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danniburgh · 3 years

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Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 23

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +6.4k

Chapter warnings: lmao angst and then fluff, a brief mention of food, and drugs and a dog.

A/N: This chapter is set after season three. // aAAAAAA this is so long i dont even why but it took me like ALL day FUCK FUCK FUCK anyway thanks to all my babies that got me through the desperation of wanting this to write itself lmao, also two chapters and we are DONE with the main story holy shit

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

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gifs: @pascalsky

Javier groaned when he sat up and moved his legs to get them out of the bed and looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand; three forty-eight in the morning. He turned on the lamp, reached at his nape and scratched with blunt nails and reached for the pack of smokes that he left on the nightstand before laying down to try to sleep with the other hand.

He pulled the last one out of the pack and stood up to throw the empty carton in the trashcan near the door; he eyed the empty pack from the day before in the bottom of the can with the cigarette clinging to his lips thanks to near dry spit making them sticky and let out a deep sigh.

It wasn’t working.

His tongue moved to shift the cigarette from his lips and he let it fall inside the trashcan, knowing it wouldn’t be the last one he put between his lips, but at least he didn’t light it.

Javier thought of getting out of the room and raiding his dad’s bar again, but he knew it wouldn’t do him any good.

It wasn’t working.

He knew it, and it couldn't be denied any longer. He wasn’t getting any younger and his old ways weren’t helping him forget as they used to ten or fifteen years before.

Javier walked back to the bed and sat on the edge, letting his half naked body fall backwards on the mattress and looking at the ceiling, he felt his hand twitch and he felt it empty without a nicotine stick firmly pressed between his index and his thumb but did nothing to calm it down.

Ten or fifteen years before: had it really been that long? Javier huffed at nothing and scratched his chest, leaving his hand there, uselessly wondering what would it be of him if he did something different; incidentally working through years and years of missteps, mishappens, mistakes, and shaping them in some other way that would have saved him from five months of poor sleep and constant drunkenness, five months of chain-smoking and lack of sharpness, five months of only remembering the bad things he had done and the bad things he deserved.

He huffed again because of course his retirement wouldn’t be him sitting on a porch to enjoy the evening Texas breeze and a glass of scotch; even if he had tried it.

It was having nightmares every third night he wanted nothing but to shove deep inside his head, but that then, reluctantly, he had to tell his new therapist his dad had forced him to go to.

It was having to remember all the men he saw dying every time he heard the words war or coke or shooting. Having to remember them changing and fighting and dying for a cause he wasn’t sure if he still believed in. Having to remember Carrillo every time he and Steve talked on the phone.

It was remembering you each time someone sent him a letter congratulating his work or asking for consultation or asking for an interview; because he had an idea of what you had been through and he was sure he didn’t deserve all that claptrap. He did nothing but cause chaos and destruction and death and even though his therapist said it wasn’t his fault he knew it was because he aided for it to happen.

But you? You did everything you could to find yourself a way to recover what was yours, and you still lost it.

Javier sat up again and after six exact seconds of consideration, he leaned forward and opened his nightstand drawer. He took the black tape he had been clinging to for five months and held it in front of him for a couple of minutes.

He chuckled at himself and gripped the small cassette, took from the drawer his tape player, pressed the red button for it to open, let the tape fall in the slit and closed it, turned it on and rewinded the tape, trying to make the calculations in his head of how many times he had repeated that process as the tape ran to the beginning.

He put the headphones on, laid down back on the bed and pressed play.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…”

God, how he missed you.

The phone rang again, fuck the phone, you thought, and hid your face under a pillow, trying to fall asleep again despite the clear signal that you were no longer sleepy.

And the phone rang again, you lifted your head from the cocoon of pillows and eyed the clock on your nightstand, who was calling you at five seventeen in the morning?

Grunting, you got out of the bed and walked out of the bedroom to the small space that made your living room, dining room and kitchen and got to the phone.

“Hello?” your voice was a deep groan, and you cleared your throat.

“Another letter came for you, when are you gonna change your address?” your dad’s voice broke through the receiver and you closed your eyes, breathing in and out the stress it was already provoking in you.

“I’ll get to it, dad,” you replied “are you gonna send it to me or can I go to the house?” you questioned, feeling already your lower lip tremble.

“I’ll send it, your mom doesn’t wanna see you yet,” he let out in a stern voice “sorry, pumpkin.” he whispered and hung up the phone.

You sat on the armrest of the loveseat next to the phone and let your tears fall from your eyes, not even bothering about cleaning them anymore.

You sighed and nodded to yourself, letting your tired gaze roam around your tiny living space and you missed the openness of your family house, the one you had come back to and were expelled from by an angry mother that felt ashamed of the truth you told them.

But you had to give it to her, she didn’t even know you went down to Colombia, or that you’d been having drug issues, or that they fired you.

She had told you she didn’t know who you were anymore.

Neither did you.

So you left, they couldn’t be more disappointed in you than you were in yourself, so you walked out as your mom wanted and tried to find a home for yourself as you still wondered what the hell were you supposed to do. There wasn’t a handbook or a protocol that taught people how to stop being a DEA agent, the government didn’t train people to go back to civility or even offered a program to forget all the shit you had lived in the places they had sent you.

You stayed in your hometown, unknowingly to your old friends and twenty minutes away from your parent’s home and didn’t leave your house unless absolutely necessary; Albuquerque wasn’t a small town, but it wasn’t big, and you were dreading walking past someone who knew you before you had lost yourself and tried to explain all your baggage, you didn’t have the time, or the energy. And you didn’t want people feeling sorry for yourself, with the woman in the mirror you had enough.

Everything seemed pointless, and you felt heavy all the time, as if you were carrying a chain ball in each foot and shackles in your hands while being dragged down by quicksand.

In the kitchen's corner you saw the last two boxes you still didn’t have energy to unpack after moving them across the continent and let out a teary sight as you stood from the armrest and walked to them.

You opened the first box and saw it filled with office clutter; pencils, markers, some notebooks and notepads, the brown journal you had been looking for to burn on your stove; a set of keys you weren’t sure what they opened and in the bottom, folded pieces of paper.

“Oh, no.” you muttered to the air of the warm kitchen and you doubted reaching in for it… The hesitation lasted two minutes but for you it was like two hours, you knew what it was, you knew why it was in that box and when you took it it felt hot and heavy. You were holding feelings in that letter, you were holding hours of shed tears and memories you didn’t want to have anymore. Memories that still haunted you whenever you smelled roasted colombian coffee and saw an ad of Malduros on tv.

You didn’t open it. You knew what was written there. And for a few seconds you thought of burning it on the stove instead.

“Well, I don’t want this, might as well send it.” you muttered under your breath, recognizing it would do you some good to stop holding to it, acknowledging it would do you some good to know he had it. If he wanted to rip it into millions of pieces or burn it or toss it in the trash or eat it, it was his problem.

You bit your lip as you walked to the phone; you hadn’t thought of him in a while. But as you sat on the loveseat all the shit you wanted to bury if not get rid of came back to your mind like a high wave of a rough sea; sharp, cold, gritty.

“Shit.” you gasped, trying to breathe in and out several times because you didn’t want to cry. It was too early for crying.

You grabbed the phone and thought who could have Javier’s address. God, even thinking of his name made your chest flutter and your stomach churn. You had fooled yourself into thinking he didn’t have an effect on you anymore, into even assuring five months was enough to forget him. What a fool.

You dialed the number of the only person you knew for sure knew the address by heart; the phone rang three times before it was answered.

“Hello?” a sleepy nasal voice greeted, and you smiled through the few tears that had accumulated in your eyes, grateful that he still had his embassy issued cell phone.

“Stod!” your smile was making your cheeks hurt, and you wondered in the back of your head when was the last time you had smiled.

“Who’s this? Flor?” he asked and you let out a stiff chuckle. You decided not to be a huge asshole and dump something heavy as your actual name that early in the morning, so you went with it.

“Yeah, sorry to call at this hour, did I wake you?” you played with the edge of the loveseat’s armrest.

“Kinda,” a noise of shuffle was heard “but it’s almost seven here, so I’m not that mad,” he teased, making you chuckle again “how are you? to what do I owe the honor?”

“Uhm, I–‌I’m calling to take advantage of you,” you said, hearing his chuckle through the line and a whisper of of course you did, “by any chance do you know Peña’s address in Texas?” you asked, closing your eyes and crossing your fingers, wishing for him to not ask:

“Why?”

“I–‌I have something of his...” you mumbled under your breath “I just found it and I wanna send it.” you said, which wasn’t technically a lie.

“Uh…” Stoddard hesitated, and you heard a faint of a pouring noise in the back that made you sigh, a cup of coffee would do you wonders, “well I do–I don't know if I’m allowed to just say it, y’know?” you frowned.

“Oh, come on, please?” you pleaded, your leg started bouncing because of the anxiety that was growing in your chest.

“What is it? is something important?” he asked.

“Super important,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see, “he needs it.”

“How do you know?” he questioned again, and you whined under your breath.

“Uhm, I ju–‌I just know, uhm…” since when were you a twitchy, nervous mess? “can’t you just tell me?”

“Not really, no.” he muttered in that voice that made you want to punch him and hug him at the same time.

You let out the air of your lungs and controlled your body.

You had promised yourself to tell the truth when it was necessary. So you were going to.

“Look, Stod, this is long to explain, okay?” you began, and he hummed affirmatively in response, “the only thing you need to know is that the thing I have here is very important that he gets because he needs to know that I kept it for him.” you said, closing your eyes again.

“Flor you just told me nothing.” he let out, his voice was being muffled and it sounded like he had something in his mouth.

“Fuck, Stoddard, I love him, okay?” you let out “and this thing I have is a letter that I need him to have so he knows I love him!” you panted and bit your lip when he didn’t answer.

You just had said out loud you loved someone, you just had said to someone you loved Javier Peña for the first time. Shit.

“Oh,” Stoddard said after a moment and you held your breath, “you have where to write?”

“You’re a fucking king!”

Six hours later, you wanted nothing else but to turn the fucking car around.

“This is a mistake, this is a fucking mistake!” you yelled inside your car, opening the glove box to toss there your sunglasses. The highway 285 was eternal, and you hated driving through it; it was empty, there was nothing but desert landscapes and the occasional tree, but you were halfway, just crossing the state border and there was nothing in the everlasting earth that would make you drive back home, not even your fucking hesitation, not even your self-doubt.

“What the fuck am I gonna say?” you asked yourself again, chewing on your lower lip and gripping the steering wheel, “am I just pulling on his driveway and knocking on his door and saying hi I’m sorry I broke your heart I have a letter for you? Fuck!” you saw the beginning of yet another town and you drove slowly looking for a gas station, “or better yet, I read this shit to him to complete the humiliation!” you turned your head for a second at the letter resting easily in the co-pilot’s seat and you groaned, finding a gas station. You were also hungry.

With the car’s tank full and a plastic bag filled with snacks for the remaining six hours, you sighed to yourself and started driving again.

“You’re doing this because you need closure,” you told yourself, shoving your hand into a bag of salted chips and bringing three to your mouth “if he doesn’t wanna see you, too bad, he’s gonna miss your haircut,” you mumbled, chewing at the same time “you leave the letter and let him decide what to do with it.”

With the highway 285 long behind you and the sky just beginning to turn orange, you had convinced yourself of your own reasons and you even had a plan to go back home as soon as you were done in Laredo. You also had promised yourself and all your Muertos, you wouldn’t react to Javier Peña if he didn’t react to you and as you had learned in your three-year station in México, you can’t break a promise you made to dead people.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you said when the marked map told you you were a block away from the Peña’s ranch house, you were chewing the last bit of a nearly melted chocolate bar you had bought hours ago as your nervousness betrayed you and you started chuckling at your impulses, “holy fuck, I wanna go home!”

But you were already there. The gate was open and there were two trucks parked on the driveway. So you sucked everything you were feeling, and you turned off the ignition. Fuck. It.

You breathed in and out several times before you unbuckled your seatbelt, grabbed the letter and opened the door. You did it again as you walked the gravel path to the house and were grateful it was already dark, so at least the night could help you hide until the last second.

You stopped walking, rationality coming back to you.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you whispered to yourself and turned around, shaking your head as you walked back to the car.

“Mija!” you heard behind you, you froze in place and stiffened at the sound of a thick accent in a rough and warm voice.

“Oh, no.” you said under your breath.

“It’s you!” you turned around, and you saw the face of the man you had only met through an old picture Javier carried with him at all times. “viniste.” (you came) behind him walked a black, large dog that ignored the man and huffed at you.

“I’m sorry?” your voice went out thin and high, and you wanted to chastise yourself for it. You had given yourself a seven-hour pep talk on the way, and you were already breaking.

“I told him,” the man rolled his eyes behind the glasses he was wearing and gestured for you to walk closer “Jesús Peña, nice to finally meet you,” he extended his hand to you and you took it and shook it, the dog got closer to you and smelled your legs, you tried to smile at him and at the dog but tears were already gathering inside your eyes “le dije que ibas a venir a buscarlo.” (I told him you’ll come looking for him)

“I’m sorry, Mr. Peña, I–‌I do–‌”

“Mr. Peña nada,” he interrupted, “call me Chucho,” you nodded and sniffed slightly “ven,” (come) he gestured again and started walking towards the house, “Pepe, métete.” (get inside) he called, and the dog trotted to his side.

“Wait, Chucho, wait!” you called him under your breath as you followed him, he didn’t stop.

“Come on in,” he opened the house door and waited for you to get inside. He nodded his head for you to walk in and you frowned.

“You don’t even know who I am, what ar–‌”

“I know enough,” he said solemnly, walked inside and you and the dog did too and he pointed to an armchair “siéntate, mija, he’s on the back.” he turned around and walked through an archway to what it looked like the kitchen and disappeared through a door, Pepe behind him.

“What the fuck.” you sobbed out, knowing you had little time to leave the letter you were clutching in your hands on the coffee table in front of you and walk out and leave for good. But you couldn’t move, you were in Javier’s house and you wanted to stop being there, but your body was frozen in place and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to scream at yourself, at your fucking impulses; you had all the opportunities to turn around and go back home, why didn’t you listen to your logical, rational, always right brain?

“Hi.” you heard behind your back and you covered your mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding the fucking letter.

You turned around and blinked the first two tears of what you already knew was going to be a sea of them.

He was wearing the red shirt. And God, it was his color.

Javier wanted to run away and hide.

He had just made peace with never seeing you again; he had just accepted that the only part he would have of you was that voice mail you had left him months before. But there you were, teary and gorgeous in front of him. Shaking and with your hands holding a piece of paper as if it were your lifeline.

His head was a contradiction, because he wanted to grab you and hug you all the same he wanted to grab you and shove you out of his house and his life.

“What are you doing here?” Javier asked, knowing deep inside him he wanted to tell you how good you looked and how much he liked your new hair. You let out a shaky breath at his deep voice. You had missed it.

It was the first time you saw him in five months, and the weight of your feelings for him fell again on your shoulders like a recently broken off boulder, heavy, rough edged and shapeless.

“I don’t know.” you answered truthfully, he sighed and deviated his eyes from you, you breathed in heavily and the only thing that got into your lungs was his essence. You cursed under your breath and he huffed, putting his hands on his hips and leaning to the side.

“How d'you found me?” he questioned, and you huffed through the tears.

“I have my resources.” you let out on a whisper. Trying to find his eyes, you needed to see his eyes.

“What do you want?” Javier asked again, and you deflated at the tone of his voice. The rational part of your brain yelled I told you so at your feelings and you knew it was right, you were expecting too much of yourself and of him.

“See you,” you bit your lower lip and Javier saw from the corner of his eyes how you scrunched up your nose, and he felt something inside his chest flutter, hating and loving all the same how much of you he still had stored inside his memory, “I have something for you.”

“Keep it.” he let out. You shook your head and raised your hand with the letter on it.

“Read it.” you half ordered, half pleaded, Javier chuckled and then shook his head, mimicking you.

“I don’t want it.” he knew he was lying to himself, he wanted to know what it was, he wanted to grip it and smell the paper and read it over and over but his body wasn’t responding to what his feelings were telling him and only responded, almost in automatic, to his prideful side, to that side of him that still resented you and himself.

“Alright then,” you said, standing straight after realizing you had regained the ability to read him even through your tears, and understanding there was something he was struggling with, “I’ll read it.”

“Stop.” Javier frowned and looked at you, his eyes pleading for you to do something you couldn’t decipher.

“I know, okay?” you said, trying to reassure him and yourself “I know I’m in no position to ask for shit,” Javier dropped his hands to the sides “but I just want ten minutes, just ten of your life, and you’ll never have to see me again if that’s what you want.”

You knew it was a risky thing to say, but you needed him to know, you needed him to understand you because you knew and he knew you did understand him. And he needed to know you. You and your version.

He said nothing, you took it as his queue to start so you breathed in deeply and unfolded the letter.

“Stop.” Javier said under his breath.

“No,” you wiped a tear off your cheek “I wrote this when I went back to Colombia after I got fired,” Javier looked at you and you saw his face quirk in something close to pain “uhm, before I wrote this I drove around Bogotá,” you recalled that last day in the city and how much it pained you to be there, “I went–‌I went to some of the places you told me you liked” you tried to smile and dropped your eyes to your shoes, trying to find something to cling to and compose yourself “even that little cafe you told me about, near the palace of justice, remember?” you sobbed out. And he called your name. Making you gasp.

“Stop,” you looked up at him and saw him frowning, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “we don’t need this.”

“I do!” you let out, Javier brushed his lips with his thumb and felt his hand twitch in need of nicotine again “I need to tell you all this!” you wiped your tears away again “I need closure!” you cried out.

Javier felt his stomach turn around and all the blood of his body went to his feet. Fuck.

How could he had been so stupid? he got into his own feelings too much and he forgot that you had cried your eyes out to him all those months ago when you handed him everything you were in a couple of manila folders. He had gotten wrapped by his own feelings and the hurricane your declaration had created in his life that he had forgotten just how much you were suffering as well. Because he might have thought about you; all the time, every day; he thought about your past and your reasons and motivations. He even thought of you naked on his bed in Colombia, under his body, moaning and gasping when he needed some release, but he forgot to think about your feelings.

“I didn’t come here to ask for forgiveness because I know I don’t deserve it,” you said and Javier felt the wetness of a tear escaping his eye and making its way through his cheek, “I’m trying to get closure, Javier, please let me try.”

Javier nodded.

You cried more when you saw him brush a tear off with his thumb and chew the inside of his mouth. You wanted to run away; you were sure he was better before you came to his house and disrupted his peace; you were hurting him again, and you wanted to kneel in front of him and ask him for what you said you weren’t seeking. He made you want so much.

You sniffed and dropped your eyes to the open letter in your hand, Javier didn’t move from where he was standing.

“No amount of guilt will or can change the past,” you began, Javier crossed his arms on his chest and saw movement to his side, “that much I know. I kno–‌know that it doesn’t matter,” you sniffed again and Javier turned his head to watch the dog casually walking towards him and sitting next to his boots. You saw it too, and you let out a sad chuckle.

“Ignore him.” he just said. You nodded.

“Uhm, it doesn’t matter how much I apologize, or how many I’m sorry’s I mouth, forgiveness doesn’t come for free.” you didn’t want to lift your eyes to see him, so you continued.

Javier only saw you reading him something he was sure you had poured your heart into, and he wanted nothing but to hear what you wanted to say to him, but he couldn’t focus into listening, because there you were, again in front of him doing what he never dared to do.

Opening your fucking chest, taking your heart out and giving it raw to him.

“...knowing and realizing and acknowledging just how much I love you.”

Javier drowned a gasp, as he fell in love with you all over again, you were doing what he didn’t have the balls to do, because in his sleepless sleep he wanted to look for you, in the middle of his idle nights, just after waking up after a nightmare, he wanted to find you and go to you and tell you whatever the fuck he could to be back with you. But he never did, he never did because he was a coward, because he feared his own feelings so fucking much.

He couldn't hear anything of it after your declaration of love. God, how much he loved you. You were standing there, with your eternally hopeful eyes filled with crystalline tears and several pages of written feelings. And he realized, there, with you in the middle of his living room, shifting to the next page, that even though you were extremely similar, you were also very different.

“...with you I found a reason to give up after all the shit I've lived in…” you muttered and he found the differences inside him; you were braver than him, you were smarter and more connected with what you felt; you weren’t scared of your feelings as he was. You went for what you wanted and even though it had been five months of that dreadful day when he saw his heart squeezed out of his body by your hesitant hand, that day he still replayed inside his head when the day was just over and his brain was floating between sleep and awakeness, he still wondered why you were bothering.

“There were so many things I thought…” you kept reading as he wondered if it was possible for the two of you to connect with each other outside of shared trauma and sympathy for each other’s experiences. But he answered to himself that even if you two weren’t as emotionally available as you needed to be to build a relationship or if you both were having a hard time adapting to be and live out of the system, maybe the love was real.

You stopped reading after noticing he was just standing there with his arms crossed and his eyes on you but not seeing you; you wiped the last of your tears and chuckled bitterly to yourself. Making him blink a few times.

“Fuck this,” you crumpled the pages in your hands and dropped them on the coffee table, shaking your head. Javier frowned, “it doesn’t matter what I read, I shouldn’t have come.” you said, drowning your sobs and gasping for air. He wasn’t paying attention, and nothing about it was making you feel any better about anything.

“What?” Javier whispered, dropping his hands to his sides.

“A’right, then…” you didn’t look at him and tried to control your breathing again “I guess that’s what I wanted to do,” you walked to the door and opened it, Javier wanted to ask what the fuck was happening, he wanted to grab your arm and stop you as he didn’t do it when you were leaving his office back in Colombia “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Javier,” he winced slightly involuntarily at the way you sobbed out his name “I’ll go.”

You walked out of the house covering your mouth with your hand to muffle your sobs, your rational brain was right, it was a mistake; it was a complete and utter mistake, and you were so ashamed of yourself for even thinking it would change anything. You walked to your car feeling the sharp, stinging sensation of a migraine settling in your head. You heard steps behind you and you turned around slowly, not wanting to put hope on the source being Javier.

“Mija,” you look at Chucho trying to catch up with you, “¿a dónde vas?” (where are you going?)

“I’m going home.” you said, shrugging at the man when he stopped in front of you.

“Why?” he asked, frowning.

“Because he said nothing, Chucho,” you bit your lip and looked at the Texan night sky and huffed at yourself, “he said nothing.”

“But he wants you, mija!” he assured you, and you shook your head several times.

“If he wants me as you say,” you pointed towards the house behind him, “then how come I’m not with him?” you reasoned, “he doesn’t want me.”

You dropped your eyes to the gravel path as Chucho sighed and raised his hand to squeeze your shoulder just enough for you to feel less sad. Just how a father would do.

Chucho glared at the house, the door open and Pepe standing in the threshold; his son had been back for months, he had been living next to him, eating next to him, working next to him and breathing next to him just as he did before he went away but he knew, just like a father could, he was not the same man that left.

He reminisced over the muchacho his son was before he left Laredo, so eager to get out of the small town he grew up in and that harbored his family home, so anxious to meet new horizons, so keen to find and explore new places and learn new things; he sometimes found himself missing that boy, he sometimes missed his Javi; the one that helped him build a paddock for his own horse, the one that washed his truck without asking and without failing each friday evening, the one that took care of his Mamá’s funeral at sixteen when himself was too sad to think about coffins or tombstones; because the man that came back to him after almost two decades too far away from home wasn’t the same.

He had seen and done things that Chucho never wanted to to ask about but he imagined, his Javier wasn’t the same. And Chucho knew why, but he also knew about you. Javi had talked about you way too much for his own good, as he did everything. And Chucho also knew why, he wasn’t letting the woman that made his son come back home run away.

“He does want you,” he said, slowly, with a low voice, as if it were a secret, “mijo… es un idiota a veces, but he loves you.” (he’s an idiot sometimes)

“You don’t know that.” you refuted.

“I do,” he gave you a smile that was barely visible under the white mustache “el te ama, y yo…” (he loves you, and I…) “I’m so grateful.” you shook your head as two thick tears left your eyes.

“I broke his heart.” you sobbed out.

“Y me lo trajiste a casa, Florecita” (and you brought him home to me, little flower) you sobbed harder, not able to control it anymore, and he brought you to him, and held you.

“He told you my fake name?” you asked between sobs.

“He told me what you look like.” he muttered.

“I’m so sorry.” you let yourself be wrapped by him and you hid your face on his shoulder.

“Don’t be, without you I would’ve lost my only child.” you held him tighter.

“Please.” you pleaded for nothing and everything at the same time.

“You gotta fight for him, mija.” he muttered to your ear, and you shook your head, still leaning into him.

“I’m fighting for him!” you almost yelled “I’m here, aren’t I?” you lifted your head to look at the man and you gasped for air, dropping your hands to your sides “I drove almost thirteen hours non-stop all the way from Albuquerque just to be here!” you told him and the man stiffened as you lost your shit in front of him, you gripped your head between your hands “thirteen hours to read him that stupid letter and he didn’t say shit!”

“You did what?” you heard and lifted your head to see Javier standing behind his dad.

Chucho looked at Javier and then at you with your cheeks dampened with tears. He squeezed your shoulder again and turned to walk to the house.

“You were in Albuquerque all this time?” he said, and you nodded, noticing he was holding the letter in his hand “when you said you’d go you meant back there?” he frowned in confusion.

“Well, yeah, I have nowhere to stay so I might as well drive home.” you muttered, Javier’s frown deepened, and he stepped towards you.

“Stay here,” he said, “if you wanna leave you leave in the morning.” his voice was thin and low. You looked at his eyes and saw them reddened and wet.

“Did you read it?” you whispered out. He stepped towards you again, nodding.

“Stay.” he whispered back.

“You don’t want me.” you said under your breath as shook your head and he stepped closer.

“Who says that?” he asked, and you looked at the gravel path again.

“I won’t stay.” you felt Javier’s warm fingers graze under your chin and lift your head to him slowly.

“Don’t be so stubborn,” he chastised you with half a smirk forming on his lips “stay with us.” you shook your head again.

“You don’t want me here but you want me to stay,” you said, frowning at him “Javier you can’t have it bo–‌”

“I want you to stay,” he interrupted you “I want you to stay with me,” he whispered as his fingers moved to your cheek and wiped away a tear. “please.”

Javier had read your letter after you walked out and realized, at the prospect of you leaving for what it seemed like forever, at the possibility of you leaving him for good and he never getting to see you or your gorgeous face or your hypnotizing eyes or hearing your voice that did so many things on him, that the balance of his other losses leaned upwards when he weighed the probability of losing you.

Did he care about what you did? of course he did, it still stung sometimes deep inside his chest, it still filled him with something close to grief.

Was he willing to work it out and let it aside because he didn’t want to feel the agony and deep sorrow of not having you by his side he had been feeling for the last five months again? yes.

And the answer to that question inside his head startled him and shook him deeply.

You were there. God, you were there, there was no way he was going to let you leave.

Javier decided you could work it out later, he loved you way too much not to try. He didn’t even plan to love you the way he did, the way he discovered by reading that letter or remembering the man he was without you. He didn’t even plan to love you at all, but he did. He was madly, insanely, deeply in love with you.

Javier moved his hand to your shoulder and let the one holding the letter find its way to your waist. Find its way home.

“Don’t go.” he whispered again. He moved the last step to wrap his hands around you. You let out a low yelp at the feeling of his body so close to you, for a second you froze in place, your eyes closed and his warmth invaded your entire body as he hid his head in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your essence as you hugged him back and gripped him tightly against you.

Javier felt as if all his parts were being glued back together.

“Stay with me.” he whispered against the skin of your neck.

So you stayed.

←previous // next→

*THE LETTER*

Pepe:

pedrito's perma list: @queenofthefaceless @northernpunk @pascalesque @sleep-tight1 @cheekygeek05 @bii-aan-ckaa @letaliabane @starlightmornings @mouthymandalorianalso @supernaturalgirl @metalarmsandmanbuns @purplepascal042 @asta-lily @greeneyedblondie44 @missswriter @juletheghoul @pedro-pastel @agirllovespancakes

Javi's babies: @pulplorrd

RushBit tag list: @shestillwrites1 @alliterative-albatross @absurdthirst @thoughtfulpandawasteland @wifeofdindjarin @lank-sextburg @the-ginger-hedge-witch @helloannbananalove @diogodxlot @pascalslittlebrat @sarahjkl82-blog @pedritobalmando @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @mamacitapascal @dobbyjen @callsigncatfish @feminist-violinist @jasmincita @pascalove @eury-dice3 @gingaahhhh @athalien

#javier peña #Javier Pena #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos fan fic #narcos netflix #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #pedro pascal characters #rushingly bittersweet tag

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girl-of-many-fandoms · 3 years

Note

Would it be possible to get a part 2 to the Jensen one shot? She ends up pregnant with a boy or two boys? He gets very attentive and with the help of Jared and Gen?

I Missed You // Part 2

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: None

Part 1

MASTERLIST

----

"There's something different about you" you and your good friend Genevieve were lounging on their pool deck as the two men were swimming in the pool with her and Jared's kids

Tearing your eyes away from your boyfriend's antics with Odette you looked over at the her meeting her determined gaze. Slightly confused you let out a small laugh as she continued to search your face for an answer

"What are you talking about Gen?" bringing your beer bottle to your lips, you tilted your head back as the cold liquid refreshed your body. You were about to say something when you felt your stomach churn as you fought to keep the beer down

Your reaction to drinking your favourite beer was the answer that she needed to confirm her suspicions. Sitting upright you placed the bottle on the table, hand holding onto your stomach as the debate continued to circulate your mind

Throw up or don't throw up?

