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mf-despair-queen · 3 years

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Partners in Crime - Lee Taeyong

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Lee Taeyong/Reader - Mafia AU

Word Count: 17,864

Summary: Y/N meets the man of her dreams one day randomly on the street. Little does she know - he is the boss of a mafia in town. But does she care? No. They were partners in life - and partners in crime.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, I am too lazy to put more to this.

Notes: April Fools - I’m actually posting! I’ve only had this sitting in my drafts completed for over 3 months. Be warned - I didn’t really proofread this. But it’s fine. everything is fine! Enjoy!

“You should have left while you could…”

“You know that wasn’t a choice.” A hand slid into his.”We are partners in crime after all. If you go down, I’m going down with you. I will follow you to the ends of the earth, and I will never regret it.”

A small smile graced the man’s face, lacing his fingers with yours. With a reassuring squeeze and the click of his gun in his right hand, he glanced to his side.

“I honestly knew this day was going to come eventually. I knew I would go down one way or another,,” he rasped, tucking the gun once more into the back of his jeans. His eyes locked on yours before continuing, “But I’m glad that I have you by my side.”

You smiled at him before placing a tender kiss to his lips, your free hand carefully placed on his bandaged shoulder. His eyes closed, relishing in the feeling and taste of your lips on his. The screams from outside the building fell on deaf ears. The threats made went unheard. In those ten seconds, it was just the both of you, embraced by the calm emotions shared between your forms. Silent tears slid down your cheeks from fear and sadness, knowing your impending fate, but he wiped them away gently after pulling away. His lips dragged down yours as he backed away solemnly, wishing this wouldn’t be the end.

“I love you,” he mumbled just loud enough to be heard.

“I love you too,” you repeated, taking his hand and preparing to stand and face the gallows of red and blue lights flashing through broken windows and bent blinds. “I always will, Taeyong.”

“Excuse me!” The young man called, though his calls went unnoticed. Heavy footsteps fell along the concrete as he attempted to catch your retreating figure, clutching the book you dropped while rapidly making your way down the road. When he finally caught up and tapped your shoulder to get your attention, he understood why you ignored his calls.

With a jump in shock, you turned to the red haired man in awe. Earbuds were tucked deep in your ears, soothing jams filling your mind as you moved. Time stood still when your eyes met his deep brown ones, your heart jumping slightly. Before you stood a handsome man, mid-twenties if you had to guess, with sweet, angelic eyes, fluffy hair draping across his forehead and shielding the small slit in his eyebrow, and the sharpest jaw you had ever encountered.

He wore a simple red wool shirt that hugged his neck and lean torso, a thin black hoodie and a puffed gray vest that was decorated in red designs. Black jeans hugged his slim waist, a black belt wrapped through the looks, and black vans covered the white socks on his feet. Three sparkling earrings dangled from his left ear, a ring adorning his left helix and one single stud rounded out his jewelry.

Realizing that all you were doing was staring, the man awkwardly smiling and uttering mumbled words through your music, you tugged the earbuds out. “I’m sorry about that,” you whispered sheepishly. “Music.”

“I get it,” he chuckled deeply. His voice was smooth and sweet, the underlying rasp making your heart jump a second time. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I saw you drop this earlier.”

He extended the book towards you, your eyes widening at his gesture. Carefully, you took the book from him, glancing into your small bag to find it empty. “Oh my god. I didn’t even realize it fell out. Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem at all,” he laughed, tucking his hands in his pockets. “It’s the least I could do to help a beautiful girl.”

A blush spread along your cheeks, a shy smile growing on your lips. Tucking the book safely back into your bag, you glanced at the handsome man. “Well, can I know the name of the lovely gentleman that returned my book and made my trip to the cafe to read not in vain?”

He smiled, extending a hand toward you. “I’m Taeyong.”

You took his hand, finding it warm and soft. “Y/N.”

“It’s a pleasure, Y/N.”

“Same,” you chimed. “Well Taeyong, how can I ever repay you for this?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” he started to say, sealing his lips when you shook your head.

“Please, I insist! I really appreciate what you did. I would have lost it in the middle of the cafe if I found I lost this book. It’s my favorite and it was a gift from my sister,” you confided. “I want to repay you somehow. Please?”

“Well,” he started, rubbing his lips together. His eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a cheshire-like smirk. “You could let me buy you a coffee.”

You giggled at his suggestion, tucking some hair behind your ear. “I’d like that, but only on one condition.”

“Oh?”

“You join me for said coffee?”

Taeyong chuckled, nodding happily. “I’d love that.”

A smile grew on your face, butterflies fluttering rampantly inside your stomach. You could feel a small blush spreading across your cheeks as your looked up at the handsome man. “Great. Shall we get going?”

Taeyong smiled back, his glowing smile infectious. “Lead the way, beautiful,” he uttered. You nodded, turning on your heel and leading him towards your original destination - Haru & Oneday - with Taeyong at your side. His hands were tucked deep in his pockets as you walked, a happy hum coming from the man. “So, tell me about yourself.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “That’s a deep conversation. I hope you know that.”

“I have time.”

A skip inside your chest, a knot of excitement in your gut, a flash of heat across your face despite the chilled weather of December.

“Well…”

The entire afternoon was spent talking, tucked into a small corner of the cafe. The second you arrived, Taeyong asked what you wanted. While he ordered your coffee, you picked a secluded place to talk, knowing the book you planned to read that day would go untouched. You were more interested in the mysterious man that captivated you on the street, kindly returning your lost item.

And learn about him you did. He was a kind soul, living in the same building as a bunch of friends that he worked with in business. He enjoyed singing and dancing in his free time, spitting a rap that made you laugh and clap in excitement. He liked to cook, but you figured out that he had a massive sweet tooth more than anything from the way he devoured a whole slice of chocolate cake by himself. The smile that lit up his face as he ate the decadent treat made you smile happily.

You told him your story - where you were from, growing up in Busan, your love for cooking and reading. You even told him about the boring desk job you worked to pay for the small apartment you had. You lived an ordinary, boring life in your opinion, but Taeyong listened intently, taking interest in the little things that made you happy.

Just as the sun was setting and his phone was ringing, presumably from his friends asking where he had disappeared to, did you agree to wrap up for the day. Taeyong slipped from his seat first, but not before sliding a folded napkin in your direction.

“I enjoyed spending the day together, Y/N,” he mused, pocketing his hands. “I’m glad I was able to meet you today. It really made my day better. I hope we can do it again sometime.”

He waved before walking off, leaving you to gather your stuff. Just as you were finishing, you glanced at the napkin he left. Your stomach flipped and your heart raced, finding his phone number written on the paper, a cute doodle of himself, and the simple words of Call me? printed underneath. Tucking the napkin in your bag, you left the cafe, thanking the owners on your way out.

It was dark by the time you arrived home, closing the front door with a soft click of the lock. Your shoes were left forgotten in the doorway, headed straight for a shower to wash away the day’ odor. Finishing your nightly routine, you returned to the bag you left on your bed, sitting on the plush mattress. Your fingers tugged out the napkin, your lip tugged between your teeth as you contemplated shortly.

Your fingers moved without much though, grabbing your phone and typing the number into a new contact. The message you sent him was simple.

To: Taeyongie - Hey. This is Y/N. I just wanted to thank you again for today. It was great meeting you and getting to know you. I hope we can do it again sometime.

His response didn’t take long.

From: Taeyongie - I’m glad you messaged me. I was worried for a bit that I wouldn’t get to hear from you again.

From: Taeyongie - I’m glad I got to meet you too. You really brightened up my day, so for that, I have to say thank you.

From: Taeyongie - I can’t wait to see you again.

Your heart was aflutter, sinking into your bed and rereading the message a few times. You were glad you decided to brave the cold and travel to your favorite cafe, even if you hadn’t intended to almost lose your book and meet a gorgeous gentleman that seemed to steal your heart from under your nose already. After many failed relationships through school and early adulthood, you didn’t think you’d find someone like him that would sweep you off your feet so easily.

When your phone buzzed again, making you jump slightly in shock, you reread his last message three times before your eyes grew wide.

From: Taeyongie - Though next time, I hope you’ll allow me to take you out for a proper first date.

Your fingers shook as you tried to type a coherent response,

To: Taeyongie - I’m looking forward to it.

He really was one of a kind.

Nearly four months after meeting Taeyong, you were head over heels for the man. You talked to him daily, waking up to sweet messages wishing you a good day and falling asleep to messages bidding you sweet dreams. You had learned much about the man, finding yourself falling deep into the abyss of his chocolate colored eyes. You were wrapped around his finger, though not in a bad sense. He had stolen your heart, and you were willing to let him keep it.

Every other week, you found yourself going out with the man when you weren’t at your house together. When you chose to stay in, you would be wrapped up on your couch or in your bed watching movies while his fingers ran through your hair soothingly, or the tips of his fingers ghostling along your arms. You’d make dinner together, play games together, and even go out to walk Ruby together when he brought the small dog over for your amusement. You’d occasionally find yourself dancing together around the house, singing whatever song he decided to play for you, but you never once hated these moments. They were some of your favorites.

But he would insist on taking you out to dinner, treating you kindly to a romantic date that consisted of expensive dinners or trips to random places - the arcade and the beach being recurring destinations. He’d never let you pay, sometimes making you wonder how he could afford the expensive meals - he never did clarify what his job was - but you wouldn’t decline the dates if it meant you could see him. After the second date, he would always tentatively kiss you goodnight, the connect short and sweet, leaving you craving more. You never shared more than that - though you wished you did.

Tonight was one of those nights. Taeyong had sent you a sweet morning greeting, telling you that he was going to take you out for dinner that night. He didn’t specify where - only to dress elegantly, finishing with a cheesy remark that you always looked fabulous. He planned to pick you up at six sharp, leaving you the rest of the day to clean around the house and prepare for your fancy date.

At five, you jumped in a shower, dressing in a lacy set of red lingerie before doing your hair and make up. You picked a sleek black dress from your closet - an expensive present you had gotten from your family one year but never found reason to wear - that would accentuate your curves, but not flaunt you in a promiscuous way. The skirt flared out against your thighs and the top hugged your chest, not being too showy around your cleavage. You wanted to impress the man, not make it seem like a slut. You finished with a pair of low heels and minimal jewelry consisting of earrings and a necklace Taeyong insisted he buy you on your third date.

Exactly at six, he was knocking on your door, holding a bouquet of roses in his hands. He smiled brightly, tilting his head cutely in greeting. The silver earrings swung with the movement, a few loose strands from his slicked back hair flopping loose. He wore a red and black checkered jacket over a black and white checkered button up shirt, tight black jeans with rips in the knees hugging his lean waist.

“Hey beautiful,” he greeted, extending the flowers towards you. “These are for you.”

“You know you didn’t have to, Tae,” you giggled, taking the flowers from him and relishing in the delicate aroma they offered. “But they are beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I know I didn’t have to but they always make you smile,” he mused with a smile. He watched you rush to put the flowers in a vase before grabbing your purse, locking the door on your way out. His arms wrapped around you, hanging loosely at your side as he stared down at your smiling face. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you murmured with a light blush, running your hands up his arms, resting on his biceps. “You don’t look half bad yourself. Not that it’s hard for you with your face.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he laughed, taking your hand. “Shall we get going? Dinner awaits.”

“Lead the way.”

He led you to a car - which was rare - that took you to your mysterious location. The tall man in the driver’s seat introduced himself as Johnny, giving you both a smile before driving off. Turned out the man was one of Taeyong’s friends that he had told you briefly about before, and he had kindly offered to drive you both seeing as Taeyong didn’t have a license himself. Johnny kept to himself, allowing you to talk freely with Taeyong, the red haired man flirting carelessly the entire time.

You arrived at a tall building, Taeyong chuckling at the confused look on your face when Johnny parked the car and opened Taeyong’s door for him. Taeyong held out a hand to help you from the vehicle, thanking Johnny for the ride. The tall man simply pat his friend on the back and gave him a wink before returning to the car and driving off. Your hand slid back into Taeyong’s as he led you to the doors of the building, the doorman nodding.

“Good evening, Mr. Lee.”

The interaction with the doorman and Taeyong further confused you. This was different than your normal dinner dates where you always had a private room or balcony in the restaurants, servers catering to your every need. He wasn’t leading you into a high class restaurant where he could bypass the line and walk straight to a table without question. You were in a pristine lobby with a fountain and couches, a giant chandelier above your head.

He led you to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, snickering at your confusion. He didn’t bother to clarify what was going on. He simply ran his thumb over the back of your hand, listening to the music play above you. When the elevator dinged that you were at the top floor, the man led you out wordlessly, digging into his pocket for a set of keys for the door at the end of the hall.

“Where are we?” you finally questioned, watching him unlock the door.

Taeyong hummed while pushing the door open, allowing you to walk in first. He witnessed you gawking at your new surroundings, the elegant living room of the penthouse you found yourself in leaving you flabbergasted. “Welcome home,” he chimed, shutting the door.

“This is where you live?” you asked, turning to the man. In the time you knew him, he had never once talked about where he lived. You had never seen his house, always spending time together in your tiny, cozy apartment. Now, you were staring at the large living room with multiple plush couches, art lining the walls, and a large kitchen and dining room in the distance. The table was decorated with candles and place settings, a bottle of wine being chilled in a bucket.

“Is it too much?” he asked, pouting slightly.

“You just never mentioned you live in a penthouse!” you scolded, shoving him lightly before wrapping your arms around him. “But this is breathtaking.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he whispered. “I figured that today is our fifth date, not counting our little cafe rendezvous when we first met, so what better date night than for me to make you dinner in my own home.”

“You’re making dinner?” you chirped, gleefully bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I love your cooking so much.”

“Well, go ahead and get comfortable and I will get cooking.”

You nodded, watching him make his way into the kitchen. He poured you a glass of wine before he started cooking, watching you sink into one of the couches to watch him. He caught you occasionally looking around to take in the impressive surroundings, laughing to himself. He told you that his friends lived in their own apartments in the lower floors, leaving you to wonder what exactly they did to afford this. You didn’t know his exact line of work - he always just said business - but he was obviously successful enough to afford the penthouse of the building.

Taeyong beckoned you over when food was ready, pulling out your chair for you. He poured you more wine before serving you a piping hot bowl of bibimbap. Taking his place beside you with his own glass and bowl, he tilted his glass towards you. “To the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You giggled, flushing brightly and tilting your glass to his. With a clink of cups, you responded, “to the most handsome man in the world.”

The meal was delicious, melting on your tongue. You made small talk as you ate, enjoying Taeyong’s giddy nature from drinking. The man couldn’t hold his alcohol at all, and one sip left him red faced and giggly. You helped him with dishes when you were finished, even though he protested it vehemently, finding yourselves flicking water at each other and blowing bubbles into the air.

You curled up on the couch together for a while before he would have to take you home, Your head on his chest and his fingers running through your hair. The silence was welcoming, the sound of his erratic heartbeat all you needed for comfort. He would sometimes hum a song for you, but mostly you just relaxed in his grasp. It was times like this that you enjoyed the most - being with him made you feel content.

In your entire life, you never cared for someone as much as you did the red haired man before you. Never in your life did you like someone as much as you did Taeyong. He made you feel loved and cherished. He made you feel beautiful and wanted.

You wanted nothing more than to be with him forever.

You frowned when he suggested it was time to take you home. Instead of calling Johnny to drive you back, you opted for a late night walk so Taeyong could sober himself up, treating yourselves to some crepes on the way. You walked hand in hand the entire way, the sway between you both making your heart jump in your chest.

Arriving at your apartment, you sighed under your breath, turning to look at the man. “Thank you for tonight,” you told him, giving his hand a squeeze. “I enjoyed our date. I think this was my favorite date so far.”

“Well, there’s more of these to come,” he chuckled, tugging his lip between his teeth. He stared at you silently, moving his free hand up to your face. His fingers curled against your cheek, smoothing across your skin as you sank into his touch. “Y/N…”

“I should probably go inside-”

He cut you off with a passionate kiss, tugging you into him. Your hand was dropped so he could cup your face in both hands, putting everything he could into the connection. The shock from the initial kiss wore off, your eyes fluttering closed and returning his kiss. It was deeper than any kiss you shared before. His head was tilted and your lips meshed together perfectly. Your hands gripped at his jacket, pushing up into him as much as possible.

The world around you stopped. It was just you both in that moment, sharing the most amazing kiss you had ever dreamt of. This was what you wanted, this was what you had waited for. The way his lips dragged against yours as he smothered you with his lips left you eager for more. The smack of his lips disconnecting from yours left you gasping for precious air, yet a desire to return your lips to his.

“Be my girlfriend,” he rasped deeply against your lips.

All you could do was nod in return before he was kissing you again, dropping his hands to your waist to tug you closer. Your hands moved up and around his neck, tangling into his hair, pulling him deeper into you. The kiss intensified, lips speeding up and parting for an entourage of open-mouth kisses to start. Your bodies were flush against one another, heat spreading along your limbs.

The moment was broken from the ring of his phone, the red-haired man pulled back with a scowl. He kept you against him as he fished the phone from his pocket, reading the message he had received. Low strings of curses left his mouth before dropping the phone back into his pants, tilting your head to place a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go. Something came up that I need to take care of.”

“Is everything ok?” you wondered, frowning at his for his reaction to the message.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine, I promise. Just some last minute work popped up that I need to help Mark with,” he tried to reassure you. Something was off about his tone, but you nodded at him anyway. He must have caught your uncertainty, pulling you into a light kiss. “I promise it’s nothing to worry about. Now, go inside and I will talk to you tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright, Taeyong,” you whispered, kissing him one last time before backing away to unlock your door. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, blowing you a kiss as he backed away, turning on his heel and stampeding away.

You watched his form vanish around the corner, tucking yourself into your apartment. Leaning against the door, you let your fingers run along your lips, smiling at the thought of your new boyfriend. The questions you had about his late night business venture were pushed aside for now as you chose to trust the man. You rushed to your room to prepare for sleep, enveloped in happy dreams of the red-haired man.

Outside your building, Taeyong stared up at your window for a moment before a black car pulled up. He quietly filled the backseat, meeting eyes with Johnny and Mark. The blank tint of the windows kept the outside from seeing the gun passed to him by the young lad int he passenger seat, Taeyong checking the clip once over.

“How’d it go?” Johnny questioned cheekily.

“You know the rules,” Taeyong glowered. “Don’t touch my girlfriend and protect her from this shit.”

“What’s going to happen when she finds out?” Mark asked.

“Don’t worry about that. That’s my problem,” Taeyong hummed, tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans. “Focus on this deal for now. I can’t have you distracted if this goes south.”

“Yes sir,” both men spoke, the car going quiet as they advanced towards an abandoned warehouse where their deal was to take place.

One year.

One year since you started dating the love of your life. Six months in, you had been the one to say it first.

“I love you, Lee Taeyong.”

He didn’t hesitate to repeat the phrase multiple times while placing kiss after kiss to every inch of your face and neck before curling into you and cuddling you tightly. You didn’t regret saying it, especially after he responded the way he did, loving you just as much as you loved him. You knew you wanted to spend your life with this man; you knew he held your heart in the palm of his hand. But you were happier than you had ever been. This was the highest point in your life.

You started spending more time around Taeyong’s massive penthouse on your days off or after work, your routine with Taeyong nothing different than before. Everything just seemed to get better - especially as his friends started to migrate into your life as well. There were twenty boys living in the building that he worked with, but he had a group of eight others that were closest to the man and popped up most often.

You had met Johnny before when he was your chauffeur for your date, so getting to know the tall American was different. He loved photography and fashion, sometimes spending his time with you on your days off by having mini fashion shows in Taeyong’s penthouse. Taeyong always had a good laugh when he walked in on your faux walking down a runway, planting himself on the couch to watch and take his own pictures.

Taeil was the oldest of the bunch, a quiet man that enjoyed singing with his friends Doyoung and Jungwoo. He was famous in the group for his dad jokes, becoming the butt of many jokes. He also had an equally bad alcohol tolerance to your boyfriend.

Doyoung was a snarky man that loved to pick on Taeyong, but you could tell he cared about him. He had rabbit-like qualities that you found adorable. When Taeyong was busy when you were around, Doyoung would make you delicious meals that left you in a food coma on the couch until Taeyong would return.

Jungwoo was a mischievous little brat, but you always found him to be funny. He whined childishly for attention and played around with the others. He craved long hugs that made Taeyong yell at him because he was taking his girlfriend from him.

Jaehyun was your workout buddy. The fittest of the bunch, the man with deep dimples had offered to exercise with you when you complained you had gotten lazy in Taeyong’s house. You could never keep up with him or Johnny, who often joined you both in the gym, but having someone there to push you was worth it.

Yuta had the most infectious smile. He would always play games with you and make you smile. But the thing you did most often was watch soccer together. The man loved the sport, having grown up playing in Japan, so watching games together was always exciting. He got so captivated by them that he wouldn’t realize he was jumping around wildly.

Haechan was a brat, but he was skilled in dances. He had this innate ability to watch a dance on tv and perform it. His time would be split between the main group of nine and the younger boys in the building. Even with his evil personality, you loved the young boy, happily failing by his side when you would dance together.

Mark was probably your favorite. He was the one around most often, caring for you when Taeyong was working. He had quickly grown to be like a little brother that supported you through everything. He told you about his life in Canada while you told him about your life in Korea, sharing the littlest things with each other. He would play the guitar for you in his spare time, often lulling you to sleep with the beautiful melodies.

You didn’t expect to meet such a rowdy bunch, but they made your relationship with Taeyong even sweeter. And though you still often had dates with Taeyong, you also spent a lot of time with the group on outings. Going out for meals or going around the city was more special with your hand clamped in Taeyong’s and the bundle of males running around you.

As much as you have enjoyed your one year anniversary alone with Taeyong on a romantic date, eating an expensive dinner that you knew Taeyong would insist you have and finishing the night together tangled in the sheets, you were glad you went with the current idea. When the group found out that it was your anniversary, they insisted on taking you both out for a good night.

What started with a fun meal of barbeque that they paid for completely, not a single cent paid by you or Taeyong, turned into a drunken mess at a nightclub. Hesitant at first, you barely took a shot or two of soju with the others. Taeyong was wrecked just from those couple shots, beginning to drink more and more. Watching him enjoy himself let you relax, beginning to down your own drinks.

The night slowly became a blur of flashing lights and loud music, but you knew Taeyong was always by your side. Either his hand was in yours or resting somewhere on your body - the small of your back, wrapped around your waist and hugging you to his side, and resting on your thigh as you sat at a booth, drinking and playing games together.

You danced together, your body rolling against his. He was obviously more skilled than you were, but even in his shrunken state, he led you confidently and naturally, grinding against you eagerly. Your back pressed against his chest as his hands sat on your hips, fingers splayed against bare skin from where you shirt rode up. When you faced him, you arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his fluffy red threads.

Hot kisses were left on your mouth, your lips left puffy and swollen from the multiple attacks he left on you. You were already warm from the club and the plethora of people around you, but your body was searing against his. Each taunting kiss he gave you, lips parted and tongue slipping into your mouth, left you craving more. Your hands wandering against his form, trailing up and down his arms, let him panting, the man tugging his lip between his teeth.

“We should get out of here…”

That’s all he had to mutter once for you to find yourself escaping the heat of the club and back in Taeyong’s penthouse. It was past midnight when you stumbled through the door together, your lips latched together in a sloppy kiss. Your arms were wrapped weakly around him, trying to kick off your shoes as you pushed into the doorway. Taeyong kicked the door shut with his foot, struggling to lock it and discord his sneakers before entering the house. He couldn’t focus with your lips connected to his, your tongues swirling together eagerly between your cheeks.

He picked you up with easy, a squeal of shock lost to his throat. His steps were uneven as he moved forward, supporting you with one hand on your ass, the other following the wall to guide him through the darkness. The kiss broke when he tripped over the rug and bumped into a table, a bruise bound to form on his knee. Low curses left his lips, the man rushing into the bedroom.

The door slammed shut behind you, Taeyong turning to trap you against the sealed entryway. His lips found home once more on your own, igniting another fiery kiss between you. You happily returned it, tasting the vast amounts of alcohol that lingered on his taste buds. A subtle swipe of his tongue against your lips told you to part them and let him inside, which you willingly complied. The taste of the bitter liquid from the evening was heavy on his tongue as it roamed your cheeks.

Your moans were muffled, mind foggy in the midst of the kiss. It didn’t occur to you that his hands were traveling up your sides, pushing at the bottom of your shirt until it was resting underneath your breasts. The skim of the pads of his thumbs against your sides and ribs sent shivers up your spine, more mewls of delight lost to the sensual lip lock. Taeyong pushed harder against your, his hips rutting against your clothed core, both sets of jeans blocking what you truly desired in that moment. His head tilted to deepen the kiss, letting out a groan of his own.

The first time you separated, chests heaving for precious amounts of air, he uttered two short words.

“May I?”

You knew what he wanted, even in the blur of words that met your ears. You nodded at him, arching off the door long enough for him to rid you of your top, the cotton fabric strewn across the floor carelessly. Lips back to yours for a single second before disappearing south, searing hot kisses leaving a wet trail along your neck and clavicle. Your swollen lips parted with delicious moans for him to savor, trembling fingers lacing through his locks on the back of his head.

His teeth toyed with the strap on your left shoulder first, playfully nipping at your skin in his futile attempts to drag the strap down your arm. Your mewls of delight mixed with short giggles before taking the opportunity to rid yourself of the pesky garment. Taeyong pouted without a doubt - he always hated when you did it for him - but didn’t bother to argue.

His lips found home on your bare chest, lips wrapping around the pert nipple on your right breast. A content sigh left your mouth, back arching into his touch. Your hands twisted through his red strands, giving him a tug whenever he found a sensitive spot on your chest. You tried to watch him through the haze, but your eyes were blurring too much.

Was it the alcohol still present, slowly wearing off? Or, was it the pleasure of him suckling at your nipples, giving them short tugs with his teeth, and pulling away with short pops that rang in your ears?

You didn’t know, nor did you care. You were in heaven.

Taeyong spent several long minutes pleasuring your chest, red marks lingering on the mounds and between them when he swaps between them on occasion. With each kiss he left, and each bite he left, his hands holding you up against the wall grabbed at your backside. His hips ground against yours, becoming more frequent and harder against your covered core. The bulge in his tight jeans was obvious, growing more prevelant by the second. His cock was stiff, and his actions just solidified what he wanted.

Placing you on unsteady legs, his nimble fingers made quick work of your pants, the man kneeling long enough to tug them down your legs. Your panties came with, leaving you naked before his eyes. The red head toppled slightly, nearly falling on his ass in his tipsy state. A mixture of the alcohol and his awe at your body left him speechless and wobbly, slowly standing while working at his own jeans.

Your hands were quick to replace his, struggling to undo the button of his dark skinny jeans. Taeyong had to place a hand on the wall to keep himself upright, his other hand massaging his face a few times before pushing his hair back. Low groans and swears escaped, staring down at you when you grew frustrated and collapsed to your knees, stumbling just as he had.

“Dammit,” you growled, tugging angrily at the jeans when they wouldn’t unbutton. Taeyong chuckled deeply.

“Need a hand?”

“No. Fuck you. I can do it myself.”

The man let out a hefty chortle at your frustration, repaying you for what you did earlier. His fingers made quick work of his own jeans, the button unsnapping and zipper slowly lowered before your eyes. With a short huff, you tugged the dark denim down his legs, leaving them around his ankles so you could rub at his covered cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned loudly. The hand he had on the wall slowly curled into a fist, pounding against the wall lightly. You smirked up at him, biting at your lip. He rarely cursed, but when he did, you knew he meant business. “Don’t tease me.”

You clicked your tongue at him as you tugged his boxers down, letting him spring free. The fabric was left to pool at his feet, you focus turning to the large cock staring straight at your face. It twitched with anticipation, the tip red, swollen and oozing precum. It pulsed as your fingers grazed along the shaft. The sight made your mouth water, tongue tracing your lips slowly.

Taeyong’s fist pounded harder to the wall, a loud grunt exhaled when he felt your lips on the tip just before taking the entire length between your cheeks. He struggled to focus, blinking repeatedly to clear his vision to watch you bobbing your head along his cock. Your hand gripped the base firmly, pumping it in time with your bobs. Your tongue trailed along the underside of his shaft as you moved, the tip traveling along the pulsing vein that protruded out. Your other hand toyed with his balls, juggling them between your fingers and giving them light squeezes.

“Shit,” he cursed again, earning a small smile from you. Taeyong leaned forward, placing his head against the wall, heavier pants starting to leave his lips. He could barely form words with the overwhelming ecstasy of your mouth around his cock. “Please, baby. Give me more.”

You kept your motion steady, not giving into his plea entirely. You wanted to savor the taste of his salty sweetness that seeped onto your tongue, overriding the bitter drink from the early evening. Taeyong didn’t seem pleased; his hand gripped at the hair on the back of your head, his hips jutting forward suddenly. He halted when you gagged once, knowing his abrasive stunt was a bit much.

