#he doesn’t really allow it to either. subconsciously. i think the fire always burns and it’s just a matter of whether

[cno-inbminor]

idek sighs -- heed the warnings

domestic bliss + soft to hard dom!akaashi with a senpai kink, dirty talk, praising, some degradation, dumbification/mind break, fingering, unprotected sex, slight size kink if you squint, creampie.

unedited. ~1.7k. i love akaashi, what’s new

akaashi has a crazy schedule sometimes, especially when new seasons are coming around and everyone's absolutely scrambling. it's full of headaches he knew were coming but didn't really want, lots of keeping up with artists and making sure they're still motivated and passionate -- sometimes, he's worried that you'll forget how much he loves you, how his motivation to get his work done asap is so he can come home to you and pass out in your arms, how he might not be showing you all the love and affection in the world but,,

more often than not, he can come home at a reasonable time. you might be cooped up in bed or hunched over your desk, but there's always either takeout or leftovers wrapped up for him in the microwave. he gets to eat while you chat with him across the table with a cup of tea or lemon water, never failing to wrap an arm around your waist when you stand to put his dishes in the sink and tilting his head up as far as he can to lay a thankful peck on your cheek. but most of all, he gets to shower with you.

showers are comfort zones for minds like his, able to tune in to the constant beating of water against the tiles. there's no rush for him to get anywhere (unless he's at forseeable danger of falling asleep and cracking his head open), and more importantly, you're there with him. you two get to stand as close as possible under the shower stream so the stream hits you both (he angles the shower head a little bit more in your direction though). often times, he wraps his limbs around your waist and basks in the feeling of your skin against his, warmth and steam clouding the bathroom. akaashi can take his sweet time laying gentle kisses and nips along your shoulder and neck or staring affectionately into your eyes, no need to ever say anything. adoration, gratitude, disbelief, domestic bliss, all melded together into shining blue orbs. other times, he cradles your neck with his pretty hands and languidly kisses you, sometimes pressing with more force as he focuses on just how soft your lips are, how sensual the glide is and burns his nerves, how lucky he is to give his heart to an angel like you.

he loves you so very, very dearly.

sometimes he misses your soft moans and mewls right in his ear, how misty and hazy your vision and head seems to get in the shower. he was a setter, he was the beacon of control, and loves knowing that his nimble fingers can unravel you as much or as little as he wants, as fast or as painstakingly slow as he demands. there are days when he's too tired to stand under the water stream and sits in the tub instead, pulling you against his chest. the body contact and warmth is needed in the first few minutes when the tiles are still cold and prickling against your skin, but that gives him time to tease and relish in how 100% of your body is so sensitive, just for him. it fires him up like nothing else, and he frequently has to hold back from slipping his fingers inside you and pressing incessantly against the spot that drives you wild.

it's never a surprise to you when these days happen because akaashi always has your vibrator handy, a cute little turquoise g-spot kind -- he is a service dom through and through and his pleasure is mainly derived from pulling you apart and having you tightly clutching his thighs and neck. he starts slow, soft nips into your skin, hands ghosting over your breasts and nipples. you feel the curve of his smirk as they react and harden quickly from his touches, occasionally shivering when a stray water bullet lands harshly on the tip of nerves. "so good for me, love you, princess," he murmurs into your ear and your breath hitches when he rubs slow, gentle circles of your clit. it's just enough to turn your brain into mush, but not enough to be completely satisfied because you want more, always more with this man until you're drunk on nothing but his fingers and tongue and cock.

the swirling in the pit of his stomach growls dangerously because he wants so badly to hear those pleas fall off your tongue, begging and demanding for pleasure that can only be given to you by him and other allowable aids. "be good, use your words for me, mmk? be good for senpai, i know you can, and i'll reward you. don't you want my cock inside you, princess? i know how much you like to be stretched out for me, showing what a good little cock slut you are--"

"keiji, please!" you half sob, half whimper, your hips bucking as he slips two fingers inside you, instantly curling them so he can batter them against your g-spot. the grip of his free arm around your waist is tight and keeps you in place, victim to the toe-curling pleasure your boyfriend never fails to give. "pleasepleaseplease, wan' more, n-need more, please--"

"taught you so well, haven't i?" he groans into your neck, cock painfully hard from how your words wind him up. "all for me, right? hmm?"

"yes, senpai, all for you, promise!" you cry. a small scream echoes through the bathroom as keiji fits a 3rd finger in and you feel that slight, addicting burn, immediately thinking about how good you wanna be for 'kaashi. it's not long before you're creaming and cumming around those appendages, mind going positively blank as you arch your back and twitch as he draws your orgasm out. his praises send you faster down the path of overstimulation, torn between wanting to stop and staying for more. you always end up choosing the latter because how could you say no to senpai?

the whines that leave your body almost has him cum right then and there when he removes his fingers, leaving you dizzy and blissfully aware of how empty you feel at the moment. without inhibitions, you push yourself up and start grasping around for his cock, desperate to be filled once again. akaashi knows what you're going for, helping to readjust so you're both comfortable but hands gripping your waist before you can sink down onto him. "did you forget your manners? what do you ask senpai?"

" 'm sorry senpai," you sniffle and wrack your brains. "c-can i please have your cock inside me, please senpai? wan' it so bad, keiji, so so bad--"

akaashi loosens up lets you slide halfway down his shaft, leaning you back so you're helpless against him. it's enough to have you babble about how big he is, your hand mindlessly laying on top of your abdomen in dazed approximation of how deep he might be. when he feels your gummy walls clench around him, he can't help but thrust the rest of his length inside you, bottoming out and cursing into your shoulder. "fuck, such a good cock slut, taking me so well. senpai's so proud of you, doing so good for me pretty girl, love being inside you--"

"need you to fuck me, s-senpai -- hnng --"

" 'm not fucking you right if you're still talking, hmm? can't have that, now can we?"

it doesn't take much for you to go completely limp, surrendered to his thrusts and battering of your pussy, reaching most of the sensitive spots deep inside that have you shaking and mewling. your pants and nonsensical, broken phrases of how much you love his cock fuel the possessive monster in his gut. his eyes roll back as he relishes in how tight, warm, and soaked you are, eyes catching a glimpse of the ring of cream around the base of his length. he shakily reaches for the vibrator lying innocently on the edge of the tub, thanking waterproof technology as he holds the power button down to turn it on. his thrusts slow down a bit so he can accurately find your clit, and when you squeal into your fist, he pushes down more and falls back into his usual pace.

he counts down in his head, basking in how your walls close down more and more and more until you cum again, upper torso lifting and tensing up in the snap of the coil before collapsing again with the scream of his name in his ear. he holds you down with a large palm on your abdomen, your body fighting against it as you twitch and shake from overstimulation. "love it when you cum on my cock, such a good little fuck toy -- gonna let senpai cum inside you? fill you up? you want it, no?"

"p-please, your cum, wan' it please, wan' your cum so bad," you manage to plead, a shred of clarity miraculously gracing you. a few strokes later and a bite into your shoulder, akaashi spills everything he has. you're so lovely to take it all, and even after he slips out, he knows you're subconsciously doing your best to keep it all inside you. that doesn't stop the tendrils of satisfaction from wrapping around his heart as some cum managers to escape you, allowing the water to wash it down the drain.

aftercare consists of cleaning you up until the hot water runs out, soft and thorough as you come back to him with a bleary smile and lazy kisses. praises and compliments never stop until you're giggling from his cheesiness and you do your best to soap and wash his hair. he does his best to help you out of the bathtub and get you a towel to dry off, hurriedly working on his own body to get back to you. akaashi doesn't move more than 3 feet away from you if he can help it.

and when you're both cuddled in bed, facing each other and hands clasped together, akaashi thinks he has it all because most importantly...

he has you.

[just-a-quirkless-loser]

How Could You Love Me🥺🐬

Part Two: Redemption

Part One

Alpha Gang Orca x F! Omega Reader

Requested by: @obsidiansigns03

Words: 3.7K

Warning: NSFW (read further for the surprises). Sexual Content Below!!!

“Darling, I’ve told you about lifting heavy things!” Kugo Sakamata, known to most as Gang Orca, is such a worrywart. It seems he’s gotten even more worrisome for your safety as of late. You try to come up with a reason for his behavior but, you simply chalk it up to behaving as he normally does. 

“Sakamata, I’ve told you I can handle it,” you’re currently moving around chairs in one of the new bakery locations you opened. Being the lazy person you sometimes are, you’ve decided to stack four chairs on top of each other and carry them to the small tables that littered the bakery space. 

“Haven’t I told you to call me Kugo?” he quirks one of his nonexistent brows.

“Hmmm, you may have told me once or twice. I can’t really remember,” you grin. 

“You want help remembering?” Kugo steps into your personal space, arms looking you into his chest. His eyes are now a raging inferno, drawing you in so close that you wouldn’t mind being burned. 

“Woahhh there buddy,” you giggle nervously. You take a step back, putting the chairs in between both of your bodies. 

 “Can I please help?” it’s comical to see him give you his pout. Such an intimidating stature and yet such cute red eyes. “I promise I won’t take over. I’ll only do the lifting. Scouts honor!”

You look at him holding up four fingers (apparently, he thinks that’s the scout hand placement) and you purse your lips to stop yourself from laughing. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be out there patrolling?” 

“I just got off my shift. Now, please?” you didn’t get the chance to confirm since he was already hauling the chairs out of your hands. You decide to let him help with the decorating as you go to the back to get all the baking ingredients and equipment settled.

It’s been an amazing month since you’ve solidified your relationship with Kugo. Things haven’t changed much from how they were before; you still bake him cute, little confectionaries so he can snack after his patrols, you’re still his biggest supporter, and you’re still as close as ever. The only difference is your lack of trust in him.

Yes, you trust him to keep you safe and sound but, after the incident of him leaving before, you’ve grown weary of putting all your trust in him. You try your hardest to fully trust him but, there’s still that inkling doubt in your mind that something may happen and Kugo may run away from you once again. That inkling voice in your head always spouts nonsense about how you aren’t worthy enough to be with Kugo; you’re trying your hardest not to believe it. Despite your fears of abandonment, you still love Kugo with all that you have. You suppose it’s better to love him fully and bear the consequence than to allow your subconscious to ruin what you’ve worked hard to build. 

One thing you didn’t know before you started dating was that Kugo is a very sexual person. You would’ve never imagined that the shy, bashful man before you is secretly a freak in the sheets. Well, from what you have done, you imagine that’s what he’s like. You still haven’t found the perfect time to fully...submit to one another. 

By sexual, you mean that Kugo is very active. He’s spent almost every night at your home ever since the hospital discharged him and, almost every night, he’s done something to set your core on fire. 

First, it started off with lingering touches on your skin, his blazing eyes almost telling you what would soon happen. His smooth skin always set small sparks off whenever you touched, making your eyes daze off a bit. Then, he would grab you roughly, pinning you beneath him on whatever surface he’s chosen to play with you upon. His large tongue always managed to reach the depths of your soul. Just thinking about it now makes you wet.

 Kugo sniffs the air as he looks at you. Blushing like the buffoon you are, you quickly rush back to the baking area. You’ve learned that Kugo’s sense of smell is rather explicit. In other words, he can always smell whenever you’re aroused. 

“Little one, what are you thinking about back here?” you’re trying to distract yourself with a ladle as Kugo follows you into the back. His eyes are zeroed in on you like you’re his prey. He seems to tower over you although, considering how large he is, you’re pretty sure Kugo towers over everyone. 

“Taxes,” you fight your urge to facepalm. Out of all the things you could’ve chosen your lie to be about, you chose taxes. 

“Really?” even though he knows you’re lying, he still plays along. He loves seeing the way you squirm and blush under his watchful eye. Perhaps, his love for dominating you comes from his instinctual need to catch his prey. 

“Yeh, taxes are so awesome. Really cool,” why won’t you shut up?

“You know what I think is cool?” Kugo’s breath is fanning your front. He’s on his knees in front of you, his face directly in front of your stomach. His fingers have slipped underneath your shirt, playing with your stomach. In a quick moment, he has lifted you in the air, his arms hooked around your thighs to guide your core to his mouth. He’s careful of his teeth as he licks your clothed pussy. You whine out, tongue lolled out the side of your mouth. “The way you smell. It’s intoxicating. My own Nirvana.”

“Y/N, Kugo? Are you here?” you’re saved by Kugo’s mother. You’ve created a special relationship with her, often inviting her to things simply because you missed having a maternal presence. So, of course you invited her to your new bakery. 

“Just pretend we aren’t here. She won't know,” Kugo whispers to you. You wiggle around as you try to get down. If there’s one thing you know about Kugo’s mother, she has no problem scoping the place out. “Please, baby. I’m hungry.”

‘No, Y/N. You must resist. You must resist his perfect, long, thick, tongue,’ you’re doomed. You nod down to him and stop wiggling, rubbing his head. At least you chose a bakery with high ceilings. 

“I hope you both know I can smell you. You really think I didn’t s-” you stare like a deer in headlights as Kugo’s mother walks in on the both of you. If you think you were blushing hard earlier, this new blush has nothing on you. Your ears feel so hot. Your shame is on display. And, Kugo has the nerve to laugh. “Ohhhh, so that’s what this is.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

You glare down at Kugo and pop him on the nose. It’s his fault your boyfriend’s mother has seen you in such a position. 

“No, it is not. I thought I saw a mouse so Kugo was just picking me up,” you could tell she didn’t believe the lie. Of course, you wouldn’t believe it either since Kugo was clearly likcing in areas that shouldn’t be licked in public. “Now, put me down Kugo.”

“But you smell so good,” you shot him a death stare. Now was not the time for him to be flirting. You swear this man has no shame.

Once you're set down, Kugo gets a call, alerting him that a villain is rouge in the city. Thus, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, hugs his mother, and leaves you alone to deal with the woman that birthed him. Sometimes, it seems that the universe really likes watching you struggle. 

“Aheheh hehe, sooooo, how’s your day been?” you cringe at your tone as you continue messing with the ladle you were holding before Kugo had come to conquer you. “Do you like the bakery?”

“Cut the shit, Y/N. Since when have you and Kugo been sexual? You tell me everything but this. Has he been pressuring you? Do I need to go kick his ass? I’ve told him about his domineer-” Kugo’s mother was storming towards the door as she spoke. 

“NO!” you yelled. She whirls around on you with wide eyes. You look at her with a mirroring fish expression as you cover your mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. He hasn’t pressured me into anything. Even if his presence is a bit...loud at times, I know he’ll stop the minute I tell him.”

“Oh. Then, why haven’t you told me about this?”

“It’s kinda embarrassing discussing my sex life with my boyfriend’s mother,” you blush as you think about it. “I swear, I trust you. I just think talking about sex is a little too much for me to handle.”

“Well, I’ll respect that. I just have one question: Did you talk to Kugo about what we talked about last week?” the look on your face told her you did not. She shot you a disapproving look. “Y/N, darling, you can’t keep this from him. Letting these thoughts continue will only damage you further.”

“I know, I know. I just can’t bring myself to talk about it. We’re in such a good place,” you were supposed to bring up your insecurities with Kugo but, you never found the right moment. Things were going good and you didn’t want to mess it up just because your subconscious was being a bitch. 

“Just because you’re in a good place doesn’t mean you stop talking about the things that bother you. Keeping things to yourself is what causes problems. How do you expect him to improve if you can’t tell him the truth? Eventually, mating season will come and Kugo will become even more dominating than what he is now. You need to tell him,” this is why you love his mother. She’s such a blunt person, always telling the both of you when you’re wrong. “So, what are you going to do today?”

“I’m gonna make cute little orca cupcakes,” you yelp as she hits you in the back of your head. “Whaaaa? I’m literally running a bakery.”

“You know what I meant,” she hits you again for extra measure.

“Goodness, woman, are you sure you’re not really a hero in disguise?” she raises her hand to hit you again. “Okay, okay, no need to hit me anymore. I’ll talk to him tonight.”

“No, you’ll talk to him as soon as he comes to pick you up,” you pout.

“Mama Orca, I’m gonna be here at the bakery all day. He’ll go home eventually. I’ll just meet him there.”

“Nope, I’ve decided. I will text him to come back to the shop once he’s done with work for the day. Then, you’ll talk to him,” you gave her an exasperated look which she responded to by lifting her hand again. You’ve lost this battle. 

You go on about your day, catering to the few customers that walk in. It’s always a delight to see their faces the first moment they bite into one of your pastries. They always compliment the chef, not knowing that they’re really complimenting you. You never correct them though, you don’t do it for praise. You do it because you like to make people happy. 

It’s been a long day. Your feet ache from running around all day, your back hurts a bit from being hunched over the mixer, and you feel a slight headache coming on. Truthfully, you just want to go home and take a nap in your bathtub (Kugo’s told you time and time again not to do it but, that’s not going to get in your way of relaxation). Nevertheless, you stayed after closing time, waiting for Kugo to come pick you up. 

“Is everything okay?! My mother said it was an emergency,” you gave his mother an incredulous look. Oh, yeah, you forget to mention that she stayed with you the entire time to make sure you didn’t try to run home. Whatever anyone ever says about the woman, she’s definitely a ride-or-die. 

“You told him this was an emergency?”

“It is,” she gives you an innocent look. “It’s a love emergency.”

“Love emergency?” Kugo looks confused. 

“Yes, a love emergency. Now, Y/N, tell Kugo what you were telling me a few weeks ago,” now, she didn’t need to say it like that. You can already tell you’re going to be in trouble once this conversation is over.

“Weeks?” yes, you’re definitely going to be in trouble with the way Kugo’s looking at you. “What have we talked about when it comes to our problems?”

“To always talk about them together so we can face them together. What’s my problem is your problem and what’s your problem is my problem,” you repeat the mantra he’s told you over the past month. 

“So, what is it then?”

“Well,” you look at Kugo’s mother for a bit of extra encouragement. “I’ve been feeling some type of way about our relationship,” a look of heartbreak crossed Kugo’s face. 

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“No, no, no. This isn’t that type of conversation. I love you and I love our relationship. I’ve just been feeling a way about what happened before our relationship. I know you try everyday to make up for what you did and said but, I always find myself thinking about it when I’m alone. I feel like I’m just not worthy of your love; I’m scared that one day you’ll realize what I’ve been thinking all along and you’ll leave me again,” you look away from his scrutinizing gaze. “I don’t want you to leave.”

The room is quiet for a few moments. Well, more like a few minutes. You waddle on your feet in front of him as he continues to stare at you. His stare never wavers, never falls from your form, and you’re beginning to think that you’ve pushed him a bit too far. 

“Mother, she’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Kugo drags you out of the bakery, leaving your keys to your apartment. Well, it looks like you’ll be staying the night with Kugo. The car ride is silent as he drives you to his home, the air tense with no music and no words exchanged. The only thing reassuring you is his hand that rests on your thigh, rubbing circles on your warm flesh. 

It seems like the ride is longer than the normal 25 minutes. It seems like forever till you’re pulling into the driveway of his secluded home. 

“Go in the house and get undressed. I want you on the bed waiting for me once I walk in,” he pushed his keys into your awaiting hands. You wanted to protest but, the look in his eyes alerted something dormant in your mind that this would not be a good time to argue (not unless you wanted to end up naked outside for the world to see you). 

You race into his home, running to his room as you undress on the way. By the time you cross the threshold, your nipples are pebbling with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. You lay yourself across the bed, looking up at the ceiling as you wait for his heavy footsteps.

“Darling, do I have your permission to please your body in ways you’ve never known?” a gush of wetness leaves you. Staring up at Kugo’s lustful red eyes, you feel safe enough to give yourself away. You nod. “I need verbal consent, love.”

“Please, just do what you want with me,” you groan as he wastes no time sliding down your body to your pussy. His warm blood makes the room even hotter as he lifts your hips up to meet his mouth. He’s always so careful with his teeth when he first licks up your slit. Just like the times before, he keeps your hips in such an iron hold that you can’t squirm away. His tongue is hot and coarse, long enough to lick your clit in one go. It starts off with long, calculated, jerky strokes but quickly ends up with him feasting on you. 

You whimper as his tongue slips inside your hole, your legs spasming when he reaches his long arms up your body to pinch your nipples. Every time you look down at what he’s doing, you groan and the look he’s giving you. His eyes watch your every movement, always taking note of how your eyebrows furrow when his tongue does something you like. 

You nearly jump five feet off of the bed when his tongue slides even deeper into your pussy. You can feel his grin once his tongue finds that spongy part of your pussy, attacking it mercilessly. You're shaking hard enough that his head shakes as well when your orgasm crashes into your body. 

“Fuckkkk Kugo fuck , fuck, fuckkkk. Oh my fuckkk, please, can’t, OHHHH FUCKKKK,” you screech as he doesn’t let up; he continues to eat you out with no signs of stopping. You push at his head a bit and only then does he slide his tongue out of your delicious heat. 

“What’s wrong baby?” he wipes his tongue all around his mouth without breaking eye-contact. “I told you this morning I was hungry. You told me I could use you however I want. You can’t take my tongue, baby? Is it too much for you?”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he licks you clit for emphasis, his fingers spreading your lips so he can easily suck your pearl into his mouth. You try to pull away but, his strong grip continues to keep you captive. Another orgasm later and he’s sliding back up your body. You hadn't even noticed his nakedness until now. Not surprisingly, Kugo is every bit big that you’ve felt before. Still, your eyes widen significantly. 

“Calm down, baby. I promise to be gentle,” you scrunch your brows. 

“But,  I haven’t,” you blushed and jerked the air in front of your mouth. Kugo’s laughter booms around you, getting rid of any nervousness you had before. 

“Baby, you know your pleasure is my pleasure. You don’t always have to give me a blowjob just because I like eating you out. Just enjoy yourself,” your positions are flipped. You’re laying on Kugo’s chest, your smooth skin rubbing against his own. You always thought he’d feel a bit different but, it feels so natural to slide your skin against his. “Baby, I want to try a different position for our first time. Something that’ll make you feel really good. Do I have your permission?”

“I trust you,” that was enough for him to turn you around reverse-cowgirl style and spread his legs. He slotted you in between his legs, you clits rubbing against his shaft. 

“You can start whenever you want to. Don’t be pressured to take everything at once. And donnnnn ohfhhhh fuck yes,” Kugo leaned back as you started to drop yourself down on him. Your ass was softly nestled against his thighs, his dick already halfway in your heat. The searing pain of the stretch made your toes clench, the pain turning into pleasure as Kugo began to rub your clit. “Fuck, baby. You don’t gotta uhh take fuck yes baby.”

You ignored his heading and rammed yourself down the rest of the way. Only a bit of his dick wasn’t inside of you and you felt like you were on fire. As you tried to lean down on your chest, you felt his dick slide into your pussy deeper. You were trying hard to fight off your orgasm as you slowly slid yourself up a bit and pushed yourself down roughly. You said a punishing rhythm for yourself, Kugo cursing up a storm. You went to lean up when Kugo’s hand slapped your ass hard.

“Ohhh, no you don’t. Take that dick like a good girl,” you mewl as he pushes you back down and helps you guide your hips. He’s managed to work his finger into the tight rim of your ass, assisting your ride in that way as well. “Fuckk yes, baby. Take your dick. Take all of it.”

“Kugooo, not gonna last. Fuckk Kugo. FUCKKKK,” you scream as you cum again, urging Kugo you pick your hips up and plow into your pussy. 

“You like it when I use your pussy? You like being a toy for my pleasure?” you couldn’t even answer through the moans. His brutal fucking was taking a toll as you laid your body all the way down, taking his thrusts like the good girl your are. “Babyyy, I’m gonna fucking cum. Ouu fuck, can I cum inside?”

‘Always such a gentleman.’

“Pleaseeee, yess,” not even a few seconds later, Kugo was spilling his hot seed into your womb. You’ve never had a man cum in you before and you’re glad you waited till this moment. It feels so personal between the two of you.

He pulled you off of him and laid you on his chest, his hands playing with your hair. He was letting you calm down before he showed you what he really brought you for.

“I wanted to wait till I did this,” Kugo sat up and slipped out of the bed. He kneeled next to you, fumbling underneath the bed for something. “Gotdamnit. I know I put it right here,”

“What’s wrong? Do you want me to he-” you’re getting ready to get out of the bed to help him search when he pushes you back down quickly. “Baby?”

“I’ve got it,” he pulls out a small velvet box. Your jaw drops, tears already forming. “I’ve had this here, underneath this bed, since the first time you came over and you kissed me like there was nothing else that mattered. I didn’t know when would be a good time to give this to you but, I know now that I shouldn’t have waited. I should’ve given it to you that night.” 

“I know that we’re still early in our relationship but, I’d really like to marry you one day. And, you taking this ring doesn’t mean you have to marry me right away but, I hope you’ll come to realize just how much I love you. I’ve known you for over a year and I’ve loved you for eleven months. All it took was one month for me to see how you’re my person,” you silently nod and cry as you allow him to slide the ring onto your finger. “So, please, will you do me the honor of being my future bride?”

“YES!!!” 

—————————————————————————-

TagList💕

@sakurashortstack @sinclairsamess

[remakethestars]

CABIN 7 — APOLLO

Headcanons.

❝There ought to be more drama, I think. A musical crescendo. Confetti.❞

— Jess Cooper, I Am Still Alive

Headcanon masterlist.

Oh, boy — this is my cabin, y'all; buckle up! 😁

Not all Apollo kids are good at everything their dad's good at, okay? I sure as heck can’t paint or play an instrument. 

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of violence?

They run an underground tattoo parlor.

That's where Will & Butch got their respective sun & rainbow tats.

Apollo kids with lyrics tattooed into their skin.

Rick says there isn't much by way of décor inside, which is f*in' B.S. Apollo's the god of art; those walls have been graffitied Tangled style.

🎶 i'll paint the walls some more — i'm sure there's room somewhere! 🎶

The east wall is covered in a landscape of a sunrise, & the west has a sunset (because the sun rises in the east & sets in the — yeah, I'll see myself out).

The north & south walls & the ceiling are white, though, because it really brightens/opens up the space (C7 has the 2ⁿᵈ most campers under C11 because Apollo's a slut; things can get a little crowded in the summer).

When there’re celebrations, the artistically inclined kids bust out the face paint. Especially for the younger campers.

The artistically inclined are the ones that paint the camp beads for the end of the summer. Despite the numbers, it doesn’t take them as long as one might think.

Rick said the ceiling had cedar beams, but we're not gonna do Cyparissius dirty like that. Cypress wood is good for building; the beams are cypress. You know what? F*ck you — the whole dang cabin's cypress!

There’s a massive, potted aloe vera plant by the steps that gets moved into the C4 greenhouse in the winter. It’s one of those old ones — because everyone knows the old aloe plants work better for burns & blisters than these sh¡tty new ones. (It’s constantly getting broken off to heal burns & stuff.) 

Rick said there are potted red & purple hyacinths in the window & yellow flowers from Delos. That's true.

I'd say the flowerbeds around the cabin are full of healing plants, but I feel like they'd be better off around the infirmary for obvious reasons.

I do feel like there's a laurel tree planted outside C7, though, because Apollo's a pining b¡tch.

And there's an actual infirmary building, okay? Rick's kinda inconsistent about that. Sometimes he says "infirmary," sometimes he says the Big House is running over with injured, & apparently there's a cot dead center for injured in C7? B.S.

Or maybe I've just read too much fanfic, and the authors don't get it right?

Either way, there's an infirmary building with surgery & delivery rooms. One floor. Locker room for C7 kids to store their scrubs & sh¡t.

They go for yellow scrubs, though, because orange C.H.B. scrubs make them look like escaped convicts.

Fun Band-Aids™

They give out little orange stickers with laurels around the edges that are like I voted! stickers, but they're injury-specific.

I got my leg(s) reattached! & Percy Jackson shot me in the butt! & I ticked off Clarisse! & I made out with an Aphrodite kid in the poison ivy! & I fell off the lava wall! & I got pranked by the Stolls!

After a war or just when there’re a lot of campers in the infirmary, there seems to be a constant flow of Apollo kids singing one hymn to their father in unison to heal someone.

Sometimes, an unconscious camper wakes in a cot & thinks they’ve died & gone to the wrong afterlife for a moment because their singing sounds like angels. 

The medically inclined wash their hands like surgeons. 

Kind of germophobic?

They also go around tying surgeons knots in everything.

In the summer, they’re walking Banana Boat sunscreen & after-sun aloe lotion dispensers.

The medically inclined also have the world’s sh¡ttiest handwriting.

They have to work hard to fix it if it bothers them. 

Can check your vitals & run a blood test just by touching you.

A lot of them casually touch their loved ones (at least, the ones that aren’t in C7) every morning to check their vitals & see how their health’s doing.

They do it subconsciously every time they touch someone & don’t notice it until they pick up something’s wrong.

They can do this for themselves as well. Though it may not be as accurate? And they take daily vitamins depending on what they need.

Organize their lives via pill box (never lose an earring).

Fight surgically. Every blade in their hands becomes a scalpel, & every time they’re going in for a kill against an armed anthropomorphic monster, they slice the tendons in its arm required to grip its weapon to disable it before going in for the kill.

Back to C7, it’s got a little porch with a porch swing. The kids sit on it sometimes & teach people how to play instruments.

They leave the porch light on at night when they’re waiting for one of their siblings to come home from a quest.

Jumping into the depressing sh¡t, they never found Michael’s body, so they only presumed him dead. They leave the porch light on every night now, hoping he’ll come home.

Apollo kids are afraid of the dark. They use the buddy system after the sun goes down. 

The cabin’s central light fixture is a papier-mâché sun that’s been charmed to glow when someone sings 🎶 clap on 🎶 & stop glowing when someone sings 🎶 clap off. 🎶

The curtains are a gold fabric. They’re only closed at night. Because, again, C7 kids are afraid of the dark.

The Wikipedia says Apollo kids are cursed to be afraid of snakes (I assume by the Python Apollo killed). I feel like they’d burn a lot of aster leaves then. I read somewhere it was said by the Greeks to ward off evil spirits & snakes.

They play Go Fish with their tarot cards. They’re really good at tarot games.

Hand-drawn tarot decks featuring figures form Greek myth.

There’s a target on the back wall they practice throwing cards at. They can throw them in combat for a distraction with terrifying accuracy. 

There’s a Magic 8 ball that’s passed around on the Winter Solstice (the longest night of the year), when — as a headcanon I’m sure I’ve read somewhere has indicated — they’re up all night.

Crystal balls are allowed. However, they must be covered with a cloth or placed in a box when not in use because they’re double-convex lenses, & we don’t want another incident like the fire of 1993.

Sometimes, they make little predictions throughout the day other campers may find disturbing. Such as whipping around and catching a stray arrow without warning (spidey sense?). Or cutting you off when you’re talking about someone moments before they walk into the room.

There’s a tea cart in the corner. Because tea is good for healing & they’ve accumulated an addiction.

The cart has a radio on it that’s always on at night because a lot of C7 kids can’t sleep without noise. (Inspired by @sugarandspiceandkindanice.)

Most of the time, it’s on a nearby country station that actually plays good country at night. But sometimes they switch channels — especially when there’s a new kid settling in & they could use the comfort.

There’s a portable record player there too. The shelves under the cart are full of C.D.s & records.

I’m sure I’ve read a headcanon somewhere that they sing every morning while getting ready for the day. That’s true.

The number of times it’s been “When Will My Life Begin” from Tangled is disturbing, though. 

🎶 seven a.m., the usual morning lineup! 🎶

Luke said in The Lightning Thief C11 is up at 07:00 & breakfast is at 08:00, I think, but we all know Apollo’s waking his kids up when the sun rises. 

A lot of the time, someone will just start out with whatever song they have stuck in their head & everyone else will pick it up.

Sometimes, this leads to members having the aforementioned song stuck in their head for the rest of the day.

Even the people who aren’t musically inclined will sing along, as they’re usually drowned out by the music kids that get really into it.

So sometimes those not-music kids will find themselves singing by themselves during the day years later & are surprised to find — they actually sound good?? Or at least not bad??? And it’s because singing is a learned skill & they picked it up.

I’m sure I’ve also read a headcanon somewhere that they sing “Look Down” from Les Mis when they have to do menial chores, but I'm adding “It’s a Hard-Knock Life” from Annie, “Whistle While You Work” from Snow White, “Happy Working Song” from Enchanted, & the Smurf song.

They break into song all the time.

Lee was glaring at Tantalus once & made the mistake of saying, “Sometimes, I wish —” and the entire cabin broke out with “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

🎶 — i'd never been born at all! carry on, carry on… 🎶

As mentioned in at least The Lightning Thief & The Lost Hero, they spend a lot of time playing basketball. You can bet your butt they do a rendition of “Getcha Head in the Game” from High School Musical every time there’s a new camper passing by.

They have a sister named Jubilee, and every time someone greets her — "Hey, Jube!" — the entire cabin breaks into “Hey, Jude” by The Beetles.

🎶 hey, Jube! don't make it bad. take a sad song & make it better… 🎶

Sometimes, if there are two campers that really need to get together, C10′ll commission C7 to sing “Kiss the Girl” from The Little Mermaid (or the same song with different pronouns, obviously). 

It’s usually a capella unless someone happens to have an instrument on them.

Rickrolling. 

The “Macarena.” 

Apollo takes clandestine recordings of their jam sessions & distributes them professionally. Whatever money’s made goes directly into their college funds or they periodically find it under their pillow tooth-fairy-style.

There’s a lot of denim because the artistic members like to paint on the backs of jackets & the pockets of jeans.

A lot of them have excellent aim with most projectiles, so they toss stuff to each other a lot. This results in them being oddly in sync, so they can catch something from another sibling without warning & without looking like Sam & Dean Winchester do in Supernatural. 

Their life looks like a Dude Perfect trick shot video. 

It also results in some funny looks when they hurl things halfway across camp to each other. Namely, the whistling Nerf football. 

C7 is two stories. The second story has paint on every wall. 

The east wall upstairs has arrows mounted that got Robin Hooded along with a little tag with the name of the C7 kid & the date it happened.

They also have arrows mounted from the first bullseye if there’s a member being taught. 

Lots of musical instruments & art supplies up there.

There’s an old T.V. up there. They have all of Bob Ross’s show on V.H.S.

C7′s south wall (ground floor) holds the door to the bathroom on one side & a door leading to the stairs. 

It also hosts framed photos of Charlotte, Lee, & Michael.

Instead of saying “shoot,” they say “loose.” For everything. Instead of saying “Shoot!” when they drop something, they say “Loose!” 

It's kinda one of those things — like your friend starts saying something & you just integrate it into your vocabulary subconsciously.

They like to play a game where you shoot an arrow straight up & try to catch it as it comes back down.

That sounds really stupid on their part, but it actually comes in handy when someone tries to shoot them in combat & they catch the arrow, dumbfounding whoever's attempted to skewer them.

The cresting on their arrows is in Morse code of their nickname (·—— ·· ·—·· ·—··). They can take one look at an arrow & tell what’s whose.

And the paint color of the cresting tells them what kind of arrow it is — bullet tip, broadhead, explosive, etc. 

Every bunk in C7 is made with hospital corners. No exceptions. The kids who aren’t medically inclined learn because all the beds being made the same way makes it look cleaner for inspection.

I can’t decide if Apollo kids have really good eyesight so they fit the Hawkeye bill or if they’ve all just read — Apollo’s the god of knowledge — & painted so much they’ve messed up their eyes.

The number of times one of them has used bowstring wax on an art project in a rush instead of glue is hilariously large.

I use String Snot, and it comes in a container that looks like a glue stick.

A lot of them wear bracers all the time.

When the time it takes to sling one’s quiver onto one’s back, grab one’s bow, knock an arrow, & draw is so long, one really doesn’t have time to also strap on their bracers before rushing out of the cabin to threaten a giant bronze dragon.

Not to mention if they use a recurve, they’ll also have to string their bow.

And a number of them do use recurves due to the abilities to both knock multiple arrows at once & to restring in the field.

Bows with risers coated in golden, reflective paint & limbs painted with artistic strokes.

Trick arrows are their jam. C9 is constantly being asked for new arrows.

Explosive arrows, sonic arrows, grappling hook arrows…

That’s another saying they’ve all taken to: “___ is my jam!”

There’s a bookshelf or reference material on Apollo for new C7 kids (as Rick’s indicated), but the rest of the case is full of medical journals & textbooks & books on art & poetry & divining the future.

A lot — if not all — of them have either gold flecks in their eyes or central heterochromia.

Freckles across their noses & shoulders & on the tips of their ears. Tans. Sun-bleached hair. 

Long, nimble fingers perfect for playing musical instruments.

Either they hate the winter because the sun's out for less time (so you’ll find them walking around with blanched skin & faded freckles & with both a hoody & a parka on), or they’re perfectly fine with winter & are used by everyone around them as walking space heaters. 

They spend a lot of time with Castor & Pollux. 

Rachel sits at T7. She’s practically an Apollo kid at this point. 

While her cave was being renovated, she stayed in C7.

Their dad’s the god of truth; none of these M.F.s can lie worth a sh¡t. 

But, by the gods, they can tell when you’re lying.

And they take it as a personal insult. That you (A) would dare do something as immoral as lying in the first place & that you (B) would dare to insult their intelligence in such a way because you thought they couldn’t tell.

C6 & C7 are both known for reacting outrageously when their intelligence is insulted (see: chapter 10 of The Battle of the Labyrinth). 

The more civil of the reactions of a C7 kid being lied to is cursing the liar to tell the truth, which I believe they can. 

They can curse you to speak in rhyming couplets; they should be able to curse you to tell the truth.

You mean to tell me none of these kids have created a functioning Lasso of Truth yet?

This one's really long. 😅

A lot of people fancast Sam Claflin as Apollo, but I'm going with Ross Lynch. 'Cause I do what I want. 😎

Visit my Apollo cabin Pinterest board or my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

[samstree]

hi dear!! what about 37 for the pining prompts?? only if you feel like it 💞💞

37. "Characters cannot touch for plot reasons." Thanks for the prompt Chrysa!! Here's more empath!Jaskier!

Unfinished Story

Empath!Jaskier, 2.4k, soft geraskier, ciri has a nightmare, hurt/comfort, mentions of past violence

Part of the Empath AU 

Read on AO3

Ciri’s scream pulls Geralt out of his doze.

He springs up immediately, knocking Jaskier’s arm out of the way. The bard grumbles something incoherent on the bedroll before fully waking. “G’ralt, what is… Oh, shit.”

