#however as a color despiser im not looking forward to it

[moeblob]

FRECKLING CONTINUES.

[cheolism]

couch comfort

✧ cheol x reader

✧ summary: maybe the bad stuff isn't so bad when you have your boyfriend, seungcheol, there to help you with the weight.

✧ wc is approx 6.3k

✧ genre: romance, fluff, humor; being in love. work sucks. little angst? reader talks of seungcheol being their first real crush/infatuation/love? seungcheol pouts a lot.

✧ note: if there is angst in here, it's very little! this fix purely exists for comfort. you make out at one point. there's another cat based off of my childhood cat. there's absolutely no plot, just kisses and cuddles and comfort. a lot of reflection abt your relationship w cheol at the beginning but it's not all like that lol. photo mentioned at the end is one of the photos at the top!!! this is not edited.

The past week, while definitely not the worst week of your life, was definitely up there. 

You sighed, leaning forward and letting your forehead rest against the wheel. Taking a deep breath, you held it for a handful of seconds before releasing it; just as your therapist suggested. Then you thought of Seungcheol and his fluffy hair.

Feeling somewhat less stressed, you grabbed your backpack from the passenger seat and made your way inside, trying your best to ignore the bitter winter air that nipped at your thighs and legs. Ignoring the cold did nothing to actually prevent it, however, and you still fumbled with your apartment keys for a good minute before you were able to select the correct key and enter. 

You dropped your bag off at the door and kicked off your shoes, and in a voice that sounded remarkably like your mother when she babytalked your niece, you called out for your cat. 

You dropped your bag off at the door and kicked off your shoes, and in a voice that sounded remarkably like your mother when she babytalked your niece, you called out for your cat. 

Stumbling away from the door and to the living room, you withdrew your phone from your pocket and slid open the new notification from Seungcheol. 

Seungcheol: it sounds like you had a rough day.  im sorry. i wish i u didn’t. if u still feel up for it, i can be at ur apartment in twenty. but if u want to stay in or b alone tonight, i understand baby 

There was a meow from below, and that was all the warning you had before your ancient tortoise shell cat was leaping onto your chest, her weight startling you for a moment. You peered at Wolfie, her lime colored eyes peering back at you. Then she meowed again, and you couldn’t help but laugh at it, as she sounded as if she had been a serious chain smoker for fifty years. 

Wolfie ignored you, crawling forward and rubbing her head underneath your chin. She began purring, a deep thing that you could only truly appreciate if you were completely silent. You held your phone up in the air to type, leaving just enough space for Wolfie to curl up on your chest. 

You: ya!!!! I actually just got home 🧡💛 Wolfie immediately curled up on me, so I’ll have to ask her about getting up to get ready. 

You then snapped a picture of Wolfie on your chest and sent it to him. Letting your phone fall to the ground beside the couch, you began running your hands over Wolfie. Once upon a time, her fur had been soft and silky; it practically shined. But age had caught up to your precious companion, and you constantly fought back the urge to cry over how tough and wiry her fur felt underneath your fingertips. 

Sighing, you closed your eyes and let your head sink completely into the pillows. You had been joking to Seungcheol about getting Wolfie’s permission to get up, but even without her added twelve pounds on your chest, you would’ve had a hard time getting up. It was as if you were Atlas, the Titan who carried the world on his back, and the weight of it was keeping you down. 

Not to be misunderstood: you didn’t hate dates with Seungcheol, and most definitely didn’t despise time spent with him. As a matter of fact, you looked forward to every Friday, knowing that not only it marked the beginning of the weekend but was also your assigned date night with Seungcheol. 

If you were honest with yourself, you looked forward to waking up every morning. It was stupid and cheesy, and if your teenage self could see you they would shake their head and roll their eyes. But whenever you opened your eyes, Wolfie’s weight resting on your chest, you immediately thought of him. He was the first person you texted in the morning, whether it be about a particular dream you had, something you saw in the news, or even the weather. You couldn’t help but want to talk to Seungcheol first thing in the morning, just as you couldn’t help but message him until you went to bed. 

If you were frank with yourself, which was asking a lot, you wanted to talk to him all the time. It was so -- 

When you were a teenager, you had looked at your friends who were proclaiming their love for their partners only within a few months of dating with considerable scorn. After all, what did sixteen and eighteen year olds know about love? You had offered a listening ear to their troubles, empathizing with their adoration for their partner, while also mentally rolling your eyes and keeping yourself occupied with your books and music. 

So you didn’t know what to do about Seungcheol. You didn’t know what to do about wanting to send him pictures of all the pretty flowers you saw; videos of Wolfie being cute and cuddly; pictures of sunsets and sunrises, of cute stuffed animals and all other pretty things that reminded you of Choi Seungcheol. 

You inhaled, held it; released. 

If you were frank with yourself, if you stood back and analyzed everything, all the emotions you felt for Seungcheol and all the things you wanted to do for him and all the things you dreamt of doing with him, it sounded like you maybe felt something more than the fluttering adoration and infatuation you had at the start of your relationship when he asked you out. 

But you didn’t want to analyze that too much. 

You groaned slightly, stretching out your legs. Wolfie let out a noise of protest before purring, her attempt at getting you to remain laying down. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” you whispered, your hand going to rest on her head. You used your thumb to pet the space between her eyes. “I want to stay cuddled up with you forever, too. But I also want to see Cheolie.”

She adjusted herself on your chest, purring on. You did want to stay there in the dark with Wolfie, just as you had done during your early college days. Many evenings were spent like that, the two of you in your own space. More often than not, you felt like the world was on your shoulders -- just like Atlas -- and it was Wolfie’s own needs and wants that dragged you out of bed. 

The past week had you debating on canceling with Seungcheol. Nothing major had happened, of course, but instead a bunch of small incidents and interactions that left bad tastes in your mouth had piled up. Just as a bunch of small pebbles pile up to build a mountain, these small things had piled to the point where you just wanted to turn away from the world. 

But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to, more importantly. You didn’t want this past week, no matter how bad it might have been, to impede on your time with Seungcheol. You didn’t want to give up your time with him, not when it was -- not when he was -- so precious to you.

You settled an arm around Wolfie and slowly began to rise; she let out a few squeaks of protest. When Wolfie realized you weren’t going to stop, she huffed and wiggled out of your grasp. Tail high in the air, she walked over your legs to get to the arm rest opposite of you. She climbed on top of it and sat rather primly, looking at you with wide eyes. 

“Are you my pretty little lady,” you asked, voice sweet. You shifted to reach out and pet her. “My pretty baby.”

Wolfie allowed you to pet her for a handful of seconds before she sharply twisted her head towards the front door. She sat, waiting, until there was a series of sharp knocks. Wolfie began growling deep in her throat, hackles raising. 

“Y/n!” A deep voice called out, knocking stopping. 

You cursed, springing up from the couch. You grabbed the hem of your sweatshirt and pulled it away from you, swatting at the cat hairs that had decided to take up room and board on your shirt. “Coming!”

Wolfie ran beside you as you made your way to the door, her tail raised straight in the air. She jumped on the little tree you had next to the door, letting out a croaky yowl when you weren’t fast enough to open it. 

“Sorry, Wolfie, sorry --” You fumbled with the lock for a moment before successfully unclicking it. You wrenched open the door, a large, nearly comically so, smile already on your face. “Seungcheol!” 

He was grinning back at you, eyes twinkling. Seungcheol was dressed in all black, from his heavy winter coat that was a size too big to his pants and boots. The beanie he wore was the only spot of color on him, it being a vibrant orange. 

As always, despite his humble outfit, he was handsome and beautiful. 

Something shifted inside of you. It was as if you had done the breathing exercise your therapist had suggested, but instead of lifting only a few pebbles off your shoulders it relieved you of half a mountain’s worth of weight. 

You stepped back, letting him come into your apartment enough to shut the door behind him. Wolfie hopped off of her cat tree and went to him, winding herself around her legs. You went to follow suit, arms reaching out to him, but he stopped you. 

Subconsciously your lips began to pout at his refusal. Seungcheol laughed, his hands going to his zipper. “Let me take off my coat before you hug me. It’s cold outside.”

“I don’t care about it being cold,” you mumbled, but did as he said. 

As soon as he had his coat unzipped, Seungcheol reached out for you. He opened his coat just enough so you wouldn’t be touching the cold outer layer, his hands guiding you to rest against him. 

He was warm; that was your first thought. 

His arms surrounded you, pulling you close enough to where your nose was smashed against his chest. Not that you minded. Your arms slipped around him in turn, sliding underneath his coat and taking hold of the back of his hoodie. One of his hands went to the back of your head, fingertips sinking in your hair, and he guided you to rest your cheek against him. 

Your eyes slipped shut of their own will. Humming, you nuzzled into him, breathing him in. Before Seungcheol, you never really gave much thought into what men smelled like; all you knew was they either smelled good or bad. But Seungcheol?

He smelled like -- well, like Choi Seungcheol. You knew he used expensive cologne, that he used fabric softeners and used the same body wash and lotion so the fragrance would be amplified. Your first impression of him had been that he smelled expensive, and even now, three months into your relationship, you couldn’t help but associate him with luxury. 

But now? 

He smelled like home. 

That was your second thought. 

“I’m sorry you had a bad day.” His face was pressed into your hair, just as yours was his chest, and you wondered if he was breathing you in, as you were him. The hand that was in your hair began to fumble with the strands before settling, his palm heavy on your head. He began petting you, as if you were a cat or a dog, but instead of feeling indignant you felt extremely at ease. 

“It’s fine.” 

He hummed, the sound coming deep from within him. You felt his chest vibrate against your face. “It’s not fine. I don’t like it when you’re suffering.”

You grinned, squeezing him. “I’m not suffering, Seungcheol. Just. Had a bad week. Besides,” you pulled away slightly, just enough to peer up at him with your little grin. “Somehow it doesn’t feel all that bad anymore.”

Seungcheol laughed, hands moving to your face. He pinched at your cheeks, not hard enough to hurt, before cupping them in his hands. His dark eyes were soft and sparkling as they looked at you, and you knew that no one suited brown eyes as well as he. They were warm and inviting, gentle and soft; perfect reflections of his soul. 

He didn’t speak. He licked his lips and your eyes obediently went to his mouth. Seungcheol chuckled again, his hands tilting your face up. Expectant, your eyes slipped shut. 

You waited for a second. Then another. Then a few more, and your eyes were opening in confusion. He was still watching you, smiling wide enough that his gums showed. 

“Seungcheol!” You whined, brow furrowing.

He giggled, a boyish thing that seemed so at odds with his masculine build and voice. But it was him. 

Seungcheol swooped down, his lips finally connecting with yours. You sighed at the contact, melting against him. The two of you exchanged chaste kisses back and forth, neither in a rush. It was as if your entire week had been hurtling towards this, towards you in his arms, his lips on yours, something settling in your heart that seemed a little too much to just be infatuation. 

He pressed one final kiss to your mouth before straying, his lips ghosting over your cheek. They traveled about your face, his breath warm as it hit your skin. He pressed quick kisses to the apple of your cheek, the space between your brows, your temple; you hummed, satisfaction and safety seeping into your bones and soul, and he pressed a kiss to each of your eyes. 

Seungcheol’s mouth returned to yours, and when he pressed another kiss to your mouth, firm like how someone would kiss a lover long gone, you couldn’t help but beam. 

His own lips twisted into a smile in response. Your teeth clacked against his, both of you grinning into each other’s mouths. 

“Sorry for teasing you, baby.” He pulled away from you, hands squeezing your cheeks before he released you. You wanted to stick yourself back into his arms, but held back. “You’re just so damn cute.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes in faux annoyance. You couldn’t fight the smile that was still on your face, though. “Whatever.”

“What --” Seungcheol stopped pulling off his coat for a moment to stare at you, eyes narrowing, as if you had done something sacrilegious. “Did you just say whatever to me saying you’re cute?”

He still had that appalled look on his face. You shifted back onto your heels, watching as he slowly continued pulling off his coat. You wondered if he was teasing you. “I mean. Thanks?”

“You are cute,” he declared, voice stern with authority. You couldn’t help the look of disbelief that appeared on your face. Seungcheol sighed, as if your skepticism was disappointing. He got one arm out of his coat. “You are. I don’t know who I have to punch to convince you --”

“Violence isn’t the answer to everything,” You chided. You finally left the entryway, moving to your kitchen. “I’ll get some hot chocolate ready for you, Seungcheol!”

He gave an affirmative noise in return. You pulled out your milk and went about heating it up. As it heated, you pulled out two mugs from the dishwasher, which was so full of dishes that had been shoved in that you had to wiggle the mugs back and forth to get them out. 

You felt his presence behind you, and you felt embarrassment slowly creep its way up your neck and settle on your face. Standing, you refused to look him directly in the face. “I uh. Didn’t have the energy to really do dishes that much this week.”

