve never done anything.” He said. “Never went to college, barely graduated high school.” He was rambling to himself, maybe to you? “I’ve spent the entirety of my adult years inside someone’s cunt.”

“Alright, Julia. Time for bed.” You ignored her whining protests. The movie wasn’t over yet. “Please?” You begged her. She hated Ransom. You knew this. She knows you know this. ‘All he does is take you from me.’ is what she once said to you. Just to treat you like shit.

“I have no money.” Ransom’s eyes met yours. “None.”

“I know Ransom.” He scoffed.

“I’m no better off than you now.”

“You still have your house. I’d say you are still better off.” You started cleaning up around him, letting the asshole sit in his self-pity.

“C’mere.” It was a quiet request. The Grinch was packing up his sleigh in the background. You dropped the two mugs you were holding onto the counter, circling back to the recliner. Ransom’s hand came out soft, wrapping around your forearm and gently guiding you to sit in his lap.

“Ransom, I don’t think this is appropriate.” You tried to pull away, heartbeat beginning to pick up. His still bloodshot eyes raised to meet yours.

“Please hold me.” Fuck. What were you supposed to do with that? Heart melting you sunk into his lap, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in tight. It was quiet for a while. Sitting with the credits rolling, Ransom’s arms wrapped around your waist while yours were wrapped around his shoulders. Comforting him from whatever crisis he was currently going through.

“Marta ruined everything” He whispered into your neck.

“No Ransom, you did.”

2020

The trial, fuck me, the trial. The whole fucking family showed to watch Ransom crash and burn and get exactly what he deserved. Well that and to stare down Marta Cabrera who sat with the prosecution in some shiny new digs, a stunning gold cartier bracelet on her wrist. That was familiar. Ransom’s cheap bought apology. There was a tension there, you knew. He always had a thing for ‘the help’. You wondered if that’s where he had been this past week. But it’s strange isn’t it? This whole situation. It was unsettling and for some reason you felt irreversibly used.

“I knew the knife was a prop.” And that was that. Audio recording gone, attempted murder charge whittled down to aggravated assault. A slap on the wrist. Two years of house arrest. And here you were, in Ransom’s home with a fucking house arrest bracelet making your ankle itch. Unfucking believable. Ransom had sat in the courtroom, head raised, armani suit, legs crossed and body relaxed. He knew he was getting out of this from the minute he walked in.

The Thrombey trial that was supposedly going to last three months only lasted a week. You still had a job, and in a remarkable turn of events Linda Drysdale and their legal team got exactly what they predicted.

“I’m going out.” Was the first thing Ransom told you as you unpacked your clothes. He had half thought to buy you a bed and a small dresser that he haphazardly got someone to shove between his Pam Anderson Baywatch poster and the unplugged Space Invaders original arcade console. This was a 90s teenage boy’s dream bedroom. And now it was yours. He didn’t give you much time to respond and he was gone.

They say that you never really know someone until you live with them. And you’ve never felt that saying more true. Ransom was a fucking asshole.

During your previous employment schedule you would come in at 9 am with breakfast and let him know of anything he needed to do that day, if his Mom needed him for whatever reason, events his was scheduled to go to, dates he promised he’d keep. He’d let you know what to cancel and what he would get ready for, and then you were off. Cleaning and maintaining the home to the best of your ability, binge watching tv shows, trying new recipes from pinterest.

Ransom was disgusting.

Clothes discarded all over his floor, bedroom, living room, hallways. Beard trimmings all over the sink and what you would hopefully assume were more beard trimmings lining the bottom of his shower. You really didn’t want to think about Ransom’s pubic hair situation. He would do things like take his coffee mugs into his room or into the study and leave like a sip left in each one, letting it sit there until the milk began to curdle. Wet towels shoved into corners and every morning when you went in to make his bed it was like he was running in his sleep, loose and fitted scrunched in the corner of the foot board, duvet thrown off and pillows with half off shams.

He was doing this shit on purpose.

And you hated him for it.

It wasn’t long after the trial that he began a steady routine. Gym, breakfast, some puttering around the house, making plans and then he would go out. And that’s when we come to this,

“He said he would be back and we would have breakfast together.” The girl was pretty, but her voice was annoying.

“I’m one hundred percent sure he did not say that.” You stood with arms crossed in the doorway, watching her fix her face in the mirror propped against his bedroom wall. An old antique thing that didn’t match with the decor of the house at all.

“Hmpf.” She glared at you, “Fine, when he gets back, we’ll see who is right.” This was before you became practiced at this kind of thing.

You felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your jeans,

Is she gone yet?

Fucking prick.

“I’ll have him call you when he gets in,” You explained, “He has a lot to do today, I’m sure if he said you’ll go out for breakfast it’ll probably be another day.”

“I said.” She stepped up to you, “I’m staying.” Fuck. You rolled your eyes and walked past her into the room,

Not leaving, come deal with her yourself

He had been waiting down the street like a psycho, waiting to see her leave so he can come back home, but it’s not really working out in his favor. You could feel her eyes on you as you made the bed and picked his laundry up from the floor, tossing them two feet away into the laundry basket you left in his bathroom in hopes he would actually use it. The socks left discarded beside it was a clear message of disregard, a ‘fuck you’ from a petulant child.

You could hear the door slam downstairs. Great, you looked at the girl who was scrolling through her phone curled up in the reading chair in the corner of his room, he’s pissed. You could hear his stomping feet climb the stairs and the girl looked up from her phone hopeful towards the door.

“Alright, time to go.” He huffed, coming into view. The girl stood from the chair, shifting over towards him and trying to wrap her arms around his neck. “Nope. Let’s go, your uber is here.”

“But, I-” She began, you could see tears welling up in her eyes and you began to feel bad for her.

You were never one to have one night stands. You had one serious boyfriend when you were in college, but when your Mom got sick you had ended it and moved back home. You hadn’t dated or been with anyone else since. You just didn’t have the time. That being said, this girl honestly thought Ransom had a heart. She was naive and young, younger than you. Your heart hurt for her, but honestly, no one should be with Ransom anyway.

His birthday dinner had soon come and gone. Linda and Richard sat around the dinner table eating Ransom’s favorite foods you’d spent the day cooking for him. Drinking whiskey and wine, Ransom’s glass never empty. You’d had a few glasses yourself with the tapas style dinner you’d put together. A beautifully iced spice cake sitting on the counter with unlit candles for dessert.

This was the night that Ransom blew up on you for the last time. The night he cried into your neck, drunk and unstable. Clutching desperately at your body for comfort, burying himself against you all touch starved and needy. This was more intense than last Christmas where his dry eyed stare begged you to hold him in an uncommon moment of weakness.

He was so hard to read sometimes and you were never quite sure where you stood. You knew you really hated him sometimes, other times… not so much. The more you knew his parents, the more you understood why Ransom was an ungrateful shit to begin with. You almost couldn’t blame him for how he turned out.

Almost.

“Help me with this.” He stood in the doorway to the small office he never used. It was pretty much just for show. A large wooden ornate desk, his macbook, and a bookshelf full of books you know he probably never read. Including the ones penned by his own Grandfather.

There were beginnings here. Multi-colored post its lined the desk, laptop left on the seat of one of the chairs in the room.

“What is this?” You asked him, fingers plucking a post-it from the desk,

Crime of Passion?

He had been watching a lot of true crime documentaries lately. It didn’t help but creep you out. This man, a murderer, suddenly extremely into serial killers and murder itself.

“I’m going to write a book.” He explained. His face was in a grin, almost giddy.

“A book.” You looked at him incredulously. Your eyes drifted over to Harlan’s novels sitting stacked on another chair, spines finally cracked and pages thumbed through, sticky tabs stuck throughout the pages. You pointed to them, “A book?”

“Yeah,” He gestured around to the post-its, “What do you think?” It’ll keep him busy that’s for sure. You sighed, sticking the post-it back on the desk and looked at him. He was waiting, expectantly, why did he care what you thought about this?

“Is it gonna be about Fran?” You asked awkwardly, he scoffed,

“No, I’m gonna write books like my Grandfather wrote,” He plucked a post-it from the desk, showing you,

Wife murders husband?

“I’m gonna write a mystery novel.”

He was good. You couldn’t lie about that. And you wouldn’t. This was a strange thing. The routine changed. Gym, breakfast, writing, lunch, writing, dinner, and then he would go out. His mind was moving faster than his fingers could and you were left reading a new chapter or two every night. You’d once loved Harlan’s novels. Your Mother was obsessed with them. It was partially why you had even taken the job tutoring Meg in the first place, but you know what they say. Never meet your heroes.

Harlan was kind in some ways, funny, but proud. His pride is what eventually killed him you’ve found out. The medicine Ransom had switched wasn’t his cause of death, his refusal for help was.

Ransom was as good as he was, better even.

“He’s got a lot of me in him,” Harlan said to you once, “He could have everything I’ve ever had if he would pull his head out of his ass.”

This was promising.

You were honestly afraid when Ransom first said he would be writing a novel. What if he wasn’t a good writer? Could you really lie and try to support him even though it was absolute garbage? You supposed you would have to. You were relieved to find out that it was unnecessary.

He slipped a red pen into your hand when handing you this last chapter, the book almost finished. “I want to see how you react to everything,” He explained, the book was coming to the climax, you were a chapter away from the big reveal and the aftermath, his hands gently massaged your shoulders before he bent at the waist, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you sat on the sofa. “Do you like it?” His hot breath brushed against your ear, a tingle went down your spine.

“Ransom,” Your hand came up to lay over his forearm, brushing the skin with your thumb, “It’s amazing.” You could almost feel the grin that stretched across his face, he turned, pressing his face into your hair where you could swear he laid a soft kiss before releasing you.

“Of course it is,” Here we go, “I’m a fucking Thrombey.” His fucking smirk. That's what he left you with, returning to his office to pound out the last two chapters.

It was a process. The editing, printing, shipping off to multiple publishers. He got replies after a month.

Eager replies.

Whatever Ransom wanted, Ransom got. The lucky bastard stayed lucky.

“Look Babe.” Ransom dropped a heavy box on the table in front of you, “Look at this shit.” He grabs a knife from the block on the counter, slipping it under the packing tape to open the box revealing glossy black covers. He first fucking novel. There. Printed. A picture of a fireplace, chair facing it, empty. A blood soaked carpet. He picked one from the box, opening it. And there in the forward, the dedication, Harlan’s name…

...and yours.

“Don’t get all big headed about it kid.” He smirked. Your heart was racing in your chest.

“Why would you…” Your fingers gently traced the letters of your name, there in print, as it would be on every copy sold.

“Wouldn’t have been able to write it without you being chained to my house, only seems fair.” He shrugged. “We can call it even.” You scoffed,

“Dedicating your book to me hardly makes my doing your house arrest for you even Ransom.” He smirked again, flipping through the pages, seeing his words in bold print.

“I think it’s plenty fair,” Okay, now you wanted to smack him, “You live here for free, you eat here for free, and you get paid pretty well to do so.” His devilish eyes met yours over the top of the book he was still thumbing through. “If anything you’re still ahead because you’re the kept woman of a bestselling author.”

“A kept woman?” You dropped the book onto the table. “I’m not your fucking whore Ransom.”

“Not yet.” Audibly you made noise of protest, internally your core thrummed with heat.

“Never.” You packed up your tablet and the new book, attempting to walk around him to go sit out by the fire pit for a while. His large hand gently grabbed your upper arm, tugging you into his body, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, your arms trapped between you.

“Tell me you’re proud of me.” He whispered into your hair, his voice suddenly soft, heartbreaking.

“I am proud of you Ransom.” You shifted your belongings to your left hand, tugging your right from against his chest to wrap around his torso. “I’m very proud of you.”

Book published, royalties rolling in, Ransom was making his own money now. He was more cocky than ever. Proud. The, I-don’t-need-you-anymore-mom, attitude. But can you still pay my babysitter? The girls came more easily than ever before, not that they didn’t come easy before the bestseller.

Every. Night.

Sometimes two girls were leaving in the morning, gently ushered out the door with promises of a phone call and a, “I’ll let him know.” It made you feel dirty, betraying almost. Like you were supposed to be on these girl’s side instead of cleaning up after Ransom’s mess.

You could gag. The milky condoms, two of them, tossed haphazardly aside on the hardwood floor of Ransom’s bedroom. Disgusting. You could hear him laughing at you now.

“It could be you,” He says, “Just say the word.” If you weren’t so irritated with Ransom for this very thing your panties would be dripping with the thought.

He’s sitting at the kitchen island forking soft scrambled eggs into his mouth, cheesy with peppers and onions, the way he likes them, the way you made them, when you come downstairs. “You could at least throw the condoms in the fucking trash Ransom.” He looked up from his eggs to you, peeling off the latex gloves you’d just used, smirking.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Asshole.

“You’re disgusting.” You begin on the dishes, taking a sip of your now lukewarm coffee. You hear the stool scoot back against the floor, “That wasn’t an invitation.” You said, hearing his approach. His arms wrapped around your middle as you began to scrub. His head rested on your shoulder.

“You love me.” He slowly rocked your body side to side, “You love how disgusting I am.” You tried to shrug him off of you, but he held you tighter. Since last Christmas when you curled up in his lap and held him for two hours until he was sober enough to leave you he’d been slowly getting more and more affectionate with you. He was touch starved, hungry for it. The intimacy of holding and being held.

You didn’t picture Linda as much of a hugger.

The house was decorated. It was the least he could do for you really. This was the first Christmas since your Mother died that you and your sister wouldn’t be completing your tradition, but you tried not to think about it. Ransom humored you just after Thanksgiving, bringing home a fake Christmas tree, ornaments and lights. You’d ordered a couple of extras online and three stockings were on the mantle, Christmas lights lined the windows giving the house a warm glow.

“I’m sending everyone in my family a copy.” He told you, “a signed copy.” Of his book. Rubbing their noses in it. The book has firmly held the number one spot on the New York Times Bestseller List for weeks. Already over a million copies have been sold. Whether its due to the fame of the not-murder trial or Harlan’s legacy you couldn’t be sure, but even without those things the book was incredibly good.

Ransom could have made it on his own, a long time ago.

“You don’t think that’s a little crass?” He released you long enough for you to finish loading the dishwasher, watching you place the pod of soap and shut it like he didn’t realize that’s actually what you’re supposed to do.

“Fuck them,” He scoffed, “They’ve always hated me.”

“To be fair,” You turned to the soft sweater clad man leaning against the kitchen island, “You’re an asshole.”

He smirked, “Yeah, but that’s why I’m so charming.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

It could almost be domestic. The way things were now. So different from before. Yeah Ransom was still bringing a new girl home almost every night and sure you could hear them fuck from your bed on the other side of the wall, but for the most part it was always just the two of you.

His parents never ventured out here much anymore, since his book was published he had a deadline for the next book that needed to be completed so he wrote almost every day now, sometimes for hours. You made his every meal, on the odd occasion you’d order out. Sometimes when he needed a break he would come sit on the sofa with you as you watched whatever show you were currently obsessed with. One time you walked in on him watching Love Island by himself and you hadn’t let him live it down yet, maybe not ever.

He grew soft, sweet almost. A kiss against your palm. Hugs from behind as you worked at the stove. A snuggle of feet under his thigh as you watched Miracle on 34th Street by a crackling fire. Wordlessly anticipating each others needs. It spoke to a high level of intimacy. Something you both chose to ignore.

It was nice.

He didn’t go out on Christmas Eve. Not only because his usual bar was closing earlier than normal because of the holiday, he assured you, but because he wanted to stay in. Snow was falling thick outside, a foot of it already blanketed on the ground. To tell the truth you didn’t want him to go out in this weather anyway. You knew he was willing to drive a little drunk and he didn’t exactly obey speed limits. It was safer here.

You were still reeling from the argument you had with your sister earlier in the night. You called her to see what she was doing, but she was at a friends house and wanted nothing to do with you. Since the house arrest you haven’t exactly been on speaking terms. She wasn’t Ransom’s biggest fan and didn’t really understand why you needed to do this. You could kind of blame it on yourself for her having no idea how much money you needed to keep her in school, her cello and lessons weren’t cheap and nor are the electronics she seemed so attached to. This two year sentence you were playing out for Ransom would put you in the green, far in the green, so far in the green that you were willing to put up with all his petty bullshit and be okay with your sister hating you if it meant your futures were secure.

After all this was over, you might just be able to go back to school.

“Are you hungry?” You removed your feet from their spot beneath his thigh, grabbing both of your now empty mugs, padding over to the kitchen. Your stomach had just begun to growl. The stew you had simmering on the stove was ready to eat.

“Yeah,” Ransom replied, not turning away from the television. Santa’s trial had just began. It was a strange thing, having him watch classic Christmas movies, soft in sweats and a comical christmas sweater you jokingly bought him. “I look good in anything.” He said. He wasn’t lying.

You poured two bowls full, bringing over a plate with some crusty bread he was kind enough to go out and grab for you earlier in the day. “Thank you,” He said softly as he took the bowl from your hands, eyes still not moving from the screen. He quickly spooned some into his mouth,

“It’s hot.” You said, his only reaction being trying to rapidly cool it in his mouth, his tongue probably burned. He gave you a glare, before resting the bowl on the coffee table. This could almost be a relationship. The two of you together. In this oddly domestic moment. He was the only man in your life right now, it wasn’t like you had many options for seeking others.

