#i did not update blood and bone for like a year

[the-daydreaming-show]

Concept/Sneak Peek: Aegon II Targaryen x OlderSister!Reader.

(UPDATE JUNE 2: I haven't forgotten about this, half of it is already written, but I'm having exams, so until the beginning of next month I won't be able to sit down and write, BUT I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN I'M GOING TO FINISH IT I SWEAR! !!)

“Do you love me?” Aegon asked in a tearful whisper. He looked angelic, in his white pajamas and his violet eyes filled with tears that refused to fall but were clearly there. The question had come out of nowhere, but you still answered it without any hesitation.

“Of course I love you, Aegon,” you told him, whispering back and making him feel like it was just you and him in the world. He looked at you surprised, perhaps a little relieved, and a tear slid down his cheek. “You are my brother, my blood. I love the bones off you, husband.”

The need struck Aegon suddenly, just with that, and he began to pray in his mind to the gods that you would take his offer. Well, now he did not want for anything in the world that his mother would fulfill her mission and annul your marriage. There was nothing more in the world than he wanted to stay by your side for the rest of his life, now he understood that.

Or

Where you, the youngest daughter of Aemma and Viserys, married Aegon, the eldest son of Alicent Hightower, after the incident of the eye of Aemond in Driftmark. Years after your marriage, you fulfill your duty as Hand of the King. Since no children have been born from you union, your stepmother plans to request the annulment of your marriage, to marry Aegon to a daughter of the Baratheon. This is to ensure the support of that house when Viserys dies.

Aegon, who has enjoyed suffocating freedom since he married you when he was only fourteen, doesn't want that, and for the wrong reasons. He resigns himself to doing his duty in order to remain free, you two need a child, but he finds himself with something much better than freedom: a life tied to you.

(Let me know if you're interested in a fanfic like this, I could make it a series, because I love the concept, but I don't know.

Edit: Let me know if you want to be tag in the the post)

[bits-and-babs]

Your fics are amazing! Would you ever write about König?

𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐃 — 𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆

synopsis : rumours of an elite soldier have the base reeling. murmurings of 'monster' and 'freak'. what happens when you come face to face with the beast, only to find he's nothing like the whispers cautioned?

pairing : könig x f!reader

warnings : 18+ mdni. war, violence, graphic gory imagery, self-conscious könig baby, little bit of hand kink, basic bitch smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, size kink, tight fit, sugar-sweet teeth rotting smut. this feels so basic… but I was struggling. please note, kilgore is a name previously linked to könig. I have used it as a codename 🙂

könig masterlist ୨୧ main masterlist ୨୧ join taglist ୨୧ ask

Warfare training preps for the inevitable—those moments you need to fire a weapon and how to camouflage and navigate enemy territory without detection. These inescapable horrors are 'another day in the office' by the time you enter the field, the prickling chill of fear driven out of your system. Whistling RPGs are not dissimilar to the scream of your Drill Sergeant's commands, the cold, hard ground of a dilapidated building no more uncomfortable than the standard-issue barracks mattress you would ease your wearing bones into after training. 

Fear, beaten out of each man and woman that slipped on the uniform, held no commonplace in the military. Weapons, the call to war, brutality and sirens did little to raise the blood pressure. 

Whispers held far more weight and struck unease into the hearts of even the most desensitised of fighters. 

It was inarguable that each military in every country, at any time, had its own 'boogeyman'. Notorious fighters with absurdly large kill counts consisting of three digits that inevitably earned a bounty for their head, funded by the enemy—elite warriors who acquired a legendary reputation that ultimately became horror stories. The Ghost of Kyiv, The American Sniper Chris Kyle. These military cryptids kept their enemies awake at night, baying for blood and begging for the piles of bodies they left behind to stop growing. 

After years in the SAS, you were beginning to think that there was no such thing. Each soldier was prolific, brutally efficient and inarguably the best of the elite forces. It was only upon entering Task Force 141, a genuinely mean feat, that you began to hear the unshunnable, hushed whispers of Kilgore. 

“Did you hear about Berlin?” 

“Kilgore? Yeah, heard he blew away a whole Al-Qatala cell.”

“Twelve of ‘em. The hostages were traumatised.”

These mumblings had persisted for months, consistently updated with crazy tales of whole garrisons blown to smitheries by this massacre-happy hulking mass of pure military precision. You, like the rest of 141, elected to ignore the gossip. This was a battlefield, filled with elite soldiers, not a school playground. 

                            ✰

Austrian mud splatters your camo-clad shins as you sprint through the forest terrain, your heart lurching in your chest as your rain-soaked fingers almost fumble your gun to the sodden ground. It’s freezing cold, the gush of rain edging on a flurry of sleet as lightning cracks above your head. Clothes soaked through, the moisture and icy wind form something of a ‘Pact of Steel’, working together to deep freeze the marrow of your bones. 

As you slip in the mud again, heel skidding across the slick soil, you realise how dire the situation truly is. Separated from 141 during the firefight, you’d navigated north. You continued running for the safe house once discovering your coms had been dispatched by a stray bullet— that certainly would have ripped through your heart and dispatched you instantly if not for the layers of plastic settled over it. 

Thunder rumbles in the clouds above, the boom reminiscent of a distant air strike. Slurried earth gives way beneath your feet as you push on. Exhaustion gnaws at your joints as you scramble for safety, bested only by the adrenaline that buzzed in your ear like a vicious drill sergeant. “Move it! Do you wanna die?! Well fucking move!” 

You can hear their boots in the mud, the advancing Al-Qatala mercenaries chasing after you and shooting blindly at your heels, competing with the distance and dense foliage. You’re like an injured fox, feverish bloodhounds nipping at the end of your tail— what could they do with an SAS hostage? How much leverage would it buy? 

Bullets whistle by your feet, the proximity of some enough to set your hair on end. They’re closing in, jowls dripping with slobber as they attempt to close their teeth around you. Just a little mor—

Crack. 

Chaos erupts behind you, the thump of a body and a flurry of shouts. Panicked voices overlay each other in different languages, Urzik and Persian. You scramble for cover behind a treetrunk, the bark cutting at your palms as you brace for incoming fire. 

"Kilgore!" Someone shouts, and your blood runs cold, eyes wide as they dart around the foliage for the legendary soldier. The whizzing of high-powered bullets persists, dropping Al-Qatala mercenaries into the mud beneath them. You hear the yelled orders, Urzik fighters urged to retreat.

You're unsure if one fails to hear the directive over the din of warfare, but you hear the advancing feet of the mercenary advancing on your position—the squelch of the mud beneath the rubber sole of his combat boots. You scramble with your weapon, checking the gun's safety and readying for a one-shot shoot-out. 

When a bullet shreds through a victim's head, the sound is reminiscent of a watermelon being cracked open. It's a sickening crunch. A wet spray of warm blood cuts through the downpour of rain, splattering across your face. Some of it is solid, brain matter and shards of cranium. 

It's not silent by any means. The rain continues to beat against the floor, pattering in the puddles that had formed in sole-shaped prints in the soaked earth. Cracks of thunder sound in the distance, and the droplets drum against the leaves in the forest's canopy. However, the sounds of the firefight cease. 

"You can come out," a voice calls to you. Accented; Germanic. You hesitate for a moment, once again strengthening your grip on the gun you'd clung to. Your lungs strain with the sudden intake of breath, ribs crushed beneath your tac-vest. "Ghost sent me." 

Easing your head out from behind the tree trunk, you marvel, somewhat horrified, at the gigantic, hulking build of the man who stood in the clearing. Fallen enemy combatants surround him, a blanket of corpses draped across the turbid forest floor. A black veil covers his face, and his equipment litters his tac-vest. 

You'd be lying if you said you were unperturbed by the sight. Instead, fear lurches in the pit of your stomach, and you freeze in place. It's only when your eyes catch the crystal white slicing through crimson on the patch sewn into his shoulder that the airy voice, which certainly doesn't match his enormous frame, brings you a sense of safety. 

"The safe house is ahead. We could get you warm–– clean you up?"

                            ✰

Staring into the bubbling pan of water settled over the small fire, you relish in the warmth that creeps across your chilled body. Still, you're soaked, the damp clinging to the threads of your clothes. The scent of iron still assaults your nose, the water that you pick off the fire cautiously heated enough to scrub the blood from your face. 

Kilgore, who informed you upon entering the safehouse preferred to be called by his name König, had seated himself in the corner of the large, relatively empty room. He looked ridiculous like this, attempting to compact his body into the crevice. You don't doubt it's an attempt to ease the nervous energy bleeding through your pores, your hands trembling as you attempt to dip the rag he had gifted you into the hot water. 

"Did..." You swallow thickly, glancing up at the Austrian, "Did you tell the Lieutenant where we are?" 

"Mhm-hm," he nods slowly, his jade eyes watching you from beneath the face veil. They're sharp and bright, contrasting so strongly against his uniform's muted and inky shades. "He's planning evac." 

You scrub the gore from your face, wincing as you feel the shards of bone scrape across your face. König's eyes bore into you from the other side of the room, watching you struggle to remove what was left of the grime the rain had failed to wash away. 

"I've-... Heard a lot about you," you speak to him, attempting to cross the vast space he had consciously put between you. His green eyes gaze at you, unblinking as he watches your expression. König is trying to read you, trying to comprehend how you feel. He's cautious, trying not to push you outside of your comfort zone. 

"About Berlin?" He asks, and his voice is so soft that it reminds you of a child attempting to speak after being reprimanded by their parents–– wary of a second bout of raised voices. 

"Yes," you mumble, dipping the crimson rag into the water before laying it across your skin again, "About Berlin." 

König hums softly, casting his eyes to the aged, wooden floorboards. The woodlice have chewed through them, moss growing in some parts. You can see he appears uncomfortable, his knuckles white from the fists that form in his lap. 

"I didn't mean to scare anyone," König admits in a whisper, catching you off guard. His shoulders sag slightly, and you see him pick at loose threads in the knees of his camo trousers. 

"N-No... I meant to say how courageous it was," you point out, watching his fidgeting hands still suddenly, "You risked your life for those hostages... saved them singlehandedly. No one else would have done that." 

Hesitant silence settles between you both, König considering your words carefully as he stares at his lap. You can't see his face, the veil concealing all but his eyes, though you're almost sure he's stunned by your comment. It takes him a moment to discern his next step, but he finally lifts his body from the wooden chair he'd pulled into the corner. It creaks with the shift in weight distribution, floorboards straining as he walks across the space towards you. 

"You also saved me," you point out, watching him kneel before you, "Faced a whole cell..."

König steals your words from your mouth when his huge hand settles around the bloodied rag in your palm. He doesn't speak at; first, silence hanging between you once again as he dips the cloth into the water. Then, he soaks it until it drips, droplets pinging off the surface, and wrings it out. His dorsal muscles ripple beneath the backs of his palm, veins a ballpoint colour and standing out against his pale skin. 

"Ghost asked me to," he mumbles, carefully holding the damp fabric and slowly reaching for your face. He gives you time to pull away–– you don't. 

"You could have ignored him," you whisper, suddenly breathless with this proximity. He still towers over you, even balanced on his knees, head and shoulders slumped over you. You can see the ocean green of his eyes clearly, the halo of brown flecks that cover the circumference of his pupil. His eyelashes flutter when he blinks, so pretty and oddly feminine. 

The pressure of the cloth against your skull is so delicate. König appears to be afraid of hurting you, gently brushing away the flecks of blood in your hairline. He shakes his head gently, considering your kind words. "What kind of man would I be, Leibchen?" his voice is airy, tone flimsy.

Those stunning eyes take a moment to gaze into yours, searching for your answer. Instead, all you manage is a weak shrug. 

"Were... Are they afraid of you?" You whisper to him, struggling to find the words to broach a topic that appears to affect König so profoundly. It's his turn to answer wordlessly, offering an equally frail nod. 

König takes your chin ever so gently in his hand, his palm almost eclipsing the lower half of your face, and turns your head in search of further blood-spatter. He sweeps the makeshift face-cloth over your skin, focusing on removing the grime altogether. 

You'd heard the cruel rumours, the whispers of 'monster' and 'freak'. This König you'd met couldn't possibly be the same they uttered about maliciously. He held a child-like kindness, the brutality of the job seemingly doing little to chip away at his humanity. The same couldn't be said about the others. 

"König," you whisper his name softly, watching as he continues to focus on clearing up your skin. His soothing touch smoothes across your temple now, removing some mud speckles. "Don't listen to them."

You can see his eyes soften, once again turning to yours as you reach to fiddle with the edge of his veil. Upon tracing the border between the pads of your thumb and forefinger, you find that it's t-shirt material, the zigzag seam stitching rough against your touch like barbed wire. "They haven't seen you like I have." 

Those eyes gleam with amusement, little crows-feet creases forming in the corners. He's smiling, and your heart stutters against your chest. 

"That right, Leibchen? I've had a mask on this whole time."

The gentle teasing lilt to his tone makes you lightheaded, urging you forward with your frankly ridiculous plan. You begin to lift the edge of his veil upwards. You take it slowly, his pupils dancing across the bare skin of your face as you reveal the point of his chin. His skin is equally as pale there, barely exposed to sunlight.

König doesn't stop you as you continue to lift the fabric from his face, exposing the curve of his lower lip. The skin there is soft and plush, little creases in the flesh making your heart thud awkwardly against your ribs. Finally, you stop at his cupid's bow, so soft and subtle it's barely there at all. 

You can feel his gaze warming your skin as you trace his lips with your eyes. Hesitation holds you still, uncertain about the final step of this stupid plan. König, as ever, doesn't push you. Doesn't even breathe. When you lean forward, the tip of your nose brushing his own that still lay beneath the cloth, you hear a sharp yet gentle inhalation. It triggers goosebumps across your forearms, butterflies battering the pit of your stomach. 

Soft. His lips are so soft when you mould your own to their shape. König's veil tickles the skin of your face when you kiss him, and you feel his gigantic hands settle on either side of your neck as he begins to return your affections. They swallow you, and your pulse leaps against his palm. 

König smiles, and the kiss turns toothy and a little lopsided. You can't help but giggle nervously, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw as he presses gentle pecks to the edge of your mouth. Despite his massive, intimidating frame, each action is deliberate and soft. 

"... Are your clothes still wet, Schatz?" He's breathless despite his seemingly put-together appearance, his nose bumping yours as he interrupts your answer for another fragile kiss. "We could get you out of them." 

                            ✰

Your standard-issue military t-shirt slips and falls from the cot's mattress as König gently pulls your hips towards the edge. His fingerprints have already bruised into your thighs despite his attempts to be gentle. When he'd begun to panic, you told him not to worry–– he'd already bruised up your neck with his teeth and lips; what was a couple more?

Butterflying your legs out for him, König groans softly as you expose your glistening cunt for him. You're shy, covering your face with your hands as his fingers massage the soft, malleable flesh of the inside of your thighs. 

"Schatz," he whispers, and you peer through the gaps of your fingers. König gazes down between your legs, green eyes gleaming as he positions his cock between your folds. "So beautiful." 

It's ridiculous, you think, staring down between your legs. König is huge in every sense, the shaft of his cock thick and veiny and drowning out the seam of your sex as König shifts his hips forward to swipe the length of him across your weeping cunt. You can't help your mind running away with itself–– surely he needed a weapons license to carry that thing-?

A weak chuckle sounds above you, and you crane your neck to catch his eye. "I will take it slow, Schatz, I promise you."

You believe him. He had been so delicate with you this whole time, laying you down gently on the bed, careful when removing your gear and your clothes not to let the material snag on your nose or chin. 

König's hand disappears beneath the face veil, spitting into his palm before he smoothes it over the head of his cock. He groans, eyelids fluttering beneath the mask as he drags his hand over the length. It's a pretty sight, you think, such a colossal man shuddering in bliss. When he sweeps his cock through your folds again, he carefully taps the tip of his dick against your clit to illicit a whimper. 

"Mhmm, gentle. I promise you," he repeats, inching the tip of his cock down until it settles at your entrance. The soles of your feet find purchase on König's hips, and he massages your calves gently as he begins to inch into you at your nod of approval. 

Oh, Christ. 

König stretches you the moment he sinks inside. There's a delicious burn, one that has you lifting your hips with a whimper as you equally try to escape and dive into it. He's wheezing, eyes glued to where your bodies meet as he watches you flutter around his size. 

"Ha-So tight, Schatz," he groans loudly, stopping when you firmly grip the bedsheets. He notes your expression of slight pain, the tears welling in your eyes as your body attempts to accommodate the intrusion. König seemingly can't help the flurry of apologies that fall from his mouth as he leans over you, settling his thumb against your clit in an attempt to ease you open. "Here. I want you to feel good, Engel." 

The tremors in your thighs rattle against his hips as he circles your clit slowly. It's blissful, the sticky, warm arousal that blooms through your abdomen as he teases at the sensitive nerves. You arch your back against the mattress, moaning out his name breathlessly as he continues to inch his cock further into you. You barely notice when he finally settles the rest of him inside, wailing softly when it twitches and knocks something earthshattering inside you. 

"O-Oh fuck––" you choke on your curse when König shifts his hips forward, jutting into your cervix and winding you suddenly. You probably look ridiculous, eyes rolling back into your skull as you claw at the vast expanse of his chest. You drag pink lines down the pale skin, drawing blood to the surface, but it does little to phase König this far along.  

"Good, Liebling?" He murmurs, continuing to assault your clit. You can barely form a coherent sentence in response, drooling around a string of 'yes, yes, yes'. It's all he needs to find comfort in advancing, easing the length of him out of your weeping cunt before driving it back in at an achingly slow pace. 

You want to slam your fist against his pectorals and insist he go faster, but you're not sure you're ready for it when he slides into you balls deep. It's as though he's settling among your lungs, filling you so good that you're seeing static in your line of vision. 

The sound of a desperate groan from above barely brings you back down to earth, noting how he's staring at your face. His pupils are blown wide, almost devouring the green of his irises. It takes you a moment to realise you're drooling, his slow and steady pace already pushing you to a mindless edge. 

"Oh-" you moan, digging your nails into his abs. They ripple beneath your touch with each deliberate thrust, and König hisses at the sharp sting and the crescent moon indents they leave behind. "F-Fuck, König- Too much-!"

"It's too much?" He wheezes, eyes searching your face. You desperately shake your head, terrified he'll pull away from you despite the inching arousal building at the base of your spine. Wrapping your legs around his hips, your heels press into the small of his back and hook him in place despite your protests. 

It sparks something feral in the hulking man, his hips surging forwards and jolting you up the mattress. Your breath escapes you in a squeak, arousal soaring and buzzing thickly in your abdomen as König mumbles in German, his soft voice coming out all gritty under the strain of his exertions and bliss. 

"Mhmmm- fuck-" you babble, eyes rolling again as you lift your hips to meet his. He sinks impossibly deeper, and your breath stutters as you feel the telltale tug of your orgasm. "Oh God- König, I'm-"

"Tell me," König whispers, rutting up inside you. He doesn't bother to inch out of you now, repeatedly battering so deep inside you that you struggle to inhale as your orgasm approaches fast. 

"Hngngg- hah-ah- I'mgonna- c-cum-" you choke with each sudden thrust, his thumb quickening its pace against your arcing clit. Perhaps he shifts his hips slightly or reaches even deeper than before, but he brushes against something utterly debilitating, and you cum with a loud shriek of his name. 

It bursts through you with blistering heat, your fingernails sinking deep into the curves of his bicep as you brace against the waves of bliss that crash over you. König keeps fucking into you, your walls squeezing tight around him as his thumb persists in its assault on your throbbing clit. Tears stream down your face, and König can't hold on much longer as you strangle his cock. 

"Hah-Shit-" he slurs, his voice barely reaching your ears as he buries himself as deep as you can take him. He cums with a haggard moan, body trembling as his cock spurts inside of you. There's so much of it, too, leaking out of you before he even manages to move. 

Both of you take a moment, both stunned by the overwhelming ecstasy. König doesn't bother withdrawing from your heat as he slumps beside you, turning you on your side to face him. He offers no words, burying his face into the crook of your neck and holding you tightly. 

Your chest heaves as you suck in oxygen, skin prickling with heat as König encases you in his massive arms. You don't need the sheets, his body-heat burning hot beside you as you press your skin to his.

No words need to be said, you think. König had offered his feelings in the form of his reverent touches and delivered his thanks for your kindness in the delicate kisses he'd pressed to your lips as he carried you into the bedroom. 

As you lay in the dark, settled into König's side, you trace your fingers over the curved scars, the bulletholes that have healed over against his ribs. They rise and fall beneath your touch, lungs expanding and deflating with each breath. It's a sobering moment, the thrumming of his pulse against your palm reminding you of his humanity despite the whispers at the base that had insisted upon his bestiality. 

You realise those who speak cruelly of him and ruin his self-worth don't understand their impact. To them, he's a cryptid–– his very existence called into question. They hadn't seen him with their own eyes, only heard the mind-boggling tales of his startlingly impressive missions and monstrous size. 

They hadn't felt his heart, the way it fluttered against your touch when you'd offered compliments. Hadn't experienced the soft plush of his lips pressing into your own in heartbreakingly sweet kisses. He was no monster. 

And when Lieutenant Riley came for you the following day, choosing to ignore the marks left on your skin and the way you hesitated before climbing into the helicopter to offer the Austrian a gentle wave and a promise that you would return, you began the mission to rewrite his story. To change hearts and minds.  

It didn't take long at all.

"Did you hear about Kilgore?"

"I did! He saved a member of 141. Incredibly brave–– I heard the situation was dire."

"She spoke very highly of him. Said we could count on him."

"I certainly wouldn't mind fighting alongside someone so dependable and courageous." 

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[stevie-petey]

episode five: dig dug

“You like Y/N?” Dustin asks at the same time as you ask, “You like me?” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, barely. She’s on thin ice. But you, little Henderson? You just stole the flowers meant for my girlfriend, so backseat you go.” “Yes!” You cheer, pumping your fist in the air as you flash Steve a smile. “Thanks, Harrington.” He rounds the front of his car and opens the driver's side door. “Yeah, don’t get used to it. Like I said, you’re still on thin ice.”

Summary: you and dustin bury a body and con your mother into fleeing town, great sibling bonding time ! you play hockey with a monster, dustin gets ghosted by his friends, and now it's your turn to kidnap steve (technically dustin does, but you don't stop him) who later gives you some terrifying realizations.

Rating: general, swearing and slight violence

Warnings: blood, use of y/n, fem!reader, animal cruelty technically, weapons, cursing

Words: 7.5k

Before you swing in: hello ! late chapter update, but here ya go lovelies !! lots has happened recently, i got a sick ass job and im super excited and :))) so updates will definitely slow down again some more, but i promise i will update whenever possible. for now, please enjoy !

–

“Remember how angry I was at you about hiding El from me last year?”

“Yeah?”

“Visualize the anger, multiply it by ten, and then take three steps back from me.”

Dustin trips over his feet to scramble away from you.

You’re currently in your own room, the door locked, with Dustin standing several feet away now as he heeds your warning. Never in your life have you felt such rage before, such blinding fury, and you thought you knew what anger was when your dad left.

But this? This is a new type of anger, one you know that only the older sister to Dustin Henderson could ever feel.

As soon as Dart had lifted its head up at you and screeched, you’d immediately snatched your brother’s hand into yours and ran out the door, door slamming behind you. Now, you’re hiding out in your room with no fucking clue what to do.

“You killed our cat.”

“Technically Dart did.” You glare at Dustin. You had actually liked Mews, she was the sweetest cat in the world and a gift for your fifth birthday. Your brother, sensing he’s only digging a deeper hole for himself, coughs. “I mean… Yeah. I killed our cat.”

Stepping back, you find your desk chair against your legs and fall into the seat. Exhaustion sweeps over you. There’s no time to grieve the loss of your cat. Not when there’s a baby demogorgon in Dustin’s room eating said cat’s corpse still. “What do we even do in this situation?”

“Not tell mom?” Again, you glare at Dustin and he squeaks in fear. “Well I mean, that’s all I can think of right now!”

A headache forms. “I should’ve gone with Jonathan and Nancy.”

Dustin thinks for a moment. “Where did they go, anyways?”

“No. You don’t get to ask any questions right now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You sigh, a vague idea forming in your mind. “Okay, first we need get Mews out of the room. She was mom’s favorite child, we can’t just leave her in there to be diminished to bones.”

Dustin nods. “Obviously. We can do that… right?”

“We have to. Once she’s out of there, we just… leave Dart in there. At least for now. It’s already late in the afternoon and we need so much help from the party.”

“We can’t tell the party–”

“You’re right. We can’t,” Dustin sighs with relief, but you give him an evil smile. “But you can tell the party. You’ll radio everyone tomorrow, clean the house, and make a plan from there.”

Dustin tries to argue, but you hold a hand up. “You brought a baby demogorgon into our house. You lost every arguing privilege there is to lose.”

He groans, knowing you’re right. Next time, he’ll be better at hiding things from you because you’re a total buzzkill whenever you inevitably find out.

Together, the two of you hatch a plan. You’ll walk into Dustin’s room first, knives out and ready just in case, and Dustin will follow once the coast is clear. Then, he’ll lure Dart away from Mews’ body with chocolate (you don’t want to ask why), and once he’s gone you’ll snatch your cat’s body and flee the room immediately afterwards.

It’s a good plan.

That is, if it works.

“Ready?” You’re standing in front of Dustin’s door, your knives flicked open in your hand, ready for possible war with a foot long little demon.

Your brother pats your shoulder. “Don’t die, sis.”

“I’m holding knives as we speak. Touch me again and die.”

“I hope Dart eats your face.”

You smile. “There’s my brother. Okay, as soon as I’m inside the room, close the door. Then, when I knock three times, open it again and enter.”

“Wait for two knocks–”

“Three.”

“Three knocks. Right.”

You steady your breathing. Around the corner, you can hear your mom humming to herself as she makes dinner. She has no clue what’s going on, and you envy her for it. Your hand on Dustin’s door knob twists slowly, then, before you can psych yourself out, you turn the knob and throw yourself inside.

Quickly the door slams behind you, so at least Dustin did something right.

Your eyes, which had previously been squeezed shut, open slowly. When you don’t see any sign of Dart, you exhale. So far, so good. You walk towards the couch and find the creature still eating away at your dead cat, which you gag at.

Poor Mews.

You rap your knuckles against the door three times, alerting Dustin to come inside.

He opens the door and walks in, his hands fisted against his face as if that would do anything to keep him safe. You roll your eyes and flick his head, which he whines at. “Grab the chocolate and distract Dart, please.”

Dustin runs over to his desk and grabs a Musketeers bar. When you see the candy’s name, you want to slam your head against the wall. You know exactly why the monster’s name is Dart.

“Let me guess,” you say, your tone mocking. “D’Artagnan?”

“Don’t you have a corpse to collect?”

You scoff at him but step aside so that he can dangle the chocolate in Dart’s face. You watch, alert for any signs of danger in case you need to step in, but the monster seems to be pretty friendly with Dustin. You guess they really did create a bond.

Once Dart is far enough away from Mews, you run over and snatch up her body. You try not to think about the possible cat guts now all over your sweater. That will be a later issue. Like a lot of things in your life recently.

“Go, go, go!” You push Dustin towards the door.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, throwing the last piece of the candy bar at Dart’s face and running out the door right behind you. Once you’re both out the room with the door closed, you both lean against the wall and exhale deeply.

“Good job. Now onto phase two.”

Dustin makes a face. “Why do I have to distract mom?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you hold up Mews’ bloody body. “Do you want to be the one to hold our dead cat?”

“Good point, I’ll go distract mom.” Dustin leaves, rounding the corner to go hopefully distract your poor mother in a sane way. With your luck, Dustin will spew some weird bullshit that will only make her more worried than she already is.

Right on cue, you hear Dustin say from the kitchen. “Mom, I think I broke my arm.”

The scream of fear your mom lets out would’ve been comedic had you not been holding her beloved dead cat.

Your mother runs around the kitchen, fretting over your brother, and the second she isn’t looking, you slip out the front door and quickly throw Mews’ body into your bush. You feel a bit bad about that, but there’s nowhere else to hide her body in broad daylight.

When you walk back inside, Dustin is being swaddled by your mother. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, Y/N!” Your mom sighs. “Dusty said he thought he broke his arm, but the silly boy seems to be okay.”

Dustin pats her back. “Ha, right. Silly me!”

Your mom looks up and then squints a bit, eying your sweater. You look down and your heart drops. It’s covered in Mews’ blood.

Fuck.

“Y/N, what’s that all over your sweater?”

“Paint!” You say while Dustin sputters, “Ketchup!”

“We… Were painting with ketchup.” You lie, sending a quick glare your brother’s way. Out of everything red, why ketchup?

“Oh, alright.” Your mom looks uncertain, but doesn’t say anything else about it. “Well, dinner is almost ready. Why don’t you go wash up, honey?”

The second you’re dismissed, you run into your room and yank the sweater off. You’ll burn it tomorrow. First chance you get.

A few seconds later, there’s a knock on your door before Dustin’s head pokes inside. “Dinner’s done.”

“Great. Holding your dead cat definitely works up an appetite.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Dustin tries to play it off, but you see the genuine upset in his eyes. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, and you know he loved Mews too.

You sigh and walk over to him and kiss his curls. “It’s okay. Next time, let’s not hide a monster from the Upside Down, yeah?”

“Deal.”

–

Dustin spends the night in your room, which you explain to your mom as needing some “serious bonding time”. She tears up at this, unaware of the fact that you’ll be making your brother sleep on the floor as punishment.

The next morning you and Dustin hatch yet another plan: get mom out of the house. Before you two can do anything else, you both agree that your mom cannot be anywhere near Dart. Plus, she’s already noticed Mews’ absence, so it’s only a matter of time before she finds the body in the bush.

“Alright, you’ll fake the phone call while I start gathering the supplies.” You tell Dustin while your mom calls for Mews outside. She’s at the bottom of the driveway, Mews’ favorite toy in her hand, shaking it around, unaware that the cat’s dead body is in the bush next to her.

“Got it. You remember where my old hockey suit is?” You nod at Dustin’s question, and he’s about to say something else before he sees your mom start walking back towards the house. “Shit! Game time, go!”

Dustin fumbles for the phone and you run to the living room closet. Just as you’ve entered your positions, your mom walks through the front door.

“Mewsy! Dusty, Y/N, sweethearts, you’re sure she’s not in your rooms?”

“No, mom.” You shake your head at her.