Arms were wrapping around your waist, Seungcheol plastering himself to your back. You put the cocoa powder in the glasses. He slouched against you, his head tilted against yours, watching. He was warm, always warm. One of his arms moved to sling around your waist, the other across your chest. 

You removed the milk from the microwave, pouring it evenly in the two mugs. Seungcheol shuffled with you as you shifted, grabbing the mini-marshmallows from the cupboard. Without much thought you distributed them before leaving the package on the counter. 

“They’re not even.”

“Hm?”

Seungcheol sighed against your ear, as if whatever he had seen was greatly burdening him. “The marshmallows. There’s not an even amount in both mugs.”

“Oh.” You looked down, eyeing both the mugs. “You can have the one with more of them, then.”

Clicking his tongue, Seungcheol reached around you for the package. “You deserve to have the same amount of marshmallows as I do, baby.”

Feeling slightly as if this wasn’t just about marshmallows, you watched as Seungcheol’s fingers carefully counted out five more marshmallows and put them into the left mug. Before he could settle his hand back on your waist, you grabbed it. 

You slid your hand on top of his, observing. His fingers were larger than yours, both in length and width. Seungcheol was pale, remarkably so, and his fingers were no different. Your fingers slid against his hand, feeling the little hairs on his knuckles and the ring on his forefinger. Your other hand joined your first in your navigation of his hand, smoothing over his fingernails -- which he kept trimmed and maintained, more than you -- feeling the sharpness of them in contrast to the soft pads of his fingers. 

Seungcheol wiggled his fingers, and you felt a little giggle escape you as you wrapped your hands around three of his fingers, squeezing. He pressed himself further into you, and you felt every inch of him against you. 

“Seungcheol --”

He pulled away, pressing a kiss to your ear. You peered over your shoulder at him, tilting your head. Seungcheol looked at you for a moment before smiling that gummy grin of his, his hands going to hold your head and bring it so he could press a kiss to your temple. 

“Why are you so fucking cute,” he said, each word separated by a kiss to your forehead. 

Seungcheol released you, picking up both mugs. You followed him into the living room, where he immediately went to the couch. Wolfie hopped onto the coffee table in front of it, sniffing both mugs. Seungcheol went to shoo her away but you stopped him, folding yourself into the couch next to him. 

“She doesn’t drink it,” you said. You reached to the ground and pulled a blanket off of it, settling the blanket over your legs. “The only people food she likes is salami. The real kind, you know? Or she likes licking bowls after I eat Captain Crunch.”

Seungcheol laughed, and like always whenever you heard the sound, you giggled along with him. He shifted further into the couch, moving his feet to prop them up on the coffee table. He pulled the blanket off of you, shooting a look at you when you protested. Seungcheol grabbed your calves, guiding your legs to drape over his thighs. He then adjusted the blanket over the both of you, tucking both of you in. 

“She’s a good girl,” Seungcheol agreed, reaching out. Wolfie took the hint and jumped onto your legs, climbing fervently up to his hand so he could pet her. He chuckled, obliging. “She’s awfully needy.”

He shot you a look, coy. “Just like someone else I know.”

You puffed out your cheeks, shooting him a glare. “You’re just as needy as I am, Mr. Choi Seungcheol!”

He gasped, openly insulted. “What did I say about calling me by my full name?”

You wiggled, reaching out and tugging one of his curls. “Well, when you start accusing someone it makes them do horrible things, Mr. Seungcheol. Like using full names.”

“Oh, does it?” He grinned. With one hand still petting Wolfie, he used the other hand to reach out and ruffle your hair. You let out an indignant squawk, waving your hand around to try and get him to stop. “Does it, then? Call me Choi Seungcheol again and see what happens!”

“Okay,” you laughed. “Choi Seungcheol, Choi Seungcheol, Choi Seungcheol.”

His mouth dropped, affronted. Seungcheol then huffed, moving his arm off of you and turning his face. “Fine. You’re lucky Wolfie is on your legs, otherwise I’d push you off.”

You laughed at his sulking, thoroughly endeared. You shifted forward, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. You tried to bring him down to you in order to kiss him, but Seungcheol resisted, straining against you. “Hey! I’m trying to make it better, Seungcheol!” 

“Nope!” He said, shaking his head. His curls bounced with every movement, and you couldn’t help but smile in adoration. “No making it better, F/n L/n. You’ve done it.”

“Oooh,” you cooed, “I’ve done it, have I?”

He nodded, pushing his lips out in an exaggerated pout. “Yep. You’ve done it.”

“What have I done?”

“Agitated me.”

You laughed, a loud thing that startled Wolfie from your lap. She jumped off of the couch, her feet hitting the hardwood with a little thump! 

“I’ve agitated you!” You echoed in between laughs. You fell back against the couch, head hitting the armrest at an awkward angle, no longer able to support yourself. When you peeked back at Seungcheol, he was raising his thick eyebrows at you, which set you off giggling again. 

He moved your legs off of his thighs, moving around them and guiding them to rest on the couch. You watched, your smile so big it was starting to hurt your cheeks, as he descended upon you. He placed his knees on either side of your thighs, setting his weight against them. Seungcheol bent over you, his eyes sparkling with something dangerous, one eyebrow lifted. 

“Now you’ve really done it,” he murmured, voice deep. It sent something coursing through you, something that ate away at the mirth and sent heat shooting through your heart and settling deep. Seungcheol leaned over you, one hand bracing against the armrest and the other guiding your head in a more comfortable position. 

“I’ve really done it,” you echoed, dumbly. 

“I’m sure you can make it up to me,” he said, absentmindedly. His fingers traced over your ear, nail scraping lightly; your eyes fluttered as they continued to glide over your skin, moving to your jaw. You felt two of his fingers prod at your lower lip before continuing, pulling at it slightly before moving to ghost over your chin. 

You hummed, tongue reaching out to wet your lips. “I can.”

He lowered himself against you. He braced both hands on either side of your head, and your eyes slid shut as his face neared. 

Then your phone began to buzz. 

Your eyes flew open, staring into his. He was so close. He let out a huff of breath. The two of you waited for a second, and you knew he was trying to will the noise away just as much as you, but to no avail. 

You tapped his thighs, and Seungcheol let out a deep sigh. He began raising himself off of you, and you couldn’t help but give his thighs a squeeze. 

Seungcheol went to the other end of the couch as you hung your front half off of it, searching the ground for where your phone had fallen earlier. Once you got it, you wiggled frantically back onto the couch. You moved to press against Seungcheol, your thighs molding into one another, elbows knocking. 

Your mood, which had been repaired by Seungcheol, began to dampen as soon as you saw the contact name of the person who had messaged you. Your weariness must have appeared on your face, as Seungcheol was immediately responding. He swung his arm around your shoulders and brought you closer, leaning his head against yours. 

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Humming, you softly shook your head so as to not hurt his. “Just texts from my manager.”

You didn’t move to open the messages. It was like you were Atlas again. The weight returned, no matter how many pebbles and rocks Seungcheol had brushed off of your shoulders.

Seungcheol let out a little sigh. He wiggled about, turning onto his side to face you. He leaned forward and tucked his face into your neck, warm breath hitting your skin. Seungcheol laid his other arm over your stomach, hand gently squeezing at your lovehandle. 

“You don’t have to answer it,” he murmured. You could feel his lips move against your skin. “You’re not in a manager position, and you’ve clocked out. It can wait.”

When you shook your head in answer, he sighed again. Seungcheol pressed a kiss to your neck, and a part of you couldn’t help but feel foolish at how your heart jumped and the corners of your lips twitched up into a little smile. 

Unlocking your phone, you hurriedly tapped on your manager’s messages. Immediately you were met with five separate chat bubbles, all as unwelcome as the one before it. manager: so what was this I heard about you leaving early yesterday? 

manager: I know you see other people leaving early, but that’s not something I encourage. It’s not something you should encourage, either. 

manager: We rely on you to set an example to the others. 

manager: You’re scheduled for a certain time, and you should be fulfilling that time. 

manager: If this happens again I’ll have to look into shortening your hours.

Your mouth fell open with an audible noise, a small breath of air leaving you as you read over your manager’s messages. Seungcheol made an inquiring sound and you tilted your phone towards him so he could read the texts. 

“What the fuck,” he muttered. “What the fuck. Who the fuck cares? Who the fuck -- so what you left early?”

“It was by ten minutes,” you softly said, sending out a quick affirmative to your manager to let them know you at least read the messages. “I was just. Tired, you know?”

Seungcheol straightened next to you, angling his head to read the texts again. His thick brows were narrowed, plump lips twisted into an irritable frown. “What the fuck. Ten minutes? This is over ten fucking minutes?”

“It’s just --” You broke off, fumbling with your phone for a moment. “It’s not like I do it all the time.”

“No, it’s not!” Seungcheol’s eyes were practically blazing as he looked at you, his grip on you tightening. He was fully irritated, gaze sharp and mouth firm. The urge to smile struck you for a split moment, your heart whispering with glee that he was angry over you; he was angry because of someone mistreating you. 

“It’s fucking ridiculous,” Seungcheol announced. His fingers dug into your shirt. “You’re a model employee. You never call in, never leave early or without doing your shit. Who the fuck are they to -- to text you like that?”

“My manager, Cheolie,” you reminded him. 

He scoffed, his hand leaving your body to push his curls away from his face. “Your manager -- fuck them, fuck! You’re a good person, a good employee. You’re an amazing person and if you want to leave ten minutes early, then you should! Fuck them!”

You were grinning now, your heart practically singing. It was nothing, you supposed. It wasn’t anything to get excited about, but there was something magnificent in seeing someone get angry over how others were treating you. It was wonderful to see another person so invested in your well-being and happiness, and it made your heart feel light. 

It was like he had taken the boulder on your back -- the world on Atlas’s -- and smashed it between his two hands, his anger blazing bright enough to blaze through rock.

Seungcheol’s eyes met yours, and immediately his look softened. He sighed, though his lips were beginning to curve in his sweet smile. He tucked his face back into your neck, pressing another kiss underneath your ear. “Don’t look at me like that when I’m being righteously angry on your behalf.”

You laughed, throwing your head back. “‘Righteously angry?’”

He giggled, burying his face into your skin. He kissed you again there, before Seungcheol was removing his head. Seungcheol peered up at you, and you couldn’t help but admire him. His dark curls, how they brushed against his sweet, wide eyes; his eyelashes, those ridiculously long and dark lashes that made him look ridiculously endearing. 

Fuck, how you wanted him. 

“You know,” he began, lips in a coy smile. “You haven’t really given me a kiss hello.”

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, raising your brows. “The audacity -- I have! Do you not remember us at the door?”

He hummed, shaking his head. His curls bounced. “Nope! I distinctly recall that whole ordeal being led by me.”

“Oh, was it?”

“Yep.”

You laughed, turning to face him. You switched your phone to your left hand, and with your right you reached up and cupped his cheek. His skin was soft and smooth, and you couldn’t help but stroke his cheekbone. You then pressed your hand to his jaw. “Well, I better correct that then.”

You pressed your lips against his, three quick kisses in succession. 

“Hm,” Seungcheol said. “I don’t know if that’s really enough to make up for it.”

“It’s not?” Then you pressed three more kisses. “How is that, sweetheart?”

Seungcheol shrugged. One of his hands settled on your waist, the other going to tuck your hair behind your ear. He traced his thumb over the shell of your ear before settling his hand right below it, on the hinge of your jaw. “Better, but not really satisfying, you know?”

“Not satisfying?” You asked, voice pitching high with amusement. His brown eyes were soft and twinkling, almost as if his soul was beckoning you closer, closer, to come closer and fall into his. You rose to your knees, letting your phone drop between the two of you. “I’ll just have to remedy that real quick.”

“I can tell you if it’s gonna be a quick one it won’t be real satisfying,” he chimed. 

You rolled your eyes, lowering your face. His eyes were already on your lips, his tongue peeking out. “You don’t have to worry about it being satisfying.”

Then you were upon him. Your hands on his face, angling his head up and towards you. You pressed a kiss to his upper lip, chaste and sweet, before tilting your head. Like a wave intent on devouring, you moved your mouth onto his. 

For a moment, Seungcheol let you work your mouth against his. Your kisses were wet and warm, and he was an obedient servant to the mastery your mouth had over him. Your hands sunk into his hair, nails scraping, fingers tugging. He was pliant beneath you, and you kissed him with the unhurried ease that all devote lovers practiced. 

Then, rather impishly, you took his bottom lip between your teeth. He let out a breathy moan at it, and for a moment you couldn’t help but grin. 

Pulling back, you tried to fight the surge of pride you felt as he surged after you. You subconsciously set a hand against his thick neck in an attempt to stop him from following, but Seungcheol paid no mind. Indeed, you couldn’t help the shiver of excitement that ran through you as he continued to push, his eyes dark with intent, nevermind the feeling of your hand pushing against him. 

“Why did you stop, baby,” Seungcheol murmured. His voice was dark and deep, matching his eyes, and fuck, if you weren’t ready to lay on the couch and let him have his way. 