The scream continues, Geralt’s medallion thrumming because of the chaos carried by the sound. The ember is dying but the moon provides enough light for him to see Cir in a fetal position, her face buried in the crook of her elbow. Her ashen-colored curls obscure the view.

Geralt half-scrambles to her side, familiar panic seizing his heart. It’s been so long since she had a nightmare this bad, so long that it’s taking him a second to react.

“Ciri.” He shakes her shoulder gently, but she flinches away. The smell of fear rolls off of her in waves. “Ciri, wake up. You are dreaming.”

The sharp wail trails off to a quieter one, but her eyes stay shut, her brows agonizingly knitted tight. Geralt tries to soothe her by stroking her hair, only to have her snatch his hand and holding onto it for dear life. He squeezes, hoping it’s a comforting gesture.

Each of Ciri’s cries sends a pang of regret in Geralt’s chest. If only he could go back in time. If only he had found her earlier, before the horrors of Nilfgaard—

“Hey, let me help.”

A hand falls to Geralt’s shoulder, and Jaskier meets his gaze in the dim light, the bleariness in his eyes completely gone.

Please, he wants to say. The word gets interrupted by the girl’s writhing.

Jaskier takes over Ciri’s hand, despite her reluctance to let go of Geralt. She clings to him during bad dreams, even when she can’t properly wake up, but the witcher knows it’s important not to touch either of them right now. The wolf medallion vibrates more as the empath works, calming her through the touch.

“It’s okay…” Geralt murmurs helplessly to the girl still asleep. “It’s okay, cub. We are here.”

The empty space around Geralt is excruciating. Under the clear night sky, his witcher senses allow him to see the two of them basked in the silver moonlight—Jaskier kneeling at Ciri’s side, one hand clasped around her wrist and the other carding through her curls. The girl’s pained expression eases slowly.

“Oh… Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” Jaskier shushes her, the flow of chaos buzzing in the air. “Let me take your fear away, all right? Don’t fight me. Let me in, so you won’t be scared anymore…”

The bard continues to murmur sweet nothings to the girl, easing her resistance to his empathetic powers. At this point, Jaskier’s magic is like a second layer of skin to Geralt, gentle and warm and weaving around their hearts. Even when it’s not directly used on him, he feels somehow pulled to their connection.

To Jaskier and Ciri.

His empath bard and his child surprise.

Two halves of his world.

Jaskier’s eyes are closed to concentration, taming the waves of Ciri’s distress. The action exerts him, Geralt can tell from his elevated heartbeat and the slight slump in his shoulders. The witcher catches himself before he reaches out subconsciously. The gnawing urge to help almost makes him scowl in frustration.

Inaction has never been Geralt’s strong suit.

Finally, finally, Ciri’s eyes flutter open. She’s holding back the tears, as always, even when she’s confused from these dreams, even when she’s reliving her past and desperately searching for her family in the present.

“Geralt?”

Her voice is so small and he has to lean in to hear.

A relieved sigh escapes Jaskier’s lips as he lets go of the girl’s hand. With the magic dissipating, so does the stench of fear. The air settles. As soon as the medallion stills, Geralt surges forward to put a hand on her arm, so she knows he’s here.

On Geralt’s periphery, he senses bard stand and walk to the other side of the campfire—the empath usually needs a moment to collect himself after absorbing someone’s emotions—but right now Geralt’s focus is on his child.

“It’s okay. You are safe, Ciri,” Geralt whispers.

“I dreamed—”

“You are not there anymore.”

“It was burning…I—there was fire… and the man.” She sniffles, stubbornly refusing to cry. His child is tough, probably too tough for her own good.

“It wasn’t real.”

“Because you found me?” There’s a sliver of doubt in her voice that Geralt wishes more than anything to remove.

“Because I found you, Ciri,” he reassures. She’ll need reminding tonight. “You are my destiny and more. I’m here so you’ll never have to be lost again.”

A tiny smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. Geralt tucks away a strand of hair on her face and watches her eyelids droop heavily.

“I’m not. Not now that I’m awake.”

He returns the smile, although she can’t see it that well in the shadows. “That’s because of Jaskier.”

“Oh.” She searches for the bard. When Geralt looks back at the empath’s silhouette, he’s leaning against a tree, a few paces away from camp. “Thank you, Jaskier. Again,” she says.

“Of course, princess,” Jaskier says softly, “I know how scary nightmares can be, no matter how long it’s been. Those things may have happened a long time ago, but sometimes…they come back and haunt when you least expect it.” He pauses, looking to the distance for a moment. “I’d chase them away for you any time.”

She murmurs another thanks before her eyes close with exhaustion.

“Go back to sleep,” Geralt tucks Ciri’s blanket in, before taking her hand again, his thumb tracing a little circle on her skin. “Sleep, cub. We’ll be here. Both of us.”

It doesn’t take long for her to fall into a deep slumber, peacefully this time. Geralt sits next to her for a while longer just to be sure. When he finally leaves Ciri’s side to see to his bard, Jaskier is still standing with his back against the tree. He seems to be miles away, his expression hidden in the shadows, distant and inscrutable.

“Jask?” They are far enough from the girl but Geralt keeps his voice low.

With a surprised gasp, the bard notices him approaching and almost flinches. “Don’t—”

“Don’t touch you, I know.”

Jaskier rests his head on the tree bark. “Just for now.”

Geralt’s fists clench and unclench at his sides. Using those powers takes a lot out of Jaskier, and it leaves him unbalanced. The empath is so wary of hurting him by accident when he’s like this, with raw energy still rippling under his skin.

But in truth, Geralt doesn’t care. He wishes Jaskier could let him in, let him share the burden. Right now, with the space between them, he’ll have to rely on words instead of action.

It really isn’t his strong suit.

“Another nightmare… ” he decides to distract the bard while he recovers. “It’s been too long since Ciri had an episode. I thought it was all over.”

“Time doesn’t heal all wounds, Geralt,” Jaskier breathes. “We should all know better.”

Geralt frowns at the haunted look on his bard’s face. The tips of his fingers reach forward again, but he quickly hides the movement by crossing his arms before his chest.

“You sound like you are speaking from experience, Jask.”

“Do I?”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s stomach turns at the way Jaskier speaks about the girl’s trauma. “You know if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Jaskier squirms, chewing on his lower lip. Now he’s truly nervous, tense even. The witcher sees the way his posture stiffens and quickly adds, “Or not. Uh—it’s okay if you don’t—"

“No,” Jaskier interrupts him, shaking his head, “No, I want to tell you. I should tell you everything, at this point.”

Silence hangs between them as the bard adjusts his breathing. In and out, like he would before a performance.

“Years ago, when you first identified my powers” Jaskier chooses his words cautiously, the moon shining in his eyes. “I asked if you would use silver on me.”

Geralt’s heart sinks. “I would never, Jaskier. I—How could you ever think that?”

“Oh, relax, my love. I know.” the bard chuckles tightly. “Even back then, I knew you to be a decent man under all the gruffness. You wouldn’t even harm those confused monsters who drifted to human territory on accident, remember? You claimed that your life was just coin and contracts, but to me, it was clear that you were so much more.”

“You are not a monster,” Geralt argues.

“No, but someone else might think differently.”

The leaves rustle in the breeze, the air cooling as the night stretches on. Without the blanket, Jaskier shivers with only a thin chemise on his back. Geralt’s body gravitates toward him of its own volition. Fuck it, if he can just hold Jaskier right now…

“I was thirteen.” The bard is lost in memory. “This man, a magic user, came to our door. It was just me and my mother. He somehow knew about our identities and asked for her help. You see, she had been keeping it a secret for so long, so she couldn’t trust this man, this mage, who somehow just knew that we were empaths.”

He lets out a shuddering breath before continuing.

“His request was… weird. Something about a king or a royal court. I remember thinking that whatever he said sounded so sinister, it couldn’t have been any good. Mum sent him away on the spot, but afterwards she got so scared, like he’d come back again or something. That night, she barred the door and told me to hide in a storage chest. I refused, so she made me. She kept me obedient the entire time.”

Geralt frowns. “Her powers were the same as yours?”

“Stronger.” Jaskier starts pacing, a few twigs snapping under his feet. “She didn’t need contact to manipulate someone’s emotions like me, and she could influence many at the same time. I’m not as powerful—my father was human.”

“What happened next?” Somehow, Geralt knows the story will not end well. A mage usually means trouble. Or in this case, the shadow hidden behind Jaskier’s bright smiles and chirpy songs.

“She kept me calm the whole night, even when she wasn’t with me, but I could feel her fear. It’s was like an undercurrent beneath my skin. I could feel her emotions change. Then I heard the sound of fighting, but I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t go and help her…”

The salty tang of tears assaults Geralt’s nose, but they don’t fall. Jaskier looks up to the sky to hold back the grief that makes his hands tremble.

“Everything got fuzzy after that, but I still remember the pain and the despair. It was like a part of me was hurting with her. Part of me still does, during some nights.” Jaskier closes his eyes in agony. “When I got out the next morning, no one was there. Our home was wrecked, ruined. There was… There was so much blood, Geralt. I—I couldn’t…”

“Oh, Jaskier.” Geralt watches as Jaskier’s shoulders shake, whimpers choking in his throat. Under the night sky, the bard retreats into himself, making his frame look so much smaller. He sways a little and Geralt extends his hands again, hovering by his elbow. “Can I please touch you now?” he pleads.

With a sniffle, the bard composes himself. He flexes his hands to see if his magic is in check. “I think so, yes—oh.”

Geralt pulls Jaskier in for the tightest hug, his arms wrapping around the bard’s frame protectively. Through the thin fabric of the shirt, he can feel another shiver running down Jaskier’s spine, so he rubs small circles into his back to get some heat back in.

He breathes in Jaskier’s scent, not knowing if the lingering stench of fear is from Ciri or the bard.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jask…” Geralt keeps murmuring into the soft hair by Jaskier’s temple. Gradually, the bard sags against his shoulder, letting himself be soothed and supported. Geralt then places his lips to the skin under Jaskier’s ear, and then his cheek, his chin, all the while holding him impossibly close. He’s ready to help the empath restore his energy with all the brimming love in his chest. “Do you want me to…”

“No,” the bard shakes his head. “I’m good. For now.”

They stand there for so long, swaying gently while the world sleeps, before the bard speaks up again.

“I looked for her, and him, at so many courts.” Jaskier’s slightly colder fingers rest on the nape of Geralt’s neck, buried into the hair there. “No mage fit his description. No trace of her either. I think that deep down, I already knew that she was gone, even back then. Otherwise, I would have felt her in there somehow. No matter how far away she was, but all I had was just this emptiness. I was alone since then.”

“You are not. Not anymore.”

“No,” Jaskier pulls away, the tears have dried. Geralt brings the pad of his thumb to trace those streaks anyway. Under his touch, Jaskier smiles. “You see, back in Posada, I met this witcher, a dashing and heroic one. He fell for me so hard that he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving without me, so he begged me to become his travel companion.”

“And you agreed?” Geralt chuckles.

“Not at first, but he wore me down eventually.”

The bard is the most ridiculous man Geralt knows, and yet here they are. Shaking his head in amusement, the witcher steers his bard back to their bedrolls. As they settle back into their usual position, Geralt can’t help but pull him closer, making sure they are touching from head to toe.

The cover sets heavily over Jaskier's body, slowly warming up his skin. His heart beats against Geralt’s ribcage steadily, showing with solid proof that the empath has survived those horrors.

“I found you too, Jask,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss between Jaskier’s brows.

“Good.” The bard's reply is muffled by Geralt's skin. Not far from them, Ciri is still breathing evenly, sound asleep. Geralt has everyone he needs to protect right here with him, tucked away from their separate demons.

And yet, his mind drifts to Jaskier's story. It’s a tragedy with no end and no closure. There was never a body to bury, no vengeance to seek either.

Somehow, he doubts that an unfinished story will stay unfinished.

---

Tagging: @rockysstupidity​ @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses​ @mothmanismyuncle​ @theultimatenerdd​ @percy-jackson-is-sexy-​

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[sakiyo]

━ # ONE A.M EYELINER | suna rintaro

+ pairings: suna rintaro/reader

+ tags: best friends 2 lovers, suna being a pretty mf, mutual pining, uni!au.

+ warnings: none

+ word count: 2.2k

+ summary: suna rintaro has never let you do his eyeliner, simply because he’s afraid to let you get too close.

+ listening to: FLESH by miguel & A Warm Touch of Light by Isabella LeVan

+ note: nothing but me rambling on about how pretty suna’s eyes are and how they’re pretty enough to deserve a whole fic dedicated to them. dedicated to my dom @kiyoomae​ i hope you enjoy babe because i finished this shitty fic for you <3.

“i could get hypothermia if i go out there, you know.”

working with suna always ended up the same way, there was no doubt about it. by the time that the clock plastered on your wall hit twelve-forty five a.m, the project was finished, but completely half assed as a result of neither of you paying enough attention during lectures to actually know what to do. yet, somehow, the same desultory assignment would always receive an undeserving ‘A-plus’. mostly because your professor never cared to actually observe the material, as long as it was in, it was good enough for him. [but you would grade it a solid 64 percent]

there's one variable that’s different today; it’s raining. it’s one a.m and it’s raining, and suna decided that it would be a sublime idea to walk to your apartment today, of all days. [as much as you encourage him to do so, he still never checks the weather]. the disruption in your routine was anything but an easy adjustment. and as much as you wanted to kick him out, the rain was growing heavier and heavier and—

“okay fine! you can crash for the night!” 

he smiled, unaware of the fact that you would have said yes to him either way.

+++

you can’t help but notice that suna has pretty eyes.

honestly, you picked up on his bizarrely unique vulpine-like eyes years ago, when you had first met him. but now, as you sit on the couch that occupies the majority of your compact living room, you’re drawn back to them.

its an odd thought to think about your best friend at one in the morning. 

but...he’s admittedly pretty.

you think back to a random fact you learned in the biology course you took in your third year of highschool; you grow into your eyes. never in your life did you believe that such a miniscule piece of information would find its way back into your mind two years later, and because of suna no less.

it’s one a.m and your legs are situated in his lap, his fingers deftly toying with the tip of the anklet he bought you for your sixteenth birthday [he doesn’t believe that you still wear it, even after all the passed time], 

but you’re still fixated on his eyes.

if it was even possible, the creases accented them further, like each line was strategically placed to lure one’s undivided attention to them. it’s funny though, because suna was never fond of attention. [which was also why seven year old rin never took a liking to overly-exertive you.

you still share a laugh with him thinking back to your rock hard resolve as a child and his burning desire to stay away from you. 

it’s funny how easily time changes things.]

you almost feel like you’re dreaming as you watch his eyelids ghost over, his glassy skin reflecting the coral tint of the cheap ceiling light. but you’re not dreaming, he’s right there, in all his ignorant glory. suna doesn’t notice your residual gaze, he’s fixated on the ‘NBA playoffs highlights’ video streaming on his instagram feed. yet you feel creepy, overanalyzing him like this.

but you allow your mind to wander, just a bit.

“hey, rintaro?” you lightly dig your heel into his thigh. 

it’s merely a sporadic case of wishful thinking. you’ve known suna rintaro for many years, which was more than enough time to figure out his complex personality.

and if there’s one thing he never allowed you to do, it was his eyeliner.

six times. 

you had asked to apply the liquid to his eyes six times, and each time you had received the same answer. a simple no. he doesn’t say ‘no’ with malice, though. no...the last thing he would want is you thinking that he just hated you enough to constantly reject your proposals.

suna hums quietly, shifting to meet your gaze. “yeah?” 

he still thinks you haven’t caught on, but you picked up on his tendency to immediately drop his phone in a reflex to hearing your voice a while back— you like it.

“do you think,” you shift your legs from the comfort of his lap and move your body closer to him, “i could do your eyeliner?”

your question doesn’t register.

instead, suna’s hyper fixated on the inching proximity between you two— he doesn’t like it. it’s one a.m and you’re moving one couch cushion closer, your knee is brushing against his thigh, has your skin always been this cold? he can barely focus, but he still hears the droplets of rain assaulting the window and roofs, they’re getting louder and louder and—

“suna? did you hear me?” your voice is accompanied with slight confusion. 

you narrow your eyes as he blinks out of his trance. you’re not shocked though— his tendencies to space out were never limited to lectures alone. “wha?”

your shoulder rests against his, and he swears he feels his heart cease its rhythmic palpitations for a fraction of a second.

[no you idiot, that’s just your regular heartbeat.]

there’s apprehension in your voice, “can i...do your eyeliner…?” suna is a relatively simple man, the worst he can say is no, but you want a yes this time around. 

“i’ve already said—” 

suna’s breath hitches, as if his words are lodged at the back of his throat. your fingers grip onto the peak of his broad shoulders. [you’d rather die than admit it, but you always loved when he’d roll them back and inconspicuously stretch his neck]

suna stares at you squarely in the face. he can feel the outline of your fingernails lightly tacking into his skin. shit, he’s dreaming. his eyes shift around the room, it’s still one a.m, and he can’t get any words out of his mouth.

speak, speak, SPEAK—

you beat him to it.

“before you say no!” your voice rises as you try to appeal. “i’m letting you crash at my place for the night, i deserve a payment.” your words come out as more of a jumbled mess than a proper sentence. subconsciously, you take your bottom lip between your thumb and index fingers, biting it every now and then. suna lifts a brow at your familiar mannerisms— he likes to think he knows you better than anyone else, and he knows that you toy with your bottom lip before taking a test, receiving a report card, or going in for a job interview.

are you nervous?

he sighs.

“fine…” he whispers softly. suna doesn’t exactly know if he should regret agreeing to your question, but he doesn’t miss the way your eyes visibly light up when he does.

you look pretty. 

+++

he regrets it.

it’s one a.m and you’re situated on his lap, straddling him innocently as you dab the brush into the bottle of ebony ink. suna can’t help but feel like a putty in your hands, the same ones that gently grip his jaw to hold it in place. 

he’s still not sure how old he was when your touches started to feel like fire.

suna feels trapped, he IS trapped. between your legs, between your soft body and the tender cushion, between the thin line of friendship and-

he should stop.

[he still can’t believe he’s doing this]

“would you like thin, or thick eyeliner, rin?”

has his name always rolled off your tongue so effortlessly?

“thin, like yours.”

you hum with content, looking him over with a small smile etched onto your face. he doesn’t understand how you can keep eye contact with him so easily, especially while you’re moving closer and closer to his chest. 

he holds his breath as you exhale. he can still smell the lingering scent of peppermint from the gum you were chewing minutes before– usually he can’t stand it, but right now it feels like home. suna knows his eyes shouldn’t be trailing down to your cherry balm stained lips, and he knows that his chest shouldn’t swell at the sight of you wearing his old bleach stained t-shirt that stretched past your shorts.

suna knows that he’s not supposed to see his best friend in that light; so why is it all that he can think about?

“close your eyes for me please?”

he really doesn’t want to, afraid that if he opens them back up again, you’ll be gone and he’ll be in his bed [he still believes that he’s dreaming]. but he knows that he’d rather dance with the devil [the twins] than say no to you, so he complies.

you hum a light tune to yourself as you bring the fine-tipped brush to the edge of his eye. as the pen glides across his skin, suna can’t help but flinch at the intrusive feeling. instinctively, his hand darts up to hold your wrist, stopping you from drawing any further.

“that feels weird.” he can’t see, but he can feel the smile tugging at your lips.

“you’ll get used to it in a bit, rin.”

it’s weird, best friends don’t usually sit in each other’s lap with less than five inches of breathing room between each other. what if he were to do this with one of the twins–

that’s a disturbing thought. he immediately forgets about it. he shifts in discomfort mid-stroke, making your hand slip.

you groan in frustration; it’s at times like this that you can’t stand suna.

“stop moving! you made it smudge!” you lightly smack his chest [though, it’s just a pitiful excuse to touch him].

“sorry, sorry.” your giggles die down as you clean up the line, and suna quickly goes back to overthinking. 

tik

the rain is still pouring.

tok

he counts that you breathe twice every ten seconds.

tik

you’re getting closer to his chest. 

tok

he can still smell the leftover pizza on the coffee table from today’s takeout.

tik

the gel feels kind of nice now.

tok

its one a.m and suna’s falling in love with–

“earth to suna?” you huff as you lightly tap his shoulder, “don’t tell me that you’ve fallen asleep on me.” it’s quite funny to him when you say that; you’re actually what keeps him up at night.

you lean back as he opens his eyes, looking at the eyeliner from afar. you can’t help but get a bit jealous– even without trying, suna had always managed to look perfect. 

you’re so caught up that you don’t notice yourself starting to slip.

“watch out.” his hand slips around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

it’s one a.m and your hands are back on his shoulders. you know that your eyes shouldn’t be on his slightly chapped lips, and you know that you shouldn’t want to throw the hoodie adorning his body somewhere across the room. 

inhale

his hands are still around your waist.

exhale 

you watch as his tongue ghosts over his lips to wet them.

inhale 

you can smell the residual scent of the same cinnamon cologne you got him for a ‘secret santa’ event between your friend group.

exhale 

sometimes, you forget that you’re just friends.

inhale

has suna always been this attractive?

exhale 

the tipped over bottle of eyeliner is spilling onto your clothes.

inhale 

how would his lips feel against–

“wanna kiss you.” the hesitation in suna’s voice is clear. he knows better than anyone that best friends shouldn’t want to kiss each other. his heart is racing. when your eyes widen in surprise he wants nothing more than to push you off of him and leave without saying goodbye– but he’s already said it. 

“w-what?” you stutter out. you can’t help but wonder if you’re dreaming. you want to pinch yourself, but if it is a dream, the last thing you’d want is to wake up.

“i want to kiss you. will you let me?” he says, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

little does he know that you want more; to touch him, taste him, love him–

you take the easy way out instead, “yeah...alright.”

he moves a stray strand of hair away from your face, is he doing this right? You move in closer, eyes slowly fluttering shut, but suna’s gaze still lingers on you. he thinks you look even more beautiful than before [he didn’t think it was possible]. It’s one a.m and he’s about to kiss the person of his dreams. 

shit. he should close his eyes.

the journey seems like forever, but you both finally feel each other.

no, his lips don’t ghost over yours.

they press together, full of pent up passion. it’s hot, too hot for even best friends. 

can you even call each other that anymore?

not with the way his hands claw at the tip of your shirt in a futile attempt of pulling you closer to him, not with the way you gather tufts of his hair in your hands, and certainly not at the way you both feel at home like this. you both can taste every last inch of each other. 

he swears that he hates peppermint, but he’s drunk on the taste of it on your tongue. 

you’re meant to be nothing more than childhood best friends, but you want more and more and MORE.

this shouldn’t be happening, but he wants more and more and MORE–

you both break for air after an eternity, pulling away with heat-flushed faces, heaving chests, and swollen lips. he rests his forehead against yours, peppering ghost-kisses between breaths that tickle your skin. 

“i’m not supposed to love you, but i do.”

it’s two a.m, and two best friends are melting into each other. 

they’re unaware that the rain has stopped. 

[flooffybits]

Mayday

So long as he lingers, everything is far from over.

Warning: mentions of death, fire

Back || Next

After the events of the day prior, Yoohyeon woke up feeling incredibly sore. The moment her eyes open, she’s greeted by the plain white ceiling above her and she lets out a huff when she remembers that she’s no longer in the cozy apartment she and Yubin have situated themselves in when Minji informed them of your whereabouts.

At the thought of you, the young girl quickly sat up to look around the room before she noticed the figure next to her, never mind her body whining at her for moving too fast.

It wasn’t Yubin, that she was sure of.

Her girlfriend would usually be cuddled up on her side when they slept, yet the person beside her was curled up under the sheets, half their face covered. But Yoohyeon didn’t have to look too hard to know who it was because the moment she laid back down, you turned in your sleep just so you were facing her.

Her expression was gentle as she took in your sleeping face, her heart warming when she remembers the times she would always sneak into your room just because she didn’t want to sleep alone when you were all younger.

It brought tears to her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away as leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek and then adjusted the covers over you, smiling more when you snuggled under the sheets as she just watched you and allowed the fact that you were back in their lives sink in.

“Missed you.” She whispered softly, watching as a tiny smile formed on your lips despite your unconscious state.

..

“Slept well?” Handong smiles when the younger girl enters the kitchen and Yoohyeon puffs her cheeks while taking a seat, though Handong notices the slight limp when she walks over. “I did, and you don’t have to ask about my leg, it’s just a little sore from yesterday.”

Handong pursed her lips together before she decided to just fix up some tea for the younger girl. “How’s Y/n? Still sleeping? The older woman inquired and Yoohyeon nodded her head, doing her best to hide the smile trying to break over her features as she buried the lower part of her face with her arms, but Handong didn’t need to look to know.

“Did you treat her wounds?” Handong questioned and Yoohyeon shook her head. “You should know by now that Jiu unnie already took care of it before I even got there.” She replies with a chuckle before accepting the mug that was handed to her, mumbling a soft thank you as the Chinese woman giggled. “Of course, how could I have forgotten?”

“Good morning.” Siyeon greeted as she entered the kitchen and the pair looked over, smiling at the blue haired woman as she took a seat. “How are your arms?” Yoohyeon asked, seeing them all bandaged up. "A little burned, but that's nothing new. I'll be fine in a while." She replied with a casual shrug before accepting the mug handed to her.

"Sua and Jiu unnie made sure I was fine last night. Thankfully it doesn't hurt anymore." Hearing the other's name, the pair looked worriedly and Siyeon gave them a small smile. "She's okay. Y/n's timing helped save her from any burns."

"And you?"

Handong placed her mug down as she pressed her lips together. "We know what Haneul was trying to do and that you are-"

"Stop."

Both younger girls shut their mouths as Siyeon stared at her cup, her expression turning into a grimace before she sighed. “I appreciate it, you guys are looking out for me, but I really don’t want to think about it anymore.” She muttered before taking a long sip of her tea, letting its contents soothe her.

“Anyway, how is Y/n? The eldest in the room questioned and Yoohyeon rested her cheek against her fist, elbow resting on the table. “She’s alright, sleeping soundly.” Siyeon nods her head, sighing in relief. "Hopefully her sleep isn't the same as last time." She murmured while bringing the mug back to her lips and Handong looked down at her mug before smiling at her reflection.

"She's alright."

As soon as Minji woke up, she turned on her side to see Yubin curled under the covers, half of her face hidden by the sheets. It made the older woman smile before she quietly got out of bed and exited the bedroom, letting out a sigh as she looked at the door not too far away from the one she had just left.

The door was wide open, so she decided to take a quick peek, only to pause when she saw Gahyeon sitting by the bed and tending to your wounds. “Morning, unnie. How are you feeling?” The younger girl greeted without even looking whilst Nannan rested peacefully at her feet.

“I’m okay, but what are you doing?” The eldest inquired as she stepped into the room, eyes shifting from your sleeping face to the back of Gahyeon’s head as more ice formed over your injuries. “I was passing by, but I noticed that unnie didn’t seem too comfortable. It didn’t take long before her thoughts seeped out like it usually does when she’s sleeping.”

Hearing the last bit made the dark haired woman smile a bit as she nodded her head, crossing her arms while she observed what the maknae was doing. “The burns on her hand and arm are healing surprisingly quicker than I expected. Usually, Siyeon unnie’s burns don’t go away until a week or so, depending on the severity.” She muttered as a bit of ice formed over the cut on your bruised cheek.

“Is that an effect of her memories coming back?” Minji pressed her hand to her cheek, smiling as she watched over you. “I doubt it, but I wouldn’t take it off the list.” She responded as she took a seat next to the maknae as she worked, though she was surprised when water came over your body like a dome.

Minji blinked as the maknae let out a sigh, a faint glow appearing as she leaned back. “What’s this about?” Not knowing what this was, Minji wanted to know just, what, exactly what the maknae was doing.

“I’ve been studying a bit in my free time.” Gahyeon explains as she watches some of the water making contact with the ice covered wounds. "Water is a healing element, so I thought, maybe it would make me more helpful if I could actually treat everyone's wounds when we get injured." She adds and Minji watches in awe, lightly patting the younger girl and smiling proudly. "You're helpful enough, Gahyeon. But I do hope that you’re not pushing yourself too much with this." The bright haired female flashed a grin. “Of course. Siyeon unnie and Dongie would scold me, otherwise.”

“You should have some breakfast though, unnie. I’m pretty sure you’re tired like everyone else.” Gahyeon spoke up after a few minutes of silence and Minji nodded her head as she stared at your still sleeping form. “I’ll keep Y/n unnie safe, don’t worry.”

Though she knows that you should all be safe, it seemed that leaving you still brought some form of hesitance in the eldest as she reluctantly stood up. “Thank you, Gahyeon.”

Minji let out a breath while making her way to the kitchen, spotting the rest of her friends gathered around, chatting peacefully with one another as though none of them were in any danger before. But with Siyeon’s bandaged arms and the bruises that peeked from the girls’ clothes, along with the one on Bora’s neck, it was clear they’ve been through a rough day.

“Good morning.” Siyeon notices her first, and the other three look over, greeting her in sync. “Hungry?” Bora asked and Minji chuckled as she neared the table. “A little. Has Gahyeon eaten before checking on Y/n?” She asked and Handong nodded her head. “I brought her some food earlier.”

“How is Y/n, by the way?” Bora asked, one hand subconsciously running over her girlfriend’s arm. “She’s okay. She’s sleeping well, minus the discomfort, but Gahyeon was able to help ease it.” The Chinese woman explained, making Yoohyeon smile a bit. “That’s good.”

“Gahyeon was saying that Y/n’s wounds were healing much faster than they’re supposed to. Did any of you give her any potions?” The leader inquired before everyone shook her head. “We haven’t exactly seen her since last night.” Siyeon replied with a shrug. “We were too tired to even talk last night.” Yoohyeon adds while resting her chin against the palm of her hand.

“You were the last she saw aside from Yoohyeon. Maybe it was all you.” Bora said teasingly, making her girlfriend snort as she brought her mug to her lips. “You know what they say, love is one of the strongest cures.” The shorter woman added dramatically, this time prompting Handong and Yoohyeon to laugh, too, whilst Minji playfully rolled her eyes while grabbing a plate of pancakes.

“Hilarious, Sua.” Her friend merely flipped her hair in response, grinning. “Why thank you. I know my sense of humor is amazing.” Minji just sighed before Yoohyeon recollected herself and asked. “Is Dami still sleeping?”

Minji nodded her head with a hum, sipping her coffee before answering. “She didn’t go to sleep right away.” She informed and Yoohyeon sighed softly. “Meditating?” At that, Minji nodded again. “She couldn’t have waited another night.”

It’s not long before footsteps meet their ears and Siyeon smiles when she sees the two maknaes on either side of you, Yubin looking a little drowsy with her head against your arm, and Gahyeon supporting your other side due to your slightly disoriented state.

“You guys good?” Bora asked softly and you smiled while nodding your head. “Dami came to the room a little after I woke.” You explain, patting said girl on the back as she rubbed her eyes and then trudged over to her girlfriend, who happily welcomed her into her arms.

Gahyeon helped you to the rest, making sure to keep an arm around your waist before Handong pulled a chair for you, allowing you to sit down as the girls looked at you. “Unnie is a little dizzy. I think with the sped up healing process, her body is still trying to cope.” Gahyeon explains with her brows pinched together as she rubbed your back soothingly. “Plus, her powers have been dormant for how many years, so letting it out, now, might also take a bit of a toll on her.”

“It’s not that bad.” You try to reason while rubbing your temple. “I think I just need practice.” You mutter as Minji hands you a glass of water from across the table. “At least your cheek isn’t that bruised anymore.” Siyeon pointed out and Gahyeon beamed happily when you nodded your head. “Gahyeonnie has been a great help.”

The older women seemed to smile at the affection you showered the maknae. There was nothing but laughter in the room with all eight of you together.

“Seeing as unnie needs a bit of polishing, I guess we’re all going to have to practice a bit more.” Yubin spoke up once she was a bit more awake and halfway done with her food, the rest nodding in agreement. “I think it’ll help. I need to work on my own abilities.” Siyeon muttered as she flexed her fingers with a small frown and Bora gently patted her head. “You’ll be okay, Singnie. We’re all here to help you.”

Staring at the blue haired woman, you could understand just why she was desperate to make herself better - stronger. After seeing what she had been through, it made sense why she wanted to correct and erase her flaws.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but as all eyes land on you, your gaze never falters when you lock eyes with Siyeon. “He manipulated you, hurt you; toyed with you. But what happened wasn’t your fault.”

“I-” You see the flames flashing behind her eyes before she forces herself to look down and bite her lip. “I know, but sometimes I just can’t help but think… if I wasn’t so weak… He wouldn’t have taken advantage of me like that.”

“Whether you were strong or not, he used my abilities to make you believe what he wanted you to. You had no power against mental manipulation just like everyone else in this room. I’m no exception despite it being my own abilities.” You firmly told her and it seemed that everyone was a little surprised by your tone of voice.

You weren’t usually one to tell your friends off, especially the ones older than you. But it looks like this whole incident has caused a change in you.

And only time could tell if it was good or bad.

"You're not a bad person, unnie. I hope you can remember that." You say softly and Siyeon grows quiet while mulling over her thoughts before Bora spoke up. "She's right. Haneul used the things that broke us when we were children and made you believe that it was ruining what we have…" She reaches for her girlfriend's hand and laces their fingers together. "What we can have." She adds gently. "You were only doing what any other person would have done."

"We look out for each other." Yoohyeon joins in. "No matter how far, we find ourselves back home." Yubin hums and you nod your head in agreement while Minji smiles. "We're going to be okay."

"You'll be okay."

..

"Have you guys… talked?" You're confused when Yubin suddenly speaks up next to you, looking over to see if she was talking to you instead of any of the other girls, only to remember that it was only the two of you along with her girlfriend present. "Me?"

She nods in confirmation and your brows furrow, asking her to further elaborate. "You and Jiu unnie. With your memories back, were you guys able to make up?"

Admittedly, you're surprised by her bluntness, heat rising to your cheeks, but you shake your head and turn back to the book you were reading with regards to your own abilities, or anything similar to it whilst Yoohyeon snorts at your actions as she pets Pie’s head.

"Not exactly." You mutter and Yoohyeon rolls her eyes as Yubin questioningly raises a brow. “Why not? The brunette inquired while you tried to keep your focus on the book laid out in front of you.

“Like you all said, it’s been years since that incident. I don’t think it’s actually appropriate to say that we can just pick up where we left off.” You sigh out, giving up on your reading for now, knowing that the two would continue to pester you no matter how hard you tried to ignore them.

Yoohyeon stared at you with an incredulous look on her face before she held Pie up. “I didn’t think losing her memories would make Y/n unnie a wimp.” She says teasingly and you throw a pillow at the taller girl. “You’re very lucky that you’re hurt at the moment.”

The comment makes her gasp, placing her dog down, allowing Pie to walk over to you as Yubin shook her head. “Are you threatening me, unnie?” She asked dramatically before reaching to shake her girlfriend’s arm. “Dami, unnie just said she would hurt me!” You groan at her antics before turning back to your book. “You’re an idiot, Yoohyeon.”

The name has her pouting, but you promptly ignore her as you let Pie settle on your lap when you pick your book back up so you can resume studying, wanting to drop the topic for now. But, of course, the two wouldn’t stop unless you had given them a suitable answer they deemed acceptable.

“But unnie, don’t you think that you both need it?” Yubin asked you and you lifted your head to look at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I think what Dami is saying, you’ve both been away for this long. In every life we had, you always wound up together either way. What’s stopping you, now that you know the truth?” Yoohyeon asked and you frown, mindlessly petting Pie’s head as you let your eyes drop to the floor.

“It just… doesn’t seem fair to her.” You mutter quietly. “She’s been working so hard for all these years, but what about me? I didn’t know anything and now that my memories, it’s suddenly okay?” Your chuckle is empty, humorless and the two younger girls watch you with sad eyes when they sense the guilt inside you.

“Who knows, maybe the person I am now might not be the same person she imagined me to be.”

Outside the room, the woman in question was the same as you - eyes cast down as she clenched a fist against her chest while her back pressed against the wall.

While she didn’t mean to listen in on your conversation, she ended up hearing you just as the three of you started to talk about it again and Minji couldn’t help feed her curiosity. Though she wishes she could step in to tell you that there was nothing you had to worry about.

But if you wanted to take things slow, then she would accept that. She’s waited more than a millenia.

A bit more time wouldn’t be that bad.

..

Later that night, you’re already getting ready for bed, exhausted after the various activities Yoohyeon and Yubin had you do in order to better practice your abilities that it was more tiring than when you had first used them again after the fight with Haneul.

As a matter of fact, you would still get the occasional headaches, yet were quick to dismiss them as nothing.

After dinner, Gahyeon made sure to check on you again, making sure that your injuries weren’t as bad as earlier, though she was satisfied to see that they were healing properly like when she had finished that morning.

“Your burns are almost gone but the cut on your face and the bruises are still going to take some time.” The bright haired girl informed you when she finished and you nod your head with a grateful smile on your face. “Thank you. You should go and get some rest now. I’m sure you’ve been busy today, too.”

Minji watched you both from the bed, seeing as Yoohyeon had finally adjusted and came to terms that you wouldn’t be going anywhere any time, soon. The eldest smiled as you affectionately patted the maknae’s head before bidding her goodnight and then shutting the door as she exited the bedroom, leaving the two of you alone.

“What’s that look for?” You ask without looking and Minji blushes while making herself comfortable on the bed. “Nothing. It’s just nice to see you and everyone again.” It’s not a lie, though it isn’t the sole reason she was staring at you in the first place.

Your earlier words have yet to leave her mind ever since she heard you, but she didn’t want to tell you that she had overheard your conversation with Yoohyeon and Yubin when she knows she wasn’t supposed to.

“You’re thinking a little too hard, it’s starting to whisper in my head, unnie.” You say worriedly, finally looking at the eldest and her eyes widen as she frantically shook her head. “I’m fine! It’s nothing, I was just trying to think of what to do tomorrow. You know, you practice with me and Sua, so I’m trying to come up with something.” She rambled and you stare at her, noting the redness on her cheeks before slowly nodding your head.