Holding up a finger, Dustin presses the phone to his ear and motions for the woman to remain quiet. “Uh-huh. Thank you so much, Mr. McCorkle. Thank you so much, you are a true lifesaver.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. He’s laying it on pretty thick.

“Alright, this was great. Thank you, have a good one. Bye-bye now, all right. You too.” Dustin pretends to hang up the phone and smiles at your mom. “Alright, great news!”

“They found her?” Tears of joy lace your mother’s voice. You have to turn away, you know she’d notice the discomfort on your face. It feels horrible to be lying to your mother like this.

Dustin seems to be thinking the same thing, because he lowers his voice and gently approaches her. “No, but they saw her wandering around Loch Nora.”

More tears flow down your mom’s face. “How did the poor baby get all the way over there?”

“I don’t know, lost I guess. But they’re gonna look for her, and–and Y/N and I will stay here, just in case they call again. Right, Y/N?”

“Right!” You call from the closet, now quickly grabbing everything you can think of. Would a hammer be necessary?

“And you’re gonna go help look. Yeah?” Dustin’s only response is a relieved hug from your crying mother. “Yeah, give me a hug. Go get her!”

Your mom quickly composes herself and grabs her glasses. She presses a kiss to your forehead and seems to be in better spirits. “We’ll find her!”

“Mews will be home soon, mom!” You cheer, and your mom blows you another kiss.

“I love you,” Dustin sends her a thumbs up.

“I love you, kids.” And with that, your mom clutches her purse to her chest and sends one final kiss your way before shutting the door behind her.

As soon as the door shuts, you and Dustin scramble. Dustin heads to the backyard to open your cellar doors and you grab the remaining hockey gear from the closet. While you drag the uniform out to the living room, your brother begins to look through the fridge for any possible bait.

“Think Dart would like bologna?” Dustin calls over his shoulder as he digs around.

You groan, dropping the heavy goalie pads. “Last I checked, he wasn’t my secret Upside Down pet.”

“Touche.”

Dustin grabs the bologna and starts making a trail from his room towards the front door. While he does that, you start sorting through your own pile of gear, soccer to be specific. Dustin liked hockey, you preferred warmer sports. As you’ve finished lacing up your cleats and shin pads, Dustin returns.

“Okay, the bait is all set up. Got my hockey stick?”

You hand him what he needs. “Here, and your helmet is on the couch.”

Dustin gets ready and you retrieve some oven mitts from the kitchen. When you hand them to the boy, he looks at you like you’re insane. “What? Extra protection. Can’t hurt.”

He sighs and swipes them from your hand, putting them on. Once he’s ready, you help him stand up. He looks ridiculous in his old hockey gear, but you suppose you don’t look any better with your shin pads and Dustin’s spare shoulder pads.

“Alright. We all set?”

Dustin pats his helmet. “Ready.”

You walk towards his room, and once you’re there, Dustin pushes past you and bends down a bit so he can speak through his keyhole. “Alright, Dart. Breakfast time.”

“Do we have to mention breakfast right before we set him free?" You mumble, but your brother ignores you.

Slowly, he reaches towards the door handle and then flings it open. As soon as the door has been moved, Dustin practically knocks you to the ground in his haste to escape. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

His mantra reminds you of Steve’s from last year at Jonathan’s. Seems like the two boys have something in common: they’re idiots.

You follow quickly behind Dustin, terrified but at least trying to hide it, while your brother just repeats “oh my god”, and “shit” over and over again as he stumbles over the bait and out towards the front door.

If the situation wasn’t so grave, you’d be giggling at how dumb Dustin looks waddling over bologna on the floor. However, Dart could very well be right behind you, so you run after the kid equally as terrified.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit–”

By this point, you’re nearing the tool shed outside.

“I will push you down these stairs Dustin Henderson.”

Dustin shuts up and, as soon as you’re inside the shed as well, locks it behind him. Once he’s sure you’re all cleared, he lets out a breath of relief. “Okay, now we wait.”

You walk towards the wood panels, squinting as you peek through a gap to see outside. “I don’t see anything.”

Dustin does the same. “Come on, I know you’re hungry…”

Everything remains still outside, and you’re starting to worry that maybe Dart doesn’t like bologna after all, until you see his scaly body walk out the door. He gobbles down the bologna pieces one by one, which you cringe at.

“Yeah. He likes bologna, alright.”

Dustin silently cheers. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

Dart makes his way down the trail, eating every piece he finds, and soon he scampers down the steps and hovers over the cellar doors. In an odd way, the little guy is kinda cute if you forget about the fact that he killed your cat.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Dustin continues to chant as you watch Dart. The creature just has one more piece of bologna left, he just needs to take a few more steps inside before you can slam the doors shut.

But, because nothing can ever be easy for you, Dart suddenly turns and looks straight at you and Dustin. “Shit!”

You flinch back, knocking into a bucket of nails that spill everywhere. “Shit again!”

Dustin tries to shush you but you grab him by his shoulders and force him behind you. Your knives are out, their blades gleaming in the sunlight that creeps through the wood panels. You peek through them to find Dart slowly approaching the shed, his mouth almost watering.

“Well, this isn’t good.” You take a breath to lessen your fear. “Stay here, I’ll try to distract him–”

“AHHH!” Dustin shoves you against the opposite wall, your body flinging back with a harsh crash, and breaks through the shed’s door. With one solid wack from his hockey stick, he flings Dart into the cellar.

“What the–Dustin!” By the time you make it out the shed, your brother has flung himself on top of the cellar doors, panting.

“Got him,” he informs you, as if it isn’t obvious enough. Dart begins to screech with anger, and Dustin sighs. “I’m sorry, you ate my cat.”

“You’re an idiot, Dustin.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me five seconds to catch my breath, please.”

–

With Dart safely locked away, you and Dustin are able to finally bury your cat.

It doesn’t take long, but the early November heat is just warm enough to make you annoyed as you dig through the soil in your backyard. Dustin has his walkie with him, trying to find the right frequency so he can call the party and inform them of what’s going on.

“Guys, this is Dustin again. Does anyone copy?” You stab at the ground with your shovel and your brother groans when he gets no response. “This is a code red. I repeat, a code red!”

Sweat trickles down your brow and honestly it should be Dustin burying the cat, but you’ve never learned how to radio the party so you just sigh and throw more dirt upon your dead cat. Dustin tries a few more times to contact the party, but no one responds.

“Damn it!” He shouts, frustrated.

“Language,” you huff out, more sweat forming.

It goes on like this for a while, Dustin trying and failing to reach anyone, as you two begin to clean the house of any blood and Mews guts. He tries again while you guys grab the cleaning supplies, then again while you’re on your hands and knees scrubbing his carpet in his room.

“Alright, it’s Dustin again. Seriously, I have a code red.”

“Maybe they don’t know what code red means?” You offer, your nose scrunched up due to the bleach fumes.

Dustin scoffs, “sure, and they also don’t know who Luke Skywalker’s father is–”

Suddenly Erica’s voice comes through the walkie. “Can you please shut up?”

“Erica?” Dustin stops scrubbing and straightens up. “Erica, is Lucas there? Where is he?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Erica has always been such a lovely girl.

“Is he with Mike?”

“Like I said, I don’t know and I don’t care.”

You and Dustin share a look. It worries you that Mike hasn’t been responding all day. From what you’ve heard and seen, he’s spent every day this year camped out in his fort in the basement trying to contact El with the radio frequencies.

It’s not like to Mike to just disappear.

“Listen, Erica.” You speak up, trying to sweet talk to the girl. You’ve babysat her a few times and you’ve even managed to convince her you’re kinda cool, so maybe she’ll respond better to you. “Did Lucas mention anything else? Maybe… Maybe like a girl he went to see?”

Dustin frowns. “A girl? What–” You shush him and wait for a response.

Erica snorts. “A girl? Please, as if. He’s been gone all day. That’s all I can tell you.”

Your brother closes his eyes and sighs. “Please tell him it’s super important. Please tell him that I have a code–”

“Code red?” Erica interrupts.

“Yep, code red. Exactly.” Dustin smiles, then covers his mike to whisper to you, “seems like she likes me more than you–”

“I got a code for you instead. It’s called code shut-your-mouth.” Then, Erica switches off the walkie.

Dustin stares at nothing, dumbfounded. You go back to scrubbing the carpet, a pleased smile on your face. “So, you were saying?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, processing the fact that clearly no one in the party will answer, before letting out an obnoxious groan. “Damn it!”

“Are you gonna help me clean, or–?”

“Can’t you just call Jonathan?” Dustin asks, grasping at straws. “Maybe he can be useful for once and help.”

You shake your head. “No, he’s out of town right now with Nancy.”

“And you’re okay with this because…?”

“Because,” you roll your eyes, “they’re on a secret mission to take down Hawkin’s Lab. They’re at some detective’s house right now, so I have zero way of contacting them.”

Dustin rubs at his eyes tiredly. “How did we get stuck with a cat eating baby demogorgon while Jonathan and Nancy get cool spy work?”

You pinch his leg, causing him to wince and move away from you. “Because you purposefully hid the baby demogorgon. Any other stupid questions?”

“Sure,” Dustin throws his hands up in defeat, obviously joking when he asks, “got any other friend we could call for help?”

A sarcastic laugh escapes your lips and you’re about to tell him that he has more friends than you’ve ever had, but then a thought occurs to you.

Steve.

Technically speaking, you’re friends. Well, sort of. Sure, he had wanted space yesterday in the lunchroom, and yeah he’s still mad at you and things are awkward at best between the two of you, but still…

He’d been at Jonathan’s house last year, he had fought by your side and saved your life and even bought you a vending machine full of snacks. If anyone else could understand the situation you’re in right now, it’s Steve.

You hesitate though. He still seemed really hurt at lunch, but you also saw the way he lingered even after dismissing himself. He doesn’t hate you, at least not really, and without Jonathan or Nancy to call, he’s the only person you have left right now.

It can’t hurt to try, at least.

“Actually, yeah.” You respond after a minute or so. “Be right back.”

Dustin asks questions as you head towards the living room, but you don’t respond. If Steve doesn’t answer, then you can make up some lie about the phone being broken or something to save yourself the embarrassment.

Your fingers press Steve��s long remembered number. He had given it to you his first week of visiting you at Bookstrordinary, assuring you that you could call him whenever. After a while, you took his word on it and started calling the boy every time you were bored and alone at work.

The line rings for a few seconds, and you bite your lip in anticipation.

This is a horrible idea, and yet your heart flutters when Steve answers with a groggy, “hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Y/N?” He sounds surprised.

You can’t blame him, he did quite literally yesterday tell you he’s still upset with you and that he needs space. And yet here you are: calling him early on a Saturday afternoon. “Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I really need your help–”

A sigh. “Normally I’d love to, but I’m kinda in the middle of getting ready to go to Nancy’s.”

“Nancy’s? Steve, she’s not even home–”

“Can we talk later? I… I’d really like to talk, if that’s alright with you.”

This throws you, and for a second you forget about the reason you called. “Of course we can talk, Steve.”

“Great,” you can hear a smile in his voice, which warms you. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Then you remember Dart and the blood on Dustin’s carpet and you frantically try to stop Steve from hanging up. “Wait, no! Steve, Nancy isn’t home and I really need you to–”

The line goes dead, and you slam the phone down. “Damn it!”

Dustin, hearing the commotion, wanders into the kitchen. “Take it the call didn’t go well?”

“No, it did.” Sure, Steve didn’t necessarily offer his help, but he did tell you where he’s going to be in about twenty minutes. You’ll ambush him there and demand he listen to you and help. As a bonding exercise, of course. “We’re going to the Wheeler’s.”

“Why?”

“Steve’s heading there.”

Dustin trips over his shoelaces. “Steve Harrington?”

“Long story,” you sigh, dreading that you’ll have to explain all of this eventually. “C’mon, let's get our bikes.”

–

You and Dustin get to the Wheeler’s before Steve does, which makes no sense to you but whatever. He’ll be here soon enough and you’ll ambush him with all your charm and maybe a bit of groveling. You’re not beneath it, if you’re being honest.

Dustin goes up to the front door while you stay behind, keeping an eye out for Steve. Ted opens the front door and while you can’t hear what he says to Dustin, you know he’s unamused by his presence. The father has never been your favorite parent within the group, honestly.

You watch as they exchange a few more words before you see Dustin sigh and angrily march back towards you. Then, right as he’s grabbed his bike, a familiar red BMW pulls up. Just seeing his car makes your heart skip a beat.

The car parks and a frazzled Steve steps out, carrying flowers and mumbling to himself. You aren’t able to hear everything he’s saying, but you can hear the words “what the hell am I sorry for?” and your stomach twists.

So clearly he’s not in a good mood. Still.

The flowers, which you now can see are roses, hang by Steve’s side as he fixes his hair. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and it takes everything within you to pull your eyes away. He looks good today, too good.

There’s a monster currently locked in your cellar.

“Steve!” You rush over to his side.

He does a double take when he sees you. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Well–”

“Are those for Mr. or Mrs. Wheeler?” Dustin now joins you two, pointing at the roses in the boy’s hand.

Steve looks between the two of you. “No…? You’re Dustin, right? Y/N’s brother?”

Dustin snatches the roses out of his hand. “Good, and yeah, I am.”

“Hey, what the hell?” Steve looks at you for help, but you know there’s no use trying to reason with your brother. He’s in a mood, similar to Steve, and you just sigh and follow Dustin. “Hey!”

“Nancy isn’t home.” Your brother informs Steve.

“Where is she?” Steve asks, and you hit his shoulder.

“I tried telling you over the phone!”

Dustin claps his hands at you to get your guys’ attention again. “It doesn’t matter where she is or if you tried to warn him, Y/N. We have bigger problems than your love lives.”

He’s at Steve’s car now and opens the passenger side door. “Do you still have that bat?”

Steve whips his head towards you. “Bat? What the hell is he talking about? Y/N, what are you guys doing here–”

“The one with the nails!” Dustin interrupts, exasperated.

Again Steve looks at you. “Why?”

“You’re not gonna like it,” you confess, and this only makes Steve feel worse.

“We’ll explain it on the way.” Dustin goes to sit in the passenger seat but he’s quickly stopped when you grab his hood and yank him out.

“No, absolutely not. I deserve the passenger seat, not you.”

Dustin slaps you away. “I got here first.”

“I was born first–”

“But I was literally about to sit down–”

“Hey!” Steve shouts, effectively shutting you and Dustin up. “It’s my car, and right now I currently only like Y/N, so she gets the passenger seat.”

“You like Y/N?” Dustin asks at the same time as you ask, “You like me?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, barely. She’s on thin ice. But you, little Henderson? You just stole the flowers meant for my girlfriend, so backseat you go.”

“Yes!” You cheer, pumping your fist in the air as you flash Steve a smile. “Thanks, Harrington.”

He rounds the front of his car and opens the driver's side door. “Yeah, don’t get used to it. Like I said, you’re still on thin ice.”

He says it with annoyance in his voice, but you can see the smile he’s trying hard not to let slip, and you feel giddy. Steve obviously can’t be too mad at you if he wanted to talk later and is willingly letting himself be kidnapped by your brother.

Dustin, on the other hand, can’t believe any of this is happening. As soon as you’re all in the car he asks, “Since when did you two become friends?”

“I have a life outside of you and the boys, you know,” you tell him, but you avoid Steve’s gaze. It’s not like you intentionally hid this aspect of your life from Dustin, but… It also never came up, either.

“Sure ya do, but… Wait,” Dustin remembers something. “Oh my god, you have Steve Harrington’s number memorized?”

Your face heats up and Steve hides a smirk, but you see it anyway. You ignore his smugness and respond to your brother. “Like I said, I have a life outside of you.”

Dustin gapes at you. “I have so many questions–”

“I have an even better one: where am I taking you guys?” Steve asks, and suddenly you remember everything at stake.

“My house,” you tell him as you buckle up. He nods, although with some confusion, and then starts the engine. “You know how I called you earlier?”

“Yeah…?”

“Dustin, why don’t you tell Steve here what you found.”

Your brother sighs from the backseat. “A few days ago I found this… lizard of sorts.”

“A lizard.” Steve says, unimpressed.

“Oh, just wait,” you quip.

Dustin turns his head to glare at you and you give him a thumbs up. He scoffs at you before carrying on, “Yes, a lizard. I named him Dart and he was super cool, okay? I thought I had discovered a new species and that I would be super famous and better than everyone else.”

Steve glances at you next to him, raising his eyebrows and whistling low. “Wow, does humbleness run in your family, Y/N?”

“I’d say so, yeah.”

“Anyways,” Dustin interrupts, ignoring Steve’s laugh at your response. “Turns out, Dart is from the Upside Down.”

“The Upside Down?” Steve asks, extremely confused. He looks at you again in the mirror and it hits you that no one explained to him the events from last year. You assumed that Nancy would’ve, seeing as how they’ve been together for a while now and Steve had been with you guys at the hospital the night you brought Will back.

However, from his disbelief and confusion it’s clear that she hasn’t. If you had to guess, Steve probably went home that night and blocked out everything that had gone down with no questions asked.

You respect his repressing skills, honestly.

Dustin groans, beginning to grow impatient with Steve. “Yes, the Upside Down. If you have the bat still, how could you not know–”

“Do you remember that… thing we killed at Jonathan’s last year?” You cut your brother off before he can get too mean. You love the kid, you do, but he isn’t the kindest person when others aren't understanding him.

A dark look passes over Steve’s face and his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. It’s night now, and the atmosphere in the car becomes tense. “I remember.”

You clear your throat, “Well, this creature–”

“Demodog.” Dustin corrects from the backseat.

“Demodog?” You turn in your seat to face him. “That’s what we’re calling it now? Seriously?”

He shrugs. “It’s a baby demogorgon, it looks like a dog, so… Demodog.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Alright. Okay. Whatever, this demodog is from the Upside Down. It’s this parallel universe, basically. Creepy shit happens there, and last year a monster–”

“The Demogorgon.” Dustin once more interrupts.

“Dustin, if you want to catch Steve up then for the love of god, please shut up.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

A smile tugs at Steve’s lips and you take a deep breath to calm yourself before continuing. “Look, I don’t know how much Nancy told you about that night at Jonathan’s, but all that you need to know is that the Demogorgon took Will last year and we had to fight it in order to save him.”

Steve nods slightly as he follows along, “Nancy mentioned something about a monster at the hospital… she told me it’s what killed Barb, but never told me it had a name.”

Another silence falls between you guys in the car. The mention of Barb brings back bad memories for you both. You had liked Barb, she had always been nice to you, you guess. Hawkins is a small town. Everyone knows everyone, and in the end the smallness of the town is what makes the Upside Down so hard. You lose people close to you, one way or another.

And as for Steve… The roses he bought for Nancy lay wilted in his backseat.

Dustin shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and your heart pangs in understanding. He misses El, and you do too. The closer it gets to the anniversary of her disappearance, the more you miss the sweet and caring girl; but you know that the boys, Mike especially, haven’t given up hope for her.

“So…” Steve motions for you guys to continue explaining, and Dustin sits up in his seat to begin again.

“So flash forward to now: I didn’t realize Dart was a demodog until he grew like three damn sizes bigger than when I found him. Y/N and I almost died trying to lock him in our cellar.”

“Wait, you guys have a cellar?”

Dustin rubs his face, “That’s what you focus on, Steve?”

“It’s a valid question–”

“Guys!” You lurch yourself forward and wave your hands around wildly to break up their bickering. “We really don’t have time for this. Can we please just focus on the task at hand? Dart has probably grown even more during the course of this stupid conversation.”

Your brother’s hand pushes your shoulder back so that you’re now once again sitting, and you swat him away with annoyance. “Y/N, I’m trying! Blame Steve, he’s the one asking stupid questions–”

Steve speaks up, “What the hell? They aren’t stupid questions–”

“Well…”

Steve shoots you an offended look, “Y/N, I thought you were on my side.”

Dustin scoffs, hurt. “She’s my sister, you idiot!”

“Again, we seriously don’t have time for this because, once more: Dart is getting really big.” Your voice is louder this time, and thankfully it shuts everyone up. Then, just because you can, you add, “and I’m on Steve’s side right now. He’s the one with the car, plus… Well, I owe him.”

Steve fist pumps the air. “Suck it, little Henderson.”

“Do not call me that,” Dustin threatens him, then turns his attention to you. “First Jonathan, now Steve? Can’t you befriend anyone I like?”

The mention of Jonathan gets Steve attention. “Wait a sec, where is the guy? You never actually told me where he and Nancy went, Y/N.”

You sigh, knowing there’s no use keeping anything else from him. He’s already driving you and Dustin home to help with Dart, and you did promise to tell him where they were later, but life seemingly got in the way. “They’re playing detective right now.”

“Detective?”

“Yeah, the guy Barb’s parents hired… They’re currently at his place, exposing Hawkin’s Lab.”

A tense silence follows. Steve stares straight ahead, eyes on the road, as his expressions morph from hurt, to reluctance, to eventual acceptance. “Nance didn’t think to ask me to join?”

His voice wavers, just a bit, but you hear it. Knowing that Dustin is watching from the back, you decide to forget any possible boundaries for once and grab Steve’s hand. He’s hurting. The car smells of roses and there’s no girl to give them to. “She tried, Steve.”

He swallows. There’s hurt in his eyes and you want to reach out and stroke his cheek and tell him that it isn’t his fault. “I know…”

“Ahem,” Dustin coughs, clearly uncomfortable with whatever is going on. “So… Back to Dart.”

You clear your own throat, but your hand remains wrapped around Steve’s, who nods. “Wait a sec, how big are we talking?”

Without meaning to, you close your eyes and brace for Dustin’s witty remarks, but he surprises you by answering with a demonstration and zero mockery. “First it was like that,” he opens his fingers a few inches before using both hands to show about a foot in length. “Now he’s like this.”

Steve still looks doubtful. “And you’re sure it isn’t some weird lizard?”

A headache begins to form and you pinch the bridge of your nose again. “It’s not a lizard, Steve.”

“Well how do you know?”

“Because his face opened up and he ate our cat.” Dustin says bluntly.

This seems to shut Steve up and he nods his head in defeat. It’s silent in the car for the remainder of the drive, and just before Steve parks in your driveway, he looks over at you and sees your eyes closed in pain, and before he knows it he squeezes your hand and says, “sorry about your cat, by the way.”

Despite the pounding in your head and your utter exhaustion, his words make you laugh. “Just park, Steve.”

He smiles, feeling proud for getting you to laugh, and does as he’s told. Before you know it you’re standing at his trunk, staring at the baseball bat that saved your life last year. Dustin has already gone over to the cellar, waiting for you and Steve to follow.

The bat stares back at you, and you shiver as the memories come back. Though you had tried your best to forget that night, that entire week, honestly, it’s been useless. The nightmares still haunt you. You obsessively research trauma in children now to compensate for your own guilt from last year.

“Why’d you keep the bat?” You ask as Steve grabs it, giving it a practice swing. Your own blades are out again and he eyes their gleam.

“It’s kinda sick, don’t ya think?” He swings it again. “I look badass with it.”

He’s dodging, but you sense that he kept the bat for the same reason as why you kept the switchblade. You’ve been waiting in fear for something else to happen. “You don’t look too bad with it.”

Steve blushes a bit, which your stomach flutters seeing. “I, uh… Guess we can’t have that talk tonight?”

“No, not unless we somehow manage to deal with Dart in a timely manner. However, if I recall, nothing ever goes our way.”

“Nope!” He closes the trunk and tosses you a flashlight. Then, he sticks his hand out for you to shake. “But for now… Truce?”

You giggle. “Truce.”

His hand is warm, and even though you had just been holding it in the car moments earlier, his touch still fills you with a gooey warmth that you’ve come to associate with him. As soon as you and him are alone, away from Dustin’s nosy ears, you’ll really apologize to Steve. He may be being nice to you now, but he’s still guarding himself from you.

You hate it. You miss how open he used to be with you.

“Ready to go re-live my nightmares?” Steve asks.

You give him a thumbs up as you start heading towards Dustin. “Always, let’s go.”

“Took you guys long enough.” Your brother mutters when you and Steve arrive at the cellar, weapons in hand. You flash him an apologetic smile while Steve simply ignores him.

Steve approaches the door and listens for a second, “I don’t hear shit.”

You frown and listen as well. He’s right, it’s eerily silent. You shoot Dustin a questioning look and he shrugs as well, “He’s in there.”

“Duh, I know that much, You almost knocked me out when you shoved past me to get Dart in there.” you remark, before softly adding “he’s gotta be in there.”

Your words don’t reassure Steve, who begins to use the tip of his bat to bang against the locked doors. When nothing happens, he bangs harder against them before sighing in annoyance.

“All right, listen kid.” Steve begins, and you start to rub small circles into your scalp in a vain attempt to lessen your headache, because you already know that the next words out of his mouth will start yet another fight. “I swear, if this is some sort of Halloween prank, you’re dead.”

“Steve…” He ignores you and stares down your brother, shining the flashlight directly at his face in what you assume is meant to be a threatening manner.

“It's not a prank,” Dustin tiredly replies, squinting his eyes against the light. “Get it out of my face.”

Steve complies, still hesitant about the situation at hand, and turns to face you. “You got a key to this thing?”

You nod and fish the keys from out of your pocket and unlock the cellar doors. Steve bends down to investigate, and without him having to ask, you hand him the flashlight and step forward so that you’re next to him.

He flashes the light down the stairs and all that the three of you can see is darkness. An uneasy feeling creeps over you. Something isn’t right, but you really hope that you’re wrong.

“He has to be further down,” you say, more so to reassure yourself than the others.

Dustin shuffles his feet next to you and says, with an extremely unconvincingly “brave” voice, “I’ll stay up here in case he tries to… escape.”

Both you and Steve look at him in disbelief. Dustin stands his ground, however, and looks at the two of you expectantly. Steve shakes his head while you sigh in defeat. Your brother is such a pain sometimes.

“You do realize that if Dart eats me, you’ll have to deal with mom all by yourself, right?” You ask him.

The boy shrugs at you. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take, Y/N.”

“Yeah, love you too.” You mumble, before you begin to follow Steve down the steps.

“I’ll be thinking of you!” Dustin calls out, his voice echoing against the cellar walls.

You trail behind Steve, and the flashlight he brought does nothing to illuminate the dark area, so it’s a relief when he reaches above his head to turn the light on. As your eyes adjust to the light change, you scan the room to find the missing demodog. However, all your eyes land on is a long, thin sheet of film on the ground that you can only assume is molted skin.

“Oh, shit…” you breathe out. “This isn’t good.”

Steve picks the skin up with the tip of his bat and examines it and shakes his head. “Please tell me this isn’t Dart.”

“Actually, it’d be easier if it was him.”

Steve doesn’t laugh at your joke; he continues to look around the room before his eyes widen. You turn your head to see what’s caught his attention, and when you spot the problem, your knees weaken.

There’s a giant, Dart-sized hole in your cellar wall.

“Steve? Y/N? What’s going on down there?” Dustin’s voice carries down to you guys, and you and Steve share a nervous glance.

“Dustin…” You call up to him, your voice weaker than you’d prefer. You wish you could be braver for him at the moment, but right now it takes everything within you not to crawl into bed and shut the world out. Why did it always have to be giant monsters?

While you’re reeling, Steve walks over to the bottom of the steps and flashes his light at Dustin, instructing him to come down. Once the boy has joined you guys, Steve guides the light to his bat so that Dustin can see the skin.

“Oh, shit.”

“Funnily enough, that’s what your sister said, too.”

Then Steve shines the light to where the hole in the wall is, and you watch Dustin’s face go from concerned to horrified. “Oh, shit!”

The three of you crouch closer to the hole, and when Steve shines the flashlight through it, your heart stops and you gasp, “It’s a tunnel.”

“No way…” Dustin says in awe.

It’s hard to see exactly how deep the tunnel goes, but something tells you that there’s more to it than meets the eye. This wouldn’t be some simple fix like you had desperately hoped it would be.

Now you really, really wish Jonathan were here. And Nancy. Definitely Nancy.

But they aren’t. This time, you’re on your own with only Steve and Dustin by your side. No one else in the party is available, you don’t even know where they are or if they’re even safe, but right now that doesn’t matter.

What matters is that Dart has escaped.

And it’s happening again.

Everything you’ve tried so hard for the last year to ignore, to move on and pretend never happened to you, has come crashing back into your life.

Steve, seeing your apprehension, grabs your hand and pulls you in close. “Hey, we’ll figure it out. I’ll be here, okay?”

Even though you don’t deserve his kindness, his sincerity, you believe him.

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[kyber-crystal]

learning to warm cold hands || ethan hunt

summary: after a particular mission, sunshine isn’t sunshine anymore, and it worries him. (aka a cliche angst to fluff fic with the following tropes: slightly sunshine and super sunshine, who did this to you, etc)

words: ~1.4k

warnings: angst, brief descriptions of violence, ethan being overly concerned for reader, but not much else asides from that 

a/n: first ethan fic (requested by a lovely anon, thank you!!) and second mission impossible fic! btw, this fic is kind of an AU? i don't have a specific timeline for when it happens, so you can squeeze it in wherever :)

“Y/N, status update?”

“Northwest exit, 430 meters. I have one on my tail. But you know I’m Usain Bolt 2.0! I can definitely outrun this doofus, I mean, I bet my mile time is way better than his. I could've gone to the Olympics, for God’s sake. The Olympics! Where are you?”

“Stay there, I’ll come find you.”

“Ethan, wait, you can't just tell me to—“ You don’t even get to finish before a an explosive sound echoes across the narrow alleyway. You make a sharp left turn but find that you’d just hit a dead end. The door was locked. Shit. You only had one bullet left and there was a guy who was definitely at least twice your weight—and over a foot taller, too—coming after you. You wouldn't even have enough time to reload.

“Y/N. Y/N—“

You don’t get to hear the rest of what he’s saying before the static fizzes out and you lose connection.

“Hey there!” You give the beefy man who’s now mere meters away from you a cheerful smile. “Lovely weather today, don’t you think? Too bad it’s going to rain tomorrow. I love the rain but I hate lightning, because I almost got struck a year ago.”

He doesn't look too happy at this, whipping his gun out without a moment’s hesitation. You squeeze your eyes shut and pray as you slide the bullet in and he pins you against the wall by your neck. 

He brings the gun to your head, and your weapon clatters to the ground. You curse under your breath. You can feel your airways constricting and there's a searing pain working its way through you. 