“Our hot chocolate,” you replied, heart beating so quickly it was as if a hummingbird had somehow made its home within you, “it’s cold.”

“If it’s cold now, it’ll be cold when we’re done.”

You laughed, then. You threw out your arms and wrapped him in them, bringing Seungcheol flush against you. He went easily, and you pressed kiss after kiss to his face, hands messing with his hair. 

“If I had known,” you said, still giggling as you pressed a final kiss underneath his chin, “before we started dating how absolute insatiable and ridiculous you are, I wouldn’t have believed it. You really had me fooled, Seungcheol.”

He chuckled, moving his arms around you. Seungcheol pressed you into him, just as you had him. “I swear, everytime you call me ‘Seungcheol’ I lose another year of my life. Next you’ll be telling me that’s my name in your phone.”

You went still against him. 

Immediately Seungcheol pulled away from you. He looked at you, scrutinizing. Then, voice severe, “Unlock your phone for me.”

That set you off laughing again. Seungcheol laid you onto the couch before searching the area for your phone. He was presenting it to you in a matter of seconds, holding it out in front of you. “Unlock it.”

“You know the passcode,” you giggled. 

“No I don’t --”

You shot him a meaningful look. Then his eyes widened, and he tapped in the date of your first date. He had a satisfied look on his face when your phone unlocked, a little smirk at the corner of his mouth. You watched as he glanced around your phone. You let out a soft sigh, extending your legs and settling them on either side of Seungcheol. 

“What.” He blinked, then blinked again. “Seungcheol. You have my full first name? Not even a heart, not a flower or something cute, no -- there’s not even a smiley face!”

You were grinning. He huffed, shoulders rising. His brows furrowed and his lips went into a full pout. “Hey. Baby, this isn’t okay!”

“I didn’t realize it was just a crime,” you said. 

He glanced over at you. As soon as Seungcheol saw you were grinning and realized the depth of your insincerity, he was sticking his hand into the pocket of his sweatpants and withdrew his phone. 

“Look,” he said, flashing you his phone screen. 

He had a picture of you from your first date as your contact photo. You were smiling, brightly and unabashedly. It was almost goofy looking, how happy you looked in that picture. 

Your name in his phone was just as sweet, and you wondered if you needed to schedule a dentist appointment first thing Monday morning from the cavities that were surely forming. 

My Baby 💖🔥

“Aw,” you said, “that’s so cute.”

His jaw dropped. “Cute -- yes, it is cute! Meanwhile you just have my full fucking government name --” “Cheolie, sweetheart, it isn’t that serious --”

He glared at you, before shoving your phone towards you. “Change it. Right now.”

“Doesn’t that ruin --”

“Don’t make me repeat what I said,” Seungcheol warned. He stood, and your eyes immediately fell to his ass. Not in a perverted way of course, but because it was art and it would be a dishonor to not observe and appreciate art. 

“I’ll be back,” he said, “and when I return you better have something so fucking cute it’ll make me cry.”

Rolling your eyes, you went about your business. You already had a cute picture of him -- one taken when he had fallen asleep behind you -- as his profile picture, so you hurriedly began typing out a name for him. 

It really wasn’t a big deal to you, and you knew it really wasn’t that big of a deal to Seungcheol either. He’s seen your contact list. Everyone had their first and last names in it, save for your family members. There were no emojis, no cute names. 

Truly, you thought, Seungcheol should consider himself privileged. 

When he returned, he had Wolfie in his arms. Her eyes were shut, and she was completely dwarfed by his bulk and the added fluff that his oversized hoodie gave him. She was perfectly content, however, and when he sat down next to you all Wolfie did was shift in his arms to further mold into his chest. 

“So?”

You smiled, holding your phone against your chest. “I don’t know, sharing the contact name of your beloved is sort of a private thing.”

He shot you a glare. 

Giggling, you held out your phone for him. 

🌸💘 My Seungcheol 💘🌸

“Is it appropriately cute?”

He hummed, tilting his head. “What are the flowers?”

“Your lips,” you said matter-of-factly. “Your lips remind me of pink blossoms.”

Shocked, Seungcheol flickered his eyes up to yours. His eyes, always rife with emotion, were round from the revelation. His lips -- his blossom pink lips -- parted, and like a magnet your eyes were on them. 

“Those are some dangerous words, baby.”

You shrugged, settling back against the couch. “Too bad you have Wolfie on you.”

He looked down at the cat, eyes narrowed. You could practically hear him cussing her out. Then he sighed, settling one of his hands on her back. Wolfie arched into it, and in the silence you could hear her beginning to purr. 

Seungcheol moved to rest against you, the two of you practically molding into one. You leaned against him, head on his shoulder, hand moving to join his in petting Wolfie. For a moment the two of you were quiet, enjoying one another, safe in the knowledge of the infatuation, adoration, yearning, the -- the love that the two of you shared, safe in the knowledge that it existed and thrived. Knowing that no matter the weight on the back, the other would be there to help brush off pebbles and destroy the rubble.

You moved your head, pressing a kiss against his shoulder. He hummed, and as you pulled back he swept down to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“You know,” he said, after the two of you settled back in your spots. “I saw the prettiest flower today while walking through the store. I took a picture of it because it reminded me of you.”

[bloomingnono]

meant it. (part 2)

pairing: jeno x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: ~ 1.7 k

warnings: language (like one curse word akjds)

intro l part 1 l part 2

a/n: im so sorry for the long wait:( i wanted to make sure i did my best, and wrote something i was overall pretty content with! but here’s the second, and final part to “meant it”!! i hope you all enjoy, especially my dear 🍿anonie<3

also not me making major adjustments 5 minutes before posting💀

taglist of my loves: @luvlyjaemin @vera-liscious @lenaluvs

Your bed felt cold. The type of cold that left your body weak. And yet again, you found yourself fighting to let sleep consume you.

You hesitantly turned to your left side, hoping that maybe, this was all just one big nightmare. That maybe when you turned around, he’d be there.

But you were only met with the other side of your bare bed; your lamp casting an amber tinge on your snow-white sheets.

Four weeks had passed since those final words had been exchanged. He had left you broken.

To say you missed him was an understatement.

You longed for the way your heartbeat quickened at his sight. You longed for the way your stomach fluttered as your name effortlessly slipped out of his lips. You longed for his touch; the way his fingers lingered against your skin.

You missed him.

But at what cost? To hear those three empty words leave his mouth?

No. Never again.

It was unfair to Jeno. But most of all, it was unfair to you.

You didn’t deserve to be told such idle lies.

Especially not from the one person you would give up your entire life for.

Jeno was a naive soul; so sincere and trusting of what only met the eye.

Mistakes were a daily occurrence in his life; learning and growing from them as he paved his way through.

.

But the second you left, he knew he had made the biggest mistake yet.

.

On the night when everything ended, there was an inexplainable feeling of void growing within him.

He didn’t have a reason to smile, nor the energy to cry.

Unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, he felt incomplete. It left him numb.

Before he knew it, four weeks had already gone by.

Four weeks since he last held your frame in his grasp. Four weeks since he last saw the face he once fell in love with. Four weeks since he left you utterly broken.

But in those four weeks, Jeno wasn’t living. He was simply existing.

He was merely left in his world; his actions and their consequences, being his sole companion.

He knew it was unfair to continue to lie and prolong the inevitable. But, why did it feel so wrong? It was the right decision to choose... right?

‘To choose.’

It seemed like such a simple action. It was something we did on a daily basis; nearly every second of every day.

Yet it held so much influence.

Jeno had finally realized that now.

Everything in life was purely a choice.

.

Everything.

You lie on your bed, your mind lost in all the bumps and ridges that painted your cream-colored ceiling.

It was late into the night, the moon peeking its way through the slits of your window blinds. The silence was peaceful, yet deafening.

Despite the unsettling aspects of the stillness, you’re ready for it to devour you; yearning for that feeling of tranquility that you haven’t felt in weeks.

But just as you are about to give in, you’re abruptly interrupted by frantic raps on your front door. Jostling up into a sitting position, you force yourself off your bed to check and see who was causing such a fuss.

The knocks on your door persist, not allowing for a single moment of intermission.

Apprehension quickly overtakes your body, frightened at what could possibly cause such actions to befall at this ungodly hour.

You hesitantly grab your doorknob, carefully turning it and opening the door just a fraction of the way.

You are met with a hunched figure; their hands on their knees and their hair damp with —what can only be assumed as— sweat. Their labored breathing leads you to believe they had run here, and hastily at that.

After a few short-lived seconds, you carefully try to assess the situation; fear still coursing throughout your body.

“Can I help you..?”

The figure instantly tenses at your tone, as if taken aback by the sound of your voice.

You watch in confusion as they begin to catch their breath, and stand to their full height. Straining your eyes to try and identify their face, you’re left frozen at the single feature that was recognizable even in pitch darkness.

His eyes.

You instinctively take a step backward, distrusting your vision.

But your presumption reigns true, as the figure tentatively takes a step forward through the doorway; his face now fully illuminated by your foyer light.

.

Lee Jeno.

.

He seemed to be in a terrible state: his hair a mess from the sweat, his clothes violated by the wind, and his breaths still quite uneven.

You attempt to try and form a coherent sentence, but the words seem to die in your throat. You could only look up at him, staring blankly with your mouth hung open.

“Wha... What are you doing here...?”

“I came to see you. I needed to talk to you. Immediately.” His expression was unreadable, yet his tone held the familiar hint of desperation. “I miss you. I want— No. I need you back. Nothing in this world seems right when I’m not with you. I’m not who I am without you. I need you…”

The silence that follows is unbearable.

It takes a few moments for his words to sink in. You feel your eyebrows furrow in confusion, contorting your features into a frown.

But the confusion is quickly replaced with the dreaded feeling of anger. It swiftly fills your entire soul, kindling a flame. The one emotion you tried so hard to repress, viciously engulfs your entire body.

The words that had once died in your throat, quickly resurrect and force their way out of your mouth.

You find your voice again. However, this time, it is nothing but cold and bitter.

“Lee Jeno, I love you. I’m not ashamed to say that I’m still hopelessly in love with you, because I am. But you aren’t. And that’s why I let you go.”

The floodgates were finally opened. There was no going back.

“As much as I still loved you, and as much as it killed me to accept that you didn’t return those feelings for me anymore; I let you go. Want to know why? Because your happiness means so much more than my own. I let you go because I love you so fucking much.”

Jeno stares at you with wide eyes, unable to summon a statement that could somehow ease the pain in you eyes. “I-“

“No, listen!!” Your voice begins break, unable to keep your emotions at bay. The words flow out of your mouth quicker than your mind could process. “I wanted to blame you. I wanted to hate you and resent you so badly for everything you put me through, but I couldnt. Because I still fucking love you!!”

The last statement leaves your throat raw. But you persist.

“You really got some nerve, Lee Jeno.” You laugh humorlessly at the pure audacity, before turning back to him with a renewed flame.

“You left me absolutely shattered. And I couldn’t even hate you for it. I refuse to let you hurt me again. I refuse to watch, as the love for me floods out of your eyes again. I REFUSE!!!”

Every last bit of your energy is wasted on your final words as you scream them at the top of your lungs.

The angry tears streaming out of your eyes seem endless. Your whole body trembles with pure fury as you collapse to the floor, legs giving out beneath you.

Jeno instinctively scrambles to your side, supporting your fragile form with his own.

Too weak to fight against his hold, you allow yourself to be braced by him; the touch being all too familiar for your liking.

“Why? Why are you doing this to me?” You purposely avoid his gaze as you ask, your voice impossibly faint. You’re left completely exhausted; the anger quickly transforming into pure defeat.

There’s a moment of hesitancy. You feel the sharp intake of breath that he takes before the reply is given.

.

“I... love you.”

.

Those three words that you once adored, and now despised... Those three words that had eased all your pain, but now caused your suffering...

Those three words... were no longer hollow.

.

He meant it again.

.

A chill swiftly travels down from the top of your spine to the tip of your toes, leaving you senseless.

He promptly proceeds; the hesitancy in his tone now replaced with a new-found determination.

“I love you. And not because I have to, but because I want to.” Cold fingers gently grip your chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze. “Loving you is not merely a spark. Loving you is not lust or simple desire. Loving you is a commitment. I want to wake up every day, and choose to love you.”

There’s another moment of silence; tears of regret traveling down to drip from the point of his chin.

“I’m so sorry for... everything.” He chokes back a sob as the words get caught in his throat. “I loathe myself for being the cause of all this. I will never forgive myself for hurting you and... and I completely understand if you aren’t willing to forgive me either-“

Before he could finish, you crash your lips onto his; successfully silencing his statement. Tears continue to descend both your guys’ cheeks, unable to subside from the overwhelming sense of comfort that came with being in the others’ warmth again.