Minji lets out a quiet sigh of relief, but when she looks at you, she quickly notices the slight grimace before you’re reaching to rub your temple. “Are you alright?” She asks softly before you wave your other hand in dismissal. “It’s nothing. It’s been happening a lot recently, so I think it’s just because of my abilities.” You reason, yet it does little to soothe Minji of her worries as she eyes you when you finally lay down.

Even with your assurance, the older woman bit her lip and waited until you had fallen asleep. Once she was sure that you were fine, that was when she was finally able to let her guard down, even just a little bit before she laid on her side, just so she was facing you.

“One day, maybe I can tell you again that I can never stop loving you. Right now, all I can do is help you find the best version of yourself.” One hand reaches to touch yours and she uses her thumb to gently rub your knuckles.

When she falls asleep, her hand doesn’t detach from yours and the warmth is welcomed by both of you.

..

“You think you’re safe?” A mocking tone greets you when you find yourself back at the mansion and your heart jumps to your throat. “What’s the matter, Y/n? Why can’t you tell them?” Haneul’s voice is distorted but you know full well that it was him.

“You’re still scared. You’re terrified because you don’t recall every single life you’ve had.” He sneers and you clench your fists before a shadow of a person appears in front of you. “What about your friends?” Your eyes widen when you recognize Seungwan’s features, the same kind smile you’d gotten accustomed to before you were able to recall your past life.

Your limbs don’t move when you try to. Your body wouldn’t listen and you felt paralyzed. “All you ever do is run, Y/n. It’s pathetic.” Haneul tsked and you grit your teeth. “Abandoning everyone you care for and for what?” He went on and you try your hardest to move, your jaw clenching and unclenching before the man finally appears in Seungwan’s place.

“But I wonder… Did Minji ever tell you about the woman she stole you from?” He was a mere foot away and you began to feel your fingers twitch. “Did they tell you that you had gotten married in one of your lives and they took you away from it all?”

Memories you don’t recall start flooding your head, and the more they come, the more your head throbbed as he continued to pour more into your mind. “Did you ever wonder why Seungwan was always so kind to you, why you connected so easily?” He went on, taking half a step closer. “You two got along so well. But then… a tragic accident took her life away.”

The sound of tires screeching followed by an explosion rang in your ears, and in that instant, your hand broke free from whatever was restraining your movements to clutch your head as the pain surged through you. “You can’t keep running away, Y/n.”

Suddenly, Haneul was towering over you with a sinister look on his face. “I’m going to make sure of it.” He smirked before he pressed his foot against your head as the picture of a car, flipped over and covered in flames filled your vision.

The shards of glass from the car were merely in front of you, yet it felt like they were cutting at your skin. And when you see the window, there’s a pool of blood gradually coming from it, along with a lone arm sticking out, the body that owned said arm was out of your view, but you knew full well who was inside.

..

“Y/n!”

You woke to someone shaking you, sweat running down your forehead as you looked around the room, seeing no car or flames. There was no smoke.

It was the room you shared with Minji.

“Y/n…” The voice calls your attention and you see the way Minji was looking at you, worry swimming in her brown orbs before she was cupping your cheek. “What happened? Are you okay?” But you can’t seem to find your voice.

You swallow thickly and Minji reaches to turn the lamp on just so she could get a better look at you, but her hand freezes right before she could touch the switch when you speak up.

“What happened to Wendy?”

[fearlessjournalism]

ok here comes the first of my hopefully more coherent the burning god posts (spoilers in case you haven’t muted the tags!! last warning!!!)

the last chapter of tbg does. a lot. obviously. and i have so many thoughts about a lot of it. but one of the most interesting things about it to me is how quickly it deconstructs the idea of kitay that we want to see, all contained in “I didn’t think I could, either. I thought I couldn’t deny you anything. But I can, I always could, I’d just never really tried.” there’s so much contained in this about his relationship with rin, and it’s all messy and heartbreaking, but I want to talk about what it does for kitay himself.

the dragon republic established that, internally, kitay is really fucking angry all of the time (and understandably so, given the things he’s seen! I’m not trying to undercut that by any means). it’s this deep, burning rage that surprises rin, and yet we don’t openly see it expressed much in the burning god. sure, he gets in some arguments and he snaps at people sometimes, but with a couple exceptions that’s irritation more than anger. it’s not something that would’ve been totally unexpected from sinegard kitay. none of that is an expression of soul-deep anger, and at parts of tbg I was kind of wondering where it was, and in a more general sense, what he wanted.

the last chapter I think set out that he doesn’t just swallow his anger down, it doesn’t just go nowhere, it’s in the things he allows rin to do. at the same time she’s using him as a conduit for the fire, he’s using her as a conduit for his anger, because if she expresses it for both of them he doesn’t have to feel the same kind of responsibility. I don’t think he wants for people to get hurt, I really don’t, but I think on a deep subconscious level (that he maybe won’t even necessarily admit to himself), there’s a kind of perverse gratification in allowing this expression of rage and vengeance.

it’s not that I don’t believe him when he says he didn’t think he could stop her. I do think he truly believed that, and I think part of it is absolutely just that he loves her and has trouble denying her things, but I think if he really wanted to know he would’ve tested it earlier. even back when he first became her anchor, I think they tested just about everything, but I don’t think they tried that. maybe he was afraid of getting overwritten, but again, they could test it on a small scale in a controlled environment. he’s so analytical that that seems like a weird thing not to want to know, but I think deep down he didn’t want to know because not knowing gives him plausible deniability. if even he doesnt think he can stop her, he doesn’t have to admit to himself or anyone else that part of him doesn’t always want to occupy the moral high ground.

so much of the fact that we’re drawn in by this (or at least I was, I guess I can’t speak for everyone) is that we only see him through rin, who loves him intensely but fundamentally sees him as weak. she knows he’s a genius, obviously, an incredible strategist and inventor, but she sees him as weak-willed and trying too hard to be Good. we don’t see much to dispute that either, at least in this book. he’s never in battle, which prevents her from remembering until the end that he’s a goddamn good soldier. he wins a couple arguments about costs and ethics, but loses a lot of others. and we know rin is using him. the nature of the anchor bond kind of ensures that, of course, but she’s also just very up front about the fact that she’s using him. it makes it harder to see the subtler ways in which he’s using her, both because it’s less conscious and because she doesn’t believe he could.

and like... it kind of hurts to realize that he’s allowed himself to be a conduit for the worst of her actions for the whole book, even the ones that he put up a fight against on the surface level. we want to believe that he’s Good, that he’s there through all of this both bc he loves rin and can’t leave and because he needs to be the mitigating force, always pushing her towards the lesser evil. and I don’t think any of those things are untrue. those are all very real motivations for him, but I think this part at the end pointed to something else as well. maybe it makes him a less good person than we wanted to believe, but it makes him a miles more interesting character.

[radishaur]

Exceptional (Sugawara x Reader)

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Part: 1/1

Summary: Suga begins talking with the girl that sits next to him in English. He’s quick to fall in love with her and even quicker to pretend he isn’t. She thinks he’s exceptional; he doesn’t agree.

•••

Being replaced by an insanely talented first year is something I think about a lot. I made the right choice, I know that, but it doesn’t make me feel any less bad about it. I made the choice that I thought would take us to National’s and that would allow my closest friends to play, even if I didn’t get that same opportunity. Kageyama deserves the spot. He was gifted, that was for sure, but he also worked hard.

Compared to him, I feel less than ordinary. I’m a third year that barely plays. I’m not smart but not stupid either. I’m cute but not attractive. I’m just....there. Kageyama might not be the smartest, but he makes up for it with killer skill and good looks.

Watching my friends play with a big smile on my face comes as second nature because I’m proud of them. I’m so so proud of them. I just wish that I could be the one playing with them sometimes. Like how it used to be. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel so, for lack of better words, blah about myself.

“Hey, Sugawara. Are you ok?”

The words are whispered quietly, but they’re still enough to bring me back to reality. I turned my head to see the pretty girl I’d been crushing on all year, Y/N L/N, looking at me. I smiled nervously and rubbed the back of my neck.

“Y-Yea I’m ok,” I said sheepishly.

“You just looked really sad. You were really deep in thought, huh?” she asked, a small smile on her face.

I felt a wave of butterflies in my chest. She was smiling at me. I couldn’t stop a smile of my own from breaking out at the realization.

“I was, wasn’t I.”

She looked like she was about to respond when suddenly our teacher cleared her throat. I whipped my head up towards her and saw her glaring down at us from the front of the class. Everyone was staring, even Asahi who was grinning widely at me.

“Sugawara. L/N. See me after class, please.”

I mumbled an apology and sent an apologetic smile towards Y/N before focusing back on the teacher. It wasn’t long before the bell for lunch was ringing. I told Asahi that I’d meet him and Daichi after dealing with the teacher and not to wait up for me. He waved goodbye and I made my way up to the teachers desk where Y/N was standing as well. She didn’t seem too annoyed, so I prayed this would be over soon.

She gave us a quick scolding before sending us on our ways. I sighed in relief and grabbed my things, mustering up the courage to talk to Y/N. At the very least, I owed them an apology for getting them in trouble. As we were walking out of class, I finally squashed the churning in my stomach and turned to look at Y/N.

Surprisingly, she was already looking up at me.

“I’m sorry about getting you in trouble,” I apologized, a nervous grin breaking out on my face.

“Oh, it’s ok! It wasn’t that big of a deal,” she assured me, a tiny smile setting my insides on fire.

“R-Right. Well, at least let me buy you something to make it up to you. Do you like anything from the vending machines?” I asked.

Her eyes lit up immediately and I was grinning wider before I could stop myself. She visibly brightened before answering.

“I do! They have this really good milk. It’s not as good as the one’s they sell a few blocks from my house, but they’re a close second.”

We ended up spending the entire lunch period together, something Daichi and Asahi bullied me for extensively when they saw me at practice that night. We got so lost in conversation that both of us forgot to eat, simply standing by the vending machine and chatting excitedly about everything. I learned that she was really passionate about milk, that her favorite season was fall because she loved the feeling of being wrapped up in a warm scarf, that she was getting top scores in all her classes, etc.

If it was even possible, I was falling harder for her every second.

From that day on, we seemed to run into each other more often. It was small things at first. A simple passing in the hallway and eyes meeting from up at the second story window. Then it got bigger. Meeting at the vending machine to talk and leaving class to eat lunch together. Eventually, it got to the point where I was subconsciously scanning the crowd for her as if my body was seeking her out on its own.

We had grown to be close friends and the idea of being close to her no longer filled me with butterflies, but an intoxicating warmth instead.

I smiled as I continued walking home. Practice was cancelled today due to the gym being closed for maintenance. Daichi and Asahi has parted ways with me a few minutes ago and I was making the rest of the walk alone like usual. That was, until a familiar person called out my name.

“Suga?”

“Y/N?” I asked in shock, turning to face her as she came running up to me.

She engulfed me in a hug that made my skin tingle and buzz. I reciprocated, enjoying the brief feeling of her hair tickling my chin and her arms around my waist. When she finally pulled away, she was laughing happily.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, falling into a peaceful stride to continue walking with me.

“I live a few blocks away from here,” I said, pointing in the general direction of my house.

He eyes widened in shock as she looked up at me, but she was quickly smiling excitedly.

“No way! So do I! I can’t believe I’ve never seen you walk this way before,” she said, contemplating as she looked up ahead.

“Usually I’m still at volleyball practice by now. It was cancelled today because of maintenance on the gym,” I explained, my heart racing slightly at the prospect of living so close to her.

“That’s right! Don’t you guys have a match coming up? Against uh... jeez what was their name. Don’t tell me,” she said, brows furrowing as she struggled to remember the name before suddenly relaxing and saying, “Aoba Johsai!”

She smiled up at me and I could have sworn my heart melted on the spot. Her eyes were sparkling and she seemed to almost be glowing, so proud of herself for remembering. I couldn’t stop myself from staring.

“Was that not right?” she asked, frowning slightly.

“No no! I’m sorry, I got lost in thought again,” I apologized quickly, recovering slightly from my panic when her frown disappeared, “We have a match against them this weekend. It’s just a practice, though.”

“Oh, really? The way Kageyama was talking about it made it sound like it was a real match.”

My heart dropped into my stomach at that point. I quickly schooled the shock in my expression before she could notice.

“You know Kageyama?” I asked hesitantly.

“Hmm? Oh yea. I help tutor him sometimes. Our parents work together so that’s how I met him. He’s always talking about your guys team instead of studying,” she said, giggling slightly at her own memory of it, “That’s why I kind of already knew who you were before we became friends.”

Of course she knew Kageyama. Come to think of it, it made sense. She had known my name without me ever introducing myself. I gave a half hearted smile as I pretended to listen to her talk. I felt my heart sinking lower and lower with each step I took. Her and Kageyama would make sense together.

They both loved milk to an insane degree. They were both attractive. They both have a burning passion for the things they enjoy like nobody else I’ve ever seen. And she clearly cared enough about him to remember even the most minute details about volleyball that he no doubt rambled about during their study sessions. How could I ever compete with Kageyama? This was just another area he would beat me in.

“-and next time you guys have a real game, you should tell me! I’d love to go,” she said, the first half of her sentence lost to the buzzing of my thoughts.

“Oh, uh...yea. That’d be nice.”

We parted ways after that and I went home, noticeably gloomier than before.

When my friends asked me what happened I told them it was nothing and not to worry about it. Neither of them would understand how I was feeling and I didn’t want to burden them or guilt them into putting me in more. Kageyama was what was best for the team and who would probably be the best for Y/N anyway.

We continued on like normal, except for the occasional days where I would walk home with her. For the most part, I tried to avoid talking about volleyball with her because it always circled around the Kageyama. It only reminded me of what little chance I had with her. So, when it finally came time for our first real game, I didn’t except Y/N to actually show up.

“Suga!” she said, catching my attention as she weaved her way through the crowd.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” I asked, shocked to see her here on a Saturday.

“I came to cheer you guys on! Kageyama invited me,” she explained, pointing to the bright orange jersey with the number 9 on it.

If it was even possible, my heart sunk even lower. She was wearing his jersey. That meant they had to be dating, or at least that they liked each other and hadn’t admitted it yet. I took a deep breath and forced a smile onto my face.

“That’s great,” I lied, hoping desperately to find an excuse to leave.

“Don’t tell Kageyama I said this, but I hope that they put you in this game. I’d love to see you play,” she said.

Before I had a chance to respond, Daichi called my name and I had to go warm up. She disappeared into the crowd leaving me even more confused than before. The dull ache in my chest was still there but I ignored it in favor of focusing on the warm ups. Every once in a while I would catch a glimpse of Y/N watching us from the risers and I couldn’t help but hope they put me in at least a little.

As if my wish was granted, I ended up being subbed in for Kageyama during the second set. As we were switching, I heard her cheering my name. I looked over my shoulder and saw her shouting happily. Our eyes met and I knew from that moment that I needed to pull out my A game even more.

I stayed on the court for longer than I was expecting, but I still wanted to play more. I missed when I used to play the entire game. I smiled bitterly as Kageyama entered the court once more. I made sure to give him one of my trademark good luck comments, but it hurt more to say this time. Watching Kageyama play just reminded me of why Y/N would definitely pick him instead.

The game ended with a win for us and we quickly cleaned up before getting ready to eat lunch before our second game. I was talking with Daichi and Asahi when I caught Y/N and Kageyama talking. She was talking animatedly and Kageyama, for once, seemed to actually be listening. The sight of them together stung, but I couldn’t deny that they would make a good couple even with their age difference. I turned back around to continue listening to Daichi talk, resigning myself to another defeat.

It wasn’t more than a minute later that I felt someone run up next to me. I turned to look at who it was and saw Y/N, babbling excitedly about how amazing we all were today. She was still wearing Kageyama’s jersey, something Daichi and Asahi noticed but decided not to mention. The boy himself was nowhere to be seen, but that was typical of him during our breaks. He usually ate alone to keep himself in the zone.

“Hey, Y/N. Where’s Kageyama?” Asahi asked.

“I have no clue. That boy is always leaving me without telling me where he’s going. I pray for whoever he ends up dating,” she said with a sigh, giggling slightly as she said the last part.

“W-Wait, you’re not dating him?” I asked in disbelief and also surprise.

“What? Absolutely not! He’s like a little brother to me!” she replied, laughter bubbling out of her at the mere idea of it.

The wave of relief that washed over me was almost suffocating. She didn’t like Kageyama. That meant maybe I had a chance?

“If you’re not dating then why wear his jersey? That’s typically a couple thing to do,” Daichi pointed out.

She looked down at the oversized jersey that was tucked into her pants and then looked up with an innocent smile on her face. It still managed to send butterflies through me even after months of being friends.

“I guess it does look like that, doesn’t it? Honestly, it’s just something we’ve always done. Ever since middle school,” she explained.

“Well, why don’t we go get some lunch?” Daichi proposed.

We all nodded and headed towards the small cafe nearby. We all ordered and began talking as we waited for our food to come out. Daichi and Asahi went to the bathroom, leaving Y/N and I alone. There was a comfortable silence for a few moments before she spoke.

“Suga, can I ask you something?”

I took a sip of my drink and nodded. She shuffled slightly in her seat nervously before meeting my eyes. The intensity of her gaze sent a jolt of electricity through my spine and commanded my full attention.

“Why didn’t you invite me to come today?” she asked, a hint of hurt in her tone.

Her question caught me slightly off guard and I choked slightly on my drink. I coughed a few times as I forced myself to calm down before meeting her eyes once more.

“Why didn’t I invite you?” I repeated, checking to make sure I had heard her right.

“Yea. I always tell you I want to see you play, but then when you finally had a real game coming up I had to find out from Kageyama. Did you not want me to come or something?” she questioned, her usual confidence disappearing into thin air.

“That’s not it at all!” I said quickly, shocking even myself with how loud I was before lowering my voice and continuing, “It’s nothing like that, I promise.”

“Then what is it like? You always avoid talking about volleyball with me and you never want me to come watch your practices. I just don’t understand why you try to keep me away from that part of your life. We’re friends! I want to see you doing what you’re passionate about,” she huffed, her brows furrowing as she spoke.

I sighed, my shoulders dropping slightly as I cast my gaze down onto the table. There wasn’t going to be any way out of this except for me to tell the truth. I took a deep breath before starting.

“It’s because I’m embarrassed,” I admitted quietly.

Y/N stayed quiet, waiting patiently for me to continue. I looked up at her with a pained expression.

“Kageyama and I play the same position. We’re both setters, but there can only be one setter on the field at a time. Even though he’s a first year and I’m a third year, he’s way more talented than I am so I convinced Coach Ukai to put him in instead of me as a starter. I know that it was the best decision for the team but...it’s still really hard on me sometimes knowing that I’m not good enough to do it myself. Compared to him, I always lose. He’s just better than me at basically everything and sometimes I can’t help but think that everybody else thinks that as well. And I didn’t...I didn’t want you to think of me that way.”

As I finished, it felt like a small weight was lifted off my chest. Finally saying all my fears and insecurities out loud was relieving. Y/N was smiling sympathetically, which only made me feel even better about finally saying everything out loud.

“Sugawara Koshi, you are exceptional, you know that?” she said, a huge grin on her face.

My heart fluttered at her words but my face twisted into a disbelieving frown. I opened my mouth to protest only for her to cut me off.

“I’m serious! Look, I can’t say that I know much about volleyball, but I can tell that you’re good at it. Kageyama is amazing, don’t get me wrong, but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t. You both have different strengths and weaknesses and I could tell during the game that you really helped stabilize the team and boost them to their full potential. And even outside of volleyball you’re amazing! You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met and you always know what to say to make me laugh after a long exhausting day,” she said, her eyes shining with nothing but admiration as she continued, “You put 100% of your effort into everything you do, no matter what. You’re constantly supporting others during their time of need, but you also won’t hesitate to literally and figuratively knock some sense into them when they’re spiraling. So, when I say you’re exceptional, I mean it.”

“I...don’t even know what to say,” I whispered, completely awestruck at the fact that my crush could say such passionate things about me.

She blushed, laughing awkwardly as she rubbed the back of her neck. If my heart wasn’t already soaring, it was now. Her pure beauty even doing the most simple of things never failed to astound me.

“I guess that was a bit much. Sorry for getting carried away,” she apologized, smiling sheepishly at me.

There was a lot of things I wanted to say at that moment, but the thing that came out was definitely not what I was expecting.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Her eyes widened slightly in shock as she processed what I said. Even my own eyes widened, my words finally catching up to me. I blushed profusely and was silently praying that the world would swallow me whole at that very moment. I was about to start apologizing when she smiled, a bright excited smile, and responded.

“I would love to.”

When the four of us eventually returned to the stadium to play our second match, with Y/N watching from the balcony once more, her jersey had a giant number 2 on it instead.

[missinghan]

night changes (2) ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : rich kid!au

❖ word count : 21k.

❖ warning : explicit language & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : fate decides to backfire when you try to pull the son of the Senator in as a barrier between your life and Bang Chan.

❖ a/n : read pt.1 beforehand to understand the story better, I’m too tired to proofread this after the nth time, please don’t @ me.

one. The only reason why your mom persuaded Jeongin to move after when you moved in with your dad was college being practically thirty minutes away from the place. And also because of the rent. You feel bad for your brother mainly since the walls there are awfully thin and the girl next door always seems to have someone over every other night. They aren’t exactly trying to be subtle either. Sometimes you wonder how the fuck can he study for finals when the noise pollution can’t get any worse but he still manages to hit straight A-s.

On the other hand, you and Felix never have to worry about things such as students’ loans or college tuition. Every single penny was paid, as well as every other necessity in life. But you feel like nothing but a filler or a mannequin whenever you dad demands for intimate parties where you’re forced to sit still and look pretty when he’s too busy talking business with the other families. You’re just simply there, in his circle of status. Even when you’re all dressed up in designers’ clothes and whatnots, you still feel so out of place, sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Felix rolls his eyes dramatically when you pull up right in front of a rather ugly tree, scowling hard. “And you’re seriously taking your Rover today? Where did all of your standards go?” He glances sideways and sees a black Mercedes right in front of your car but shrugs it off shortly after.

“Hey! You take that back! She’s my baby! And also, it’s not gonna freak Jeongin out as much as your Tesla would,” you chuckle and punch his arm, earning a wholehearted laugh in return. Despite being born in a well off family, your stepbrother isn’t as much of an asshole as you’re expecting him to be. He’s pretty down to earth and acts like every other college kid that you’ve met with a questionable obsession with Fortnite. Except he loves to shove all the logos of luxurious brands into people’s faces who keep pissing him off, making him that much more intimidating.

“Wait here or stay there, pick your poison,” you tell him before grabbing your key and exit the car.

Felix mumbles something along the lines of ‘don’t be so rude’ and trails after you. He flutters his eyes upwards to take a closer look at the apartment complex before him. It’s quite small but seems very cozy. He wonders if it does feel less isolating and cold when there isn’t so much extra space around him all the time. “Hurry up, Lix! Jeongin gotta run to class in three hours.” With that, he hastily follows you up a narrow, rusty flight of stairs, the place reeks off the smell his dad always despises. He calls it ‘the subway smell’.

When your hand is hovering over the wooden door, it suddenly swings open, revealing an impossibly handsome guy. Chestnut brown hair, midnight orbs, tall nose, and peachy lips. He has you completely frozen for a good five seconds before you snap out of it, raising an eyebrow. Since when did Jeongin have hot guys as his roommates? And since when did your mom even allow him to have roommates? “Uhm sorry, you are..?”

The stranger smiles, perfectly showcasing his white. That’s your weak spot too. You’re a complete sucker for guys with cute smiles. “I’m Jaemin, and uh, my friend asked me to come over and help him with an upcoming exam.” You subconsciously stare at his outfits for a while, seeing no signs of any designers’ pieces. But his posture screams mad confidence, straight back, always maintaining eye contact, like he’s been raised in a wealthy family just like Felix. You can’t help but automatically judge people for what they wear, it’s been drilled into your mindset at some point and you hate yourself for that.

“Hello? Are you okay?” He waves his hand when you stay unresponsive. He partially thinks that you’re mentally judging him for acting like a weirdo.

You laugh nervously, completely oblivious of how Felix is facepalming himself behind your back. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m here to look for my brother.”

“Brother who?” Jaemin narrows his eyes at you skeptically.

“Yang Jeongin? Ring any bell?”

“What? Jeongin never told me he had a sis—“ his gasp is cut off midway when a hand flies to his mouth out of nowhere and pulls him backward. Your brother pokes his head out from behind Jaemin and smiles sheepishly. You can’t help but notice how different his smile is. Oh…where are his braces?

Jeongin says flatly, “Hey, sis, long time no see.” Then he scratches the nape of his neck, unsure of what to say. “Uhm, so what are you doing here?” It’s really been a while since you last saw him. Your dad can’t really do anything because your mom had full custody of raising him and he wanted to stay with her either way. He said he wouldn’t feel like he belongs if he dares to take a single footstep into his billion dollars mansion. Sometimes it feels like you’re just two strangers with the same blood coursing through your veins, family in name, but not in fact. But to be fair, you don’t even have the same last name as him.

“Where’s mom?” You avoid his question before stepping into the studio apartment completely. The last time you were here was when you’re still a freshman in college, you believe. And now all you can do is stand there in awe.

There was nothing but cardboard boxes scattered everywhere, dirty dishes piling up day by day, chipping wallpapers and a crusty old couch that the previous owner left behind as a result of your heartbroken mom. It used to make you grimace but holy shit, mom really did pull herself together. The place is freshly renovated, the smell of new paint is still evident, a teal couch, wooden cabinets, clean kitchen, bathroom on the left along with a brand new TV. Although it’s not the newest model of any sort, you can see how far your mom has come. She worked hard for your brother, and it’s definitely paying off.

Jeongin whispers something into Jaemin’s ears and pushes him out the front door, leaving a very shocked-looking Felix as a witness. “She’s at work,” he states the obvious monotonously.

“Oh,” you chuckle to yourself and let your fingers dance along the kitchen aisle. “Silly me. Anyway, when did you have your braces off? Last week?”

“It’s been a lot longer than that, Y/N. The last time you saw me was Woojin’s wedding.” He massages the side of his temple, sighing heavily. And your heart sinks, a pang of guilt always seems to be inevitable whenever you come over to visit him. Even when it’s only once or twice a year, you could never move on with life without knowing how he’s doing. You tried. “What are you doing here?”

You cut to the chase, “Dad wants you to come and join his party at the hotel this weekend. Nothing major, just another event as an excuse for him to make more money. And also he said he wanted to see you.”

“As if he needs any more money,” your brother sneers. “And he wanted to see me? Don’t be ridiculous. The old man probably wants me there to humiliate the shit out of me so that I’ll stay away from him and his precious jewels.” You perk a brow at what he’s referring you and Felix to, “I’m not gonna be there and smile through the whole thing. I don’t even own a tuxedo for fuck’s sake! Those people aren’t just rich, they’re crazy rich. They’re snoshy, and loud, and act all elegant with thousands of dollars draped over their bodies—“

Felix makes a face, “Snoshy?”

“Posh and snobby.”

“Are you coming for my accent?”

“I dare not.”

He laughs and swings an arm around Jeongin’s shoulders. “Good move, kid. Now get in the car, loser, we’re going shopping.”

The younger boy scrunches his nose in disgust, shoving your stepbrother away. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t make me put you in timeout.”

two. Jeongin feels like he’s sitting on a pile of burning coal instead of the espresso-colored velvet couch in the middle of a Tom Ford store. Soft white light slipping through the ceiling, walls embedded with mirrors all around and closets that are probably made with the finest kinds of wood. Even the fake pot of flowers on the glass coffee table in front of him looks more expensive than everything he owns combined. While he’s receiving dirty looks from some of the staff, Felix on the other hand, is too busy skimming through the watches and ties displayed inside the see-through cabinets.

Being humiliated just because he doesn’t dress like ‘your people’ makes him wanna bust through the door and stay at home for three consecutive days. People already disrespected him in a clothing store, what will happen if he attends that stupid intimate party? He’s not gonna fit into the social circle just because he’s wearing some designers’ pieces because that’s not who he is.

“Wrap those up for me,” you voice, face stoic of any emotions.

A staff at the checkout nervously laces her fingers together, a bead of sweat unknowingly rolls down on her temple. “Miss Lee! Having you buy our newest collection is more than we can ever afford, I’ll make sure to contact our superior to let you—“

“To let me fire you?” You cut her off, voice soft and stern at the same time. “Oh please, don’t bother,” the staff almost jumps back when you place one of your hands on hers, your rings cold against her burning skin as shivers run down her spine. “Minho will take good care of you, I guarantee.”

Jeongin groans in pure frustration when you wave at him, smiling in your luxurious glory when he’s sitting inside a high-end store like an absolute idiot. “Tom Ford? What is wrong with you people?” Felix glares at him and he immediately puts his hands up in defense. “Right, sorry. But would you mind and just strangle me right here right now so that I won’t make a grave mistake by putting that on? Can’t I just wear the tux that I had on Woojin’s wedding?” You bringing Felix along had already suffocated him enough when he literally lives and breathes in Gucci. Jeongin is not a fan of the tiger on his bomber jacket either.

“Eh..it’s a little dated, wouldn’t hurt to buy a new one. And did you really think that your sister’s gonna let you pay by yourself? How innocent,” Felix puts an arm over his shoulders when he refers to the brand new suit jacket, dress shirt and slacks on the marble counter. All that for more than ten thousand dollars, so… he’s gonna need more than ten years to pay you back. “Also, did you know that your sister is scary when someone pisses her off?” He whispers under his breath, slightly scared that you’re gonna catch his words.

“You’re wasting my time,” you hand your credit card over to the other staff, in which he receives with shaking hands. “Get yourself clean up and pack your bags, I’m sure a professional like you would have no problem landing another job like this.”

Jeongin almost gawks at how you’re giving ten thousand dollars away like you’re simply buying a burger at McDonald’s. He even feels bad for the staff who’s on the verge of breaking down, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. She did treat him like he was trying to rob the place but having her fired is far too harsh. Now he knows why he should never be on your bad side. “I think I do now.” He swallows thickly with two hands on his knees, the muscles on his back tense.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, we—“

You smile coldly, “That’s enough, I believe you all can reconsider your own behaviors towards customers. All of your customers.”

“Yep,” Felix catches the jet black Tom Ford bag when you walk past the couch, seemingly busy talking on the phone with Minho. “Iced cold motherfucker.”

Then, an unfamiliar figure enters the store the moment you walk out the door. Felix and Jeongin also pass by her without a second look even when they both accidentally catch some parts of her conversation with the staff. Fuzzily. So he doesn’t bother to think too much about it. “Good afternoon, ma’am, how can we help you?”

“I’m here to pick up a tuxedo for my boyfriend,” the girl takes off her sunglasses and grins, a smile that can take the breath right out of anyone.

The staff returns her smile and taps away on the iPad while the others are escorting the crying woman into the bathroom. “May we have the name please?”

Felix tosses the bag into the car trunk as soon as you start the engine, hurrying to the backseats after. Jeongin has his arms crossed in front of his chest in the passenger’s seat, no words can describe how frustrated, and mad, and partially relieved he feels right now all at once. All will be revealed in the next episode of how his sister fucks up every relationship he’s ever made, stay tuned folks!

“I was having a migraine just by seeing you handing out one of your five other credit cards. And firing her too? Aren’t you being too harsh? Couldn’t you spare her any sense of kindness at least?”

You laugh monotonously, “There are way worse things that could have happened to her. Trust me, you don’t wanna know what ‘my people’ can do.” This isn’t the first time you’ve seen some self excessively conceited staff who judges people by their social background. And now they had the audacity to insult your brother? Being fired is the only sense of kindness that you can give them for today.

“Great, now I’m gonna have to pay the old man back.”

You carefully take a turn and almost snort at your brother’s pointless concern. “That was my money, in my own defense. I don’t live off dad’s pennies anymore.” Even if it was your dad’s money, he would never make his biological son pay for what he can’t even afford. That’s like…asking a vegetarian why they want to bring down the mood of a BBQ party.

Jeongin replies flatly, looking out the window in boredom. “Huh, funny. Last time I checked, you said you were working at his hotel. Who’s the big boss there? Where does all the money come from? Him. Same thing.”

“Are you familiar with the triggers of migraines?” Felix abruptly places a hand on Jeongin’s shoulders, almost giving him a heart attack.

Jeongin doesn’t know much about migraines but he does know that your stepbrother is high-key a weirdo who just happens to be born with a butt load of money. “Uh…no?” If he happens to live in the same home with this idiot, he’s gonna go insane in a minimum of twenty-four hours. No doubt.

Felix excitedly laces his hand together and you mentally facepalm yourself. You’re so over his discussion about stuff like this because you know damn well he’s just trying to take it out on people after being stuck in med school for two years. He’s convinced that he’s gonna kill people instead of curing them so his mom gave him the consent to drop out to prolong the family’s legacy. “Here are some of them so that you know what not to do; from most likely to least likely: emotional stress, hormone, not eating, the fucking weather, sleep disturbances, certain odors, neck pain, alcohol, bright lights, smoke, certain foods, exercise, sexual activities, etc.”

“Sexual activities? Like a hangover after getting laid?” Jeongin asks.

“No, like just sex itself but it’s not supposed to happen that often so don’t worry too much about that.”

You automatically grit, feeling the need to bleach your ears after this. “Do not encourage him.”

“Hey! This is for educational purposes! Besides, it’s not like he’s still a little boy or whatever, he’s an adult now. #LifeCoachingWithLeeYongbok.” Felix takes no time to defend himself. “Now, I wish I could lecture you about the hypothalamus and give you a long-winded explanation of the science behind it, but Imma spare you for today.” Even if it were possible for you to sew his lips together, there’s no doubt that those unnecessarily inappropriate words would still find their ways to crawl out of his mouth and potentially mess up your little brother’s entire existence.

You let out a humorless chuckle, one that yells ‘hey, stop before you fucked it up for the rest of us’. “I’d hate to poke your enormous ego, but whoever attends your classes is gonna have their life crumbling right in front of their eyes.”

Felix simpers at your attempt of a clapback. “Actually no, people who attend my classes drastically turn their life around because they know what not to do. If you think about it, all of my advice to you has been great. I just don’t practice what I preach,” he tuts in that deepass voice of his, not noticing how Jeongin’s face is morphing into a very disgusted expression. “Just one more shot, I’ll be fine. I can quit whenever I want. I’m not addicted,” he mocks one of his friends who can’t stop drinking for their own good. “No, you won’t you lying bitch. An example of someone who followed that sentiment is right in front of you.”

He fairly believes that he can become the youngest professor to be teaching at a college or university with a Ph.D. in the ‘Getting your shit together’ Department.

But in your eyes, these are just some of the side effects that he got from hanging out with Minho so much. Being bitchy and all. If anything, Minho should be the one who takes his spot and becomes the youngest staff for big places like Harvard or Oxford. And you’d love to continue this nonsense of an argument but you’re already pissed off by that staff previously so you should just let him win or your dad’s gonna find you three ending up in the E.R.

“So this is what I get for setting you up with Chan,” Jeongin crosses his arms and you glance at him sideways, staying silent for the rest of the drive home.

three. Chan dreads the packing process after a long tremendously because not only does he have to trust his idiotic friends to not damage his luggage, he also has to help them pack since they are literal children. Changbin’s butler straight up shakes his head when Chan FaceTimed him, asking about how he usually helps him with preparation for a trip. He really hopes his family pays the man good money because dealing with Changbin’s impulsive, indecisive ass sounds extremely exhausting, and burdensome as well.

“Which one?” Changbin refers to a dozen of black tuxedos hanging inside the dressing room, and Chan feels like his brain’s about to retire.

He exclaims in frustration, “THEY’RE ALL BLACK FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

“No you uneducated moron,” Changbin purses his lips, “There’s carbon black, raisin black, olive black, super black, coal-black,..which one’s sexy enough for me to snatch myself a date at the party?”

“Seo Changbin!”

Chan’s been so sensitive these days, to the point that he decided to whack a mosquito with his MacBook the other day. He did miss the mosquito, but also, he almost killed Jisung who’s taking a nap right beside him in the studio. And apparently, Han Jisung holds grudges. Hence, there’s no way in hell is he gonna help Chan in the ‘Getting Seo Changbin aka the snobby brat the perfect tuxedo’ Operation. It would be way easier if Jisung was here.

Changbin interjects his trains of thoughts, “Silk or wool?”

“Uh- silk.”

“The Gabardine one or the smoking jacket?”

Chan makes a face, “Smoking jacket?” Whatever that means. He didn’t like the shoulder pads on the other one anyway.

“You heard him, Park, go get that ish and wrap it up! Go go go!” Changbin pauses for a second, “Wait, no, actually…just take them both.”

Call him delusional, but in the span of ten seconds, Chan fully believes he’s already entered (or has been pushed into) the Panamera 4 E-Hybrid that’s waiting outside of the mall. Jisung’s sitting in the passenger’s seat, honking the car repeatedly while the Seo family’s chauffeur is constantly throwing daggers at him with his eyes. Now he’s starting to question if bringing Jisung to the mall would be the wisest decision.

“What’s with the grumpy face, grandpa?” He chimes unhelpfully with a pout on his face. And now all Chan wants to do is to deck his perfect teeth and knock upside his head. “You really need to lighten up, old man, you’re going home!” He groans dramatically, arms crossed like a three-year-old.

“Yeah, going home,” Chan says with expressive hands. “To put on a goddamn show for my grandparents so that they won’t have a heart attack knowing that I can’t give two fucks about their promise with some random family in the same circle.” He’s on the verge of breaking down just thinking about going hand in hand in public with another woman that’s not you. It makes him sick to the stomach more knowing that he’s been hiding everything from you.

He’s such an asshole for doing this to you. Avoiding your calls and texts every other day becomes almost all too unbearable for his shoulders. Instead, he’s been trying to leave you voicemails every other week but it seems like you’ve already despised him. The night of Woojin’s wedding comes crashing down on him as he takes a stroll down memory lane. He might as well be cursed because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to have you in his arms again. The saying: “out of sight, out of mind” works for some people as an excuse to forget someone but truth is, he still misses you, all the time, every second, every minute, every hour, every day.

“So you didn’t tell her?” Changbin perks a dark brow.