That’s why you would get so hot and bothered with him. And that’s the only reason.

He had never seen A Miracle on 34th Street before. You’d think with how old fashioned Harlan was he would have at least seen it once or twice, but then again, any time spent together as a family was always strained and argumentative.

Even when he was a kid though? He was the first grandchild. His mother was the first child of Harlan. You were sure when he was a child he was spoiled rotten, more toys than he could play with, never wanting for anything. But that wasn’t exactly true. The touch starved trust-fund baby didn’t get the one thing kids need the most, more than presents, toys, electronics. Real genuine love.

His Mother loved him to an extent. It’s why you were the one on house arrest instead of him, but she thought loving him meant giving him whatever he wants. When we all know that’s not what kids want. They want to be told no, given structure, rules. How many times have you gotten into arguments with your sister because you didn’t allow her to go roam the streets at night without supervision or give her money for some stupid thing she wouldn’t be even bothered with in two weeks?

But you could also see how no one really knows how to raise a child and you just try your best. Having Harlan for a Father couldn’t have been easy.

Under the tree that you’d decorated and in the stockings you’d hung were presents. Ransom had everything he’d ever wanted, but you couldn’t help but want him to have something to open tomorrow morning. Granted it wouldn’t be much, but it’s the thought that counts. In the fridge you already have most of what will go into tomorrow’s dinner made. Hopefully your sister thinks about your extended invitation and Ransom can go pick her up at some point tomorrow. You missed her, a lot. Your heart ached with wishes that she was here right now.

Ransom’s eyes had gotten shifty. The movie was coming to an end and his bowl was empty. “Did you want more?” You asked him, thinking that would be the cause of his shiftiness, maybe indecisive?

“No.” He cleared his throat, “I’m not going to be home for dinner tomorrow.” You weren’t sure you heard that properly.

“You’re not going to be home….” You started, picking his bowl up from the coffee table and standing, “For dinner on Christmas?”

He was scared to tell you, that’s cute. Your body was bristling with anger as you took the stew off the stove to cool before you could properly store it. He didn’t move from his spot on the couch.

“My Mother wants me to go to this dinner with-”

“So every other time your Mother wants you to do something it’s ‘fuck you’ and ‘eat shit’, but when we’ve already made plans for tomorrow and my sister-” You felt tears prickle in your eyes. “What the fuck Ransom?” His face was stoic from the couch.

“Why does it matter?” He asked, “I stayed home tonight!”

“And that makes up for it?” You stood at the kitchen counter, staring across the room at him. “I already started on dinner, Ransom. You couldn’t have maybe said something while I was prepping all of this?” You gestured to the fridge. He shrugged.

“I didn’t know that was all for tomorrow.” His face still betrayed no expression.

“She can come here,” You offered, “We can have dinner here.” His eyes shifted away from yours to watch the rolling credits.

“She doesn’t want to.” He stood from the couch, rounding towards the tree slowly, searching.

“Why not?” He was being shady about this, the whole situation was strange. “I already have all of this food prepared and I can’t pick up Julia myself… Ransom?”

“She doesn’t like being around you.” He stated honestly, he picked a box out among the presents under the tree, eyes meeting yours as he fumbled with it.

“What?” You get it. She’s technically your employer. But she’s never had any issue dropping in for dinner or putting you to work on some task for herself.

“Listen,” He came closer to where you still stood, your chest tightening. “Y/N, I hate my family-”

“Then why are you going to-”

“I have to do this.” His cheeks were flushed, you could tell he was uncomfortable. “My therapist… I don’t want to do this.” He slid the box across the counter top. “I don’t want to go, but I have to.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better about it?” You scoffed, picking up the gold wrapped box. His mouth opened and then quickly shut without speaking. You sighed heavily, a headache coming on. “I’ve got nothing, Ransom. All I wanted to do tomorrow was spend some time with my family and if you’re not going to be around…”

“I know, I can maybe go pick your sister up in the morning?” He offered. Your eyes watery, staring at him. He doesn’t get it. Your heart was aching a bit.

“You’re such an asshole.” You spat, leaving the present still wrapped in front of you, thumbing the thick wrapping paper.

“I know.” He swallowed.

“What does your therapist want you to do?” You never talked about what went on in his therapy sessions. He was too closed off after them, drank too heavily, lashed out too easily. You’d let him slowly work through his refractory period and let him cozy up to you once he was feeling better.

Ransom felt awkward, you could feel it. He was uncomfortable.

“Why does this matter so much to you?” He asked. He was turning. He got too emotional. “It doesn’t matter what I have to do or where I have to do it. I said I would go pick Julia up, I’m giving you what you want.”

“Fine.” You were staring each other down. “I’ll let her know you’ll be there to get her around noon and then you can go have dinner with the people you hate.” He rolled his eyes,

“I don’t know what you think this is, Y/N.” He scoffed, “You still work for me, we’re not playing house here.”

“Then stop making me.” You spat back at him, both of you in a similar stance, hands gripping the edge of the stone counter top.

“I’m not making you do anything.” There was a rage growing in his eyes.

“You are, Ransom. I take care of you like you’re my own fucking child. I clean up all of your messes, I cook all of your fucking food, I do everything for you.”

“I don’t ask you to.”

“You don’t have to! You literally just expect it of me.” You yelled.

“Because it’s your job.” He laughed, throwing his hands into the air. “I have no loyalty to you Y/N. None.” Fine.

Fine.

You hated him. You fucking hated him. You were doing all of this for him. And you’ve never felt more dumb in your life. The house arrest bracelet on your ankle felt heavier than ever. It itches like mad.

“Fuck you Ransom.” You rounded the counter, moving towards the stairs when he grabbed your arm.

“Take the gift.” He slapped the box into your hand.

“I don’t want the fucking gift, Hugh.” He looked taken aback for a moment.

“Don’t call me that.” His hand fell from your arm, stepping closer to you.

“That’s what you want, right?” You asked, “You want me to do all of these things for you and take care of you and fucking hold you when you need comfort but when I’m fucking trying to make things easier for you, you’re all the sudden ‘I have no loyalty to you.”

“Wait a fucking minute,” He growled, “I take care of you too. Who the fuck buys all the shit you want on a fucking whim? You’re in the mood for curry, I get you curry. You make a comment about how you really want to decorate for Christmas and who fucking gets you everything you need to do that? You say that you really want to get into fucking knitting and who gets you all the fucking shit you need to fucking knit?”

“Buying me things doesn’t mean you care about me Ransom.” You shook the box in your hand for emphasis. “All I wanted to know is what your therapist wants you to do tomorrow, you can go have dinner with your Mother. It’s fine. I just wanted you to fucking open up to me.”

“I am open with you!” He yells, “You know more about me than anyone else in my fucking life, it’s hard for me okay? I can never escape you, you’re always fucking there. I don’t get to fucking-” He placed his hands on his hips, turning from you. He let out a heavy, slow breath. Calming himself down. “I don’t want to go tomorrow, trust me Y/N, I really don’t, but I have to.” His eyes met yours, softer this time.

You felt like some part of you was being irrational. This dinner might help his growth. Whatever milestone he was reaching with his therapist, this could be really good for him. But you also felt a little selfish, you wanted him here, with you. You felt more like his family than anyone else. Or at least, he felt more like your family and he should be here to spend Christmas with his family. You knew he felt at least somewhat the same, if the gifts addressed to Julia under the tree from him were anything to go by. You wanted him here, but he wasn’t yours.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, the tears that were once threatening to spill, now did. “It’s fine.” Your head was pounding. “It’s fine.”

“I know it’s not,” He said softly. “But we can maybe do presents and lunch before I go,” He gestured towards the tree. “I should be back in time for the Grinch.” You were shaking a bit as he approached you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly against his body. “I’m sorry baby.” He was so warm, a little sweaty from arguing, but warm. “I’ll make it up to you.” A soft whisper into your hair.

The little gold box was soon opened, a new rose gold cartier bracelet slipped onto your wrist and Ransom left you and your sister the next day wearing the sweater you had so carefully knit for him.

2021

Your breath hitched in your throat, back arching, a loud moan breaking from your lungs. How was he so good at this? Ransom’s tongue was at work between your thighs, large hands cradling your hips, burying his face in your moist heat. You were so close to cumming. And he knew it.

“Oh god,” you moaned, bucking your hips into his face as you rode your orgasm until your body was too sensitive to continue, Ransom moving his attentions to press his lips sloppily against your thighs before making his way up your body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he lamented as he pressed his lips to your flushed cheeks and panting mouth, parting your thighs fully around his hips to tease your opening with the blunt head of his cock. “So fucking beautiful.” He moaned into your open mouth as he breeches you.

He felt so fucking good. You’d never get over it, you were sure. Ransom was patient, biding his time. He wasn’t that guy who had to be as deep inside you as possible, chasing his orgasm by stabbing your cervix. Over time he mapped out the location of your g-spot, shifting his hips and cock to brush against the spot with every thrust, working you up and making your eyes roll back in your head.

Those girls screamed with good reason. Just as you did now. Gushing wet around him as you came for the second time, looking up wantonly into his flushed face, lips swollen from first kissing and then pulling you apart with his tongue. Your fingers curled in his chest hair as he picked up pace, chasing his own release now, your hips lifting off the bed to aid him.

“So fucking good baby,” His eyes screwed shut as he moans, arms trembling, “You fuck me so good baby.” He sat back on his haunches, pulling your hips roughly to his, your sensitive clit grinding against his pubic bone almost bringing you over again as he cums. Hips stuttering into yours as you feel him empty himself into you.

His head tilted towards the ceiling, eyes dropping to find you, hands still gripping your hips and as much of your ass as he can manage. “I love you.”

It never gets old.

He said those words to you ever chance he got. It was as if he was trying to make up for a lifetime without it. Love.

Early morning sleepy soft kisses, I love you.

Silent breakfast with your feet in his lap, I love you.

Scratching his back as you peered over his shoulder while he was writing, I love you.

Feet stuffed under his thigh watching Outlander and drinking hot tea, I love you.

Buried deep inside you, panting mouths a breath apart, bodies flushed and sweaty, sheets damp with cum, I love you.

“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”

It was intense. His love for you.

He tried hard. He didn’t know how it was supposed to work. A real relationship, a real honest to god loving relationship. But he was trying.

The first few months of the relationship you gained a lot of new jewelry, a new iPad, clothes, shoes. “You don’t have to buy me things to prove that you love me, Ransom.”

Then came flowers and lots of them. Sometimes just one, sometimes a bouquet. Regardless there were multiple vases that stayed filled throughout the house, always with fresh flowers never given time to fully wilt.

After that was the touching. Always some sort of physical contact. Whether you were cuddling on the couch or a blink away from sleep with his ankle wrapped around yours, if you were in a room together there was always some sort of contact.

Your house arrest bracelet was removed, and a gold anklet replaced it. You were free to leave, live on your own. Move out and back into that shitty apartment with your sister, but this was early days in the newfound relationship with Ransom.

He’d bought you a house.

He’s paying for your sisters school.

He’s paying you to still work for him.

It was a Victorian. The house. Not at all like his contemporary cube he knew you despised. A rich dark brown with a large porch. Much too big for just you and your sister, so 6 months after the two of you moved in, Ransom sold his house and moved in too.

Julia was warming up to him. At first she wasn’t a fan. It took a long time, many dinners with Ransom, ‘family outings’, you hoped she could see the way he treated you now. The way he’s kind of always treated you. Her love was easily bought with the new house, her latest generation iPhone and the fact that she now had a monthly allowance. It didn’t stop you from making her get an after school job at the school library though.

Now with a house of your own, you were doing something you’d always dreamed of. Watching Ransom try to hang Christmas lights.

“I’ll just pay someone to do it,” He offered, looking skeptically at the boxes you had placed on the dining room table, “I’m not going up there to do it.”

But there he was, up there doing it while you looked up at him from the bottom of the ladder. “This is the fucking worst.” He exclaimed, taking the light clips and attaching them to the roof. “Why are we doing this?”

“Because you love me and you want to make me happy.” You laughed. He rolled his eyes, squinting against the sun.

“I’m not so sure,” He attached a few more clips within reach before steadily climbing down the ladder. “I think you’re trying to kill me.”

“I’m the beneficiary on your life insurance right?” You jokingly asked as his feet hit the ground. He laughed at your bad joke,

“I think that’s in pretty poor taste, but…” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Yes.”

“Julia should be home soon and then we can decorate the tree,” You wrapped your arms around his middle, capturing his lips with your own, “And make some cookies,” You kissed him again,

“And have a drink.” He smirked against your lips.

“You have a therapy appointment today,” You walked over to the steps, “You’re not having anything to drink.” He rolled his eyes at you once more, shooing you into the house as he re-positioned the ladder to go back up and finish stringing the lights.

You had to be proud of him. Court mandated therapy ended when your house arrest did, but he still went every week. At first it was due to a little pushing by you, but eventually he made the appointments on his own. He was getting better. Still a dick, but that was his nature. He wasn’t quick to anger anymore, his emotions took a more level head. And he was now publishing books twice a year. He’s got five books out now, and almost 100 million copies sold. Which is incredible.

You started back to school, Ransom wanting to start his own publishing company, “I’m paying for you to go to business school as an investment in our future.” He claimed. Once you were done with school your job would be to then help him open his own publishing company where you’d overlook everything. A daunting task, but it was hard not to believe in yourself when Ransom made himself your own personal cheerleader. “You’re brilliant,” He would say, “You’re so smart, you’ve just been dealt a bad hand until now.”

And now he was stacking that hand to the best of his ability.

Finals had been last week and you still marveled at the fact that as you poured over your last assignments and studying, Ransom would make you coffee and massage your shoulders whereas you would usually do the same for him as he was finishing a book.

You’d gone to a couple therapy sessions with him, the first time he’d invited you was strange and you didn’t know what would even be discussed, but as you sat in the session and he was finally completely bare to you, you couldn’t help but feel like it was his idea and not his therapist’s.

That session changed the dynamic between the two of you for sure.

After the dam broke, the two of you having sex for the first time and Ransom’s admission of love it wasn’t easy. He was still an asshole and as someone who had never been in a relationship before, this first real relationship, he didn’t really know how to behave.

You had one session a month together and it was probably one of the best ideas Ransom ever had.

He was a little sullen when he came home later that night, coming to curl himself around you as you placed the cookies you and Julia had baked earlier into the decorative metal tins you had just bought.

Sometimes it was like this, sadness. His lips gently pressing themselves against your cheek, his body tightly pressed against yours trying to pull as much comfort as he possibly could. “I don’t want to talk about it,” He whispered softly, “Not yet.”

“Okay.” You knew what he needed and what he needed was a little bit of time. You offered him a cookie, chocolate and peanut butter, still warm. He took it gently from your fingers, pulling away to go to his study, but not before pulling you into a soft lingering kiss. An apology for what you knew would be a distant night. A ‘I don’t know when I’ll be coming to bed’ night. You were sure you’d have three new chapters to go over in the morning.

You loved the snow. Almost a foot of it had fallen overnight, frosting the windows and giving your home a beautiful Christmas glow. It made your home feel cozy and well slept as you stretched your limbs out, hand coming to run across Ransom’s back. So he did come to bed after all. You rolled over to face him, laying on his belly, arms folded under his pillow facing you.

God he is beautiful.

You hated it about him. So handsome. You brushed his fallen hair out of his face, pressing a kiss to his scrunched brow. He was letting his beard grow out for the winter. It made him even more attractive, the bastard.

Julia was just getting up for school, standing in the kitchen in her uniform, eating toast and facetiming a friend. She was in a carpool, this house you lived in, while comfortably distanced from others, was in a neighborhood of other kids that went to her same school. Something you’re sure Ransom took into account when buying this house in the first place. You drove the kids to school on Friday when you didn’t have any classes. Today was a different parent’s turn.

“Can I take some of these to school?” She asked, picking up a tin of cookies.

“Yeah, but take the red one.” You popped a k-cup into the keurig. “Those haven’t touched any nuts.”

“Mila’s Mom said we can go to the mall after school to go get presents for the pollyanna our class is having, is that okay?” She was such a good kid. Getting older now, she was almost ready to learn how to drive, something you’d been dreading, but for whatever reason Ransom was really looking forward to.

“You have money still?” You asked, preparing a second cup of coffee for the sleeping bear upstairs.

“I mean,” She smirked, “Unless you want to give me more…?” You rolled your eyes, turning towards your younger sibling.

“What time will you be home?” The car had just pulled up outside, horn letting out a quick ‘honk’ to let her know they were here.

Julia shrugged, hugging you, “We might get dinner, but probably no later than 8. I’ll text you.” She shrugged her coat on, opening the front door as you called behind her,

“Text me when you get to the mall and when you’re on your way home!”

“Okay!” She yelled back, trudging through the snow to the car.

“Keep your location on!” You could almost feel her roll her eyes at you,

“Okay!” Annoyed this time.

“I love you!” You shouted as she got in the car, slamming the door behind her. Your phone chimed with reply,

love you too

With that you went to rouse the sleeping man upstairs.