You sense a familiar arm snake around your waist, pulling you deeper into the contact. Your own arms loop around his neck, absorbing the touch that you had longed for, so intensely.

You pull away from the kiss, coming face to face with the love of your life.

.

“You have no idea how much I missed feeling those words.” The sentence is muttered, speaking to yourself more than anyone else.

But he heard them nonetheless.

.

You feel his slender fingers encase either side of your face, his cool touch sending a wave of shock throughout your body. Keeping your face steady in his hands, he slowly leans his forehead against yours.

With his eyes closed and without a single waver in his voice, the words slip out again.

.

“I love you.”

.

You soak up the comfort that alluded from such simplicity.

You know that you guys aren’t perfect. Nowhere near it.

But what mattered, was that you were in each other’s hold again.

.

.

Because you loved each other...

.

.

And you meant it.

end.

[bangtans-peaceful-piegon]

My Cup of Tea: Prologue

My Cup Of Tea: Prologue | YoongixReader

Warnings for this Chapter: none, just a post-breakup suffering OC who is saved by a whole Min Yoongi

“Coffee is bitter, so people add a little bit of sugar or creamer until it suits their taste. However, once it’s added it can’t be separated. It’s also addictive, it’s your choice to keep it as your poison or to control how much you take. Some people need it, some people don’t...In that case, it really isn’t their cup of tea.”

A/N: im finally deciding to post this after who knows how long sajkdfhd,, tysm for beta reading this for me @jtrbluv !!! again u were a huge help because the tag game you tagged me in gave me the final push to actually post this fic thats been collecting dust in my drafts. ily boo !!! <3 it also took a while because i wanted to do more research for this fic. i dont think ive read about or drank so much tea in my life for the past few months. pls enjoy the prologue everyone!

Word Count: 1,600+

You sat in the worn out leather booth, eyes trained on the steaming mug in front of you.

What just happened?

Something that took five years to grow ended in mere seconds.

Five years of dedication.

Five years of convincing yourself it would work out, that it could be fixed.

Five years spent on a relationship that should’ve ended before it began.

You mindlessly took a sip of your coffee hissing as the hot brew burnt your tongue, mind drifting back to the argument that occurred hours ago...

“You’re never here!”

“Was I not enough for you?”

“Where’s the old Y/N that I knew and loved?”

You weren’t sure about what was said after that except for... “I’m seeing someone else.”

The bruising pain on your tongue began to throb and you couldn’t help the tears that formed.

You never liked coffee, but the café was your favorite place. 

Perhaps it was the enticing aroma that attracted you every time you walked in, or maybe it was the cleverly thought out name that was in the form of childlike puns: Bearly Awake Brew.

Either way, you couldn’t despise coffee any more than you already did in this moment.

“Are you alright?”

You whipped your head up to see a man standing above you.

Through your bleary eyes you could make out a set of kind brown ones shielded by black frames which rested atop a boopable nose. On his head, a black mop of neatly trimmed hair along with soft cheeks paired with a soft jawline.

The man was dressed in a black turtle-neck and long-coat as if returning from a meeting discussing the newest stocks and bonds of business.

After a small, possibly noticeable, ogling of the stranger, you shook your head ‘no.’

He motioned to the seat across from you raising his brows inquisitively, “May I?” 

This time you slowly nodded.

He seemed harmless enough, and even if he tried anything there was pepper spray in your purse.

You sniffled as he took a seat.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No y-you wouldn’t understand.” He leaned forward onto his elbows—a determined furrow in his brow.        

“Try me.”

Who was this guy? He didn’t come off as threatening but somewhat… familiar.

You couldn’t quite place his face or remember his name.

“Not yet, right now I just need a good cry,” you replied sinking further into your seat.

“Alright.” He said, shrugging and not saying much, or really, nothing.

He sat across from you— not making eye contact but quietly observing the café.

Several questions raised in your mind: Where did he come from? Why is he here of all places? Did someone send him with the intention to make you feel even more like a fool than you already did?

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you asked when the silence became a little too long.

“No, not really...” he replied slowly. “Would you like me to leave?”

“No, I mean, it’s just-“ you hesitated, “You’re fine,”

“Ok then.”

Silence.

One look at him and it’d be hard to believe women find him approachable, but the man came up to you.

Much less, while you were on the verge of outright bawling in the middle of a café.

“What’s your name?” you asked, initiating conversation. You might as well since he was there.

“Yoongi. Yours?” You hesitated knowing it wasn’t fair to not give him your name.

“I’ll reassure you I’m not a stalker, at least not the bad kind.”

You let out an amused scoff, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He chuckles and you couldn’t help but enjoy the sound.

Were you really that joy deprived?

“Ok then, I’m Min Yoongi, and I’m a stocker. As in I distribute and track merchandise in stores.” he reaches a hand out to shake and you can’t help but stare at it.

“Well go on I won’t bite,” you huffed a laugh, taking his hand and shaking it.

He smiles and you can’t help but return it.

Who is this guy?

“Why don’t we go for a walk?”

You contemplate his offer.

You had just met him but you hadn’t had casual conversation in a while… or hung out with friends for that matter. So maybe it’d be good for you after-

“Sure let’s go,” You replied immediately while standing up, maybe a little too quickly— your chair scratching the wooden floors and making a startling sound as you headed to the door.

He raised his brows in surprise at the sudden burst of energy before trailing behind you, ignoring the stares of café patrons.

“Hey wait up!”

-

This was another reason why you visited the quaint coffee shop often.

The park outside was always bustling with life and energy.

There was a little pond where ducks would glide across its surface diving from time to time, scavenging for the weeds at the bottom, maybe even getting sustenance from people who were ignorant of the ‘Do not feed the ducks’ sign.

It also had an open field where locals and families would enjoy the hot summer days by setting up little camps with blankets and food or even play small games of football or soccer.

While children played in the vast expanse of green, parents would sit back and converse with strangers forming new friendships. It was a place of change and growth and you loved it.

“So,” Yoongi continued as you both walked down the dirt path, “other than your name, and why you were crying in my café, is there anything about you I have yet to know?” Your cheeks flushed red as you shifted your sight to the ground.

“There’s nothing much really,” you replied with a shrug before backtracking his sentence, “Wait, your café?”

“Don’t change the subject. There’s got to be one thing about you… how about your favorite color?”

You purse your lips at the dodging of the question, albeit a basic one, but it was a start. “I guess Rainbow,”

He nodded with a hum, “Wise choice,”

You let out a huff of amusement, “Alright wise guy, what’s yours?”

He pondered for a moment before affirmatively replying, “Black,”

You hummed. “Kind of... dark, isn’t it?”

He turned around and shrugged, “I’d say the rainbow but you took it already,”

You scoffed, resuming your place beside him.

He continued asking basic questions to which you replied and vice versa.

You liked dogs, but him on the other hand didn’t have a favorite animal, at least until he adopted a poodle which made him keen on the creatures, more specifically one named Holly.

You were allergic to bees and he was allergic to cats.

You both enjoyed a variation of music from rap to classical piano music, but the question also led to a debate on what artist is the most superior to all.

Neither of you won, and concluded neither lost with valid points made during said argument.

It only felt like minutes had gone by but wasn’t until you looked at the time that you realized how late it was.

The crowd at the park had begun to thin out while shops surrounding the area were beginning to close for the day.

The once bright sunlight began to fade behind clouds as it began its descent to the horizon.

“I should probably be heading home,” you cut in politely before he could delve into the topic of what they would do in a post-apocalyptic world.

“Oh,” he replied, obviously disappointed.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Well could I ask you one more thing?”

You nodded expecting it to be another ‘get to know you’ question or something along the lines of ‘if you had to would cut your arm or leg off?’ but it was something much more complicated.

“Can I get your number?”

You stiffened, unsure how to respond.

You weren’t sure if he was asking as a friend or a man with an ulterior motive.

Could you really do it?

Especially after you had just-

“I’m sorry that came out wrong,” He quickly mended, fumbling his words, realizing your distress.

“I think you’re really great, and I’d like us to continue talking. Just two people who enjoy each other’s company, you know?”

You looked up at him and saw he was offering to be friends that would be nothing more.

You couldn’t deny: you had fun.

For the first time in a long time.

Maybe it wasn’t a relationship you needed, but a friendship.

You smiled, “I’d like that,”

You reached into your pocket pulling out your phone, “Here.”

You both swapped devices, putting in the respective numbers. Once the contact was added, you returned each device to the rightful owner.

He grinned, holding up his phone, “How about a contact photo?” 

You smiled, nodding as you  stood beside him while  he took a selfie of you side-by-side. Once the picture was taken he slid his phone into his pocket. “Thanks,” he glanced down at the phone, that darn smile growing on his face, “Y/N. I’ll talk to you soon?” 

You nodded and finally split ways.

As you began the trek toward your apartment a dopey smile remained plastered on your face.

Maybe everything would be alright.

[spiteweaver]

first encounter | previous | next

(Note: this story takes place in April of 2020!)

--

“About time you showed your ugly mug ‘round here again!”

Monroe fell into the chair opposite Delucius with a heavy sigh, his hat tipping down to hide his face from view. Castor thought he looked a little worse for wear, but decided it may be best to hold his tongue. Not wishing to turn their reunion into an impromptu bar brawl, he instead drank deeply from his mug.

“Good t’see ye in one piece,” he mumbled by way of greeting.

“Likewise,” Monroe responded gruffly, and flicked the brim of his hat up to glare at Delucius. “Now what’s this nancy doin’ at my waterin’ hole?”

Delucius feigned offense with a hand over his heart. “I heard you were back in town,” he replied, “so I made sure I would be as well. It’s been eons since we were all together like this. C’mon, cowboy, lighten up; drinks are on me.”

“Get fucked.”

“Fuck me yourself, coward.”

Monroe looked to Castor, who gave a helpless shrug. “Fuck ‘im yerself,” he said, “coward.”

Delucius’ grin widened until even Monroe, ornery as he was, couldn’t help an amused snort. The smarmy little git was right; it had been too long since the three of them had sat ‘round the table and had a proper chat. So, kicking back in his chair, Monroe lit up one of his noxious hand-rolled cigarillos.

“When’d ya get back, Cas?” he asked.

“Few weeks ago,” Castor replied. “I figured I’d just missed ye, but Delucius told me ye’ve been abroad since the clan woke.”

“Eeeeyup.”

“Well?” Delucius leaned forward, his eyes shining with mischief. “What’s the word? You’ve gotta have something juicy for me after a trip like that; preferably something Sinclair’ll pay top dollar for.”

Monroe scrambled to appear presentable as a glass of whiskey came down in front of him. “Welcome back, stranger,” Sitri cooed, and pressed a kiss to the Fae’s cheek before bustling off to see to his other customers. Delucius and Castor exchanged a knowing glance.

“Damn,” Monroe said dazedly, “he’s one helluva drake.”

“Ye’ll never get anythin' out of 'im now, Delucius.”

Delucius slammed his hand on the table. “Stop staring at Sitri’s ass and spill it!”

“I’ll stare at whoever’s ass I damn well please.” That being said, Monroe reluctantly returned his attention to his tablemates, and settled for sneaking glances at Sitri between sentences. “I’ve got yer juice all right,” he said, “but I ‘dunno if ya’ve earned it, pal.”

“I said drinks are on me, didn’t I?” Delucius countered.

“A single round’a drinks ain’t enough to get’cha so much as a hint,” Monroe retorted. Taking a particularly lengthy drag off of his cigarillo, the Fae leaned in to meet Delucius and blew a cloud of soupy smoke in his face. “Yer ten cycles too green fer this scoop, so take yer ‘generosity’ elsewhere. This’s fer Dreamweaver’s ears only, unless you can come up with an offer I can’t refuse.”

“Drinks and my ass aren’t good enough?!” Delucius cried through a fit of hacking coughs.

“Drinks ‘n Sitri’s arse maybe,” Castor muttered into his ale.

Before Monroe could think of a suitably witty comeback, the door to the tavern swung inward, and a pair of strangers sauntered up to the bar. With their arrival, all thoughts of lighthearted banter leaked out of Delucius’ brain like egg yolk. He clamped his mouth shut, so tight that his teeth ached, and did what he always did when he was scared dead to rights: tried to disappear in plain sight.

Now this, Monroe thought, might be worth more than a hint.

“What’s got ya pissin’ yerself, pardner?” he asked, examining the newcomers from beneath the wide shadow of his brim. “A couple’a yuppies like them ought not t’ bother ya none. I’ve seen ya go toe-to-toe with drinks scarier’n them two.”

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Delucius hissed.

“Talk t’ me like that again,” Monroe warned, “and I’ll invite ‘em over fer a round—on you, a’course.”

“Not more immigrants, eh?” Castor said. “Had our fair share of ‘em in recent months.”

“No,” Delucius replied, “no, I don’t think they’re immigrants, Cas.”

