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notlycheesden · 3 years

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Rearview Mirror

Heyyo ✌🏻 this is my first written piece for Endeavor , as a gift for my friend @kogo for the evil exchange. so I hope you like it my dude 👍🏻. A piece I will def be coming back to write more for sure.

⤍ Endeavour x reader

⤍ 3.6k

⤍ TW.incest, TW.dubcon, TW.father/daughter

⤍ Summary:

Enji was trying to be a better father, a better man.

And you never lied to him.

Guess it was a time for a lot of firsts.

Everything was always red between the both of you.

It's past four when his phone rings.

He was awake. even on his day off -those becoming more frequent now- years of routine were still strong. His body alert and aware way before the break of dawn for hours of training before patrol, and later to go to his own agency, the literal empire that wouldn't run itself.

He was pretending to be asleep, unmovable laying on his stomach, face buried on his pillow. Deep breaths in and out in a rhythmic pattern. His massive frame takes most of his king-size bed that for more than a decade he slept right in the middle, no reason to let the right side of it unoccupied.

It was almost meditation-like. There in the quiet and calm of his bedroom between his sheets, he could organize -or at least try- his thoughts. A time in his day where he gets lost in self-reflection. The things he would have to do that day, what work in his agency he would have to supervise, and even stubbornly he would do a little steaming out, analyzing his “actions and emotions”, passing commentary from the resident agency therapist threw his way.

“A strict but good man, if not for some, mishaps, from your intense and fiery nature.” was his professional opinion about Endeavor. The man really lived to throw things his way.

It used to help calm his turbulent mind. But lately there was nothing in his head but turmoil.

It was something he would do until 6 AM, when he couldn't take any longer and had to get up, body and muscles aching from staying in bed for too long, the sun already rising on the horizon, painting the sky with yellows, pinks, and reds.

The silence of his room is broken by the ring of his phone. Instead of the familiar tone of the morning alarm, it was his normal ringtone. When he opens his eyes, the room was not bright as he expects, still shrouded by darkness. Endeavor sits on his bed at once, alert.

Getting it from the bedside table quickly, his posture falls when he catches the time and the already saved contact of who was calling him: Natsuo.

Enji picks up, but before he could question the call, the time, or even say hello, Natsuo speaks, voice grave and serious.

“You need to pick up your daughter right now.”

It’s a punch to the gut. One that makes all the air from his lungs escape at once. In a second, he feels like he is thrown into a rollercoaster.

The only thing he can muster in his shock is a guttural and deep bark of incredulity “What?”

Natsuo cuts Enji off immediately. His tone triggering him into snapping, memories hushing in -not the time for this- “She just called. She was a crying mess, begged me to come for her but I live two hours away-Shouto is on patrol and not picking up and Fuyumi is with her fiance's family at the onsen-”

Enji inhales sharply. Dread takes hold of him while he can't even see straight with the sudden rush of adrenaline, sirens blasting off in his head.

“She was supposed to be with fuyumi at the onsen.” His voice echoes back at him in his bedroom walls, he doesn't realize he is shouting.

“Look, this is really not the time. She has no money and her phone’s dead. I was able to get her to tell me an address before the call dropped. she's all alone there. Are you gonna pick her up?”

Natsuo calms his own breaths now after snapping and shouting back, and he can hear shuffling noises on his father’s side of the line. The older man was up in a second, not really seeing anything, rushing through his stuff picking his keys and wallet. He hates the way his father could make him snap so easily.

Enji was completely distraught.“She said she was going to be with fuyumi…” He mutters under his breath while running through the corridors, even forgetting the phone by his ear, his son still on the line.

But Natsuo hates even more the blatant difference in the way his father treated all of them and you in comparison. Always. Like he could fix his mistakes. Hide his sins.

“Well. Think your little princess lied to you old man.”

Enji didn't even register the venom in his son's words, nor when he hangs up on him.

He’s out of the house in a blink. He tries not to rip the door out of its hinges on his way out.

——

He drives fast, almost no other car in the streets making it easier to speed up in his nervous state. The GPS voice droning about the directions, a forty-minute drive that he would make in twenty.

you said you were going to spend the weekend with your sister.

You lied to him.

Enji’s heart hammers in his chest and his flames burst multiple times on his face out of control. His grip on the wheel tightens to ground his shaking hands, his jaw set with such force that he could feel a headache already forming.

Thoughts were flying through his mind a mile a second. Where are you? What happened to you? Who were you with? Were you safe? Why were you crying?

Why did you lie to him?

It was like his heart was being squeezed by dread and being broken at the same time.

You were his youngest. After he realized what he did to his children as a father, he tried his best to do better; connect, communicate, but he was emotionally and socially stunted -Thanks doc.- and by the time he tried to reach out, it was just a little too late.

Fuyumi was the pillar of the household, replacing their mother too much young and having to fit in a mould not meant to be hers, barely holding the treads of the family and house together. Natsuo was out of the front door as soon as he finished high school and got into med school, choosing to live in the dorms and work part-time rather than stay at the manor. Shoto was another history in itself.

And there was you, a couple of years younger than your now up-in-the-ranks pro hero brother, at the time just a pipsqueak. Too young to remember Rei, remember the worst of Endeavor.

And when he tried to connect, you were there. As if just waiting. Wanting your father to look at you. Frail and innocent and just in want of care, of attention, of love. You welcomed him into your life with open arms and heart.

Enji did try to make it right by you. And for some time things were progressing, even his other children were starting to turn their heads around his direction.

Until Touya’s incident.

The media cracked down on him and his family with a vengeance, almost nothing was left unturned or whole.

Natsuo was the first to cut ties. Shouto threw himself into his hero work, completely closing himself off. Even Fuyumi decided that she was done, took the next step, and went to live with her now fiance, completely ignoring whatever Enji tried to shout about costumes or honor.

Then it was just the two of you.

He tried to be a good father.

He was a quiet man in his private life, strict and with a violent nature, but he reached out for outside help to make it right. An older and trustworthy housekeeper to not chain his daughter down at the manor, guidance from therapist to help him become a better father, a better man, anything to do right this time.

Call it atonement, call it his redemption, call it hypocrisy, he didn't care.

He only cares that at the end of the day, you were there at his side, happy.

This morning he saw the note on the fridge.

Going to onee-san family trip,

Be back on Sunday.

You never had lied to him before.

Guess it was a time for a lot of firsts.

——-

The music blasting through the night tipped him off even before his car's GPS tells him he arrived at the destined location.

He parks way down the street and assesses the place inside the darkness of his car.

Enji’s way out of the city now and inside the industrial district, the building seems old and falling to pieces, people are lingering all around the street, but it’s thicker there. At surface level the building was empty, but the music was definitely coming from there.

He dreads the worst.

Getting out of the car still in his sleeping sweatpants and tee, he throws the hood of his workout jacket over his hair to conceal himself. He’s going for discretion, get you and get out, no need to make this a public affair. Not with this, not with you, not right now.

He searches around but still can't find you. Half an hour has passed since Natsuo called. He's in a frenzy. Endeavor forces himself to calm down and think.

His son didn't mention music. He looks far into the street and he can see the entrance of an alleyway, he hushes there.

His stomach tied in knots when he sees in the dark your small figure crouched down beside a dumpster. your shoulders ate shaking with silent sobs holding your dead phone for dear life, trying to make yourself smaller than you already were, head down.

Enji barks your name and your head snaps to the entrance of the alleyway in shock, your body trembling and fat tears running down your smudged makeup.

“Daddy!”

In a second you were up and running, throwing your body against him and hugging his middle. He doesn't know what to do first, but he opts for following his instincts. Enji hugs your shaking form, shushing you lightly while petting your head. He doesn't know if it's him or you who's shaking more.

He doesn't remember how, but he manages to walk both of you to his car without being seen, his hulking form covering your smaller one.

He's shaking. When Enji puts you in the passenger seat and the car lights momentarily shine everything in an amber glow, rage fills his chest. You are in a dress he has never seen before, he knows it was not yours. He would never allow a thing like that or let you use it in public. Your makeup that before being ruined by your smudging and crying, was heavy and meant to seduce.

He closes your door and gets in the car.

He's shaking.

——

Enji can only control himself enough to not rip the wheel or step on the gas right through the flooring for only three blocks. and thank the gods again for the hour, because he could not quite see the streets in front of him. If they weren't deserted while he drives double the velocity permitted, it would be likely that the fears of his family being again under the cruel and ravenous judgment of the public eye would become reality, although for a completely different reason from the ones he has been dreading until this point.

When he reaches the fourth block, he makes a sudden stop, turning and parking harshly with the front of the car almost all the way over the curb, the tires skidding loudly into the quiet of the night and scaring you out of your still shell shock state. your small sniffles stop when you let out a muted yelp of surprise.

Enji quickly pries his hands that have a death grip on the wheel and smash the roof of the car to turn the lights on in such a way that later he’s impressed he didn't send the entire ceiling flying. As fast as he did that and the darkness of the car is now cast in warm gold, his hands are on your small frame like a striking snake, a big calloused one gripping your face between meaty fingers, squeezing your wet cheeks and the other one in your far shoulder, turning you in his direction with a barely controlled yank. Enji wasn't sure if the shaking was coming from your body or his.

He's frantic, hectic, eyes going up and down your body trying to find anything, something. “Are you hurt? tell me,” His voice is harsh, too loud into the small space. You jump startled, but his grip locks you in place, he doesn't notice.

Why did you come to a party? Why are you dressed like this? Why did you do this?

“Are you?? Someone did something? Gave you something, touched you?” He barks again louder, bending and twisting to be in your face now, eyes scanning all over your body. But again and again, they would be drawn to the too short hem of your dress, from your ruined tearstained makeup and down again to your soft and creamy thighs, trying to find a mark, a scratch, a stain. Anything, something.

“Fucking answer me!”

“Dad please!”

Enji lets you go as if you just slap him in the face. He blinks.

You are shaking. Looking at him in fear, silent tears running down your cheeks. Your jaw is set as you try to hold your whimpers back, his fingers make red marks bloom on your face and arm under his digits.

Memories come back rushing. Phantoms scourging in blue flames.

He releases you as if you burn him.

His hands hover in place, and he doesn't dare to move, still crowding you. Both of you staring at each other in fear and confusion as if something would break.

He slowly backs away, and you keep still. He turns the light off and stares at the road.

Enji couldn't take more things between both of you breaking.

He takes a deep breath. Starts the car again to drive back home.

——

Friday nights are your nights.

Enji doesn't really remember when it started. But he knows it wasn't something that was spoken of or agreed beforehand. It happened once, then twice, then his job got in the way, then thrice, and when he noticed, it was a routine between him and his daughter.

Like most things between both of you, it just… fell into place. And it just felt right.

Endeavor would arrange his schedule in a way so that his Fridays would be empty, any emergency at the agency could be easily solved that way, patrols and hero work set on the weekends so he could come home at a sensible hour, just by dinnertime.

He would be just taking his blazer and shoes off at the entrance when Enji would hear your running steps from the kitchen, your pinky apron-clad figure hushing to meet him with a bright smile, eyes shining.

you would get a hold of his tie and gently tug down for him to bend at the waist to your level, your arms were thrown in a warm hug on his neck and a sweet and lengthy kiss on his cheek after he steps through the threshold. you would giggle against his face from the tickles you got from his stubble while warmly welcoming him, the food still hot on the table.

It was one of your multiple habits together, just the two of you. And it felt right.

It was routine. And it felt so domestic, warm and right.

Friday nights are your nights. After he gets home, you guys have dinner, something you cooked by yourself, sending the older housemaid away earlier.

Sometimes it is a new recipe, sometimes something you already tried before. But it's always good, and when Enji compliments your cooking skills and how much he enjoys it, your cheeks blush red. You daintly try to hide your smile as you thank him, bashful behavior so alluring even when he knows is just a little act, playing coy. There's warmth in his chest.

The lights in the dining room cast everything in this whimsical warm glow and maybe it's the beer, but Enji thinks it reflects lovely on you and the color of your blouse today. He says so.

“Looking so pretty tonight, princess.”

The red on your cheeks grow stronger. From across the table, he hides his smirk behind his can at seeing how you fidget in place, trying to contain your coquettish smile while biting your plush bottom lip. The warmth spreads lower.

Only later it dawns on him. Enji was flirting with his own daughter. And it was a habit.

It was routine.

Enji is sprawled on the big sofa comfortably, already showered and in his sleeping clothes after dinner, the second movie of the night halfway through.

It was a period drama and he tries to pay attention to the main points for your quiz about it the next day, but he was mostly checked out, lulled by the comfy dark of the living room, the buzz of the beers he drank, sleep and your warm body draped over his.

He doesn't really remember when it started, but he knows it was gradually. One day in your Friday movie nights, he notices you were glued on his side, and on the next one you had an arm draped over his torso while both of you were laying on the reclining couch, and since then, you were always over him, arms and thighs and breasts glued to his body, but most of the time cutely laying on his chest.

That night was no different. You are laying on his broad chest, using your arm as leverage to look down and back at the tv in front of the sofa, and for you to not slip he has one big palm over your waist and the other in a secure hook on the slope of your knee, propping your bent leg higher across his stomach. Your breathing matches his, and if not by your little grunts and noises of surprise, the redhead would have thought you had fallen asleep on him. It would not be the first time.

The clothes you are using are small and had hiked up a long time ago, a loose tank top and booty shorts, both of them old and worn out, sleep clothes.

From where he was, he could see all your body over his. From the crown of your head to the slope of your waist as it dipped under his scarred hand. His gaze follows the curve of your thigh draped over his waist to the fat of your ass pointing high. He muses in a daze that he could see the inside of your tank top, the soft swell of a breast making an appearance. He leers.

You move a little, and this time, he can make out the shade of a nipple. It’s pert and small and pretty, and blood rushes to his clothed cock, but is late, and he's tired and buzzed out. It doesn’t connect in his mind.

You move. you are getting yourself higher on his chest. Enji feels small hands wandering under his shirt. Presses of lips on his neck. Wet kisses on the stubble on his jaw.

The soft touches pull him deeper. There's a young and wanton body over his. It’s been so long since he truly touched another, let himself be touched. Smooth lips and an uncertain tongue were kissing him, and he wants to devour them. It’s hot and burns and makes his insides coil, his cock hard and heavy inside his pants. A warm slit humping it.

Could have been the tiredness, the beer, the comfort of the situation, anything really.

Enji kisses you like a man starved. Head moving and ravaging your much smaller mouth with his tongue. His hand yanks your tank top down exposing your breasts, and now he’s pulling and pinching the sweet nipples in a way that makes you moan against his tongue with a voice he couldn't recognize.

His other hand was down at your ass, guiding your movements back and forth on his erection with vigor, the friction against your slit makes you weak, but he keeps you moving, his calloused hand encompassing most of your behind. At each needy thrust his fingers would slide down between the cleft of your ass more and more.

His meaty fingers push the bottons of your shorts aside with a flick of his wrist, and now he's touching directly your puffy lips that are messy and wet all over. Enji growls in your mouth as you moan louder when he starts playing with your pussy, a pitched whine as he flicks your clit up and down, a strong hold on your breast.

A loud bang from the TV is what snaps him back to reality.

It was his daughter.

His daughter was over him. It was his daughter that was humping his cock, that he was sucking her small tongue and tweaking her nipples until he made her squeal.

He jumps to his feet and throws you across the couch.

Different from him, you look wide awake. Flushed face and startled eyes stares up at him, exposed breasts still heaving. Nipples rosy and hard. Between your legs, a glistening trail of where his fingers dragged when he ripped them off of you. Your shorts are drenched.

There's a moment of silence.

Enji snaps. He sprints to his bedroom, leaving you alone in the living room.

He locks his door, drops to the floor, and whips his hard and heavy cock out. in three pumps, thick ropes of cum cover his hand and clothed middle.

Taking big gulps of air trying to calm his breathing, his eyes glancing everywhere in a panic state, he looks down, and spot the wet patch on his clothed thigh. Yours juices that leaked on him. Its still in his other hand, fingers wet.

Enji wants to cry.

He tried to be a good father.

He ruined it again.

#endeavor x reader #Enji Todoroki #Endeavor #Enji todoroki x reader

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soramei · 3 years

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Intentional - Part 1

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut,

Word Count: 7.3k

Masterlist

A/N: hey yall this is my first ff im posting on tumblr :D im kinda scared to post but i hope anybody who stumbles on lil ol’ me will join me along the way :) also important!!! i made oc/reader asian cus i am lol (and this whole thing is basically a glorified self insert) so plz keep this in mind when reading!! oh god i didnt realize how slow this first part was sry...

The cold silence of the room felt like stabs at your inside. You commanded your feet to stop bouncing up and down as you unconsciously started to bite off the dead skin of your bottom lip. The white corporate light from above reflected off your brand new lanyard hanging delicately from your neck. You felt the coarse blue fabric rub against your neck as you mindlessly fiddled with your lanyard; the newly printed photo of your face stared back at you with a smile.

The creak of the door to your left was what broke you from your nervous fidgets. Whipping your head up from your lanyard, you immediately stood up ready to bow to whoever came through that door.

It was a girl. She looked around the same age as you, if not older. Her attire was what gave her away. Her appearance essentially mirrored yours: hair tied back into a ponytail with a white blouse and black work pants. She also had the familiar blue ‘JYPE’ labeled strap hanging from her neck.

“Hello,” you spoke meekly, scared to disturb the cold silence that had a hold on the room you were in.

“Hello,” she replied. “My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern and today is my first day.”

This is so relieving, you thought, another newbie to share the stress with me.

“This is my first day too,” you perked up, “I’ll be starting as the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.”

Getting the acceptance email from JYP Entertainment was definitely a high point in your life. The feeling of butterflies swarming your insides as you clicked the email open only to see your acceptance was immediately locked as a core memory. All the years of memorizing thousands of Korean and English vocabulary flashcards, the panic attacks before your finance exams, and the many, many late night coffee breaks were worth it the moment you received your first legitimate job offer, and from the esteemed JYP Entertainment company no less.

“Chinese marketing?” Na-eun asked. “So you aren’t from here, I take it.”

You shook your head. “I am from China. I completed my degree a while ago with a major in Language and a minor in Business. To be honest, I’ve done internships back home, but it’s been my dream to move to a new country.”

All of what you said was true. Up until now, your surroundings have never changed in all of your twenty-three years living. From the walk with your grandmother to daycare to the vast campus of your university, the view of your city has never changed. Your social circle stayed stagnant since you were able to talk and your love life was — for a lack of a better word — uneventful.

It wasn’t until the day you decided to start applying for careers outside your home country that you felt hopeful. Hopeful that you could find an escape from your inert lifestyle and escape the burnout and stress that has been building up over the years. And so, on a day when you were feeling unusually confident, you gathered up the courage and spent hours sending out applications to organizations all over Asia that pertained to your specific degree. The applications were mainly for small jobs at small companies, however, your strange spike of motivation gave you the confidence to apply to the everso esteemed JYP Entertainment located in Korea. Of course you knew about this company — you and your friends played songs by ‘Twice’ nonstop back in highschool — but you didn’t realize the full power that this company had on the entertainment market until you did your full research. To say that you thought you had no chance was an understatement. This application was so far of a reach that you purposefully forced your mind to erase all memory of even applying.

However, with your education, your work experience, and whatever tiny bit of luck you had, you somehow made it through the initial application process. Then the next. And the next. Then the interview. And now, you were nervously sitting in this white painted room with Na-eun, in a completely new country, waiting for your manager to come greet you.

“So you’re from China? You’ve got to teach me chinese sometime.” Na-eun smiled.

You giggled in return while nodding your head. You were relieved that you’ve met a potential friend so early in your career in this company. This was one of your big worries. With your social circle being so stagnant for the majority of your life back in China, you rarely had the opportunity to meet new people, much less make new friends.

You were about to inquire more into Na-eun’s life when the door to your left abruptly opened. In the blink of an eye, three new people strutted in — two women and one man. They seemed to be higher status than you and Na-eun judging by their attire. All three were styled in some type of blazer and dress pants and there was no lanyard to be found on any of them.

“Hello new employees,” the man greeted. Judging by his face, he looked to be in his late thirties at the least. His hair was styled back neatly and his lips slanted up, giving him a fox-like appearance. “I am Executive Manager Kim. Joined beside me on the left is Social Media Manager An and to my right is Marketing Manager Chen.”

Both you and Na-eun immediately stood up to bow and introduce yourselves.

“Hello. My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern.” Na-eun said.

“Hello. My name is y/n, I’m the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.” You repeated after her, copying exactly what she said. You did not want to screw anything up on your first day, especially your first impression.

Manager Kim reached over to Na-eun, introducing himself and giving her a firm handshake. He then slowly moved over to you, and reached for your hand.

“Y/n,” he gave time for your name to settle on his tongue as he gave a sly smile. “You’re not from here, aren't you?”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No, sir. I’m from China where I studied language and business. I hope to do well here as the Chinese marketing assistant.” You replied, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so timid.

“I’m glad to hear,” Manager Kim chuckled, “I’m sure you’ll treat me and your other managers well.”

You felt an uncomfortable shiver pass through you as he brushed his thumb along your hand before letting go. This feeling was excused as nervousness, after all, this was your first day and your first time meeting your higher-ups.

You introduced yourself to Manager Chen, assuming that she would be the one you were to assist in your time here at JYPE. Judging by her last name, you presumed that she was Chinese as well.

“Forgive me for being so straight up Manager Chen, but are you Chinese?” You asked.

“That is alright, y/n,” she smiled, “I’m not. My Husband is, but I’ve lived in China for more than half my life. I don’t want to brag, but my mandarin has gotten proficient over the past decade or so.”

Proficient? It’s amazing. You thought. This first day was turning out better than you thought. Other than the weird feeling you received from Manager Kim, everything was turning out splendid. A potential friend and a manager that could speak your first language.

“Since it’s about noon right now,” Manager Kim took a look at his watch, “What do you all think about some lunch?”

The other managers nod their heads in agreement and gestures for you and Na-eun to follow them out of the waiting room you were in for so long.

The whole building seemed so clean. With every corner lit, by natural light or artificial light, you could clearly see that every room, every piece of furniture and decor had been purposefully placed. You couldn’t help but have a stupid look of awe plastered on your face as you mindlessly follow your superiors over to the cafeteria.

You turned your head over to Na-eun and gave her a tilt of the eyebrow, silently saying wow, this is where we work.

With the turn of a corner and several silent strides, your little group made it to the cafeteria.

The difference between your claustrophobic waiting room and this vast room was astonishing. With countless tables and romantic yellow lighting, this place almost resembled a five star restaurant. You’ve never seen a cafeteria as extravagant and clean as this before. However, to be fair, you’ve never had the experience of working with such a large corporation before.

The managers led you to the serving station where you grabbed yourself a tray and proceeded to spoon small portions of rice and side dishes onto your plate. This cuisine was different to what you were used to, but nonetheless looked delicious. You were prepared for the small cultural differences, especially with the food, but from everything you’ve witnessed so far, the culture shock would be easier to overcome than what you’ve anticipated.

“Have this soup y/n,” Manager Kim’s grating voice came from in front of you, interrupting your inner monologue. “It’s good for your complexion.”

As Manager Kim hands over the bowl of soup, you feel the sleeve of his blazer brush up against your shoulder, causing the pit of your stomach to drop.

First day nerves. That was what this feeling was. You thought.

You quietly thanked him with a small nod and walked briskly from the service line, trying to find where Na-eun went with the other two managers. Thankfully, they were just a step away and you quickly made your way over to the comfortable spot beside Na-eun. She gave you a small grin and you both followed your way to a table right in the middle of the room.

Soon, all five chairs of the table got filled and sounds of chopsticks tapping and scraping against plates and bowls filled your ears. An awkward silence dominates your table as you start to pick at your food.

“So,” Manager Chen cleared her throat, “after lunch I was thinking we should go to a meeting room and discuss Miss. Y/n’s role in our new project.”

“I was thinking the same for our new Intern Choi.” Manager An cut in, “What do you think, Manager Kim?”

“It all sounds good. I will be accompanying Manager Chen to her meeting room as I wish to also further discuss the preliminary steps for our project.” Manager Kim looked from Manager Chen over to you.

“Project?” You ask.

“We’ve had a very successful year with our idol groups and we wanted to ride this success and start marketing in China. Recently, we’ve noticed a very large and growing Chinese audience for this group. I’m sure you’re very curious now, however we can discuss further details once we are in the meeting room.” Manager Chen replies while taking a sip of the water in her glass.

Manager Chen appeared to be a very professional and respectable woman. With prominent collarbones and wide shoulders, she easily looked the part of a confident and adored manager. She needed minimal makeup to highlight her tall cheekbones, and even with a short heel on her feet she seemed to tower over you. However, her warm and comforting voice was what broke her intimidating demeanour. Just listening to her voice felt like you were back in your high school classroom with your favourite teacher explaining the motif of a sad love poem.

After some more awkward conversations mixed with a few work discussions, the five of you finished the delicious food on your trays.

“Please excuse me whilst I head to the restroom” Na-eun spoke up after your group finished clearing the table.

“Please excuse me as well.” You quickly followed, bowing as you both ventured off to the washrooms.

I should get her number so I’m not completely a loner in this place, you thought to yourself. And so, after a quick inner struggle to speak up, you finally decided to ask.

“Hey, should we exchange contacts? I don’t wanna look like the newbie eating in the cafeteria alone after today.” You chuckled.

“Totally!” Na-eun beamed. “I was actually thinking the same thing…”

And so, you both quickly exchanged each other's contact as you made your way to the restrooms.

The hall of the washrooms were narrow, hidden away from the main cafeteria. You walked in, deciding you only wanted to retouch your hair and makeup before your first official meeting. You carefully fix the loose hairs that somehow escaped the confines of your elastic and dab on a fresh layer of foundation before applying your lipstick which rubbed off while eating. Looking over at Na-eun, you see she’s quite in the zone redoing her mascara.

“Hey, I’ll just wait for you in the hall.” You said.

Na-eun gave you a disinterested nod back as she kept focusing on her mascara.

You walked to the end of the hall, leaned against the wall, and pulled out your phone. Smiling, you opened the virtual Tamagotchi app and saw your little friend staring back at you, bouncing up and down. The bundle of virtual pixels happily bounced as you fed and bathed it, making you happier in return. Playing this game, you were so entranced with your phone that the abrupt closing of the washroom doors broke you out of your hypnosis fast, causing you to flinch and drop your phone.

You looked up, only to see a brown haired man wearing a long sleeved black shirt. The hem of his sleeve fell, covering his hand as he bent down to pick up your phone. He stood back up, fully facing you now and you immediately recognized who he was. You weren’t a fool, of course you did all your research on the artists of JYPE before applying for the job. Looking down at you right now, holding your phone in his hand, was Bang Chan of Stray Kids.

The wispy tufts of his brown hair bounced over his forehead as he stepped over to you. He smiled, his dimple poking out of his cheek, and handed your phone back to you. “I think you dropped this.”

Blushing tomato red, you embarrassingly accepted the phone, trying not to make your shaking hands noticeable. It seemed like that failed, however, as you noticed him glance at your hands and dimple grow deeper.