The thought of taking another swig of your drink made you jump up from your seat as your rushed to the nearest trashcan in the kitchen. Hunched over the bin you barfed up the contents of your stomach, groaning in between

"Y/N!" Genevieve called out to you rushing over to rub your back as you continued your disgusting episode. Hot tears pricked your eyes as you raked your brain trying to figure out what's happening to you

"Baby" Jensen's wet hand rested on the small of your back taking over from Gen as she rushed to get you a glass of water. When the vomiting subsided you leaned on the counter next to you

"You okay?" his large hands cupped your face, forcing you to look up at him. Face etched with worry he began rubbing your arm as you regained your strength

"Have some water" taking the glass from her outstretched hand you quickly rinsed the vail taste from your mouth, spitting into the the trash can once more before actually taking a few sips

"I'm okay" still weary he continued to hold onto you, scared that something is actually wrong with you

"You're lying" he protested but you stopped him in his tracks

"Jens" sighing with defeat he gave you a once over before taking a step back, you could tell that all he was upset that you pushed him away when he knew that you weren't well

Backing off he sighed before returning outside too a very concerned Jared. Genevieve had a shit eating going on her face as she pulled out a stool for you to sit

“Spit it out Gen” plopping down on the stool you buried your face in the palms of your hands as you tried to calm your churning stomach

“I know why you look different” refilling your empty glass she pushed it closer to you, placing her hand on your shoulders

“Enlighten me” grumbling you leaned to the side and pulled the bin over to you, puking once again

“You’re pregnant”

Opening your mouth to protest, you paused now checking the possibility that you very much could be. It’s been two months since you and Jensen had gotten back together and you both were jumping each other’s bones each chance you got. You then realized that you hadn’t seen your red demon in almost a month

“Crap”

“C’mon I’ve got some tests stashed away upstairs” coaxing you out of your seat Genevieve dragged you up to her and Jared’s en-suite. Rummaging through the cabinet she pulled out two tests and gave them to you before leaving you to do the rest

Had you and Jensen ever talked about having kids, not really but you know that if these tests came out positive he would be over the moon. You could tell by the way that he takes care of the Padalecki clan that he would make an excellent father. You remember the day that Genevieve had given birth to her first born, you both were there to visit the newborn and Jensen asked if he could hold him

“He’s adorable” Jensen gently rocked the little boy in his arms, grinning up at you

“He gets it from his momma” you gently brushed your thumb against his chubby cheeks, amazed at the tiny bundle of joy

Flushing the toilet you placed both sticks on the sink and opened the door for your impatient friend

Genevieve came and sat on the edge of the bathtub as you sank don to the floor, resting your head against the wall

“This is going to be a long five minutes” giggling she went on about the first time she found out she was pregnant and how Jared reacted to the news. They were both scared yet excited to start that new chapter in their lives. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of telling Jensen that you were expecting if the tests were positive

“Are you ready?” she pushed herself on her feet and padded over to the counter top. Taking a deep breath you stood up and gave her one last glance before looking down at the verdict

Pregnant

Shit!

-----

It's been seven months since you found out that you were pregnant with twins. Turns out that they're both boys, Jensen was really excited when we you got the news at your check up

"Great news miss Y/L/N, you are infact five weeks pregnant" the Doctor smiled down at you and Jensen started tearing up at the news, kissing the back of your hand

"Hang on a second" she continued to move the wand over my abdomen as she glued her eyes to the monitor

"Is something wrong?" you asked nerves washing over you as she held her concentration

"Looks like your having twins, congratulations"

How were you going to handle not one but TWO mini Jensen when you could barely keep up with their father

"Babe!" Jensen called out to you from the nursery upstairs and you hauled yourself up from the sofa to see what he wants. Taking the basket of folded laundry you started making your way up the steps. You were three steps away to the landing but you misstepped causing you to let out a yelp, dropping the basket to brace yourself before you tumbled completely

"Y/N!" hearing the commotion Jensen emerged from the room wasting no time in coming to your aid. He helped you to sit on the step, hand immediately cradling your protruding stomach

"Are you okay? Are you hurt, are the babies okay?" panic evedient in his voice as his eyes scanned you for any injuries. Reaching up you took cupped his cheeks in your palm, brushing your thumb against his stubble

"We're alright" leaning forward he placed a kiss on your forehead allowing himself to finally calm down

"You can't even see your feet, tell me why you thought that it was a good idea for you be walking up the stairs with a load of laundry" laughing you nudged his shoulder, Jensen pulled you into his chest. Breathing in his musky scent you closed your eyes enjoying being in his hold

"Y/N"

"Jens"

"I'm glad that we're doing this together after everything we've been through, I love you"

"I love you too babe"

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles series #jensen ackles smut #jared padalecki #jared padalecki imagine #supernatural #supernatural imagine #jensen ackles x ofc #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x reader #genevieve padalecki

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kim-seungmine · 4 years

Text

moonlit

title: moonlit

characters: fem!reader x lee minho (lee know) of stray kids feat. bang chan, kim seungmin, hwang hyunjin, kid!yang jeongin

genres: exes to lovers au, romance, angst, based on eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, chan’s one sided love if you squint real hard, bff!seungjin.

warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking and food, mentions of insecurity/emptiness, minho is lowkey a flirt (and smooth af), this one is WORDY, sometimes nonlinear (flashbacks marked in italics, phase 2 completely happens in the past), lots of inner conflicts, watch me repeat the same words again and again.

word count: 14k

synopsis: after a nasty breakup, you have lee minho clinically erased from your mind... only to be reminded that while memories can be erased and forgotten, feelings will always demand to be felt.

Phase 1: Awakening

You clamp your shaking legs together, desperately trying to look like you’ve got it all together. The carton box on your lap feels heavier with each passing second as you wait for your name to be called. When the receptionist finally tells you to enter the consulting room, your head is full of him. His laugh, his voice, his touches, his smile, his empty promises, his lies, his last words…

This is why you’re doing this. You want him gone.

“Miss Y/N, please have a seat.” The doctor, Seo Changbin, motions at you to sit at the back of the room. A nurse places a tripod in front of you, setting the camera so it will capture your whole body. “Your sessions will be recorded, and we will keep all the recordings as archive. These recordings are confidential unless they’re needed for national security purposes. And, of course, if you wish to get your memories back in the future.”

Dr. Seo smiles, the calming tone in his voice doesn’t match the weight of his words. “You… you can restore the memories back?”

“I can’t,” he answers. “Patients are usually able to remember some past memories when triggered. And at least you will be reminded of why you want to do the erasure procedure in the first place. There are a lot of patients who regret doing this, and the last thing we want is to get sued because people make the wrong choices for themselves. I’m sure you have already read that part on the consent form.”

Great, you’re going to stop him from messing with your head by letting strangers literally damaging your brain.

“I won’t sue you. Let’s get this over with.”

“Sure.” Dr. Seo points at the camera. “Now, tell us everything, starting with who you want to erase.”

You grip your box tighter, as if to check if all the things inside still cause you pain no matter how many times you’ve seen them. You could have done this the normal way—crying, cutting your hair, even turning to God for help.

The thing is, one of these days the pain is going to swallow you up, and then you’ll be left with nothing. Nothing but an empty shell.

You should have been able to do this the normal way, but you’re too weak. Can’t you be weak for once? You can, right?

Clearing your throat, you stare at the lens. “Lee Minho.”

“Lee Minho,” you repeat. Louder. Clearer. “I’d like to erase Lee Minho.”

Chan finishes his beer in one gulp while you’re still struggling to open yours. It’s a shame, really—you drink almost every week, he drinks twice a year. He tosses the now empty can to the trashcan before opening another with ease, handing it to you. Mumbling a quiet thank you, you take a sip and watch him tear a pack of dried squids open.

“You’ll never go to those parties again,” he says. “I didn’t know my parents invited you because of that.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. They meant well.”

He pulls his hair in frustration. “I can’t believe they said that in front of everyone! You must’ve been so shocked. I’m sorry.”

You grimace, the unwanted attention was indeed quite embarrassing. Enough to make you politely reject the next time Chan’s parents invite you to another gala. Mr. and Mrs. Bang have always been supportive of their eldest son, letting Chan started his own business instead of taking over the family business. Chan’s mother had called you a few days prior, asking you to accompany her son since it would be a good opportunity to “build connection and expand your business.”

You and Chan did exactly that, so it wasn’t like they were lying. But Chan’s parents also used the opportunity to try to convince the two of you that you’re match made in heaven.

“Can we drop this?” You glance at your watch, stretching your limbs before rising from your seat. The traffic light turns red and you signal at your best friend to walk faster. “I keep getting flashbacks of CEO Kang’s son laughing at us.

Chan follows suit, placing his hand at the small of your back before crossing the street. You let out a relieved sigh when you reach the warm subway station. “Kang Younghyun has more embarrassing incidents than ours combined,” he scoffs. “This is nothing compared high school. No worries.”

“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?” he asks as you train is arriving. “I should’ve brought the car instead of letting my parents drive us to the party.”

You click your tongue at him. “Then you’ll miss the last train.”

“I can take a cab home. You always fall sleep on the train it’s giving me headache!”

“Bang Chan.”

The train stops and opens its doors. “Fine,” he mumbles. “Just don’t fall asleep.”

“No promises!” you tease, stepping into the train a second before it closes. You wave at Chan until he disappears into a small dot before choosing the seat beside the door. The train is almost empty; standing near the door is a high school student listening to an online lecture and sitting across you is…. the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. He meets your eyes for a second before shifting his attention back to his phone again, leaving you slightly disappointed.

You despise socializing at parties but you want the Hottest Man Alive to talk to you? Y/N you’re so pathetic.

The sight of a bundle of name cards inside your purse is what gives you a reality check, various names and faces are popping up in your mind. Only now you feel how exhausted you are, parties and talking to a bunch of strangers have never been your thing. You take your platform heels off just as the train makes its stop, one of them almost hitting Hottest Man Alive as a result.

Apparently God has decided to make you the embarrassment icon of the day.

“I’m so sorry!” you panic, about to reach your flying heel when he stands up and picks it up. He silently places it in front of you before pulling out a card out of his pocket.

“It’s okay, just check out our café when you have time.” Hottest Man Alive slips the card into your palm, rendering you speechless with his bashful smile.

Oh, you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

You run your eyes over the black embossed letters once more, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat as you mentally convince yourself that he does want you to pay his café a visit. Your whole life has always been normal, so alarmingly calm and peaceful it makes you question your whole existence. Sometimes it feels like you’re living in someone else’s dream, foreign and temporary. Uncertain and insecure.

Last night was… weird, to say the least. You’ve never felt that attracted to someone before, not even your ex-boyfriends. In that moment, you felt unstoppable, carefree, happy… everything that wasn’t you.

Sadly, that moment didn’t last long and now you’re back to your overthinking self. What if he was just playing with you? Will he find you desperate or, God forbid, easy if you actually show up at his café? But what café owners don’t want a new customer? Besides, you’re bringing Chan, so Hottest Man Alive (or Lee Minho, according to his name card) is getting two new customers. If anything, he will be thanking you and hoping you will come again, just like any normal business owner.

“Hey,” Chan calls out to you, knocking on the car window. “We’re here, daydreamer.”

You shove the card back into your wallet, met with Chan’s confused eyes when you finally open the door. “You okay?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You look so out of it.”

Chan knows nothing about your encounter with Hottest Man Alive; he would’ve freaked out if he knew you wanted to visit a café because a random (handsome) stranger told you so. “Just thirsty. It’s so hot,” you mumble.

Eat Here Café gives off the homey atmosphere that immediately calms your nerves. You quickly scan the whole building, looking for any sign of Hottest Man Alive. You feel lighter yet bummed that he’s not there, except for some photos of him with a group of children pinned on the wall.

You choose a table near the cashier. “I’ll order. What do you want?”

Chan shrugs. “Any kind of cake.”

The puppy-like part timer greets you with a smile when you reach the counter. “Good afternoon, what would you like to order?”

“Injeolmi bingsu and Coke, please. Oh, and a vanilla cake!”

He repeats your order politely and you decide that you like the boy, taking a glance at his nametag that says Kim Seungmin. You never really pay attention to part timers before, but this one is remarkably efficient, polite, and very very cute (in a “I’d like to adopt him!” way).

You drop some cash into the tipping jar, the twinkle in Seungmin’s eyes feels so rewarding that you’re ready to put it into your “little things that made my day” on your journal later. He hands you the buzzer with a bright smile. “Please wait for your order!”

“Your stingy ass never gives such a generous tip. Did he flirt with you or something?” Chan marvels—loud enough to get Seungmin’s attention—when you return to your table. There are times when you regret being Chan’s business partner, but you realize that you’ve invested so much of your time and energy into building the company. That, and Chan is actually a dependable friend when he’s not trying to ruin your image.

Chan gets your order after the buzzer vibrates, digging into his cake right away. “Whoa this is good!” he exclaims. “How did you find this place?”

“…Instagram.”

“Do you think they hired a branding consultant already?”

You shake your head. “They post pretty regularly but I don’t think so.”

Chan’s eyes sparkle. “Do you think we should ask to meet the owner or something?”

“Hey Seungmin, iced Americano please! And remind me to pay your bonus later.”

The faintly familiar voice stops you from answering, your eyes wildly searching for the source. And there he is… the one you’ve been dreading to meet and also the one you’ve been yearning to meet. Lee Minho saunters into the café with his charming bunny smile and soft eyes, earning everyone’s attention except for Seungmin who’s still taking orders.

Seungmin only replies with a short hum, not taking his eyes off the cash register. You glance at Minho, mentally surprised by the way he doesn’t seem to be bothered with how Seungmin treats him.

“Quit staring before you start embarrassing yourself,” Chan warns you in the most boring tone. “I think he’s the owner.”

You almost spit out your drink. “I’m not staring!”

Minho exchanges some words with Seungmin before focusing his attention to all the customers. Your bingsu is melting, but you still follow his every move through your peripheral vision, not knowing whether you want him to recognize you.

“You really came!”

Chan points at himself, then at you. “Us?”

Minho shifts his gaze to Chan like he didn’t even notice the dimpled man was there whole time.

“Ah… y-yes,” you stutter. “This is very a nice café.”

One look at Chan and you know there’s no way for you to hide anymore. “He invited me!” you quip. “I mean, us.”

“Do you have anyone handling your social media accounts? Planning the digital marketing? Creating ads?” You have bombarded Minho with questions before Chan says anything, skipping the whole small talk step in “how to smoothly intrigue clients” manual.

Seungmin arrives with Minho’s iced Americano, putting the tall glass in front of him with no words before smiling at you and Chan. “Does any of you want anything else?”

“Yes, please,” Minho interrupts before you can refuse. “Please order whatever you want, it’s on the house.”

“Pulling the boss card, huh?” Chan jokes. “Then I’ll have orange juice.”

“Y/N?”

You didn’t have a chance to try the vanilla cake Chan ordered because he inhales food instead of digesting them, but the chocolate ice cream looks beyond tempting—

Minho chuckles. “How about our vanilla and chocolate ice cream?”

“Did I say that out loud?” you mumble to yourself, but proceed to thank Minho for his suggestions and tell Seungmin you’d like to have those. Minho flashes you a soft smile, almost making you melt on the spot if it weren’t for Chan’s leg kicking yours.

The conversation continues without any embarrassing incident. Chan lets you do all the talking, only adding further details when necessary while Minho asks you challenging but intriguing questions you answer passionately.

The so-called meeting ends with Minho promising to sign the contract by next week and Chan shaking your hand under the table, both confused and impressed.

“Is that why your employees are so relaxed around you? Because you just want everyone to eat and live well? I swear Seungmin didn’t even try to curse discreetly when you told him to wipe the counter for the 5th time,” you ask.

Minho laughs as the said boy exits his station, backpack slung across his shoulder. “Yes I’ll transfer your money after our guests leave. Don’t you dare remind me again!” the former yells playfully before the part timer opens his mouth. Seungmin bows to you and Chan before scowling at his boss. “You’re the one who told me to—nevermind. See you tomorrow, hyung.”

“I really like that boy,” you coo when Seungmin closes the door.

“I treat them as my friends,” Minho says. “I decided to do this because I just want to help everyone, including my employees. I don’t want Eat Here to be one of those expensive, pretentious cafes. I just want everyone to eat what they want, that’s why we have all sorts of things here. Combination of Eastern and Western, stuff like that. But this is still business, I have to do things to keep it running, right?”

You’ve met a lot of people with beautiful visions, but you’ve never met someone who wants something so simple yet complicated like Minho. It’s been quite a long time since you’re genuinely excited for a project, and now you know why Chan didn’t freak out upon knowing that you met Minho on the train.

“You guys can do whatever you want,” Minho adds, waving to a pair of part timers clocking in. “Are you going back to the office?”

Chan stretches his limbs. “Yeah,” he groans. “Gotta make sure our intern doesn’t jam the printer again.”

Your phone rings the moment Chan finishes his sentence. ”You jinxed it! Hyunjin is calling.”

“Whatever it is, wait until we’re back!” you whisper-yell at your intern.

“But noona, the printer—”

You give Hyunjin no chance to blabber about one specific printer and end the call. Minho giggles at your antiques, and you don’t have the energy to stop yourself from admiring his pretty features in the most obvious ways possible.

Chan pats your back before grabbing his phone and stands up. “I guess that’s our cue to leave.”

“Take these.” Minho writes your name on one of the paper bags, handing them to you with a big smile. “For everyone at your office. Thanks for reaching out to us.”

You peek inside the bag that has your name scribbled on it, not surprised to see both vanilla and chocolate ice cream inside—it’s the clear bottle that you’re curious about.

“Bye! I’ll send you the gym’s contact later!” Your best friend slash business partner waves at your new client slash crush from the driver’s seat. You take out the bottle, it’s filled with sikhye.

Your favorite drink, but Minho isn’t supposed to know that.

“Everyone deserves a fresh start. Don’t let anyone from your past haunt you. Start Erasure now.”

Minho mutes the television, heaving a sigh as he recounts his fateful meeting with you yesterday. The world has always been rather weird, he would say, but nothing defeats meeting his ex-girlfriend—his first love—who has no recollection of your time together. He heard from his former classmates that you sent them a message a few years ago, informing them that you would undergo the erasure procedure. According to his friends, you specifically told them to “never ever mention Lee Minho’s name or ask you about the procedure.”

You’re back in his life now, happy as ever, and the last thing Minho wants is breaking your heart all over again. He no longer owns that special spot in your heart, you owe him nothing. He left you insecure, disappointed and soulless, and now it’s his turn to be haunted by all the questions and what ifs in his mind.

His phone vibrates as soon as he flips the signage open, your name flashing on his screen. “Hey Y/N what’s up?”

“Minho I can’t multitask so please give me quick and accurate answer. I’m at the traffic light in front of Lotte now—”

“You need to turn left.”

“Okay… didn’t know my non-existent sense of direction is that obvious — damn, let me change lanes.”

Minho suppresses a chuckle. You’ve always been bad with directions.

“Turn left once more, and you’ll find us. We’re right across the first G25 store on the street.”

He steps out the café to welcome you when he spots a white Kia arriving. In contrast to his horrifying memories of teaching you to drive, you manage to parallel-park your car smoothly in 10 seconds, stopping Minho from offering to help you park your car.

“Sorry,” you grimace. “I suck at directions. Last week was the first time I went here and Chan was the one driving so I wasn’t really paying attention… and before you ask, no I can’t use GPS while driving. I barely managed to dial your number.”

Minho lifts his hands. “I was just going to say hello.”

“Oh, good! People always judge me for that!”

You don’t let him respond as you point at the photos on the wall. “Tell me about them!” you request. “Our photographer Hyunjin is going to be here any minute, and we’ll give this corner a special attention. Your customers need to know this.”

Minho scratches his head bashfully, the glint of admiration in your eyes is making him a bit dizzy. It’s been a long time since you looked at him like that. “Uhh, okay. These are the kids I’m supporting, they live in Africa,” he starts. “I hope I can visit them someday, but they’ve been sending me letters, saying thank you... telling me about their days and all.”

“Wow!” you marvel. “How does it feel? To receive such lovely letters?”

“Honestly, it kinda makes me feel like a parent,” he replies. “It feels wonderful.”

Moving onto the next set of photos, his smile grows wider. “I teach these kids dancing, sometimes taekwondo. They’re all very sweet, especially the maknae, Yang Jeongin.” Minho points at a boy with contagious smile. “He can be a brat sometimes, but everyone loves him.”

“Is this an orphanage? Can I meet them?” you blurt out.

“Of course! You’ll love them to bits.”

“You have to come back with Y/N noona!”

A few weeks later, Minho took you to the orphanage. You played with the kids all day and watched him teach them dance. You thought the kids wouldn’t like you as much, but now they’re trying to persuade you to stay the night.

“Aww, of course I’ll come back. Be a good boy, and we’ll be back sooner than you thought!”

Yang Jeongin, the youngest boy in the orphanage, has done everything to make you stay. If it weren’t for your “adult responsibilities,” you would have caved in because nothing could beat his puppy eyes and hopeful smile.

“Alright, go back inside, everyone. All of you need to sleep.”

The kids grumble at Minho’s command, slowly walking back to the main hall. After making sure no one sneaks out to follow you, the two of you make a stop at a nearby park that Minho claims to be the perfect place to admire the moon.

“Okay, you’re not lying. The moon does look pretty from here.”

The man sitting beside you smirks in satisfaction. “I never stay too long but I always like spending time here. Now that I think about it, you kinda resemble the moonlight.”

The switch of the mood has you cackling. “Aren’t everything about the moon associated with werewolves and murders? You’re expecting me to fall for such a lame pickup line?”

“That’s not how I see it.” Minho disagrees. “I think you’re radiant, bright but not blinding. Take it as a compliment.”

The word radiant strikes you light a lightning, forces you to face the harsh reality that you’re doing a really good job in hiding the hollowness inside—all the lingering questions and uneasiness. You’re far from being the light Minho admires.

“Trust me, I’m not radiant whatsoever.”

Minho stiffens, observing you carefully until you feel brave enough to look at him. At first, you see pity in his eyes, but it morphs into something that feels too good to be true. You find tranquil in his gaze, so serene that you nearly let your tears fall.

He reaches for your hand, interlocking your fingers together before pulling you up from your seat. “I’ll tell you whenever you’re being the moonlight that you are,” he promises, his voice is a perfect mix between sincerity and mischief. “Prepared to get sick of me because I’ll remind you everyday.”

Just because most people often cross the line doesn’t mean that being able to exert self-control when needed is something to be proud about, but Minho has always thought of it as his positive trait.

He’s going to cross it out of the list today.

His hand is still holding yours tightly, chatting away with a lopsided smile on his face. And yours. This wasn’t what he intended to do, but life loves to play God and tests him the moment he thinks he knows what he’s doing. Giving you his name card on the train has spiraled into taking you home hand-in-hand, peppering kisses on your temple when you become too cute to handle (which is almost all the damn time) and falling in love with you all over again. What happened in the subway impulsive and dumb, but he couldn’t control himself. He wanted to see you again, he longed to talk to you.

Minho just wanted a second chance to be good to you, but will things ever be enough? How will he make things right again? Providing you free coffee and say thank you for your visit? It was a selfish wish he shouldn’t have acted upon.

“We must’ve crossed paths somehow. There’s no way that we’ve never met before!” you say, swinging your intertwined hands happily.

It’s too late. History repeats itself, but Minho’s too far gone to stop. He’s trying to feel it, the need to exert self-control—he can’t.

“I didn’t come home often,” he lies, every word feels like knife stabbing his heart. You hum in response, a yawn escaping from your mouth as both of you are nearing your unit. Minho watches you enter the door password, mouthing the numbers silently, 2 3 0 9. Your grandma’s birthday. It’s always been your password for everything—phone, laptop, even Minho’s old apartment since you were the one who set it for him. It stays with him until this very day although he no longer lives in the same apartment.

You tug at his sleeve. “Come on in.”

Your stuffs are pretty much the same, if not exactly the same as a few years ago. The only things missing were those related to him. Polaroid photos of you together, the umbrella he left at your place, the mug he…. wait.

The purple mug Minho bought for you is sitting on the kitchen counter, causing him to nearly trip over his own feet. Did you forget to get rid of it before the procedure?

“Let me go change first,” you tell him. “Feel free to grab any snack. There’s cold water and beer in the fridge.”

He can barely answer as you disappear into your room. Memories start flooding his mind, it feels as if he finally finds all the folders with your name on them that he tried so hard to bury, stashed in the deepest part of his heart.

Those memories were so painfully beautiful he has to bite his lip to prevent his tears from falling.

“Oh that’s my favorite mug!”

You’re back, dressed in the black loose T-shirt you always wear during summers. Minho’s eyes automatically dart to your left shoulder, spotting the hole on the shirt that exposes a part of your shoulder.

Another thing that hasn’t changed. Another thing that makes you the you he knew. Another thing that diminishes his self-control into nothing because you have no idea how much he loved to—

“Minho?”

You cradle this face softly, wiping the tears he didn’t know he shed. Confusion and panic reflected in your irises. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh?” He touches his cheek before attempting to laugh. “Something probably went into my eyes...”

“Let me see.” Before he refuses, you’ve taken a step closer, gently blowing into his eyes. “Better? Want some eye drop?”

Minho shakes his head, removing your hands from his face and plants a kiss on your forehead. Another mistake that feels so right. “I guess I’m just tired. Is it okay if we chat some other time?”

You mumble an okay, following him to the front door. When he turns the door knob, you reach for his hand. “Hey,” you murmur, slowly examining his face. Minho tries to read yours in return, sensing your hesitation. He waits for a good minute patiently, letting you form words in your head.

“What are we? These things we’ve been doing… what do they mean to you? Does this mean we’re…”

You let out a frustrated sigh, more directed to yourself than him, and Minho understands what you’re talking about. He tightens his grip on the knob, desperately begging himself to stop all of this. You don’t deserve another heartbreak when you’ve done everything to continue living.

You’re a whole new person, yet you remain the one he adored. How can you be so different yet familiar? How can you be so… dearly you?

“Minho, does this mean that we’re—”

Minho throws his arms around you, burying his head into the crook your neck before slowly trailing his lips towards the exposed part of your shoulder. You have no idea how much he loves leaving kisses there, on that particular spot. As strange as it sounds, it gives him the strength and hope he needs. Minho never told you this; you’ll never be able to imagine how happy and relieved he currently feels when he plants one, two, three, countless kisses that set his whole being on fire.

“We are,” he whispers, dropping one last kiss before pulling you even closer, enveloping your body in his embrace.

There’s only one thing in Minho’s head now: love. He can only think about loving you better than before, and in this moment nothing can stop him from doing so because whether he likes the old you or the new you doesn’t matter anymore.

Minho just loves you, and he doesn’t want to think about anything else. Not even his selfishness. And especially not your future heartbreak.

“You’re so precious, Y/N. You’re so precious to me.”

Hyunjin is the only one at the office when you arrive. He’s busy with his camera, changing its setting every now and then before capturing random things on his desk. You and Chan were on the fence about hiring him at first since you’re just a small company and he’s a student with high expectations. However, Hyunjin turns out to be the one of the most eager apprentices ever, and you’re going to bawl your eyes out when his internship ends next month.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, only earning a distracted “Huh?” as an answer.

“Hyunjin, don’t forget to go over the photoshoot details with me before we leave later, okay?”

He lifts his head a little this time. “Okay. Let me just finish trying out this new technique Seungmin taught me.”

You chuckle, snapping a photo of your intern yelling at his camera when he messes up. Sending it to Chan, you write, “We should give him a raise.”

Your phone rings a few seconds later, frowning when Chan’s urgent voice greets you. “I’m inside my car. Can we talk?”

“Whoa, relax. What happened?”

“Y/N, please. Just come out for a sec.”

No one wants to start a fight with Chan when he’s talking in that tone, so you inform Hyunjin you’re stepping out for a bit. Chan’s sedan is parked right in front of the building, his conflicted face prompts you to enter the car right away.

“You told me there’s something weird about Minho but now you’re dating him? And you’re hiding it from me?” he deadpans without waiting for you to close the door.

“I didn’t mean to hide it from you,” you murmur. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

Chan sighs in exasperation. “Why do you think you owe me an explanation? I’m your best friend, not your mother. How is Minho different from any other guy you’ve dated that you really tried to keep it a secret from me?”

You gulp. “Things between Minho and I… it’s different. I thought I knew what liking someone felt like, but after meeting him I realized I knew nothing about it. Everything feels so overwhelmingly wonderful and insanely intense I think I may fall apart if I start talking about it.”

Your best friend gives you a knowing look, but says nothing as he stares at a random stranger walking down the street. “And I know you’re not really fond of him so I was trying to look for the perfect timing to tell you. Sorry.”

“I just want to keep you safe. This guy knows small details about you that even I didn’t know. Are you sure you never met him before?”

He pauses, taking a deep breath before adding, “Did you do that erasure procedure?”

“How am I supposed to know?” you snap. “Isn’t forgetting about the whole thing the point of the procedure?”

“You love him, don’t you?” Chan’s voice is soft this time, but his words hit you right in the gut you have to stop yourself from flinching. Hearing someone say that they love you is scary, admitting that you are in love is a hundred times scarier.

Taking your silence as a yes, Chan turns on the engine. “Look, the last thing I want is seeing you sad. It breaks me, more than you know. So please consider trying to find out the truth. How are you going to love him if you don’t trust him? How is he going to love you if he keeps you in the dark?”

You lean your head against the window, watching your best friend dialing Hyunjin’s number to tell him that both of you will be back after lunch.

“We better be quick,” Chan says. “Hyunjin’s terrified he will have to answer Mr. Song’s call again.”

“We should definitely give him a raise.”

“Oh we will,” he snickers. “If he survives Mr. Song’s call.”

“You’re cruel.”

For the first time in your life, you feel like a ruling queen inside your island instead of a trapped princess. You know every nook, every secret passage, every hidden treasure that nobody else has ever explored. Everything feels real for once, you’re in control and you want to stay here forever.

Eat Here has gained more regular customers since you and Chan started handling its social media accounts, and the face-splitting grin on Minho’s face whenever a new customer pushes the door open makes you feel proud and giddy at the same time.

You weren’t able to witness your Hottest Man Alive greeting his customers happily today, but you promised to pay him a visit at the café. It’s a few minutes past 10, meaning the café has closed for the day, so you were prepared to see everyone cleaning up. To you surprise, there’s nobody inside when you arrive.

“Minho?”

Your boyfriend waves from inside the pantry. “Coming!”

Moments later, he comes out with a tray of food. Gesturing at you to take a seat, he places a bowl of potato salad, a pot of kimchi jjigae and some side dishes. “Wait, let me get some more.”

You recall your phone conversation 2 hours ago, vaguely remembering telling Minho that you haven’t had dinner. When he serves the last batch of side dishes and a bottle of sikhye, you tease him for being so sweet.

“I’m not being sweet though?” He pulls out a chair for himself, watching you eat with content eyes. “You said you were starving, so I prepared you some food.”