When you were situated, stilling your movements but keeping his cock resting on your tongue, he thrust forward against. He leveraged the hold he had on your hair to push you forward, your nose meeting his pelvis. His cock met the back of your throat repeatedly as his timed thrusts met your forced head bobs, a slobbering wet gurgle of him fucking your mouth filling the air. Taeyong moaned loudly, unable to keep his voice down - not that he needed to.

He didn’t stop until he was groaning loudly, his wild thrusts that had grown sloppy ceasing and he was spilling his salty seed down your throat, the white ribbons of cum filling your cheeks and swallowed happily. He pulled out at the end, hand wrapping around the base and giving it a few final pumps. The last few shots landed on your face and chest, your tongue extended to try and capture them. You let out a hearty giggle, tracing the cum along your face and chest with a finger.

Taeyong huffed when he watched you suck the finger clean. The man, fed up of waiting, hoisted you up by the hand before lifting you bridal and turning towards the bed. With the fabric still bundled around his ankles, he stumbled forward, kicking anxiously at them to discard.

You were thrown careless on the bed with a light yelp and laugh, Taeyong pouncing on top of your bare form. His lips instantly met yours, furious open mouth kisses shared. Your bodies were grinding against each other rapidly, hands eagerly tracing each other’s forms. Your legs twisted together, feet playfully nuzzling against one another. Your arms looped around Taeyong’s neck, fingers curling through his tangled red hair.

Taeyong pulled away, glancing between your forms long enough to align himself with your core, sheathing himself inside you with one quick thrust. Your eyes closed, moaning and groaning from his size. He wasn’t the largest man out there, but it never ceased to amaze you whenever you were intimate how well he could fill your pussy up. The man stilled, peppering your face with kisses and uttering sweet nothings until you gave him the signature tap on the shoulder to let him know he could continue.

His thursts always started slow, pulling back until he was about to leave you empty and then pushing back in completely. The pace would be slow and steady, soft moans leaving you both. But as time went on, he would gain momentum, hips starting to snap into yours hastily until he was slamming into you, pressing you into the mattress. The sound of clapping skin grew louder, the moans became screams of his name, and your body trembled under his.

You were quick to orgasm, feeling his thick cock sliding in and out of your tight core quickly, pounding at you quickly. The tip pushed against your g-spot every time he pushed into you, earning himself a breathy pant from below him. Your walls would hug around him, making it harder for him to concentrate on his thrusts. It grew worse when he felt you shudder, back arching and toes curling. Your pussy squeezed him, spilling around his thick shaft and soaking it completely.

Taeyong stopped moving, not wanting to fill you up so soon, watching your twitching form relax after a minute. Leaning back on his knees between your legs, he pulled himself out, satisfied at how wet his shaft was. HIs fingers toyed with your sensitive entrance for a moment, hearing you groan and watching you twist in subtle discomfort.

He placed a longing kiss on your lips before turning you on your side, laying behind you. His fingers ran along your sides soothingly, drawing different shapes on your stomach and chest. He carefully draped your leg back over his hips, jutting his forward to slide himself between your pussy lips. A low mewl escaped, turning your head back to him to share a loving kiss just as he pushed into you once more.

His hand gripped at your breast, lips pressed to your shoulder. His thrusts picked up steadily, pushing himself deeply into you from behind. The new angle allowed him to hit deeper inside you, his already moist length sliding with ease between your tight walls. He collided with your backside with each thrust, groaning happily with every smack he heard. The bed squeaked with his quick thrusts, jostling with the movements of your bodies.

Despite his hard and fast repetition of his cock pushing into you, his lips placed kisses to your ear. You could hear his pants and low grunts in the buzz of your ecstasy, enjoying the way he felt thrusting into you furiously. Every slam into you made your head spin, the feeling of his length sliding against your walls causing your heart to beat faster. The way his lips felt against the side of your head at the same time that his cock pushed deeping to and pressed against the most sensitive spot to make you quiver was causing your stomach to burn.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured into your ear softly, nipping at your earlobe. When you moaned in response, his lips curled upwards. His hand grasped tighter to your breast, burrowing his face into you. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I-I love…” you started, panting quickly.

Taeyong knew what you wanted to say. It was clear. He also knew that you were close again - because so was he. His thrusts were growing sloppy and he could feel your walls tightening sporadically around him. You were both chasing the final high of the night as exhaustion was becoming apparent.

He pulled out, leaving you whining and empty. It wasn’t for long because he pushed you once more on to your back, sliding into you quickly and roughly. Every time, Taeyong had a thing for finishing in a way where he could see your face. He loved to watch you ascend into heaven, feeling blissful from sex. He leaned on his knees between your legs, one hand pushing your leg back and resting on the back of your thigh so your foot rested on his shoulder, and the other pushing your other leg out to spread you wide for him. His eyes were cast onto you body, swapping between your breasts bouncing with his quick snaps, to your heavenly face, swollen lips parted with moans.

“Come on,” he whispered, feeling the sweat running down his brow. “Cum for me, baby,” he pleaded. Rule number one with Taeyong: he always wanted to make sure you were pleased before he was. He always made sure to make you cum before him, and if he didn’t he would work extra hard to please you. It wasn’t uncommon for him to beg for you to snap under him.

“Tae…”

“I know baby,” he let out, heaving for air. “Come on. We’re almost there. Just let it go for me.”

“I love you…”

He grit his teeth and dove in for one last kiss, both of you breaking at the same time. Your bodies trembled together, your juices spilling around his length and his thick seed filling your core completely. Your inner walls were painted white by the strings he spewed, letting them decorate your core in warm stickiness. You moaned into his kiss, too weak to hug him close.

You were limp when he pulled out, half-lidded eyes watching the satisfied man. His fingers danced along your core, spreading your pussy lips to watch your combined juices trying to escape. One slick finger carefully pushed the juices back in, causing you to shutter and mewl his name. Content with the pleasure, he collapsed beside you, two sweaty bodies sticking to his silk sheets. A thin blanket was dragged over your bodies, one of his arms draping across your stomach. You curled into his side, letting out a long breath.

“I love you so much,” you whispered again. Taeyong didn’t reply, making you glance up at him. “Taeyong?”

“Move in with me,” he whispered. you almost felt like you didn’t hear him right. You blinked a few times before sitting up slowly, groaning in pain. You hugged the blanket to your chest, turning to the man.

“What?”

“Move in with me,” he repeated, louder this time. “You’re already here all the time, and you shouldn’t have to be paying for the dingy apartment. I love you so much, baby, and I want you to live with me.”

The room grew quiet, the air thick. You repeated the offer in your mind. The alcohol had worn off at this point, so there was little chance that he wasn’t thinking straight. Taeyong stared at you silently as you thought, biting at his lip. Only when you carefully took his hand in yours and placed them laced together in your lap did he let out the breath he had been holding.

“I will,” you mumbled before turning to him and kissing him passionately. “I will, Taeyong. I love you so much. I will move in with you.”

“Wonderful,” he whispered, kissing you once more. “You just made a man very happy today.”

“Well, you always make me happy,” you told him back.

“Yeah. I always will…”

You awoke to the sunlight streaming through a small crack in the curtains, the light hitting your face directly. A low groan left your lips as you turned over, finding the bed cold and empty beside you. Since moving in with Taeyong, you had become accustomed to the morning he was gone when you woke up. He had work to do, and he hated to disturb you when he left.

When your eyes fell on a small box on your side tab and a folded note, you smiled. Carefully sitting up, blanket to your chest, you grabbed the two items, looking at the note first. It was short:

A beautiful present for a beautiful woman. I will be home for dinner, so I will see you then. I love you. Have a wonderful day babe.

You shook your head, looking into the box. It was a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings that would dangle and shine from your lobes. You shook your head, letting out a short laugh.

“That man,” you scowled playfully. “He just doesn’t know when to quit.”

He always bought you presents, especially after you moved in months ago. They were always expensive, and you would yell at him for wasting so much on you. He said it wasn’t an issue and he wanted to spoil you. It left you wondering how much money he had. You never fought him hard about it; the gesture was always sweet and made you smile because he thought of you so much.

Climbing out of bed, you grabbed an outfit from the closet, showering and dressing quickly. It was the early afternoon when you stepped out of the penthouse, leaving the large building with a pep in your step. You walked down the road to a small market store on the corner, a place you would frequent when you had small cravings or needed mild groceries. With the thought of Taeyong returning in time for dinner, you wanted to return his generous gift with a homemade meal of his favorite items - complete with a chocolate cake.

The only issue was you were low on groceries. The last of your groceries went to a large group dinner a few nights prior, the pair of you opting for take out after that. You figured you would only get a few groceries for the time being until Johnny could take you down for a full grocery run.

The door jingled when you walked in, the street oddly empty. You paid no attention to the lack of people around, waving at the store owner who sat at the register behind the counter. You grabbed the small reusable bag and disappeared down the aisles, humming to yourself as you searched for what you needed.

“Let’s see. If I make kalguktsu, I will need more noodles and vegetables. We have stock still, and I could pick up some prawns for it too. Maybe grab some snacks and something for lunch. Maybe some kimbap…”

You talked to yourself as you placed the desired items in your bag. Making it to the last aisle for your snacks, your eyes ran over the items, searching for anything that sounded good. You kneeled to the floor to look at the lower shelves, placing the bag aside, when the door jingled again. Initially, you paid no mind to it, figuring another customer walked in.

Until you heard a gunshot.

You collapsed to the side in shock, watching the water canister in the corner get pierced, water leaking onto the ground and flooding it. You covered your mouth in shock, afraid to make a noise.

“Well, well, Dohyeon,” someone spoke, causing you to shake. “Is anyone else here?”

Your breathing stopped. you glanced towards the end of the aisle, afraid they would hear you or find you. You could feel your hands shaking, tears starting to leak from your eyes. With bated breath, you awaited the owner’s response.

“No,” he responded confidently, no waiver in his voice. “It’s been slow today. But I guess I know why.”

“Yeah,” the person responded. “Come on in, boss. Coast is clear.”

The door jingled, two pairs of footsteps tapping against the floor. You waited to hear what they would have to say, but what you heard made your heart stop for reasons other than fear.

“You should have known I would find out.”

Through bleary eyes, you glanced up, finding a reflective mirror in the corner of the store. In front of the counter stood four men - four men you knew too well. Johnny and Jaehyun held guns at the owner - Dohyeon - while Mark stood behind the man with familiar red hair. You wanted to cry and sob, but you couldn’t. You were appalled to find Taeyong there, staring down Dohyeon with his own gun.

“You knew those drugs were mine. You were supposed to sell them for us. But no. You had to go and doublecross us and sell the stock to Stray Kids? What kind of profit did you make off that.”

Dohyeon was quiet.

“Yeah, you know I’m fucking pissed. You know better than to cross me. But you did anyway!” Another shot fired, making you jump as a counter behind Dohyeon collapsed. “Now, you’re lucky I’m willing to give you one last chance. I could easily kill you here and now, but you haven’t done us wrong until now.

“But, it won’t come free. I want you to hand over all of the cash you received from them, plus interest. And I expect the next time we give you something, you make sure to stay selling for us. Your cut will be reduced until you are back in good faith, but it’s better than being dead, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Dohyeon whispered bitterly.

“You don’t sound very grateful,” Taeyong growled. “Would you prefer I just shoot you here and now? I can make that happen.”

“No, sir.”

“Good.” Mark threw a bag on the counter. “Put the money in the bag. All of it.”

You watched Dohyeon load the bag with money from under the counter, as well at the money from the register to satisfy Taeyong’s demands. The bag was zipped shut, Mark taking it from Dohyeon’s grasp. The owner sat back down, watching the four men.

“Think of this as a warning,” Taeyong sneered. “You agreed to this. You work for me and if I find out you are pulling some shady shit again, I will have you killed in the most gruesome way possible. No one fucks with NCT. Am I clear?”

“Yes…”

“I say am I clear?!”

“Yes sir!”

“Good. And if anyone asks what happened here, we were never here. Some kids vandalized you, or something of the sort. You’re a smart man. That’s obvious by trying to sell to Stray Kids, but not smart enough if you didn’t think you’d be caught.”

Taeyong made his way to the door, Mark in tow. Johnny and Jaehyun followed behind them both, never lowering the guns. Taeyong sent one last glance at the man behind the counter.

“Pleasure doing business as always.”

When the door closed and the jingling stopped, you dropped your hand, feeling your entire body trembling. After a minute passed, and you were sure they had left, you stood on shaky legs, grabbing the bag from the ground. You stumbled out of the aisle, slipping in the pool of water on your way to the door. Dohyeon said nothing as he watched you slap money onto the counter and rush out the door. You ran down the street with bag in hand, disappearing into the sudden sea of people that flooded the previously vacant area.

Sitting at home awaiting his return was nerve wracking. The second you got home, you threw yourself into another shower, collapsing to the floor and wailing loudly with sobs. The remainder of the afternoon was spent replaying what happened, and pondering how to confront Taeyong about what you had witnessed. You watched the time tick on, curling into yourself with a blanket on the couch.

Taeyong walked through the door with a smile, dropping his keys on the table by the door, kicking off his shoes and stripping off his red jacket. “Baby, I’m home,” he called happily, making his way into the living room. He expected to find you cooking or watching tv, but let his smile fade when he noticed the silence and you curled up on the couch staring at nothing. “Babe?”

You didn’t respond, worrying the red-haired man. He rushed forward, taking a seat at your feet. His hand ran along your blanket covered leg, pausing when he felt you flinch. Taeyong frowned, tilting his head at you. “Y/N, what’s going on? Are you ok?”

“I saw you…”

“What?” he questioned. “What are you talking about?”

You finally looked up at him. He could immediately tell you had been crying from your red and swollen eyes. “Tell me honestly - what is your job?”

“I…” he started, but stopped, turning away.

“I saw you at the little corner store you took me too and we always shop at.”

He stayed silent.

“Taeyong, I want the truth.”

“I think you already figured it out,” he rasped bitterly before sighing. “If you want out now, I won’t blame you. I won’t hold it against you. And I will make sure that no one comes after you for it as long as you remain quiet about what you know.

“But I… I have lied to you many times. And I’m not proud of that. I honestly should have never dragged you into this, but I couldn’t help myself. I have lied about many things, but I have never lied about my feelings for you. I love you with all my heart, Y/N, and I will do anything to keep you safe.

“But I understand that I have made mistakes by keeping this from you. I never wanted you to be involved, but I should have seen this coming one day. And I’m sorry.”

His gaze was on the floor as he talked, but shot up when your cold hand took his, lacing your fingers together. He stared at you, nervously holding his breath. “I don’t like that you lied about this. That you kept this from me for so long.”

“I know…”

“But, I’m also in too deep,” you murmured. Taeyong gave your hand a squeeze. “I fell in love with you the day I met you and I’ve only gotten deeper since then. I… I don’t want to leave you. I love you too much to leave you.”

“You know I live a dangerous life, right?”

“Yeah, I figured that out,” you told him. “But, we are in this together. I will support you and help you where I can. We’ll just be partners in crime.”

Taeyong bit his lip, running a hand through his red hair until the strands were tousled and sticking up in random directions. “Are you sure you want to get involved in this? I don’t want you to feel pressured to join this lifestyle because of me.”

“I’m sure,” came your meek voice. The man could tell you were scared of the answer, of the path you were agreeing to, but the solid grip on his hand and the fire behind your blown orbs gave him your resolve. “I want to stay by your side. I will help you no matter what.”

“Partners in crime, eh?” he chuckled weakly, smiling weakly at your own giggle in return.

“Yeah. Partners in crime. If you go down, I go down with you. I’m not leaving your side in this. I know I may not seem like the best candidate for this, but I am a quick learner for whatever you need. Train me for whatever you think you need me for.

“But going forward, you can’t keep things like this from me. If you want to make this work - to make us work - we need to have this trust. If you are as serious about us as you say you are, and I know you are because I have felt your love and passion, then we need to be open. Which means no lies, no deceit, and most of all, standing by each other’s decisions. We are partners in life, in death, and now, in crime I guess.”

You paused briefly to let out a breath, watching the man nod at your words. “I won’t deny that I am scared of what I am agreeing to, but I will do what I have to because I want to be with you. Until death do us part.”

Taeyong didn’t say anything. The leader silently crawled onto the couch with you, your body shifting slightly so he could nestle himself between you and the back cushions. His head rested on your breast, one arm looped loosely around your waist. Your hand ran through his ruffled locks, feeling his tense form starting to relax at the soothing motion. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was scared too - not for the work he did, but for your inevitable involvement.

“I love you. So much…”

His voice was low and muffled, but his words were clear.

“I love you too…”

It made you wonder how a man as soft as the one curled into your side was when you were alone could be so ruthless. You heard him that day threaten the owner of the store, and the thought alone still sent shivers up your spine. But it was just another thing you were going to accept about the mysterious man.

You were serious when you said to death do you part. You were determined to stand by his side in every situation. He loved you and you loved him. Even though he was a dangerous man, you knew you couldn’t escape.

He had your heart in his hand after all.

Hours later, long after the sun had set and the clock struck midnight, you sat on the same couch, listening to Taeyong pace around behind you. After your confrontation upon his return home, you prepared dinner and had an emotional discussion about everything. He revealed everything to you in that time, laying his life on the table before you.

He led a small mafia group called NCT. They were one group under a larger organization, and their group controlled the area you lived in. There were twenty-one boys in their unit, breaking into smaller units to manage their territory. Taeyong mentioned there were rival groups that tended to do business in their area, but for the most part, they didn’t clash too much.

Taeyong, though he led all of the boys in the building, worked mostly with the eight other boys you had spent so much of your time with. The other two groups, Dream and WayV, had members who lead them when Taeyong couldn’t. The building they lived in was owned by their organization.

And as he spilled everything, including his background and how he got involved coming out of high school, everything seemed to click more given everything you had been through with him since you met. Yet, it didn’t change your feelings for him. It just solidified his trust in you and his desire to have you in his life.

Now ame the hard part.

“What’s going on boss?” a loud voice chimed as the front door opened widely, eight chipper boys filing through the entryway quickly, led by Mark. “Did something happen with that weapons… call…”

Mark’s voice faded away when the group saw you sitting on the couch and their leader anxiously walking back and forth, his thumb nail in his mouth as he nibbled at it. All of the boys gaped at the sight, unprepared for your presence. Mark seemed the most uncomfortable, seeing as he was about to talk business, assuming that was what they were being called for given the cryptic message they had received that simply said “we have something to discuss. It’s important.”

“Y/N…” Mark stuttered out, panic laced in his voice. “I didn’t know you were here…”

“She lives here,” Yuta pointed out lowly, only to receive a jab in his side from Mark’s elbow.

“Well, just ignore whatever I was saying! It wa a joke really-”

“It’s fine,” Taeyong said, cutting the young boy off. He stopped pacing to face the group, still biting at his nail. “She knows.”

The boys stared at their leader for a minute before bursting into a loud mixture of questions and concerns. Taeyong stared blankly at them until he got fed up with their loud noise, motioning them to silence. The room grew quiet in an instant, all eight of the boys finding places to eat to listen to what Taeyong had to say.

“She saw us earlier today when we went to handle Dohyeon. She knows who we are and what we do. We’ve already talked about it,” Taeyong muttered.

You stayed silent, waiting for someone to react. But the last thing you expected was Jaehyun, your trusted workout buddy, to stand from his seat across from you and point a gun at your forehead. His eyes narrowed on your form, your stare on him unwavering. Deep inside, you were quaking with fear. You barely registered the remaining boys behind him yelling at him to stand down.

The leader wasn’t having this action. Taeyong was swift to react himself, grabbing a gun he kept in a drawer near the couch and aiming it at Jaehyun. Taeyong’s glare at his friend was sharp, eyes darker than normal.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, gritting his teeth to keep from snapping completely. “Stand down, Jae.”

“She knows, Taeyong,” Jaehyun retorted, never moving his gaze to his leader. “What’s to stop her from spilling this to the cops? What’s to stop her from leaving when we least expect it and turning us in? We aren’t the good guys here, and now your little girlfriend knows our secret. I knew this wasn’t a good idea when you started bringing her here. It was only a matter of time. So now, we need to make sure she isn’t going to turn.”

“Jaehyun-”

“I don’t plan to sell you out,” you spoke up, cutting off Taeyong. “If I did, I wouldn’t have come back here and confronted Taeyong about this.”

“So? That means nothing. You could be gathering evidence to bring to the cops-”

“I love Taeyong,” you cut in. “I wouldn’t do that to him, and I wouldn’t do that to you guys. You guys are my friends. We have spent so much time together and I love you guys to death.”

“How can I trust you?” Jaehyun snapped.

“You’ll just have to,” you told him.

“Put the gun down, Jae,” Taeyong told him, watching the man slowly lower the weapon and return to his seat. His own gun was placed aside, placing his hands on your shoulders instead. “We’ve talked about this all night. It hasn’t been easy. But you guys know I love Y/N to death. I don’t want to lose her. And her saying she is willing to accept this part of me, this part of us, means everything to me. I don’t want to lose her.

“So, after talking about it, I’ve agreed to let her join us. She said she wants to help us. But, we wanted to get your guys’ approval for her to join as well. We are a team and I can’t decide this on my own.”

You placed a hand on his that was on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know you guys may be concerned, but I promise you that I am here to help. I don’t want to sell anyone out or see anyone get hurt. I just want to be with Taeyong and all of you.” You paused, feeling Taeyong lean down to kiss the top of your head. “Taeyong and I are partners. I love him with all my heart and I will stand by his side until death do us part. Now, we’ll just be partners in crime too.”

The room grew quiet again, your stomach bubbling with nerves. You weren’t sure what their response would be, or what would happen if they decided you didn’t belong. You feared you would be forced to leave the man you loved because of his occupation.

“So, till death do you part? Does that mean you guys are going to get married finally?” Jungwoo chimed happily, eyes sparkling. “I’ve been waiting for Taeyong to propose for so long. Can I be the flower boy?”

“You’re not even the youngest!” Haechan growled, Jungwoo giving him a smug smile.

“But I’m cuter!”

“Hey, no fighting!” Doyoung scolded the two boys. “They didn’t say anything about marriage yet!”

“We all know it’s coming,” Yuta chuckled, watching your cheeks instantly flush a bright red. You turned to Taeyong, flustered. Taeyong shrugged with an obvious smile.

“They aren’t wrong. One day, you will be mine. But, I plan to propose to you properly.”

“Taeyong!” you screamed, swatting at him. Everyone laughed, Jaehyun excluded. As everyone quieted down, Taeyong spoke back up.

“By a show of hands, how many of you are in favor or letting Y/N join? Before you decide, please know that we will need to train her in what we do.” His eyes turned to Jaehyun for a moment before continuing. “On a count of three. One… two… three…”

Four hands shot up instantly - Mark, Jungwoo, Haechan and Yuta. three hands were slow to follow - Taeil, Doyoung and Johnny. Everyone turned to Jaehyun, who had yet to decide. The man stared deeply at you, mouth in a tight line.

“If she joins, I am in charge of training,” his cold voice cut in. “I don’t trust her in this situation and if things turn south, I will not hesitate to end this deal.”

You shivered at his words, but glanced up at Taeyong, giving him a nod. Taeyong sighed.

“Fine, but just know that if you turn around and kill her, I will kill you.”

“Deal,” Jaehyun said before raising his hand.

Taeyong smiled slightly before nodding. “That’s it. With everyone’s consent,” he hummed, moving to sit beside you. He kissed your cheek swiftly, your face heating. “Welcome to NCT, Y/N.”

You smiled, bowing to the boys. “Thank you for having me.”

“This is going to be interesting,” Mark hummed, everyone agreeing.

You knew he wasn’t wrong.

If you ever thought you’d be good at something in life, it wasn’t your skill with fighting or with a gun. It wasn’t your natural ability to be intimidating on command. Maybe you thought you’d be good at sewing, or maybe drawing beautiful scenary on paper.

But no.

Under Jaehyun’s watchful eye, the glint from the darkness as he watched you punch at a dummy in the weight room before pushing it back completely despite being twice your size, or when your eyes narrowed on a target, the sudden jolt of the gun in your hands leading to a bulls eyes through the forehead of your paper victim, you had managed to fit right now with the mafia boys you had come to love.

Jaehyun, naturally, still had minor suspicions of you, even after months of one-on-one training to get you in tip top shape to be a member. But, the day you managed to take him down in a spar, leaving you giddy with delight before hopping around the room ecstatically, he started to lay off on his threats to end you so willingly. When you hadn’t spilled the truth to anyone, even when your former boss asked why you were quitting so suddenly, he felt a bit more at ease. When you took training seriously, showing up early and staying extra late to master what he was trying to teach, pushing through pain to continue, he would smile just a bit at your determination.

Taeyong couldn’t have been more proud. He had told you that on many occasions. When he would pop in to assess your progress, he never found a second to be unimpressed. You had grown strong in your time with Jaehyun, making you a force to be reckoned with.

And he couldn’t lie when he said it wasn’t attractive.

There were the days when he would join in on your hand-to-hand training, after Jaehyun was willing to allow his boss to intervene. There were days he would be in the gun range on the ground floor, hidden deep in the back in a soundproof room, where we would watch you fire shot after shot without missing your mark, sometimes joining for a small competition. He never lost, but you didn’t make it easy when he would get distracted by your beauty.

In those days, Jaehyun would dismiss himself early, trusting his boss and friend in case something were to happen. And he was right - in a sense. Those were the days you found yourself getting frisky with your lover, moaning loudly while he thrust into your wet core. He’d have you pressed against a mat in the training room, or sitting atop the table in the gun range where you’d place your unused weapons, pounding you like an animal in heat, leaving searing hot kisses along your face and throat. You’d have to clean up afterwards, but it was worth it to be with Taeyong in that way; night time was never the best for intimacy when you were both exhausted.

Part of you was glad that no one ever walked in when you had those moments, but part of you was also convinced that Jaehyun knew what would happen when you were left alone together, and he would warn the others not to disturb you.

He was cold, but you knew he meant well.

When you awoke one morning nearly six months into your newfound profession, you found Taeyong dressed in a black turtleneck and tan trench coat, loose blue jeans hugging his slim waist, and his bright red locks slicked back the way he did when he meant business, you knew he was on a job that day.

“I want to join,” you meekly voiced, catching him off guard. The man whipped around to face you, adjusting his necklaces.

“You’re worn out, baby. And this is a pretty big job today. I don’t want you to get involved,” he voiced, biting at his lower lip. “This jewelry store owner that we leant money to so he could start up his business hasn’t paid, but he’s not a pushover. I don’t want you there in case things turn ugly.”

“I’ll be fine, Yong,” you hushed him, slinging yourself from the bed and rushing to the closet. Taeyong pouted, following after you.

“Babe-”

“No, don’t start,” you huffed at him. “You’ve only sent me on small jobs. I’m ready for something more, Taeyong.”

“I know, but-”

“But nothing!” you yelled. When Taeyong recoiled slightly, you sighed. “I’m sorry, Yongie. But I think I’m ready. I agreed to do this, to join you guys. So, let me do my job. I can help. And if things go sour, I can handle myself. I’m almost as good of a marksman as you. I can sometimes take down Jaehyun in a fight and he’s not an easy target. Yes, I’m tired because of yesterday’s training, but I’m not too tired to go help you with this. So, please-”

He cut you off with a kiss, his plump lips sealing yours. Your body instantly melted into his, wrapping your arms around his torso. His hands were clasped to your hips, tugging you closer. When he pulled away, finding your eyes closed and lips puckered, he chuckled.

“Shut up and get dressed. We don’t have all day.”

You were left alone, a silent cheer leaving your body before rushing to find an outfit. In a matter of minutes, you were bouncing into the living room, pulling on a loose blouse to go with the tight black jeans. Taeyong’s eyes followed after you from the breakfast bar, licking his lips.

“Do you plan to seduce someone?” he chirped cheekily. “Because I must say, it’s working.”

“Shut up,” you scowled at him, trying to hide the blush and smile on your face while trekking to the front door. You picked up a pair of sleek heels - ones that Taeyong gifted you one day - and turned to the red haired man, giving a sultry wink. “Now, shall we get going, big boy? We have a job to do.”

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this. You’re gonna be the death of me before we ever get to the store.”

You giggled, pulling on your shoes and slipping out the door. Taeyong closely followed, taking your hand on the way to the elevator and to the garage. Johnny and Mark were waiting, as per usual for things like this, but the look of surprise on their faces when they saw you at their boss’ side made you chuckle. They didn’t question, Johnny simply opening the door so you and Taeyong could slide into the back. The tall man took his place at the wheel, Mark bouncing in the passenger seat as the car rolled from its spot onto the crowded street.