“Thank you.” You meekly chirped and lowered your head, still in awe that you somehow bumped into a JYPE idol in the bathroom hallway of a cafeteria.

“It’s good that there’s no cracks.” Bang Chan said, looking in your eyes.

You looked back into his eyes. His smile never left his face, and you physically felt the warmth radiating off his body like rays from the sun. Some boring, objective part of your brain knew this interaction only lasted a fraction of a second, but you swore that time froze.

“Hyung!” A distant voice called.

Your trance was broken as Bang Chan looked over to the person calling his name. He turned back to you, politely bowed, and casually sauntered over to the man who called him.

What just happened? Your inner monologue ran, still trying to process the embarrassing interaction. The scent of his cologne lingered, swirling the atmosphere around your body.

Thankfully, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on this interaction as Na-eun finally opened the washroom doors and was making her way toward you.

You and Na-eun trailed behind the managers until you reached the set of elevators. It was there where you had to unfortunately separate from your comfort work buddy as she hopped in the elevator across from yours with Manager An. The other two managers led you to the elevator at the end and pressed the button for your destination floor. The ride in the elevator was silent. You stood there, fiddling with your nails.

Once the elevator gave the ding of arrival, the three of you headed down a hall where you presumed had the meeting room.

Manager Kim took a look at the watch on his wrist. “We are a minute late, everybody should be there already. Enter silently and respectfully.” He said in a stern voice.

You reached the frosted glass door of the meeting room and entered through the already opened door. The managers followed behind you with Manager Chen being the last one in and closing the door.

Your eyes widened at whom you saw.

There was Bang Chan, who sat in all his glory, staring right into your eyes with his mouth ajar. His shocked expression didn't last long, however, as he quickly composed himself to fit with the professional atmosphere of this room.

But why was he here? You thought. He’s an artist, isn’t this a management meeting?

Your inner monologue was broken by Manager Kim’s stern voice. “Y/n, why don’t you sit with me for today?” He asked with a slight tilt of the lips. His hand was hovering above your back, almost guiding you to the seat just right of the head chair.

Your heart rate quickened. There was no way that you could handle sitting right beside a high position manager on your first day. You barely knew what your duties entailed, you definitely could not handle the pressure of this seat today. You whipped your head around to look for Manager Chen. She was already sitting in her seat, looking like she was right at home.

“Manager Kim, if you don’t mind, I would like to sit in this position for today, '' a voice spoke up, “I have a lot of new ideas I’d like to share that are written in my notes.”

Bang Chan.

He paused a brief second, eyes switching between you and Manager Kim, and raised his iPad to show the screen filled with words.

“I don’t mind at all, go ahead.” Manager Kim monotonously replied. He then made his way to the head chair.

You looked over at Bang Chan, trying to subtly send the most grateful facial expression over to him. He returned your look, slightly grinning as his fingers tapped on the screen of his iPad and sat down to the right of Manager Kim. You looked over to see Manager Chen gesturing you to sit in the chair beside her and swiftly made your way over. At your seat, she handed you a notepad and pen, both adorned with the JYPE logo.

“Now, as of 1:02 p.m., September first, the meeting will officially begin.” Manager Kim clasped his hands together on top of the table. “As most of you already know, we are in the preliminary stages of planning a Chinese debut for our artist group ‘Stray Kids’. All we have right now is the estimated timeline, which is four months. We have a basic grasp of the concept we are working towards, however, as you all know, trends are always changing and growing. While we are working to create a new and original concept for Stray Kids, we also want the concept to gather as much audience reception as possible.”

Wow. That was a lot to take in. Your hands struggled to keep up with writing down what Manager Kim was saying. You knew this relatively new group was really starting to explode in the past year, but a debut in another country? This group must work really hard to even have the company consider a step as risky as this. So this is why Bang Chan is also involved in this meeting.

You peaked your head up from your notepad. Bang Chan sat across from you, one hand on his chin and the other one holding the pen to his tablet.

Manager Kim then carefully discussed the duties that each group in the room would take. Many of the jobs were directly involved with developing the concept itself, such as producing music, concept art, and theme development. Your pen never took a break from gliding on the notepad as you hurriedly jotted down everything that Manager Kim said.

Eventually, Manager Kim’s delegations moved to Manager Chen. “Manager Chen, I’ll let you take over from here.”

“Thank you Manager Kim,” Manager Chen cleared her throat. “While my main job here was to market Korean comebacks towards the Chinese audience, this new project changes things up a bit. Now, not only will I be in charge of marketing to the Chinese audience, but I will also be directly in charge of the concept itself. I will be working carefully with our team in China to monitor the trends which we can incorporate into our debut.

“This is my new assistant, y/n,” She turned and gestured to you. You politely nodded your head. “She will be gathering information on useful trends and reporting back to me, as well as some translating. Please report any ideas that you deem useful to her by the end of every week for her to sort through and deliver to me.”

You almost want to call Manager Chen crazy for giving you so much power, after all, you were only starting out as her assistant. Despite this, however, you were determined to go above and beyond with the new responsibilities given to you, after all, you knew that choosing to work in an organization as big as JYPE would take blood, sweat, and tears.

After some clarifications given by Manager Chen and a few more questions directed at her, Manager Kim took the reins back in his hands.

“Now, as I’m sure you all know, this is Bang Chan: the leader of Stray Kids. Although our management team is in charge of this debut, we like to include the opinions of artists whenever possible. He will make an appearance whenever he can and act as a representative of Stray Kids, sharing their ideas and opinions.” Manager Kim explained.

Bang Chan politely introduced himself, and quickly went on to express some concerns of his members. He made sure that each concern was answered thoroughly by Manager Kim before moving on to the next.

“As for our concept ideas,” Bang Chan’s soft brown eyes met yours, “will I have to report to y/n?”

You felt your ears redden.

“You could, yes,” Manager Kim straightened his back, “but if you find the weekly deadlines too much of a problem, you may just report to me or at any subsequent meeting.”

“No worries sir,” Bang Chan’s eyes lingered on yours for a fraction of a second more before grinning at Manager Kim, “I’m always punctual.”

The rest of the meeting consisted of more introductions and preliminary plans. After about an hour, everybody seemed satisfied with the contents of the meeting and were starting to pack up all their clutter on the table. You looked over at Manager Chen, silently asking what should I do next?

Manager Chen smiled. “Let's head to my floor. I can give you a quick tour, you can get settled at your desk. I have some paperwork that I’m almost done with; I’m sure you’ll have no problem finishing it for me.” She already was standing up and straightening over the creases of her jacket.

You stood up as well and followed behind Manager Chen like a lost baby duckling. You both made your way over to Manager Kim to bid farewell. You politely thanked him, said your goodbyes, and were about to leave when he stopped the two of you.

“Manager Chen, let’s go out for drinks tonight.” Manager Kim took a look at the intricate watch on his wrist. “With our whole team, of course. It’ll be a welcoming night and we can get to know the people on our team better.”

“That’s a great idea, Manager Kim,” Manager Chen nodded at his idea in approval. She turned on her iPad to quickly get a glimpse at her schedule. “What do you think y/n? Can you make it tonight? I know this is very last moment, but I think it’ll be a great opportunity for you to get to know your coworkers better.”

“I should be able to make it.” You definitely could make it. You had no plans anyways.

“Am I invited to this top secret party you’re all having?” A now very distinguishable voice came from behind you. Bang Chan stared at Manager Kim with a very mischievous expression.

“Would your manager allow it?” Manager Kim questioned, knitting his eyebrows.

“I’m on a diet, so I can’t drink alcohol or eat anything,” Bang Chan’s nose scrunched up in annoyance, “but I want to be as involved as I can. Just because I’m an idol doesn’t mean I can’t help behind the scenes as well.”

“Very well,” Manager Kim nodded with a fixed expression, “Let’s all meet at that restaurant about a block away west. I’ll go tell the others.” And with that, Manager Kim left you, Manager Chen, and Bang Chan to stand in awkward silence.

“Well,” Bang Chan cleared his throat and clapped his hands together, “I’ll get going as well to do some work now, but it was nice meeting the both of you.”

“You as well.” Manager Chen replied for the both of you and Bang Chan left soon after.

Manager Chen then led you to the elevators again and you headed up yet another few floors to reach your destination. You nervously fiddled with your hair as you silently waited behind your boss, looking up at the smooth lines of her blazer every few seconds. The elevator doors dinged, letting you know of its arrival. The two of you swiftly headed out the elevators and walked to what you presumed was Manager Chen’s office area. You kept following behind Manager Chen in silence before you stopped in front of a set of doors that looked identical to the ones at the previous meeting room. Manager Chen opened the doors for you, and you headed in.

You paused a step in, looking wide-eyed at the interior. The office was clean. A big glass desk sat right in the middle of the vast room in front of a huge set of windows. There were a couple of soft looking chairs placed right before the desk with a huge rug right underneath it. Over to your left, you spotted a water dispenser with a kettle right beside it. You stared at the room a bit longer before realizing you must have looked very stupid with that astonished look on your face.

“Is this your office, Manager Chen?” You asked.

“Yes. It seems that you like it,” She chuckled. You felt the heat rise to your ears.

“Since you’ll be working so close to me, I’m sure you’ll be happy to come here more often.”

“Thanks.” You awkwardly laughed. You blamed your bad response on the fact that you still weren’t familiar with the language, not your blatant awkwardness.

Manager Chen made her way over to her desk, picking up a small stack of papers. “These are some letters I’ve received from several designer companies in China. Since we are still in the very preliminary stages of this project, we would like to keep our options open for the stylists here.” She picks an annotated letter from the pile. “I’ve translated and created a summary of the main points of this letter. There are a few more left which I believe I can trust you with. Just do as I did with this letter and add the sample pictures along with it.”

You quickly complied, taking the stack of papers from her hands.

“I’ll show you to your new work space.” She led you out of your office and over to a cubicle that wasn’t too far away. It was considerably smaller compared to Manager Chen’s office, but you thought it had a certain coziness to it. Plus, working close to your coworkers could also boost your motivation. “Here is your desk, it’s not the most exciting thing, but you may bring photos or whatnot to decorate it. Now, I’ll let you settle in and get started on your work. You can meet me at my office around six, I can double check your work before we leave.”

You thanked her before she left and immediately got started on your work. You diligently translated the whole of the letters before picking out the main points that matched with Manager Chen’s example. After this was done, you included the photos that came with each letter and slipped them into their own cozy folder. This work was monotonous, sure, but it was something you needed on your hectic first day here.

You were so captivated by your work that you completely forgot about the time. The sun was starting to set, and you only remembered to look at the time after you tucked your last letter neatly in its folder. You briefly panicked, praying that you weren’t making your manager wait. Thankfully, it was only a quarter until six. You took the next fifteen minutes double checking your work, making sure to also check the time every once in a while. At exactly six, you left your desk and scurried over to the big doors of Manager Chen’s office.

Knocking a couple times, you waited patiently to be let in.

“Come in.”

You let yourself in, handing the papers to your manager, then sat quietly in one of the chairs before her desk, crossing your fingers together. You fiddled with your thumbs, patiently waiting for Manager Chen to speak up.

“Not bad, this is some decent work.” Manager Chen announced as soon as she finished glossing over your work. “I’ve noted some places that you can either fix or improve. I’ll scan them and hand you a copy tomorrow.”

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. A tidal wave of relief washed over you as you let yourself relax further into your chain. Not bad, this is some decent work. You proudly repeated this moment in your brain. Although you were disappointed with the mistakes that you let slip through, to get somewhat of a compliment on your first day meant a lot to you.

“Shall we get going now?” Manager Chen asked.

You grabbed your bag and stood up. “I’ll let you lead the way.”

_______

It seemed like all you were doing on your first day was following Manager Chen around like a lost puppy. The situation right now was no exception either, as you tried to copy her confident strides over to the restaurant a block down. You watched the busy rush hour streets and sidewalks fill with people, some people going home after a long day, some people going to party just like you.

Soon, after a few more minutes of walking, the both of you arrived at the small wooden doors of the restaurants. It seemed like the both of you were a bit late as Manager Kim was already waiting in front of the entrance with the rest of the team. Bang Chan was also there, head down looking at his phone.

“Sorry we’re late, have you been waiting for long?” Manager Chen somehow sounded confident despite making everybody wait on her.

Her voice seemed to have caught everybody’s attention. You watched as Bang Chan swiftly turned his head up from his phone, his eyes making contact with yours. You immediately focused your eyes somewhere else, trying to casually play off the fact that your eyes subconsciously drifted to him.

“We’ve only been waiting for a couple minutes.” Manager Kim gave a tight smile. “Let’s go in before you all get too cold.”

Your little group of around ten people slowly entered the doors, filling the restaurant. Manager Kim called over a waitress, signaling that you had ten people in your group, and let the waitress lead you all to a long wooden table.

The restaurant was nice, nothing too fancy, but that’s how you could tell the food was good. With dim lighting and tightly packed tables, it made you feel fuzzy and warm on the inside.

However, your thoughts on the restaurant were soon broken by a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n, why don’t you sit with me?” Manager Kim’s lips curled up, “After all, this is a work gathering, how good of a boss would I be if I didn’t even treat my newest team member to a drink?”

Your brain was in shambles. You seriously didn’t feel comfortable sitting with him all night. However, the logical side of your brain was saying something different. He’s just being nice as a boss. You don’t know how people in this country act anyways, stop being paranoid.

It seemed like your inner turmoil was taking longer than necessary, as you heard another familiar voice speak up.

“Manager Kim-” Bang Chan called out.

“You don’t need to sit with me here, Bang Chan.” Manager Kim chuckled as he stared directly in Bang Chan’s eyes. “I’d rather not talk about work outside the office.”

You watched as Bang Chan’s eyebrows furrowed, looking back to you in reluctance. You smiled at him before turning your attention to Manager Kim. It was just one night, right? Plus, there’s no harm in establishing a good impression with your boss.

“I’ll sit with you, Manager Kim.” You smiled, “thanks for offering.”

And so, you took your seat next to Manager Kim at the table. Bang Chan, who was to your left, looked askance at Manager Kim for a brief second before his facial expression did a complete 180. His familiar, boy-ish smile was plastered on his face like it was the most natural thing.

When the menus came, everybody at the table — including you — started to order onslaughts of food and alcohol. After brief moments of casual chatter about topics such as the weather or how good the food was here, everything that was ordered arrived at your table.

You grabbed a can of beer and started sipping on it. You’ve drank before — of course — with your old friends at university, but it’s been at least a year since you last did. Better ease myself in. You thought.

However, your preconceived plans were ruined when a small glass of clear liquor got pushed in front of you.

“Y/n, surely you aren’t going to sip on that can all night.” The ends of Manager Kim’s lips curled up.

“Wasn’t planning to, sir.” You replied while tipping the glass up and into your mouth. The bitter liquid burned your throat as it went down. You took a moment to recollect your surroundings. Seems like your tolerance was higher than you thought.

“Bang Chan, do you not drink? Why not eat something then?” Manager Chen pointed to the food on the table.

“No can do ma’am, I’m on a strict diet. My manager would kill me.” Bang Chan pointed to his glass of water.

“In that case,” Manager Chen filled another glass, “Y/n, have another drink.” She slid the glass down the table in front of you.

You gladly accepted your second drink, downing the alcohol in one go. Your eyes instinctively squeezed together as you felt your throat burn. From the tips of your ears to the ends of your toes, your whole body felt warm and alive.

You lost track of the time. As your conversations got livelier, your head got fuzzier. You stopped counting your drinks after four, especially since so many people were eager to offer the new employee a drink. Although your vision was starting to blur, you could still think straight. I can still think, you thought to yourself, still — what a powerful buzz.

Your thoughts ran rampant in your mind as you stared at the lightbulb across the room. What a pretty light. So bright. Warm.

“Y/n.”

Was the light calling your name?

“Y/n!”

Your eyes focused again and snapped away from the lightbulb. Where was the voice coming from? You slowly turned your head. Bang Chan.

“Hi.” You smiled.

“Hi.” He smiled back. So bright. Warm. “It’s been hours and I haven’t even offered you a drink yet.”

You tried to focus your eyes on his face as he slid the glass over to you. One more drink wouldn’t hurt your buzz, right?

You gladly accepted, slowly moving your hand over to the glass to pick the clear liquid up. It went down in one go just like all the others.

Huh? Was this water?

You struggled to focus your eyes on the person who offered you the drink. “That was yummy.”

“I bet it was,” the talking blur chuckled, “How about another one?”

You nodded, then took the glass he slid towards you. It’s funny how water flows even when in a cup. Water. You needed to pee.

“Hey,” your words dragged out, “where’s uh, where’s the washroom?”

“Follow me. I’ll show you.” Manager Kim stood up and reached his hand out towards you. You didn’t want to take it, but it seemed like nobody was noticing his offer.

Reluctantly, you took his hand and stood up, only to stumble down again. Did your knees not want to listen?

“Whoa there, better hold on.” Manager Kim said.

“No, I can walk. I-I can walk.” You let go of Manager Kim and tried to focus all your brainpower on moving your feet in a straight line. This tactic only worked for a second, however, as your knees gave in and you stumbled down.

“It’s obvious that you can’t.” Manager Kim’s lips turned up. “It’s time for you to go home. I’ll take you back.”

What? No. You didn’t want Manager Kim to take you home, not after all the awkward events of today and the general vibe from him. You tried to express your thoughts, but nothing came out of your mouth.

“Manager Kim, you’ve been drinking!” Bang Chan’s voice came from some part of the room. “It’s not safe to drive, I’ll call a taxi for you.”

“What about Y/n here? I’ll get a taxi for us both.” Manager Kim said.

“I called my manager earlier to pick me up, we can drop her off along the way. It’s not a good idea to put two drunk people in a car. I’m completely sober right now, so let me do all the work.” Bang Chan grinned, patting Manager Kim on his shoulder.

“Is that what you want, Y/n?” Manager Kim glared.

You dizzily nodded.

“Alright. In that case, I can call my own taxi later.” Manager Kim grimaced.

“Stay safe, Manager Kim.” Bang Chan smiled. He turned to you. “My manager’s been waiting outside for a while now, do you want to leave now?”

You nodded. You tried to start walking again, but your damn knees just wouldn’t listen.

“Do you want to hold on to me?” Bang Chan knitted his brows together and held out an arm.

“I,” you slurred, “can walk.” You tried to start your feet again, only to end up stumbling down.

“I know you can,” Bang Chan said as he reached his hands out to stabilize you, “but — ah — I’m really tired after today. Can you hold on to my arm so I won’t fall out of exhaustion?”

You agreed to help him. Bang Chan waved to everybody still at the table before leading the two of you out to a black SUV. He allowed you to stumble your way in the back seats first before sliding in himself. He asked you for your address, which took many tries for you to accurately type it into his phone.

You leaned your head against the window, staring at passing blurred lights as Bang Chan’s manager started driving. Just being away from the loud and bright environment seemed to have cleared your head a little, but the pounding would not stop. You cursed yourself for being so irresponsible on your first day, especially because you were still alone in this new country.

“Hey,” you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, “want some water?” You looked over to see Bang Chan holding out a plastic bottle with the lid screwed off.

You languidly reached your hand out for the bottle and gulped down as much water as you could in one breath before handing it back to him. The street lights started getting blurrier as you tried to fight exhaustion, the muscles in your eyelids starting to get more and more uncontrollable.

“Y/n.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re almost there. Ten more minutes.”

You couldn’t hear anything after that, however, as you felt your eyes give up on you and your body fall into a deep sleep.

“Y/n… Y/n.” A familiar voice called.

You fluttered your eyes open, your head pounding. Not knowing where you were, you surveyed your surroundings in a panic. It seemed as though you were in the back of a car… Parked outside of your apartment building?

“Hey, you’re finally awake.” Bang Chan’s voice entered your ear. It all came rushing back to you; the restaurant, the drinking, entering the SUV.

“How long have we been parked here?” Your groggy voice sounded inhuman. You had to clear your throat a couple times.

“It’s only been twenty or so minutes. I’m not allowed to leave the car, are you able to get home alone? I can ask my manager to go with you.” Bang Chan scratched the back of his neck.

“I should be fine.” You mumbled, a bit embarrassed to have fallen asleep in the car of a person you just met that day. This wasn’t even his car, it was his manager’s.

“Hey… can I put my number in your phone?” Bang Chan avoided your eyes. “Just so you can tell me when you get home.” He quickly added.

“Okay.” You awkwardly handed him your phone with your contacts already opened. He quickly typed his phone number in before handing it back to you.

“Text me when you get home. Remember to lock your door, okay?”

You thank both him and his manager before hurrying back to your apartment. Your head was still pounding unrelentlessly as you pressed the elevator button for your floor. The events of today were still unprocessed in your brain. You met a potential friend, which was a highlight. However, you also met two higher up managers and an actual idol, only to get hilariously drunk in the presence of. At least it’ll make a good story to tell my mom. You thought.

In no time, you made it in your apartment and locked the door behind you, remembering what Bang Chan told you in the car. You texted the new number in your phone.

Y/n: Hi. It’s y/n. I just entered my apartment.

Not even a minute later, your phone lit up, signaling a new text message.

Bang Chan: great!! remember to lock the doooor hahaha ( ◕ω◕✿ )

You subconsciously grin at your phone. Cute. Throwing your phone haphazardly on your bed, you begrudgingly began your night routine. After washing up and throwing on a random shirt from your closet, you fell on your bed ready to sleep. You were about to close your eyes when your phone lit up again with a ding. It was another text.

Bang Chan: Hey… Just so you know, if you ever feel unsafe around the office just tell me okay? I’ll always try to help you in whatever way I can.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #skz imagines #bang chan #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan smut

252 notes · View notes

solalunar-eclipse · 3 years

Text

Sonic Boom - S3E1

Episode title: Friendship 101

Word count: about 3000 words

Author’s Note: I’m trying a rather new format for this fic, since it’s based on a TV show with various songs and camera angles. If you have any comments about whether it works well or not, please let me know!

(Also, the theme song choice is all thanks to khinesthetic, who used it here and inspired me to put it in this fic.)

[cue Mr. Blue Sky by ELO (0:00-3:45)]

[The show opens on a zoomed-out view of Hedgehog Village from above. Stone walls separate the village from the wilderness outside. There are large spaces at several points throughout the structure for entry and exit. A large patch of grass with benches scattered about sits at one end of the village, and a marketplace made up of wood-and-cloth stalls runs along one of the walls. Houses are grouped in seemingly random clusters throughout the town, and the (in)famous Meh Burger stand sits all on its own, with picnic tables spread across its wooden flooring. As the music progresses, the camera begins to zoom in on the village- then on one of the streets in particular- and rotates down to eye level to face…]

Sonic the Hedgehog walked through the streets of Hedgehog Village with a bounce in his step, occasionally dancing to the music playing through his earbuds. As he wandered throughout the town, he passed the usual people running their stores, arguing over botched orders at Meh Burger, and, at one point, Aqua the Rabbit absolutely freaking out over the loss of a single follower on Angstagram (the latest social media network for moody teens).

He did a 360-degree spin before winking and pointing finger guns at Amy Rose when he spotted her haggling with the local grocery store owner. She paused briefly to wave at him with a smile. “Hi, Sonic!” she called, completely ignoring the irritated fennec in the process.

Then, the music froze and changed to something extremely ominous as she turned around to face the shopkeeper once more. A dangerous gleam appeared in her eyes as she pulled out her signature hammer. “Now then, about those prices you’ve been setting lately…”

The song cut back in as the view switched back to Sonic, who was now moving away from the scene at a slightly faster pace.

Really, though, he was more than happy to see his other friends not long after. Knuckles and Sticks were currently busy rummaging through the town’s garbage together, excitedly chatting about the latest piece of interesting junk they’d found, while Tails was fixing someone’s broken rain gutter (and attempting to ‘improve’ it in the process, which meant that it could now measure the amount and intensity of rainfall in a storm- a very useful, though unfortunately unwanted improvement).

Surprisingly enough, as he continued on his way through Hedgehog Village, he managed to get people from a few different places to wave back at him when he said hello. Although perhaps it wasn’t quite so surprising when one considered that this was one of the most cliched opening sequences that could possibly happen in any movie or TV show. Ever.

And of course, the only logical outcome of this scene led to everyone beginning to stop their usual activities and gather in one of the few open spaces in the town, clearly prepared to break into a fantastic musical dance number straight out of Broadway. Incredibly, this was one of the few moments in which everyone in the village seemed to be able to get along…

...until Eggman’s latest giant robot slammed feet-first into the ground, sending everyone off-kilter and scrambling for cover. Shrieks of panic rose in place of the music as the villagers fled the scene to hide in their houses. The dramatic entrance didn’t just ruin the mood, it absolutely crushed it with the sheer force of its impact.

And that was, obviously, when the show really began.

[cue In Your Face by Shockwave Sound (0:00-1:04)]

[Each of the five members of Team Sonic appears on a black screen with their name spelled out in their signature colors (blue, yellow, red, pink, and green) and does a couple of cool fighting moves, followed by snippets of scenes featuring them from previous episodes of the show for about eight seconds each. All five of them then appear together in their usual fighting stances, emphasizing their status as a team.

The Eggman logo then appears in an ominous, glowing red, backlighting the doctor himself and all his creations- before the lights flick on to reveal him alone in his evil lair with a green screen behind him, at which point he shrieks and covers the camera with a hand. Then, neon blue electronic lines begin to appear across the screen and the camera spirals to follow them, selecting one particular line to trace. Not long after, said line ends at a circle which, with a flash, turns into the words ‘Sonic Boom’. Beneath the title, it says ‘Ancient Secrets’ in neon blue.]

[Then the music ends, at which point the episode title- “Friendship 101”- appears for a few seconds in the same color before the show itself returns.]

Sonic scrambled to his feet and zipped over to Tails, pulling him up from where he’d fallen after the robot’s overdramatic arrival. Amy managed to do the same with both Knuckles and Sticks simultaneously, which let Sonic stare for a moment, startled, and then promptly resolve to remember not to get on her bad side anytime soon.

Soon enough, the team had scrambled into their usual positions, ready to fight. Amy and Sticks kicked the battle off by handling the various smaller robots that threatened to get too close to their team, never faltering (and in fact seeming a bit gleeful in the badger’s case) despite the sheer number of enemies. Knuckles, meanwhile, launched Sonic bodily into the air for Tails to catch, before picking up a boulder about the size of a house and lobbing it directly at the robot’s chest.

“Hey! Easy with the boulders- QuakeBot took a lot of effort to make, you know!” Eggman shrieked from above, hovering in the relative safety of his Eggmobile.

(Relative, in this case, was of course in comparison to mixing absurdly volatile chemicals in a lab, bothering Shadow at any and/or all hours of the day, or being on Tails’s bad side when the fox had a glue gun. The doctor still remembered that situation all too well, and currently ranked it as far more terrifying than merely being punted into the stratosphere by kids under half his height and about a third his age.)

Sonic paused to stare at Eggman from where he was currently dangling in the air. A smirk began to spread slowly across his face. “…what did you just call it?”

“You heard me the first time!” the doctor roared, now incredibly embarrassed. “I named it that since it makes the ground shake when it moves, like an earthquake??”