You shrug, letting him pour sikhye into your glass. “I just never expected that you’re someone who…”

“… cooks?” he finishes for you. “I just did the bare minimum. Do you really want to see me being sweet?”

“Is that a challenge?”

Minho clears his throat, the way he stares at you makes you fidget in your seat. Only God knows what’s inside this man’s mind. One second he’s nonchalant and cool, then he’s Mr. Flirty and makes you all swoony.

Patting his thigh, he smiles at you. “Come here baby.”

You shake your head in fear of completely losing your sanity. “No. What are you trying to do?”

“Being the most romantic boyfriend ever. Come on.”

Minho tries his best to suppress his laugh as you finally settle yourself on his lap, not sure whether you should rest your head on his shoulder or peck his lips or marvel at how firm his thighs are... damn it Y/N, what are you? 17?

Although you’re just sitting there like a log, Minho looks unbothered and reaches for the chocolate cake. He slices it into smaller bites, taking a piece of it with the fork before telling you to open your mouth. “If you still want ice cream then we can get some on the way home.”

“I’ve had enough ice cream for today. I went to this cute ice cream parlor with Chan.”

You take the plate from him, stuffing yourself with the rest of the cake. Minho’s soft pats on your shoulder and the sweet taste of chocolate seem to flush all the initial awkwardness from your system.

Another hour passes with you curling up on Minho’s lap, the latter listening to your little speech about how grateful you are for vending machines as if you’re talking about world peace. Your back hurts and his thighs ache but the way your head nestles in the crook of his neck and the way he pecks your cheek every few minutes are enough of a spell to trap both of you in this exact moment, where lies, doubts and regrets cease to exist.

You wake up with a jolt, reaching for your water bottle on the bedside table. It’s surreal for a dream to feel that real—it almost felt like a memory, something distant but present nonetheless. You’re sure that was the younger Minho you saw in the dream instead of the one you know, and before you come to a realization that it’s currently 2AM, you’re already dialing his number.

He picks up on the fifth ring. “Hmmm my moonlight, missed me?”

His sleepy voice causes you to blush, definitely not seeing that coming. “Nothing.” You wince at your parched voice. “I just had a dream.”

Minho lets out a low laugh, you can hear him sitting up on his bed. “About me?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

You sink into your bed, heaving a sigh you forget to hide. “It’s complicated.”

“Was it a bad dream?” Minho’s voice is firm but oh so calming that you start recounting every detail you can remember. He listens to you attentively, humming once in a while, and your muscles are all relaxed now. Minho is here, listening to your bullshit in the wee hours of the morning. Minho is here, calling you his moonlight with the most caring tone ever.

“I miss you,” he declares the moment you finish talking. “Can I come over?”

“All of sudden? Minho, it’s 2AM.” You glance at the clock. “Wait, it’s 2:18 now.”

“Then I’ll be there at 3AM.”

“But—”

He hangs up, and you just sit there until Minho enters your room at 3AM sharp, taking in your dumfounded state before plopping himself onto the bed and pulling you close. “I’m here,” he sweetly says and you can only nod, eyes boring into his as he runs his thumbs along your cheekbones. “I like you, exactly the way you like me. I like you more.”

You shake your head, burying your head in the crook of his neck to hide your red cheeks. “It was just a dream,” he adds, enunciating each word like a mantra. Closing your eyes, you repeat his words again and again inside your head, traces of pain from the dream still crawling up your skin as Minho’s sweet praises lull you to sleep.

“I’m sorry but that’s classified information. We cannot mention anything about our patients.”

“But she did the procedure because of me! I’m the one she erased!”

“That only gives us more reasons to forbid you from obtaining any information. It’s our policy to protect our patients, especially after the procedure is done.”

Minho wonders how this sullen kid managed to land the job, but bites his tongue before he really gets kicked out. He takes one deep breath before pleading at so-called receptionist (his name is Kim Seungmin but he could care less) once again. “May I at least know whether she was in so much pain?”

Seungmin fixes his glasses. “People her age mostly spend their money on traveling or whatever cool things they want to do, but she chose to have her memories manipulated so she wouldn’t have to remember you. I think that’s enough of an explanation.”

It’s no big deal, Minho tells himself. It’s normal for people to have the Erasure procedure thesedays. In fact, it’s become so normal that no one bothers to talk about it anymore. Erasure is simply another way to move on, just like Love Alarm is another way to detect love. If you decided that your memories together weren’t precious enough to keep in your heart, so be it. If he hurt you that much but you chose to erase him instead of confronting him, then it’s your loss.

Exactly. Was he that bad? Did he hurt you that much?

“Excuse me, Sir?” Seungmin is already standing by the door. “I think it’s better for you to leave.”

“Alright.” Minho lifts his hands in defeat, starting to feel bad for the poor boy who’s just trying to keep his job. “Hang in there, kid.”

“Congratulations, you just earned a VIP pass to Hell.”

Eat Here is doing well, the kids he’s supporting are starting school soon and he finally gets to return the feelings of the girl he loves the most but yes, Seungmin is right. The gates of Hell are open for Minho.

“Right,” he scoffs. “As if you didn’t greet people with a smile and convinced them that erasure was the best solution for all their problems.”

Seungmin grits his teeth; talks about Dr. Seo Changbin’s Erasure Centre are never easy for both of them. For Seungmin, it reminds him of all the pain, rage and guilt he thought he was used to seeing. For Minho, it reminds him of his selfishness and failure to make you happy.

“The erasure did help a lot of people though,” the puppy-eyed boy trails off. “It’s been years yet I’m still torn between wanting the procedure to perish and thanking it for saving lives.”

“Maybe it does save people. But then there’s Y/N.”

“And you,” Seungmin adds.

Minho chuckles. “And you.”

“Are you just gonna wait until she realizes that those dreams actually happened?”

A long silence looms over them until Seungmin slides a clear CD case along the counter. “I guess it’s time to reveal how I risked my life for you the day I quit my job there.”

A label with your name is plastered on it along with the logo of the centre. It’s the answer to all his questions when he first met Seungmin. The sole proof that everything between the two of you happened.

“I can get sued anytime,” the part-timer warns jokingly. “So use it well, and don’t cry. She said some hurtful things, but you deserved it anyways.”

“Do you think it could last another hour?”

Hyunjin snaps one last photo and tells the models to get a 5-minute break. “Do you want an honest answer or an intern-can-make-anything-happen answer?” he whispers at you while checking his shots.

You’re currently at a photoshoot in Gyeongju with a client you desperately need to impress, but your clumsiness just had to choose today to get in action. Chan was almost furious when you told him you left all the cameras’ charging cables at Minho’s apartment.

“So we’re fucked up,” you conclude. “How many outfits are left?”

“Including this one… three.”

“We’re so fucked up,” you correct yourself, approaching Chan to relay the expected bad news when a familiar car arrives at the villa. You barely hear Hyunjin muttering, “God is a male… for today…” before rushing to take the black duffel bag from Minho’s hand. He only smiles when you tell him he’s getting all the hugs and kisses later.

The photoshoot continues smoothly; allowing you, Chan and Hyunjin actually breathe after 5 hours trying to make the cameras’ batteries last as long as possible.

“I’m so sorry Chan,” you sigh.

He lets out a weak chuckle. “It’s fine. The problem’s solved anyways.”

“No thanks to me.”

“Thanks to you.” Chan glances at your boyfriend who’s leaning on his car, watching you from afar. “Minho brought the chargers, but you were the one who made him drive all the way here. You need to stop underestimating his feelings for you.”

You let Chan’s words sink in, eyes meeting Minho’s in the process. For a split second you forget about everything’s that’s been bugging you, wanting nothing but to lose yourself in his affection for you.

“Do you trust Minho now?”

Chan puts his hand inside his pocket, exhaling softly. “I know he’s crazy for you Y/N, I’m not dense. But does that mean he’s being honest with you?”

Hyunjin snaps one last photo that marks the end of the shoot, giving you a reason not to respond to Chan, jogging towards the models instead. “Thank you, everyone!” You bow to them. “There are some snacks left inside so please eat before you go, or you may take them home.”

You can still feel Minho’s eyes on you, following you wherever you run with the sweetest kind of fondness that makes it hard for you to question him. He’s like a prince who comes from another kingdom after crossing the long bridge and fighting in the wild forest. He stands there in front of your castle, waiting for you to deem him worthy of your love, of you.

How do you say no to that?

But how do you know if he sees you the way you feel he does?

After that night, you’ve had other dreams—the ones you never told him—each dream etched itself into your mind, filling in the empty spaces slowly but surely. They become a part of you so naturally that you’re convinced you somehow lived them.

“What are you thinking about?”

Minho has just finished loading the last box of props into Chan’s car trunk, now waiting for you to break your train of thoughts with an amused smile. You barely hear Chan and Hyunjin saying goodbye before they enter the car, leaving the two of you alone.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Minho’s smile is long gone, his expression mirroring yours: confused, lost, a bit scared. “Are you okay?”

Even your 18 year-old self knew what to do then. A bit late, but she did it. The thought of embracing her as a part of you is making you nauseous, the acknowledgement of having a past you don’t remember is disturbingly scary.

“Those dreams... they were real, right? Those are my memories.”

Your stomach churns when Minho nods, surprisingly calmer than you expected. He pulls out a CD out of his bag, carefully slipping it into your hand. The thin plastic feels heavy in your hold, the world as you know it crumbling at the realization that this Lee Minho was the same boy who had your heart in his palm and broke it.

“I tried to picture this situation in my head every single day, but never had the courage to actually tell you. I’m so sorry Y/N. For everything, then and now.”

Lee Minho, the one who sees you as his moonlight, was also the one whose heart could never be yours.

“I’m Lee Minho. We’re both from Gimpo, and we met at high school. We were best friends, then sometime during 11th grade we started dating. You were this amazing, lovely girl who wore your heart on your sleeves, and I was the asshole who failed to realize how blessed I was to have you.”

Minho pauses to look into your eyes, the sorrow in his orbs triggers the tears you refuse to shed. “I became your boyfriend because I didn’t want to lose you,” he continues. “I was stupid, wasn’t I? Stupid and inconsiderate. All I had to do was tell you how I felt…”

"B-but why?” you sob. “Y-you l-lied to me, Minho. Again.”

“I did. Fuck. I did,” he admits. “You have every right to never ever forgive me. But Y/N, I never meant to play with your feelings. I was too late, but I loved you then. I love you now, and I don’t think I’ll be able to love anyone else even if I try.”

Phase 2: Forgotten Days

“A mug?”

Minho hums as an answer while copying your English homework in a speed of light, failing to answer your questions about why, out of all things he could buy in Japan, he decided to gift you a mug. You let out a huff when he leaves your next question hang in the air (“How did you know that I needed a new mug?”), but lets him be since the bell will ring in 15 minutes.

The purple mug is quite heavy and somehow that makes your heart flutter. Minho gave all the other classmates green tea Kit Kats and keychains, but he was willing to fit the bulky mug into his tiny suitcase for you.

You don’t know what’s going on inside his head most of the time, for all you know he could’ve bought the mug because he forgot to buy something for you and decided to grab the first thing in sight. It’s just a little gift, something you should just appreciate without thinking too much about it, but you can’t help but wonder. Sometimes you feel sorry for yourself for overanalyzing Minho’s every little gesture, trying to guess how much he likes you.

“I’m done!” Minho exclaims, returning your book before grabbing his wallet. He finally looks into your eyes, smiling at you as he ruffles your hair. “Gotta grab some snacks. You want anything? Strawberry milk? Chips?”

When he comes back with both although you told him you only wanted chips, Minho argues that he knows you’ll get hungry in the middle of lessons. Again, it shouldn’t feel so special, but he’s looking at you now, you and no one else. Lee Minho is like an enigma, but at times like this, you bask in his bright smile and everything is forgotten.

Summer is the enemy you’ve managed to beat every single year, but combine the scorching heat with excruciating cramps and you don’t stand a chance. You peek into the practice room once again, but Minho is still practicing his dance routines, his phone laid neglected at the corner of the room. The supposed-to-be 30 minutes practice turns into an hour, and you decide to just wait outside since you don’t have energy to go home on your own.

The door opens when you’re on the verge of passing out, luckily someone has caught you before you collapse on the floor. “Y/N,” Minho’s voice forces you to open your eyes. “What happened?”

“… cramps…”

He lifts you and dashes to the infirmary without saying anything else, yelling at some other students to “fucking move!” while trying not to trip over his undone shoelaces. You try to tell him that you’re alright, just a little tired from enduring the pain but he gives you no chance to talk.

Minho finally stays still after kicking the infirmary’s door to no avail. He makes no other attempt to open the door, slowly making eye contact with your drowsy eyes. You love seeing fire in Minho’s eyes, especially when he dances or plays with his friends. This is the first time Minho sees you with such intensity, but this is not the passionate flame you’ve been craving to see. This fire is destructive, painful. It breaks your heart that he’s looking at you like this, like you’re the source of all unfortunate events that happens in his life.

You feel like you’re the unfortunate event in his life, and the thought is enough to make you break free from his bruising grip, pushing the door open yourself.

“Go back to practice,” you tell him, sitting on one of the beds. “I’ll lie down for a bit then go home.”

Minho rummages through the medicine cupboard, taking a painkiller pill and fills an empty glass with warm water. “Drink this, I’ll take you home.”

“I’m fine, Minho…”

He shakes his head. “You’re sick and I’m taking you home.”

Too weak to argue, you swallow the pill and let him walk you home. Minho keeps his hand around your shoulder the whole time, not even bothering to check his ringing phone. He doesn’t talk to you either, and at this rate the silence is more concerning than your cramps.

“Can you go up on your own?” he murmurs when you reach your apartment building. “I have to go back to school, but I’ll stop by later.”

You only nod, about to wave him goodbye when he reaches for your arm. “Wait.”

Minho cups your face, pressing his lips on yours and stealing your breath away. Soon, he starts kissing you harder, but his lips still feel cold against yours and he still feels so faraway even when he’s gripping your waist like his life depends on it.

“Minho,” you manage to rasp, cradling his face to stop him from planting another kiss on your lips. He opens his eyes, staring at you with those beautiful eyes that, sadly, never really shine for you. “Your friends are waiting.”

Still panting, Minho gives you a nod before pulling away. The fire you saw in his eyes earlier has died out.

As you watch him walk away, you finally realize that you’ve been asking yourself the wrong question. It’s not about how much Minho likes you, it’s about whether he likes you at all.

If Minho could choose only one person to be with for the rest of his life, he would choose you. He enjoyed watching movies with you, he loved sending his silly selfies to you, he always wanted to end a tiring day by talking to you all night long.

He can still do that, you’re still his friend. The only difference is that he can hug and kiss you and tell other people that he’s yours. Minho doesn’t know why he lets the words “boyfriend and girlfriend” change the dynamics between the two of you, but it’s too late to undo everything.

“Can we just be friends again?” he repeats the question in his head over and over, yet he can never voice it out. The look in your eyes will be too devastating for him to bear, and he will you lose you forever.

“I’m outside,” he tells you over the phone, trying not to flinch at your excited “Oh!”

A few minutes later, you step out of the elevator, walking towards him with big steps.

“Feeling better?” he asks, noting the way your eyes light up at the question.

“Hmm. I took a short nap and it’s gone.”

Minho sighs. “Don’t wait for me next time. If I take too long, you can just go home. I’m sorry that I let you wait around like that.”

The last sentence causes you to lower your gaze, seemingly self-conscious with the fact that he forgot you were waiting for him. “Bought you some ice cream,” Minho says, trying to distract you from your thoughts. “Chocolate, vanilla, mint choco, it’s all there.”

“As an apology?” you half-tease, the tinge of sadness in your voice causes Minho’s heart to clench a little.

He quickly pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Yes and no,” he murmurs into your hair. Part of him is relieved when you don’t question his answer, only humming against his chest before wrapping your arms around him. It’s so easy to make you happy and it angers him. You’re too kind. Too patient. Too loyal. You’re too in love with him, and it hurts not being able to feel the same.

But as the warmth of your body starts to comfort his senses, Minho realizes this is where he wants to be. He wants to be with you, no matter what the labels are. “If you miss the last bus you’re gonna have to walk all the way home,” you remind him, voice muffled since neither of you wants to let go.

“One more minute,” he replies, fingers playing with the hole on your shirt. He places one feathery kiss there, a silent promise that he’s going to try his best loving you. The one promise that could have made you stay, but it remained unsaid until the day you left him.

“Surprise!”

Minho lets out a yelp, coughing up confetti that you pop right in front of face. His parents, standing a few steps behind you, are giggling at their son’s reaction. “I thought you had to go somewhere with your mom!” he exclaims, the surprise in his eyes is now replaced by confusion and… annoyance?

You quietly step aside, letting him shake off the confetti as you’re trying to find your voice. Minho’s parents don’t seem to notice the tension, laughing and explaining that they invited you over for the family birthday dinner.

His mother ushers both of you to the dining room where the feast awaits. “After all this time you still haven’t introduced Y/N to Soonie!” she protests jokingly while the said cat is purring at you. Coming over to Minho’s house without his knowledge sounded like a terrible idea right from the start, but now you really wish you had turned the offer down. The birthday boy only pats you on the back before telling you to sit down, and you spend the rest of the dinner conversing without ever looking at each other in the eyes. That’s no surprise, what surprises you is the fact that you don’t even bother trying to get him look at you.

After 2 years, you’re finally tired of waiting for Minho to love you.

“Soonie doesn’t usually like strangers,” Minho says as you’re walking to the bus stop. “But he really likes you.”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Like me. Do you like me?”

Minho chuckles. “What kind of question is that?”

Words are bubbling inside your head, all emotions threatening to spill out you have to literally swallow them down. It feels like the world has come to a stop—the realization that your world has been revolving around Minho all this time makes you feel queasy.

“Y/N?”

You want to explode. You wish you can explode. There’s nothing you want more than taking out every piece of your broken heart, count all of them and show him how much you’ve been hurting. You thought your love was enough for both of you, but the bigger your love grew, the farther the distance between the two of you became.

Minho keeps his gaze on you as you’re mustering up courage to ask the most heartbreaking question. “Why?” you quiver. “Why do you pretend that you like me? Why do you bother doing that for 2 years?”

“I-I like you. So much,” he stutters. “Just not in the same way you like me…”

Blinking your tears away, you return his tormented gaze. “Then why did you let me like you alone? Every fucking day you let me wonder how much you like me, if I mean anything to you… I wait for you, convincing myself that you must’ve liked me if you chose to be my boyfriend. But it’s just a game to you, isn’t it?”

Lee Minho has always had his own way to love. You’ve seen him showering those around him with love in ways that seem so ordinary that people often take it for granted. But you see and feel everything, including hints that your feelings have always been one sided. You bury all those hints, telling yourself that he only needs time.

That time never comes, and you have run out of lies and excuses and hope to cover up for both of you.

Phase 3: Chasing Moonlight

The Queen lived under a spell all this time, believing that the foreign kingdom was her whole world while she didn’t even have a home to begin with.

But the ruins of her castle—the only thing that’s left of the kingdom she tried to understand her whole life—will become one. She’s going to build herself a new kingdom, one that she knows by heart, and call it home.

“Noona!!! I’m going home!!! Don’t stay there too long!!! You’ll get sick!!!”

You tear your gaze from the cloudy sky as Hyunjin shouts at you from the ground. You dismiss him with a little wave, forcing a small smile so that the boy will leave instead of going back to the rooftop.

“He’s right,” Chan adds. “You’ve been here for hours.”

After showing up at work with puffy eyes and hoarse voice, Chan attempted to send you home, but you insisted to complete some of your tasks before breaking down during lunch after Hyunjin accidentally revealed that he would meet Seungmin at Eat Here.

So here you are, finally sated after crying all the tears you had left at the rooftop during the remaining working hours.

“I’m fine,” you croak, cringing at your own voice. “You can leave.”

“And let you stay here until you’re all stiff and frozen?”

“Just let me be pathetic for one more day.”

He furrows his brows. “You’re not being pathetic. After what he’s done to you, weeping is the least you should do.”

You let out your first laugh of the day. “I surely wept.”

Looking incredibly relieved that you haven’t lost the ability to feel other emotions than sadness, Chan continues, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Do you know what hurts the most?”

He takes the longest time to think, but shakes his head at the end.

“The fact that I’ll probably never see him again.”

“That’s supposed to be a good thing, but go on.”

“Should I give him one last chance? Or should I just hate him until I die? What’s the right thing to do? What should I do to heal? What should he do to heal? All these questions are driving me insane.”

Those questions are the easiest to answer, so you expect Chan to sigh and tell you to snap out of it, but he just smiles at you. “What do you want to do?”

“Huh?”

“Have you tried answering your own questions? What you want to do is what you’re supposed to do. It’s easy, my dear friend.”

“I want to…”

Your mind wanders to last night, recalling that agony on Minho’s face that mirrors your own. A small part of you wants him to suffer for the rest of his life, consumed by guilt and the sheer horror of being erased from someone else’s memories.

“I want to curse him out.”

Chan playfully smacks your head. “You didn’t do that?”

“My mind went blank, then I started crying. That wasn’t cool at all, I know,” you huff. “I should’ve told him to go to hell or something.”

“After that? What do you want to do?”

You bury your face into your palms, ignoring the teasing tone in Chan’s questions. “The last time we talked, you were Lee Minho’s #1 hater. What happened?”

“I just wanted him to be honest with you. I never hated him,” he tells you softly. “Do you?”

You may never get all of your memories back, but the ones you can remember are enough to know that being with Minho used to be a silent torture. He was a thorny rose, beautiful yet unattainable. You wanted him so much you refused to look down and see your bloody fingers. The thorns were stuck there for the longest time, eventually infecting your soul until you were too weak to heal yourself.

But he’s not that boy anymore. He’s just Minho who listens to all of your rambles and actually keeps all those details in his mind. He gives you the warmest hugs and the most sincere kisses. He stays by your side, and you will always want him to stay.

When you finally lift your head to answer Chan, he gives you his reassuring smile that never fails to make you feel better. It’s the first time he’s talking about Minho without a frown, and you hope it’s a good sign. “Like I said,” he sing-songs. “Do what you want to do.”

The sound of footsteps approaching prompts you to curl yourself into a ball, trying to make yourself as invisible as possible under the dining the table. Jeongin manages to push the heavy door open after a few tries, mumbling that you’re not going to take the “king of hide and seek” title from him. You can’t help but giggle at his determination, waiting for him to find you while he’s scanning the whole room.

“Minho hyung!”

You stay still, not wanting to fall into the 5 year-old’s tricks so easily… until you hear Minho’s voice calling the little boy’s name. “What are you guys playing? Where’s Y/N?”

“We’re playing hide and seek,” Jeongin answers, his eyes still as sharp as a hawk. “I’ve found everyone, only Y/N noona is left!”

Minho hums. “Want me to help you find her?”

You don’t hear Jeongin responding, but the next thing you see is a pair of pretty eyes staring into yours. “Found her,” Minho murmurs.

Jeongin pulls you out with a huge grin on his face. “I knew you were there! Thanks for helping me, hyung.”

Minho ruffles the boy’s head before gazing back at you. “If you’re thankful, can I borrow her for a second? We just need to talk, then she’s all yours.”

You can’t find the strength to say no, hoping Jeongin will somehow be clingy this time. “Are you guys fighting?” he asks instead.

“Do you think we’re fighting?”

Jeongin nods, his sparkly eyes turn gloomy. “If I let you talk, will you make up?”

Minho glances at you. “I don’t know… I made a huge mistake.”

“Did you make her cry?”

“Yeah,” Minho confirms, voice thick with remorse and you’re not sure how long you can pretend to be okay in front of Jeongin.“I’m a bad person, aren’t I?”

You crouch down, pinching the boy’s pout with an endearing smile. “I promise nothing bad will happen. Can we go outside now? I’m sure everyone is waiting for you.”

Still a bit sullen, he links his hand with yours and lets you lead him out, Minho trailing behind the two of you. Once you’re back at the garden, Jeongin whispers into your ear, “I’ll always be your friend, noona. I won’t hurt you.”

“Of course you won’t,” you laugh. “I’ll join you soon, okay?”

Minho turns to you as soon as Jeongin goes back to his friends, studying your expressions carefully. You want to tell him so many things, yet the only words you can produce are, “Fuck you, Lee Minho.”

You feel slightly lighter when Minho says nothing to defend himself, sitting on the grass before gesturing at you to do the same. It fuels your need to let out the pain you previously sealed inside your heart, ironically basking in his comforting presence as you do so.

“The whole time I felt like something was missing. You knew that, then went on hiding the rest of the puzzle pieces and left me there, incomplete. Just like that.”

This isn’t your first time baring your heart to Minho, the last time you did it you were left with such immeasurable pain that erasing a part of your brain—your soul—sounded like a better choice. You wait for the sadness and rage to take over your mind, but the storm never comes. You wonder what makes it different until Minho shifts to look at you in the eye.

Minho is looking at you with those pretty eyes like you’re the only one he can see. It’s not just a sweet dream you tried to dream of every night when you were 17. You’re no longer the only one who’s wearing your heart on your sleeves.

“Am I doing this because I feel guilty or because I genuinely want to be with you?” he begins. “Believe me Y/N, I spent months trying to find the answer and justify what I did, but I guess you can never exactly separate those two feelings.”

His confession is bittersweet; you know it won’t end all your personal battles. You still have to fight them, help yourself to understand why you are thinking and acting the way you are. The gaps have been filled, and now you have to be the one who define yourself.

“I thought I could just treat you better for the rest of our lives. I was sure my love would be enough to heal you. That was very stupid and selfish of me, and I’m sorry. You’re free to hate me, push me away, ruin my life… the decision is yours. But I don’t wanna hide how I feel anymore. Not from you.”

You’re still pondering his words when Jeongin comes to check on you, making sure Minho isn’t making you cry again.

“No, Jeongin, I’m fine. Look? I’m not crying!” you reassure the pouty kid.

He beams at you with his toothy smile. “Really?! Did you make up? Friends have to forgive each other!”

“I know, sweetheart,” you coo. “And yes, we made up. Friends forgive each other.”

Minho shoots you a surprised look, but you ignore him until you convince Jeongin that he can continue playing. “I don’t know whether we can go back to what we were,” you tell him, gazing at the clear sky. “I still need time to process everything, but I was afraid that I wouldn’t ever see you again. So we can be friends, if you want.”

He chuckles, eyes sparkling and hopeful. “Hi. I’m Lee Minho.”

“I’m Y/N,” you reply. “Anyways, Lee Minho my new friend, how did you know that I’m here?”

“Your scary friend Bang Chan told me you’d be here.”

“So you think Chan is scary.”

Minho does something that’s between a shrug and a shudder. “He’s always shooting daggers at me how do you not notice?!”

As you and Minho spend the rest of the day laughing and enjoying the sun, you rediscover the magic of following your heart.

It’s heavenly.

To Minho, there are only okay days and good days. Bad days almost never happen, but today is a bad day. Everything started from Eat Here’s fruit supplier sending them the wrong strawberries, then Seungmin called in sick minutes before his shift started, and now he has to deal with a couple whose order hasn’t been processed since 40 minutes ago.

“I apologize for the inconvenience. We’re processing your order now and it will be on us. Jisung, we need another 2 glasses of lemonade—”

“We need our food, not—”

Minho’s lips stretch into a thin smile, the kind of smile he hates because you once said you could sense that he was faking it. His business smile is the only that can save him now, so he ignores the fact that you’re watching the whole chaos and says, “It will be on us. You’re going to need more drinks while waiting.”

After making sure that he’s appeased the angry customers, Minho goes back to the small table at the corner where you’re waiting for him. He can no longer mask his fatigue and annoyance when you lay your eyes on him, all he wants now is to hold you in his arms and sleep everything away. He knows he can’t ask you for more, he’s already getting more than he deserves since you agreed to be friends with him again.

He’s undeniably the luckiest man in the whole galaxy, but it’s human instincts to always want more. There are days when his longing for you is too much to handle, and today is one of those days.

His train of thoughts is interrupted when a cold glass is pressed against his cheek. “Minho?”

“Huh?”

Your eyes crinkle knowingly when he focuses his eyes on you again. “I want to listen to you ranting but I really need to go now. Chan needs me back at the office.”

“Okay,” he answers rather brashly. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Minho almost pouts the way Jeongin does (that pout always gets him) whenever the two of you are going home, luckily he stops himself just in time, opting to wonder what will happen if he tells you that he wants you to stay just a minute longer instead.

You make your way to the door, but not without stopping to give him one last advice, “You better not complain that everything is annoying every 5 seconds if you want that new guy to last more than a day. He’s been looking like a lost quokka!”

Your “warning” came out a bit too loud than you expected. Of course, it reaches Han “that new guy” Jisung’s ears and Minho hopes he remembers to give the poor kid a slice of cheesecake for free after his shift ends. You flash him an apologetic smile, turning to Jisung to convince him that his boss isn’t as bad as he seems before your phone rings.

“He’s harmless, Jisung, just make him iced Americano everyday, praise his cats, and you’re good. Okay, I have to go now or I’ll be jobless in an hour! Byeee!”

Minho’s mouth has curled into a lovesick smile at your antics, waving at you until you close the door of your car. The way you naturally calm him down surprises him everytime, it’s like you’re unaware of how much power you have over him.

God, you really own every inch of his heart, don’t you?

Second chances are overrated.

People change, but once you pay attention to them a just a liiiitle more, you realize that they’re still the same. Lee Minho believes he doesn’t deserve any second chance from you, yet he finds himself seeking forgiveness the moment he looked into your eyes again. As selfish as it sounds, Minho wants your love. Nobody else’s, just yours.

He tried to fill in the empty space you left with other people, but none of them fit. It was always too much or too little, punching him right in his gut for ever thinking that what you two had was too much, that you were too much.

Seeing you fast asleep in his living room with Soonie, Doongie and Dori is another reminder that you were never too much.

You were, and still are, his everything.

Dori opens her eyes before jumping out of your arms, making you stir. Minho quietly strokes your hair to lull you back to sleep, but soon your eyes flutter open as well. “Hmmm look who’s here… the hottest man alive,” you mumble.

Minho points at himself. “Not that I’m surprised, but thank you.”