He groaned unhappily when you woke him up, but it was quickly soothed by the coffee you’d supplied him with.

Christmas was quickly approaching. The first Christmas you’d be spending together as a real, honest to god, family. In your own home, ready to begin your own traditions. The house was beautifully decorated and almost always smelled like cookies and a Christmas movie or music was always playing in the background.

There was a truly sweet moment you’d wanted to commit to memory for the rest of your life. Julia rolling out cookie dough, Christmas music blaring obnoxiously loud and Ransom coming out from his study yelling,

“I can’t write anything in a house this loud!” Walking over to the sound system and turning it down to a soft ambling. Your sister and you looking at him and laughing, the red faced lumberjack quickly losing steam as he realized he was wearing the hideous Christmas sweater you’d jokingly bought him last year. “It’s the warmest sweater I own.” He claimed. Sure. Sure it is.

He turned the music back up a little louder, coming to a happy medium. His embarrassment waning as he looked at the two of you in the kitchen. A family that didn’t argue with every other word. People who genuinely loved each other. Something he never knew he wanted or needed. He came over to you, gently clasping your hands before tugging you into his body to ridiculously dance around to Jingle Bell Rock. The three of you peeling with laughter. Was this even real life anymore? With a soft parting kiss and a peak over your sisters shoulder to steal some cookie dough he was reluctantly walking back to his study, coming to join you twenty minutes later after finishing the chapter he’d been working on all day.

The three of you spent the rest of the night in the living room, watching the cheesy A Christmas Prince series on Netflix and eating what was sure your body weight in popcorn. Cozy with your little family.

“Do you think she’d like a puppy?” Ransom whispered into your neck one night.

“Do not.” You were close to sleep, just about to drift off, when his question stirred you awake.

“I always wanted a puppy when I was a kid.” He pressed a kiss against your neck, fingers gently tugging your nipple.

“I’ll be the one taking care of it,” You whimpered as his other hand sunk between your thighs, “Do not get her a puppy.” His lips met your shoulder and you turned in his arms, thighs parting as he lightly stroked your clit.

“You’ll get there.” He pressed his lips against yours, teasing your entrance with his fingers, his now hard cock nudging against your thigh. “You’ll warm up to the idea.”

“No…” You whined, his fingers beginning to stroke your g-spot, his body coming to lay over yours, his eyes half lidded and lips wet and red came to meet yours as he removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock. “Fuck.” His fingers laced themselves through yours, pressing your hands against the sheets as he began to rock his hips slowly into yours.

“You’re so sweet on me baby,” He mouthed against your lips, “So sweet on us.” He moaned. Your hips ground against his with every thrust. This slow love making that was making you gush around him, pussy making obscene sounds with every tilt of his hips, gently brushing the parts of you that make your legs shake. He chest close to yours, the begging in his eyes,

“You’ll be such a good mother,” His hips met yours a little harder on that one causing you to gasp, pussy clenching around him. “Gonna give me what I want for Christmas?” He asked. He did this sometimes, knowing you were still on birth control and the actual relationship was still relatively new, the two of you had been together for almost a year now, you knew that he’d been toying with the idea of having a baby. You’d talked about it in therapy recently.

“I love you,” He moaned, his hips build up a little speed as your legs came to wrap high around his waist. “I can’t wait,” He groaned, “So good to me.” His lips capturing yours passionately as his hips stalled, grinding himself against your g-spot, pubic bone rubbing your clit as you found your orgasm, pussy gushing wet dripping down his thighs onto the bed as you moaned into his mouth.

“You’ll be such a good mother baby, such a good fucking mother.” His hips picked back up in pace, “I’d do anything for you baby. Anything.” He was chasing his release now, thrusting against your sensitive clit making you reel again before releasing your hands and grabbing your thighs, pushing them back high against the bed, just making you take it. You both had to try to be quiet here, your sister on the floor above you, your hand covered your mouth as you tried to muffle the loud obnoxious squealing that came uncontrollably as his hips slapped against your ass in this position. Sweat forming on his brow and head thrown back as he groans through his teeth, feeling him empty his seed deep against your cervix.

In all the years you’d known him Ransom was never a kid person. He didn’t like small children, but he also didn’t come into contact with them often which is why it was so strange two months ago when he originally brought up the idea. “I think we would make pretty okay parents,” He said, “Better than mine definitely.” It made your heart flutter, thinking of a life with him. Knowing that he was also thinking about a life with you, but it’s just not the right time.

What wasn’t surprising about any of this was on Christmas morning, after breakfast and the exchanging of handmade sweaters, new books to read, a couple new apple watches, and your sister and you receiving matching earrings, a gorgeous little blue nose pit bull puppy, one that reminded you of your childhood dog was brought out with a little pink bow around its neck. Ransom ignored your glare as he handed the sweet little thing to your sister, who was crying in happiness.

He would remind you later on that he found you cooing to the sweet little thing only a few minutes after that, the puppy curled up in your arms, licking your fingers in earnest.

“Don’t you have something else?” Julia asked him.

“Julia this is plenty,” You scolded, “He’s gotten you enough.” She rolled her eyes.

“It’s not for me.” She laughed. The little puppy sleeping in her arms and you scratched it behind it’s ears, turning to Ransom who shifted nervously to one knee, a ring box open in his hand.

“Stop it.” Came out from a very watery smile. He licked his lips, tugging his bottom one between his teeth before starting,

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

TAGLIST //

@littlechillies @hellizhelusive2 @notbexmader @marvelouspottering @whitequeenasitbgan @Thegraylaway @readermia�� @i-believe-in-unicorns-and-you @princess-evans-addict @perplexed3001 @deidrashouseofpain @hailmary-yramliah @sleepycvpid @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @starlywars @gifsbysimplysonia @rocknbasil @imnotelasticheart @wannabegonnie @d1sconnect3d @heyguyz13 @unimomajo @this-is-serenaa @bookish-shristi @auroussss

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out #Chris Evans

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Where you should be

Chapter 1: Prevaricate

Genre: Hobi x oc

Warnings: this series contains stalking, blackmail, and similar stressful/fear inducing situations. Also unrequited love, which is perhaps the most terrifying of all.

Word Count: 5.6k

Prevaricate (v.) : to speak or act in an evasive way

Present Time

There’s a reason why I’ve been working under a pseudonym for the entirety of my career at Bighit and never show up in photos that are going to be sent out on social media. There’s a reason why the very people I work for have hardly seen me.

After Bang Si-hyuk met me as a junior producer at another agency and saw that I was hardly working enough hours a week to survive, he gave me a one-time opportunity to prove myself. I would work at my agency in the mornings and then head out to the Bighit building in the evenings to meet up with Pdogg and Slow Rabbit who were more than happy to give me a shot behind the producer’s chair.

In the end, Adora was my biggest advocate. I heard her the day I was waiting for the verdict, speaking firmly with Bang PD in his office.

“If you let her go you’ll be screwing yourself over. I’ve seen her work, she’s a machine. I haven’t seen anyone like her. She’d be an asset to this team and we both know that we need that right now.”

It was the beginning of 2018 when Bang PD marched into Pdogg’s studio where I was working with him and told me the plan.

My contract at the other agency still had six years left on it, there was no way out of it. That had been Bang PD’s main concern, but when he looked at his star studded BTS and saw just how badly they needed a fresh perspective, he decided to go all in. So what did he do?

He bought out my old agency.

Naturally.

Source entertainment, the previous house of GFRIEND, still had their logo and a hand in their decisions. However with Bang Si-hyuk their new CEO they really didn’t have much of a say in my promotion.

Two and a half years later, life is pretty good. Well, besides the fact that I’m still living under a rock.

Let me explain: Source entertainment gladly sold their company to Bighit entertainment...under one condition. They didn’t want anyone to know why they were bought out in the first place. Not being able to keep a hold of a young female producer sounded pretty pitiful to them.

It just so happened that my name was starting to circulate around the different agencies around the time Bang PD took me in, and a few were out shopping for a new producer. Once word got out that I was the one behind “Navillera” things started to go downhill.

Sometimes I really feel like I can empathize with Rapunzel, locked up in her tower. At least my tower has a sweet stereo system. Equipped with a pseudonym and surrounded by speculation, I live an interesting life.

You see, nobody actually knows that I bailed Source for Bighit, although many suspect as much. When ‘trackers’ from other agencies began to snoop around for my whereabouts, Bang PD gave me a choice.

Either work so far behind the scenes that I would never see any action but would stay safe from prying eyes, or adopt a pseudonym and be alert for people showing up at my door offering me a higher salary.

There are a lot of things I wish I’d known before I began my career. However, there is one thing in particular I would have liked to known before jumping over to Bighit: cameras have never been able to capture Jung Hoseok in his full glory, and I doubt they ever will.

Mid July, 2018

“Have you eaten?”

Hoseok’s voice is muffled through my headphones, but I quickly slip them off my head and turn to see him standing in the doorway.

“Me?” As soon as I ask the question I know that it isn’t the most intelligent. The room is empty except for me.

Hoseok doesn’t tease me too much, instead stepping into my small studio that I share with a couple of other producers. “Yes, you.” Producing a giant bag of takeout, he lofts it up in the air. “You’ve been here all day and I’m pretty sure you haven’t left this room once.”

I’ve begun seeing Hoseok more frequently around the company building, he’s taken up the habit of stopping into Slow Rabbit’s studio more often during the day. We’ll make some small talk, talk about work and upcoming plans. But this? Just showing up at my small studio with food? That’s definitely never happened before. We’re not even on a first name basis.

I didn’t even know he knew where my studio was. If we’re ever in the same room together it’s either in a big staff meeting with all the producers or in Slow Rabbit’s studio.

Taking a long look between the food and my workload, I sigh and push some of my stuff away, creating a space for the food. Hoseok hollers and grabs a chair for himself, wasting no time in plopping down beside me and pulling out the cartons.

I must be staring at him like he has three heads, because he’s freezing in his tracks when he catches my eye.

“What?” He asks innocently.

I laugh lightly, hoping that he doesn't misinterpret what I say next. “I just wasn't expecting to see you, much less with food.”

“Oh,” he hesitantly passes me a carton. “Yeah, kind of weird, I know. I just thought you might like something to eat. I know how grueling work can be when you’re just starting out, and you’ve got a lot of competition here. No matter how hard it all gets you can’t forget to eat and sleep, alright?”

I nod slowly, watching as he looks utterly unfazed and begins slurping up his food. That’s when I realize that we’ll be eating together.

It’s oddly quiet in the studio that’s usually filled to the brim with music, but it’s nice. “How did you even know that I’d be in here?”

Hoseok shrugs, glancing my way. “Slow Rabbit said that you haven’t showed up for your usual lunch with him all week; I figured today would be the same.”

He talked to Dohyeong about me? Somehow that thought leaves me feeling a little off-balance.

“Thank you.”

Giving me his award winning smile, Hoseok nods. “Hobi. Just call me Hobi.”

Busying myself with my food, I nod. “Thank you, Hobi.”

“You’re welcome...” He looks at me expectantly and I realize that he’s not interested in calling me by my stage name, Sunny.

“Oh. Ha-rin.”

He nods, satisfied for the moment. Diving into his food again, he clears his throat. “Mind if I come back tomorrow?”

January 2019

Lunch with Hobi becomes the new normal. Whenever he has a free spot in his schedule he just shows up at the studio. Sometimes we have lunch around 12, other days it’s more like 8. Either way, he always sends me a text asking me if he can eat lunch in the studio, and chances are I’m still hanging around. He gives me a tentative time, and I always find a way to say yes.

I don’t think I’ve paid for lunch for six months straight. To be honest, it’s really nice. On the other hand, I feel a little guilty. Whenever I bring it up, Hobi just waves me off.

Nearly on the verge of tearing my hair out as I struggle with the title track of TXT’s debut album, Hobi sends me a text telling me that he’s on his way over with the goods. It doesn’t take him long to show up, plopping down beside me and placing the food in front of me before I can even take my headphones off.

“I’ll order next time?” I ask tentatively. We’ve had this conversation several times already, but I can’t quite seem to win.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hobi says as he continues on in his meal. I glare at him.

“Well, I do worry about it. You don’t need to keep doing this, Hobi.”

Now he sets down his food and turns to look at me. He’s wearing a white t-shirt today, and his hair has been recently dyed with honey-brown highlights. When I first saw him in the doorway of the studio with his usual bag of food, I had to remind myself to breathe.

He looks good.

“Yes I do.” He said it so matter-of-factly that I nearly agreed with him before stopping.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, a little annoyed. “I’m not some pity case that you have to foster until I make a name for myself, you know.”

As soon as I say it I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. Hobi blinks before starting to laugh, applauding my bravado.

“Wow!” He says through his laughter. “You think that’s why I’m here?”

I just shrug, too mortified to say anything else. Heaven knows I’m too high-strung at the moment to be trusted to say anything else.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but you’re not a pity case. Do you feel like you’re a pity case?” Hobi turns what should have offended him into a shovel to dig around my brain a bit.

Shaking my head, I sneak a peek over at him. He’s sitting with his legs and arms crossed, looking at me intently.

“...no.”

I don’t sound that convincing, that much is clear on Hoseok’s face. Leaning forward in his chair, he looks like he’s thinking over something important but remains silent for a moment. I take the temporary silence to eat a bit more of my food, only then noticing that it’s ramyeon.

The thought of Hoseok taking some of the packets of ramyeon from the break room and sneaking down here with them makes me want to laugh and cry.

“Pdogg said you’re working on TXT’s title track. It’s your first big project here; how are you feeling?”

The question takes me off guard, and I slurp up the rest of my noodles before I respond. “Alright, I guess. It’s been a while since I had to start on a track from square one.”

A look of understanding dawn on Hoseok’s face. “That’s stressful. But that also says a lot that you’re trusted with so much.”

Shrugging, I drink the last bit of the broth before tossing my cup in the trash. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think Bang PD is trying to kill me.”

“Really?” J-hope frowns before also finishing off his ramyeon. “I could help you, if you want.”

I shake my head firmly, watching as he laughs as though he’d expected as much. “No, I need to do this on my own. I think I’m nearly there, anyways.”

“So that’s why you never leave the studio these days,” he muses.

“Exactly.”

Normally Hoseok is pretty quick in his visits; we eat and he leaves as soon as he’s finished. I’m honestly surprised that he has enough time to eat with me nearly every day. Today though, he lingers. I can tell that he’s chewing on a thought, and I turn to him, raising my eyebrows.

“Are you about to tell me I can get us food next time?”

He blinks at me, laughing. “No, not that. I know you won’t let me help you with producing; that’s fine. But will you at least let me listen to the track when you feel like it’s good enough?”

Hoseok and I are at a strange crossroads in our acquaintanceship. Are we friends yet? From the consistency of his lunches and willingness to help me, I believe we are. But then again, this feels completely unbalanced for a friendship. After all, isn’t he the one putting in all the work?

“That sounds like work, though.” I fold my arms in front of me. “You already work all the time.”

“You won’t even let me listen to it?”

Looking at him, I see how sincere he is in his intentions. Maybe that’s what makes me loosen up a bit, letting go of my insecurities just enough to let him in.

“You promise to tell me if it sucks?”

He giggles, the sound of his little laugh making me smile. “Oh, absolutely.”

Giving him a curt nod, I grab my headphones, ready to get back to work. “Ok.”

He hesitates. “Ok? That’s it?”

My chair swivels to face him, one side of my headphones off my ear so I can hear him. “That’s it. I’m kicking you out now so I can come up with a track decent enough for J-hope to listen to.”

Cackling at my behavior, he holds his hands up in surrender and makes his way out of the studio. “See you tomorrow, Rin-ah.”

I don’t hear him, my headphones firmly planted on my head. Chuckling to himself, Hoseok closes the door on his way out.

Two weeks later

“I think that one’s my favorite,” Hoseok says as he slips the headphones off. I raise my eyebrows.

“Really?”

He nods, smiling softly as he hands the headphones back to me. I put them on, immediately beginning to toggle with the track before me.

“Really. Why, do you not like it?”

I shake my head, eyes glued to the monitor. “No, it’s not that. It’s just...I think that’s the song I hated producing the most. It was by far the most challenging.”

“I can see why. But it sounds like your hard work paid off.”

I forget to breathe for a moment as he reaches out and gently removes the headphones from my head. Placing them on the desk, he crouches beside me and saves the changes I’ve made before closing down the computer.

“What are you doing?” I ask once I’ve remembered how to expand my lungs again. Hoseok straightens up, patting his thighs as though checking he has everything he needs in his pockets.

“That was the final track, right?”

I nod slowly, not catching on. “Yeah, but I’ve still got to review everything and-”

“No.” He looks serious as he shakes his head. “Not tonight. You’ve been locked up in this studio for over a month, I swear.”

Frowning, I turn my swivel chair in a slow circle, glaring at the wall and then Hoseok. “You make it sound like I never leave.”

“Well, do you? I’ve only ever seen you in a studio.”

Scoffing, I stop spinning and face him. “I go home at the end of the day! I shower! Do you really think I don’t shower?!”

Laughing, Hoseok extends a hand out to me which I stare at. My brain is completely fried.