General laughter came from the heroes assembled on the ground and in the sky.

“Argh! Nobody appreciates my genius around here! Now, QuakeBot, stop standing around and start attacking!”

“I suggested TerraBot, since it still has to do with earth and is a play on the word ‘terror’, but nobody ever listens to my ideas, now do they?” Orbot muttered irritably to himself, tucked inside the Eggmobile.

“I listen to all your ideas!” Cubot offered encouragingly.

Orbot’s mouth shifted into a small smile. “Thanks, Cubot.”

Meanwhile, Sonic had been pulled into a spin by Tails, who whirled the hedgehog around before letting him shoot downwards toward the robot in a spin dash- only for him to get caught and sent flying into the nearest house.

He shook off the surprise quickly (and apparently sustained absolutely zero damage despite having literally crashed through a house, because superpowered teenagers), darting back over to the group. “Well, uh, guess it’s time for Plan B then!”

Crickets chirped in the ensuing silence. Even the robot had stopped moving to hear what he had to say.

“And the plan is…?” Amy prompted.

Sonic folded his arms with a huff. “I dunno, I thought you guys would have one!?”

The pink hedgehog rolled her eyes at that.

Tails piped up. “I have an idea! Sonic, you’re going to need to be curled up for this, okay?”

The hero promptly did just that, before emitting a muffled “mmhmm?” from inside his layers of quills.

“Alright then, Amy, I need you to hit Sonic with your hammer right at the side of this house.”

Sonic’s blood ran cold. “Whoa whoa whoa, wait a second can we maybe rethink thiaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

He ricocheted all over the palace like a pinball, slamming into several key points of the robot thanks to Tails’s rapid calculations. However, the robot was sadly unaffected by his screaming at a pitch that came dangerously close to shattering glass.

The robot was easily disabled and the attack overall quickly repelled after that. Thankfully, it took Sonic only a moment to recover from his impromptu stint as an out-of-control projectile and get back to fighting with the others…complete with a “Let’s do that AGAIN!” moment, which was met with a resounding no from both Amy and Tails.

Their ears were both still rather sore from last time, after all.

After Eggman was punted all the way back to his island by a well-placed kick from Sticks, though, the crew was about to head over to Meh Burger for a post-battle meal when they discovered that they had an entirely different problem to take care of. The villagers, who were beginning to come out of hiding after the attack, were furious upon seeing the damage dealt to their homes and stores.

“How could you let this happen?” one shouted.

Before long, the villagers found themselves a more specific target when the owner of the house that Sonic had smashed into pointed her finger directly in his face. “This mess is awful!” she cried. “And it’s all his fault!”

Within seconds, a mob of people had descended upon the overtaxed teen.

“I’ve never known a hero so irresponsible.” one fumed.

“How dare you!” the fennec from earlier roared.

The elderly wolf of the village shook her cane at him. “Shame on you!”

Sonic could feel himself beginning to tense up as the villagers turned their ire on him. Whether or not he’d admit it to anyone, he needed two main things in order to be his usual heroic, cheerful self: open space and positive reinforcement. Right now, he was getting exactly the opposite of both of those.

And he was not feeling good about it.

He looked briefly over to his friends for help, but Sticks had already vanished, Knuckles and Tails looked more nervous than anything, and Amy was already walking towards him with that look in her eye…

“Sonic, next time you do need to work on making sure the robot doesn’t catch you, you know-”

A streak of blue shot out of the village, leaving nothing but a scorched trail of grass and the snap of a sonic boom behind.

Sonic didn’t slow down until he reached the mountains- which technically wasn’t very far from the town at all, so he ran quite a bit more after that until he ended up in the middle of the jungle. Then, he sat down with his back to a tree and his arms around his knees, feeling very unheroic and overall pretty lame.

The blue hedgehog frowned at the dirt. Honestly, some days it really did feel like nobody seemed to like him. The only person who ever even suggested he was important on a regular basis was Tails, and Sonic didn’t blame him at all for not jumping into the middle of that crowd. Tails was only thirteen to his seventeen and a half years old- not exactly an age when he should be expected to go toe-to-toe with a crowd of angry adults.

Still, though. When being a hero got him all risk (no matter how low) and no reward...it was difficult for him to keep hold of that core feeling of “I can make the world a better place to live in!”, which, despite all his other claims, was truly at the center of what had motivated him to start fighting against Eggman so long ago…

[The scene morphs in a manner which shows the lighting shifting so that the sun is overhead. A sound effect of birds chirping plays over the scene change. This implies that it’s been several hours since he first fled the village.]

Sonic was still lost in thought when the snap of a twig in the bushes made him jump to his feet in surprise. The surrounding vegetation rustled ominously for a moment...only to reveal the four members of his team in front of him. He watched them all cautiously, his expression tense. More than anything, he looked ready to run at a moment’s notice- something which only served to make his friends(?) seem a little more distressed. “Uh…hey, guys?” he began tentatively.

“Sonic, I…” Amy began forcefully, before stopping herself. At first, it looked like she was about to scold him again, but then suddenly her face fell. “Listen, Sonic, we’ve all been talking a lot about what happened back at the village…and there’s something I want to say.” She gave a slightly tired sigh.

“I know we usually like to make jokes and witty commentary, but...sometimes, the world’s just a difficult place to be in.” she said. “...so we really do need to talk about serious stuff occasionally, even though I know it’s tough for you to even mention how you’re feeling. Unless, you know, it’s ‘great!’ or ‘cool!’ or something like that.”

Sonic cringed at the mere idea, looking more and more like he thought running away was the preferable option here.

“So what I wanted to say was that in a world where there are too many people trying to beat you down...what I was trying to do was tell you how to be more tolerant, because I thought that would help. I figured you can’t change how other people are going to be, just yourself, so I hoped that might make things better.

“But...I’m not actually a licensed therapist- yet, anyway. So I might have been wrong on how I went about that. Maybe...instead of telling you off for not being able to stop all those people...in the future I’ll pull out my hammer and tell them to knock it off already. Does that sound better to you?” she asked.

The blue hedgehog froze. “Ames…I...” he croaked, trying his best not to think about why exactly it felt like his throat was so tight all of a sudden.

Sticks folded her arms. “I like that plan! Those people are way too crazy sometimes…and you guys know I have a verrrrry high tolerance for crazy.”

“We can make the villagers quit bugging you together, just like how we fight Eggman!” Knuckles added encouragingly. “It’s always better that way, isn’t it?”

There was still one person who hadn’t spoken yet, though.

Suddenly, Tails crashed full-force into Sonic, squeezing him in a hug that for once he didn’t pretend to hate. “You know I’ve always, always, always got your back, right, Sonic? No matter what?” he asked, looking up at his older brother. “Even if I don’t always know how to do it right.”

The blue hedgehog simply nodded, not trusting his voice to help him maintain his ‘cool guy’ status.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel up to talking about it now, though.” the fox added understandingly, stepping back but still leaving a hand on his arm.

“But!” Knuckles added. “We won’t tell anyone if you ever decide you do need to get some stress off your chest every once in a while!” He smacked his own chest with a fist for emphasis.

“Nobody needs to know.” Sticks growled, the camera suddenly showing a dramatic angle of her face as the lighting dropped noticeably.

“Uh…that’s kinda dark.” Sonic said, holding up a finger with a bit of a confused frown, which let the lighting and camera angle zip back to normal.

“Anyway!” The pink hedgehog clapped her hands together, turning to face the group as a whole. “What do you guys think about heading over to my house and watching some movies? I’ll even…” She sighed, her whole body slumping. “…make some messy, simple, unprofessional chili dogs. In my state-of-the art kitchen. I know Sonic probably could use a pick-me-up right now, after all.”

“Thanks, Ames! You’re the best!” the hedgehog in question said cheerfully, the promise of good food and great companionship boosting his mood significantly.

Then, his posture shifted once again into something a little more vulnerable. “And thanks to all you guys. For, y’know, everything.”

“Of course!” Amy chirped.

Tails smiled at him. “No problem, Sonic.”

Sticks folded her arms. “That’s what a team’s for, ain’t it?”

“Of course it is!” Knuckles said, in that rather confusing manner where nobody was actually sure if he understood anything about what had just happened.

The echidna actually walked over to Sonic after that particular declaration, though, placing a hand on his shoulder as his face became uncharacteristically serious for a second. “Really, Sonic, we can all help you out, alright? Nobody gets to yell at our leader without getting yelled at back!” he declared, punching a fist into his other hand.

The hedgehog blinked twice before looking up at his friend. “You…just called me the leader?”

“Well, duh! That’s why everyone calls it Team Sonic, right?” Knuckles asked with a smile, letting an awkward (but genuine) grin spread across Sonic’s face.

Within seconds, the hero found himself squeezed in a big hug from all sides by his friends- and then actually lifted off the floor through a joint effort from Knuckles and Amy.

“Guys- come on! I can’t even move here!” he cried out, his legs flailing so quickly they made a vibrating noise in the air. “Guyyyyssss….” he whined, though nobody seemed to care much about his halfhearted complaints (judging by the happy expressions on their faces).

Then, the episode began to end, as evidenced by an iris out transition. The slowly shrinking circle paused for a moment on Sonic’s current expression, highlighting it against the otherwise black screen. He now sported a sheepish, if slightly pleased smile, complete with a faint pink blush on his face from all the positive attention.

Clearly Sonic liked being, well, liked far more than he let on.

Then, the circle snapped closed with a pop, and the credits began to roll.

[Voice Actors:

Roger Craig Smith

Colleen Villard

Travis Willingham

Cindy Robinson

Nika Futterman

Mike Pollock

Kirk Thornton

Wally Wingert

Bill Freiberger

Original creation by:

Evan Baily

Donna Friedman Meir

Sandrine Nguyen

Bill Freiberger

Takashi Iizuka

Writer/editor:

Solalunar “Sol” Eclipse

Thank you for watching reading.]

#sonic boom #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #sticks the badger #i really really hope this new format was a good idea #i just had some very clear ideas about this fic that couldn't be expressed in the usual medium of character actions and dialogue #because sonic boom is very different from the sonic games and often uses camera and music-based references #(i may not roll credits every time though- just thought i'd give it a shot haha)#anyway!#i also wanted to ask: is there a particular way people would like me to use for replying to the wonderful comments i get in the tags?#because i want to let the people who take the time to leave comments know how much i appreciate it #but i'm not sure how to go about that #any suggestions?#and finally:#next time...shadow's going to show up! i can't wait to write him #as always #thanks so much for reading!#:D #sol's fanfiction

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peachy-panic · 3 years

Text

Only Temporary: Sebastian Tate

Hello. I was completely blown away by the positive response I got on the first piece of Jaime’s story (title under construction). Thank you to everyone who had a kind word to say about it! You made me really happy I made the mildly frightening choice to post.

In the interest of acclimating to the no-rules, freedom-to-post-out-of-order structure of this community, I wanted to introduce a new piece of the puzzle this time, with a new character that will come into play later.

Also, this piece goes into a little bit of the details, but for frame of reference on the BBU-adjacent thing: this story takes place in a not-so-distant future of the BBU, where WRU has undergone some changes. I look forward to exploring this world building more as I go.

Anyway, I’m rambling again. Thanks for reading. Here it is:

WARNINGS: General BBU warnings, talk of institutionalized slavery, classism, and general terribleness of large corporations. Referenced past homophobia and rough parental relationships, briefly implied/referenced non-con.

When Sebastian reflects on the day he graduated from med school, a sort of emptiness is the memory that first bobs to the surface. Among the cheers and camera flashes in the crowd, white coats and proud smiles, what Sebastian recalls most vividly from that day is looking out into the sea of parents and families and people there to support their loved ones on one of the biggest days of their lives, and not seeing a single person that had come for him.

What should have been one of the happiest moments of his life had been quickly overshadowed by the sinking feeling that none of it mattered as much as it would have if he had someone to share it with. Like there was something so fundamentally wrong with his life, that even something as objectively good and right and decent as becoming a doctor could be dulled over into a feeling of nothingness.

Perhaps, he thinks in hindsight, that moment had been foreshadowing for the following months ahead of him.

Watching rejection after rejection pour in from his top residency programs had felt like nothing short of his own personalized nightmare. He had spent several nights in a row on the phone with Alex, his undergrad roommate and only friend, clamoring back from the edge of many a panic attack, spiraling into all-out existential dread about the future and the past and what all of it meant for him if he couldn’t land an internship, let alone a real job out of school. To his credit, Alex never gave up hope in his friend. Or at least, he did a decent job hiding it if he did. Which was probably exactly what Sebastian needed to get through that particularly dark time in his life, and a good reminder of what a solid friend he had. Even if it was a party of two.

Unfortunately, Sebastian did not have the same faith in himself.

He was able to keep up some facade of optimism as his top five were picked off one by one. Telling himself, despite his devastation, that they were a pretty far reach, anyway. Even with good academic standing, it was famously no walk in the park to land yourself at John Hopkins or Mayo as a first-year. He even maintained a brave face as his first few safety programs reached capacity and moved forward without his name on the roster.

It wasn’t until he received his final rejection letter from some internal medicine place in Bumfuck, Idaho that he felt himself slip into dangerous territory. Sebastian knew himself well enough to know his own depressive patterns by then, and he knew it was only exponential decay from there.

Rock bottom came, as it did, in the wee hours of the night, after a full bottle of wine. Alone in his small apartment, surrounded by half-packed boxes with no destination, Sebastian found himself sprawled out on the floor with his laptop hot against his thighs. He couldn’t have explained why he opted for a privacy browser, but something about it allowed him to justify the words that he typed into the search bar.

It was a new low, and one he had sworn to himself he would never stoop to. Yet there he was.

He gave himself a moment to reconsider, to back out of what was undoubtedly a morally-gray train wreck waiting to happen as his thumb hovered over the enter key. And then the alcohol decided to override his moral compass.

Facility Care is the open secret of the medical profession. It comes with its fair share of stigma, and rightfully so, but it is notoriously easy to break into and pays a decent wage.

There are two types of people who end up stooping to that kind of employment. More often than not, it consists of doctors and nurses who had their licenses revoked or suspended somewhere along the line and needed a way back in. As far as Sebastian understood, they aren’t terribly ridgid about the particulars of each circumstance. After all, in the eyes of the law, the patients they would be treating are a price tag away from being entirely expendable.

The other percentage of Facility Care workers, and the reason Sebastian found himself staring at his too-bright computer screen with a sinking feeling of dread that night, are young medical graduates who find themselves in a tough spot. It isn’t difficult to spell out the logic behind that one when you open the WRU CAREERS tab on the home page and see the bright white words printed across the top of the screen:

LOAN FORGIVENESS.

It is shamelessly predatory and aggressively capitalistic, but Sebastian supposes that particular exploitation is pretty far down on the list of transgressions for an institution of legalized slavery. A few broke and hopeless medical students were hardly going to keep the Powers That Be up at night when they were able to rest easy under the weight of hundreds of thousands of stolen lives.

The whole thing is part of the massive PR overhaul the company did a few years back. In a world that was slowly inching toward civil activism and with the accessibility of platforms like social media to hold them accountable, WRU had to adapt to survive. Adaptation, in this case, took the form of changing the barest of minimums in order to keep themselves above board — to the public eye, anyway. Anyone who dares to take a closer look at the policy changes can see that it’s bullshit.

Changing ownership conditions to a rent-by-contract basis isn’t the humanitarian move they try to paint it as. In the end, it probably just equals out to more money in the company’s pocket when they can get more return on their “investments,” and a larger chance of exploitation for the people being moved around.

Getting rid of the Romantic division is an entirely meaningless gesture when they are still loaning out human beings with no legal rights and the inability to say “no.”

And offering an open job market with good wages and healthcare options to lower class individuals is a pretty convenient way to mute the backlash.

Essentially, you can tie a system of slavery and abuse up in a bow and make it pretty on the outside, but at the end of the day, it’s still fucking slavery.

Not that he has any room to criticize now. Now that he’s one of them.

In the end, Seb tries to justify his decision a few different ways. He is, after all, more or less a young man alone in the world. The odds are stacked against him and have been for a while. With only his own two legs to stand on, the only force stronger than his internal ambition is his instinct for survival, and he’s been running on those fumes for longer than he can count.

He had lasted less than two months under his parents’ roof after he came out of the closet at eighteen. It wasn’t exactly a surprise for anyone involved; Sebastian’s parents had known about (and subsequently bottled) his… urges… since he was in high school. Probably before that, if he is being honest with himself. And Sebastian, for his part, had spent the better part of his teenage years mentally preparing for the inevitable. He can recall long, late nights he had spent crying into his pillow and the perfectly-scripted ‘coming out’ speeches he recited to his mirror when he was one-hundred percent sure his parents were asleep.

Of course, none of the preparation had been anywhere near adequate when he actually found himself wilting beneath the heat of his father’s glare, the weight of his mother’s grief.

But. He had recovered. That is the point he tries to remember when the memories sting fresh beneath his skin, even all these years later. He has more-than proven himself to be a survivor. He has worked harder than anyone he knows for every scholarship, every grant, every dollar to put himself through school. Sacrificed nights out and real relationships for night shifts at shitty diners and long weekends cramming for exams. It hadn’t been easy, but he considers it the price he had to pay for his independence. For freedom, to live the life as the person he is meant to be, despite his unfortunate odds. He spent years telling himself it would be worth it. That one day, his hard work would pay off.

He can’t stop now.

Sebastian doesn’t have the luxury of taking time off to reroute when his navigation has gone amiss. He is walking the precarious line of rapidly accruing interest and student loans and a dwindling savings account, and there is no safety net below him.

Beggars can’t be choosers, and as it turns out, beggars sometimes have to compromise their moral integrity in order to survive.

It’s only temporary.

That is the mantra that gets him through the (half-drunken) application process and the (disturbingly lax) interview process. It is a job. One job. In the medical field, though the details are up for debate, and it is real-life money for rent and food and a savings that will hopefully be sizable enough to get him where he really wanted to be. Which is… really, anywhere else.

He can do ‘temporary.’ And perhaps, some misguided part of him thinks he can do some genuine good from the inside, too. ‘Be the change you want to see’ and all that.

It is a far jump from the floor of his apartment, sloshed and exhausted and desperate, to the cold, sharp reality of walking into his place of employment on his first day of work. Ironically, it feels a lot like an echo of the emptiness from his graduation day.

‘Sterile’ doesn’t quite cover it. ‘Sterile’ is the expectation of any well-respected medical establishment, but the inside of the facility walls has been wiped clean of far more than bacteria and germs. It is completely devoid of humanity. The long corridors that connect the medical wing to the general ward are windowless and dimly lit by flickering fluorescent panels that had make his head pound for the entirety of his first week.

He is given an office, though it is a term he, himself, might use loosely, as it is more akin to what was probably a storage closet before the old prison had been converted into the state’s training headquarters. It leaves him just enough space for a small desk and two chairs. On his first day, he asks if it is okay to bring in some personal items to spruce the place up. The older, balding doctor who had been assigned to show him around merely shrugs, and Sebastian decides to take that as a yes.

The small, pink-framed photo of a six-year-old Sebastian Tate in his grandfather’s white coat and an old-school stethoscope around his neck is hardly enough to make the place cozy from the corner of his desk, but it’s a good enough reminder of why he has to make this work.

‘It’s only temporary.’

‘Be the change you want to see.’

He will do his best.

#Sebastian Tate #bbu #like bbu adjacent?#tw: human trafficking #tw: slavery #implied noncon #whump #Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian

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7soulstars · 3 years

Note

Hello ☁️ Can I request a Sherlock x deaf reader who is very shy and self concious? you're an amazing writer!

Omg thank you for requesting darling! I had a lot of fun researching this but it was quite a challenge ! I wasn’t sure if you wanted a fic or an hc so I decided to do a hc ! I hope you like this !

Sherlock with a Deaf S/O

- Now it is not new to everyone that Sherlock doesn’t do feelings.

- BULLSHIT

- WHO THE FUCK EXPLAINS HOW HE SOLVES A MURDER VERBALLY AND THEN IN SUPER FAST SIGN LANGUAGE SO THAT YOU UNDERSTAND TOO ?

- He knew sign language, he had learnt it for a case years before meeting you.

- You kind of saved him from getting strangled by a murderer by knocking him out with a fire extinguisher the first time you two met at a library where he followed the murderous man.

- Why were you there ? Well it is a good place for an introvert to hang out. You were studying a bit of something related to your profession when that happened.

- John, Greg and his divsion had followed in a few mintues later .

- “Sherlock!” *looks at you who is staring down out the fainted body in absolute terror* “Thank you for helping him !”

- But you didn’t hear him, you chose not to wear your hearing aid that day either.

- “She’s deaf Gavin stop embarrasing yourself ! Really are you that stupid? ”

- You never thought you would see him after that but fate had it’s own gameplay.

- Next time you met him and John was when he scared off a creepy man following you.

- “Just a payback for last time”, he had signed looking at any direction but yours.

- You just stood their silently. You were too shy to talk so you decided you should take your leave from the undoubtedly handsome detective with a squeaky little goodbye.

- But he stopped you by saying that he needed help with a case related to your profession.

- He lied.

- He spent the entire night bothering Greg and Mycroft to find him a case involving you profession.

- Soon enough every single person who Sherlock was always around had to learn sign language even though you assured Sherlock you knew how to lip read.

- Sherlock speaks too fast so he always has to sign for you.

- You feel bad because you think it’s bothersome but your boyfriend doesn’t think so.

- “It’s quite entertaining keeps me alert and on my toes”

- Explains how he solved a case to you in rapid sign language because we all know that little shit will be all smug about it.

- Unspoken habit of not shooting while you’re at 221B because the vibrations startle you a lot.

- You are highly insecure and he read that out the moment he saw you but he doesn’t know the cause.

- So he asks. ( And has John by his side to whack some sense into him incase he blurts something rude)

- By the time you had finishing the duo had the biggest frowns on their faces

- The fact that you were rejected by regular schools for being disabled and were not accepted at a school for people like you for not fitting into the stereotype pissed Sherlock off.

- The fact that you underestimated yourself annoyed him even more.

- You are highly intelligent and Sherlock knew that very well, but your self conciousness always came in the way.

- He starts giving you little affirmations all the time.😭

- You often refuse to wear your hearing aids because they’re a bit uncomfortable but Sherlock insists you to wear them whenever he drags you out on a case.

- “Not everyonee is as smart as us darling”

- He doesn’t smoke anymore. Whenever he has a bad day he just gets home and stares at you.

- *stares*

- ”Need a hug ?”

- *wordlessly falls into your lap as you skim through his curls*

- Once did the same when you had a REALLY bad day and when you were extremely insecure.

- “You do this for me all the time you look like you need one today...”

- You cried in his arms and he said nothing. Just held you tighter because that’s what you needed the most.🥺

- IRENE WHO ? He figured out you felt like she was better for him than you and the man blocked the woman’s number and told her to not contact him again in the most polite way possible

- You’re the only one who can handle his childish tantrums when even John can’t.

- “You are MY GIRLFRIEND don’t side them !”

- “YOU ALMOST POISIONED MYCROFT !”

- “It was an ExPeRiMeNt Y/N !”

- You being the only one who is allowed to stay in the room while he is in his mind palace.😤

- “Anderson get lost, Y/N where are you going? Stay here”

- MUMMY AND DADDY HOLMES ADORE YOU !

- “Sherlock really loves you darling I just know it !”

- ”MUMMY !”

-”You better marry her”

- He makes you feel like the most important person in the room in the most subtle ways.

- Even his rivals know that you are a line they willl never dare cross because nobody touches Sherlock Holmes’ girlfriend or they will pay in unimaginable terms.

- Even though he would never dare to tell you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes was awfully and dreadfully in love with the local shy and deaf girl and the entire world knows of this.

Part 2

*Stops typing and wallows in self embarrassment because I think it's not perfect enough for my perfect readers*

Sherlock: it may be shitty but you tried

Me*nodding*: I tried😔

Moriarty: well, all you can do is pray that they like it.....

Me:*cries*

But in all seriousness I FINALLY finished this piece after battling with my writer's block. I know this is not at all accurate and that brings me to an important point. I research a lot for this hc but I was disappointed that there was rarely any information on deafness and experiences of people with disabilities and problems faced by them. What does that mean?

WE NEED MORE REPRESENTATION OF PEOPLE OF DIFFERENT ABILITIES AND AWARENESS ABOUT IT ON MASS MEDIA AND THATS ON PERIODT. WE NEED TO EDUCATE PEOPLE AND THIS IS IMPORTANT.

Again I really really really tried my best and I really hope you all like it. In case of any mistakes I've made or if I have written anything offensive or triggering please tell me in the comments so that I can make immediate corrections. Please like and reblog my work if you like it to support me. Comments and constructive criticism is always appreciated. Please do not plagarize my work I really work hard on it! I have 4 fics to be completed but I promise to finish it soon. Thank you guys for being patient.

~Love Hri! 😘

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justmenoworries · 3 years

Text

Not Up For Interpretation - An Essay On Nonbinary - Erasure

(Trigger Warning: Misgendering, Transphobia, Nonbinary-phobia)

If you’ve been following me for a while, you probably know this was a long time coming. I’ve made several posts about my frustrations concerning this topic and how much it hurt me just how socially accepted erasing an entire identity still is. While representation marches on and things have become better for nonbinary people as a whole, we still battle with a lot of prejudice - both intentional and unintentional.

In this essay, I want to discuss just how our identities are being erased almost daily, why that is harmful and hurtful and what we all can do to change that.

Chapters:

What does Non-binary mean?

Nonbinary- representation in media

So what’s the problem?

How do we fix it?

1. What Does Non-binary Mean?

Non-binary is actually an umbrella term. It includes pretty much every gender-identity that’s neither one or the other so to speak, for example, agender.

Agender means feeling detachment from the gender spectrum in general. If you’re agender, you most likely feel a distance to the concept of gender as a whole, that it doesn’t define you as a person.

There are many identities that classify under non-binary: There’s gender-fluid (you feel you have a gender, but it’s not one gender specifically and can change), demi-gender (identifying as a gender partially, but not completely) and many others.

Sometimes, multiple non-binary identities can mix and match.

Most non-binary people use they/them pronouns, but like with so many things, it varies.

Some nonbinary-people (like me) go by two pairs of pronouns. I go by both she/her and they/them, because it’s what feels most comfortable at the moment. But who knows, maybe in the future I’ll switch to they/them exclusively or expand to he/him.

There is no one defining non-binary experience. Nb-people are just as varied and different as binary people, who go by one specific gender.

There are non-binary people who choose to go solely by she/her or he/him and that’s okay too. It doesn’t make them any more or less non-binary and their identity is still valid.

If your head’s buzzing a bit by now: That’s okay. It’s a complicated topic and no one expects you to understand all of it in one chapter of one essay.

Just know this: If a person identifies as non-binary, you should respect their decision and use the pronouns they go with.

It’s extremely hurtful to refer to someone who already told you that they use they/them pronouns with she/her or he/him, or use they/them to refer to a person who uses she/her.

Think about it like using a trans-person’s deadname: It’s rude, it’s harmful and it shows complete disrespect for the person.