On the drive, you were briefed more in depth about what was going on. Mark, who was busy loading ammo into an arsenal of guns, passed two back, Taeyong tucking one into his jeans and handing you the other. Your heart pounded, looking down at the gun in your hand. It felt heavy in your grip. Despite the training, and the few things you had done for Taeyong, you had not actually used the weapon on someone. Would today be the day? You couldn’t say, but something in your gut said today wouldn’t be a good day. Bile rose in your throat at the worrisome feeling that lingered inside.

The street was near desolate when you arrived, the four of you sliding out of the car and approaching the jewelry store. No one was inside when you entered, a small bell ringing upon your entrance. The store owner, an older man named Youngjae, sitting behind the counter turned his head up with a smile that quickly vanished when he realized who had entered. Taeyong approached him confidently, you and Mark on his tail. The young blonde boy carried a large duffle bag in his left hand. Johnny guarded the door, flipping the sign to closed, securing the lock, and pulling down the sun visor so people couldn’t see what was happening so clearly.

“Time to pay up, Youngjae,” Taeyong spoke clearly, skipping the theatrics and jumping straight to the point. Youngjae’s gaze on the young mafia leader didn’t falter, his lips sealed in a tight line. “Are you deaf? You’re lucky we waited until now to come collect. You are nearly six months overdue on that loan for this shop. And from what I’ve heard, you’ve been doing rather well for yourself.”

Taeyong walked around the store, picking up some necklaces on display that had diamonds that shone brightly, trailing some fingers along the sapphire bracelets, and finally stopping at the engagement rings. He picked one up that had a square cut diamond in the center, two smaller ones adorning either side of it. He seemed to hum in approval, grabbing a velvet box from a stand and turning to Mark.

“Pack up some of the jewelry. We can use it as part of the payment.” Youngjae went to move when the younger male moved to collect from open stands, Taeyong quick to pull his weapon on the man. The older gentleman rose both hands, stilling in his movements, his stoic face unchanged. “Don’t even think about it.”

When Mark finished collecting what he deemed most valuable, he placed the bag in front of Youngjae. “Money,” the boy spoke.

When he didn’t move, Taeyong’s eyes narrowed. “You heard him,” the boss sneered angrily, narrowing his eyes. “All of the money in your safe deposit under the counter - I know it’s there because we installed it - and in your register. We’ll take that for now. If you continue to avoid payment, we will come back for the bank account. Sound fair?”

Youngjae continued to stay unmoving.

In a flash, you pulled out your own gun, clicking the safety off and aiming directly at his forehead. Your eyes were dark, making the older man visibly swallow. You were mildly thankful for your quick makeup job, making you somewhat more intimidating than your normal soft exterior.

“I won’t say it again,” you huffed. “Put the money in the bag, or I will shoot you. I don’t have time to play this game with you, so if you value your life, i suggest you do what you’ve been told, pay up when you need to, and move on with your life. You made a deal with the devil for this, so it’s time to pay up. What do you say, sweetie?”

Youngjae silently nodded, opening the register and pulling handfuls of bills out. He followed by kneeling down on the floor to unlock the safe deposit box, pulling out more wads of bills that were all placed into the duffle bag. When he was finished, he backed away slowly, hands still in the air.

“That’s what I thought,” you smiled eerily, nodding at Mark to grab the bag. Taeyong smirked at himself, waving at Johnny to unlock the door. Mark left first, Johnny following to bring the car forward. “Pleasure doing business sweetheart. Don’t let this happen again.”

Blowing in a quick kiss, you made your way to the door, heels clicking and hips swaying. Taeyong followed after you, keeping an eye on the owner before slipping out of the door. You both piled back into the car, the vehicle quick to disappear down the road.

But what you had both missed in that moment was Youngjae pressing the small panic button on the underside of his countertop. His eyes traveled to the small tv on the side of his counter that showed security footage of the car you had gotten into, the man narrowing on the license plate. When his phone rang, police on the other line, he picked up.

“I’ve just been robbed by the mafia. I have their plate number. It’s…”

The events went unbeknownst to you on your way back to the penthouse, Taeyong’s hand on your thigh. He placed a kiss to your ear, nipping it lightly. “That was hot,” he whispered. “I never thought I’d be so turned on hearing you talk like that.”

“Is that so?” you hummed, turning to face him. His eyes were dark and lustful, making you wiggle in your seat. His lips curled up, giving a toothy grin.

“Guys, take care of the goods,” he voiced when Johnny pulled into the garage. You were nearly yanked from the car before it could come to a complete stop, Taeyong lifting you into his arms and carrying you away. Mark and Johnny watched you squeal loudly, cringing when they saw Taeyong smack your backside on his way to the elevator.

“I didn’t need to see that,” Mark mumbled, Johnny nodding in agreement.

The moment you were pushed through the penthouse door, you were dropped onto the couch, shoes and blouse discarded immediately. Taeyong went to pounce on your, narrowly missing your escaping form into your shared bedroom. His huff of annoyance could be heard as you ran into the bathroom, pulling off your jeans and undergarments as you went. You disappeared into the glass shower before Taeyong could join you, starting the hot water up.

Taeyong’s eyes narrowed on your now wet form, watching you make faces at him through the glass. Your form was bare and dripping, and adding that to the memory of early, he was twitching already. The tan coat had been discarded on the bed before he joined you in the bathroom, but he didn’t hesitate to shed the turtleneck and jeans as well. The door was shut, and the glass door was opened, the man appearing at your side.

Immediately, you were tugged into a searing kiss, your body melting into his grasp under the waterfall of droplets that cascaded down your forms. He didn’t bother to ask for permission, his tongue bypassing your lips to attack the inside of your mouth. His hands gripped harder to your hips, veins running along up his hands and along his arms. His head tilted to the side to press perfectly against you, his mouth molding into yours without issue.

He pulled away for air, the steam from the shower making it harder to breath. Taeyong eyes were darker than normal, lust slated within the brown orbs. His tongue passed over his swollen lips, tracing yours slightly from the close proximity, earning a small whimper from within your throat.

“You were wonderful out there today,” he hummed lowly, nipping at your skin until he reached your ear. “I wasn’t expecting you to jump in the way you did. And you way you handled everything?” He paused for a moment, his breath hot on your ear. “It was pretty fucking hot.”

His words made you shiver, a mewl of delight piercing the sound of falling water. Taeyong pushed back his now wet hair, biting at his lip.

“I should reward you for it. How does that sound?”

You didn’t even respond. His face was simply tugged back to yours, eagerly kissing his plump lips once more. Your hands cupped his cheeks, taeyong pulling you taut against his body. His steps moved forward; yours moved back. You found yourself pressed against the chillingly cold wall of the shower, grimacing in the midst of the sloppy connection and arch your back away from the steely frost against your skin. It only pushed you further into the mafia boss’ needy body, feeling the heat that radiated from his skin.

His lips traveled from your ear, down your cheek and to your neck, attacking it with suckling kisses that left dark red blotches ebbed on your skin. Your hands on his cheeks slid up to his wet red locks, scratching at his scalp happily. Your body burned under his light touches, feeling his fingers ghosting along your arms to your chest, fondling your breasts for a moment before his lips replaced his diligent digits to suckle at the hardened nipples, finally sliding down between your soaked forms to to with your moist pussy.

The combination of his long fingers alternating between circling your clit and prodding at your core, and his gentle cites and kisses to your sensitive mounds sent your head reeling back, loud moans unceremoniously filling the air. Taeyong’s wicked grin against your chest was obvious almost as much as his increased actions, speeding up rubbing at your nub and popping his lips against your chest when he would tug at the buds.

“Yong,” you whimpered at him, squirming in his grasp. Your stomach churned with arousal and delight, the feeling of his fingers sliding into your tight core adding to the stars you were already feeling. The thrusts of the two digits made you body jolt, his hand quick and nimble. His thumb pressed to your clit as he moved, the man grinning at your face that was twisted with ecstasy. “Oh god, baby. Yes.”

“You like that?” he mused, kissing his way back up to your face. “Or, do you like my cock better?”

“At this point, anything,” you managed to get out, breath picking up the closer you got to your end. “I love you so much, Taeyong.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured, kissing you lightly. “I love you too, baby.”

He pulled his fingers back before you could finish, a whining groan escaping you. “You love me but you don’t let me finish? How dare you-”

In a flash, you were spun around, your eyes meeting the wall, barely able to make out the condensation dripping along the white porcelain. Your hands pressed to the surface to keep from falling over, fingers curling against it. The feeling stung against your palms, your hands cold in contrast to the wet wall heated from the water that rained around you. The heat of a body pressed against your back, searing kisses placed along your neck and shoulder, sent shivers along your spine. Strong but delicate hands roamed along your form, hips rutting against your backside slowly, before your right leg was hiked up swiftly.

“Are you ready for me?” he whispered seductively into your ears, lips tracing along the shell delicately.

“Yes, please,” you mewled at him, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. “Please, Taeyong.”

The low hum heard amongst the shower left your mind blank, anticipation flooding your veins. The slow rut of his hips was agonizing, and it wasn’t until he finally slid into you with one swift thrust that you felt full. A loud moan left your lips, your forehead placed against the wall happily. His thrusts began quick, wasting no time with slamming himself into your tight center and shoving your body further against the wall.

“Oh Tae,” you let out. The familiar curl of his grin against the side of your head was unmistakable at the sound you made.

“God, you always feel so good,” he rasped lowly, jutting himself harder than before and grinding against you harshly. The deep grunt he let out was thrilling to hear. “How did I get so lucky with you?”

“I think it’s me that got lucky,” you managed to say through plants, jolting when he resumed his rapid thrusts. “I’m so lucky:”

Taeyong seemed to speed up from your broken words, his cock pistoning in and out of you swiftly. His hips clapped against your ass, your leg hiked up bits at a time that made the angle deeper and his cock hit spots that made you shake. Every push into you, he found that one spot that had you moaning his name pathetically, chanting it like a mantra.

The water was beginning to go cold by the time you were convulsing from his thrusts, feeling his hand wrap around your throat the closer you got to your high. You begged him softly to let you cum, the man commanding you to wait until he was ready to fill you to the brim with his own milky essence. His lips trailed down your neck nipping at the skin with his teeth and giving a gentle squeeze that made your sight go white with a rainbow of stars for a moment.

“Yong, please.”

“Hold on, baby,” he kept saying, gasping the more he did. His thrusts were growing sloppy and forced the longer he went, his grip on your body hardening. With his forehead on your shoulder, he managed to utter a quick, “I’m almost there,” before grunting loudly.

THe last of his thrusts were the hardest and deepest, his cock lingering inside your wet pussy as he released. His milky seed spilled into you in bursts of warmth, painting your inner walls in the creamy white substance. His release sent your own into a fit of spasms, your walls tightening and convulsing around his length. They hugged at his thick shaft, coating it in your release while milking his own. Taeyong’s movements slowed to a gentle rhythm, letting your two forms meld into one against the wall and your cum mixing together deep inside of you.

Fingers pressed against the side of your face, tilting your head to the side. Your hazy gaze landed on the deep brown irises of Taeyong, a warm smile on his lips. Slowly, he leaned forward, remaining buried deep inside of you as he pressed a firm and loving kiss to your lips, conveying every ounce of love he felt into the connection. The frozen droplets of water did nothing to you against the heat of your bodies and the smoldering kiss you shared.

And as his lips dragged down against yours, you couldn’t help but to smile.

With your body dried and dressed in onee of Taeyong’s baggy, long-sleeved shirts and a pair of jeans, you walked into the living room, headed for the kitchen. As you opened the fridge to find something to make for dinner, two arms wrapped around your form, a giggle erupting from your lips. Taeyong snuggled into your neck, lifting you off your feet and kicking the fridge shut.

“Taeyong, no! I’m hungry!” you scowled through a laugh, flailing in the man’s arms. Your actions proved futile, Taeyong carrying you to the couch and falling on his back atop it, placing you on his lap.

“I know. But I wanted to spend some more time with you,” he pouted, the look adorable in your opinion. His fingers played with the hem of the shirt you wore, dipping under it to trace his fingers along your side. “Have I ever mentioned how beautiful you are?”

“Maybe once or twice,” you joked, leaning forward to place a butterfly kiss to his nose.

Taeyong sent you a shimmering smile, pulling you into a harder kiss. His tongue bypassed your lips instantly, the kiss growing hotter by the second. Your eyes slipped closed, your body eagerly rolling against his. A deep groan was muffled in his throat, hands pushing desperately at your shirt until your chest was exposed. That was the only time he broke the kiss - so he could attach his lips to your perk nipples, tongue flicking them happily.

“Tae,” you moaned loudly.

You pushed against his chest to sit upright, rolling against him harder and faster. Your jeans pushed into your aching core, feeling his growing hard on through his own pair of black denim bottoms. His hands gripped at your chest, hooded eyes watching you grind against him. Your eyes slid shut, head falling back as his name left your mouth.

“Tae,” you whimpered, cracking open your eyes and turning to look at him. But your movements slowed, much to his dismay. The male under you whimpered and pushed up into you, eager to continue. “Taeyong, what is that?”

The mafia leader ceased his movements, propping himself up on his elbows and turning to follow your gaze. His brow creased at the flashing blue and red lights that reflected slightly on the window.

“The fuck?” he murmured, moving you from his lap and rushing to the window. “Why the fuck are the cops here?”

“The cops?” you whispered to yourself, eying the man you love. Before you could question him more, muffled gunshots could be heard through the building.

Taeyong was quick to rush to the door, grabbing a gun on the way and sliding on his shoes. You jumped up after him, stumbling as you pulled on your own shoes and following after him. The noise in the hallway was louder than in the penthouse, screaming and shouting growing louder as your bounded down the stairwell. Exhaustion was setting in from the numerous stairs you rushed down, but neither of you stopped.

“Taeyong, wait!” you called at the man who refused to slow down. “Don’t rush in there! You could get hurt!”

Seething with anger, he didn’t listen, pushing open the door to the ground floor as soon as he hit the bottom step. You barely could register someone yelling Taeyong’s name and a shot being fired before he was stumbling back, a hand on his shoulder.

“Fuck!” he yelled out in pain, pulling his hand back to see the crimson blood coating his fingers.

“Baby, are you alright?” you asked, pulling him further from the door and seating him on the steps of the stairwell. Your own hand trembled, placed on his and feeling the blood slide between your fingers. “Shit, you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” he grimaced, wincing while adjusting how he was sitting.

“You’re far from, sir,” you told him, ripping off one of the sleeve of the shirt you wore and wrapping it around his arm. “This will help for now but…”

“It’s fine,” he said again. “We need to get out there and meet with the others. I saw them briefly when I opened the door.”

“But what if they shoot again?” you asked, your voice meek.

“I will protect you,” he said, letting out a deep breath before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Stay low and you’re going to go left. Jaehyun and Yuta are behind the reception desk.”

“Alright,” you let out.

“Don’t worry. I will be right behind you.”

Nodding, you cracked open the door, crouching low. The flashing of the police vehicles was brighter when you entered the lobby, finding the once beautiful area destroyed. Dead bodies of the staff that were employed by the NCT mafia to man their building were laid in various areas of the room, blood pooling around their unfortunate bodies after being caught in the crossfire. Furniture was ridden with bullet holes, upholstery exposed, and tables and desks having their wood flaked and chipped.

Jaehyun was quick to aid you, pulling you behind the front desk before helping Taeyong over. Yuta, Jungwoo and Mark were with him, heavily breathing and reloading their guns with the limited ammo they had.

“What the hell is going on?” Taeyong snarled at no one in particular.

“The cops, obviously,” Yuta cheekily joked, his laughter ceased with Taeyong’s glare.

“Obviously,” came the leader’s retort. “Did the police say anything?”

“No,” Mark told him, leaning against the desk. “I can only assume we were ratted out after what happened earlier.”

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Taeyong yelled. “Shit!”

“Yong, calm down,” you told him, taking his shaking hand. This seemed to calm him slightly.

“Where is everyone else?”

“Already sent off to the escape tunnels,” Jungwoo mumbled, eyes darting to a wall to the right. Taeyong had told you of the secret passage for escape in case of emergencies. “We told them that we would hold them off so they could get to the cars and escape.”

Taeyong nodded, running a hand through his red locks. His mouth opened, only to be silenced by the squeal of a microphone outside.

“This is the Seoul Police. We have the place surrounded. Come out with your hands up, or we will be forced to fire!”

The boys seemed adamant on fighting, telling you to stay down as they opened fire at the door and windows, the police firing back with each shot. The ring of the shots made your head hurt, your hands cupping your ears in an attempt to shield them. Your eyes squeezed closed, curling in on yourself and only hoping that a stray shot didn’t hit anyone.

When the firing came to a stop, and the boys ducked down, thankfully unharmed, they were all cursing. Jaehyun pushed at the desk, dropping his now empty gun.

“We’re fucked,” he growled, ruffling his dark locks.

“No,” Taeyong said firmly. “You guys go and escape. I will keep them distracted.”

“What, no-” Yuta began to protest, but Taeyong shook his head.

“I’m your leader. I swore to protect you all. I will go down fighting for my family.”

Yuta, Jungwoo, Mark and Jaehyun nodded, Marking peering around the desk. “We have a chance now. They aren’t looking in that way. If we can make it to the passage, we’re fine.”

“Good, then go,” Taeyong ordered, turning to look at you. “You need to go with them.”

“No,” you firmly said.

“That wasn’t an offer, Y/N,” Taeyong huffed. “Please, I need you to go. I need you to be safe-”

“I know it wasn’t an offer. I know what you’re thinking, but my answer is still no. I told you a long time ago when I learned what you do that I would be by your side until the end. I will be by your side until death do us part. I’m not leaving you to handle this on your own, Lee Taeyong. If you go down, I’m going with you.”

“Y/N,” he started, glancing at the others. They all held looks of concern, but chose to say nothing when their leader nodded hesitantly. The four men gave you a soft look before they darted for the passageway, the wall sliding open and closed quickly, their forms gone.

Taeyong sighed, leaning his back against the desk. He took the gun from his jeans that he grabbed on his way out of the penthouse, checking the ammo he had. “Not much left, eh?”

“Never thought this would be the end, did you?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Taeyong smiled for a second before becoming serious.

“You should have left while you could…”

A small smile graced the man’s face, lacing his fingers with yours. With a reassuring squeeze and the click of his gun in his right hand, he glanced to his side.

“I love you,” he mumbled just loud enough to be heard.

“I love you too,” you repeated, taking his hand and preparing to stand and face the gallows of red and blue lights flashing through broken windows and bent blinds. “I always will, Taeyong.”

Together you stood, lifting your hands as you walked towards the door. You spied the barrel of guns aimed at you as you stopped at the door, staring down the cops. Their words fell deaf on your ears waiting for Taeyong to pull the gun and proceed with his last hurrah. Your heart was pounding, hands clammy.

This was the end.

Just as Taeyong reached for his gun, smoke filled the area, shouts and screams and shots firing around the blinded area. Taeyong gripped your hand, tugging you back into the lobby of the building. He rushed towards the secret passage holding your hand tightly. As the wall slid open, he turned back to the doorway, spotting a figure in dark blue with a gas mask on watching them. You turned to follow his gaze, spotting the figure gesture before disappearing into the smoke.

“Who was that?” you asked quietly.

Taeyong pushed against the small of your back to force you into the passage, the wall sliding shut behind him. “Heechul.”

“Who’s that?”

“Our older brother mafia,” Taeyong hummed, smiling giddily. “Super Junior.”

“They came to our rescue?”

“Yeah,” the leader mumbled. “The others must have called them as soon as it was safe.”

“Well, I’m glad then…”

Taeyong chuckled, pulling you into a hug despite the pain he felt in his injured arm. His face nestled into your hair, a low sob escaping his throat. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“We’re both safe.”

“Well, not yet I guess,” Taeyong said. “We need to go. Now.”

“Alright…”

Taeyong took your hand once more, the two of you running down the darkened hall, hoping that nothing would find you at the end.

You hummed a song softly, staring out a crack in the window at the barren road in front of the motel. Your fingers ran soothingly through the dyed black locks of your lover, who was curled up in your lap. Turning to look down at him, your own dyed locks fell against your cheeks, ticking his nose. A smile grew on his face, eyes remaining closed.

You had taken refuge in a small motel far from the city, waiting for things to die down. The boys were scattered and in hiding, just like yourselves. Disposable phones were the only way to keep in contact to make sure everyone was safe still. There was no telling how long you were to live like this, but you didn’t mind it.

“Y/N,” Taeyong sang, finally opening his chocolate colored orbs to look up at you. “I love you.”

He took your hand that was previously resting on his chest into his, playing with the square cut diamond ring you wore. It was the same one he took from the shop that day. A few days after your escape, after Taeyong had been patched up for his injury by the Super Junior mafia and everyone separated for protection, going into hiding, he pulled out the box from his jeans pocket.

“I was going to propose with this that night. I had everything planned - a nice dinner, a big speech, and a night to make love to you - but it all got fucked up. I would understand if you didn’t want to be with me,” he had said while laying in bed, fiddling with the box.

“You’re stupid if you think after all of this that I would say no and leave you. Till death do we part, remember?”

You happily wore the ring still, never once taking it off since he slid it on your finger. It wasn’t your ideal proposal, but you weren’t going to argue if it meant you got to be with him. Watching him fiddle with it now, a grin on his soft, handsome features, left your heart fluttering.

“I love you too, Lee Taeyong,” you hummed. “And remember, I will always be by your side.”

“Partners until the end?” He asked. You smiled leaning down to kiss him softly.

“Naturally.”

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1-800-i-ship-it · 3 years

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ToG Characters on April Fools

(if u think im procrastinating by doing this, ur absolutely correct) this is supposed to be purely entertaining, you are free to disagree with me

Shibisu: tries to pull a prank on everyone but 9 times out of 10 probably fails, Hatz really doesn’t get why he tries to hide his swords and replace them, it literally never works. (rip to every year he loses a tracksuit to disaster dye...everyone has way too much fun messing with his tracksuits that he seems to have an infinite amount of.

Rak: poor guy gets pranked every time with fake bananas...he has become very wary now, but the first time he bit into a plastic banana he chased down many, many turtles. legend says they never returned again, fearing the mighty chibi spear bearer who now has a bigger affinity for chocolate bars instead.

Khun: how the hell do you even prank this guy??? answer: you don’t. (I mean, unless you have moronsexual energy + are bam) very, very good at planning out elaborate pranks...the prank war he had with Hatz was absolutely insane and Khun won by a landslide; Shibisu tried to butt in many times but they just ignored him :’) really good at making you feel like something’s off and by the time you figure it out you would have realized you have already been pranked.

Bam: honestly you can’t even prank him you would feel way too bad about it...I mean like, this kid literally. ate grass. like, just straight up ate this yellow plant thing from the ground to test what it is. idk what he’s made of, but probably something better than litmus paper. prank tests probably won’t work on him? he’s prob just going to absorb them somehow.

Yuri: oh hoi oh BOY does this lady pull THE BEST PRANKS. poor Evan always gets dragged along with her and her shenanigans, groaning and mumbling the whole time, but he secretly enjoys her company, even though he now has many more targets on his back because of her. definitely one of the most extra pranksters out there (will definitely paintball the walls outside of your house and toilet paper it and bake something that looks marginally good but definitely has something sketchy inside...mildy poisonous mushrooms? 3-day-old leftovers? you never know.

Maschenny: probably Yuri’s and Khun’s equal when it comes to pranks. think she will forget pranks you pulled on her before? think again. revenge is a dish best served cold....that’s all you need to know. don’t get on her bad side or you’re screwed, save for the fact that she practically already hates everyone, so good luck! if she favors you she just probably hates you even more so you best get ready for April 1st and do your best to survive.

Hachuling: definitely on par if not above Yuri’s and Khun’s and Maschenny’s pranks. has his own style and is always nonchalant about everything but will probably be silently laughing to himself when you fall for his pranks, inevitably. just does it for funsies cause he thinks it’s amusing.

Lero ro: literally the only guy with braincells left on this godforsaken day lmao. good luck trying to prank him he will probably see it coming from a mile away, much to Quant’s chagrin.

Hansung Yu: literally has the :3 face the entire day like wtf is this mans problem?? could probably prank everyone really well but only does it once in a while. besides, he always replaces the coffee with horrible instant coffee anyway. never falls for pranks either like damn does everyone want to sock his smug bastard in the face.

Evankhell: try not to get burnt or get on her bad side. you can’t run away forever, unfortunately.

Urek: loves pulling pranks, collabs with Yuri sometimes to Wreak Havoc and then promptly gets scolded by Garam, probably. Garam doesn’t even have the heart to pretend to say yes when he asks her out inevitably on April Fool’s.

Hwaryun: the silent prankster who you will forget about if you don’t pay attention. watch out cause she’s coming for you and it will well-thought out, very much so, on par with all of the khun family’s pranks.

Anaak: oh god the prank wars between her and Ran...just run away as fast as you can, the fight’s about to break out at any second whenever they’re in the same room. both don’t care about other people’s pranks except whatever this feud is between them.

Wangnan: don’t ever, ever open the pokeballs he gives you on this fateful day. I warned you.

Miseng: watch out cause she’s got ALL the blackmail material AND the photoshop. no escape cause she’s got pics of literally everybody. don’t underestimate this smol bean, she can go feral.

Rachel: just salty about everything, probably leaves eaten chip bags on people’s desks but everyone’s already learned that they contain nothing inside. is this a metaphor? maybe.

Parasol: oh god this poor guy everyone loves pranking him so much. I mean, can you blame them? the faces he makes are hilarious and god-tier meme content. I’m sorry pickle, your fate awaits you every year on April fool’s, and you cannot escape.

Jared-19: pulls very bad offensive pranks and then gets hurt when people tell him to stop doing so, proceeds to blame it on someone, repeat cycle.

Eduan: lmfao goddd F all his wine gets replaced with weird substances...courtesy of the khun kids. grape stash taken away, hidden somewhere, far, far away.

Kallavan: can’t even joke about being disloyal to Jahad...does this guy ever crack a smile??

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twinkleallnight · 4 years

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The Christmas gift of writing.

Merry Christmas!

This one is for you dear @texaskitten30 . Thank you for hosting this @cordonianroyalty. Many more thanks to @indiacater for helping me out of my worries and pre reading it for me.

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Pairing: Drake x Olivia

Word count: 1376

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Warning: Mention of pregnancy and childbirth.

Prompt: Features wackydrabbles prompt 71 in bold.

The Nevrakis-Walker Christmas

24 December 2019

“I don’t want to go.” Olivia threw a tantrum umpteenth time.

Drake again patiently tried convincing her. “Come on it’s been a month since we planned the Christmas eve at Beaumont’s manor.”

“Don’t push me Drake. I know you want to don the best uncle’s hat for Bartie and Eleanor. Go ahead. I. Don’t. Want. To. Go.”

“ Livia, please.” Drake closed the distance between them. Standing behind her, he curled his hands around her shoulders, kissing the loose red tendrils of hair away from her neck. “I promise it will be fun.”

“You said it last time too when that bone-head Beaumont set up the April fool prank and look where I stand now.”

Drake delicately moved his hands from her sides to cover her swollen belly. “Well, I don’t regret what we have here, thanks to that prank.”

01 April 2019

They were newly weds when Max called them over to help him prepare for his first book reading session while Bertrand was off to the palace for some official meeting. He locked them in the library and planned to have some fun on April fool’s day. As luck would have it, Bartie fell down and got hurt. Max had to rush to the hospital with Savannah and the couple was left bolted, forgotten by Max. Alone in the library without any rescue plan, soon their carnal desires took over. What were they thinking? No protection and a month later Olivia tested postive.

24 December 2019

Olivia leaned back, Drake taking her weight and trying to relieve her stress. Olivia was an organised person and this unplanned life changing event in their life was giving her nightmares. She was still not prepared, even after all the parenting classes Drake planned and attended with her. To add to it, she witnessed Eleanor’s birth and she was shit scared if she will be able to go through it.

“Livia, you were the smartest little girl I knew growing up. The sharpest teenager I admired and you bloomed into the strongest woman I know. You give me strength and courage to look into the eyes of this world. Our baby will be blessed to have you. You will be a great mother. And I promise I will be there with you at each step, always at your side to share all the moments. Please, stop questioning yourself.” He tilted his head to kiss her on her temple.

Olivia turned around and shrunk into him as he hugged her, trying to wash away her insecurities.

‘How? How will I take care of the tiny being? I grew up with servants, Liam and Drake were my only family. I have never known what being a mother is ? What if I hurt the little life? I want to give you the world Drake but I don’t know how?’ Olivia thought to herself but she still didn’t have the courage to voice it out in front of Drake. A teardrop rolled down her cheek whilst her face was hidden in his broad chest.

She pulled herself together for Drake once again and dressed up in the Red floral dress Drake had bought for her. “ For god’s sake, floral pattern Drake?” she had scowled.

“Don’t be stubborn, try it! Red colour is for you dear, the flowers are for our little bean.” he had lovingly planted a kiss on her growing tummy.