“Sure, ok. You shower. But you leave here late and come back early. You’re finished - you’re practically finished, don’t give me that look - with the album and if you really want to review it, you can tomorrow. But I’ve listened to all the tracks and you deserve a break. Come on.”

He keeps his hand out, waiting for me to take it. Groaning, I grab my phone off the desk and take his hand. Hauling me up and out of the chair, I realize that his hand is larger than I thought it was. And warm.

“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out of my studio- it’s only 9 o’clock!” I shout as I see the time. I haven’t been out of the studio before 9 in weeks, usually opting to leave around 1 or 2 in the morning. Hoseok chuckles before me, looking at me over his shoulder until he slows down enough to walk beside me.

“When was the last time you were actually outside for longer than it takes to walk to your car?”

I shrug. “I take the bus. Can’t relate.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean.”

Squinting up at him, I curse those honey-brown highlights that are still prominent in his hair. He looks like some sort of model that got lost in the agency building, not my friend that sits with me and offers unsolicited advice.

“I don’t know…” I pout as he opens up the door and we head out into the night air. “A while?”

Laughing, he nods his head. “Yeah, I bet. Here, I’ll give you a ride.”

Stopping in my tracks, I shake my head. “No, that’s fine. I’m ok to take the bus, it stops right in front of my street and everything.”

Hoseok stops with one foot hanging off the curb, ready to head into the parking lot. He tilts his head to the side in that cute habit of his. Struggling to maintain an innocent expression, I watch as he marches back over to me.

“First off, do you consider me a friend?”

I’ve never seen Hoseok’s intense professional side before, but I can see that same tamed fire lurking behind his eyes as he draws nearer.

“I...yes?” I assume that’s the correct answer.

He nods his head before moving on to the next question. “Good. Secondly, I don’t remember saying that I’d give you a ride home. Did I?”

Blinking up at him, I shake my head. “No...but then where are we going?”

In an instant his intense gaze turns into the happy-go lucky expression I’ve come to associate with Hobi. “To celebrate! You just finished producing almost an entire album with only Pdogg for company; that’s a feat in and of itself.” He pauses, looking at me with a soft gaze. “You’re ok with that, right?”

Once I nod Hobi jumps off the curb and leads me to his car. Where I’m expecting a sports car I’m pleased to see a normal, albeit nice, car waiting for us. Opening the door wide for me, he gives me a big smile as I reluctantly get in.

Once he buckles up and starts the car, I turn to look at him. He looks a bit worried behind the driver's seat.

“Are you ok?” I ask. He quickly nods.

“I’m fine...I just don’t tend to drive that often. It’s not my favorite.”

I can’t help but laugh a little at his concerned expression. “Right, I forgot.” He eases out of the parking lot at a slower speed than necessary, but I let it slide. “Why did you drive today?”

He shrugs. “Just felt like it. Are you hungry yet?”

I raise my eyebrows. “I think I could eat again.”

“Great,” Hobi smiles at me before returning his full attention to the road. “I think the boys ordered pizza.”

Heart dropping to my toes, I nearly smack him before I stop myself. “The boys? What are we doing?”

He’s too focused to laugh at my obvious worry, but the ghost of a smile flits across his mouth. “Well, you don’t really seem like the type to hit up clubs and stuff to celebrate, and I figured you’d be tired after everything. So we’re heading to my apartment to eat and maybe watch a movie or something.” He spares me a quick look. “Unless you’d rather go home. Really, I don’t want you to feel pressured. I can just drop you off.”

A part of me wants to shrivel up with embarrassment at the thought of hanging out with the rest of BTS tonight; I’ve only ever seen them at work. Unlike with Hobi who I see nearly every day, I’ve only seen the other boys a handful of times.

I doubt they even know my name.

The small part of me that has kept me up staring at the ceiling and replaying every moment spent with Hoseok; his warm smile and soft eyes, the way he says my name and seems so kind...that part has me smiling at the man in the driver’s seat.

“If you can get us all the way to your apartment without crashing this car, I’m down to watch a movie with you guys.”

His eyes light up with something I can’t quite catch before he’s focusing on the road again.

“Perfect. Here, can you figure out how to call Jungkook on this car phone? Tell him what kind of pizza you want.”

Hobi’s apartment can be summarized in one word: clean. When he mentioned going to his apartment, I thought he meant the apartment he shares with the other six members. Instead, we’re at his own apartment. I didn’t even realize he had one of his own.

I say as much when we pull up.

“I tend to split my time between both apartments,” he says, opening up the front door. “However, the floors are being rebuffed at the shared one. So for tonight we’ll be here.”

The smell of pizza intercepts my thoughts as I kick my shoes off and watch with no small amount of amusement the way Hobi delicately places his shoes on the rack. I make sure to follow suit, grinning as he lets out a sigh of relief when I appear to be tidy.

“Helloooo,” Hobi calls as he leads me into the dining area. Jungkook already has his mouth full of pizza when he spots me.

“Oh- mmf...Sunny!” I smile at the boy I just spoke to on the phone. I guess they remember who I am, after all. “Your pizza is...oh, Jimin’s got it.”

Sure enough, Jimin is opening up a pizza with pineapple, olives, and chicken on it. He raises his eyebrows upon seeing my strange assortment of toppings.

“And this is good?”

I laugh a little at Jimin’s attitude, surprised to see him so at home with me.

Instantly feeling more comfortable around them, I grab one of the plates sitting on the table and make my way over to the pizza. “Of course it’s good. Haven’t you ever tried it before?” Hobi follows suit, looking over the options with a sharp eye.

“Can’t say I have. Mind if I steal a piece?” When I shake my head Jimin reaches over to ease a slice out of the box. “Thanks. Also, congrats on surviving the debut album. Hoseokie hyung said you were crazy busy with it.”

My eyes widen a bit as I look to the man in question. Hoseok gives me a guilty smile before returning his attention to the pizza.

“You talk about me?”

The question leaves my lips before I can stop it, and I once again chalk it up to the lack of sleep, fresh air, nutrients, and peace of mind that I’ve been getting lately. Jungkook immediately starts laughing, nearly choking on his pizza.

Hobi shrugs, giving Jimin a brief look that details his plans for his murder. “I’ve mentioned you a couple of times. It’s been a while since we’ve had a new producer under our roof- much less one that works so hard.”

While the compliment doesn’t fail to make me blush, I also can’t get over the fact that J-hope has told Jimin and Jungkook and probably the rest of the boys about me.

“In his defense,” Yoongi says, striding into the dining room wearing a large hoodie, “we did grill him for questions when he kept skipping out on meals with us.”

“Especially when he was smuggling ramyeon out of the break room,” Jungkook adds.

I’m not sure where to look as Hoseok’s face goes bright red under the chandelier. Either way, I can’t hold in my laughter.

“I was wondering where you got all that ramyeon,” I muse. The other boys chuckle, grabbing the last few things before heading out into the living room. I wait for Hobi who’s currently staring holes into his pizza.

“You coming?”

He jumps a little at the sound of my voice, looking up at me with his mouth in a small frown before smiling. He dips his head to the side in that way he always does.

“Right behind you.”

February 2019

Things slowly begin to change. The debut album is reviewed and accepted, and suddenly I’m no longer eating in my studio with Hobi. Instead, I’m showing up at his apartment after work for dinner.

His schedule has gotten busier since mine has relaxed now that TXT is debuting in less than a month. Unfortunately I can’t just show up on set or in his studio or wherever it is he’s working for the day, so instead I begrudgingly accepted his offer of dining in at his apartment.

He’s never alone, our meals now consist of Jin usually choking on something or Yoongi making sly comments under his breath. Namjoon has only been there once, according to the rest of the boys he’s a workaholic. It doesn’t surprise me at all.

Jimin is a constant at Hobi’s apartment; apparently he’s none too happy about his roommate spending more time at a separate place. Jungkook and Taehyung usually tag along, although Jungkook has a bad habit of wandering about and leaving early.

Dohyeong has come over a couple of times as well, he made sure to make fun of me for no longer stopping in at his studio.

“You’re busy these days,” I say as I try to defend myself. “I don’t want to be a distraction.”

Dohyeong shrugs, completely ignoring the dark circles under his eyes. “We’re not too busy. And you could honestly be a big help to us, if you bothered to drop in.”

I’m in the middle of rolling my eyes when Hobi speaks up from where he sits beside me. “Actually, you really should. I was talking to Bang PD about it and-”

“You talked to Bang PD about me?” I shriek, dropping my spoon in my soup and turning my full attention to the man beside me. “Are you trying to get me fired or something? Jeez, Hobi, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days!”

Hobi looks like he’s not certain if he wants to run off screaming or burst into laughter at my sudden outburst. He holds up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Hey, all I did was mention the fact that you’ve been working very hard and that you show a lot of promise. If we could get you on a project of ours, it might really open up a lot of doors for you. You know, more than the occasional song.”

I stare at him, the table completely silent as I study out his face. He’s casually eating his food, keeping one eye on me as though waiting for me to start beating him up. He straightens up and grabs a bit of the meat from his soup, blowing on it before extending it out to me.

Glancing between him and the meat, I sigh before leaving forward and biting it.

Later that night, as we’re watching “Inception” and everyone is lounging about the living room, I look over to Hobi who sits between Jimin and I. The light of the movie dances across his face, leaving me a bit starstruck as I mull over his words.

I’ve worked on a few small parts of songs with the other producers for BTS before, but I’ve never headed a project for them. Granted, I’ve only been at Bighit for a short amount of time. I was thrilled to know that Bang PD wanted me to be one of TXT’s main producers. It’s a big deal, especially for someone as young as I am.

So why is Hobi trying to get me to jump onto some project for BTS?

He must sense my stare, because he’s crinkling his nose before looking over at me a moment later. I stare at him with wide eyes, caught red-handed.

Apparently the dark room doesn’t show him how red I am, because he simply looks at me and raises his eyebrows, silently asking me what I’m thinking.

Scooting in a little closer until my head is resting against the back of the couch near his shoulder, I whisper my worries to him.

“It was nice of you to mention me to Bang PD, but I don’t feel comfortable just jumping in on a project with you guys. That feels...wrong, somehow.”

He nods slowly, bringing his arm around my shoulders and giving me a comforting squeeze. “Ok...you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But I really think you should talk with Pdogg or Dohyeong about it. I just think we could really use your help.”

Once I agree to talk with Pdogg about it, Hobi removes his arm and focuses on the movie again. I close my eyes for a moment, fighting the pounding in my chest as I replay how it felt to be so close to him.

Just jumping in on a project with Hobi doesn’t feel right. I know he’s doing it out of friendship, but I also know myself. The world tends to open doors for people based off of who they know, and I refused to use that to my advantage a long time ago.

Looking around the room at the people I’ve begun to call friends, I wonder if I’ve inadvertently sabotaged myself before I could even begin.

♟

After the movie ends Hobi wastes no time getting up and driving me home like he usually does. It’s quiet inside the car, I lean my head against the window and watch the city lights stream past.

I hear Hobi’s intake of breath before he speaks. “Did you like the movie?”

Glancing over at him, I can’t help but smile. He’s nearly buried in his oversized sweatshirt, his nervous eyes flitting all over the road almost as though waiting for a bear to amble out in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s a good one. I’ve seen it before.”

He frowns. “You didn’t tell me that. We could’ve watched a different one, you know.”

I shake my head, eyes drifting down to where his hands clutch the steering wheel. “No, it never gets old.”

He turns onto my street, starting to let off the gas. “If you say so.” Coming to a stop before my apartment building, he turns to face me. “Hey, about earlier...I know it probably seemed really weird for me to just say that out of the blue, but-”

“Lock the doors.”

“What?”

I lean across him to lock all the doors, grabbing his arm out of fear when I see a burly man edging closer to the car. “Hobi…” I whisper, a sudden shot of fear coursing through my veins.

Hoseok catches sight of the man, who has bent over and is trying to see who’s inside the car. We’re both frozen as he comes ever closer, until he suddenly pounces at the passenger side door, making me scream.

“I see you!” He shouts, his hood dropping from his face. “I see you, you little-”

I don’t get to listen to his colorful language before Hobi throws the car into drive and takes off. I’m still clinging to him, staring out the passenger window. Blood is pounding through my veins, making me see stars even as I gasp for air.

“Do you know him?” Hobi asks, keeping his eyes glued to the road. His voice is exceptionally calm, despite the fact that I know he scares easily.

Finally detaching my hands from his arm, I rub my eyes. “I...I don’t know…?” We pass a speed limit sign, and I jump up in my seat. “Hoseok, slow down!”

He doesn't listen to me, and I swear he almost speeds up. I watch people’s faces as we speed by, a few staring after the nice car with a sneer. If it weren’t for the terror in my system I would have been making fun of Hobi. For a man so terrified of driving, he sure does know how to floor it.

Pressing a few buttons on the steering wheel, the sound of a phone ringing fills the car. A glance at the dashboard shows that Hobi’s calling one of their full-time bodyguards.

My jaw appears to be locked as I can’t even bring myself to open my mouth to ask him what’s happening.

“What’s going on?” The bodyguard, Do-yun, immediately asks. It’s rare for him to receive a call this late at night; it can only mean one thing: trouble.

“Do-yun?” Hoseok’s voice is ice-cold as he begins to deliver instructions. “I’m going to send you an address, I need you to stop by my apartment to retrieve a key and then bring some of Sunny’s items over.”

I perk up a little when he calls me Sunny. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him refer to me by my pseudonym. The bright name coming from his lips somehow makes me feel cold.

“Yes, sir. Are you alright?”

I don’t miss Hobi’s gaze as he glances over at me with fire in his eyes. “We’re fine. See you soon.”

When we pull up outside of Hobi’s apartment again, I stare up at his darkened windows with wide eyes. He must sense my confusion, because he waits before getting out of the car. Gingerly unbuckling my seatbelt, his icy exterior melts enough for me to see to Hobi that I’ve grown close to over the past six months.

“Rin-ah,” he starts, and I instantly relax upon hearing my name from him. “Did you recognize that man?”

I immediately begin to shake my head. “I told you, I don’t...I don’t know.”

“Have you seen him before? Even just hanging around your apartment, down in the street or something.”

Looking into Hoseok’s eyes, I can see the unending depths of his patience. But there’s something more there, now. Something I’ve never seen before.

A sharp blade hides behind his eyes, one that I’ve never seen him wield. Watching how his hands curl up into fists against his jeans, I realize that I’m not sure I want to see that weapon at work.

Perhaps I’m at my limit, the memory of that man hurling himself at the car and attempting to claw his way inside too much for me to handle. Whatever it is, something pushes me to do something I immediately wish I didn’t.

Looking straight into Hoseok’s eyes, I lie.

Chapter 2

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ozzdog12 · 3 years

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2020 Top 7 (and 1)

2020 am I right? We saw an insane amount of games come out and 2 brand new consoles. What a wild and weird year for gaming, and life in general. In case you are relatively new here, and to be honest that would be completely fair considering I don't post very often on Tumblr anymore, every year going on the last 4 years (on here) I have done a Top 7 (& 1) for my favorite videogames of the year. Check out 2019, 2018, & 2017. What’s wild, as I look back on my list of games that I’ve completed and played, only maybe 10 came out this year. 2020 was a huge backlog year.

Lets get on with the ‘And 1!”

Favorite Game that Didn’t Come out in 2020: Control (PS4)

Control may very well have been my 2019 Game of the Year, had I played it in 2019. I LOVED Control. I wanted to play it in 2019, but initial reports that it was a little rough on base consoles put me off until it was fixed. And Holy smokes what an insanely fun and trippy game once I finally started it. I knew within the first 20 minutes this was going to be the shit when I went down a hall, walked into a room and talked to the “janitor” left out a door behind him and the entire building had shifted. I’ve always liked Remedy games, but from a distance. Max Payne 1&2 and Alan Wake all oozed with weirdness and intrigue, but never enough for me to finish them. I missed out on Quantum Break. The story is Control is just the right amount of mind f*!$ for me and builds a universe I didn’t know I needed. It take some time to piece everything together, then everything just clicks. The game does have a weird difficulty spike when fighting bosses and the checkpoints were too far apart at times, but those were later patched. I spent an insane amount of time within the Federal Bureau of Control building and even more time after that with the Foundation and AWE DLC and it STILL wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Outside of Prey, I can’t think of another game that stuck in my brain more after I’d finished it. Control is absolutely a MUST PLAY title. In a world where everything sort’ve feels similar, Control stands out of the crowd.