Non-binary people have existed for a very long time. The concept isn’t new. The idea that there are only two genders, with every other identity being an aberration to the norm, is largely a western idea, spread through colonialism.

The Native American people use “Two-Spirit” to describe someone who identifies neither as a man nor a woman. The term itself is relatively new, but the concept of a third gender is deeply rooted in many Native American cultures.

(Author’s Note: If you are not Native American, please do not use it. That’s cultural appropriation.)

In India, the existence of a third gender has always been acknowledged and there are many terms specifically for people who don’t identify with the gender that was assigned to them at birth.

If you’re interested in learning more about non-binary history and non-binary identities around the world, I’d recommend visiting these websites:

https://nonbinary.wiki/wiki/History_of_nonbinary_gender

https://nonbinary.wiki/wiki/Gender-variant_identities_worldwide

https://thetempest.co/2020/02/01/history/the-history-of-nonbinary-genders-is-longer-than-you-think/

https://www.teenvogue.com/story/gender-variance-around-the-world

Also, maybe consider giving this book a try:

Nonbinary Gender Identities: History, Culture, Resources by Charlie Mcnabb

2. Non-binary Representation In Media

The representation of non-binary people in mainstream media hasn’t been... great, to put it mildly.

Representation, as we all know, is important.

Not only does it give minorities a chance to see themselves in media and feel heard and acknowledged. It also normalizes them.

For example, seeing a black Disney-princess was a huge deal for many black little girls, because they could finally say there was someone there who looked like them. They could see that being white wasn’t a necessity to be a Disney princess.

Seeing a canonically LGBT+ character in a children’s show teaches kids that love is love, no matter what gender you’re attracted to. At the same time, older LGBT+ viewers will see themselves validated and heard in a movie that features on-screen LGBT+ heroes.

There’s been some huge steps in the right direction in the last few years representation-wise.

Not only do we have more LGBT+ protagonists and characters in general, we’ve also begun to question and call out harmful or bigoted portrayals of the community in media, such as “Bury Your Gays” or the “Depraved Homosexual”.

With that being said: Let’s take a look at how Non-binary representation holds up in comparison, shall we?

This is Double Trouble, from the children’s show “She-Ra And The Princesses Of Power”.

They identify as non-binary and use they/them pronouns. They’re also a slimy, duplicitous lizard-person who can change their shape at will.

Um, yeah.

Thanks, but no thanks.

Did I mention they’re also the only non-binary character in the entire show? And that they’re working with a genocidal dictator in most of the episodes they’re in?

Yikes.

Let’s look at another example.

These three (in order of appearance) are Stevonnie, Smoky Quartz and Shep. Three characters appearing in the kid’s show “Steven Universe” and it’s epilogue series “Steven Universe: Future”.

All of them identify as non-binary and use they/them as pronouns.

Stevonnie and Smoky Quartz are the result of a boy and a girl being fused together through weird alien magic.

Shep is a regular human, but they only appeared in one episode. In an epilogue series that only hardcore fans actually watched.

Well, I mean...

One out of three isn’t that bad, right?

Maybe we should pick an example from a series for older viewers.

Say hello to Doppelganger, a non-binary superhuman who goes by they/them, from the Amazon-series “The Boys”.

They’re working for a corrupt superhero-agency and use their power of shape-shifting to trick people who pose a threat to said agency into having sex with them. And then blackmail those people with footage of said sex.

....

Do I even need to say it?

If you’ve paid attention during the listing of these examples, you might have noticed a theme.

Namely that characters canonically identifying as non-binary are either

supernatural in some way, shape or form,

barely have a presence in the piece of media they’re in,

both.

Blink-and-you-miss-it-manner of representation aside, the majority of these characters fall squarely under what we call “Othering”.

“Othering” describes the practice of portraying minorities as supernatural creatures or otherwise inhuman. Or to say it bluntly: As “The Other”.

“Othering” is a pretty heinous method. Not only does it portray minorities as inherently abnormal and “different in a bad way”. It also goes directly against what representation is actually for: Normalizing.

As a general rule of thumb: If your piece of media has humans in it, but the only representation of non-white, non-straight people are explicitly inhuman... yeah, that’s bad.

So is there absolutely no positive representation for us out there?

Not quite.

As rare as human non-binary characters in media are to find, they do exist.

Here we have Bloodhound! A non-binary human hunter who uses they/them pronouns, from the game “Apex Legends”.

It’s been confirmed by the devs and the voice actress that they’re non-binary.

Nice!

These are Frisk (bottom) and Chara (top) from the game “Undertale”. While their exact gender identity hasn’t been disclosed, they both canonically use they/them pronouns, so it’s somewhere on the non-binary spectrum.

Two human children who act as the protagonist (Frisk) and antagonist (Chara), depending on how you play the game. (Interpretations vary on the antagonist/protagonist-thing, to say the least.)

Cool!

......

And, yep, that’s it.

As my little demonstration here showed, non-binary representation in media is rare. Good non-binary representation is even rarer.

Which is why those small examples of genuinely good representation are so important to the Non-binary community!

It’s hard enough to have to prove you exist. It’s even harder to prove your existence is not abnormal or unnatural.

If you’d like to further educate yourself on representation, it’s impact on society and why it matters, perhaps take a second to read through these articles:

https://www.criticalhit.net/opinion/representation-media-matters/

https://www.pbs.org/newshour/arts/why-on-screen-representation-matters-according-to-these-teens

https://jperkel.github.io/sciwridiversity2020/

https://www.forbes.com/sites/quora/2019/05/22/why-is-equal-representation-in-media-important/?sh=25f2ccc92a84

https://www.theodysseyonline.com/why-representation-the-media-matters

3. So What’s The Problem?

The problem, as is the case with so many things in the world, is prejudice.

Actually, that’s not true.

There’s not a problem, there are multiple problems. And their names are prejudice, ignorance and bigotry.

Remember how I said human non-binary representation is rare?

Yeah, very often media-fans don’t help.

Let’s take for example, the aforementioned Frisk and Chara from “Undertale”.

Despite the game explicitly using they/them to refer to both characters multiple times, the majority of players somehow got it into their heads that Frisk’s and Chara’s gender was “up for interpretation”.

There is a huge amount of fan art straight-up misgendering both characters and portraying them as binary and using only he/him or she/her pronouns.

The most egregious examples are two massively popular fan-animated web shows: “Glitchtale”, by Camila Cuevas and “Underverse” by Jael Peñaloza.

Both series are very beloved by the Undertale-fanbase and even outside of it. Meaning for many people, those two shows might be their first introduction to “Undertale” and it’s two non-binary human characters.

Take a wild guess what both Camila and Jael did with Frisk and Chara.

Underverse, X-Tale IV:

(Transcript: “Frisk lied to me in the worst possible way... I... I will never forgive him.”)

Underverse, X-Tale V:

(Transcript: “I-It’s Chara... and it’s a BOY.”)

Glitchtale, My Promise:

(Transcript: (Referring to Frisk) “I’m not scared of an angry boy anymore.”)

Glitchtale, Game Over Part 1:

(Transcript: (Referring to Chara) “It’s ok little boy.”)

This... this isn’t okay.

Not only do both of these pieces of fan-art misgender two non-binary characters, the creators knew beforehand that Frisk and Chara use they/them-pronouns, but made the conscious choice to ignore that.

To be fair, in a video discussing “Underverse”, Jael said that only X-Tale Frisk and Chara, the characters you see in the Underverse-examples above, are male, while the characters Frisk and Chara from the main game remained non-binary and used they/them (time-stamp 10:34).

Still, that doesn’t erase the fact that Jael made up alternate versions of two non-binary characters specifically to turn them male. Or that, while addressing the issue, Jael was incredibly dismissive and even mocked the people who felt hurt by her turning two non-binary characters male. Jael also went on to make a fairly non-binary-phobic joke in the video, in which she equated gender identities beyond male and female to identifying as an object.

Jael (translated): “I don’t care if people say the original Frisk and Chara are male, female, helicopters, chairs, dogs or cats, buildings, clouds...”

That’s actually a very common joke among transphobes, if not to say the transphobe-joke:

“Oh, you identify as X? Well then I identify as an attack helicopter!”

If you’re trans, chances are you’ve heard this one, or a variation of it, a million times before.

I certainly have.

I didn’t laugh then and I’m not laughing now.

(Author’s note: I might be angry at both of them for what they did, but I do not, under any circumstances, support the harassment of creators. If you’re thinking about sending either Jael or Camila hate-mail - don’t. It won’t help.)

Jael’s reaction is sadly common in the Undertale fandom. Anyone speaking up against Chara’s and Frisk’s identity being erased is immediately bludgeoned with the “up for interpretation”-argument, despite that not once being the case in the game.

And even with people who do it right and portray Frisk and Chara as they/them, you’ll have dozens of commenters swarming the work with sentences among the lines of “Oh but I think Frisk is a boy/girl! And Chara is a girl/boy!”

By the way, this kind of thing only happens to Frisk and Chara.

Every other character in “Undertale” is referred to and portrayed with their proper pronouns of she/her or he/him.

But not the characters who go by they/them.

Their gender is “up for interpretation”.

Because obviously, their identity couldn’t possibly be canonically non-binary.

Sadly, Frisk and Chara are not alone in this.

Remember Bloodhound?

And how I said they’d been confirmed as non-binary and using they/them pronouns by both the creators and the voice actress?

It seems for many players, that too translated to “up for interpretation”.

(Transcript: “does it matter what they call him? He, her, it, they toaster oven, it doesn’t matter”)

(Transcript: “I’m like 90 % sure Bloodhound is a dude because he could just sound like a girl and by their age that I’m assuming looks around 10-12 because I’ve known many males who have sounded like a female when they were younger”)

(Transcript: “I don’t care it will always be a He. F*ck that non-binary bullsh*t.”)

(Transcript: “Bloodhound is clearly female.”)

(Transcript: “I’m not calling a video game character they/them”)

(Transcript: “exactly. The face was never fully shown neither was the gender so I’d say it means that the player is Bloodhound. So it’s your gender and you refer to “him” as yourself. It’s like a self insertion in my eyes.”)

So, let me get this straight:

If a character, even a player character, uses she/her or he/him, you can accept it, no questions asked.

But when a character uses they/them, suddenly their identity and gender are “up for interpretation”?

This attitude is also widely prevalent in real life.

Many languages only include pronouns for men and women, with no third option available. Non-binary people are often forced to make up their own terms, because their language doesn’t provide one.

Non-binary people often don’t fit within other people’s ideas of gender, so they get excluded altogether. Worse, non-binary people are often the victims of misgendering, denial of their identity or even straight-up violence when coming out.

People will often tell us that we look like a certain gender, so we should only use one set of gendered pronouns. Never mind that that’s not what we want. Never mind that that’s not who we are.

Non-binary people are also largely omitted from legal documentation and studies. We cannot identify as non-binary at our workplace, because using they/them pronouns is considered “unprofessional”. We don’t have our own bathrooms like men and women do. Our gender is seen as less valid than male and female, so even that basic thing is denied to us. I’ve had to use the women’s restroom my entire life, because if I go into a male restroom, I’ll be yelled at or made fun off or simply get told I took the wrong door. It’s extremely uncomfortable for me and I wish I didn’t have to do it.

And since non-binary people aren’t seen as “real transgender-people”, we often don’t receive the medical care we need. This often renders us unable to feel good within our bodies, because the treatment and help we get is wildly inadequate.

It’s especially horrible for intersex people (people who are born with sex characteristics that don’t fit solely into the male/female category) who are often forced to change their bodies to fit within the male/female gender binary.

And you better believe each of those problems is increased ten-fold for non-binary people of color.

We are ignored and dismissed as “confused”, because of who we are.

Representation is a way for Non-binary people to show the world they exist, that they’re here and that they too have stories to tell.

But how can we, when every character that represents us is either othered, barely there or gets taken away from us?

We are not “up for interpretation”.

Neither are the characters in media who share our identity.

And it’s time to stop pretending we ever were.

For more information about Non-Binary Erasure and how harmful it is, you can check out these articles:

https://everydayfeminism.com/2015/08/common-non-binary-erasure/

https://www.dailydot.com/irl/nonbinary-people-racism/

https://nonbinary.wiki/wiki/Nonbinary_erasure

https://traj.openlibhums.org/articles/10.16995/traj.422/

https://medium.com/an-injustice/everyday-acts-of-non-binary-erasure-49ee970654fb

https://medium.com/national-center-for-institutional-diversity/the-invisible-labor-of-liberating-non-binary-identities-in-higher-education-3f75315870ec

https://musingsofanacademicasexual.wordpress.com/2015/05/11/dear-sirmadam-a-commentary-on-non-binary-erasure/

4. How Do We Fix It?

Well, first things first: Stop acting like we don’t exist.

And kindly stop other people from doing it too.

We are a part of the LGBT+ community and we deserve to be acknowledged, no matter what our pronouns are.

Address non-binary people with the right pronouns. Don’t argue with them about their identity, don’t comment on how much you think they look like a boy or a girl. Just accept them and be respectful.

If a non-binary person tells you they have two sets of pronouns, for example he/him and they/them, don’t just use one set of pronouns. That can come off as disingenuous. Alternate between the pronouns, don’t leave one or the other out. It’ll probably be hard at first, but if you keep it up, you’ll get used to it pretty quickly.

If you’re witnessing someone harass a non-binary person over their identity, step in and help them.

And please, don’t partake in non-binary erasure in media fandoms.

Don’t misgender non-binary characters, don’t “speculate” on what you think their gender might be. You already know their gender and it’s non-binary. It costs exactly 0 $ to be a decent human being and accept that.

Support Non-Binary people by educating yourself about them and helping to normalize and integrate their identity.

In fact, here’s a list of petitions, organizations and articles who will help you do just that:

https://www.change.org/p/collegeboard-let-students-use-their-preferred-name-on-collegeboard-9abad81a-0fdf-435c-8fca-fe24a5df6cc7?source_location=topic_page

6 Ways to Support Your Non-Binary Child

7 Non-Negotiables for Supporting Trans & Non-Binary Students in Your Classroom

If Your Partner Just Came Out As Non-Binary, Here’s How To Support Them

How to Support Your Non-Binary Employees, Colleagues and Friends

Ko-fi page for the Nonbinary Wiki

The Sylvia Rivera Project, an organization who aims to give low-income and non-white transgender, intersex and non-binary people a voice

The Anti Violence Project “empowers lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, and HIV-affected communities and allies to end all forms of violence through organizing and education, and supports survivors through counseling and advocacy."

The Trans Lifeline, a hotline for transgender people by transgender people

Tl:DR: Non-Binary representation is important. Non-Binary people still suffer from society at large not acknowledging our existence and forcing us to conform. Don’t be part of that problem by taking away what little representation we have. Educate yourself and do better instead. We deserve to be seen and heard.

#non-binary #agender #demigender #gender identity #essay #erasure #lgbt representation #misgendering #undertale #she ra spop #apex bloodhound #doppelganger #steven universe

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yn-x-animeboy · 3 years

Text

Jungkook x y/n (as a famous artist) Pt.2

pArt 1: here

pairing: reader x Jungkook

genre: fluff, romance, for entertainment purposes

BTS x Fem Reader

sinopsis: You are a popular artist in America, pretty famous, loved and well-known by the general public (actually you were one of the top 10 artists in the world but you are pretty humble and naïve to realize your popularity), one day during one of your fan meets you talk about how much you love BTS, and not only how you wish to meet them and work with them but how Jungkook is one of your celebrity crushes. During the meet you fangirled with other ARMYs in the crowd; video clips of you fangirling and talking about BTS at your meet where posted and reposted all over social media. This obviously broke the internet because you were not only a famous singer but you also were always accepted and loved by ARMY and this made a lot of people happy. Suddenly it felt like everyone wanted you to meet the seven handsome and talented idols and collaborate, but you could only wish, you believed they didn't even know who you were...or so you thought

Part 2- BTS x Y/N You went to bed, turned your phone on silent mode and looked at your ceiling, replaying that fake scenario you talked about a few hours ago, oh how you wished it could become real. Finally dozing off and resting for the work-packed day you had tomorrow; unaware that your social media was currently going crazy and how they yearned for your new weekly EPISODE to come out.

While you were peacefully sleeping social media platforms like twitter and instagram where going crazy all over the world, headlines with titles like: “Y/N FINALLY CONFESSES”, “Y/N AND JUNGKOOK RELATIONSHIP WILL SAVE 2021”, “ARMYs BIGGEST FEAR… Y/N+J&K''. People demanded the episode of the leaked videos to be uploaded as soon as possible, even though it was the middle of the night were you where; your international fans where active and ready for some content after watching the “leaked” videos; they exploded your teams’ contacts; your team left with no other choice but to actually speed up the process and upload said EPISODE; your manager contacted the main editor and offered him two days off if he could finish the video that same night.

The episode was uploaded at around 2 am; meaning in Korea, the video went up at around 4pm.

4:00 o’clock in the afternoon, a beautiful day outside Seoul. The guys were currently about to shoot a new episode of RUN BTS; on set, the guys were standing in the middle of a room as some hair and makeup staff fixed their appearance. Cameras were being set up around them by the camera crew. Staff spread around the room doing their respective tasks. The guys did have their cell phones with them but they were all turned to airplane mode so they wouldn't disturb the shoot. Just like you, they were unaware of what was happening on their social media platforms.

“ACTION!” the director started. RM lead the opening line “1,2,3…”, “Dallyeora Bangtan!” (RUN BTS!) they all said in unison, and the episode began. behind the cameras, staff were learning about the ``BTS x Y/N'' ordeal as the seven boys were filming. The “Hybe Corporation '' (RIP big hit) would normally would see this type of situation as a negative thing for their Idol Star Group’s image, immediately clearing up any misunderstanding and false info that was being spread online; but the head of the company, Bang Si-hyuk, decided to first watch the video himself and look into it this time.

Again, the head team would’ve even ignored this situation, but this time it was different. Bang Si-hyuk actually knew who you were, and was surprised when he saw your name pop up. After a quick meeting the next step was decided for BTS in regards to this situation. “Just to make sure, the boys are still shooting right? Bang Si-hyuk asked his assistant, “Y-yes sir, they are in the middle of a game, no news have been broke to them”; Bang Si-hyuk nodded and looked around the room of people that attended the emergency meeting, “Okay so, like we agreed, we will surprise they boys with this, they are big fans of y/n, and I really do like her too, she is a good girl who goes well with BTS. SO... after their scheduled shoot, send them to the other room and let them react to y/n’s episode highlights, and tell them what is happening, I think this could be the beginning of something good” Bang Si-hyuk concluded the meeting at that. Staff quickly went and prepared everything.

After shoot the guys were expecting to get into their assigned cars and go home like they normally do when they are done on set, but they were stopped by staff; “Guys okay so you are done with this episode, please now direct yourselfs towards the meeting room, the company has treated you to some refreshers, snacks and drinks; you will be told what to do'' The small woman stepped aside to let the boys go to where they were asked to go. The guys didn't think too much of this, brushing it off as a probable “catch-up” meeting.

Once they got to the meeting room they sat on one side of a wooden table, a laptop sitting in the middle, and a single camera behind the table. Jungkook took a seat in front of the laptop, Jimin to his right and Suga to his left; J-Hope, V, Jin and RM sitting in higher chairs behind them in that order, with a clear view on the computer. They all looked at the staff for answers, this was not one of their weekly meetings… The staff allowed them to have the promised snacks, instant noodles and beverages for this. One staff member told them what they were going to do “Okay so before you all go home we need you to react to this video, it is only a couple of minutes long, we have edited it and cut some parts out; you are allowed to eat and loosen up; you can react as you wish and add any comment as well, any questions?” They shook their head as they had done this before so many times.

The video started and a preview came on screen, it was your intro music, on screen a quick preview of your complete episode was shown. The boys immediately recognized the images, they had seen your show many times before. “Oi, it’s y/n'' Jin immediately said as soon as your face appeared on screen, “Is this a new episode?” JImin asked out loud, “Wait what day is it? they normally go up on Friday, did we miss it?” Taehyung spoke, mouth full of spicy noodles, J-Hope and RM reached out and cleaned Taehyung’s face with napkins as if he was a child, before he made a bigger mess.

“Hello everyone welcome to another episode of…. f** I don't even know what we call these videos, jajajaja” “Wait what?... jajajajaja omg guys thank you, I'm so sorry, yeah you heard them, welcome back to y/n’s camera roll, I can’t believe I forgot that, anyway today’s episode is a little different……” Your introduction from the episode played on screen, making the boys chuckle at your genuine personality “hahaha gwiyeoun” (haha cute) Suga added, J-Hope agreeing with him as he gave Suga a piece of the food he was having. Kookie was currently watching the screen not even blinking, he hadn’t taken a bite out of his noodles or a sip out of his banana milk, Jimin noticed and pointed at him looking back at the guys with a silent laugh, they all knew Jungkook was your biggest simp.

The video continued, they kept adding comments and watching with interest. The staff had actually reedited your original video to make it shorter and show the parts where you mention BTS.

“Hi, y/n, can I ask you another question?” you nodded and signaled him to proceed;

“I saw that you liked an instagram post about BTS a while back uploaded by a fan account and I also saw that you actually follow their personal twitter account. ALSO in your behind the scenes video for your music video shoot you can be seen in the background dancing the Boy with luv choreo. So I wanted to ask if you were an ARMY and if you know them personally? and like should we be expecting a collaboration soon?”

You chucked at his talking speed, curious questions and great detective skills.

Jimin reached over and paused the video before they could hear what you answered next. “No way….Omg what she says she hates us” Jimin said. “Imagine if she said she hates us, is this why you guys are making us watch this?” Suga looked at the staff. “Can we keep watching hyungs…” Jungkook said looking around at the others, a bit desperate to find out what you said next. “Oi, wouldn't you want to know guki…” Jin teased him, wiggling his eyebrows and slapping the back of his head playfully. Before Jungkook could fight back RM reached over them and pressed play, preventing a ‘playful’ fight among the youngest and oldest member to take place.

“OMG hahaha I love you so much, what an amazing question, Okay so first off no I don’t know them personally and sadly no plans of collaboration are on sight. Oh wow I have never been asked if I liked BTS before, I’m excited hahaha. Yeah I am an ARMY, I love them so much I am one of their biggest fans, and they are also one of my biggest inspirations when it comes to work ethic and professionalism, listening to them or watching them gives me motivation to keep doing what I love, which is this.

anyway I am rambling I should stop; you guys can say y/n stop whenever I start rambling okay? hahaha''

As this part of the video played, the guys seemed to lean closer to the screen as you spoke. Once you finished your answer they paused the video again. RM stood up with hands on his head; Jin and J-Hope held on to each other with their mouths wide open looking at the screen; V was still sitting in the same spot, frozen, as if he was paused in time along with the now paused screen; Suga stood up with his hands on his mouth bouncing his knees lightly; Jimin reached to RM behind him and stretched his arms out with a ‘Did you hear that?’ expression; Jungkook leaned over the table and pulled the screen closer, he was smiling from ear to ear letting out a small “wow” under his breath, then he replayed your answer to listen to it one more time, rereading the subtitles under the video making sure he did not miss any words.

“OMG NO WAY, NO WAY DUDE” Tae came out of his frozen state and held on to Jungkook's shoulders shaking slightly; They all looked at eachother surprised, they couldn't believe that ‘the one and only Y/N’ was an ARMY. They composed themselves and played the video to proceed once the staff told them there was more.

The video resumed:

“Guys should we actually talk about BTS for a bit? hahaha” you asked your fans

A girl spoke after: “Can I ask you a BTS question then? Okay so, who is your favorite member?

“Well first off, I don't have a favorite member. I really mean it when I say this. I love them all equally and I love them all as a group. I don’t prefer one over the other or like one better. I really do support them equally. I mean there is nothing wrong with having a bias, as long as you also respect the other members, hope that all made sense lol” Everyone seemed moved by your support towards them and nodded.

Again the boys reacted, they were so surprised they paused again and walked back and forth making sounds of excitement; They loved the way you answered the question and were so moved by your love and appreciation towards them and the way you saw them as a group. They felt like jumping and celebrating. They sat back down again to keep watching their favorite american artist talk about them some more.

Your episode was again cut and it skipped to another question:

“Y/n so you don’t have a favorite, but do you have a crush on any of them?, like if you could date one of them right now, which one do you pick?” A fan asked.

The guys chuckled at the question, they thought there was no way you would answer such a question.

“okay...well...Like I said just to be clear I don't have favorites amongst the group members, but I do have a type…. I consider one of them to be my celebrity crush”......

“So in that case, if I had to pick someone that I would date in real life...i would say…. Jungkook”

The. Guys. Went. Nuts. Jungkook immediately stood up and lifted his hands up in the air as if he had won an award, he paused the video and started smiling like crazy; his cheeks tinted in a redish pinkish tone, he covered his face as he was at a loss for words, he knew he was seen as attractive by female and male artists, he even knew of a couple of well known idols who had admitted to having a crush on him; but this was different, he had considered you to be his celebrity crush for years now, ever since your debut in america when you were just 15 and he was 16; he was a big fan of yours; he knew everything about you, he loved your music, he thought you were one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen, he even had a picture of you performing as his wallpaper currently; he constantly watched your videos and wished he could someday date a girl like you.

A staff member spoke, taking Jungkook out of his trance state: “How do you feel Jungkook?” He lifted his face from his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes were glossy and his smile wide. “I-I don't know what to say, I can’t believe it,” he said as he sat down looking at the pause screen, looking at your still image. His hyungs patted him on the back; Jimin turned his head to the staff as he was rubbing JK’s back with one hand, “You know Jungook has had the biggest crush on y/n for so long now” Jimin told the staff. The other members agreed and nodded. Jungkook looked up and spoke to the staff: “Yeah I remember listening to her debut song for the longest time without really thinking about who the artist was. When her first studio album broke records I decided to look her up, I watched a video of her talking about the album and her experience as a new artist and I think ever since then I have had a crush on her; she is my ideal type”

“Why is she your ideal type?” a staff member in the back asked JK. “Ha. um. well I think my ideal type of girl is someone who is funny and has a bright and cool personality; someone who as soon as they step into a room they immediately light it up; someone who is goofy and isn't afraid to become a joke or mess up; A confident person; someone who isn't too girly or too boyish; someone who likes to learn new things and from who I can learn new things too; someone who is younger than me; Someone who loves dancing and singing a lot, etc. And y/n is kinda all that and more tbh; He rambled, the guys were all used to his ‘secret fangirling over y/n’ habit, but the staff was taken aback; they only thought the guys thought highly of you as an artist, but this… they felt moved. “Ay ay, stop drooling, lets keep watching hahaha” Suga poked at JK’s side and pressed play.