“You're not going anywhere, princess.”

There's a split-second; a microsecond in which he pauses. Very briefly. You don't think, just do—you knee him in the groin, hard, and quickly grab the knife that's sheathed in your boot. 

Saying one last prayer, you plunge the blade in, not even looking to see if you'd aimed right. He falls to the floor, stumbling, and you then lunge forward to disarm him. 

Another deafening gunshot rings out just as Ethan rounds the corner and finds you there, standing over the man’s dead body like the angel of death. A pool of blood surrounds your feet, and he doesn't think he wants to know if that's yours or his. 

“You made it out alive. Good job out there.”

Glancing over at him, you nod, but don't say anything. You toss him the data files without another word, and board the plane. 

“I'm proud of you.”

More strained silence. Huh, weird… he thinks. 

“Y/N, are you alright?”

No response. Ethan repeats himself again, “Are you alright? Did something happen?”

You strap yourself into your seat and tilt your head back, digging your nails into your wrist. Anything was better than being awake right now…

“Well, someone's uncharacteristically quiet.”

Still no response. Not even a snarky quip like you'd typically reply with. No nicknames, no bickering, no random fun fact you googled on the way over here. “Did you know that a pig can digest an entire human body, bones and all? That makes me think a little extra every time we pass through the European countryside and see one of them.” 

All he gets is silence from your end, and it starts to worry him. 

That’s when he follows your gaze downwards. You're clutching the left side of your abdomen, trying your best not to make a sound. 

His blood runs cold and his eyes darken. You can feel the pure rage radiating off him. 

“Did he hurt you?”

“No…shit…Sherlock…” you croak out. 

“You're hurt.”

No response again. 

“Y/N, what the hell happened out there and who did this to you?”

More silence. 

“Y/N, what did he do to you? How did he hurt you?”

After several more questions and several more failed replies, he forcefully moves your hand aside. Your shirt is stained a deep red and there's a gaping hole much bigger than Ethan wanted to see. 

“You got shot.” He sighs. “Luther, how much longer?”

“Hour and five, but we can get there in 38.”

“Hurry.”

“On it.”

Ilsa brings him a thick roll of bandages. He tries to be as careful as possible as he disinfects and wraps up your torso, but every so often, you wince in pain. 

“I'm sorry, sweetheart, just a few more minutes,” Ethan hurriedly apologizes. “Hang in there for me, okay?”

Once he's done, he sits down next to you and laces your fingers together, giving your hand a squeeze. You let out a shuddering sigh and slumped against him. 

He pretends not to notice your watering eyes, or the crescent-shaped marks in your wrist. Or the way your left foot nervously taps out the rhythm to yours and his favorite song. Or the way your tears leave faint red tracks behind as they slip down your cheeks. 

“I'm so sorry,” he repeats over and over again, “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.”

You don't sleep a wink that night. On any other day in Paris, you'd walk down to the farmer’s market below. You’d pick out Ethan’s favorite fruit and a new beret to have him wear jokingly, and maybe grab a croissant or two. Then you’d drag him along to the Louvre and point out each painting one by one and explain in great detail why you loved them so much. And he’d listen, because he could live purely off the sound of your voice for the rest of his life. He was never one for museums, but you loved them, and because he loved you, he started to love them, too.

But it's dark out, and after what had just happened the other day, you don't feel safe enough to leave the apartment. You tossed and turned for over half an hour before falling asleep, but jolted awake just a few minutes later, shivering violently. There was no way you were going to try and go to sleep again.  

Ethan stirs awake, rubbing his eyes to see a dark figure slipping out the door. 

He's quick to follow you up the staircase and to the rooftop. You're standing there in just a T-shirt (was that his?) and shorts, and it's freezing cold out, but you're sweating and fanning yourself. 

“Y/N?”

You turn around at the sound of his voice. “Ethan…”

“What are you doing up here? I was worried about you.” He makes his way over to you and puts a hand on your shoulder, obvious concern on his face. 

You bit your lip and started digging your nails into your wrist again. 

“Talk to me, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Tell me what's wrong.” 

You shook your head, feeling the skin of your wrist beginning to sting. 

“Y/N, please. I want to help you. But I can’t do that when you won't talk to me, so please…tell me what’s going on.” 

“I’m so tired, Ethan,” you finally spoke after a long pause, voice hoarse. “I should’ve—I shouldn’t be here right now, I should be dead because I panicked and I…I almost died. The man, he put the gun to my head and I saw my entire life flash before my eyes. I could’ve sworn to God that the whole ‘thing’ about you seeing your life flash by like a film reel was just a myth but it wasn’t. It scared the shit out of me because I kept seeing the same thing over and over. I thought…”

“What did you see?” he asked, voice gentle. 

“I kept seeing your face. All I saw was your face.” You looked away, suddenly unable to make eye contact with him. Heat spreads across your cheeks. “I know I care about the whole damn team, but you—you’re my future, Ethan.”

He doesn’t say anything in response and instead, leans down to kiss you.

The sudden rush of warmth from his lips being pressed against yours makes you want to forget everything in the world and completely drown in him. This was home, you realized, and this is where I’m supposed to be.

And as the sun rises and spreads a brilliant pale glow over the horizon, Ethan can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was also exactly where he was meant to be. Not fighting bad guys, but rather, standing on the rooftop of a tiny building in the 4th arrondissement with you in his arms and your head against his heart. He thinks he could have a lifetime of this.

“You’re my future, too.”

tags (including those who may be interested! add yourself via this form, if you’d like): @mitchellpete @voguesir @fl0ating @lady-elena-adeline @the-multiverse-of-fandoms @ilsastrenchcoat @joyfullyswimmingface​ 

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 7)

Howdy! Welcome to part 7! I'm happy you're here! Thank you all again for showing this series the love and support you all have. I appreciate you all so much, and I hope you're all finding new favorites to add to your own collections.

Apologies for the delay in getting this part to you. To be honest, it's just been too fucking hot for me lately, so I've been spending less time at my computer and more time splayed out, letting the wind blow upon me. I'm a spicy bitch on an average day, but it's been 100+ degrees here on average for the past week and a half with the heat is showing no signs of going away anytime soon. So there may end up being bigger gaps between updates (like the one you just experienced) than I maintained previously. Fair warning.

Okay, that's all from me today. Let's get into, lovelies!

Smoochies and squeezies!

List and link to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

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and the questions of heaven, for a sinner like me by doxa (G | 1/1 | 1,346)

“I'm Loki, son of Laufey,” Stiles chants. “And I'm going to burn down the world.”

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many beacons in the sea by orphan_account (T | 1/1 | 1,479)

Stiles has known all his life that he’s not like other kids. He’s special.

“It’s alright, love,” his mom says, leaning over him at night when he can’t sleep because his legs hurt so bad. “Just let it hurt.”

She kisses his forehead. He dreams of the sea. They go to the beach that weekend.

*

Stiles is a siren. He’s an anomaly, until he isn’t.

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Now when we're old by orphan_account (NR | 1/1 | 2,431)

Stiles' skin was soft, the years passing making it worn and thin; his bones brittle and fragile. He was still the man they all knew, but older. Derek's hair was grey and white now, his beard more straggle than stubble. His whole life could be read on his face, almost like a map, outlining his joys and tears.

We all know how their lives together began, but how did it end.

Believe it or not the ending is kinda happy.

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the secrets in our blood by orphan_account (T | 1/1 | 5,433)

//He’d never meant for it to go this far.

He really, honest to god hadn't. Like, okay, it's not like he'd expected a long life, but he'd at least hoped he'd have gotten the hell away from Beacon Hills before they found him.//

or, the one where Stiles is a demon and the same hunters who killed his mother (also a demon) find him.

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Wolf Cub by moodwriter (E | 1/1 | 6,946)

A strange wolf is not supposed to touch another pack’s cub and that’s why, on a rescue mission, it’s Stiles’ job to take care of the wolf cub who’s curious about everything and everyone. Stiles is not used to werewolf children, and the pack is not used to Stiles taking care of a child. Their Alpha gets very confused about this, too.

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The Dark Spark by Reia (E | 1/1 | 7,014)

He knows that Stiles is speaking to his wolf, to that animal inside that thrums with the need to maim and kill and take, take, take and he really shouldn't allow it, he shouldn't.

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but couldn't good be good enough by lazulisong (G | 1/1 | 8,044)

"His dad is probably going to tell Stiles not to hang out with us," says Boyd, taking a sip of his Coke.

Isaac gives Derek an utterly betrayed look, and Erica glares at him. "I told you not to wear those sunglasses!" she hisses.

"What if Stiles can't hang out with us any more?" says Isaac wretchedly. "What if Scott doesn't want to hang out with us because --"

"I said those were pedophile sunglasses!" says Erica, in a quiet, piercing whisper that makes Derek's ears hurt.

Boyd continues eating his gyro, which he has laid out on a plate like a salad on a piece of flatbread, methodically picking out the tomatoes, feta and lamb and laying them to the side to eat after the lettuce. Boyd would eat his gyro if there was a bomb going off.

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The House in the Middle by afullrevolution (2 works | G-T | 8,569)

1. Battle not with monsters (T | 3/3 | 7,590) Stiles laughed. Laughed because he understood what Nietzsche had been writing about. Because hunters were clearly monsters for all they claimed to battle them. Because Stiles had looked into the abyss and the abyss was staring straight back. 2. To Grandmother's House We Go (G | 1/1 | 979) There were always going to be repercussions for everyone involved, and then some.

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Hell to Raise by Mosca (E | 1/1 | 12,543)

Stiles is the last in a long line of pagan priests. Of course, the god in question is a sarcastic trickster who mostly just wants him to get laid. Of course.

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No Oceans Left by zoemathemata (T | 1/1 | 14,207)

Stiles has always been a merman. He just never knew how to tell anyone. He hasn’t shifted since his mom died.

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Hand of the Devil by shiny_starlight (M | 1/1 | 14,669)

For years, Hale and his family had escaped justice, but the day of reckoning had come. His comfortable life was about to come crashing down about his ears and Adrian was going to relish every single second of it.

Mob!AU. Derek is the head of the Hale Family, and Detective Adrian Harris is determined to bring him to justice, whatever means necessary.

Warning: Contains past!non-cannonical character death and non graphic description of injuries. Contains cannon character death.

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Do What I Dare series by FunkyinFishnet (3 works | T-M | 15,532)

Stiles has always known he prefers to wear women's clothing. He learns that the people who matter want him to be happy too.

1. Make No Conditions (M | 1/1 | 8,557) Stiles has always known that he prefers wearing female clothing, but not many people in his life know. He makes friends with drag queens, goes shopping with Lydia and Allison, and tries to work out if and when he can ever tell Derek about his wardrobe. Will Derek want all of him? Of course, it turns out that Lydia is right all along, about everything. 2. Get A Little Outta Line (M | 1/1 | 4,444) Stiles talks down a rival pack's Alpha, tells his Dad about werewolves, is confronted by Chris Argent, and communicates enjoyably without words with Derek. It's pretty awesome altogether. 3. Scent Of A Woman And A Man (T | 1/1 | 2,531) Stiles and his Mom love perfume. Stiles carries that love into his teenage years and once he and Derek become close, he finds he's not the only one obsessed with scents.

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Actual Puppy Derek Hale by Wrennefer (Wrenegadeone) (T | 1/1 | 18,162)

Derek didn't know what was worse: the hunters, being trapped as a wolf, being hit by a car, or the fact that he had somehow become some kid's pet dog for the unforeseeable future.

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Der Yingl fun Erd un Blitz (The Boy of Earth and Lightning) by sofonisba_found (T | 3/3 | 18,741)

Miriam and John Stilinski had always wanted to have children. But when her illness prevented her from giving birth, and every conventional alternative option to raise a child was denied to them, they had to look for an...unconventional method. One that would give them a child that was himself far from ordinary in so many ways.

And soon after, in the town of Beacon Hills, a young werewolf named Derek begins to notice the scent of something different from anything he had ever known before in the air...

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Certain and Unsure series by dedougal (2 works | M-E | 20,475)

1. Make It Up As We Go Along (E | 1/1 | 11,388) Stiles was not expecting to find a baby on the kitchen table at Derek's. Not at all. 2. Left to Trust (M | 1/1 | 9,087)

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With The Hush of My Lips, I Wholly Confound The Skeptic by Unknown (M | 6/6 | 27,249)

My contribution to the Teen Wolf Big!Big:

It’s honestly his dad’s worst nightmare.

And it’s not like the doctors never told them that it could be hereditary, what his mother died of. They had. It’s just, after such a tragic thing like her dying had happened, they hadn’t thought anything could ever be worse.

Until they had found that stupid abnormality in Stiles’ stomach.

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The Importance of Turning Around Three Times Before Lying Down by otter (T | 10/10 | 30,493)

It’s like this dog has walked out of all of Stiles’ childhood dreams and into the real world just because Stiles wanted it hard enough. He is the most awesome dog ever, and he and Stiles have a bond. A deep, unbreakable bond because this animal is his soul mate, obviously. Now he just has to convince the dog of that.

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Of Love and Fairness series by JTHM_Michi (4 works | G-T | 38,833)

Life isn't fair and sometimes when people mean well they react without knowing all the facts. Families are a deep cavern of secrets and lies and the Stilinski family isn't different than any other. When the Alpha Pack came to Beacon Hills, they brought death with them and in the fallout, Stiles was kicked out and his father got a new child and a new wife. This is a story about life and family and all the hard things from both. Alls fair in love and war?

1. We Meet Again (T | 1/1 | 16,320) When Stiles was 17, the Sheriff kicked him out because the Alpha Pack was getting to be too dangerous for the newest additions to the Stilinski household. Now, eleven years later, Stiles is about to come face to face with his once kid step-sister and be forced to deal with this fact. Is it possible to forgive and forget? 2. But With A Whimper (G | 1/1 | 6,704) Rebecca Stilinski learns to deal with the reveal that her father simply isn't the person she grew up thinking he was. And how is it possibly fair that Stiles can have this wonderful life and his father still condemns him as some sort of shady character from a crime drama? The sequel to 'We Meet Again'. 3. Magic Musings (G | 1/1 | 6,274) Lydia has made for herself a perfect life. She has a degree from MIT, has won a Fields Metal, has gotten married to Jackson, and has a career where people call her ‘Dr. Martin’ with complete sincerity. She has a large extended family of friends and is a godmother to her best friend’s daughter and has two little boys who call her ‘Auntie’. Her life is perfect – sure, she and Jackson go through rough patches and sometimes her bills stress her out – but overall she has a good life. She never thought her wonderful life would involve Stiles as her quasi brother with Scott as their goofy younger brother (never mind that Lydia is actually the youngest) but life is strange that way. 4. Look The Other Way (G | 5/5 | 9,535) The small snippets from my "Of Love and Fairness" verse, including but not limited to: The original confrontation between Stiles and his father over the Sheriff's abandonment of Stiles in the past; A small glimpse of Derek and Stiles' wedding; and a meeting between Lydia and the Sheriff. And really anything else from this verse that I wrote that didn't make it into any of the bigger pieces. It would be better to read the other parts of this verse before this one.

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Dirty paws and furry coats by queerly_it_is (E | 1/1 | 57,621)

Stiles is eight years old when his dad brings Derek home.

[AU based on Disney's The Fox and the Hound]

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Indelible Marks by billtheradish (M | 87/87 | 275,695)

The house never burned. The pack is strong. Derek will never need to be the alpha, and his sister is a troll. (Actually, most of his family is like that.)

Derek is an apprentice tattoo artist, and Stiles isn't old enough to get ink of his own yet. But that doesn't stop him from being interesting...

(This story is now out of buffer, but I will always announce when the next update will be, and am trying to keep to a regular posting schedule. Also, please be advised that this is essentially a rough draft. That doesn't mean it's riddled with typos, every chapter is edited, just that the overarching plot and side stories haven't had a chance to be edited in full yet--but they will be. An edited version of this story will be posted eventually, so if the current length isn't your cup of tea, just come back later.)

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[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: The promise of snow in the shadow of a falling curtain. 2172 words.

Note: The scenes in this chapter starring Ev were co-written by her IRL counterpart @vintagehellfire.

1986

November came with a cold that promised snow soon. Still, the coven continued to build and grow. While magic shimmered outward, you, Eddie, and Ev spent hours poring over grimoires and speaking with the Witches Who Came Before. If you were going to empower Eddie with some sort of supernatural ability to see the worst in people, the work had to be sound.

Ev was the natural choice to help. She worked close to death and had an affinity for darkness and transformation. It felt so good and right to be practicing witchcraft with a sister again.

“Are we still thinking touch is the best trigger?” Ev posed.

“It has to be,” Eddie answered. “This cannot go wrong. We cannot be wrong.”

You slid off the armchair and kneeled in front of where Eddie was seated on the floor, piles of books and parchment around him. “You will always have the final say. You will always be able to ignore all this.”

So as not to curse Eddie with the sight 24/7, it was decided a charmed object would suffice.

“We could use a necklace?”

“What about one of his rings,” Ev suggested, pointing to the cross ring already adorning Eddie’s hand. “We could let it charge in potion,”

“Under the next full moon,”

“Yes,” Ev nodded at you.

“Okay, so now we need the potion… Black-eyed Susan for justice and gladiolus for moral integrity and a strong sense of character,”

“Horehound for revealing the truth,”

“You have horehound? Where did you get it?” you asked her.

“I cultivated it before we came to America. I’ve had some stashed since then,”

“That’s convenient… Okay, next… Splinted fir tree wood, also for truth, but determination and hope for the future too,” you said.

“I think this may need to be a bit viler. Something more substantial too,”

“I take it you have an idea for that?”

Ev looked from you to Eddie. He grinned as he saw the wicked smile spread across her face.

“Well… In my line of work, I have access to certain things others may not…”

You blinked hard at her. “You mean… dead bodies?”

“Yes,”

“What have you done?” you asked her seriously.

“Nothing a few simple cloaking spells and glamours can’t hide,” Ev said with a casual shrug. She smiled. “If we want this magic to work, we need offerings. I can offer the ground bones of evil men,”

“Of course you can,”

“You’re not judging me, are you?” Ev teased.

“No. Nobody is. But everyone judged me for what I did, but you’ve been skulking around with dead men’s bones and a wolf boyfriend for ages.”

She laughed. “Whatever. The point is, using the bones will call a stronger power. We need to be careful,”

“We will,” Eddie said.

“And we can add our blood. Offering witch blood will prove that our magic walks in the light. That we seek to do good,” you said.

Eddie and Ev nodded.

Next was workshopping the spell.

“By the bones and branches, I call to thee. Reveal the evil that lay beneath?” Ev proposed.

“Oh, okay, I like that. Let me write this down.”

When wordsmithing and potion brewing were done, you stored all the work away. The next full moon was on the sixteenth, so casting would be postponed until then.

You walked Ev back to her house, listening as she told you about how she met her wolf.

“It was organic. The first thing we talked about was music. He loves The Misfits. I love The Misfits. Danzig over Graves. Rollins era Black Flag. Even when we disagreed we agreed. Like about when our Iron Maiden cut-off is,”

“You know, Eddie is really getting into that kind of music. Maybe they would actually get along,”

“Well… Eddie’s mortal enemy was meant to be you, so I guess next in line might be exempt too,”

“Double date?”

Ev laughed. “Double date.”

…

Finding Max Mayfield and healing her had not left your mind since the Halloween party. When you set off on your mission, you left Eddie behind. He didn’t like that you were out beyond the limits of Hawkins alone, but he understood why it had to be that way.

When the sun went down, Eddie walked to Kelsey’s house. She welcomed him in and let him sit while she pottered around, doing things that seemed very sweet and domestic, even if Eddie wasn’t sure what the purpose was.

“Can I ask you something about the coven?”

“Of course,” she answered him.

“However… you cannot tell anyone that I asked.”

Kelsey turned and looked at Eddie. She narrowed her eyes. “Anyone?” Even her?

Eddie nodded. “Anyone,” he repeated. Even you. 

…

On the night of November the sixteenth, you, Ev, and Eddie took all you’d need through the woods and out the other side. Upon a small rise, you blended the Black-eyed Susan and gladiolus flowers with horehound and fir in a bowl made from oak. Ev sprinkled in her dead man bone ash.

“Blood,” you said, holding your hand out to Eddie.

Gently, he took it, biting just below your thumb. You felt his tongue swipe over the puncture, tasting you just a little before letting you go. As you let the blood drip into the potion, you glanced up at Ev, her pupils blown.

“Rude not to ask me to join in,” she quipped.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Ev,” Eddie replied just as quick.

“Gross. Stop it. Both of you… Eddie, give me your ring.”

You dropped Eddie’s ring into the bowl and nodded to them. Standing in a circle, holding hands, you all recited the spell. Eddie knew that his contribution to the incantation may not add any magical strength, he felt that it was the right thing to do.

“From Veritas, from Aletheia,

To Themis and her scale.

By bones and branches,

Reveal evil, let light prevail.

Under full moon,

By blood of coven,

Give this immortal power,

To morality govern.”

The wind picked up, the cold seeping in. You dropped hands and watched as the potion began to move, almost like it was alive. A bowl of sentient sludge. Writhing eels.

“What now?” Eddie asked.

“We leave it here. In the morning, the bowl will be empty save for the ring. It will be charmed, and you will have the sight,” you answered. You looked to Ev, she nodded.

“May I escort you ladies back home then, before the cold kills you?”

You let Eddie hook an arm through yours.

Ev hesitated. “I’ve actually got some other plans… I’ll see you tomorrow…”

“Plans on a full moon?” you teased.

Ev pulled a face and set off back into the woods in the direction opposite to the coven.

When you and Eddie got home, you disappeared into the apothecary. After making you tea and lighting the candles that helped you sleep, Eddie came searching for you.

“What more is there to do on this night?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

You turned to him. You loved him all of the time. You loved him when his eyes were wild and his lips stained with blood. You loved him when he was charming and wooing your coven sisters. You loved him when he was washing dishes and engaged in his on-going battle with figuring out the right settings on the iron. But like that, sweatpants low on his hips, scars and history on display… Hair with knotted curls and messy bangs… Doe eyes and gentle movements… You loved him most.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” he whispered back, opening his arms in invitation.

You took a jar, the object of your search, and went to him. He held you safe while you explained.

“We never finished the spell. Your spell.”

Eddie thought back to the black hellebore and apple. How the night had melted into adoration and sex. How, come morning, Forest Hills Trailer Park suddenly didn’t seem like the type of place to cast a spell about the future. You had both decided to save it for when it felt right.

Eddie held the jar of powder and, with a blanket wrapped around you, you followed him outside. Sitting side by side on the front steps of the house grown with love and magic, you said nothing.

The night was quiet and bright, the moon gloriously round and high. Hawkins was peaceful and the coven were dreaming of new beginnings.

Eddie twisted the lid off the jar and poured half the dust into his palm. He closed his fist around it. He looked as if he were making a wish. It was a brief moment, then he uncurled his fingers and blew the dust into the fall air.

“Your turn.”

He tipped the rest of the dust into your hand and you copied what he had done. You watched the dust swirl in the breeze, twinkling with an unnatural glint.

“Thank you for the spell,” you said, your sentence punctuated with a yawn.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

…

Three things happened at the same time that night, on the eve of December. Max Mayfield returned to Hawkins, healed and full of questions for her friends. She vaguely remembered a visitor. Vaguely remembered a miracle. Vaguely remembered threatening her mother if she didn’t let her return to the small shitty town. She was different. Made both stronger and softer by what she’d been through. There was something else too, something not even Lucas could put his finger on.

It would take years for the magic to bloom in Max. When it did, your coven would be waiting.

A far more somber event was taking place just down the way from you. Steve Harrington’s ghost had begun to fade. Mel noticed it before he did. He was hardly there at all now. “This is a good thing,” she told him, but her sad eyes made him ache.

“I don’t want to go,”

“You’re meant to. There is more out there for you now,”

“But what about you?” he asked. Death had not changed Steve. He thought of others first.

She couldn’t put it into words. The feeling of being loved by Steve. The feeling of a soul ignoring death and instead, letting themselves be pulled to her.

As Steve moved on, a definitive moment, Mel crawled into bed and cried. She’d let herself grieve and she’d do it alone. Of course, you would notice her sorrow. You’d find her in the darkness and pull her back to the light of the coven. But not then. Not on that cold night.

In your house, you tried to distract yourself from Eddie’s absence by reading, then spell writing, and finally – television. MTV had a feature of new films being released soon. You made note of The Lost Boys, deciding it would be good for a cinema date night. Eventually, you retired to bed and waited up for Eddie. He’d be home from Chicago soon.

Eddie could smell it on them. Hear it in the spitting syllables of their words. And now, graced with his charmed ring, he could see their sins too.

One touch and he saw the entire span of human guilt. Not keeping off the grass. Gum stuck under desks. Fake IDs. White lies about going to the post office but actually going to eat a cheeseburger in peace. Unpaid fines, unreturned library books. A little weed in the back pocket. Teenage pranks, stolen stop signs, the accidents they caused. Running red lights. Running away from a crime scene. Running away from everything.

It was almost sweet, Eddie thought, what made some people feel shame.

Almost.

Unlicensed firearms. Running cons on elderly people. Animal cruelty. Methamphetamine cooking in a back shed. Dosages of medication that were not what the doctor prescribed. Setting fires. Hidden disks of child exploitation material. Manifestos by white men who knew how to build a bomb. Battery. Trafficking. Home invasion. Aggravated assault occasioning bodily harm. Sexual assault. Assault resulting in death.

It was easier than ever finding someone to drain. Eddie followed him out of a bar and towards the L. In a blur nobody would remember, the man was pulled into the darkness. As it happened, as the shock turned to paralysing fear, your skin broke out in goosebumps. All the way in Hawkins, you watched the hairs on your arms stand up straight.

Eddie’s teeth punctured skin and you yelped, a stab of pain coming from somewhere in you. Doubling over, you fought to breathe.

The man was tense, then limp, then dead.

Forcing deep gulps of air in, then out, you were more worried when the pain suddenly dissolved. Slowly, you got to your feet and blinked tears from your eyes.

If Eddie had felt your suffering, he’d mistaken it as the man’s.

Max’s homecoming, Steve’s final goodbye, and Eddie’s justice balanced by the price you’d always pay. Events that were determined long ago. Fated to coincidence. And would echo through time forever more.

End note: Shout out to @neonghostlights for helping to brainstorm types of sins.

THIS IS THE PENULTIMATE CHAPTER. Yep. Only one more chapter after this and it is not quite finished. So, any last requests or ideas need to be sent to me ASAP if you wanna find yourself in the story.

The Grimoire and timeline are updated. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, especially now in the final hour.

Fic Taglist:  @paranoidmunson  @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03  @pastel-pillows @moviefreak1205

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16 @cultish-corner

[youwouldntdownloadapizza]

The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader | Chapter 6 - The Lodge

masterlist | ao3 | follow @youwouldntdownloadapizza and turn on notifications for updates

You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.

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pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.1k

tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia, sexual braiding

Chapter 6 - The Lodge

A light rain had begun to fall by the time you reached the lodge. The dirt trail quickly turned to mud, and the horses’ hooves squelched with every step. You braced yourself, sliding off Bailey’s back and landing in the stuff with a resolute plop . 

Though you’d had the foresight to waterproof your boots, water and mud were two very different beasts. You’d probably be scrubbing dirt out of your laces for a good long while once you got home. Which at this rate felt like it may not happen until well after you died of old age.

Sodden and starving, you tethered Bailey to a post and approached the front porch.

“More breaking and entering?” Joel asked as you crouched to a squat before the door.

“Nope.” You flipped up the corner of the doormat to reveal a hidden key. “Consider us lodge-sitters.”

“Aren’t you worried about break-ins?” Joel asked.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Joel, but this region isn’t exactly overflowing with people. And if any do find this place…” You trailed off as you slid the key in the lock, glancing up to meet his eyes. “Well, has a locked door ever stopped you?”

Before he could answer, you pushed through the door and stepped into the mercifully well-insulated structure.

The place was pretty bare-bones, with empty storage shelves built into one wall and a threadbare couch pushed up against another. The worn-down dregs of what had once been carpet covered the concrete subfloor here and there.

Despite it all, the sofa beckoned. You sank into it, backpack sandwiched between you and the rear cushions, and sighed.

Then Joel had the audacity to block your light.

“Can I help you?” you asked, opening one eye to glare up at him.

“What’s the plan?”

“Logbook. Linner. Leave.” You counted out the steps of your incredibly thorough plan on frozen fingertips.

“Linner?”

“We’re well past lunchtime. Not quite to dinner. It’s linner, the brunch of the afternoon.”

“That is so goddamn stupid.”

Even with your eyes closed, you could hear the smile in his voice. That is so goddamn adorable .

Joel trailed off towards the only other thing in the room, an old podium atop which rested the dusty, leather-bound logbook. A clicky pen sat nestled between the pages, bearing words he’d never expected to read again, let alone here:

Dr. Neil Henry, DDS - Austin Community Dentistry

He laughed, holding up the pen to show you.

“You know this used to be my dentist, back in Austin?”

“Did it now?” You smirked.

“Dr. Henry. Always used to nag me about flossin’,” he reminisced.

“Did it work?”

“No,” he chuckled. “Not ‘till after the outbreak, anyhow. No one’s around to give you a root canal nowadays. I’d rather not need one.”

“Fair point,” you said, well aware of the hypocrisy as you gnawed on an extraordinarily tough chunk of jerky. 

Your eyes swept the stunning vista visible through the lodge’s massive windows. They reminded you of the ones in your office, and in the lookout tower. There was something about them that put you at ease, which made no sense whatsoever. They were glass, and not even particularly thick glass at that. Much like life before the outbreak, they were an illusion of security at best.

But still, you liked them.

Joel followed your gaze, and his breath caught in his throat at the view. It was beautiful. Not quite as magnificent as this morning’s sunrise had been, but still breathtaking.

“Wow,” he whispered.

“Pretty, huh?” you answered without looking back.

“It’s like a screensaver. Or a wallpaper or somethin’.” Joel mused, eyes wide in awe.

“Hmm,” you mused. “Mine used to be a picture of the Great Wall of China.”

“Why’s that?”

“It was the default,” you sighed, picking out the raisins from your trail mix. “But also I’ve always thought ruins were cool as shit.”

“Plenty of those to be had nowadays,” he said.

“Too many, if you ask me.”

You both chewed in silence for a minute, watching the birds coming home from their winter vacations.