Number 7: Astro’s Playroom (PS5)

I never thought in my wildest dreams that a game I had almost zero interest in playing would end up on my list of favorite games this year. Astro’s Playroom is being labeled as a ‘Tech demo’ but that feels like an insult to what it is. It’s a full fledged game and its free! I’ve paid more for less. A charming little platformer that lives and breathes the history of the Playstation. So many cool Easter eggs and references. It certainly centers its gameplay around the DualSense controller and everything it can do, but at its core, its a completely approachable and forgiving 3D platformer. I played it just to see what it was about, next thing i knew I had completed all the levels and wanted to further explore all the nooks and crannies within the game. I wanted to see everything the game had to offer and I had an absolute blast doing so. Makes me kinda wish I’d played the previous game on PSVR (I’d have to have a PSVR too)

Number 6: Spider-Man: Miles Morales (PS5)

Another quality title, albeit a spin-off, from Insomniac to add to their Spider Man universe. Gameplay felt obviously like Spider-Man, but Miles has unique abilities that made the game feel different enough, especially the cloak and stealth. I enjoyed the fact that it was short and concise. The issue with most ‘open-world’ games is that they are entirely too bloated with unnecessary filler content (I’ll get to that in a later game), something I felt the first game suffered from, but I also understand why they are there. However I could’ve use one or two more story missions to help flesh out some characters, but it wasn’t required and didn’t change my opinion one way or the other. My one BIG gripe was with Miles himself. He is an extremely smart young kid, but so incredibly naïve. Peter Parker tells him the one thing he SHOULD NOT do is tell people he is Spider-Man. I get it, that’s part of his growth, but Miles thinks he can just solve his problems by revealing his identity and it almost certainly never works out.

Number 5: The Last of Us: Part 2 (PS4)

The Last of Us Part 2 may be the most polarizing game in the history of the medium, but for the absolute wrong reasons. I’m in the minority that I very much enjoyed my experience with TLOU2, quite a bit actually. Its better in every single way over its predecessor, except the overall story. There are plenty of fair criticisms to be had about the story and various things within the game itself, but I thought the gameplay was so tight and crunchy. There were genuine moments of suspense and terror that I felt that no other game has ever given me. The entire hospital section (2nd time) was so susensful, I had to put my controller down to gther myself. Some of my favorite moments in the series I experienced with a character I wasn’t overly fond of. How many games can do that? The Last of Us Part 2 was meant to invoke emotion, not necessarily joy. I think that's what people lost along the way. Say what you will about the direction Naughty Dog has taken over the years, but you would be hard pressed to find a studio that makes games graphically better than they do. Yes, I know about their crunch culture, but this is not a place for that. I will say, the game was a tad bit too long, which is not something it typically say for a single player, narrative driven game. The pacing and the way the story was told wasn’t my favorite, but I respect what it was trying to do, even if it failed in some aspect of that, I finished the game within the week it was released. Something I RARELY ever do. I’m a father and I related with Joel a lot in TLOU, but I also recognized how wrong he was. There is a lesson to be learned. Your actions always have consequences and while he was doing what he thought was the right thing, it wasn’t his choice to make, and in doing so set up a series of events that were entirely avoidable, but again, that’s the point isn’t it?

Number 4: Grindstone (Switch)

I’m counting this as a 2020 game since it just came to the Switch this year ( less than a month ago) but its not the first time I’ve played it. Grindstone was the only reason I kept my Apple Arcade subscription and when I let it lapse, there was a void I just couldn’t fill. I bought Puzzle Quest on Switch but it just wasn't the same. Its THE perfect game for bite sized play, even though in its addictive nature, you’ll clear a few levels and an hour has passed before you know it. It has the perfect amount of depth that most ‘match’ games don't. You have different weapons, items, and outfits w/perks to use and experiment with to keep it fresh. I went months without playing my Switch and when this was announced in August, I couldn’t wait! Sadly, I had to wait 3 months, but since then I have spent so much time on the Switch. It gave me a reason to play it again. The art style and humour is great. The variety of enemies and challenge is just right. I can’t recommend it enough. Seriously, check this game out!

Number 3: Doom Eternal (Xbox One)

I will be the first to tell you, I did not like Doom (2016). I found it extremely boring and trite. I understood what Doom(2016) was doing and it succeeded, maybe too much. Nostalgia is a helluva thing. So in saying that, I was mildly interested in Doom Eternal. Doom Eternal is nothing like 2016 outside of it being a Doom game that connects to the rest of them (& also being a sequel to 2016). The mechanics are drastically different with more platforming (for better or worse). Eternal is challenging, at times very hard, especially early on. Eternal has no respect for its players, in a weirdly good way. It laughs at how you’ve played FPS before this one and WILL MAKE you play it its way, not your way. Yes, you point and shoot, but ammo is scare and you MUST use everything in your arsenal. No more using just 2 guns for the whole game. The enemies are relentless. Sometimes you have to pause and take a breath after a battle because you go a 100 mph for the whole fight. You have to continuously move or you die. There is an enticing rhythm to it. I categorize Eternal as ‘Blood Ballet’. Its a game where when your feeling it, much like a rhythm game, you get in the zone and there is no stopping demons from getting slayed. Surprisingly, unlike most games in the genre, it seemed to get easier (sans one extremely frustrating platforming section late in the game) the longer you played it. Was that a testament that I ‘learned’ the Eternal way or it truly did get easier? I don’t know, but the final Boss(es) were....easy.. I had more problems and deaths within the first 4 hours than I did the final 8-9 hours. The multiplayer was also surprisingly fun. The older I get, the less interested I am in multiplayer, but I found myself coming back for more for a good month or so.

Number 2: Gears Tactics (Xbox One)

As 2020 comes to a close, I came to a stunning realization. I might be a bigger Gears of War fan than I had previously thought. Don’t get me wrong. I love Gears, but I seem to love Gears more than I thought. I'm way more invested into the lore than I recall. Anyways, Gears Tactics is everything XCOM 2 SHOULD’VE been. Not only does Gears Tactics utilize the Overwatch action, its makes it EXTREMELY important. The story revolves around the father of Kait Diaz, Gabe and a ragtag group of mostly random soldiers to take down Ukkon. Anyone who is remotely interested in the Gears universe will love the story and references. The gameplay is just so damn satisfying. The bosses are very challenging and different. I actually had to change my strategy to finish the final boss. I experimented with a totally different style of class and was rewarded for it. The post game stuff is also aplenty. This game scratched a VERY specific itch for me and I’m itchy to jump back in. I’m glad this came to Xbox One because I’m current computer could not run it.

Number 1: Ghost of Tsushima (PS4)

I have a very odd relationship with massive open world games. I love them, but I get very burnt out on them. They all have a relatively same-y formula and are often populated with bloat. GoT does have some of that but to its advantage, its not very populated, in a good way. One of the things that I really appreciated about GoT and its side quest is most of them felt meaningful. The thing that really stood out to me about GoT is the absolutely satisfying combat. It just feels SO GOOD. It requires timing and patience. There are different fighting styles for different enemies and even the armor you wear is more than just cosmetic. The combat is so fun and satisfying that I was immediately excited when they announced Legends, a multiplayer add on, for free. Its so much fun and is a blast to play with a group of friends. I’m sporadically still playing the Legends mode. I initially wanted to play the game in ‘Kurosawa’ mode but I am glad I didn’t because the game, even on the PS4 is stunning, and on the upgrade on PS5 is jaw-droppingly smooth. I did play the entire game in Japanese with English subtitles. I still don't know what Jin’s English voice sounds like. GoT does a good job a drip feeding you new abilities and things to keep things fresh. I love stealth and once I unlocked it, I spent the majority of every battle taking out as many enemies as I could while in stealth mode. Ghost of Tsushima does a lot of things very well, that the few things it doesn’t can be easily overlooked.

#videogames #control #grindstone #tlou #doom eternal #gears tactics #ghost of tsushima #ps4 #ps5 #xbox one #switch #nintendo switch #playstation4 #GOTY #spiderman #astro playroom

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tirednotflirting · 3 years

Text

i could do without a tan on my left hand where my fourth finger meets my knuckle

hello again i was here approx ten min ago and now i am back. kinda. also jesus that title looks LONG wow

this is not new! this was posted to ao3 a touch under a month ago for my darling @clumsyclifford‘s birthday and i’m just a dummy and never posted it to tumblr. so here i am sdlkfjsdl

i got very VERY emo over my love for bella in the a/n on ao3 so you can read my love letter there hehe. bella, babes, i love you so crazy much and i feel so lucky to know you and to call you a friend. thank you for teaching me how to love the things i create and encourage me to really actually grow as a writer. it’s been a lot of fun and a great deal of the confidence i have in myself now is thanks to the early support i got from people like yourself. hope you have a happy wednesday filled with many cups of tea <3

here this is on ao3 if that’s more ur jam

Love is a mug of tea.

2020, Maryland

Alex loves his kitchen.

He loves the big island right in the center of it and the windows over the sink facing out toward the barn. He loves the random assortment of tea towels his mom gave him when he first moved out, and how they’ve traveled with him to each new home over the years. He loves the fridge with lots of space for pictures of friends and family that greet him each time he walks into the room.

The sun is just rising over the top of the barn. He’s been awake for a little over an hour now. Starting his days in the barn is something he’s grown to love, the early mornings for feeding and greeting his animal friends being the only way he can manage being up before the sun. Once he made it back to the house, he quickly showered before throwing his pajamas back on. There was nowhere else they needed to be today so he figured it appropriate.

He fills and sets his kettle to boil in the corner. The clock on the microwave tells Alex it’s 7AM and he hears the familiar click of the coffee machine starting up. (He had been particularly proud of himself when he figured out how to use that setting.) Alex grabs a couple mugs and drops a tea bag into the one he’s claimed for himself for the morning just as the kettle clicks off. He pours water into the mug and hops up onto the island to wait for the tea to steep.

Alex is scrolling down his Twitter feed a couple minutes later when he hears human footsteps followed by the tapping of the dogs’ nails against the tile. He locks his phone and sets it beside him just in time for Jack to step between Alex’s legs and wrap his arms around his waist. Alex laughs quietly as Jack drops his head to rest against his chest. “Good morning, my love,” Alex greets him in a scratchy voice and runs his fingers through Jack’s bedhead.

Jack hums at the feeling and leans his head back against Alex’s hand. “Hello,” he replies. He sighs and moves to stand straight before leaning in to press a quick kiss to Alex’s lips. Jack smiles lazily and turns to the counter where the coffee machine sits. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Was up later than I wanted to be on that call with Mark trying to figure out the plan for next week.”

“You two are always chatty,” Jack says with a smile in his voice while he stirs sugar and milk into his mug. “What time is our flight out tomorrow again?”

Alex slides off the counter to the floor and takes the spot beside Jack, taking the milk carton from him when it’s offered to add to his tea. “Not until the evening. We can probably sleep in a bit, if you want to.”

“I like the way you think,” Jack responds, accepting the milk again when Alex holds it in his direction. He wraps an arm around Alex’s middle to pull him back against chest and presses his lips to Alex’s temple before stepping away to the fridge. Alex feels something pull at the leg of his pajama pants and when he looks down, both of the dogs sit at his feet. He laughs and abandons his mug on the counter to head out of the kitchen towards the back door. Tiny paws click against the wood floor behind him. They race out the door when he finally gets it open.

When he returns to the kitchen, a gentle smile pulls at his lips and he leans against the doorframe for a moment to admire the view. Jack sits in his regular seat at the kitchen island. He’s put his glasses on sometime in the last minute or so since Alex left the room. One hand holds the handle of his coffee mug while the other holds open a novel his mom had sent home with him after he visited her earlier in the week. The sunrise shines through the window over the sink, painting the room in yellow-orange light. It’s a view Alex knows he’s never going to get tired of.

He loves mornings with Jack. When they’re spending their time like this, with their shared early morning routines or deciding who will do what chores around the house that day, it’s easy to imagine spending the rest of his life like this. He can see them, years from now, hosting holiday parties on the farm or arguing over why they should or shouldn’t watch National Treasure 2 for the twelfth time that month, and it takes everything in him not to race back upstairs to grab the ring box he’s got hiding in the back of his closet.

Alex loves his kitchen. Though, as he watches Jack smile down at his novel before pausing to sip from his mug, Alex realizes that the thought of sharing the space with the person he loves has made him love it infinitely more.

“Hey, Jack?”

Jack hums in acknowledgement without looking up from his book.

“Do you want to move in?”

Jack looks up to meet his gaze from across the counter. His brows raise in what is probably surprise and a tiny smile forms across his lips. “Sure.”

“Really?”

Jack folds the corner of the page he’s on before closing it shut. “What? Did you think I’d say no?”

Alex shakes his head with a laugh. “No, I just wasn’t really sure what else to say,” he explains. “I’m just, I don’t know, excited? This is gonna be fun.”

Alex shuffles around the counter into Jack’s open arms that settle around his waist. “It is,” Jack agrees. “Though, I will say, if I’m going to help around the farm more, we’re gonna have to give Milk a talk.”

Alex rolls his eyes and lifts his arms to rest on Jack’s shoulders. “I already told you, the goat is not flirting with you. He bites everyone’s ass.”

“Your goat is trying to steal me away from you.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Thank you.” Jack says, sincerely. A moment later, he cracks and laughs as he tugs Alex in closer. He presses another kiss against his lips. “You realize our mothers are going to start their wedding planning thing again once we tell them about this though, right?”

“Maybe I’ll join them for their brunches this time around,” Alex suggests and lets his forehead rest against Jack’s.

“Sure. Just make sure they’ve got next June blocked off since we’ll be on tour,” Jack replies jokingly before squeezing Alex’s waist to move him aside so he can stand to get more coffee. Alex steals his seat and watches him go through the motions of making his second mug. Without asking, Jack sets the kettle to boil again and pulls the box of Alex’s tea out of the cupboard. The sun has risen more and casts a golden glow on Jack through the window while he rinses his mug. Jack’s always looked his best in the morning, Alex thinks. He considers pulling his phone out to snap a picture, but then he remembers that this exact image isn’t going to be one that’s limited by whatever things might be keeping them stuck in their own homes on opposite sides of the country. That home isn’t going to be a plural for them anymore.

He thinks back to the ring box. Maybe it’s going to need a better hiding spot now.

Jack turns back to Alex, a puzzled look on his face, likely in response to Alex’s lack of a response to his question. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they know.”

“Good,” Jack says with a wink. He reaches across the counter for his book. “Gonna go finish this chapter on the porch. Care to join?”

Alex smiles. “Let me make my tea first, I’ll be out in a few.”

Jack nods. “Good plan. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Jack presses a kiss to his hair when he passes him, and Alex watches him head for the front door from his spot at the island. Even more sunshine greets Jack as he opens the door, the windchime out front twinkling a good morning.

It’s going to be a good day.

Love is hotel sheets and a cup of coffee.

2018, New York, New York

The first time Jack wakes up it’s because he feels a dip in the mattress behind him and a warm arm wrapping back around his middle.

Without opening his eyes, he smiles at the feeling of Alex’s lips pressing against the back of his neck. “Flight was canceled because of the storm,” Alex explains, his voice scratchy with sleep. They were meant to have an early flight off to the next city but it’s an off day anyway so the delay in travel shouldn’t really matter. “We’re booked for another one at like, ten tonight or something.”

He turns in Alex’s arms and lets his eyes flutter open. It’s still really early and the curtains are pulled shut, leaving the room dark like the middle of the night. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust before he can really make out any of his boy’s features. Alex settles onto his back and pulls Jack halfway onto his chest. Jack lifts a hand to hold Alex’s cheek, his thumb brushing along the darker circles below his eyes. They’re only a few days away from a break for a couple weeks, and the little sleep he knows Alex has been allowing himself is starting to show. Jack is looking forward to getting them both back to his place to just sleep for a day or five.

“Sounds like the weather in New York wants you to sleep for a few more hours with your handsome boyfriend, then.”

Jack feels Alex laugh from where his cheek rests against his chest. “The storm knows you're handsome?”

“Of course,” Jack sighs. “It’s a universally known fact.”

“Guess we have to keep sleeping.”

“We do, yes,” Jack agrees. He lifts himself up for a moment to press a kiss to Alex’s jaw, smiling at the feeling of his lashes brushing against Alex’s stubbly cheek. Jack cuddles back against his chest and lets his eyes fall shut as their legs tangle below the sheets. He’s asleep again a moment later.

The next time Jack wakes up, the room is still mostly dark but he’s alone.

A thin stream of light shining through a spot in the curtains and the smell of coffee somewhere in the room tells him that enough time has passed that it’s likely a normal morning hour now. It also tells him that Alex is awake somewhere. Jack sits up slowly in bed and looks around the room, expecting to find Alex sitting in the chair in the corner scrolling through Twitter on his phone or writing at the desk. He frowns when he finds the room empty of his boyfriend until then he hears a sneeze on the other side of the curtain. Laughing quietly to himself, Jack rubs the sleep from his eyes. He turns to get out of the bed and, after spotting the pot of coffee, pours himself a mug.

Growing up, Jack has always hated staying in hotels. The rooms were always too cold, the air conditioner too noisy, the pillows just a bit too fluffy. He often found himself jealous of kids who found hotel rooms to be like a magic place to be because he was always miserable until he could crawl back into his own bed back home.

It was better once they started traveling for band stuff. He started bringing his own pillow (the firmness and familiar scent both providing a sense of comfort). And if he ever forgot it on the bus, Alex's chest was a decent substitute. A bed would never feel cold with Alex the Human Furnace pressed against his back below the sheets. The sound of the air conditioning was easily drowned out when he had the gentle, steady puffs of Alex’s breath against his neck to count instead of sheep.

He crosses the room, pausing for a moment to grab a hoodie and his new book from his carry-on, and pulls away the curtain to step out onto the balcony. Alex turns up from his journal and smiles up at him. He’s still in pajama pants and a long sleeve he likely pulled from Jack’s bag. “Good morning, love.”