“Not yet…”

“You should though,”

Chan barks, “I know! She just won’t answer my voicemails,”

“Then call her you coward!” Changbin immediately barks back, fingers still tapping away on his phone, “Look, if Y/N was your date in the first place, you would be crazy giddy and all right now, and not the nervous kind of giddy, but like the exciting kind of giddy. You are so loopy in love with her it makes me wanna feed my eyeballs to my dad’s German Shepherd whenever you’re FaceTiming her,”

Chan’s been clenching his jaw for God knows how long, and now it’s starting to ache. “Don’t say that, she probably hates me. Like you said, I’m a coward. I don’t deserve her and she doesn’t deserve this. Falling for Y/N was probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. All I’ve been doing is tearing us apart. Sometimes I wish I didn’t fall for her—“

“—listen up, you genius. If falling for Y/N is a sin then so be it. Because being in love with her is gonna be the best fucking mistake you’ve ever made in your twenty-three years of existing,” Changbin’s words start zeroing in on Chan, so when he opens his mouth to say something, it automatically snaps closed. “I’ve never seen your eyes do that thing where they sparkle whenever we mention her name or when you’re just simply giggling to yourself while texting her. And have you seen the way that she looks at you? She looks at you like you’re the only person to exist on this planet, like someone she’s ever truly loved more than herself.”

Chan drops his gaze from Changbin to his knees, his heart beating rapidly at the sound of your name. Goddamn, he really misses you. “It’s okay, Bin, even if she hates me. I can—“

Changbin interjects immediately, gripping onto his friend’s shoulders tightly and stares into his tired eyes. “Don’t fucking tell me that it’s okay because I saw you alone in the studio every night. You were crying like a baby!” Seo Changbin gives really good advice because pushing people to their limits, not crossing them, just dangling at the edge so that they can’t stop acting like a loser and get their shit together is what he does for a living. Without getting paid a single penny.

“It’s because I’m losing her! I did that to myself!” Chan shudders at his own words, shaking his head profusely to hold back his tears. The idea of losing you sounds so terrifyingly panic-stricken that he would rather lose anything else than not have you in his life, or just not having you at all in the first place. Chan was an idiot for kissing you that night but something deep down still tells him that “screw life, you said what you said and you did what you did, now go out there and get her back before she falls into someone else’s arms”.

Changbin corrects him, pinpointing his words. “You’re losing her, you didn’t lose her yet. You still have an opportunity to make it up to her.” He knows Chan long enough to know that his friend doesn’t easily wear his feelings on his sleeves, mainly because he’s the eldest in 3RACHA. If he falls, the group’s gonna fall with him. But today, seeing the pool of tears in his eyes, the raw emotions in his voice makes Changbin believe that he’s senselessly, wildly in love with you. He knows damn well that Chan would never let you slip away again.

“This is your chance, to prove to Y/N that you’re still the goofy, caring, dumbass Bang Chan that she has already fallen in love with, not only once, but twice.”

four. “Have you been hearing anything from Chan? He hasn’t called me for two months. Changbin and Jisung have been avoiding me like the plague too.” Woojin asks you with a questionable looking drink in his hand. Minho said he mixed the masterpiece with all of his blood, sweat, and tears. You don’t know how to take it, metaphorically, or literally because both options would make sense. You’re just fairly concerned for Woojin’s liver since he’s been attending too many parties, mainly for business but still, that doesn’t mean he’s not gonna stay away from alcohol.

So much for adulting.

“Not really,” you didn’t want to admit that Chan was ignoring your texts and calls before but it’s quite obvious now that he doesn’t want to talk to you. You didn’t think about it much at the beginning because everything must have been so hard for him in a foreign country where young talents are out there competing with each other like they’re in The Hunger Games. But daily conversations turned into weekly, and then monthly and then basically non-existent. No more ‘Good morning’, no more ‘How was your day?’, no more ‘I miss you’. None of that.

The kiss that day seems like it’s disintegrated into literal dust.

‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’ sounds like utter bullshit now and you’ve never felt so foolish for saying ‘I love you’ to someone you truly believe won’t take your heart and crush it. But Chan did just that. You spent lots of sleepless nights thinking, and bawling your eyes out. You felt so lost and tremendously hurt. You didn’t know what to do. But you soon figured that it’s okay, people aren’t supposed to know what to do in those kinds of situations. You just gotta figure it out by yourself. So wherever he may be, whatever he’s doing, you still hope that he’s happy. That’s all that matters.

Or maybe you’re just too tired to reach out to him again.

You reply with a lifeless smile, bracing yourself for the upcoming party that’s starting in less than an hour. “He hardly talks to me. He doesn’t even text me in full sentences anymore.” You shrug it off casually, ignoring the sound of your heart aching to focus on other stuff for the time being. “Maybe he’s just busy? You know how problematic the music industry is.”

“Being busy isn’t an excuse to ignore your loved ones, Y/N,” Woojin knits his brows together. “Mind you, I still come home to my wife at nine o’clock, every single day.”

You check the time and almost panic, but before you can form a proper sentence, someone’s already dragged you away from the scene, “Look after Jeongin for me! Got it?” You yell back at him only to receive a thumbs up with a grimace. Woojin is the CEO of a well-known IT firm, after all, no one’s gonna mess with Jeongin if he stays by his side. The last thing you want is your brother coming home sobbing his heart out just because some wonderbread doesn’t know when to keep their mouth shut.

“I’m like..” You trail off while tapping away on your phone. “—pretty much free tomorrow morning, right?”

Chaeyoung - your assistant frowns and stops you midway, smoothing out your baby hair. “Not quite, you can’t skip DBR at seven,” she asserts. “And the daily phone call with your dad- I mean, the CEO at half-past six as well.” It’s obvious that everyone wants a coffee in the morning and since it’s a common time to gather, it seems like DBR (or Daily Business Review) is a good idea to just have a meeting before the day starts. The rules are simple. The meeting can not last more than half an hour and to make sure, you all stand up. You talk about the night before, VIPs coming in, the forecast for the coming day and any common issues to the group. Then you all dismiss and go to work. This way, everyone is on the same page 24/7.

“Oh, and a meeting at three too, and also the Kims Are coming in fifteen minutes.” She checks her watch subconsciously and it reads [7:30p.m.]

“Right, right,” you close your eyes for a moment and let the information sink in, slightly taken aback by yourself that you forgot Jennie’s coming back from New Zealand. The party won’t start until eight, you can still spare fifteen minutes and chat with your friend before being pulled away into utterly unnecessary conversations. “I can’t believe I almost forgot Jen’s visiting us…” You murmur under your breath, “God, Chaeng, what would I do without you?”

Chaeyoung pushes your shoulder playfully, “You’d die, obviously.” She’s not necessarily wrong because if it weren’t for her to manage your shitty schedule, your life would become a fucking merry-go-round which makes you all nauseous and dizzy. As if you’re not being tossed around and fucked up enough.

“Hypothetically speaking, I can just hire another assistant and move on with my life,” you smile cheekily.

She follows you towards the front desk, where Lisa is too busy texting someone cute to focus on her main task: greeting people that she despises with her entire existence. “Well, hypothetically speaking, no one can replace me and you would never have the heart to do that anyway.” Again, you hate it when she’s right. And she’s always right. Because she’s Park Chaeyoung.

You put your phone away finally and ask her about your beige suit with matching high-waisted slacks. “How do I look?” Also, you’re never wearing heels again because you’ve learned not to torment your precious feet when you’re gonna be out and about, being dragged around like a rag doll. Woojin’s wedding taught you that.

Chaeyoung gives you the warmest smile, “Like a boss bitch,”

“You have to come with us to Bora Bora this summer! We just opened a summer resort there with a beach and spa services, it’s absolutely delightful! Very fitting for de-stressing, dare I say.”

“How convenient! Do you see these wrinkles? We were all exhausted after the flight from New York. And I’m stressing over how it’s impossible for my son to improve his English. How in the world is he gonna travel the world for business trips now?”

“Ew,” you automatically scrunch your nose at your stepmom’s conversation with the Senator’s wife. “If we’re gonna act like that when we’re their age, I’d rather jump off a cliff.” And Chaeyoung clears her throat awkwardly when she sees your mom waving you over, giving you a pat on your back. There goes your fifteen minutes of freedom.

You quickly fix the lapels of your blazer and muster a sickly sweet smile, just for the Senator’s wife. “Yes, mom?” Or in this case, ‘stepmom’ but you wouldn’t want it to be awkward for the both of them. She does treat you with nothing but kindness and generosity although you’re not her actual daughter.

“Honey,” you almost snort at the nickname. Honey is practically a bee’s vomit. So you don’t really see the point in calling people bee’s barf. Ain’t cool. “You must know that this is the Senator’s wife, she suggested that you and their son can perhaps—“

You cut her off sharply. “No,”

“Y/N, don’t be so rude,” she laughs nervously as the Senator’s wife wears an unreadable look on her face. As if she’s interested in your particular kind of demeanor like you’re a completely different species. She doesn’t seem to be mad or offended at all. “I’m sorry, you see, this girl can play hard to get from time to time…and—“

You elect to ignore every word that comes out of her mouth from this very moment. Not again with this bullshit. An arranged marriage is basically a living embodiment of your biggest nightmare. You can’t imagine being tied down to a person that you barely know just because of their social status or for the sake of mutual benefits. Not to mention, every guy in the circle is all the same anyway. Disrespectful, egotistical, and only show mild interest if the person they’re marrying at least has something to offer that’s related to cold, hard cash in the long run.

It feels like the world just stops spinning when you flutter your eyes upwards and make direct eye contact with him. He enters the front entrance in a full-on black tuxedo, black silk shirt tucked neatly into his pants, chestnut hair rather well-styled, and black dress shoes. The outfit looks like it was made for him, personally tailored to every detail of his body. You almost scowl and look away until you recognize that smile, those midnight orbs.

To your dismay, the Senator’s wife exclaims, “My goodness! I told him not to wear that specific shirt!” before excusing herself from the conversation.

“Uhm is that…”

“Oh yes! That’s their son, Jaemin. Felix used to go to the same kindergarten as him, I believe,” your stepmom explains calmly, watching how you’re slowly becoming interested in the Senator’s only son. So that explains the black Mercedes in front of Jeongin’s apartment. “He got sent to a private school in the UK after graduating from middle school but somehow, I don’t know how he still can’t speak fluently English. Maybe you can help—“

You quickly realize how fast the situation’s escalating and you must say, you’re not letting that happen. “Sorry mom, Jen’s here! I gotta go!” Learning to let Chan go is one thing, but getting yourself into an arranged marriage with another guy who cares about nothing but money is an absolutely torturous idea.

People change, they all do eventually. But sometimes they don’t. Certain things can never fluctuate despite the circumstances. For instance, Kim Jennie still pulls you into a bone-crushing hug like she always does the moment she spots you in the crowd. Her gummy smile didn’t change, her gestures, the way she walks with pride didn’t change and you highly doubt that she no longer sneaks cute boys into the house when her parents are conveniently abroad. But she definitely looks more mature the last time that you guys met in Paris.

“Wow, Jen,” you utter. “You look…good,” Tonight she’s wearing a white dress from Chanel, diamond earrings and bold red lipstick. And don’t even get you started on her ring, you’re pretty sure that it was a present from the brand themselves. She is the ambassador, after all, they would be more than happy to spoil her with their newest collections.

Jennie takes a look at your outfit, twirling you around before breaking into a fit of giggles. “Good? I look good? You look gorgeous! Look at you! Well, actually you look just fine in your PJs as well. Heck, you can even breathe in this thing, I can’t relate,” she beams and keeps on admiring you as if you’re her own life-sized Barbie doll. Baggy clothes can look good, she knows that now.

Jennie clings onto one of your arms and receives a glass of champagne from a waiter, smiling at him softly. “So, how are you enjoying the party, manager Lee?”

You threaten to spill alcohol on her fifteen thousand dollars dress but only proceed to roll your eyes because you value her money too much for the sake of being petty. “It’s kinda meh,” you make a face. “But you know, let’s just get it over with. And to be honest..I’m kind of sick of socializing with people that I don’t even like.”

“Oh really?” Jennie raises a brow curiously when she sees a certain someone in the midst of the chaotic party. “Someone seems to be interested in you though, that cutie over there…” She then motions towards the general direction of Na Jaemin, the person who you’ve been trying to avoid all night. “I think he fancies you. Been eyeing you up and down for the past ten minutes,”

Right, you also forgot that Jennie didn’t know about you and Chan.

“Actually—“

“My God! Did you see that? The Bangs are here!” She gasps and tries to tiptoe in order to get a closer look, allowing her heels to dig into her feet even more. You won’t blame her, the Bangs are basically the biggest developers in Korea. Real estate, investment, tons of things, tons of boring paperwork but you do respect them for what they do. “I heard their eldest son’s dating some up and coming artist, her exhibitions were quite successful, all big hits since last year. It’s mind-blowing!”

You pull your friend back in time when people are shoving each other before her white dress can be contaminated with the bubbly champagne. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to patch your lips together?”

“Damn, he looks fine,” your friend murmurs and has you roll your eyes for one too many times tonight already. “I’m not messing with you, look!” She grabs either side of your face and turns it sideways, towards the front entrance.

You feel like someone just kicked you to the curb and stepped on you, knocking the breath right out of your chest. It’s Chan, it’s really Chan. Navy tuxedo, brown hair styled neatly, he looks even more beautiful than the last time you’ve seen his face. Beside him, hand in hand is another girl. She has the most delicate features and probably the most angelic smile in this world. She’s looking at him all lovingly, the same look you gave him approximately a year ago when you thought that the kiss did mean something to him. Apparently, it didn’t. Now you feel like a paper bag being thrown away, forgotten in the corner, drifting through life like a haze.

Your heart is stuck in your throat, slowly crumbling into dust when you see how he smiles at her, the dimpled smile that you treasured with your entire heart. They look like they are meant to be. And yes, you wanted to see him again but not like this. It’s like karma’s trying to tell you that this is what you get for falling in love with Chan faster than a tick of a clock, for foolishly holding onto false hope. And your butt load of money doesn’t matter anymore because your everything is already being held in someone else’s arms.

Now you’re the one who’s left with a broken heart.

five. In the dead of the night, you no longer feel the sounds of your heart shattering into pieces. Chan’s just making it easier for you to forget him.

“Y/N?” You stay unresponsive at his voice calling out to you. Every cell, every muscle, every neuro inside your body is yelling at you to turn around and throw your arms around his neck. The willpower that you’re mustering to not do that right is impossibly terrifying. But you’re not giving in again, not this time. You won’t be able to piece your heart back together after a second heartbreak. “It’s been quite a while huh? Are you—“

You turn around with glossy eyes, tears threatening to spill any second. Chan’s words get caught dead in his throat upon seeing you on the verge of breaking down. It hurts more knowing that he’s the one who made you cry. “You should have told me..” Your voice cracks and it breaks Chan’s heart into a million pieces at how broken you are. “You should have told me if you wanted to cut it off sooner..” You smile bitterly with tears rolling down on either side of your cheek. You no longer care about how pathetic you may sound or look, you just want to be completely transparent with him.

Another thing that you hate about yourself: how you just let yourself go exposed and vulnerable right in front of his eyes. “What happened to ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’? Does our kiss that night mean nothing to you? Was I setting the bar too high? Was I…getting in your way?” You ask him between quiet sobs, not bothering to put on a fake smile anymore. You’re too exhausted for that anyway. “You didn’t even tell me..that you’re part of the Bangs family, like the Bangs family. What else are you hiding from me, Chan?”

Chan grabs you by the shoulders to hold you back firmly, eyes boarding into yours fiercely. His touch once made your heart weak, now you feel nothing but disgust when his fingertips graze past your clothed skin. “Y/N, listen to me. You don’t understand— she’s not—“

“Y/N!”

Chan snaps his head towards the owner of the voice and grimaces when he sees Jaemin waving at you from the other side of the room. You gotta be shitting me. Chan then looks over at you in disbelief, eyes almost popping out of their respective sockets. Out of all people, you’re dating Na Jaemin? The Senator’s son? Without letting him know? And you’re accusing him of hiding things from you when you’re also with someone new already? “You know,” you wipe your tears away and look him dead in the eye. “I’ve always thought that all the guys in my dad’s social circle were a bunch of ignorant jerks, but it turns out you’re the asshole.”

With that, you briskly walk away with your phone clutched in your hands, knuckles turning white as you bite down your tears. Chan’s gaze trails after your figure until you’re completely gone, falling into another man’s arms like it’s your safe place. Jaemin caresses your cheekbone and smiles at you. You return it too, bitterly. It was supposed to be Chan who makes you feel like the happiest woman in this world, not the one who takes your heart and crushes it into pieces. His heart breaks, again, and again, and again, and again until he no longer feels its presence beating inside his rib cage. There’s something else more than just distance between the both of you now, something that was never there in the first place. Little did you know, you’re not the only one with a broken heart after all.

“Jaemin right?” You sniffle when he lures you away from the party, away from the chaos, away from Chan. “Thank you, I can manage myself now.”

Jaemin shakes his head and speaks to you softly. “Nonsense. I’m staying here with you. The party sucks, but don’t take it personally.”

You chuckle with teary eyes, but you’ve determined not to cry again tonight, especially not in front of the Senator’s son. “Does my brother know that his tutor is the son of the Senator?” Jaemin shakes his head again, the warm smile never once leaves his lips. He gently wipes a single tear that unknowingly rolls down on your cheek and heat flares through your nostrils, a shade of coral scattered across your face. This is why you never cry in front of a stranger.

“There, there you crybaby,” he comforts you with a hand on your shoulder, the other pulling out a handkerchief to dab your tears away. “Who knows the manager of the Carpe Diem Hotel is such a softie. I heard from the staff that you’re fucking scary when someone gets on your bad side.”

“Then don’t get on my bad side,” you roll your eyes in annoyance. “But God, I really can’t blame them. Our people are so posh, and snobby—“

“We’re basically snoshy,” he finishes your sentence and laughs. “Your brother tells me that all the time, if only he knew about my family. He’s most likely gonna murder me in my sleep.”

You roll your eyes, pushing his hand away slightly. “This is why we’ll never get a happy ending of our own. What’s the point of owning all the dollar bills when we’re just sad motherfuckers? And people wonder why we all prefer one night stands. I fucking beg to differ. Maybe I shouldn’t have kissed him that night. Maybe I was nothing but an instant filler for his non-existent love life. ‘Do you still want my phone number?’ He didn’t even bother texting me anymore! Bullshit!”

Jaemin doesn’t know you very well but by the looks of it, you’re definitely not the type to lash out on someone very often. You must have been furious with that Chan guy because whatever he’s done to you, shit must have stung. Because you still look at him with those eyes. Eyes of those who are madly in love. He can’t change that.

“Y/N,” he pulls you into a hug and rubs little circles on your back as an attempt to soothe your aching heart. “Listen, it’s okay if he’s not the one. He might be the wrong person at the right time for all I know. And your soulmate is probably taking their sweet ass time because they are completely oblivious about your existence. But they will be there for you, they will, I promise. You know damn well how life likes to toss us around right? Love is patient, love is kind. And it will come one day.”

You snicker and hug him back, grateful for how he’s already consoling you although you’ve only met twice. Maybe he isn’t like the other boys in the same circle, maybe he’s different even when he dresses the same and looks the same. “Cliché sayings are cliché for a reason, Jaemin,” you laugh before pulling away, staring into his starry eyes.

“I know I know,” he squishes your cheeks together and chuckles. “But hey, sometimes they’re not wrong either. Tell you what though, I was so close to decking that guy in the face back there but I didn’t want to go all Alpha Apeshit and appeared as a douchebag then get blood on his goddamn Tom Ford. Just throwing that out there in case it does help you feel better.”

You can feel your tear-stained cheeks cool against the night breeze. The balcony seems to be the only place that you can seek calmness in, mainly because there’s no alcohol and no one to push you from one boring conversation to another with the same topics. Your people are basically repeating themselves over and over again about money and arranged marriages which you’re not very interested in so yes, you don’t see the purpose of throwing parties that only consist of the top 1%. You lean your back against the railings and watch the party from afar, letting the background chatters sink in. Soon this whole place will be within your grasp along with many others, but you’re afraid that you’ll be lost in your own empire.

“No offense,” you turn back to him and smile. “I didn’t think you’d be able to throw a punch at all.”

Jaemin makes a face, “I’m not like those wonderbreads over there,” then smirks devilishly. “But I’ll never be one’s knight in shining armor. Life just teaches me things that our people don’t. For example, living in a mansion won’t teach you how to throw or take a proper punch. Also, wear black because you’ll never know whose blood is gonna be on there.”

“So you’re saying that being sent to boarding school is the best thing that’s ever happened in your life?”

“Not quite,” he winks. “The best thing that’s ever happened in my life is to have the pleasure of meeting you.”

You shove his chest and laugh wholeheartedly, it feels nice to talk to someone like this. “Don’t flirt with me and find yourself another trophy out there, I’m too bitchy to fit in with those chicks.” You jerk your head towards the girls who are all dressed up in fancy dresses and heavy jewelry, finding amusement in how they’re all eyeing Jaemin up and down like he’s a prettier version of an ATM. “And also, what do you expect? You have the look, the money, know how to kick someone’s ass. That’s more than what a trophy wife needs.”

Jaemin scratches his neck sheepishly. “I don’t know how to take that but thank you, you look better than all of them honestly. I don’t know why women choose to suffocate themselves in a dress and torment their feet just to attract guys with thick wallets like me. I think I’ll need to settle down sooner or later and I’m not planning on doing that with a brat who only sees how many dollar signs I can afford on Yelp.” He sighs in pure frustration and a puff of cold air escapes his lips.

“Haha very funny, Na Jaemin is adulting like how the Senator’s son should be in his early 20s,” you joke. “And no, I’m not gonna make fun of you for that. You want me to pinpoint where we are right now? Adulthood.”

“No! I’m being serious!”

“Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

“Let me take you on a date and prove it.”

“You’re drunk,” you laugh nervously. But suddenly he inches in closer and your breath hitches in your throat. Nope. He’s dead-ass serious. “You’re being fucking serious, aren’t you?”

Jaemin brings your hand up and presses a small kiss on your knuckles, “See you around, manager Lee.” before sliding away with ease, leaving you blushing so furiously that you almost forgot your heart was broken that night.

six. While you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack because of a date, Kuma - Jennie’s Pomeranian is complaining to you with his eyes about his first world problems aka, Jennie leaving his favorite toy back in New Zealand. “Yes, yes, I get that it’s absolutely unforgivable of her to do that.” You acknowledge and nod absentmindedly, petting him gently. “If anything, I can do you a favor and douse one of her favorite dresses in pickle juice.”

“But also what?” You tilt your head slightly, “She what?! She insulted your favorite tuna bites?! She’s a witch! Burn her!”

“I can’t stand the goddamn smell, that’s all.”Jennie glares at you while hauling her suitcases out of the closet. “You dramatic, bitchy, ungrateful ass.”

“Jen, it’s just a dinner date.”

Jennie dodges your eye roll and proceeds to rummage through one of her ten suitcases, throwing dresses and bodysuits all over the floor. She’s lucky the suite has plenty of extra space or you won’t be able to see the floor in the next fifteen minutes for all you know. Kim Jennie goes ham on picking out clothes for her favorite bitches because not only is she one of the most acclaimed actresses but she’s also a fashion icon, influencer, and Chanel’s one and only darling. Hence, knowing that you’re going on a date with the dress code: formal; she freaked out and dragged you all the way from your house to the hotel that she’s staying in.

You facepalm yourself onto the extra king-size bed and sighs into the soft blanket. Yeah, that’s how rich the Kims are. Not king-size, but extra king-size that can fit at least four people but still have extra leg space. You know where to have your girls’ night this weekend now because you’d rather not have Ryujin whip your ass for bringing friends over.

Your groan grows louder when you keep hearing Jennie repeats “I’m a genius, a fucking genius!” to herself over and over again until she stops. And that’s when you decide to push yourself off the bed carefully to not wrinkle your clothes. “Look at this baby!” She holds up a long, bedazzled gown with spaghetti straps. Gives you a very 70s vibe but you’re not mad at it, you think you might be able to pull it off. “Listen, if you don’t look good in this, I’ll call Chanel and drop it as a flop, got it?”

Wow, Chanel is hanging on the edge of flopping by a strand of hair just because of you. The pressure’s on.

Jennie shoves you into the ridiculous-sized bathroom with marble floor and all, she’s definitely not letting you wear one of your blazers today. “Knock knock,” she impatiently leans against the door after what seems like ten minutes. But all Jennie’s met with is dead silence, she’s starting to get worried now. “Y/N, you good?”

You barge out of the bathroom with a panicked expression, shrieking. “Kim Jennie what were you thinking?!” When she gives you a what-do-you-mean look, you mentally groan to yourself and are kind of ready to call the date off. You’re not going out looking like this. “It’s 64 degrees outside and you’re making me wear this?!” You do a full 360 turn to only to show her the awfully low cut on the back of the dress, and she immediately claps happily like a seal. God, what is wrong with your friend?

“Stunning! Absolutely stunning!” Jennie nods to herself like the evil mad mind genius that she is. “You’re pretty tolerant, so I think it’s not gonna be a problem.”

“Do I have a say in this?” You eye her in defeat when she helps you on a dainty necklace and a pair of silver earrings.

Jennie puts her hands on her hips and almost laughs, admiring you like a piece of art, a creation that she will forever keep in her heart. “What makes you think so?” And off to the date, you go.

Jaemin picks you up not long after, wearing a full-on white suit in his black Mercedes. It’s not hard to guess that it’s his favorite. Since the party from last week, both of you have been texting and FaceTiming non-stop, it almost feels like he’s making up for the lost time that Chan’s wasted. For the Senator’s son, he’s surprisingly approachable, very quirky but charming at the same time. Jaemin does give an effort to make you laugh every time he sends you the same memes over and over again. Hey, it’s not your fault his humor is impeccable.

But being one of the Elite, you can’t blame him for wanting to do it the old-fashioned way. Fancy restaurant, having waiters drape white napkins over your lap, cheesy classical music in the background and the typical candles to set the romantic atmosphere. The place is quite busy too, some ladies in their forties are wheezing in helpless laughter as a waitress secretly shoots them dirty looks while a group of businessmen is eating in silence, an old couple is feeding each other in the corner and a younger couple that you don’t really pay attention to since they’re too far away. Sometimes you wonder what that feels like, to have someone by your side forever.

Maybe forever is just not meant for you.

Forever might not be for you, but going on a date feels like a fresh breeze passing by after so much pain and agony. Jaemin always tries to make you feel as comfortable as possible but still manages to make you laugh until your stomach hurts and tears are evident in the corners of your eyes. He’s not one of those guys who’s not used to hearing the word ‘no’ and never pushes your boundaries. But the feeling’s not there, it’s just not there at all and you wish that it was. You can’t play along then end up breaking his heart later on. No one deserves going through that, not even the ones who lost your trust.

“Okay..” Jaemin peels his eyes away from his crème brûlée’s when you set your fork down. “Just to be clear, I don’t hate you but I would never date you.” And he immediately chokes on his big bite, coughing furiously into the white napkin. You’re very straight to the point, he appreciates that, but still, ouch.

“Tell me three valid reasons why I should stop going after your heart.”

“One, I don’t wanna break your heart. Two, I don’t want you to break mine. And three, I just threw it in the trash.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes rather dramatically, holding back a lighthearted chuckle. “So what? You got your heart broken by some bastard and now you’re gonna distance yourself from everything that’s related to ‘love’? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life like this? Alone? In your giant mansion with your butt load of money?”

“Yes,” you nod without hesitation, trying to ignore the bitter feeling that’s rising in your throat. “And technically I can adopt as many puppies as I want to.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs and moves a bit to the side. “There’s your man, twelve o’clock.”

You feel like you would personally gouge your eyes out of the sockets the moment they land on Chan and his current girlfriend at the opposite table if you weren’t sane enough for a Michelin-rated restaurant. They’re both wearing black, laughing and talking with each other like they’re the only beings left in this world. You wonder if fate could be a bit more generous to you, just a little bit, then would you be there with Chan instead? You’ve told yourself one too many times not to dwell on the past but like always, you never learn. And you know that you’re dumb but you still don’t get why fate forces two people to meet each other knowing damn well that one of them is gonna leave the other behind.

But this time when you look more closely, his smile looks somewhat forced and the dark circles under his eyes have been darkened by time. He looks so tired and drained but still keeps up the smile for his date. A pang of guilt hits you hard when you realize that you should have listened to what he had to say at the party. He doesn’t look happy, that’s what ticks you off.

Chan subconsciously flickers his eyes upwards and meets yours, completely frozen in his spot like a statue. His smile falters, eyes going wide from surprise, utterly, undeniably speechless. It’s not easy to read what’s going on in his mind but you’re positive that he doesn’t seem to expect to see you in this kind of situation. He quickly averts his gaze back onto the other girl, laughing nervously so that she won’t turn around and accidentally see you. Your heart unknowingly sinks to the pit of your stomach.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” you never knew that you’ve been crying until Jaemin gently wipes your tears away with his handkerchief, his eyes softening at your sobbing form. “But it is what it is.”

seven. Chan quickly calls in a cab for his date after sliding his credit card across the counter. He grimaces slightly when she presses a goodbye kiss on his cheek, and then waves her off when she enters the taxi. After receiving his bill, Chan pushes himself through the busy waiters and waitresses, mumbling small “sorry” along the way until his feet lead him to the long flight of stairs.

And he sees you standing there with your back against him, fiddling with your fingers nervously. He knows you’ve never been good at hiding how awkward you are so it gives him a tiny bit of hope when he finds out he still has this kind of effect on you. But when he takes a few more steps forwards, his jaw almost drops to the floor when he can finally get a closer look at your dress.

Chan’s never seen you in a dress before, but he believes that you have the ability to pull off anything. He’s not wrong after all. The dress hugs your figure perfectly and in the most flattering way, leaving him in complete awe. But you’d never choose a dress, even when it’s a formal dinner. Goddamn, that kid is one lucky son of a bitch, he mentally curses.

You meet Chan once again on a balcony, but tonight you’re met with a sky without stars. It seems like they can’t even muster the courage to see where this conversation is gonna go.

“What’s her name?” You ask breathlessly, still not willing to make direct eye contact with him.

Chan inhales deeply, and exhales, “Her name is Eunji. Apparently, our families had an agreement that we’re gonna be engaged once we reached a certain age. I’m so sorry for shutting you out without a proper explanation, I really am. I’m such an asshole.”

You finally can look at him without getting all teary-eyed, your lips trembling. “It’s alright,” then you quickly look away to avoid any awkwardness. “You guys look good together, I’m happy for you both.” And when Chan doesn’t say anything, you decide to ask him softly. “But are you?”

He buries his face into the palms of his hands and sighs heavily. “I- I don’t know, I just don’t want to let them down. And I tried so hard to tell them that I already had someone else but I’m just scared that—“

“That they won’t accept me because you didn’t know that I do in fact, make cold, hard cash?” You stare deeply into the distance and laugh humorlessly. “After all those years, I had no idea, no fucking idea that you were Christopher Bang, like the Christopher Bang, the one who’s supposed to take over the family’s business, the most eligible bachelor in the country.”

Chan grabs you by the shoulders, catching you off guard when your noses are barely touching, his warm breath fanning your face. “Speak for yourself. You’ve never even told me that you were Felix’s stepsister. All those years of college, and I only know that you’re the manager of the Carpe Diem Hotel now. And why are you dating the Senator’s son again? Last time I checked, you’re still leaving me messages even when I went MIA or put the phone on silent all the time.”

“I can date whoever I want to,” you try to shove his arms away but his grip only gets tighter. “And no shit, you know I’m not into guys like that. We’re not dating, he offered me dinner after seeing me so miserable at the party.”

And you quickly assert with a fake smile. “But that’s not the point, is it? Let me guess, if I were not some daughter of the CEO of the biggest hotel chain in the country, then you would never tell your parents about me, would you? You’d rather marry Eunji so that your grandparents won’t potentially disown you instead.”

Chan shakes his head profusely because he could never, would never, can never, and will never trade you for anything else in this world. “No, you don’t understand- I- just- just give me some time and-“ He loves you too much to the point that his heart bleeds a bit whenever you catch his gaze from across the table and return to your conversation with Jaemin, giggling and laughing at his lame jokes like nothing’s ever happened. But his biggest problem here, is how can he convey his love to you once again when you’ve already despised him with every single cell inside your body?

You narrow your eyes at him, slightly amused by how he’s stuttering. “And?”

“Let me make it up to you,” he tells you after running a hand through his brown locks. “Come with my family on a cruise trip next month in Singapore. I’ll prove myself to you and do everything in my power to get your trust back. Even if things can never be the same again. I can’t lose you, I won’t let you go this time. Bring whoever as your plus-one, just not that kid…I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“How are you so sure that you’re not gonna break my heart again?”

Chan says breathlessly and goosebumps automatically bubble up on your skin at his words, “I’m not. Because I know that no matter how many times I stupidly, or impulsively hurt you, you will always stay. And I’ll always be there to gather the broken pieces as if you’ve never felt the pain before.”

A long, muffled silence occurs between both of you. You quickly look away after a good ten seconds of making eye contact with Chan. He’s having that kind of effect on you like how he used to and you’re determined not to fall again. You’d hate to have your heart broken twice by the same person. “You do know that we wouldn’t have worked out anyway right?”

Chan doesn’t say anything, instead, he turns around and calls a ride for you. His eyes look stormy that night, impossible to read as if there are so many things on his mind at the same time to the point that his head becomes cloudy and nothing makes sense anymore. He doesn’t even wave you goodbye when you get inside the car but his gaze never leaves your figure until it’s completely gone in the distance.

You know that it’s something more than just love because your feelings for Chan are still there even when he’s not. You’re just far too busy being depressed inside your bedroom, under your fuzzy blanket to notice them. Now they’re back, again, for the third time, much, much stronger and more powerful. You don’t know whether this is hazing because falling for someone more than twice just sounds unhealthy for you, a person who lives off donuts for two weeks straight because you need the push of the sugar crush in order to avoid caffeine. Chan just stepped into your life like how he did about three hundred and sixty-five days ago and completely broke down the fort you were trying to build.

Call you an idiot, but is it bad to think that he’s not planning on leaving any time soon?

eight. You hate cruises for plenty of reasons, and one of them being, not surprisingly, a cruise is basically a hotel on water. The concept of a hotel floating on the water makes it a trillion times cooler and unnecessarily overrated. In your defense, having a massage or partying ‘til dawn while not knowing when you’re gonna drown to your imminent death is petrifying. Maybe you’re just bitter about the fact that people don’t appreciate normal hotels enough, because they really don’t.

Okay, if you have to choose one thing not to hate on a cruise, then it’s probably the mini theatre that Chan personally demanded for his chaotic group of friends. Hey, privileged people need some wholesome, chill times with friends too.

But the fact that almost everyone has already seen Stranger Things makes you feel more like a grandma than you already are. These are the times where you rarely choose to sit next to Jisung because you’re both on the same boat for once. Other times, you’re just bickering like the reincarnations of every movie where the main characters constantly want to put the other’s head on a chopping block but end up falling in love anyway; except, you will never fall in love with Jisung. That’s so creepy on so many levels.

Creepier than whatever the fuck of a demonic image that Hyunjin’s about to show you, being the pest that he is. “We have four votes for Stranger Things and four votes for Spider-Man: Far from home,” he announces in that irritating voice of his while hogging the whole bowl of popcorn to himself. “So what’s it gonna be, Han? Choose wisely, my friend,”

Jisung sips on his Coke and points his index finger at his roommate as if he’s accusing Hyunjin of murdering someone, “I’m with Y/N, because screw you,” he’s not entirely wrong because, without a doubt, Jisung’s soul is gonna detach itself from his body after the first episode. “And if Chan were here, he’d agree with me,”

“Nope,” Chan conveniently steps in when you’re about to do a fist bump with Jisung, taking the seat on your right despite plenty of other (about twenty-six) empty seats. “We’re watching Stranger Things, it’s been almost thirty minutes and all you guys have been doing is aiming at each other’s throat,” he whips out a small remote from his pocket and clicks the ‘play’ button without anyone’s consent. He has no right to do that! You don’t think you’ll ever forgive him after this.

Chill time isn’t so wholesome anymore.

So basically the whole plot is about a boy going missing, flipping a whole town from Indiana upside down. Everyone spends days and nights, desperately trying to find him until one day, a little girl with a shaved head comes into the story and makes the entirety of the movie that much weirder. And more horror-worthy when she’s being chased by ‘bad guys’. This is another reason why you hate Chan: he can’t be bothered about what he’s watching because he’s only here for good food. And probably your suffering. But mostly just good food.

Actually, it might be the other one because you can clearly see that stupid grin on his face when you pull your hood low enough to cover half of your eyes so that you won’t be potentially haunted at night by whatever’s ready to pop on screen. And Jisung’s already clinging onto one of your arms like his life depends on it, legs quivering in his boots. You really don’t wanna accidentally elbow him in the face when there’s an inevitable jump scare.

“Chan, you sadist, I hope you’re happy for doing this to me,” you sneer at him with gritted teeth, frustrated about the fact that you can’t singlehandedly feed him to the sharks.

Chan leans in slyly, lips dangerously close to your ear. “That’s for you ogling Tom Holland,”

Jisung automatically gasps scandalously, once again opening that useless mouth of his and decides to put you on trial. “A compromise was almost made, Y/N you monster!” (Actually no, he’d never survive law school). Jisung wiggles himself out of his seat faster than a lightning bolt and snuggles closely next to Woojin, who’s staring at the screen like someone’s forcing him to watch one of the worst pantomimes to ever exist. Great, now you’re stuck with Chan in the very front seat, having no choice to hold onto him like he’s your last option before falling into your impending misery in the next sixty minutes.

This asshole is really—

The moment you’re ready to pour a paper cup full of Sprite over his head, Jisung and Hyunjin just happen to whimper and yelp at the same time, with the same amount of awfully loud volume, spilling their own endless string of curse words with the same length while holding onto whoever’s lucky enough to sit next to them. So naturally, you stupidly let your guard down and cower like a child watching Snow White for the very first time and being absolutely terrified of the ugly witch. You’re far too busy thinking of ways to bury Hyunjin alive to realize that you’ve unknowingly pulled yourself closer to Chan and hid your face in his chest.

“Hwang Hyunjin you fucking moron!” Jisung yells at the top of his lungs when another demonic scene occurs, sending actual chills down his spine. He almost misses the feeling of still having a vendetta with his friend back in the good old high school days when they’re still wrestling each other every two minutes. Also, you’ve never felt this bad for Jisung (or even related to him) in a fairly long time, because… same.