Drake was all smiles to see his wife in the dress. “Lose the grin Walker!” she threw the car keys at him, which he caught at the right moment without letting them smash his face.

As they drove to the Beaumont manor, Olivia warned Drake against Max. “ I promise you I will stab him if I find that bone head within 6 feet of my vicinity.”

“And I promise you that he won’t stand in the room that you occupy. He has still not revived of the shock you gave him last time when you tried to kill him by targeting that flower vase at him.”

Once at the manor, everyone got busy in the preparations for the festivities. Olivia kept close tab on Riley and keenly observed how Riley managed little Eleanor. Riley had sensed Olivia’s anxiety long back and would always keep the company whenever they met.

Max was always at safe distance. Even for dinner, he sat at the far end of the table away from Olivia.

After the meal, Riley and Savannah took their kids to bed. Bertrand and Max went to load the gifts with Bastein to be taken to the charity next day. Liam and Drake sat in the library and discussed the security for Christmas party at the palace. Olivia relaxed in the parlour. She got up to get a glass of water for herself when it all happened suddenly. Olivia felt a sudden rush of fluid down her legs. At the same time, Max came hurrying to pick the leftover gifts and bumped into Olivia. She twirled a bit as Max held her in his arms firmly but she lost her mind. “Drake!!!” she screamed.

Drake barged in, absorbed the scene in front of him and didn’t waste a second. He lifted Olivia and scurried to his car calling out, “ Liam call up the hospital and tell them I am on my way with the mamma bear.”

Luckily, Bastein was out near the car to help. He volunteered to drive them to the hospital.

In all the overwrought, no one realised that the younger Beaumont was left frozen in his place. He was scared to death, never realising that it wasn’t his fault.

“I told you I didn’t want to come!”

“Calm down dear. It has nothing to do with Max. All is under control. We were expecting this. It's time. Have faith Livia! Just breathe!” Drake maintained his poise while reassuring his wife.

Dr Montgomery was waiting at the hospital after receiving the phone call from the king himself. Olivia was admitted. Next few hours passed in a whirlwind, Olivia trying to concede in her fate, unsure about what was to happen. Drake never left her side for a minute. He was holding her hand and talking sweet nothings to their baby while soothing Olivia at the same time. He kept dabbing her face, rubbing her back running around for the ice chips. He had the hospital bag ready in the car for emergency. She had never even bothered about it. She knew he would be a doting father. Olivia was counting her blessings!

Her contractions started nearing and it was finally at the dawn of 25th December that the Duchess of Lythikos along with her loving husband welcomed their baby girl.

The royal couple who was waiting in a special room at the hospital was informed and called in, to greet baby Nevrakis-Walker. Max came with them.

Olivia was holding the tiny little red head in her arms, her eyes welled up with tears. Riley went to her side and hugged her. Liam congratulated the proud father while Max stood at a distance.

Olivia caught his attention and smiled, “Come here you!” Max apprehensively came close to her. She stretched out her free arm to hug him. “I have targeted you a lot this year. Blame those hormones.” Max was relieved that Olivia and baby were fine. “You planned it well for us Beaumont! Look we have a Christmas baby!” Olivia said gleefully. Drake was glad that his nervous Olivia was finally relaxed and happy. Max was overwhelmed, and left speechless. He just hugged her back.

“So what do we call this little bundle of joy?” Riley asked, all excited.

Olivia looked at Drake quizzically. Drake circled his arm around Olivia and gently moved his fingers over their little red head. “Lilith, fierce and strong, just like her mother.”

“Lilith,” Olivia repeated softly. “You will be the strong and protective eldest daughter of our family.”

“Livia!” Drake was surprised at her announcement. His wife who was unwilling to accept any change in her life till a day prior just announced that she was ready to dive in and let the family grow! He couldn’t stop himself and kissed his wife. Olivia was beaming at him.

Tags: @ao719 @aloneautumn @bebepac @charlotteg234 @choicesficwriterscreations @choiceskatie @cordonia-gothqueen @cordonianroyalty @drakewalker04 @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @kat-tia801 @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @idontknowwhysblog-blog @islandcrow @jovialyouthmusic @jaxsmutsuo @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @mrswalkers-blog @mom2000aggie @no-one-u-know @ntoraplayschoices @princessleac1 @ritachacha @speedyoperarascalparty @shanzay44 @queenrileyrose @sanchita012 @sfb123 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @wackydrabbles @yourmajesty09

Tagging those in the Christmas Gift of Writing @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @iaminlovewithtrr @anjanettexcordonia @kat-tia801 @eadanga @xxrainbow-princessxx

#pixelberry #playchoices #the royal romance #drake walker #trr #trr fandom #twinkleallnight #olivia nevrakis #christmas fic

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recentanimenews · 3 years

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FEATURE: 21 Great Anime You Should Absolutely Watch In 2021

Happy Anime Day! With every season bringing a plethora of new series, there are now countless shows and movies, both new and old, to watch. Whether it's adventure, comedy, romance, or drama you're looking for, here are 21 anime series you should add to your watchlist in 2021.

1. My Hero Academia Season 5

When it comes to the next chapter of My Hero Academia, 2021 couldn't come fast enough. Season 4 showed audiences just how high the stakes really are and how dangerous the enemies can be. Season 5, which recently premiered in March, will not only deliver high-level action, but we'll also get more time with the great slate of heroes and villains showcased last season.

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2. Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba the Movie: Mugen Train

After hearing the news of Mugen Train dominating the box office, the time has come for North American audiences to experience this highly anticipated film. Mugen Train will be available for digital release this summer and will help fill the void fans of the series have been feeling since the season ended. And we can always revisit Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba in the meantime.

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3. The Devil Is A Part-Timer

The Devil Is A Part-Timer! offers lots of comedy with all the appeal of your traditional fantasy series, but it takes place in the modern world. Demon Lord Satan gets transported to Tokyo, and while his original goal was to take over his homeland of Ente Isla, Satan finds a better path to world domination ... climbing the ranks at the local MgRonalds! It's fun, it's wacky, and it's one of those series we never thought would get a second season, until now.

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4. Given The Movie

Talk about a bag of mixed emotions. Like the series, you'll feel proud and happy one minute, and then a pile of mush the next. Given The Movie provides a touching viewing experience following these fractured characters as they navigate their personal feelings, as well as expressing their innermost emotions through music.

5. Hunter X Hunter

2021 marks the 10-year anniversary of Hunter X Hunter. Whether you've never seen this series or you've re-watched it hundreds of times, come celebrate this epic title's milestone!

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6. MEGALOBOX 2: NOMAD

MEGALOBOX brought all the charm of a '90s anime, but with the story of a futuristic society that takes boxing to a whole other level. Gearless Joe made a name for himself in Season 1, and although things have changed and gotten complicated, he's "not dead yet." For Joe, the fire still burns within him, and he seeks to fight once more.

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7. Osamake: The Romcom Where The Childhood Friend Won't Lose!

Finally, a series where the childhood friend captures the heart of the MC ... I hope? It is a harem after all! Osamake: The Romcom Where The Childhood Friend Won't Lose! has a whole lot of comedy, a whole lot of shenanigans, and a noticeable amount of ... revenge. It looks like an epic competition is about to get underway!

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8. Chihayafuru

If you're experiencing Haikyu!! withdrawals, then Chihayafuru may be the next best sports anime for you! Now don't be fooled. Although Chihayafuru is all about Karuta, a Japanese card game, it still delivers the same level of development and high-stakes settings as other sports anime. This may be one of those series you always saw around but never watched but if there was ever a time to binge, it's now!

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9. Tokyo Revengers

With the manga receiving much praise, probably one of the most anticipated anime adaptations for 2021 is Tokyo Revengers. Motivated by tragedy, Takemichi Hanagaki finds himself in the past, climbing the ranks of the Tokyo Manji Gang in order to change destiny. He may not appear the toughest, but he's determined to get through the intense situations he finds himself in.

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10. To Your Eternity

Knowing this is a story from Yoshitoki Oima, creator of A Silent Voice, To Your Eternity, will surely be an adventure that tugs on your heartstrings. Audiences will witness an intimate journey of life and death revolving around an emotionless orb with no identity but can take the shape of those around it. There will be elements of time, drama, emotion, plus Hikaru Utada performs the theme? ... Sold! Want to know more? Check out the full manga catalog here.

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11. Shaman King

A Shaman King reboot was the best present fans of the original series could've gotten as the title just marked its 20th year since the show premiered back in 2001. Fans will be transported back to their childhood, all the while looking forward to a new story that reflects the manga. The series recently aired in April in Japan, and fans in North America can expect to watch the series sometime later this year.

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12. Horimiya

If you've been searching for a romance anime unlike any other, then you should watch Horimiya if you haven't already. This series takes everything you know about anime romance tropes, and delivers a series of fresh new twists, making for a warm and cozy viewing experience.

13. Anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day

If in between all the action and comedy you need a good slice of life series about friendship, Anohana is the series for you! The original series aired 10 years ago, but sometimes a trip down memory lane is exactly what you need. Plus a new visual and news of an upcoming project will surely get you pumped to hit play.

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14. The Rising of the Shield Hero Season 2

Thinking he'd be the hero in this new fantasy world, Naofumi Iwatani ended up being hated, shunned, and stigmatized at the beginning of The Rising of the Shield Hero Season 1. But as he journeyed on, he developed genuine relationships, gained valuable trust, credibility, and gratitude from others. Season 2, airing in October, is ready to continue with Naofumi's journey and progression.

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15. Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid S

Miss Kobayashi Dragon Maid has it all! This series draws you in with its cute appearance, but it surprises you with its mature moments and shocks you with some unexpected sizzle. Plus it has dragons, maids, and sweet raps! Be sure to check out the second season's adventures this July.

16. One Piece

If you haven't already committed to the legendary behemoth One Piece, now may be a good time to start. The anime is set to hit its 1,000th episode this year, and while diving into a series that's so far along can seem intimidating, if you've been spending a lot of time binging TV lately, this series could be your next big marathon.

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17. S8 the Infinity

Take the Tony Hawk Pro Skater video games, and mix them together with vibrant, aesthetically pleasing animation and cool action scenes and you have S8 the Infinity. Sports anime has been really expanding its catalog lately, and this series is an entertaining addition to the genre.

Image via Hulu

18. The Wallflower

A little bit of nostalgia is nice to mix into your anime watchlist. If you're a fan of Ouran High School Host Club, then you'll love The Wallflower! It's got some handsome boys, a cute and quirky girl with a fascination for all things dark and scary, and all the ridiculous antics of a harem!

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19. Death Parade

Death Parade has stayed under the radar, but it at least deserves to be on YOUR radar. A story about the afterlife where a bar represents limbo and its bartender decides the fate of the souls in front of him whether they experience reincarnation, or disappear into the void by playing a game. This is a psychological, thought-provoking drama with some mystery, as we don't know the true nature of the people in the bar, or what led them to where they are. Those secrets will eventually be revealed as the game plays on.

20. Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Like Hunter X Hunter, this year also marks the 10-year anniversary of Puella Magi Madoka Magica. Madoka was and to this day still is a defining series that was a real game-changer for the magical girl genre, showing just how much danger magical girls face. It's a must-watch if you haven't already, so make a contract with yourself to watch or re-watch this series sometime in 2021.

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21. How To Keep A Mummy

How To Keep A Mummy is a heartwarming episodic series to watch when you want to have a feel-good time! Friends and classmates spend time together with their mythical creature companions: A precious, tiny mummy who anytime he holds anything will make your heart melt, a somewhat hot-headed but caring oni, a clever dragon, and a fluffy baku. After catching up on everything on your watch list, have fun with this series to round out 2021.

What anime will you be watching in 2021? Let us know in the comments!

Veronica Valencia is an anime-loving hot sauce enthusiast! You can follow more of her work as a content creator on Twitter and Instagram.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: Veronica Valencia

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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alternativewinxcontinuity · 3 years

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April has begun, a new month, a new start.

To celebrate the First of April, I've decided to embark on a new project. Some might say it's a little Foolish when I have so much else to do, but it must be done:

Fate: the Re-Winxed Saga!

We'll be starting off with a fixing of the reason Bloom ran away from home. I don't know about anyone else, but I always found it jarring how Bloom essentially had two sets of parents played by the same actors.

One pair were abusive a$$hats, on of whom thought their daughter was a freak, the other was basically a doormat with no opinions of their own, meanwhile the other couple were loving and “always knew she was meant for bigger things”.

So I've changed the reason behind Bloom's house burned down, and restored her artistic talents to her. There's nothing wrong with liking repairing old lamps, but we saw it once to point out how much of a “weirdo” she was, and then it was gone.

I've also added in a bit to explain how Farah found her, while maintaining Stella's OG presence in the scene.

I know there's a prequel book out (soon?) now that's supposed to fill in that blank, but I've just gone ahead with it.

Warnings for minor implications of sexual assault that never actually happened.

Here we go:

Fire\Starter

Bloom's sleep was fitful.

She felt hot in her dreams, flushed with embarrassment and rage as Mitzy's obnoxious laugh played on infinite repeat. The condemning looks from her peers, from strangers on the street, plagued her like a thousand daggers.

In the waking world Bloom's body kicked back her sheets and writhed like she was fighting off an attacker.

In her dreams Bloom saw the sweetly deceitful face of Mitzy's cousin.

Bloom was an artist, she'd been drawing since she'd been young. Her art had won some competitions, small and local, but so important to her.

Important enough that her parents had bought her a graphics tablet for her birthday when all the other kids her age were getting bikes. It was the most expensive gift they'd ever gotten her.

She'd used it frequently, making digital art now alongside the more traditional paintings and sketches. She'd gotten good enough to be asked and paid for commissions.

And that's how Mitzy had managed to sneak her cousin in, to set a trap.

Moira had commissioned Bloom to make a 'tasteful nude' in 'that old European style, you know the one?' and Bloom hadn't thought anything of it. She'd let Moira into her home, into the converted solar-turned-art studio she'd been using for almost a full year now and...

Bloom had spent every day since cursing herself for not noticing the similarities. Moira and Mitzy looked so alike when you saw them together, Bloom didn't know how she'd missed it.

Maybe it was because Moira had smiled kindly, hidden her smirk and contempt better than Mitzy ever had.

Bloom had only touched Moira once, a gentle arm on the elbow to steady her while Moira was in her under garments, but the way she'd spun that into lies of assault...

Bloom could see it perfectly in her head, Moira laying casually on the couch of Bloom's studio, skin mostly bare and a sweet smile on her face.

In her dreams it warped into a smirk, lips cracking apart until Mitzy's laugh rolled out of the gaping maw. In her dreams, Bloom set Moira on fire.

Her rage, pure and true becomes an unstoppable flame, so hot it melts the walls, melts her tormentors skin. In the dream Bloom screams her rage and the world is consumed and-

-Bloom wakes, choking. She rolls to the side and tumbles from the sweat soaked mattress to the warm wooden floors of her room. Her gasping breaths drag the scent of smoke and paint into her lungs, but she ignores the remnants of her dream and tries to calm herself.

The scent doesn't fade.

It gets stronger.

Somewhere below her on the ground floor, glasses shatter and Bloom hears a familiar whoof. She'd heard it in her father’s educational videos on fire.

Her studio is on fire.

Her house is on fire!

“MUM! DAD!” Bloom screams as loud as she can, trying to remember what she's supposed to do. She tears her pillow case off her pillow, scrambles to put her laptop, graphics tablets and her three recharge cords into it before pulling her sheet free and wrapping it around herself.

She grabs her phone on the way out.

“MUM! DAD!”

Bloom makes her way to their room down the hall, the smoke in the air thickening.

“FIRE!!”

Her parents meet her at the door, their own sheet wrapped around them both to help filter the smoke, they have a few things as well.

Together they crouch down low and make their way down stairs, Bloom's father, Mike, already on his cell phone calling for the Fire Brigade.

They're almost free and clear when her mother, Vanessa, tries to head for the family office.

Bloom calls “mum, no!” at the same time her dad says “'Nessa stop!”

But Vanessa darts away, just past the office door to grab a single box and out again, away from the spread of the fire.

Bloom feels a flicker of relief for half a second before something in the house explodes, letting out a torrent of flame in her mother's direction.

Bloom screams and flings out her hand as if she could do anything to stop what's about to happen.

For a heartbeat Bloom feels something well up inside her, something dark and powerful, and the wave of fire splits around her mother.

The trio stand, stunned, until Mike comes to his senses, “'Nessa, move!”

And they bolt to the door together, out onto the small lawn in time to see the lights of the fire trucks round the corner.

In the days to come, they will recover the items which remain, few as they are. Bloom's childhood book of fairy stories was somehow untouched by the flames.

Mitzy will spread a new rumour about Bloom as part of her campaign to ruin Bloom's life, saying Bloom started the fire.

The investigation will rule it an accident, suspected faulty wiring in the art studio.

But Bloom knows, with an awful certainty: Mitzy was right for once, Bloom had started the fire somehow. She knows her parents suspect it too, but they won't say anything, not even about how Bloom had made the wave of fire part.

There's an elephant in the room now, it hovers awkwardly about their family, makes every conversation feel like trying to walk through broken glass in the dark without stepping on any.

Bloom tries not to go to sleep. She only makes it a few days before she finds herself constantly drifting off. Her parents watch her with fear, telling her to sleep.

But she can't, don't they understand that? What if she starts another fire?

She leaves their motel room, takes her phone and uses some of the money she earned from her art to by a sleeping bag and some snacks. Searches the internet for a place to stay with no people and as little flammable material as possible.

She finds an old warehouse that will do the trick. She buys a small fire extinguisher on her way there.

Her phone tells her she's slept for two days when she wakes up with a horrific dehydration headache.

She feels a little better for the sleep, she hasn't burned down the world while unconscious. There's a public showering area in a pool several blocks away, she manages to sneak in and get clean.

Begins to feel almost human again.

Bloom falls into a routine, sleeping in the warehouse, showering in the public washrooms, reading everything she can find on what the internet calls 'pyrokinesis'. The scientific side, or the fringe-science side of things feels wrong somehow.

She can't explain it, but something in her knows that's not the path she's looking for.

She tries folklore and myths instead. Feels pulled towards the stories of fae and dragons.

There's an abandoned quarry not far from town, and Bloom manages to make her way there with some candles, matches and her thankfully unused fire extinguisher.

She can't conjure fire, can't put it out, can't even provoke it. She's missing something, she knows, she can feel it.

Bloom comes across some 'majick' on one of the websites she finds looking for answers. A way to call a fae and force them to answer any questions you have. Bloom scoffs but takes a screenshot before backing out to another page.

Several days later she makes the mistake of looking at social media.

She's officially a runaway at this point, and Mitzy has used her absence to establish Bloom's guilt.

“Bloom burned her house down to fake her death to avoid facing charges of assault,” is the going theory.

It makes Bloom mad enough to set her sleeping bag on fire.

The following morning she buys a new one, and some things from the list of 'spell' ingredients. She's making no progress on her own, she's desperate.

Bloom returns to the quarry, she doesn't want the smell of incense in the warehouse, just in case. She fills a small bowl with water and a piece of quartz, waits for the moon to rise over head and does her best to match the google-translate’s reading of the 'some magical European language' the spell requires.

For a moment she sits, feeling like a fool, her eyes closed. Then she feels like she's falling.

Or flying?

There's a wind but it's intangible, a forest but it's colours are vibrant in a way Bloom's never seen, like they're leaking energy.

And then there's a tug, like someone has pulled her up short, and a woman with soft, pale brown hair and kind but curious eyes.

The woman opens her mouth but Bloom jerks back in shock, and startles so hard her leg flies out to knock over the bowl, spilling the water everywhere.

Bloom stays there for several long minutes, panting like she'd run a marathon, but then a real wind blows and her damp jeans go cold against her skin. She packs everything up and runs back to the almost safety of her warehouse.

Bloom is awoken by the sound of the warehouse door opening and closing. She's confused for a moment before the sound of two sets of footsteps has her scrambling upright, and out of her sleeping bag.

It's the woman from Bloom's... spell? Vision?

She smiles at Bloom, and Bloom feels herself relax.

“Hello, I'm Farah Dowling,” she gestures to herself. Behind Farah, a young woman, blonde and roughly to same age and nervousness level as Bloom, clears her throat slightly, so Farah Dowling adds: “And this is Stella,” Stella waves, “we're here to help you, if you'll let us?”

Bloom knows better than to trust strangers, but this woman had been in her vision.

“You can help me?” Bloom asks, her voice sounding far smaller and unused than she was expecting.

“I'd certainly like to try,” Farah says kindly, her hand reaching out to Bloom, letting Bloom make the choice.

Bloom gathers her things and takes Farah Dowling's hand, Farah squeezes it gently, it's comforting. Bloom sobs as she realises this is the first real human contact she's had in... weeks now.

“Come on,” Farah and Stella return to the warehouse door, “Stella, if you could?”

“Yes Miss Dowling,” Stella gives Bloom a quick eyebrow wiggle, like she's about to show off, and places her hand on the door.

'She has nice hands,' Bloom thinks distantly as the large sunburst ring on Stella's finger glows golden, the light spreading out to coat the door and it's frame.

When Stella opens it, the door no longer leads outside the warehouse, but out into a verdant forest. Bloom can smell the leaf litter, there's the smell of moisture, like there's rain about to fall.

Stella steps through into the forest, holding the door open for Farah and Bloom to follow.

“Welcome to Avalon,” Stella says as she sweeps out an arm to indicate the trees around her, “home of Alfea school for Heroics and Fairies.”

“Fairies?” Bloom can feel herself smiling, excitement building. Her parents had always affectionately despaired at her life long obsession with the mythological creatures.

...her parents...

Bloom wavered.

“Can, can I just have a moment to text my parents?” Bloom looks between the two... women? Fairies? She's afraid that any second this will turn out to be a dream, or worse, real and she'll somehow throw away her chance.

“Of course,” Farah says, her voice full of understanding, “take all the time you need.”

“As long as you only need ten minutes,” Stella cuts in, “because that's how much longer I can hold this doorway open.”

Farah gives Stella a fond but exasperated look.

Bloom shakes her head, “I only need two minutes, tops.” She pulls out her phone, spends thirty seconds undoing the call blocker and sends her text before reinstalling the blocker, too scared to hear her parents reply.

What if it was “stay gone”?

“I'm ready,” Bloom says, and Farah ushers her through into Avalon.

[I'm OK. Sorting some things out. I Love You Both.]

Mike and Vanessa almost collapse in relief, their baby girl is alright. They tell the police to stop actively looking for Bloom, but to keep an eye out, and to tell her they miss her if she's seen.

The pray she'll come home on her own.

#fate the winx saga #fate: the winx saga #Fate the rewinxed saga #patching some lore #my idea of an april fools prank is changing the fandom of my blog for a day

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almaasi · 5 years

Text

3 million words fic rec (Destiel)

I’ve officially posted 3 million words on my AO3 account!!

Here’s all 115 of my Dean/Cas fics (as of December 30th 2019). They currently make up 85% of my total fics. I posted 42 fics this year, with a new Destiel fic once every 2 weeks on average, with 24 total.

(The rest, as of the last 6 months, are Crowley/Azriaphale (Good Omens) and Garak/Bashir (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine). There’s separate fic recs for those. And here’s one Cockles fic.)

Fics listed by year (newest first), then by word count (shortest first).

2019

Just a Sniffle (2k / canon, Cas has a cold, Dean gives him a foot rub)

Hanukkahn't Resist You (2k, AU, teacher!Dean gives autistic Jewish teacher!Cas a Hanukkah greeting card containing a pickup line)

Brothers Don't Do That (3k / canon, Cas talks to Sam about how their feelings for Dean differ while ordering take-out)

Taste the Rainbow (In the Rain) (4k / AU, strangers sharing Skittles in the rain and kissing to help Dean quit smoking)

Hit Pause Kitty Claws (4k / AU, Team Free Will are cats belonging to Death!Billie, soft fluff and feline antics)

Weird But Confident (5k / canon, Cas finds Dean’s panties in his bag and thinks Dean slept with a woman)

Enemies Closer (5k / teachers AU, Dean keyed the wrong car, Cas runs AV club and Dean joins him so he has an alibi for his crime)

Snugglebird (5k / canon, Dean’s clothes are going missing, Cas is building a nest

Texted My Ex and Got You Instead (6k, AU, title explains it, fluff, asexual!Cas)

The Angel Cake Challenge (8k / canon crossover with Good Omens (book), Dean tells Crowley & Aziraphale they’re a cute couple and they encourage him to make a move on Cas)

Let's Play Doctors (8k / canon, smut, Dean asks Cas for medical roleplay and they use the machines to watch themselves have first-time sex)

Good For You (11k / canon, Dean teaches Cas to masturbate over the phone, then shows him properly in person)

BFBF (Best Friend's Boyfriend) (11k / AU, ft. Eileen - Cas has an absent bisexual boyfriend named Dean, Sam has an absent straight brother named Dean, oops they’re the same Dean)

Dean and Castiel's Lagoon of Love (12k, canon, Cas is cursed with tentacles and that’s Dean’s kink, they roleplay Dean’s favourite anime, smut and feelings)

Measure of Thigh Love (14k / canon, Dean is turned on by big muscles, Cas has some of those. smut, bottom!Cas)

Eleven Erogenous Zones of a Fallen Angel (15k / canon, Cas accidentally has physical wings and he hates them, Dean bathes and grooms Cas to soothe him, wing kink smut)

Two Heart Pose (17k / AU, overwhelmed papa!Dean, yoga instructor!Cas helps out with baby care)

Through the Lace (18k / office romance AU, desperation & pee kink smut, Dean in panties)

Sycamore Smile (18k / AU, professor!Cas, barista!Dean with a pet bunny, both are a hot mess, Dean helps Cas KonMari his life, ft. the purest fluff and sunshine)

Circuitry and Dust (23k / AU, demiromantic antique dealer!Cas, gaming lounge owner!Dean, Cas wrongly assumes his love is unrequited so helps set Dean up with an ex-girlfriend)

He's Kind of a Hairy Fairy (24k / AU, Team Free Will & co. running a summer camp, there’s only one bed in Dean & Cas’ cabin, Rowena curses Dean with fairy wings and he has to confess his feelings to get rid of them)

First and Only (35k / AU, Dean bets Sam he can have more sex in one year, Dean & Cas become fuck buddies, but Dean wants more so asks Charlie for help)

☆ Sleigh ☆ (46k / Christmas AU, makeup artist!Cas also works for Santa, Dean tags along delivering gifts on Christmas Eve, later a long distance relationship and eventual smut)

He's a (Zoo) Keeper (74k / AU, when zookeeper!Dean isn’t dating anyone, he and beekeeper!Cas have a BFF-roommates-with-benefits thing, but then Cas becomes a wedding planner and plans their fake wedding, drama with smut and feelings)

2018

Gulls N’ Roses (2k / canon, Dean hands Cas a rose, Cas interprets it as romantic)

Lost Night (2k / canon, Dean has nightmares, Cas dreamwalks to help)

He Called Me Honey (3k / canon, breakfast fluff, Dean dreamed he kissed Cas, talks to Sam, Cas shows up)

Note to Self: Cas Loves You (3k / canon, very drunk!Dean, Cas confesses his love)

I’m Dreamin’ of a Grey Christmas (4k / canon, Team Free Will 2.0 snow fight, Cas has some new grey hair, Dean has hearteyes, season 14 divergent)

Dry in the Downpour (5k / Pixar-short-inspired AU, umbrella-sharing)

Prince of the Ether Realms (5k / canon - season 13, must get married for a spell, Sam officiates)

Never or Forever (5k, canon, family dinner, Jody POV)

Without Further Ado (5k, canon, Dean has a list of “reasons not to be with Cas" but they’re all irrelevant now)

Wee Little Love Child (10k / canon, de-aged!Sam thinks Dean and Cas are his parents, gets them together)

Room for Two (The Mattress AU) (14k / college roommates AU, autistic!Cas, fake relationship, ALL the bed-sharing tropes)

Paramour by Post (18k / historical-ish AU, mail delivered to the wrong address, love letters, agender!Cas, bisexual!Dean)

Barbershop Duet (22k / Christmas AU, smut, shaving kink, domesticity, family gatherings)

The House That Wanted to Be a Garden (32k / AU, famous musician!Dean, gardener!Cas, fairies, accidentally moving in)

Duck Duck Boots (92k / ex-daredevil kindergarten teacher!Dean, agoraphobic Cas, small town magic realism & fate AU, looking after ducklings together)

2017

Unconditional (2k / canon - season 13, Dean explains why he loves Cas)

Mostly in Silence (4k / canon, Cas is depressed, Dean helps with self-care)

Restaurant Revelations (4k / canon, Dean and Cas tell Sam they’re engaged)

Whoa There Cowboy (5k / canon, cowboy-kink smut, porn-watching, magic fingers bed)

Pretty Panties and the Pool Shark (6k / kid!fic AU, autistic!Cas is scared of an imaginary shark in the school pool)

Purple Horse in a Coffee Shop (8k / ultimate office romance, pride parade, coffee shop AU)

Lucid Nightmare (10k / siren!Cas AU, dreamwalk-or-die, spooky fluff)

Stumble and Fall (20k / Team Free Will as dogs AU, search-and-rescue adventure, fluff & pining)

A Place and A Feeling (24k / AU, real estate agent!Cas, Dean looking for a house)

Night Exhibition (26k / AU, security guard!Cas at museum at night, friends to lovers, sex everywhere)

The Emporium of Christmas Enchantments (28k / Christmas, magic toyshop AU, kind of like a Disney movie)

Marshmalloween (33k / Halloween AU, Dean takes Sam’s teen friends to a haunted swamp, meet old bestie Cas, ghost adventures)

Our Garden Home (36k / everyone is a garden fairy, AU disabled autistic!Cas, found families)

The Wireless (58k / solarpunk carnival adventure AU, famous hunter!Dean, famous radio presenter angel!Cas, tent sex)

What We Ache For (93k / sex worker!Cas AU, Dean wants to make love, trauma recovery, Team Free Will & found families, a dog)

2016

Fight and Fool Around (5k / AU, bartender!Cas, Dean realises he’s bisexual, alleyway smut)

Tickle Fight Wasteland (5k / AU, fluff in a post-apocalyptic world, everyone is alive, tickle fight & cuddling)

Raising Hell in a Hotel (29k / kid!fic, living in a hotel AU, friendship, pining)

Welcome All Winchesters (60k / AU, snowy Christmas cabin, fake relationship, friends to lovers)

The Moonlighter and the Magician (67k / 1920s historical AU, asexual jewel thief!Cas, bisexual!Dean, running away together)

2015

What’s a Hickey? (1k / canon, Cas has a hickey, talks to Sam about it)

A Postcard for Castiel (4k / AU, kid!fic, autistic!Cas exchanges compliments with Dean, teacher!Charlie)

Symbols of Affection (4k / canon, Dean accidentally texts Cas a kissy-face emoji)

In Which Dean Frogs Up (6k / canon, Dean’s turned into frog in Moondoor, needs true love’s kiss to fix)

The One Where You Are A Guinea Pig (8k / canon, title says it all, Cas takes you to the bunker, Team Free Will interact)

We’re the New Romantics (8k / gifted & talented high school camp AU, aromantic!Cas, pop culture geek!Dean)

Waiting For That Final Moment (8k / AU, Cas interrupts Dean & Lisa’s wedding at a roller rink to declare his love, polyamory)

Delirium and Doctor Sexy (9k / canon, bisexual!Dean high on magical gas, thinks Cas is Dr. Sexy)

#ThankYouSammy (9k / canon, Sam prepares a Valentine’s Day dinner-date for Dean & Cas)

Dean Winchester the Puppydog (10k / canon, puppy play, submissive!Dean, hurt/comfort, non-sexual)

Father Material (12k / AU, asexual uncle!Cas, babysitter!Dean, kid!Claire, romantic attraction)

The Tailor of Fairy Ridge (17k / fairytale AU, tailor!Cas, fairy!Dean helps with clothing designs, good witch!Charlie, evil witch!Rowena)

Take You To The Country (18k / 1920s historical AU, pining, Dean reads an elopement proposal in the newspaper and realises it’s for him, running away together)

Sharing the Rain Dog (19k / AU, musician!Dean, FBI agent!Cas, sharing custody of a dog, have to move in to look after her)

Drop Anchor (42k / pirate!Cas, sailor!Dean, trapped on a deserted island and accidentally achieve domestic bliss AU)

Snow Place Like Home (But My Home Is With You) (47k / canon, Team Free Will in a B&B over Christmas, softness, smut & domesticity)

Held in Your Tender Hands (59k / AU, agender tattooed masseur!Cas, customer!Dean, workplace sex, paintball, found families, somnophilia)

2014

Cheek on Your Shoulder (1k / canon, Dean misses Cas, hugs him and can’t let go)

The Literal Bear Hug (1k / canon, Cas is accidentally a bear, cuddling)

If I Fall For You (2k / canon, Hannah likes Cas but Cas loves Dean)

If You Could Go Anywhere (3k / canon, Team Free Will ponder: all the drama is over, so what now?)