Your sleepy smile and the breathy chuckle that comes after make his stomach flip. It’s just a simple reaction, something you probably didn’t realize doing, but it feels breathtakingly intimate and loving to Minho. A small part of you that only him can see, something that will cross his mind sometime during work, making him wish time to pass quickly so he can rush back home. To you.

Damn, he promised himself not to let him picture a life with you as the love of his life, but look at his defense crumbling right in front of you because of a mere smile.

You seem to notice his dilemma, lips forming another smile. Opening your arms, you whisper, “Come here.”

The voices in his head are drowned by your request, it’s echoing inside his head like a deathly spell. You have him in your embrace nanoseconds later, curling your hands around his neck as he completely succumbs to his longing.

Minho’s head buzzes with the need to tell you that he loves you, wants you, and misses you to the point that he almost asks you to please please please please forgive him and take him back.

“Okay.”

He lifts his head from the crook of your neck, eyes flickering to yours. You chuckle at his reaction, cupping his cheeks with your warm hands. “Say that again.”

“Say… what again?”

Minho blinks up at you, tiny groans of regret escaping his lips when he realizes that he just spilled everything out loud. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I wasn’t supposed to say that. I know this isn’t about me, but—”

“Did you mean it, though?”

“Of course I did,” Minho says. “But I want to go according to your pace.”

“If I didn’t want the same thing I wouldn’t be here, Minho.” Your voice is as sweet as honey, hypnotizing him into dropping his hopeless pretense. “I’ve built a new home that truly feels like home. It’s probably just a small house, filled with everything that makes me me. But it feels like a beautiful kingdom, and it’s not complete without you in it.”

You don’t have to say it; the way you hold his gaze with such a raw, pure sincerity and the way you asked him to be with you as if he’s the best person in the whole world are enough to let Minho know that he’s all forgiven.

Feeling a tug at his shirt, he meets your expectant eyes once again. “Are you going to continue staring at me like that until we fall asleep?”

The last traces his fear for disappointing you melts away as you start stroking his hair. “I love you,” he rasps, unconsciously leaning in until his lips brush over yours. “My precious moonlight, I’ll do my best so you won’t ever have to erase me again. I love you, Y/N, please don’t leave me.”

You barely manage to nod before Minho finally crashes his lips against yours, not giving you any chance to steal a breath as he lets his feelings overtake himself. He explores every part of your lips like a madman and you accept whatever he gives you, trying to keep up with his feverish kisses and letting him know that he doesn’t need to hold back.

The sudden urge to see you encourages him to pull away. Minho says nothing for a while, only looking into your eyes with silent adoration. Still breathless, you prop yourself up to reward him with a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, the sweet gesture causing Minho to attack you with a series of playful smooches.

“How long do you think this will last?” you ask in between kisses, giggling when Minho switches your positions, you’re now lying on top of him.

“This?”

You pinch his cheek. “I gotta admit it feels kinda nice to hear you saying please so many times.”

Minho arches an eyebrow at your cheeky remark. “Is that so? Wait until you find out how much I like hearing you beg.”

“Minho!” you exclaim, dropping your head on his chest to hide your flushed cheeks. He wraps his arms around you, ready to make you even more flustered before accidentally locking eyes with his cats. You lift your head when you feel his body stills, following his gaze.

“Oh no,” you murmur. “The kids saw that, didn’t they?”

He smiles sheepishly at each of them, somehow feeling like he’s gotten caught by his parents. “This kind of thing happens when you love someone,” he attempts to joke. “So get used to it, okay kiddos?”

You nudge his chest with your chin. “God, you’re shameless.”

“They’re cats!”

“Then why are your ears so red?!”

Minho tuts. “That’s it. We need to do this more often so they’ll get used to it.”

As he silences you with another searing kiss, Minho almost malfunctions at how addicting and comforting it is to have you as his again. It’s impossible to fathom all of his feelings for you into words, yet he still hopes you’ll feel every single one of them.

And you do, because Minho is yours. Entirely yours.

“How did you pass your driving test? Did you bribe them or something?”

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to answer Seungmin’s accusation, eyes glued to the road.

“Watch it,” Minho warns monotonously while you’re gripping his hand, too scared to witness the younger trying to drive. Seungmin shrieks in horror when Hyunjin hits the break almost too late. He glares at the passenger seats where you and Minho are seated. “Hyung can you just take over? Or at least switch seats with me?”

“I can’t.” He points at you. “Y/N is scared as hell and I’m not gonna let you hold her hand.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath when several other cars pass him. “Give me a break! This is my first time driving at the highway,” he argues. “And I was supposed to borrow Chan hyung’s car! Driving your car makes it even ten times scarier!”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my car?!” your boyfriend protests.

The three men continue talking over each other, causing you to roar, “SHUT UP!! Hwang Hyunjin, if you take your hands off the wheels you’re gonna die before you even scratch the car!”

Twenty painful minutes later, Hyunjin succeeds in parallel parking the car with the help of a very frustrated Seungmin. The two boys are heading to the orphanage right away, leaving you and Minho alone for your little date.

Minho opens the trunk, setting it up quickly before pulling you to sit beside him, handing you one of the toasts he packed this morning. “Whoa, the moony park is even more beautiful during the day,” you muse, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Minho agrees. “Should we come here more often at this hour?”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re with me.”

Minho snorts at your cheesy answer, but you still sense his wary from the way he keeps glancing at you from time to time. “Is this about the erasure recording you found in my room yesterday? Is that why you took me here?”

“I’m just wondering why you’re still keeping it. I thought we agreed to destroy it,” he says, doing his best to conceal his uneasiness. You initially thought it was a great idea to forget it ever happened, but no, you’re not running away. You want to accept all the consequences of the decisions you have made, especially this one.

“We did, but then I realized I didn’t want to. I don’t want to erase anything anymore, Minho. I want to live life as it is. It’s a memento from the most important period of my life, and while it hurts, it’s a part of me.” You throw your arms around him, squeezing his body until he turns to you and return your hug. “It’s also a reminder that what we have is stronger than anything, don’t you think? I erased you and I still fell in love with you again. Like an idiot.”

Relief washes over you when Minho chuckles, carefree and amused. “You’re not an idiot,” he teases. “You just have an exceptional taste, and I’m way too irresistible. Let’s face it, you were already crazy for me even before I gave you my card.”

“No I wasn’t! I just thought you were attractive!”

“I am the hottest man alive.”

You sigh. “You’ll never let me live it down.”

“No,” he affirms. “Because you’re right. It’s time to stop trying to forget our past. I’ll never forget the fact that you’re calling me the hottest man alive, just like I’ll never forget how much I’ve hurt you. And how much I’ll always try to make it up to you.”

You laugh at his comparison. “I honestly can’t tell whether we’re having a serious conversation or just trolling each other.”

“It’s my talent, baby. Life is always fun with me.”

Although the park has become more crowded and your boyfriend is never big on PDA, you have no choice but giving him a kiss on his cheek. “You don’t have to do anything for me,” you whisper. “Just love me.”

“Hmm.” His lips stretch into a loving smile, the one smile reserved for your eyes only. “That I do.”

Minho isn’t a prince charming who sweeps you off your feet. He is your wandering prince and you’re his moonlight, illuminating his gloomy world. You show him that he doesn’t have to wander for the rest of his life, that he can call you home and stay.

And Minho will always be with you, showering you with the love you deserve. He’ll be the one who fight the demons for you and with you, he’ll be the one who reminds you over and over again how strong and precious you are whenever you lose faith in yourself. Together, you are moonlit. Together, you are complete.

528 notes · View notes

whumpmatsus · 3 years

Note

Why hello there new blog. 👀 I shall watch with interest. Would it be fine to ask for Karamatsu with a bad stomachache/similar?

hehe, I hope you enjoy watching!

and YES of course! God I'm such a Karamatsu girl 😩

We've got some of everything here, I think? Oops All Matsus! XD ... but the Choukeimatsu is definitely strong in this one haha

enjoooooy! <3

It’s kind of a given that in a house with six brothers in close quarters, anything one of them catches is going to end up running its way through all of them.

It’s… less of a given that Karamatsu is going to be the one who recovers last.

Most of the time he’s the first one to push through it, seemingly via sheer power of will because he wants to take care of the others. Or, at least, he’s not usually the one still down for the count when everyone else is on the mend.

This time around, he’s been curled up on the couch since all of them woke up this morning. They’re all feeling fine, while he’s apparently still feeling like crap.

He’s set himself up with a wastebasket nearby and he’s refused everything his brothers have tried to shove down his throat ― water, food, even medicine is turned away. They all might think he’s just being stubborn if not for the fact that he’s so clearly still sick. Regardless, they’ve stopped trying to offer since they know he isn’t going to take any of it.

As far as Karamatsu himself is concerned, if whatever sickness he’s got is going to kill him, he wishes it would hurry up and do so already. He doesn’t know how much more he can take. There’s an uncomfortable, cramping heat in his belly that’s constantly threatening to flip into something much worse. He’s been vomiting for a couple days now, on and off, like the rest of his brothers. Unlike them, however, it hasn’t gotten much better for him.

He tries so hard to be cool and unbothered. This is starting to worry him, though. How come everyone else is back to normal while he continues to struggle not to puke at the mere thought of plain rice?

For as much as Totty claims to hate germs, the youngest has been camping out next to the couch most of the morning, playing on his phone. It affords Karamatsu a view of the games Totty’s playing and the videos he’s watching; distractions as he tries to keep himself from tossing what little there is left to toss in his stomach. He isn’t sure whether or not Totty planned it that way, just that he’s grateful for something else to focus on other than the unbearable nausea.

“Heyyyy, Karamatsu-nii-san,” he suddenly speaks up, holding the phone closer to his miserable older brother’s line of sight. “What do you think of this pretty girl? Is her dress the right color for winter? It’s cute, but, I don’t know… I think maybe she would have looked better in blue…”

Now, Karamatsu isn’t sure what it is about the video clip Totty is showing him. It might be the bright lights in the background, or it might be the twirling motions the woman on the screen is making. Or, quite frankly, it might be nothing at all, since he feels so horrible.

But only a few seconds after he squints at the video clip, his stomach rebels against something. Although he wants to reply to his dearest younger brother, the second he parts his lips to give a clever retort, he feels his stomach clench. Saliva pools in his mouth, and he quickly raises a hand up to his face.

He swallows once. Twice. Three times. He tries to take a breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth like Choromatsu taught him. Nothing helps, because he ends up gagging anyway.

Immediately Totty yelps and launches himself away from the sofa. All the noise, particularly Karamatsu’s heaving, catches the attention of the rest of the sextuplets. Soon enough, someone has hurried over to hold the wastebasket beneath him, and someone else is using what feels like all their strength to help prop him over it so he doesn’t miss.

A brief glance up reveals that the one holding him is Jyushimatsu ― of course, he’s the most coordinated of them all ― and Choromatsu is playing trashcan jockey. Karamatsu’s head swims again, and that small motion is all that’s needed for his stomach to protest again. He retches a few times before whatever is left, which can’t be much at this point, splatters into the can.

“Totty!” he can hear Choromatsu scolding the youngest. “W-what the hell was that for?!”

“What was what for?!” Totty retorts. “I was trying to cheer him up! It’s not my fault!”

Ichimatsu snickers from his spot in the corner. “Che, so you made Shittymastu sick by trying to help. Sounds about right for you.”

“Excuse me?! You take that back or I’ll post that video of you being a drunk asshole online so everyone can laugh at my big, dumb brother!”

“HEY!” It’s Osomatsu who quiets the entire room with one sharp word. He’s knelt next to the couch, one hand trying to keep Karamatsu’s hair out of his face. “Would you guys all shut the fuck up? For God’s sakes, let the poor bastard puke in peace! The last thing he needs is to hear you douches arguing while he’s giving the trashcan a new coat of paint!”

For his part, Karamatsu appreciates his older brother standing up for him when he’s unable to do so himself. It’s just a little hard to convey that when his body is trying to bring up everything he’s eaten ever in his life.

It hurts, too. The sensation in his stomach is tight now, painful like there’s a knife stuck in his middle. Every gag makes a stabbing, all-over pain spiderweb through his whole body. As if he’s made of porcelain and something is repeatedly making cracks.

Finally he thinks it should be over, because nothing else is coming up. He shudders and heaves and it doesn’t produce anything other than an uncomfortable ache in his throat. Honesty, his entire body is aching now.

He lets out a few ragged breaths before slumping back onto the sofa, predictably pulled into a more-careful-than-usual Jyushimatsu hug. “It’s okay, Karamatsu-nii-san! I’ve got you!!”

“Aaah.” Karamatsu lifts his hand and places it, shaking, on his little brother’s head to praise him for a job well done. “Jyushimatsu… I’ll leave it to you… to tell my Karamatsu girls… I loved them…”

He hears Ichimatsu scoff. “You should be more worried that you were puking without puking than your nonexistent fangirls, you dumbass.”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Osomatsu agrees. “You heard that too, Ichimatsu?”

“Mhm. It almost made me want to hurl again.”

“Yeah… he should be better by now. I mean, we’re all fine. And he hasn’t been eating, so it’s not like there’s anything left in there. What’s his stupid body trying to throw up? His Goddamn kidneys?”

Karamatsu hears Choromatsu groan. “Oh, my God, you guys are disgusting!” When Karamatsu looks up, the third eldest is hovering over him with a concerned expression. “Ah… they… might be right, though. Karamatsu-nii-san… you’re just as sick as we all were at the beginning of this. It doesn’t seem like you’ve improved like we have. How… do you feel now? Any better since you threw up?”

He tries to laugh. It comes out sounding more like a sob, though. “N… no…” It feels like even too deep a breath will tip the scale on his nausea and cause another avalanche. “I’m… I’m dizzy… it still hurts.”

“A-ah, gosh…” Choromatsu’s hand sets lightly against Karamatsu’s cheek, then neck, and if his face is any indicator, he doesn’t like what he feels. “You’ve… still got a fever. And you’re sweating and lightheaded and… still throwing up. Shit.”

He moves his hand to gently card through his big brother’s hair as if trying to reassure him. “Karamatsu-nii-san… d-do you think you could make it to the doctor? If we helped you?”

That’s not an idea he enjoys entertaining. Having to get up off the couch, bundle up in a coat, ride the train… it sounds so exhausting. He’s already tired. But… if Choromatsu is even bringing it up, he must think it’s a better idea than Karamatsu continuing to try and recover on the couch.

He manages a nod. “Sure… sure, if you help me.”

“Great.” Choromatsu straightens up and heads for the door. “I’ll go call the office and see if they can get you an appointment today. If they can, I’ll go with you, and…” He surveys the rest of the room. “… I’d prefer at least onemore person go with us, just in case.”

“Yeah, I’ll go, no problem.” The eldest’s voice is one Karamatsu didn’t expect to hear, though maybe he should have. Osomatsu is still lingering on the floor next to him, taking the spot where Totty was, and, now that Karamatsu thinks about it, he can feel his older brother gently rubbing his shoulder. “… Do you think maybe we should try to force him to drink something, too? You can’t survive without water, right?”

Choromatsu sighs; not necessarily because it’s one more thing to add to the list, but it sounds like he’s just worried. He probably doesn’t want to force one of his brothers to do anything ― especially one of his big brothers, and especially when said big brother is already so sick. “I mean… yeah, it’s not good that he hasn’t had anything to drink today, and not much in the last few days. Throwing up so much is probably making him dehydrated… which, stupidly enough, can make him throw up more.”

Osomatsu hums in thought and gives Karamatsu’s shoulder a small squeeze to get his attention. “Hey, Karamatsu. Do you think you could handle some tea?”

“Really weak tea,” Choromatsu hurries to clarify. “You’re not supposed to drink anything too intense after throwing up.”

Karamatsu shuts his eyes in a desperate bid to avoid the worried, pleading faces of his brothers looking back at him. Just thinking about anything going into his body and sliding down his throat right now makes his stomach swirl viciously.

He feels Jyushimatsu hug him a little tighter, which doesn’t help matters. “Aww, please, Karamatsu-nii-san! You can drink some tea for your little brother, right? Riiiiight?”

A groan is what he gets in response, though the giggling suggests he isn’t too broken up about it.

His hair is brushed back, and stroked through a few times. “Well,” Osomatsu says softly, “how about for your big brother, then?”

After a moment of thought, Karamatsu lets out a whimper, leaning his head closer that way in an obvious attempt for more affection. “I… suppose I do only have one older brother, after all…”

He hears Choromatsu chuckle by the door. “Good, good. I’ll make some, then. We’ll try not to make you drink too much… and… I’ll call the doctor while I boil water for it. Hopefully they can fit you in. In the meantime, just, um… try to rest, alright?”

At the very least, he doesn’t have to tell Karamatsu twice. The second eldest relaxes, keeping his eyes shut. He hears Osomatsu quietly urge Jyushimatsu to switch positions, and he scoots himself up onto the couch. Somehow he manages to pull Karamatsu into his lap, letting his younger brother curl up against his stomach.

“Hey, there. It’s okay. Big brother’s gotcha, Kara.” A careful touch runs up and down Karamatsu’s back, bringing the slightest sense of relief. “Get some sleep.”

Then Osomatsu pauses, and with a laugh he adds, “Just… warn me if you’re gonna puke again, okay?”

#Osomatsu san #whump #Karamatsu #vomiting #fever #Osomatsu #Choromatsu #Ichimatsu #Jyushimatsu #Totty #aaaaaaaa tHEY'RE ALL TRYING sort of #one single effort was collectively made XD

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killing-game-vibes · 4 years

Text

Mondo and Kazuichi taking their S/O to the Carnival!

Nonnie asked, "Hi Mod Z!! <3 you guys have such a cute blog layout thingey btw- anyways can i please request any characters of ur choice taking their s/o to a carnival hcs? make it fluffy pls 🥺 thank you!! 💞"

O-Oh dear! We just posted our promo today, we didn't expect to get a request this fast! Nonetheless, I hope to fulfill your request. I do apologize in advance too since I only did Danganronpa characters here. However, you did tell me to choose the characters, which, I have to add, was nice of you.

I hope you enjoy these Mondo and Kazuichi headcanons. (Also do not worry, the headcanons will not be in this special text.)

- Mod Zer0

Mondo Oowada:

▹ You were the one who asked him actually. No questions asked, a few minutes later you two were at the carnival.

▹ He drove you there on his bike >:)

▹ Will most definitely try and win prizes for you.

▹ Whenever he loses a game, he gets embarrassed and apologizes... Quietly-

▹ When you started laughing, he starts laughing with you.

▹ You will obviously try and win that game too-

▹ You're getting that stuffed bear no matter what.

▹ You know those swings that elevate and spin? Those, what are they called? Trapeze? Yeah, that one is fun when you're with him. (Mainly for him but-)

▹ He really likes teasing you there, he'll try and reach for you which makes it look like he's gonna fall... Which results in a panicked you.

▹ When you guys get down, you hit him playfully... Or maybe for real... Or maybe a big punch.

▹ When your stomachs rumble, that's when you guys start eating those fast foods they give... Okay, maybe not even meals, both of you guys get popcorn, candy, cotton candy, and funnel cakes-

▹ It was a wonderful afternoon, you were ready to leave and cuddle Mondo the rest of the day-

▹ But Mondo, although not the one who asked to go to the carnival, asked you to stay until later in the day when the colorful lights come on and look marvelous.

▹ You don't regret it, mainly because it was true. The lights popped on and everything looked so beautiful...

▹ Then you guys rode more rides, enjoying the carnival even more.

▹ Man, this was a good decision you made.

▹ On the ride home, you almost fell asleep while riding behind Mondo, causing you to almost fall off-

▹ Which did not settle with Mondo well-

▹ Luckily, he caught you and shook you a bit (since he needs to focus on the road or both of you guys are going to get knocked out o-o), which got you to slightly wake up. Plus you two were almost home.

▹ Payback fulfilled. It was a total win too since he cuddled you both to sleep. (hhh mondo big arms hhhh)

▹ However, next time you ride with him, you're staying in the front.

Kazuichi Soda:

▹ He was the one to try and convince you to go to the carnival with him.

▹ He's seen so many shows and movies and whatever where the couple go to the carnival-

▹ It seemed fun and you didn't want Kazuichi to get disappointed so you agreed. It wasn't a bad idea anyway.

▹ However, from past experiences, you knew he was... Not good with rides.

▹ You knew you had to be selective about your rides unless you wanted to start up Kazuichi's motion sickness.

▹ The two of you rode over to the nearest carnival in your car. Laughing, talking, and calling people about the carnival. What? You think Kazuichi has the balls to go there with just you?/hj

▹ Anywho, when you got there, yall waited for Akane, Ibuki, and Nekomaru to arrive, which didn't take long.

▹ Despite what Akane wanted, which was to eat first, all of you went on rides and did games instead. Nekomaru was the one to convince Akane to not eat since she could throw up if she wasn't careful.

▹ It was already the afternoon to slowly the sky would turn dark, which you all couldn't wait for.

▹ You held Kazuichi's hand on all of the rides unless you couldn't. You just knew it reassured him to be holding your hand.

▹ Going from ride to ride, you could see Kazuichi's smile grow bigger and bigger. However, you didn't know how long that smile would last... Since...

▹ The Free Fall ride came up. Oh, the one that goes up and drops you suddenly.

▹ You for sure were looking forward to it, and so were the rest of your friends. But Kazuichi? You didn't know if he could handle it.

▹ Looking over to Kazuichi, you could still see the smile on his face, which was a good sign, and even during the ride, you held his hand tightly and saw his smile even still.

▹ Everyone started laughing and the sound of screams filled the air. When everyone got off, Kazuichi was still fine... Until he ran to the nearest trashcan and started hauling-

▹ It was... Definitely expected. Nekomaru stayed with Kazuichi as you and the girls went to go get food, most specifically, funnel cakes, plural for everyone.

▹ About 30 minutes later, Nekomaru came back with a wasted Kazuichi, which got you to laugh. You knew this would happen eventually. When the smell of the funnel cakes entered Kazuichi, he woke up groggily.

▹ After getting him to eat, and everyone else finishing up their food, the night stars cloaked over the sky and the lights all buzzed on. Magical.

▹ You were glad Kazuichi was finally up and energized (he drank a monster you cannot convince me otherwise hhhh) so he could see the scenery you loved just as much as him.

▹ Heading home, he drove as you almost fell asleep hugging a fluffy bunny your boyfriend won... One thing he heard you say before fully nodding off was, "Glad you enjoyed our cliche date, Kaz... I know... I did~..."

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amyscascadingtabs · 4 years

Text

rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

It’s the perfect little getaway, exactly what they needed. It would be even better if she could only stop thinking.

“So, tell me.” Jake holds her hand over the table, forcing her back to reality. “Five top moments for us 2019, go. Countdown-stylez.”

Three different New Year's Eves, as celebrated by Jake and Amy (and Mac).

read on ao3 💕

december 31st, 2019.

The hotel guests checking in before Jake and Amy are a family. A little girl with blonde hair, maybe four or five years old, is carrying her own pink backpack and making up dance steps around her father’s feet as he goes through the information with the receptionist, and an even younger boy is hiding behind his mother’s legs as he watches the people in the lobby with wide eyes. Looking up, Amy realizes that the mother’s open coat is revealing a baby bump, too. She’d put her at six, maybe seven months pregnant. Three kids. Amy feels a pang of jealousy.

Even with the observation skills of an experienced detective, it shocks her how good she’s become at picking out families and pregnant women in any crowd. It’s an interesting talent, but measured against the pain it causes her, Amy wouldn’t call it a very useful one. She notices Jake looking at the kids as well, a daydreaming look on his face, and somehow, that makes her pain worse.

The idea behind going away to a hotel upstate for New Year’s was so they could get away from the stress for a moment; go somewhere else, rest and relax, forget about the pregnancy master calendar they’ve stared themselves blind at for a few days. Amy didn’t realize how impossible it would be to get away from all the other reminders.

She draws a breath of relief when the family in front of them gets the keys to their room, the little girl running first towards the elevator and her brother laughing as he chases after.

“Cute kids,” Jake whispers, watching them longingly.

“Yeah.” Amy tries not to think about the negative pregnancy test she threw away in the bathroom trashcan before they left. “Really cute.”

“I’m excited you said we could drink tonight.” Jake toasts his White Russian with her glass of Sauvignon. “It’s been a while.”

“I know, “ Amy feels the guilt wash over her. “Well, it’s not New Year’s Eve every day. I think we’ve earned it.” And I already took a negative test, she thinks.

“We sure have.” He gives her a closer look, pressing his lips together like he always does when he’s worried about her. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Just tired,” she says. It’s not technically a lie. “I didn’t sleep that well last night.”

“Lucky we have a huge hotel bed to help with that tonight, then. Seriously, this place rocks.”

Amy’s prepared to agree on that part – she did her research the moment it stood clear they would both get New Year’s Eve off. After getting their room, they’ve spent the evening getting massages in the hotel spa, dining at the surprisingly nice restaurant, and now they’re admiring the view from the bar on the top floor, waiting for the fireworks. It’s the perfect little getaway, exactly what they needed. It would be even better if she could only stop thinking.

“So, tell me.” Jake holds her hand over the table, forcing her back to reality. “Five top moments for us 2019, go. Countdown-stylez.”

“Number five!” She rolls the r and holds on the i, earning herself an amused look from the older couple next to them. “Okay, I’m going to go with… that date you took me on for my birthday. I can’t believe you got into the puzzle bar this time!”

“I might have convinced the guard to let me in because it was your birthday, but still a good one. Number fooo-uur… the Cinco de Mayo-heist. God, that was fun, even if the tasing hurt like a bitch.”

“Agreed. Number three – when Holt finally invited us to that dinner party and I almost didn’t lose my cool once.”

“You keep telling yourself that, babe. Number two… the Jake way. Seriously, I still think we should try that again. It was awesome.”

“It was, but also way inappropriate,” she reminds him, but he just shrugs. “Number one, then.”

“I know which one is mine, but you go first.”

Amy swallows, then sighs. “Mine is after the manhunt. When we decided to start trying. That’s still my favorite moment.”

“Mine, too.” Jake looks her in the eyes, and she knows the bittersweet feeling is shared. “It’s going to happen, Ames. I know it. Maybe this month’s the one.”

Amy doesn’t have the strength to correct him, tell him she’s already taken an early test and that she’s lacking any confidence there’s going to be a second line when she tests again in a couple of days. Luckily, she doesn’t have to, because right then, the fireworks that have been going off a few at a time in the distance begin to multiply as the countdown starts.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

Amy leans forward so she can be kissing him already when the new year begins.

Three, two, one… happy new year!

The crowd around them erupts into cheers as the sky glows with colorful explosions when burning bits of metal lighting up the darkness outside. Jake kisses her deeper, seeming to forget that there are people around with a bit of alcohol in his system and his hands cupping her face. For a moment, Amy lets herself just be happy.

december 31st, 2020.

The instant Amy closes her eyes for the more-than-well-deserved nap Jake told her to take while he made dinner, Mac begins to cry from his crib again.

“McClane, please,” Amy pleads, as if reasoning with her two-month-old would solve his discontent. “You can't seriously be hungry again, that’s insane.”

She tries with the pacifier first, checking his diaper, even standing up and walking around with him for a bit to eliminate anything else, but Mac is still clenching his fists and only looking even more furious with her, so Amy gives in. She sits down with him again, unhooks one side of the bra and lets him find his grip, exhaling when the peaceful suckles begin and the desperate crying finally ceases. She swears it looks like her son is side-eyeing her for taking too long, but to her defense, she fed him for a good forty-five minutes only a little over an hour ago and it's exhausting being used like a human pacifier. Growth spurt, Camila Santiago said when Amy called her in tears yesterday, and the problem-shooting section in the 0-3 months baby-binder had agreed. Amy would argue that sounds way too innocent for something which is turning her otherwise happy and smiley baby into a constantly hungry and crying mini-monster who won't close his eyes for more than twenty minutes at a time.

There's a soft knock on the door after a few minutes, and Jake peeks in. He’s wearing his fancy kitchen apron, which Charles gave him for Christmas with the comment that there’s nothing sexier than a dad who can cook. It hasn’t magically improved his cooking skills, but Amy’s willing to admit that it does look good on him.

“You guys doing okay?”

“He is, for now. I’m going crazy. How’s our dinner going?”

“Well, I haven’t burnt it yet, but there’s still time,” he grimaces, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “Do you need anything, babe?”

“Sleep, but that’s not going to happen.” Amy rubs her eyes. “It’s fine. He’s got to fall asleep at some point, though, this is nuts.”

“Don’t challenge him, he’s breaking records,” Jake says, leaning forward to tickle Mac’s feet. Mac reacts by kicking at the boob he’s not currently feeding from, making Amy curse. “Oops, sorry. Anyway, I’m sure he will fall asleep at some point, and we can have a nice, calm New Year’s dinner. I mean, he has to be exhausted, right?”

“God, I hope so. I’m starving.” She can see Mac’s eyelids getting heavy, but every time she thinks they’re about to fall closed, it’s like he twitches and stares at her, wide awake. “He’s lucky he’s cute.”

Jake grins. “Lucky indeed.”

Mac starts pulling away at that moment, a little bit of milk still dribbling from his cheeks. Amy reaches for one of the muslin blankets that’s never more than a few feet away in their home nowadays, lifting him so he’s upright against her shoulder and patting him on the back. She expects a burp, but instead, she gets an unpleasant surprise when he spits up, managing to get sour baby puke down her back and in her already greasy hair. She groans, giving Jake an exhausted look when she sees him stifling a chuckle.

“Hey, I’ll take him. You go take a shower and I’ll put him in the BabyBjörn. Maybe that will do it.”

“That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said,” Amy mumbles, and she’s not entirely kidding.

She makes the shower as long as she possibly can. Most days, she has to shower with Mac in the baby bouncer on the bathroom floor, so even the chance to be alone in the bathroom for more than five minutes feels like a luxury. She lets the shampoo really lather and the conditioner take its time to sink in, trying to massage the knots in her neck and shoulders under the hot water. She can hear Mac still fussing from the kitchen, and it makes her feel guilty even though he’s barely left her arms today.

“He’s fine,” she whispers to herself like a mantra. “He’s fine. Jake can handle it. He’s perfectly fine. Everything’s okay. You deserve this.”

She still skips the make-up and nicer clothes she had been planning to put on, throwing on a pair of maternity leggings and one of Jake’s old hoodies instead.