Hyunjin can officially kiss your Jeep goodbye because you’ll never let him borrow it again. That idiot.

“You’re such a baby,” Chan comments and purposely cuts off your trains of thoughts so that you can peel yourself off him and look straight into the screen again, at the wrong time.

“I’m not your baby—“

You hiss in panic and throw yourself onto him again, trying to calm yourself by listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat and persistent pace of breathing. You’re already mentally apologizing to Jennie because you’re 75% sure that she’s not gonna be able to sleep with you sticking to her side like a jellyfish. There was this one time you all watched The Conjuring because Jisoo insisted so much and except for her and Lisa, no one got a wink of sleep that night so you’re not sure how you’re gonna survive this when there’s no pillow or blanket to protect you from all of the horrifying sound effects and imageries.

Chan secretly bumps his fist with Jeongin in the back, who’s a little bit too occupied with Hyunjin crushing his bones every two seconds. The perks of hitting on a friend’s sister. Works like a charm, he smirks internally. “Little Y/N is scared, how precious,” he looks down at you, and a smile blooms on his lips, enjoying the blissful feeling of having you in his embrace again.

“I am not scared!” You still can’t learn to accept that sometimes, admitting to your defeat is better for your own good.

“Then why won’t you look at the screen then?”

“Because- oh my God, what the hell was that?!”

“It’s okay to admit that you’re scared, I can protect you,” Chan boasts with his chin high up. And you’d love to blush at his affectionate words right now, really. Only if he didn’t quickly jump into conclusion because of your crush on Tom Holland and chose the movie in the span of a split second.

“Christopher, this isn’t funny!”

“Well, I certainly didn’t try to insult you in any means at all, ma’am. I don’t see what’s the problem here,” he singsongs, gently draping an arm around your shoulders. This time, he’s glad that you didn’t end up punching him in the gut.

“Shut the fuck— Jesus Christ!” You screech when the demonic image keeps flashing in your mind, driving your head around in circles. “Chan, I swear to God, you’ll regret—“ you don’t even bother to finish your sentence and have no choice to hold onto him like he’s your only source of life, without him, you’ll soon disintegrate into fine dust and slip away easily. If Lisa was here, she would record the whole thing and play it on the slideshow of videos that she’s been preparing for your upcoming birthday. Thank God she’s playing beer pong with BamBam somewhere on the second floor.

That sounds so melodramatic but it’s not necessarily wrong. Chan still has that same sense of comfort whenever your skin comes in contact with his, even when it’s a thin layer of fabric away, you can still feel how badly it burns like a reminder for you that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere. Nothing’s going to change that, your intuition has told you before but you elect to ignore it. You’re starting to realize that you let Chan into your life again just like that, let him tear down your walls, and lit your heart on fire.

But what you don’t know is that his heart is still beating vigorously in his chest cavity for you, after all this time. His one and only.

“Hey, hey,” he tells you softly.

“What? Don’t make me look, I don’t wanna see it, I don’t wanna hear it either, I’m scared okay just don’t—”

“No, Y/N, look at me,” Chan chuckles and takes your face in his hands, forcing you to stare into his starry eyes. All you can see is an entire cosmos, more wondrous and beautiful than everything you’ve ever seen. He shines like he owns the entire universe in his existence, glowing from within and leaves you utterly speechless. Your head starts to become fuzzy and your heart dips when you realize how terribly close you are to him.

Chan takes your head and gently places it on the left side of his chest, smiling. “Can you hear that? It’s your fault, yeah, you did that to me,” The calm rhythm of his heart cancels everything out; all you can see is him, and all you can hear is his heartbeat. You spend approximately one second debating whether you should kiss him and you hate every moment of that one single second, you dread every nanosecond of it.

“Are you still afraid?” He whispers and you shake your head almost immediately without replying with what’s in your head. Like no shit, you’re more than just petrified right now, this is by far, one of the scariest, most frightening, and most nerve-racking decisions you’ve ever made in your life.

At that moment, it feels as if you’re standing on the edge of a cliff with him by your side. And you do exactly what he’s asking you to because it’s the only thing that you can do.

You jump.

nine. Weirdly enough, you miss college.

You miss those days where you had to finish the entirety of your morning routine in a span of five minutes so that you could be out the door and not miss the bus. You miss those moments where you had to skip two steps at a time on the longass flight of stairs just so your professor wouldn’t have another excuse to yell at you other than the overdue assignments.

You also miss college parties, not because they’re ‘lit’ but because things were simpler back then. People come, drink, get wasted, fight someone (or make out with someone), and then go home. Actually, no, they usually make out first thing first in the front porch because college students don’t give two fucks about their dignity and decency. You definitely didn’t miss that. And also those times where you ogled Chan during lunch breaks or when you both took the usual 4419 to college on a daily basis.

Everything gets a little more nostalgic when Minho slides your usual mojito across the counter and gives you that cat-like smile of his. Somehow, it makes you wanna hug him and bite his head off at the same time but you’re not wasted enough for that yet. You just need to get your mind off Chan when he’s too busy being tormented by his own family.

“Zero sips and you’re already dreaming about Chan? Gee, if I’m not mistaken then you’re so in love with him, manager Lee,” Minho is in his element, surrounded by good music and alcohol. In which, there’s no point in arguing with him anyway because you’re basically vulnerable and defenseless when everywhere you go, you see Chan’s face.

You down half of the mojito in one go and the bartender in front of you almost staggers backward from utter shock. Normally, you’d be snapping back at him with a witty retort instead of being all sappy and dreamy like this. This is not good. “My my, you’re really thinking about him, aren’t you? So tell me, how does that feel? To be deeply in love with another human being,” he leans forward to approach you, propping his head up with his hands. You murmur a small “bullshit” and proceed to toss your head back for a bit, shaking the weariness away.

“Listen, I might be heartless and all but when I accidentally put Tabasco into Jisung’s orange juice instead of honey the other day, I did actually feel bad about it. I felt a rush of empathy for a split second there,” Minho muses when he sees the corners of your lips curl upwards, stretching into a small grin. “It was wild, and then I just thought; is this what it feels like…to be a decent human being? Edgy, I know.”

You laugh dryly with boredom glinting in your eyes. “You know, if you’re going to distract me from thinking about Chan, at least be good at it,” his mouth drops open at your statement, completely gobsmacked. Oh, how the tables have turned. He’s never felt so defeated and useless before. Usually, he’s the one who makes others speechless. It’s not hard to tell that he hates it when everything just flips upside down.

“Bitch please,” Minho says with puckered lips. “Even if I spiked your drink, you’d still repeat his name in your dream like a mantra because you’re so fucking whipped for him,” he stops for a while to train his undivided attention on the Tequila Sunrise for Jisung who’s already smashed after two beers. He can really use some counseling, Minho ponders. “And you wouldn’t kiss Chan back if you hated him, gotta love stupid feelings that you can’t even explain for yourself, am I right?”

You take another sip of your drink and exhale, staring into his sharp eyes. “Excuse me, who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Lee Minho, genius, dancer, fashion icon by day, party animal by night, personal counselor,” he holds back the urge to slap you across the face with Felix’s Gucci slippers and instead, musters the sweetest smile. Being a bartender and a potential alcoholic at the same time definitely doesn’t help because he wishes he could just chug a whole bottle of vodka before you complain to him about your miserable love life. “I believe I’m qualified enough to give you some solid advice. So shut up and listen to me—“

“—I’m trying! But Minho, what if I’m the delusional one? What if he just wanted a fresh start so that we wouldn’t be so awkward towards each other? A kiss can’t possibly mean something. I mean, if you consider our New Year’s kiss, it meant so much to me but I don’t know if—“

And now, Lee Minho, self-proclaimed, genius, dancer, fashion icon by day, party animal by night, personal counselor; doesn’t have the slightest earthly idea of what the hell he should do. God, serious relationships are so fucking complicated to the point that his brain is yelling for retirement. Usually, he just poisons his friends with a dose of some common sense and solid logic to knock them back to reality in order to figure out whatever they’re going through. But this time, he thinks he should just let you fall further and further until Chan catches you instead.

Now that he’s thinking about it. Chan definitely didn’t pay him enough to be the bartender and a personal therapist for the love of his life.

“Seems like you’re not enjoying the party,” you instantly turn around because you can realize the owner of the voice in the matter of a split second. The moment Chan’s eyes are locked with yours, your heart immediately jumps up to your throat and then drops back down to your chest. If only this was because of the mojito, you’d feel better about it somehow but unfortunately, Minho gave you a non-alcoholic one today.

You can tell that he’s already hammered by the smell of alcohol when his warm breath brushes over your nose and how his cheeks are redder than usual. Minho quickly excuses himself from the scene to save himself from witnessing a mediocre, drunk confession session. And also because people are starting to pour in by the second, so the bar will probably be overpopulated in the next ten minutes or so. It’s downright a college party again except for the fact that everyone is floating on water but still, alcohol-thirsty pigs are still pigs. Everyone’s sloppy and lightheaded to the point that you’re already hearing the janitors crying themselves to sleep tonight.

“I’m enjoying it more than you if you couldn’t tell already,” your face morphs into a frown when Chan giggles and stumbles around like a madman. He would have facepalmed himself onto the marble counter with various bottles that probably cost more than one of his cars combined and made a scene if it weren’t for your hands steadying the blades of his shoulders. The warmth of your fingers radiate through his denim jacket and sinks into his skin, making his head a little fuzzy while you’re wondering how the fuck did he get this batshit drunk when Minho was with you the whole time.

“What the hell did you have?”

“I don’t know, BamBam asked me to try out some of his new cocktail recipes,” Chan hiccups and allows you to fling one of his arms over your shoulders. “Guess I didn’t consider dinner with my family afterward. Mom said I should just get some rest but I was thinking of you, so voila, I’m here now,” he gives you that signature boyish grin of his that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. But this time, your frown just grows deeper because since when did BamBam know how to make cocktails? And almost knocked Chan out too? You know why you should just stick to Minho’s mojito now.

Your eyes widen in panic as Chan almost trips over your foot when Hyunjin accidentally bumps into his back. “Oh Y/N, I’ve been looking for you,” the younger boy tells you with a Margarita in his hand, curiosity laced in his eyes. “No, scratch that, actually, some guy called Jaemin is looking for you,” Hyunjin then leans closer to a very-shocked-looking you and tries to shout over the loud music. “Who is that guy anyway? I heard rumors going around that he’s the Senator’s son or—“

Even though Chan’s not very sober at the moment and all he can hear is “some guy” and “the Senator’s son”, he knows that he needs to get you out of here as soon as possible. That bastard, Chan thought he’s already eliminated him from the guest list. Without a second thought, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you away from Hyunjin although he’s not the real threat here, piloting you through the sweaty bodies grinding against each other to the EDM music in the background. He was gonna take up the DJ duty tonight but really…is he gonna let you have another encounter with Na Jaemin? Yeah, he thought so too.

Before you can even register the whole situation, Chan’s already backed you up against a wall in his bedroom, a hand over your mouth with the other on the small of your back. Time seems to stop when you see the golden flecks in his eyes, floating softly in his nebula, and you’re absolutely, definitely, totally falling for him all over again. He’s so incredibly beautiful it leaves you moonstruck, wondering how can God be so unfair to make Chan look better than you even when he’s wasted.

Everything starts moving once again when a series of “have you seen Y/N?” echoes through the hallway and you can physically feel Chan tighten his grip on your body, jaw clenching too much that it might hurt. You know that voice all too well; Na Jaemin is here. And he’s looking for you. But you can care less right now because your heart automatically does a flip when Chan makes direct eye contact with you, his index finger hovering over his lips.

“Y/N, I need to tell–“

But this is not the time to fawn over how good he looks, you tell yourself with such determination.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you help Chan walk over to his king-size bed, his limbs wobbly and unstable. After a solid minute of struggling and panting, you finally have Chan laying on the bed, legs dangling off the edge. While you’re too busy unfolding his blanket, he’s murmuring gibberish that you can’t quite, choosing to ignore it like how you’ve ignored Woojin snoring at two in the morning during a camping trip. “Chan,” you shake his shoulders slightly. “You’re gonna fall flat on your face if you sleep like this,”

You hiss through gritted teeth helplessly. “Chan!” But he doesn’t even move a single muscle. “You idiot, why did you agree to drink all of those cocktails?” You’re going to rip BamBam’s head off of his neck next time with your bare hands, it’s on. “Chan!” Your last attempt of waking him up fails miserably when he scrunches his nose a little, then proceeds to move on with his slumber.

Yeah, he’s definitely gone.

Or not.

Just when you’re about to give up and leave him as he is, Chan grabs you by the wrist and pulls you flush against his chest, heart thundering more vigorously than ever. He easily rolls the both of you to the side with no effort, only to get a better grip of your waist, his breath tickling your nose. At the suddenly close proximity, you can take a closer look at his long lashes that framed his eyes perfectly, his tall nose and his plump lips. Chan looks so ethereal and otherworldly that you wonder what it feels like to run your hands through his hair, dance your fingers against his jawline and press your lips against his.

But you also notice the bags under his eyes and how his brows are slightly knitted together. He doesn’t seem to be doing a great job at taking care of himself after all and it makes your heartache knowing that he didn’t have any other choice. It’s no one’s fault, really, though, in scenarios like this, people would love to point fingers and make assumptions out of something that they don’t even know. Falling in love with Chan for the third time can be the best thing that’s ever happened to you or it will eventually push you off a cliff, straight into a downward spiral.

Whatever the consequences are, you’d never trade him for anything in this world. Even if it means getting your heart broken all over again. You’re willing to walk through fire and step on thorns just to be by his side again. But at the same time, you’re not sure if he feels the same because if not, you’ll be left with nothing. Maybe he’ll forget all of this in the morning. Maybe it’s never meant to happen anyway.

Chan suddenly pulls you in more and his lips are terribly close to your flesh, your eyes going wide in panic. Moments later, soft snores escape his mouth as his chest heaves up and down in a calm rhythm. It reminds you of when he hugs you in the theatre, embarrassment soon flares through your nostrils and sprinkle a shade of coral on the apples of your cheeks. You can’t help but smile, arms snaking around his firm waistline.

Chan hugs you so tightly that you blindly believe that he needs you. As if it’s his way of saying “stay, it makes me feel at ease that you’re right here, in my arms again”. No one has ever really needed you. As sad as it sounds, your family can still move on with life just fine even when you’re not there. Your friends have their own jobs and other relationships as well, they don’t actually need you. You’ve never felt anything quite like this before, it’s a little bit frightening but also a little bit tempting.

Yep, you think to yourself. I’m done for.

Goddamnit BamBam.

ten. Chan groans loudly when the early daylight hits him like a truck, knocking him out of his semi-unconscious state. Hangovers still hit him hard, but this time, shit hurts way worse because someone still has a lot to learn as a mixologist. He smells like alcohol, probably looks like trash, and his head is fuzzy yet [insert culprit’s name] is standing right in front of him, all dressed up like he’s about to do a drug transaction.

“Bro,” he narrows his eyes to do a full scan of the bedroom, plopping himself back down only to realize that you’re not here. “You fucking suck at making cocktails,”

BamBam only chuckles humorlessly at that, five of his drinks didn’t even put a dent on Changbin yet the infamous Bang Chan wasn’t able to stay sober to not have a girl carry him to his bedroom. “Drink,” he gives the glass of water in his hand a light thrust before handing Chan a tablet of aspirin with the other. He’s also decided that it’s a lovely Sunday morning and he doesn’t have time for this shit. He should be chomping on breakfast in bed with something on the TV right now. But, he can’t risk having Chan roam the cruise looking all homeless and insane.

“I can’t believe not only did you let Y/N into your room, slept in the same bed as her,” Chan chokes on the big gulp of water that he’s just taken, and everything from last night starts pouring back to him like an unwanted nightmare. He was far too drunk to even remember every detail, he just prays to whatever gods up there that he didn’t say anything stupid. “Yet you didn’t even confess, great fucking job.” BamBam asserts like the true friend that he is, accidentally pushing Chan closer to his imminent misery.

Chan snaps his head up and almost screams aloud that his heart’s about to jump out of his chest, “You wanted me to what?!”

“You heard me,” BamBam tongues the inside of his cheeks in annoyance, regretting the amount of money that he spent to tip one of the cruise���s staff so that he could sneak his own alcohol in safely. “You know what that means? That means you still didn’t shoot your shot! You did not shoot your shot! Which entails? You’re gonna be lonely for the rest of your life and eventually die alone. You’re gonna die alone! You hear me?”

Chan thinks it’s way too early for him to endure BamBam repeating himself over and over again like a crazy person. He might still be slightly hammered because all he’s hearing is “shoot your shot” and “die alone”, he’s confused because why in the world is his best friend making him choose between killing someone and dying alone? Wait, no, actually….he might mean something else. Chan’s just in denial.

“Where is she?” He rasps out tiredly after taking the pill and downs the whole glass of water.

“Lisa carried her back to Jennie’s room in the middle of the night,” BamBam informs his friend, watching how his eyes are starting to turn stormy, and then he exhales out of relief. “She almost murdered me! This is all your fault!” He cries out dramatically before belly-flopping himself onto Chan’s bed, metaphoric tears dripping down on his cheek.

Chan perks an eyebrow as if BamBam just offended him, as if he’s mental and just made it out of an insane asylum. “My fault?” He questions, his voice getting louder and louder at the end. “Whose idea was it to poison me with your questionable drinks? Whose idea was it to make me all batshit drunk? Whose idea was it to let me into the party so that I could find the only thing that I’ve been trying to avoid all night? It was your fault, okay?! It-was-your-fault!” He deadpans and soon realizes that now he’s the one who’s repeating himself.

BamBam is more than confused right now because didn’t Chan want this after all? To confess to you once again and get you back? All he was trying to do is basically give his friend a teeny tiny sprinkle of motivation and this is how he repays him? Now he looks like an idiot who has been trying to sabotage the relationship between the two protagonists of another horrible rom-com. Jackson was right, he should have just played ping pong in peace and not stick his nose into other people’s business.

“Look,” he places a hand on Chan’s shoulder as he sighs deeply into the palms of his hands, mentally debating how the fuck can he make it up to you now. “She could have just refused your invitation of stepping onto this cruise. She could have pushed you away when you tried to kiss her,” BamBam stops midway to suppress his laughter at how Chan’s cheeks are taking no time to turn into a brighter shade of pink. “And, she could have left you alone and drunk at the bar, and- I don’t know, hang out with Na Jaemin or something.”

When a muffled silence descends in between the current civil conversation, only a confused look crosses Chan’s features and all BamBam wants to do right now is to put his head through a goddamn wall. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he murmurs to himself. “Minho’s right. You both are so dumb it’s physically hurting me.” Not exactly the most comforting words to tell a person in crisis but things hitting hard like this actually helps Chan a lot more than how people usually sugarcoat their words.

“Listen, it’s not like there’s no more fish in the sea but have you ever met someone who instantly clicked and just simply fell for you? She didn’t know that you had money, she didn’t know anything about your family. She could care less about your social background too honestly, because she fell for who you truly are,” BamBam hates to be cliché, really, but it is what it is. “Y/N has never gone a day without checking your notifications, she was so broken when you suddenly just shut her out like that. And yes, you were an asshole for doing that but can’t you see how hesitant she was every time you’re trying to get closer?”

Chan looks up at his friend, his tense muscles finally relaxing. “Which isn’t the point…”

“Which isn’t the point,” BamBam tells him, looking more serious than ever and it’s freaking him out. “Because what I’m trying to say is, it’s still not too late to shoot your shot.”

eleven. Maybe you deserve someone else, but deep down, you’ve always wanted Chan. And in your heart, you know that it’s right because humans only want the love they thought they deserved. You think part of the reason why you can never seem to let go of him is you’re just scared that something so amazing won’t happen twice. People might call you out for dwelling on the past but you call it a coping mechanism.

Magically, you’re starting to get used to the frequent encounters with Chan and Eunji since they’re also apparently part of the Privileged. You really should give yourself a pat on your shoulder for not having a mental breakdown whenever you see them hand in hand in public. The forced smile on Chan’s face always gives you the tiniest strand of hope that he’s just putting on a show as demand from his family. But at the same time, you’re scared that you’re just being delusional and you’d never have anything to do with his life from now on. Perhaps he wanted a fresh start so that everything can be like how they used to back in college? He didn’t want to “lose you again” because he still wanted to be friends?

But every time he tried to sneak a glance towards your direction and smiled, all you could think was: “Oh, shit,”

You knew that you fell for him twice, and you’re still falling. Every. Single. Day.

“Like what you see?” Changbin brags on the other side of the curtain, followed by a string of gagging noises by Jisung. And you secretly want to take a picture of his face, for science, obviously. But by that, you mean to blackmail him whenever wherever you want because he’d rather not have his fans gushing over him looking like a dying donkey, inside a fifteen thousand dollars suite on a cruise.

“You look like an idiot.”

Jisung voices with pure disgust in his tone. “Who the fuck lend you a white tuxedo?” Needless to say, you try to picture Changbin wearing a white suit and you immediately scrunch your nose up, shaking your head profusely. Changbin looks especially good in dark colors, but you’re not saying that he wouldn’t look good in brighter tones, it just feels weird not seeing him in a black tux, even when it’s just for a small party.

“My sister! If anything she’s an idiot,” he’s probably throwing his hands up in frustration. “She said I should switch things up. And I trusted her, now I feel like an idiot.”

Jisung asserts like a snake, “You look like you have a stick up in your ass, it’s so high up I can literally see it whenever you’re opening your mouth.” He’s probably man-spreading on the blue velvet couch, playing with the glass of bubbly champagne that he’s specifically requested. You don’t get why he would want to drink when he’s waiting for his friends in the dressing room but he will, just because he can.

“Ew,” he spats not long after. You’re not sure if he’s referring to the drink or Changbin’s outfit. It might be the drink, it’s shit but it gets the job done. It’s more about the concept of looking elegant and fancy more than the concept of getting wasted, in order to not look like a corrupted person. “Why would you godsend privileged, snoshy, live-and-breathe-in-money people deadass drink this instead of a nice Tequila?” Yep, not surprising.

Changbin protests, clearly annoyed. “Because we can afford that shit, just like how there’s a random, money dripping guitar in the dressing room,” you don’t even have to peek to know that he’s rolling his eyes to the point that they’re gonna fly out of their sockets. “But at the same time…true, I don’t like it either. That’s why I never get wasted whenever I go to parties like these, man, I miss college parties,”

God, this zipper is driving me nuts, you mentally curse when it gets stuck halfway and your arms are already giving up on you. Where’s Jennie when you’re in desperate need of her help?

“Whatever, let’s go find your sister and get you in a new tux,” you can hear Jisung pushes himself off the couch and settles his champagne down on the coffee table. “No offense towards her…I just fucking hate it on you,”

“Wait, guys—“ the moment you try to call out to them, they basically shut the door of the dressing room. “Well, shit,” you sigh, quickly realizing that 1) you don’t have your phone with you; 2) you can’t just run outside to grab it because what if Changbin and Jisung get back here at an untimely moment; and 3) there’s no way in hell you’re gonna ask one of them to zip it up for you. Now you’re forced to stay in a confined space with your only protection aka the red velvet curtain that looks way too cliché for your liking. Seriously, isn’t Jennie supposed to be here with you? It was her idea to put you in another dress, which you hate with a passion but you can never have the heart to tell her that.

The door swings open again and you exhale out of surprise, “Thank God, Jen. You’re here. Can you help me with my zipper? It’s stuck, and my hands gave up on me,” you immediately turn around, a sense of relief washing over you.

“Do you think Chan’s gonna hate seeing me in a dress again? I mean, I did call him an asshole when I wasn’t wearing one,” you stop to take in a breath, completely oblivious about the fact that it wasn’t Jennie who opened the door. “…but I was kinda acting like a bitch when I was wearing one too. I was so furious knowing that he’s seeing someone else behind my back that I wanted to bite his head off. And now I’m stuck here with him, his family, and that chick, in a hotel, on water, floating spontaneously somewhere near Singapore.”

Wordlessly, a pair of hands push the curtains aside to tug onto your zipper, slowly adjusting it and careful not to break it at the same time. Once your dress is zipped up all the way, you’re ready to turn your head and thank your friend. “Stay still, I’m not done yet,” your face automatically burns darkly when you come to a realization that it’s definitely not Jennie, most definitely not Jennie. In fact, it’s the person you’ve been planning on avoiding all night. Before you can decide when to make a run for it and save yourself from the imminent embarrassment, a silver necklace is draped around your neck, a diamond-studded buttery resting nicely right below your collarbones.

“Beautiful,” he says again in that honey-dripping voice of his. “You should wear dresses more,”

“Chan! You just scared the living daylights out of me,” you whisper harshly, turning on your heels and shove his chest. You definitely didn’t know what you were signing up for because it’s a grave mistake for you to accidentally look into his captivating eyes and you can see an entire universe in them. Absolutely magnificent. He looks impeccably good in his bejeweled black suit jacket, black turtleneck, and a silver chain around his neck, matching pieces of jewelry adorning his ears.

Chan wiggles his brows like the self-indulging person that he is, straightening his lapel dramatically. “Hmm, I don’t know if you can smell that, but it reeks of jealousy in here, and also hatred, but mostly jealousy.”

“Can. You. Zip. It. And. Call. It. A. Day.” With every word, you repeatedly slap his chest, but only to see him breaking into a fit of giggles in return. You almost forgot that he works out, whereas, you literally have zero ounces of muscles on your body. What a disgrace to your family. Like come on, even Felix has abs, and he never turns down Tacos Tuesday whenever he has dance practice with Hyunjin because their studio is conveniently situated right next to the best Mexican restaurant.

And the guacamole there? Phenomenal.

Chan teases, “I thought girls like you should be taught to act like a lady, not hitting the innocents.”

“Stop being a baby, Bang, it’s not like I’m gonna leave you with a bruise or two.”

Ah yes, this reminds Chan of the good old days of college where you’re both in that weird phase where you’re too much of a scaredy-cat not to talk to him on a last name basis because Changbin was an idiot for constantly leaving you two alone in the music room. “Why?” His lips curl up into a grin. “Because you can’t even open a jar of spaghetti sauce by yourself?”

That’s…that’s just a harsh truth. And now you feel like Regina George getting hit by a bus because life’s willing to give you a piece of its mind. You’re weak as fuck.

“It’s not fair when Felix has a six packs while eating tacos every other week, and I’m here looking like this with a green smoothie for breakfast every day,” you mumble bitterly, already too tired to argue with Chan because the party’s starting in half an hour. “I swear he’s on drugs, he always puts something into his daily Americano.”

Chan laughs breathlessly and cups your face with his hands, squishing your cheeks together. “I’m pretty sure it’s just stevia since Lix has a sweet tooth. On the bright side, I think you look just fine like how you are right now. I like you just the way you are. No modification is needed.” The audacity.

Your nostrils flare with heat, and your cheeks feel hot against Chan’s cool fingers. Again, Chan looks really good tonight and you’re not sure how much longer your heart can hold up before you pass out in his arms. “Uhm, so, just to make it clear,” you fiddle with your fingers nervously. “You and I-“

“Hey guys, how are things going—” Jennie pops her head into the dressing room and looks around, seeing no signs of Changbin or Jisung whatsoever. “What did I miss?” She looks at you cluelessly, then her lips automatically spread into a shit-eating grin when she sees how Chan’s cupping your cheeks. Just when you thought you can’t possibly blush any more darkly.

You awkwardly pull away when Chan clears his throat, retrieving his hands from your face. “Jen, just get out, I swear it’s nothing.” Yeah, as if Jennie aka the person who proclaims to be an expert at love because she’s snuck way too many boys into her closet, is gonna believe your pathetic attempt at an explanation.

“Oh, I’ll get out,” Jennie throws you a wink and you can see how Chan’s shuddering slightly at the dangerous glint in her eyes. “Now, don’t get too freaky in here okay kids, walls are pretty thin,” she asserts unhelpfully like the true friend that she is before shutting the door close. When you’re about to blurt out as many apologies as you can muster to Chan, a soft ‘click’ echoes through your eardrums. Your eyes grow alarmed almost immediately and so do Chan’s.

Did she just lock you inside the dressing room with Chan and expect something to happen? Kim. Fucking. Jennie.

“I hate you, and Jennie,” you tell Chan, not even bothering to hit him this time.

You’d rather take a nap on that couch over there than go out and party honestly. Parties only consist of two things most of the time: drinking and talking. But getting wasted is not an option tonight because you’re not about to spill rosé on the dress that Jennie adores the most. Although you do hate her ass right now.

And people don’t even hold proper conversations during parties unless they know each other, there are only small talks which are so….ugh. You don’t understand the purpose, the meaning of speaking to someone with a maximum of three sentences. You need a real, authentic, civil conversation about a specific topic that’s worth one’s time. Not just “how are you liking the party?” and “yeah, it’s dope, you?” or other gibberish nonsense.

Sometimes you feel bad for those people because their lives are staler than those crumbs of bread that pigeons feed off.

Chan tips his head back and releases the most obnoxiously loud series of laughter that you have to hold back the urge to kick him off the cruise. “You know you love me,”

“I don’t.”

“If you don’t then why would you dash through the airport like a madwoman just to hug me and tell me those three magic words?”

“Too bad, my brain just refused to recall that memory.”

He grabs your chin and angles it so that you’re directly looking into his eyes, dimpled smile, and all. “Then do I need to interfere and remind you?”

You don’t think you’re gonna make it through tonight if Chan keeps making your chest swell like this.

twelve. You and Chan have decided to change into more casual outfits and ditch the formal ones to strip the awkwardness and tension to a bare minimum. And by ditching, you mean hanging them up nicely so that Jennie won’t strangle you later. It is her dress after all. But you have every right to burn it since it was her idea to lock you up with Chan in a dressing room. Thank God it’s almost the size of her closet. Now, you’re both laying flat on your backs on the navy fuzzy carpet before the white couch, already moved the tiny coffee table away so that you won’t accidentally knock something that costs a fortune over. Kind of insanitary too but you can’t care less.

“Are you hungry?” Chan turns his head and asks you, warm brown eyes twinkling under the dimmed light.

“No,” you shake your head, and as if on cue, your stomach rumbles involuntarily. As Chan bursts into laughter, you quickly cover up your pink cheeks with the palms of your hands, internally groaning in pure agony. ���Yes, I am hungry like a normal human being should because it’s already midnight, sue me.” You confess.

If only some of Ryujin’s leftovers were here. This is exactly why you refuse to eat out most of the time. Why bother hiring high-end chefs and having fancy dishes when you’ve already had a roommate who’s born into cooking? God, you miss her spaghetti.

Chan props his head onto one of his arms and looks down at you, a glint of mischief evident in his orbs. “You know what’s a whole fucking gourmet dish? Me,” he peels your hands away from your face with ease, holding onto them tightly to prevent you from smacking his chest.

You roll your eyes at him in the bitchiest way possible, yanking your hands away from his because every touch burns like fire and you’re not letting yourself be vulnerable tonight. If you still remembered some of the moves from the martial art classes that mom forced you into when you were in middle school, Chan wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance. You almost snap someone’s arm in half back then, but those days are long gone.

“You? Please, you’re like those piles of unwanted leftover vegetables that everyone keeps giving away to their most annoying relatives,” you start talking big with no intention of meaning it.

Chan’s not just a single dish, he’s an entire buffet. You could never imagine how it felt like for him to have thousands of letters and notes pouring out from his personal locker when he’s wrapping up for the day. Yeah, a total heartthrob. That’s why all of the dumb bitches on campus would always circle around him during breaks, no matter where he went. You were one of them too, you’re also a dumb bitch. Except, you didn’t need to stalk him, Changbin did all the work for you: inviting you to sit with them during lunch breaks, letting you ride the 4419 home alone with Chan, consistently hinting at Chan about your stupid feelings for him every two seconds,… In all honesty, you should be thanking him but you also want to throw him into a tank full of sharks.

Chan gasps, like audibly gasps as if you’re throwing shade at him, which you totally are. “You’re such an absurd, unreasonable, incongruous, preposterous-“ he pauses midway because he’s already running out of big words for ‘ridiculous’ to call you out on; it takes guts and Oscar-worthy acting to insult his godly appearance and impeccable visual, it really does. “—whatever, doesn’t matter. I know that you’re lying,” he singsongs before pushing himself off the carpet, stretching his limbs tiredly.

You think it’s almost two hours since you’re laying in a single spot, and you’re not risking having any parts of your body paralyzed so you get up, proceeding to do the same thing. “I can’t believe you didn’t have your phone with you,” you throw your hands up in exasperation, careful not to chip one of your nails. Lisa didn’t spend an hour on them for nothing. “And no one is even looking for us! Literally no one!” You can’t exactly blame your chaotic group of friends because they’ve probably fallen asleep since formal parties like these are so damn boring but Chan’s parents not freaking out about their missing son? And his “fiancé” too? That’s oddly concerning.

“You don’t have your phone with you either,” he snickers, hands reaching for the random acoustic guitar in the corner of the room. “I doubt that Lisa or Jisoo’s gonna get us out of here, I don’t even have faith in the two other parts of 3RACHA anymore.”

“What about your fiancé?” You ask him out of the blue, completely ignoring the sudden pang in your chest.

Chan shrugs nonchalantly, strumming some random chords with the instrument. “I broke it off with her, in front of my parents.”

“Cool then-“ you almost choke on your own saliva, “—hold up, did I just mishear you? Did you dump her?! In front of your parents?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” You heave, feeling your heart rate increasing by the nanosecond. Not only did Chan break down the walls you’ve been trying to build, he utterly eliminated the invisible barrier between your life and him (sorry Jaemin), and he knocked down the only obstacle left that’s in his way. Now, imagine two dots with a single line to connect them both. Everything’s as simple as that but your brain is already fried from coming up with one hundred and one ways to move in the slowest way possible.

Chan keeps strumming the guitar in his arms but purses his lips at your particular way of responding to his previous statement. “You know, a ‘thank you’ would be nice. And no, they didn’t disown me. I was like ‘fuck it’, and I told them everything. Not everything-everything, but like everything-everything, you feel me?”

No, I don’t fucking feel you but I can physically feel the shame and agony that’s slowly dawning on me you moron, you think to yourself, inhaling and exhaling deeply to prevent yourself from exploding like a ticking bomb.

“What did they say?”

“They didn’t say anything since they were too…uh, taken aback by the amount of information I guess..”

“Chan, I don’t think you were thinking straight—“

He interrupts you with a sad pout, sticking out his bottom lip. “Why are you talking about my parents and not this guitar?” This man is being ridiculous, as stubborn as a child.

“IT’S A GUITAR! RELAX ABOUT IT!”

“I GOT THIS FOR YOU!” Chan raises his voice slightly to catch you off guard and then sighs deeply. “Felix said you hadn’t played the guitar in years, but you were pretty good at it. So I wanted to surprise you, don’t you like it?”

“Chan, you what?” Your voice grows smaller and smaller until it’s only as audible as a whisper. “You didn’t have to do that- of course I like it! But- it’s just..” You stop talking completely to take a closer look at the acoustic guitar in his hands. It’s made of a reddish-brown type of timber with a satin finish, you can tell that the wood will age well through time and create more depth and warmth to the sound of the instrument. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a guitar, but it’s been way too long since you’ve touched one.

“I- I forgot how to play it after a while..”

Chan throws a wolffish wink in your direction as a reassurance that there wouldn’t be a problem with that. “I can show you how to if you like.”

“Moving too fast, moon is lighting up her skin,” Chan cuts you off softly with his angelic voice, and your heart is stuck in your throat, refraining you from barking back with anything. “She’s falling, doesn’t even know it yet. Heart is beating loud but she doesn’t want it to stop.”

Is he seriously trying to do this by singing a song? A fucking One Direction’s song?

“We’re only getting older, baby. And I’ve been thinking about it lately,” Chan’s voice slowly bleeds into the chorus, and you feel as if all of your pride and dignity have been thrown out the window because you’re completely frozen in your spot when he sits down next to you. Chan smiles throughout the lyrics seeing how you’re looking at him like he’s the only person left in the entire Milky Way, a strange warm sensation bubbling up in his stomach. “Does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes?”

“Everything that you’ve ever dreamt of, disappearing when you wake up,” Chan’s heart does an entirety of an acrobatic routine when he locks his eyes with yours. Seemingly to keep himself together, but the insides just feel like he’s being hung upside down on a tree with blood rushing to his face. This just has to be the cheesiest, sappiest, not-necessarily-scream-CB97 way to confess to someone but fuck it, he still needs to shoot his shot. “But there’s not to be afraid of. Even when the night changes…”

He pauses for a few seconds, “..it will never change me and you..” and finishes off smoothly, embarrassment growing more evident on his cheeks.

What did you tell yourself months ago, Y/N? Aren’t you tired of trying? How are you so sure that he wouldn’t do it again? Haven’t you had enough?

Yeah, you’d never know. And yes, you’ve had enough.

Well, to hell with that.

That’s when everything clicks in place. After all this time, after everything you’ve been through, after everything he’s done, you can finally see why you’ve been chasing him relentlessly knowing damn well that your heart is still in his hands, one wrong move and you’ll be utterly destroyed forever. Nobody compares to Chan. Nobody makes you smile like he does, nobody makes you laugh like he does and nobody makes you cry as hard as he does. It’s almost a truth that’s universally acknowledged that everything has been leading up to this specific moment, your heartbeat comes in sync, and two completely different worlds collide with each other.

You almost lost yourself all the way to him, but in him, you also found the way back to you. And how do you argue with the algorithm of falling for someone when the entire universe has conspired for the both of you to be together since forever?

“Uhm…so what-“

Before he can even finish his sentence, you abruptly grab a fistful of his hoodie and yank him towards you. Chan physically feels shivers run up his spine when your hand automatically interlocks with his, still fits like a glove. You kiss him with such desperation and tenderness it makes him feel as if you’ve been wandering this celestial sphere by yourself in the past century, yet he’s always had your heart. And he lets himself trust you with his in your hands once again because this is only the beginning. The paths ahead might not always be peaches and cream, but if it’s with you, he’s willing to stick with you ‘till the very end of it.

You’re the first one to break the kiss, managing to talk between short breaths. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Chan shakes his head and laughs breathlessly, wearing a dimpled on his face, “Nothing, I was just wondering if you’d take me back after everything.”