The video time skipped again: “...I love that question, and your scenario is so cute, you should write a tumblr post about it, well yeah I obviously have created fake scenarios in my head about BTS, past crushes, fake arguments even hahaha, there are so many BTS fake scenarios in my head…. hmm oh I know which one, okay so this fantasy of mine is about how I would meet them irl and work with them, I will make it quick”

“Okay so, my literal fantasy is to one day meet them at a talk show, you know how hosts like to surprise their guests with something/someone they like?, I believe Ellen has done it multiple times where she surprised a guest with their idol or celebrity crush, you know?” The group nodded, invested in your fake scenario “Well i would be invited to like the Jimmy Fallon Show, where he would just randomly surprise me with BTS. Then I would be given the opportunity to introduce myself and tell them how much I love and support them. I would also be able to show them my korean speaking skills, I learned Korean and Spanish back in school and I have never been able to actually use either them, lol, anyway...well after that we would all become really good friends, and we would collaborate and put out one or multiple songs for you guys. I mean that's basically it, I wish I could meet them, and become their friend and write songs with them, even produce songs with Suga or RM if I could''

“What???? does she speak korean?”

“OMG Jungkook is she speaks korean marry her”

“OMG I wanna meet her now”

“That's so cute”

“She is so cool”

The guys added and all looked adoringly at the screen; RM and Suga also commented about how they would love to work with someone like you and produce a ton of music together and that they wish you all could collaborate in the future too.

_____

And That is how the boys learned about the video and your view on them….not only that they also learned about your embarrassing fantasy and celebrity crush…. After finishing their day at work, they went home and watched your episode complete this time. They felt like they accomplished something so important by just leaning your perception on them. Jungkook also felt that but he was even more excited than the rest, his celebrity crush had admitted to crushing on him back, he knows that the chances of meeting you or even having a friendship with you were probably non existent. And even if they did meet you, the idea of dating you in real life seemed impossible to him due to you both being artists, under strict and powerful companies, living opposite sides of the world, in different time zones even; but he was still happy, and the guys too; they all went to bed wishing they could someday meet you.

----

Part 3- Jimmy Fallon Show ------> here

ily:) Xx, plis give me a lil’ <3

#bts #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook #jeon jungguk #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine

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the-firebender-girl · 4 years

Text

Teacher’s Pet (Zuko x Reader) : Part 1

-> Fire Lord Zuko meets his daughter’s favorite teacher.

*Y/H/C: Your hair color

Warning: The storyline is a bit depressing at first, there’s a mention of death and a lot of self deprecating thoughts.

A princess of the Fire Nation. A title that should’ve guaranteed that she can get anything and everything that her heart desire, but Princess Izumi’s life is far cry from the fairytale life of princesses in her bedtime stories.

To feel a mother’s love, that is her one true desire for as long as she can remember. What she constantly seeks from the moment that she understands that there is a missing puzzle in her life. A hollow gap.

There hasn’t been a Fire Lady of the nation ever since Izumi came into this world. Her birth also marks the day that her mother passed away due to immense blood loss after childbirth, life and death hovering soo close together, one soul in exchange for another. There wasn’t even a celebration in her name, only a funeral. What was supposed to be a joyous occation turned sorrowful. The nation was in mourning for their lost queen.

At the age of 13 years old, Izumi can’t help the grim thoughts that constantly plagued her mind, “You did this... your mother died because of you”. A nightmarish and hideous burden indeed for such a young mind to bear. Of course no one ever said that to her face, but she can feel it, in the quiet whispers exchanged between her fellow students or teachers, in the pitying glances that the palace staff throws her way when they thought she’s not looking, or maybe even in the way that she still sees the longing stare of her father.. late at night.. standing in front of the late queen’s portrait.

They all think that she doesn’t know, doesn’t notice, doesn’t understand. But she does. After all she is a child who is forced to deal with great loss way too soon, and that changes a person regardless of his or her age.

———————————————————————

Fire Lord Zuko showers his daughter with love and attention, never letting his responsibilities towards the nation get in the way of being the best father that he can be. Izumi deserves the world and he intend to give it to her.

Looking at his daughter’s face brings him both immense bliss and grief. She is the splitting image of her mother, a piece of her that is left in this world from her sudden departure. An ache that will probably never go away for the rest of his miserable existence. Maybe it’s just Zuko’s bad luck, the people who he loves most always got taken away from him one way or another. Why would it stop now?

Despite his best efforts, Zuko sees his daughter becoming more distant as she grew older. He tried to reach for her but he too is downspiraling. Down and down and down the both of them go. How are they supposed to save each other when they’re pretty much stuck in the same dark hole with no sign of escape or an end to it?

The least that he could do for her is sign her up to a normal Fire Nation private school, not to the Royal Fire Academy for Girls as tradition demands. He doesn’t want her to live a sheltered life just as how he and Azula was raised. Cloistered and living amongst tight circle of nobilities, never knowing how the rest of the people live. He wants Izumi to see the world at full extend and so he did, in hope that one day she’ll be a great and just ruler, a champion beloved by her people, his gift for her should all else fails.———————————————————————

Izumi loves school, the only chance for her to get away and buried herself amongst books, nothing else exists and she let herself got carried away. Absorbing as much knowledge as she could to fill her mind with light and possibilities. Of wisdom and science, both old and new.

She has a handful of friends at school, but even then she prefers to spend her time alone. Spending breaks in the library or aimlessly wandering the school ground.

But perhaps a change is in order as a new face entered the school in the form of her art teacher. The former art teacher, Laoshi Zhixin is a lazy old man who made a hobby of neglecting his every duty, Izumi often wonders how he even managed to land this job since he clearly has no passion for it whatsoever. “Good riddance,” she thought.

The replacement teacher though, she is entirely something else. “A walking living art,” that’s how the rest of the students describe her, Izumi hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting her though, not until today as it is her class’s turn for the subject.

When Izumi walked into the art classroom and saw her, she finally understood what the buzz is all about. And she too sees why people described her that way.

Laoshi Y/N is young for a teacher, from the looks of it she’s probably still in her early twenties. Her (Y/H/C)* hair is pulled into a messy bun, the skin along her arms are covered with dry plain splotches in several different colors. A kind smile gracing her lips as she watched every student who enters her classroom one by one.

When all of them are seated in front of an easel, she walked to the center of the room and opened her arms wide to the side in a welcoming gesture.

“Good morning students! i’m Laoshi Y/N, your new art teacher” She started chirpily.

A chorus of good mornings and hello Laoshi Y/N resounded around the room.

“Today we’re going to paint, as you can see i’ve taken the liberty to set up the easel and blank canvas for you.”

A few students groaned but then one of her classmates raised his hand, “Are we going to attempt to remake a drawing of landscape just like Laoshi Zhixin always makes us do?”

Laoshi Y/N eyebrows quirked, “No, not at all” her statement is followed by lots of relieved sigh. Even Izumi must admit that if she has to paint one more of those stupid lakes and hillside she would’ve chuck her canvas.

“So what then?” a different student voiced the question.

Laoshi Y/N chuckled, “Patience, we’re just getting there”

“I want you to paint... emotions”

Izumi’s face morphed into one of confusion, but she’s not alone, the rest of her classmates have the same look plastered on their faces.

“Let me elaborate, by emotions I don’t mean face or a drawing of a human smiling or crying and the likes. I want you to pick an emotion and imagine it in your mind, if it has a form what do you think it would look like? what color would it has? reach deep inside and pick an emotion that resonate with you. Be it happiness, sadness, fear, anger, or surprise... help it takes form”

Now this is a lesson that she has never received in any of her prior classes, one that she can learn to appreciate. Laoshi Y/N brought something new to the game, something fresh, what art is supposed to be like in the first place.

“Is my instruction clear enough or is there any other question?” she clapped her hands once, “None? alright then chop chop”

Sounds erupted around the room, scrapping of dragged stools, clatter of paint trays, the tapping of paint brushes against glass of water. The atmosphere itself came to life.

Izumi look fixedly at the blank canvas in front of her, contemplating long and hard about which emotion she would pick. What was Laoshi Y/N’s words again? “...pick an emotion that resonate with you” now that would be quite a challenge. Izumi’s inside is a maelstrom of emotions, trying to pick it apart from one other is an impossible task. Even she herself never understood what exactly it is that she’s feeling most of the time.

“Chaos” she thought to herself. That’s the word she’s looking for, what best describes her inner turmoil. And that is what she’s going to paint or at least attempt to, we’ll see.

———————————————————————

Y/N walked around the classroom, observing her students work one by one. So far most of them picked either happiness or anger, that much is clear by their choice of colors or the stroke of their brushes. She hummed a tune under her breath, murmuring encouragement or approval every now and then.

As she neared the back row, a piece caught her attention. This one is not made of the bright colors of happiness or fiery ones of anger, the brush strokes neither soft or harsh. Black, dark grey, and deep blue, those are the main color components. Growing darker the closer it gets to the center. But there’s also a few nebulous strokes of angry bright red and some splatter of murky green. The longer Y/N stare at the painting, the more its unrest clawed at her, submerging her into it.

Y/N realigned her focus towards the painter, reigning in her surprise when she realized who it is. Izumi, Fire Lord Zuko’s only child. It made her even more curious as to what goes on inside that mind for her to create this piece? Of course she knows all about the tragedy that has befallen their family, but never did she once consider of the depth of the impact. What it did to this girl who is now under her care.

“What’s the name of your painting?” she asked her.

Izumi’s hand halted mid air, she was too engrossed in her pursuit to pay attention to her surroundings. Realizing too late that now her teacher is standing right behind her.

Izumi glanced over her shoulder, “Chaos... I call it chaos”

“A fitting name” Y/N replied, once again letting her eyes roam over it. “Any particular reason why you chose to paint this?”

“You told us to paint what resonates most with us and this is it for me” Izumi said complete with a shrug.

Y/N can see past the walls that this girl put up around her, separating her from the rest of the world. There is indeed a chaos brewing inside, plain as day, but she knows it’s not her place to pry. So she offered her some words to ponder over instead.

“Art is a media to freely express oneself be it in the form of melodies, dances, or in my case drawings. Should words fails to explain, art is the substitute... maybe you’ll find some comfort in it too” Y/N said, sending a smile her way. There is soo much more she wish she could do for her, but for now she hopes that this is enough. She laid one hand on her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze before she turned to survey the others.

Izumi stiffened in her seat as what her teacher’s said sinked in. No one has ever bothered to reach out to her, let alone comfort her in any way. They probably think that she’s got it all figured out and the material things that she got at her disposal are more than enough to deal with the loss. After all she’s a princess, there are others who suffer more and worst. But does that make her less deserving of their sympathy? for her pain to be acknowledge?

And yet Laoshi Y/N gave that support to her, a mere stranger. Freely, without as much as a second thought. And for the first time in many years, Izumi felt hope blooming inside her, that there is someone who is capable of understanding her. Of seeing her past the crown, fancy robes, palaces, title... and see the broken girl inside.

———————————————————————

That very same day at sometime past 3 in the afternoon, Izumi is done with the rest of her classes. But she found her feet taking her once again in front of the art classroom. Spying the lone silhouette moving inside through the tinted glass. She raised a hand, hesitating for a second, but then decided to knock in the end.

“Come on in” came the soft reply.

The door made a creaking sound as it swung open, revealing Laoshi Y/N who is sitting in front of an easel located at the very front of the room. She spared a glance her way, “Ahh Izumi, it’s you”

“I’m sorry ma’am, am I interrupting? I can come back another time” She asked hesitantly.

“No, dear. Don’t be shy, come and take a seat beside me” Y/N replied, gesturing her to come closer with her free hand.

Izumi dragged a stool and position it to her teacher’s left side. Taking her place there. Izumi watched her, admiring the expert stroke of her fingers. She’s drawing symbols... of all four nations together. It looks magnificent even in its nowhere near finished state.

Y/N dunked her paint brush into the bowl of water and set it aside. Shifting her attention on the girl sitting beside her.

“Is there anything that I can help you with?”

“To be honest... i’m not so sure myself ma’am” Izumi replied quietly.

“Well if you just want some company then you’re free to stay here for as long as you like, no talking required” Y/N said encouragingly.

“How long have you been painting? it looks incredible, I could’ve mistaken you for a professional painter” Izumi suddenly asked.

Y/N cocked her head to the side, pondering the answer, “All my life I guess, I started very young and now it has become a part of me”

“It must be nice to have an outlet for conveying your feelings” Izumi said again, “I find it hard to talk to the people around me, useless even”

“It certainly does... you know you can have one too if you want, I saw your painting earlier. You got a raw talent in you, dear one”

“Can you teach me? I don’t mind if we do it after class” Izumi asked, those amber eyes staring at her cautiously, but filled with hope nonetheless.

Y/N smiled at her, “I would gladly do that, starting tomorrow then?”

“Yeah...” Izumi answered, “—Tomorrow” that one word weighing in like a promise.

———————————————————————

Fire Lord Zuko scrunched his eyebrows, creating lines in his forehead. His daughter has been coming home late, far later than she should’ve. He knows for sure that school ends at 3, but everyday Izumi always comes home at 5 in the afternoon. At first he brushed it aside, thinking that it’s no big deal and she probably has an extra something to wrap up at school, but this has been going on for a month and Zuko can no longer turn a blind eye to it.

“Is she seeing someone? does she has a secret boyfriend that she’s been hiding for me?”

“Oh dear Agni, what if she’s involved with a gang now?”

“Is this a part of a normal teenage rebellious phase?”

A thousand thoughts running through his mind, becoming more and more ridiculous with every excuses that he conjured up.

“Perhaps you should simply ask her before you drove yourself mad” Uncle Iroh’s voice broke his train of thoughts. He even had the audacity to look amused.

Zuko groaned, “If only it were that easy, she never talks to me anymore, I feel like a failure of a father”

“Enough of this nonsense, Zuko. Go and talk to her right now” Iroh said with an edge of finality in his tone. “Only the two of you can fix this and it starts with opening up so that is what you’re going to do”

———————————————————————

Zuko founds himself standing in front of the ornament door that leads to Izumi’s parlour. Pacing back and forth, his anxiety sky-rocketting. He didn’t manage to get one more step before the door opened on its own, with Izumi standing behind it.

“I was just about to knock” Zuko stammered out, rubbing the back of his head.

“Your nervous pacing was so loud I heard it all the way from the bedroom” She replied matter of factly, looking at her father with a bored expression.

Izumi made a gesturing motion and took a sit at the divan. Zuko following in suit and made himself comfortable in an armchair across from her.

“Is there anything that I should be aware of?” He asked.

Izumi raised her eyebrow his way, “Why are you suddenly asking me this?”

“Because you, young lady, has been coming home late day after day and I would like to know why” Zuko said, his eyebrows once again scrunching in together, whether in confusion or agitation, Izumi couldn’t decide which.

“I have an after school painting lesson” She answered.

Of all the possibilities that Zuko considered, this was certainly not one of them.

“Have you taken up painting as a hobby then?” He asked curiously, silently determining whether or not this is a ruse.

“I wouldn’t say hobby... it’s more of an escape really”

“Escape from what? why do you need to escape? you have everything here in the palace”

“I don’t have what I need most though” Izumi replied came so quietly it was almost a whisper. “My new art teacher... Miss Y/N, she understands me, father. She not only listens but she truly make an effort to see inside me and see what i’m dealing with. My painting lessons with her, it helps me deal with the guilt and pain from losing mother. I know nobody could ever replace her, but for once in my life I think now I know how it feels to have one”

Zuko is stunned and that is putting it mildly. His daughter’s confession is like a slap to his face, a prove of how much he’s been neglecting her in the most important aspect of her life. Yes, he may have showered her with love and attention, but he left her to deal with her grief alone when he should’ve been there to steady her, to go through it together side by side. He lost a wife, but she lost her mother.

Before he even realized it, a sob escaped him and he is bawling right in front of his daughter when he should’ve been her rock. Tears streamed down Zuko’s face, “I’m sorry” he managed to whispered out, “I’m truly sorry”.

But then he’s engulfed in a warm hug, his daughter’s arms snaking around him like a cocoon. “It’s okay, father... I forgive you”

“I’m sorry too... I promise we’ll be better... that’s what mother would’ve want”

———————————————————————

After they made peace with the grief that has been keeping them prisoners all this time, it’s like a burden has been lifted from his shoulder, but nonetheless it left an empty space in him. And he just felt numb now.

But his daughter... Zuko watched as his daughter’s happiness grew, her smile brighter, her laugh louder. She talked non stop about her beloved art teacher slash confidant. The illustrious Miss Y/N. The beacon of light in his daughter’s life. Paint, and paint, and paint that’s all she ever do now, even Zuko’s office is decorated with all her finished artwork. Not that he’s complaining. He can see the talent in her and the passion that she has for it. If painting is what Izumi loves then he will support it in any manner possible.

But he owed her teacher a visit, maybe a “thank you” wouldn’t suffice for the differences that she has unknowingly brought into his life, but it’s a start. Then he’ll figure out what to do from there.

———————————————————————

The clock showed that it’s now 4 o’clock in the afternoon, “Strange” Y/N thought. The princess is nowhere to be seen when she’s usually already here right after the last school bell rang.

A knock pulled her out of her musing, thinking that it’s probably Izumi, she called out a “Come in, you’re already later than usual”

But nothing prepared her for the view that greets her. Her paint brush slipped through her finger and clatter on the ground as her mouth formed a perfect O as she now founds herself standing face to face with the Fire Lord and him alone.

“I’m sorry I came her unannounced, I told Izumi to take the day off since I wanted to talk to you” Zuko spoke, stating his intention.

Y/N mouth open and close a few times before she finally right her mind from the frenzy that it’s in, “Oh I see.. that’s alright really, Your Highness, no need to apologize”

“But about the talk... what could be so important that you came here in person?” She continues.

“I want to thank you, for everything that you have done for Izumi. She’s in a better place now and you help pulled her out from it, I could never thank you enough for that” Zuko said, giving her a warm smile that melts her inside. Stupid butterflies, you really have to appeared and make it worse don’t you?

“Izumi is lovely... there is soo much burden that she insisted on carrying on her own and I just extended a hand, to let her know that she’s not alone in this”

“—I would’ve done the same for anyone else, nobody deserves to feel alone and undeserving” She finishes, returning his smile with one of her own.

And as she smiles.... Zuko can feel the cracks that started appearing in his own armor, warm comforting lights filtering through the dark hollowness in his chest.

Maybe... just maybe he thought, Y/N is not only his daughter’s salvation, but perhaps she could be his too. Her smile... a promise of a distant chance in the future. Of a shot on happiness long dead and buried but not gone.

517 notes · View notes

operation-619 · 4 years

Note

plus size reader x homelander perhaps

Homelander x Plus Size Reader

Edited 17-01-21

15+

Just want you to know that the colour of skin in this Gif doesn’t determine the colour of the skin of the reader.

Warnings; Language, mentions of indecent exposure, blood, indecent thoughts, mentions of anxiety and past trauma and BLOODPLAY. Read at your own discretion.

WC - 2.4k

MASTERLIST

The suns’ arms were surrounding the city, squeezing it tight in its’ warm embrace. The light bounced off the windows and made the city look crystallised. (Y/N) stood with her eyes solely focused on the horizon; the warmth penetrated through the window and caressed her cheeks. She closed her eyes and sighed. This was what she needed after today, the man-child Translucent was caught up in another public scandal – he was caught being a peeping tom, again.

(Y/N)’s eyes closed as she released a deep breathe before she plonked her head onto the cold glass window, the contrasting temperature soothed her rising headache.

“I need a glass of whiskey, make it a whole bottle.” (Y/N) whispered under her breath. She was so close to braking down and everyone around her knew it, she wasn’t snapping at everyone like Ashley or Stillwell did. No, she would just stare at them and walk away because if she were to open her mouth god knows what would come out. It is not like they could fire her, they fucking needed her, but god was she close to killing a super.

She turned her head and made eye contact with the tray of alcohol that was beckoning her over, she weighed the options in her head – she is still technically working but if she doesn’t leave the room then no one will know.

The smile that graced her face was what sealed her fate.

The whiskey warmed her throat deliciously on its way down that she almost forgot about the man that caused her so much stress, almost. Groaning loudly, she placed the glass back on the tray and grabbed the bottle of whiskey by its’ neck and walked over to the desk that was tucked in the corner of the room.

“Fucking Translucent, always causing me trouble. I should’ve told Stillwell no when I had the fucking chance,” she opened her laptop and began the work she had been dreading since this morning; Mondays were supposed to be her good days, the start afresh day were Mondays and that nonce had completely shat on that for her.

She was immersed in her temper tantrum that she jumped out of her skin when her phone rang. ‘Madelyn Stillwell’ was calling, she couldn’t stop staring at the name in bold that was screaming at her to pick up the phone. She didn’t even know what she was going to say.

‘Fuck’.

“Hello (Y/N) (L/N) speaking.” The silence made her heart shrink in on itself.

“Ahh, (Y/N) good to finally speak to you I have been trying to get a hold of you since this morning.”

“Sorry Madelyn, I have been trying to figure my piece out. I just needed to be shut away from everything for a minute.”

More silence followed, she hated it. (Y/N) drummed her fingers against the glass table-top impatiently as she waited for Madelyn to speak up again. After a few seconds she pulled the phone away from her ear to check she was still connected to the line.

“(Y/N) hello? Yes, sorry about that, I completely understand. I just wanted to let you know that the conference is in two hours. And after today you can have the week off. Okay?”

“Say that again?” laughter echoed through the phone, (Y/N) grimaced as she realised, she just said that out loud.

“God, five years on the job and you still surprise me (L/N), you have the week off. We, sorry I will deal with Translucent properly after the conference okay. I will see you in two hours.”

“Ok- “the line was disconnected before she could properly thank Madelyn. (Y/N) tried to break down the conversation that had just taken place, Stillwell sounded happy, but was she?

‘That week she wants me to have off is going to turn into never coming back, (Y/N) you asshat’, (Y/N) let out a shaky breath before looking at her watch, she could do this. It’s the same as last time, apologise to the press and explain the circumstances. The circumstance being that Translucent was being a peeping tom in the ladies visitors bathroom and got caught by a bystander.

“I’m going to kill that invisible son of a bitch.”

Two hours later….

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you could take your seats please the press conference is about to begin.”

The room was buzzing with talk and bodies, but (Y/N) didn’t notice.

She was too busy staring out the floor to ceiling window looking at the people passing below her, such simple boring people naïve to everything around them. The corruption and selfishness that she has witnessed ever since she started working at Vought has made her regret taking off her rose-gold glasses. The world she lives in now is scary, she use to fall asleep at night knowing that she was safe and that the superheroes would defend her no matter what. But now, when she shuts her eyes, she is drowning in the screams of those that could have – could’ve been spared, could’ve been saved – they never leave her because they know she’ll crack eventually. And she can see it, her face is puffy from the lack of sleep, her eyes are practically swimming in their bags, her shoulders can’t even carry the weight of alcohol – they use to carry everything she had going on her life.

And she had a really painful ingrown toenail that has been biting her for weeks.

(Y/N)’s hands smooth down her dress, the folds that use to make her weak and anxious now give her strength and a power of her own. She has struggled with the way she looked since she was a young girl, but her mother had always made her realise that she didn’t need to look like Victoria secret model to command the attention of everyone. Her rolls, cellulite and stretch marks have been with her through everything and she sure as hell will never make them leave her.

(Y/N) notice that Stillwell’s speech was coming to an end and checked herself in the reflection of the mirror, she went to go turn around when something in the corner of her (E/C) eyes made her turn back around to look out the window. But before she could investigate further the roar of applause made her turn her attention to Stillwell welcoming her on stage.

Smoothing down her dress one more time she strutted on to the stage and waved gracefully at the camera. Giving Madelyn a quick hug she turned to the podium and spoke with her voice loud and confident:

“Thank you all for making it today, Randy looking beautiful as ever,’ the crowd chuckled as Randy bowed towards (Y/N), ‘but we need not be distracted by Randy’s radiance. Unfortunately, there has been an incident involving Translucent exposing himself to a member of the public, and I can tell you know that the woman has our sincere apologies.” (Y/N) placed her hand over her heart and smiled sweetly at everyone, god it made her sick.

“As you all know, for Translucent to be, well, Translucent he has to be as naked as the day he was born. And recently we have had a few security threats in the building. He was following a lead that led him to a part of the building that he doesn’t quite know. Our bathrooms are gender neutral, to make everyone feel safe in included. We have talked to the victim of the exposure,’ (Y/N) made sure her chin was high and her voice was clear, if she stopped her true feelings were going to come out. And she couldn’t afford another scandal, ‘she was understanding about the situation, and we made sure she had everything she needed. I can assure you, ladies, gentlemen, and others. That once Translucent comes back from Palestine, you will have a sincere apology from the super himself. Any questions?”

She instantly regretted that question as the light and noise that arose once she finished talking made her believe she was entering heaven and hell.

(Y/N) closed her eyes briefly and took a deep, deep breath in before opening her eyes and smiling widely.

“(Y/N)! What do you think about the new member of the seven? Starlight?”

_________________

(Y/N)’s heels were off and she couldn’t be more grateful, she slumped her way back to the room she came from with a smile on her face remembering that she had left a half empty bottle of whiskey on the desk. Her eyes were halfway between closed and open after the media conference that went from two hours to six.

The soles of her feet were crying to be out to rest, and her back was already dead. She felt like a zombie, probably looked like one with how slowly she was walking. But when she saw the door to her room, her back straightened and her feet came back to life.

She completely ignored the fact that the door was open as she was too focused on the bottle of heaven calling her name; throwing her shoes into the closet, she turned on the lights and glided over to the desk only to halt when said bottle of heaven was missing.

“What the fuck?” she lifted up the laptop, papers and plant searching for her liquid gold.

“Looking for this?” the scream that left her mouth was surprisingly loud for such an exhausted person, whipping around (E/C) eyes pierced into electric blue. (Y/N) stumbled back into a wall as she tried to comprehend what was right in front of her, or rather who.

He looked different in civilian clothes, boxer shorts and a white t-shirt adorned his body, hiding the perfection underneath. He was sculpted by gods, his thighs made (Y/N)’s mouth water and he knew it by the smirk on his face. He was stood in his signature pose, hands on hips. And it drove her wild.

(Y/N) bit her lip subconsciously as she looked him up and down before stopping at the bulge between his legs, it was calling her attention begging to be held.

The man in observation raised his eyebrow and cleared his throat. He watched gleefully as (Y/N)’s face contorted into a look of embarrassment, but the smile dropped as he met her eyes and saw the tears threatening to fall.

“Come here.” No question needed; (Y/N) threw herself at the supe in front of her and the tears released themselves from their prison. She stuffed her head in his neck and breathed in his scent, and for once in the past week she finally felt at peace with everything.

“God, I missed you so fucking much,” her voice broke as she moved her head to look into his eyes, her solace. (Y/N) found it ironic how stormy his eyes get yet she finds them so calming, so peaceful.

He was her solace.

His hands cupped the back of her thighs and hoisted her up. Once he got to the bed he turned around and dropped himself onto the bed, never letting go of (Y/N)’s legs. He just sat there, (Y/N) straddling his lap, watching her. He noticed the bags under her (E/C) eyes, and the dried blood on her lips from the continuous lip biting. It brought a sadness to him as he watched the bountiful goddess before him struggle.

“Let it go.” And with those words (Y/N) let the tears stream down her face, the numbness washed itself away with the tears of pain and sorrow. (Y/N) felt the weight that had been dragging her into the floor finally lift off her shoulders.

No more pain, no when she has everything she needs right here.