“You know Eugene leaves jokes in here?” Joel broke the silence.

“I did.”

“You hear his latest?”

“Hit me with it.”

“Alright,” Joel turned to face you, smile wide. “What do we want? Low-flying planes! When do we want ‘em? Nyeowwww.” He mimed a plane diving with his finger, eliciting a chuckle from you.

“That’s one of his better jokes.”

“Yeah, the man’s no Will Livingston.”

You smiled. You were intimately familiar with Livingston’s work, ever since Ellie decided to thank you for her new light-up sneakers with a selection of the punster’s greatest hits.

There was no need for a security sweep after you’d finished eating. The whole place was only a couple of rooms, and you’d already checked the perimeter before entering.

“Go get the horses ready,” you instructed. “I’ll finish up here.”

You scribbled your report in the logbook and tucked away the remnants of linner, swinging your pack over your shoulders before taking one last look at the view.

It was golden hour, and the sun hit the clouds in a way that transcended any screensaver comparison. It was as if you’d been granted a glimpse of heaven itself.

* * *

You watched from the porch as Joel took a drink from his canteen. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the chiseled scruff of his jawline–from an objective standpoint, the man certainly had a rugged charm to him. But he was far from the only cowboy type in Jackson. And this was far from your first rodeo.

As Joel tucked the canteen away, he remembered the outside pocket of his pack. It held loose bullets and some of Ellie’s hair ties, but most importantly, it held a ballpoint pen.

As he heard you turn the key in the lock, he called out. 

“Hang on! I forgot something.”

Unlocking the door once more, you ushered Joel inside.

He jogged over to the logbook with his offering, swiftly swapping it out for the one with a touch of home. He was halfway to the door when his brain caught up with his eyes and he turned on the spot to inspect your logbook entry.

All clear, no signs of raiders or infected.

It wasn’t the description that jarred him. It was the names. His, of course, was transcribed in loopy cursive, the standard, un-misspell-able ‘Joel Miller’. Beside it was a nickname–no, a last name –preceded by a first name that brought everything into focus:

Jane Doe.

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chapter notes:

New chapter! Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sorry for the long gap between updates, life has been cray.

Big Jane Doe reveal oooh!!! I would never blatantly rip off Yearling like that don't worry!!!!!!!!!! @justagalwhowrites BIG FAN THO

Curious to hear everyone's thoughts on this chapter and what's coming next, I legit have been planning out this whole fic with a very elaborate color-coded notecards-on-corkboard setup (I am, in fact, a virgo). So more fun stuff coming hopefully sooner rather than later.

Comments make me type faster!

Love you all so much, and thank you for reading! I got really creatively blocked during the writers' strike and getting back into fanfic writing has been incredibly healing. Grateful for you all.

taglist: @aspecialgreenie

[luveternals]

paring: TF141 x male reader. rating: mature, MDNI. cw: (heavy stuff guys, I think) violence, death, implied suicide, failed suicide attempt, implied temporary death, morally grey reader, insanity, immortality, not a poly (lol too possessive irl for it, sorry). this story is... mostly just angst and mainly not finished (meaning possible serie? Idk). a/n: took me an eternity bc I didn't know who to write for... nice. Anyway, status update for steven grant x reader is scheduled for next week(Nov 30th). y'all went mad for it while I said I wasn't sure about it! lmao (psst, I approve) ~ ~ ~

When all sensations and feelings get ripped away from you, you realize that the wait is worse than pain.

And it grows more and more unbearable the longer years go by.

Wander the city without destination. Expect that cursed urge that comes yanking at your insides and guiding your body like a puppet. Never be sure when it'll come, but know that it will. At the start, it was nothing but a growing emptiness carving itself deep inside you, but now it’s become an insatiable hunger that never seems to leave you alone.

And when that urge eventually comes, it's worse than the wait. 

The knowledge that you are finally about to fill the emptiness as you follow whatever it is that it’s tagging you along. The realization that you are nothing but a selfish bastard who is letting his greed guide his very being. 

All at the simple price of a stole life. 

You stand on the edge of the roof and peer into the streets below.

The longer you wait the more you feel like you’re fading away, and the deeper the hunger grows. And so here you are, jumping over the edge and glading down through the air like a leaf falling off a tree. Your feet brush against the pavement without a sound as you land at the mouth of the alley, the breeze blowing louder than your presence.

Deep into the alley, a man presses his back against the farthest wall, terror blurring his gaze as he grits his teeth. One of his arms hangs limply against his side while the other presses against his stomach over the nasty slash sipping blood into the fabric of his tunic. His eyes jump from the approaching thugs blocking every escape to the sword he’s lost somewhere near the entrance of the alley. It lays at your feet, useless. 

The stench of death grows stronger the larger the stain of dripping blood grows under him. You creep closer, waiting.

“Sorry, pal,” one of the attackers says, a nasty grin tagging at his lips, “it’s you or us, y’know. Gunna be luckier next time, ay?” he raises both his arms over his head and brings his sword down onto his victim wih a final ‘whoosh’.

Blood splatters into the wall and the thieves are onto the body before it can even fall onto the ground, ripping at its belongings like vultures. It takes them less than a minute and soon they dart out of the alley cackling and whooping.

You stand over the body, staring at the despair frozen into its expression for what seems an eternity. Then you crouch down and lower yourself over it. A shriek cuts through the air but you are too far gone to care for it. Your body feels heavier as your soul sinks lower, bones and flesh latch into your very being. You let yourself go, ignoring all sounds that break the still silence surrounding you and all voices that echoe inside your head.

What if this is another failure? What if this is actually not possible?

You try to open your —his— eyes, but the lids are heavy and when you finally do open them, your vision is blurred. There is someone staring down at you, their hand slapping at your face to keep you awake. “—hear me? Help is on the way, but you need to stay awake.” Their voice is muffled, as if trying to talk to you through water, but their concern is palpable even for your half-conscious brain. 

You grin at them.

You did it. 

You’re alive!

-

They've gotten good at it, you'll give them that. It hasn't been a month yet and they've already found you. 

Granted, it's gotten challenging to stay hidden for longer than a few weeks before your needs start to mess with your head. 

You're running, slipping through the crowd with delirious laughter. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, and you watch the helicopter follow your every move. 

You won't be able to hide. You're trapped, and they know. 

You shove a man out of your way, jump over the railing and land on the sidewalk below with a roll. 

They've blocked the traffic and redirected it to keep any car or vehicle from running your way. 

“They're learning,” you grin and glance over your shoulder, making sure they can see your expression. “Let's see how much, though.”

You push forward and rush your way to the other side of the road to the railing of the bridge. It's a fall of over fifty meters. This body will not survive the impact with the water below. 

You're at the railing when something stabs into your side and an electric current sends your senses to overdrive. 

-

You wake up hurting. And it's one of the most intense pain you've experienced so far. But before you can scream at it, numbness spreads through your body, and all your senses grow muddled. 

You can't move. You can't feel. Only see and hear, though even those are muffled. 

It reminds you how it is to not have a body and not be able to do anything about it. 

It's worse than the pain. 

-

The second time you wake, you're sitting in a chair, head hanging and limbs restrained with more chain than it's probably strictly necessary. 

The numbness is gone and you let yourself let out the softest sigh of relief. 

There's a camera blinking at you from a corner of the ceiling and you let a smirk cut through your expression. It's sharper, meaner than you usually would give your hunters. But the memory of numbness they put you through sends phantom tingles to the end of your fingertips, and you can't find it in yourself to be anything but nasty right now. 

There's an ugly, useless table made of metal before you, and you don't even stop yourself from rolling your eyes at it. 

Right. At least they're not some mad scientist cutting you open to study how you work. Not that they'd find anything useful really. 

The door past the table opens and your captures finally make their entrance. 

“Is this how you make friends?” you says, leaning back into a lazy slump, despite the restraints, to stare at them as they move deeper into the room. “You electrocute them and tie them up with a nice, little steel ribbon?”

They're all wearing full masks (skulls, how fitting) and gear, covering most of their features besides the more obvious. Their height and the like. 

It doesn't bother you. You're not here to familiarize with them, but it would have been nice to see the faces of those who've finally managed to catch you and lock you up. 

“Have you no shame?” one of them says, but his tone doesn't betray his true emotions. He sits on the chair opposite yours and folds his hands in front of him, resting his arms onto the table. 

There's four of them, the ramain three spread around the tiny room. Standing by the door or looming over your shoulder like a creep. 

“You steal the faces of others and make whatever you want of their lives.”

“So? They are dead. Like it or not, they won't miss their lives since they'd already found a new one on the other side.”

There's nothing to hide here. They're simply trying to guilt trip you. Everyone knows what you are, and the world has been alerted about your existance. It's just that they've never managed to catch you. 

What you do might be cruel to some. But to you, it's the only option you have to live. 

Your 'victims' — as everyone so loves to call them — are already dead by the time your soul replaces theirs. You have never killed anyone but yourself and consequentially their empty body. But you have never taken the live of another to make it yourself with your own hands.

All you are doing is trying to keep your head above a water that is a life with no ability to feel. Sensations and emotions both. All you are doing is keeping from losing yourself to madness. 

Is it too much to ask? 

“They might be dead. But you're hurting those you love and care for them.” the man says, “dying isn't the problem. You are not the one hurting. Those who you leave behind, they are the ones to really suffer.”

The words are like a sword through the heart, sharp and incessantly slow as it sinks in. You hang your head and grit your teeth. “Shut up.”

Laughter echoes into your ears. 

“Shut up!” the chains rattle and strain when you throw yourself forward. They leave angry bruises on your skin. 

“This is not the end,” he smiles and cups your face, his frail, trembling hands passing through your cheeks as he forgets himself. “this— you'll find a way when you're ready. And I'll see you on the other side.”

~ ~ ~ reblog, comment and/or follow if you like what I write. please and thank you. without feedback I don't have a reason for keeping this blog alive, since I created it so I can practice my writing.

[crazedear]

No one asked for this…but I can sense my desperate brothers and sisters through the screen and have decided to quench their thirst through…

.

.

STATICRADIO FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

Ever since I’ve finished watching Hazbin Hotel, I’ve been absolutely obsessed with these two and their dynamic, as a result, I have been researching and stocking up on good (dare I say exquisite) fanfictions about these two psychopaths…so why not share my library with people who want it (ik there are some out there 🫵)

Also some things I need to mention:

Most of the fics recommended are gonna be very Vox and Alastor centered (Ofcourse with background and/or side pairs)

This list is not in any particular order and is also based on what I find good and satisfies my personal preferences when it comes to these two, so some of these may not be to your liking, but I still hope you can find at least one that you can enjoy!

all fanfics mentioned are sourced from Ao3

Most are either incomplete, ongoing, or just haven’t updated in a long time, BUT THEYR ARE STILL SO GOOD AND WORTH READING 🙏

OKAY THATS IT REC TIME!

Static Shock

birdsaretoddlers

Rated M

Chapters 10/?

Alastor, Altruist, Died for his Friends. That was the headline. Vox made sure it was plastered all over Hell the moment he'd seen that demon flee for his life. After he remained missing, Vox accepted that he really was dead. Dead and gone. No rival. He and the Vees were now free to rule Hell as the Overlords they'd always dreamed of being, and the plans were finally in motion.

Then Vox went out for donuts, and everything came crashing down. Because Alastor wasn't dead.

He was barely alive.

That one Tuesday

AllIWantIsPasta

Rated E

Chapters 35/38

A chance encounter leads to new developments between Alastor and Vox, and things escalate far beyond anyone could have predicted.

Remote Access

x-UsoTsuki-x (its_not_reael)

Rated E

Chapters 12/?

In the aftermath of Alastor and Vox's electrifying on-air showdown, Vox finds himself unusually rattled. His usual suave demeanor is slipping, much to his cohorts' amusement – and concern. Velvet can do little more than roll her eyes at his antics. Valentino, on the other hand, is convinced that all Vox needs to do is get fucked and relax.

or, alternatively...

The tech-savvy overlord manages to snag a virus from a porn site and finds himself in the arms of his worst enemy.

5 Times Vox Flirted With Alastor and 1 Time He Did Back

WriterQuil

Rated M

Chapters 5/6

A tiny series of continued one shots dedicated towards Vox's "unrequited" tomfoolery and how he was so horrid at expressing it, only to progressively get better at it over time.

You’re better than "paradise"

BloodSoakedPapers

Rating none

Chapters 7/7

Based on the one shot 'better than paradise!' With permission!

Vox gets redeemed and sent to heaven but he doesn’t want to be there at all. And he will do whatever he can no matter how long it takes to get back to hell.

-

Vox gets redeemed after sacrificing his life to save Alastor in the middle of extermination day.

Pushing Your Buttons

HollowedHearts

Rating T

Chapters 6/19

After his crushing defeat at the hands of Alastor, Vox decides he needs to take a more hands-on approach in order to destroy the Radio Demon.

Of course, his best course of action is to exploit the other’s weaknesses… if he has any.

The only problem is that means Vox might have to get a bit closer to Alastor than he previously thought (in more than just one way).

———

Or; Vox finds out the Radio Demon’s true weakness — affection.

etched into your bones

Irrwisch

Rating M

Chapters 13/14

Vox has never danced much, and certainly never with another male. He’s a little nervous, but Alastor’s here. He looks at the man’s face, and they’re about the same height. He’s still smiling. He smells like rot and decay and blood, but everyone does, at least a little. Vox can hear the static cackle in the air.

He wants to kiss him.

He doesn’t, not yet. But he wants to.

|

Throughout the years, things change with Vox and Alastor, and they stay the same, too.

Meant To Be Yours

Mr_Ghosty

Rating M

Chapters 3/3

He loves him, he loves him, he loves him. Vox has loved Alastor through all the decades they've known each other. And, in a moment of pure, drunken stupidity, he tells Alastor how he feels.

Five Times Vox and Alastor Danced and One Time They Didn't

Drowsy_Salamander

Rating T

Chapters: 2/6

“I say, good fellow, what are you doing on the ground like that?”

The voice was perky, cheerful, and bright. It had a crisp mid-Atlantic accent, the kind Vox remembered being all the rage for stage and film performers back when he first entered the broadcast industry. The diction was crystal clear with every sound enunciated separately to maximise clarity, the consonants clicked and the vowels were broad. It was a performer’s voice.

A voice for radio.

...

Five times Vox and Alastor danced and one time Vox and Alastor didn't.

From their first meeting through their friendship, to their enmity and fighting. From infatuation to yearning to animosity. Dancing is a partnership, is it not?

Oh shit.

Vintage

InvisibleLee

Rating T

Chapters 1/1

Vox decided to make a little gift and drop it off anonymously. But there's always an option to figure it out.

Video missed the Radio Star

Thalliumtea

Rating G

Chapters 1/1

Vox is haunted by his choices years after the fact. Nights when the static in his head got too loud, when he couldn't breathe, however artificial it was, where he grabbed that radio by his bedside and fiddled with the dials, looking for any present shows, any sign of his voice.

Nothing.

This absence was killing him, again.

Untitled

Remain_Nameless_Raven

Rating M

Chapters 1/1

Vox has been absent for two weeks. Alastor comes to the recently abandon Vs Tower to investigate.

To Please You, Deer (5 +1)

Otaku24

Rating M

Chapters 2/7

5 times Vox tries to court Alastor and one time Alastor courts Vox back~

Soul Safe

KP100

Rating T

Chapters: 17/?

Once Alastor’s back made contact with the brick wall and he had nowhere else to go, his smile more of a gruesome snarl with the corners of his mouth still tipped up in a mock smile and eyes radio dials, Vox was able to get close enough to notice a slight shade difference in his red shirt, just below his shoulder. His lower lip looked more swollen than normal too- no, Vox would not be admitting to knowing what shape it usually was to anyone besides himself- causing him to frown.

"Who did this to you?"

One-Sided Date Night

InvisibleLee

Rating T

Chapters 2/2

“You’re a great friend,” Vox said sincerely, placing a hand over the one on his frame, leaning into the touch. “Thank you, Alastor.”

“You’re welcome, Vox.”

This would be fine.

It was supposed to be fine.

Why did it feel like heartbreak?

Vox's Reality TV Special!

Bee-nut (wellthizizdeprezzing)

Rating T

Chapters: 9/?

After Sir Pentious fails to spy on the hotel Hazbin staff, Vox decides that in order to get back at Alastor he's going to offer to film the hotel for his new “reality TV show''. Charlie, wanting more sinners to flock to the hotel, accepts his offer. Vox is in for his reality check as the show reveals things about his feelings towards Alastor he didn’t expect.

Chaos abounds.

Eclipse

Purrsly

Rating T

Chapters 1/1

Alastor was a virus. A malware he couldn't erase, and it occupied his every thought.

And yet-

equilibrium

curtailed

Rating M

Chapters 4/?

“Help…”

The image of Alastor trying to crawl on his wounded stomach, those delicate fingers curling helplessly in air, reaching towards Vox — a smile stitched-up and eyes that screamed — the essence of a soul that twisted on the palm. Help, the fragment of Alastor’s soul had pleaded. Please. Help. Help. Help. Pleading with his enemy. Alastor couldn't even recognize him. Vox hadn’t even paused to think as he grabbed Alastor's hand, and the smallest bit of his own soul twined around, deep deep deep, merging fully with that fragment of Alastor, anything to steer him away from the awful finality of nonexistence. Vox's mind rejected the notion. His conscience exorcised the option from reality.

OR

Post-Finale. The Hotel finds Alastor right on the front lawn, unconscious and bleeding, still injured from Adam's blade. While he recovers, all of Hell scrambles to find out who his mysterious rescuer is.

Meanwhile, Vox tries not to freak out that he might have accidentally made a soul bond to save that deer asshole's life. All he had wanted to do was to scope out the ruins of Alastor's radio tower. Fuck him for being curious, he supposed.

You're on the Air

rillo (rillyrillo)

Rating M

Chapters 15/?

A series of short, daily conversations between a radio host and his avid listener, as the two learn more about each other’s lives over the air.

Set in the late 90s/early 2000s.

[HUMAN AU] [There's art included for the human designs]

Alastor, Altruist

Coppercrow

Rating E

Chapters 5/?

When his microphone breaks, Alastor realises far too late that he may have underestimated the danger he was in.

.

.

.

.

.

Alastor's fight with Adam goes horribly wrong, and Charlie and her friends have to deal with the aftermath of a defeating loss. But is everything truly as it seems?

I Just Wanted to See Your Face

KisaTM

Rating none

Chapters 3/?

When you fall, you fall hard. Be that Hell or Love at first sight.

This is a story of how Vox met Alastor, their relationship and their falling out, before Alastor disappears for 7 years without explanation.

Ackamarackus

ZootZeet

Rating none

Chapters 1/1

The idea of romantic affections and love never piqued Alastor's fancy.

In fact, the radio demon was sure he wasn't even capable of such emotions.

So when an unfamiliar ache starts blooming in his chest it catches the man quite off guard.

Especially considering it's directed towards his outspoken business partner.

Knife Through the Heart

Veynn

Rating T

Chapters 13/?

After being grievously injured by an angelic weapon, Alastor unwittingly finds himself teaming up with Vox. Unfortunately, emotions are a bitch, and Vox still has some unfinished business with Alastor nearly fifty years in the making.

Rival Frequencies

ArchangelL0ki

Rating none

Chapters 2/?

Vox really didn't know what he was playing at. Watching the optimistic little idiots rebuild their pathetic hotel was not his idea of a good time, and he definitely wasn't watching for a flash of red and camera distortion, no, not at all.

misery meat

loveronmayday (nariaein)

Rating T

Chapters 1/1

Alastor offers a slice to Vox, who readily tries it. Savory and rich, with an underlayer of cognac.

"Thoughts?"

If Vox didn't like it, he wouldn't lie, but he would never be rude. No, instead, he would propose his own liver to perfect the flavor. Anything Alastor wanted.

or: Alastor and Vox share a meal.

Radio Healed the Video Star

Aspiring_Forest_Witch

Rating M

Chapters 49/?

Alastor comes across an unconscious and battered Vox while out on one of his strolls. He feels compelled to bring him back to the hotel.

Bluest Monday

Bapple

Rating E

Chapters 14/16

The year is 1989; Vox and his closest friend Alastor have maintained a strong allegiance for decades. Thus far, Vox has been the Radio Demon’s biggest admirer and protégé, always more than a few steps behind; always wanting more than friendship.The 80s bring with them a new era for televisual media; TV is finally becoming king, threatening to cause a rift between the two friends. Vox, desperate to keep Alastor in his life, doubles his romantic efforts. Alastor, desperate to maintain control and power, decides to indulge them.

A story in which Vox finally gets the man of his dreams; a flighty wicked demon who loves to push his buttons. A story about true friendship, true love, even; but also about how it eventually has to end in tears. A story about how there may be potential to salvage it, after all. Only time can tell.

Im definitely gonna keep updating whenever I find more, or if I recall any! Please give the authors and writers of these fics much love and support! They did amazing jobs and deserve so much! (Also please feel free to recommend fics to me or ones that you think should be added to the list!)

Love yallll!! 💕💕✨

[onwhatcaptain]

Back again with another snippet from my fic. This is from chapter 10, and the conclusion of part 1.

For the first time in the longest time, Spock cries. He weeps as he did when he was just a child. He sobs because he is in pain, and because his heart hurts. No other reason. He is under the influence of nothing but a deep welling pit of grief, and he cannot summon the mortification and self-censure it takes to stop. When he wipes the tears from his eyes, more drip down his cheeks.

If you are curious, my fic "I Shall Do Neither" is here at AO3. Details below as always, and big thank you to everyone who has read along so far.

I Shall Do Neither (59729 words) by onwhatcaptain Chapters: 11/22 Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock Characters: James T. Kirk, Spock (Star Trek), Leonard "Bones" McCoy Additional Tags: Romance, Angst, Heavy Angst, Loss of Control, Psychological Trauma, Mutual Pining, Five Year Mission (Star Trek), Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, Post-Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, Pon Farr, Pon Farr Aftermath (Star Trek), Unresolved Sexual Tension, Friendship, Grief, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Unreliable Narrator, Vulcan Biology, Tarsus IV (Star Trek), Vulcan Mind Melds, Non-Linear Narrative, Storytelling Through Vignettes, Missing Scenes Between Episodes, Plot, Cover Art, Canon Divergence, Digital Art, Illustrations, In spite of the description Kirk features heavily in this novel Summary: In the wake of the kal-if-fee on Vulcan, Kirk is dead. When T’Pau tells Spock to live long and prosper, he knows he shall do neither. This is a story about men who love each other, and the lengths they will go to for one another. - Foolish, he thinks. I have been a fool. How he had wanted so desperately to prove his Vulcan side. How all his life it had felt like a performance, and yet, to be finally subject to the most Vulcan thing of all destroyed him. The stripping of logic. All sense torn from him. His carefully constructed barriers had collapsed like a flimsy house of cards. To be granted his wish this way was a type of mockery. How he had wanted to be fully Vulcan. To prove that the blood which runs through his veins was not so human. How wanting had been better than having. - This story is told in two parts across 21 chapters, and will be updated on Sundays.

[changbunnies]

I Hate to Admit (18+)

♡ Pairing: Police Chief!Changbin x Plus Size Fem ("ex") Mafia Member!Reader

♡ Genre: mafia au, heavy angst and fluff, enemies to lovers kinda (it's not in the traditional sense lol)

♡ Word Count: 47.4k

♡ Summary: Y/N is an ex-mafia member whose specialty was romancing targets for information. No feelings involved, she did what she had to do and then moved on promptly. That life eventually became toxic and tiring for her so she quit, and decided to live a normal life, with a normal career and normal friends. However, after her older brother Chan's closest advisor is arrested in a sting operation, she's called in for one last job– her latest target being Seo Changbin, the divorced chief of Seoul’s police force who is returning to dating for the first time in 2 years. It should be an easy job; get the info she needs and then vanish as she always did. But the job becomes anything but easy when she realizes she’s falling in love with him. 

♡ Warnings: past character abuse (not described), past parental death (not described), implied past SA (because consent should be enthusiastic), blood and injury, gun violence, adjusted ages (everyone is late 20s, early 30s), specficially y/n ~29 and changbin is ~30, changbin is divorced from a previous marriage, chan has an antagonistic role for the plot (i'm sorry!!)

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): multiple smut scenes, soft dom changbin, lots of love bombs and check-ins, possibly too much exposition for a sex scene lol i am so sorry, petnames (love, honey, baby), gendered language such as "good girl," handjob, nipple play, clit play, fingering, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected piv (reader is on birth control), overstimulation, creampie, over all very vanilla and soft, brief mentions of reader being heavy

♡ Notes: you can also read the story on my a03, where it is divided into chapters here! and if you're interested, you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams. updated 08/30/24: formatting fixes, slight changes to scenes and dialogue for improved cohesion

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Can we talk?

A mundane message, but one that can sow dread within you at a rapid pace. Those three little words on your phone screen mock you, the silent trepidation seeping into your pores, and rooting in your bones.

Some may look at this scenario and think you’re overdramatic; what’s so scary about your brother asking you to talk? Why would this seemingly innocent message fill you with such unease? 

The answer to that is that those people are simply ignorant– blissfully so. To not understand why this would shake you meant that the life they lived up to this point was one of relative ease. Something terrible always followed a message like this. Always.

And coming from your brother? That was even more cause for alarm. He only texted you like this when he had something terrible and important to tell you, something that had the ability to shake the foundations of your existence, to send you reeling head first into a reality you don’t want to face. 

You stare at your screen for what feels like an eternity, but in reality it’s as little as a minute (according to the timestamp on your phone, at least.) Chan sent a short followup message that simply said, “Come by the house.” 

The house. A place you haven’t returned to in 6 months. You swallow in apprehension as you type a response. Whatever he has to say has to be serious, and your mind races with possibilities. 

I’m on my way.

Your hands tremble as you approach your childhood home, taking slow measured steps through the entrance and subsequent halls. It’d been a long time since you last lived in the house, but until recently, you had still regularly visited it. Your brother, Chan, still lived here, along with various others he’d grown close to over the years, the people he considered his most trusted confidants.

You didn’t hate your brother by any means, nor any of the other people you’d become friends with over the span of your life, but to live the mafia lifestyle was exhausting to say the least. And not just physically like most people might jump to, but emotionally.

To be in fear for your life and the lives of your closest friends and loved ones, the stability of your home and finances, the balancing act between the life you lead in the day and the one you lead at night– all of it was so utterly exhausting. 

And you admired your brother’s perseverance, his resolve to carry on where your parents left off, but this wasn’t a life you wanted to lead anymore. Chan understood when you told him, and he didn’t fault you when you expressed how taxing this life was on your health, so you left the ‘official’ rankings of the family with his blessing.

For your sake, he minimized the contact the two of you shared in the last few months, but he was never going to entirely abandon his baby sister. He still checked in on you on important dates, made sure you were making enough money to live well, and that you had a job that made you happy with a fulfilling social life. 

All in all, he was the perfect older brother. He had a responsibility, and he carried it well, while ensuring the comfort of you, the baby sister who found it too stressful and overwhelming to continue to be a part of. But just because you no longer saw violence happen, it doesn’t mean it stopped.

Sure, not regularly seeing your brother hurt, or hearing about losses and close calls, was beneficial to your mental health, but it still happened all the time. You just entered a space of blissful ignorance, of avoidance. If you didn’t see it, if you didn’t hear it, the problem didn’t exist anymore, simple as that. 

And obviously that will never be true; terrible things will always happen regardless of who is or isn’t there to bear witness to them. But you could pretend. You could go to your monotonous office job like a regular person, chat about the mundane things like the weather and what your coworkers' children are getting up to these days.

You could have dinner on the couch while you facetime your best friend, gossiping about local drama or what new project their partner started while you have some random video playing as background noise. You could take a relaxing soak in the tub, listening to your new favorite song on repeat before you slip into your comfiest pair of pajamas and go to bed.

And you could pretend. Everything was perfectly fine, your brother was running things well, there were no problems and no losses. Your past was behind you, your family and friends were well, and you could live a normal life without any repercussions or consequences coming back to haunt you. A naive dream that someday reality would cruelly remind you couldn't happen. 

“Noona, you’re here!” Felix smiles as you make your approach to your brother's office, a bright one that would cause your heart to flutter if you weren’t so riddled with anxiety. Felix was your previous bodyguard while you were still living within the walls of your childhood home.

Eventually, when you moved locations for various jobs assigned to you, he’d take point close by, watching from a careful distance in case something happened and he needed to protect you. He was also the first to pick up on your desire to leave, clearly being able to see the ripple effect the danger that this life held had on you.

He broached the subject carefully, and gave you a soft smile when you admitted that his observations were correct. He supported you and gave you helpful advice, encouraging you to be honest with Chan and do what makes you happy. 

If you were being honest, Felix was one of the people you missed the most. You spent a lot of time with him over the years, and you could easily imagine what a future with him would be like if he had been willing to leave with you.

It broke your heart to realize he'd never leave it all behind, but you accepted it for what it was, and thanked him for his support for you up until the day you left. You still talked sometimes, and you often wondered what he does now that he's no longer your bodyguard; but he felt it best to give you distance while you transition into your new life.

“Hi Lixie,” you do your best to return his smile despite the anxiety stuck in your chest. "I've missed you," he says after giving you a brisk hug, "have you been well?"

"My job is a little boring sometimes to be honest, but I like it,” you answer. You can tell the conversation will move into awkward small talk territory, so you qucikly shift the topic to the reason you're here. “Do you know what Chan wants to talk to me about?” 

Felix’s smile shifts to a small frown as he nods his head tentatively. “I have an idea, yes,” he answers after a pause. Before you can ask him what he knows, your brother’s door swings open.

To your relief, he doesn’t look any different than he did when you last saw him. That had to mean whatever he was going to tell you couldn't be as bad as your head is making it out to be, right? “Y/N, come in!” Chan ushers you towards him, beckoning you into the room. You glance at Felix, who offers you a sympathetic smile, before you fully enter the office. 

You take a seat across from his desk, hands wringing the bottom of your shirt as your eyes dart to various points in the room, trying to distract your apprehensive mind by observing any potential changes. A new painting? More books? A change in desk chair? Anything, no matter how minute, is enough of a distraction at this point. 

“I’ll get straight to the point,” he says as he takes his seat across from you, his expression serious. “I have a job I’d like you to do.” It was typical of Chan to cut to the chase, never one to waste time with pleasantries if there was something serious to discuss, but despite expecting this, you were wholly unprepared to hear the words that actually came out of his mouth.