Jack leans down to press a kiss to the top of Alex’s head before moving to lean against the railing. “Is it still morning?”

“Well, no,” Alex laughs. “But we’re on tour, so it can be morning if we want it to be.”

Jack looks down onto the street, to all of the tiny people moving from place to place. Everyone in New York always moves quickly, Jack thinks. With purpose. He admires that. “Well, good morning to you too,” he replies. “Why are we out of bed if we don’t have to be in an airport for several more hours?”

“I wanted to watch the city,” Alex explains. He lifts his mug to take another sip before continuing. “We move so fast these days. I miss getting to explore.”

“Hard to explore from this balcony.”

“Rian found some restaurant a few blocks away he wants to do an early dinner at,” Alex says, with a wave of his hand. “We can explore then. We’re resting right now.”

“City does still look pretty from here,” Jack observes. Autumn looks nice on New York, he thinks. The winters are too cold and the summers are too hot. Mid-October, when it’s cool but not cold, when the trees are all a rainbow of oranges and reds, that’s his favorite time to be in the city. From where they sit right now, with the sun shining down to warm them and a cool breeze blowing around the steam rising from his mug, it’s easy to say this might be his favorite morning in the city to date.

“Exactly,” Alex smiles while he watches Jack look out over the railing at the buildings and sky.

“What are you working on?” Jack asks. He takes the seat beside Alex and props his feet up on the chair opposite him.

“Feels like lyrics but I might just be journaling,” Alex replies. “I can’t really tell.”

“What are you writing about?”

“You,” Alex responds without hesitation. A decade ago, if Jack had asked that question, Alex likely would have looked up at him with a blush painted across his cheeks and quickly shut the book closed before saying nothing, just songwriter stuff. They’ve come a long way since then.

“Gonna be our next big hit?” Jack jokes.

“Oh, absolutely,” Alex says with a wink. Alex reaches for Jack’s hand after he sets his mug back down and lifts it to press a kiss against his knuckles. He holds onto Jack’s fingers for a moment longer as he takes a deep breath, the early afternoon sun shining on his face, before he lets go to pick up his pen again.

Jack loves touring. He wants them to keep touring until they’re old and gray and even Zack struggles to run and jump across the stage. He loves traveling and finding new undiscovered corners of the world. He loves how it always feels fresh and new in every place they land. He loves not knowing exactly what’s going to come next.

He spent a long time wondering if he should want to settle down. To find a place to really build a more permanent life for himself at some point. But then he looks across the table at Alex and watches the way he bites at the end of his pen. He watches his eyes light up in joy before the pen falls back to the paper in his journal, the lyrics or story or notes about something scratching their way into the page. Alex reaches again for his mug and pauses his scribbling to take a sip. His eyes meet Jack's gaze and he smiles in his direction before returning to the task at hand.

Maybe settling down doesn’t have to be a place. It can be sharing a bed with the same person even if that bed is a new one each night. It can be a pair of dark brown eyes that for the last 20 years can always find his own, even in the most crowded rooms.

Hotel day or not, Jack knows he can’t spend the whole day throwing heart eyes across the table while Alex works. Over the years, Jack has noticed that Alex is always too nice to ask for alone time while he writes despite everyone knowing he likes it sometimes. He takes the last sip of his coffee and moves to stand.

“Gonna go bug Zack while he works out for awhile,” Jack says, pushing the sliding glass door open. “I’ll come find you in a few hours.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,” Alex laughs, his eyes squinting up at Jack against the sunlight. “Have fun.”

Jack blows him a kiss before stepping back inside. He digs his slides out of his bag and grabs a key card before wandering out of the room and in the direction of the elevators.

On his trip down to the ground floor, he starts thinking about it again, what settling down would look like for him. He's starting to realize that the struggle there is that he can’t picture a settled future for himself because the only future he sees is about a them rather than a him. No matter where they go, Alex is and always has been home.

And maybe, Jack thinks, it’s as simple as that.

Love is a sweater and sky full of stars.

2012, Middle of Nowhere, Southwest USA

The first time Alex steals a hoodie from Jack is February during their sophomore year of high school. Jack’s parents were out of town visiting his sister so they ended up at his place after band practice. They nicked a couple of beers from the fridge in the garage and spent fifteen minutes debating if they had reorganized the remaining bottles in a way that made it less obvious there might be a couple missing.

It was another fifteen or so minutes of drinking and complaining about algebra exams before Alex shivered in the deck chair he had claimed. Alex never said a word, but Jack must have noticed the goosebumps on his bare arms and wordlessly got up to go inside. A couple minutes later, the confused look on Alex’s face was answered with a navy blue hoodie thrown in his face.

He laughed and thanked Jack before he pulled it over his head. It was soft and warm from being inside. When he pulled the hood up over his hair, he was met with the scent of lavender laundry detergent and the body spray Jack had taken a liking to that winter. Alex would never admit to how he started hating the smell of it a little less when Jack started wearing it.

Alex pulled the sleeves over his hands and shoved them into the hoodie pocket. When he looked back up across the metal patio table, a small smile pulled at Jack’s lips. Alex wasn’t given the time to ask what the look had been for before Jack launched into another story about something that had happened in his chemistry lab earlier that week.

(It’s not until they’re on tour the summer after they graduate that Alex really understands what the look was for. He doesn’t really get it until Jack is kissing him against the bunks, his hands sliding underneath a sweatshirt Alex had pulled from Jack’s suitcase. Though it’s impossible for the meaning to be more obvious when You look cute in my clothes is whispered between their lips. Alex only laughs in response and trips over his own feet dragging Jack towards the back lounge.)

Nearly ten years since that night at Jack’s parents’ place, Alex still finds himself thankful that Jack’s sweaters fit loosely on him and smell like the mixture of fragrances that make up his boy. It’s still the same laundry detergent his mom used in the early 2000s, but the cologne Jack wears now is much nicer than the stuff he used to douse himself in every morning before school. He’s pretty sure it’s the one that Rian bought Jack for Christmas last year. Alex will have to ask him in the morning.

The A/C kicks on above where he sits on the tour bus couch, and Alex pulls the sleeves of the sweatshirt he’d stolen out of Jack’s bunk over his hands. He’s having a tea, one of those calming, nighttime ones, in a desperate attempt to settle his mind so he can get some sleep before they’re parked at a new venue in a new city in the morning. The show earlier that night had felt electric, Alex had been more in tune with this crowd than he had in a while. It was a glorious feeling to walk off stage with, but it also meant that the buzz was still tingling a bit just below his skin hours later.

Tea and his journal were his typical go-to choices to relax on a night like this, but unfortunately, his normal methods were failing him. He takes a deep breath, wondering for a moment if he should try out some of those meditation techniques Zack had taught him, and then he feels the bus come to a stop.

He pulls aside one of the curtains to check out where they’re at. Some kind of gas station, it appears. No obvious signs of that much civilization around it, very typical middle of nowhere Arizona (or maybe New Mexico?). He watches their bus driver wander out in front of the bus and shake hands with one of the guys driving the bus some of the other crew are on. Everyone is just stretching their legs, it looks like.

He reaches for his mug to take another sip and frowns down at the ceramic when he realizes it’s empty. Alex considers digging the box of tea out of the crowded kitchen storage for a moment before glancing toward the front of the bus. With a nod to himself, he leaves the mug in the sink and heads up for the door.

They’re in basically the desert and it’s the middle of the night in November, so Alex really has no reason to be surprised by the chill in the air he’s greeted with after stepping out into the lot. He pulls his sleeves back over his palms and walks out further into the lot. Alex hears someone call his name. Across the lot he sees their driver waving. “We’re leaving in thirty. Be back on the bus by then.”

“Got it,” he yells back. And then it’s silent.

That’s always been one of the best things about traveling at night like this. He finds it exciting to really truly be in the middle of nowhere, where he can step out of the bus into stillness, the only sounds being the tiny chirping of bugs or tree branches blowing in the wind. That’s not even his favorite part though. He tips his face up toward the night sky and squeezes his eyes shut to get them more accustomed to the darkness.

No, his favorite part is the stars.

Alex is endlessly grateful for the opportunities they’ve had the last few years to live and work in big, important cities, but he misses the skies he got to call his own out in the suburbs of Baltimore. The light pollution in LA is so bad he can’t see a single star. After about a month out there, he sadly resigned himself to looking up into the sky for the blinking lights of airplanes and just playing pretend.

There’s no need for that out here. The sky above his head here is filled with glittery lights millions of miles away, with giant stars so big he can’t really comprehend their size. It makes him feel kind of small. Alex likes that feeling sometimes. Puts things into perspective, he thinks.

He’s too busy gazing up above his head, trying to find constellations and planets he knows should be visible at this time in the year, that he doesn’t notice the footsteps approaching from behind him. A pair of arms wrap around his waist and he jumps only for a moment before he looks down and recognizes the hands folded over his middle. Jack drops his head to rest on Alex’s shoulder. “Why the fuck are you still awake?” Jack mumbles sleepily against Alex’s neck.

Alex leans back into his chest. “I couldn’t sleep and I felt us stop,” he explains. “I came out to say hello to my friends.”

“You mean the stars?” Jack asks.

“The planets, too. Oh, and the moon.”

“You’ve got quite the posse,” Jack laughs, his lips pressing against the tattoo behind Alex’s ear. “Can I join you?”

“Always,” Alex smiles.

They take a seat on the hard ground and start recapping their day quietly to each other as they face up toward the sky. Despite both of them knowing Alex runs warmer between the two of them, Alex doesn’t say a word when Jack drops an arm around his waist to pull him in closer to his side. Jack starts recounting a dream he was having before he woke up and draws patterns with his fingertip against Alex’s knee. Eventually they grow quiet for a few moments. Before the silence can settle around them too heavily, Jack starts calling out the names of different constellations he can see.

The universe works in funny ways, Alex has always thought. It can spin together new galaxies and expand on and on forever and build up a bright and brilliant sky like the one they’re looking up at right now. But it also made Jack choose to sit at Alex’s lunch table back in the eighth grade and shoved all four of them together on this wild journey and let Jack and Alex fall in love. It’s crazy to Alex that something capable of making and doing such big things would focus any energy on a couple of suburban boys sitting in a parking lot in the middle of nowhere on a punk band tour.

And suddenly, as Alex sits pressed against Jack, watching the person he loves most in the world gaze up at the clear night sky in wonder, his free hand pointing up at all of the constellations Alex had taught him over the years, words start circling around his head. Bits and pieces of lyrics about love and galaxies forming, warm sweaters and cool nights. He blinks away all the words though to let his vision clear. He can write the song another day. Right now, he’d rather focus on the smile pulling across Jack’s cheeks and the way he squeezes Alex’s hand every time he remembers the name of another star in the Little Dipper.

“Alex, was that right?” Jack asks and pulls Alex out of the love drunk headspace he’d been caught up in.

“I love you,” he sighs in response, his mind not able to process any other words. Alex lifts his hand from his lap to cup around Jack’s neck to bring their lips together for a moment. When he pulls away, Alex catches the pale blush on Jack’s cheeks in the light from the parking lot.

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” Jack teases with a laugh. “But I love you, too.”

“You were distracting me so I missed whatever you said, but you were probably right. You’ve gotten pretty good at this.”

Jack flashes him a proud smile. “I have a good teacher.”

“Come on, lovebirds. We’ve got a show to get to,” a voice says down to them. Alex looks up at their driver, who laughs at their blushed cheeks before continuing on to the front of the bus.

Jack gets up first and helps Alex to his feet. Their fingers tangle together as they make a sleepy walk back to the bus. “Stay with me tonight?” Jack asks in a whisper once they’re back inside and the ground starts to rumble gently below their feet.

Alex nods and lets Jack guide them toward the bunks. He hits the light switch as he passes it. “You know, if you keep getting taller, one day it’s going to be physically impossible to fit both of us in there.”

“I like a challenge,” Jack whispers back in the dark before dropping into the bunk. Alex follows after and tucks himself into Jack’s side, his head falling to rest in its typical spot on his chest. Alex knows he’ll get too warm in the night and should probably lose the sweatshirt, but the extra layer of Jack relaxes him better than any cup of tea could ever dream of.

“Thanks for stargazing with me,” Alex sighs, the lateness of the hour finally hitting him. Jack reaches down and pulls a blanket over them both.

“Always,” Jack assures him, his arm wrapping around Alex’s waist.

All night long Alex dreams of bright, clear skies full of stars and Jack holding his hand while naming them all.

Love is a thin gold band sitting in a dish beside the sink.

2032, Maryland

They had received the little blue bowl as a fifth anniversary gift from Rian after he had received a call from the two of them at 2AM tipsy and nearly crying because Alex’s wedding band had slipped off while doing the dishes. Rian had been staying at his parents’ place at the time and showed up an hour later, toolbox in hand, to help them find the ring. It’s been another five years since then but it’s still Rian’s favorite story to tell whenever he’s in town and Jack and Alex are hosting a party.

Jack had never had an issue with his ring trying to slip past his knuckle while cleaning up after dinner. But after the scare with Alex’s, he figures there’s no use in testing chance. So after turning on the hot water tap, he places the band into the dish. He sticks his hand under the water and waits for it to warm, knowing it might be a minute or two since he’s pretty sure he heard Alex running the shower a few minutes earlier after returning from the barn.

Married life isn’t what Jack expected it to be. He kind of assumed they would bicker over random tiny things in the way that his parents did. There was a part of him that thought maybe this would be the thing that made him start feeling like an actual grown up, that a ring on his left hand might be the missing piece to the puzzle of feeling like a put together adult. But nothing really changed. They had both been living on the farm during breaks from tour for a couple years by the time Alex finally asked while on a trip to the cabin. So there was no moving around and there really wasn’t a shift in any other part of their lives to work with either. It was like Rian had said during his best man speech: “I mean come on, guys, you’ve basically been married since we graduated high school.”

He had been worried he would be bad at it. Alex had always been better at sitting still than he was. It had been the original reason Jack gravitated toward Alex. No one else had ever known how to calm Jack enough to stop the constant motion in his world for a minute. Guiding words or a hand against his back from Alex had always been the one thing to ground him, whether they were on a long flight or on a stage in front of twenty thousand people. Alex was always the answer.

It doesn’t take long to finish up the dishes. They had cleaned as they went while cooking so it was just a few plates to clear away. After Alex had carried the stack of them to the sink, Jack waved him away in the direction of the living room. Reluctantly, Alex had rolled his eyes and said a quiet thank you before he refilled his wine glass from the bottle in the fridge and wandered out of the room.

Now, Jack turns off the tap and grabs the towel to dry his hands before slipping his ring back. He retrieves his own glass from the dining room and fills it with the white that Alex had picked up for them to try and steps across the hall to join him.

Alex sits curled up in his usual corner of the couch, his glasses slipping toward the end of his nose as he taps against the screen of the tablet in his lap. He scratches at his head in thought and his beanie falls to the cushion behind him. He doesn’t bother reaching for it again. As Jack takes the spot beside him, he smiles at the touch of gray in Alex’s roots that show through the faded purple he’s had for a while. Jack’s been trying to get him to embrace his graceful aging for ages, but he admires Alex’s very punk insistence on hiding the silver hairs below blues and pinks.

“What are you working on?” Jack asks. He lets his head fall to rest against Alex’s shoulder after setting his glass on the coffee table.

“Mark said the Sunday puzzle was fun this week so I’m giving it a shot,” Alex replies without looking up from the screen. “I forget ‘fun’ in his words means really fucking hard, though.”

“He’s a very smart boy,” Jack says, thoughtfully.

“The smartest.”

They sit in silence for a few more minutes while Alex tries out different options for 16 across. Eventually, he sighs and hits the button to lock the screen. He replaces the tablet with his glass of wine, and they adjust so Jack sits between Alex’s legs with his head resting against Alex’s chest. Most evenings end like this these days when they’re not out on tour. It’s Jack’s favorite part of the day. Sometimes they both sit and work through a couple chapters of whatever book they each picked up recently. Sometimes they watch a movie. But they’re always together in this room as the sunset turns to twilight, and it’s something Jack is grateful for.

The dim room lights up bright as lightning flashes outside and a low roll of thunder follows a few moments later. Jack closes his eyes and focuses on the sound of the rain hitting the porch just beyond the window. “Everybody all closed up out of the storm out there?”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex says, pausing to take a sip from his glass. “They went in without any complaint. They must have sensed it coming.”

Jack hums in agreement. Alex grabs Jack’s free hand and brings them up to rest against Jack’s chest. It’s strange, Jack thinks sometimes, how much he’s grown to love the moments of silence with Alex. Growing up, their world had been so loud and busy. He thinks maybe that’s what taught them to so easily find moments of peace with one another. Short moments in venue dressing rooms before they took the stage all around the world and the tour bus back lounge were all they really had. And the buzz of tour never really stops ringing in their ears when they’re out on the road. It’s been a good change though here, that they don’t have so much noise to fight to find moments where they can sit with only the sound of a late summer storm and their own breathing.

It’s nice, Jack thinks, that they’ve really gotten the best of both worlds in that sense. They’re settled down enough that their mothers both still find casual ways to ask about grandchildren at Sunday brunch. But they also still get to go out on the road with Rian and Zack and play loud rock shows to seas of jumping, singing fans. Jack had worried for a while about those two sides coexisting. He’s thankful they’ve managed it so well.