“Back again, Miss Cymbeline?” Sitri asked one of the newcomers, a pretty dam with hair the color of sea fog and eyes shrouded by cloth. “You ought to give Phoebus a break now and again, you know? If he spends too long hanging 'round with this lot, he might just—” Sitri gasped— “have fun!”

The dam laughed demurely behind a raised hand, much to her companion's displeasure. He shot her a look, but kept any harsh words he may have had for her to himself.

“Tavern Master,” the drake, presumably named Phoebus, began.

“Haven't I told you to call me Sitri?” Sitri cut in. “Oof, you're so awfully stiff, honey. Let me mix you up a little tonic.”

“As I have informed you on more than one occasion,” Phoebus went on, “neither myself nor Lady Cymbeline are permitted to drink. We have come for the atmosphere only.”

“Sure you didn’t come for me, Phoebus?” Sitri all but purred, eliciting another round of stifled giggling from the dam. 

Monroe had to admit, the color that rose in Phoebus’ cheeks then was certainly attractive. He and Sitri had been cut from a similar cloth. They liked their drakes one of two ways: suave and sultry, or pricklier than a porcupine. Phoebus looked the part of the first, his angular face clean shaven, his ensemble pressed to perfection, but acted the part of the second, all work and no play. For Sitri, he was a rare treat indeed.

So, of course, Monroe instantly despised him.

“Looks like ye’ve got competition,” Castor noted.

Monroe gave another snort, this one derisive. “I could run circles ‘round that greenhorn.”

Unfortunately, it was at that precise moment that the tavern’s characteristic clamor fell into a lull, and Monroe’s distinctive voice cut through the resulting murmur like a hot knife through butter. Delucius sunk lower in his chair, but it was too late. He could feel eyes on the back of his neck, burning and stinging with what he could only describe as malicious glee. It wasn’t much consolation, but at least Monroe appeared suitably remorseful. He was chewing hard on the butt of his cigarillo, his grip tight on his glass.

The sound of approaching footsteps sent a chill racing up Delucius’ spine. His tablemates remained seated, but he saw each of them reach below the table—Monroe for his six shooter, Castor for his dagger. Neither of them bothered to play nice when Phoebus eventually came to a halt behind Delucius’ chair.

“Somethin’ we can help ya with, holy man?” Monroe inquired.

“No,” Phoebus replied, “I am merely here to deliver a message to Mr. Shadowheart.”

A hand alighted on Delucius’ shoulder, and all at once, he was there again, in that accursed church. Warmth seeped into him from the place where two bodies met, causing an uncomfortable sheen of sweat to blossom across his forehead. He could hear choral laughter ringing in his ears, smell rich, heady incense burning nearby, taste blood from a bitten lip on his tongue, sweeter somehow in his memory. It tasted of the tea he’d been offered upon his arrival.

“The Archbishop sends his regards.”

Then Phoebus stepped back, and the present rushed in to fill his absence. Delucius blinked to clear his vision. There was blood in his mouth again, but it was bitter. He washed it down with the rest of his drink.

“Tell him I said to go fuck himself,” he spat.

“Such language,” Phoebus tutted, but said nothing more to the trio. “Cymbeline, come along.”

“We only just got here,” Cymbeline protested. Something in the tone of Phoebus’ voice must have unsettled her, however, as the next moment, Delucius sensed her eyes on him as well, staring from beneath her shroud. “I’m sorry,” she added once she had joined her partner at their table, “for Phoebus, detective. He doesn’t mean any harm.”

“Cymbeline!”

“Former,” was all the response Delucius could muster, “I’m a former detective.”

Cymbeline hesitated at his back, but presently began to drift after Phoebus. He almost felt bad for giving her the cold shoulder; unlike her peers, her kindness seemed genuine. Whichever one of the Archbishop’s mad schemes she’d gotten tangled up in, he was certain she was unaware of her part in it, another lamb to the slaughter. Still, as long as she stuck by that drake she’d come in with, Delucius intended to keep his distance. The bastard smelled too much like the Archbishop to be anything but one of his most trusted acolytes.

“So—” Across from him, Monroe relaxed, once again kicking back in his seat with the crumbling remains of his cig between his lips— “ya gonna tell us what that was all about, prettyboy?”

Delucius ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he said, “but it’s gonna cost ya.”

[xsecretblastsx]

2x03 - The Dark Night

I'm actually surprised this recap came out faster than I thought it would, that's rare but I'm glad, also this episode is a fun one, or rather that's how I remember it.

Anyway, as usual recap under the cut:

Thoughts I had while watching the episode:

I know AC is a thing but it's kind of weird to have GG voice over be like: the last days of summer and the heat... and then there's this shot of Chuck drinking scotch in pajamas that look more suited for fall/winter

So I guess we're still on the Dan and Serena can't keep their hands of each other train.

Poor Blair, the Lord ain't into that, gotta love her for mentioning that Atonement scene in the library... she could totally rock that green dress.

Blair a delicate little flower, please. I do like how it's a constant the various fact that all her boyfriends never really got her, and have this fake image of her.

Jenny starring in her own version of the Devil wears prada, slaving it all around NYC

The Nate and the Duchess scene are giving me the creeps.

Compared to her season 1 looks, I'm kind of liking Vanessa's outfits so far.

No one likes to hear the hard truths of life, but Blair's words to Serena about her relationship with Dan were really spot on.

Fun fact about myself: purple is my favorite color. I guess that's why like Chuck's robe even if it makes him look like this weird junior version of Hugh Hefner.

This is the first time we see the minis!!! I loved everytime they popped up like mini cosplayers.

That outfit of Blair is one of my all time faves. Particularly the colors of the skirt

Oh Nate, even if he knows Blair's motives are never pure, he stills accepts her invitation. Go figures.

This has got to be Chuck and Serena's most funny conversation ever. Both of their expressions during the whole thing are hilarious.  

"I don't have a romantic body in my body. Least of all that one" Honestly who came up with these lines 😂😂

Looking back there were many sings of how obsessed Dan was with public opinion and his weird behaviors' for example take this throwaway line from Rufus: he still reading those Dan and Serena should they or not threads. Like what?

Dan: turns out I'm an ass but a passionate minority thinks I'm just and idiot. Yep pretty much the public opinion nowadays too.

This is so one of my fave chair lines! "The thing that always fascinated me about you: the cool exterior, the fire below" 😉

The whole scene honestly, from the way her eyes roll back to his smug smile at the end 🔥🔥🔥

Considering what happens in the second half of this season is kind of interesting to note that so far every single interaction between Blair are Nate is really passive aggressive.

Gotta give it to Vanessa even though she's freaked out after finding out Nate is sleeping with Catherine, she stills gives him a chance to explain

That scene between Catherine and Blair was actually good, because they both are right, Catherine can't stop Nate from doing what he wants, and there are things that Blair can't give up on, even if she thinks so.

Is there an emergency box for Serena Van der Woodsen? Well she lives there douche. But even if there was, what's the problem with that?

The whole Jenny & Eleanor storyline makes me feel lowkey sad for Blair, like this epiaode shouldn't Eleanor be at that party? It was parents/students thing, but Eleanor is at her atelier accepting from Jenny the kind of honest commentary she would never take from Blair

It's almost depressing to see Blair throwing herself at that Marcus guy

Chuck's "fake" accent, except it wasn't 🤭

And finally!!! All that pent up sexual frustration had to went somewhere

I'm living of Serena having moments like this one: "Fine, you know what? Life is not fair because it doesn't fit with the way you, Dan Humphrey, think it should be. But why are you always right?" Because this is it, the real crux of it, and why they keep having the same fight

Im so done with the Marcus storyline, because yes she wants his tittle, but she ain't also wrong because he kept treating her in a way that was so meh. Poor Chuck, though, but then again he kind of puts himself into this situations by ignoring his feelings at first and then they explode in his face anyway

I felt for Vanessa the whole episode, not used to that.

This Dan and Serena break up is so frustrating to watch because basically they're ending because Dan just won't meet her halfway. She's not asking him to give up all his ideals, only that he don't judge her for who she is.

I feel like Vanessa was more understanding to Nate's situation than Dan could have ever been with Serena.

For an episode that started quite sunny and happy it sure had a sad ending. Almost everyone ends up feeling pretty miserable.

This episode was one I remember mostly for that Chuck and Blair scene at that party were he's trying to seduce her, also the whole blockade thing was hilarious, this time around however while I still love those Chuck and Blair bits, I did find myself getting more invested in Nate and Vanessa and even more surprisingly on the argument between Dan and Serena, their break up scene really frustrated me.

Let's go first with the Nate, Catherine and Vanessa storyline. This is such a messed up plot, then again most of Nate’s plot that involved his family had a tendency to be that way. I may not like the details sometimes but what I do like about is how these kind of plots really showed the amount of pressure Nate’s family put on him. At this point in the show Nate’s only seventeen and yet he has to find a way to keep his mom’s head above water, so he falls prey to this woman who is just awful. Is no wonder he wanted to be with Vanessa again because she’s literally a breeze of fresh air, so far removed from his messed up world which is exactly what he needs, and yet is inevitable that she gets caught up in all the scheming and nastiness in the end. She lies to him in order to help him which is sad because help him still leaves him as prey to this woman, but that’s what I really like about this plot, Vanessa’s willingness to be there for Nate and also how understanding she was of the situation.

Vanessa, same as Dan, tends to be judgmental of others and comes from a background that has a more black and white view of morality, she was also raised by a family who despises everything the UES side represents. So imagine what it must have been for her to find out that Nate is sleeping with an older woman for money, that goes against her morals and her beliefs, she’s disgusted by the situation, and yet when Nates begs her to let him explain, she does and she ends up while not exactly approving of the situation, he understands why he’s doing it, and she tells hims that this can only bad for him and that whe should stop it, becaause he’s better than this, and she says it mainly because she in fact is concerned about him and see the best in him. This is why I like her relationship with Nate, because I feel they gave each other some needed perspective, through him she learns that not everything is black and why and that’s there a reason of why people does certain things, and through Vanessa Nate’s gets in touch with a much saner world were he can be himself. 

On the other hand, we have Dan and Serena, who for the last two episodes have been avoiding the fact that they have issues and they must be faced if they want to move forward, and it’s pretty easy to see why they were putting it off, because the moment they do it obvios that they can’t really solve them. The source of the conflict is the same as always, they keep having the same fight, except to me there’s a difference this time around, at Bart’s brunch and at the wedding Dan’s issues with Serena’s world were also framed with the fact that he discovered something about Serena he feels he can’t deal with, it annoy me both occasions at the Brunch because they had barely met and he was mad because she wasn’t the girl he thought almost as if she had deceive him, and it was like dude you guys met like yesterday, chill. At the wedding he had more of a right to be mad, because she had lied to him a lot, so one could understand his resentment with the UES in the sense that it had shaped Serena to be the kind of person that acts wildly and lies and whatever else he wanted to claimed. This time however he gets mad because the elevator situation serve as reminder of how she’s “more important” than him because she’s part of the 1%. They start arguing literally because they won’t help him as quickly as if she was her. Is it unfair? Yeah, but If we’re goint go be objective about it the mere existence of a 1% priviledge class is unfair to the the other 99%. But that’s life, and the majority of us have to deal with that, and that doesn’t mean we can be assholes to people that have been nice to us.

When he meets Serena he already knows she’s an UES princess, so if he really has a “eat the rich” mentality, why did he got involved with her? And is not like Serena was condecending or mean to him because he wasn’t rich as her, and yet he acts as if he had dated S2 Blair who was an elitist bitch to him every single time they interacted. He may also be not extremely rich as Serena, but he wasn’t poor at all. Correct me if I’m wrong but the kind of loft he lives in, at Dumbo ain’t cheap. So the way Dan acts if he had dated said a girl from a lower income background she had the right to be a total bitch to him, because he was more priviliged? Serena herself says it the best:  "Fine, you know what? Life is not fair because it doesn't fit with the way you, Dan Humphrey, think it should be. But why are you always right?” and this is prove that theirs is not a relationship problem, is exclusively a Dan problem. Serena says to him she can’t change who she is, and is not like she’s saying I won’t change the way I act, is not related to that, because their “problem” literally refers to who she is: her last name, the family she was born to. To that Dan says, I can’t change who I am either, and that's the thing Dan! hers is a matter of being, his is a matter of thinking, and she can’t change her family, but you can change the way you think, and it’s not even a drastic change, he doesn’t have to change his ideals, rather just be understanding and accept her for who she is.  If one thinks about i Vanessa did  a better job with Nate on that topic this episode than Dan ever did, so it can be done, it can be resolved, he just refuses to do it Serena doest thing through the series that definately add to their problems, their parents situation doesn’t help either, but this episode really shows that the root of their issues is Dan.