“After everything?” You merely chuckle when tiny bits of confusion in his orbs soon disintegrate into stardust, floating through the galaxy for eons. “A million times over, I will still choose you and let you rip my heart in half if that’s what it takes for me to stay by your side.”

Chan feels like he’s floating in midair, head all fuzzy and moonstruck. “Actually though…can I kiss you again?”

“And then nap time?” You let out a big yawn, making Chan toss his head back, laughing wholeheartedly.

“And then nap time,” he agrees, gingerly pulling you in by the waist while trying to stop himself from picturing the smirk on BamBam’s face when he opens the door in the morning.

Likewise, BamBam indeed opens the door to the dressing room early in the morning to make a move on his cleanup duty before Chan’s parents have a cardiac arrest. His smirks can’t possibly grow any wider when he sees you cuddle closely to Chan, palms resting on his chest while his hands are locked on your waistline. And BamBam sighs in relief because thank goodness he did shoot his shot.

[adrenaline-roulette]

Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word: Count: 6k+ Warnings: Smut and language. This chapter is 18+ If that is not you, chapter nine will be available for you to read in the coming weeks!

Disclaimer: This Chapter is pure smut, there really isn’t any plot really. So if that doesn’t do it for you (Or you’re underage), check out chapter nine when it comes out, we’ll be back to actual plot there!

Missed the other chapters? Here they are! One Two Three Four Five Six  Seven

Chapter Eight: There’s a fine line between pleasure and punishment 

Your fists slowly relax at your sides as you breathe deeply, regarding Four with a raised eyebrow. This was awfully bold of him, to walk right into your trailer, unarmed, and make threats. Though then again, you had been feeling bold all evening, and had gone far further in the few hours you had been out. In the next few seconds, you make a series of mistakes. Mistakes one and two occur consecutively. “Why Four, I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You smile, allowing the most innocent expression you could muster to cross your features. Biting down on your lower lip, you turn on your heel, spinning around and moving away from Four, balling the night shirt you held, into your fists.

One thing you had learned early on with the Ghosts was to never, under any circumstances, ever turn your back on your opponent. Of course, to you Four wasn’t an opponent, at least not in this scenario. He however, saw this as a challenge. Large, warm hands appear on your shoulders, calloused fingers gripping into your bare flesh. Oh how you wish you had kept your shirt on, and weren’t currently parading around in a bra. “How many times do I have to say this. Do not act dumb with me.” He growls against your ear, the scent of alcohol flowing around you.

You shudder under his words, and you know he can feel the way you shake like a leaf in his arms. “You could’ve had me at any stage while I’ve been here. Why now?” You whisper, as Four tugs you closer to him, your bodies barely an inch or two apart. “Is it because you like the way I challenged you tonight?” Your heart is pounding in your chest, but you refuse to let that deter you. “Do you like the way I go for things I want? And that I don’t just roll over an obey?” And now comes mistake number three, making assumptions. “Or is it because you’re used to taking what you want from women. And not having them tease you the way I do?”

Three strikes and you’re out. Four’s grip on your shoulders tightens for a moment, before he spins you around to face him, standing chest to chest now. His face his flushed, either from the alcohol, or the blatant sexual tension in the air, or perhaps both. He shakes his head no, the desire to fight dancing behind his sparkling ocean eyes, like a fire burning within. “It wasn’t the right time. You know that.”

You gaze up at him, your eyes meeting his in an act of defiance. Both hands resting on your hips now, one still clutching your bunched-up shirt, which you were positive you would eventually get around to wearing. “Now that, I can agree with. Though I don’t know if now is the right time either.”

“You’re trying to tell me, that you teased me all night long, practically drooled over me outside of the bar, and played a rather adult version of footsies under the table, only to say that now isn’t the right time?

You blink slowly, allowing his words to sink in. Four was right, you had done all of those things. And my God would you do them again, and again and again, if it meant you coming back to where you both were right this very second. Four smooths his hands over your shoulders, his fingers no longer gripping so tightly. “What are you thinking?” He whispers, leaning closer so his lips brush against the corner of yours for the briefest of moments. He’s gentle now, and the fire in his eyes has melted away, almost as if a switch inside his brained at been flipped.

Your breath stutters in your throat, and your mind goes blank. What were you thinking? Were you even capable of rational thoughts anymore? “Are we just doing this because of what tomorrow, and the next few days may hold?”

At this, Four drops his hands away from you, stepping back as if having been burned. A crease appears between his brows from where he frowns at you. His chest is heaving now, but not in the way you wish it would. He genuinely looks frightened of your words. “Are you afraid?”

“Why does everyone always ask me that?” He sighs, walking backwards until his back hits the trailer door, pinning it to the wall so it would stop swaying in the gentle breeze.

You raise your free hand up to your scalp, brushing your fingers through your hair. “I didn’t know others had already asked, I’m sorry. I just – I know that I’m absolutely terrified. And – And I don’t want to do something that we may regret if we survive this.”  You walk closer to Four, taking slow and timid steps. The shirt remains clutched in your hands, almost as if it had become your lifeline. It felt as if the thin fabric was all that was keeping you grounded right now.

Once you’re within range, Four lifts his hand, cupping your cheek against his wide palm. You lean against his warmth, allowing your eyes to flutter closed for a moment. “There’s no if, we’re all gonna live. No questions asked, seven of us go in, seven come out.”

“That’s easy to say now, but the mission… I’m pretty sure I’ve set us up to fail. I should’ve just let One have his way and conduct the mission.”

“Don’t say that! Do you have any idea how much faith I have in you? Hell, don’t tell him I said this. But I even have faith in One!” His thumb circles against your cheek, and you allow a gentle sigh to slip from your parted lips. “Everyone is going to be fine. I promise.”

It’s a stupid thing to promise, you know that. How could you not? There was no way Four could possibly assure you, or anyone that you would all live. You were likely about to send everyone off to their deaths. But hearing him tell you, promise you, that it would all be fine. You could hardly not believe him. Just the idea of you all walking out of the hospital Dr Lushnick worked in, all seven of you alive, unharmed, with the Doctor’s corpse stuffed away in a cleaning closet, it truly was all you could hope for…. “I need you. I think I’ve needed you from the moment I got here, I just didn’t know it.” You whisper, slowly blinking your eyes open, meeting Four’s which were already trained on you.

He lifts his other hand, slowly bringing it to rest against your opposite cheek, guiding your head up gently. “Even though I was a jerk for the first few weeks of knowing you?” He whispers, though you can make out the lilt of humour in his tone.

You roll your eyes, a half smile slipping over your lips. The lipstick you had swiped on earlier this evening now mostly worn off, and likely staining numerous glasses back at the bar. “Would you think any less of me, if I told you that when you were being a jerk, it only made me want you more?”

A cocky grin slithers across Four’s mouth, his sparkling eyes shinning with glee at your admission. “Oh shut up..” You grumble, though it’s a half-hearted complaint.

“I didn’t say anything yet!” He throws back in defence, though the grin remains unmoved.

“And I intend to keep it that way.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, as you press your body flush against his. Four’s palms remained cupped against your cheeks as you stand chest to chest. Slowly, you trail one hand up, snaking around until you rest against the nape of his neck, pulling his head closer to yours with a gentle tug. Your fingers twirling in the slightly longer hair He knows what’s coming, there’s no way he couldn’t. You pause for a moment, almost as if you were expecting him to pull away, or to ask you to stop or slow down. But that never comes. Of course it doesn’t. He wants this as much as you do, that much is obvious. You’re inches apart now, and his half lidded eyes are locked on yours, watching your every move intently. He doesn’t want to rush you, doesn’t want to spook you by acting too quickly.

The few seconds it takes for you to close the gap between you both, feels like hours. Though the moment your lips collide, it feels as if the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders. The worry and stress you felt over the impending mission simply melts away, fading to the back of your mind for another time. Your lips meld together as one, moving in near perfect sync as you work to find a comfortable rhythm. His nose bumps against yours lightly, as teeth knock teeth, nothing unusual for a first kiss. The warmth of his body, pressed to yours allows you to practically melt into him, the subconscious desire to be as near to him as possible, causing you to lean almost your entire weight against him.  Four drags one hand away from your cheek, trailing his fingers languidly down the side of your neck, causing goose bumps to pebble the flesh on your forearms. Slowly, he lowers his hand, his knuckles brushing the side of your breast now, through the fabric of your bra. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you pull your lips apart, blinking up at him in surprise. “I’m sorry. Too fast?” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours gently, as if asking permission to continue both the kiss, and his hands descend.

You shake your head no, sliding your own hand further up his neck, dragging your nails against his scalp lightly. “No. Please don’t stop.” You whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips.

You don’t need to ask Four twice, before he has his lips back on yours, bruising your lips in a crushing kiss. His hand, which had remained stationed against your breast, slithers further down your torso, his index finger and thumb dancing along the side of your stomach, all the way down to the waist of your jeans. He hooks his index finger inside your jeans, drawing a circle against your waist as he glides his hand around to your bottom. Once there, his slips his entire hand down the back of your pants, his large, warm hand cupping against your ass cheek, his calloused fingers giving you a gentle squeeze, almost teasingly so. A small squeak of surprise presses from your lips, which Four uses to his advantage, slipping his tongue past your parted lips, and circling against yours.

The gentle breeze which you had left your trailer door open for, had now turned cold, and despite the warmth you were feeling from Four, it wasn’t quite enough to keep away the chill. As if reading your mind, Four takes a careful step, never allowing his hands to fall away from you, his leg moving between yours as you slowly shuffle backwards. Using one foot, he kicks behind himself, the door shutting with far more force than necessary, though neither of you could possibly care. With the door now securely closed, and the two of you stood in the middle of your trailer, you carefully pull apart, both attempting to catch your breath. Your brain is foggy, and all thoughts outside of kissing Four have long since departed. One thought however, does succeed it clawing its way back through the haze. “I’m still holding my shirt…” It sounds weak, and also like the most absurd thing one could possibly say.

At this, Four looks down to your hand, which during this entire time, had remained at your side. “Yes, yes you are.” He whispers, holding back the laugh which threatens to spill out.

“I completely forgot. You – You made me forget about my shirt.”

The hand which had been gently kneading your ass, slips out of your pants, falling down to your side where your arm hung limp, your fingers clutching at the bundled shirt. “Here, let me take that.” He whispers, carefully tugging the material out of your grip. Your fingers release, and Four takes the shirt away, balling it up and tossing it to the ground by his feet. “I promise I’ll fold that in the morning.”

“Oh who gives a fuck? Come here!” You practically growl, a new found sense of desire burning deeply within you.

For months now, you had been dancing around each other, but not any longer. All of that would change tonight, and you wanted – no needed- it to change immediately. With both hands now free, you use them to grip the hem of Four’s shirt, tugging him closer to you. His hand on your cheek slips away, falling to your lower back where he cradles you against him. Your desire was building, as a heat begins to pool between your legs. “Christ, I want you…”

Four trails both hands around until they rest on your hips, allowing his fingers to dig in just enough to cause the slightest amount of pain. “And what do you want with me?” He growls, leaning forward and whispering against your ear.

All courage you had before evaporates under his sudden change in tone, and you find yourself suddenly, entirely at his mercy. “I don’t know. I just, I need you Four.”

He bites his lower lip, all traces of romance which had once been hinted at within his eyes, now replaced with a burning desire. He wants you just as badly, though he knows how to take control, unlike you. “You’ll let me take whatever I want?” It’s hardly a question, but with the way he digs his fingers deeper into your hips, you know exactly what to say either way.

“Yes, oh God yes.” You whine, slipping your hands away from his shirt, and pressing them against his stomach.

That damned cocky smirk is back, and my goodness is it doing things to you that it didn’t do before. With his mouth at your ear he gently bites your earlobe, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to cause a slight sting. “On the bed. Now.” His voice is low and strained, and fucking hell is it turning you on right now.

Without a second thought, you scurry over to your bed, sitting at the head, with your back against the pillows. Your eyes are locked on Four as he smirks at you, taking slowly, calculated steps towards you. There was the slightest bulge tenting his pants, and you couldn’t help but wonder what potential lay beneath the fabric. “Pants off.” He orders, eyes locked with yours, as he rips his shirt off over his head, discarding it somewhere near the minifridge.

Your hands make quick work of button and fly on your jeans, and you scoot further down the bed so you’re half laying against the pillows now, raising your hips towards the ceiling, you shimmy your pants down your thighs, before collapsing back to the bed, and kicking the jeans away from your ankles. Four had the button on his pants undone, and was in the process of removing them entirely, when a new thought appeared to have overtaken him. Just as you begin moving back up the bed to sit again, he pounces on you, kneeling over one of your legs, and pressing his hands into the pillows above your shoulders, effectively caging you in. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Nowhere?”

Four leans down, pressing his lips to yours once again, biting your bottom lip playfully in a show of dominance. He pulls away much too quickly for your liking, and you find yourself lowering your head back to the pillows, after having chased his retreating lips. “Do you feel that? That heat inside you? Boiling in your blood like a fever?” All you can do is nod your affirmation, unable to trust your voice at this point in time. “I’m going to make you feel so good baby.”

His eyes have grown dark, lust evident in his features as he towers over you. Your knee bends slightly beneath his legs, and he takes this opportunity to grind his cocks against you, chasing the high which he knew he was about to give you. He groans as the tent in his pants grows more prominent, his cock straining against the strict confides of his clothing, but now wasn’t the time to undress fully. At least not for him. After all the demands he had made, you scarcely believe Four would pause to ask your permission for things at this point, yet he surprises you by doing just that! “I’m going to take these off, and then this, okay? If- If this is too much, or too fast, you gotta let me know luv.” He gestures, first to your panties, and then to your bra.

“It’s fine Four, I trust you.” You breathe, relaxing into the mountain of decorative pillows behind you. Four pushes himself up so he kneels above you, no longer blocking you in with his arms, not that you had any intentions of going anywhere with your new found freedom. Carefully, he slides his hands down your sides, his fingers tickling against the exposed flesh of your stomach once again. He reaches his end goal much faster this time however, and quickly has his index and middle fingers hooked into the waist band of your black panties. In one quick, fluid motion, he’s stripped your panties away, leaving your sex exposed both to him, and the cold chill in your trailer. There’s not escaping your gasp, as the first wave of cool air blows against your heated cunt, the contrast of warm to cold exceptionally pleasant. Next, Four rests his index finger over your bellybutton, drawing gentle circles around it, before slowly working his way up your torso, moving all the way up until he reaches your chest, though he doesn’t stop there, and continues on to your neck then chin, circling under your chin teasingly for a few seconds. “Don’t be such a tease…” You pout, which only causes Four to smirk down at you.

“Oh, so you don’t like the taste of your own medicine then?” He purrs, sliding his fingers back down your neck, and resting on the piece of fabric between your bra cups.

“No I don’t.” Your pout is stronger than ever, though it soon disappears behind a blissful smile once Four leans down, brushing his lips across yours.

As he leans back up, he catches your eye. “You had better learn to behave, or we won’t be doing this again.” He warns, and you’re about to ask what exactly it is that you won’t be doing again, seeing as he seems to be taking his sweet time getting anywhere. But you’re stopped, by his hands drifting around to your back, fingers fumbling with the hooks of your bra. He was hardly a novice at removing such garments, however each time he tried to unhook a bra blind, he always seemed to encounter a clasp he had never worked with before. Three attempts it takes, before you feel Four peel your bra away, sliding the straps off your shoulders and down your arms. Under the cool air, your nipples pebble erect, and the gentle ghost of Four’s breath washing over you, causes the ache burning within, to grow in intensity. You arch your back, chasing the feeling of his warmth, though Four pulls away, grinning down at you. “So needy, and so impatient. Whatever shall I do with you?” He tuts, kneeling over your left leg, returning his hands to their caging position from before. “Punishment? Or Pleasure?”

Four pulls away his right arms, and lowers it down to your exposed sex, ghosting his knuckles across your sensitive flesh. “I think perhaps both…” His eyes hold a wicked gleam, and you’re almost afraid of what he has instore for you.

His hand reaches further for you, extending his index finger until the calloused tip brushes against your clit. You moan at the sheer contact, the barest of touches almost able to push you over the edge in your touch starved state.  He looks up, lifting a brow in surprise to your reaction, if anything a moan from barely a touch only helped to boost his ego. Slowly, he circles his finger against your throbbing clit, changing tempo every minute or so, just to keep you on your toes. His movements are almost gliding now, and you know that is because of you, and of how wet you are. You’re thankful to not still be wearing your panties at this point, as if you were, the would be absolutely drenched. Four stops suddenly, and you have to physically restrain yourself from crying out in a whimper, by lifting your hand to your mouth, and biting down. The loss of contact doesn’t last long, and soon, you find yourself flying on a while new high. His index finger is probing against your cunt, circling once, twice, three times before slipping inside, just as his thumb moves to your overstimulated bundle of nerves, returning to his fast then slow tempo. His finger brushes against you, stroking the velvety walls as he seeks his goal. His finger can go no further, and he begins curling inside you, almost as if beckoning you towards him.

The moans which emit from you are positively obscene, and they only act to urge Four on further. Your back arches up off the bed, then collapses back down, as you almost physically chase the release you’re so desperate for. Your chest is heaving, as you struggle to catch your breath, your entire world feeling as if it were floating around you. Sweat glistens along your body, your forehead and chest shining beneath the soft moonlight which trickles through your window.

Four’s thumb has been working at one solid tempo for a few minutes now, and it’s almost as if he knows that it’s driving you wild. The moment you feel as if you’re about to taste some of that sweet, sweet release, he stops circling all together, grinning to himself. You’re about to protest, when he slips a second finger deep within you, both fingers now curling against you G-spot in the most tantalising of ways. “Holy shit. Four, oh God…” Your voice is hoarse, but you could hardly care right now. All you can think about it your impending orgasm, and how delicious that wave of absolute pleasure will feel.

“Are you close Eight? Hm, are you getting close?” He whispers, leaning down against your ear, darting his tongue out to curl around the shell of your ear. With both fingers picking up pace within you, he returns his thumb to your clit, this time however, there is no warmup. No slow circling leading to the grand finale, oh no, he’s headed straight for the encore now. His thumb circles and flicks with such speed, you almost see stars. He wants you on the edge, he needs you begging his name, and you’re damned near doing just that.

He knows your close, if the way your walls are beginning to clamp around his fingers are anything to go by, then he knows he only has a few minutes left. With a cheeky smirk, he gently presses in his ring finger, the slight burn of the stretch sending a deep shiver of pleasure straight to your core. He barely had his ring finger half way in when you cry out. “Fucking hell! Christ four I’m gonna….” And just like that, he slips his hand away from your sex, leaving you aimlessly chasing the bliss you had felt the tendrils of curl around you mere seconds before.

“You’re gonna what?” Four whispers, lifting one brow as he gazes down at you. You were an absolute mess, your hair tangled, and strewn across the pillows. Your skin flushed, and chest heaving under your exertions.

“What- what the actual fuck?” You gasp out, propping yourself up on your forearms, and glaring at the smirking blonde.

Four simply shrugs, pushing away from you, and falling back onto the bed in a seated kneel. “I did warn you, we’d be going for both pleasure and punishment.”  He smirks, bringing his right hand to his mouth, and slowly popping each of his fingers past his lips, sucking your juices clean. It was obvious how much his teasing you had turned him on, his cock was pressing hard against his pants, creating a rather impressive tent which you were sure would be somewhat uncomfortable by now.

In a moment of boldness, you leap from the pillows and spring forwards, kneeling in front of a rather startled Four. Just as he’s about to lick clean his index finger, you wrap both of your hands around his, pulling his arm towards you. It was something you never thought you would do, yet here you were…. Your tongue darts out, wrapping around his finger in a positively pornographic manner, coiling around the ling digit like a cobra. Slowly, you lower your head down, parting your lips and enveloping his finger within your mouth, tasting your own sweet, salty juices on his skin. You keep your eyes locked on his, even when his grow dark and hooded, you never blink, never look away. With a loud ‘Pop’ your lips slip over the tip of his finger, and you release his hand, which drops to the mattress below.

Four groans deeply, and without a question asked, he leaps from the bed, shimmying his pants down his legs, and kicking them away from his ankles. Next, he digs his thumbs into the waist band of his boxer briefs. “Whoa, slow down! I wanna actually see what I’m working with here…” You grin, licking your lips as your eyes follow his every move.

“Worried I won’t live up to your expectations?” He meant to sound cocky, and self-assured. But the slight rise in his voice makes him sound more concerned than anything.

You tilt your head to the side, biting your bottom lip gently. “I doubt that would be a worry, considering the size of what I’m seeing now.”

Four takes a deep breath, before slowly bending over, as he rolls his boxer briefs down his muscular thighs. Further down he goes, until you can’t see anything but the crown of his blond head, and the scarred expanse of pale flesh of his back. After a moment’s hesitation, his stands up fully. His thick cock springing erect, already leaking a small amount of precum from the tip. You bite down harder on your lip by accident at the sheer sight of him, his size and girth were what every woman dreamed of. And here he was, all yours, at least for the night. Four genuinely looked to have been sculpted by the gods. Blue eyes like the sea, which could change colour in the sun, perfectly smooth skin, blonde curls which seemed to look good no matter what, muscles and abs which you had only ever dreamed of seeing on a real person, and a cock which had you almost drooling at the sight of it. “Get over here.” You whisper, your words choking in your throat out of pure exhilaration.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Four settles back onto the bed in front of you, returning to an almost identical position as you had both been in before he got up. “What do you want?” He asks kindly, bringing one hand up, and running his fingers through your hair gently.

“I want you. All of you.” You whisper, pulling yourself up to height on your knees, and crawling towards him. “And just like you. I get what I want.” The fire is back, dancing behind your eyes and his. He’s had his fun, but now it’s your turn, and somehow deep within, he knows you don’t plan on teasing him anymore. Not for tonight at the very least.

Your hands rest against his chest, your warm fingers sending jolts of electricity through him, and straight to his already aching cock. There’s no power play here, Four is happy to relinquish dominance to you, and you’re more than willing to take it. With a gentle shove, Four falls to his back, his legs slipping out from beneath him, and bending at the knee slightly, keeping his feet planted firmly against the mattress. He knows what’s coming, and knows what the best position to be in to make you both comfortable is. You crawl over to his side, lifting one leg up and over his waist so you’re straddling his hips. In a moment of clarity, you lean forwards, your chest pressing against his as you rummage around in the small space beneath your mattress and the bedframe. “Aha!” You declare triumphantly, pushing back up, holding a square piece of foil in your hand.

“Do you keep a stash of those beneath your bed for moments like this?” Four smirks, bringing one hand up to rest over you ass, giving the supple flesh there a squeeze.

“Well, I don’t see you having come prepared.” You counter, tearing the corner of the wrapper off with your teeth. “Want me to do it for you?” You whisper, you meant it to be teasing, but it comes out as an honest question instead.

“Oh God yes.” He sighs, watching your expert fingers and they nimbly roll the condom over the tip of his hard cock, and all the way down his length. “There’s something very erotic about watching someone else do that.” You mumbles, drawing rough circles against your ass with his thumb.

“Hm, I wouldn’t know.” You shrug, though there’s glee in your eyes, shinning away as bright as ever. “Kiss me again please.” You lean forwards, pressing your lips to Four’s in what had become an almost familiar manner. It was almost frightening how comfortable you felt in Four’s embrace , and for a split second, you worried what tomorrow may bring, when you woke up in the afterglow. Mentally shaking your head of that thought, you throw everything you have into this moment, into this kiss. This time, it’s you who trails your tongue along Four’s bottom lip, seeking entrance beyond. When his lips part, you snake your tongue in, gliding your tongue along his teeth, and rubbing along one of his canine teeth. As you grow comfortable with the rhythm of your kiss, you slowly lift yourself up, keeping your lips locked with his. You crawl forwards slightly until you’re positioned directly above his cock. Slowly, your lips part with Four’s, and he looks almost sad, before recognition as to why you’ve parted, crosses his features.

Your hands rest over his shoulders, allowing you to keep your back mostly straight, while his other hand goes to rest over your hip, helping to guide you into position. Looking down, you meet his eyes, finding the sea blue to be as bright as the midday sky, staring back at you. There’s a part of you which considers pausing, and confirming that he was ready, but you quickly decide against doing so, obviously he was ready!

Ever so slowly, you lower yourself down, feeling his tip press against your entrance. Biting down on your lip, you press down further, feeling a slight burn as you take in nearly half of him. You press down slightly more, before pushing off entirely, and starting over from scratch, before repeating this routine two more times, each time lowering yourself further and further down. Finally, you’ve taken him entirely, the delicious sting from the stretch within you urging you to press on. Your hips sit flush against his, and the stretch of his cock inside you reminds you just how much you had missed having a man around. Of course, you had never had a man quite like Four before, in fact no one had ever come close!

You stay put for a couple of minutes, allowing yourself to grow accustomed to his size, and to ensure you weren’t going to hurt yourself by starting up too quickly. “Okay. You ready?” You breathe out, looking down at the blissed out blonde.

“Only if you are.” Four smiles, though you can tell how eager he his, and how ready for this he is.

You nod your head twice, taking in a deep breath before rocking your hips against his. You start off slowly, wanting to feel every inch of him filling you, pressing against areas you weren’t even aware existed! He filled you in a way no other man ever had. As only you favourite battery operated boyfriend ever could. It was a feeling you never wanted to forget, and one you were sure you would be craving again in only a short period of time.

Four’s fingers pinch your skin gently as you pick up pace, him lifting his hips to meet your every thrust, and roll. You were working in perfect harmony, just as you did when you kissed. You found a rhythm and tempo which worked for you both, and you stuck with it, knowing it would bring you the perfect amount of pleasure.

Carefully, Four trails one hand away from your backside, crawling up along your side, before cupping over your breast. His hands were chilled, and the cold of his palm sent a shockwave of chills down your spine. His thumb and index fingers tweak your nipple, rolling the small bud until it became fully erect, while his other fingers worked to massage your breast.

You were in utter bliss, something which you didn’t think would be possible while living as a Ghost in the middle of a dessert, surrounded by criminals. Yet here you were, chasing after a high which you were so desperate for, which was caused by one of those very same criminals. Pulling one hand away from Four’s shoulder, you snake it down his chest, drawing soft, gentle patterns against the hard plains of his stomach. You tickle you fingers along his blonde happy trail, the further down you go, rewarding you with him jolting into you, and pressing impossibly further inside of you. Crawling your fingers further along, you finally reach your destination. You pleasure was mounting, and you were positive Four was the same, with your orgasms not in the too far future. Taking your middle finger, you gentle brush against your clit, shuddering under the increased pleasure. Your hips buck erratically for a few moments, before falling back into pace with Four’s. Slowly, you circle your finger against your trembling bud of nerves, your pleasure reaching an all time high. “Oh fuck. Four, I’m not gonna last…” You cry out, lifting yourself up on your knees and slipping him almost completely free, before pressing back down with gusto, and taking him fully once again.

“Christ! If you do that a few more times, neither will I!” He gasps, eyes rolling back in their sockets as a wave of pure ecstasy rolls over him.

You nod quickly, repeating that same motion once again, and watching as Four’s eyes flicker to that dark lust filled state. He was close, oh so close. But not as close as you. With a renewed fervour, your middle finger circles harder and faster against your clit, your orgasm climbing at a rapid pace now. “Fuck- Oh fuck!” You practically scream, throwing your head back as wave upon wave of pure unadulterated ecstasy washes over you. All you can see is white. The world around you vanishes, and all that is keeping you tethered to Earth itself is Four’s grip on you. If it weren’t for him, you were sure you would have left the Earth’s atmosphere by now.

Your walls clamp down around Four’s cock, squeezing then relaxing as you ride out your orgasm. That alone, mixed the pleasurable moans you’re emitting, is enough to send him over the edge. His orgasm explodes abruptly, and his hips buck up against your, slamming into you, as if he were trying to work his way deeper within you. His entire body shudders beneath you, as his cock empties itself entirely into his condom, your quivering walls milking him of all he had.  “Jesus Christ Eight! That was….” He can barely form the words, let alone the sentence he wanted to get out, but you got the general idea of things.

With a deep breath, you collapse against his chest, the colours of the world slowly returning to you, one shade at a time. You can hear and feel Four’s heart hammering away in his chest, and the pride in knowing you had done that, makes your own heart swell. Your body feels like it’s on fire, the after shocks of your orgasm rolling through you like mini tidal waves.

Four rubs his hands along your body, smoothing up and down your sides gently, as he presses soft kisses to the top of your head. “Fuck. That was amazing. You were amazing…” He rambles in between kisses.

With a coy smirk, you slowly lift your head, meeting his gaze. “Are you still mad at me for teasing you all night?”

“Another couple of rounds, and I’m sure you’ll be forgiven.”

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Chapter Ten out now!

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

Please Come Home For Christmas

Summary:  Carrie giggled, waving her hands to get the girl to stop. The fear of her Mama waking up to a teenage girl serenading her outside was a nightmare she’d like to avoid. She could see Sue’s nose wrinkling from the bitter chill and ached to pull her inside just so the warm air could hug her in a way Carrie herself just couldn’t manage yet.

Fandom: Carrie 

Ships: Carrie White/Sue Snell

Word Count: 3,012

Not a sound beat it’s living heart in the White household on a Saturday night. 

There would be nothing to ease Carrie into sleep until dawn broke and the only ambiance then would be her Mother’s small footsteps atop the lonesome hardwood. But as times turned to Winter and soft flakes of snow hurtled to the ground, Carrie White orchestrated her own performance.

Kneeling in-front of her mirror, she dug a thin brush a bit too harshly into a tube of mascara she’d yet to wear once without crying it off before even leaving her bedroom. Her mother wanted for her to be celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ but the young daughter was just realizing she’d been born with the will to celebrate herself. 

So she sat, blinking her eyes at the glass while allowing herself to admire the reflection. Her head bounced...words coming and going with the same speed as distant hail. ‘Spastic’ and ‘weirdo’. She frowned, clawing at the velvety pink fabric of her shirt. ‘Scary White’.

Carrie flung the tube of makeup against the wall...it thumped but gave her no satisfaction. Her eyes followed it as it rolled back towards he folded legs and rattled there against the skin for a few seconds. Mama remained still in her sleep downstairs. Thank goodness. 

Pebbles hitting the window like a headache to her right temple awakened Carrie from her thoughts. She crawled across the floor and gently threw open the window with something like a smile playing at the corners of her lips. 

A stray pebble came through the corner as she popped up...getting her first peek at the lovely Sue Snell who was bouncing (partly from the cold) to get her eyes on her. But young Carrie’s attention was got from her first tease of Sue’s sweet voice...singing...

“Carrie, Carrie, baby

Carrie baby

Carrie, can you come out tonight?”

Carrie giggled, waving her hands to get the girl to stop. The fear of her Mama waking up to a teenage girl serenading her outside was a nightmare she’d like to avoid. She could see Sue’s nose wrinkling from the bitter chill and ached to pull her inside just so the warm air could hug her in a way Carrie herself just couldn’t manage yet. 

“You stop that!” She tried to hold back her chuckles. “I’ll be down in a minute. That is if you’re singing didn’t wake Mama.” She scoffed as if she were really upset but Sue didn’t buy that and Carrie could tell. 

“Hurry down, fair Carrie!” Sue continued her restless hopping, hands now stuffed into the pockets of her coat. “I want to see the Christmas lights!” Her curly hair bounced high with her. 

The rough plan was to take a stroll around the neighborhood, maybe observe the shiny decorations, and head to the Drive-In for Root-beer floats or something. No big deal but Carrie had been thinking about it non-stop for the days since Sue asked when she’d come home from her college’s Christmas break. That was just something she couldn’t help, being that she was a textbook overthinker. 

But judging the way Sue had arrived exactly on time (not even off by a minute) and seemed awfully fidgety, the girl was probably no better. She stood at the end of the walk-way, snowflakes flying down atop her like a living angel...she was bathed in a white shine. Carrie had no way of knowing that Sue was thinking the very same thing about her...

“Tommy asked me to give you his Christmas gift.” She slipped a shinning slim box from her purse of wonders and waved it out for Carrie. “He’s tragically spending his Holiday studying. You miss him, though. I know, sooo...”

She sped over with a bashful smile and accepted the pure looking gift. For a horrid moment, Carrie pictured a tampon sitting there atop the blue fuzzy bed which was of course, a cruel joke from her own mind because what did lay there was a delicate silver chained bracelet. 

“He got me a matching one.” Sue giggled, wiggling her wrist. “Tommy’s a sweet boy, huh? He thought we can fill them up with charms-”

“Like real friendship bracelets?” Carrie abruptly looked up with watery eyes full of an earnest emotion that was hard to place. 

“Yeah!” She gently took Carrie’s wrist, skin-to-skin, and lined up their arms to show off the whole matching gimmick. There was just 1 charm on each of their chains. A glittering star on Carrie’s & a shining heart for Sue. Carrie turned her wrist slowly to watch the charms soak in the night’s light. “He fell for us both, I think.” 

Carrie snapped her head up at that. “Oh, Sue--I don’t think that’s true-”

Sue shook her head with a smile. “My goodness, Carrie White.” Her giggle filled the space between them. “See that it’s true-” She flicked the other girls star charm and then her own. “Poor thing just never had a shot with either of us.” She hummed, almost sad. “I never could love Tommy the way he deserved. The life I would have had with him wasn’t what I wanted. You know that, I guess.” 

Carrie pursed her lips. Yes, she remembered lovely Sue pouring her heart and soul into the cupped palms of one Carrie White. After the prom, Sue hiccupped everything out like thick blood from her throat.

It was criminally endearing. The way Sue had clawed at the tears on her cheeks, explaining that it was just fine for Carrie to date Tommy. In fact, she had subconsciously wished it would happen that way, Sue did. But Carrie didn’t fall for Tommy quite as hard as she did for Sue that night. 

“I love you, Sue.” Was all she could think to say. 

“And I love you, Carrie.” Her nose wiggled again. “I’m working on loving you the way you deserve.” She shrugged, taking her wrist away and starting on the holiday walk. Her boots thudded against the concrete. 

Carrie nearly rolled her eyes, which would have struck Sue as cute. “You love me like you love me.” She hesitantly took the girl’s cold hand in hers...feeling overwhelmingly warm inside. “It’s just the perfect way to live, Sue. To be loved by you.”

Sue slowed down a bit, a pace where the houses behind her stopped being blurry, and blushed. “You always know just what to say Carrie White.” She paused just to admire the girl. “How do you do it?”

Carrie felt her own blush creep up her neck as she shrugged. “I just say what I mean.” She fumbled on her words, feeling like a little mess but was rewarded with a quick kiss on the cheek. It felt criminally undeserved but she still enjoyed the peck of Sue’s pink lips. Part of her felt so eternally grateful for the girl that she had to hold back tears.

They strolled past lawns of beautiful Christmas decorations, Carrie felt the distant eyes of blow mold Santa’s. A tall brown house eclipsing the moon from her vision had the whole baby in the manger set-up. The baby Jesus seemed to sit up in the wooden basket and she imagined it’s glare directed at her. But when Carrie looked up, the plastic baby was asleep just like any decoration.

She sighed. Not realizing she’d stopped until Sue curled up next to her and gently grabbed her arm. She reached out to brush a few blonde baby hairs from Carrie’s temple, a simple gesture but so filled with love. “Save yourself from wasting your young-adulthood, Carrie...” She whispered against the girls skin. “Think about coming home with me.” 

The falling snowflakes around only them grew fatter and a tiny bit slanted as Carrie snapped her head over to gaze at the girl. Both knew the magical element which lay at it’s cause but neither said anything of it. In fact, Sue opened her mouth to stick out her tongue and taste the fluffy ice. 

It ignited a small fire in Carrie’s chest. “My mom-”

Sue deflated slightly, it was hard not to notice. “She doesn’t deserve you Carrie.” 

The blonde pulled her eyes away from Sue and landed them back on the front of the brown-brick home. Their left window glowed green, the right was a glittery crimson. “I deserve her...” She mumbled, mostly to herself. “I can’t Sue. I’m sorry-”

Sue blinked, letting go of Carrie’s arm to wiped her sleeve under her left eye, attempting to look away but Carrie caught the bit of water leaking out. Her chest thumped with pain. Never in her life did she want to make Sue Snell cry. It stung her with a horrible burning sensation all over her body. “Sue?”

She sniffled. “It’s fine. I’m being a baby, huh?” Her giggle then sounded strained. “I just want you to be happy, ok? I would only try to step in like this if I really thought you needed it.” She looked off again.

Carrie felt a flicker of resentment towards the girl, flashes of the prom night played like an old movie in her head. Flashes of hard reds mixed with the hues of Easter colored dresses. “I don’t need you to step in, Sue.” Her voice twitched in it’s tone, a sign of growing anger that while recognized...couldn’t be helped. “Getting your boyfriend to take me to prom just because you felt sorry for me doesn’t earn you that right.”

Sue didn’t flinch but almost. Instead, the girl just shifted her weight to her right leg to disguise her step back. She wasn’t scared. Just a little disappointed in herself for jerking Carrie around. She turned her attention to the lawn of Blow Molds again, making eye contact with one of the old Santas. Tethered reindeer raising his packed sleigh. He smiled, a grin thick with teeth which were blotted in the red color bleeding in from the poorly painted lips. 

A shiver went down her spine. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s ok, Sue.” Carrie blew a flying piece of hair away from her eyes and sighed. “I shouldn’t have-”

Sue pursed her lips and shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I do have a history of making you do things you don’t want to do.” 

Carrie smiled gently. “I had a lovely time with Tommy. Prom...” Her eyes glittered a brief reflection of the Christmas lights across the street. “Turned out pretty okay.” She pinched Sue’s arm softly as if to strengthen the point. 

“My boyfriend fell in love with you.” Sue burst into delightful giggles. Carrie couldn’t help but join her. 

“And I fell in love with his Girlfriend.” She added, tilting her chin so as to hide  behind her long blonde hair. But that didn’t block the feeling of Sue’s joy from radiating around her. Thankfully. 

Moonlight bathed the houses in a mystic pale light, leaving Carrie feeling mute and cold in the winter snow. There was a sense of deadened glee there, after the laughs passed, which they might’ve been able to keep had Sue not invited such tension into air between them. Both girls thought, different in each introspective mind, about how to pass go and collect their 200 dollars. 