Outside the storm rages on, the wind changing direction and slapping more rain against the window. Every so often, storms like this still set Jack on edge, despite how he’s lived through probably hundreds of them at this point in his life. If the thunder is just a little bit too loud or the lightning too bright, sometimes he swears he can feel the wind shaking the windows. It’s in those moments that Alex will grab his hand like he’s doing now and tap his fingers back and forth against Jack’s knuckles. It’s the same thing he’s done since they were out on Warped Tour at twenty years old, weathering out storms from the bus somewhere in Florida or Chicago. Some things never really change, Jack’s learned over the years.

“We still need to get up early to stop by the farmer’s market for flowers for my parents’ anniversary and that honey your mom wanted,” Alex says as he sits up, signalling for Jack to do the same. He moves to stand and reaches a hand out to Jack. “Want to call it an early night?”

“You read my mind,” Jack says with a yawn as he accepts Alex’s hand.

They wander through the house, hitting light switches as they go and checking to make sure they locked all the doors. The walls they pass are lined with plaques from band things and family photos and art collected over the years. Jack’s always liked how much they have hanging on the walls. He likes that their home tells their story.

They part ways when they make it upstairs to their bedroom, Alex heading for the bathroom and Jack for the closet. Jack changes quickly from the t-shirt he’s been wearing all day into something a bit more soft and worn to sleep in. He wanders back across the room and leans against the doorframe, just watching Alex place his ring into a dish that matches the one downstairs in the kitchen (Rian had bought a matching set because he’s always been the smart one among them) before reaching for his face wash.

Married life isn’t what Jack expected it to be. For most of his life, given the whirlwind that it’s been since they hit the road as teenagers, Jack has never known what to expect with anything. He stopped trying to set expectations for most things a long time ago. He thinks he likes it that way though. He likes not really knowing what comes next. He knows he’ll be happy and he’ll never have to do it alone.

And, as he watches Alex examine the band on his fourth finger missing the rest of the glowy summer tan he gets from hours outside with the horses, he’s pretty sure that’s all that really matters.

#jalex #jalex fic #this is longer for me btw #like 6.5k #so not long compared to most of u dudes but i'm proud of this one lol #again i'm sorry for two back to back fic posts lol #just rlly wanted to update my masterlist #lol

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harley-sunday · 4 years

Text

The Draw - Epilogue

Summary: The whirlwind starts at the 2018 ACE Comic Con in Phoenix but you’re not sure where it will end…

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language.

Word count: 1.9k

AN: This it. It’s done. I don’t really know what to say other than that I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. The ending (part 17) was supposed to be something completely different up until last week, when eL convinced me to take the angsty-route. I’m glad she did, because it allowed me to include a piece in the epilogue I wrote a long time ago but never really got to use until now. Thank you, sweets! Here it is, guys, enjoy! ♥

Masterlist

His collar is up and his hands are tucked deep into the pockets of his jacket because it’s cold, much colder than it usually is this time of year anyway. He looks up at the dark sky and wonders if there’s any snow in the clouds that slowly drift by, trying to remember if he’s heard anything about it on the news earlier that day but not recalling a weather warning going out.

He’s on his way home after another meeting with his lawyer, who, for some reason, always insists they meet in a restaurant rather than his office. It’s never during normal business hours either but always late at night, and always somewhere else. At first he was fine with the arrangement but it’s starting to annoy him that the restaurants have become increasingly more expensive and he’s always the one that ends up footing the bill. As if he doesn’t pay his lawyer enough to help him come out of this messy divorce as unscathed as possible.

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the guilt that he feels about wasting three years of his life in a loveless marriage that never had a chance of succeeding in the first place. His therapist tells him to look at it as personal growth, but he doesn’t agree, not really, anyway. At least the court date has been set, he thinks, and this should all be over and done with two weeks from now.

He quickens his pace as he lets his mind wander, taking long strides, looking straight ahead and not paying much attention to the few people that are out this late. Most of them ignore him too. It’s New York after all. For a moment he debates the option of hauling a cab to get him out of this cold but he dismisses the idea quickly. He likes the walk home from downtown, it gives him an opportunity to clear his head and helps with the insomnia that sometimes bothers him.

Crossing the street absentmindedly there’s something on the other side that catches his eye. He does a classic double take and then shakes his head, not quite believing what he sees. He must have walked by these storefronts at least a dozen times and tries to recall if the art gallery has always been there, but he simply can’t remember. The black canvas that’s displayed in the window is illuminated from above by a single light bulb, highlighting the various brush strokes going from left to right and top to bottom. He knows it’s called ‘Love’ before even looking at the little card pinned to the bottom right corner, and it’s like someone’s punched him in the gut. He first saw it a few years ago, when it was still a work in progress, standing on an easel in her guest bedroom in Charlotte, the paint still wet, and the black somehow less black.

It’s then he notices the lights inside the building are on and it’s like his body has a mind of its own and before he knows it he’s on his way in. A bell chimes above his head as he enters and he hears a chair being pushed back in response somewhere. The space he’s in is long and narrow, only about fifteen feet wide, but the ceiling’s high and makes it feel more spacious than it is. There’s a wall about forty feet in, with a door that’s slightly ajar, and music flowing in from the back room, some song he thinks he recognizes but hasn’t heard in a long time.

“I am so sorry but we are closed,” the voice is soft, coming from behind the door, but he would recognize it anywhere and he chokes up a little at the familiarity of it all. The door opens a little more then and all of sudden she’s there, exactly like he remembers her, “I must have forgotten to-” but she doesn’t finish her sentence because it’s then she sees him. Her eyes widen in shock and she actually drops the paintbrush she’s holding, her eyes never leaving his.

“Hey,” he says with a foolish grin, because never in a million years did he expect to run into her again, not here, and definitely not tonight.

“Hey,” she mimics, her eyes softening and the hint of a smile on her lips.

He takes the few steps needed to get to her, and for a moment he hesitates, unsure if she’d let him, but then he throws his arms around her and pulls her in for a hug. He can feel her smile against his shoulder, and he presses a kiss into her hair, because God, does it feel good to hold her again.

“Here you go,”

He takes the beer she hands him and waits until she’s uncapped hers before he raises it in a toast. She clinks her bottle against his and takes a swig and he follows suit.

They’re sitting on the floor of what turns out to be her art gallery, their backs against the far wall, looking out on the dark street on the other side of the window. She turned the lights off before she brought him his beer, except for the lone bulb illuminating ‘Love’, and it feels like they’re in a little bubble, shielded from whatever’s going on outside and if someone told them he’d have a way of making this little moment in time last forever, he’s sure he would.

He’s taken his jacket off, using it as something to sit on after she admitted she’s only got one chair here, his legs stretched out in front of him and his head resting against the bare brick wall. He’s got a million questions for her but he’s not sure where to begin and so he takes another sip of his beer instead, letting the silence settle between them.

She’s sitting next to him, close enough that her arm brushes against his whenever she takes a drink and it feels like there are little electric currents running through him every time she does. She looks up at him then, her eyes narrowed, almost as if she’s studying him, “You ok?”

He wants to tell her he’s fine, great even, but the way she looks at him tells him she’ll see straight through any bullshit answer he’ll try to give and so shakes his head, “Not really.”

“Talk to me,”

He opens his mouth to say something but then decides against it. They haven’t seen each other in four years and so much has happened but none of it they went through together and-

“It’s ok if you don’t want to,” her voice is soft and kind. She clears her throat then, “It’s just- I’ve read the articles about your divorce and- Well, the accusations she's made and- I don’t know, Seb, I figured maybe it has something to do with why you’re out this late.”

“Yeah,”

“I’m sorry.”

He lets out a heavy sigh because he doesn’t want to bother her with everything that’s going on in his life, not really, but he also knows she’s a good listener and there’s no one he’d rather talk to than her right now. Looking down he plucks at the edge of the label on his beer bottle, deciding then to be honest with her, “I guess I should have fought harder, should have made it work, I-” another sigh, “They say you never know what you got ‘till it’s gone, right?”

He sees her nod out of the corner of his eye, and then her hand’s on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze and it’s like a bolt of lightning runs through him, “Then why don’t you?”

His eyebrows knit together in confusion, “Why don’t I, what?”

“Fight,” she explains. “Try to make it work. If that’s really how you-”

“Would you let me?”

“I-” she hesitates and pulls her hand back then, “What?”

“I wasn’t talking about her,” he confesses quietly and when he looks up at her he sees her eyes are wide in shock. He tries to smile, “It’s always been you.”

“Oh,” she breathes, her eyes a little glossed over now. She doesn’t say anything else and he doesn’t really know how to go from here so he keeps quiet too. But then she puts her beer down and stands up, holding out her hand to him, “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

He takes her hand and lets her pull him to his feet. She doesn’t let go when she leads him to the front of the gallery, her hand warm against his, and when he gives it a gentle squeeze she smiles at him from over her shoulder and it warms his heart in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

She stops in front of a painting, reaching behind it to turn on the searchlight, the warm light casting a golden glow on the canvas. “I made this one right after we broke up,” she says, her voice a little rough, “took me forever to finish because I couldn’t stop crying.” His heart breaks a little, but she dismisses her statement with a wave of her hand, “I got there in the end. It was like therapy.” A smile then, “I submitted it to a local art competition and I don’t know-” she shrugs but he can tell it’s important, “People seemed to really like it. Someone actually wanted to buy it but I couldn’t- I would never.”

She gestures around her then, “This is all because of that.” He must look confused because she continues, “I kept painting, had some of my work on display in local art galleries, but it wasn’t until I decided to quit my job after Deb retired last year and Mark got appointed as her successor that things really took off. More art shows meant I sold quite a few pieces, enough so I could open my own art gallery anyway.” She looks up at him, “I don’t really know how I ended up in New York, but,” another shrug then, “here I am.”

“Here you are,” he agrees quietly. He doesn’t know how these things work, if it’s karma or faith or destiny he has to thank for this, but he likes to believe that her coming back into his life at this exact moment was meant to be and he vows right then and there to never let her go. There’s still so much he wants to tell her, has to tell her, and he’s sure the same goes for her, but it doesn’t matter. Not now anyway. Now he just says, “If you’ll let me, I’m willing to fight.” He squeezes her hand, “For you.”

“Me too,” she whispers. “For you,” she looks at him then, “and for us.” She lets go of his hand a little, only so she can intertwine her fingers with his, leaning into him, her other hand on his arm. She nods towards the painting, “Do you like it?”

He looks at it then, really looks at it, taking in the different shades of green she’s used, which, even when they’re on opposite sides of the canvas, seem to pull towards each other, always meeting or almost meeting in the middle, and somehow he just gets it. “I do.”

“It’s called ‘The Draw’.”

#The Draw #Sebastian Stan imagine #Sebastian Stan fanfic #Harley Sunday x Sebastian Stan

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nctsjiho · 3 years

Text

Lost Boy

warnings: none

era: fall 2018

❀ JiHo and Winwin go on a little mission to find a lost child’s parents

“I don’t know who’s idea it was to leave an 18 year old and an awkward foreigner boy alone in a foreign country, but the idea doesn’t sound the brightest.” JiHo noted while she scanned her surroundings. Winwin took slight offence to the comment and pushed her arm. “Hey! I’m not awkward.” The girl only sent him a smirk before looking around again.

The pair were outside in a less busy area of LA, while their manager went inside a store to grab some essentials. Normally something like that wouldn’t be allowed by the company so the manager had made JiHo and Winwin promise they wouldn’t tell anyone about it. Of course JiHo took advantage of the situation by requesting the manager would buy them some snacks - which also wasn’t allowed during JiHo’s diet, but the manager had to choose between potentially loosing his job, or just getting told of for letting JiHo break her diet. The decision was easily made.

While Winwin and JiHo immersed themselves in a casual conversation, JiHo suddenly felt a tug at her jacket. A little shocked at the unexpected movement, the girl looked down to see a small boy looking up at her. He must have only been around 5 years old, which made JiHo confused about who would let such a young child alone. But by the looks of the boy’s wide and teary eyes, it was definitely a case of a lost child, probably scared out of his mind.

JiHo’s features immediately softened, not wanting her underlying panic and concern for the boy affect the kid. “Hey little guy, what are you doing here alone?” JiHo asked in English and crouched down so she was at eye level with him. The little boy, however, didn’t respond. His lips were slightly trembling and his tears pooled at the corner of his eyes.

Winwin, who felt as shocked to see the lost child, crouched down as well and when the boy faced him he waved. “Hello.” He greeted in Korean, which had JiHo roll her eyes. “You weirdo, he doesn’t understand Korean. We’re in America.” She scolded, hitting her friend’s arm lightly. “You don’t know that.” Winwin retaliated.

Before JiHo could fire back, the “arguing” friends heard a little giggle from the young boy. They both looked at the boy with smiles growing on their faces. “We sound funny don’t we?” JiHo asked and the young boy nodded, causing JiHo to laugh. She quickly translated to Winwin who found it endearing as well.

“What’s your name?” “Jonas.” The boy started to feel shy and casted his gaze on the floor. “Hi Jonas.” Winwin’s sweet tone completely stole the young boy’s heart as he now confidently smiled at Winwin. “No matter where we are, no matter who it is, everyone always falls in love with you.” JiHo snickered to which the older boy shrugged and then continued to wave at Jonas.

“What happened Jonas? Where are your parents?” The boy looked up at JiHo before explaining that they were with him at the park nearby and then suddenly he couldn’t see them anymore. “Did you cross the street all by yourself?” Jonas nodded as his eyes began to fill with even more tears. “Hey, don’t cry. We’ll go find your parents, but you should never cross the street by yourself okay?” Again the boy nodded and JiHo stood up.

Not really understanding what JiHo had just said, Winwin followed her lead and stood up as well. “What are we doing?” Winwin asked and JiHo’s eyes fell on the store their manager walked into about 5 minutes ago. “We’re going to find Jonas’ parents.” She looked at the small boy who was holding onto her hand and looking around the street, hoping to find his parents.

Winwin felt a bit uneasy, even though he wanted to help the child, their manager had no idea what was happening and had “ordered” them to wait outside and not move until he was back. JiHo noticed her friend’s inner turmoil and groaned. “If I have to I’ll go alone, but I’m not letting a kid go and find his parents alone in the late afternoon.” “But can’t we wait till hyung is back and go together?” Winwin tried to compromise. “We don’t know how long he’s going to be in there, and I don’t know how long his parents have been looking for their son. They must feel devastated.”

JiHo noticed how cold Jonas’ hand was so she took her jacket of and wrapped it around the little boy’s shoulders. “I’ll carry you.” She crouched down and Jonas wrapped his tiny arms around JiHo’s neck as he let her pick him up. “I’m going to look for his parents. You’re free to come or stay here, but I’m going.” JiHo told Winwin and then left in the direction of the park.

Winwin did a double take of the store before running and catching up to JiHo and Jonas. “I’m not letting you go alone.” He mumbled, to which JiHo felt a smile creeping on her lips.

Once they enter the park, JiHo asks Jonas a few questions like, “Where was the last place you saw your parents?” and “Did you see in which direction they left?”. Jonas wasn’t much of a help since he didn’t remember much. Yet JiHo completely understood, the boy lost his parents, he must have been so scared and panicked.

5 minutes went by, but they felt like at least half an hour and still they hadn’t found Jonas’ parents. Noticing how the small boy started to become a bit more restless Winwin came up with an idea. “I’ll carry him and you can run around and ask people if you have seen his parents.” Winwin suggested to which JiHo agreed. She handed over Jonas to Winwin who tried his best to entertain the boy. His English skills were very minimal, but Jonas seemed to prefer him saying things in Korean anyway. Each time he did, it elicited a giggle or a smile.

All Winwin had to do was keep Jonas calm, so JiHo could run around and hopefully find Jonas’ parents as soon as possible. He hated the fact that JiHo was running around alone at 5 pm on a particularly cold day, in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans. Her jacket was still wrapped around Jonas, who seemed to appreciate the warmth it provided.

Winwin’s mind was clouded with so many thoughts, what if they didn’t find Jonas’ parents? What if something happened to JiHo? She was only 18 - technically speaking 17, her birthday was in a few months - in a foreign country, with no supervision. Speaking of supervision, how was their manger going to react? Had he already left the store? Had he noticed him and JiHo weren’t there yet? How-

“Jonas!” “My baby!” Winwin’s head snapped to the direction of the screams. There he saw JiHo and two adults running towards them. “Mommy! Daddy!” The little boy screamed, happy to see his parents again. Quickly, Jonas was scooped out of Winwin’s grasp by the little boy’s father. “Thank you two so much! Oh my God, I was so scared!” The mother cried and pulled JiHo in a hug.

Once the mother stopped crying and had hugged her child, they turned to the two idols. “Thank you again! Thanks for taking care of my little boy.” The father said, trying to calm down his rapidly beating heart. “No worries, your son is such a nice boy.” JiHo explained while she got her jacket handed back. “How could I ever repay you?” JiHo held up her hands explaining that they were okay and didn’t need anything. “Did they take good care of you?” The father asked Jonas who then excitedly started telling about how nice JiHo was and how funny Winwin and JiHo talked to each other. It melted both their hearts and then they waved the family goodbye after getting a last hug from the boy.