“Chan, you know I left this behind for a reason, I– I can't..” you start, searching his expression for answers. Why would he ask you to come back to this? You thought he understood from your discussion prior to leaving that you’d never put yourself through the hurt again. You just couldn’t bear it anymore. 

"I know it's a lot to ask but it's important, and there's no one I trust more than you to get it done. I can't ask anyone but you to do this," Chan responds, his pleading tone conveying how desperate he is right now.

You frown, knowing very well that there was only ever one type of job Chan assigned you to, and what he would be expecting from you. “I.. I can't do this again,” you manage to say, your balled up hands trembling in your lap, your tone pleading with him to understand. 

Chan sighs, a sadness overtaking his features that you haven’t seen in years. “I understand, I really do, but..” He looks away, jaw clenched and expression pained. Your mind repeats his words to you; there’s no one else I trust, no one else I can ask. 

Was his situation really so grave that he had no choice but to reach out for your help? And did you really have it in you to deny your brother of help when he was looking at you with such downtrodden eyes? 

You sigh as you resolve yourself to hear him out at least; if this was really that important to him, you couldn’t turn him down without at least hearing him out. You loved him after all, and despite any pain you might face, you wanted to help him if you could. “Who is it?” you ask finally, ignoring the way your nerves scream in protest. 

“Seo Changbin, chief of Seoul police.” Your brows furrow at his response, mouth slightly agape in disbelief. He couldn’t be serious– and yet his stern expression told you that he was.

“That’s impossible, there’s no way I can do that!” you exclaim, rising to your feet quickly. Sure, you were no stranger to seducing men for your family’s advantage, but it was usually petty criminals and rivaling bosses, not a police officer. And an incredibly powerful police officer at that!

"Minho was arrested," Chan says as he rises to his feet as well, hoping the declaration is enough to stop you from leaving. You freeze, heart sinking to your stomach.

“..What? How?” you ask as you slowly sink back in your seat, listening intently as Chan shared the events of the last few months with you. 

3 months ago, a deal gone wrong led to the arrest of your brother’s second in command and most trusted friend. Things have been tense and strained between members since then, but tensions were at their worst with Chan, who suspected there was a rat among them who fed information to a third party.

The location was well guarded and scoped out well before the meeting between your brother and another leader he was striking a deal with was to take place, which lead him to one conclusion– someone had to have leaked it. 

The plan was to join teams, effectively ending the rivalry and expanding territory in the process. The rival leader would release their hold on southern Seoul, with the promise that Chan in turn gave him a high ranking position and integrated his boys into the appropriate ranks.

Everything seemed to be going well at first, with Chan and Minho proceeding with negotiations with little conflict. However, an unanticipated raid on their meeting location caused the men to break out into chaos. Some fought, others ran while throwing shots, but Minho got caught in the crossfire while ensuring that Chan got out of the situation intact. 

In the end, no deal was made, trust broken between the two groups as they blamed one another, and Chan’s most trusted ally was behind bars with nothing to show for his efforts. Your brother didn’t want to believe that someone in your group had spilled secrets and allowed officers to raid their meeting, but he couldn’t disregard the possibility.

In their world, anything was possible, and he couldn’t have blind faith in his team despite how bad he wanted to trust them. So with that in mind, the last few months were dedicated to keeping a watchful eye on his lackeys, looking for any slip ups or deviations in routine. 

“You need to find out what the police have on him, on us, so we can build a defense for Minho,” Chan continues, the anger and grief on his face clear, “Or at the very least, discover who our rat is. Even if it's not someone on our side, I don’t plan on letting whoever sold us out walk away. They’ll regret ever betraying us, or their brothers.”

Chan’s expression is one of unbridled rage, and now you understand why. A betrayal of this magnitude is something your brother could never forgive, no matter how kind of a leader he is, no matter which affliation to other families the rat held.

And he wasn’t just betrayed, but his brother in arms was gone now too. Wherever Chan was, Minho was never far behind, and you honestly couldn't remember a time in your life where you didn’t see the two of them together.

Minho was just as much a brother to you as Chan, having spent years of your life with the both of them by your side. You can’t imagine the amount of grief your brother has been shouldering on his own up until now.

“How do I get close to him?” you finally question with a frown. You don’t doubt that Chan has a plan; he never sent you into a situation unprepared, but you’re still perplexed by the idea.

This wasn’t the usual low hanging fruit you were tasked with getting close to, and even when set to romance rivaling bosses, you knew you had Chan and Felix’s protection if things went south. But here, there was no protection. If this Seo Changbin guy figured you out, you’d all be nailed without hesitation. 

“Jeongin. I planted him on the force after Minho’s arrest– he’s your in.” Chan answers easily, though the pain in his voice at the mention of Minho doesn’t go unnoticed by you. He prepared carefully when he realized he would need your help, not allowing for any possible error in his preparations.

Chan didn’t want to throw you into a situation you weren’t capable of handling. Yes, he was desperate to find out where they might've went wrong, but patience was key; and he couldn’t throw his sister in the line of danger over just anything. You were not only a valuable asset to him, but also his only family left, and he wouldn’t lose you too over a half baked plot made in desperation. 

So with that in mind, he moved slowly and carefully, keeping a watchful eye on those around him while planting trusted members in key locations. And Yang Jeongin was one of those trusted members, a childhood friend who was fiercely loyal and dedicated to the family as he also grew up in this lifestyle.

He had proved his loyalty many times over in Chan’s eyes, so he gave Jeongin the task to infiltrate the force and learn anything he could about what happened on that fateful night months ago. He was younger than you and Felix, and you imagined it'd be easy for him to pass as a fresh recruit eager to work with his cute, boyish smile.

Han Jisung, another trusted member of the group, easily got all the necessary documents together to allow Jeongin onto the force. Jisung’s talent for forgery and information gathering was greatly appreciated, often allowing you and others into spaces they normally would not be allowed in.

Chan informs you that while Jeongin is too low rank on the force to get the details they really want, he has been able to uncover other useful information that they can use to their advantage– namely, information on police chief Seo Changbin. The chief is back on the dating field for the first time since his divorce finalized a few years back, which is where you come in. 

Jeongin often joined his “colleagues” for drinks after Friday shifts in the hopes that one of them would spill something in their inebriated state. And while Changbin didn’t spill anything work related that Jeongin didn't already know, he did share some personal details, which included the progression his love life (or lack thereof.) 

“Is he really going to go on a blind date with someone his subordinate hooks him up with?” you ask, hesitancy clear in your voice. Chan understands the hesitation however and doesn’t hold the way you’re questioning him against you; he knows how far-fetched this all sounds.

“He’s already agreed to it,” Chan answers and this is where it all clicks for you. Of course he already agreed to it– Chan wouldn’t be giving you this task otherwise. 

You sigh as you decide to commit to the job, still uneasy but unable to tell your brother “no” when he’s placing so much faith in you. All you can do now is hope that things proceed smoothly and that Seo Changbin isn’t as much of an asshole as some of the other men you’ve had the displeasure of beguiling into spilling their most closely held secrets.

“This is all the intel Jeongin has gotten on him, along with some things Jisung got through some digging. Read it over thoroughly and prepare for Friday night,” Chan says as he hands you a rather sparse manila folder.

Normally you had much more information to work with, but you suppose it makes sense that there isn’t much to dig up about him. You imagine that he’s either some self righteous do-gooder with not a single speck on his perfect record, or a corrupt officer who's incredibly good at covering up his messes.

You aren’t sure which you prefer either way, but no matter the outcome, you have to see it through. So you simply step out of Chan’s office, folder in hand as you head home to prepare. 

As you expected by how little the folder held, you didn’t actually learn all that much about who Changbin is as a person. On Jisung's report was the typical boring information– which high school he graduated from, and how long he’s been on the police force for instance. There wasn’t much you could put to use.

A medal won here, a promotion there, but nothing that would help you woo the man. On Jeongin’s end, he reported mostly on things he heard come out of Changbin’s mouth while he was drinking, or idle gossip from other colleagues.

You knew Changbin has been divorced for over 2 years now, and you knew that he wanted to be in a relationship again, but there wasn’t much else for Jeongin to tell you. 

Changbin seemed to be well guarded on all fronts, which you suppose made sense given his career. If the chief of police in a city as large and populated as Seoul was flippant with his mouth, you could only imagine what kind of trouble it would cause. It was easy to imagine that he held his private life close to his chest.

You knew from firsthand experience that knowing personal details and secrets about a person can ruin them, and someone as influential as Changbin having his private life on display would surely be a disaster. Still, you found it incredible that even while intoxicated, he didn’t reveal too much about himself.

Nothing critical or of importance, just minor or vague passing comments that anyone could infer. Anyone could guess that a divorced man would put himself back out there eventually– it was only a matter of time, and thus not a groundbreaking confession. 

So, the only things you knew about him were either insignificant drunken confessions, speculation based on rumor, or observations made by Jeongin from working under him from the past 2 and a half months; all things that don't necessarily aid you in any way.

He noted that Changbin had a routine, that he stuck to a specific diet to maintain his health and body, and that he was very prompt and careful with everything he did. Normally, you used the information gathered on a target to plan your approach. If you could appeal to their tastes, you were much more likely to get them to like you and want to pursue you, which made your job all the more easy.

But Changbin was basically a mystery to you; no prominent social media accounts to scour for likes and dislikes, opinions or preferences that you could play into, nor any substantial records to pour though to learn about him. 

You were basically going in blind, which made you all the more nervous to be in front of him this afternoon. You didn’t have a crutch to lean on, and all you could really do was hope that whatever you did tonight was enough to make Changbin want to keep seeing you.

You had also gone over your story with Chan and Jeongin a couple times to ingrain it in your memory and make sure there were no mistakes. The story was mostly truthful, as the best lies have some truth to them, but there were obviously some things that had to be changed about the relationship you have. 

Jeongin was like a little brother to you, which was true, and you had a good relationship with his mother, which was also true. What wasn’t true however, was the reason behind those facts. Your story was that your mothers were close friends, which led to you having a big part in Jeongin’s life– and again, that was partially true. The lie came from why they were close friends.

The mafia life wasn’t some new endeavor that your brother decided to pursue while you followed– he was born into it, with your father being the previous head of the family; and that was similarly true for Jeongin. His dedication to Chan, and you by proxy, was instilled in him by his father, in the same way your own father instilled the values of the family into you and Chan.

So yes, your families were close, but not for the reasons your cover story will lead Changbin to believe. Your fathers worked together, which meant your mothers became close friends; and when Jeongin turned 18 he took over where his father had left off without hesitation. 

It was a bittersweet feeling when Jeongin joined your ranks officially. He wasn't obligated to continue his father’s path like you and Chan, which gave him the chance to leave this all behind if he wanted to. You truly did view the boy like your own little brother, and you knew accepting this life meant putting himself in harm's way– but you also understood that he was old enough to make his own choices.

And it would be a lie to say his dedication and loyalty was unappreciated by you or your brother. You firmly believed that if Minho wasn't so close in age to Chan, Jeongin would be second in command instead. It had really only come down to the fact that Minho was older with more real world experience that led to him being Chan’s direct subordinate. 

You play your story over and over again in your head as you prepare for your date. A slip up could prove devastating, so you were putting extra care into making sure you would execute everything flawlessly.

The location of your date was a fairly nice restaurant (at least you assumed it was based on your google search), so you planned your outfit based on that. It was more on the formal side, but not so much that it called for you to pull your most expensive pieces out of the closet, so you chose a dress on the simpler side.

Besides, you figured showing up in something extravagant would be jarring; unlike when you're going after low level thugs, flashing wealth isn't necessary here. Changbin is expecting a version of you close in line to who you truly are now– that being a nice girl who works an office job for a living. 

Keeping in line with that train of thought, you also chose more subtle, natural looking makeup, and kept a more relaxed hair style. It’d been a while since you went on a date with a more natural style, but it was refreshing to not have to pull out all the stops.

Normally, you had to play into a persona, or be an exaggerated version of yourself, but Changbin was expecting someone average. Just a nice girl with a modest job– nothing crazy, and nothing for you to play into.

You were definitely still anxious about not having something tangible to latch on to, but hopefully being more on the truthful, down to earth side would appeal to him. After all, no matter what caricature of him you made up in your mind, he was likely the most normal person you’d ever been assigned to. 

The drive to your destination was as uneventful as it could be, spent mostly with you internally going over everything one last time, and occasionally checking how you looked at red lights. You arrived a bit early, which you hoped would reflect positively on you given that Jeongin said that Changbin was a prompt person (and it was really one of the only things you had to go on.)

You were probably standing in front of the building for less than a minute or so before you heard a voice from the left. “Excuse me, ma'am– are you Y/N?” the voice asks, and you turn quickly to look at the man for the first time. His voice is less gruff than you were expecting; it was actually quite light, warm, and uniquely inviting.

He was also much more broad than you’d anticipated, clearly the result of years of dedicated training and diligence; the few pictures you saw of him didn't do him enough justice. You can immediately understand why his subordinates, and those unlucky enough to be arrested by him would find him intimidating, but his gaze is surprisingly jovial.

The contrast isn’t by any means unpleasant, but it is foreign to you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone so outwardly rough-looking have such a cheery disposition. “You’re Changbin then?” you smile, his own brightness helping to put you more at ease, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too! You havent been waiting long have you?” he asks, and you quickly shake your head, assuring him you’ve only been here for a few minutes at most. He ushers you to follow him, making small talk as you walk inside together.

You’re guided to your seats promptly, courtesy of his reservation, and he pulls your chair out for you. You sit with a smile; when was the last time you went on a date with someone chivalrous? You honestly couldn’t remember; most men in your life have been far from gentlemanly. 

Contrary to what you would expect, conversation flowed naturally– though you would give the credit for that to Changbin. He was very.. natural. He had an air of ease and confidence, but not in the sort of arrogant way you would find distasteful. If he was at all nervous it didn’t show, he wasn’t hesitant or awkward with any of his words.

He had the kind of confidence that comes with age and life experience, sure of himself but not overly serious, as well as the ability to poke fun at himself if the moment called for it. He was also much more open than you had anticipated, freely sharing details of himself, even if the story was something someone would consider embarrassing. 

An old mess up? Something stupid he did at his 21st birthday party? A silly mistake when he was still in the officer's academy? All of it was divulged freely, giggling at himself as he shared his stories with you. It surprised you just how himself he was.

You expected someone secretive and closed off, or someone serious to a fault with no fun to be found. Neither extreme you made up in your head fit him; and maybe he was just private and stern in work settings, while his real self was mirthful and easy going. 

You shared things about yourself as well, trying to maintain the carefree vibe he has created for your dinner together. Simple things mostly, majority of which are completely true minus the tweaking of some details to not give away anything you shouldn’t.

Memories of your childhood, what working in an office is like, and embarrassing stories of Jeongin for him to keep in his back pocket until he can bring them up at an opportune time. Time passes much quicker than you thought it would, with Changbin already taking out his card to pay the bill.

“I could pay for myself,” you say with a slight pout, though you truthfully like that he intends to pay for you; truly, he's a gentleman.

“I can’t let a pretty girl pay for her meal on a first date! It just isn’t right!” Changbin exclaims, and you can’t help but smile at his reaction. Whether or not his gentlemanly behavior is an act or not remains to be seen, but the romantic lying deep within you can’t help but enjoy it.

“How about I pay next time then? To keep it fair,” you say with a smile that Changbin returns without hesitation. “So there’s a next time?” he asks, delight written across his features.

“Of course, as long as that’s okay with you,” you say and he nods eagerly, not at all hiding his excitement. He’s a more of an open book than you were expecting, but you like it; it makes you wonder how those who work with him would feel if they could see their superior right now– all smiles and laughter, no hint of the intimidating and private man they normally see at the station. 

You find the duality appealing. Of course, there’s always the chance that he’s doing the same thing you usually do; playing up his personality, or exaggerating to make you like him more– if that is the case he definitely succeeded. You don’t think you’ve ever been so genuinely entranced by someone since high school; and it’ll certainly make your task more pleasant if you don’t hate the person you’re dealing with. 

You exchange numbers as you begin to walk away from the table, and he keeps a respectful distance away from you; appropriate for a first date. He continues to chat with you about what your “next time” can entail as you approach the doors to leave the restaurant, and you like that he’s forward without being overbearing.

He says clearly what he wants and hopes for, and though you were the first to suggest a second date, you get the impression that he wouldn't have been bitter or resentful if this was where your time together ended. He's so honest, and respectful– completely unlike other men you've dealt with.

“Shall I walk you to your car?” Changbin asks as you step outside together. The sun has set during your time spent chatting and eating, but it’s not terribly dark out– the street lamps and other business offer more than enough illumination.

“No, that’s okay. I parked nearby, so it won’t take me long to get to it,” you answer. You didn’t sense any ulterior motives from Changbin, but felt it best to err on the side of caution, and not let a man you just met see the kind of car you drive. He nods understandingly, offering one last smile and telling you to be safe before he bids his goodbye to you. 

You find yourself smiling the entire drive back to your apartment, and it remains even as you undress and clean yourself up. You look at your phone when you leave the shower, and the smile grows when you realize you have a text from Changbin already, telling you he got home safe and that he had a great time with you. You flop on your bed with your phone in hand, giddy as you type your own reply. 

What you feel now is a kind of feeling you don’t recognize at first; the kind you’d feel when you have your first crush in elementary school, you think. The kind that makes you want to kick your feet as you lie under the blankets, or bury your head in the pillow and squeal.

And that’s when realization hits you; do you actually like him? Genuinely, truly like him? 

You frown as you stare up at the ceiling. It has to just be puppy love– there’s no way you genuinely like him after just meeting him once, right? On one hand, if you do like Changbin, that makes your task easier. You’d enjoy being around him, wouldn’t dread your future interactions, and would likely have a lot of fun most days. But on the other hand, wouldn’t it make things more complicated in the long run? 

Well, there’s no use worrying about it right now– at least, that’s what you tell yourself. Nothing has even seriously happened yet to confirm that the two of you will be a couple, and stressing yourself out over all the possibilities is something you recognize will only do more harm than good at the moment. It’d be better to make a plan when you’re more sure of where things are going instead of trying to plan for every outcome now. 

You sigh, tossing your phone on the nightstand as you make a conscious choice to just go to sleep. Whatever your feelings are, you’ll have plenty of time to figure things out later. For now, all you can really do is keep on the task at hand– and currently, that task is going on a 2nd date with Seo Changbin. 

“What’s got you smiling so hard?” your coworker says from your left, his sudden voice making you nearly jump out of your skin. “Seungmin!” you exclaim, hand clutching your chest as you swivel in your seat to face him. “You scared the life out of me!”

Seungmin laughs in response, clearly not at all concerned over the fact that he almost sent you to an early grave. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think you were that focused on your phone,” he says with an amused smile. Your face flushes as you realize that yes, you were incredibly focused on your phone, and yes, you were smiling very hard.

And Seungmin, being the menace of a friend that he is, couldn’t let it go unannounced. “Let me guess,” he says as rolls his chair over to your desk, crossing his legs and folding his hands together in a dramatic fashion as he leans forward, “you’re texting Mr. Blind Date?” 

“I’ve told you a million times, his name is Changbin,” you say as you push his chair away from your desk. He laughs again before rolling his way back over to you. It’s evident that he is unphased by your push, and instead finds it extremely funny.

“What’s got you so hostile? All I did was ask a simple question!” He puts his hands up in a faux surrender gesture, though the amused smirk doesn’t leave his face. You wouldn’t say you were embarrassed per se, but… Well, maybe you were.

It’d been a long time since you were genuinely infatuated by someone like this, and being caught with hearts in your eyes in a work environment wasn’t the greatest feeling. Apart from that, this was someone you were supposed to pretend to like, not actually like. But, at least if anyone was going to catch you in this state, it was your perfectly oblivious friend. 

“Yeah, well.. I really like him, I guess,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant despite the fact that Seungmin clearly saw the depth of your infatuation.

“Oh, I really like him, I guess,” he mocks, laughing when you shoot him an ‘I’ll kill you’ look. “You have your next date planned yet?” he asks next, putting his joking aside to ask sincerely. 

Seungmin had quickly become a great friend to you when you were accepted to the office, and while you definitely didn’t confess every detail of what your life was like before being hired here, you did allude to the fact that your past relationships were less than great. He could see the genuine pain in your eyes whenever someone else in the cubicle block brought up their perfect relationships and idyllic families. 

So, despite the teasing, he did genuinely care. He wanted you to be happy, and he was silently hoping that this Changbin person you met on your blind date would be the one to bring you that happiness. Of course, he didn’t know the ulterior motives behind said blind date, or about any of the previous mafia ties that led you here– though, technically those ties are no longer ‘previous.’ 

“We’re gonna meet up again tomorrow. There’s an art exhibit he wants to go to,” you answer and Seungmin lets out a little ‘oooo~’ which you roll your eyes at.

“So he’s an arts guy then?” he asks and you shake your head. “Not really, but his best friend's works are gonna be on display, and he wants to support him. He asked me if I wanted to be his plus one.” 

“Oh, ‘plus one~’, sounds fancy,” Seungmin teases, which you scoff at. “It’s nothing extravagant, Min, don’t be dramatic.” You push his shoulder, which he then clutches with a small gasp as if you actually hurt him. The rest of your coworkers shuffle into the room not long after, signaling that break time is officially over and it’s time to get back to work. 

The rest of the work day is nothing short of a hectic, stress induced mess following your break time antics. You and Seungmin are practically buried in work due to multiple people calling off after catching a cold.

All the catch up work to make deadlines is running you ragged, but the thought of having a fun day out after this is all over is keeping you going. That, and Changbin sending you cute texts of encouragement every time you complain to him about the workload. 

You breathe a sigh of relief when the backlog is finally finished, slumping in your chair and letting yourself roll away from the desk. It’s way past the time you’d usually leave for the day, but at least you’re being well compensated for the work; it was tiring, but the fat check will make it all worth it in the end. Maybe you’ll finally be able to splurge on some new clothes like you’ve been wanting to. 

Seungmin finishes his own work just moments later and throws his hands in the air with an exclamation, “Hell is over!” You laugh as you pull yourself back up to prepare yourself to go home. “I’m so ready to crash after this. I think I’m gonna collapse as soon as I step in the house," he says as he shuts down his work computer.

“Don’t crash before you have dinner at least,” you say and Seungmin groans, as if doing anything other than immediately going to sleep will ruin him. “I can eat when I wake up! Getting my beauty sleep is more important.”

“Yeah, those dark circles are getting a bit egregious,” you joke and Seungmin shoots a glare at you before he stands. The pair of you continue to bicker and laugh before you say your goodbyes, and Seungmin makes sure you promise to give him all the details of your second date when you return on Monday. 

It’s painfully obvious that you’re sick when you wake up the next morning; sore throat, cough, fatigue, and all the works. It’s also painfully obvious where you got your cold from, given all the office absentees.

The sickness that ran rampant through your coworkers was bound to catch up to you eventually, you suppose. But did it have to be today of all days? 

Canceling on Changbin made you feel awful; much more than you expected it to. You always felt bad when you had to cancel plans of course, it was never a happy thing to do, but the sadness you felt now was unmatched by any time before it.

You tell yourself it’s because you have a lot riding on this date, because your brother needs you to see this through and you can’t let anything deter Changbin from wanting to be with you, but you know deep down that’s not the truth. 

The truth is that you were actually looking forward to seeing him. That you liked him. That you wanted to hold his hand as you walked through the gallery together, to share your thoughts over a nice dinner, to maybe end the night with a kiss or two. And God, did the fact that you actually like him make you feel stupid.

What kind of idiot actually starts to like the person they are supposed to dupe in the end? Did leaving for half a year revert you back to an amateur? Did you forget all of your previous bad experiences with other men you had to do this with? 

When you walked away, you told yourself you wouldn’t be in a relationship again for a long time, sincere or otherwise. Being with awful men jaded you, and the rare times you did feel a genuine connection, the nature of your life and family ruined it.

There was a point in your life that you started to believe you didn’t deserve anything good. Everyone you met either treated you like shit, or resented the reality of what being with you entailed. Nothing you wanted was ever worth the effort or the risk for them.

With every subsequent forced proximity with a man you loathed, with every spark of love that faded because of who you are and what your family does, you withered. People will compare being adolescent to a bud, likening the growth and transition into adult life to that of a flower's first bloom. But you always felt like your bloom never came; Mother Nature skipped over you, deeming you unworthy, leaving you to rot before you ever had a chance for something more.

While other people were vibrant and colorful, you were dull and withered. The garden that was your life was barren and devoid of nutrients, and always would be. At least, that’s how you felt until fairly recently. It took time for you to realize you were deserving of good things, and that a change of environment would help you turn your life into the kind that you would be happy to live. 

Even when you started to feel good about life, and about yourself again, you figured it would still be a while before you ever began to crave the presence of a significant other again. You’d hurt and been hurt too many times, seen the worst in countless people, saw the depths of cruelty and hatred that someone could have. And good people existed, of course they did, but your world view was tainted by the ceaseless callousness you were confronted with.

How could you believe that kind people were out there when you often saw the opposite? The depravity, selfishness, and heartless disregard for anyone but themselves? The fact that you had good people in your life began to feel like a fluke, your handful of close family members and friends like small faint glimmers of light in a sea of black. 

But even when you were blind to it, even when your vision was clouded by the suffering you experienced, good people existed. Selfless people, who would give the last of what they had to help someone else. Kind people, who helped someone in need without asking for anything in return. Happy people, whose only goal was to make the world a bit brighter than it was yesterday, with one small kindness at a time. 

Changbin was one of those people. And maybe it was naive to believe that so soon, to have faith that he was different from the other men you’ve known, but you couldn’t help it. He just radiated sincerity, exuded warmth, emanated positivity.

Talking with him brought you back to the feeling of having a grade school crush; it was like he woke up a part of you that had been sleeping for years. A part of you that wanted a love like in romance movies, where everything is filled with cheesy quotes of adoration and over dramatic declarations of love. Flourishes of passion, moments where all you can think about is seeing him again, where the smallest of gestures makes your heart burst with excitement. 

You’ve only known him a short time, but you felt so utterly infatuated. Every time you spoke to each other, it felt like being on a cloud– soft and inviting, warm and bright. He was like a blanket fresh out of the dryer, offering you unmatched comfort and peace. The weeks leading up to this 2nd date where you spent hours texting, talking on the phone or facetiming was almost euphoric. 

And you suppose that’s another reason missing out on today is that much more devastating to you. Changbin became swamped with work shortly following your first date, promising that the first free weekend he’d got he’d take you on that date he promised.

Then, when things were finally calming down for him, you ended up being buried under the workload of your sick coworkers. And finally, finally, your patience would've been rewarded with today’s date. 

Would it be overdramatic to kick and scream? Maybe, but it’s all you wanted to do. And maybe tell God, or whatever higher power exists, to please let Changbin not hate you for canceling today.

Of course, he was very understanding, even offering to drive over to you and pick up anything you might need. You turned him down, telling him to go to the exhibit and enjoy it, and that you’d just get some more sleep after you took some medicine. 

It was late in the afternoon when you woke up from your cough medicine induced coma, the sun just barely still on the horizon. You knew you really should get some food in you, but the prospect of walking around your kitchen and cooking something sounded extremely daunting.

You wondered if it was too late to take Changbin up on his offer? Having someone bring you some more medicine and something to eat would be a godsend. And besides that, you just want to see him. 

You unlock your phone and immediately smile upon seeing your texts; Changbin knew you were getting your rest of course, but he still sent updates, including pictures of the art pieces and how he tried his best to interpret their meaning despite not really understanding what he was looking at most times.

His friends works were the most praised by him of course, and his enthused “This one is by Hyunjin!! My best friend is so talented!!”  was endearing to read. 

You decide to send a simple text, saying you just woke up and were hoping his offer to come by still stands if it’s not any trouble. To your surprise, a facetime request comes through moments later, and you scramble to settle into a presentable position (not that it really matters given how sick you are.)

“Y/N~” he coos when you finally answer, a small pout forming on his features when he sees your tired eyes and red nose. Changbin is sitting in his car, phone propped up on the dash as he sits in what you assumed to be the driveway of his home.

His hair is damp and his clothes loose and comfortable, giving away that he just recently took a shower and was going to start settling in for the night before you texted him. Did he rush to his car after he got your text? You suspect he did.

And you’re not sure if it’s the damp look, or the way the light of the setting sun illuminates his skin that makes your heart feel like it’s going to burst, but he’s handsome. So devastatingly handsome that you almost want to hide your sick face away. 

Changbin asks all sorts of questions during your call, like what medicines you took, what you need restocked, what you want to eat and from where. Every time you offer to pay him back, he shuts you down, always reminding you that he wants to do this for you.

He hangs up when he starts to drive so he won't be distracted, and you decide to relocate to your living room. You bring your favorite blanket and an extra pillow with you, settling in on the sofa while turning the tv to some random show you don’t intend on paying much attention to– you just want the noise.

It’s around an hour later when Changbin calls again to let you know he’s at your apartment. You were surprised he took so long, and when you open the door for him it’s easy to see why. His hands are full of bags all from the same store, apart from your food order.

“Changbin, you– what is all this?” you ask, nearly stunned. He shuffles his way inside, placing everything carefully down your kitchen counters as your front door closes behind him. 

“Well, I know you only needed a couple things but..” he says as he starts to separate the bags, placing your food off to the side as he digs through them, showing you the contents one by one. “This is the medicine you asked for. And I got you this anti-drowsy version for the daytime. Oh, and this is vitamin c, your immune system will need it! This is tea for your throat, and this is-” 

You nod along to what he’s saying, but your brain has long since stopped processing the information. You're stuck on the fact that he even bought all of this for you, that he seemed to care so much that he went above and beyond what you asked for.

When he looks up and sees your bewildered expression, he pauses, brows furrowing in concern. “What’s wrong? Is it getting worse? Do you need to lay back down?” 

“Oh, no, I..” you start to answer but well.. What do you even say? It’s hard to explain why such a simple kindness would render you so incapacitated.

“If you’re worried about how much I spent, it’s fine! Nothing I can’t make up with another day at the office,” he says with a smile. “Oh, but you shouldn’t still be standing! Here, let’s sit you down.” Changbin guides you to your sofa, hurrying back to your kitchen to grab the food and bring it to you. He places it carefully in your hands before he sits down next to you.