Carrie sniffled, red nose flaring, and found it in her to smile. “What do you want for Christmas?” 

Sue chuckled, shoving her cold hands back into the long pockets of her coat as they strolled on. They passed more and more glittering houses that screamed of warm cookies and casual family bickering. To Carrie, it looked very beautiful and very neighborly. 

“A Christmas card, from you.” She chose her words carefully, that much was very clear to her quiet friend. “With words straight from the heart, Missy.” She poked at her. 

Carrie shook her head with a tight grin. “To you and all your family, your neighbors and your friends, May all your days be happy with a joy that never ends-” She sang so softly that no one would ever hear but Sue Snell. 

“Oh, stop that.” Sue thumped her arm gently and burst into sweet giggles. “David Cassidy’s words are not what I want from you.” 

“And what do you want?”

Sue rolled her eyes and bent her knees to pick-up a fallen Candy Cane from the next house’s lawn. Her shoes scoffed against the hard flakes of ice but she had no trouble keeping balance. “I believe I said that already.” She flicked her tongue. 

Carrie shrugged, knowing that she’d agonize over what to write for as long as possible. 

Sue stuck the decoration harder into the grass, stepped back and admired her work with a faint mumbling of lyrics pouring from her mouth. Carrie was positive she didn’t even know she was doing it. “Hello world! I'm your wild girl. I'm your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!”

"Who sings that?” 

Sue blinked a few times before realizing what she’d done. “Oh, the Runaways...” Her smiled refreshed, much brighter, as she waited for Carrie to catch up to her side again. “If you came to live with me, I could show you all my records.” 

Carrie knew now that the battle to shove that conversation down was not going to favor her. “I have missed out on a lot.” 

Sue smirked. “Are you humoring me? Finally.” She sighed happily, dramatically too, and grabbed for Carrie’s hand again. She opened her mouth, ready to list more wonderful things but stopped suddenly. Her hand weakened almost instantly.

She looked up and frowned. “I’m really lonely up there, Carrie.” There was an earnest look of despair that chilled her friend to the bone. “I’m not used to that, I guess. Being one half of a high school sweetheart couple for that long...well, it makes you really dependent.” 

Carrie squeezed her dead palm softly. “Maybe that’s good for you, Sue...” 

The young girl sighed, no dramatics that time, and nodded a few times. “Maybe.”

The epitome of sad...that was Sue Snell.

                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bells will be ringing this sad sad New Years Oh what a Christmas to have the blues My baby's gone I have no friends To wish me greetings once again...”  

The Drive-in, affectionately known as Bluebell’s, was covered in the perfect sprinkling of dusty snow. Making it a picture perfect enough for a postcard (that is if anyone gave a shit about Chamberlain, Maine). 

Sue Snell pulled her straw in-and-out of her root-beer float and watched Carrie White scoop the frothy ice-cream onto her spoon with eager eyes. It was endearingly sweet. “I think we can be independent together.” 

Carrie swallowed, spoon clinking against her glass. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose, Sue?” 

She shook her head and took a long sip of the sweet treat. “No.” Her face was neither in a happy or sad expression. “I don’t need to be independent from you, Carrie. Just...from the life I almost had. One where I end up being a housewife.” A huge hunk of ice-cream fell down her chin, which she wiped at instantly. “And you need independence from...” 

“My mother.” Carrie frowned, putting her chin in her hand. 

“I don’t think independence has to come at the expense of companionship...” Sue shook her head again. The girls went quiet again, just enjoying their--poorly decided--icy cold drink in the middle of a chilling winter night. 

“It’s a nice thought.” Carrie mumbled, licking off any ice cream from her lips in a rush as Sue blinked up at her. “But someone needs to take care of-”

“She’s an adult, Carrie.” Sue gently set her glass down on the table, fluorescent lights blinking above her in a off-putting green hue. “Your Mother can take care of herself. You need to start taking care of yourself.” She finished her point by taking another long slurp of her float. Carrie thought she was hoping to hide her nerves.

A feeling of anxiety pounded from Carrie’s chest and sunk down to her gut as she let those words rush over her. Sue didn’t pressure for any sort of response and instead smiled softly, enjoying the Holiday music. “If I was starting to consider the idea of potentially going away, what might you say to me?” Carrie twirled her straw but didn’t look up. 

The girl brightened considerably but remained calm. “I’d say...” She paused momentarily.

“But this is Christmas yes Christmas my dear The time of year to be with the ones you love So won't you tell me you'll never more roam Christmas and new Years will find you home...”  

“Don’t do it for me, y’know? Just because I’ve been...annoying you about it all night.” Sue frowned, looking madly depressed with herself. “Do it for you. Go anywhere. Just don’t stay here...with her.” 

Carrie found them very low in company, the only other customer around was hidden inside their car. She planned to reach over to cradle the girls freezing hand but found that to be even too much for her fear. So she settled for bumping their legs together from under the table, jean-covered ankles finding each other’s warmth. 

Carrie thought briefly about the baby Jesus outside that tall brown home they’d passed on the way. Laying as still as any decoration had to be in it’s wooden basket. 

She reached out for that hand. Sue instantly squeezed back but stayed quiet, possibly letting Carrie now take the lead because she felt badly. Snow continued to fall but they stayed safe under the tiny roof of the drive-in, remaining a delighted audience to the winter wonderland scene. 

There would come a time and a place during Sue’s College Break stay to discuss further but for now, the girls just relaxed. For Carrie had finally been gifted the ability to take it easy, as long as Sue kept tracing circles onto her skin. 

She’d come out tonight without permission from Mama & that was enough to make her smile. If she could make it as far as the drive-in...well, there was a big chance she’d see herself farther. 

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 1.7.4 “Forms Assumed By Suffering During Sleep”

Oh man this one’s long too, I’m sorry. I accidentally found a secondary source and now I have even more to say. I did have a lot of fun with this chapter though.

While looking up Antoine Albin de Romainville from the last chapter to see if that was a reference to something (it’s not), I accidentally found this essay, Jean Valjean’s Nightmare: Rehabilitation and Redemption in Les Miserables by professor Michael H. Hoffheimer. I’m going to write my own thoughts/impressions of the nightmare but I’ll also add in stuff that I think is cool/important from the essay. I’m just going to pick and choose bits because this essay has a lot of really cool things in it but I don’t really want to just summarize the whole thing in this post.

“This dream, like most dreams, bore no relation to the situation beyond its mournful poignant character, but it made an impression on him.” This sentence reminds me of Hugo’s tendency to say “this is not that important” or “we won’t spend long on this,” before spending a long time on something. Basically, Hugo says it bore no relation to the situation, which is a big alarm saying “but it’s very important to the establishment of what’s going on in Valjean’s subconscious!”

“It is one of the papers in his own handwriting that he left behind. We think we should copy it here word for word.” Again, another weird signal. Hugo doesn’t really break the fourth wall very much in this way. I often forget that he’s writing like a sort of historian of these characters rather than a regular narrator, and then a passage like this pops up. So I think this being written in Valjean’s own hand is important in a similar way.

Hoffheimer points out that written text documents in Les Miserables often signal an important change of events. He also points out that this is the only document in the entire novel that is written by Jean Valjean himself. He says “Transcribing the document reduces the narrator to the role of passive compiler who sheds omniscient access to Jean Valjean’s thoughts and acquires understanding of the dream’s content only by virtue of possessing Jean Valjean’s papers.“ Which I both agree and disagree with. I think that Hugo’s narration of Valjean is different from all other characters in the novel. Despite Valjean essentially being the true “main character,” Hugo often stays distant from Valjean’s true feelings. He will either tell us what Valjean is thinking but not what he’s feeling, or vice versa. It’s only in moments of intense distress, like these past 5 hours of pacing, that he allows us and himself access to both Valjean’s thoughts and intense emotions at the same time. Even when he tells us what Valjean is feeling, it seems a little more objective. I think what really makes me think this is Valjean’s monologues to Marius alone and then to Marius and Cosette at the end of the novel. Narrator-Hugo venerates Valjean, in a way, so that even when he’s describing how Valjean feels about himself, there’s a degree of sympathy and respect in the words. This is contrasted quite intensely with Valjean’s verbal descriptions of his own feelings about himself and his past, which are full of a level of guilt and self-loathing and negativity that we don’t get from Hugo’s narration of the same events. So I disagree (mildly) that the document places Hugo into the role of passive compiler without omniscience, because I think narrator-Hugo does that to himself throughout the entire novel. The description of Javert’s mental turmoil at the end of the novel is far more intense and viscerally described even than the turmoil we just witnessed Valjean going through. We know that Hugo has the capacity to delve deeply into Valjean’s psyche, to show us how he truly thinks of himself, but there’s always that moment of pulling back, of respect due to Valjean’s Goodness that Javert is not afforded in the end, and that is only exposed when Valjean gets the chance to talk about himself to others.

Something I’ve realized, after having read Les Mis and now also having read Last Day Of A Condemned Man, is that Hugo is incredibly good at writing nightmares. He should have written a dreamlike horror novel because every time he writes a character having a dream, it’s so intense. I’d love to see a short film portrayal of this dream.

This is the first time we learn Valjean had a brother. We know about his sister, with whom he lived. But when he was introduced back in 1.2.6, there is only mention of his parents and his older sister. This phantom-brother that we know nothing about and Valjean doesn’t elaborate on kind of reminds me of the way that religious figures call others “brother,” so I wonder if this brother is a kind of everyman for Valjean, either Champmathieu or the population of M-sur-M or both. This would make sense later on, when the brother disappears when Valjean steps into the weird empty road (which Hapgood translates creepily as a “hollow road”), since no matter what action Valjean takes, either Champmathieu or M-sur-M is going to vanish. Hoffheimer mentions that one of his other sources (Jean Gaudon) thinks that this dream-brother refers to Hugo’s life rather than Jean Valjean. Hugo’s brother Eugene was schizophrenic and spent most of his adult life in a mental institution. Hoffheimer also points out that a) Valjean could be interpreting Champmathieu as a lost dream-brother due to their resemblance both physically and geographically, and b) that long-lost-siblings are a theme in the Brick, with Gavroche unknowingly taking in his two brothers, as well as, in my opinion, Eponine and Cosette (who you could interpret as foster-siblings in childhood) encountering each other briefly in 3.8.8. Hoffheimer posits that the forgotten brother is another shade of a larger theme within the novel of child abandonment.

“Even while we talked, we felt cold because of that open window.” This is such an interesting passage because Valjean and his brother are presumably outside, walking, and yet it is because of the open window and not the wind or outdoors itself that they feel cold. It isn’t even necessarily the window itself that’s making them cold, but the thought of the window.

“He was entirely naked, ashen-colored, riding a horse the color of earth. The man was hairless; we saw his skull and the veins in his skull. He was holding a stick that was limber, like a twig of grape vine, and heavy as iron.” All of the other men that Valjean sees in this dream are earthen-colored, except this naked man who is the color of ash. He’s also the only one who has visible veins, a sign of life. He’s also the only one seen using a non-pedestrian mode of transportation, but the horse is still earthen-colored. I have no idea if this interpretation is anything at all, but I’ve just had a flash of a thought. It makes me wonder if this is actually Valjean, as he, like Dante, is the only living being in this dream. Here, he’s a living being stripped of both of his identities (he is not Valjean right now because Champmathieu is Valjean, and he can’t fully be Madeleine right now because of his awareness of what will happen to him morally if he decides to turn his back on Champmathieu), ashen-colored to match the items and identity he burned in the fire, being borne by a horse (Scaufflaire’s horse and tilbury and/or the potential death of another victim of society), holding a baton-like weapon of authority that exists in a liminal space of usefulness. It’s heavy like iron, but supple and limp and you wouldn’t really be able to beat someone with it. The only authority Valjean will have in the court at Arras is his word; even his word exists in a liminal space, since he has power and authority speaking as Madeleine but none while speaking as Valjean, and his identity in between falling asleep and arriving at Arras is trapped in this liminal existence of being neither person.

Hoffheimer says that one of his sources (Anne Ubersfeld) interprets the open window and the naked rider holding a limp-but-heavy stick as vaginal and phallic symbolism, respectively. He doesn’t really go beyond mentioning the existence of that interpretation, but honestly the pairing of the two made me go in a totally different direction. This open window could easily by a metaphor for the prospect of freedom, while the stick, heavy but limp like a chain, is a metaphor for its opposite: prison, the chain gang, labor for life.

“All was earth colored, even the sky.” This specifically reminded me of 1.2.8, when Hugo describes the “two infinities together, the ocean and the sky, the one a tomb, the other a shroud.” The sea and the sky are blended together into one singular color, one singular entity in that chapter. Here, it is the earth and the sky that are blended together. Hoffheimer points out that everything and everyone in this dream is earth-colored and lifeless, and at the end of the dream, it is revealed to be the world of the dead. This is so weirdly different from the dynamic nature of the sea-night world of prison that Hugo describes in 1.2.8. It’s weird choice because Hugo usually goes to water for imagery of both death and society (the sea-night of prison in 1.2.8, imagery from the Waterloo digression, the sewers, Javert’s suicide leap into the Seine). What’s interesting to me is that the water-imagery is all “real life,” even the imagery in 1.2.8, to some extent, since the prison is a galley ship. But Valjean’s unreal dream death-world isn’t water but its opposite, a totally hollow, silent earth. (Also, it reminds me of Hugo’s description of the dirt-covered cart in front of the Thenardier inn in 1.4.1.)

Valjean enters the village and assumes it’s Romainville. This seems to be real life details bleeding into his subconscious. But what’s interesting to me is that the only details that are identifiable as “from real life” are two people who are likely nearly vanished from Valjean’s memory: his brother and the neighbor woman, and the name of a town outside Paris that he has only vague knowledge of. None of these things seem immediately significant in any way to Valjean’s current dilemma. (The Hoffheimer essay also has a footnote that says that Romainville is mentioned later in the novel in 3.1.5 as one of the towns just outside of Paris where the universe stops existing for the Paris gamin population.)

(The Hoffheimer essay basically stops here and doesn’t really go into the nitty gritty of the rest of the dream.)

His entrance into the village, deserted but with open doors, feels to me like a twisted, surrealist dream-interpretation of Valjean’s entrance into Digne. Except when Valjean entered Digne, the town was “deserted” to him because no one would take him in, despite their being someone behind each door to answer when he knocked at them. In the dream, he’s able to enter any house, since all the doors are open, but there is still a man behind each one, though they do not interact or seem dangerous until Valjean leaves the town.

The layout of the house reminds me of the layout of Valjean’s experience of the Bishop’s house after he wakes in the middle of the night. The oratory where Valjean slept, the bishop’s room, and the garden. After waking, Valjean never enters the dining room. He goes from the oratory into the bishop’s room, and then back into the oratory and out the window into the garden.

It’s interesting to note that the first room Valjean enters is deserted, but after that, “behind every turn of a wall, behind every door, behind everything, there was a man standing in silence.”

“Only one could ever be seen at a time.” This again seems to reflect his identity dilemma: he cannot be both Valjean and Madeleine at the same time. He--and society--can only see one man at a time. There’s no way to reconcile between the two because they are in such drastically different places in society.

“They did not seem to be hurrying, and yet they walked faster than I. They made no sound as they walked. Suddenly, this crowd came up and surrounded me.” My immediate thought was that this crowd is society, catching up to and surrounding Valjean the same way that the ocean is a “populace of waves” aka society overtaking the drowning man in 1.2.8. But I wonder if instead, this is not society, but Life Sentence. Valjean knows that if he reveals his identity, he will be sentenced to life imprisonment. "The sea is the inexorable night into which the penal code casts its victims.” But this earthen, deadened, strange-headed crowd and the silent dirt-colored earth and sky, aren’t able to be fought like drowning. When you get a Life Sentence, you know that there is absolutely zero chance of returning to society, returning to the world, and having someone remember you. You are dead as soon as the sentence is pronounced. There is zero hope, zero chances, no chance that your memory will live on, there’s just emptiness. Every person in prison has different sentence lengths, they’re all trying to keep treading water until their sentence runs out or they can somehow thrash their way to the shore and escape. But everyone with a life sentence knows how long they’re gonna be there. The crowd isn’t society or the penal code drowning Valjean, the crowd is all the other life sentence prisoners, telling Valjean what he knows already. That as soon as that sentence is pronounced, he’s already dead.

“Where are you going? Don’t you know you’ve been dead for a long time?” Valjean, upon burning his passport and becoming Father Madeleine, essentially buried Jean Valjean. As long as he was living as Madeleine, he was also dead as Jean Valjean (and later, after the Orion, he will again be dead as Jean Valjean) which means that allowing Champmathieu to take his punishment for him isn’t re-killing Valjean, who is already a dead man, but killing a different human being. Valjean sheds and creates so many different identities throughout the book, but the only one he ever drags along with him is the carcass of his original self, Jean Valjean.

My mental image of this dream passage is so vivid, I wish I could somehow create it in real life. I imagine the entire thing is silent and muffled except the sound of Valjean’s weird dream-footsteps. And for some reason, of all the lines, “their heads were strange” is the one that’s most unsettling to me. Everything else is described in a fairly detailed way, but “their heads were strange” is so hauntingly vague.

(Side note: I don’t know who else doing Brick Club has read House Of Leaves, but this entire dream-passage reminds me of House Of Leaves. Especially the “Why Romainville?” aside, which is probably the most unusual phrase in the entire book, since Hugo doesn’t really use unanswered annotative asides like this anywhere else. That and the strange heads are the most unsettling parts for me, like the moment in HoL when Johnny finds the braille papers in the fridge.)

Also, I find it interesting that Valjean writes this dream down, but neither he nor narrator-Hugo actually attempt to dissect it or interpret it. Valjean writes his dream down, keeps the paper with him his whole life, and yet we don’t get him or Hugo telling us what they think it means. (I was really excited when I read the Hoffheimer essay and he pointed this out too!) The dream just floats there in the middle of the chapter as this moment of totally different, surrealist imagery, without heavy-handed metaphor. Because we always joke about how Hugo writes this brilliant and beautiful (if heavy-handed) metaphorical passages, and then supplements them with a giant blinking neon sign saying “Explanation Below!” But this is a metaphorical passage that doesn’t get that treatment.

The entire exchange between the old woman and Valjean about the tilbury reminds me so much of the exchange between Valjean and Petite Gervais. In both instances, Valjean and the other character are separated, by bushes and by the door, respectively. In both instances, Valjean is in a sort of strange trance, and the conversation is stilted and weird because of this. We get the parallel “What is your name?”/“Who is it?” question, followed by a moment of confusion. With Petit Gervais, the confusion and trance are manifested in Valjean’s silence and fixed stare at the ground. With the old concierge, it’s manifested by questions about the tilbury that he should know the answer to, but the trance means that he’s not remembering the instructions he had given just a few hours prior. Then comes a moment of realization, “Ah! You’re still here!” in reaction to coming back to awareness in the Petit Gervais scene and “Oh, yes! Monsieur Scaufflaire!” in the scene with the concierge. Petit Gervais can see Valjean, and his countenance scares him; the concierge cannot see him because they’re separated by a door, but Hugo says that “if the old woman had seen him at that moment she would have been frightened.” But Valjean makes different choices at this point in the paralleling scenes. Valjean tells Petit Gervais “You’d better get moving!” and stands up, frightening him so he runs away. After the realization of what he’s done, he runs after Petit Gervais, but it’s far too late. Here, Valjean seems close to sending the tilbury away, but instead he says “Say I’m coming down.” This time, it won’t be too late to right a wrong done.

And, more Dante references, although honestly they probably belonged back in the Scaufflaire chapter, but I didn’t notice until now. I wondered if the “two stars” thing might have a parallel in Canto III, so I looked, and it doesn’t, but I found something else instead. In 1.7.2, Scaufflaire says that in order for his horse to travel 60 miles in a day, Valjean cannot take a chaise, which would be too heavy; he must take a lighter tilbury. In Canto III, Charon looks at Dante, who is the only living being on the shores of Acheron, and says “By other windings and by other steerage/shall you cross to that other shore! Not here! Not here!/A lighter craft than mine must give you passage.” These are not direct parallels, but I think that it’s an interesting similarity, the insistence on lightness of craft. Scaufflaire is only Acheron insofar as he gives Valjean the tilbury in order to go to Arras, but I think it still fits.

[illicitivywp]

thigh

part one 

"Take another picture and I swear, I will kill you."

His empty threat strings a melodious giggle from your throat, powered greatly by the three or four flutes of bubbly champagne you had earlier enjoyed, "don't be grumpy, Harry," recently, it's become your favourite pastime; teasing him relentlessly over his grouchy tendencies. 

Fire crackles calmly, contained securely in a pit, placed efficiently in the centre of where your friends chat and sip alcoholic beverages.

"I'm not grumpy. Delete the pictures."

You hum in faux thought, cinching your lips to one side and twisting to face him and subsequently irritate him further, "no, I don't think I will."

He raises an eyebrow in challenge, allowing his head to rest lazily against the cushion he had nabbed from your own chair before you even got the chance, "you will."

"Will I?" raising your phone to snap yet another picture of him, he frowns dramatically, presumably with the purpose to ruin any future plans of more photos, one which you still intend on following through, "what if I posted them on Instagram, huh? What then?"

"Then, you die."

"That is so truly terrifying," honestly, the ruthless humidity of the previous few days holds more terror than his hollow, dismissive tone, but for every word that you're uttering enthusiastically, he's not relaxing peacefully with creamy sand wiggling between his toes, and he grows only more and more irritated. Despite the absence of seriousness behind his indignation, he will genuinely consider murder if you don't finally retire in your determination to piss him off. So far, you're successful, but he won't admit that. His narcissism, whilst newly embraced as part of his inept personality and often subjected to self-deprecating jokes whilst on stage, is far too considerable for him to submit to your attempts that easily.

"If you post any of these..." his cheekbone pokes curiously at his creamy skin as his jaw shifts to allow his tongue to transport the wad of fresh mint gum from one concave of his cheek to the other, "I will throw your phone into the sea. And then, maybe you."

"You're feeling extra murderous today, aren't you? Not get laid last night?" you suggest a potential reason for his uncharacteristic irritability tonight with a quirked eyebrow and mischievous smile curled onto your glossed lips. Although the late evening dew of the air is rather unbearable at times, the temperature is pleasurably mild - certainly warm enough to constitute several cooled beers and decisions of short shorts, not a single sleeve anywhere in sight.

Tonight is your blessing of relaxation after a lackadaisical day spent between lounging lazily in the sun and dodging burns, stumbling over your limited knowledge of the complicated Greek language in bids to order a fresh soda or peanut butter ice cream (both which are, luckily, one tiny section of your all-inclusive holiday) and visiting various quaint cafes in groups, where you had already formed a sort of signature of trying the baklava from every food establishment you hit in a flippant attempt to discover the best recipe.

His glare is lethal, even through the costly sunglasses beginning to ski along the attractive slope of his nose, undeterred by his knuckle nudging the bridge back into place barely two minutes prior, "no."

"No?"

"No, I didn't, but also that's not why I'm pissed."

"I thought you weren't?" you smile luminously at the opportunity to simultaneously slip him up on his previous claim and, as it appears, irritate him further, "c'mon, H. Why're you so mad today?"

He sighs a puff out of his nose, scrunching it up like he often does subconsciously, "you really want to know why I'm feeling so angry?" he glances in your general direction, though it flies far over your shoulder and seems to focus on something of his interest in the distance, most likely located somewhere on the vast innocence of the beach that is often shadowed by the towering hotel where you and your friends are currently residing during your month-long trip.

"Please, enlighten me."

"It's because..." he leans forward, gesturing for you to follow with a flick of his index finger, indicating a private matter, "this really, really noisy, annoying girl won't stop taking pictures of me whilst I'm trying to relax." 

Your expression flattens, faking an impartial expression and hoping the quirk of your lips, forcing them into a momentary smile, is simply a hallucination, produce of the alcohol floating casually through your usually organised thoughts and jumbling them wildly. However, a tipsy giggle slips free regardless, "at least I'm successful in pissing you off."

"Remind why I invited you to Mykonos again?"

Although he's acting displeased at your disruptive presence, you do manage to spot a small smile of bemusement before he turns intentionally away, "because you love me," you shrug nonchalantly, and Harry can't help but notice how the bulbs glowing brilliantly behind you form an angelic inverted shadow of warmth, reflecting naturally from the leftover champagne smeared over your lips. 

"Hm, do I?”

"Why else would you let me do this?" grasping his wrist before it rises instinctively to block your attack, you launch from your personal seat with a pure laugh at his inability to hold his burst of comical chuckles any longer the second you come to rest peacefully, one foot supporting your balance by the floor and the other pointed highly as the respective knees each pause - beside his lowly slouched hip and between his thighs. Your own hands raise in time with his; you click another blurry picture of him and he playfully pushes at your stomach, "see! You just love me."

"That's debatable. Mitch, can you control her?" he laughs brazenly at your faux objection, appearing to have emerged from his earlier mystery of irritation - although you'd love to know the genuine cause, you would much rather mess around with the Harry you see every day. 

Mitch chuckles, a reasonably rare sight despite his contempt with life, "I'm already struggling with Sarah, she's probably way too drunk right now," for this breezy comment, he receives a light smack to the arm from Sarah beside him. Her ankles are crossed comfortably and hanging loosely over his legs, and as adorable as they currently look, she is certainly way too drunk and practically dropping off to sleep, aided by the reassuring flames trickling from the pit separating us and the countless alcoholic drinks she had consumed in a brief period of the last few hours. 

"Can you just get off me? You're heavy," Harry tries again, lying straight through his teeth because, as it seems to be turning out, he's not so opposed to you claiming a place atop his thigh, and he surely doesn't mind the shortness of your shorts that he hadn't quite noticed before, "please."

Your hips sway instinctively as you pause foolishly for thought, and his fingers itch around his cool beer bottle to grip onto your waist and set you down much, much closer than your previous (strictly friendly) interactions would imply. Eventually, you smile shamelessly at his unsettled request, lowering yourself gradually until the denim hem of your shorts brushes his

skin and electrifies a taunting shiver along his spine, almost as if you're entirely aware of your actions and their consequential effects. 

Dipping forward, his jaw is already mentally loosened to the floor, and you assist him in flipping it into reality; your thumb digs gently into the acute impression of his cheekbone and your fingers wrap steadily around his jaw, shimmering palm covering his chin and essentially silencing him. "No," your playful whisper worms its path languidly through his hazy thought process, the faint feeling of your free fingers tilting forward into his mouth clutching his wrist tightly and yanking him unwillingly back to present day. Once here, however, his eyebrows furrow in irritation yet again - your entire display, intentional or not, had been a ruse to pluck his half-chewed gum right from between his slick lips. 

Instinctively, (he kind of hopes, too) his teeth clamp together strongly before you can rip your fingers away, not enough to seriously injure you but definitely sufficient to shock you into a melodious giggle, "that's mine," he states blankly, waiting with much more patience than any normal human would have remaining with you at this point.

"No, it's not," your grin is utterly infuriating, yet radiant enough to set alight to an urge Harry's felt a fair few times, one that - up until now, it seems - hasn't quite slipped into the state of insatiability. Frequently, during your relatively common drunken nights out, he's had one or six too many drinks and you just look so incredible, so inviting, practically begging him to utilise any part of his body to pleasure you, even just to kiss you. 

Unfortunately for him, however, you've never expressed any interest in him aside from platonic cuddles during your harder breakups or holding hands with the purpose of deterring any creeping men who may, like he had a pathetically long time ago, admire your effortless beauty, which often results in Harry sat sullenly with his chin in his palm, ignoring any attempts to chat to him and viewing you from afar, silently cherishing your incandescent smile and silly dance moves. It also, most of the time, ends in you gaining a meaningful interaction with some random guy who Harry always wordlessly disapproves of but remains quiet on his opinions for your happiness, whilst Harry usually returns home either directly from whatever club or party or shamefully calls his personal driver to pick him up from whoever stranger's bedroom he finds himself inside. 

The only pacification that appears to work successfully in tearing his focus away from you is the few lasting relationships he's experienced; enjoyably, of course. He's even been in love once or twice, but the one connection that seems to endure any test - crazed fans, endless months of touring, even the brutal argument that followed shortly after he had darted any instruction you had given him and sought out and punched an ex-boyfriend who had laid his hands on you once, and that was once too much for Harry - is yours. 

"Give it back," his demand is so stern you consider obeying for a brisk moment, although after an agile deliberation, you follow your original plan and pop the gum directly on your own tongue, chewing it complacently a total of twice before he recreates your gesture.

His movements are much rougher, stronger, and considerably quicker; he squeezes your cheeks correctly and physically forces your lips to part, glaring candidly straight into your eyes when he snatches one end of the stretched gum, luckily hooked onto your canine and reassuring an easy job. In spite of his inept advantage in terms of tenacity, you had readily prepared for a fight, ensuring to grasp his jaw until the gum was resting triumphantly in your palm. 

His first mistake is releasing you before shifting his hand safely with the gum away, allowing your teeth, much like his own had, to clench down, catching the end of the mint instead of his fingers.

His second mistake is refusing to surrender his rescue attempt, inefficiently stringing it along rather than stealing it directly from between your teeth, now wrapped around the tip of your tongue.

His third mistake is maintaining eye contact...for him, at least. You're giggling drunkenly though your bite, emotionally unaffected by your proximity. 

You shift above him, and whilst you don't particularly feel how smoothly your legs fit with his, you do notice the jolt of hormones swirling through your bloodstream and the subsequent uncomfort deep inside of your tummy. Simply, you're horny, and, naturally, you attribute it to the champagne. 

His first score is regaining his sense swiftly after your slip, observing dazedly that you appear to spend a little more time caught in your head, and he wonders absently if you feel it, too. 

His second score is gathering his wits enough to squeeze once on your jaw, prying it open once again and victoriously unhooking the gum from your tooth, all before your thoughts regulate.

His third, and final, score is preserving his grip and testing his strength by repositioning your head until it levels flatly with his and twisted away from him, placing his velvet lips right beside your ear. He tucks an escapee strand away, his touch so feathery that it animates unexplainable shivers across your skin, raising goosebumps across your lower arms that are instantly noticed by Harry and earn a confident smirk; maybe, you are interested. 

You're partly oblivious to the atmosphere created around you, whilst Harry is so aware, it's already beginning to hurt. 

Disregarding the thin denim of your shorts that intervenes his bare thigh, clothed only in boxers and a white t-shirt due to the soaring heat, and your pleasure, your warmth is prevalent; he almost allows his eyes to roll backwards when he feels it, and he just can’t control himself for much longer. 

Inadvertently brushing his lips against your ear, he exhales, “you know I can feel you, right?” Your expression softens into confusion, a half-hearted plea that he’ll consider being mistaken and pretend that this entire situation never existed, “what? Did you think I couldn’t?” His tone is so low and mean that a heavy swallow constricts your throat, causing him to almost laugh lightly at your abrupt plunge of realisation, “you think you can sit right there, on my thigh, and I wouldn’t be able to feel you throbbing? Poor baby--”

“Stop,” it’s a pathetic whisper, little to absolutely no conviction roaring behind it because, for the first time in a while, you’re recognising that you don’t really want him to stop. 

“Stop?” he repeats your doubtful obstruction, an attractive chuckle hidden beneath his overly condescending voice, “do you really want that?”

His eyes twinkle with your hesitation, his lips parted just enough to allow his bunny teeth to poke out, and you’re considering your answer hurriedly; do you want that? Do you want him? Flustered, you glance towards Mitch and Sarah for an excuse to protest, disappointed yet strangely excited to find that they must’ve taken off back to their hotel room, leaving you entirely alone with Harry.

“I--” as fast as you had realised your privacy, a distinctive, drunken cackle of laughter disrupts, your stinging focus flipping speedily from his offer to your friends returning. 

Mitch’s arm is slung loosely around Sarah’s shoulder, tugging her closer when she giggles at the ticklish feeling of his relatively lengthy hair resting on her upper back. They reappear with fresh beers held in their wobbly hands, clearly oblivious to the situation they’re interrupting as they greet you with a nod of acknowledgement before flopping cheerfully into their chair.

In spite of their unexpected reentry, Harry’s bold determination doesn’t waver, “if you want me to stop, just say,” it’s another nudge of encouragement, challenging your temporary reluctance, all of which melts like ice cream dripping from his tongue when his thigh shifts purposefully beneath you and he mouths inaudibly, “quiet.” Your chest is already rising shallowly, stealing large gulps of oxygen to prevent an absence; your core pulses in replacement for the gasp that would naturally escape if you weren’t in literal public, right in front of your friends, no less. 

“Harry, have you heard from Harris?” Mitch calls out, entirely impartial to the connection between you. 

He glances over, simultaneously pushing up his sunglasses to rest in his messy nest of curls and retrieving his beer from the round table beside you, “yeah, they called earlier. They’re arriving at like... five in the morning, I’m pretty sure - said they’ll text when they land, though.” 

He moves again, clearing his throat inconspicuously and straightening his body a little when your muted whimper punctuates the friction he creates, explicitly grazing the fabric of your shorts against your clit. Mitch hums in affirmation, “what’s the name of that restaurant? The one we’re going to tomorrow?” 

“Um, Aggie’s, I think,” his free leg bounces restlessly, the several rings adorning his slender fingers clinking with the glass in his palms, “about five minutes away. ‘s got good breakfast foods, maybe we should go earlier,” he suggests evenly; if you weren’t the one struggling to silence your moans at the hands of his expertise in women’s pleasure, you would assume he’s completely unaffected. 

“Nine?”

“If you think I can be out of bed and functioning by nine…” Sarah heckles his proposition, causing everyone, with the exception of yourself, to chuckle in agreement. 

Harry’s eyes connect fiercely with yours as he raises his beer to steal a brief sip, his thigh beginning to deviate from peace at a faster pace, and you grit your teeth into a smile when he recklessly drives his muscles upwards a little to apply additional pressure to your sensitivity. When your eyelids flutter closed at the inconceivable rush of pleasure, he snaps his attention away and hides his smirk behind his bottle. 

“Ten, then,” Mitch proposes humorously, and Harry nods gradually in confirmation. 

“Is ten okay for you?” you require a beat or two to realise that his question, accompanied by a smug smile and glimmering eyes, is directed towards you. It places all attention on you suddenly, and the struggle of withholding your whines and charming sighs, knowing that everyone is watching you, mostly unaware of your current battle, heightens unbelievably, 

You nod, silent aside from a gulp of nerves and broken into pieces when he nudges his thigh upwards yet again, “yeah, that sounds great,” you spit out an answer with a faux smile, presuming that to be the single method of preventing his cruel actions from continuing. 

“Fantastic,” he speaks aloud to the group, yet his eyes remain drawn to yours, flickering momentarily to your rosy cheeks and silky lips, “we’ll meet in the lobby at quarter-to,” he surveys your surroundings, particularly where the other’s attention lies currently. 

Apparently, he deems it to be safe to speak quietly to rile you up further. However, you lunge at the opportunity of his distractedness, experimenting discretely and raising your hips slightly from his leg, swiftly clamping your thighs together in a desperate search for relief; the alleviation of pressure you do receive and the pleasure that follows suit is unimaginable. 

Harry disapproves immediately. One, firm squeeze of your waist lands you right back where you had managed to temporarily escape - despite how much you’re enjoying the implication of riding his thigh, (which is utterly insane in itself, you can’t believe you’re genuinely allowing yourself to do this) the pace he’s setting isn’t nearly as fast as you desire. 

His hand glides intently from your hip, grazing over your centre in passing before sliding haltingly along your own thigh. Although they’re about half the size of his, you appear to mold perfectly.

Eventually, his fingertips tap lightly at your knee, slipping beneath to grasp it in one, heavenly palm with incredible ease, physically restraining any potential movement and quashing any hope of relief you foolishly had clung onto like life support, “Harry…” 

“Shh, c’mere,” he whispers lowly, a mischievous glint sparkling in the green of his irises and informing you that he has some sort of plan. You almost moan out when he hits exactly the right spot once, and by the time he figures out a subtle rhythm, nudging your clit with every single shift of his thigh, your own are shivering and your teeth are digging into your bottom lip to the point of pain with the sheer effort of maintaining relative control. 

“I--” you trail off, scrunching up your nose and knitting your feathery eyebrows together, burrowing your nails into the fleshiest part of your palm.

“Hm?” he hums knowingly, removing his hand from your knee and running soft lines along your leg. If you weren’t already trembling from his superficial touch, you certainly would be now. His fingertips travel further towards where your shorts are already displaced an inch or two each time, a wild glance cast over to where your friends sit, unaware and chatting amusedly, secures your fragile safety, “you gonna come, is that it?”

The smugness dripping from his words like honey strings a soft sigh from your lungs, your stomach and fingers quivering visibly as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

You nod in response, squeezing your eyes shut to quell the risk of a stray moan slipping out and humiliating the both of you, but, for Harry, this doesn’t seem to be satisfactory. He requires a spoken answer, and you don’t even have the ability to speak, currently. 

His mellow fingertips finally reach the apex of your thighs, terrifying yet relieving; if he slips his touch anywhere near your bare, warm skin, you surely wouldn’t be able to physically withhold your whines, and yet, you’re silently begging him to disregard that possibility entirely and and rip all of your clothing to shreds right here. 

Deliberately lazily, he slides the fabric covering your center aside, and, as much as he’s craving just the sight of you, he knows that you’re not exactly in the correct mindset to permit him to see anything without liability, so his eyes hover directly on yours. Your eyelids flutter closed in anticipation for his touch and preparing for the unbearable pressure built in your stomach to release shortly.

Expecting warmth, you jolt in surprise and gasp quietly at the iciness of his fresh bottle of beer pressed snugly against your bare skin, risking a timid dredge of your nails along his bicep which flexes with the effort of spreading your legs for him. 

He smiles, satisfied at your reaction, not bothering to focus on you any longer; his forearm runs along the entire length of your thigh, two fingers supporting the bottle and his elbow pushing on your knee as he plucks his phone from the table with his free hand, holding it loosely and without an ounce of care. The prospect of him making you feel this senseless and barely even paying attention to your tiny trembles is driving you dangerously close to the edge. 

“Hey, Mitch,” he speaks normally, catching the attention of everyone and forcing you to quieten to full silence, “what’d you think of the beer?” 

“It’s pretty good - not as good as that one from Madrid, though.”