The dinner looks fantastic, some sort of chicken baked in the oven with rice and a lemon sauce, and Amy’s actually impressed. She imagines it would have been even nicer if she could have eaten it warm and together with Jake, but they only make it through toasting in orange soda and the first two bites before Mac wakes up from his ten-minute-nap, wailing as if he truly believed he’d just been abandoned. They end up having to take turns eating and walking laps around the living room with him, because he starts crying again if they stop moving for a second or as much as make an attempt to put him down. Amy is suddenly relieved they said no to her brother Tony’s New Year’s party-invite.

She can barely believe it when after what feels like the fiftieth or so feed of the day, Mac falls asleep. Curled up like a little frog on her chest and letting out the cutest of baby snores, he finally seems to relax, and Amy doesn’t even dare to breathe too sharply for the first ten minutes. Eventually, though, once it seems like he’s not going to wake up from the slightest movement or a raised voice anymore, Jake tucks them both in under a blanket and gets the Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer and orange soda from the fridge. Then he gets another blanket for himself, and they snuggle up together in the corner of the sofa in front of the tv. From live footage at Times Square, Amy can see crowds of people waiting for the ball to drop.

“Wishing you were there?” Jake winks, but she just laughs.

“Are you kidding? Cold, crowded, and you can never even get a good view. This is better in every way.” She strokes her thumb over Mac’s dark hair. “I have this one and you. That’s all I need. And ice cream,” she adds, digging out a piece of cookie dough from the tub.

“You’re right, it’s pretty damn close to perfection. Top five moments of 2020?”

Amy shakes her head, pointing to Mac. “No point. They’re all about him, anyway, and they’re all too good to compare.”

“True that.” Jake shakes his head. “Hey, isn’t it crazy that although he’s been kind of a nightmare today, I’ve already forgiven him?”

“No, it makes perfect sense, because I’ve almost wanted to give him away several times and now I can’t even remember why.”

“Having a baby makes us kind of crazy, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely. I wouldn’t change it for the world, though.”

“Me neither. Not even if I was offered a role in the next Die Hard-movie and Taylor Swift did the soundtrack.”

“That’s pretty big,” Amy laughs, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Would Taylor Swift do the soundtrack for Die Hard, though? Realistically speaking?”

“It’s a daydream, Ames!”

She has no time for a comeback, though, because right then, the countdown starts on the tv and Jake raises the volume a few bars so they can hear.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

“New Year’s kiss,” Amy says, holding Mac up slightly so they can both reach him.

Three, two, one… happy new year!

They both smother his cheeks with kisses at the same time as the fireworks explode over the sky in the distance outside their windows and the crowd begins to cheer on tv. Mac doesn’t even flinch, completely oblivious to the celebrations going on outside. Amy sighs.

“How can he magically sleep through all of this, but wake up the second I put him down in his crib at night?”

Jake shrugs. “Babies, man.”

december 31st, 2021.

Amy has only started to take off Mac’s winter overall before he starts trying to flee, kicking wildly with his boots and pointing towards the kitchen where he’s already spotted Rosa. Jake notices her struggle and is quick to help her, and the instant the toddler is free, he hurries off towards his best friend.

“Wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo!”

“Mac! Hey, happy new year, man!” Before Amy can even take off her own jacket, Mac is already in Rosa’s arms and babbling excitedly as he plays with her gold necklace. Amy wonders how much of what Mac’s saying actually makes sense to Rosa, but she’s nodding and smiling and seems to have abandoned whoever she was previously talking to in favor of the one-year-old.

“Jake. Amy.” Kevin appears to take their coats, shaking their hands. “Welcome. Drinks and hors d’oeuvres are in the living room, and I see your small child has made himself at home.”

“He found Rosa, yep.” Jake grins. “And he has a name.”

“Ah, yes… McClane.” Kevin nods. “Very well. I have to go check on… the kitchen. Enjoy your evening.”

“He’s never going to like me,” Jake whispers to Amy the moment he’s left.

“Well, I think we both might have lost a few points with the name choice, babe.”

“He’s one to talk names, he’s got a dog named after a cheese!”

“I know, but we can’t tell him that. Come on, Jake, I have to find something to chew on before I get sick.”

“You can always blame it on the alcohol, if you do.”

“Jake.”

“Just kidding,” he grins. “You go check on Mac and Rosa and I’ll locate the snacks.”

It turns out Rosa is more than willing to guard Mac for the evening, currently showing him the model train she's found in the library. Mac is watching with focus as Rosa helps him turn on the button that makes the train drive around the tracks, laughing as it lets out a choo-choo sound.

“Your son is much cooler than the rest of these lame partygoers,” she shrugs when Amy asks her if she's sure it's fine. “He says what he's thinking, unlike the rest of all these dum-dums.”

“Dum-dums,” Mac repeats, proud. Rosa nods.

“Exactly. I’ll call you if something happens.”

And so, in an unexpected turn of events, Amy finds herself able to sit down for most of the evening without having to chase a wild toddler around to keep him from whatever dangers he could somehow manage to get himself into in Holt’s and Kevin’s house. She supposes it looks quite antisocial of her, and maybe it is, but she’s six weeks pregnant and the early symptoms of nausea and fatigue seem to be coming on both stronger and faster the second time around, so Amy doesn’t really care. She’s got lemon sparkling water for a non-alcoholic drink, a paper plate of carrot sticks, salted crisps and almonds, and she’s not going to talk to anyone unless they sit down next to her. It’s practically heaven. Jake checks on her from time to time, assuring her multiple times that they can just leave early if she wants to, but however tired she feels, Amy doesn’t want to insult Holt that badly. They’re staying until midnight as per proper New Year’s party etiquette, and then — and not a second later — they can go home so she can crash in bed.

Rosa finds her again when Mac begins to get sleepy, rubbing his eyes and yawning but still shaking his head when Amy asks if he's feeling a little tired. He crawls over to her arms anyway, laying his head on her shoulder and hugging his arms around her chest.

“Thanks for looking after him,” she tells Rosa, but she just shrugs.

“No worries. I don't get to hang out with him enough. Your kid is dope.”

“Douh,” Mac whispers, mimicking her, and Rosa laughs.

“Repeats every word you tell him, too,” Amy says. “Yeah, he’s pretty awesome. Come over to our apartment at five-thirty in the morning on any weekend and you can hang out with him all you want. I won't stop you.”

Rosa scrunches her nose. “I’ll consider it.”

“He’s in a great mood then, I can assure you that.”

“I'll take your word for it. Also, Jake was tipsy talking baby names with some etymology professor when I saw him last, and he seemed very intense about it for a guy who's not currently thinking of naming any new babies. Or?” She raises an eyebrow.

“No, he just get thats intense when somebody implies McClane is a weird name,” Amy says, and makes a note to herself to remind Jake about their agreement not to tell anyone else at least until the twelve-week mark. “Which, to be fair, I warned him that people would think. But here we are anyway.”

“It is a weird name. Couldn’t imagine him being called anything else, though, even if I still don’t understand why you agreed to it.”

“There was a really good PowerPoint involved.”

Rosa looks at her questioningly, but Amy shakes her head, knowing there’s no point in explaining the unexplainable.

“Hmm. You guys are weird. You make pretty great kids, though.”

“Yeah.” Mac has fallen asleep by now, drooling a little bit on Amy’s shoulder. She kisses the top of his head and thinks of the abstract idea of her second kid, the thump-thump of an already present heartbeat they got so lucky as to hear on an early ultrasound yesterday. “The best.”

As midnight draws closer, most of the guests take on jackets, scarves and shoes to venture out into the garden to watch fireworks. Not wanting to be left out, Amy and Jake manage to get a half-sleeping Mac, who wakes up suddenly interested when he hears about the promise of fireworks, into his overall and join them. It’s a surprisingly good view from the garden, the cold winter air waking them up, and Jake points out the vibrant displays in the sky to a drowsy Mac, who blinks at them dazedly. It’s so cute it makes Amy tear up. Being both a mom and newly pregnant does that to her; she’s given up trying to fight it.

It’s hard to believe that two years ago, she was toasting in champagne in a hotel bar and wondering if they would ever make a baby together, and now she’s standing in a garden watching Jake with their one-year-old son and knowing that next New Year’s, if all goes well, they’ll be parents of two.

“What are you thinking of?” Jake must see her tears, because he looks worried, but Amy just smiles.

“Just how quickly things can change. How happy I am. And how much I love you.”

“Love you, too. Top three-hundred-and-sixty-five moments of this year,” Jake says, hugging her close so they’re standing in a little family bubble. “Every single day I get to wake up with and then come home to my family.”

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

They both lean in so they can smother their son with kisses, and he laughs as he figures out what’s about to happen.

Three, two, one… happy new year!

The sky explodes with color, Jake and Amy attack their son with kisses, and as the new year begins, Amy thinks she might just be the luckiest person in the entire world.

#happy new year!#my writing #b99 #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #peraltiago fic #i've spent twenty minutes trying to fix the spacing on this and it still won't work because tumblr is a fucking hellsite #read it on ao3 if you want spaces

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flooffybits · 4 years

Text

Dependent

Idol: Loona

Anon: 13th member of Loona is struggling to eat and sleep due to stress so when she gets lightheaded during a fansign/concert. -❄️ if not taken

Loona’s 13th member who is the maknae getting really overwhelmed with juggling school and idol life. She starts taking some drugs that are supposed to help her stay up, while simultaneously hiding it from the other members cause she knows that they would kill her if they knew. They slowly start getting more and more suspicious until something happens and they finally catch her taking the pills. She still tries to brush it off but they won’t let her. Thank you so much

loona reaction to 13th member not eating and almost fainting and getting hurt. I love your writings🤍

Warning: improper use of antidepressants

Author’s note: I decided to combine these requests because they are pretty similar and I don’t want to have to write separate fics and have them both look nearly the same as each other. Also, i tried to research more on the medication for this sort of situation just to make it a little more accurate but if there is anything I did wrong, please feel free to tell me

☕buy me a coffee☕

Slamming your head on the table, you let out a groan after finally finishing your homework. But once you checked the little sticky note you placed just by the lamp, you whined when you saw that you had three more things to finish.

After this, you had to head to the company for practice.

Lifting your head, you did your best to finish up the rest of your homework before finally packing up and grabbing your phone. You went to hurry out of your room when Jungeun’s voice called out, indicating that you had to leave soon. But as you reached the door, you paused, hand on the doorknob as you glance at your desk.

Reaching for one of the drawers, you pulled out a pill bottle before quickly taking one out and popping it into your mouth. Screwing the cap back, you placed the bottle back inside, making sure it was hidden under the various papers and other items you had before shutting the drawer and heading out.

As soon as Jiwoo caught sight of you, her face lit up like usual before clinging to your arm and leading you outside. You plaster on a smile, perfectly practiced, while Hyunjin eyes you from a few feet away when she was talking to Yeojin, brows furrowed slightly before shrugging her shoulders and then getting in the other car so you could all get going.

“Hey, did you eat breakfast?” The older girl questioned after situating herself on her seat and you blinked in surprise before checking your phone for the time, mentally cursing yourself for forgetting. “Oh! Uh, I had a few snacks in the room.” You lie, plastering the same forced smile and leaning back.

With all the things that was happening to you, you would absolutely forget all sense of time and missed meals. Though with your tired and drained self, you found it difficult to even have the appetite to eat much except for a few bites, which, Jinsoul and Kahei have reprimanded you whenever they noticed.

Your members aren’t aware of the pills, however, but you preferred it that way because you know that as soon as they find out, you were screwed. You were doing this behind their backs, so that made it much worse, because there was always going to be some sort of way to prevent resorting to such mechanisms, you thought it was the easiest in helping you since things have just been too much.

Luckily, no one was able to pick up on it since you were able to mask it well, playing around and laughing when everyone was around. But that was just you.

Unaware of the few eyes that often lingered on you, you would go on with your day without the worry of anyone finding out.

Staring at the bottle in your hand, you grimaced while continuously glancing at the time. Your manager was coming to pick you all up for a concert and you had only an hour of sleep and just a snack bar after finishing the group project you had to submit a few days after.

It would have been easier to finish, but you had gotten stuck with possibly the worst kinds of group members with two of them being nothing but leeches and another constantly butting heads with everyone. You had no choice but to do everything yourself and it was wearing you out with how you had to juggle all of that, your homeworks, and practices.

“Y/n-ah, com-”

Yerim pauses at the door when you hurry to stuff the bottle inside the drawer and throwing it shut, head snapping up to meet the purple haired girl’s gaze when you slapped on another forced grin. “What are you doing?” She asked you, alarm laced in her voice but you quickly waved your hand and then grabbed your things before leading her out of the room.

“I was just double checking some stuff for school! But we should go, unnie.” She doesn’t quite believe you with the way you avoid her gaze. Based on the few years you’ve been together, the girls could easily tell whenever you were lying or hiding something from them.

But with how you were all in a hurry, the bright haired girl wasn’t able to protest as she went along with you, making a mental note to notify one of the older girls due to your weird actions. She was sure what she saw had nothing to do with any school works, but she would let you be for a while until the performance ended.

“You seem troubled.” Jinsoul observed from beside the usually cheerful girl and patted her shoulder. “Nervous?” She questioned, but Yerim bit her lip before shaking her head. “It’s not that, just a little confused I guess.” She muttered as her eyes went back to where you were having your makeup done.

Yeojin and Hyejoo were messing around behind you and laughing because of how you were falling asleep with the makeup artist constantly waking you up.

The older girl followed her gaze and sighed softly before she smiled. “Don’t worry. After this, she can catch up on some sleep.” She assures, but Yerim shook her head before finally turning so that she’s facing the blonde.

“Y/n’s been acting weird.” She suddenly says and her brows pinch together, shoulders tense when she crosses her arms. “I mean, she’s been doing a good job but she doesn’t talk as much lately and she’s always stuck in her room when we’re at home.” She recounts the various times she’s caught you busying yourself in your shared room but refusing to spend more time with any of the members.

“Am I being clingy?” Jinsoul was surprised by the question, but before she could compose herself and answer, Heejin was already there to cut in. “You’ve noticed, too?” When both girls look at her, they see that Kahei is also there, watching worriedly as you sleep next to Hyejoo while Yeojin was finishing her makeup.

“You’re talking about Y/n?” The pair nod and Heejin lets out a breath while shaking her head. “Hyunjin’s told me that she’s seen her taking something lately. At first, she thought they were just vitamins, but Y/n has been super secretive about it.”

“I asked her about it and she was acting really clueless. When we asked Vivi unnie to talk to her since they’re the closest, all she said was that she was fine and just stressed with school.” She added, the eldest nodding in confirmation. “Haseul and I went to check, before, but Chuu told us she went to the bathroom at the time.” Kahei began to tell them, her concern clear on her face. “While we were waiting, you know how we have trashcans in our rooms?” She asked.

“I noticed a bottle in there, so I checked it out since I remembered what Hyunjin said. There were so many blank papers, almost as if she was trying to hide it there.” She reached into her purse and held out the bottle, letting them see the label.

“These are…” Their eyes widened and Kahei grimaced while nodding her head, putting the bottle away. “How long has she been taking them? And why?”

“We don’t know yet. She’s been so busy with school and we’ve been working on the comeback on top of that. We didn’t have the time to talk to her. We didn’t want to do this in front of all the members, but it looks like more than half of us are already aware.” Heejin explains with a frown when she glanced over to see you had already been woken up.

Judging from the look of things, you and the other two, along with Sooyoung, decided to practice the choreography before getting on stage.

With a heavy atmosphere, the girls decided to take the matter in the dorm where there wouldn’t be any unwanted attention and possibly cause a scandal within the group.

When you were all performing, you all were able to maintain a professional air around all of you, but when it wasn’t any of their parts, the girls would watch you with careful eyes, and Hyunjin did notice the slight change in your expression, as well as the falter in your step when no one seemed to notice.

At the end chorus of the song, you could feel the nausea hitting you harder compared to earlier. The lights were making you dizzy and lightheaded due to your lack of sleep and food intake. Your breathing had grown ragged and before you even knew it, you were on your knees, one hand on the floor to keep yourself up and the other used to clutch your head.

Fans gasped at the sight and your members were thrown off by your sudden collapse. And instead of continuing the performance, Kahei had broken formation and ran to your side to check if you were alright. She helped you sit up and let you lean against her instead while the rest of the group circled around you, all looking worried as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? What happened?” She asked, but the ringing in your ears made it difficult to comprehend what exactly she was saying. You only screwed your eyes shut tight before feeling hands reach for you and then you were being carried off stage by the staff.

“Girls, we need you to move so we can check on her.” The staff explained when the medic arrived. Your members had followed quickly, forgetting about ending the performance. When you were placed on the couch to lay down, Chaewon grabbed one of the hand fans and handed it over to the eldest because she thought you needed something to cool down.

They all quickly did as told and watched as the staff began to run a quick check up, checking your pulse, temperature and everything else that was necessary. When he asked you to try and follow the light shone to your eyes, you had a bit of struggle in doing so before he finally finished.

“Is she going to be alright?” Hyunjin asked worriedly and the man nodded his head. “I didn’t find anything too alarming. She’s exhausted. Despite the makeup, she’s paler than she’s supposed to so I think it’s best to give her something to eat and probably rest for a few hours.” He sighed while checking his notes. “If anything else occurs that you think could be a problem, I’d recommend taking her to the hospital for a more thorough examination.”

After thanking him, everyone got ready to leave since there wasn’t really anything left for you to do there.

Jungeun kept you beside her, holding your head against her shoulder, letting your legs rest on her lap as you curled into her when you had dozed off again. The van was unusually quiet, but due to your state and Haseul’s orders, it was understandable why that was the case.

Most of your members would keep stealing glances at you throughout the ride home while the others tried to catch a few minutes of sleep as well.

“Y/n, we need to talk.”

As soon as you were seated on the couch and Sooyoung prepared some food for you, Hyunjin had spoken up. And judging by how Jiwoo, Jinsoul, Kahei, Haseul, Heejin, and Yerim were looking just as serious, you had an inkling feeling as to what this was going to be about due to how both Kahei and Heejin have approached you before.

“We aren’t mad.” Heejin assured you when she saw the way you refused to look at any of them in the eye. “We just want to know why.” Haseul murmured when she sat on your other side, placing her hand over your own to let you know that they truly weren’t angry at you.

“We notice how you rarely eat. Snacks don’t count as meals though and they won’t give you enough energy for when you need them.” Jinsoul scolded. “And sometimes I’m not sure if you get some sleep.” Jiwoo states, being your roommate, she would know. “I understand staying up on some nights, but not sleeping at all?” She adds while Yerim frowned. “Y/n, when was the last time you had at least six hours of sleep?” The question makes you go quiet and it was clear to them what the answer was.

Sooyoung arrived with your food a little after they all sat down to talk to you and she crosses her arms when she sees the way you stare at the bowl. “You either eat it on your own or I’m going to feed you, myself.” With the tone of her voice, you know she isn’t joking this time and nod your head before reaching for the bowl and slowly eating what she prepared for you.

“We want you to be honest, okay?” Jinsoul purses her lips when Kahei hands you the empty pill bottle, all of them watching as you stiffened in your place. “Where did you…”

“I found it in your room when you tried to throw it away.” She explains softly. “Why do you have them?” Sooyoung questions immediately, her lips pressed to a thin line as you let out a shaky breath. “I-I don’t-”

“Y/n, please. We just want to know the truth. What’s going on?” You feel Haseul squeezing your hand. You stare at your lap for a while, chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to gather your thoughts with everyone patiently waiting for you to speak.

Finally relenting, you shut your eyes and shake your head. “I was scared, I guess.” You muttered and Jinsoul sits down on one of the couches. “Scared of what?”

You had to pull your hand away from Haseul’s as you rubbed your arm, shrinking into yourself as you let out a heavy sigh. “That people start realizing that maybe I’m not good enough.” You finally admitted. “I’m still a child and I can barely work through both my school requirements and our schedules. If I start lagging behind, everyone’s going to think that I’m not fit to be an idol because I don’t have what it takes.”

Suddenly, you felt someone hit the top of your head with a rolled up magazine. “You are such an idiot, I swear.” Sooyoung started. “Just because you’re struggling with school and being an idol doesn’t mean you aren’t qualified.” Heejin tells you when she managed to pry the magazine away from Sooyoung’s hands.

“Majority of us debuted while we were still studying. You have Yeojin, Choerry, and Olivie Hye with you when you go to school, right?” Yerim nodded at Kahei’s query, but it only made you frown more, stubbornly wiping away tears when they began to trail down your cheeks. “But I’m not as good as them.

“That’s not true!” Yerim quickly interjected as she moved from where she was standing and was soon kneeling in front of you. “You’ve been working just as much as the three of us, and sometimes even more. We admire you so much because, even though you’re a year younger than Yeojin, you’re still able to keep up with us and even try to help on some of the things we’re studying despite being unfamiliar with them.”

“You’re also one of the few who are quick when it comes to practices and recording.” Jiwoo added, Hyunjin and Sooyoung nodding in agreement. “You keep looking at things that you can’t do but fail to notice the things that you can do.” She tells you with a soft smile. “Maybe you start realizing that you are enough.”

“And with all of that, there are a number of kids your age who try to do the same. But look at you - already debuted and working on our comeback.” Heejin said with a supportive smile and you realize that what they were saying was true.

You’ve been so stuck and stressing out on things and allowed them to pile up. In the end, it only harmed you rather than help you.

“If there was ever anything you needed help with, you have twelve pairs of hands who are willing to lend a hand.” Kahei nudged your shoulder with her own. “Thirteen heads are better than one, after all.” Jinsoul grinned and you couldn’t help but crack a smile when Haseul wiped the rest of your tears away.

“Now that we’ve settled this, can you please stop with the pills and talk to us instead?” She asked and, though you hesitated, you ended up nodding and agreeing to their request.

You didn’t want to depend on something that could potentially ruin both your health and career. Instead, you’ll learn to be a bit more dependent on your members instead.

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “The verdict.”

Was writing very quick today, so forgive the typos, and I hope you like it

The detective woke to a familiar face only a few feet away from his. He was being shaken back and forth and with every shake his head pounded. Despite being able to see it took him more than a few minutes to finally understand what was even going on.

“Detective, detective! Wake up, there we go, that’s it. You hit your head pretty hard.”

When his vision finally focused down and he took the time to recognize the face in front of him, he yelped in sudden surprise and tried to leap to his feet. However, his legs had other ideas, and he sagged hard towards the ground, his head pounding and nauseous.

Admiral Vir laid a hand on his shoulder, “Woah there hotshot take it easy. Gonna need you to stay still so I can take care of this.”

He groaned and tried to swat the other man away, “You-!

“Didn’t do this.” HE said, grabbing the Detective by the wrist and holding it tight as he used his left hand, and a damp cloth to wipe blood from his head, “Think back a little and maybe you’ll remember.”

Confused by the man helping him, and his own throbbing head, he did his best to think back.

He remembered being outside the cells watching the cameras. He remembered dozing off in his seat a little.

And then it came to him.

He remembered being violently dragged off his chair and into the dark bak room, a hand over his mouth only to be set upon by the three escaped human prisoners. Things were so silent and so quick that it was hard to rationalize what happened. His eyes, still trying to focus, looked around the room and the wide open floor which constituted some kind of bar or club, with chairs and tables and seats, and a dance floor. However, everything was deserted as of now, and he was sitting back against one of the couches, his legs sticking out straight before him.

Admiral Vir leaned forward a bit, eyes narrowed in concentration as he parted the matted hair on top of the detective’s scalp. The expression the detective had come to know, one of indignant, childish petulance, was gone, and in its place was a serious expression of worry and concern that made the man look nearly twenty years older than he was.

This was the man he had expected when he heard admiral, not the sass mouthing over talkative prisoner he had been trying to interrogate for the past day or two. Admiral Vir sat back on his heels, his expression serious still, but less worried now, “So, you got yourself whacked pretty hard. Luckily for you the bleeding stopped and the cut isn’t too deep. Normally I would suggest finding a doctor to make sure you haven't badly concussed yourself, but considering the circumstances, we don’t really have that option.

We? He thought with some incredulity repeating the phrase before he knew what he was saying, “We…. What do you mean by we. I am the detective and YOU are the suspect.”

A little bit of the sarcastic childishness returned as the Admiral rolled his eyes to the heavens, “You are a pretty shit detective if you haven’t figured out by now that I am on your side.” Admiral Vir sat back on his heels, his one green eye staring the detective in the face, surprisingly devoid of any sort of malice.

“I’m going to be honest with you about exactly what happened, no sarcasm this time, no jokes. I was called into this planet as a consult to a murder.” he held up a hand as the detective went to protest, “Yes, I know, I am no detective, but I was asked by the GA, so I went. When we got there we found a dismembered Tesraki body in the back of his shop, based on the tourist area and and violence of the crime, I determined that humans had done it. WHen I saw the missing limbs I immediately assumed this was some sick plot about trying to find exotic meat or something, but it turns out I was wrong on that front.”

The admiral Stood and went over to toss the damp rag into a trashcan before returning, “I returned to our hotel room later that night with Krill and Sunny and sat down to compile a list of possible names. I found about twenty, but by the time I was done, it was already too late at night to do anything. I tried to sleep, but none came, so I left to go on a walk. Naturally my preoccupied mind let me towards the part of the city where those twenty names were registered.

It was only by luck that I ran into that alley at all. I couldn’t let the Tesraki die, so I stupidly jumped in and nearly got my throat cut once or twice. I did knock two of them out and break the sternum of the other one.” He patted the leg which the detective happened to know was mechanical, “I always forget how strong this piece of hardware is, but anyway, I called the authorities and the men were carted away. The Tesraki was fine when he left. I remember wrapping my jacket around him and carrying him out to wait for emergency vehicles. That was the last time I saw him. WHen we returned to the precinct the day after, was when you showed up and arrested me.”

The detective sat, his head reeling slowly in confusion and suspicion, “But I saw the security tapes. That’s not what happened.”

“Can you guarantee those security tapes werent doctored. Were you the first person to have your hands on them?”

He paused and then shook his head, “Well, no.”

“And do you admit it is kind of weird for me to be arrested the day after the three men in the alley?” “I mean a little.”

“And based on all the research you have done on me, isn’t this a bit out of character.”

The detective paused unwilling to admit that he had been having some doubts. Sure he had been given a preliminary report of the Admiral’s criminal history, but when he got a better look at it, most of his actions had been justified. In the Drev war, he had been a member of operation Steel eye, a drugged young man being taken advantage of by a system. During the first contact incident, his excitement had led to the discovery of aliens, though the bran had misinterpreted his enthusiasm as hunting. His return to the Drev home planet had involved him spending time to learn their language and about their culture. And his murder of the burg that had inevitably caused the war was an act in self defence, and he couldnt have known that spitting on the creature was going to kill it.

He sighed deeply, “Alright, you have a point…. But I still think your an annoying asshole.”

The man smiled, “I get that a lot.”

“Anyway point of the story is, I woke up to something last night and the cell was open. I think they were trying to frame me for your murder, but the Tesrak idetective came into help at the alst second, and told me to get out as soon as I can.”

He supposed that made sense, and fit into his experience, “And what do you plan to do now? How are you going to get out of this. IF this is really a plot to frame you, and the department is involved, we can assume it comes from high up, with someone powerful enough to at least consider themselves above the law.”

The Admiral paused, tapping his fingers against his knee, “Did you come here in your own ship?”

*** “You must find the admiral and the detective. Leave admiral Vir alive, but make sure the detective dies. In the meantime, I will take this evidence and present it to the GA council, they are unlikely to disbelieve video evidence of the crime.”

The Kree sighed, but nodded, “It will be done.

At that announcement Sunny suddenly grabbed krill by his shoulder and hauled him back into the darkness just in time for the Kree to step out of the office followed by the Tesraki senator.

WIth one hand over Krill’s mouth, Sunny pulled the two of them behind a very large potted plant, watching as the two made their way down the hall.

They had just disappeared around the corner, when Krill turned to look at Sunny, “Why didn’t we jump them?”

Sunny turned to frown at him, “Because what were we going to do, threaten to eat him? Besides, no one would believe us, at least not here. I have a better idea.” “A better idea?”

“Just trust me”

***

Admiral Vir pulled his jacket up against the rain as they came to the launch field. It wasn’t that far away from the department, so they had to keep a low profile, which was hard as two humans, though the cover of rain helped some. The Detetive checked around the landing strip and then motioned the admiral to follow him quickly. Adam did as told and hurried after him, until they came upon a little black/silver ship at the back of the lot.

Adam raised an eyebrow, “A rundi short cruiser, how did you manage to score one of these babies.” he ran his hand along her smooth aerodynamic hull.

“A what? Oh this thing.” He shrugged, “It was given to me for this mission.”

Adam frowned, “This thing? You mean this work of art.

The man just stared at it, ‘It’s a spaceship.”

“It is a shuttle that can warp! And you are calling it just a spaceship. It’s one of only ten ships in existence like this. The Detective shrugged unimpressed, and Adam sighed long and loud, “You have no appreciation for the finer things in life. I bet you don’t even know how to drive it.”

“Its autopilot, why would I want to drive it?”

Adam put his head in his hands, “You’re going to make me cry.”

The door to the little ship hissed open, and the two of them climbed inside. The interior was almost as sleek as the outside, and Adam couldn’t help but run his hands over the console and controls as he went to take a seat in the copilot chair as the other man sat down and began slowly flipping up pre programmed controls.

Adam sighed as the detective flipped through the instruction manual.

“Do you want to drive/” The other man snapped

“I thought you’d never ask.” Adam retired, reaching out a hand for the controls.

Just then the two of them were blinded as a bright spotlight beamed down upon them.

“Admiral Vir, step away from the controls and come out with your hands up.”

“Shit!”

The detective was just reaching out to power down the shuttle, when Adam reached forward, and flicked up the last few switches with lightning speed, turning over the engine and grabbing the controls.

“What the hell are you doing!” The detective yelled “You can’t fly this thing manual, it's too fas-”

He punched the throttle, and they rocketed into the air, doing a tight barrel roll to the left narrowly avoiding the emergency shuttle and equipped high beams. The detective screamed, and then choked off as the G force slammed him back into his seat.

Adam caught their spin and leveled out, coming face to face with another three cruisers. Pulling back on the joystick with his left hand, they shot up vertically before he took them into a spinning vertical dive that had them cutting past the two shuttles, now spinning in confusion.