You stare at the food in your hands, blinking as you try to process. He really did all this for you because he cares? He doesn’t expect anything in return? He isn’t going to complain about the costs or the effort, or make you feel like a burden?

No, you know that he won’t, and that’s the part that sends waves of an indescribable emotion through you. “Is it wrong? Did you lose your appetite?” he asks when he notices you just looking at it, leaning closer to inspect the meal in your hands, then back up to your face. 

“Oh, sorry, I guess I did for a second. I’m good to eat now though,” you fib, but smile afterwards to ease any worries he has.

“No need to say sorry for that, just eat before it happens again, okay?” Changbin watches for a few moments, making sure that the food isn’t going to make you more ill. As much as he wants you to eat to get better, he knows how hard it can be to force yourself, and how it can make any nausea you feel worse. 

When he is assured that your appetite is in fact back and that you’re eating well, he turns back to his own meal. You share a comfortable silence for a time as you focus on getting food in your system, though Changbin finishes much faster than you due to the cold slowing your pace. He doesn’t spend the time waiting for you to finish idly though– instead, he prepares more medicine for you, gets you more water, and cleans up any messes left in his wake. 

“So, what show is this?” he asks when he’s finished cleaning up the trash from your meals. You told him he didn’t have to and that you’d clean it up later of course, but he insisted upon it.

“I don’t know actually. I just put anything on,” you answer. Changbin frowns a little, cutely you might add, before he speaks. “That’s no good, you should watch your favorite things when you don’t feel good. Like.. a comfort movie! What's your favorite? We’ll watch that!”

He quickly reaches for the remote before looking at you expectantly. “Oh, uhm..” You hesitate, hoping that you appear to just be thinking about it instead of taken aback like you truly were.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had a boyfriend (genuine or otherwise) that valued any of your opinions, that wanted to give the things you liked a try, or indulge in any interests you had. Something as small as letting you choose what to watch on tv meant more to you than he could possibly realize. 

It doesn’t take much actual thought to make your suggestion and tell him where he can find it, and he beams as he follows your instructions to get the movie playing. The only problem now, you soon realize, is that you have no space to lay back down.

Given that you live alone and don’t often have company, you chose to buy a smaller sofa and save the extra money. That decision seemed smart at the time, but now you wondered if you should’ve just gone for the bigger furniture, additional cost be damned. 

Changbin watches you fumble with your pillow for a few moments, trying to find different ways to prop it up and make it comfortable to lay against, before he gets the courage to speak up. “Do you want to lay on me?”

“Huh?” you say, not because you didn’t hear him, but because you’re surprised he asked. “We can cuddle..? If you want?” he offers, the slightest bit of pink dusting his cheeks. Oh, you’re fucked. There’s no reason the prospect of cuddling should make butterflies erupt in your stomach like this. 

You nod, tentatively passing your pillow over to him. Changbin places it carefully against the arm rest before he props himself against it, motioning for you to lay against him once he’s settled. Your head rests on his chest, and Changbin wraps his arm around you carefully, ensuring that his touch is comforting and not inappropriate. You unwittingly let out a sigh as your body relaxes, and Changbin has to suppress a smile in response. 

Before you know it, your eyes are closing– Changbin is just so warm and comfortable, you can’t fight it. He smells good and his gentle touch is soothing, the slow circles he draws on your skin with his thumb lulling you to sleep. The sound of your comfort movie playing becomes almost silent in your ears, being replaced instead by the sound of Changbin’s breathing and the steady beating of his heart. 

The movement of Changbin’s leg eventually stirs you awake, and you sit up with a yawn, rubbing your tired eyes. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologizes before he stretches out his legs. You guess they must’ve fallen asleep after being in the same position for a while.

“How long was I asleep?” you ask as you turn your attention to the tv. The movie you picked was no longer playing, and it seemed to be half way through a different one. 

“I’m not sure, a few hours maybe?” he replies; after you settled on him, he couldn't reach his phone. His only judge of time has been the movies playing.

“What? Really?!” You scramble for your phone to check the time and see that Changbin was right– you have been asleep on him for at least 2 and a half hours. “You could’ve woken me up,” you frown, but Changbin shakes his head vigorously, as if that was never an option.

“No, you’re sick! You needed the rest.” He had a point of course, but you still felt bad that he was probably bored out of his mind uncomfortable letting you sleep on him like that for so long.

Changbin notes your pout, and thinks about how cute you are to him, even when you’re sick, and puffy, and tired. “Why don’t you go to bed for the night? Your body needs it,” he suggests after you let out yet another yawn. 

“Yeah, okay,” you nod, and Changbin quickly rises to his feet to help you stand (though you would argue you are stable enough to walk on your own.) He carries your pillow for you, and would’ve carried your blanket as well if not for the fact that you currently had it wrapped around your body like a cocoon. 

Your room is a bit messy, but thankfully there’s nothing lying around that you would be embarrassed for him to see. Changbin sets your pillow down before ensuring that you get in the bed. He turns to walk away once you're settled, promising he’ll lock the door on his way out and text you tomorrow.

But in a move that surprises even yourself, you call out to him before he makes it back to your bedroom door. He faces you quickly, head tilted as asks what’s wrong. “Do you want to stay?” your voice comes out smaller than intended, but Changbin hears you clearly.

And it’s his turn for his heart to feel like it’s going to burst, hoping that the faint blush rising to his cheeks is masked by the darkness in you room. “I mean, it’s late so..” you continue when he doesn’t answer right away, hoping you haven’t overstepped a boundary by asking. 

“Of course, I’d like that,” he says to your relief. He’s nervous as he makes the short trek back to your bed, both of your hearts pounding in your chests as he moves the blanket to lie down next to you. It feels like you’re a teenager again rather than an adult pushing thirty when he settles in and looks at you, face just a few mere inches away from yours. It's almost embarrassing how easily he gives you butterflies.

“I want to kiss you so bad,” he admits suddenly, his voice almost a whisper as his eyes search for yours in the darkness. “What if you get sick?” you ask, laughing when he exclaims in response. “I wouldn’t be here right now if I cared about getting sick!” 

“Fair point,” you smile as you inch your way a bit closer to him. He reaches out for you, arm wrapping around your waist as he moves in, close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin. The first kiss you share is light, almost careful, and soft, but it’s enough to make your stomach flip. Changbin has a small smile when he pulls away, which makes you smile as well. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you say and he shakes his head, his own smile growing. “It’s the least I can do for my girlfriend. I mean.. I hope you will be, anyways.”

“Of course I will be,” you giggle, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.” “In that case!” Changbin rises suddenly, surprising you as he clasps your hands in his. “Y/N. In case it’s not obvious, I really like you. Will you be my girlfriend?” 

You giggle as you accept, and his smile is beaming as he lies back down and pulls you into another kiss. “Get some rest now, okay? I’ll be here when you wake up,” Changbin speaks softly as his arms wrap around you in a hug.

You close your eyes as you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, feeling nothing but happiness and comfort as you once again fall asleep against him.

The weeks following making your relationship with Changbin official are simultaneously the most elating and the most fraught you’d ever lived. Both of which due to the fact that Changbin seems to be literally perfect.

He’s attentive, funny, and incredibly caring, all while being devastatingly cute and handsome. He’s also the most selfless and encouraging person you’ve ever been with, and it riddles you with guilt every time you remember what you ultimately have to do. 

Can you bring yourself to betray him after all this? Your allegiance is supposed to align with your brother, but the more time you spend with Changbin, the more you question if it’s something you can really do. He was just so different, almost painfully so– the mere thought of breaking his trust fills you with a dread you’ve never experienced before now. 

Apart from that, as you expected, Changbin keeps his work life and home life separate. He might tell you he’s stressed, or in vague terms he'll talk about why a case is hard for him currently, but he never shares details. And you never press him, though technically you should.

That’s what you were supposed to be doing here– getting information, passing it along, giving Chan the upper hand he needs to help Minho. And the fact that you don’t press for details, the fact that you don’t want to, also fills you with guilt.

You should want to help your brother, to help Minho out of his situation, but you don’t. Plus, you’re only here because Chan asked you to be, because he set everything up for you, because he put his trust in you.

Yet here you are, 3 months later with nothing to show for it. Chan is patient, he isn’t expecting any huge revelation right away as he knew building trust with someone isn’t something that happens over night, but it won’t be that way forever.

You don’t know when, but a time will come when your brother asks you what you have. What you’ve learned, how your progress with Changbin is, and what steps you’ve been taking to gather information. But what will you even say in response?

Can you be honest in that situation, and admit that you like Changbin too much to hurt him? You’re torn between the obligation you have to your brother, and the feelings you have for Changbin. What will you do when you inevitably have to choose between them, and decide which bond is the more important one to uphold? 

“You okay, honey?” Changbin’s voice snaps you from your thoughts. “Oh, sorry, just nervous I guess,” you answer with a smile that you hope he can’t tell is forced.

“Don’t worry, Hyunjin’s nice, I promise! And he’ll love you, I’m sure of it,” he smiles as he gives you a peck on the head. You smile and thank him, feeling a bit guilty that he’s trying to comfort you over a white lie, but telling the truth certainly isn’t something you’re ready to do yet. 

Well, maybe it isn’t entirely a lie– you are nervous to meet Hyunjin for the first time too. That’s what brought you to Changbin’s place today; his best friend, who you were originally supposed to meet the night of your 2nd date, is coming over for dinner today.

He finally has free time in his schedule following the exhibit and family responsibilities, and Changbin excitedly planned for, in his words, his best friend and his favorite girl to finally meet. 

Changbin, despite considering himself to not be much of a cook, did a lot of work to make the dinner nice. Not so much for Hyunjin of course, but for you. He’s secretly hoping you’ll be impressed by his efforts and compliment him (he lives for your praise, you've begun to notice.)

It doesn’t take much longer for Hyunjin to arrive, with Changbin being full of smiles as he introduces the two of you to each other. You try your best to not be awkward as you make small talk, though thankfully (and as usual) Changbin easily steers the conversations and makes them lively.

He encourages you to talk about yourself as well, as opposed to just making you listen to them catch up, and you appreciate that he wants you to be an active participant of the conversation instead of just existing there.

“Did Changbin tell you how we became friends?” Hyunjin asks towards the end of the meal, which makes Changbin audibly groan in response. “Do you have to bring that up every time? It’s embarrassing!” 

You chuckle as you listen to your boyfriend complain. He’s brought up embarrassing memories to you before so you are a bit surprised by his outburst, but maybe it’s because he wanted to tell you on his own time.

“But it’s my favorite story! And it’s not even embarrassing, you’re just dramatic,” Hyunjin says and Changbin pouts and crosses his arms. “Shouldn’t I be the one to decide which of my memories are embarrassing or not?” 

“Well it’s my memory too, and I say it’s not,” Hyunjin says matter-of-factly. Changbin’s pout grows as he looks over at you and notices your eager expression. You definitely want to hear the story now; you’re so curious! “Fine,” he sighs in defeat as he lets his head fall to the table. “But you better not laugh!” 

“I won’t, I promise,” you say with a sweet smile. You can tell he’s not genuinely upset; if he was it would be obvious. Maybe he’s just a little nervous about what your reaction will be? But you’ll give him all the reassurance he needs that you won’t find this funny if it’s not something he’s able to laugh at too.

You give him a small kiss for being a good sport, which causes him to turn his head away to hide the smile that starts to grow when you do. You turn your attention back to Hyunjin as he begins telling the story.

“So, we’re in middle school right? And I didn’t have any friends. I was the kind of kid that preferred to stay indoors and read or draw than be outside, so I didn’t get along much with the other kids who loved to play around roughly in the yard. I wouldn’t say I was bullied, but the other boys weren’t quiet about the fact that I was weird.” 

“And then Changbin transfers in later in the year, and not even a few days into his first week there, he’s already fighting kids for being mean to me! Just a boy in his class he’s never even spoken to before, and he wanted to defend me anyways.”

It’s easy to see why this is Hyunjin’s favorite story, and he smiles warmly as he tells it. “And it might be hard to imagine, but he was small back then, so he was fighting kids like, twice his size.”

“Yah! You didn’t have to bring that part up!” Changbin lifts his head to exclaim, making you giggle. “What’s wrong with that? It shows how kind and brave you were,” you say.

The pout practically melts off his face, easily turning into a small smile at your compliment. “Yeah, well.. I still am, you know.” 

“Of course I know, that’s why I like you so much,” you say before giving him another peck. His bashful smile is so sweet and cute, you have to resist the urge to attack him with more kisses in front of Hyunjin.

“See, I did you a favor by telling her! You loved the story, right Y/N?” Hyunjin wears a victorious, almost I-told-you-so type of smile as you nod. It just makes you like him more, to be honest, knowing that he’s been this way since he was young– chivalrous and sweet above all else.

“We became good friends after that. And eventually Changbin told me he wanted to help everyone someday, like a superhero.” Changbin groans again as you giggle at Hyunjin’s words. That must be another reason he’s embarrassed– wanting to be a superhero when you grow up isn’t the most realistic thing to aspire to.

Still, it's more than common for kids to want to be something impossible– and it warms your heart just how selfless he was, even then. “I knew you’d laugh,” he grumbles as he pouts. 

“I’m not laughing at you Binnie, I just think you’re cute,” you tell him sweetly, and his face turns a light shade of pink. “I feel like I’m being bullied right now,” Changbin says as he points between the two of you. “You’re banding together to embarrass me.”

“Here, I’ll make it up to you by cleaning up,” you say as you rise to your feet. “Wait, no, I’ll do it!” Changbin protests, grabbing your used plate from your hands. “You’re my guest, I’ll take care of it.”

You want to argue and help, but you know there’s no point; Changbin is stubborn about things like this. So you concede easily and sit back down.

“Changbin seems happy. I’m glad he has you,” Hyunjin says after Changbin steps away to put the dishes in his sink, apparently not wanting to fluster the man further by saying it in front of him. “It might be hard to tell now, but he was depressed for a long time.” 

Your heart squeezes in your chest at the words. You loved that you were able to make Changbin happier, but it was equally painful. You know what your reality is, and what you’re supposed to be doing here. You know, but you don’t want to.

“He’s a good man,” you reply, “he deserves to be happy.” Hyunjin smiles, and Changbin walks back in, equally as smiley and oblivious to the small conversation you just had.

Fuck, you felt terrible. You now knew quite a bit about Changbin's best with his ex, and what led to his divorce. He bore the entirety of his heart to you, feeling like it was important to bring up when you were starting to get serious so that the problems he experienced back then wouldn’t repeat themselves in his relationship with you.

He worked really hard to get where he is today, to become chief of police. He had a strong sense of justice, and an equally strong urge to help people. But eventually, that passion started to cause a rift in his relationship. His ex felt neglected and alone most nights while Changbin was spending all his free time putting in extra hours, working harder than he had to.

But he wanted to, he loved doing it, he had so much pride in his career. And that pride and passion led him to his dream position, and effectively made him the youngest person to get so far in such a short amount of time. He was proud of himself, of the life he built, and it devastated him when he realized his partner didn’t feel the same way. 

Changbin’s ex didn’t want someone who spent all their free time buried in work, they wanted him to be more present. They wanted someone to spend quality time with, who would make time for them and the family they planned to one day build, who would prioritize them above all else.

Even on his time off he thought about work, he talked about cases and sometimes even brought his work home with him– but his partner didn’t want that to be their entire life. He explained that he was confused at first; he didn’t understand how his dedication to his career could cause this to happen.

In his mind, everything was perfect– his dream career, a beautiful house, and a loving partner. It took time for him to understand their perspective and see what he could have done differently, but it was too late by then for him to make it work.

His career was important to him and he wasn’t wrong for that, but they also weren’t wrong for wanting to be with someone more attentive and less busy, and he understood that now.

That’s why he wanted to make sure you understood that about him, and would accept him if he ever spent long hours in his office or a case required his urgent attention. And in return, he’d make sure he’d do what he should to be a good boyfriend on his time off.

He'd do his best to leave work at work, to make adequate time for you and not let you fall to the wayside when a case is capturing his attention. He'd shower you with affection, he'd make time for you in whatever ways he could, he's be present– that was his promise to you.

Those years were hard for him, but he learned a lot from it; about how to find the balance between his work and home life, how to turn off his 'police chief' brain at the end of the shift, and use his time off for what it's meant for.

It’s also part of the reason he doesn’t tell you about things in detail, afraid that you might begin to resent him in the same way his ex had. That if he spends too much time absorbed in his work that you’ll just decide you’ve had enough and walk away from him. 

It was hard for Changbin to admit that to you, but he knew he had to bring it up early so you knew. But truthfully, you only ever admired him. You loved when he was passionate or excited, and you couldn’t imagine ever shutting him down or making him feel bad for it.

You loved seeing his beaming smile every time he said a case was solved, when there was a successful interrogation at the office, or evidence came back nailing their suspect. You couldn’t imagine ever seeing that unbridled joy and not smiling along with him.

And so, because his ex didn’t, you told him you were proud of him. You told him he did a good job, you shared in his happiness, you met his enthusiasm with love.

Love? Were you in love?

Is that why your heart ached so much? But it’s natural to feel bad right? Changbin is a good person and you don’t want to do something cruel to him. It’s normal to be upset about that.

It’s normal for your heart to hurt over this. It’s normal for dread to course through your veins, to not want to imagine how much pain he would be in if you betrayed his trust. That’s all normal, so surely you’re not in love with him already? Right? 

You swallow apprehensively as you look at Changbin. He’s talking animatedly with Hyunjin, his smile as bright as ever, his loud voice full of joy. Normally seeing him like that made you happy too; you’d smile right along with him, giggling at all his cute expressions and declarations.

But now there’s a lump in your throat, hands shaking as the anxiety starts to consume you. You don’t want to hurt him. You don’t want to do this anymore. You don't want to be the reason all his progress his undone.

Changbin is an observant man, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom before he can read your expression and see that something is bothering you. You take deep breaths, hands trembling as you try to calm yourself. 

You’re just anxious, that’s all it is, it’ll pass, you’ll be fine, you tell yourself. You give yourself a moment longer before washing your hands and stepping out to rejoin the men. 

Thankfully, you successfully managed to calm yourself for now, and rejoin their conversation organically. It was a relief honestly that Changbin didn’t seem to be aware of the internal battle you were having with yourself.

You mentally thanked Hyunjin for keeping him distracted enough, as you knew Changbin’s care for you would make all those emotions you’re trying to hold back erupt. And if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t ready to face those feelings just yet. 

It didn’t take much longer for the day to transition into night, with Hyunjin needing to bid his goodbyes to return to his family. Changbin made him promise to bring them next time, of course, and Hyunjin happily agreed to bring them if they were able.

The moment his friend leaves, Changbin turns to you with an almost hopeful look. “You don’t work tomorrow, right?” he asks, and you can tell by the small pout on his lips that he intends to ask something of you. 

“No, I don’t,” you assure with a soft smile, wondering what he was about to segway into. “Stay the night with me,” he continues his pout, looking at you with his puppy eyes that you’ve grown fond of.

“But none of my things are here,” you say with a small frown, which only makes his pouting even more blatant. “You can just wear something of mine! Please?”

It wasn’t really the clothes you were worried about; you had makeup on and your skin would surely suffer if you left it on all night. You weren’t sure if Changbin had anything in his cabinet that would be sufficient enough to remove it.

But God, his cute begging always made you so weak. How were you supposed to say no when he hit you with the puppy dog look? So you supposed you would have to make do with whatever he may or may not have, and apologize to your skin tomorrow by giving it some extra care once you return home. 

“I’ll stay,” you say with a faux exasperated sigh but Changbin is unphased by it, immediately beaming at you with pure happiness. “I’ll grab something for you, wait here,” he smiles as he turns quickly to his bedroom to search for suitable pajamas for you.

You can't help but smile as well by his cute behavior; Changbin may look intimidating, but he truly is a softie underneath it all. He was easily the most clingy man you’d ever met, and he had no shame in pouting or pulling a cute face to get a kiss or a smile from you.

Honestly, you really liked it. After years of dating hard men who showed no affection or genuine kindness, you loved that he seemed to have it in droves, and offered it freely. 

“Here you go baby,” he says in his cheery tone, placing his selection carefully in your hands when he returns. “You go ahead and get changed, I’m gonna clean up in here first.” He said after giving you a quick peck on the lips, turning his attention to the dishes that mounted in the sink from your dinner with Hyunjin.

You walk to his bathroom, and set his clothes down on the sink as you try to make a plan on how you can remove your makeup while doing minimal damage to your skin. 

You feel like you’ve done a decent enough job with what you had at your disposal, and now that you feel content with your makeup removal, you decide it's time to change into the shirt that Changbin provided you.

While you haven’t seen Changbin without a shirt before, anyone can tell just from a look that his muscles are big, so you hope that the shirt he provided you with will be loose enough to keep you comfortable tonight. Once it’s pulled over your head, you feel happy enough with the way it fits on you. 

It wasn’t long enough to conceal your underwear by any means, and your curves are still obvious, but it’s not overly tight or restrictive at all; you find yourself hoping that Changbin will like the way you look in it. Scooping up the dress you wore for dinner in your arms, you stepped out of the bathroom and walked to the living room where your bag was still resting on the couch.

The light in the kitchen was off, the only illumination between the spaces being the night light plugged in next to his couch. Deciding that must mean Changbin was finished cleaning up and is already in his bedroom, you swiftly shove your dress into your bag before picking it up to take with you.

The door to his bedroom is ajar, allowing light to filter into the hallway and confirming to you that's where he is. You knock carefully, deciding you shouldn’t just barge into his room if he is changing. “You can come in!” You hear his voice call out, and so you push the door open further to step inside.

As expected, Changbin had changed into his own selection of pajamas (a simple shirt and sweatpants), and was sitting at the foot of the bed with his tv remote in hand, shuffling through his selection of streaming services. Stepping in fully, you close his door behind you as you had learned from your nights together that was his preference when sleeping.

You noticed him swallow after he turned his gaze to you, but he didn’t allow his eyes to travel down to your legs. “Is the shirt comfortable enough? Do– Do you need anything else? I have shorts and–” 

“No, I’m comfortable, thank you Binnie,” you smile as you step towards the bed, placing your bag down next to the nightstand. You were sure that he wanted to look, but you strangely liked that he hadn’t. Changbin was always careful and respectful, and you were sure that as soon as he realized the shirt didn’t cover you fully, he made a conscious effort to keep his eyes on your face.

Plus, he asked if you were comfortable and offered more clothes without hesitation, which you appreciated and once again testified his chivalrous nature to you. His posture relaxed at your answer; his intention was for your body to be completely covered but as long as you were comfortable that was all that mattered to him. 

“I can’t remember whose turn it is to pick tonight so I started looking just in case,” he explains, quickly moving on now that your comfort is assured to him. You and Changbin had made a habit of going back and forth picking things to watch on the nights you stayed together, a ritual that you had come to really look forward to.

And you were fairly sure it is your turn to pick tonight, but since Changbin has been so sweet and kind to you, you wanted to let him put on whatever might have caught his eye. “It’s your turn,” you say as you settle onto his bed.

“In that case, let's watch this!” he says with a smile as he quickly shuffles through a selection of animated movies and lands on Howl’s Moving Castle. “Hyunjin was obsessed with this movie when we were kids, we’d watch it all the time,” he says with a fond smile.

You’ve seen it as well, but Changbin’s earnest joy to share a childhood film with you is incredibly sweet, so you feign ignorance as he excitedly shares his memories with you. He continues talking even as he stands to turn off the light, and crawls his way into bed next to you. 

You find his nostalgia trip heartwarming, and you listen to his tales with a soft smile, interjecting only if you have to. After getting under the blanket, he settles in against his headboard and opens his arm out for you to curl up against him as you always did.

Keeping in line with your routine, you don't hesitate to get close and lay your head against his shoulder, letting his arm wrap around you comfortably. “Comfy, baby?” he asks after you’ve finished shuffling into your usual position, and you nod, assuring him that you’re ready for him to play the movie. 

Time passes in comfortable silence, with the occasional small laugh coming from Changbin at Calcifer’s attitude. You, on the other hand, wanted to pay attention to the movie and enjoy it with him, but instead became lost in thought, not focusing at all on the scenes playing in front of you.

Your mind had wandered back to what a future with Changbin would be like. Would this routine continue even years in the future? Would you cook dinner for each other after late nights, cuddle under blankets as you watched tv, talk about the mundane things in life over morning coffee? Would you still share soft kisses, hold each other's hand at every opportunity, text each other during work just to check in and say you missed each other?

You stopped hoping for a love like this a long time ago; the domesticity that comes with sharing your life with someone you love always feeling like a hopeless dream. Was it Changbin that awoke something deep inside you, or were your feelings always there, but pushed so deep you couldn't find them anymore, where they lied forgotten and left to rot?

You’d never met someone so gentle and considerate until Changbin, and his care was laced in every interaction you had with him. Every word, every gesture, every look was so full of affection and tenderness that it left you reeling. How could someone like him exist? 

Noticing you’ve been quieter than usual, Changbin turns his head to look at you, checking if you’ve already fallen asleep. “Are you still awake, love?” he whispers softly, moving his hand from your waist to rub careful circles on your arm.

“Mm, sorry, I spaced out,” you answer, not sure if you're ready to tell him how badly you want to spend forever with him. You know you love him– it's obvious that love is what this unfamiliar feeling you are failing to push away is, but wasn't it too soon to say? You didn't want to scare him off by confessing something so deep after only having dated for a few months. 

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" he asks with a frown, concern clearly showing in his eyes. He was pretty sure he hadn't said or done anything wrong, at least not on purpose; he couldn't guess what could possibly be bothering you. But he can tell something is– he's never seen you look so sullen.

You swallow as you look up at him. What are you supposed to say? 'I'm in love with you, I want to spend all my days with you, you're everything I've ever wanted.' There was absolutely no way you could say all that right now– it was too much, and left you too vulnerable. 

And then there was the matter of how this relationship even started. You were supposed to make Changbin trust you so could start leaking information to Chan; the entire foundation was built with the intent of deceiving him. You didn't think you could handle the heartbreak you'd feel if you lost him; your days with him were the safest and happiest you'd ever felt, and you were scared of losing it.

You were terrified of that truth being revealed to Changbin, dread settling in your gut when you thought about what kind of expression he'd have. Anger, resentment, disgust.. All possibilities you didn't want to see on him. 

But it's not like you could simply open up about this. Sure, Chan was your brother and he wanted you to be happy, but could he really accept you being with the very officer that oversaw the arrest of Minho? Wouldn't that feel like a betrayal to him? Would he offer his blessing for you to be with someone who threatened the very existence of his life?

You couldn't imagine a scenario where he'd ever be okay with such a thing. Even if he understood you couldn't help it, you knew he'd still be upset and want you to end your relationship with Changbin regardless of your feelings. 

Everything was so complicated and there was no easy solution. No matter what choice was made, someone would be hurt– but you couldn't bear for that person to be Changbin. He doesn't deserve it, he's already been through so much pain, his healing process long and difficult. The thought of you making it worse when you were supposed to be the person helping him feel secure made your heart ache unbearably. 

Before you could even realize it was happening, tears had welled in your eyes and began falling. Changbin's heart sank when he saw your tears, panic settling in as he carefully turned to cup your face in his hands. "Why are you crying, baby? What is it?" He asked, voice soft as he wiped the tears away with his thumbs.

What are you supposed to say? 'Our relationship is built on lies. My brother is the man you've been searching for for so long. I'm scared that you'll hate me for lying to you. I'm scared to be alone after knowing what real love feels like.' Your lip quivers as the thoughts cycle in your mind. 

Anxiety is welling within Changbin, but he's trying to keep a calm exterior for your sake. He doesn't want to agitate whatever might be bothering you and make it worse, but he can't help the way his mind races through the possibilities.

He'd never seen you like this before, and it felt so sudden that he didn't know what to do for you. Everything was fine before now, but maybe you were just good at disguising when something was wrong. Maybe he had upset you without realizing, and you just pushed it aside until you couldn't any longer. 

"I.." you start, trying your best to get anything out at this point. Changbin was being so gentle and patient with you, which only spurred on your intense emotions. His gaze was fixed on you, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your skin and wiping away tears when they fell.

Even with anxiety growing in him, he didn't push you. He waited for you to answer on your own time, whispering soothing words to you. "It's okay, everything's okay, I've got you," he'd say, doing his best to console you despite not knowing the cause for your tears. 

"I love you," you say quietly, voice trembling as you wait for rejection. There's no way he'd return your feelings after such a short amount of time. Wasn’t 3 months too soon to fall in love with someone so entirely?

There's no way he'd look at you right now and think this was normal. His rejection wouldn't be harsh, he was much too considerate to hurt you, but knowing he didn't feel the same would be enough to shatter you into pieces. 

Changbin was completely stunned, brows furrowing in concern. "You're.. crying because you love me?" he asks, trying to wrap his head around your answer, and understand why that would cause you to cry like this. He certainly didn't expect this to be the way he first hears that admission from your lips.

He watches your expression carefully, trying to be patient and hear your thoughts without jumping to any conclusions or putting words in your mouth. "I.. I've never been with someone as good as you. And you're– you're so sweet to me, and I'm scared you'll leave me," you say between shaky inhales and his heart aches in response. What had you been through before now to make you feel this way? 

"I'm not going to leave you, I begged you to be here, remember?" he said, hoping the memory of him cutely begging for you to stay with him tonight would help you feel better. He continues after you nod, moving his hands to your own to hold them. "I'm not ever going to leave you, okay? I promise."

He squeezes your hands gently as your lip quivers again, eyes threatening to spill more tears as you look down at his hands grasping yours. It was so bittersweet.

You were comforted by his words, hearing them made you happy, but at the same time you knew it couldn't be true. If he learned the truth he'd hate you, he'd leave you, you were sure of it. 

But you wanted to believe he wouldn't, wanted to believe in this promise. You wanted to believe you could have a future together, where every day was full of joy and love. Even if the rational part of your brain knew how impossible it was, you wanted nothing more than for that to be your reality.

"Can you look at me?" he asks softly, and you take a deep breath before obliging, hands trembling as you once again meet his eyes. "I love you," he says and you suck in your breath, trying your best not to cry even harder than you already have been. "I love you," he repeats, keeping one hand wrapped around your own while the other returns to your face. 

He kisses you as if you're made of glass, so careful that you almost don't register it. Was it possible for a heart to break and mend at the same time? To feel euphoric and devastated all at once? Rational and coherent thought leaves you now, being overtaken by your yearning for the man in front of you. He changes his hold on your hand, intertwining your fingers as he pulls away to read your expression. 