“He was cute.” Winwin smiled to which JiHo agreed. She then poked his shoulder twice. “We should head back, oppa isn’t going to be happy-” “YOU TWO!” As if on cue, their manager appears, sweat was dripping of his temples as he approached them. “I told you to wait in front of the store! I could already see my career- no, my whole life flash in front of my eyes!” JiHo and Winwin look at their manager with a sheepish grin. “Why are you here?” Winwin then explained what happened and their manager’s gaze softened.

“Next time, don’t forget your phones in the hotel okay? I was worried sick, but thank God you’re both fine.” The manager patted both idols’ shoulders. “And you did something amazing. I’m happy you found that little boy’s parents. I think I almost can relate to his parents.” JiHo cooed at their manager and looked up at him with big eyes. “Aw~ You care about us like we’re your own children?” JiHo teased which caused Winwin to laugh. “Never mind. Maybe I shouldn’t have come to find you.” He groaned.

“Me?! Why are you looking at me only? What about Winwin?!” JiHo asked offended. “What do you mean, JiHo? Didn’t you say everyone always falls in love with me?” The boy wiggled his brow as he mocked the girl. She rolled her eyes while looking at the manager. “Yeah, I think I prefer Winwin right now. Here you go buddy.” He hands him the snacks he got for him earlier. “What about mine?” The manager laughed. “I stress binge ate your snack while I was looking for you guys.” JiHo stopped in her tracks, mouth fallen open while the other two continue to walk. “That’s so unfair.” JiHo mumbled but quickly rushed to catch up with the others.

“Be careful what you say oppa. I can tell SM about how you left us alone outside-” “Here!” He shoved a bag of snacks into JiHo’s hands which made her smile sweetly. “Have I ever told you, you are my favourite manager?” JiHo beamed while opening the snack. “Shut up and eat.” He grumbled.

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Side Note: Long overdue Winwin writing, there’s still a few members that I haven’t written for, so I’m slowly getting there. The member’s I haven’t written for, funnily enough, are some of the ones that I want to write for the most, but I’m having a hard time finding the perfect stories for them. Just letting you know, so you know that I love them as much as the other members. I know Haechan and Doyoung appear on this blog the most, (and I might have another Doyoung angst in my drafts) but that isn’t because I like them more, I love all NCT members equally. <3

Also posting 2 days in a row because I felt inspired and I might have given up on an assignment for this

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct imagines #winwin fluff #winwin imagines #nct female member #nct extra member #nct additional member #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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lovestrucked-again · 4 years

Text

Sanguine III

Genre: Mafia AU Warnings: dark themes, blood, guns, creepy evil guy. Word Count: 3k

Summary: You’re a second year med student taken in by the house of NCT. It’s not uncommon to be the last to learn things within the house but when your safety is threatened, you’re forced to leave home with no option. But it only makes things worse.

A/N: my tags werent working and it really bothered me, sorry. Prev | next _____

The car ride to wherever you were going was very awkward, it was painfully clear that this group of people you were taken by were an extremely hostile group. The leader who previously had so much interest in you was now completely ignoring your presence.

You sit in the car, wedged between two members who you learnt went by the name of Jimin and V. You try to hold back your voice and the quiet sniffles but it’s a struggle. As you feel time drag out you can’t help but think you’re only getting further and further away from home; and you begin to sob uncontrollably.

A heavy sigh comes out from the man driving, “Can someone shut her up? I’m trying to drive.”

The two men at your sides only shrug at each other and you stifle your sobs as hard as you can, not wanting to anger them and endanger yourself more – but it’s a struggle.

Finally, the leader who is sitting in the passenger seat turns to look at you, his eyes a fury red “For fucks sake, princess can you please be quiet?”

You choke back the cry that’s about to leave your lips and pinch down on your thigh in an attempt to focus on the pain instead.

“V block her sight, we’re almost near.” The driver calls out, signalling to the man beside you. The member on your right begins to shuffle in his seat, searching in his pocket for something. He pulls out a line of fabric and leans over to tie it around your head. You hold your breath as your vision becomes blinded by darkness; fighting to stay still. He gives it a little tug around your head and you jerk at the tightness letting a quiet growl of annoyance and pain.

It’s only a matter of minutes before the car finally pulls to a stop. You turn your head around, clueless of what to do as you hear doors open and shut.

“Get out.” An unfamiliar voice tells you. You shuffle further away from him, refusing to move and he sighs, reaching in and pulling you by force – out the car with a heavy grunt. You stand behind him, your arms flailing for support as you step with caution and no vision. An arm grabs you by your wrist and drags you up to what you presume is a staircase.

“Slow down.” You yelp, trying to keep up with his pace.

“Stop being so fucking slow.” The guy grumbles

“Then give me my goddamn sight back.”

Finally, the guy leading you has enough and you bump into his figure, almost falling at the sudden impact. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as you hear him fishing through something.

Unknowingly to you, he reaches into his pant pocket pulling out a white material and a small bottle. Unscrewing the lid, he empties some of its contents onto the cloth.

“Why’d we stop?” you ask, your stomach turning at the unexpected cease of movement.

The guy turns around, gripping your wrists together and the smell hits you faster than you realise. You struggle against his hold trying to fight back but when you finally fly free, hands link around your arms, cuffing them behind your back.

“Got you.” The voice behind you laughs.

“Let me go!” you scream, releasing the last bit of breath you have before you sink to the floor and lose consciousness.

***

“She’s awake.” You hear an unfamiliar voice says, the person stands at a distance from you, staring at your direction. He has sharp eyes and a set jaw; from where you were looking he seemed really tall as well, but you aren’t certain.

Your vision’s blurry as you sit up, falling in and out of consciousness for a good 20 minutes, until the faces and voices around you start to become clearer. You scan your surroundings lazily, aware of the soft bedsheets under your skin. The room was simply put together; a couple of dim lights, a bed, table, and a connected bathroom.

You’re unaware that there’s another man standing in your room as he’s covered by the shadows of the dim lighting. As you attempt to get out of the bed, he steps out from the doorway.

“There’s no point looking around, you’re not getting out unless told.” He sneers.

You close your eyes, trying to regulate your heavy breathing and the ringing voices that you could hear coming from different sides of the room.

“What should we do with her?” the guy closer to you hums to himself, the question rhetorical as he twirls a knife between his fingers.

“Stop scaring her Jungkook.” The voice from the door says, leaning against the frame.

“Why it’s not like RM’s keeping her alive for long anyway.”

You hear footsteps approaching and the two men inside straighten up a little, presenting themselves in a better manner. You look to your left and the door to the bathroom remains open. With little thought, you jump off the bed, darting straight to the entrance, but in two strides, Jungkook catches up with you.

“Where do you think your running off to?” he chuckles, turning you around to face him as he slams your back into the wall with a loud crash. You cry out in pain and drop to the floor.

RM’s voice is easily distinguishable, booming with authority as soon as he enters, “Careful with her.” Jungkook retreats back to his original spot beside the bed, letting RM approach you. “Get up” he tells you, offering his hand to you. You refuse, wrapping your hands around your legs and curling into a smaller ball as he clicks his tongue in annoyance. “I said get up” he warns, bringing his hand close to your face. Who does he think he is? Fucking leaders all think they can demand everything.

You respond by spitting into his palm and turn your head back into your legs.

The other two men in the room stifle back their laughs whilst RM chuckles, wiping his hand on your hair. “What a pain.” He mutters. He takes a step back, signalling the laughing men to come over and pull you up. You yelp when the rough arms tug your arms away from your knees and bring you standing upright. RM smiles, seeming satisfied with you now and he places himself just a few centremetres away from your face.

“Let’s try this again shall we?” he smirks at you disturbingly, sending chills down your pained back and bringing your hairs on your arms to rise. “Who are you to Taeyong?” he asks in a patronising tone, making you feel somewhat sick.

You don't answer him, choosing to look down at your shoes instead. They were still the slippers from the hotel room but now covered in a dirty mess; no longer white. You think back to your arguments with Lucas and his annoying snoring that had kept you up the entire night. If you had fell asleep then maybe you wouldn’t have noticed the ringing, you wouldn't have been bought into this. But would that mean, the boys would be dead? The guy pinches your chin between his thumb and index finger, pulling your head roughly towards his face. “I asked you a question dumb bitch.”

You swallow hard, thinking of something to lie and respond with but before you’re able to answer, someone beats you to it.

The driver from before enters the room, “She was taken in by NCT back in 2018, apparently her parents died in a car accident and they found her.”

“Car accident? Was it suspicious?”

“I’m not sure, I’ll look into it.”

“Thanks J-hope.”

Jungkook still holding tightly onto your arm grins to himself as he murmurs the words aloud, “And here I thought you were Taeyong’s girlfriend.”

The leader turns his attention back to you, tracing his fingers over your lips, “Who are you to him princess?” he coos, stroking the side of your face in a less than comforting way and staring straight at your eyes, squinting slightly. You answer back straight away, this time, not wanting to repeat the same mistake.

“I’m just someone they took pity on.” You mutter.

“Did your boyfriend teach you to lie as well?” he asks, edging his face closer to yours in attempt to intimidate you.

“He’s not my boyfriend and I’m telling the truth. I barely see or talk to Taeyong and it wasn't even him who found me. He doesn't care about me.” You wanted to sound brave, but your voice comes out with little confidence, just the squeaking noise that makes you look more pathetic as you struggle against the grip tightly around you. “Just let me go.”

“Sorry sweetie but that can’t happen.”

You heart was racing out of fear at the realisation that every single man in the room was staring at you. A few other unfamiliar faces who had joined in on the show without you noticing. You try to think logically, coming up with a plan that would ensure your survival for as long as you could last.

“If she means nothing to them… we can kill her, right?” Jungkook asks, a bit too excitedly.

“No, not yet.” The other member on your right mumbles

“Why are you always ruining my fun Jin.” Jungkook groans. “Oh okay how about torture her instead? She might even expose some secrets along the way.”

“No.”

RM starts walking towards the door of the room, leaving as he picks up a call on his phone. “You guys can keep an eye on her for now, I’ll be right back.” And with that, he walks out the room, slamming the door behind him.

***

Night comes fast. The two men from previously, Jin and Jungkook had stuck with you the entire time, watching you like a hawk as you sat still in bed, spacing out in your thoughts. They stayed silent and finally disappeared after staring for hours on end when you ducked under your covers and fell asleep.

When you wake up, you realise it’s only early in the morning, the clock on the wall indicating around 3am. There’s no one in your room and you decide it’s probably worth checking if your bedroom door was locked from the outside. You tiptoe over to the door, pushing down on the lever as softly as possible and it clicks open; the door creaking as it swings. You gasp softly as the corridor comes into view.

The corridors are long, hollow and dark once again being illuminated by only the moonlight coming through the far window. You don’t know where you’re going but you were going to have to guess your way as best as you can. It’s dead silent as you move and you assume everyone’s fast asleep, taking the opportunity to tip toe as fast as you can.

When you come to a corner you and turn swiftly, your heart skips a beat at the sound of sharpening knives.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Your mind goes blank and your heart drops; you were so close. You back away, turning around and begin to run in the opposite direction where you came from, travelling down an unknown route. As you hear something clatter on the floor beside you, you sprint faster realising knives are being thrown at you.

“The further you run the worst it’ll be.” He shouts. You hear the back of your shirt being teared as the knife skims past you, nipping at your skin. Ignoring the pain, you take another turn and realise you’ve made it into what looks similar to the meeting room back at home. There’s a phone at the end of the table and you dart towards it after locking the door.

“Come out, come out wherever you are.” Jungkook sings out, twirling his knives in his hands as he approaches the door.

You stumble at the phone, quickly punching in the number you had been forced to memorise for situations like this. The line rings once, and you start biting at your nails, on the second ring you can hear the door handle jiggling, on the third ring – someone finally picks up.

“Hello?” the voice answers.

“Johnny?”

The voice comes out in a ramble, urgently asking a string of questions, “Y/N? Is that you? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I don't know where I am,” you cry, clutching onto the phone, “I think I’m at their house or something.”

“Are you okay?”

You slide down to the floor, choking down your sobs. “No, help me, I don't know what to do.”

Johnny can hear the broken down tears in your voice and it brings a great deal of pain to him being so far apart. But the only way he can help you now is to offer you instructions, “They won’t hurt you Y/N, just listen to them okay? Don’t anger them. We’re trying to find you now.”

You nod frantically, forgetting that he’s unable to see you, “I think there go-”

Your words are cut off as you hear the door creak open. Your heart pounds against your chest as you breathe heavily into the phone, watching Jungkook’s footsteps pace slowly around the entrance of the door. Your hand is covering your mouth to prevent yourself screaming and exposing yourself but it’s too late. Jungkook clicks his tongue, scraping the knife against the wall as he bends down into a squatting position. You watch as his chest comes into view, then his shoulders, then his mouth, and finally his eyes.

“Found you.” ________

Back at home:

As soon as the door shuts, Taeyong rolls his head back, letting out a soft swear as his mind runs in a mess. He’s aware Mark is somewhere within the house, having noticed his movement earlier on when you were still there.

“I’m calling for the others.” Haechan informs Mark, pulling his phone out to call for everyone to group together. “Be careful going down, they might still be around.”

Mark and Johnny give a nod to each other before moving down the stairs, splitting up to search the area first.

“Left side’s clear”

“Right side clear.” Mark repeats, heading straight to Winwin. He holds his breath as he places a finger on the unconscious boy’s neck, checking for a pulse as everyone stands silently, waiting for his confirmation, “he’s alive.”

The members give a nod and relax visibly, everyone much less anxious than before.

“Sorry we’re late guys.” Johnny mutters, untying the bonds from Yuta first. Yuta pulls out the cloth in his mouth and spits it out.

“They fucking ambushed us.” He growls, turning to his side and freeing Jaehyun. Johnny works at the rope around Jeno’s hands.

“Why was Y/N here?” Jaehyun asks, groaning in pain as he sits against the wall, pressing into the wound at his side.

“Their leader called her here apparently. Threatened her with our lives.” Mark responds, being the one you told directly.

“Fucking bastard.”

Mark moves over to help Taeyong as Yuta crouches beside Winwin, checking for other injuries and preparing to administer basic first aid. “Hey Jeno can you go get the first aid kit from the kitchen?”

Jeno nods, disappearing further into the house to look for supplies.

Haechan walks down the stairs, joining Yuta to look after the unconscious member, “They’re on their way.”

Once everyone’s finally free, Johnny glances over the mess of the ruined room. The members are all injured varying with severe bleeding to bruises and cuts on faces and body parts; and as well as that, you were missing. Johnny rakes a hand through his hair in frustration, the silent room eating at his nerves as everyone keeps themselves busy, “Taeyong I think you should explain to us what’s going on. What are they accusing you of?”

All eyes are trained on Taeyong as he tries to get back up on his feet, turning around to face the group.

“RM and I grew up together as kids,” he whispers out, only slightly audible, “he thinks I killed his younger brother and I’m guessing he’s here for revenge.”

“Did you?” Haechan asks.

“No. I was framed, but I don't know by who.”

“And taking Y/N is revenge?” Johnny confirms, his anger boiling.

“I’m assuming so.”

Johnny turns to the wall, keeping his breath steady as he attempts to calm himself. He was one of the members who had been on the minority side, arguing that you would be safer staying with the group rather than leaving the city, “Fucking hell.”

It’s quiet for the next 20 minutes or so as everyone tries to help each other out, grabbing bandages and all the medical supplies for Kun when he arrives. Just as Yuta and Jeno lock themselves around Winwin, the door opens and the members pile in.

Doyoung who happens to enter first stands struck in starlight, unsure what to say, “Wow you guys look...”

Jisung follows after, finishing his sentence, “Great.”

“Better than usual for sure.” Chenle pipes up.

“Bring Winwin downstairs, I’ll meet you there.” Kun informs the boys, heading straight to the infirmary with Renjun trailing hot behind him.

“Did you find anything?” Taeyong asks, directing his question to Doyoung.

“Jisung’s been trying to find the vehicle that left the house. We lost them at a turn.”

“They turned at a corner and the camera in that area seems to be switched off.” Jisung explains.

The leader falls back against the chair, clutching onto the burning pain, “Damn it.”

***

The members move swiftly throughout the day, allocating themselves to a task whether it was cleaning up, helping in the infirmary, or finding your location. A day had already passed since you were last seen.

While most people followed the orders well, Johnny seemed to struggle with concentrating on his task. He avoids Taeyong, knowing that he’d only lash out at the leader if he says a word. Instead, he chooses to sit on his balcony just outside his room and he leans into the comfort of his chair. He taps continuously on the table beside him as he stares at the moon, wondering if you’re okay, if you’re fighting back.

The sudden vibration in his back pocket brings him out of his trance. He digs for the phone, pulling it out and debating whether to answer the unknown number. He places the phone to his ear, sighing as he answers, “Hello?”

#nct #nct mafia #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fanfics #nct johnny #nct127 #nct dream #nct taeyong #mafia #nct mark #kpop #nct reactions #kpop mafia #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #mafia imagines

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