The Detective screamed again as they pulled out of the dive and back into a vertical climb. On the rear cameras, he could see the three shuttles meandering around in confusion, and thought they were out of the woods for a moment before another set of beams fell on them, and a sleek black ship, of a make he could not identify, fell in behind them.

He punched it harder, pulling into a tight backward loop. WIthout his flight suit the G forces behaved brutally causing his vision to blacken at the edges, but by tensing his belly and chest, he continued to force blood into his head. Off to the side, the G force had been to much for the Detective who was hit with a sudden bout of G-lock and passed out, flopping against his harness like a fish.

He pulled out of the dive just behind the pursuing shuttle, and then quickly cut up and left, pushing the ship to the extremes of it’s speed. As they rose higher into the atmosphere there was an automatic cachunk as the atmospheric engine moved over to the compressed warp/funsio nengine.

The detective flopped around like a dead fish for a few more seconds before his head slowly rolled back upright. He looked horribly green.

“IF you throw up I swear to the Leviathan, I am going to kill you.”

Behind him the little black ship was maintaining a distant pursuit with some difficulty.

Once out of the atmosphere and heading into high orbit, Adam reached down and engaged the warp.

The detective reached out a hand, “Wait!”

But it was too late, the universe around them began to spiral, folding over on itself and reflecting back the space like a mirror. The feeling was terrible like being folded in half or pulled apart as everything far away appeared close and everything close appeared far away.

Admiral Vir felt himself getting ready to pass out against the full power of an undampened warp his brain unable to fathom what he was seeing as space around them was compressed.

They came out with a sudden jolt that threw them against their seats jerking them forward and then back with a sudden halt.

The Detective groaned piteously where he was passed out in his seat Ad had barely retained consciousness, but shook it off as he reached out to grab the controls.

A soft dripping noise had him turning his head to the side, upon which time he grinned rather smugly and turned his head back to the front where the rundi planet, Irus, glowed like a blue and orange marble against the sky. The Detective didn’t wake up for a good few minutes, but when he did, he was soon followed by cruising and a face reddened by embarrassment, “Your first undampened short warp I take it?” Adam said grinning.

HTe man didn’t answer.

Still grinning, adam laughed, “Don’t worry, it happened to the best of us at one point. Most people aren't able to keep their bladder in check during thief first warp.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that.”

“Well aware, but at least this asshole isn’t sitting in a puddle of his own urine.” His merriment was shut up a few second later as their shuttle jerked violently forward, “Shit!” He yelled, forcing the ship back onto it’s trajectory. He took a look at the back camera to see that, somehow, the other ship was still following them.

“Hold on to your hat!” He yelled, punching the throttle and rocketing them towards the blue surface of the planet.

THe Detective screamed again as they roared into the atmosphere at incredible speeds, fire licking up at the sides as atmospheric friction caught up with them. Adam knew what he was doing, he knew just how much power it would take to burnt through the hull or rip off her wings. Knowing his opponent had a less advanced ship, he hoped that they would either, overestimate their abilities or pull back.

And he was right, they did for a while, though not in time as a contingent of Rundi defence ships shot up after them demanding identification over the radio. He was too busy flying to respond, and the Detective could barely function as a human being. The other ship was swarmed, but Adam managed to pull them down into a tight inverted roll backwards and vertical before pulling up and rolling to the side.

The manuver was more than the rundi ships could handle and they lost him as they roared towards the planet.

The city was closer now, close enough that he could see the spires of the GA council chamber.

He soared over the launch filed.

“What are you doing!” The detective yelled

“We don’t have time!” Adam snarled pulling back on the joystick and reversing the thrusters to come to a halt right over the open GA courtyard, WIth steady hands he lowered himself into the open plane as delegates divided out of the way. Guards ran from the outer edge and inward surrounding his ship.

He turned and threw open the doors running out into a wall of heat that battered against him without mercy. The guards froze in confusion as they saw him, and he took the moment to push past.

Behind him the detective staggered out onto the marble barely able to walk, moving about like he was drunk.

WIth a steady stride, adam made his way towards the council chamber.

***

“And as the presented evidence shows, Admiral Vir is a murderer.” The Tesraki delegate announced shocked whispers rising up around him as they stared as the video footage, “In light of these events, I move to-”

At the end of the hall, a door onto the floor slammed open, and everyone turned in shock just in time to see a vrul and a Drev step onto the floor. The Drev was just about to open her mouth to speak when another door slammed open.

The entire delegation moved to their feet with shouts of shock and surprise as Admiral Vir stepped onto the floor, “I OBJECT!.” he paused frowning, “Wait, that’s for weddings isn’t it.”

The chairwoman stood, “Admiral Vir, What do you have to say for yourself.”

Before he could say anything Sunny cut in, “He’s being framed!”

The Tesraki counselor rose to his feet, “Lies, do you have proof?”

“Uh, well no.”

“YES!”

Adam turned to sunny, shook himself and turned back to the delegation, “Er YES!” he turned his head to look at Sunny, “We do/”

She stepped forward, “I have evidence that admiral Vir was being framed, framed by.” She turned and jabbed a finger at the Tesraki, “YOU.” He stepped back in shock, and a muttering rose up around them.

“How dare you.”

Sunny marched forward and past the guards, reaching up to hand something to the chairwoman, who took it and passed it to an assistant, who hurried over to insert the chip into their system.

A voice rose over the speakers, “Get out there, FIND HIM and make sure he doesn’t ruin this for me. If this all works out, by the end of the month I will be chairman of the GA, and the humans will simply be an afterthought.” said the Tesraki delegates voice.

Hundreds of eyes turned to look at him in open shock.

He stepped back hand raised, “I have no idea where this came from.

THe second Tesraki delegate stood a look of absolute rage on her face, “How could you!” she snapped, “How could you betray us like this.”

He stammered, “But he, he escaped prison, he killed the detective!”

Just then, the doors at the end of the room opened up and the Detective came waddling into the room looking miserable and nauseous, but very much alive. Following him Came the Tesraki detective, hauling an unconscious Kree in his wake, who he dumped on the floor as soon as he made it to the center.

The Tesraki was looking a little more worse for ware, his ear torn, green blood staining his fur

He raised a hand and pointed a finger at the delegate, “The Admiral is telling the truth, he was framed, and THIS TESRAKI threatened my department to do it. I was scared at first as my family is in grave peril but I couldn't stand by and watch a good man be framed for selfish reasons.” He turned to the delegation, “He is angry that the humans have taken so much Tesraki economic power, despite the fact that.” he turned an accusatory eye on the Tesraki, “The average citizen has never been so well off. Because of human tourism, we are thriving. The only one’s different are the corporations, and now this Tesraki would have it so we go back to the old days when the average citizen was poor and the elite ruled.”

Sunny nodded, “There is more to that recording. We tracked it by following the a spy who was charged with making tampered video footage to incriminate Admiral Vir. You know him, you know him as a human who has always worked for the betterment of the GA. There is no chance that he could have done anything lie what they are saying.

There was a pause in the crowd for a moment, and then Lord Celzex stood, “IT is as I said, Admiral Vir would never do such a crime, and we have no reason to believe he would start now.”

The Tesraki delegate snarled, though was almost immediately cold cocked in the face by the other Tesraki delegate as guards moved in from the sides of the room to detain the Tesraki and the Kree.

In the chaos Admiral Vir and Sunny were pushed to the side, pinned into a small corner.

She looked down at him, and he looked up at her.

“Thanks for having my back.”

She smiled, “no problem, I’ve decided I want to keep your around for a while.”

He grinned, “I hope you do.” He stretched up on the balls of his feet and she leaned down, their foreheads pressed against one another for a quick moment before disengaging and beng swept away on the tide of questions and confusion.

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prrplwtch · 5 years

Note

prompt 24 + beel, lucifer and asmo?

Hi nonny :) Thanks for the ask.

24. “Please don’t be scared of me”

Beelzebub

Beel made his way to the kitchen, hoping to finally eat the chocolate pie he’d been saving since last night. He had been dreaming about this pie all of last night, and now the time has finally come to eat it. As he walked in through the kitchen doors he noticed that he was not alone – MC was standing in the kitchen.

“Ah, MC, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Beel said.

“I’m just here for a glass of water,” MC answered with the smile, “And then I’m off to do the homework. How about you?”

“I’m here for my chocolate pie from the best bakery in the Devildom,” Beel told her, “I have been saving it since last night.”

By the way MC’s face lit up when she heard chocolate, Beel could tell that she was interested in the pie. And, though Beel really liked his chocolate pie desert, he liked MC more.

“We could eat it together if you would like,” he told her and felt the warmth spread through his chest as MC smiled brightly at him.

Beel walked over to the fridge and opened the door. To his surprise the pie was not on the top shelf where he left it last night. Thinking that someone might have moved it, Beel looked around the fridge, but the search turned out to be fruitless. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Beel noticed the cake box in the trashcan.

Immediately he was filled with rage. Before he could even think he assumed his demon form.

“WHO THE HELL ATE MY CAKE” he yelled, as he looked around the kitchen, as if trying to see the long-gone perpetrator.

When he looked at MC he noticed that she became quite pale and took a step back as soon as their gazes met. He could see fear in her eyes. Suddenly, all anger was gone from him.

She had good reason to fear, that he knows. Last time he got angry about his food being gone he destroyed th kitchen and almost killed her. I need to be better, for her. Beel took a deep breath, then took a step towards MC. She did not flinch or move away, which he thought was a good sign. He reached out his arm to her.

“MC, please don’t be scared of me,” he pleaded. There was some hesitation in her face, but she took his outstretched hand, and he continued, “You know I lose my temper quite easily when it comes to food, but I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Mc nodded slowly, then said, “I believe you.”

And these three little words made all the difference – Beel found himself smiling despite the fact that his cake was gone and that he was completely famished. Her faith in him felt better than any kind of food he had ever eaten.

Lucifer

Lucifer enjoyed spending quiet afternoons with MC. Usually he would find it highly irritating if someone else was in the room when he reviewed the paperwork or attended to certain Devildom business, but MC’s presence was surprisingly calming. Lucifer told him that it was because, unlike his brothers, she was not very loud or obnoxious, and usually simply sat by his time reading the book or doing his homework.

Deep down, however, he had started to realize that this was not it.

This particular afternoon was no different from dozens of other afternoons that they shared. Lucifer was reviewing Mephistopheles’s reports regarding the academy’s newspaper, and MC was sitting on the couch near him reading some book.

He could not wait to be done with the work – usually after he’d finish what he was doing they would spend entire evening talking about different things or even simply listening to music. However, this time the work that he was doing was taking him much longer than anticipated. Mephistopheles’s report was convoluted and confusing, and the more Lucifer looked at it, trying to make sense of it, the more his head was starting to hurt.

Lucifer was feeling irritated – and he already concocted just what punishment he was going to inflict upon Mephistopheles tomorrow, when suddenly he looked over to MC and noticed something that did not quite catch his attention before.

While he was always completely comfortable in her presence, MC still seemed a little tense around him. Even now when she was sitting on the couch, her back was completely straight, her fingers holding the cover of the book so firmly that they looked almost white, her entire posture screaming that she was uncomfortable.

“MC?” Lucifer called and she quickly lifted her head up from her book and looked at him, startled.

“Are you alright?” he asked and she nodded, way too quickly.

Lucifer sighed as he got up from the desk chair and walked over to the sofa to sit next to her.

“MC, I can clearly tell something is bothering you. Talk to me,” he said.

There was a momentary pause, before MC said, “I-I…It’s just that sometimes I forget that you are a demon – and lord Diavolo’s right hand – and then I remember, and I just… I’m being silly, aren’t I?”

“Are you afraid of me?” Lucifer asked quietly.

“No,” MC said, blush spreading across her cheeks, “Or at least not consciously.”

Lucifer felt unfamiliar pain in his heart.

“Please don’t be scared of me,” he pleaded with her, suddenly realizing just how important it was for him that she was not scared.

“Ok, I’ll try to be more brave,” MC smiled at him, but Lucifer shook his head.

“You are plenty brave,” he told her, “And it’s not courage that I ask of you, but trust. I hope one day you can trust that you are safe around me, even though I am a demon. And I will do everything I can to help us build that trust.”

MC nodded, and pain seemed to have let go of Lucifer’s heart. I will not fail you, he thought.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus and MC were in his room, half-laying on his bed, scrolling through the pictures on his phone, choosing which shot of them as a couple to post to Devilgram. They have only recently started dating, and thus have not posted that many couple pictures yet, but Asmo was determined to fix this issue.

He loved spending time with her – there was something so calming, so reassuring about MC’s presence that he always felt happy around her. He did not know what it was, but he knew she was special.

They have been only dating for a month and agreed to take things slow –Asmo has never done that before, but he thought he would give it a try, for her. And, to his surprise, he found out that he did not actually mind it very much. There was something so refreshing and exciting about being intimate with someone without the expectation of sex.

One thing, however, bothered Asmo. He was a demon of his word, and since they agreed to take it slow he has not made any attempt to take things to the next level. Nonetheless, he often noticed that MC tensed under his touch, as if afraid that he might do something she did not want him to do.

As he was trying to sit up on bed, Asmo’s hand accidentally brushed MC’s side where her t-shirt rode up a bit, and she immediately froze. The smile on her face had died, and instead got replaced by a nervous expression.

“I’m sorry,” Asmo said, upset at himself that he cause anguish to MC.

“It’s ok,” MC said, although from the look in her eyes, Asmo could tell that she was not.

Asmo was quiet for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, to figure out what he wanted to say.

“MC,” he started, and the words felt heavy on his tongue, “You know I love you. I am simply worried for you and want to know if you are ok. Any time I accidentally touch you, you seem quite upset. I just want to know what’s wrong.”

Suddenly there were tears in MC’s eyes, and Asmo felt panicked.

“Please don’t cry,” he pleaded with her, “And please don’t be scared of me. I may be the avatar of lust, but I would never do anything to you that you do not want. And I will wait for you however long it takes.”

Somehow it seemed his words have only made it worse – MC began to sob.

“My problem is not with you,” she said through her cries, “It’s just that in the past I have encountered too many people who did not really want to take “no” for an answer. And sometimes I cannot help but remember that.”Asmo did not know he could feel this angry – whoever had hurt his wonderful human will get their due soon enough.

“And now I’m crying because here you are…a demon, an avatar of lust, and yet you are so considerate of me,” MC continued.

Asmo leaned forward and wrapped his arms around MC, pulling her into a hug. He stroke her hair, trying to console her.

“Ah, Asmo, I am so happy I met you,” MC said, “And I love you so much.”

Asmo felt warmth rise up in his chest and spread through his entire body. He was loved – loved by the one person who completely stole his heart – and he could not be happier.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #lucifer x mc #beelzebub x mc #asmodeus x mc #my writing

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inkrabbit · 4 years

Text

Jisei - Sandayu Oda

I finally did it. The one-shot I wanted to do for Oda is complete. This story takes place after “Don’t Fear the Reaper”, and if V goes back to save Takemura. There are 2 different endings, and they are both labeled. Also, words written in italics are just Oda speaking Japanese.

Also, a bit of a spoiler for the secret ending! Especially Takemura’s part in this story’s Bad End!

Summary: A month after the events at Arasaka Tower, Oda manages to track down Takemura in order to ask him for one thing: forgiveness. The result of V’s actions have been eating away at the man, and he feels as though the last person he needs to express his remorse to is his old master.

Trigger Warning: Mentions and actions of suicide, blood, and gore

Word count: 1,732

He failed. After years and years of trying to prove himself better than his master, he failed. Perhaps now he could understand Goro’s pain when Saburo died; that ultimate hopeless and defeated feeling. It made him ill, and as he knocked back another shot of whiskey, he grit his teeth, slamming a fist down on the table. Arasaka was in shambles, Hanako had hidden herself away to grieve, and Sandayu? Well, he couldn’t bring himself to show his face. Twice he had failed, and twice he had beaten himself up over it. V, that despicable merc, had ruined everything. All he was and all he stood for had been reduced to nothing but ruble and regret.

He had thrown himself down to the feet of Miss Arasaka, pleading for her forgiveness. She had granted it, a gentle caress to his cheek with a sorrowful smile. But it didn’t make him feel better. He started out the first week groveling and feeling sorry for himself, contemplating committing seppuku in order regain any sort of honor to his name. But something nagged at him, and what would’ve been his final words were crumpled up and thrown into the trashcan that resided by the old motel’s bedside.

Hanako had been nice enough to finally tell Sandayu of Goro’s fate after the general fall of Arasaka, and after he had gotten over his self-loathing. The only redeeming quality he could find in V. The merc had run through a hail of gunfire to go back and save Goro, and the man had been in hiding ever since. Oh, but that didn’t stop Sandayu from trying to track the man down day in and day out, desperate to reach out to him. Goro had always been there for him, even when he was supposed to be strict and cold during training. He needed the man’s forgiveness as well.

It took almost a month, but he had finally done. Sleepless nights and determination had led him out to the Badlands, heat beating down on him and his hair sticking to his forehead. The motorcycle he had “found” was parked across the street in an old abandoned parking lot, and Sandayu found himself walking towards an old store. Any last traces of Goro had led back to this spot, a lone building that he couldn’t even identify. He could see why it was chosen. Walking up, however, he stops. The old dusty windows show his reflection, a broken and strange man who barely even recognized himself anymore. His dress shirt was wrinkled and open, the black tank top underneath clinging to his body as sweat made the material damp. His once nice slacks were replaced with jeans, torn in a couple places from recent fights he had found himself in when traveling out to get food. He looked horrible and felt more ashamed the more he stared at himself with tired and lifeless eyes. Shaking his head and taking a breath in, he continues into the old store.

Cobwebs and dust clutter the building, along with trash and insects. Sandayu can feel his skin crawl as he travels deeper into the outlet, scanning all he can. Nothing comes back useful and he searches every nook and cranny. Old books, candy wrappers, cans and bottles, some paper bags that once contained food. But as he travels further back, he finally spots it. Large double doors and seem to lead to a second level. Anxiety picks up as he walks forward, pushing one of the doors open and listening intently.

Good End:

The sound of soft footsteps catch his attention as he travels down the old stairs. His heart leaps when he sees Goro at the bottom, standing in front of a counter, his back facing him. He looked in better shape than Sandayu, his own dress shirt still pristine as he picks up a shot glass, knocking back the contents. Gathering his courage, Sandayu stands at the bottom of the stairs, hands in tight fists as he inhales deeply.

“Takemura-sama!” he calls out. Goro jumps, eyes wide as he whips around, pistol at the ready. His stance falters as he eyes at the younger man, who’s bowing deeply before him. “Please, forgive me!”

“Oda…?” Setting down the weapon, Goro straightens himself, even daring to walk a few steps forward as Sandayu picks himself back up.

“I have not only failed Hanako-Sama,” he continues, “but I have failed you as my mentor. Please, forgive me. I was not enough.”

The two stand in silence, Sandayu searching Goro’s face, desperately trying to find out what was going on through the man’s head. Finally, Goro sighs, coming forward to gently grasp his shoulder.

“You should not apologize, Oda-san,” he sighs. He gets ready to fire back, insist that he did, but Goro cut him off. “When Saburo-sama was killed, I was filled with deep regret. To have failed my only duty when I could have prevented it. I think about everything I could have done differently every day.”

Sandayu stands there, listening intently. They hadn’t spoken since their last meeting at the docks, and he had never heard of the man’s anguish until now. How he described everything… it’s exactly how he felt now.

“Sometimes, things happen. And we cannot stop it,” he goes on, leading him over to the counter. An opened bottle of sake sits next to the shot glass, and Goro fills it up, offering it to him. “Saburo-sama was to be killed, and I could not stop it. What happened at Arasaka… you could not stop it, Oda-san. It was, how one would say, “the hand they were dealt”. And we must accept that.”

“Arasaka was everything to me…” He stares down at the contents in the glass, his grip tightening. “And it just-”

“I understand,” He glances up, though Goro’s gaze is focused on the bottle in front of him, staring at it with distant focus. “I have… been reading a lot of jisei as of late, and have found peace in some of them.”

“Takemura-sama,” That’s when he notices it. A small wooden box a few feet away, the top open to reveal an old looking tantō. He feels his blood run cold.

“Just like you, Arasaka was all I had,” he continues, finally bringing himself to look at the younger man. “but you have nothing to apologize to me for, Sandayu. You were the most brilliant outcome of my entire career.”

With one last glance to the tantō, Sandayu slams the glass down and envelopes Goro in a tight embrace. The man catches himself, steadying his balance as he slowly brings his arms up, wrapping them around the younger man. They stay like that for a while, the silence almost deafening.

“What do we do now, Takemura-sama?” Sandayu finally asks, his voice soft as he slowly pulls away. Goro sighs, but gives him a small smile.

“We take time and heal,” he tells him. Turning, he shuts the lid of the box before picking up the shot glass, knocking back the sake. “I believe it would be easier to do it together. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes.”

Bad End:

There’s nothing but the sound of his own footsteps, and for a moment, he’s worried all of his hard work had gone to waste. Maybe Goro wasn’t here? Maybe he had made a mistake somewhere, his exhaustion causing him to be faulty in his search. But as he reaches the bottom of the stairs and starts for the next set, he stops. No.

“Takemura-sama!” Sandayu’s voice is shrill as he cries out his master’s name, nearly falling down the cement steps as he rushes over to the man. Goro was here, alright. And Sandayu was too late. The man was laying on his side in a puddle of his own blood, a few pieces of paper sprawled out around him. He sobs as he kneels beside the man, pulling him up and into his lap, his eyes glazed over and his body limp. He caresses his face, incoherently speaking to the man, pleading for him to come back. The only person he felt he had left in this world was currently laying dead in his lap, his hair having been taken out of its bun and the ends soaked in the crimson water.

“Goro, please!” he cries loudly, shaking the man, slapping his cheek, trying anything to make him come back. “Do not leave me! I need you! You have always been there for me, so why not now?!” He stops for a moment, unable to look away from the older man. His body was still warm. Had he been sooner… “… Why couldn’t I be there for you?”

Taking Goro’s hand in his own, he gives it a tight squeeze, trying to calm himself. He finally looks around at the papers that were scattered across the floor, scanning them. All appeared to be jisei and it made his stomach churn. The bloody tantō lies a few inches away from him, and it just fuels his slowly burning rage. Why couldn’t he had been faster? Was he already dead by the time he parked the motorcycle? Should he have called out for the man?

Instead of getting up and trashing the place like his body screamed to do, he instead leans his head down, pressing his forehead to Goro’s and closing his eyes. He speaks internally, and he speaks fast, stumbling over words as he still heaves shaky breaths. He hopes the man can, somehow, somewhere, hear what he’s saying. How he asks for him to forgive his failures and how he thanks him for all he had taught him. He apologizes for their last meeting, and he tells him how he longed for them to just a day together.

Finally, he gently lowers Goro back to the ground, closing the man’s eyes and admiring him. He finally looked like he was at peace, his muscles relaxed and for once his eyebrows weren’t knitted together. He picks up one of the poems, wondering what was going through Goro’s head in his last moments. None of the poems resembled his handwriting, leaving him to wonder what his jisei would’ve read. Setting the paper down, he looks over to the tantō. All throughout his apprenticeship, he had followed in Goro’s footsteps exactly. And as he stands here now, he wonders: Should I continue to?

#cyberpunk 2077 #fanfic #sandayu oda #goro takemura #tw #suicide #blood #gore #some spoilers

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

an empire of lies | kth

muses. ability type!taehyung x heir!reader

synopsis. taehyung usually comes knocking on your window - yes, window - at something a.m. every once in awhile. it’s the closest you get to being that girl whose crush throws pebbles on her bedroom window and serenades her with a song played on his guitar.

except taehyung comes around to rummage your fridge and free load for a couple days before disappearing like the thin air that always seem to blow when he’s around.

oh, and your apartment is on the 19th floor.

words. 2k

note. this is a spinoff drabble from my partially written draft. can be read as a standalone!

“why are you covered in blood?” you ask, curiosity no longer being a distant concept after knowing the man for almost a decade now. the gust of wind that always seem to be around the corner whenever he pops up in front of you, now greets you in a burst. forcing your eyes to flutter shut from its force.

the saint laurent article that you would usually see on him, is missing. instead he tears the tubes prodded deep inside his veins, the once pristine white hospital gown now marred with crimson blood, joining them on your recently mopped floor a second later.

“it’s not mine.” he says simply. if you were younger and didn’t know any better, you would have freaked out. scenarios would have filled your brain and made you consider calling the police on this inhumanly attractive man that’s walking around in your kitchen, half-naked with his pants hung low around his hips.

a sigh escapes you as you pick up his discarded items, tossing them in the trashcan next to the counter before bumping him with your hip as you tell him to move away from inspecting the content of the fridge, “this is the last time i’m cooking for your free loading ass.”

you don’t miss the way taehyung nods and walks away instead of shooting you one of his boyish grins and showering you with empty compliments for being such a good host.

“it’s more like feeding a stray dog that comes around every once in awhile.” you would remark whenever praised you for your kindness. just to set a line and ground yourself to the fact that this tall and handsome as hell man is only here because your late grandmothers happened to be best friends.

“you got any beer?” he asks some time after a passing of silence and the first sizzle of the pan.

to say you’re surprised is an understatement - you spend a good one minute staring at taehyung’s tanned back, marred with scars he’d never talk about, as he pries your cupboard open one after another.

if there’s anything kim taehyung is, it’s wine, high designer fashion and everything along the refined way of living. and the beverage he’s asking for couldn’t have been so far shoved on the other end of the spectrum.

but you know not to mention that - not right now when he looks like he just came from a hunt. who and what, you’re fine not knowing.

“i can make a quick trip to the grocery store and see if they have some.” you offer, but quickly add, “i’m running low on strawberry milk anyway.”

just so you wouldn’t come off as going the extra mile for him. which is something you never usually do. but taehyung’s lack of smile is neither an unusual sight.

the aforementioned man lets out a noise, something like a chuckle that gets blocked by a tired sigh, “you and your strawberry milk - you do know they didn’t add real strawberries, right?”

you shoot him an accusatory look, “do you also go around telling kids that santa doesn’t exist?”

his shoulder line shakes as he chuckles - a real, actual one this time. hands held up in surrender, “don’t shoot the messenger.”

“well, the messenger better sit the fuck down or i’m turning off the stove and you’re left with half boiled pasta and half cooked salsa.” you huff, going back to adding a half cup of cilantro.

his “yes, ma’am” is a tad dull, obscured by the dark clouds hovering over his eyes yet not so much in need of a cut.

with that, you see him shuffle out of your periphery. seconds later, the squeaky sound of the chair hits the air, sticking out like a sore thumb against the fine sizzle of the salsa.

“you really need to get this chair fixed,” he comments, but you bet your memories of your grandmother that if you’d turned around, you’d see him sitting on the same chair he criticized while there are possible two more good ones on either side, “better yet, buy a new one.”

“if i buy a new one, i’ll have to buy the whole set otherwise it’ll look awkward as hell and ruins the aesthetic.” you shrug, as in to say, oh well, it’s a squeaky chair but it’s my squeaky chair. and apparently, taehyung likes that chair too.

silence lapsed between you while you cook - you don’t know what taehyung is doing to fill in those fifteen minutes until you finally plated a pasta for a serving of two, when you turn around, however, you don’t expect the sight before you.

the man has his arms folded over the counter, head propped over. his eyelashes flutter just the slightest bit from the movements of his eyes behind their lids. probably dreaming.

you set the plate a few inches away from him just so he wouldn’t end up dipping his hand into it out of surprise when you go around the counter to tap his shoulder, “taehyung?”

but your palm never touched his skin. instead, you find yourself staring at a pair of mesmerizing brown eyes. never mind the much larger hand wrapped around your wrist midair - you can barely feel it as you fall down down the rabbit hole and into his never seemingly ending gaze.

it’s in that moment that your phone rings, bringing you back to the reality of it all - that though taehyung makes himself approachable and puts on a friendly facade, at the end of the day, he comes and goes like the winds blowing through cities.

“so you weren’t sleeping.” you find yourself asserting, pulling your hand back as though his touch is molten lava, “eat up. i’ll get you some fresh clothes - well, they’re yours from the occasions you actually remember to bring a spare.”

but just before you get to take any step forward after turning your back on him, a pair of muscled arms wrap around you, holding you tight yet tenderly. like a glass case around a plucked rose.

his breath is hot against your neck, his head leaning on your shoulder. even when he’s sitting, he still manages to make you feel like a child. short. tiny. defenseless.

he’s everything your mother, a strong woman who raised you until the age of ten before her untimely death - your grandmother never said it, but you knew your mother didn’t die in her sleep, had told you to run away at first sight.

“never, never meddle with classes, ___ - promise me you’ll live a normal life, like a human.” at the time, you thought she meant the people adorned with golds and diamonds with a whole lot of money to spend and a lack of cause to spend it on. you thought those people had lost their humanity along the line as they chased for fame and wealth.

it isn’t until you met taehyung - the boy whose eyes were always drawn to the clouds and on one fine day, got lifted off the air, up to the tree to save your cat and bring it down to you with a silly grin - that you realized she meant those people. the ability types.

taehyung doesn’t say it, but you suspect he’s at least a second class.

“i really missed you.”

you couldn’t believe your ears. not after the still silence that follows suit. as though he didn’t say anything. as though your mind was playing tricks on you.

“what happened out there?” the question finally hits the air, not sharp enough to cut poke or even hurt the elephant in the room, but loud enough to be heard, “what happened to you?”

you tumble a step back as taehyung pulls you closer until his thighs encase your hips and arms wrap around you too perfectly, “i can’t tell you - i promised granny cheong i won’t rope you into this - not when you have a real chance to live a normal life.”

your shoulder line stiffens at the mention of your grandmother - the image of a fifteen year old taehyung by her deathbed and the subtle sound of her telling him something, floods your mind. it was then, you were so sure - she made him promise to leave you alone just like she knew she was about to that night.

on nights you stayed back at the office, you still wonder why she’d deliberately made sure the only other closest person you had to a family, left you too.

now, you don’t know what you and taehyung are.

your hand covers his arm that’s banded around your tummy, noticing the slight tremble in his bones. heart racing, mind making up a million scenarios for what you’re about to say.

he could recoil - he could leave you like he did right after you graduated high school. and this time you might not see him again but something inside you writhes with a desire that you’ve pushed to the very pit of your stomach all these years but if you don’t say it now, if you let taehyung leave this place and disappear for another six month-

“what if i don’t want a normal life? what if i want to be with you? classes or not.”

he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t pull away like you’re a made of fire either. yet your heart seem to palpitate faster than before.