"I don't know what you've been through before to make you cry like this, but I'm here for you now," he says softly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin. "I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner and made you worry, but I'll repeat it as many times as you need to hear it. I love you."

You look into his eyes, seeing for yourself the true depth of his words. You knew Changbin was careful and considerate toward you, but he also upheld truth above all else. He didn't say things he didn't mean; he was honest even to a fault. He always said the things he truly thought, regardless of what any consequence may be. You believed he wouldn't say something like this just to make you feel better. 

So, to hear him say "I love you," it can only be true. You were both scarred from your pasts, you with abusive exes and relationships built on false pretenses with no genuine love to be had, and Changbin the sufferer of a devestating divorce, left alone by the only person he'd loved before now.

Maybe fate brought you together because you were both desperately in need of something that wasn't obtainable before. Love, connection, understanding, belonging.. Foreign feelings that had rooted in you faster than you could even fathom. 

"Kiss me again please," you say so quietly it's almost a whisper. You want the feeling of Changbin to consume you completely, this feeling of love and acceptance to encompass you in your entirety, to quell the torrential downpour of thoughts raging in your mind until he is all that is left.

Changbin hears your request despite how softly you speak, and quickly moves to oblige you, squeezing the fingers intertwined with his as a gesture of comfort. His lips against yours tune out the world around you, the movie playing in the background long since forgotten.

His kisses are one after another, soft and gentle but still enough to leave you breathless. "I love you," he reminds you again between breaths, and you don't hesitate to say it back each time, even with the way the air has dissipated from your lungs with each moment of his lips on yours. 

When he finally stops kissing you to allow you both to breathe, he rests his forehead against yours, looking straight at you once again. You thankfully have stopped crying, the crashing waves of anxiety you had felt moments ago receding with each of Changbin’s sweet touches and words.

You knew they'd return, there was no escaping from your problems, but at least for some small amount of time you could lose yourself in this moment and forget about it all. "You have no idea how much I adore you," Changbin tells you as he separates one of his hands from yours, reaching up to instead rub his thumb against your cheek.

"Thank you, Binnie… I'm sorry for crying, I must've startled you.." you frown as you look at him, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable from your outpouring of emotions. "Don't be sorry honey, it's okay.. All that matters to me is that you feel better," he says, still using his soft and gentle tone. 

Separating your hand from his, you move to pull him into a tight hug, wrapping your arms around him as you bury your head into his shoulder. "You feeling okay now?" he asks as he wraps his own arm around your waist, and you nod against his neck, telling him that you just want to be close to him.

He smiles, finding the sudden clinginess endearing. After all, It's usually him being the overly touchy and clingy one of the two of you. "Let's get more comfy then," he says as he uses the strength of his arms to pull you into his lap before he shifts to let his back rest against the headboard of the bed, your legs on either side of him. 

One arm stays firmly wrapped around you, while the other travels up and down your back, ensuring that you feel comfortable and relaxed. The movie is nearing its conclusion now, but neither of you are focused on it. You are locked in your feelings of serene comfort, of a love that you'd felt was not meant for you, the way Changbin so carefully put you back together when you were falling apart.

It meant everything to you, in ways you felt no words could express. Changbin meanwhile was observing you carefully for any changes in your demeanor or breathing, just wanting to ensure he was there for you for any and every thing. 

"Binnie.." you breathe out as you sit up to look at him once more. "Yes, love?" he implores, eyes full of curiosity but also patience. He won't rush you to get anything out, giving you the time to prepare yourself to say the things that are in your head, ensuring things are always at your own pace. "I want you," you say after a breath, face heating up a bit at the admission, hoping he understands the implication of your statement. 

While you are certainly no stranger to sex, you are a stranger to intimacy. The vulnerability of offering yourself up to someone, showing them all that you are and all that you have. You've never exposed yourself to someone in such a raw way, poured out feelings so intensely and honestly.

You love him, and you want him in any and every way he would have you. You want that feeling of making love that always eluded you, the feeling of trust and care that comes with being in the hands of someone who loves you, truly loves you, and wants you as much as you want them. 

"You have me," he says, bringing his face close to yours once more, "I'm yours." Your face burns further at his confession, shivers running down your spine as your lips meet once again.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you lean into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck. You lost track of the amount of time you spent with your lips on his, the intensity building as each kiss became more heated than the last. 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you feel his tongue against your lips for the first time, as if you had never experienced such a thing before now. You part your lips for him, allowing his tongue to slip inside your mouth. His tongue moves in languid circles around your own, relishing in the taste and feeling of you.

You're the first to pull away to breathe properly, looking at Changbin with a flushed face, and God, is he pretty like this. He's nearly as breathless as you, dark curly hair disheveled from your fingers absentmindedly running through it, looking at you with a look you've never seen on him before.

Yearning? Desire? "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he says as he moves one of his arms to touch your face again, cupping it in his hand. "My pretty girl."

It had to be impossible for your face to get any hotter than this, you thought. Sure, you could put together that Changbin was attracted to you, but to hear him say it like this was.. different. You weren't used to this side of him yet– the side that would shower you in love and praise while looking at you with such a lust filled gaze.

"I…" you swallow, trying to squash down the shyness bubbling within you. Was it normal to feel like this the first time with someone you love? You wouldn't really know. 

"I want to.. Can you touch me..?" you finally manage to get out, despite the nervousness settling over you. "As long as you’re sure," he says, hands moving to rest on your hips as he observes your face carefully. You've had your fair share of make out sessions as your relationship progressed further, but the two of you never took it any further than that.

Truthfully, he wants nothing more than to feel you under his palms, but he hadn't yet because he wanted to take things slow and treat you right. And now it was apparent that you were going through so much internally, the last thing Changbin wanted to do was take advantage while you were emotionally vulnerable. 

"I'm sure," you nod without hesitation. You were attracted to him from the day you met him, and the more you learned about him, the more you grew to fall in love with him, little by little. You love him. You trust him.

And yes, this foreign experience did leave you shyer and more vulnerable than you ever felt, but you wanted him more than you ever wanted anyone. Changbin can see the certainty clear in your eyes, and he smiles slightly, gripping your hips a little firmer than before. "Just.. tell me if you change your mind, okay?"

"I will," you promise him, though you were certain you wouldn't be changing your mind. Changbin's care and consideration for you only made him more desirable in your eyes, and assured you that trusting him would never be something you'd regret.

Changbin leans up to meet you, pressing his lips to yours once more, squeezing the meat of your hips in his hands. You part your lips when you feel his tongue against you again, allowing it to lick against your own until his hands reach the hem of the borrowed t-shirt. 

"Is it okay to take it off?" he asks, and you quickly give your approval, lifting your arms so he can pull it over your head effectively. He stares at your topless form shamelessly, swallowingly thickly as he takes it all in.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he says lowly, but you barely have time to react before his lips are on yours again, needy and eager. Changbin's thumbs rub over your nipples, causing you to shudder and mewl into his mouth. 

Your body is sensitive from lack of touch, and you feel as if you're becoming dizzy from the way his fingers rub and gently pinch your nipples as his tongue stays in your mouth, never separating from your own for more than a second. You're both breathing heavily by the time he pulls away from you, the longing in his eyes clear as he looks at you.

Changbin takes your hands suddenly, placing them on his own chest. "You can touch me too. Anywhere you want," he says, watching as your face heats up in response, "I'm all yours."

You swallow as you nod, the thought of touching him intimately making your heart accelerate. He had never seen you blush like this before, and he found this new shy side to you incredibly endearing, especially knowing it was all for him. Your hands tremble slightly in anticipation as you reach for the hem of his own shirt. Changbin raises his arms without you even having to say anything, and it is quickly discarded to the floor. 

It's Changbin's turn to feel a newfound shyness as your eyes roam the expanse of his torso. While his body is definitely good, he doesn't make a habit of showing it to just anyone; it's something reserved only for moments like this, to be viewed only by someone he's comfortable with and trusts.

As you expected, he has an incredible amount of muscle built up, and you let your hands travel up his stomach, over his chest, down the length of his arms, taking it all in. Some areas of his skin held scars, from wounds you assumed he got from his time on the force, and you glided over them gently, treating them with care.

"You're amazing," you tell him when you look back up to his face, and he smiles, the cute kind you've grown to love so much. 

"Not any more so than you," he responds, turning your compliment back to you. You smile back at him, pink dusting both your faces as you pull him into another kiss. You keep it brief this time, instead opting to move down to his neck.

You feel Changbin tense underneath you as your lips touch his skin, leaving sweet kisses before latching to a spot and sucking. The soft groan that leaves his mouth goes straight to your core, and you can immediately tell it's something you'll become addicted to hearing. 

His hands are on your hips again, squeezing every time you get another groan out of him. Feeling his cock hard against you, you grind down on it experimentally, and Changbin sucks in a breath, fingers digging into your plush skin at the contact.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, head lolling back as you continue to rub yourself against him. You separate from his neck, looking at his face as you grind down against him. His eyes are closed, brows furrowed in pleasure and lips parted, sharp breaths leaving him with each roll of your hips.

"Binnie," you call to him, and he quickly moves his head up right, opening his eyes to look at you. You stop your movements, instead dipping your hand in his waistband to feel his cock with your own hand as you capture his lips with another kiss. It’s thick in your hand, so much so that you almost can't wrap your fingers entirely around it. 

He hisses at the contact, body shuddering as you run your thumb over the tip and smear the pre-cum gathering there. Just as he had done to you, you lick at his lips, swallowing his groans as your hand runs up and down his length.

Your free hand rests on his chest, helping to keep you stable as you enclose your fist around his cock, pumping it at a steady pace. Changbin makes no effort to quiet himself or hold back, and you love it. He's vocal, letting you hear for yourself how good you're making him feel, arousal building more and more within you for every new noise you earn from him. 

He breaks away from the kiss, looking down to watch your hand work him. “God-” he groans, unconsciously bucking his hips up to meet your fist. He forgot what the feeling of having someone else’s hand on him was like, and you were good; way too good.

He would undoubtedly cum if he let you keep going, and he didn’t want that to happen before he got the chance to please you. "W-Wait," he manages to say, chest heaving as he tries to steady his heavy breaths. You quickly retract your hand, worry clear on your face as you look at him.

Did you do something wrong? Move faster than he was ready for? Changbin can easily spot the worry growing on your expression and he quickly moves a hand to your face, rubbing gently as he had done earlier to comfort you. "Don't worry baby, it felt really good. But I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you." 

You flush at his words, stomach flipping in anticipation as you await his next move. "Is it still okay to touch you?" he asks, hands remaining in place until you give him your okay. "Yes.. please," you say and Changbin smiles before he gives you another quick kiss.

He reaches a hand between your legs, rubbing over your underwear and feeling the way the arousal that built up soaks through it. "Oh God," he groans at the proof of your excitement, and heat flashes over you in response. You bury your head into his shoulder, whining as embarrassment overtakes you. Changbin chuckles softly at your reaction, finding you incredibly cute like this. 

"Tell me to stop at any time if it's too much," he whispers to you softly; no matter how turned on he is or how much he enjoys this new side of you, it doesn't matter if you're uncomfortable and not enjoying it with him.

"I'm going to put my hand in now," he tells you, pausing for a moment in case you want to tell him to wait. Getting no protests, he slips his hand into your underwear, rubbing between your folds carefully to start with. 

"Tell me what you like,” Changbin says, his first touch of your clit being feather light and almost cautious, “What makes you feel good?" He looks at you attentively as he waits for your answer, trying his best not to smile from the bashful expression on your face.

Of course he would ask you that, it’s Changbin. He’s earnest, considerate, and thoughtful; everyone is different and he knows that, so he wants to hear what you like straight from your own mouth instead of risking fumbling around until he finds what you like through chance. 

Besides all of that, he has to admit that hearing you tell him what you like yourself makes the moment all the more erotic for him. How can he skip over the opportunity to make his normally confident girlfriend a shy, blushing puddle? 

You want to answer him right away, but between his gaze at your face and the way his finger rubs easily over your clit, your brain feels muddled. The way your mouth slightly opens and closes in an attempt to get something out as your face heats up for the umpteenth time doesn’t go unnoticed, so Changbin smiles softly as he whispers encouragement to you. "You can do it, love. Tell me what you like."

“A-A bit harder,” you manage to mutter, and Changbin wastes no time to do as you ask. “Like this?” he inquires as he applies more pressure, watching you closely to gauge your reaction as he does.

The way your hands grip at his shoulders tighter as your head slumps forward with a soft moan emitting from you tells him that he’s on the right track at the very least. “Is that good?” he asks, gently brushing the hair that fell in front of your face behind your ear so he can see you clearly. 

You nod, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as a whimper escapes you. Changbin smiles, and if you were looking at his face you would clearly see the expression of soft satisfaction on him. Not smug by any means, just simply happy to see you enjoying this as much as he is.

“Can you lean back for me?” he asks, and your brows furrow, a little confused by his request, but you oblige him. You lean back, resting your palms behind you and against his legs for support. 

Changbin thanks you before leaning himself forward, making the intention of his request clear by attaching his lips to your neck in the same way you had done to him. He wanted to mirror the attention you gave him, to make you feel as good as you made him feel in any way he could.

His free hand travels to one of your breasts, giving a few gentle squeezes before he begins to rub your nipple between his thumb and finger. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, your body not used to this kind of attention being given to it, that it leaves you a whining and shuddering mess on top of him. 

His teeth sink gently into the skin connecting your neck with your shoulder, not enough to leave a mark just yet, but enough for you to feel pressure. The contrast between his sharp teeth and gentle licks and kisses lights a fire in you, the desire that was once a small kindling becoming a much larger, fiercer blaze.

You want more, you want him, you want, want, want. He leaves a trail of red on your skin, licking the spots his teeth sink in, peppering them with kisses, and repeating on each new patch of skin he reaches.

Changbin figures he should probably stop before he actually marks your neck; you do work an office job after all. So he pulls away, instead opting to sink his head lower. He plants soft kisses on the nipple that wasn't receiving attention from his fingers, before letting his tongue run over it.

You gasp at the feeling of his tongue on you, and cast your gaze down to look at him. His eyes are locked on yours as you watch his tongue draw circles on your nipple before enclosing his mouth around it. The view alone felt like enough to drive you crazy; it was just so hot, for lack of a better word.

Your hands reach to tangle into his hair, and he groans at each soft tug, encouraging him to keep building the pace and pressure of his fingers on your clit. You're not sure how much time the both of you spent like this; all you can really comprehend is how good it feels, and that you're nearly breathless when he pulls away from your body.

"Do you want more?" he asks you, trying not to give away how eager he actually is in case you don't want that. "Yes, yes, please," you answer quickly, too far gone to be embarrassed by your eagerness, and Changbin smiles as he pulls his hand out of your underwear. "Lay down for me please?" 

You comply with his request, carefully moving yourself off his lap and laying your head against his pillows. Your body trembles in anticipation as he moves himself between your legs, his expression as lust filled as it is soft. His fingers hook into the hem of your underwear, but rather than pulling them down right away, he glances at you once more. "I want to take them off you now, is that okay?" 

"Yes," you assure him, voice soft but sure, and you lift your legs up to make it easier for him. Changbin beams at you once more before he carefully moves your underwear down your legs, tossing them to the side afterwards.

He leans down to kiss you, his hand running down the soft expanse of body to reach your pussy. He rubs between your folds for a few moments, allowing his fingers to get even wetter before he slips one inside slowly. You whine into his mouth at the insertion, and Changbin begins to pump shallowly, prepping you to take another finger. 

A whimper escapes you as his second finger enters you and he pulls away from your mouth to look down at you. "You're so beautiful," Changbin whispers to you as he takes in everything with his eyes. Everything about you is perfect to him, top to bottom, ethereal in every single way. And the fact that you love him, that you want him, that he gets to do this with you… 

He wants to show you much you mean to him with every word and every action. He'll never leave you questioning ever again, never make you doubt your worth or his love. He's so insanely infatuated by you, and he'd never forgive himself if he made you feel unloved and unappreciated. 

He took things slow at first because he needed to. Losing someone he loved because of his own mistakes was something he never wanted to feel again. He didn't want to be heartbroken and he didn't want to lose you; he wanted to show you he could treat you right if you gave him that chance.

So with that in mind he made a conscious effort to be a gentleman, to move at your pace and to respect anything you may or may not want. He gave you his undivided love and attention, he made sure to always express earnestly how much he liked you. And when he realized he was falling in love with you, he knew he had to be better than the person he once was, now more than ever. 

If he wanted just sex, or a shallow connection, he could get that anywhere. What he wanted was love– real love. A person who'd cherish him as much as he did them, who would listen to him, indulge him in his needs, who'd care for him on his bad days, and he'd give it all back to that person in return.

After many failed first dates, or time spent getting to know someone only to realize they weren't compatible, he'd nearly given up hope. So when Jeongin suggested a blind date with you, he thought there was nothing to lose by giving it a shot.

He didn't expect for it to go so well, to become addicted to your smile and your voice, to crave your presence any time he was home, to want to shower you with affection and be showered with it in return. The way you're looking up at him now, entrusting yourself to him, wanting him.. It makes him happier than words can even express.

"You're perfect.. so perfect," Changbin continues, watching as your face heats up from his doting. He's always complimented you, but he understands how different it must feel for you right now. To be showered with affection and love while exposed, while vulnerable, while portraying your authentic self both emotionally and physically– he knows how overwhelming it can be.

And the way you opened up to him, the way you cried for him, the way you expressed your love for him– he knew he could never hurt you the way others have. He wanted to take your heart in his hands and cradle it, protect it. To have you was a gift he'd cherish, and he wanted to make sure you knew how much you meant to him. "I love you."

You barely have time to respond before he kisses you, beginning to move his fingers inside you in earnest. Changbin starts slow, making sure you're well adjusted and comfortable before he picks up his pace. Your breathing goes uneven when he starts to pump his fingers fast, his fingers inside up to the knuckles. You let out a loud gasp when he curls his fingers, hitting your spot expertly.

"Does it feel good, baby?" He asks as he hits your spot over and over again, making you feel dizzy with pleasure. You nod your head quickly at Changbin's question, feeling like trying to conjure words right now is beyond your capabilities. 

"You look so beautiful, feeling so good for me, so perfect," he continues, chuckling softly as you whine in response, trying to resist the urge to look away from him or cover your face in embarrassment. He realizes he's just repeating himself at this point, but your reactions to his praise make it too enjoyable to resist doing. 

"You're so cute," he says, placing soft kisses against your skin as he shifts himself lower, resting between your legs. Changbin pauses the movement of his fingers as he gets comfortable, waiting for you to lift your head to look at him before he continues.

You almost feel like you could pass out; his dark eyes boring into yours, his curly disheveled hair sticking to his skin as sweat forms on his brow, a slight smile evident and complimenting his features. It's overwhelming in the best way possible. 

"I want to do more for you, wanna taste you. Can I?" He asks, the contrast between the soft smile and the lewd request leaving you reeling. "O-Oh, please," you answer eagerly, practically begging for Changbin to do anything and everything he wants to you.

The heat on your face is still apparent but your shyness has become increasingly overridden by need and desperation. You know he'll put all he has into pleasing you, and you want it, crave it. You almost miss the way his eyes glint in excitement before he lowers his head, not wasting any time at using his tongue against your clit.

"Oh my god-" you let out a shaky moan, head falling back against the pillows and body shuddering. His tongue moves in expertly practiced circles, lips enclosing around it as he resumes the thrusting of his fingers. His pace is fast but accurate, hitting your spot over and over as his tongue laps at you. 

You're almost embarrassed by how close you're getting so quickly, whining and moaning repeatedly as your body trembles beneath him. The noises emitting from you are everything to Changbin, soft and sweet just like you, addicting and laced with honey.

Your hips are rolling against him, fingers tangled in his hair, each tug eliciting a groan from him that makes the stimulation on your clit even more intense. "S-So clo-close," you manage to gasp out, toes curling as you quickly approach your high. 

As much as Changbin would love to whisper praises and encouragement as you cum, he doesn't want you to lose the built up momentum by pulling away from you to talk. Instead, he hums in acknowledgement, keeping his rhythm steady as he awaits your release.

Your climax hits you hard, back arching as the intense feeling of relief overtakes you. Your entire body is tingling, mind being numbed by pleasure as your thighs enclose around his head. Even as you clench tightly around his fingers, he keeps the pace the same, helping you ride out your high until he feels you start to squirm away in overstimulation.

He sits up when your thighs relax and fall back against the bed, looking at you with a mix of endearment and satisfaction. You're completely breathless, chest heaving and face flushed, sweat clinging to you and leaving a sheen he can only describe as ethereal. Your beauty is beyond any tangible words he can conjure, but he'll try his best to express it to you, to make you understand how perfect you are to him.

"You did so well for me, baby," he tells you as he slides his fingers out of you, watching you intently as he brings them to his mouth. You swallow as you watch Changbin lick them clean, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the way he maintains eye contact with you through it. "My pretty girl tastes so good too," he says as he crawls back up your body, "So perfect for me." 

"Changbin," you whine with a small pout, and he chuckles as he looks at you fondly, gently brushing the hair clinging to your forehead away. "It's true, you're so perfect. My perfect girl," he smiles as he places a kiss on your temple, then your cheeks, and finally your lips. "You know that, right? You're so pretty," Changbin whispers to you, running his fingers through your hair passively as he looks down at you. 

"Are you trying to make me shy on purpose?" you ask and he laughs, shaking his head. It must be payback for how he felt over dinner.

"I'm just speaking my mind! How cute your reactions are is just a bonus." He kisses you again, pulling you closer to his body as he does. He wraps his arms around you in a hug, pressing your bodies together, and you can feel his erection pressing against your thighs. 

"Do you.. want to keep going..?" you pull away from his kisses to ask. "Mm, I'd love that, but do you want to?" Changbin would be overjoyed to continue, but he didn't want to assume.

If you decided this was enough excitement for you for one night, then he'd accept that, no questions asked. He had all the time in the world with you, and there was no need to rush, nor did he want you to feel pressured. 

"Yes, I want to," you assure him. You knew you wanted to from the start, to feel him wholly and be consumed by the love and trust you have for him. Your mind was full of him, and you wanted your body to be the same. 

“Would you like me to use a condom?” Changbin asks, motioning towards the bedside drawer where he keeps them. He knows from your time together that you’re on birth control, and that you’d be safe if he didn’t use one, but he wouldn't make any assumptions about what you’d be comfortable with. To be with someone without protection required so much trust and love; it was intimate and not something to be taken lightly. 

There is a small moment of hesitation, but not because you have to think about it– no, you know for a fact you want him inside you raw. But how do you say that to his face without feeling like you’re going to combust on the spot?

The romantic inside you reasons that you want to feel him with no barriers because you love him, you want to be close to him and give yourself completely to him. The desperately horny part, meanwhile, is full to the brim with the thought of Changbin’s cum shooting inside you. 

Changbin watches you patiently despite the way his body is screaming in desperation to feel you. He wants you so badly, almost carnally, but he’ll hold back as long as you need him to, be composed and accommodating for as long as necessary.

His heart nearly skips when you finally speak, the anticipation being held by the thinnest of strings, but he’ll be happy no matter what your answer is. Changbin just wants you, that’s all he knows and all that matters. 

“Don’t use one, don’t want you to,” your voice is soft and timid, almost a whisper, but Changbin hears it loud and clear. He’s so focused on you, attuned to you, that he can’t miss it.

His heart quickens as he nods, rendered speechless in what was likely the only time he ever would be. He leans down to kiss you once more, so overtaken by love and excitement that he really can’t help himself. 

His heart races once he's lined himself up at your entrance, but he pauses when he looks at your face, painted with a nervous expression that he can't ignore. "What's wrong? Did you change your mind?" Changbin's expression shifts to concern as he looks down at you, but you quickly shake your head, trying to dispel any worry from him.

"N-No, I still want to! I just– I've never… with someone I love, I mean." You tell him, voice slightly trembling from your admission. There was a time in your past, your first time, where you thought you knew what love was, what it meant and what it felt like. But you were so young then, and anything you felt then paled in comparison to what you felt now with Changbin. 

"Y/N.." Changbin breathes, using your name for the first time all evening. His expression is one of genuine care for you, his eyes soft and full of affection as he gently moves his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. "I'll take care of you, I promise." 

Those men before you who were cruel to you, who didn't treat you with the love and reverence you deserved, who didn't appreciate your beauty and kindness– they were so fucking stupid. He would never make that mistake. He'd do anything for you, love you with all he has and all he is, care for you until the end of his days. That's his promise to you. 

"I know, Binnie. I trust you." You bring a hand up to his face, making sure his eyes are locked on yours as you continue. "Make love to me, please." Changbin’s heart erupts in his chest, the sound of those words falling from your lips strengthening his resolve to be the best he possibly can be for you.

He kisses you softly, squeezing your hand in comfort as his length slowly pushes into you. The stretch stings, but the choked groan Changbin makes is more than enough to make you ignore the discomfort. Changbin stills when his hips are flush with yours, letting you get used to the stretch while continuing to squeeze your hand and pepper your face with gentle kisses. 

“Feeling okay, love?” he asks as he pulls away to check in with you. Tears poke the corners of your eyes, though from pain or emotion he cannot tell. You look up at him, feeling breathless at the sight of him.

The way he looks at you, so full of love and compassion, is unlike anything you’ve experienced with anyone else. “More than okay,” you answer with a soft smile that helps to ease his concern for you, “want you to move.” 

Changbin starts slow, making sure you’re well adjusted before he thrusts in earnest. It doesn’t take him long to figure out the pace and angle that’ll make you see stars, his earlier doting on you with his fingers having prepared him for this moment.

It’s almost too much, your body feeling like a live wire. His free hand travels down to your leg, moving it up and hooking it into his arm to allow himself to sink deeper inside you.

“Fuck, so good, feels so good,” Changbin babbles against your skin, fingers sinking into the flesh of your thigh, letting his nails mark your skin with small crescent moons. He wants to be attentive, wants to care for you properly and make sure he’s pleasing you, but he’s losing composure much faster than he thought he would. 

Changbin’s overwhelming lust for you was held in check by a cracked dam, and the more he felt you squeezing around him, the larger the cracks grew. The break is imminent, a tsunami threatening to overtake him at any moment. But he’ll do his best for you until then, make you feel good, and loved, and happy, until restraint leaves him and his high consumes him. 

“Love you so much, want you to cum for me again,” he breathes out before he captures your lips in another kiss. Your kisses are much less romantic than before, having devolved into a mess of tongue and teeth, moans and whines being devoured in the shared breath between you. “You’ll cum for me again, right pretty? Want you to so bad, please, want it,” Changbin all but begs, and fuck, does that do something to you. 

He starts to separate his hand from yours with the intent to give more attention to your clit, but you squeeze it firmly, not wanting to let him away from you. Instead, you let your opposite hand sink down to give yourself the stimulation you need, making Changbin groan as his eyes follow your movements. There was something about the way you needed more but weren’t willing to let go of his hand for it that made his heart, and cock, swell. 

He stutters out all the praises he can, telling you how good you are, how beautiful, how soft and warm and perfect. “Kiss, please, want a kiss,” you whine out as your high looms closer, and he obliges in an instant, greedily swallowing the loud salacious moans coming from you.

Your entire body tenses, like a pulled string on the verge of snapping, and Changbin’s hips stutter in response, sloppily chasing his orgasm with you. Is it supposed to be this euphoric? To be all encompassing, to consume you completely until there was nothing left but this feeling?

The love and pleasure you feel is overwhelming, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel the taut string finally snap. You squeeze his hand once more, grounding yourself as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. Changbin follows you almost instantly, fucking you through your shared highs and whining into your mouth until overstimulation takes hold of him. 

His arm unhooks your leg, letting it fall limp to the bed as he lies on top of you, breathless and spent. Despite the exhaustion slowly creeping in, he does his best not to let his body weight crush you underneath him. You’re equally as breathless, mind and body buzzing in a post orgasm haze. 

His head rests against your shoulder, eyes closing as he collects himself. Your arms wrap around him, keeping him in a close embrace that Changbin finds both endearing and soothing. A content sigh escapes him as he listens to your breathing soften, a gentle calm that beckons him to fall asleep.

But despite how his body screams at him for rest, he wants to take care of you first. So he lifts his head, giving you a small kiss as he lets his softening length slip out of you. “Let’s clean you up,” Changbin says as he wraps his arms around you, picking you up from the bed effortlessly.

You can't help but squeak in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck for support as he walks to the bathroom. You always thought you weighed too much to be princess carried by anyone, but if anyone was going to prove you wrong, it would be Changbin.

He sets you down on the counter carefully before he reaches behind you to wet a cloth. He wipes between your legs carefully, making sure there is no discomfort or sting as he does. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he says softly as his hand travels over the nail indentations left behind on your thigh.

“I didn’t even feel it,” you admit as your eyes follow the path his hand travels. You were so lost in everything else Changbin was making you feel that the usual tinge of pain you’d feel from nails digging in your skin didn’t even register.

Besides that, part of you had to admit that you kind of liked it; it was proof of your time together, and having his mark etched on your skin was both comforting and exciting. You look up at his face to still see a subtle expression of concern, so you reach your hand out to his face, beckoning him to look at you.

“You can mark me more if you’d like. I want to be reminded of where you touched me.” Changbin blinks for a moment, dick unceremoniously twitching before a smile spreads across his features. “Yeah? Want everyone to know you’re mine?”

You nod with a smile of your own, and God, if his body wasn’t screaming at him to sleep he’d make you fall apart under him again, right here and now. “I’ll make sure I mark you up good next time then, love.” He takes a step back, tossing the soiled wash rag into the laundry bin and letting you use the bathroom as he washes his hands. 

When you’re done, he scoops you back up in his arms, a small protest leaving your lips. You insisted that you were fine, could walk on your own, but the slightest wobble of your legs was all Changbin needed to see to decide you needed to be escorted back to bed. He sets you down carefully before crawling in next to you, his arms wasting no time to wrap around you and keep you close. 

You sigh softly, head burrowing into the crook of his neck as you relax in his embrace. It’s a serenity you’ve never experienced before, being in his arms like this after sharing such an intimate moment together. For the first time in years, you had someone that made you feel safe, loved, and protected.

It doesn’t take long for Changbin to fall asleep, and you watch him for a few moments, listening to the soft sound of his measured breathing. You don't know what you'll do in the future, what will happen when you have to make a confession to your brother about what Changbin means to you, but there is one thing you do know– Changbin will never be the person you turn away from. 