“I love you John,” and he was all she needed.

She ran her fingers down his neck, the feeling of something sticky caused her to stop and withdraw her hand. Crimson covered her (Y/S/C) hand, coating it to the bone. She started at it, wondering how it got there, the metallic smell invaded her sense as she watched it run down her forearm.

Without a thought, she brought her finger into her mouth and slowly licked the sweet and tempting blood off her finger. Humming to herself, she closed her eyes and tried to saviour the taste for as long as she could. The warmth of the blood lingered in her throat, coating it as it travelled down her trachea. (Y/N) opened her eyes as she finished swallowing the last drop and smiled sweetly down at the man trapped between her legs.

“Did they suffer?” her tongue swept over her teeth, licking off the remainder of the pleasant treat her man brought home. She watched at the smirk stitched itself onto his face, answering her question. She giggled softly before diving towards him, biting his bottoms lip before devouring him into a kiss of passion and lust.

John grunted quietly as he felt her pierce his bottom lip, but that grunt turned into a delicious moan as (Y/N) suckled the wound.

“Did they scream?” her question was breathless and quick as she frantically tore apart his shirt, hands roaming the body sculpted by God. (Y/N) pulled away, smiling to herself when she watched John try to chase her lips, she looked down at his body and frowned slightly when she realised, he healed before he came back to her.

Looking up at John through her eyelashes, she slightly traced the muscle of her superhero.

“Can I Homelander.” The eyes of the man in question turned dark with lust as he pieced together what (Y/N) wanted. He watched intently as she leaned over to the side and withdrew a knife from the end table. He watched the little sparkle in her (E/C) eyes turn into an explosion as she pierced his skin, he watched as her tongue swept through the valley of blood on his stomach. He watched everything his woman did to him and he loved every last bit of it.

John cupped (Y/N) face after a while and brought it towards his face, he wiped of the blood on the corner of her mouth. The life had come back to her face, the tears had dried and the bags look less looming. His girl was back, and he was going to make sure that joy he sees now, never leaves her face. Even if it means killing a few people, or a few thousand he’d do it without a second thought.

“I love you (Y/N).”

#homelander x reader #plus size #fluff #the boys #vought #translucent #homelander #the seven #bloodplay

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seacottons · 4 years

Text

Find a Reason to Smile

pairing: choi san x reader

summary: you help an amnesiac named san find his way back home, and in return he helps you find a reason to always smile.

genre: sci-fi, dystopian au, horror, angst, language

words: 16.9k

warnings: excessive violence, blood, mental instability, mentions of smut.

The wind and rain felt like tiny little pricks against your skin and hair as you hastily rode back home on your yellow bicycle. Dark clouds blanketed the coastal town of yours, washing it an eerie, yet somewhat comforting darkness. Despite the gloomy weather, your mood was still beaming due to just wrapping up the last exam of your third year in university.

The streets were almost nearly vacant in this part of town, thankfully. You slowed down slightly whilst crossing roads and intersections, puddles of water splashing harshly against your shoes. Your hair clung onto your face, and a few strands flew into your mouth and eyes as you turned corner after corner. You flinched as the sound of thunder shook the ground underneath you. The street lamps and illuminated street signs flickered rapidly, and a flash of lightning followed shortly afterwards.

Your mind only registered what just occurred after a few seconds too late. A flash right in front of you blinded your sight, and a big lump of a body strewn on the wet cement crossed paths with your bicycle, causing you to fly and skid across the concrete a few feet away from the initial impact.

Hissing under your breath as pebbles dug into your broken flesh of your palms and knees, you glanced up and groaned, completely confused as to what made you lose your balance. You were positive there was nothing but empty space there a few seconds ago. The rain was heavy, but not enough to blind you. Your head throbbed, and you were sure bruises were already forming.

Your breath was caught in your throat at the sight of a man lying beside your bike, clutching his side and emitting grunts of pain, his frame writhing. The man could make out a few words through the hazy fog of his mind,"Mist...okay..."

"Mister..are...okay?"

"Mister, are you okay?"

You scrambled up onto your feet, mind frazzled and bewildered,”I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t see you there! I- ..what were you doing lying down in the middle of the sidewalk. Oh my god, are you okay?” you blithered loudly, hands reaching down to grab onto the man’s own frail ones.

Your rambling seemed to make the man’s headache even worse, and you hastily helped him onto his feet. He was a few inches taller than you, a well built, lean frame adorned with dark clothing and a leather jacket. A striking patch of green decorated his ebony locks, which clung to his flushed face as his pained eyes bore into your own, “Where am I? Who are you?”

You visibly blanched upon hearing the male’s words, hesitant hands reaching up to clutch the air in front of you, panic soon welcoming itself into your eyes and voice, “I gave you amnesia..,” you clutched his wet, black leather jacket with desperate fists, brows knitting in distress, “Please don’t sue me! I have one more year left to graduate! I’ll help yo-“

You were thankful that no one was driving by to witness the scene, you on your wobbly legs, screaming desperately in a stranger’s face. Before you managed to finish your plead, the man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, his frame collapsing onto your own jittery one. Yelping in fright, your hands flew to steady his body, which felt cold and deadweight in your arms. You rested your fingers against his jugular, your shoulders deflating in relief at the prominent heartbeat.

Spending the night of your last day of the semester was intended to be scheduled with partying, watching movies, going out with acquaintances, but fate decided to grant you a man who popped out of whatever that flash was, only to faint in your arms in broad daylight, feet away from your apartment complex, and rain drops creating frequent ripples in the puddles surrounding you two.

You were paranoid that somehow you’d be imprisoned or fined if you called the police for giving a stranger a possible concussion, so the next best thing you came up with is to take said stranger back to your apartment, wrapping him up in several towels and lying him down onto the couch. Droplets of rain cascaded down his high cheekbones, and onto your leather sofa, but that was the least of your concern at the moment. You debated whether or not to call your mother for help. She will certainly give you an earful if she found out you allowed a stranger into your own home.

As you were in the process of constructing a reasonable sounding text, a groan escaped the man’s mouth as he reached up to press the heel of his palm onto his forehead. You panicked at the sight, frame stiffening as the male sat up slowly, pausing to gaze at you in confusion. He tilted his head, eyes blinking in curiosity. His dark orbs studied your form, flickering around to examine his surroundings before turning back to you, “Hello?”

You offered an awkward smile, shrugging your shoulders and putting your phone down, “Uh.. hi. I’m (y/n). Are you feeling better, Mister? Do you remember anything?”

His dark eyes glanced around the room once again, before looking down at his wet attire and hands. He peered at his reflection from the mirror across from him and turned to you with a look of distress, “I don’t seem to recall anything other than when you crashed into me. By any chance, do I know you? Do you know who I am?”

There were a few moments in your life you were proud of. Few, meaning you can count them with one hand. This was not one of them. You found yourself crying in the middle of your apartment, with a complete stranger attempting to comfort and console you, when in fact he was the one who most likely needed it most. He smiled sheepishly, his attempt at consoling you only twinging a bit of hope in the pit of your stomach. He explained that it wasn’t logical for you to be the cause of his amnesia, due to the fact that you only managed to hurt his side as opposed to his head. You winced at the memory, nodding shamefully and offering him some ointment for the mark on his side, courteously left by the wheel of your bicycle. About half an hour of ceaseless reassurance from the man, you managed to regain your composure, asking him if he had some sort of identification.

To your disappointment, and his also, there was no source of information to identify him with. Pockets empty, no phone in sight either. You ran a hand through your hair, eyes downcast as you scrambled to think of plan b, only to catch sight of the the marking behind the man’s left ear. You raised a brow, leaning forward and tilting your head, startling the male from the sudden proximity,”You have a tattoo? San? Is that your name?”

There doesn’t seem to be any spark of recognition in the man’s eyes as you say the name, but he scratches the nape of his neck sheepishly,”I am honestly not too sure, but it’s safe to assume that it is? I’m sorry, I wish I could just remember one thing at least..”

You offered him a smile of pity, shaking your head to disagree with him,“That’s okay, San. I’m sure we’ll figure something out. In the meantime, you should change before you end up getting sick. I think my clothes will fit you somewhat. It’s the least I can do for crashing into you. Is that okay?”

“Ah, thank you,” you nodded at him to proceed,”I appreciate it. Do you mind if I stay here until the rain stops?”

You dug through numerous names of people named San on social media within your town, but you had no luck in finding a match. If your parents knew you kept a complete stranger in your home out of pity, they would’ve called you a lunatic.

He was very bashful about the offer to stay the night, denying it at first and telling you he’ll find his way somehow. Days later, you spotted him sleeping on one of the bus benches near your apartment as you made your way to the convenience store. He was reluctant at first, but finally agreed to stay for a short term with you.

You hadn’t even meant to but the poor guy had nowhere to go, no money on hand, and no memories whatsoever. What a predicament to be in.

Several days passed, and you’ve yet to tell your anyone of the incident that occurred that spring night.

It was no lie that over the course of several weeks of summer, the man had grown onto you. San was extremely humble, aiding you in any way he found possible. He took charge of cleaning, cooking, and even ironing your clothes on some days. The days when you had work, you would come home to find the apartment sparkling, and the smell of dinner wafting through the entirety of the small complex.

There were a few strange quirks you’ve noticed about him, though. For starters, he called the planet Earth, Utopia. You sat down for a good half hour over dinner one night, arguing back and forth regarding the name, but he just couldn’t explain why he thought that, and where that piece of information came from. He flung a pea at your nose as you pulled out several maps on your phone, proving your point, a pout resting on his features as he gave up his argument.

You were mildly paranoid that San was secretly a slimy alien disguised as a handsome, young man, from a different planet who somehow dropped down onto Earth, but you pushed that thought away several days later when he showed zero signs of being extra terrestrial. ( You forced him to sit down through reruns of alien related films, gauging and studying his reactions only to disprove your conclusion when he grimaced and complained he didn’t like the concept of aliens. )

However, he always seemed fascinated by the twinkling stars at night, occasionally asking if you’d like to sit and watch them, instead of movies, every now and then.

He enjoyed warm cups of tea as the cool breeze from outside fluttered into the apartment, the two of you pointing out which constellations you recognized.

—

“This is cute,try it on!" you threw a fuzzy, white sweater at San over the door of the changing room.

He took it off his head and inspected it, eyes blinking rapidly. He then threw it back,"It seems itchy."

"Come on! How about this?"

"The color is reminiscent of the time you threw up the leftover sushi.”

"Just say it’s an ugly shade of green and shut up," you grumbled, stomach flipping at the mere thought of the incident that occurred days prior. This wasn’t the first time he bought it up, only to laugh and tease you for it when you quickly shut him down.

San, albeit surprisingly being a playful and mischievous guy, was very modest and humble when it came to your shopping trips. Guilt would wash his features as he argued about you spending money on him for clothes and other necessities, often making excuses of why he didn’t want the items you chose for him, but you never missed the sparkle in his eyes as he placed the articles of clothing back on the racks.

He would pull items from your hands before you had the chance to purchase them for him, sometimes starting embarrassing scenes in various stores. When you have him a hard time, he would cling onto your arm, whining into your ear and attempt to pull you out of the store.

You did get kicked out of a plushie store that one time in which you accidentally kicked over one of the shelves while wrestling over a shiba inu plushie, tipping it over only slightly, but just enough for stacks of puppy plushies to fall into a heap on the floor.

He would often scold you when he finds the same item he’d been ogling laying innocently onto his makeshift bed in the tiny living room. San profusely apologized for being a nuisance to you and your wallet, and every time, you threatened to wrestle him down to take back his words.

“You said you wanted this one, and you’d name him Shiber. So give him a proper welcome to our home.”

He did ask to help him find a job, but you insisted you were fine with spending your money on him for the next month. Tuition and books were not a problem thanks to your scholarship, rent wasn’t too high, and you didn’t even own a car for you to spend money on gas. You also had several years of saving up from numerous jobs to help you put your mind at ease, but that did not stop the gnawing feeling of guilt that succumbed San every time you traded your money for something to give him.

You did take him to see a specialist, and he’d gone under several tests and examinations, but all the test results came back normal. There was no indication of head trauma, and he was very healthy for his age, which you two assumed to be in his early to mid twenties.

Nobody in town recognized him when you two had your weekly shopping trips, either.

He did promise to only spend two months with you and go about his way, if he managed to recover his memories. If not, he would land a job while you returned back to university for your senior year.

You never did tell him, but you left your bedroom door ajar ever so slightly to gaze at him in sympathy during the nights he woke up restless, silently staring out the window of the living room, arms clutching Shiber to his chest tightly for comfort. You knew he didn’t enjoy feeling lost and helpless, even if he never liked to admit it. His eyes held a heavy, silent sadness, one so deep that you think not even time will mend.

Learning to read and understand San came naturally and seamlessly. You caught every flicker of his eyes, every change in his tone, and every expression he makes. Every twitch of his lips did not go unnoticed by you.

He soon warmed up to your comforting presence, much like the summer weather.

"Ahhh! It burns!"

You fell in a tangled mess of sheets and limbs, startled by a screech. You were acutely aware of the pain blossoming onto your bottom as you landed ungracefully on your wooden floor. Beams of sunlight shone brightly in your room, welcoming the new day.

"San! Are you okay!?”

You piped hurriedly, stumbling up to rush towards the male, tangled sheets clinging around your ankle, your hair a mess and eyes puffy from sleep.

You failed to notice a roll of toilet paper flying towards your head.

The impact startled you, heart leaping in your throat at the sudden attack, your adrenaline pumping through your veins as you raised your arms for defense.

It was San on the bathroom doorway, mouth red and puffy and eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"Where the hell did you get this mouthwash? It's like I'm swishing fire in my mouth!" he cried, profusely rubbing at his mouth the back of his sleeve. He grumbled, turning around to lightly slap the bottle of green liquid on the bathroom countertop, fidgeting around and running his hands through his hair in exasperation.

"Fucking hell, San. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I nearly burned my tongue off, but thanks for asking!”

You dropped your head in your hands, contemplating your life choices for a few seconds before walking back to your bedroom to get an hour more of undisturbed sleep.

Summer was nearing an end, and the two of you fell into a simple routine. He would iron your work clothes the night before, wake up early to cook a light breakfast, and help you tidy up for your day.

You had joked one day, asking if his profession was a chef due to his great cooking skills.

“Maybe you’re secretly rich and hired me as your personal chef, but we argued one day, and you hit me so hard with a pan that I lost my braincells, and-“

You quickly stuffed his mouth with a loaf of bread to shush him up. He blinked, flabbergasted at the sudden intrusion, before hastily swiping a jam covered finger onto your cheek in retaliation.

Not only was he talented at cooking great food, but he was also amazing at styling hair.

He scoffed as a stubborn strand of your tresses curled up from the nearly perfect hairstyle he struggled to create. Licking his lips, he pressed them into a thin line as he leaned forward, gel slicked hands working meticulously to smoothen out your locks,”San, I work at a coffee shop, not at a fashion agency. Don’t you think this is a bit much?” your back ached from being stuck in the same position for nearly forty minutes.

He ignored your comment, scolding you for attempting to distract him, eyes trained onto redoing the intricate braid in your hair, adding several tiny diamond clips, and a golden ribbon lacing through your locks. You tilted your head at an angle, struggling to catch sight of his beautiful work in the mirror, your eyes practically twinkling in delight at the sight.

“San, you’re so talented! I should’ve hired you as my hairdresser months ago,” you marveled happily.

His heart leaped in his throat, much like the acrobats he’s seen in movies, whilst you crushed him into a tight hug. He stared down at the crown of your head, jaw slackening and eyes growing wide at the first physical gesture of affection you’ve ever given him. His frame felt like it was doused in gasoline and lit on fire, but before he had the chance to ask himself why, he caught sight of his reflection. His ears were an embarrassing shade of pink, like the tiny cosmos he helped you grow on the balcony. He hoped you hadn’t noticed.

A gentle smile found itself onto his features as he raised a respectful hand to the dip of your back, returning the hug fondly, his lids fluttering shut as he basks in the moment of having you cling onto him. This was better than hugging Shiber, he noted to himself.

“I’ll do it for as long as time allows it,” he curls a strand of your hair around his pointer finger, before delicately pinning it behind your ear, his gaze unfaltering as his eyes bore into your own.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, and you simpered at his bashful expression,”I’ll see you tonight, then. No need to cook anything, either. Today we’ll try out the new barbecue place across town, yeah?” His eyes widened, your bright tone snapping him out of his dazed state, eyeing you in mild embarrassment for staring much too long than deemed necessary. He pulled away abruptly, hands busy attending to the brushes and combs across the counter, anything that was within his grasp really– the green patch of hair concealing his eyes from your sight,”Y-yeah. I’ll be ready when you come back home,” he responded, voice meek and delicate as he flashed you a small grin.

His tender smile was reminiscent of spring mornings: fresh, warm, and welcoming.

—

The oil sizzled as you gently laid down a slice of chicken onto the grill, your hands startling as tiny droplets of oil met the flesh of your hands. The steel tongs fell from your grip, mouth pulled back as you emit a hiss of pain, your other hand flying to rub away at the burning sensation.

Delicate hands wrapped around your own, the pads of his fingers rubbing soothing circles onto your skin, his eyes holding a weight of disappointment,”I told you, you’re supposed to do it gently, or else you’ll splash yourself with all that oil, dummy.”

“I was being gentle!” you shot back, only for your words to die down into a small whisper once you locked your eyes with his. Clearing your throat, you pulled your hands away from his hold, allowing your tresses to frame your face in hopes of concealing the blossoming pink of your cheeks. ”Alright, I’ll be more cautious next time,” you added quickly, picking at the side dishes with your chopsticks, sheepishly avoiding his teasing stare.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint when exactly San’s gazes affected you the way they did now.

They left a soft, bubbly feeling inside the pit of your stomach, reminding you of his favorite powder scented laundry detergent he became very fond of.

“It cleans Shiber’s fur better than the lavender one.”

You didn’t know why you now noticed small quirks of his that you found attractive.

The way his skin dips as he smiles, displaying the cutest set of dimples you’ve ever set your eyes on. The way his eyes glimmer at the sight of a new episode of his favorite tv series. The way his voice rises an octave in excitement at a clear night sky, displaying twinkling diamonds over the town.

And also the tiny freckles that were beautifully paraded thanks to his v-neck shirts. The mole on his cheek. Or when he gnaws his bottom lip in concentration when either cooking or attempting to rid his shirts of a stubborn wrinkle.

The way the veins in his arms are more pronounced whilst he cooks up your favorite dish, or when his muscles ripple as he reaches up for something on the shelves.

And the sound of his contagious laugh as you proposed the idea of him becoming your roommate and helping him hunt for a job, despite having no known credentials or work experience as soon as you move to Seoul.

Initially, you didn’t think much of these small seeds of attraction you felt towards him. It wasn’t a crush. You were merely fond of his cute, clingy behavior.

You ignored them when they sprouted.

And now it seems they have blossomed, and you think there’s no denying it anymore, however you decided for the sake of the steady and well-built friendship, you’ll bury those feelings in a small, dark corner of your mind, tucked safe and away from prying eyes, specifically his.

“(Y/n)?”

You jumped in your seat, eyes widening and a ghost of a breath escaping your parted lips as you crashed back down to reality. San’s eyes were furrowed in concern at your silence, his hand hovering over the grill, tongs stretched and ready to latch onto the meat. You were quick to whip out an apology, offering him a sheepish grin,”Sorry, did you say something?”

He jabbed a thumb to the flat screen t.v, quickly changing the subject to save you from further embarrassment,”They’re talking about University of Seoul. Isn’t that the one you’re planning on transferring to next month?”

Physics Professors of US, Dr. Jung and assistant Dr. Kang, announce successful test in the relation between their theory of quantum physics and alternate reality; They say the world is ready to witness something grand.

You glanced at the long headline, eyes then trailing up to the news anchor, and then back to San. A black haired professor began an interview with the hosts over video call, but you soon tuned it out disinterestedly while spooning a few grains of rice and seasoned seaweed, only pausing mid-bite as you noticed the twinkling reflection of the lightbulbs in tear drops falling from San’s eyes as he stared silently at the screen.

“San? Are you okay?”

He quirked a brow in confusion, only then following your line of vision towards his side of the table. Peering down at the droplets, he raised dainty fingers to brush against his cheeks, examining the wetness as he pulled away, confusion decorating his features,“Oh? I’m crying?”

You settled your spoon down, eyes, filled to the brim with concern, roaming to study his features, and for the first time since you met him, you couldn’t read the expression on his face, couldn’t decipher what he was feeling. Your appetite suddenly dissipated, worry filling hunger’s place instead,”Is something the matter? You can tell me, you know?”

The lights in the restaurant flickered continuously, tv screens pixelating and distorting. Customers and the employees paused their ministrations to look around in confusion.

Your face glitched and pixelated, and his eyes widened at the sight.

Go back home!

As if watching a poorly captured, grainy video, he suddenly found himself in a pitch black room. He was aware he was standing above a fallen figure, even with the lack of light. A beam suddenly flashed down upon him, casting a dim ring of light around his frame. His pupils dilated and quivering at the sight of the pale visage void of any signs of life staring blankly at him from the bloody mess on the floor. Upon closer inspection, he realized the corpse he was staring down at was an exact replica of himself, face gaunt and frozen with terror stricken eyes.

Go back home, San. I’m so sorry.

The corpse’s ghostly face blurred and pixelated, before he felt lips press against his own, a giggle following shortly after. His breath caught in his throat as he gaped down at your smiling figure,”Of course, I’ll marry you, Sannie. Who else would I want to spend the rest of my life with?”

Home.

And then you vanished in fade of colors, your body dissipating with the breeze.

Everything came to a gentle still.

Suddenly, the sight of a fist gripping a gleaming syringe rushing towards his direction and painfully digging into his wrist—

He jumped, startled knees crashing into the underside of the table, the utensils clattering upon impact, making you also jolt in place, hands hastily reaching up to clamp onto your chest in surprise.

“San!”

Unbeknownst to him, something akin to severe horror flashed within his orbs for a millisecond, silent terror haunting the dark depths of his eyes as his gaze flickered from the tv screen to your face, the ambiance of the restaurant becoming nothing more than a faint, muted buzz in the background.

You were alarmed by the sudden rapid rise and fall of his chest, shallow breathing overlapping with the sounds of utensils clattering in the background.

“San? San, tell me what’s wrong.”

He took a moment to assess your expression, hesitantly shaking his head moments later, voice small, hands fidgeting with his chopsticks, before reaching up to grasp the sides of his head, suddenly unaware as to why his hands were trembling,”I don’t know? I don’t know why I’m crying, (y/n). I have a terrible migraine too.”

You were quick to send a glare at the nosy customers who took a sudden interest in you and your friend, eyes narrowing in triumph as they hastily averted their gazes.

“Do you think I’m having an allergic reaction to something?” you heard San mumble into his palm.

You weren’t sure how to answer him.

“Yeah, maybe.. it’s the radish?”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen sheer, raw terror in one’s eyes like that before.

That look on his face will forever haunt you.

Weeks later, that night was buried away along with the other nights you’ve spent with San in your coastal town. He helped you pack your belongings, taping box after box as the two of you prepared to move inland into the city for your final year of university.

San surprised you two days after you moved into your new, spacious apartment with the announcement that he obtained a job at a local floral shop just down the street, owned by two friends, Jongho and Yunho. You blanched as soon as he informed you that he explained to them he had no idea of his identity and held no official documents, but had a knack for delicate and intricate styling of materials, ranging from flowers, to food, and hair. He even challenged them to a bouquet arrangement match.

“Is that seriously how you convinced them? No fingerprints or anything? No documents? How will they pay you? You can’t just go around telling people you lost your memories, San. What if someone takes advantage of you?” you chided gently, brows creasing as you worked at adjusting one of the paintings on the wall.

He feigned a pout, fingers reaching to brush a strand of hair from your eyes,”And here I thought you’ll say let’s go out to celebrate. Are you not proud of me? I’m getting paid in cash to avoid the documentation requirements, if that’s what’s bothering you. I told you I need to start helping with the bills,” he crossed his arms, back resting against the wall and head turned the other direction as he silently sulked.

You didn’t know if that was even legal, but you decided to brush it off at the sight of his crestfallen expression, your hands quickly finding their way to his own, grasping them and giving them a gentle squeeze,”Of course we’ll celebrate! Over drinks and barbecue!”

If the Sun had feelings, you were sure it would feel a massive amount of envy towards the male in front of you, with the way his face shined and glowed with every smile that reached his handsome features. Your heart will never become accustomed to the sunshine-like smile, no matter how many times he beams at you like that.

A month flew by as quickly as the leaves changed color during autumn, and soon, you two found yourselves constantly huddled underneath a large blanket, hands holding steaming mugs of tea while you watched new movies his co-workers recommended him. You smiled fondly at his excited announcement of finding a new movie to share with you. Your heart swelled at the sound of his giggling throughout the film.

You confided to him after one particular movie regarding homesickness, suddenly finding yourself tearing up at the thought of your old town and apartment and how much you missed them.

He prodded your cheek in a playful manner, tapping away your tears with a tissue before running a soothing palm onto the back of your head,”You just have to find a reason to smile. It won’t fix the problem per say, but it’ll make the situation easier for you until you find a solution,” he mused,”Like me, for example! I don’t have a clue about who I was or am, or where I came from, but you’re the reason I still smile.”

Your brows rose up high at his words, and you couldn’t tell if the flush on your face was the result of crying anymore. You also felt ashamed all of a sudden, realizing your situation wasn’t nearly as bad as his,”I make you happy?”

“Of course you do,” he chuckled, hands patting his chest proudly,”I don’t have to be reason for you to smile, though. Maybe it can be that big star that twinkles every night out your window, or the smell of that nice bakery down the street.”

Your stomach fluttered.

“You make me smile more than anything and anyone, San.”

Some days, he’ll come home to find you face first in one of your heavy books, hand still gripping your pen while a monotonous voice from your laptop plays out throughout the kitchen. He chided your sleeping form as he picked you up, carrying you to your bedroom and huffing when you immediately snuggled into your sheets and pillows,”What will you ever do without me, dummy.”

The third month in, and you eventually became accustomed to the new environment, city, people, and university. It was a lot larger in comparison to your previous one, and it accommodated not only local students, but international ones as well. You were offered an internship with one of the university’s top leading music professors, and you contemplated accepting the offer or not for months. It worked out in your favor, though. San had a stable job now. You weren’t as worried about your finances as much as you were before, you were enjoying your last year of studies, your apartment was spacious enough to fit the both of you, and it wasn’t too far from your university either.

Your manifestations of a simple and happy life became reality, and there was no room left to complain.

There was one problem though.

You learned that San was not to be trusted with money. He either spent it on food or yourself. You begged, pleaded, and chided repeatedly that you really did not need every color of the sweater you liked at the shop, or the fancy teacup you saw at the market, but he insisted on buying them all,”But all these colors suit you! Besides, it’s getting too cold, you need to dress warmly!”

Saturday night he presented you with a glittering, amethyst necklace. You paled at the sight, cheeks stuffed with the remaining spoonfuls of dinner as you gazed from your plate, to the necklace, and then back to his face,”You didn’t. San, not again..” you shook your head.