Sarah chuckles in agreement, “no wonder. Nothing could be better than that.”

“Actually--,” Harry pauses, abruptly removing the bottle from between you, appearing to the others to have been resting innocently on his lap, and raising it. You physically clench your mouth shut tightly when, instead of taking a sip, he tilts his head and, in one, large sweep of his tongue, he cleans your dripping arousal from the glass, smiling angelically in your direction. This time, he does take a small drink of the alcohol you have always preferred to avoid, “tastes really good.” 

Mitch nods in fairness, assuming his comment to be about the beer, but you know better, “I’m definitely not complaining.”

“I think... it might be the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he laughs, as does Harry, and as it seems, Sarah has fallen asleep with her forehead landing on her boyfriend’s shoulder. 

His eyes meet yours yet again, a quirk of his eyebrow implying to lean down, “are you listening?” You nod compliantly, “you’re gonna keep riding my thigh until you come, understand?” 

Jaw clenching as you swallow thickly at his demand, you feel as if you could finish just by the viciousness to his tone, “yes.”

“Good girl, and be quiet about it,” he instructs decisively, frowning slightly when his phone alerts with the buzz of a phone call. At your brisk glimpse, the screen reads Jeff, and you feel somewhat comforted yet horrified at the fact you know the caller personally, because, after all, his client and close friend is about to make you come. “Hi, what’s up?” 

“Harry, have you been on instagram recently?” Jeff sounds seriously concerned, which instantly matches in Harry’s expression; you would mirror his nerves if you weren’t so focused on the pleasure of his bare thigh rubbing against your clit repeatedly. Understandably, you’re a little preoccupied.

“Uh, no, I’ve been out for a while. Is something wrong?” this particular comment is certainly enough to catch your attention, and you freeze with nothing but an artful grin. 

“Someone appears to have posted some photos of you, from tonight, I’m assuming,” he announces, and Harry’s gaze snaps maliciously to you, “I’m guessing the culprit is with you right now.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” if you thought the intensity of his glare was fiery before, you’re now blistering from the blaze, “don’t worry, I can sort it out.”

“I don’t think many people have caught them quite yet, but a few have tweeted about it.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll deal with it.”

“Have a nice night, H.”

“You too, mate, speak to you tomorrow,” he exhales as if he were exhausted shortly after ending the call, calmly setting his phone and beer upon the small table. In a sudden twist, your hair is tangled around his wrist and becomes leverage for him to yank you closer, “I’m gonna fuck the shit outta you, you know that?” 

Your squeak of anticipation is barely audible, though the hint of hilarity is strongly set within your darkened eyes, “mhm.”

He releases you with a unique roughness that stretches a gasp from your lungs, “make yourself come,” the comment is flippantly articulated, and yet, utterly cataclysmic for the pressure you dare to cover your centre with again and again. Within thirty seconds, your thighs are trembling, your stomach is clenching in count with your core, and your features are scrunched up firmly. 

Usually, he would view the contortion of your face to be adorable. He has many times in the past, in fact. Right now, however, he’s concentrating heavily on not coming just from the sight of you curbing your whimpers and trying so hard not to alert your drunken friends of your provocative acts. Absently, he wonders how an outsider would perceive the two of you at this moment; is it obvious? Do you look like a happily married couple or is it clear that you’re simply friends who slipped and accidentally blurred the boundaries set naturally between you? 

You muffle your sob against his shoulder, and, in an effort to appear in the eyes of others like a platonic act of comfort, he buries his fingers into your messed hair, embracing you closer and allowing him to drive his thigh upwards in time with your subtle movements. 

His lips, craving to be connected to yours, flatten neutrally, mirroring the rest of his face - Mitch, who’s awoken by Sarah’s quiet snores, smiles privately at your proximity. Whilst it’s obvious he’s not aware of the deeper purpose of your closeness, he had figured out that Harry was completely over his head for you barely weeks after meeting him, and he’s pleased that you seem to have crossed the line of friendship. 

“I- I’m so close--” you choke out against his supportive weight, your voice cracking pathetically and causing the corners of his lips to quirk up smugly, “Harry…” your jaw drops laxly whilst the rest of your body tenses; your nails dig crescent moons into his bicep, your thighs quiver around his, your core pulses in nearly painful relief at the abrupt dissipation of pressure.

He thinks you look so, so incredibly pretty at any given moment, but he has to say, seeing your highest inhibitions unravel so profoundly as you come for him, you’ve truly never looked better than when you’re his. 

Chest rising hollowly, a sharp inhale rips through your lungs and reinvigorates your perception of reality, and, this time, your jaw plummets for a whole other cause. 

Oh, my God, what the fuck did you just do? 

You actually, genuinely just rode the thigh of one of the biggest celebrities in the modern industry, topping every chart and barely batting an eyelid at women hurling themselves at him, exactly as you had just done. 

And you liked it--loved it, even.

He made you come; an occurrence that (unfortunately for your childish expectations that were shattered several years ago) is often rare and difficult to achieve. And he did it without so much as a single touch. 

Regaining movement as your senses begin to slow down in their innate tingling and his hand shifts from your untidy hair, he tries not to focus for too long on your flushed cheeks and puffy lips, “you good?”

“Did you really just ask if I’m good?”

“Yeah.”

“...yeah, I’m really good, Harry. What was that?” you stutter in a panic; sure, you’d had your moments of appreciating his attractiveness and wondering what it’d be like to potentially obscure the boundary of friendship between you, but you had never even considered that. 

He smiles youthfully, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb, “a preview. C’mon, I’m so, so far from done with you.” In one sudden swipe, all of your hesitance, all of your anxiety over the implications of whatever the fuck you just did, disappears into thin air, and you’re willing for absolutely anything.

Your platonic relationship is fucked already, why not destroy it entirely?

[softderekhale]

from the archives: snippets of a sterek pacrim au

hey y’all! i definitely haven’t been super active on this blog or tumblr at all lately, for a lot of reasons but mainly just... life. doesn’t that suck sometimes? but i really, truly hope everyone is doing well and you + your loved ones are staying safe. (long reflection + tumblr fic after the cut, lol)

i’ve been in kind of a funk with writing since the last time i “had” to do it, which was 12 days/sterek secret santa like, 6 months ago. it’s frustrating to me that i went from writing my longest fic ever exactly 2 years ago to having almost zero output now, but i’m trying not to be too hard on myself and i know writing is a really fickle pastime. anyway, this is a really long leadup, but i decided to just release some stuff i wrote into the wild. it’s either here or my google drive, so i might as well see if anyone wants to read it! 

pacific rim is undoubtedly one of my favorite movies of all time (it was only bumped down by into the spider-verse, but they’re almost tied ;D). it came out right after my sterek obsession began, and i always imagined writing a sterek au based around derek and stiles being drift compatible. that whole concept has always been so lovely to me and fits in nicely with some of my favorite soulmate-y tropes. this idea always felt too ambitious, though, and i didn’t write a single word of it until i rewatched the movie in november/december 2019. i wrote the following stuff in an extremely giddy haze over the next few weeks. i’m not good about pushing myself to write, so i never added any more, but i still really like what i had/have! i hope maybe someday i’ll feel the urge to come back to it. but anyway, here’s my completely self-indulgent homage to one of my favorite movies and one of my favorite fandoms. in my au chronology for this, following the events of the first movie, global governments and the ppdc decided to deploy jaegers for continued deep sea exploration to further benefit scientific discovery and avoid wasting such expensive tech/training. this lead to a lot of corporate interference re: treasure hunting, etc. (national treasure, but make it underwater). oh, and werewolves exist (because wouldn’t they make great jaeger pilots?!). also, A SECOND PACIFIC RIM MOVIE WAS NEVER EVER MADE. THE END. laura and derek were copilots before a kaiju-fighting incident forced them into early retirement. laura is still alive, though! (because it’s me.)

***

“Mayday! Mayday! LOCCENT, do you copy? This is Luna Geminae paging for backup. LOCCENT! Danny, we can’t hold them much longer…”

Laura’s growl of frustration rang in Derek’s ear as he strained against the beast.

“Keep holding it, Derek. You can do this. I know you can. They’re so close, Derek, they’ve gotta be. Just a few more—”

Derek never knew how Laura intended to finish that sentence. All he would ever remember was the scream that tore out of her throat. Later, he would describe it as the first time he ever understood the meaning of “bloodcurdling.”

“Laura!” Derek gritted his teeth as pain roared down his left arm, causing his vision to blur and spark white around the edges.

“My arm, Jesus, my fucking… They got my arm, Derek—” 

As water poured into the cabin above and around him, the last thing he remembered hearing was Laura’s anguished howl. Then the sky became fire, and everything went dark.

***

The day of the accident convinced Derek that his world would never stop burning.

For months after, when he lay staring at the ceiling until the early hours of the morning, the staticky shapes his eyes created to fill the darkness always melted and formed a wall of flames no matter how many times he scrunched his eyes shut and buried his face in his pillow. The noises, too — the ambient whoosh of the Dome’s ventilation system and the soft heart-like thud of the power grid soon coalesced into a unified, rhythmic chant that sounded more and more like Laura’s scream the longer Derek listened: Derek! Help!

In the days and weeks following their accident, Derek had tried every trick he could think of to reassure his subconscious that Laura was alive and safe, and would remain so even after she left his line of sight. For almost a week after she was released from the medical bay, he slept in the spare bunk above her. As reticent as he normally was to invade Laura’s privacy any more than he had to, experiencing her near-loss allowed panic and instinct to envelop Derek’s frayed nerves. He never fully explained it to Laura, but he didn’t have to — she never questioned his presence, nor did she point out that Derek always waited to fall asleep until he was certain she had already drifted off. 

Eventually, though, Derek realized the routine was leaving them both sleep-deprived and irritable. He resolved to move back to his own quarters, not wanting to smother Laura with his relentless, anxious presence. But he knew she still sensed his distress — every evening at 2300 hours, like clockwork, she knocked on his door to tell him goodnight and gently pressed her right palm against her brother’s neck before waving and returning to her own room. It was a routine they continued even now, half a decade beyond the fight that had left their Jaeger decimated. 

They had made progress, which Laura was always quick to remind her younger brother. Nothing could have prepared him for the aftermath of the accident, though, and the dark places where Derek’s mind would drift when there was no one around to distract him. Alone with his thoughts, no reassurance was strong enough to quiet Derek’s memories.

He shifted again in bed, his half-awake mind scrambling to remember the breathing exercises Deaton had taught him over the years.

Inhale through your nose. One. Two. Three. Hold. Exhale through your mouth. One. Two. Three—

Derek!

Start again. Inhale through your nose. One. Two. Three. Hold. Exhale through your mouth. Slower this time.

Good. Again.

***

This comes way after the scene above lol sorry

“Right hemisphere locked. Left hemisphere locked. Vitals are steady. Initiating neural handshake.”

Danny’s voice echoed through Derek’s head as he let his eyes flutter shut and tipped his head back. He’d been anxious about this moment for days now, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t secretly a little — or a lot — excited, too. Drifting was a heady, emotional experience, and if he and Stiles were truly compatible, Derek might finally get to settle the unease he had felt since his connection with Laura was severed.

“Alright,” Danny said. “You should be feeling it in three… two… one.”

Derek’s eyes flew open, but his gaze defocused as he felt his center of gravity list forward before returning.

As his sense of internal balance returned, the tingle of the neural link fizzed over his scalp. There it is. Slowly, then all at once, he felt the rush of Stiles’ mind meeting his own. Their emotions flowed over one another like water, memories flashing and sensations pulsing before slipping away into their shared flow of awareness. Derek had trained himself long ago to let himself float until the waters steadied, and he could feel Stiles, ever perceptive, do the same.

“Neural handshake established and holding at 100 percent.”

Without having to think twice about the gesture, Derek felt his knuckles meet his palm as he dipped into a customary bow. As he and Stiles led Luna in her first exploratory steps, Derek felt the weight of any lingering fears melt away.

With Laura, Derek had always felt like they were extensions of one another, movements and decisions cascading seamlessly from a fully unified thought process. Drifting with Stiles, though, felt unlike anything Derek had ever experienced. They were two sides of the same coin — each aggressive and reserved in equal, opposite measure. If Derek and Laura were reading from the same script, he and Stiles were finishing each others’ sentences as they improvised the same scene. 

When they first met, Derek had found Stiles anything but graceful — but now, as they nearly seemed to glide across the ocean floor, he felt foolish for not realizing the instinctive adjustments and calculations stiles was constantly making based on his surroundings. As they steered Luna across the testing ground, Derek felt his temples begin to thrum with an energy he hadn’t felt in years. Best of all, he knew Stiles felt it too — he could literally trace the path of his elation as it wrapped around Derek’s senses and amplified his own excitement.

“How are you doing?” Derek shouted across the rig. It wasn’t a question he needed to ask verbally, but he chose to anyway, knowing it would help ground them both in the present moment and prevent any stray thought spirals from taking over their link.

“So good, dude. This is — this is unreal,” Stiles replied, slicing through the air with his left arm to test the angle of the jaeger’s knuckle daggers.

Derek smiled. “Not exactly like the simulators, huh?”

“Nothing like the simulators, man. Holy shit.”

As they continued to acclimate to the drift, Derek took Stiles through a few more of Luna’s signature maneuvers. Stiles’ extensive research showed, and combined with the knowledge he and Derek now shared, the moves seemed to come naturally.

“Do you want some music?” He and Laura always played music when training, but he didn’t want Stiles to feel—

“That’s all I want right now, Derek.” Derek’s grin broadened as Stiles flicked through the controls hovering in front of him. A heavy bass line thrummed through the cabin, and Derek finally did what he never thought he would be able to again in his lifetime: he let his mind relax and free-fell into the drift.

***

Two hours after he and Stiles had eaten dinner and finally parted ways, Derek still couldn’t stop thinking about their drift.

That wasn’t unusual, all things considered — emotional transfer was common, especially for werewolves and especially during the first few drifts with a new partner.

Every time Derek thought about his connection with Stiles, though, and the experience of their emotions weaving together, his mind kept snagging in one place. It was a place that had struck Derek even during the high of the neural handshake, not because it felt odd or foreign, but because it felt hauntingly familiar — but looked ugly and sinister looming over someone else. 

It was anguish. It was a grief that had been doused in shame and set alight. It was a feeling of loss and self-loathing that made Derek feel like he was suffocating. It was exactly the way Derek had felt every day for years after the fire, and again after the accident. 

He had tried to explain it to Laura as dispassionately as possible all the times she chided him for blaming himself or expressing guilt over what happened to their family, but he never knew how to describe it until he experienced it through Stiles’ memories. It was sore, like a bruised rib, a persistent ache that radiated out from the point of impact and lingered at the edge of his consciousness. Distractions might be able to push away some of the pain, but as long as he kept breathing, it would always be there.

Derek hadn’t seen exactly where Stiles’ pain radiated from, but it seemed to shroud the memories of his mother especially strongly. Stiles told him she had been sick, though — why would he feel guilty about her death?

He sat up, his leg bouncing as he fidgeted absently with a hangnail. Since deciphering what that unexpected shared emotion reminded him of, Derek couldn’t stop thinking about it. This, he knew, was normal too — without an outlet, emotional transfer tended to create a feedback loop as a co-pilot bounced back and forth between their own memories and their partner’s. 

Before he could talk himself out of it, Derek shot up and strode to the door. It was late, almost midnight, and the full body experience of drifting had left Derek racked with fatigue. But — he just wanted to talk to Stiles. To be near him, again, as if it were a substitute for the feeling of absolute synchronicity they had just shared. It would only take a few minutes.

He was so distracted by his own jumbled thoughts that it took him a moment to register who stood just outside his door as he flung it open — it was Stiles, hand paused in mid-air.

“Stiles.” Very eloquent, Derek, he chided himself with an internal voice that sounded suspiciously like Laura.

“Oh— Well. Um. Hi.” Stiles gave a small wave before shoving his hand in his pocket. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were about to—“

“I was about to find you.”

Stiles paused. “Really?”

Derek stepped back, nodding toward the doorway. “Really. Do you want to come in?”

As he and Stiles stood facing each other silently, Derek scrambled for exactly what he wanted to say. Everything was so effortless when they were in the drift. Why was it so hard to find the words now?

To his relief, Stiles was the one who broke the silence. “Sorry, I’m sure you’re tired… I’m just kind of keyed up, I guess, and I couldn’t—“ Stiles ducked his head down. “I don’t know. I thought it might help to see you.”

“Don’t apologize. You have good instincts,” Derek assured him. “And I— I wanted to see you too,” he added, feeling the tips of his ears heat. 

He could almost feel Stiles’ sigh of relief in his own chest. “Can I sit?”

“Of course.” Derek scooped a discarded pile of clothes off his bed and gingerly sat down after Stiles, mindful of the careful space between them. “Are you feeling okay?”

Stiles’ eyebrows jumped. “Yeah, I feel fine, I really do, but I just feel… jumpy, I guess. Which is normal for me, but I can tell this is different. I don’t know how I know, but…” he trailed off, gesturing abstractly in front of him.

Derek nodded. “I know what you mean. You can’t really prepare for the drift until you’ve done it,” he said, remembering how disjointed he felt after his first few test runs. “But it gets easier,” he added.

Stiles shook his head. “I’m not worried about it. I trust you.” His eyes shot up to meet Derek’s, as if challenging him to dispute the steady, honest heartbeat behind his words. 

Derek was surprised to feel something behind his eyes sting at the pronouncement. He looked away from Stiles’ scrutinizing gaze, but he felt the other man’s eyes continue to study him. “I’m glad. I— that means a lot to me.”

Stiles nodded, remaining thoughtfully silent. Derek sensed he wanted to ask something, but wasn’t ready to admit it on his own.

“Is there anything I can do?” Derek asked gently, eyes seeking Stiles’ again.

Stiles looked pointedly away and bit at his thumbnail. “Um. It sounds stupid now. But I read… I read that physical contact can help,” he mumbled, so quickly Derek might not have caught it without his magnified hearing.

He realized Stiles’ admission may have felt embarrassing for a human, but for Derek, it was almost a relief. He reached forward slowly and cupped his hand over Stiles’ shoulder with a light squeeze. 

“It’s not stupid. You felt how intense the drift is. When you separate from a complete mental overlap, it can be disorienting. And you know how tactile wolves are — that makes it even harder for us, so you’re probably getting some of this from my own emotional bleed.” He didn’t miss the way Stiles melted into his touch, his whole body swaying into their point of contact.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense. Thanks,” his gaze flicked up to meet Derek’s.

“Do you—“ Derek didn’t really know how to ask for more contact. It came so naturally with other werewolves, so he’d never really had to think about it before. “I don’t want to touch you in a way you’re not comfortable with. But if you want to lay down, or you want me to lay down or…” He took a sharp, steadying breath. “I’m trying to say that I understand, and I think it will make us both feel better, and I’m fine with whatever level of contact you’re okay with.”

Stiles laughed, a bright and unexpected break in the tension. “Jesus. Listen to us. I feel ridiculous, but— Thank you. You’re very considerate.” He paused, expression drawing almost imperceptibly tighter. “I want that too, though. I want you to feel comfortable. If you’re not, if there’s anything I do— I promise I’ll ask, first, and if you can tell me, I want you to.” 

Derek felt a lump rise in his throat. Stiles’ words were sincere, but carefully chosen. He wasn’t sure how much of his own memories Stiles had observed, but it seemed to have been enough to understand that physical touch had once been a powerful weapon wielded against him.

“Thank you,” he answered quietly, before gently tugging at Stiles’ arm. “Here, lay down.”

The bed was barely wide enough for both of them to lay side by side, but it was just enough space for both men to settle on their backs with their elbows carefully layered between them. Derek hesitated for a moment before angling his head against Stiles’ neck. “Is this okay?”

Stiles hummed in agreement, the back of his hand flitting against Derek’s so softly he almost thought he imagined it. “This is perfect.” He inhaled deeply through his nose and tilted his head closer to Derek’s. They lay silently for a handful of minutes, and the rhythmic in-out of Stiles’ breathing nearly lulled Derek to sleep.

Suddenly, Derek felt Stiles still. “Why were you about to come look for me?”

Derek huffed. “I wanted to see you.”

“What, you had to check in on the rookie who can’t handle a drift?” Stiles’ tone was light, devoid of any real offense, and he jostled his shoulder gently against Derek’s.

“You did great. If anything, I— I hadn’t done it in so long, and Laura was my only co-pilot before you.” Derek frowned, remembering the heavy emotions of Stiles’ that had ensnared him earlier. He didn’t want to overwhelm Stiles, but he also wanted him to know that he both empathized with and thought highly of him. 

“I never thought I would get in a rig again,” Derek continued. “I don’t think I trusted myself enough. I carry… I carry a lot of guilt, Stiles. But when I thought about piloting with you, the guilt didn’t win. You’re the first person who’s been capable enough, smart enough, strong enough, that I didn’t have to worry.” 

Stiles didn’t respond at first, and a flash of panic seized Derek before he felt strong, warm fingers curl around his own.

“I won’t let you down,” Stiles said, his voice nearly a whisper and rough with emotion.

“I don’t think you could,” Derek whispered back, before he let his eyes slip shut and exhaustion overtake him.

***

When Derek awoke the next morning, he was startled — but it wasn’t in reaction to the way Stiles had draped himself over Derek in his sleep. Feeling Stiles’ arms around his waist felt oddly natural. The surprising part was how well he had slept — it was the first night of uninterrupted slumber he could remember having in months, if not longer.

***

yeah so... that’s all for now! if you read this, thanks and i hope you’re doing well!!! ❤️ 

[shesawriter39049]

|FAMILY TIES| M| MAFIA AU| 5

SMUT/ ANGST

FT- A lil Joon, Seok, and Yoongi 

2K SNEAK PEEK….(SHIT’S A LITTLE DARK, BUT ALSO KINDA FLUFFY)

AU SUMMARY:  A powerful alliance made up of  4 families spanning over a decade, is suddenly turned on its head when one family has a new leader after an unexpected death. Well, let’s just say he’s not down to follow the somewhat civilized rules your families have enforced. Sooo now, it’s game on…

Yall are all wanna wrap Tae in a blanket after this....

WARNINGS- For the sneak peek just no it’s a little heavy, mentions of death, overdosing, hella emotions, religion is briefly mentioned for all of one sentence! OH  there’s also a hint of fluff 

AUTHORS NOTE-I've decided part 5 will be done in 2 parts because as I’ve mentioned that’s the bridge chapter before everything kinda hits the fan! There's actually another character death planned for part 6 and yes it’s one of the boys. P1...will be around 8k and P2 will be around 6...I’m separating them because there's a lot of info and I don’t want to overload you all in one and you guys get lost! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ENDING ON PART 4 -

One thing leads to another and you found yourselves talking for a good 40 minutes or so, which wasn’t too surprising…considering all you had to debrief within the past 15 hours! Ultimately deciding to bring Henry back with you on the jet, Tae would start trying to slowly detox Henry while on this 15-hour flight. He’s done it before…he can do it again…

This time all four of you walked into the house…still dark, the stench seeming even stronger now, instantly picking up on the running water in the bathroom.

“Henry!!” Taehyung called out as he walked towards the door “Cho!!” Voice a little louder this time as he banged on the door.

Nothing, the four of you glared over at each other, as Tae pressed his ear to the door. “Henry, man open the fucking door before I beak this bitch down! We don’t have time for this shit!”

Nothing, nothing but the sound of running water rattling against the porcelain tub….

 Ramming his shoulder against the door, a  low growl ripping from his chest at every blow, after the third time the flimsy piece of wood ripped from the hinges!

The steam from the shower came pouring flooding into the hallway……The handle still in Taehyung’s hand, as it swung backward, feeling jerk back into his hold. Almost as if something was hindering it from fully swinging flush against the wall…That’s when his eyes dropped to the floor…

Part 5......

“HOLY FUCK!” It seemed to be the phrase of choice as it spilled from numerous lips… as you all fanned the smoke out of the room so you could see a little better! Frantically, Yoongi dropped down to his knees first, snatching the needle from Henry's arm tossing it into the tub, not that it mattered you all knew, and the realization was nauseating! This damn sure wasn’t your first dead body, and unfortunately not your first OD either...he was gone..long before you lot even strolled in there. Hoseok's body slumped against the back of the cracked up bathtub, feet crowning the top of Henry's head as he gazed down at him. Eyes and heart heavy, a string of words whispered low under his breath, and it took you a second to realize he was speaking in Korean. Hoseok may have actually even been praying over Henry’s body, I know, I know, in this line of work it may sound comical to some that there are members within the alliance that have some sort of faith...but some do! 

Taehyung was dead silent, he didn't have a choice, feeling as though someone had cut off every artery to his heart, completely light-headed and the smoke wasn’t helping. Well aware that if he didn't leave he’d possibly pass out, his body did not understand how to process what he was currently feeling. Everything just fucking hurt...physically hurt, it literally felt like he was the one who just shot up and every vein in his body was on fire! What made it even worse, is Taehyung's eyes accidentally graced Henry’s...and for the first time in months, he looked like Henry. Like the man Tae met four years ago that swore on his life that if they didn't kill him, he would get clean, stay clean...do whatever they needed him to do to show his gratitude. Being able to look at Henry and connect on that level should’ve almost been peaceful for Taehyung. The fact that he could see the innocence in his eyes again, as opposed to all the hurt, pain, and hell just dope! But it wasn't it fucking sucked because there wans’t any “innocence” there was no emotion Henry's dead, he’s actually fucking dead! It’s somewhat haunting to think that Taehyung came here with that on his heart, he came here to do what he did not allow himself to months ago. Yet when all the anger subsided all he could feel was hurt, and even thorough Henry’s cloudy tweaked out haze, he still couldn't do that to him. Yet at the end of the day..his body is STILL laying along the tile, cold, lifeless, to be fair Taehyung, would probably sleep better at night if he was the reason Henry sat lied this floor. The Idea that Lau did this to himself just feels like a ragged blade, continuously kneading at his skin. 

The thing that trumped every other emotion, the thing that actually made Tae sick to his stomach, was the fact that he wasn’t even aware if Henry knew why this hurt so much! If he truly knew how much he meant to Taehyung, how rare it is for him to care about some enough to spare there life not only once..but twice! 

He should be angry yet all he feels is fucking guilt, yeah, he’s the one that feels guilty right now, and all he wants to do is break every single thing around him! 

Clearly, he’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn't, he keeps his feelings to himself because he worries everyone's going to despair. Yet he never told one of his friends how much he meant to him and he’s gone anyway so what the fucks the point!? Why has he been working so hard to guard every centimeter of his heart if, in reality, everyone has the same ending regardless!?  Wordlessly Tae stumbled his way out of the bathroom..everything about it just felt suffocating!

Your eyes were burning to the tenth degree as you tried your damndest not to cry, yeah you’d seen a shit ton of dead bodies, caused more than you could count...But when it’s someone from within the “Family” no matter how the scenario pans out shit just hits different. Reallll different..not even realizing you’d crouched down next to Namjoon..who had his arms tightly wound around your waist, both cursing and grieving for Henry all at the same time.

“Guys he’s...” Croaked from his throat and with a slow almost disgusted shake of the head Yoongi cut himself off mid-sentence, there was no need to say it out loud at this point. Leaning down to gently brush the pads of his overs over Henry's lids so they could actually close...maybe have him look like he was peacefully sleeping!

“GODDAMMIT LAU!!” Ripped through Mazda’s chest and felt as though it echoed throughout the entire house as he slammed is fist into the glass mirror. No one even budged upon hearing it start to shatter, your entire body tensed at the impact. Almost as if you were the one who did it yourself, probably because you really fucking wanted too as you subconsciously dug your own nails into your thigh.  Mazda was relatively quiet, always smiling and cracking jokes...much like Taehyung he was never one to yell, seeing him like this was a rarity and it broke your heart. 

Chest heaving painfully hard as he plopped down on the floor, bloop dripping onto his jeans as he sat cramped in the tiny corner, the space far too small to hold all of you. His anger was communivate, that release of pain, aggression, brokenness, it wasn’t for him. It was for his boss, best friend, the man he’s protected since they were in high school …..the man he knew was hurting whether he chose to show it or not!

That’s when it hit you that he wasn’t in the room, his silence was almost stiffening at this point as you broke away from Namjoon and scrambled off the floor. “Tae!!?”  There weren't many places he could be in his box of a house, still trying to be cautious as you maneuvered through the many bags of trash, pieces of glass,and discarded needles. The lack of response had your heart pounding into your throat at this point “Tae!!?? Taehyung!!?” The sense of panic within your voice was more than evident..you hated when he went into shut down mode like this, it scared the living hell out of you! 

The minute your feet landed on the porch and the crisp air hit your nose you almost felt as though you wanted to throw up for some reason. It suddenly hit you how light-headed you were, resting your weight against the deteriorated wood beam. Every inch of your body just felt hot and sticky, it was almost like you could feel Henry on your skin right now, and you just wanted to claw it all off. Suddenly your body just felt almost foreign to you, as if it wasn’t even yours, your first instinct was shoving off your coat! Literally tossing the piece of colored fur into the nearest bush, hoping that would give you some relief, it was probably 20 degrees outside yet you were damn near sweating! Shaky legs wobbled down the steps...slowly moving to the side of the house, “Tae!?” Silence, and you really hate silence.. “Fuckkkkk '' Hastily running your fingers through your hair, tugging slightly against your scalp..wanting the tension as you tried to wreck your brain! 

I mean he could only be so many places and now you were nervous because he’s impulsive and hot-headed and he’d be the type to just take off and walk with no clue where the hell; he was going!

Suddenly you had an idea, something you actually learned from his mother back when you guys were younger and he’d go into shut down mode like this! You slowly started walking towards the back of the house “ Tae-hyung ” This time it was softer as you put emphasise on the proper pronunciation of his name. Then you asked him where he was, and if he was okay, all in the same soft tenor. Only this time you found yourself oh so thankful that you’d picked up the language over the years! 

Opting for Korean since that is technically the first language he’s ever known so sometimes even when he’s not thinking he’ll respond on autopilot! Then,just as you were about to give up, he responded. Tentatively..and slightly hushed, it was clear he was further away than you thought… randomly you started asking him stuff. Nothing intense just random little questions so you could follow the sound of his voice and this man was damn near in the alleyway! 

Sitting in a low squat, you could already see even from a couple feet away that apparently his fist had ran into someone again. His long delicate hands were currently a bouquet of blue, red and purple. As he sat there wordlessly clenching his fist as hard as he could..wanting to amplify the pain that streamed through his veins. Aimlessly gazing straight ahead, as the wind swept through his hair, he actually looked extremely peaceful, almost like you were watching a piece of art. 

You didn't say anything as you approached him, just crouching down beside him, yet to your surprise, he actually made eye contact and fuck you wish he hadn't. You couldn't even read the expression that danced with those dark brown orbs of his...everything was just black! And what wasn’t was, completely bloodshot. Cheeks clearly tear-stained, nose red..yet he just looked empty, not sad, hurt, angry..just empty! 

Reaching up to tentatively stroke his cheek, his hand reaching yours before you could even make contract, not that you were surprised, those Kim reflexes are something else! What did have you surprised was how hard his hand was shaking once it met yours. Attempting to pull away, assuming he didn't want to be touched right now, only he tightened his grip once he felt your resistance. “Tae I-”

“I love you…”

HI, HI lol I know...I know….as I said this will be in 2 parts..I wanna actually finish the full thing before I post it though so that way I can post P2 a week or 2 later! But who knows..I have P1 more than halfway done I may just post that first and have Part 2 come when it comes...if you guys enjoyed and are excited show this some love and come lemme know!  I’m Tech on hiatus until sometimes in January but we shall see....

LOVE YOU GUYS AS ALWAYS,

ROCKI

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Kombat Krew; Random HCS, Habits and quirks.

No idea what to call this. Just an assortment of some random headcanons, featuring various habits, quirks and random occurrences of the Kombat Krew.  Some of them are slightly NSFW so just to be safe, 18+ NSFW under the cut!  Ermac is NOT paired with anyone. More just a random Headcanon about him, solo, no pairing. Because I don’t do pairings with him.  Kano is mentioned, but it is a shit post.  Mainly trash! Hope you enjoy!

·��        Kabal; Doesn’t matter if he’s pre or post burn. He has a bad habit of eating your food. The left-over pizza in the fridge? He ate it. That piece of cake you were saving, he ate it. Those sweets you hid in the cupboard, he ate them. He is so sorry about it though. He will buy you more to make up for it. He gets really hungry (I headcanon is metabolism is higher than normal) he says he’s sorry. He’ll never eat your special stash, the sweets reserved for when you’re ill/ on. And he always buys you non-edible gifts, he just gets hungry and needs to eat. He always shares his food though. So, he’ll never complain if you steal his chips (Fries) even though you said you didn’t want any.  

·         Scoprion (Hanzo Hasashi); Sometimes, when watching a film, if a scene gets a little too intense, he can accidentally, like light a pillow on fire. He really doesn’t mean to do it. It just happens. Some guys have the strength to pop pillows, he lights them on fire. You were once watching a horror film, and he accidentally set fire to the pillow he was holding. All because you jumped and squeaked a little. Which made him jump and squeak a little. Queue the both of you trying to extinguish it. He’s so sorry. It’s endearing because you both laugh about it. Seeing him smile is worth all the burnt pillows and set off fire alarms in the world.  

·         Sub Zero (Kuai Liang); He loves to hold you. He wants to feel close to you, the man has been touch starved for a while. It also brings him great relief knowing you are safe. But there is a slight snag in this. He’s freezing. His hands are extremely cold. And he has a bad habit of placing his hands-on exposed skin whilst asleep. Which wakes you up. It’s not bad in summer, but when are you actually anywhere but the cold? So yeah, Cold hands warm heart. He’s really sorry about it, apologises and blushes red. Why is it endearing? Because he just wants to be close to you. Subconsciously it’s like he’s trying to reach out and touch you. Even in sleep he’s trying to keep you safe. And ain’t that cute?  

·         Kano; Pisses to make his territory. Pissed all over your new sofa. Absolutely foul man.

·         Baraka; Isn’t really a bad habit, more of a regular occurrence, which has turned into a habit. Okay. So, I agree with the consensuses that he is a bit spiky and would rip clothes, blankets etc. But making out with him comes with a risk. To cut a long story short, he once got embedded into the couch. Innocent little cheek kisses, turned into you kissing his neck, straddling him. And he punctured your best pillow and his spikes got stuck in the couch. Well. Fuck. It’s quirky, because, he is literally like an up-turned hedgehog in these moments. Just don’t laugh… or let him catch you laughing.

·         Johnny Cage; He live tweets EVERYTHING. You’re shopping, he’s already tweeted fifteen times before you enter the centre. Only to be mobbed by a group of fans. You’re having a mini-jokey argument about the answer to a game show question. He’s asking his fans if they know, ‘Hey its classes as phone a friend Y/N. Except, it’s tweet your followers’ Can’t decide what to have on the pizza, live-poll for his fans to answer for you! As annoying as it can get, it is pretty sweet. Because well, he’s letting everyone know he’s happily spoken for. He is so proud to be with you, and he’s just boasting about it! it’s better than him not saying anything at all. So, you can deal with the crowds, just as long as he’s by your side.

·         Erron Black; He has this habit of just being a tad bit messy. Guns, bullet casings and powder everywhere. Also, he sometimes forgets that his boots are covered in mud, so that gets trailed in. Has a terrible habit of placing his feet on the table too. He likes to lounge, if he was an animal, he’d probably be a cat. So yeah. A bit on the messy side of things. He does help you clean up, but there is nothing worse than him, trailing mud into your house. You just kind of stare in disbelief, he’s wondering what’s wrong, then the colour drains from his face when he relaises what he’s done. ‘I’ll go get a mop’

·         Shang Tsung; He trapped Ermac in a bottle. Not happy with him at the moment. So yeah, he’s going to try and eat your fucking soul. Sorry guys. The bastard trapped the Spooky man in a bottle. Not happening.

·         Ermac (Not paired with anyone); They have a bad habit of just floating around. They have scared Erron before. Erron thought he was alone, all happy and content, one minute there was nobody. Next minute BOOM. Ermac is just floating and staring at him. Where the fuck did they come from?  Kotal was once taking a dip in a hot spring, didn’t notice Ermac hovering and reading. Next minute ‘We think the steam will help your wound’ Ermac is now telling him the healing properties of different salts. Thank god they cannot just drift through walls. They have boundary problems, they just want a friend to be fair. Someone be their friend!?

·         Cassie Cage; She sings in the shower. It sounds great to her, but to everyone else not so good. But it doesn’t have to be great! Why? Because it makes everyone smile and laugh. If she knows you’re down, expect her to start singing some absolute nostalgia hits in the shower, before booting down the door when she’s done. Making her solo into a duet. You have never been serenaded, until you’ve heard an out of tune version of ‘Dancing Queen’ By Abba, sung by Cassie whilst she’s drying her hair. Has totally done that vine, where someone is singing and grabs the curling tongs. She swears she takes more of after Johnny, he’s clumsy, a goofball and can’t sing for shit either!

·         Hotaru; Habitual by nature. Life with him is very organised and he has a lot of habits. One of his quirkier ones, would be that he automatically will coaster people’s cups/glasses. Like before they even put it down on the coffee table, he will fucking coaster that shit, all whilst making stern eye contact. He will also organise your library of books, games, DVDS, bottles of alcohol. Doesn’t matter what you have, if he cannot sleep he will alphabetically organise it. He’s another guy who can tune toasters to their perfect setting. Perfect toast for you when you wake up!

·         Fujin; Gods are quirky by nature, well they are to humans. Fujin is quirky even to Raiden… ever so slightly. Fujin has a fair few quirks, such as meditating in the strangest of positions, doing near naked Yoga is another. Because to him, his form is not seen as something to be prudish over. That, and it allows him to be zen. So yeah, prepare for half naked tai-chi in the living room. He can make the perfect cup of tea as well. Like you don’t even have to say how you like it. He. Just. Knows. Gotta love Fujin. He better be DLC or we riot.

·         Raiden; A quirk of his is that he loves cats and they love him. He’s not sure where this has come from, but there is something about them that makes them perfect in his eyes. If you have a cat, it will love him instantly. Random cats will follow him in the streets. He’s the god form of catnip. Your cat may ignore you, but it will not ignore him. You’ve caught him fawning over cute cat videos before. The internet is amazing.