“should we run away? just the two of us?” his voice is oddly calming - that’s how you know he’s only entertaining you for the sake of not offending you.

“stop that.” you force out despite the lump in your throat.

“stop what?” and he still chooses to pretend like everything’s fine.

“don’t tell me you’ll run away with me and let me wake up to an empty bed in the morning-” your breath falls short, “-that’s too cruel, taehyung.”

he doesn’t say anything for the longest moment. and within that moment, your thoughts run rampant. and you actually thought, for one sweet second, that he would tell you he means it. that he’ll leave everything - whatever shit he’s in - and hop on the plane with you to wherever land.

“i have to settle something first.”

the first scoff hits the air like vapor against heat, “there’s always something - just... just let me go, taehyung.”

you push his hands off you, not caring if he wanted to take refuge here or if he’ll leave. all you know if your car keys are in the bowl next to the door and you own a whole building in case push comes to shove and you end up without a home. well, your home will still be here but taehyung won’t by the time you return.

or so you’d planned.

but nothing ever seem to go your way. not since your mother brought you to tokyo and raised you there only to leave you and have an elderly woman show up at the orphanage that you spent a week at and claimed that she was your grandmother.

not since that grandmother raised you with the boy who had the brightest smile and left you with a scar so deep, you’re never really the same again.

as soon as taehyung’s warm arms releases you, the sudden chill of the something a.m. breeze engulfs you. but it is short lived as you find yourself staring at the man who spun you around with one hand and a another on your back, pulling you flush against his body.

you hate yourself for melting into him like an ice cream on a bright summer day.

all of a sudden, you’re both 11 and trekking down your grandmother’s backyard that makes up a whole private forest reserve.

“it’s always been you.” his voice trembles. as though he’s a push away from falling into pieces, “everything i did - it was to make sure they won’t touch you.”

“t-the organization?” it’s purely reflex - you know who they are. the causes of the deaths in your lives. timely or not. “why would they want to have anything to do with me? don’t they hate me? because i’m ordinary?”

the chin resting on your head shifts as he shakes his head, arms encompassing you so tightly, it’s almost hard to inhale and yet breathing isn’t a priority at the moment, “it’s in your blood - you may be ordinary but you were born from a long line of first classes. they can’t rule out the possibility of your kids being ability types - maybe even zero’s.”

“taehyung,” your hand clenches into a fist over the area of his chest where his heart palpitates underneath. his gaze pierces into your soul when you crane your neck to look at him - he always felt like a fresh air and open meadows.

until now.

now, it feels like you’re trapped in the heart of the hurricane. whirling and writhing in a vortex of emotions you’ve never allowed yourself to be acquainted to before.

“what exactly did you promise grandma?”

it’s the way his eyes shake and brows twitch even though his face remains neutral - unmarred by the creases of tension that no doubt graces your own features.

the only indication that he’s reluctant to respond is the pressing of his lips together before he breathes out the softest sigh. as though bracing himself. but his voice has never been so sure.

“i promise i’d kill you myself if they ever approached you.”

#bts smut #taehyung smut #bts scenarios #bts fic #networkbangtan #taehyung scenarios #taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts #taehyung #kim taehyung #kim taehyung smut #excerpt from a fic i’ll never write

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 4 years

Text

The Dutchess’ Garden - Part 5

Series Masterlist - Chris Evans Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Pairing: Chris Evans x OC Emma Meijers (typical Dutch girl. Blonde, blue eyes.)

Warnings: Explicit language, fluff, not really smut but kinda.

Word count: 1501

‘I thought you’d be home Monday,‘ Robert says. She looks at him with a smile. ‘I was supposed to be home Monday, but I realized I left someone hanging at home,‘ she explains, ‘so Chris, can I take you out sometime? Preferably tonight at seven?‘

7pm. The sun is still bright, nearing golden hour. Chris is standing in front of The Dutchess’ Garden dressed in a suit in the burning heat. Emma told him to dress up, but he took it too far. A jacket it too much for this weather. Does he really care though? Not really, but he is sweating buckets. At least, that’s what it feels like but when he checks his armpits are like a desert. Emma told told him to go around the back and press the doorbell there. She told him that’s where she lives. He looks up at the small balcony above the door and sees the doors are wide open. There is music playing and Emma is humming along. A smile creeps on his face as he presses the doorbell. ‘Oh, Chris, I’ll be down in a second,‘ she calls. He looks up again and sees her leaning over the fence of her balcony. Her hair is waving with the wind, her makeup is done simple but her lips are bright red, he sees parts of a dark turquoise top that compliments her skin. ‘I’ll be here,‘ he answers. She smiles and disappears from the balcony. He can hear her coming down the stairs before the door swings open. The dark turquoise top Chris saw from upstairs turns out to be a slip dress with a plunging back. How many slip dresses does this woman own? ‘Hey, would you mind waiting in the living room for a second? I have to do something real quick,‘ she sounds hurried. ‘Only if you have ac,‘ he jokes. ‘I’ve got multiple fans running,‘ she answers, ‘now come on you big baby and take off that jacket. It’s way too hot.‘ No, she didn’t tell him to take off his jacket so she could awe at his body, that would be highly inappropriate. But what is also highly inappropriate is that suit. Dark blue with a matching tie and white blouse. He looks like a snack. It’s unfair. He follows Emma upstairs and has a small look around while she explains she’ll be back in a second. She’s gone before he can say anything, so he continues to look around. Her apartment is two rooms. The kitchen/living room/bedroom and the bathroom. It’s a mash of different colors, but all compliment each other really well. Her kitchen has a white top and pastel pink cabinets with turquoise tiles on the floor. She has a mint colored fridge with a pastel pink trashcan next to it and yellow bar stools in front of the extending part of the kitchen that looks somewhat like a bar. There is no diner table. In the living section of the house there are two couches. One a big, but dainty, wooden couch with beige cushions and different colored pillows and blankets littered all over it, the other a red leather couch with a crochet blanket draped over the seat and back to prevent the leather from sticking to skin. There’s a small coffee table, which is just a big crate with a stone slab on top of it, and a light blue, imitation Persian rug on the floor. And then there’s the bedroom section. She has a queen-sized bed that could barely fit two people with yellow sheets and a big teddy bear laying where a partner would lay. Above it hangs a big slab of wood with a naked lady painted with turquoise skin surrounded by white flowers and grass on it. Out of curiosity, Chris takes a few steps closer to see the name of the artist. Emma. ‘Chris, I’m done,‘ Emma calls from downstairs, almost scaring Chris so hard that he falls over into her bed but he managers to catch himself. She hears some rumbling upstairs and feels a bit concerned. A man that big in a place that small might cause some problems. ‘Are you okay?‘ ‘I am, I’m fine. I’m coming,‘ he calls back down and rushes down the stairs. ‘You still have you jacket on,‘ she notices, ‘aren’t you hot?‘ ‘I am, in both senses of the word,‘ he jokes. She smiles and playfully punches his arm. ‘Sure man, whatever you say,‘ she laughs and starts walking ahead of him. It is only now that he notices her shoes. They’re big clog-like shoes only leather and sleeker. ‘I like your shoes,‘ he teases. ‘Oh, right, they’re my kitchen shoes,‘ she tells him, ‘they have steel toes, so don’t try anything funny.‘ ‘You were the one who asked me out, I think I should be more worried.‘ ‘Then you’ll be happy to know I have other shoes waiting for me.‘ ‘Where?‘ ‘In The Dutchess.‘ ‘We’re eating at The Dutchess? You let your chef come over?‘ She stops, turns around, and lifts her foot while pointing at the clogs on them. It seems enough of a hint for Chris. ‘You cooked?‘ ‘I did. I hope you don’t mind, but I called some people to ask if you have any allergies,‘ she says with a small grin. ‘I don’t mind.‘ ‘Good, because I wasn’t going to apologize for making sure you don’t die.‘ A snorting laugh way louder than he expected leaves Chris’ mouth. Emma giggles, hiding her mouth behind her hand and walking further.

Emma opens the door for Chris and allows him to walk in. His jaw falls open at the sight of The Dutchess. There are candles everywhere, flowers in vases on all the tables, string lights around the whole bar. ‘It’s beautiful,‘ he awes. ‘I know right,‘ she smiles, ‘but I do have to admit some of it is for the party tomorrow. The candles are for you though.‘ ‘Thank you, I love it,‘ Chris says as he puts an arm around Emma’s shoulder and pulls her into his chest. Mindlessly, he presses a kiss to her forehead. She leans into him with a grin on her face. ‘I’ve got some wines picked out with the meal,‘ she tells him, slowly guiding him towards the table. She pulls out the chair for him and everything. ‘Aren’t I supposed to do that for you,‘ he asks with a chuckle. ‘I asked you out,‘ she replies, ‘so I’m going to be a gentleman for you. I’ll get the first course.‘ ‘First? How many are there,‘ he asks in disbelief. ‘Three. Not too many,‘ she smiles back at him.

As they progress through the meal, Chris starts to realize that she really listened and watched when they’d eat together. She took note of his diet and made the meal so that he wouldn’t have to compromise the next day. Even the dessert isn’t too bad. Simply some sorbet ice cream with fruit and shaved almonds on top. Nothing he couldn’t take. He enjoyed her company, her smile, the way she talks. The sound of her voice could soothe him at the worst of times and could excite him at the best. He found it beautiful how she looked so naturally sophisticated and wondered how she had looked while cooking. He would imagine it would involve her sweatpants, but knowing that she owns special kitchen clogs made him rethink that. She probably had the whole kitchen assemble to match them. She could talk forever and he would never ask her to shut up. ‘Chris, are you still there,‘ she smiles at him. He snaps out of it. ‘I’m so sorry, you’re enchanting, I just-‘ He stops himself from saying something embarrassing, but she looks hopeful. ‘I couldn’t help it. You’re just too beautiful.‘ ‘That’s sweet Chris,‘ she gently grabs his hand over the table, ‘thank you so much for tonight. I was so scared you wouldn’t want to-‘ ‘I was the one who kissed you,‘ he smiles, ‘I couldn’t even say no if I wanted to.‘ He watches her try to suppress a wide smile. She leans over the table and he leans towards her. They lips touch together for a chaste kiss. ‘Thank you.‘ ‘No need to thank me.‘

The two of them start to clear the table, blow out the candles, and clean up. She had told him he didn’t have to help her, but he insisted. She had smiled at him and let him. And then the end of the night came. Way too fast for both of their liking. ‘Ehm, I still have to walk Dodger,‘ Chris says like it’s a suggestion, but to Emma it sounds like it’s the end of the night. ‘That’s okay,‘ she smiles, ‘I’ll see you at the party tomorrow, righ?‘ ‘Or you could walk with me?‘ She lights up. ‘Yeah, yes, I would like that,‘ she smiles brightly, ‘give me a minute to get changed. I’ll be right over.‘

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x oc #chris evans #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #captain america #captain america fanfic

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brianandthemays · 5 years

Text

Paper Rings (Ben Hardy x reader)

Hello!!! First of all: Thank you to @queen-irl-af for beta reading and helping me out!! Love ya! Second! I used the song Paper Rings by Taylor Swift as the main inspiration so give it a listen

Third: There will be a second part coming out soonish!!!!!

and as always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REBLOG, SEND AN ASK, COMMENT, AND LIKE! YOU’RE YOUR FEEDBACK MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME!!!!

Warnings: There is slight smut so 18+ only, please. If I find out you’re underage I will have to block you! Also fluff, angst, and fluff. It’s kinda cute

Word Count: 5.8K

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The house was foggy with smoke. When your friend invited you to this party you didn’t realize that people would basically just be smoking weed the whole time. Now you were stuck sitting in the corner with a drink in your hand, watching as your friend, and ride, climb high enough to cloud nine. You swiped out your phone and groaned when you realized it was dead. Taking the final sip of your drink you stood to pour yourself another one. You grabbed a drink and started to pour when you glanced outside. There was a guy out there, smoking what looked like a cigarette and just looking up at the sky. You grabbed your drink and walked towards him. When you opened the door, he glanced back at you nodding in acknowledgment. You shot him a smile and wrapped your arms around yourself, it was colder than you’d thought I’d be.

“Cold in’nit,” he commented, bringing his cigarette to his mouth.

“Yeah.” You shivered and glanced up at the sky. “Moon looks nice.”

He shrugged and blew out some smoke. You gave him a sideways glance before walking over to one of the patio chairs to sit down. The smoke from his cigarette was nauseating but not as bad as the pungent smell of the weed inside. You took a moment to take him in. Up close you could tell he was quite attractive. His eyes were a unique color of green and he had blonde hair with a few curls in it. You could tell he was fit under his clothes and you felt drawn to him.

“Not your scene?” he asked, nodding inside. You glanced up at him, breaking out of your observation.

You shook your head. “Smoking anything usually makes me sick.”

“Go home,” he suggested.

“My ride is high as a kite right now,” you explained with a chuckle. “So, I guess I’m stuck here.” He put out his cigarette and threw it in the trashcan outside. “What about you?”

“My vice is cigarettes. I’ll get high every now and then but not nearly as often,” he replied. “I’m Ben Jones by the way.”

You looked up at him; he was holding out his hand to you, so you took it. “(Y/N).”

His hand was slightly calloused and brushed your hand the right way, sending a shock down your arm. You swallowed thickly looked at his emerald eyes. He let go and cleared his throat.

“I’m friends with Rog,” he explained. “My flatmate first year.”

“Cheryl’s my friend,” you offered. “I think she’s got a thing for Rog.”

“Is she the chick with blonde highlights?” he questioned looking through the glass door.

You furrowed your eyebrows standing up to stand next to him. There in Roger’s lap was Cheryl practically eating his face off. His hand was on her breast as they swallowed each other and you groaned, officially coming to terms with your fate.

“That’s her,” you conceded, putting your face in your hands. He laughed and brought a hand to your shoulder in comfort. The shock was back, sending electricity down your back. You looked over at him, a smile on your lips and a lip between your teeth. He licked his lips and smirked at you. Boy, the smirk was really doing something to you. He turned towards you, shortening the distance between the two o fup.

“You live far?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your face.Your heart was pounding as you shook your head, staring up at him through your eyelashes and he continued. “Maybe I can take you home.”

You raised an eyebrow and he copied, as if challenging you to resist him. Of course, how could you say no to the magnetic pull that was taking force on you?

“Please,” you answered, your own playful smirk on your face. “Take me home.”

His smirk turned into a smile and he reached won to grab your hand. You gasped and almost spilt your drink as he tugged you inside.

“Slow down!” you shouted, trying not to laugh.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologized, coming to a stop.

You gulped down the rest of your drink and threw your cup onto the counter. “Okay, let’s go.”

The two of you run out of the house to his car. The second you shut your door you reach over and grab his shirt bringing him to your lips. He brought his hand to the back of your head, roughly smashing you further into him. You bit his bottom lip and pulled back slightly.

“Take me home.”

The second you got to his house, he had you against the wall. His lips touching every inch of exposed skin. Every kiss left fire in it’s wake and you felt like you would burn down. He pulled back enough to pull your shirt over your head but then immediately latched his lips back to your throat. His hands reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, letting it fall down your arms to the floor.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” He sighed, pulling back to look at you. You felt so adored under his gaze; the way he looked at you was so adoring it made your breath catch in your throat.

He brought his lips down to your chest, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. You let a moan out of your mouth tangling your fingers in his hair. You found you hips bucking forward, looking for some kind of friction. Ben slotted a leg between yours allowing you to grind against his thigh as he suckled on your breast. He moved his lips right above your nipples and suck a mark into your skin, causing you to whimper. He pressed one more kiss to it before moving up to kiss your lips again.

“Please just fuck me,” you groaned against his lips.

He smirked and pulled you away from the wall. “That can be arranged.”

The rest of the night was a blur of pleasure. But the whole time, it felt so different from your other hookups. He was so loving and delicate. Every step of the way making sure you were okay and comfortable. When it was done, he made sure to clean up and take care of you before collapsing next to you. You laid awake starring at the ceiling, breathless. Who was this guy? Ben… Ben who? You needed to get up and charge your phone so you could get out of here.

You glanced over at the man next to you satisfied that he was truly asleep before getting up and wandering around the room. Next to his bed you found and out lit with a plug in it and plugged your phone in. He mumbled in his sleep on the bed but didn’t stir as you waited for your phone to turn back on. Eventually, it lit up in the dark and you glanced over at Ben to make sure he didn’t wake up. So far you were in the clear. Once your phone loaded up, you went to google maps to see how far your house was. It wasn’t far, the lyft wouldn’t be too much.

The closest lyft was 10 minutes away, so you had some time. Now, who was this guy? He said his name was Ben… but Ben what? You looked over at him to make sure he was still passed out before crawling to look at his wallet. Broke, not that you were going to take his money. There was his ID. Ben Jones. Ben Jones was the name of the incredibly attractive man snoring loudly on the bed next to you.

Then your phone dinged, letting you know your lyft was close. You felt kinda bad, but you couldn’t stay there. Instead, you wrote a note. Grabbing a pen from his kitchen you scribbled a note on a piece of paper.

Thanks for the great night, maybe see you around.

X (Y/N)

The next morning, you woke up with a headache. You groaned and looked over at the clock; it was noon. You furrowed your eyebrows and put a hand to your forehead. Then in through the door came Cheryl.

“Where the fuck were you last night?” she screeched, glaring at you.

“Shut up! Shut up!” you grumbled at her, your head pounding.

She came over to the side of the bed and sat down.

“You ditched me!” she continued loudly. You rolled over and put your pillow on your head to block her out. “Where did you go?”

Then it came back to you. Going outside, leaving with that guy, oh my god. Ben. Ben Jones. The amazingly attractive man you had sex with last night. You sat up and looked over at Cheryl.

“What?”

“What do you know about Ben Jones?” you asked hesitantly.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped.

“You didn’t…” she gasped. You buried your face in your hands and she squealed causing you to cringe again. “Ben Jones? As in rugby playing actor Ben Jones?” You reached over and grabbed your phone, ow at 100%, you opened Instagram. “I almost got with Roger, but he forgot my name. Called me Charlotte or something.”

She kept talking but you tuned her out, looking up “Ben Jones” on Instagram. He popped up quickly, pictures of him playing rugby and ads for shows he was in littered his feed. He was, without a doubt, quite attractive. But there was also something childish in his eyes. A goofy look in his smile. You found yourself smiling to yourself.

“Are you even listening to me?” Cheryl humphed. You mumbled an apology before throwing off the covers and getting out of bed. “Where are you going?”

“We’re out of milk!” you called back to her. Really you just had to get out of the house. You had to get some fresh air and call Joe.

“If you’re going to the store, can you get some cheese too? I need to make my quiche!”

You headed out into the London air. The first thing you did was call Joe. Joe had been your friend since you were little. Your best friend to be exact.

“Joe!” you shouted when he answered.

“Dear God, don’t shout into the phone,” he retorted. “What’s going on?”

You told him everything. The party and everything that happened after. The intimate moments with Ben that were delicate and careful. The way his touch sent flames down your spine. Finding out he was a rugby player and, most importantly, how his stupid goofy smile wouldn’t leave your mind.

“Damn, you’ve been in London for one semester and you’re already fitting in!” he commented.

“Shut up, totally not the right thing to be focusing on right now!” you hissed. “The problem is I left this morning and now I don’t have any way to find him.”

“Did you—”

“Yes, I stalked him on the internet,” you interrupted. “He’s a certified hottie.”

“Well chica, maybe message him,” Joe suggested.

You cringed, walking into the supermarket. “Not exactly subtle, Joe.”

Joe scoffed over the phone and you made your way to the cheese aisle. Cheryl’s cheese choices were very specific and had to be a certain brand or she’d make you go back, and that was not your ideal day.

“Are you going for subtly?” he asked.

You grunted, grabbing the cheese you know she likes before heading to the dairy section. As you turned the corner, and froze, turning right back into the aisle.

“Joe, omigod, he’s right there,” you growled into the phone. “what do I do?”

Joe laughed loudly and you frowned. “Okay, don’t worry, just don’t give him a cold shoulder, that’ll make your situation even worse. Maybe say something, did he see you?”

You peaked around the corner again and he was still looking at some bottles of wine. Lord, his eyes were almost as green as the wine bottles. You pulled back into the aisle, smiling at an elderly woman as she walked back.

“I don’t think so,” you told him.

“Okay here’s what you’re gonna do,” Joe started. “You’re gonna walk up to him and casually tell him that you want him to wreck you every night for the rest of your life.”

“JOE!” you whisper shouted.

“Am I wrong?” he defended. “Now go and call me back later.”

Then he hung up and you cursed under your breath. Then you sucked a large breath and walk out of the aisle. You approached him and he looked up. His eyes flashed with recognition, and a smirk started to come over his lips. Flashes of the night before hitting you hard. His lips on your chest, on your stomach, on your thighs, on your... oh lord. And you panicked. And instead of walking towards him, you walked right past him, feeling his eyes follow you past him. You mentally slapped your forehead and turned around, but he was gone.

“Fuck.”

You didn’t see him again for a few weeks, maybe a month when Cheryl invited you to another party. You were hesitant to go, not wanting a repeat of last time but she wore you down. And again you found yourself standing by yourself in a corner. You took out your phone and you swore it was déjà vu. Your damn phone was almost dead, again.

“You need a charger?” a deep voice behind offered. You turned and saw him, and those deep eyes. You nodded, suddenly finding your voice gone. “Ah, so you do remember me.”

You scrunched your mouth into a smile. “Ben… right.”

“That’s right, (Y/N),” he chuckled. The way he said your name sent a shiver down your back. “Thought you might’ve been too drunk to remember.”

You frowned, that was rude. “I had only had one drink,” You defended.

“Oh, was that rude?” He raised his eyebrows, a playful look in his eyes. “I was confused because I saw you in the supermarket, the next day. And you gave me a cold shoulder.”

Fuck. He had you on a line and you took the bait. He held out a charger to you and you took it, deliberately brushing your fingers against his, trying not to show the effect he was having on you. You turned from him and started searching for a plug.

“Nothing to say to that?” he prompted, hoping to reel you in.

“What can I say?” you returned over your shoulder. “Sorry I hurt your feelings.”

He let out a huff of air, smiling at you. Two could play at this game. The only question was who would cave first. But who knew if he’d been thinking about you like you’d been thinking about him? All you could do was hope and pray you didn’t make a fool out of yourself again. You finally found a plug and got your phone charging before turning back to Ben, who had been following you around.

“What brings you back out to the party?” he asks, leaning against the wall.

You smiled coyly at him. “Something in air, I guess. And you?”

“Call it intuition,” he replied, a smirk pasted on his face.

God you wanted him. You wanted to feel the same passion you had last time. You wanted to feel his hands roam your body, sending flames spiraling around your body. That couldn’t have been the same feeling you had every time you hooked up with someone. But you couldn’t let it be that easy no matter how much you wanted it. And you could feel his want too, it was practically radiating off of him. But the longer you made him wait, the better it would feel.

“Wow, great minds… huh,” you quipped.

“Suppose so,” he answered.

There was silence between you. An eye game. His eyes were darting between your eyes and your lips and your body. Yours stayed put on his eyes, watching him as he looked you over. God you wanted him. His lips were so perfect and you wanted to feel them all over your body.

“So, do you want to…” He motioned with his hand towards the door. You had him right where you wanted him, and you knew what you had to do, no matter how much your body was telling you to do the opposite.

“Actually, no… I don’t think so,” you replied simply.

His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I promised Cheryl that I wouldn’t leave this time,” you explained, the smirk not leaving your face.

“I see… I see…” He raised his hands in submission. And though you could tell he was trying to act nonchalant, there was a hint of disappointment behind his eyes. That made you hesitant but you couldn’t go back now. “Well, I guess I’ll head out then, see you around?”

“Maybe,” you lipped, smiling at him.

“I like maybe…” His green eyes flickered with playfulness, the disappointment leaving slightly. “But let me tell you, I will see you again.”

And with that he was gone, and the second he was, you took a breath for the first time in, what felt like, an hour. It took everything you had not to let him have you again, but you made it. You hoped that he would keep up on his promise and you would see him soon, but you didn’t see him for another month.

You were studying for winter finals at the library. It had been a frustrating study session. You’d been in there all afternoon and still couldn’t wrap your head around the subject. Across from you the chair pulled out and someone sat down. At first you didn’t pay much attention to them but then they slide a muffin and a steamy drink across the table to you. You looked up and it was Ben. Your eyes widened and he smirked.

“Hi,” you greeted, giving him a small wave.

“Hey, love, how are you?” he asked, looking down at your book then up at you.

You frowned, pushing the book away. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile before leaning back in his chair. You were more than surprised to see him there. It realized you went to the same school as him, but you’d never run into him before. And he’d spent his money on you. You pulled the drink and muffin towards yourself.

“It’s hot chocolate and a chocolate chip muffin,” he told you. “Chocolate always helps me relax so I thought—”

“No, Ben it’s great, thank you so much,” you replied genuinely.

“I also heard orgasms help with stress.”

You almost spit out your sip of hot chocolate, getting some drops of your drinks on your notes. You sputtered, trying to think of a reply, desperately cleaning your notes up. But when you looked back up at him he was laughing heartily at you.

“I’m joking, love,” he chuckled. “Mainly… unless you want to…”

“Not at the moment,” you growled, a hint of amusement making its way into your voice. “But ask me tomorrow.”

He smiled, his stupid dorky smile when he got something he wanted. He leaned on his forearms, bringing himself closer to you. You continued to look at him as you brought the hot chocolate back to your mouth. You slowly bring your book back to yourself trying to subtly go back to studying.

“Oh, don’t mind me, I’ll just be here,” he told you, motioning for you to continue studying.

You narrowed your eyes at him, slightly confused as to why he would just want to sit there and watch you study but he looked perfectly happy. So, you continued studying; picking at your muffin and flipping through the pages. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense and you realized, Ben’s presence was calming. He just sat there scrolling on his phone, looking up at you every now and then. But still, he was like a white noise, keeping you focused. Eventually, you felt content with your studying and closed your book.

“So, what can I do to pay you back for the sustenance?” you asked, grabbing you back to pull out your purse.

“Be my date.” He answered almost immediately. “To Roger’s party this weekend I mean.” Your mouth dropped and you found yourself at a loss for words. “I mean, please? I feel like we always end up together anyway.”

You found yourself in a staring contest with him. You couldn’t deny the want you felt whenever you were around him. It felt like a magnet pulling you towards him and you wanted to be on his arm the whole night. Laughing with him, drinking with him, falling asleep on his arm. So, what was the harm? He was asking you.

“Okay.”

The day of the party came a lot quicker than you expected. Your finals were over, your bags were packed and all you had left was this party. Not that you weren’t excited to go, you always loved a party and now you had Ben as your so-called ‘date’, so what could go wrong. You just wore some jeans and a nice sweater you had. Ben was at your apartment at 7 ready to take you to Roger’s house.

“Wow, you look great,” he complimented you. You felt your cheeks heat up and you turned around to avoid letting him see. “Will Cheryl be there?”

“No, she’s already headed home for the winter. Left last night,” you informed him. This left the house empty in the case that something may happen with you and Ben. You planned this, and Cheryl was ecstatic.

“Oh, so house is empty?” he asked.

“Yup.”

“Ah.”

Silence. Then he held out his hand to you and you took it. He held you close as you walked through the London night. It was freezing. Snow covered the ground from an earlier flurry and the roads were barren save for ice. Ben was bundled up nicely while you found your sweater failing you, causing you to shiver in the cold.

“Oh, love,” he chuckled, pulling his jacket off his shoulders to drape over your shoulders. You thanked him softly, pulling the jacket closer around yourself. It smelt good. Like warmth with an undertone of cigarettes. It smelt like him.

Not much later you arrived at Roger’s house. Ben dragged you inside, waving and high fiving people along the way, but keeping his hand in yours the whole time. Eventually, you found your way to a free couch where Ben dropped you off.

“You want a drink?” he asked, standing in front of you.

“Sure,” you replied. He smiled at you and walked off to find you a drink. You felt happy. It was weird to think that a guy you hooked up with once a few months ago was now playing a game of cat and mouse with you. But you were ready to be done playing. And maybe tonight you’d be lucky.

A few other kids from school came and sat around you, smiling politely. You returned the smile and shifting to find a comfortable position.

“So, you’re here with Ben?” one of them asked. It was one of the boys. You just nodded. “He’s dope.”

“What’s your name?” a girl to your left asked.

“(Y/N),” you told her. She seemed nice enough, but you still wished Ben were nearby.

“Oh, you’re Cheryl’s roommate, right?” she exclaimed

You nodded again. “Yeah!”

Then Ben returned, carrying two drinks. He hoped over the couch, sliding his arm around you as he sat down.

“Hey Rach! How are you,” he asked politely, handing you your drink. You moved into his side more and you didn’t see it, but that made him smile.

“I’m good! Stephen and I were just introducing yourself to your date.” She gave you a look, moving her shoulder in a cheeky fashion.

“Is Kelvin here?” Ben asked.

She shook her head no, letting Stephen answer. “He still has a final tomorrow morning.”

“Sucks to suck I guess,” Ben joked, causing them to laugh. You smiled, watching their interaction. He was so natural with other people. Everyone felt at ease around him and you could understand why. Rachel and Stephen took their leave of you, leaving you and Ben sitting on the couch together. He looked down at you as you looked around the party.

“You look lost, love,” he told you.

“Sorry, I’ve just never been in the thick of a party before,” you admitted. “I’m usually with Cheryl and she usually abandons me, and I end up—”

“In the backyard with a stranger?” he finished; his eyes playful.

“Exactly,” you answered.

He laughed, reverberating in his chest and you could feel it. You let a blush come over your face as he took a sip of his drink. He hummed, letting you know he had something he wanted to say.

“What do you do?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“Like, other than come to parties, study and go to the supermarket, I don’t really know anything about you,” he pointed out.