At your words, he rolled his eyes, scoffing and skidding his chair as he stood up to walk towards you,“You have the audacity to complain? Have you forgotten you’ve bought all my clothes and kept me well fed over the summer?” he leaned over your frame, polite hands clasping the necklace around the column of your neck, grinning in satisfaction as it glimmered underneath the fluorescent lights,”You make it even more beautiful than it already is, (y/n).”

He gasped as you choked on the remnants of your food, hands hastily slapping your back in aid, loud voice bouncing against the walls of the apartment, scolding you for not being careful enough with your food.

One night, he came home pleading for you to visit the amusement park that opened in town. San knew that one certain look of his that made your resolve crumble into nothing but a heap of emptiness within a matter of seconds, and that jerk used it to his advantage every damn time. And it worked every damn time. You were ashamed of how easily you fell for his tricks, but in most circumstances, it was worth it.

If one day, the Sun were to cease existing, it will be okay, because San’s smile is its greatest rival.

You swore San’s eyes twinkled brighter than any of the stars in the night sky. Happiness looked best on San. He had bits of cotton candy still stuck on his cupid’s bow, pockets filled to maximum capacity with tickets. You couldn’t help but emit a snort of amusement at his behavior as he dragged you from booth to booth, demanding you to a challenge every time.

He was the embodiment of happiness and sunshine, all things soft and delicate. He begged you to enter the photo booths with him, and then proceeded to have a bet on who can win the most prizes.

“I’m telling you, these games are all rigged. I just know it,” you grumbled angrily, harshly chomping down onto a handful of popcorn.

He peeked up, arms struggling to carry the amount of plushies and prizes he won. A green hat sat on his head comfortably, his eyes teasing as you placed a few pieces of popcorn into his gaping mouth,”Sorry, couldn’t hear you from all the plushies I’m holding. What did you say?”

“San, that makes absolutely no sense.”

“I know, you’re just fun to tease.”

He managed to win at nearly every game you played, and you gaped in disbelief as he won at the fishing game for the fifth time in a row. Crossing your arms, you turned around, hand sticking up to shush him as he called your name,”Rigged!”

You felt something cold and hard poke your cheek, and you turned to be met with a pouty rubber duck that was much too close for comfort. He repeated the action, along with a soft quack, and you attempted to swat his prize toy away from him, only for him to mimic the duck’s expression, your heart nearly falling to your feet at the sight,”Don’t be angry. I promise I’ll let you win next time.”

Having San work at a floral shop meant being gifted with a new flower every day.

He would beg you to stop writing in your notebook just to listen to him ramble on about what a certain flower meant, and so forth. Curse Jongho for getting him into this sort of thing, but you couldn’t deny the fact he appeared so endearing while blabbering passionately about why he thinks white roses aren’t meant to be related to death, or why cosmos deserve more love after Yunho trash talked them one day.

“Jongho, what are you doing?” San asked one day, arms placing the new shipment of glass vases down in the corner of the room. Yunho peeked up from tying a ribbon onto a pink bouquet, snickering at the sight of Jongho ripping petal after petal of a yellow flower.

“He wants to know if the girl that visits the shop every Friday likes him back,” Yunho teased, ducking as a piece of floral foam was thrown in his direction.

San leaned over Jongho’s shoulder to study the flower inquisitively, eyes wide and curious,”How do you determine that?” Jongho’s miffed expression soon was replaced with a stoic one as he explained to San how it works,”So, all I have to do is pluck them and whichever is the last one..”

Jongho nodded, elbowing the ebony haired male in the chest,”Are you thinking about the girl you live with?”

San’s flustered expression gave him away. He hid the white daisy behind his back defensively, shrugging his shoulders and announcing he has to get back to work. Jongho and Yunho shot knowing smiles at his retreating figure.

“She loves me not. She loves me. She loves me not.”

Hiding behind a stack of boxes, San was finally at the last petal, his fingers hovering above it with widened eyes and parted lips,”She loves me.”

You were too engrossed in editing an audio file, that the sight of a gerbera daisy flying into your face startled you nearly to death. San laughed as you yelped in fright, hands immediately ripping the headphones from your ears, before repeatedly smacking his hip in anger,”Are you trying to give me a heart attack!” you hissed in frustration.

He placed the daisy behind your ear and leaned back up to examine his work,”So pretty.”

You didn’t know whether he was referring to the flower or yourself, but either way, that didn’t stop your ears from flaring up.

A month later, you managed to survive the exams, and your second to last semester came to an end. The university held a party a week later in celebration, just before winter holiday, and you asked San over dinner if he’d like to attend. He shyly denied it at first, saying he never learned how to dance, but you insisted you wouldn’t have to if it made him uncomfortable,”We can just relax and eat the food there. I promise it’ll be fun!”

You wore a well fitted, knee length black dress, and insisted on San wearing something formal as well, much to his displeasure. He reached a hand to readjust his tie for the umpteenth time that night, glowering at your snickering form,”Oh stop, you’ll mess it up. You look perfectly fine.”

“Fine? Is that all I get?” he prodded your cheek, playful lilt to his tone,”You should pay me, Prince San, for attending this party with you. I will only accept cash or kisses.”

His grin stretched further as you stumbled on your words, a faint scowl reaching your features as you thwacked him on the chest lightly,”Stop being embarrassing!”

You loved his teasing.

He knew you did, and curse him for taking every opportunity to make you a blushing, babbling mess, especially in public. The university’s courtyard couldn’t be recognized from the dangerous amount of people within the area, music blasting off in several directions, and drinks and food being served left and right.

San shot you a smile as he noticed the glimmering pendant resting on your collarbones,”Did you want to dance, (y/n)?”

You glanced at him curiously, head tilting back as you took a sip of your soda,”I thought you were too shy to dance in public?”

“That’s where you’re not wrong,” he chuckled, taking you by the wrist and behind one of the building’s corners. People still walked by, but there was a curtain of privacy that provided him with a subtle boost of confidence. He mimicked the princes in his favorite movies, head bowing and offering you his hand, to which you laughed and accepted. Your arms rested against his firm chest, lithe fingers curling onto his shoulders as his hands hesitantly found their way to rest onto the dip of your waist,”I don’t know if I’m doing this right.”

“I can’t believe we’re slow dancing to club music,” you couldn’t help but laugh, head thrown back in glee as San took stiff, unsure movements, a sheepish smile gracing his features as he ducked his head shyly, his earrings glimmering underneath the moonlight.

“It’s the only dance that seemed easy enough online,” he mumbled, unsure of his movements now that he held you in his arms,”I watched five videos.”

You flashed him a grin, pausing slightly to lean forward onto your toes, pressing a chaste kiss onto his cheek,”You’re doing so well. You never cease to impress me, San.”

You watched his jaw go slack, hands now hovering over your waist as he peers at you unsurely. For a split second, you were worried if you crossed the line, however, he released a chortle of amusement, leaning down to press his lips flush against your forehead,”And to you the same, dearest (y/n).”

The party was nearing an end, and you smiled fondly as San pouted beside you, watching someone take the last slice of chocolate cake on one the large tables. You took his hand, walking a few steps and ushering to another table across the courtyard,”That’s okay! I know another table with dessert. Maybe there’s—“

“San?”

The two of you paused, catching sight of a man only a few feet away, whose eyes were wide behind the pair of bronze rimmed spectacles. His shaggy, black tresses curled beautifully over his eyes, a mole prominent underneath one of his orbs. His mouth was ajar as he stared at the two of you, your interlocked hands, and then specifically onto you. You quirked a brow, noting how his eyes lingered a second too long onto your chest, making you shift uncomfortably beside San.

With long and quick strides, San was ripped from your embrace and into the other male’s chest as he crushed him into a hug.

San gazed at you pleadingly, seemingly uncomfortable with the sudden gesture of affection from the stranger, his arms glued to his sides, unsure whether or not he should return the hug,”Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since May! How can you just disappear into thin air without telling any of us?”

Your eyes widened at the information, and suddenly, the strange stares you two have gotten from your peers here made sense now. Ever since you walked into campus with San by your side, you’ve received curious and confused glances. And here you thought people were only shocked at how handsome the male that accompanied you was.

San could only stare in shock at the other male, his eyes searching an. searching for any flicker of familiarity, only for his shoulders to sag down as he found not a spark whatsoever,”You know me?” his voice was small and almost breathless.

The other male’s longing gaze morphed into a confused expression whilst he peels away from your friend, head tilting and brows furrowing in thought,”What do you mean? It’s me! Wooyoung. We’re childhood friends. You were a professor here. We worked on a project together before you ran away.”

You didn’t know whether to intervene or not, not knowing if it was your place to even speak on behalf of San. He peeked at you in question, and you nodded albeit your shocked state, understanding his silent question,”I’m sorry. I don’t recall any of that information. I’ve been living with (y/n) here. It seems as though I’ve lost all of my memories prior to meeting her.”

The black haired male’s eyes flickered between the two of you, and he points an accusing finger at San, a boisterous laugh falling from his plump lips, “Nice one. Don't tell me you ran away to be with your secret girlfriend, Sannie. Was the project too much pressure on you? You could’ve told me you know?”

When San’s confused expression didn’t change, Wooyoung’s bright expression faltered, smile falling into a concerned frown.

“Is it true? He doesn’t remember me?”

Your head perked up at the sudden attention that was now on you, a look of pity falling onto your features as you nodded silently,”Yes. I met San in Hwaseong months ago. I transferred and moved here recently. We’ve been searching for months about his identity. Was he not reported missing?”

Wooyoung blinked at your sudden question, shaking his head and emitting a sigh, gazing at his friend as he spoke,”No, he didn’t exactly go missing. He left a note and ran away, saying he didn’t want to be apart of the project we worked on any longer,” he grasped San’s limp hands, tugging him forward and cocking his head in another direction,”Come with me. I’ll prove it to you! Maybe your pictures will help spark some memory, yeah?”

The campus was fairly large, and walking in heels did not aid you in the slightest. Wooyoung looked back over his shoulder and smiled sheepishly, almost apologetically,”I still haven’t organized the office, so excuse the mess you’re about to see. My assistant was supposed to meet me last week to help tidy up, but..”

He flicked on the lights, and he ushered you to one of the three desks in the room. He grabbed onto a small picture frame, handing it to San to observe,”Do you know who this person is?” Wooyoung asked softly.

You peered over San’s shoulder, gaze catching sight of the three people in the picture. It was San, Wooyoung, and a shaggy haired, blonde man whose hair was tied into a small ponytail. Your eyes widened in recognition. These were Dr. Jung and Dr. Kang, the two professors from that one interview you watched that night.

San wordlessly peered at the picture, minute after minute, and he finally sighed moments later, placing the picture frame down while shaking his head in defeat,”No. He’s not familiar either.”

You rested a hand onto San’s shoulder sympathetically, whispering reassuring words underneath your breath. He turned his head to offer you a melancholic, but grateful, smile. Wooyoung cleared his throat, brows knitting in thought,”That’s Yeosang. Our partner,” he placed pointed to another frame, one showcasing the three men swimming at the beach,”We met him four years ago, San.”

An awkward silence fell upon the three of you, and moments later, San walked around the office, fingertips brushing against multiple papers with his name and handwriting scribbled onto them,”Choi San? That’s my full name?” he said almost breathlessly,”This is all my work?”

“The one and only, Choi San,” Wooyoung nodded grimly, arms crossing over his chest as he proceeded to sit down, running a hand through his dark locks,”Wait ‘til Yeosang hears about all of this,” he moaned into his hand, before peeking up and pursing his lips in thought,”You should come back to our apartment. Your stuff is still there. It’ll be a start at getting your old life back together again?”

Your brows knitted, shoulders tense in defense, and you opened your mouth to quip back an answer, only for San to beat you to it,”I’m already staying with..” he hung his head, troubled thoughts weighing him down before he glanced at you almost apologetically,”I mean, our plan was for me to move out, after I figure something out right? It was never supposed to be long-term.”

“You can have time to think about it and work things out,” Wooyoung piped in, gaze softening at the sight of your crestfallen expression.

You attempted to contain your tears, your eyes now glassy and red. You offered a shaky smile, hand squeezing San’s reassuringly,”I don’t mind if you stay with me, San. I love having you around,” you saw Wooyoung’s head perk up in amusement,”But that doesn’t mean I’ll hold you back from returning to your home.”

San couldn’t return the smile, his lips sloped in contemplation and confliction. He shook his head to rid himself of haunting thoughts. Moments of silence later, he sighed, looking back up to meet the hopeful gaze of his forgotten friend,”I’ll have my stuff ready after tomorrow.”

Your heart felt heavy in your chest as Wooyoung and San continued to speak, both exchanging information and addresses.

—

The news hurt you as much as it relieved you. San, Choi San, is back where he belongs, with people he knew and grew up with. And on top of that he was a Physics professor, too?

You were happy and beyond proud of his endurance, and also proud that you had helped him this far, however, a small part of yourself, a selfish part of yourself, clawed and lashed out at the thought of losing him, even as a roommate.

Your heart ached, and a dangerous sense of bitterness bled throughout your system.

"I’m so happy for you, San,” you offered a small smile, and although the sight of him left an ache in your heart, your truly attempted to mask the pain that was settling in your veins, leaving an unpleasant taste in your mouth. “I’ll miss you. I’ll miss scolding you about tidying up your plushies, your pancakes in the morning– I.. our movies night, too. But it’s okay.. I’ll visit you, and you’ll visit me? Right? Even if we won’t live together anymore we can-“

Throughout the months he’s lived with you, you’ve failed to realize how well he’s learned to pick up on your demeanor and attitude. He reads you as easily as his favorite Harry Potter books.

“(Y/n). Stop.”

The sudden, sharp tone caused you to clamp your mouth shut.

He reached down to grip the mug of tea out of your trembling hands, his gaze then trailing up to brush against your cheek, frowning at the sight of your quivering bottom lip and misty eyes. Your teeth bit at the inside of your cheek harshly, determined to keep yourself contained.

Usually, at such proximity, you’ll turn into a fidgety, blushing mess, but the way he’s gazing tenderly down at you from your spot on the couch, you felt your heart splinter and crack in sadness. You tried your best to look at the brighter side of things, because you knew how selfish it was of you for wanting him to stay with you.

He wasn’t a stray animal that needed to be loved and protected.

He was a man with a life behind him, and denying him that would be the cruelest thing you can ever do to someone, especially one that had no idea of his past.

You were suddenly aware of his warm chest against your face, his hand carefully cradling your head ever so gently. His shirt darkened with wet patches of your tears, and it was the sight of them that made you realize you were crying. He held you as your walls broke down, brick by brick. Your small, shaky voice, muffled by his chest, still managed to shoot a wave of pain through his heart,”I don’t want you to leave me, San.”

“(Y/n),” he started, “I will never leave you. Just let me build my life back together, and after that, everything will turn back to normal.”

He caressed your messy hair, pressing faint kisses onto the crown of your head.

“We’ll get an even better apartment after you graduate and a cat named Byeol. Our balcony will be filled with all shades of cosmos, and I promise we’ll have enough space to build blanket forts for our movie nights. This is merely the beginning of it all, okay? Please don’t cry, or you’ll make me cry,” his voice was soft but reassuring, trembling in the end.

It’s funny, because here you always thought at the moment like this, when you finally found the answers San’s been looking for, that you will be the one comforting him, and not the other way around.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, words unable to leave your mouth as you pulled him in tighter, face buried against the freckled side of his neck as you nodded in silent agreement.

He held you close and tightly like this for the last two nights you had together, and every touch of his felt right against your frame.

So right, just like the last remaining puzzle piece left to finish a picture.

He held you in his arms the last night on the balcony facing the city, and he smiled at the sight of the twinkling diamonds in the night sky. He squeezes you tightly, breath against the crown of your head as he promises to always be with you as long as there are stars in the sky.

“Let’s find a reason to smile, yeah?”

—

Days passed without a word from San, and you grew increasingly upset. You struggled so hard to hold onto the promise he left you with, but with every missed call or ignored text, it became even harder than you had originally thought. You tried to make use of days of winter holiday by tidying up your apartment, a bitter frown etching your features when you pull something out from underneath the couch cushions or in a tight corner that belonged to San.

The day before Christmas, he finally called you, apologizing profusely and informing you that he was so busy with both Wooyoung and Yeosang, both of whom were credited for proving their claims of an alternate dimension existing beyond your world. San rambled over the phone about the project they wanted him to help with, and you weren’t sure if that was a good idea at the moment. You wanted him to prioritize healing first, but you didn’t want to crush his happiness, and you opted not mentioning it at all.

He asked if you can make it for the Christmas dinner the next day, and you were quick to agree.

You were huddled over the living room table, struggling to wrap a few gifts for him. After a few failed attempts, you made decent progress.

The next day, you scrambled to get ready, throwing on one of the glittery sweater dresses he had bought you and boots. After making yourself look presentable, you grabbed the gifts, locking your apartment and ushering for a taxi soon later.

The trip to Wooyoung and San’s apartment wasn’t too long. He lived a few blocks away from your home. With excited and shaky fingers, you rapped the door almost too quickly, bouncing on your feet almost nervously. Before you could process anything, your hands flew to wrap around the person behind the door, gifts long forgotten on the floor,”San! I missed you!”

When an unfamiliar tuft of blonde hair invaded your vision, you tilted your head up to meet the flushed gaze of the man you recognized from the picture in Wooyoung’s office. His spectacles dangled crookedly off his nose, eyes wide and blinking.

You scrambled back and profusely spat out apology after apology, the male only stuttering out a shy ‘It’s fine. San’s friend?’, causing you to nod in embarrassment. The blonde offered you a polite smile, hand extended politely in which you grasped after a moment of hesitation,”I’m Yeosang. I’d like to personally thank you for taking care of my friend for all these months. If there is any way Wooyoung and I can repay you, please don’t hesitate to let either of us know.”

You beamed at him, shaking your head gratefully, informing him there was no need for compensation. A familiar head of ebony and green peeked out from the noisy kitchen, and suddenly you were lifted in the air, crushed between a firm chest and strong arms. San’s familiar laugh filled the air as he swayed you from side to side, before dragging you towards the kitchen where Wooyoung was currently waging a war with the sizzling pan of oil and a batch of seasoned and breaded chicken. The black haired male shot you a wink in the midst of flipping a piece of chicken, only to squawk in protest as Yeosang came forth to steal a piece from the paper towel lined tray.

“You’re just saying that to impress, (y/n).”

“Watch yourself, Kang- before you end up getting fried next.”

The two bickered amongst themselves as you helped San with the drinks and other dishes he prepared with Wooyoung.

After eating, you exchanged gifts, and sat around for Wooyoung to tell the adventurous stories he shared with San as a kid. Throughout the whole ordeal, San’s eyes widened in surprise, orbs flickering from Wooyoung to Yeosang, a finger pointed to himself questioningly,”Did I really do that?”

You hadn’t realized how much you really missed San’s laughter. Studying the spacious living room, your eyes caught sight of a familiar patch of fur, chuckling to yourself at the sight of Shiber decorating the rocking chair as a cushion.

Another thing you noticed was that Yeosang’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he laughed along with the other two males. You brushed it off as a sign of reservedness. Not everyone was as boisterous as San and Wooyoung.

“No, that didn’t happen over summer break it happened during spring!” Wooyoung affirmed, jabbing his finger against Yeosang’s chest, who huffed in retaliation.

“You’re the one forgetting the whole story! Maybe I should tell it instead,” the blonde quipped smartly.

San could only emit a laugh as the two attempted to wrestle each other down instead, his gaze flickering over to you from across the room. You beamed back at him, nose scrunching up in delight at the sight of his smile.

His grin swiftly vanished, morphing into somewhat of a grimace, before his jaw slackened, the colors and shapes in the room distorting into large, blurred pixels while the lights of the apartment flickered rapidly.

“Let’s build a treehouse. It’ll be our secret hideout where we make missions and lock away the bad guys,” a young, voice bounced around the vast, empty white space. SAN’s eyes widened in confusion, eyes flickering left and right, before turning his frame around to catch sight of a very young Wooyoung, brows furrowed in determination whilst clutching a hammer,”Are you just gonna sit there and stare at me! Come on!” The boy ran off and vanished into thin air, San’s fingers reaching towards the boy in a desperate attempt to stop him.

Desperate fingernails dug into the flesh of his back, leaving behind pink lines in their wake. Low, guttural moans slipped past his lips at the sight of you writhing beneath him, your face flushed and contorted into one of bliss, your lips shaping his name with every movement of his frame. The sensation of having your muscles flutter and clench around him nearly drove him to the edge.

Why did you do it?

Pleasure was soon vanished as he found himself laying down in a dark room, two hands gripping the girth of his neck and squeezing with malicious intent, choked gasps emitting from his mouth, and a trail of saliva pooling down from the corner of his lips onto the concrete. The only light in the dark room, coming from behind him reflected the round, golden spectacles resting on the person’s face.

Why are you killing me?

The pressure on his neck vanished, and an ominous silence surrounded him in the dark room. He was acutely aware of something warm, red, and sticky gurgling out of his throat, coating his lips and spilling down his chin. His eyes caught sight of the gleaming edge of a knife as it was bought down repeatedly, slicing through his flesh as easily as softened butter. Pain did not blossom in the areas of impact. His half-lidded eyes gazed up, confusion pooling in them as tear drops fell onto his face from above, faint, broken laughter sounding out from his assailant.

“Why are you killing me!?”

His hand shot out to swipe at the hands on his shoulders, his eyes screwed shut tightly, wheezing for much needed air. Suddenly, he looked up to meet your stunned expression, hands recoiling from his touch,”San!? What’s wrong?”

Three pairs of eyes were trained on him, and all he could do was stare back at your panicked ones, silent tears streaming down his face as he attempted to pull your hands to his frame, softly apologizing for striking you,”I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-“

“Who’s killing you, San? What are you talking about?” you ignored his words, your brows knitting in worry as Yeosang exchanged a hard look with Wooyoung from behind you.

San’s lips parted momentarily, as if he was deep in thought. As quickly as they opened, he sealed them once more, his brows furrowing in disarray,”I.. I don’t know? No one? I don’t know what I’m saying?”

You pulled him into a tight hug, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as hesitant arms wrapped around your frame. You were suddenly taken back to that night at the barbecue restaurant. That look of terror on San was one you wished to never witness again, and for months you forgot about it. Something was definitely wrong.

“Did you remember something?” you tried, hands cupping his face, your thumbs working on wiping his tears away.

Frustration colored his features as he gently pried your hands off of his face, before burying his head into the palms of his hands,”No? I’m not sure? I can’t recall anything-“

“Has he had episodes like that before?”

You turned to meet the concerned gazes of his friends. Nodding sorrowfully, you sat besides San, arms pulling into your embrace,”This is the second time. Do you know what’s happening?”

Wooyoung shook his head grimly, walking over to brush San’s hair out from his eyes,”No idea. He.. has episodes like that in his sleep, I’ve noticed. And when I wake him up to calm him down, he immediately forgets what made him yell like that.”

“San, maybe we should go see a—“

“No,” came a swift quip from Yeosang. Stunned, you peered back at him in confusion, mouth hanging open at the iciness lingering in his tone,”I know a friend who can help. Wooyoung and I have already discussed this. He’ll be seeing Dr. Song in a few days.”

You could only nod reluctantly at the answer, your concerned gaze falling onto San as Wooyoung helped him up to get a glass of water.

The night passed much too quickly for your liking, and you found yourself standing at the doorway of Wooyoung and San’s apartment, coat in tow, eyes shining with unshed tears as you forced a wobbly smile onto your features,”Will you be alright?”

San’s eyes softened at the sight, dainty fingers reaching to brush the tears away before they stained your cheeks,”Yes, I will. I promise. I’m sorry for what happened today,” he smiled apologetically, “Hopefully, next time it won’t happen, and I’ll even show you my baby pictures and photo albums from when I was a kid. Would you like that?.”

You nodded, despite the heavy lump in your throat, squeezing him one last time. A certain blonde cleared his throat behind San, and the two of you pulled apart to gaze at Yeosang, who was currently tossing his car keys repeatedly in the air,”Need a ride, (y/n)?”

You said your goodbyes, bidding San a farewell with a quick kiss onto his cheek, arms squeezing him tightly.

Yeosang’s car smelt of new leather and cologne. The ride was comfortable, despite him being a mere acquaintance to you,”So, (y/n).. are you and San, y’know?” It took a few seconds for you to process his words, your brows furrowed in defense as he scrambled to deny his claim, but he hadn’t missed the way your voice raised an octave. He hummed, lips pursing in contemplation, one hand resting on the steering wheel whilst the other fiddles against his mouth, clearly deep in thought,”Oh, that’s a relief. Wooyoung didn’t know how to tell you this, but before San’s disappearance, he was seeing someone. She’s.. currently out of town, visiting family for the holiday.”

In middle school, during a soccer match, one of the opponents kicked the ball, accidentally striking your gut. The information that slipped past Yeosang’s lips left the same breathless, painful feeling in your chest.

Suddenly, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears became much louder than the muffled noises of the car’s engine and tires. A breathless ‘Oh’ slipped past your parted lips, voice wavering and hard.

Yeosang casted you a look of sympathy, his hands tightening around the steering wheel, silently sucking against his teeth before breaking out into a sigh,”I’m sorry, (y/n). I thought it would be best to let you know now.”

—

San did not keep his promise. Your texts were always met with apologies and excuses, even after the new semester began. He couldn’t meet in person, and every time you paid a visit to Wooyoung’s office, you were either met with him or Yeosang, explaining that San was too busy catching up on the large project he missed out on for several months.

A month had passed and the messages became even more scarce.

You attempted to visit him at his apartment on the weekends, or whenever you didn’t have as much studies to catch up on, only for a tired Wooyoung to open the door, explaining that San wasn’t home, and probably either at the university library or the office. Today was no different as a sleepy eyed, disheveled Wooyoung leaned against the door, dressed in a loose, sleeveless top and sweats. If you weren’t so annoyed, you’d compliment how cute he looks, a striking difference from the usual ironed dress shirts and slacks he normally adorned at campus.

He invited you in, offering to make a mug of coffee while you waited in the living room. San wasn’t here, and either due to pity or friendliness, Wooyoung offered to listen to you rant about your mutual friend. He set two steaming mugs of coffee down onto the tiny table, a packet of cigarettes and a lighter following suit. Lighting a stick, he bought it up to his lips, inhaling the smoke, before tilting his head back and slowly puffing out.

You didn’t take him to be a smoker. When he offered you one, you politely denied, hands tucking the mug of coffee closer to your frame, the warmth of the ceramic providing you some level of comfort,”San’s been busy, y’know? You should cut him some slack.”