Cherry Pink Wedding (4k / AU, Dean & Cas both cry at Sam’s wedding)

Lettuce Share This Moment (4k / canon, Dean secretly likes salad… and Cas)

The Joke Is on You (And So Is Castiel) (4k / canon, April Fool’s Day, Cas pranks Dean & Sam when they pray for him)

Some People Would Call This Romantic (5k / canon, Dean and Cas take a long walk on the beach)

Panic Kiss (5k / AU, Dean has a panic attack, Cas calms him down, accidental kissing)

Boutique du Ballet (6k / canon, Dean loves ballet and wants to try the outfits - either crossdressing or trans-curious!Dean)

Minty Fresh Kisses (7k / canon, Dean teaches Cas to brush his teeth)

Sexier Than Doctor Sexy (8k / AU, doctor!Cas, Dean gets a prostate exam and enjoys it more than he should)

Sam Accidentally Sees the Whole Picture (10k / canon, smut, Sam is in the room while Dean & Cas do it for the first time, Sam POV)

Understanding Your Body in Ten Easy Steps (12k / canon, smut, Dean teaches Cas how to masturbate)

Roost (12k / AU, Dean and Cas are rescued fighting roosters, for some reason not that interested in girl chickens)

Dead Body Disposal 101 (14k / canon, angel!Cas wants to be a hunter so Dean & Sam show him how, Dean & Cas are bad at expressing feelings)

Of Shampoo and Fruit Flies (17k / roommate AU, autistic!Cas, confessing feelings surrounded by supportive friends)

Love Him in His Sleep (Love Him Always) (32k / canon, Dean has wet dreams about being cuddled, Cas is into somophilia and dreamwalks to gain consent)

Preacher Comfort (42k / AU, hurt/comfort, asexual preacher!Cas, nurse!Dean, hugs & cuddling, Halloween)

Nine Times We Met (And One Christmas We Parted) (58k / queer historical romantic angst AU, teacher!Cas, firefighter!Dean, meeting over the years & falling in love)

Hart of the Storm (119k / historical AU, hunter!Dean turned into a deer by shapeshifting god!Cas, magic forest)

2013

For a Scarf in October (1k / canon, Halloween, Dean wants to buy a ~women’s~ scarf, Sam tells him it’s okay)

Of All the Bars in the World (There Are None Between Us) (2k / prison AU, Dean and Cas are cellmates, discuss past and future intimacy)

Dean’s List (3k / canon, Dean writes a list of men he’d ~go gay~ for, Sam has a suggestion to make, bisexual!Dean)

Nobody’s Daddy (3k / canon, accidental baby acquisition, Dean breastfeeds, then Cas arrives with actual milk)

Foal Delivery Service (4k / AU fusion with ‘My Little Pony’ - kid pony!Dean finds out how heteronormative the world is, then meets agender pony!Cas, later have baby ponies together)

Winchester’s Rouge (6k / canon, angst, Dean tries on makeup and remembers his mother)

Manscaping (6k / canon, Cas cuts himself shaving his junk, Dean does first aid, boners)

Sharing Hands (6k / canon - season 8, smut, Cas is possessing Dean, masturbate together)

Play Nice, Kids (10k / AU or alternate canon, reverse-verse, angel winged!Dean, wing kink masturbation, sex toys)

Hello Night (11k / historical AU, demon possessing Dean, priest!Cas, crossroads sex to save Dean, Cas/demon & Cas/Dean)

Shadows Across the Camera Lens (13k / AU, smut, dominant bottom photographer!Cas, submissive top crossdressing underwear model!Dean)

Faerie Strange Circumstances (30k / AU hunters, fairy!Cas, fairy realm adventures, Bobby’s house, Charlie, Jody)

Bad Things With You (31k / AU or alternate canon, smut, catboy!Dean, catboy!Cas, mating urges, biting, licking, fake relationship is actually real)

Cowboys and Real Estate Angels (36k / AU, bisexual retired musician cowboy!Dean, old fan!Cas, lovemaking, falling in love in one night)

Try-Something Tuesday (48k / my most popular fic of all time, teacher!Dean, librarian teacher!Cas, smut in strange places, school trips, moving in together AU)

The Feline Perspective of a Guilty Conscience (51k / canon divergent - season 9, hurt/comfort, Dean transformed into a cat, sad angel!Cas, Team Free Will, forgiveness)

Foxfire Blossom (283k / AU, florist!Dean, rich!Cas, affairs, soap opera-level drama, sex, highly problematic lies, and cheating, ALL the characters)

2012

Angelhawke (407k / epic medieval fantasy AU, Dean and Cas are cursed to be animals in the day/night, travel with Sam and Bobby as they tell their story in flashbacks, quest to be together, based on ‘Ladyhawke’ but ~70% original story)

New fics are on their way in 2020!

☆ Subscribe on this page if you want new fics in your inbox!!

☆ And you can support my writing, art, and other creative projects here~

Thank you all so much for supporting me all these years. I’m so excited to see what I end up writing next~!! ♥

Elmie x

#Destiel #DeanCas #Destiel fic rec #Destiel fanfic #Elmie writes things #Elmie makes things #masterpost #post of postiness #milestones

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ducktracy · 5 years

Text

happy birthday, tex avery!

today’s an important day for every cartoon fan. 112 years ago today, tex avery was born! probably one of the biggest contributors to animation, the man responsible for bugs bunny, elmer fudd, daffy duck, droopy, screwy squirrel, chilly willy, wild animation... there’s much to celebrate.

born in texas (hence the nickname, real name frederick), tex arrived in los angeles on january 1st, 1928 to start a new career. nothing much, just menial jobs: working in a warehouse, loading fruits and vegetables at the docks, painting cars, and finally painting animation cels for the oswald cartoons. moving from the short lived winkler studio to the universal studio, he became an animator in 1930.

(courtesy of tom klein.)

perhaps his work at universal spawned the most important event in tex's career. in 1933, he and a couple of his animation buddies were horse-playing. the game: shooting a spitball with a rubber band at the backs of peoples heads, yelling “bulls eye!” if shot successfully. the game evolved from spitballs to paperclips. animator charles hastings was armed with a paperclip and had his sights set on tex. someone yelled “look out, tex!”, and tex’s initial reaction was to turn around. vision in his left eye was gone in an instant. some people attribute the lack of depth perception to tex’s unconventional, warped point of view inserted in his cartoons.

universal was proving to be a lousy job for tex. he himself admitted that he wasn’t much of an animator. “i was never too great an artist. i realized there at lantz’s that most of those fellows could draw rings around me... i thought, brother! why fight it? i’ll never make it! go the other route. and i’m glad i did. my goodness, i’ve enjoyed that a lot more than i would have enjoyed just animating scenes all my life.” he was let go in april 1935 after the quality of his work declined thanks to a lack in interest. two days later, he and his girlfriend (an inker at the studio) got hitched and honeymooned in oregon. they arrived back in hollywood in may, where tex approached leon schlesinger.

to say warner bros was short staffed in terms of directors was an understatement. ben hardaway had just left, and friz freleng and jack king were the only directors there. tex flubbed his way in, citing his experience "'hey, i’m a director'. hell! i was no more a director than nothing, but with my loud mouth, i talked him into it."

(the termite terrace crew in 1935. from left to right: virgil ross, sid sutherland, tex avery, chuck jones, and bob clampett.)

though there were few directors when tex arrived, the staff was beginning to outgrow the studio. tex and his unit (virgil ross, sid sutherland, chuck jones, and bob clampett) moved into a rickety building they unceremoniously dubbed termite terrace as a result of the termite population within the bungalow.

tex’s first directed cartoon was gold diggers of ‘49, where he borrowed friz freleng’s characters of beans, kitty, and porky from the cartoon i haven’t got a hat. while beans was beginning to have his own small series of cartoons, this marks the second ever appearance of porky and is thusly an important occurrence. if tex didn’t use him, who knows what porky’s fate would be? gold diggers beans and porky are in the heart of the gold rush. beans strikes it big (tex’s love of gag shining brilliantly already as beans pulls a slot machine lodged into the side of a mountain) and invites all of his friends to dig for more gold. porky’s bag of gold is taken away from a villain, and he bargains that if beans can get the bag back, he’s allowed to marry his daughter (kitty). beans eagerly accepts and follows the villain. what ensues is an exhilarating gunfight turned car chase, tex’s knack for speed drastically picking up the pace of the cartoon. it’s exhilarating, rushing, and brought a much needed energy to warner bros at the time. perhaps even more amusing than the chase is the payoff itself: porky gets the bag back, which isn’t gold at all, but instead a hearty sandwich.

almost right away, tex rose to the top at the studio. some of his earliest merrie melodies (which had been exclusively reserved for friz freleng prior) include page miss glory and the classic i love to singa, both beautiful cartoons in their own ways. tex now served as the model. his gags were funny, his pace was quick, his cartoons GOOD, friz freleng and eventually frank tashlin adopting the change in pace. jack king, unfortunately, wasn’t faring well with the change, and his slower, duller cartoons stuck out like a sore thumb. he returned to disney in april of 1936.

porky’s duck hunt serves as an especially important cartoon directed by tex, marking a number of firsts. it’s the cartoon debut of daffy (who is unnamed, though model sheets label him as that crazy darn fool duck), and he first time mel blanc voiced porky. porky is also considerably slimmed down. the cartoon is exactly as it sounds: porky embarks on a duck hunt, but a screwy duck prevents him from getting anything accomplished.

the cartoon itself, in comparison to tex’s others, isn’t really that special. a bunch of drunken fish hilariously singing a rendition of “moonlight bay” serves as the highlight. it’s not a bad cartoon at all, i love it a lot and it’s one of my favorites, but it IS rather repetitive, and daffy is pretty stark in personality. 75% of his dialogue is reduced to quacks. but what DOES have personality, which would shape his entire character, is a particular exit animated by bob clampett.

porky fires his gun and strikes daffy, who flops into the water. ecstatic, porky sends his dog after him. all we see is a black blob in the water, and daffy haughtily tosses the unconscious dog on the shore instead of the other way around. flummoxed, porky pulls out some paper, flipping through it and protesting “hey, that wasn’t in the script!” daffy laughs it off. “don’t let it worry ya, skipper. i’m just a crazy, darn fool duck!” with that, he gives his signature hoo-hoo laugh as he literally flips into the horizon, twirling and hopping, clicking his heels, hoo-hooing all the way along. great animation by bob clampett and definitely entertaining, and a scene that would serve as the basis for his trademark laugh and his truly daffy personality (that would begin to die down as early as 1938).

tex made a number of other good cartoons, experimenting with daffy some more and playing with porky a little more until exclusively dedicating his time to merrie melodies in friz freleng’s absence (who was at MGM). the one that truly changed looney tunes was released on july 27th, 1940, titled a wild hare.

bugs bunny had existed before tex touched him, but didn’t at the same time. he was conceived by ben “bugs” hardaway in 1938 with porky’s hare hunt. very similar to porky’s duck hunt, the screwy rabbit taunts porky and prevents him from getting a good shot. the only thing bugs has in common with his prototype self is his species and name. (he wasn’t formally called bugs then, and thanks to a false story by mel blanc where blanc referred to the prototype as “happy rabbit” fans have assumed that was his prototype name. in reality, model sheets and illustrations from picture books around 1938-1939 name him as bugs’ bunny, possessive after ben “bugs” hardaway.) bugs is portrayed as a white rabbit with a hayseed voice and woody woodpecker laugh in hare hunt, not at all the cool new yorker we know and love him as. he reappeared in a few other cartoons, still his hayseed self in hare-um scare-um and a more collected take by chuck jones in cartoons such as elmer’s candid camera and elmer’s pet rabbit. hare-um scare-um turned the previously white rabbit into a gray and white rabbit with yellow gloves.

nevertheless, tex borrowed this strange rabbit and paired him with another character of his by the name of elmer fudd. elmer’s hunting wabbits, but bugs predictably taunts him the entire time and makes his life a living nightmare. the cartoon isn’t much different than the other hunting cartoons: prey drives hunter crazy, and prey ends up winning. it’s really just a glorified porky’s hare hunt. but at the same time, it has a certain charm. this previously unappealing, obnoxious rabbit is now cool, calm, and collected. an era of cartoons dominated by screwballs like daffy is now interrupted by the opposite, a smooth talking rabbit who always wins. bugs was rather temperamental in his early 40s cartoons, much more thin skinned, abrasive, and often a downright bully, but there was still something so different about him that audiences resonated with him regardless. so, while tex isn’t the true father of bugs, he absolutely is at the same time.

many fans believe that tex left warner bros after a dispute with schlesinger pertaining to his cartoon the heckling hare. in the cartoon, bugs (as the title suggests) heckles a dimwitted dog repeatedly. at the end, the two of them end up falling off of a cliff. both bugs and the dog cling to each other, screaming all the way. the scene is LENGTHY, nearing a minute of nonstop screaming. which, of course, is the joke. to see how long the audience can stand it. however, the cartoon cuts to an end rather abruptly. evidently, bugs and the dog were going to stop, with bugs remarking “hold onto your hats, folks, here we go again!” and thusly launching into a second fall. however, the “hold onto your hats, folks!” was a rather crude joke at the time, and thusly that’s assumed how the cut came to be.

story goes that avery left the studio as a result of the censorship, which seems plausible. however, that’s not the case. tex was itching to do a series of live-action shorts, with real, live-action animals talking and cracking jokes with animated mouths. tex wanted to do it, schlesinger didn’t. tex lived out his dream at paramount for a short amount of time, and thankfully for the rest of us got some sense and moved to MGM in september 1941 to make cartoons once more.

i’ve gone on way longer than i intended, and there’s still so much to be said about tex! all of tex’s best cartoons were at MGM, no doubt. he invented droopy, red, the wolf... red hot riding hood is considered one of the greatest cartoons of all time and spawned a number of sequels starring red and the wolf. all of the great qualities of tex’s cartoons from warner bros exploded at MGM. the fourth wall breaking, the gags, the speed... he also made the iconic “tex avery take”. limbs flying off characters and super big eye bulges... they’re absolutely fantastic. there’s so much to say about tex that can’t be articulated! he’s one of my favorite directors for sure and such an important figure in animation. he deserves all the praise and respect he gets and more.

happy birthday, tex!

#long post #analysis #this doesn’t do him justice you need to watch his cartoons yourself! esp his mgm stuff #avery

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pain-somnia · 4 years

Text

Title: What Once Was Rating: T Characters: Madara, Sasuke; background minor SasuSaku, implied GaaNaru, mentions of implied past HashiMadaMito Disclaimer Day’s Notes: hello! This was a fic I wrote for @a-year-of-naruto and I thought I had posted it but I guess I haven’t because I can’t find it. I wrote for the season of spring and this is a reincarnation AU that focuses on Madara and a bit of Sasuke. It’s still a goal of mine to do a Sasuke PoV companion piece. Warning: few mentions of violence and a corpse’s description

What Once Was

The light breeze blows in through the bars of the window, bringing the leftover chill from winter with it. The cold had been stubborn this season, lingering even as March was now reaching its end.

Yet it had never bothered Madara and he wonders to himself if it was a trait that carried on across lifetimes. Fire coursed through his blood long ago and now in a different time, his body keeps warm━scorching like fanned flames━a whisper of what once was.

The wind chime hanging off the roof sways with the breeze, singing a soft tinkle over the bustle of people walking the path from the suburbs to the city. Every day the residents would pass by his shop on their way to work or school. Sometimes they entered, sometimes they didn't, using it instead as a meeting point before moving on to their true destination.

“It’s freezing,” a middle school girl complains as she searches for something warm to drink. Tucking a strand of rose gold hair behind her ear, she gets to work on preparing a cup of hot cocoa at the dispenser near the front counter.

“It’s not that bad.”

The deeper voice has Madara shifting his gaze to the new patron entering the shop. The familiar, unruly spikes catches his attention. He has seen this boy before, not just around the neighborhood, but somewhere in a distant past.

With a slight inclination of his chin, the teenage boy bows to him as he passes the counter. He is always overly polite to his elders, he’s noticed. Perhaps raised by a traditional and strict family.

“You never get cold, Sasuke-kun,” the girl grumbles, capping a lid on her drink.

Sasuke. An uncommon name, too old fashioned for a child of his generation, but that too breached across to this lifetime━perhaps fate had his parents naming him so.

It was a different name than the one Madara had assigned to him in his mind, but a name he came to terms with years back when the boy first entered his shop in his gakuran uniform with a loud blond boy and a much quieter and sleepy looking red haired kid.

“Should I get one for Naruto?” Another uncommon name, also familiar.

“Don’t spoil him, Sakura. He’s running late, he doesn’t get a drink.”

“Not running late,” Sakura corrects him in a singsong, “he’s waiting for Gaara.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes and digs out his wallet for change, paying for her share. It’s a simple exchange, nothing out of the ordinary, but as the boy places the money in his hand, Madara is hit with the scent of smoke and the coppery odor of blood. Angry charcoal eyes flash across his vision.

“Thank you. Have a good day!” The girl━Sakura━waves goodbye cheerily, dragging Sasuke along.

And off they go, away from his old corner store. They will make their way around the bend of the street, past the small shops to their bus stop that will take them to the crowded and noisy city.

A city he escaped to get away from the ghosts of his past, only to run into another one.

Madara doesn’t see him again the following week.

He sees the sunny boy—Naruto, he reminds himself—with their red haired friend. They’re in casual clothes now that they’re on holiday. The two of them are often together as they enjoy their Spring Break.

During the school year it wasn’t a strange sight, seeing them alone. Sasuke would be traveling home either alone—carrying a sports bag and a kendo shinai—or with the girl with the rose gold hair, carrying books that could have been his but usually were not.

It’s not until near the end of March that he sees him again. It’s as Madara steps outside his shop, acrid cigarette smoke mixing with floral notes and disappearing into the white sky of the cloudy day, that he spots him in neat casual attire walking hand in hand with the same rose haired girl dressed in a pretty sundress and cardigan.

Ah. A new development, he thinks, watching them hold hands for the first time on their way home.

If he squints his eyes and forgets his name, Madara can almost picture him as a different boy, a boy raised in war. It’s easy to fall into the trap of replacing this Sasuke with his brother. Easy to imagine it’s Izuna enjoying the brisk Spring afternoon.

He subtracts Sasuke and adds Izuna into every scenario. It’s Izuna goofing off with friends. It’s Izuna falling slowly but surely in love. It’s Izuna that practices kendo and goes to cram school.

It’s Izuna living a life so carefree, free of the burdens of war. Izuna being allowed to be a child the way that Madara now knows how to be, even with his past life bridging to his current in the form of dreams and memories.

Of all his kin, why this boy? This boy━that shouldn’t even exist as long as he’s breathing━gets a new chance at a different life.

He can’t help that he’s glaring when the boy looks up and they catch each other’s eyes. The boy glares right back and, holding on tightly to his girlfriend’s hand, he picks up his pace, getting as far away as possible from his shop.

I don’t care about your hāfu girlfriend.

He remembers the Uchiha, almost as homogeneous as the society he lives in. Maybe his past self would have found it traitorous but his current self can’t summon an ounce of care to discriminate against a child born of a Chinese parent.

The memories and emotions simmer under the surface but some still feel as though they belong to someone else. And then there are some that settle as absolute truths.

Sometimes the way the smoke of his cigarette burns in his chest and up his throat feels like a katon ready to unleash. It’s as he’s sweeping the carpet of pink petals blocking his shop that Madara wishes he could still summon flames to speed up the task of clearing the sakura blossoms that cover the roof tops, the streets, and every nook and cranny they settle in after the wind scatters them.

Grunting to himself, he piles the petals in a heap before moving on to his neighbor’s little shop. She sells ceramic wares, pottery spun by her wrinkled hands, and yet cats make the shop their home. The obaasan that owns it leaves food and water out and the cats never knock over any of the clay pots or bowls. They simply laze about, only rising from their spot when a guest arrives, eager to fetch the granny like dutiful little employees.

His neighbor has watched over him ever since he took over the corner store four years ago. The old woman never asked him why a city boy would move out but still remain as close as possible, settling in between the loud city and the sleepy suburb of which families had made their home. She doesn’t care to know his story, only brings him something to eat and has him fix her up a cup of tea.

Madara knows that if she asked he would never tell her about meetings at an izakaya after work. Would never talk about the woman with porcelain skin and auburn hair or the man with chocolate brown eyes and a mouth with the ever present upturn at the corners. Would never talk about the rings on both of their left hands and how even in this life they left him behind.

His hair had been shorter then. Thick and spiked but cropped close to his head━perfect for an office worker. Crunching numbers during the day and dreaming of the screams of his enemies at night. Madara ignored the memories of his past in favor of clinging to what his life could be.

The dreams were just dreams, he told himself. They meant nothing, even in the mornings when he could still smell sulfur and feel the weight of long hair against his shoulder blades despite the absence of it when he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

But that was four years ago and gone are the days of sitting behind monitors and filing paper. It took four years and now his hair, although tied loosely, settles against his back, creeping down to his waist.

The second week of April brings gentle rains. The drops drum against the shingles on the roof above his flat. The temperature had been rising and the mellow showers are just a precursor to the ones that will fall in a couple of months.

Taking the kettle off the stove in his kitchenette, Madara is glad he got back from the bathhouse before the rain came down. He settles on the tatami, just under the window, and listens to the pitter patter melting into the babbling of a brook.

He can feel the warmth of a sunny day on his cheeks and the roaring of laughter against his ears. Madara opens his eyes and he’s in the middle of the woods, hakama pants getting heavy from retaining water. In a voice not quite his own he shouts insults at the young man with the unfortunate haircut that had pushed him in.

Madara grabs Hashirama’s ankles and drags him down in the water with him. Laughing through his nose, he prepares himself for a retaliation that never comes. Dropping his stance Madara glances around in confusion, not understanding where his friend could have gone.

“Niisan…” a voice croaks below him.

At his feet, floats the eyeless corpse of his younger brother.

Madara doesn’t scream as he wakes up. The dream is old and although his heart is palpitating at an alarming rate, it no longer brings him the same terror it had when the memories were still fresh.

Grabbing his phone to check the time, Madara doesn’t register the hour as he’s distracted by the notifications on his screen.

His dreams had summoned the caller and looking at the number of missed calls Madara swipes his thumb on his screen to clear his notifications.

Of course that fool would call seven times.

Owning a corner store gets to be tedious. Tracking inventory and restocking use the most basic of his accounting skills. Manning the counter is a lazy task and Madara finds himself constantly leaving his shop to watch people as they pass by to keep from dozing off.

He keeps his mouth busy with cigarettes he purchases from the vending machine right outside his shop. Chain-smoking wasn’t a habit he expected to pick up but had anyway when the company he worked for merged with another.

It was the merger that changed everything.

“You can call me Hashi,” his new coworker introduced himself. The new staff had entered in the Spring, only a few months after the merger was announced, and it was the first time Madara had spoken directly to any of them.

The exchange was sparked by a request for a lighter and from then on the man had initiated a one sided friendship that quickly became mutual.

Conversations in the designated smoking room soon moved on to shared lunch breaks and drinks after work. There had been moments━Madara is sure there had been moments━and despite the awkwardness of dealing with memories in which in a past life the two of them stood on opposing sides in battle, it was the most alive Madara had felt in the longest time.

And then came the arrival of Hashi’s “Mi-chan.”

She had also called the night before. Mito had messaged him on LINE but unlike Hashirama, she hadn’t called repeatedly. She wasn’t one to do any chasing. But the message was a blunt lecture about absences and leaving people hanging.

Madara watches the sky break out in hues of pink and orange, melting into purple and navy. It’s time for the students that do not have after school activities to arrive on the bus.

And sure enough there’s a blond knucklehead gesticulating to a red haired kid holding a small potted cactus rounding the corner. They’re no longer wearing gakuran but blazers and tartan slacks, the uniform of the local public high school.

Well it is Spring, Madara thinks to himself as he takes a long drag of his cigarette. The brats couldn’t stay middle schoolers forever.

But there is one missing in the usual trio of boys. Standing taller than the other two, and usually bickering with the blond kid, Sasuke wasn’t with them.

It had been a few weeks since the new school year had started and Sasuke never seemed like the kind of person to stop going to school when it was no longer compulsory.

The granny’s cats usually are quiet as they lurk about the alley between his shop and hers. Madara will come across them when he’s making sure that the combustible trash has been sorted properly.

The brat standing in his alley is definitely not a cat.

Charcoal colored eyes glared back at him defiantly as if Madara’s fist isn’t balled up in his blazer. The neat black blazer with red trimming has the crest of a school Madara knows very well. It belongs to a school that he had sat an exam for and failed. It was a high school he had aspired to go to as a teenager for its exclusiveness. It was a rigorously structured school that boasted the best performance academically and only accepted those that were able to pass the intensely difficult entrance exam.