“Oh, uh… I mean I’m a Journalism major with a minor in Film and Art,” you told him. “I’m from the States… New York actually. That’s where my friend Joe lives…” He nodded for you to continue. “Um… I grew up in Albany, which is the capital of New York. But my family moved to the city after my brother moved out?

“How old is your brother?” he asked.

“25 now. He’s an Engineer. Runs some engineering firm in Philadelphia,” you explained. “He’s very smart. Smarter than I am.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Ben interrupted.

“It’s just the truth.” You shrugged. “It’s fine. But I had to get away from my parents. Who have no trouble telling me how much better he is than me.” You blushed again. “Sorry, that was too much info.”

“No, it wasn’t, you can keep telling me everything,” Ben encouraged.

You looked at him, no hint of insincerity. And you did want to tell him everything. But just as you were, Roger rushed into the room.

“EVERYONE IN THE POOL!” he shouted before racing outside.

“He’s joking, right? Its freezing outside,” you cried. But as you were talking, Ben pulled you up and started dragging you outside. “No! BEN NO!

He laughed and let go walking back towards the pool. “Let go, love. Let’s live a little tonight!”

And with that, he slipped off his sweater, and you struggled not to let your eyes bug out. He tucked his feet into a cannonball landing with a splash. You watched with wide eyes as he reemerged, shouting at the cold, but motioned for you to join him. You turned away, closing your eyes, silently battling yourself. But then you turned back around and saw him again. Him and his silly smile and his green eyes. And you couldn’t help yourself. Off you ran. And with a great jump, you splashed in after him. As soon as you hit the cold, you felt your whole body freeze up. Your clothes clung to your body and you felt the warmth leaving you.

You breached the surface, gasping for breath. “Oh my God!” You shouted, looking for something to grab onto; to provide warmth.

“Love, love, calm down, c’mere.” Ben’s voice washed over you and you found yourself grabbing onto him. He wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you into his chest. His chest wasn’t much warmer, but you still felt yourself heating up. More people came crashing into the pool, but you found yourself unable to see them. Just Ben and his eyes. He put his chin on top of your head, holding you tightly, rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

“This isn’t safe,” you chattered, your teeth shaking. Ben just laughed and reached down to grab your legs, carrying you to the side of the pool. He sat you down on the top step resting his hands on either side of your hips.

“I’ll let you borrow my sweater,” he told you. You kept your arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him close to you. You shivered, your whole body shaking. “Oh, love, you’re turning blue.”

You glared at him, moving to rest your head on his chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady, allowing you to focus on something other than the cold. He pulled you back slightly and grabbed your hand, starting to leave the pool.

“Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?” he murmured, pulling you up and out of the water. He picked up his sweater and found you a towel, pulling it around your arms.

Once you were dried off, you found yourself in Ben’s white sweater sitting in a hallway across from Ben. He still had a towel around his bare body, his sweater currently being used by yourself.

“Thank you, Ben,” you said, smiling. “Tonight, has been surprisingly fun.”

“Oh, the fun is just beginning,” he teased, poking your toe with his. The music in the main room was dully playing in the background. You blushed, looking down into your lap. “What’s wrong, love?”

You looked up at him, his green eyes shining with concern. And you really couldn’t take it anymore. You crawled towards him on all fours, his eyes widening with surprise, you settled yourself on his thighs, straddling his waist. He hands came to rest on your hips, cocking his head. It was a question and he wanted you to answer first. To let him know this was okay. So, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. This kiss was different from the frantic, horny kiss that you had in the car the first time you met him. This was slower, more languid than before. His lips moved slowly against yours, one of his hands coming up to push back some of your hair.

You slide your hands up his chest, leaning into him more. You moaned when he started to move his lips down your jaw, sucking a mark into the space right behind your ear. You brought your hands up to tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a moan from him. You felt your breathing start to pick up and Ben moved his hands under your sweater. You moved your hands down to pull them up to your bra, giving him the permission he needed. But he still pulled back and looked at you.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he assured. His eyes were blown open and his lips were swollen. But he was still checking on you.

“Yes.”

And he went back in, this time the lust returned. It was heated and full of passion. He pulled your breasts out of your bra, massaging them slowly. You threw your head back, whimpering and panting heavily. Ben latched his lips to your collar, now exposed to him. The feeling of his thumbs brushing over your tits and his fingers digging into the flesh, along with his lips suck and nipping at the most sensitive areas on your neck left you weak. You let yourself go all but limp in his arms, letting him do what he wanted, letting the amazing feelings wash over you.

Soon, you found yourself in the same place you were two months ago. Laying in bed, now your bed, next to Ben. But this time you weren’t hurried to leave. Ben was lying next to you, one hand behind his head the other holding his phone. You were on your side, watching him, eyes furrowed in thought.

“What?” Ben asked, not looking over at you.

“Huh?”

“You’re looking at me.”

“Oh, I um…”

“(Y/N).” He put down his phone a looked over at you.

You looked down, tracing your finger in your sheets. “You didn’t…” You sighed, feeling stupid. “You didn’t just ask me to Roger’s party cause you wanted to have sex with me, right?”

He furrowed his eyebrows and turned on his side. “I mean, that was part of it.” And with that you felt your heart breaking a little. Fuck. He didn’t actually like you. He just wanted to fuck you. “But not all of it. Actually, most of it is because I couldn’t get you out of my mind.” Your mouth parted slightly. “Your face, your voice, your laugh, for some reason, you were stuck. And then I saw you the next day and you… ya know.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, covering your face with your hand.

“I’m an idiot, I hope you know that,” you told him, peaking through one of your fingers. “I saw you and wanted to talk to you but I panicked!”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s okay, I wasn’t going to let you get away.” He continued. “But I knew I wanted to see you again. And I saw you at that other party. Then I kinda was just looking for sex… but I was hoping you’d stay that time, and I’d make you breakfast and get to know you.” He blushed. “But you had Cheryl, so I knew I had to get you to come with me. As my date, somewhere. “So when Rog told me about this party, I knew I had to take you and the rest is history.” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to lay down on his chest.

You snuggled into his side, looping your leg with his. “Well, maybe we can make breakfast together tomorrow morning.”

“You won’t leave me again?” he asked, looking down at you.

You crawled up to him and connected your lips in a soft, heartfelt kiss. When you pulled back, Ben kept his eyes closed, a smile gracing his features.

“Never.”

______________________________________________

Tagging people I think would enjoy/people I’d like to read: @redspecialty @sweet-ladyy @strangeandwonderfulconcepts @leah-halliwell92 @angiefangirlworld-2

#Ben Hardy #Ben Hardy x reader #Ben Hardy imagine #song fic #Taylor Swift #paper rings

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kookscrescent · 5 years

Text

Secret Attractions (m) │ kth

➤ pairing│Taehyung x female reader ➤ summary│It’s hard keeping your relationship a secret. It’s especially hard keeping it a secret when both your boyfriend and brother are in the same idol group, and you don’t want your brother to dine out. ➤ rating│NC-17, mature, 18+ ➤ genre│smut, fluff, angst, boyfriend au, brothers best friend au ➤ warnings│protected sex, it’s honestly just a quicky lol, angst, Namjoon is angryyy ➤ word count│5.2k│semi edited ➤ release date│September 12th 2019 ➤ disclaimer│This is all fiction! Nothing mentioned/written are facts and/or real! So please just keep that in mind when reading and enjoy! Thank you ♡

⇥ Masterlist

Opening the door to the small and quiet coffee shop, you are immediately hit with the strong smell of grounded coffee. You have always loved the smell of coffee and you breath in deeply as you walk further into the shop looking for your boyfriend.

You don’t spot him right away, but you know that he’s probably trying to stay hidden somewhere in the back, trying his best to not be recognized. And that is exactly where you find him; sitting on a small couch, big enough for the two of you, in in the back corner of the shop.

“Hey you,” you say once you’re close enough for him to hear you. You watch as his smile grows bigger with each step you take towards him.

“Hey my love.” He kisses you on the lips twice before you settle down beside him.

It’s been a few days since you have last seen Taehyung. Five days to be exact. Having an idol boyfriend for one, is difficult because you can go weeks – even months, without seeing each other and that has proven to be really hard at times. It’s also difficult when that said boyfriend is a member of one of the most popular groups in the world, and really can’t go places without getting recognized.

But it’s also difficult when the man you’ve fallen in love with and have been in a relationship with for the past eight months is one of your brother Namjoon’s best friends and freaking band mate.

That’s right! You are dating your brothers’ best friend and he doesn’t even know about it. It’s not that you and Taehyung deliberately have been keeping it a secret from Namjoon and the rest of the guys, you want to tell him, but you don’t know how he’s going to react when he finds out and that’s what keeping you from telling him.

“I ordered you your favorite before you got here.” Taehyung tells you and points to the iced coffee on the table waiting for you.

Leaning in you peck his lips sweetly. You linger there for a moment, just letting your lips touch before you pull away. “Thank you.”

“How has it been going in the studio?” You ask him as you take a sip of your coffee. The taste of salted caramel mixed with the taste of coffee hits your taste buds and you sigh heavenly.

“Both good and bad,” he sighs deeply. “It is a little stressful trying to get it all done in time and still trying to get everything to where we want it to be. To make it perfect.”

They have been tirelessly working on their upcoming album for months now. They have been in and out of the studio ever since they came off their schedule two weeks ago, so you haven’t really seen Taehyung or Namjoon in a while. So it feels nice to be able to sit like this with him, even if it is for just a few minutes, talking and catching up before he goes back to the studio.

Every moment you get to spend with him is precious to you.

“Yeah, Joon told me something along the same lines when I talked to him last night on the phone.”

“You talked yesterday?”

You nod. “Yeah. He called me to remind me of dinner on Friday at the dorms.”

“Oh god,” Taehyung tirelessly rubs his eyes. “yes. I had totally forgotten about that.”

Since you’ve known Taehyung and the rest of the guys since before they even debuted as BTS, you’ve had this little tradition where you will all eat a home cooked dinner together, at either their place or yours. It’s just an evening where you are able to catch up with them and spend some quality time with both your brother, your boyfriend and some of your best friends.

“Jin hyung is cooking right?” Tae asks turning his body fully towards you, his elbow resting on the back of the couch as he gives you his full attention.

“I believe so, yes.” You can almost taste the food already. You have always loved Jin’s cooking and it’s something you always look forward to.

“You are gonna come over earlier than planned right?” You don’t miss the slight mischievous sparkle in his eyes and the upturn of his lips when he asks you.

“Yes, I am.” You chuckle, fully aware of the meaning behind his question.

Taehyung leans closer to you, your lips barely making contact, his hand finds yours and your fingers lace together. “I missed you.” He gently tells, his breath hitting your lips before he fully leans in to kiss you.

Kissing him back, you realize just how much you have missed him these past few weeks.

“I missed you too.” You whisper once you pull away.

You sit at the coffee shop for longer than you expected – just the two of you, your hand resting in his much larger one, while you talk and laugh until he eventually has to get back to the studio.

Eventually, Friday rolls around, and as planned you are at the dorm long before the actual time you have planned to meet for dinner.

No one is home, except for Taehyung. He’s planned it strategic – when the others would go grocery shopping for tonight’s dinner, he’d say no to tagging along, coming up with whatever excuse to stay behind, and then when they’d left you would arrive just in time for the two of you to be alone for some time before they will come back.

“How much time do we have?” You ask Taehyung between kisses.

“30 minutes,” he hurriedly answers while taking off his shirt and pants. “40 minutes tops.”

You follow his actions – taking off your own clothes; your shirt and shorts landing next to the bed with a low thud. Just as you’re about to take off your bra Taehyung stops you.

“Leave it. We don’t have much time.”

You leave the bra on as instructed and take off your underwear instead before laying down on the bed. It’s been so long since you’ve last been intimate and you are both desperate, your ragged breathing already filling the bedroom.

Holding a condom in one hand, Taehyung settles between your already open legs and pushes his boxers down far enough for his hard member to spring free from the constricting fabric. He rolls on the condom with ease and you can’t help but moan at the sight of his skilled fingers maneuvering the rubber down his length, your hands itching to reach out and touch him.

He runs his middle finger through your folds to make sure you’re ready for him before he guides his erection to your entrance, and with a controlled thrust he pushes inside you, your walls clamming down around him.

You both moan at the feeling, the sensation filling you both from head to toe. “So perfect.” Taehyung moans as he starts moving his hips, his fingers reaching down to draw slow and lazy circles on your clit, matching the rhythm of his hips.

You watch him move. The way his abdominal muscles flex every time he sinks back inside you, the way his breath hitches when you tighten around him and the way his hands grasp your thighs so perfectly to keep you in place.

You can’t even begin to express the feelings running through your body in moments like these. Moments with him. Your entire body is filled with so much love and ecstasy for this man, and it’s getting harder and harder to control.

Afraid that you will run out of time, the speed of Taehyung’s thrust become harder and faster and the familiar feeling of your pending orgasm fills you up.

“Don’t stop!” Your back arches off the bed as he hits a particular spot inside you.

With his hands still on your thighs he grinds his hips against yours, his pubic bone hitting your clit perfectly with every move and causing a string of uncontrollable moans to spill over your lips.

“Oh god!” You gasp.

“Holy shit! I’m gonna cum babe!”

“Me too!”

With a final thrust, Taehyung sends you both over the edge, your orgasms reaching their peak at the same time.

Taehyung collapses on top of you, his face buried in your neck and his arms caging you in. You sigh at the feeling of his lips brushing against your neck, your hand tangling itself in his dark hair, gently massaging his scalp. You wish you could lay like this for eternity, cuddled up in his warm embrace, but soon enough reality will hit, and the guys will be home, and this is not the situation you want to be caught in by your brother.

You pad Taehyungs back to get his attention. “You have to get off.” you tell him. Stretching your arm reach for your phone on his nightstand. “Shit! It’s already 20 to 5… they could be back at any moment.”

Taehyung gets off you with a groan, his face clearly showing how displeased he is. “I hate this.”

“I know you do. I do to.”

“We need to tell him soon ____. The longer we drag this out the worse it will be when he finds out.” He throws the used condom in the trashcan and sets to put his cloths back on. You follow his lead, starting to get dresses as well.

“I mean, it’s not like we’re just fooling around. We’ve been in a serious relationship for 8 months now – almost 9, and we both love each other like mad, but the only ones that knows about it is us. That’s wrong, don’t you think?”

Now, fully clothed again, you walk towards him, your arms reaching out to pull him closer to you. You stand on the tips of your toes as you peck his lips – once, twice. “You know I hate this constant sneaking around and secret calls in the middle of the night, but I’m just scared that Namjoon won’t approve of our relationship… and I don’t want what’s gonna happen if he doesn’t approve, to happen.”

You have a very close relationship with your brother, you’ve always had! This is practically the only secret you have ever kept from him. Growing up, you always told him every little secret that you had without ever thinking twice about it. He knows about all the crushes you’ve had, he knows when and with whom you had your first kiss, he knows about that one time where you snuck out of your parents’ house to go to a party. He even knows when you lost your virginity… Well not the exact time and all the details, but you had a steady boyfriend at the time and he kind of knew that it was going to happen eventually, so he figured it out himself without you having to tell him.

“Why wouldn’t he approve?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug and plant another kiss on his lips.

“He knows who I am. He knows what kind of person I am, and he knows that I treat the people around me well.”

“I know he does! I’m just afraid that he’ll think differently because I’m his sister and you’re one of his best friends and you’re in a band together.”

“I-“

Before Taehyung can answer you further, you both hear the front door open and voices following shortly after. You both jump apart and leave the bedroom as fast as you can without making it obvious that that is where you have just come from.

“Hey, when did you get here?” Jin asks you when you come into view behind Taehyung.

“U-Uh-“

“10 minutes ago or so.” Taehyung answers for you.

You are lounging on the couch in the living room after dinner.

Taehyung sits next to you and Jungkook and Yoongi to the other side. Jimin and Hoseok are hogging the other couch by the window for themselves, leaving Jin to sit on the floor, while Namjoon has planted himself on the soft carpet right in front of the television.

You are in the midst of a heated discussion with Jimin. He wants to dye his hair yet again, but you keep telling him that he needs to take a break, that his hair is too damaged at the moment and needs time to breath.

“Oh come on!” Jimin protests. “It’s really not that bad!” He keeps on insisting that his hair is perfectly healthy.

“Jimin, even your hair stylist told you to chill with all the hair dye.” You can’t help the slight raise in your voice as you tell him this. You don’t want all of his hair to fall out. Gently you slap Taehyung’s arm to get his attention. “Tell him Tae.”

“What?” He pretends like he didn’t hear you, not wanting to get involved.

You roll your eyes at him. “Tell him that he needs so stop with all the hair dye.”

“She’s right hyung.” You smile in triumph and cross your arms.

Jimin is sending daggers towards Taehyung, but it doesn’t seem to faze him the slightest. “She’s not-“

“Jimin, your hair is so fried that we should be calling you fried chicken.” Yoongi interrupts, causing Jungkook and Hoseok to burst out laughing.

That shuts Jimin’s mouth and he leans back in the couch with a sulk. His pouty lips making you feel bad all of the sudden. Standing you walk over to him and take a seat beside him. You wrap your arms around his rigid posture. “Don’t be mad.”

When he turns his head and huffs, you scoot even closer to him, squeezing him tighter. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t dye your hair ever again, I’m just saying that you need to let it heal before you add more damage, okay.”

Eventually he gives in. “Fine.” He says, his body relaxing.

On the other couch you can see Taehyung looking at your arms wrapped around Jimin. He knows that this means nothing to you, that this is normal behavior.

It’s always been normal for you to sit like this with them, hugging them and whatever. If you suddenly stopped doing this, it would be abnormal, and they would be suspicious of you. But you know that Taehyung doesn’t mind. In fact, one of the things he loves the most about you is that you have such a good relationship with his friends.

Hopefully, that will make it a lot easier when you finally come clean and tell them about your relationship.

You remain in your seat next to Jimin, your arms still wrapped around him.

“____,” Namjoon calls your name from the floor. “Remember it’s granny’s birthday on Tuesday.” The light from his phone is casting a bright white glow across his chin.

You nod. “I know.”

“Did you order the present like I told you to?”

“Yes, brother dearest.” You mockingly sing and roll your eyes. Still wrapped in your arms, Jimin chuckles. “I ordered it two weeks ago to make sure that it would arrive at her house on time.”

“Good, good.” He mumbles more so to himself than you, his attention now focused back on his phone.

In front of you the television is running, a random movie playing that Hoseok put on a while ago, but no one is really paying attention to it anymore. Everyone has their eyes glued to their phones, acting like there isn’t a room full of people to talk to.

“Yah! Are you guys afraid of conversation or what? Put your phones away!”

Nothing. You’d expected Taehyung to put his phone away and talk to you, but he doesn’t. You huff when no one seems to do it either after a while, so you nudge Jimin. He briefly looks over at you before he adverts his gaze back to his phone with a, “What?”

“Talk to meeeee,” you whine, giving him your best puppy eyes even though he isn’t looking at you.

“Just a second,” he tells you. “I just wanna check the schedule for next week.”

That peaks your attention. Normally, Taehyung or Namjoon tells you their schedule for the upcoming days, but you’ve never actually seen it or what it looks like, so your curiosity gets the better of you.

Peaking over his shoulder, you watch as he scrolls down the screen, numerous of dates and descriptions for events, filling it. It makes your head spin just looking at it. You’ve always known they are busy, but holy shit!

A low huff sounds from Jungkook and he turns towards Taehyung beside him, tilting his phone to show him the screen. “Hyung, look at this picture I just found on twitter. It looks exactly like you and ____ kissing. The girl is even wearing the same jacket as ____ and she’s got the same purse.”

It seems like time stops as everyone in the room stops what they are doing. You lock eyes with Taehyung across the room.

It can’t be! But the way his face has pales slightly and his eyes go big with shock, your heart sinks.

You shift towards Namjoon. He too has turned his attention towards Jungkook and the phone in his hand. You are usually pretty good at reading him, but right now you are getting nothing.

“Let me see that.” He almost commands with a sharp tone, as he reaches for Jungkook’s phone.

Namjoon scans the picture, his eyes flicking back and forth the brightly lit screen and his fingers gliding across it to study every corner and detail.

Not being able to stand it anymore, you reach for your own phone. You need to see the picture for yourself.

When you finally find it your breath hitches. Fuck! It’s from yours and Taehyungs date the other day at the coffee shop. There’s no way you can just claim this another couple that just happens to look like you and Taehyung!

You can clearly see the side of your face, your dimple popping out from smiling into the kiss and the bag that you carry every day which Namjoon gave you for Christmas last year, can also clearly be seen on the couch.

It’s also clear that it’s Taehyung you’re kissing. His traits to unique to play off as being someone else and his favorite Gucci shirt also visible.

Everyone is now paying attention to Namjoon, their phones long forgotten as wait for the scene to unfold.

After what seems like a thousand years – but is actually only a couple of really long minutes, he lowers the phone to his lap, his eyes blazing with fire as he abruptly stands.

“Yah! What the fuck!” he barks at Taehyung, storming across the living room to get to him.

Everyone thinks he’ll grab him and is on their feet in seconds, pulling them apart.

You too are on your feet in seconds, rushing to stand in between them. You know your brother like no one else, and you know that he would never get physical with anyone, so you know that he would never hurt Taehyung.

You look at your brother. “Joon, calm down.” You tell him with a pointed finger and glaring eyes. Behind you, you feel Taehyung stand, his proximity helping you calm your own nerves.

“Calm down? He’s kissing you!” He shows you the phone with the picture, waving it in front of your face.

“I know he’s kissing me! I was there!”

“Maybe you should just sit down for a minute Namjoon. Take a deep breath.” Yoongi tells him and after a little protest he finally does as he’s told and sits down.

This time Jimin speaks up. “Yes, let’s just talk about this like the mature grown-ups that we are.”

“Why is he kissing you?” Namjoon demands to know immediately after.

“Yeah… why exactly are you kissing?” Taehyung glares at Jungkook. His eyes making him shut up and hold his hands up in surrender.

“Wrong timing, sorry.” He mumbles.

How are you going to explain this without making it sound as bad as it seems? There really is no good way to tell you brother that you’ve been secretly dating his best friend behind his back for eight months.

“H-He… I… We…” You keep fumbling over your words, trying to figure out what to say.

“I was kissing her because she’s my girlfriend.” Taehyung steps in front of you as he laces your fingers together to make his point.

You watch as all of their mouths simultaneously drop, their eyes zoning in on your intertwined fingers, and if it wasn’t for the current situation, you would have found the whole scene to be extremely funny.

“Excuse me… Could you just repeat that last word?” Namjoon rasps, his voice thick with emotions.

“Girlfriend,” Jimin buds in, just to receive a slap on the arm from, Hoseok telling him to keep quiet.

The whole situation has somewhat quieted down.

Everyone still seems shocked by your earlier announcement – especially Namjoon who has been locked in his room for the last hour, telling you that he needs some time for himself to process it all.

You understand where he’s coming from. You understand his need to have some time alone, to think about the fact that you and Taehyung are together. And honestly, he handled the whole ordeal much better than what you initially expected. Sure, he had a little outburst in the beginning, but he quickly cooled off and went to his room to take a breather.

Looking around the room, you notice that everyone is on the edge of their seats clearly wanting to ask questions and wanting all the details. You think they might be afraid to approach the topic, afraid that Namjoon is a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off again.

From the corner of your eye, you see Jin open his mouth as if he wants to say something, but he quickly closes it again when Yoongi shoots him a look.

This is ridiculous!

“Guys! If you have questions just ask them!” You snap. Taehyung jumps in surprise next to you, his hand covering his rapidly beating chest.

“Jesus.” he breaths in shock.

You mouth a quick sorry to him before you return your focus back to the five other guys in the room. “Your eyes are filled with questions. Just ask them.”

Jungkook is the first to speak up. “Shouldn’t we wait for Namjoon hyung to come out though? I’m sure he’s got more questions that needs answers than we do.”

He’s got a point. “Right,” You agree. “I’ll go check on him.” You tell them as you head for his bedroom.

Gently, you knock on the door. You wait for a few seconds but when no one answers, you peal the door open to see Namjoon sitting on his bed just staring at the wall in front of him.

Is he going crazy? is your first thought. But when he hears you quiet voice calling his name, he turns to you.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Will you please come out so we can talk about this?” Walking further into the room, you sit next to him. You grab his hand in yours as you continue to speak. “I know that this is probably a shock for you, and I know you have a lot of questions that needs to be answered, and we will answer them all for you I promise! But you have to at least come out of your room, please.”

You give him your most pleading look, the look you always use when you want something, the look that always works on him.

“Fine,” he sighs heavily. “But I’m not sitting next to Taehyung.”

“You don’t have to,” you reply. “but please do not hate him, okay! If anything, you should hate me.”

“You’re my sister, I could never hate you.”

Together you walk back to the living room where six pair of eyes immediately turn your way when they hear you coming.

Hoseok scoots over to make room for Namjoon on the couch, and you go back to your seat next to Taehyung. As soon as you’re seated, he grabs your hand. It gives you comfort, and you automatically want to lean towards him, but you stop yourself because you know Namjoon is still uncomfortable.

No one seems to want to be the first one to break the silence and ask the first question.

“How?” Namjoon’s voice breaks through the thick silence.

As if he was expecting this question, Taehyung immediately answers.

“Back when ____ and Ji-woon broke up she came by looking for you, but I was the only one home at the time, and she looked like she could really use someone to talk to and lean on then,” even as he speaks you can see Namjoon’s eyes burning and mentally shooting daggers at him. “so, I brought her in and I just listened to what she had to say and gave her my opinion when she asked for it.”

Feeling Taehyungs hand flexing in yours, you give it a reassuring squeeze, urging him to go on.

He continues. “In the days that followed I kept checking up on her to make sure that she was feeling okay and doing alright, and we just go into the habit of talking literally every day, either over text or facetime… and as time passed we, we just fell in love with each other.”

As the last words leave his lips, you look at him, admiring him for speaking so freely.

You really did fall in love with him in those few days! And fast too! There was nothing you could do to stop it even if you tried. You were constantly around each other and every time he would look at you or talk to you, your stomach would flip, and you would stumble over your words.

It’s a surprise that no one caught on sooner, really.

Namjoon nods as if he’s taking in Taehyungs words and processing them, going over all the information he’s just been given. His eyes visibly softening. “Okay.”

Like a small curious child, Jimin raises his hand. “Yes Jimin?” you ask, a smile playing on your lips.

“I’m just wondering why you didn’t tell us that you were together. I mean, you have been together, for what did you say? Eight months? Why not just tell us the truth form the beginning?”

“That’s my fault!” You quickly say with force, making them all raise their eyebrows in surprise.

“It’s my fault that we’ve kept it a secret for so long, because I-I was just so happy and content in our own little bubble, that I didn’t want to risk bursting it if…”

You let the words slip into the air as you lock eyes with your brother, his expression changing from mad to looking more sad.

“…If I found out?” He softly asks and you can hear the hurt behind his words.

Instead of answering him, you look down to the ground, giving him the confirmation, he needs.

“I’m sorry,” You gently whisper. “I just didn’t want, I don’t know… it all sounds so horrible now!” Feelings of frustration and sadness runs through your body, and you can’t seem to find the right words to say to somehow make this seem a lot less hurtful towards Namjoon.

“She was afraid that you would hate me if you found out,” Taehyung speaks for you. “she was afraid that you wouldn’t approve of us being together.”

At this point it’s like a three-way conversation between Taehyung, Namjoon and you. The rest of the guys are just silently sitting and watching the whole thing going down, not wanting to get involved in what doesn’t concern them in the end.

“That’s just bullshit!”

Namjoon’s sudden outburst of words take you all by surprise. He stands from the couch, making Hoseok and Yoongi stand as well.

“Relax. I’m not going to fucking jump him.” He tells them and they sit back down.

“The only thing that truly makes me mad and upsets me, is the fact that you,” he points a finger in your direction. “didn’t think you could tell me this. That you thought you had to hide it from me, and the fact that I had to find out through a leaked picture.”

“I know, and I’m sorry!” you tell him, your eyes beginning to water. You feel like you could burst in to tears at any moment, the deep feeling of guilt almost becoming too much.

“And you,” Namjoon turns his attention to Taehyung, who immediately straightens as they lock eyes. “I’m disappointed that you also felt like you couldn’t tell me. I thought we were closer than that.”

“That’s not true!” You hurriedly say. “You have no idea how many times he wanted to come clean and tell you! I was the one to always talked him out of it. It’s my fault, so please don’t hate him for this!”

The first tear rolls down your cheek and then the next one and the next one.

“You’re crying? Oh god, please don’t cry ____!” Namjoon sighs. You know that one of the things he hates most in life, is seeing you cry.

“I don’t hate him!” He assures you. “And I don’t hate you either!” He kneels down in front of you, directing you face up to look at him and he cups your cheeks as he gently wipes away your tears.

“Please stop crying, I know you probably didn’t mean to hide it for this long,” you shake your head. “and I know you’re sorry – I can see it in your eyes, and I know Taehyung is sorry as well because he isn’t saying much right now.”

“Sorry.” You hear him mumble next to you.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “as I said, I was only mad because of the way I had to find out. Taehyung is one of the greatest people I know, and I know he will treat you like the princess that you are.”

“He does.” You murmur as you look at him, his eyes already on you.

“But I’m just wondering,” Namjoon’s voice suddenly changes, curiosity laced in his words as he turns on his back to you. “Did any of you know about this?”

A string of rushed and firm ‘no’s’ go around the room and you can’t help the laughter that escapes you. This really seems like one big joke. The whole situation, the way Namjoon found out and the way this whole conversation is going.

Once your tears have finally dried up and Namjoon has gone back to his seat on the couch, Jungkook decides that this is the perfect time for him to open his mouth.

“So, looking back at it, this means that all those times when Taehyung and ____ ‘disappeared’,” he says emphasizing the word disappeared with his fingers. “at the same time, they really snuck out of the room to make out or to have sex in Taehyungs room.”

Your jaw drops to the ground, at the same time Taehyung flings a cushion in his direction telling him to shut up.

Seokjin and Yoongi, tries to keep their laughter under control, small grunts managing to escape here and there. But Jimin and Hoseok are in full fits of laughter, doing nothing to hide it, while Namjoon throws his head back with a groan and covers his eyes with his hands.

“Dude! That’s an image I don’t need in my head!”

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