Finally, there’s Chuck and Blair, who keep having the most amazing chemistry ever, and the sexual tension in their scenes is off the charts. This episode really relays on the fact of the amount of desire they feel for each other, which seems super fitting at this point in the series because while it’s clear they have deep feelings for each other, desire was what first brought them together, yet they both believe this episode that desire isn’t as exclusive as feelings, it’s easier to feel desire and so they think they can easily find it in other people, but what they discover this episode is that sadly that wasn’t the case. In Blair’s case it has to do in part with the fact that Marcus doesn’t really sees her that way, which makes me sad because here she is again dating a guy who refuses to be passionate about her, but even if he did, she’s forcing the passion, is not really there and can she honestly live like that? Like something is missing? Sadly, no. Oh she’s going to try, not only this season in fact, but is never going to fully substitute the one she has with Chuck.

Chuck faces the same issue, in quite a very literal way, which is hilarious. Chuck Bass playboy extraordinarie is suffering from a “blockage”, a very PG-13 way of saying that he can’t get it up, which is obviously a big tragedy for a guy like him, that amuses Serena to no end even if she can’t quite believe it. Anyway, this is the way that Chuck learns that feelings can win over desire, and that ther is more to sex than just a momentary physical pleasure, which is something he really need it to learn. As long as he can frame what he feels for Blair as mere desire, nothing beyond really good chemistry, is easier for him to see his pursuing of her as only a matter of seduction, easier to ingore that it hurts that she’s with someone else, and his regret over the fact that this whole situation was his own doing, at the end he finally admits to himself that is more than seduction, which is why I believe all his plots from here on are more based on getting her to go to him, not because she desires him, but because she needs him. But that’s for the next episode.

Random bits I’ve noticed:

Because later on this show  got to the point of being like Chuck had no culture whatsover, and as such Blair couldn’t possibly have any intellectual talk with him, I would like to point out that he mentions madame butterfly as a reference to the Japanesse flight attendant, which means he knows the opera. And I can totally picture him, listening to opera from time to time just because, he’s dramatic and larger than life sometimes. It fits him.

He also mentions  Little Lord Fauntleroy which is a children book, and I like to believe he at least got one decent nanny while growing up and that she gave it to him. 

Finally a pic of the minis, because I love them

[kates-sweet-escape]

[WH] YOURS - The series: Chapter Two

pairing: Wonho X Reader (female)

genre: Angst / Suspense

word count: 3.9k

summary: That one phone call will change your life forever. And even though you are very well aware of the consequences, you can’t stop yourself from running right back...

a/n: You are living with a fake identity. Whenever you read Y/F/N people call you by your fake first name.

cover: Made by me.

Picture credit: Official Monsta X

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

chapter index: Prologue | 01 | 02 | 03

“Yours”

One word. That’s all it took for your brain to go haywire and your heart to brutally murder your rationality with the sharp dagger of your raw and unfiltered emotions. Your feet started moving before you realized it. Or rather before you were able to stop yourself.

“I’ll be right there.” You hung up, paying no mind to the nurse. By now she must be convinced that you were some kind of lunatic. Maybe she regretted dialing the saved number in the first place.

But she would never be able to take it back. Because there was no such thing as turning back time. No matter how much one wished for it. No matter how much regret filled one's heart.

Time was ruthless. And it never gave any second chances.

You gripped the phone tightly as you ran towards the heavy exit door that you simply shoved open with the force of your shoulder. The sound of your heels was like gunfire, echoing off the walls of the hallway that would lead you straight back to Changkyun’s office.

Hoseok was in the hospital.

Stabbed. Unconscious. Helpless.

And in danger, since Hyunwoo obviously wanted him dead.  

Once your brother would realize that Jooheon had failed, he’d send someone else. Someone who was very unlikely to fail. Especially in a hospital.

He would probably send Minhyuk. He knew how to blend in. How to charm people into giving him what he wanted. Or to disappear completely even in a room full of people.  

If you wanted to make a statement with a kill, you went with Jooheon. But if you wanted things to be over without a trace, Minhyuk was your man.

Sneaky. Invisible. And awfully familiar with all sorts of medication that could either cause a merciful death within a heartbeat or make his victim suffer, crying out in pain over the course of hours if he felt like it.

Hoseok wouldn’t be able to see him coming. And the thought alone of him grunting in pain and losing his life made you speed up your steps even further. You basically slithered around the corner as you passed the reception area in front of Changkyun’s office that usually was your workplace. Your hands grabbed a hold of the edge of Soojeon’s desk to steady yourself before your leaped forwards, pushing open the door to Changkyun’s office with so much force that it hit the wall. You could hear the faint cracking of glass but you sure as hell didn’t care.

You could only think about one thing. And that was saving Hoseok’s life.  

“Y/F/N, can’t you-” Soojeon jumped up from her seat, lifting her finger at you in anger. “Hey! Are you insane? You can’t just-”

“Shut up for Christ’s sake!” You said, brushing her off without thinking twice before you walked over to Changkyun who was still standing at the conference table, his eyes wide with shock as he looked back and forth between you and his now slightly cracked office door.

Usually, you wouldn’t have lost your cool like that. No matter how annoyed or angry or lonely you were, you were always able to hide it behind a neutral smile, not giving anybody a chance to look deeper than surface level. But this was about Hoseok. This was different.

You held out your hand towards Changkyun in urgency, ignoring the suspicious look he was giving you. “I need your car.”

Your boss frowned, obviously even more confused than before. “What?”

F*ck! You didn’t have time to explain! “Car keys! Now!”

“Alright. Alright.” Changkyun patted down his body, cursing under his breath before he walked over towards the coat rack that was hanging on the wall next to his huge glass desk. “What the hell happened?”

“Emergency.” You shifted your weight from one foot onto the other, eager to get out of there. You knew you were losing precious seconds that might end up saving or ending Hoseok’s life. And you were wasting them because Changkyun had to search in the depths of his thin designer coat. “If you could hurry it up. I really gotta-”

“Got them.” Changkyun pulled out the keys and you came to meet him halfway. You reached out your hand to grab the keys but he held them above his head, making you growl in with anger.

“Hey Y/F/N! Wait a second.” He held up his other hand in a gesture that was probably supposed to calm you down, but it only made you more furious. “I don’t think you should drive right now. Let me call Hongsik. He’ll dri-”

God! Was he for real? You loved Changkyun’s chauffeur but that man was getting old and he always drove way too slow, causing you to be at least five minutes late to almost all your meetings. And this time you didn’t have five minutes to spare. Maybe not even five seconds, depending on how close your brother actually was.

“Changkyun.” You said with anger straining your voice. “Give me the f*cking keys.” You didn’t care about the fact that you’d never cussed in front of your boss, who was eyeing you like you were a complete stranger. You had to get those bloody keys. Even if you’d have to break his damn wrist to get them. Luckily you didn’t have to. Instead, Changkyun lowered his arm and opened his fist. The slick black car key fell into the palm of your hand, the silver trident emblem shining under the office lights.

You turned on your heels and headed for the door. “Thanks, Changkyun.”

“Be careful.”

When you heard the anxious tone of in his voice you almost looked back over your shoulder. But you couldn’t. Your sight was already set on the elevator doors. However, there was something you could do. “Soojeon.” You said, looking at the flinching secretary right after pressing the call button for the elevator. “Help Mr. Im with the documents.”

“Alright.” Judging by the pale tone of her skin Soojeon was probably too afraid of you to tell you off. The elevator arrived and the doors opened, so you stepped inside. “When are you going to come back?”

You didn’t answer since you didn’t know if you were even able to make it back. Because if any of Hyunwoo’s men would reach Hoseok before you did, you’d both be dead.

Instead, you just watched the doors close right in front of you, enclosing you, and leaving you with the feeling of being suffocated and the faint sound of elevator music.

You closed your eyes and let your head fall against the cold metal. Suddenly, that small car key in your hand felt like it weighted at least a ton while the elevator seemed to move in slow-motion.

It gave you some time to think, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Because unlike the toned-down and calming music that was softly playing in the background your thoughts were like bullets. Loud. Dangerous. And leaving behind nothing but a bloody and deadly mess that was hard to make sense of.

How the hell had it come to this? Why was your number saved into Hoseok’s phone? How was Hoseok doing? Did he regain consciousness? Was he suffering from the pain? Or did Minhyuk find him already, swiftly ending his life with a syringe, making him die alone?

But even if your thoughts and feelings were in shambles, attacking you viscously with their sharp edges, one thing was painfully obvious: Hoseok was in the hospital, stabbed by no other than the infamous Lee Jooheon. Which could only mean one thing - Your brother wanted his best friend dead.

But why?

Hyunwoo had always loved and adored Hoseok. He’d been his closest friend and companion ever since your father had taken him in all those years ago. They’d been through thick and thin together, defeating dangerous enemies and drinking away the pain while getting stitched up by no other than you. They’d overcome so much together. Like the death of your father, countless wars with other clans or the news of Hoseok dating you behind Hyunwoo’s back.

They’d fought, threw punches and insulted each other. But they’d also been each other’s backbone in difficult times, supporting one another like only brothers would.

So why did Hyunwoo want Hoseok dead?

The elevator came to a sudden halt and you hurriedly checked the level you were on. The underground parking garage. Perfect.

The doors opened and you quickly walked out, unfazed by the amount of cars that had been parked here. You knew exactly where you were going. Four of the parking spots were reserved for the CEO. And luckily they were right next to the elevator. Also Changkyun’s car was pretty hard to miss.

You unlocked the car with the remote on the key and the headlights lid up, as if you’d been able to walk past it without this useless feature. A Maserati Ghibli S Q4 GRANDSPORT. In white. Changkyun’s favorite color.

You despised that car. It was flashy and drew too much attention. But it’s 430 horsepowers would help you get to the other side of town in no time. And that was more important than anything else. So you opened the door and got into the driver's seat. Your hands touched the steering wheel that was covered in black italian leather and you tried your best not to think about the fact that all of this felt oddly familiar. Instead, you started the engine which came to life with a smooth and low purr before you reversed out of the parking lot. It was a little strange, sitting behind the wheel of a car again after two years. You hadn’t been able to buy a car because of your fake ID so you’d only ever used public transport. And if you’d had to go anywhere that was related to work you’d always been in the backseat, right next to Changkyun. Good thing that Hyungwon, your close friend and the Clan’s get-away driver, had taught you how to drive any type of car. Even a bullet-proof SUV. You drove the car out of the garage and onto the street. Once you were on the highway, you put the pedal to the metal, hoping and praying that you weren’t already too late.  

You broke countless traffic regulations. Especially the speed limit. But you didn’t mind. Because even if the police would try to stop you, you would be able to get rid of them easily with the driving skills you had. You overtook one car after the other and once you’ve passed the bridge that lead you away from the bay and closer to the city limits you felt like you were on a speedway that lead you right back to your past.  

And to some extent it was true. Because this path led you straight back to the man you’d been in love with for so many years.

What had happened that Hoseok ended up in the hospital, stabbed by one of his friends? Had he betrayed Hyunwoo? Had he left the Clan after years of being one of their most trusted and most efficient soldiers?

No, that was absolutely impossible and you were ashamed that the thought had even crossed your mind.

You knew Hoseok better than that. The Clan had been his life. His family. And he’d have rather killed himself than betray your brother or the Son family. He was loyal to a fault. Which was exactly why your father had taken him in and trained him to be your brothers right-hand man even though Hoseok had been a nobody - An orphan without any known connection to the dark royalty of Seoul’s messed-up underworld. Usually, a guy like him would have never been able to enter a family like yours, that had been built upon generations of the most powerful and gruesome leaders the city had ever seen. Usually, he’d have been deemed unworthy of being a right-hand man, and even more unworthy of being your husband-to-be.

But your father had seen Hoseok’s potential. Or rather his fragile heart that had only ever wanted to find a place to call home. And he’d used that good and lonely heart of his to turn him into a soldier for his own dark and pointless war. Hoseok had learned all sorts of fighting and killing techniques from that sadistic bastard. He’d been quick on the uptake, eager to learn and even more eager to please the man who’d given him a sense of purpose and a roof over his head. So he’d put in an extra amount of effort, quickly outshining all the other students your father had ever had.

Including your own brother.

But your brother had been unfazed by Hoseok, accepting your father’s protégé as a friend and rival, because Hyunwoo had always known that he’d be king one day. That the Clan was his. And only his. So he’d never seen Hoseok as a threat. He’d always been his brother in arms. His companion.  

So what had happened between them?

You’d probably find out soon enough.

At least that was the thought that crossed your mind when you finally reached the big hospital, that looked as bleak and run-down as any other clinic in the outskirts of Busan.

You parked Changkyun’s car right in front of the ER, shoving the door open before you’d even really stopped the engine. Annoyed by the high heels limiting your walking speed you quickly took them off, throwing them on to the passenger’s seat without hesitation. Then you closed the door with a lot more force than necessary and locked the car that was already gaining a lot of attention by the people smoking outside. However, you couldn’t concern yourself with keeping a low profile. Instead, you headed straight for the automatic doors. You rushed through them, almost stumbling when you had to stop to take look around.