For a moment Madara is proud. If anyone were to get into such a school it would be his kin. Sasuke is an Uchiha through and through. A different lifetime didn’t change that fact.

That pride crumbles with the glittering of silver on Sasuke’s ears and the exhale of smoke coming out of his mouth. His descendant reborn is a delinquent.

“You’re fifteen,” Madara hisses, pushing Sasuke back against the wall of his shop.

“You don’t know how old I am.”

“Boy,” Madara grips his collar lapel and yanks Sasuke up so they’re nose to nose, “don’t try acting smart when you’re clearly wearing a high school uniform.”

Sasuke looks older than a first year, face more mature than children his age but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a child.

“Where did you get a Taspo from?”

Sasuke shrugs which has Madara shaking him. He obviously stole the smart card for the vending machine, possibly from a relative. Or maybe he was sent by his father to pick up a carton and took the opportunity to buy one for himself.

“Come on brat, we’re going to talk to your parents.”

Sasuke pulls back, making himself heavy and refusing to budge. Madara has half a mind to tug on one of his earrings and force him to move.

“Hand it over.”

“Hand what over?” Sasuke cocks an eyebrow and feigns innocence poorly. If the odor didn’t give him away, the look of complete indifference did.

“The box of cigarettes! Don’t act stupid with me now, brat.”

Sasuke makes no move to do as he is demanded. He looks directly into Madara’s eyes unwavering and it is here that it’s even more clear to him that this boy could never be his younger brother. Their noses are different. Izuna’s cheekbones were higher and sharper. This boy’s lower lash line is slightly longer than the upper.

How did he ever mistake him for Izuna?

“There’s a woman with your face,” Madara speaks up after a beat. “I’ve seen you with her before. She goes to the city, but when she passes my shop she always stops for a chat with the granny next door.”

Sasuke narrows his eyes at the threat hidden in Madara’s words. Four years of watching all of the people. Four Springs passing by him, of course he knows at least that much about the boy from his past.

Reaching into his back pocket, Sasuke takes out a box and tosses it to the ground. He never made anything easy━not in their old life and not now. He shoves him away with a force that has Madara fumbling backwards and having to catch himself before he knocks over the bins. Without another glance Sasuke leaves the alley and if not for the carton of cigarettes on the ground it would have been as if he had never been there to begin with.

Not one to leave perfectly good cigarettes go to waste, Madara picks up the box from the ground and opens it up. The carton is half full and he pulls one out and lights it up.

Huh. Menthols.

That night isn’t the last of his run ins with Sasuke. Madara uses the evenings to stand outside and enjoy the chill of the night as the temperature drops with the sun.

He aligns his outings with the time the stragglers would be coming home from work or after school clubs. He sparks up a cigarette and watches as the teenager scowls at him before turning down the road in the opposite direction of what he knows is the path he usually takes to get home.

Some nights, Sasuke drops into the store and picks up a Pocari Sweat and mints. He has his gym bag and shinai on those nights. Some nights he’s home earlier than expected and he loiters the corner store, usually playing with a visiting cat before he makes a purchase of another sports drink and tin of mints.

“Are they helping to curb the craving?” Madara asks him one night as he rings him up.

“Gotta do something considering you’re a persistent jiji, always guarding the machine.”

“Jiji!?” Madara’s right eye twitches at the rude name he’s called. “How old do you think I am exactly, boy?”

“Forty-seven?”

“I’m thirty-six,” Madara hisses. Being called ossan would have been better. Still rude, but better than jiji.

Sasuke doesn’t apologize for his answer. He simply counts his change before handing it over. Madara eyes him before slipping the change in the till.

“Women tend to prefer non-smokers anyway,” he advises. The ghost of Mito’s voice flits around his ears, nagging him and Hashirama for their habits.

Sasuke gives him an unimpressed look. The aura of superiority around the kid grates on his nerves. He was a boy of merely fifteen and yet he had such an abrasive attitude with his elders.

What happened to the boy from a few weeks ago that would bow his head when entering his store? What changed?

“I only do things because I want to. Not for other people.”

And why would you want to smoke or pierce your ears? What’s the benefit?

Madara doesn’t voice his questions. He just does what he always does and watches him leave, his eyes following him down the street and turning in the wrong direction from the bars of his window.

The following night is one of the nights where Sasuke comes home early. Instead of picking up a sports drink like he always does he helps Madara unpack boxes of goods and shelves them in their appropriate places. Madara observes as he unflinchingly lines up sanitary napkins and tampons on the shelf and then moves on to small packages of toilet paper.

The Naruto kid had been in the store earlier and kicked out two minutes after entering for making a racket when he only saw the boxes.

“Your friend was here today.”

“What friend?” Sasuke continues stacking and if Madara wasn’t looking at him he would have believed he had imagined that Sasuke spoke at all.

“He’s loud. And obnoxious.”

Sasuke ignores him and moves over to the aisle on the other side of the shelves. He continues stacking with an unnerving focus. Madara is tempted to chuck something at him to see if he would even react to it. The kid stares into space often enough to worry Madara about his state of mind. Schools like the one Sasuke attended focused heavily on exams and it usually took a toll on the students. It was still early in the year but the shift from public school to private may have been difficult on the boy.

Especially considering that he keeps skipping cram school.

It is a few nights later that he receives an old visitor. The rose gold hair is familiar but it’s the look in her eyes that has Madara remembering a different set of determined green eyes that faced him down as he stood among the rubble and overturned earth of a battlefield.

He had stabbed this girl before.

She slides a pack of lead for her pencils across his counter and a tin of mints. The brand is the exact same one Sasuke picks up and it’s then that Madara notices she is wearing the same blazer that Sasuke wears as part of his uniform.

“Ojisan? Have you seen a boy about this tall,” the girl waves her hand several centimeters above her head, “with spiky black hair and bangs that fall across the left side of his face? I usually come in with him in the morning.”

Madara shakes his head and tells her the total of her purchase. With a sigh of defeat she thanks him and pays for her items.

He has in fact seen Sasuke. It was about an hour earlier than she had arrived from the city, most likely coming home from cram school. He usually sees her walking home alone in the evenings.

Sometimes, Naruto and their red haired friend pick her up from the bus stop and escort her while Naruto cheerfully tells her about something going on at his school. As the trio walks there’s a mindful gap, as if they are subconsciously aware of their missing friend as they head in the direction of their homes.

“Where do you go when you come home from school?” Madara asks him on a rainy afternoon. Sasuke looks around the store and back at Madara as if the answer was obvious. “Besides here, brat.”

Sasuke doesn’t respond, not that Madara actually expected him to. Talking, it seems, is another one of those things Sasuke doesn’t do unless he wants to.

He moves around the shelves slowly, taking things down that were put back in the wrong place by customers and putting them in the correct shelf. Madara told Sasuke that he wouldn’t pay him for the work, that he wasn’t hiring any part timers, but the boy continued to come back and assist him in the shop.

“My school doesn’t allow its students to have jobs,” he explained. Madara finds it curious that Sasuke obeys that rule even though he clearly doesn’t care about the restrictions on body modifications. Even the hair that falls in his face that he constantly flattens and brushes to the side is too long according to his school’s rules.

Madara watches as Sasuke continues to grab things with his right hand, never reaching with his left despite it being free and closer to items. There is a slight stutter in Sasuke’s movements when he bumps the shelves with the left side of his body as he attempts to go around a corner. He looks down at his left arm in confusion before shaking his head.

Sasuke flexes the fingers on his left hand and unnecessarily drums them along the shelves as he turns. Madara hears him muttering to himself, “It’s still here…” and wonders if he should be concerned by the strange behavior.

His reincarnated descendant is a strange one and getting stranger by the day.

“You’re avoiding something,” Madara calls after him as Sasuke moves behind shelves of snacks and out of his line of sight. “Or someone.”

“You’re one to talk about avoiding something,” Sasuke’s voice carries as he walks throughout the store. “When are you going to finally answer that phone? It only rings like five times within an hour.”

As if on cue, Madara’s cell phone rings, rattling against the old register it sits on top of. He doesn’t even need to look to know who is calling. It is around the time Madara used to call it a day and shut off his computer.

“Going to answer that any time soon, old man?”

“Out.” Madara seethes, tired of his attitude. No one talks to him in that tone, especially not fifteen year olds. “Out of my store.”

“More like your bubble,” Sasuke retorts, finally coming around from the back row of shelves. “You never leave this place. You even live right above it.”

Sasuke snatches his messenger bag from off the floor and Madara is tempted to reach over the counter and snatch him by his sweater vest. For a moment he forgets that in this lifetime he is simply a middle aged former salaryman and not the fighter he once was in a distant life.

Sasuke narrows his eyes at him and Madara expects them to bleed into the scarlet coloring he has witnessed in his dreams and almost moves himself to brace for an attack. Instead, he stops in his tracks and examines the young face of this teenage boy. The skin underneath his eyes is dark and puffy, a clear sign that Sasuke hasn’t been sleeping properly.

“Go home,” Madara mutters. He’s not what he used to be. Fighting doesn’t bring him the same joy it brought his past self.

Sasuke pulls back and brings himself to his full height. He tightens his grip on his messenger bag strap and just when Madara thinks he’s about to do as he’s told for once, Sasuke decides to have the last word.

“I would tell you to do the same but, clearly, you’ve decided that you’re already there.”

Madara throws a roll of receipt paper that Sasuke deftly avoids, side stepping and rushing to the door.

“I won’t be like you, I refuse!” He shouts behind him as he makes his exit, confusing Madara with his words.

Was there ever a chance you would be?

Madara expects him to come back after a few nights but by the end of Golden Week, Sasuke still hasn’t shown his face. Madara almost gives up on looking for him when he spots him by the corner where the bus should stop.

Sasuke doesn’t move even as it starts to shower. He opens his umbrella and continues to wait.

Madara grows tired of watching him and puts out his cigarette and heads back inside his shop. He’s sitting behind his counter and flipping open a book when he hears a familiar shout of joy before there’s a much more familiar angry retort. It’s quiet again with only the drops of rain harmonizing with the soft jingle of the wind chime.

The sound of students chatting as they walk by his shop isn’t a new occurrence so he continues reading his historical fiction, only pausing when he hears a slight knocking against the wooden bars of his window.

“Are you trying to prank the corner store jiji?” A bright voice trills. At that Madara is standing up, ready to throw anything, even his flip flop, at the brat attempting to vandalize his shop.

Madara is poised and ready when he spots the spiky dark head of Sasuke, walking underneath an umbrella with the green eyed girl, Sakura. Naruto ditches the shelter of the umbrella he shares with the red haired boy and jumps on Sasuke’s back, hounding him for answers.

“What was that about? Come on, tell me!”

“Knock it off, idiot!” Sasuke shoves him off and Naruto stumbles backward, falling into a puddle.

The two of them bicker back and forth with occasional interjections from Sakura. Despite the ongoing argument, the tension in Sasuke’s shoulders is gone and there’s a softness to his demeanor that had been missing weeks ago.

Madara watches as they round the corner and head down the street in the direction of home. Sasuke elbows Naruto the whole way as the latter continues to try and squeeze under the same umbrella as the couple and cling to the both of them.

Madara takes a deep inhale and holds it for a count of four seconds before exhaling. He’ll see what Sasuke did to his window and find him later. There was only one path to get to the bus stop and Madara can stand watch forever for the brat.

Inspecting his window, Madara finds a white handle sticking out from between the bars. Pulling on it reveals the flat, red side of an uchiwa. It was an unusual design for a fan but the message Sasuke is trying to convey is clear.

Huh. So that’s how it is. Madara shakes his head and exhales a laugh through his nose. Well, I’m not going to be shown up by a kid.

Sitting at his counter, Madara drums his fingers against the table top and eyes his cell phone. He wills it to ring but it just lays there on top of his register. He runs his hands down his face, smoothing his palms against the stubble on his jawline.

“Alright,” he mutters, swiping his phone from its designated spot. He searches his call log for a number he still knew by memory, stalling the call by as many seconds as possible. It seems like minutes have gone by before the dial tone stops and the call is picked up.

“Hello? Ma-kun?” Madara takes in a sharp intake of air at the sound of her voice, so clear even through the phone’s speaker. “This better not be a butt dial, Madara.”

Letting out a breathy chuckle, Madara greets her and in one breath Mito releases a few years worth of complaints, sprinkling in a few questions in between.

“I can tell you about the shop later,” Madara cuts in when he is given the opportunity. “You can tell Hashi that I’ll be at the old pub.”

#madara uchiha #uchiha madara #sasuke uchiha #sasusaku #day!fics

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forever-rogue · 5 years

Text

Lucky You - Part 2

A/N: Holy guacamole you guys, thanks for all your support on Part 1! I’m glad you guys are enjoying it so far. I hope you like this part as well, let me know how you like it! Taglists are open! xx

Pairing: Billy x Reader

Warning: language

Word Count: 4.1k

MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5

»»————-　♡　————-««

April

Detention had started mostly as a silent affair. The first day you had trudged into the designated classroom, silently shoving the detention slip into the supervising teacher’s face before slinking into a seat at the back of the room and throwing down your backpack in a huff.

A few other students milled about the room, all there for one various reason or another. But probably not for the outrageous reason you were there; after cooling down the day you’d hit Billy in the face, you’d gone back to your teacher and practically begged him to reconsider. You went so far as to give him the biggest, most innocent doe eyes you could muster up, combined with making sure your already short skirt was even short. You’d seen his eyes dart momentarily to the short hemline, but he made no comment other than denying your request for reconsideration.

That’s how you were stuck with three weeks of bullshit, commonly known as detention. Billy must have sneaked out of the boys bathroom at some point, as he was perched against the lockers, causally eating an apple as his ocean eyes had locked onto yours. He hadn’t uttered so much as a word, instead giving you a wink as you scoffed and walked away, trying your best not to turn around and look at him. It was hard, very hard, to not look at the handsome boy you swore you hated. But at this point, even you were starting to question were the line between hate and lust and even love lied.

Billy had shown up late to detention for the first week, not surprising anyone but yourself; part of you had been wondering if he’d even bother showing up at all. He cared about few things in life, and school was definitely not one of them, and you were so close to graduating, you doubted it would make much of a difference to him.

He had come into the room with his usual amount of swagger and bravado, throwing the detention slip onto the supervisor’s desk, his smirk growing the second he had spotted you, sitting by yourself in the corner, nose buried in a book. You knew he was waiting for some sort of reaction, but refused to give into him, not even to spare him a glance as sat in the desk next to you. Almost every other desk was free, unoccupied since there apparently were very few other trouble makers at school.

“Hey Princess,” he said coolly, crossing his legs on top of the desk and leaning back in his chair, dangerously close to tipping it over. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from barking out a smart remark, or even making a sound. After a few moments of unresponsive silence, he let out a low sigh, an eyebrow raised as he leaned closer to you. You could feel his warm breath fanning over your face, the smell of peppermint laced with the cigarettes he fancied so much invading your senses, “so that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”

It took every fiber of your being not to say something, to either curse him and blame your current situation on him, or to grab his face and start kissing him then and there. His lips always managed to look so plump and kissable, and you often caught yourself daydreaming, wonder how they’d feel against your lips. Probably perfect, you figured, but you weren’t going to give in and find out. Never. Never ever.

You gripped the sides of your books so hard that your knuckles were turning white and you had to reread the same sentence about fifteen times before you were finally able to comprehend it. Billy’s eyes didn’t waiver from your frame for a long time that first day, but you managed to remain steadfast and ignored him.

The next several weeks were spent in a similar fashion: you arrived on time, took a seat at the back of the room and intently focused on your books. One of the few benefits of detention was that at the very least you were able to catch up on books you’d been wanting to read. Billy would show up late, making his grand entrance, taking a seat next to you, greeting you with a cheeky grin. You never responded, but that didn’t deter him. When Billy Hargrove wanted something, he got what he wanted. And he wanted you, and he’d get you come hell or high water.

The last day of detention had you feeling a prisoner finally getting their release from years of confine. You almost skipped in, cheerfully throwing your detention slip on the desk of the front, slipping into your self assigned seat, ready for your last day of afternoon reading. It had become a sort of comfortable routine: get out of your last class, grab your bag, and then head to sit in an isolated room and get to read for a couple of hours. In some ways you’d almost miss it in a way, but you were also excited to finally rejoin Steve and Nancy and enjoy the little bit of warm weather before it became unbearably hot.

But of course as fate, or Billy Hargrove, would have it, your last day in detention would not go down quietly, and it wouldn’t just consist of you reading in your little corner, lost in your own little world. Of course not - Billy stomped into the room, late as per usual, only giving the supervisor a nod before slamming his toned body down into the seat next to you.

He walked you intently, drumming his fingers along the side of the desk, waiting for you to say anything, willing you to even spare him a quick glance. He’d tried every day, getting increasingly annoyed by your resilience, to earn your attention but it hadn’t worked. In some ways it made you a little happy, to see him getting so worked up, almost at his own break point.

“Princess,” he finally said, almost in a sigh, unsure himself while he was still bothering to try and get your attention. Billy didn’t want to quit though, giving up and walking away from a challenge was not an option. Feeling bold, even if it was only going to last a few moments, you put your book down, taking care to properly dog ear the page you landed on, before snapping it shut and and setting it down. Billy sucked in a breath as he realized you might actually speak to him, hell, even acknowledging his presence would have been enough to send him over the moon.

“Billy Boy,” you said after a few moments, turning to him and raising an eyebrow at him, attempting to anticipate his next move, “what can I do for you? Is there something you need?”

He let out a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh as he leaned back in his seat. After solidly ignoring him over the course of the last three weeks, that was all you were willing to give him?

“You’re not deaf then,” he commented back, putting on a cool facade as he tried to still the wild beating of his heart. He’d gotten your attention again and wasn’t about to throw it away.

“Never purported that I was,” you teased, twirling a lock of hair around your finger, feigning innocence and trying to give off the vibe you’d seen so many daft pretty girls do. That seemed like it would be something Billy would like, an airhead who did what he wanted and give in easily, he didn’t have to know you were only acting the part, “if you wanted something you could have asked.”

“Don’t play coy with me,” you weren’t fooling himself a second with your rouse, and just shrugged one of your shoulders, eyes quickly flitted all over his body. Billy reached over and grabbed your chin with his hand, firmly enough to get your full attention, but not hard to do any lasting damage. His hand and deft fingers were warm against your skin, and sent a shiver down your spine. He leaned in closer, eyes never wavering from yours, “is there a reason you’ve been completely ignoring me for the last three weeks? Even before you weren’t this bad.”

“You really have to ask?” you rolled your eyes at him, gripping his wrist with your hand, sending a jolt to course through his body. He nodded slightly, a sandy curl bobbing with the motion; you wanted to play with it, but refrain from doing so, not ready to relinquish the upper hand, “tell me, Billy, why are we here right now? Why have we spent every afternoon for the last three weeks here?”

“Because a certain someone couldn’t control her anger and decided to pie me-”

“Wronggg,” you drew out the world and pulled his hand off your face, surprising him with your snappy retort, “we’re here because you don’t know when to keep your goddamn mouth shut, not because of me. If you’re so intent on wooing me, or whatever you want to call it, you might want to learn when to just shut up.”

“First of all, I know when to shut up,” he countered, the fact that you were still holding onto his wrist was not lost on him, even if you were doing it unintentionally, “and second of all, if it’s working, I’ll carry on.”

“Never gonna happen,” you insisted, finally realizing how close the two of you were, letting go of his arm and pushing your chair back from him, a vain attempt at a physical barrier, “I’m speaking theoretically.”

“What will it take?” a small tinge of eagerness mixed in with his usual tone as he got ready to take mental notes on your requests. You wished you had it in yourself to give into him, to just go with it and not care what anyone else thought, but that wasn’t you. As much as you despised it, you had moments of being a little lamb that followed the leader and gave into societal pressures, and dating a guy like Billy was a thousand leagues away from that. You’d sooner date someone like Charlie Eddington, whose idea of a wild Friday night included alphabetizing his entire vinyl collection. Just the thought of that was enough to make you want to gag, there was no doubt Billy would much, much more exciting. But that wasn’t an option.

“Anyone but you,” the words sounded much harsher as soon as they escaped past your lips, reverberating in the otherwise quiet room. The two of you were the only ones in the room, sans your supervisor who literally could not have cared less about what was happen. The tension in the air was so thick you could have cut it with even the dullest of butter knives. A cringe contorted his features as his eyes seemed to lose a bit of their fiery spark, “I didn’t…that came out worse than I…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he pulled back from you, his arms crossing over his chest, turning his face away from you, “you and I are just two different people. How stupid of me to think that someone like you would ever enough spare me a glance. I’m so sorry, your highness.”

“Don’t be so pathetic, Billy,” you were annoyed his instant victim mentality, and also by the fact that he wasn’t fighting back harder. You’d expected more from him, and wondered if it was his turn to put on an act, “why are you so hung up on me? I don’t have anything to offer you. You don’t like girls like me.”

“What makes you say that?” his tone was cool and he barely tilted his head to look at you.

“History,” you stated simply, “it’s a very cyclical thing, it tends to run in similar fashion and repeats itself over and over, and we are creatures of habit, and we don’t learn.”

“You think I wouldn’t change?” he offered up but you just shrugged, not willing to give him a firm answer one way or another, “and what about you? Is it always going to be uptight assholes who are about as exciting as white bread?”

“Touchè,” was the last thing that left your mouth before the supervisor glanced at the clock and started to gather his papers. It was earlier than he’d normally excuse you, but it appeared he was done for the day and ready for the weekend.

“It’s Friday, we’ve all got other places to be, enjoy your weekends,” he dismissed you both without another word, jamming out the door before you or Billy could say anything. You were more than happy to leave, ready to escape for the weekend, you were supposed to meet your friends at the mall soon anyways.

Stuffing your book back into your bag, you slung it over your shoulder, almost sprinting out the door, ready to escape Billy. Not that you feared him or anything, more just because you wanted to avoid throwing yourself at him.

“Enjoy your weekend, Princess,” he smirked at you, a cigarette already hanging out of the corner of his mouth, “have fun alphabetizing your record collection or whatever you do for fun.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, amazed that he had almost read your mind exactly from earlier. A million snarky responses came to mind, but you held them back, instead giving him a quick wave before saying, “bye, Billy. Enjoy whatever girl you have tonight, just remember to not call them by my name.”

The cigarette fell from his lips and landed with a soft thud on the desk. He was surprised by your gall, but wasn’t fast enough to think of a response before you dashed away. He vowed he’d get you back for that one, regardless of how good of a comeback it was.

»»————-　♡　————-««

May

May had arrived and brought the promise of freedom as the rains subsided and all the flowers, trees, and bushes started to bloom. The days started to extend, sunshine illuminating everything for longer hours, just the right amount of warmth in the air.

But the fact that you only had a few weeks of school left made it all the more difficult. It was hard to focus on anything as the finish line neared and a major case of senioritous seemed to hit everyone. Even your teachers didn’t seem to care much anymore, ready to start their own vacations, not even bothering to try and reign any of you in, knowing it would be a fruitless effort.

Your history teacher had even gone so far as to let you outside, telling you all to enjoy the sunshine, and if anyone asked, tell them the classroom had a bug problem and for everyone’s safety he’d ushered you outside. It was a weak excuse at best, but you were definitely going to take advantage of it.

You’d thrown your sweater over a sunny patch of grass, distancing yourself from the rest of your class, a vain attempt at a cat nap before your last period of the day. The sun left so good on your skin you couldn’t say no and promptly flopped down onto the soft matter of sweater, resting your head in your arms. Closing your eyes, you knew it wouldn’t take much for you to fall asleep, but after a few minutes, you suddenly a shadow disturbing your sunlit peace.

“What the hell-”

“It’s not safe for young girls to be by yourselves in such a vulnerable position,” it was Billy of course. As soon as the first word had left his mouth you knew it was him. Squeezing your eyes shut tighter, you turned head away from him, hoping he’d go away.

But of course, he wouldn’t do you the favor; even after your last encounter with him that afternoon of your final detention, he still tried to get your attention, although he was back to being more subtle about it. There were lingering looks, little smirks, and bold winks, enough to earn your attention, but not enough to satisfy your needs. Your daydreams and nights were becoming more frequently invaded by thoughts of him, no matter how hard you tried, they always flooded back, nagging at you, your subconscious working overtime.

“Hi Billy,” you said quietly, deciding not to fight with him. Maybe you could kill him with kindness instead, maybe that would deter him. You opened one eye and glanced up at him, and he was standing there with a grin, hands on his hips, as he watched you, “can I help you?”

“Yeah,” he answered simply as he stuck out a hand to help you off of the ground, waiting to see if you’d take it. You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering what he was playing at, “come on. Live a little.”

“And then I’d be doing the exact opposite of going with you,” you countered, but despite your best efforts to refrain, you took his hand and let him hoist you up to your feet. He was surprisingly gentle, even picking up your sweater and shaking it out before handing it to you.

“Come on,” he jerked his head in the direction of the parking lot. You had a moment of hesitation knowing what this meant. He noticed how you stopped, “when’s the last time you lived a little? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You murdering me?” you joked, casting a longing glance at the school building, knowing you should stay and just go to your last classes. Billy threw his back in laughter, a sound you rarely heard, but decided you really liked, as you looked at him incredulously.

“If I wanted to murder you, you’d already be dead,” he insisted, “now let’s go. Have you ever even ditched a class?”

“No-”

“I didn’t think so,” he laughed, holding his hand out for you to take. The internal struggle was increasing, but you took it anyway, letting him lead you to his care, “I promise I won’t kill you. Look, we’ll just get some ice cream and see a movie. Safe non murderous activities.”

“This doesn’t count by the way,” you reminded him, “this isn’t me giving into you and agree to go on a date. You’re practically forcing my hand.”

“Fine,” he agreed, shaking his head in amusement, “besides, if this was a date, you’d know. Now relax, and have some fun. It won’t kill you.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

June

June brought summer, and although you typically despised the season, this year things were different. School was over, at least for the summer until you started college in the fall. But that was a whole world away and you decided not to let it loom over you for the moment or ruin your summer. It was going to be all about relaxing, enjoying as much of the long days with your friends as you could be you entered what your parents had dubbed as the real world.

This particular day consisted of you laying poolside and trying to soak up as much of the sun as possible. Your friends were all working, including Steve over at Scoops Ahoy. You’d already decided you’d pay him a visit later to sample some of the delicious flavors they offered, it was one small perk of your best friend spending his summer working, but you figured you might as well take advantage of it.

As you laid there and watched everyone, your jaw almost dropped as you saw none other than Billy walking out of the lifeguards’ little office, sporting nothing but a pair of swimming trunks, a whistle, and sunglasses, and of course, that trademark smirk. The girl currently in the lifeguards tower climbed down as she saw him approach, which meant that it was his shift. Of course.

Of course there wasn’t a single place you could escape him. Ever since your afternoon of ditching school with him, he’d backed off a little, and gave you some space. Not that you had done anything with him, no kisses or touches were exchanged, but you had a good time. You couldn’t even deny that; Billy was actually pretty okay when he was on his own and didn’t put on his typical swagger.

He zoned in on you almost immediately and you cursed yourself for wearing that brand new bright yellow bathing suit; it had caught everyone else’s attention, of course Billy had spotted it too.

“Well, well, well,” he was cool as ever as he made his way over to you, beads of sweat already dripping down his tanned body. It was hard not to stare, but you hoped your sunglasses made it a little less obvious that you were looking at him up and down, eyes lingering longer than necessary, “look who we have here. Didn’t take you for much of a swimmer.”

“I’m not,” you admitted, “but before you even get any ideas, I’ll have you know that I can swim properly and no, I don’t need extra, private lessons. Get that fantasy right out of your head.”

“Your words wound me,” he joked pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head, his curls looking more defined than normal today. You tried to get that thought right out of your head - fantasizing about Billy was still a big no, even if you did give into it on occasion, late at night when you couldn’t sleep and would end up tossing and turning endlessly.

“What do you want, Billy?” you sighed at him, noticing that his eyes had flicked between your lips and your chest, and he had no move to that fact. You felt your cheeks heat up and were glad for the fact that you could blame on the sun’s harsh rays, “shouldn’t you be watching all these kids and not starting at me?”

“Probably,” he admitted, “but you’re a much better view. I’d rather save you ten times over any of these kids.”

“Cherish the thought,” you sighed at him, not wanting to give into his little game, although you did like the attention, especially from Billy. Billy, who had proven to you, at least somewhat, that he wasn’t all bad. At least not towards you, but perhaps you were his weakness, his kryptonite so to speak, “but if a child dies, you’ve got other problems on your hands. Besides, I’m pretty sure I can handle lying on this chair and reading.”

“Whatever you say, Princess,” he winked at you before putting his sunglasses back on and making his way to the pristine white tower. Just before he reached it, he turned around and said, “I like the suit, by the way. Looks good on you, and if you need any help with sunscreen, I’m pretty good at applying it.”