He took a small sip of his coffee, before dragging another puff of smoke. Your eyes narrowed slightly at the subtle hints of accusation tinting his words,”I was never one to deny that, Wooyoung,” you spoke back, voice firm, “I know he is, but it wouldn’t kill him to acknowledge me every now and then. I haven’t seen since Christmas.” A sudden veil of aloofness washed over Wooyoung’s features as he crossed a leg over the other, eyes half lidded whilst gazing unamused at you. You were taken aback with the sudden change of atmosphere, your brows furrowing as his shoulders shook with bitter laughter,”(Y/n), don’t you see why he’s been avoiding you?” he tsked, tapping away at his cigarette and watching as the ashes crumbled into the ashtray,”How would he flat out tell you he’s making amends to repair his relationship with the woman that loves him? He couldn’t bear to weigh that news onto you. Not after everything you’ve done for him. His conscious is eating away at his very being.”

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion,”Why is it that you seem to think I’m trying to get in the way of his relationship? The one he’s never mentioned in the first place, might I add. All I’m asking is for time with my friend. You’re the one who seems to get it twisted.”

He chuckled, leaning forward on one knee, pointing the lit end of the cigar in your direction,”Are you calling me a liar?” his hand cradled your knee, frame leaning closer to you as he tilts his head to the left to blow out the smoke, eyes never leaving your own,”Y’know, I won’t mind if you came here to visit me. I’ll make all the time in the world for you, sweetheart.”

Scoffing, you set the mug of coffee down, so harshly, the liquid swishes around the rim,”You sound so-“

Before you could make your way up from the couch, he called your name, frame turning around to showcase the screen of his phone, which read a familiar name.

Kim Hongjoong.

Your eyes bore into his own amused ones,”My internship mentor? What are you insinuating?” you spat, arms crossing over your chest defensively.

He tutted, putting out his cigarette in your abandoned mug of coffee before standing up to hover over your frame, his fingers propping your chin up to gaze into your orbs. You felt his breath against your face as he whispered, words venomous and laced with poison, but tone soft and gentle,”You seem to forget I am a professor, don’t you? I have connections. I asked you nicely to stop disrupting my and San’s work. He doesn’t need any more distractions than he already has. I will take it upon myself to not only have your internship revoked, but also expelled from the university, hm?”

Swatting his hand away, you shoved him back with a glower,”What the hell is wrong with you?” he caught his balance, a laugh of amusement ringing from his chest at your abrasiveness. You did not find this situation amusing in the slightest,”You’re sick.”

“Don’t test me, (Y/n),” he curled a finger around your locks, lips quirking up into a fond smile,”Be a good girl, mind your business, and maybe I’ll consider taking you out. You can forget San. He’s already taken.”

You purposely slammed the door shut on your way out, eyes burning with rage.

Later that day, you found yourself mulling over Wooyoung’s words, hands gripping the grocery cart, knuckles white and crescents left on your skin. Bringing up a fist, you harshly rubbed at your misty eyes with the sleeve of your coat. You ignored the squabbling of an elderly woman as you accidentally bumped into her while walking out with your grocery bags.

Walking down the street not too far from your apartment, a pang or hurt shot through you as your eyes made contact with Jongho, San’s previous employer, who was standing on a ladder, watering the flower baskets hung in front of his shop. He gave you a sympathetic smile as you passed by, pinning a flower behind your ear and reaching up to pinch your cheek,”My flowers need more sunshine, so is it okay if they see your smile?”

You two spoke for over fifteen minutes, only for him to flash you an apologetic smile as a few customers walked in the store,”You can stop by anytime if you’re ever feeling lonely. Yunho and I would love the company.”

Continuing your path towards home, your eyes caught a flash of movement in an alleyway, further up by the parked cars in front of your apartment complex. The people walking by hadn’t seemed to notice the movement, some busy on their phones, whilst others laughing along with their partners.

Maybe I’m seeing things from all the crying and tears.

You checked your phone for any notifications, only for disappointment to wash over your features at the lack of any. That same morning, in a fit of rage and overwhelming emotions, you bombarded San with text after text of how disappointed you felt, at how you didn’t care if he was with someone else, and how you just wanted to have your friend back, and how much a prick you think Wooyoung is.

You always imagined how it would be like to help San find his way back into his old life again, but this was far from how you pictured it to be in your mind.

You hastily changed into a pair of sweats and t-shirt after putting away all of the groceries, the tv playing in the background to fill the deafening silence that became apparent ever since San left.

While adding a new load of laundry into the machine, the lights in your apartment flickered rapidly, your ministrations ceasing as you looked up in confusion. It wasn’t raining. The bulb above you shattered, and you jumped in fright, hands frantically brushing the glass out of your hair.

A loud knock on your door startled you, and your eyes widened in hope, hands faltering and laundry suddenly forgotten.

San?

Your first mistake was assuming the person was San.

Your second mistake was not checking through the peephole.

Your third mistake was leaving your phone in your room.

The door merely opened a few inches, when suddenly the flimsy security chain broke upon the sudden thrust from the other side of the door. The doorknob dug into the adjacent wall, leaving an ugly dent in its place whilst three figures clad in black shoved their way into your home.

The tallest amongst the three, a redhead, shut the door hastily, while one man with striking black eyes and dark hair walked past you, his other friend striking you down and pinning onto the floor face first. You struggled in his tight grip, heart thumping with adrenaline and shock,”Get off me!”

Throwing your head back, you heard a thump and a faint hiss, your assailant’s grip loosening only slightly, but enough for you to roll around to face him. One hand was gripping his jaw whilst the other held you by the neck against the floor, his eyes burning with fury and malice. The scowl on his features soon withered away into a look of surprise, and your expression seemed to mirror his own. The pressure on your neck was lifted, and the tallest of the three, the redhead, paused, eyes wide once taking note of your face,”Is that (y/n)?”

His voice was deep and unfamiliar.

“Professor Hongjoong!?” you cried in disbelief as you recognized the man above you, anger evident in your voice as you shoved his chest with your palms,”Who do you think you are barging into my home like this, you asshole!?”

The redhead helped your professor up, looking back at you with a blank expression as he leaned down to whisper in Hongjoong’s ear,”Do you really think she’s working with him?”

“I can hear you,” you quipped, stepping forward and jabbing a finger in the redhead’s chest, your head tilting up to glower menacingly at him, lips pulled back into a scornful scowl,”And how do you know my name! And you–“ you grabbed a fistful of Hongjoong’s cloak, pulling him down to your eye level,”Explain all of this before I call the cops for trespassing my home. I don’t give a shit if you’re my employer.” The redhead startled at your sudden act of aggression, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Hongjoong! He’s not here!” a voice called from behind you. Your head turned to see the black haired male walk out from the hallway, stress painting his features. He froze mid-step, eyes widening as he gazed at you from his step, before turning to Hongjoong questioningly.

You didn’t know these two, so why were they so shocked at your mere presence?

“(Y/n), where is San?” Hongjoong gently pried your hands off his shirt, the black haired male eyeing the wrinkles they left behind. Your brow twitched in annoyance.

“Really?” you mused,”You came barging into my apartment, unannounced, just for San? Why don’t you ask Wooyoung?” you seethed in annoyance, stepping behind a few steps to make space between yourself and the men.

Hongjoong peered behind you towards the man, distraught eyes holding a battle of conflict,”Seonghwa, are you sure you felt his aura here?”

“This is the only place, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa’s voice was firm, his eyes narrowing and hardening afterwards,”She’s lying.”

You gaped, turning back to your mentor,”What reason would I have to lie!? He doesn’t even live here anymore.”

“He moved?”

“Yes. With Wooyoung. You know that already. You’re friends with him,” he quirked a brow at your sassy reply.

“Not with that Wooyoung,” ducking his head, he removed the black fedora and pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes flickering back up at you, studying your features meticulously,”Are you working with Wooyoung?”

“What!? I’m your inter- what is this all about?” furrowing your brows, you crossed your arms, patience flying out the door faster than you can blink,”Why would I work for that prick?”

“I like Earth’s (y/n),” the redhead snickered behind Hongjoong, earning him a sharp glare from Seonghwa.

Your eyes suddenly widened in thought.

“(Y/n), why does this map say Earth? It should be Utopia.”

Your mouth parted open, voice hesitant and drawing out the words unsurely and slowly,”Are you from Utopia?”

The three men gaped at you, all falling silent.

“I told you she’s working with him,” declared Seonghwa, reaching down into his cloak for what you can only perceive to be a weapon.

Hongjoong was quick to throw an arm out, halting the older’s actions. Your frame went rigged, shoulders tensing in defense and breath becoming shallow. Hongjoong studied you warily, choosing his words carefully, his ashy brown hair falling into his line of sight as he spoke,”How do you know that?”

“San had once mentioned it to me.. months ago,” you pondered quietly, mostly to yourself, as if trying to wrack your brain for other pieces of information. Your eyes narrowed and zeroed in one the three men, in particular Seonghwa, whose shoulders deflated in relief at your words,”Do you know why he lost his memories? He’s been having these episodes- and he yells, but-”

Hongjoong’s expression turned grim, your words resonating a bitter feeling in the pit of his stomach,”It’s a long story. We don’t have much time, so-“

“I’ll help you in any way I can if you would just explain all of this to me,” you breathed out, stepping closer to him with a frown on your visage.

Seonghwa sighed, mumbling something into Hongjoong’s ear, before crossing his arms and leaning against the wooden door, brows knitted and eyelids fluttered shut.

Hongjoong sat you down, contemplating on how to start off. Testing the waters carefully, he began to explain how every human on Earth has a counterpart in another dimension named Utopia.

“So, there’s another Hongjoong- Earth’s Hongjoong, and he’s my employer and not you?”

Hongjoong’s replica only nodded before continuing, blithering like the rushing waters of a river.

A year ago, a human named Choi San managed to enter Utopia, and was thrilled to find his counterpart. He explained how he worked for years studying about dimensions, findings manuscripts and notes, eventually creating a device that allowed the two worlds to intertwine. He, along with his friend, Jung Wooyoung, convinced the Utopian San to enter Earth for a few test runs.

Human San’s intentions were good-hearted, but greed blinded Wooyoung. He wanted to take advantage of the beings in Utopia. He wanted power and profit, wanting all the credit all to himself. San disagreed with Wooyoung’s wishes, and tension grew between the two. While running a few scans on Utopian San, Wooyoung managed to corner and kill San. Utopian San was the only witness present.

Wooyoung’s plan was to remove San out of the picture, and threaten Utopian San with destroying their world unless he agreed to work with him and do as he says. Forging numerous letters under his human half’s name, Utopian San attempted numerous times to escape, not exactly knowing how to use the device created by his late counterpart.

“Wooyoung managed to trap him in your world, running experiments on him that most likely led to his memories being wiped clean,” Hongjoong leaned back on the couch, eyes stone cold,”You mentioned something about him having.. what? Breakdowns? Can you explain what you meant?”

His gaze hardened as you explained what occoured with your friend, Mingi’s helpless expression making you frown with pity.

“I can’t say for sure, but what I think is happening is that he’s getting flashes of both his memories, as well as Earth’s San’s memories,” Seonghwa concluded, voice wary,”I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten mad at this point. His aura is getting weaker by being in another dimension.”

“Is it treatable?” Mingi’s concerned voice spoke before you managed to form any words.

Seonghwa’s lips pressed into a thin line,”Most likely, in Utopia, it is. If he stays in Earth any longer, than I highly doubt it. He’ll lose his damn mind.. and death seems inevitable too.”

Your hands trembled at the words, eyes frantic and in search of answers as you looked back at Hongjoong.

They’ll have to take San away from you.

San will die if he remains with you.

”We attempted to save San, but with Wooyoung’s newest aid– Yeosang, I believe– they improved their systems, and things became complicated for us back in Utopia. The portal leading back to our world glitched, and it seems somehow it opened up to where you were at the time..”

“Your Utopian half and San are together, so I’m not surprised the portal led him to you. Fate works in strange ways,” Seonghwa mused, deep in thought from across the room. You swore your heart skipped a beat at the words.

This is the first time in months they’ve been successful in opening a portal to Earth, and they’re not sure why.

“It seems that Wooyoung managed to find a way to conceal San’s aura in his home and workplace. We need your help to find him and take him back to our world, along with that damn device. Have you seen it? An hourglass?” when you shook your head, Hongjoong sighed in frustration, hand running through his hair,”Okay. It’s most likely in his study. I’m positive that’s also where he’s keeping San. Is there anyway you can help us get into it? We have no idea how to track it without sensing San’s aura.”

—

Wooyoung was surprised to find you standing in front of his office, bowing your head apologetically for your behavior yesterday, and asking if it was okay for you to tag along with him throughout his day, curious to see his work.

“Hongjoong said there wasn’t much to be done today, so he gave me a break.”

He agreed, but only after you promised you wouldn’t touch anything.

You permitted the arm that slithered around your waist to rest comfortable against your hip as he led you throughout the large campus, his eyes occasionally following the curve of your clavicles and swell of your chest, and back to your eyes as you replied back to one of his comments. Entering the code to his laboratory, you were quick to notice the lack of cameras in any of the corners of the room. There were files stacked neatly onto a few desks, folder strewn about, and other large machines and desktops decorated the back of the room.

You listened to him gloat, his hands tugging you to showcase the numerous certificates and achievements under his belt. Resentment and anger bubbled dangerously in the pit of your stomach, your fingers twitching at the thought of wiping that smirk off his visage.

The fluorescent lights flickered once.

Your smile was strained, nodding and tuning out his words, only for you to jump back, startled, as his face was mere centimeters from your own, breath ghosting your lips,”Did you not hear me, precious?” Emitting a nervous laugh, you reached up to push his face away playfully, his hand grasping your wrist and placing a tender kiss onto your skin,”I asked if you’d like to join me for dinner tonight?”

“Dinner? Well, I-“

“I think she’d rather go with me,” a voice piped from behind you two.

Furrowing your brows, your mind reeled at the familiar voice. You gaped at the sight of a mirror image of Wooyoung, clad in black, resting comfortably in one of the swiveling chairs across the room.

When did he get in?

A curse fell from Wooyoung’s lips as he dropped your hand immediately, reaching forward into the nearest desk to pull out a pistol.

Your breath was strangled in your throat as you took several seconds to process what was happening, your feet taking hesitant steps back to avoid the end of the gleaming, black weapon. A rough tug onto your sleeve, and you found your back pressed against Wooyoung’s chest, the cold metal of his weapon resting against your temple,”Go back to your world-“

“Or else what? You gonna kill her like you killed San?” the other Wooyoung cackled, propping his two legs onto the desk, black leather boots kicking at a few documents. He gazed in amusement at your trembling legs,”Nice to meet you, Earth (y/n). Sorry my human half is a dick. I wouldn’t dare treat a lady like-“

“I didn’t kill San!” You jumped at the ferocity in Wooyoung’s voice, your form tensing against his frame as he breathed heavily against the back of your head,”He’s alive. San is alive- you don’t know what you’re talking about.” This tone- desperate, broken, and determined sent chills down your spine.

“Where is he then?”

You recoiled back, face scrunching and arms flying up to shield your face as the sound of a gunshot left a loud ringing in your right ear. Your wobbly knees struggled to keep your weight up, hesitantly peeling your eyes open and expecting the sight of blood. A bullet hole punctured the chair Utopian Wooyoung once occupied.

“Wooyoung, would you stop running your mouth for once!?”

A blur of black shoved your assailant away, hands hastily disarming the manic eyed professor. You stepped back in surprise, nearly falling down upon impact, Wooyoung’s frame colliding near your feet,”Sorry-“ the curly haired brunette snickered underneath his breath, flashing you a smile and wink. Gaping, you realized that man was Yunho’s counterpart. You were suddenly pulled back by Hongjoong, his eyes cold and void of any sympathy as he stared down at the struggling male.

Mingi had him pinned to the floor, the man fruitlessly attempting to free himself underneath the crushing weight of the red-head.

“(Y/n)! Help me!” Wooyoung growled, cheek painfully pressed onto the floor, eyes trained onto the black weapon which rested innocently feet away,”What are you standing around for!?”

“You should leave, (y/n). Seonghwa found the device in one the rooms here. All that’s left is to find San—,”

Once Wooyoung realizes what’s occurring, his movements cease. His jaw slackens and then he glowers in your direction,”You bitch!” the broken sound of betrayal almost leaves you feeling pity towards Wooyoung,”You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into! There’s no way you’re getting–“

His taunts only increased the pressure of Mingi’s fist in his hair, the smaller male letting out a rough grunt of pain as his face is slammed down roughly onto the floor, pearls of red dripping down his nose. Hongjoong’s orbs flickered between you and Wooyoung,”(Y/n), things are going to get ugly. If we have to use force, so be it. I don’t want you here witnessing that. You’ve been more than enough to help us.”

Your gaze softened, the prickling feeling of tears welling up in your eyes evident from their glassy appearance. Shaking your head, you took in a shaky breath,”No. I need to find San. I’m not leaving without him.”

Wooyoung’s counterpart eyed you curiously, his foot stepping onto his human half’s ankle,”Seems like you put a strain on my friends and their human halves too? I’m so embarrassed to have you as my half, fuck,” he chuckled humorlessly whilst grinding his boot against the male’s ankle, the other still squirming underneath Mingi’s weight, cries of pain only amusing the Utopian Wooyoung even more,”Oh, sorry. Didn’t see your leg there. Does that hurt?”

Hongjoong was quick to turn you around, tugging you and scoffing underneath his breath,”Alright, fine. You’ll see him, when we find him, but please, don’t make it hard on yourself when it’s time for us to depart. Do not get in the way, is that understood?”

Tears streamed down your face as you nodded reluctantly, your attempts to contain your emotions failing after facing the harsh reality of your predicament. While Mingi, Wooyoung, and Yunho began tormenting the pinned male, Hongjoong and Seonghwa accompanied you in searching every curve and crevice of the building to no avail. You winced as Seonghwa’s fist left a dent in the wall out of frustration, and you found yourselves back in the lab, where the leather clad Wooyoung was resting onto his human half’s chest, legs propped on either side. A sadistic grin took over his features as he watched the blood dribble down the male’s lips,”I can do this all day, Wooyoungie.” He paused mid-punch, sharp eyes flickering in your direction. When he noted the absence of his best friend, he proceeded to land several more strikes onto the fallen man’s face,”You fucker.”

Yunho and Mingi’s hopeful expressions deflated as they noticed you returned empty handed,”We can’t find him.”

“Where is he!?” Hongjoong demanded, crouching down to meet Wooyoung’s eyes.

“You’re not..” He spluttered, droplets of blood striking Hongjoong’s angered face,”You can’t take him away from me.”

The sound of the door opening ceased every breath and movement in the lab, and your panicked filled eyes flew to Hongjoong as Yeosang stepped into the room, ironed lab coat and glasses pristine underneath the lights.

A second ticked by, silence enveloping the room as Yeosang froze to assess the situation.

Seonghwa was quick on his feet to tackle him against the wall, knife digging painfully into the curve of his neck,”Ah, about time the other rat appeared. What do you think we should do with this one, Hongjoong?”

Yeosang’s eyes were confused as they landed on you, his hands raised up in defeat, adam’s apple bobbing against the edge of the dagger, which rested painfully close to his jugular,”Wait!” he cried, voice emitting in rapid, panic pants,”I removed the barriers that stopped you from entering our world! I only plan to help you, I promise. I can take you to San!”

Wooyoung weakly lifted his head up to spit in Yeosang’s direction, glassy, panicked eyes narrowing, his voice cracking with betrayal and distraught,”Have you lost your mind? You wouldn’t, Yeosang. Don’t you dare— you know San belongs here-“

Yeosang inhaled sharply as Seonghwa roughly shoved him away after Hongjoong’s request, shoulders deflating as he gazed at his bloodied friend,”I’m sorry. I don’t really have much of a choice now. I’ve already decided where my morals lie.”

You were expecting Wooyoung to shout in anger, to scream, to yell. What you weren’t expecting him to do was sob, voice so helpless and broken, sending a cold chill down to the marrow of your bones,”I regret it! Is that what you want to hear? I regret killing him and– the other San! He’s supposed to take his place- I want him back,” his cries sent a shiver down your spine, his words slurring together as he cries out in grief, panicked breaths cutting his sentences,”I want him— I want San back! I- I need him back!”

“Take us to him,” Hongjoong’s hard gaze fell onto Yeosang, completely ignoring the crying male. The blonde professor nodded, ushering him out of the room.

You were the first to catch sight of him, rushing forward and crying his name out in relief. He appeared to be drugged, wires and other devices sticking into various parts of his body. You hadn’t realized you were crying, until Yeosang gently pushed you back into Hongjoong’s arms as he removed the various wires and needles attached to the tired man.

You pulled San into a hug immediately, a sob wracking your form as you apologized for not being there for him when he needed you most. You concluded that after Christmas, Wooyoung took over San’s phone while trapping the male here, hence his emaciated and pale appearance.

His eyes met yours, an apologetic smile finding its way onto his features,”(Y/n),” tears welled in his tired eyes, his voice quiet and weak,”You’re here?”

You nodded, repeatedly mumbling in agreement through your tears, pulling him even tighter and shaking your head, claiming that this was all your fault. Hongjoong watched the exchange with a strained expression, before turning to Seonghwa,”Get the others. It’s time to leave.”

Your eyes widened, frame turning to gape at Hongjoong, and then back to San, your throat closing up. He only offered you a faint smile, hand reaching up to cup your cheek,”Wooyoung told me everything while he kept me here,” his thumb worked at wiping away the few tears that cascaded down your cheeks,”There was no way to reach out to you, I’m so sorry,” his words were slurred, tongue heavy and mind slightly foggy,”None of this is your fault. I tried.. I tried to get to you. Believe me, I did..”

“It’s not your fault either. San- I.. They’re taking you back to Utopia, San,” your voice cracked, strained and tight in your throat,”They said you need to go back or else-“ you failed to finish your words, jaw slackening as you let out a pained sob at the thought.

His shoulders deflated, head hung low as he buried his face into the crook of your neck,”I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this,” he held you tighter as you sniffled, whimpers muffled against the side of his head. He held your trembling hands,”I will never find it in me to forgive myself for putting you through all of this.”

His warmth suddenly left you as he was helped up by Yunho and Mingi. Snapping your head to your right, you noticed a swirling light against the wall of the room, where the counterparts of Wooyoung and Hongjoong spoke with Yeosang, the blonde only nodding reassuringly in reply. Their attention snapped to you as you let out a desperate cry, fingers reaching to grasp San’s hand in protest, attempting to pull him towards you. You weren’t aware of your shrill, panicked laced voice, mind too focused on returning San into your embrace.

The sounds of muffled shouting from the taller two didn’t deter you from wrapping your arms around San’s shoulders, defeat and sadness painting his features as he took in your form. Arms tugged you away, planting you firmly in place, and you writhed and struggled in Yeosang’s hold as you watched with frenzied eyes as Wooyoung leaned forward, his form dissipating into the portal, followed by Seonghwa. Hongjoong turned to give you one last glance, frown on his face,”I’m sorry, (y/n).”

He held onto San, who not once took his teary eyes off of you. Mingi and Yunho disappeared, and with one last attempt, you kicked back at Yeosang, the blonde yelping in surprise at the sudden rush of pain on his shin, flailing forward and catching you by the ankle roughly, preventing you from moving forward,”Stop, (y/n)!”

The last thing you saw as the diameter of the portal shrunk was San’s heartbroken expression, along with the hourglass in Hongjoong’s arms. The portal vanished, leaving tiny specks of light in the air, a gentle breeze kissing your wet face.

“Yeosang,” you mumbled, turning back to the blonde,”take me there. What do I do? I need-“

“He took the device with him, (y/n). There’s no way any of us can reach their world anymore,” he ran a hand through his hair, voice steady and firm.

You don’t know how long you sat there, crying and yelling profanities at him. The rush of footsteps throughout the building ceased your sobs, and you watched from the doorway as officers forcefully dragged an injured Wooyoung out of the other room, his panicked eyes filled with disbelief boring holes into Yeosang, who already had his arms up in submission,”Yeosang? You reported..” The blonde was restrained and taken away as well.

“Miss?” an opened palm invaded your blurry vision, and you peered up to meet the concerned, brown eyes of an officer, uniform hugging his large frame,”Are you okay?”

Silent tears pooled and streamed down your cheeks, your head shaking weakly.

No, Seonghwa. I’m not okay

—

Your half lidded eyes bore holes into the tv as the news anchor spoke, showcasing two mugshots of both Yeosang and Wooyoung. Your eyes flickered down to your lap, unable to even look at Wooyoung’s face.

“A new update regarding the disappearance and death of Choi San, the physics professor of University of Seoul. After almost a year after leaving a note and disappearing, police have confirmed that the letter was forged.“

Kang Yeosang, an assistant professor who joined Jung after Choi’s disappearance complied with police, informing them every detail regarding the case, and providing written evidence and memoirs from both the late Choi and Jung. It’s been reported that Choi was the first to discover Utopia, working years on building the device that managed to connect with the alternate dimension, creating portals that challenge both time and space. It is said that every human on Earth has a counterpart in the other dimension.

In hopes of taking all the credit, Jung murdered Choi, disposing of his body, which has yet to be recovered. Officials say they are still attempting to interrogate the information out of Jung, who is expressing clear signs of distress and manic episodes at the mere mention of Choi’s name.

This counterpart was staying with a woman we will go by A. Choi and A met up in another town, shortly before both moving to Seoul, where they encountered Jung at the University of Seoul. Reports state that Choi moved out from A’s apartment and back with Jung. After numerous reports, officials have declared A to not be involved in Jung and Kang’s crimes, Kang testifying in her defense.

Choi’s Utopian counterpart was forced into our dimension, his memories from his Utopian life disappearing after Choi’s death. A statement from Kang concludes that Jung was the cause of that.

In an attempt to undo the murder of Choi, Jung attempted to implant memories into Utopian Choi in hopes that he will take his human’s place, which only aided in creating discord between our world and Utopia. When the Utopians attempted to re-enter our dimension, Kang implemented new sets of devices that aided in sealing the two worlds apart from each other. It was only recently that Kang eliminated these tools, thus permitting the Utopians from intervening.

The Utopians did not intend to harm or hurt anyone. Their only intention was to rescue their friend, and also take the device the late Choi created to cease their world from being further tampered by us.

Jung and Kang have both been stripped of their titles according to the university. Their first court date will be announced later today to determine their senten—“

You closed your eyes, hand hastily clicking the power button on the remote, before wrapping yourself with the blanket tightly. Curling into a ball and throwing the the fuzzy sheet over your head, you decided you were tired of hearing the news reports, opting for the deafening silence you grew to hate. Fluttering your eyes shut, you stilled, inhaling San’s scent that was left lingering on the blanket. The amethyst necklace tickled your cheek, your hand reaching up to move it away.

A sweet, floral scent filled the space of your living room, a beautifully arranged bouquet resting on the coffee table. The card still stood in the middle of the arrangement, words of encouragement and support written by both Jongho and Yunho in bright green ink. Underneath it, your untouched dinner sat cold and forgotten, clumps of wet tissue paper scattered onto the table and floor.

Your phone chimed, and you peered down, already knowing it was Professor Hongjoong sending another voice message of support. He’d been a strong pillar for you to lean on ever since the news broke out. You made a silent note to respond later, as the time was growing late anyway.

Minutes ticked by and soft snores, along with shallow breathing filled the vacant space, your hair sticking out from the heap you’ve made of yourself and the blanket.

Above you, the lightbulb flickered repeatedly.

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