You were at the very entrance of the ER, right next to the reception desk. To your right was the waiting area, with lines of seemingly uncomfortable white plastic chairs of which almost all were occupied by people who either seemed to be in pain or were coughing their lungs out. To your left were at least twenty beds lined up, all of them only separated by thin green curtains that hardly gave any privacy. A lot of people were lying down there, some of them as white as the hospital walls. Others looked almost green.

The ER seemed to be very busy, which was probably because it was the end of April and Busan was haunted by the usual spring flu epidemic. A lot of people were talking, while the phones seemed to ring almost constantly. Nurses and doctors were running back and forth, paying you no mind and for a split second you felt small and lost in the midst of all this, with your bare feet touching the cold grey linoleum floor.

But you didn’t have the time to feel helpless or useless. You needed to find Hoseok. Before it was too late.

You didn’t search for him in the packed ER. It was obvious that he wasn’t here. Instead, you walked up to an older woman who, judging by the pink scrubs she was wearing, must have been a nurse. She had her long black hair neatly put up in a bun and you could see that some strands of her hair had already turned grey. And even though her skin had a youthful glow she had some wrinkles around her eyes and her mouth.

“Where is he?”

The nurse turned around to face you. She seemed calm. Collected. And completely unimpressed by your loud and shaky voice. Instead, she just laid her hand on your forearm, gently squeezing it. “Who are you looking for, dearie?”

Her hands felt cold on your heated skin. How was she even able to touch your skin? You hardly wore any short sleeves, worried that the make-up might come off, exposing your tattoos. But then you remembered. You’d forgotten to put your blazer back on before leaving Changkyun’s office, leaving you in nothing but the midnight blue sheath dress that you’d been wearing since this morning. “Unidentified male. In his mid-twenties. Stabwound.”

“Ah.” She looked at another nurse, who was standing on the other side of the desk, eyeing you with suspicion in her eyes. “He’s Heeyeon’s patient, right?” The other nurse just nodded and handed her colleague a thin patient chart. “Are you his next of kin?”

No. “Yes.”

“So she was able to reach somebody. That’s great.” The older nurse opened up the sheet and took a look at what you thought must have been Hoseok’s data. “First of all, you don’t need to worry that much. He is stable for now. The stab wound was rather deep but it didn’t damage any organs which is great. Unfortunately, he lost a lot of blood since it apparently took a while before somebody found him.” She looked up from the chart, smiling at you reassuringly. “He’s got a few fractured ribs, the fingers on his left hand are all swollen and he has some cuts on his forehead and cheeks but nothing too dramatic. The doctor was very careful in stitching them up in order not to ruin that handsome face of his.”

This sounded a lot like Jooheon’s doing. He always liked to ‘play’ with his victims first. “Where is he?”

“At the end of the hall.” She pointed towards another set of automatic doors, that would lead you deeper into the hospital and probably into the trauma ward. “The last room on the right-hand side. But last time I checked he was still unconscious. The police are on their way to ask the two of you some questions. But you’ve got nothing to worry about. It’s obvious that he was assaulted.”

“Thank you.” You forced a smile while your brain was already formulating a plan. You needed to get Hoseok out of here before the police arrived. Because no matter the city - being questioned by the police was to be avoided by people like you. Especially since you were living under a fake name with only a fake ID.

“No problem.” The nurse closed the patient chart and handed it back to her colleague. “By the way - you don’t look much alike. Are you his fiancé?”

You answered out of habit without thinking twice. “Yes.”

The younger nurse scoffed a little. “Lucky you.”

You cursed yourself under your breath for that blunt lie but it was the least suspicious explanation for you being here. So you simply nodded and bowed a little before heading in the direction the nurse had told you to go. You passed the automatic door and were faced with a long hallway that was seemingly endless. Once the doors behind you closed again, it became utterly quiet. You could hear muffled talking behind some of the closed blue doors. Sometimes there was even a soft sob. But in comparison to the busy ER this place felt like a graveyard. It smelled of sanitizer, tears and a hint of blood.

To you, this was what death smelled like.

But you shouldn’t revisit the ghosts of the past. You shouldn’t let your weak heart drag you back into that grey hospital room in Seoul where you’d first encountered death when you’d only been six years old. No matter how much you tried, the image of your mother still came to mind, staring at you with open and lifeless eyes. But it started to become distorted. And suddenly you weren’t looking at your mother anymore. Instead, Hoseok’s empty eyes were staring back at you.

Your heart skipped a beat and you started to hurry again. You had wasted enough time. Now you needed to get him out of here. It should be easy with him being unconscious. You just needed to steal some nurses clothes and cover his face. Then you’d just pretend that you were taking a dead body to the morgue. Just like in the movies. Nice and easy. Without anybody noticing. And without having to face Hoseok’s hate and anger head-on. You’d get him out of here and into the backseat of Changkyun’s car. And then…

Sh*t. You had absolutely no idea what to do after that, but you would figure it out eventually.  

For now, you needed to focus on saving his life.

You reached the end of the white hall and looked at the blue door to your right. Behind that door was your first love. The man you’d left in the middle of the night, only two months prior to your wedding. The man you’d planned a grand future with. And the man you’d loved more than anything else and had never been able to forget.

You reached for the doorknob, trying to ignore the fact that your hand was shaking. When your fingertips were finally touching the knob, you couldn’t bring yourself to open the door.

You knew you couldn’t let him die, but you were afraid of facing him after all this time. After betraying him and walking out on him like the coward you were.

But, no matter how afraid you were - you couldn’t let him die.

And since he was unconscious you’d be alright. At least for now.

So you quickly opened the door and snuck inside, careful not to draw any more attention than you already did back in the ER.

You leaned your back against the door and closed your eyes in order to calm down and to organize your thoughts. You were on the ground floor and at the very end of the hall. The morgue was probably a floor below which meant that you needed an elevator. Maybe the emergency plan would tell you where exactly it was located. You should have really paid more attention to your surroundings when you’d arrived at the ER. But you’d been so out of it that you couldn’t remember a bloody thing. Something your brother would have scolded you for. So you needed to find the emergency plan. It was usually hung on the door. Or at least positioned right next to it.

You opened your eyes to look around. But all your thoughts and plans came to a sudden halt when a pair of cognac brown eyes was staring right at you.

Hoseok wasn’t unconscious. Not at all.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, pale as a ghost and with his upper body covered in bandages. He was looking straight at you. His face not giving away any emotion as he hid himself behind this impregnable mask of cold indifference that your father had taught him and that you had always despised.

At this moment he wasn’t Shin Hoseok, the love of your life.

He was Wonho, your brother's loyal soldier and attack dog.

And he was looking at you like you were the next target on his hit list.  

“Long time no see, Y/N.”  

to be continued...

[fandomtrash-16]

The Demon’s Trap

So I’ve been working on something and I finally finished it! It’s kinda long so read it at your own choice if you want idk. this is basically an intro to my version of the ink demon, his beast form at least. (i have nothing more to say so ima stop while im ahead)

Lost. Lost as hell, in hell.

Henry stumbled, his feet catching on the upturned planks of the old floor; most of which had been broken inwards by something that was clearly much larger than a human. It was unsettling, to say the least. The layers of claw marks, some new and some old, on the nearly desecrated walls that lined the hallway told Henry that this something could still be quite alive.

And if so, he was running right towards it.

At least, he thought he was?

It was nearly impossible to tell. The walls had begun to blend together a while back, and now the twists and turns of adjacent corridors seemed to simply be mirrors of the one Henry was already in. It was disorienting, but then again the blonde hadn’t much time to study his surroundings considering he was being chased- no, hunted, by those freaks with the masks. It was either run or be killed, and he took the chance to run even if he had no clue where he was.

The animator ran past a few more hallways before he finally stopped, leaning his aching body against the wall and gulping down swallows of air, like he were a fish out of the water. Tired, hungry, sore. He didn’t know how much longer he could last like this. He needed this break, but he needed to be somewhere safe even more. Desperately.

But that was the one thing he couldn’t be, not while he was being chased like pray. So all he could do was look around. “It just goes on and on forever, doesn’t it?”

Who was he asking? Himself? Joey? Henry didn’t know.

The creaking of the rotting boards combined with several hushed voices caused the man to tense.

“Shit-!” He muttered, brushing stray strands of blonde hair out of his face. Henry rose, stepping away from the sound. They found him?! How!? He didn’t want to stay and find out, however. The animator began to sprint. Where to? He had no clue. He just had to get out of there.

So he ran. He ran for what seemed like hours, the hallway continuing to twist and turn: like a maze with no exit. He couldn’t tell where he had come from, which halls he’d traveled and which ones were brand new but he didn’t care. He just ran, and he ran for a long time.

So long, that Henry began to think that perhaps he had lost his mind. Maybe he’d been consumed by the ink, or maybe, just maybe, it was all a horrid nightmare. Yes. Yes, perhaps he just fell asleep and this was a dream. But the pain... it felt real. It was real. His exhaustion was real. This was no dream. It was simply a maze of never-ending corridors, one that held no entrance nor exit; as if it were meant as a trap for people. To keep them in.

Or...

Perhaps, it was meant to keep them, or something worse, from getting out.

The animator was about to collapse; ready to accept his death in these endless halls. Until that is, the winding maze of corridors finally opened up into a large room. It was a massive ballroom; elegantly decorated with a deep red carpet, barely worn down as if it never had the chance to be the scene of a waltz. Large columns adorned with crimson ribbons held the ceiling up, the balconies adorned with ribbons of similar color; empty planters hanging from each post of their railings. The lights flickered in brightness, fully illuminated one minute, dim the next. They never went out, however, which Henry found more unsettling than if they were to simply flicker on and off. Despite the rest of the rooms untouched state, the walls and columns were torn half to hell.

“Just what were you trying to contain here Joey?” Henry’s voice echoed out, a question to himself and the creature that once, or still, resided here.

Just across the ballroom rested an audio tape on an old half-table, a message painted out thickly on the wall behind in the accursed black venom that ran through the studio. It read: ‘BLOOD, NOT INK’

....in Henry’s handwriting.

He did a double take as the distance between him and the tape closed. That was definitely his handwriting. His, not the normal chicken-scratch of those other people. Were they even people anymore? What happened while he was gone?

He gingerly pressed down the play button on the recorder, listening as the device clicked the tape into place. It was a second or two before the tape began to play if you could even call it that. The only audio the device produced was like radio static combined with a screeching noise- like nails on a chalkboard. If he wasn’t so busy keeping his hands clamped over his ears to prevent bleeding, Henry would’ve slammed an ax right into the recorder. It played on for a minute more before cutting into absolute silence.

Then he heard it.

Breathing. Low and calm.

And one little staticky word.

“Run.”

Henry’s heartbeat rang in his ears as he stepped back from the recorder, his blue opticals never leaving the table. The static noise returned- though this time it lacked the god awful screeching. (Thankfully). Though it made the animator's heart race even faster. Because this time...

It was coming from behind him.

Slowly he turned coming face to face.... with him.

“B-Bendy?” Panic ravaged his voice, exhaustion giving way to fear. The demon raised its head upwards towards the ceiling in an almost wistful manner. Henry stumbled backward as he took in the beast before him. This wasn’t his creation, it couldn’t be! Yet... it was. And he didn’t seem... too... happy.....

Bendy’s jaws clicked together in slight amusement, jagged teeth grinding against each other as if it were the demons attempt at mocking Henry’s fear. His massive talons gripped the floor with an anger unprecedented in his stance; seemingly seeping towards Henry in waves. The poor man hadn’t even realized he’d bumped into the table until the tape landed against the ground with an audible clatter.

“....r..un...”

Sound crackled through the now damaged tape, though it no longer played the horrid static from before. This time, it was a voice. Unidentifiable yet so damn familiar. A hum against the recorders high pitched whines, fading out, but always returning.

Henry froze. There wasn’t much, but it was there: the bubbly energy of the staticky voice, the perfect forgery of his handwriting, the circumstances of his meeting with the demon. This wasn’t some.. cultist freak’s fever dream.

This was all Bendy’s doing. Wasn’t it?

“The demon...”

“.... call him...”

The recorder cut, leaving only the dying hum of the device.

Static cut through the air once more, but it was different- garbled and low, and coming from the demon.

“S n a g g l e t o o t h”

Bendy seemed to form a smile, his jaw creasing upward in delight as he crawled forwards towards the animator; the low rumble in his throat a hint of what was to come. He snapped his jaws open...

And slammed right into the wall; wood splintering with a jarring crack from the impact. Luckily, Henry had sprinted at the last second, bolting up the barren staircase with zero hesitation- no mind to where he’s going. He didn’t care.

Run, Henry. You heard him.

And run he did, the floor rattling beneath him as the demon shrieked in anger- the same nails on a chalkboard sound as from the tape. Snaggletooth leaped at the balcony, massive talons splintering the wood as he pulled himself upwards, once again lunging for the blonde man. His serrated teeth just barely missed the animator, leaving only a big scratch on his back as the beast’s jaws slammed shut.