Your eyebrows rose so high they almost went into your hairline as you watched him saunter away. He had a lot of nerve, and you knew he was just doing it to get a rise out of you, but it was working. He was slowly chipping at away at your icy exterior and finding his way into your heart; the very same heart that had almost constant thoughts of him. But you didn’t just want to let him win, not that easily.

“Hey Billy!” you shouted back over at him, causing him to look down at you with a victorious little grin. You held up your hand flipped him off, earning a few tuts from the adults around you, “it’s never going to happen.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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childofthenight2035 · 5 years

Text

Letters To Who You Were

A/N: This is a Chan fic that I thought of writing for a helluva time now, so enjoy! Don’t forget to check out my masterlist! Unrequested

Pairing: Bang Chan x gn!Reader

Summary/Prompt: You receive letters from someone you’re sure you don’t know.

Genre: Angst, Confusion, Time travel, Fluff(?)

Word Count: 12.6k

Warnings: Mentions of death, depression

Bloody Mondays. You hated them.

Chucking the alarm across the room and satisfying yourself with the sound of the battery falling out, you heaved yourself onto your elbows, staring at the pillow groggily.

“Why?” you whined, throwing off the covers and sitting up.

You squinted at the curtains, knowing the sky was too dark to get up, but you had to. You had class. Anthropology of all things. Eight o’clock. Ugh. You loved the subject, but not at six in the morning.

Your bus was at four past seven. You needed to get the heck up.

After a quick shower and a banana, you stumbled out of the apartment, still pulling your shoes on. You set your foot down and realized that you were not, in fact, standing on the cement floor of the landing. You were standing on something else. Paper. A couple envelopes lay under your shoe. Cursing, you bent down to retrieve them and continued your dash to the bus stop.

You managed to catch the bus, after all. Quite the day’s work.

Huffing, out of breath, you collapsed into a window seat towards the middle of the bus. The letters were still clutched in your hand. Flipping them over, you observed what was written on the front. One had the stamp of the Water Authorities on it. Clearly your water bill. You didn’t even want to know. Stuffing it into your backpack, you focused on the other one. It wasn’t official. Your address was handwritten on it. No sender’s name. No return address on the envelope. Hm.

You tore it open. In (somewhat) neat handwriting, was a letter. Addressed to you.

Y/N,

You’ve probably forgotten me. But you’ll remember—through these letters.

What the heck? You’ve probably forgotten this person? Childhood friend? Okay…

We’ve been through so much in the year that we were together. It seems like only yesterday. It’s already been a year but I don’t think that I could ever forget you. Not the way you sleep with your limbs splayed out like a starfish; not the way your eyes crinkle when you smile; not the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re nervous. I could never forget all that.

Whoa. Wait. Smiling and chewing your lip was one thing; but you did sleep like that. Who could possibly know—was this your old roommate or somebody, pranking you? What did they mean, in the year we were together?

You’ll think I’m crazy. I know. You’ll claim that you don’t know who I am. But I’m not crazy. I’m the sanest person in the room right now.

Have you gotten that raise yet? I may be a little off, but if you haven’t, then I think you’ll get it within the week. It looks like a good week, huh? I know getting an A in your anthropology class isn’t easy. I’m proud of you.

I realize you must be confused now, but I promise you that you’ll understand. Just give me some time, for once. You were always so busy. Is that why we couldn’t make it? Is that why you couldn’t afford a second chance?

Read these letters now. Someday we’ll meet.

Chris

Hold up. You didn’t know any Chris. Your previous roommate definitely didn’t go by Chris. Maybe Gail, when she was drunk, but Chris? Who’s that? Also, when had you ever gotten an A in anthropology? It wasn’t that easy, especially not for you. And you’ve never gotten a raise yet. What the fuck was going on?

You read the last paragraph again. Just give me some time, for once? Well damn. Ouch. Sorry. Is that why we couldn’t make it? Make it? Make what?

This was going to drive you crazy the whole day, you just knew it.

You slowly closed the letter, troubled. Were your friends pranking you? Was that what this was? Putting it into your bag, you zipped it shut and stared out the window. Youngjae had asked you for your address recently. Hey, maybe that was it! So he was pranking you, huh? Maybe they were all in it together? You relaxed. That’s what it is. Idiots.

…

“Yah, Youngjae.” You plunked a hand onto his desk and pointed at his face. “What do you think you’re playing at?”

His eyebrows disappeared into his bangs, grabbing your finger and twisting it so you squirmed in pain. “What do you think you’re playing at, huh, disrespecting me?”

He let go of your finger and you slid into the seat next to him.

“It’s a weak idea, bro. Come on, why prank someone if they can tell it’s a prank right away?”

He looked confused. “Prank? What prank? On who?”

You tsked. “Come on, man, April Fools’ is months away. Give up.”

He stilled, glancing around like he thought you were crazy and wanted a quick escape. “I honestly don’t have a clue what you’re saying.”

Your smile faltered. “You didn’t send that letter? Or Jisung? Or Minho? Or even Yeji?”

“What letter? Y/N, are you okay?”

You searched his eyes for any sign, his lips for an uncontrolled twitching, his hands for nervous fiddling. Nothing. You silently brought out the letter and showed it to him, crossing your arms and watching for a change of expression as he read it. Nope. Only confusion.

“What the heck is this?” he asked you curiously. “Who’s Chris?”

You slumped. “I thought one of you guys might have sent that as a prank.”

He handed it back to you. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you asked for my address last week!” you defended.

He threw his hands up. “That was for the ad you asked me to put in the campus paper for a roommate!”

“Oh.” You pouted, sitting straight, facing the front of the class. Your anthropology professor hadn’t yet come in, and the students were being loud. As usual.

“And besides,” he added, nudging you in the ribs (‘ow!’), “I wouldn’t go as far as even imply you got an A in anthropology, like, what even—hey!” You swiped his pen from where he was doodling on his notebook.

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m telling the truth. You know it. Give me my pen back.”

“Silence!” A voice boomed. The entire class rushed back to their seats or straightened up or shut their mouths. Youngjae took the chance and stole his pen. Your professor gazed around at all of you, her expression stern and disapproving. “I have your exams graded.” A collective groan sounded around the room. “The overall performance is lower than usual—“ your heart sank, “—but some of you have done better than I thought.” She proceeded to sit at her desk and call out the names. She also had the irritating habit some teachers have of announcing the grade as well. Your heartbeat was already picking up pace.

“Jacob! B, better than I expected, good….Eric! C, you can do better than this….Kevin.” You cringed at her expression, feeling desperately sorry for him. “D. You didn’t open your book at all, did you?”

Four names later, “ Youngjae! A, good work.”

“As usual,” you grumbled, but feeling proud of him nevertheless. He worked for it. You squeezed his arm when he came back to sit with his paper.

“Y/N!” You stood, hearing Youngjae whisper a ‘good luck’. You made your way to the front of the class, heart pounding. Your professor looked up at you and you winced apologetically for the abomination that was your paper. “A.”

What. Wait, what?

“What?” You accidentally blurted out. She smiled thinly.

“Well done. Keep it up.” She handed you your paper and you traipsed back to your seat, your head throbbing, unaware of the eyes on you.

“Oh my gosh you got an A,” Youngjae muttered, seizing your paper and staring at it like he couldn’t believe his ears or his eyes.

“I did. I got an A.” Your voice came out awed, in a hushed tone, drowned out by the sound of your classmates meeting their fates. A particular sentence, scrawled onto paper, read on a moving bus, flashed from your memory banks. You gasped. “ Youngjae!”

Yanking the letter from under your desk, you spread it out on the table. Youngjae understood what you meant just from glancing at it.

It looks like a good week, huh? I know getting an A in your anthropology class isn’t easy. I’m proud of you.

“Whoa.” He was shocked, too, but quickly composed his flow of reason. “Someone saw your grades. That’s the only explanation.”

“It’s still creepy,” you countered, falling silent and putting both papers away as your professor stood to teach. Still weird.

…

“I asked the others if they sent any letter; they didn’t,” Youngjae informed you, huffing as he and Jisung caught up with you on the way to Sociology after his Korean language class. You groaned.

“It’s not my old roommate Jeongyeon either, I called her.” You scratched the back of your neck. “This feels weird! Someone who’s close enough to know how I sleep? To notice me so well that they know how I smile? How I chew on my lip?” You shuddered. “Do I have a stalker? This is scary now. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Well, someone could know you sleep like that from that pic of all of us sleeping on Minho’s Instagram,” Jisung suggested. “But what if it was a one-time thing? You’re right, I think you have a stalker.”

You grabbed Youngjae’s arm. “Could you stay with me, then? Until I find another roommate?”

“Wait, but what if your new roommate turns out to be your stalker? Oh, that would be epic.” Jisung pressed his hands together and rubbed them.

“Jisung, not helping!”

“Y/N, you know we hostel people aren’t allowed to stay anywhere else without permission unless it’s break,” Youngjae explained patiently. “One night might be okay, but if it’s more than that, they’ll chuck us out and honestly, I don’t think I could afford off-campus housing right now. And my parents wouldn’t like it.”

“I’m technically broke now, so…” Jisung trailed off. “You know my parents aren’t sponsoring me this year since I told them I’m dropping English and taking Music. Until I prove that I’m good at it.”

“I know, I know,” you sighed, regretting having brought it up. “It’s okay. It’s probably just Jeongyeon and she doesn’t want to admit it. But then, how did she know I got an A?”

…

Two days later, you practically flew into your Anthropology class, to find Youngjae.

“Whoa, what happened, calm down!” he exclaimed as you dropped into your seat. “What happened, Y/N?”

You steadied your breathing, a hand on your heaving chest. “I…I got a raise.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious?” When you nodded, he broke into a smile. “That’s great news! I thought that coffee place never gave anyone raises!” You didn’t react. He faltered, looking at your tense expression. “What’s the matter—oh.” You pursed your lips. He finally remembered. “The letter.”

“How could anyone have known that?” You were chewing on your lip again and Youngjae tapped your chin, reminding you to stop before you tore the skin open.

“Does anyone there know a Chris?”

“The manager’s sister has a son named Chris, I asked. But,” you added quickly so Youngjae wouldn’t overreact, “they live abroad. And how would they know me?”

Youngjae sat back in his chair, thinking. “Hmm. Whoever’s writing it knows English well, but from the seals of the post office, I don’t think it’s international mail.” He waved it away. “Don’t think about that now. Did you put up the flyers in the coffee shop?”

“Yes, sir, I did.” You were grateful. “Thanks for getting Yugyeom to make them for me. Although I guess you should be thanking me for a chance to go to him, huh?”

“What?” he spluttered, smacking your arm. “I said I don’t like him, okay?”

“I know.” You smiled smugly, satisfied at the red blush dusting his cheeks. “You love him.”

…

On Thursday, it happened again.

Your classes were only in the afternoon, so you didn’t rush. But the floor in front of your door presented you with another letter. You brought it in, curiously. You hadn’t thrown away the first letter, even though you had the strangest urge to do so. Instead, you kept it in a box on top of your fridge.

You tore the new letter open. In the same handwriting, it read:

Y/N,

Yesterday was my sister’s wedding. I had no idea that she had invited you, but now that I think of it, I’m not very surprised. She was always fond of you. She took your side even when we fought, did you know that?

I don’t think you saw me. I got one glimpse of you and I ran. I’m a coward. But, did you, perhaps, know somehow that I was there and that I was looking for you? Were you looking for me?

Disgrace. That’s what my mother said to me. That I’m a disgrace. Just because I didn’t have the courage to greet guests and risk you seeing me, just because I can’t stick to something for long, because I’m a loser. And I don’t blame her.

Is it just me? Am I the only one hurting? Seeing you so happy hurts me. It makes me think that this fight isn’t affecting you at all. I can’t help it. I’m selfish.

My sister says that you were so polite and wanted to see me. She says that if only I had come out to talk to you, things would have been alright. Now I wish I had. Maybe I wouldn’t need to write anymore letters if I did.

I wonder if you kept that painting you said your friend gave you on your birthday. And speaking of birthdays, I hope you have a terrific one. You deserve nothing but the best.

It’s difficult. It’s like talking to a person with amnesia. Writing to a person who doesn’t know who’s writing to them is confusing. I know. There are things that I can’t say. But you’re smart. You’ll figure it out eventually.

Chris

You were beyond confused now. You were thoroughly disturbed. You had not gone to a wedding. You knew no girl whose brother was called Chris. You had not received any painting for your birthday. It was next week, so maybe you would? But how would Chris know that? If he even was called Chris?

Beyond all that, what scared you was that you felt this. You could feel the hurt in it. You could feel it as if it was…your own.

The words that called himself a loser, a coward, a disgrace…you understood. But what was the next part about? Him asking if the fight was only affecting him but not you? What fight? What on earth was going on? He wished he had talked to me; he wouldn’t have needed to write any more letters if he had? And that last paragraph? It’s difficult. It’s like talking to a person with amnesia. Writing to a person who doesn’t know who’s writing to them is confusing. I know. There are things that I can’t say. But you’re smart. You’ll figure it out eventually.

So he knew that you had no clue who he was. From the last letter, you assumed that it was a person you had forgotten about, but this one implied that you had never known him? There were things he couldn’t say? You would figure it out eventually?

What?

…

From the look on your face, Youngjae knew something was up. When he asked, you only pulled out the letter. He groaned.

“That ass wrote again? This is some elaborate prank, huh?” He took the letter, still chuckling, but as his eyes scanned the paper, his smile disappeared.

You didn’t speak, upset that you didn't understand what was going on, upset that someone was clearly having some fun at your expense, but also upset that, at the same time, it didn’t feel like a joke. This felt personal and…real.

“Oh my god.” His little whisper had your attention on him.

“What? What is it?”

Youngjae didn’t seem to hear you. “How the hell…who could have known about that…”

“ Youngjae, what’s wrong?”

He reluctantly pointed at a sentence in the letter. “That’s…that’s me. I’m that friend. I just bought you a painting for your birthday next week. How the hell….” He trailed off, astounded.

You were speechless. Okay, that was scary.

“Damn it,” he spat, banging his fist on the desk, startling some students in the class. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“ Youngjae, I still haven’t seen it, so it is still a surprise,” you reassured. “And I think that’s not as important as the fact that this person might be stalking you too.”

Youngjae had his focused face on, probably thinking who could have had the chance to see what he bought for you. “Minho wouldn’t do that, right?” he asked quietly, referring to his roommate at the dorms, the second oldest in your group. You shook your head.

“Minho’s petty, but I don’t think he would go this far for a joke. No one else knows about the painting?”

“Other than the guy at the store, I don’t think so.” He ran a hand through his hair, agitated.

Both of you were too disturbed to communicate throughout the lesson, you almost blacking out when the prof asked you something.

“It’s not even details like that,” you told him after class, walking across campus to his dorms. “ Youngjae, when I read that letter, I felt it. It hurt me. It was like I knew this person, but my brain is struggling to remember who he is. It felt real.” You grasped his arm. “I haven’t been in like, some accident and lost my memory, right?”

Youngjae laughed at your comment, some of the tension dissipating. “Of course not, dumbass. As if we would let you.”

…

Another letter was waiting for you on Tuesday. The weekend had flown by with your coursework and your job, but luckily you had managed to complete everything.

You tore open the letter, glancing at the other two in the box on the fridge; two letters you had read over and over again, hoping for some meaning to this. The third letter wasn’t addressed to you by name.

Red.

That was my favourite colour.

The moments until the ice broke between us were so awkward and cliché. You even popped the favourite colour question. I’ve never understood why that question became the standard first when getting to know someone. Can you automatically analyse a person based on their favourite colour?

You told me yours and then asked for mine. I scoffed at you. I didn’t feel like telling you, right? Don’t you remember? I told you, “Guess.” And then I had to endure you following me around and naming random colours. And then you asked me why.

His favourite colour was red. Nothing very special in that. But he was talking to you with such a sense of familiarity, as if the two of you had actually been close once upon a time. There was such…nostalgia in what he said. And he was asking if you remembered? No, Chris, you didn’t.

Red showed me passion. It showed me heat and power and rage: just like the sun. Because I wanted to shine. I wanted my name on billboards and neon signs, spelling it out in fierce red letters. Red reminded me of the deep maroon stain on the carpet in the living room, the stain that you made by dropping a scented liquid candle on it in your first year. Red showed me blood and it reminded me of my heartbeat and how I’m still alive.

You let out a shaky exhale at the words, both awed by the poetry in them and frightened at the fact that there was, in fact, a stain on the carpet in the living room made by you dropping a candle on the floor. This person knows you here, knows you now. And that was scarier than ever. Up until now, you had the chance that he was someone you knew long ago who decided to fuck with you with knowing your grades, had a pull with the coffee shop owner and saw your best friend buying you a painting. But now…the paper crinkled from how tightly you were holding it. This person knows you in this time of your life. He’s been to your apartment and knows how you sleep. And yet…as much as this makes you afraid, you can sense that he’s hurting. He doesn’t mean harm.

Red reminded me of your blush.

Red is no longer my favourite colour. It stopped being so when you walked out the door with your suitcase and your tears. And without my apology.

My favourite colour is grey.

I see nothing but it nowadays. There’s no black or white anymore. It’s only grey. No clear differences, just a mess of confusion. Who was right? Were my actions justified? Were yours? What have you believed in the year you refused to speak to me?

Stagnant. Disinterested. That’s what my life is like without your presence. How did I ever think I could manage without you?

I’m weak. Too weak.

Chris

Against your will, a tear escaped the corner of your eyes.

“Why am I crying?” you mumbled, wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater. Your heart ached; your mind was searching again, searching for a face, an identity, but you were clawing blindly in the dark, only gaps where information should have been.

You and Chris had clearly fought. You walked out with your suitcase and your tears…and that meant you lived together. Was it here? In this apartment? You definitely haven’t had a roommate called Chris. Briefly, you wondered if this was addressed to another Y/N who had lived here with him long before you came, but the details proved otherwise. This person was watching you, here, now.

His life was stagnant without you. Was this person delusional? Crazy? Was your presence just in his head? What did he think of you, exactly? What was the nature of your relationship with him, in his head, at least?

You didn’t know. And if he was insane, you weren’t sure you even wanted to know.

…

Your heart broke at lying to Youngjae. When he asked you if you had any more letters, you shook your head.

“Maybe he’s given up,” you said cheerily, aware of the way Youngjae was observing you.

Well, maybe you should have known that lying to your best friend doesn’t get you very far.

“I’m not pressing you for information, Y/N,” he said gently. “I’m just saying, we’re all here for you. You don’t have to do anything alone.”

…

Your birthday party passed in a haze. It wasn’t really a party, just you and your circle of friends chilling at your apartment, and them emptying your kitchen of food.

Youngjae gifted you a Van Gogh painting. Or, a copy of a Van Gogh painting, you should say. It was clear that both of you remembered Chris’ letter, but you laughed it off, saying that at least Chris didn’t tell you which one it was.

Jisung presented you with a track he had composed for you in his class. He winced, knowing that he was being cheap, but you hugged him gratefully all the same. You would’ve done so even if he hadn’t given you anything. Their presence was enough.

Minho, unfortunately, couldn’t show up, since he had a dance routine due that day, but Yeji showed up, bringing you food that Minho had made the day before, and although it served your friends more than you, you thanked them for it. You blew out a weak candle you had found somewhere in the kitchen while the others sang, your only wish being that you wanted answers to the letters you had been receiving. You cut through a rice cake and stuffed a piece into each of their mouths. And in return, of course, like the great friends they are, shoved a whole rice cake into your mouth and smashed another one on your head.

You didn’t mind. Not too much, at least.

After all, what were friends for?

…

Saturday. You had work in twenty minutes. It was only a five minute walk from your apartment, but you decided to leave early.

You were hardly surprised at a letter on the floor in front of you. It was more of anticipation. Anxiety. Fear. But you picked it up nevertheless.

It was a dull cloudy day that reminded you of the winter that was to come. As much as you were excited about snow days and Christmas, the cold was really a bitch. Ripping the envelope open, you pulled out the letter and began your walk to the coffee shop.

Y/N,

There are fifty thousand things I want to tell you, but nothing more than this: I miss you.

Don’t you remember?

You would force open my door at two in the morning and wallop me with your pillow because I was snoring so loudly that you couldn’t sleep. But hey, you were worse. I remember you one night, yelling in your sleep that you needed a pencil. Were you dreaming about your finals? I don’t know. You had no memory of whatever it was the next morning.

Despite the cold, despite your nerves, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at his words. You’d been told before, that you sometimes talked in your sleep, but couldn’t recall ever yelling for a pencil. No one had told you that, at least. This definitely confirmed that you had shared living space with him, whether as a friend, or as a roommate, or even…a boyfriend? Your eyes ran over three words again: I miss you. And then he asked, don’t you remember?

“I wish I did,” you whispered bitterly. “I really wish I did.”

I still remember the night you found the courage to come to me because it was a terrible thunderstorm and you were scared. I wanted to make fun of you, but the look on your face stopped me. I’m glad I didn’t. That night you began to trust me. We stayed up all night through that storm, do you remember anything? There was the loudest clap of thunder and the power went out. Neither of us said it, but I knew we were afraid. We sat there on the sofa in silence, in the dark, until you suddenly spoke: “Please tell me we’re not going to die.” And I started laughing. And that was all. The ice was broken.

“Oh.” You were probably just roommates. That night you began to trust me. “Wait, what am I saying?” you questioned yourself. “I’ve never had a roommate called Chris. Why am I acting like I do?” You smacked the side of your head. “Snap out of it.”

But even still, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you did know him.

But I never got around to telling you it. When the thunder died away, I forgot that there might be more storms to come. I never told you we weren’t going to die. And now I think that I’m going back on that promise I never made.

I can see those thunderclouds again, Y/N. I hate this. I hate my life. I hate a life without you.

Chris

You were outside the shop now. You swallowed your emotions down, taking a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. Calm down, Y/N. It’s just some deranged psycho writing letters to someone he thinks he knows. Relax. You don’t know him.

Seungmin, another barista, waved to you as you entered. You returned the gesture, stowing your jacket away and putting on your apron.

“You okay? You look sick,” he commented as you washed your hands.

“Just the cold, I’m okay.” You glanced at the your flyer pinned to the bulletin board across the room. Seungmin noticed where your eyes were.

“Oh, by the way,” he continued, gesturing to the ad, “you know my friend Hyunjin, right?” You nodded. “He’s kinda looking for a place to stay.”

Intrigued, you perked up your ears. “Yeah? Tell him to call me.”

“Are animals allowed?”

“No. My landlord is pretty strict about that.”

“Ah.” His shoulders slumped. “Never mind, then. Hyunjin won’t leave his dog behind.”

You smiled gently, recalling the time Hyunjin had brought his little black and white puppy into the coffee shop for about fifteen minutes before the manager saw and threw them out. “It’ll work out somehow. He’ll find a place.”

“Hm. I guess so.”

The ringing of the bell indicated someone had just walked in. Taking a glance at the door, you smirked. “I think you should take this order, Seungminnie. I’ll be out back.”

Seungmin looked up from where he was trying to solve the crossword (which he simply never can) and saw Jeongin, a freshman that he had been long crushing on. He threw you a dirty look that didn’t hide his blush and reluctantly moved to the counter to take the kid’s order—hopefully without making himself look like a fool.

You busied yourself in the kitchen, making way for the deliverers bringing the day’s pastries. Half your mind was on the letter and every time you thought about it, a weight pressed down on your chest. It was a horrible feeling. You couldn’t wait to get to the bottom of this. None of the others knew you had been receiving more letters. Youngjae probably sensed that you had, but you weren’t about to involve him in it. This felt too personal to share with even him.

You sighed. This entire ordeal was eating you alive and you felt helpless in it.

…

There was no letter the next week. Chris seemed to have finally fallen silent. And you didn’t want to admit how attached you had already gotten, from just four letters. It was a sort of feeling you couldn’t control. You wanted to be scared, you wanted to burn the letters and pretend they never existed, but something warned you not to. Something told you that you might need them, sooner or later.

He took up most of your time; most of the thoughts in your brain had something to do with him. You wondered what he might look like, what kind of person he was. There was a lot about you in the letters, but precious little about him. He was observant. He was lyrical. Poetic. Emotional. Ambitious. What did he like to do? What was his passion? What relationship did he think the two of you had? You couldn’t help but wonder.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you sometimes addressed him when you talked to yourself around the apartment. For you, he was associated with only you, only these rooms. Maybe that was one reason you didn’t share this with the others. Chris seemed to belong to only you. Only known to you. And at some point, you would begin to feel like you only belonged to him. Whoever he was. You wished you only knew.

…

The next Saturday was a work day for you. There was no letter in front of your door when you left, but when you returned after a hectic day and rude customers, just wishing for peace, you were surprised to see an envelope with familiar writing scrawled across it. Snatching it up immediately, you dashed inside to read it.

Y/N,

Do you remember the first time you spoke to me about your parents? It was so sudden. I didn’t know what brought it on. One moment you were busy around the kitchen and the next you were on the floor crying. The only thing that I could understand was that they had called, your mother said something and you were upset.

You went into a pathetic rant about how your parents had locked you in the four walls of your home, not bothering to listen to you, emotionally abusing you because they wouldn’t listen to you about your stress. I honestly didn’t know what to do. I could only hold you as you cried your heart out on my shirt.

Your breath hitched.

This…this was real. This was too real. That was exactly how you felt. Even you couldn’t have organized your thoughts so well. How does Chris know me so well? Who are you? Already tears were forming at the corner of your eye at the emotion you felt from reading those sentences about your parents.

Would you believe it if I saw you as cold and distant until that day? We were always civil, but you seemed shut off, closed to me. I know that you didn’t mean it. I realized that you were scared to open up. I can understand how hurt you must have been when your parents refused to care.

I can only say the same thing that I said then: They may never understand you, they may never accept you, but it doesn’t matter. There is enough love in the world that you are not at all restricted to seeking support from your family. That’s why humans can pack bond. There are people who know what you’re going through, and if there isn’t anyone else, I will be here. I always will.

You choked back a sob. Whatever your rational brain said, you knew that Chris wasn’t out to hurt you. It was as if he knew what you were going through, and wanted to reassure you despite you not knowing him. You were grateful for that, regardless.

Is it weird? Is it awkward that you know me but at the same time you don’t? Will you not be suspicious when you see me? I don’t even know if you will. I don’t know if I’ve messed things up by writing this. But even if I have, it’s okay. If it means that you’ll be alive, then I’ll be okay not having you as a friend. Even if we’re awkward and don’t get closer, it’s okay. I’m scared of what will happen if we do. I’m scared of getting stuck in this vicious cycle. It’s better if you stay away and survive than get to know me and ruin your life.

Chris

Wait. Wait. Let’s try that again.

Is it awkward that you know me but at the same time you don’t? Yes. It is awkward, Chris. Am I living in some parallel dimension where I don’t know you but you’re living in the other side where I do know you?

Will you not be suspicious when you see me? When, you noticed. Not if. You paused, staring at the paper in your hands. When I see him? So you were right? You’ve never seen him? Or at least, you haven’t seen him recently? Yes, Chris, it will be suspicious. If I ever do see you, you better have some answers. How do you know all this when we haven’t met?

I don’t even know if you will. I don’t know if I’ve messed things up by writing this. Okay, now he doesn’t know if I will see him. What does he mean by messed things up? What has he messed up other than my sanity?

But even if I have, it’s okay. If it means that you’ll be alive, then I’ll be okay not having you as a friend. You noticed that your fingers were trembling. You tried to calm yourself, to understand what he was trying to say. Even if he has messed things up, it’s okay. He will be okay not having me as a friend if it means I will be…alive? Am I not alive? Your parallel universe explanation popped up again. Am I not alive in his dimension? What?

Even if we’re awkward and don’t get closer, it’s okay. I’m scared of what will happen if we do. So he thinks we’re friends? And he’s scared about my life if I’m his friend? Is he a gangster or mafia leader or something? He’s okay with us not getting closer?

I’m scared of getting stuck in this vicious cycle. Vicious cycle. What cycle? You ran those words through your head, over and over again, trying to make sense of it. They sounded oddly familiar, but you just couldn’t place it. You felt like they were associated with Youngjae, for some reason. But why?

It’s better if you stay away and survive than get to know me and ruin your life. So he’s scared that I’d ruin my life if I got closer to him. And yet, you could almost hear the undertones in that sentence. The bitterness. He wanted to be close to you, desperately. But he was too scared to.

“Why do you have to be so fucking cryptic, Chris?” you mumbled.

You shook your head. You still had no idea what was going on.

…

That afternoon, Minho and Jisung came over to your place without any prior warning. You raised your eyebrows at them when you saw them shivering on your doorstep, backpacks on. They pushed past you into your living room and relished the warmth with loud exclamations of relief.

“Can I help you?” you asked, knowing your idea of peace was shattered. You closed the door before the cold could get in and make things worse.

“ Youngjae hyung kicked us out,” Jisung said, pouting. “He has a math test on Monday and he said he would fail if we kept disturbing him.”

You remembered telling Youngjae so many times to think again before taking math, but then, each to his own. “And you couldn’t stay in your room because…”

“Felix has his boyfriend over,” he explained. “And I’m not particularly fond of watching.”

“So we thought you’d be the best option.” Minho pulled his jacket off and tossed it onto the sofa before trudging to the kitchen.

“What makes you think I’m okay with watching you two?” you retorted, following Minho. You could already hear Jisung turning his laptop on, probably to play a game or watch a movie.

“You’ve been okay with it for seven years now,” Minho shot back, opening the fridge and closing it again in dismay. “You don’t really have much choice.” He stood on his tiptoes to grab at the box on top of the fridge, and you snatched it away in horror.

“What are you looking for?” you snapped, cradling the box in your arms. “You know you can just ask.”

“Don’t you have, like, real food?” He opened the cupboards and, finding a box of pretzels, turned to you in disgust. “Seriously?”

“You don’t have to eat it, you know.”

“Nah, I will. Food is food.” He reached into his backpack, brought out a packet of unpopped popcorn and set it on the counter. “Pop this, will you?” He gathered up the pretzels and the cereal box he found and walked out. You carefully set the box back on the fridge and let out a groan of frustration.

You reluctantly shoved the packet into the microwave and stared at it, still enjoying the ‘pop’ sounds it made. Your mind drifted back to the box on the fridge. You had to admit, you thought about this mysterious Chris more often than you liked.

“Who are you, Chris?” you muttered, eyes still on the spinning paper, your words drowned out by the noise. “Where are you?”

You found Minho and Jisung curled up on the sofa, intently watching what you assumed to be a movie. Plopping down on it and carefully setting the popcorn on the table, you peered around Minho at the screen. You were surprised to see that the movie was over halfway done.

“How did you guys watch it this far so fast?” you questioned, settling back into the cushions.

Without even taking his eyes off the screen, Jisung replied, “We were watching this at the dorm when hyung kicked us out.”

Nice. “What are you watching?”

“The Lake House.”

Not very helpful. “What’s it about?”

As Jisung opened his mouth to answer, Minho reached over and slammed the space bar, pausing the movie. Obviously he was irritated at the interruptions. Jisung held his hand to calm him down.

“It’s like this time-travel thing,” Jisung began, but Minho cut him off, choosing to explain in his quick, no-nonsense way.

“A house by the lake. Two people accidentally corresponding by writing letters but they’re actually two years apart in time.” He shrugged. “So things that she,” he pointed at the screen, “writes about haven’t actually happened for him, because he’s two years in the past. It’s trippy. Watch it sometime.”

“Ah.” You nodded and they resumed the film. You tuned out the dialogue from the laptop, mulling over what Minho and Jisung had just said. Corresponding by writing letters. Things that she writes haven’t happened for him because he’s in the past…

Time travel.

You sat up, the significance of that concept weighing heavily down on you.

The sound shut off once again. “You…okay?” Minho asked uncertainly.

You didn’t know how to respond for a moment. You barely heard him, blood pounding in your ears. All that was in your mind were the letters and Jisung’s voice: It’s like this time travel thing. You swallowed the revelation and the sheer possibility down.

“Yeah,” you gasped, “I just….” You stopped, the rest of the sentence dissipating into thin air.

Vicious cycle.

Those were words from your textbook.

You could still remember your professor lecturing your class on the beliefs that humans have had over the years. There was even a story, a legend, a myth, about time travellers. The class had erupted at that, referencing old pictures of people that bore eerie similarities to people living now. Social media made fun of them, calling them immortals and time-travellers. The story in your book spoke of a person who kept trying to change the past and alter the future and ended up going in circles with no result. Moral: don’t mess with things beyond human comprehension.

Vicious cycle.

“Y/N?” Jisung’s concerned voice broke you out of your thoughts. “Are you okay?”

You looked over at them, your eyes blown wide. Worry was etched on their faces. You forced a smile.

“Yeah, I just…I just remembered I have a paper due Monday.”

They laughed at your shock, and when you gestured to them that you’d be in your room doing that, they waved you away, calling out their thanks for letting them stay. You nodded absently, quietly padding to the kitchen and retrieving the letters from the box. Five of them in all.

The boys were immersed in their movie and didn’t even notice you slipping away into your room. You locked the door, finally allowing yourself to breathe.

You looked at the letters with a shaking heart. Was that what was happening? You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t want to believe it. You sat down on your bed, taking out the first letter and scanning through it. You put the idea into your head.

Time travel.

Could it be true?

Maybe it was. It would make a lot more sense with regard to the letters.

That’s how he knew, you thought. If he was your future roommate, he would know how you slept. He would be around you enough to notice how you smiled and that you chewed your lip when you were anxious. He would know that you recently got a raise and an A once in your class. He would know that the painting that hung on the living room wall was one that your friend gave you for your birthday. He would know that the stain on the carpet was your fault—and a candle’s. You could almost see yourself telling him all that.

It would explain how he knew you sometimes talked in your sleep and got scared of thunderstorms. He would know about your feelings towards your parents. Of course he would.

I realize you must be confused now, but I promise you that you’ll understand. You did. At least, you hoped you did. If that was even possible. You couldn’t see how time travel existed, but what other explanation could you give this?

It’s difficult. It’s like talking to a person with amnesia. You saw how it would be. If this was indeed future Chris writing letters to past you that didn’t know him yet…you understood how it would be difficult. There are things that I can’t say. But you’re smart. You’ll figure it out eventually. Have you? Have you figured it out?

It would explain why he said you had attended his sister’s wedding when you knew for sure that you hadn’t—yet. It would explain his anguish at the fight you were to have. His pain was contained in all of the letters you had received so far. Was the fight that bad? You couldn’t help but wonder what it would be about. Evidently it split the two of you—or, it would split you beyond repair. Chris was clearly hurting very much without you.

I never told you we weren’t going to die. And now I think that I’m going back on that promise I never made. This line still spooked you. Was he dying? Were you dying? What was going on? If he was really from the future, what was happening there that had him contact the past? Did he think he could change it?

Today’s letter made much more sense.

I don’t know if I’ve messed things up by writing this. But even if I have, it’s okay. If it means that you’ll be alive, then I’ll be okay not having you as a friend. Even if we’re awkward and don’t get closer, it’s okay. I’m scared of what will happen if we do. I’m scared of getting stuck in this vicious cycle.

He wanted to change the past? In a way that didn’t involve the two of you anymore? Wait. So, in his past, the two of you had evidently been quite close, as friends? more than friends? you didn’t know. But because of that, your fight had been severely worse? And that led to the fight breaking you up for good? And now, he couldn’t handle it, and he wanted to change the past so you didn’t become close, you didn’t fight and nobody got hurt? Was that it?

You rested your head against the wall, stunned by the turn of events. What was going on? What was happening?

…

Your two-week winter break had you bidding Youngjae, Jisung and Yeji goodbye and sent them off home on the train. Minho’s family had gone to Japan to visit friends, and besides, he had his dance performance to think about. He confessed to you that he would much rather stay at the campus than waste his time in Japan seeing people he couldn’t care less about. Rather than be stuck in an empty dorm for the week, he decided to move in with you briefly, helping out at the coffee shop when he wasn’t practicing. You were grateful for his presence. Alone, he never got on your nerves. And he could cook better than you could.

“Why not stay at Jisung’s place for the holidays?” you asked him one evening in the kitchen.

“I didn’t want to intrude.” He sighed, pushing his glasses up with the back of his hand. “Jisung deserves some time alone with his family.” He cleanly chopped up an onion and tossed it into the pot simmering on the stove. “Don’t ask about me when you haven’t gone either.”

You threw a piece of pepper at him, which he caught and ate. “I hate travelling in the cold. That’s all. You know that.”

“I do know that. And you would have been very lonely.”

“Aww, you stayed for me?”

“Shut up and cut the vegetables. I can still leave, you know.”

“I know.”

…

Two nights later, you received a text from Jisung.

you seduced my man to move in with you huh I see how it is

You rolled your eyes. as if. he was begging me to let him stay

Jisung’s reply was quick. whatever that’s not what I wanted to tell you

okay what is it

felix has new neighbours and theor son is joining the university for the next sem and he doestn have a place to stay so

You raised your eyebrows. This was news. oh okay then ask him to call me then

okay I will I wasn’t sure I shud be giving ppl your number without telling you

You smiled. Jisung was considerate after all. thnx sungie

You had just placed the phone down when the thought occurred to you. A thought that had been haunting you a while ago. Chris was apparently your roommate at some point in the future. Was this person…Chris? You tapped out another message for Jisung. wait sungie whts the guys name

idk lemme ask felix hold on

You waited impatiently, anticipating (or dreading?) the reveal of the person’s name. You became alert when Jisung started typing.

flix doesn’t know hes asking his mom wait a sec

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Really? Does it have to have so much suspense? But what if it was Chris? What were you going to do? Were you going to tell Jisung not to give him your number? Or were you going to let Chris into your life anyway, despite all the warnings? The ‘ping’ of your phone startled you.

his names chan smthg

You relaxed. Oh. Well then. It wasn’t Chris. That decided things for you, then.

okay give him my number then

will do

You shut off your phone screen and lay back onto your pillows. Maybe Chris was right. Maybe by sending you the letters, he had changed time and now he wasn’t the person being your roommate. If the letters hadn’t been sent, would Chris be the one ready to call you?

That’s not how time works, you thought. No one is told what would have happened.

But you sure wished you were.

…

The next letter arrived in the morning, when Minho stepped outside the house to buy some breakfast. He didn’t think about picking it up, just shouting ‘you’ve got mail’ into the apartment before continuing on his way to the store.

You dashed to the front door and snatched it up, tearing it open once in your room. You had to know. Maybe he would finally crack and tell the truth instead of hiding things in code.

Y/N,

I’ve never seen darkness like this.

I saw you again today—on the train back to Seoul. Where had you gone? I pretend like I don’t care, but I do. Deep down, you know I do, right? Honestly, I’m so tired of this. I’m tired of this existence. Why are we even fighting anymore? I know that you’ve forgiven me—you told my sister at her wedding. I want to forget it, too. I’m just too anxious to face you.

You couldn’t help but feel like your suspicions were true. Back to Seoul. Where had you gone? Maybe back home? Where had Chris gone, if he was on the same train? From what he said, both of you wanted to patch up the fight but didn’t have the guts to?

Did you see me? I felt like you did. Your eyes ran over me as if I didn’t exist, but I felt even more broken than I already am. Is this just a stand or do you really hate me now? Do you really not want to see me anymore? I don’t blame you.

I could have spoken to you. I could have stopped this feud but I’m a coward.

Maybe you did see him. You could feel the ache in your heart as usual, but this stung a lot more, for some reason. Is this just a stand or do you really hate me now? I don’t blame you.

“I don’t hate you, Chris,” you whispered.

You were sitting by the window, like you always do, wearing that sweater your mother bought you years ago, the one you thought was silly because it was orange and green. I agreed with whatever you said about it because I didn’t know colour schemes very well. But what I never said was that it looked good on you.

“Sap,” you muttered, laughing under your breath. “Of course you would think that stupid sweater looks good on me.” The sweater in question was tucked deep in your wardrobe. It hadn’t seen the light since you first moved in. You wondered how Chris would know about it.

I realized again that you’re so beautiful. I used to have a crush on you, you know? Back in the year we first met. You were such an odd character. You never did what you didn’t want to and you said what you meant. You were never good at hiding your emotions. You closed off a lot—I understand it was because of your parents—but I’m glad you finally opened up. I wish I were half as good at expressing myself. Y/N, can you promise me one thing? Even if after all this, I still show up at your apartment, even if we still become friends, even if we do fight, could you knock some sense into me?

My life is despicable and worthless without you. I’ve hurt you so much. But I can die in peace knowing that I’ve spent a year in your company. Even after I’ve wasted away, keep smiling.

Chris

You couldn’t help the tears that escaped your eyes. Why was it that you felt such raw pain from these that you had to cry?

He used to have a crush on you. So that confirmed it, didn’t it? You were only friends. You could hardly imagine the depth of that friendship to end up like this from a fight. In your books, only one thing could break you apart from a relationship: betrayal of trust. Was that what happened? Or, what would happen?

You were such an odd character. You never did what you didn’t want to and you said what you meant. You were never good at hiding your emotions. True. Perfectly true.

Y/N, can you promise me one thing? Even if after all this, I still show up at your apartment, even if we still become friends, even if we do fight, could you knock some sense into me?

If you show up, you thought. But you’re not going to…right? Chan is. But you couldn’t tell anything. Maybe Chan wouldn’t last very long. Maybe the person to come after Chan was this Chris. But you were too weak.

“I promise, Chris.” You closed your eyes.

Even after I’ve wasted away, keep smiling.

You did.

…

Monday came around again. But this time, you didn’t particularly hate it. It was the day after Christmas. Still the holidays. Classes wouldn’t start up until the next week.

Minho idled on the sofa, using his laptop, headphones around his neck, a true picture of professionalism. He could be doing anything for all you cared. Seated at the dining table, you were busy typing out an essay due for your anthropology class when break was over. Little by little each day. You simply forced yourself to not procrastinate until Saturday.

Your phone vibrated. An unknown number was calling. You picked up.

“Hello?”

A voice you were not familiar with spoke. “Is this Y/N?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Yes. Can I help you?”

“I was, um, calling to ask about the opening for a roommate?” the male voice answered hesitantly. Thick accent.

“Oh! Are you Felix’s neighbour? Chan…something?”

“Yes, I am!” he sounded relieved. “Bang Chan. But you can just call me Chan.”

You scribbled his name down on your notepad. “I suppose you’d like to see the apartment?”

“Yes, I would, um…” A pause. “When could I come over?”

“Um…” You thought about it. Youngjae and Jisung would be back on Wednesday and Minho would clear the area by then. “Is Friday okay? I assume you will be starting your classes on Monday?”

You heard the rustling of paper. “Yeah. Yeah, I am starting on Monday. Friday’s cool. Um, what—what time?”

“Any time is fine. I’m free all day on Friday.” You wrote down Friday on the paper. “We can talk about splitting the rent then.”

“Rent won’t be a problem,” Chan replied. You raised your eyebrows. Rich, huh?

“Very well. I guess I’ll see you on Friday.” You noticed Minho looking over at you. You rolled your eyes. “Take care. Bye.” You hung up the call, feeling like this Chan was someone you weren’t going to get along well with.

“What’s up?” Minho asked.

“Candidate for roommate,” you told him, setting down you phone and turning back to your essay. “Mister Bang Chan.”

“Ah. You got me safely out of the way first, huh?”

You winked at him cheekily. “Of course. The number one spot goes to you. I didn’t want him to feel incompetent.”

…

The next day, Minho packed his bags and left. You were sad to see him go, but you knew he had work to do. Youngjae was coming back tomorrow, and he would most definitely have a heart attack if he saw their dorm room in the state that Minho had left it in.

And speaking of work, you had enough as well.

Your essay was halfway done and you stepped outside the flat to take a break, get some fresh air, maybe get a coffee or hot cocoa or something. But of course, fate had it in for you.

You sighed at the all too familiar handwriting lying on your doorstep and brought it inside, opting to read it before going out. It would make you upset for sure, why not get it over with and then grab some coffee?

You slit the envelope open. The first thing you noticed was that handwriting was different. Shaky, almost.

Y/N,

You’re not going crazy, I’ll tell you that. I am.

I heard the news today. I couldn’t believe it at first, I was in shock. But it’s true. It happened.

Had you really been drinking? That’s what they say, the police and the doctors. That’s what they reported in the paper.

I still can’t believe you’re gone.

Wait, what? What do you mean, I’m gone? Your heartbeat picked up tempo.

Was it just a car accident? Or was it suicide? Why had you been drinking? I don’t understand anything. My world is slowly spiralling into darkness and these letters are my only hope. My one chance, the only chance.

The words spun around your head. Car accident? Suicide? Drinking? These letters are my only hope. The only chance.

I haven’t spoken to you in almost a year, but it was comforting to know that at least you were alive and breathing the same air that I was. But now you’re gone and I can’t breathe anymore. I’m trying to grasp what happened and I’m trying to convince myself that it couldn’t possibly be true. But it is.

Reading all these letters, I know you might have understood what’s going on by now. You were always so smart. I’ve put the newspaper cutting in the envelope. I don’t know if you can see it or if I’m breaking the law.

Don’t ever drink and drive. Promise me.

Chris

You stayed motionless, just standing there in front of the sofa, clutching the letter in your hand. Did…did you die? Your fingers fumbled around for the envelope, shaking it open. A piece of paper slid into your palm. The envelope fell silently to the floor.

Your face was staring back up at you.

You didn’t dare to read it, but some phrases registered in your memory before you could turn away. Killed in a car accident. Drunk driving. Research assistant. Road safety. Enquiry. And your name.

You shuddered, sinking onto the sofa, world swaying under your feet. Your hands were shaking badly and you squeezed them together, trying to release some of the tension. You were in shock. This proved everything. He was trying to contact you from the future.

“Oh my gosh,” you finally broke, burying your face in your hands.

So this was it. This was the reason he was writing to you. I don’t know if you can see it or if I’m breaking the law. Of course, the laws of nature. Don’t meddle with time. He thought he could have prevented your death? If only you two weren’t fighting?

Don’t ever drink and drive. Promise me.

Perhaps.

Maybe things had changed.

Chan was coming over on Friday after all. Maybe he should stay.

…

Wednesday saw Youngjae and Jisung stopping by your place with food that their parents had sent along for you. Thanking them profusely, you stored the dishes carefully away in the refrigerator. Since Minho had gone, you knew you would be facing a shortage of food. You wondered how well Chan could cook, if he could at all.

“Missed us?” Jisung asked, launching himself at you in a tight hug. You laughed, patting his head.

“Of course I did, Sungie,” you murmured fondly into his hair. He could be such a pain sometimes, but only when he was gone did you realize how much you all depended on him to keep the mood light. “My sunshine baby.”

“Aishh, stop it!” he whined, pulling away from you. “I’m not a baby.”

You giggled, ruffling his hair. “You’ll always be my baby.”

Youngjae engulfed you in his arms, rocking back and forth. “Your parents are a tiny bit mad that you didn’t come home, you know.”

You squirmed out of his hold. “I guessed. I just didn’t feel like visiting at the moment.”

He squeezed your shoulder comfortingly. “I know, Y/N. I know.” Briefly you considered telling him about the letters and your conclusion, but you thought it might sound rather far-fetched for rational Youngjae. Especially after what happened yesterday.

“Hey, did that guy ever call you?” Jisung interrupted, stealing a carrot from your fridge and gnawing at it. You pursed your lips.

“He did.”

“Who are we talking about?” Youngjae was confused.

“Felix’s new neighbour’s son is attending uni here and he called asking if he could check out the apartment.”

“Oh. Hm.” He seemed wary about this new person. “When is he coming? Or did he already?”

“Friday,” you told them. “So I don’t want any of you near this place, you hear? I’m keeping it spick and span. You are not ruining this for me.”

Jisung pouted, the food in his cheeks only making him look cuter. Youngjae put his hands up in surrender. “Understood.”

…

By the end of the night, the apartment was relatively tidy. At least, clean enough for a college student. You hoped Chan wouldn’t mind too much.

Thursday morning was cold. Just. That’s all that came into your mind when you woke up. Stretching around on your bed, instead of relief, you were hit with the strangest sense of foreboding. Something…you didn’t know what, but something told you there was a letter today. You jumped out of bed and raced to the front door.

You heart stuttered when you saw the envelope, addressed to you in his handwriting.

Y/N,

Today was the funeral. I couldn’t bear to see you. I waited until the coffin was lowered to come near the vicinity.

The funeral. Your funeral. You felt odd inside, reading about your own funeral, but felt even worse at Chris’ plight. He couldn’t bear to see you.

Your parents are devastated. Can you blame them? You left them around seven months ago and you haven’t spoken to them since, have you? I don’t know what to feel. I can only pity them but I feel so helpless inside, so guilty, like I could have prevented all this.

You left your parents seven months ago? And didn’t speak to them after that? You placed a palm over your heart. Why? Did you fight with them, too? You couldn’t imagine the pain that must have caused. To not even say a good word to each other before you died? Chris felt guilty. Could he have prevented this?

Today I thought a lot about the first time we met. Do you remember? You heard my name and went into a rant about some letters I had apparently written to you. I had no idea what you were going on about, but now, I realize it must have been these. I asked you to show me those letters, but you said you had thrown them away. Have we been stuck in that cycle forever?

Your eyes darted to the box safely on the fridge. No wonder you had felt the urge to throw them away. Time was wired that way! In Chris’ past, you had thrown them away and when he showed up, you had gone off on him about the letters. But since he hadn’t written them yet, he had no clue what you were talking about.

Vicious cycle.

It made sense now.

I saw your friends today. They say you were celebrating one of their promotions, and that you refused to go home with them. You had become reckless, they said. Ever since… They didn’t say anything about…us. They didn’t need to. I could see it in their eyes, the blame piercing into my heart. This is all my fault.

My friends? Did he mean Youngjae? And Jisung? Minho? Yeji? They blamed Chris? And Chris blamed himself for your recklessness? He thought that if you hadn’t fought, you wouldn’t have attempted to drink and drive? You wouldn’t have attempted….suicide?

Couldn’t I have stopped this? If only I had tried a little harder, if only we both had made a little more time...Wouldn’t things have changed?

I can’t breathe. There’s nothing but darkness in front of me now. There’s this horrible weight pressing down on my chest.

“But what did you do, Chris?” You couldn’t help but ask. “What did you do that was so unforgivable that I killed myself over it?”

Y/N, by the time you finish reading this, I will be dead.

You gasped, clapping a hand over your mouth. No. No, no, no!

I know I’ve never said it to you very often, but you mean so much to me. I’m sorry that I let things come to this.

I’ve hurt you in the worst possible ways. But didn’t we deserve a chance? Just one more chance? Just one more chance and we could make it, couldn’t we?

I don’t deserve you and you don’t deserve anything I’ve given you. Even if I don’t deserve a chance, you do.

“You do deserve a chance, Chris,” you choked out, openly crying now. “You deserve everything.”

I can’t do anything but this. I don’t know how many forces of nature I’m breaking to get these letters to you. Everything is in your hands now, along with this letter.

I’m dying, Y/N.

I’m dying now because I can’t live without your presence. I’m dying now because my presence killed you.

I’m dying now to save you.

To save us.

Chris.

Your blurry eyes fixed on the full stop after his name. He never did that before. You knew why he did it now. He was done. No more letters. This was it.

You clutched the paper to your chest, legs giving way, sinking to the floor with your back against the door, sobbing uncontrollably. You didn’t know him, but you felt it deep in your heart. In your soul. You felt just as you would if one of your gang had committed suicide. Y/N, by the time you finish reading this, I will be dead. And the oddest part? That weight on your chest had gotten heavier, but now you felt empty. He really was gone. You were the past, and he had destroyed the future. Everything is in your hands now, along with this letter.

You cried until you had no tears left.

You cried until your head spun from dehydration.

But in the end, against the cold door, you calmed yourself.

He’s alive. It was his future self that had died. This was the past. Or now, the present. He was most certainly alive.

You didn’t know where he was. Where he would come from. But hopefully, your paths would cross some way or other. At least, they would pass close by. You would find him. Whatever the cost, you would find him. Just to observe him from afar. Just to know if he was safe.

You swallowed thickly, rubbing the dried tear tracks off your face.

You would find him.

Sooner or later, he would come to you.

…

By the time the sun came up on Friday morning, you had composed yourself. Or at least, until Chan came and left. The apartment was pretty presentable, from your point of view.

You half-hoped Chan didn’t like it, so there would be a chance that Chris would show up. But then again, would that be playing right into the cycle you were trapped in? What if Chris coming to you ended up in misery whichever way the tape played? Maybe you should just keep him away and let Chan be your roommate.

You tugged at your hair in frustration.

When the time comes, I’ll know what to do.

Someone knocked twice on the door.

You immediately panicked. Fuck.

You cleared your throat, letting out steady breaths.

Cautiously, you opened the door.

A pale-faced (you didn’t think it was from nerves) young man stood on your doorstep. At first glance he was quite ordinary. Dark brown hair, plaid button-up over a white tee, under a black overcoat. Jeans. He looked like any other college student. He had the type of face you could certainly get used to seeing. Seeing you, the corners of his mouth turned up in the sort of forced awkward ‘first meeting’ smile reserved for situations like this.

You returned the smile. “Chan, right?” you confirmed.

He nodded. “That’s me.”

You opened the door wider for him to enter, shivering slightly at the draft sneaking inside, and shut the door as soon as he came in. You noticed that he had been careful to shake the snow off his shoes before he stepped inside.

Considerate, you thought. Time to get to business.

“Nice to meet you, Chan,” you welcomed him, extending a hand. “Y/N.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He took your hand and both of you gasped at the shock that travelled through your forearms, jerking apart at once. He laughed nervously. “Weather does that sometimes, aye? The shocks.” He stuck his hand out to try again. This time you were able to shake it properly. “It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

You nodded and as you drew apart, you didn’t bother to tell him that summer storm weather caused the shocks. Not winter. It didn’t matter anyway.

“You can hang up your jacket there,” you offered, gesturing to the hatrack in the corner. He obeyed after a moment’s hesitation. You noticed his physique as he shrugged his jacket off. “Um,” you weren’t sure how to go about a tour. “You can look around, I suppose. Take your time.” You pointed to the kitchen. “I’ll be here.”

He gave you a thumbs-up that he seemed to instantly regret. Turning away, you watched as his figure disappeared down the hall into the spare bedroom.

You sighed, planting your hands on the kitchen counter. You didn’t know what to do. Despite your curiosity about Chris, you figured that it probably wasn’t smart to risk both of your lives by insisting that Chris live here.

After all, he had said himself that he might have messed things up. That he might have changed his past. Your present. Chris might be anywhere. He could be a world away. He could be down the street. Maybe it was safer that way. You technically didn't know him, anyway. You only thought you did because of the letters. You didn’t know what he looked like, his personality, his past. You didn’t know how he would treat you. And what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you.

Maybe you should just let it all go. Chris is probably safe now. Sooner or later, you would forget about him. Why not sooner? You raised your eyes to the box on the fridge. One day, you wouldn’t need them anymore. One day, you would be fine with throwing them out, with burning the memories that wouldn’t exist because the past was changed. But until then…you would wait.

“It’s a nice place.”

You were so deep in your thoughts that you hadn’t heard Chan enter the kitchen. His eyes roamed the small room, a dopey smile on his face.

You allowed your expression to soften.

“You look upset,” Chan observed. “Is something wrong?”

Yes, something was wrong. But how do you tell this beautiful stranger your story? Where to begin? You shook your head. “You know how time breaks friends apart?”

He winced. “Only too well.”

The two of you stood there in silence, his gaze trying to reassure you. You didn’t need to say anything at all. He understood. Maybe you could get used to having him around. Maybe Chris was right. Maybe staying away was the best decision.

“So,” you broke the silence. “You like the apartment?”

He nodded. “I really do. But…um, how far is the university from here?”

You shrugged. “Fifteen minutes or so. There are buses from here direct to uni.”

“I have a car,” he informed you. “Hey, I could drive you there. We could go together.”

You felt warmth in your chest despite the cold weather. “We’ll see.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’ll bring my stuff over tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

He teetered on the edge of speech but then turned away as if to leave the kitchen. But then he stopped. “You’re—from abroad, right?”

“I am.” You tapped your fingers on the counter. “Aren’t you, too? You have an accent.”

“Yep.” He pressed his lips together. “You can call me by my English name, you know. If it’s more comfortable with you. Chan is my Korean name.”

In hindsight, you had no clue what you walked into, no idea where things were going.

“But I don’t know your English name?” your voice carried a questioning lilt. “Felix didn’t mention…”

In hindsight, you were ashamed that you didn’t consider the possibility.

In hindsight, you should have known better.

He smiled broadly.

“Chris.”

The smile fell off of your lips at once. And so did his.

Chris.

Suddenly the name was all you could hear over the blood throbbing in your veins.

Chris.

And all you could see was the name, scrawled on the bottom corner of paper in handwriting that you had become all too accustomed too.

Chris.

You heard him too well.

I’m dying, Y/N.

I’m dying now to save you.

To save us.

His expression morphed to one of confusion. “Um. Y/N? Is…Is there something wrong?”

You turned your face away, so he wouldn’t see the droplets running down your cheek.

“No,” you breathed out, trying to keep your voice steady.

Even after I’ve wasted away, keep smiling.

Despite your suffocation, through your tears, your lips curved upwards.

“Not at all.”

…

fin.

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