This new corridor only had one exit: to a small balcony, the stairs long since collapsed.

“Nonono! Shit!” Henry skid to a stop, facing the creature as it crept ever closer. At least until the crackling sound pulled his attention away. The rotted wood was splintering under their weights, something Snaggletooth took note of- considering he was pressing down evermore with a merciless grin. Thoughts racing, all Henry could think was ‘He doesn’t care if I die, does he?’

With a thunderous crack, the balcony fell, a deep eruptious static sound emitting from the demon.

Laughter.

He was laughing at him.

It was the last thing Henry heard before he hit the floor.

He lay there, vision swirling as a loud ring echoed through his ears. He couldn’t move. All Henry could do was watch as something came into view. It wasn’t the demon, nor did it seem to be a cultist. It was human, a feminine figure whose long blonde hair fell in waves across her back and shoulders. Axe tied across her back, the shirt she wore tattered and torn at the sleeves- much like his own. Her arms and legs were stained with the black ichor Henry had come to despise. But her approach brought something else to light: her mask. It was entirely different from before, a metallic thing in the form of a wolf. It covered her entire face like it was hiding deep secrets behind it.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing, one could say.

She was the last thing Henry would see for a while as everything faded to black.

[dw-writes]

Factual Mythology - The Third Tale

HEY GUYS IM MAKING SURE THAT THIS GETS POSTED ouo;;;

Um. Are you guys enjoying this? I know D.Gray-Man isn’t that big of a fandom anymore but it’s one that is near and dear to my heart so. Yeah :D

1/2

Lenalee’s voice faded amongst the towering boxes around her, Lavi, and Allen as she explained the previous segment of the story to Lavi. He had claimed he was lost and practically begged her to explain everything to him. It was hard to resist the face of a child.

Now, the three of them were sprawled across the floor, heads together, staring at the expanse of faux stars high above their heads. Lavi pointed out the inaccuracy of the display. Allen made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. There was a rustle near the entrance of the labs that drew the trio’s attention. Reever poked his head around the corner, staring in dismay at the amount of boxes left to move. He then looked down at the Exorcists on the floor.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice rough and deep with exhaustion.

Lavi kicked his legs up and rocked into a sitting position. “Tellin’ stories. Sit and take a load off, Reever!”

Lenalee waved her hands at the scientist as he padded to one of the few chairs left in the whole lab. “Allen’s telling us a story about his time with General Cross.”

“Oh? And which one is that?” Reever asked. He was very obviously amused.

“When we found a mermaid,” Allen explained. From the sounds of it, he was getting tired of repeating himself. He frowned, however, when a pained look – not a shocked one – crossed Reever’s face. The man looked down at the shattered remains of the statue on the floor.

“That story, huh?”

“Do you know it already?” Allen asked. He rolled onto his stomach.

Reever turned the chair and sank into it backwards. “Not the whole thing. Just that,” he trailed off and shook his head. “Just the ending. It was almost the whole time you were with him, wasn’t it? Four years or so?”

Allen hummed in the affirmative, nodding his head. “Um, they were still with him in India but…” The sentence hung unfinished in the air. Reever released a slow sigh. Lavi and Lenalee looked between the two. They were lost. Reever grinned.

“Well, I haven’t heard the fun bits,” Reever declared. He edged the chair closer to the trio. Once he reached them, he rested his arms and head on the back rest. “So, if you’re tellin’ the story, don’t let me interrupt.” Lavi fell back with a small puff of air.

Allen rolled back onto his back and stared at a glittering blue gem in the ceiling. “We were in that village for a week. Every sunset, we’d look out and see the schooner still anchored in the water. At dawn, we would look, and still, it was there. It started to eat away at Master’s patience. It had long devoured yours.

You shakily paced on bare feet across the damp wooden planks of the shack, the skirts of a peasant’s dress swishing around your ankles. It was awkward on your body, as awkward as the worn pants and cotton shirt you had worn the day before, but after a lifetime of never wearing anything, you would never find comfort in the clothing of humans. You had said so yourself the first morning in a shirt. I watched you pace. Your body trembled from the new movement.

“Mr. Marian.” Your voice broke the silence so suddenly, I jumped. You turned to Master with a frustrated look, the ragged ends of your hair swishing around your shoulders. Two days before, you had finally caved and asked me to cut it for you. The brittle strands gave easily to a dull knife.

Master looked up at you at the sound of his name. He tapped the end of his last cigarette, sending ashes scattering to the floor.

“You got us here,” you said. You crossed the shack in two steps and crumbled to your knees in front of his boots. The motion looked painful. “How do we get out?” you asked.

“So, you’re speaking to me like an equal now?” he asked, very bored and very tired. His complaints of sleeping on the floor had not gone unnoticed by you or myself. You refrained from rebutting, proving his point and bringing about a sardonic smirk. Master tilted his head back against the wall behind him. “If I remember right, it’s a new moon tonight,” he said around a yawn.

I perked up at the thought. “Complete darkness,” I said.

Master looked over. The deep bags under his eyes only added to the menace of his stare. “Exactly.” I froze. He was too tired for an insult. He truly was at the end of his rope.

You reached forward and took the last cigarette from his fingers. He watched you lift it to your nose, give it a sniff, and drive it into the floor next to you. The emotion drained from Master’s face. It was as if his soul completely left his body. You reached forward to pat his exposed cheek and bring color to it. He snatched your wrist from the air and gave you a hard stare. It would have been a familiar scene, if not for the menace: a beautifully dressed patron on their knees between Master’s legs as they stared in silence. He audibly ground his teeth.

“Villages like these are never far from larger cities,” he stated. He watched your stare grow wide. “More people.”

“Further inland,” I added. “Far away from the fishermen.”

“So how do we do it?” you asked. Your voice shook: you were beyond excited, though you would never admit it.

Master’s lips tilted up in a smirk. He placed a swift kiss against your open palm and stood. You brought your hand down on his boot in frustration at the action. “We wait until the sun sets completely,” he said. He patted the pockets of his coat and ground his teeth again. No more cigarettes. “And then we run,” he finished.”

Reever was laughing into his elbow, eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners. “They hated his guts!” he wheezed out. Allen shot the scientist a withering look, which only made the man laugh harder. “Oh man, they absolutely despised him!”

“Why is that funny?” Lenalee asked. Allen made a variety of rude sounds as he scrambled to sit up.

“If you say anything, Reever, you’ll ruin the story completely!” he shouted. Reever’s laughs disappeared into silent, breathless cackles. Lavi’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. His mind scrambled to piece things together. His thoughts were scattered when Reever’s laughs regained sound and filled the lab.

Allen groaned and buried his cheek against his arm. “Should I just continue the story?” Lenalee pushed herself across the floor until she was looking up at Allen, nodding vigorously. Lavi collapsed into a frustrated pile next to her. They all struggled to ignore Reever.

“We reached the next town in the early morning. We had chosen to leave behind most of the clothing we had scavenged from the village, save for a shirt, a set of pants, and the dress you were already wearing. They were wrapped haphazardly in a makeshift bag made of a sheet I had found with the clothes. You were heavily limping, but not complaining. Master looked you over as we broke out of a quiet street and into the already bustling main avenue.

“We can find an inn,” he said softly. You looked up when he spoke, smothering a yawn behind your hand. “Get you cleaned up. Decide what we do from there.”

“We can’t take them back to the village!” I shouted. Master glared at me. My voice had been too loud. I ducked my head and tightened my grip on the luggage I carried. “The fishermen might still be waiting in that harbor, if they didn’t see us leave,” I finished quietly. A merchant eyed you as we passed his stall.

“My dear, a moment, please!” he called after you. “You look like you could use another dress. Mayhap, your husband would oblige?” You stopped as he spoke to you, at a loss for words, but didn’t correct what he said. He mistook you for a human woman by your dress. It was smarter not to say otherwise.

Master had also stopped at the word ‘husband’. A coy smile turned up his lips. One would mistake it for kindness when, in reality, it was smug. He slipped a hand low across your back as he stepped next to you. His gloved fingers were already twirling a gold button between them: one of his own, stolen from a jacket in his suitcase that was already almost bare of them. He held it up for the merchant to see before he tossed it towards the man. Master then patted your back and leaned towards your ear. “Pick a few things you won’t mind wearing. They’re not extravagant, but they’ll hold up to travel,” he murmured.

You stepped up to the stand when Master applied pressure to your back. The merchant happily chatted with you, showing you a variety of dresses in heavy fabrics and dark colors. You opted for a blue one, a green one, and a pair of dark brown pants that were buried between linen shirts. You grabbed one of those as well. The merchant backed up into his shop and disappeared within the shadows of the doorway. Cross took the time to step between you and the stand. You didn’t miss his free fingers snatch another shirt and pant from the pile before he ushered you and me away. He shoved those and the clothes you had grabbed towards me to prevent anyone from being suspicious. We continued walking.

It didn’t take us long to find an Inn. Actually, the town was full of them. It had to be, given the size; it had taken us until nightfall to reach the inner parts of the town when we had reached its outskirts in the early morning. Master jumped up the steps and swept inside with the quiet command for you and me to stay outside. You played with the strands of your hair. Your fingers seemed longer than a normal human’s hands, with a slight sheen where the sides of your fingers touched each other. I stared at them. You noticed and smiled and held them out to me. I set everything down next to my feet and took them.

There were ridges where the sheens were, thin ones that traveled the valley of your fingers and traveled from side to side. The only places that didn’t have ridges were the tips of your fingers. “What are these?” I asked. You wiggled your fingers, the pads touching my nose. I scrunched my face.

“Fins,” you answered, “I suppose a better word for it would be webbing.” I stared at your hands as you splayed your fingers. I poked the space between them hesitantly. There was nothing there. “They are there when I’m wet,” you commented.

I wasn’t able to say anything more. Master stepped out, waving a key in the air. He motioned around the building. You helped me gather the suitcases and followed after him. It was quiet as we herded into the room. There were two beds, a small table, and a door leading to a bathroom. I had half a mind to ask how much this room would cost but kept quiet. Master heaved a sigh. “You should wash up,” he said to you. He looked down at your bare feet; they were dry and cracked. I couldn’t imagine how much they hurt when we were still in the village. I couldn’t beginning to imagine how much they hurt now. You pushed open the door and stared at the tub inside in awe.

Master turned to me and held the key out. “The two of you stay here,” he said quietly. He glanced back at your back in the bathroom. You had already shed the dress, opting for the comfort of nudity than the rules of being proper. His stare lingered longer than necessary. I grabbed the key. He yanked me close and knelt down. “Do not leave this room,” he whispered.

“Where are you going?” I asked. He stood to his full height and shed his outer coat. Beneath was another coat, this one thinner and black, with the dusty sleeves of the shirt underneath exposed. A rosary hung from his neck. I pressed my lips together to keep from making a comment.

“To find out where we are,” he answered. He tossed his hat on the table as well. “And get a drink,” he added. The annoyances of the past few weeks had caught up with him. He left the room quickly and shut the door too harshly. You looked back into the room.

“Allen?” you called. I looked over, a blush heating my cheeks. If you were going to choose nudity behind closed doors than I had to get used to it. I set everything down next to one bed. “How does this work?” You crouched next to the tub and stared over the lip into the bowl.

“Suppose you don’t have these in the ocean, huh?” I asked. I placed the stopper and turned on the tap. You jumped at the sudden rush of water.

“No,” you answered. “There’s many things I’ve seen that we don’t have.”

I watched you take in the sight of the water. “I’m sorry,” I apologized.

You looked up. In the safety and warmth of the room, you were finally able to relax. The circles under your bloodshot eyes deepened as you teared up. Your shoulders slumped. You gripped the side of the tub as it filled. “Will I ever be able to go home?” you asked.

I slid a hand into the water to test the temperature. I didn’t know how to answer because I didn’t know; there were too many things that had happened, not to mention the whole reason I was traveling with Master in the first place. He insisted that we couldn’t stay in one place too long. We’d been on the coast far longer than necessary. Instead, I looked up and smiled. “Can you tell me about home?”

You met my gaze. Tears rolled down your cheeks. You nodded.”

“That was Denmark, right?” Allen glanced up at Reever. The scientist was staring blankly ahead at the towers of boxes with an unlit cigarette between his lips. “I remember that letter,” he said, “From Cross. It was postmarked Denmark, to Komui. He was complaining about finding a mermaid. Komui had me read it to make sure it was really Cross and to see if he’d lost it or something.” Reever chuckled at the memory.

“I didn’t know he sent a letter,” Allen said.

Lavi rolled over onto his stomach. “I’ve seen it.”

“How the hell have you seen it?” Reever grunted.

Lavi smirked and shrugged, an indicator that he wasn’t going to say. “But it matches up with all those papers he wrote while he was a scientist here. It was legit.”

Allen frowned. “I didn’t know he’d sent a letter,” he repeated. Lenalee rubbed his back.