To say Changbin is exhausted when he returns to work on Monday would be an understatement. But it was a good kind of exhausted; the kind you’d feel after completing a marathon or climbing a mountain, he imagines.

He’s never been so happy to be tired in his entire life, he thinks. Even as the caffeine from his copious amounts of coffee leaves his system, his joy carries him through the work day. 

The Saturday night he spent with you after having dinner with Hyunjin made him elated beyond words. The closeness and sensuality of your evening was something he’d be craving for so long. He missed the feeling of mutual love, of intimacy and closeness with someone else. And you were so perfect, so lovely and stunning in both mind and body, that he felt lucky to be loved by you. 

He took you once more the following Sunday, whispering sweet nothings to you as his hands touched and squeezed any part of your body they could reach. You showered together, spent the afternoon cuddling on the sofa while watching movies until he ordered dinner. He (begrudgingly) let you leave back to your apartment as the sun began to sink further in the horizon, though he made you promise you’d be back later in the week. 

When he went to bed a little while later, all he could think about was how it felt having you next to him, wrapped in his arms with a loving and serene expression. He missed you, of course he missed you, and somehow it made a smile stretch across his face.

How long had it been since he felt like this? Giddy with love, always thinking about the other person, craving their presence for just a few moments longer, until eventually you can’t imagine your life without them always near you. 

Changbin wanted that with you, wanted a future where you are always with him. To wake up to you next to him every morning and cuddle in bed with you every night. He thought about taking you on surprise dates, spoiling you with delicious meals and nights out in the city. He imagined you waiting at home for him after a draining work day, and how your presence would allow it to all melt away.

You’d plant soothing kisses against his skin as you help him into the warm bath, letting him unwind while you took care of him. You’d take dote on him sweetly, tell him how much you love him, and he’d do the same for you without question. Anything you wanted, anything you needed that he could offer, he would give to you. Because he loves you, and you love him, and that’s all he needs to be happy. 

And it didn’t take long for that inward joy to spread to his outside features; Changbin is a bit of an open book when it comes to love and affection after all. Jeongin had texted you that same morning, asking what on earth you did to make Changbin appear so elated, and it made you giggle as you imagined how his coworkers must’ve felt seeing their normally stoic and serious chief being so delighted that he just couldn’t hide it. 

It was no secret to Jeongin that whatever you were doing with Changbin was real on your end. He’s watched you suffer through enough pretending and agony to know what genuine happiness looks like on your features.

On the days you come to pick up Jeongin to spend time with after work, your face always lights up when Changbin waves to you. The small giggle you let out when Changbin checks around himself to make sure no one is looking before he blows you a kiss is one Jeongin has rarely ever heard. 

The both of you are so obviously in love that Jeongin would almost be sick if he wasn’t so relieved to see you smiling like that again. As far as he remembers, the last time he saw such a genuine and bashful smile on you was when you were still kids, untainted by the ugliness of the world and its harsh realities.

He was aware of the tumultuous life you led, and the mental toll it took on you; so to see you happier these days was priceless to him. But he also knew what you led you here, what you would eventually have to do, and that made him scared for you. He didn't want to see you lose the happiness you attained after so long. 

“When are you going to talk to Chan-hyung?” Jeongin asks during one of his visits to your apartment, weeks later. You freeze, and he almost feels bad for asking as he watches the way your expression changes into one of dread. But it's not something he can avoid asking; he needs to hear your answer.

He needs to know if you have a plan, and what it entails; he wants to help you. "I.. don't know," you answer honestly after a moment. You spent a lot of time agonizing over it, what you should do and what you should say, but nothing ever seemed right. 

The outcome you hoped for, where your brother didn't hate you and your life with Changbin is untainted and perfect, seemed so impossible. You forget for a while, when Changbin sweetly holds you in his arms and reminds you how much he loves you, but the dread always returns.

You sit in your apartment, alone and afraid for the future every single day. You don't want to lose what you have, don't want to feel the absence of those you love, but maybe that's what is meant for you. Maybe that's what you deserve after spending your adulthood the way you have.

Do the people who lie and hurt others willingly deserve happiness? Even though it's never what you wanted, even though you felt like you had no choice, did it taint you irrevocably? Did the universe care that you were trying to change your life, did your apologies even matter? Maybe your mistakes doomed you to a miserable fate long before you could even understand the implications of them. 

"I'd help you, you know," Jeongin reminds you, and you try your best to thank him with a smile. Chan may be a brother to him, but you're his sister just as much, and he'd always help you if he could. He didn't want you to sacrifice your happiness for the sake of someone else; you deserved to have something good after all this time.

You usually try to hide your feelings, not wanting to burden the boy you consider your little brother with your troubles. But you're not kids anymore, and Jeongin isn't blind– he can easily tell when you're distressed, and he can help you if you let him. At least, that's how he feels. 

"I know Innie, and I appreciate it, I just.. I'm scared, I guess," you say after some time. "Chan-hyung won't hate you. He might be upset, but he won't ever hate you," he responds, and you let out a shaky breath. He won't, right? You're his sister, he loves you, he's supported you before in your choices– so it won't change now, right? 

"I don't know what to say to him.. Every time I try to find the words, I feel like I'm stuck. Like everything is lodged in my throat and I can't speak no matter how much I want to," your lip quivers as you try to hold back the tears while you speak.

You've thought about this so many times, over and over again, and it hurts. And you don't want to cry, you do enough of that on your own in the privacy of your bedroom, but the tears still threaten to pour out of you despite it. 

"You don't have to admit you love Changbin necessarily..? Just remind him you left for a reason, and that coming back to it has been bad for you. Tell him that you tried your best for him but you can't do it anymore. I think he'll understand." You swallow and nod as you listen to his advice. "And you know I support you, right? And I like Changbin, I think he's an amazing guy. I want you to stay with him." 

"Really? You do? You're not mad at him over.. you know, family stuff?" you ask, suddenly perking up a bit. "Yeah, well, I.." Jeongin hesitates for a moment. He has his own feelings he's been trying to work out, but if you're going to share with him then he should share with you too. If you're going to be brave and face what is hard for you, then so should he.

"I have my doubts about.. staying in the family lately." He finally admits for the first time. He still remembers the day he was officially initiated in, how you congratulated him earnestly even though you were concerned for him. 

Before that day, you always told him he had a choice. He didn't have to join you, he didn't have to be involved in any of the terrible things that this life often entails. Jeongin could always tell you cared about him and wanted him safe above all else, but you still accepted his decision even when it saddened you.

You only ever looked out for him, wanted better for him, but he joined anyway because he thought it was the best way to stay with the people he loved most. You and Chan were real family in his eyes; he didn't care about blood relation or who his parents were, he just wanted to go hand in hand with his siblings. Wherever the two of you went, he would follow– that's what he decided back then. 

But he saw what it did to you. You always wore a brave face of course, but he wasn't oblivious to your pain. And he met good people over the years, especially in his new environment on the force with Changbin. Similarly to you, he met people he didn't want to hurt or betray. It made him question what he knew and what he felt until now, and if he had really made the right decision those years ago when he turned 18.

Maybe it was naive, but there was a part of him that hoped he could one day become a genuine member of the police. His current credentials were falsified of course, but maybe when he left the family he could make them real. Move out of the city, settle somewhere small and attend the academy there, rise his way up earnestly until one day he could meet the friends he made in Seoul as a true version of himself. 

He never seriously considered it before now because he felt like that's not what his father wanted for him. His father was unyieldingly loyal to your own, he always emphasized the importance of dedicating his all to the prosperity of the family. Jeongin always felt like he should follow that example, and for the majority of his life he was glad to.

But as time went on, and he got older and more experienced in life, he realized more and more how his view of things were warped. The teenage version of himself who idolized this life was understandably naive– there was no way for him to truly grasp or understand what he was getting into back then.

There was a part of Jeongin that felt guilty whenever he thought about leaving. Until his death, his father raised him to uphold the values of the mafia, and he trusted that Jeongin would make him proud. He's changed a lot over the years though, and for a lot of different reasons.

The difficult reality was part of it, but so were you and Changbin. Even before you met the police chief, your life was already improved so much by leaving. You loved your new life, your apartment. your job, and your friends. Your new normal was peaceful, you were healing, and Jeongin was so happy for you. 

He didn't realize he wanted the same thing right away. It happened in steps; a hard loss here, an exhausting day there, moments that slowly began to leave him weary. At first he thought it was just the exhaustion anyone would feel– after all, no one enjoys being stressed out or hurting others.

It was normal to want a break, or to spend some time away. There was nothing unusual about that, so he took it in stride, trusting that it would pass once things began to look up (if they ever did.) 

But things changed when he saw your vibrant smile that was so different from the forced one you used to wear, saw the way your eyes sparkled and your voice lifted whenever you saw or talked with Changbin. He watched the real you, the one he knew as a kid that was so bubbly and full of life, return– and that's when he knew he wanted the same thing. A peaceful, happy life. 

"I took more after you than Chan-hyung, I guess," Jeongin jokes to make it more lighthearted. He's pleasantly surprised to see it worked, a genuine smile finally cracking on your face. "We're real winners of loyal younger siblings, huh?" you chuckle. It's probably not appropriate to laugh but well.. What else can you do, really?

"You should leave, if you really want to. It took a long time for me to realize it, but there's nothing wrong with wanting better for yourself, and wanting to be happier," you say and Jeongin easily agrees with a smile. "Exactly! Which is why I hope you'll talk to him soon. Get yourself out, and live a happy life with Changbin. You deserve it."

"Well, what about you? What will you do?" you ask and Jeongin pauses while he thinks about it. "I'm not sure.. I mean, I'm sure I want to leave, I just don't know when I should. He's my brother and I love him. I don't want him to be upset by us both leaving at the same time.. Maybe I'll bring it up after some time passes?"

It certainly wasn't a bad idea. It'd be good for your brother to heal a bit, and not suffer too much loss at once. "Just make sure you take care of yourself too, okay? Don't push down your needs to make someone else happy," you remind him.

"Of course," he assures you with a smile. "Maybe I can talk to Felix-hyung too. He helped you when you were struggling with this, so I'm sure he'll help me too." 

"You should!" you enthusiastically agree. And that might not be a bad idea for you right now too. Felix has always been nothing but kind and supportive, and he offers such good advice. You've always trusted him deeply, and he's honest without being harsh, which is something you really value in him. "I think I will too. It might help me feel better about my talk with Chan if I talk to Felix about it first." 

Content with your discussion and your future plans, the rest of Jeongin's visit to your apartment is lighthearted. And honestly, you feel a weight lifted off your chest knowing Jeongin is on your side. He's always understood you, but you still had this irrational fear that this time would be the exception.

You were worried that maybe he hated Changbin for his role in the arrest of Minho, and when he realized your feelings for him, that he would turn his back on you. And you still have that fear when it comes to other members of the family, but you feel much more reassured now.

It's encouraging to know that you won't be alone in this, and that you'll have support from someone who loves you. You can only hope that all your future talks will go as well as they have today. 

It's another few weeks later when Felix finally has a free moment to stop by your apartment for a talk. You told him after the night Jeongin visited, mostly in vague terms, that you wanted to talk about Changbin and your job, and Felix promised to come as soon as he was able.

He assumed that you were dealing with something serious, and were seeking help vaguely because that's what you typically needed to do. You often dealt with dangerous men, or sensitive information, and going in full detail over text wasn't the wisest decision.

Particularly because if anyone got arrested, texts are among the first things looked at to find evidence. It was important in this line of work to keep your secrets and information close, and only talk about them aloud in a private space. 

He's looking around your apartment attentively after he steps through the door. He knew where you lived, as did Chan, but this was his first time actually being here. Felix and your brother were respectful of the space you needed when you initially left, giving you your distance and never intruding in your space. They drove by on occasion, looking around the area and making sure you were safe when you first moved in, but never anything more than that. 

"It's a nice place," he comments idly, hoping a bit of small talk will ease you into the conversation you want to have. Felix knew from personal experience that you have a hard time having serious conversations due to your anxiety, so he likes to try to ease the tension any way he can. 

Truthfully, you are nervous, but you feel almost equally assured. You have no reason to doubt that Felix will understand and help you as he always has. You move to sit on the sofa, and Felix follows, sitting in a chair across from you. "I've decided I want to tell Chan I'm done with this job. I'm sorry to him and Minho, but I don't want to do it anymore." 

Felix can tell you've changed a lot from the person you once were from the way you speak. You sound confident in your choice, and it was only a year ago that wanting to make a decision like this would leave you an anxious mess.

He could remember the way your voice trembled then, and how you needed to be told your feelings were valid. You sought out his advice, spent a long time going back and forth as you agonized over your sense of responsibility and wanting to live your own life. He can't sense any of that now though; you've clearly grown a lot, and you don't need his assurance anymore. 

"It seems like you've thought about this a lot already," Felix says, though he isn't surprised. You never wanted to be brought back to do this kind of work in the first place, so as it became clear that getting information out of Changbin would be difficult, Felix knew this would be the inevitable outcome. After all, what's the point of staying in a fake relationship if it's not necessary?

It's better to get out early, than stick it out for longer than needed and deal with the complications that would come with "breaking up" after a prolonged time together. And besides that, he was sure it must be hard for you to keep trying when this was something you wanted to leave behind; none of it was a surprise to him in the slightest.

"I'm not sure what Chan will do after you leave Changbin since this was his last idea though.. Not that it will be your concern, of course! Just do what you have to, and don't worry about what we will do next," Felix continues. 

"I'm not leaving Changbin," you interject, and Felix pauses, his brows furrowing in confusion. "But you said you were done? What are you..?" his voice trails off as the realization sets in. But that can't be true, surely you're not.. right?

"Noona, do you.. love him?" "Yes," you answer easily; so easily that Felix almost can't process it. You said it so assuredly, like there was no need for you to think about it. "I love him, and I'm not leaving him." 

Felix has known you for many years now, seen you through your best and worst moments, nearly all your ups and downs. But this is a first for him; you sound so sure. He's seen you suffer through countless fake relationships, or extremely toxic real ones, so he's never seen you have such a determination to be with someone. 

"Noona, I support you, you know I do, but.." Felix trails off, his expression one of deep concern. There's nothing he wants more than for you to live the serene life you aspire towards, with someone who makes you happy and cares for you. He never wanted you to be dragged back into this to begin with, having expressed to Chan more than once his doubts and concerns.

But Chan was– no, is, desperate for something to come of your help. And Felix is prepared to deal with what Chan might feel from you quitting without obtaining anything, to help him create a new plan, but he's worried about what this revelation will do to your brother on a personal level. 

Chan is a good man but there are times that Felix is concerned for him following a dark path he can't come back from. He's not sure whether it's the suspected betrayal, the loss of his second in command, or the years of piled on hardship as leader that has led to Chan changing recently, but he doesn't have the same tenderness he once had.

Felix does his best to lessen the burden, to ease his worries and take the place of Minho in all the ways that he can, but the strain is still there, and it only grows more as time continues to pass. But he recognizes how selfish it is to not want you to do something purely because it will mean he has to deal with something difficult.

How many years have you been selfless for their sake? How many times did you set your feelings aside for the sake of someone else? How many times did you willingly keep yourself in harm's way just to give Chan what he wanted or needed? Would it be right or fair for them to ask you to give up this happiness you've finally obtained just to further their own agenda?

Felix knew the answer to that is easily no. You should be allowed to have your happiness after all this time, to love who you want without worry and not be dragged back in the moment someone else deems it a necessary sacrifice for some "greater purpose." 

But none of that is up to him, and he's fearful that your brother's mental state will cloud his judgment. Pain changes a person, oftentimes irrevocably. It can make the choices you'd otherwise never consider seem like the only path forward, and he fears that he can't stop Chan from continuing down the dark road he’s walking on. 

"I know that Chan won't be happy. There might even be a chance he never forgives me for this, but I'm willing to accept that. I need to live my life how I want it to be lived. I'm done accommodating for everyone but myself. I hope he will understand, but even if he doesn't this is the decision I've made. And I hope you will support me too," you say, resolve clear in your voice.

Felix still remembers the you of over a year ago vividly, who was so scared to make a decision for herself that it agonized her to try. It's amazing, truly, how much you seem to have changed since that day. You're here, standing on your own two feet, fighting for what you want unapologetically. 

"I'm with you, without a doubt. I've always wanted you to be happy, and I'll talk to Chan too if I need to," Felix responds, offering you a reassuring smile as he does. "That means a lot to me Lixie, thank you." He then offers you a hug, which you gladly accept.

It pains you to think that your brother might not understand your feelings, but you realize more and more how much support you have. You don't have to go through this on your own; you have your friends and your found family by your side through everything. No matter the outcome of your talk with Chan, you feel like you'll be able to walk away with your head held the highest it's ever been. 

The rest of your afternoon following your conversation with Felix was spent with you planning your approach with Chan. What you should say and how you should say it, how to go about asking him to put any feelings of distaste for Changbin aside.

You'll request him to only talk to you as a brother catching up with and caring for his sister from that moment on, and never again for the purpose of a job or about his mafia life and dealings. It used to be extremely difficult for you to put together what you wanted to say, but talking with Jeongin and Felix has helped greatly.

And there's a stress that comes with planning all this out, but at the same time there's a solace. Putting yourself first has never been something that came easy to you, but underneath the bittersweet emotions is an immense pride for yourself. You hope more than anything that things will go well for you, but you can take pride in the fact that you did all you could for yourself if it doesn't. 

A text from Changbin pulls you from your thoughts, and you smile upon seeing that he's home and asking if you still want to come over for the weekend (which you obviously do.) You confirm your plans, telling him to go ahead and eat because you already had dinner yourself, and that you'd be on your way soon.

It doesn't take you long to get your things together and in a bag, as you basically have it down to a science given how often you do it. You let him know you're on your way as soon as you're done putting your things in the car, smiling softly to yourself as you make the modest drive to his house.

Changbin pulls you in his arms the moment he opens his door for you, making you squeak in surprise before you settle into his touch. "Are you okay Binnie?" you ask as you wrap your own arms around him. His hug is tight, urgent, in a way it never has been before.

"Hard day," he mumbles into your hair, keeping you wrapped in a tight embrace. You let him stay like that for a few moments, figuring he needs it, before you pull away to look at him.

"Why don't you let me put my things down, and then we can talk about it if you want, okay?" He nods as he lets you go, and you quickly move to set your things down in his room. 

He follows you over, waiting patiently for you to join him after he flops down onto his bed. He falls practically limp in your arms after you settle, head resting on your chest as you run a hand up and down his back. "What's bothering you?" you ask softly, listening attentively as he lets out an exhale before starting.

"This case, it's just.. difficult. I've been working on it for so long, but it always feels like we don't get anywhere with it. Like for every step forward, we go another two back. I don't know what else I should do, I feel like I've tried everything." 

You run your fingers through his hair gently as he pours his feelings out to you, offering kind reassurances and reminding him of your support. He's always been open about his feelings to some degree, but it was like you unlocked another part of his heart since the day the two of you confessed your love for each other.

Due to what he'd been through before, there was still a part of him that was scared to share too much about work, positive or otherwise. Even when he was assured that you were the one for him, that he wanted to share the entirety of the rest of his life with you, it wasn't easy to break the shackles that were holding him back. But since that day, slowly but surely he's been able to heal even more. 

Changbin always makes sure he does his best to keep a proper balance, to make time for the two of you to spend together and take necessary breaks to unwind and recharge, but it feels good to know he doesn't have to keep silent about a big part of his life anymore.

He trusts you, he believes in your words and your care, and he knows that you're understanding and supportive of his ambitions. He loves that he can come home after a day at the station and share his thoughts with you.

You celebrate with him on the good days and treat him gently on the bad. You never make him feel like he needs to lock his life away, and in turn he makes sure you never feel forgotten or unloved. His career is important to him, and always will be, but so are you, and he'll make sure you never question that. 

He looks up at you as you continue to hold and caress him, feeling a rush of emotion wash over him. He loves you so much. He's thought it a million times, but he never stops feeling lucky to have you. You never judge him, think he's too clingy or too silly, never make him feel shunned or like he needs to hide away.

You accept him for all that he is, unconditionally. After the devastation he felt in the past, Changbin began to feel like he'd never find the kind of love he hoped for. That maybe it was only destined for those that God favored, and somewhere along the way he made a mistake that debarred him of that chance at happiness. 

But then he met you, and it was like everything fell into place. So sweet and beautiful, so accepting and with so much love to give. Your smile easily eclipsed the other beauties of the world in his eyes. No scenic nature view or star-filled sky would ever compare, not in a million years. Would it be cliche to compare you to an angel?

That's truly what you were to him though– an angel that saved him from the depths of his loneliness. An angel that helped him heal the wounds he couldn't care for alone. An angel that allowed him to trust unconditionally again. He trusted you from the bottom of his heart, loved you from the deepest recesses of his soul. 

It doesn't take long for you to notice the way Changbin is staring at you, his eyes reflecting a love that words couldn't hope to describe. He looks at you like you hold the entire world in your hands, like you're the sun and he's a planet destined to forever be in your orbit, like he'd pluck the stars out of they sky for you if they were only in his reach.

No matter how many times you see it, the look he holds never fails to make your heart race. He leans forward suddenly, capturing your lips in a kiss that is simultaneously romantic as it is incredibly needy. There's so much passion behind it that it leaves you breathless in a matter of seconds. 

It's almost relentless how much he kisses you, leaving you only the briefest of moments to catch a breath before he's back on you. His hands feel equally as desperate in their touch, squeezing and caressing every inch of you as they roam the expanse of your body. "Binnie..?" you let you when he finally parts long enough for you to catch your breath effectively.

"Just love you so much," he responds as he begins to kiss his way down your neck, "want to show you." Your stomach flips at his words, and part of you wants to let him, but instead you reach your hand down to his face, urging him to look back up at you. "You had a hard day, let me take care of you instead." 

Changbin blinks for a moment as the words process, a slight flush settling over him as it settles in him. He wasn't expecting it, but he's certainly not against it. He easily allows your positions to swap, with Changbin propped up against the pillows and you straddling him.

He is usually the one taking the lead in your intimate moments, but he also loves times like this, where you are on top of him showering him with affection. You kiss him with the same fervor he had towards you, the only difference being the addition of your tongue. 

He lets out a soft groan of approval when your tongue first enters his mouth, indulging in the feeling of your hands and tongue exploring him. You reach for the hem of his shirt, urging him to help you remove it from his body. He immediately reaches for yours as well, tugging it off you in a rush he normally doesn't have, but that you don't mind in the slightest.

Changbin is always eager to touch you, but he feels almost carnal in his craving for you now. He wouldn't say he ever gets enough of you in the first place, but it feels amplified now; like no touch will be anywhere near enough to momentarily satiate him. 

All he knows, all he has, is want. A want that is fueled by love above all else, almost saccharine in nature. He craves you this badly because he loves you, it's as simple as that. As long as you are against him, touching his skin and hearing your voice in his ears, he'll be the happiest he's ever been.

You kiss every inch of him as you make your way down his body, every curve and every dip, not with the intent to tease but to show how much you love and care for him. Changbin can't help but giggle when you kiss his soft stomach, nose scrunching in the adorable way you love so much.

He watches you with bated breath and eager eyes as you continue lower and reach the waistband of his pants. You don't waste any time pulling them down in one go, along with his underwear, and letting his cock free of its confines.

You recognize the look in his eyes, the near desperation, and you know how bad he needs you, so you won't make him wait. He always took such good care of you, being attentive to every want and fulfilling every need, so you'll do the same for him gladly. 

You spend a few moments planting kisses on the sensitive flesh of his thighs, watching as his cock twitches in response. Changbin's eyes are locked on you, hands tightening their grip on the bed sheets as he awaits what he wants most. No matter how intense the fire in him blazes, he'll be as patient as you need him to be, wait as long as you want him to.

If this were another day, you'd spend more time appreciating his body and watch his resolve to hold out crack under each added kiss and touch, but you don't want to deny him what he's craving any longer than you already have.

He swallows when he sees your tongue stick out, licking up the pre-cum that has dribbled down his length before you wrap your lips around him. Changbin lets out a breathy moan as you sink lower on him, mouth open wide to accommodate his thickness.

He reaches his hands out to you, one tangling into your hair while the other searches for your hand. You bring your hand to him, letting him intertwine his fingers with yours. He's always loved the intimacy of your hands being locked together; it gives him an unmatched feeling of tenderness and love, a constant reminder of your warm presence. 

Your pace is slow at first, allowing your jaw to relax before you attempt to take him completely in your mouth. It takes all your power to suppress your gag reflex when his cock first hits the back of your throat, but the loud groan he lets out when you swallow around him encourages you to keep doing your best for him. 

He curses when your pace quickens, tongue caressing the underside of cock as your head bobs up and down. The strain on your jaw becomes painful, and your eyes are watering from all the effort, but you're determined to give him your all.

His hold tightens, causing a slight sting to your scalp, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it. Everytime your normally gentle lover becomes so lost in the pleasure that he can't help himself but to hold you roughly, it ignites a fire in your belly. 

You can tell he's getting close from the way his breath quickens and cock twitches against your tongue. "Fuck, God, fuck-" he groans as his head falls back. He squeezes your hand in an attempt to ground himself, and it takes all his self control not to thrust into your mouth.

You decide to double your efforts, taking him fast and swallowing over, over, and over again. Saliva drips from your lips, creating a messy puddle in his lap and salacious, wet sounds to ring in Changbin's ears. "Gonna cum, fuck, so good, 'm gonna cum," he pants out his warning, body hot and chest heaving. 

His cum shoots down your throat in bursts that nearly makes you choke. Your tongue coaxes him through his orgasm as you swallow every drop of his release. You don't separate until you're sure he's finished, mouth releasing him with a small pop. 

You look up at him, your beautiful and perfect boyfriend in his post orgasm haze, feeling yourself clench at the sight. No matter how many times you see Changbin breathless and flushed with sweat lingering on his brow, it never fails to make your stomach do cartwheels.

You crawl up his body, moving in to slot your lips against his. Changbin lets out a sound of approval, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling your body flush against his. "Love you so much," he mumbles against your lips between kisses. One arm keeps you close while he lets the other move, hand snaking its way between your thighs to feel your drenched heat. 

"Baby.. all this just from helping me feel good?" he smiles as he asks, looking at you with sparkling eyes. He could never hope to hide how excited and elated he gets from the feeling of you being soaked for him. 

"Always Binnie, love making you feel good," you say with a soft smile before you capture him in another kiss. You know very well what he wants to do next– he's going to ask if he can make you feel good too. And with Changbin, that means pouring all his love and care into you, until you are weak in the knees and too exhausted to move an inch.

But you can't let him do that tonight; you have other plans in mind. "Wanna do more for you Binnie," you say between breaths, "wanna ride your cock."

"Fuck, please, it's all yours," he groans in response, your words having an instant effect on his body. You stand to remove the rest of your clothes, and Changbin doesn't take his eyes away for even a second. He takes his cock in his hand, stroking it back to full stiffness as he watches you undress– it's hard not to writhe and whine from how sensitive he is now, but it'll be more than worth it.

You shoot him a smile as you crawl back onto his lap, one that he reciprocates easily while the eager glint in his eye grows ever stronger. He separates his hand from his cock, allowing your own hand to take its place and align it with your entrance. 

There's a sharp gasp from you as you start to lower yourself on his cock, the lack of preparation instantly causing tears to prick the corners of your eyes. You'd hoped being completely soaked would be enough to ease the process of Changbin entering you, but you should've known it wouldn't be enough to make it painless. 

"You're so good baby, doing so well, keep going love, you can do it, I've got you," he can't help but praise and encourage you despite the fact that the focus is supposed to be on him. He knows the stretch can be a lot for you even with prep, so watching you do your best to take him without it makes him want to shower you with all the praise he has to offer. 

Each inch taken as you sink down causes another whimper from you and a low moan from Changbin. You're clenching so tight it'd be enough to send him into delirium if he wasn't so focused on making sure you're okay.

"Good baby, you're so good," he tells you when you are finally sat completely down on him, your hips flush with his own. He places soft kisses to your skin, letting you adjust and steady your breathing. He runs his hands up and down your plush thighs, giving gentle squeezes while admiring the way you look.

You're always so pretty when you're flushed and breathless like this, always feel so good in his hands and sound so sweet. He's addicted to you he's well aware, but how could he not be? Soft and sexy you, every curve and bend perfect, an Aphrodite all his own. 

"Take your time, there's no rush love," Changbin plants comforting kisses against your face and neck as he speaks. You can feel him throbbing and twitching inside you, silently pleading for friction, but he encourages you to take your time despite it.

Slowly but surely however, the stinging subsides and you can feel the tension in your body begin to recede. Your first grind is slow and experimental, but it still causes a sudden sharp inhale to leave Changbin. Your hands grip his broad shoulders tightly, using them for stability as you try to find what the both of you will like the best. 

A string of expletives leave his lips when you find what you like and begin to move in earnest. You've just started but it already feels so impossibly good, he can't manage to stay quiet even if he wanted to (and besides that, he knows you prefer him vocal.)

Changbin pushes your hair out of your face, wanting to see your expressions with no obstruction. He watches you, mesmerized and full of adoration. Everything, from the roll of your hips to the bounce of your breasts and the lustful glaze over your eyes, he commits it all to his memory. He never wants to forget how devotedly you took care of him, and how breathtakingly beautiful you looked doing it.

You move to hold his face in your hands, kissing him with messy fervor as you bounce on his cock with more urgency, fueled by your desire to make him cum again. He holds your hips, helping you keep your rhythm steady while he squeezes the meat of it.

He can't help the way his eyes roll back, the way your walls clench tightly around him with your tongue in his mouth making him feel almost lightheaded. Each noise emitted from one of you is swallowed by the other, desperate moans and whines muffled and drowned out by the sound of your skin slapping against his. 

You eventually pull away, chest heaving as you finally allow more air to pass through your lungs. Your thighs burn with exertion, pace faltering as your legs begin to go weak, but you refuse to relent. Changbin can see the exhaustion settling over you though, and while he appreciates your determination to push through it, he's more than happy to take over for you. 

"Hold onto me baby, gonna help you," Changbin says, and you comply quickly, once again holding onto his shoulders for support. He takes complete control, using the strength in his arms to bounce you on his cock while he thrusts up into you.

You gasp and moan loudly, stars bursting in your vision. You can barely form a coherent thought with the way he's pistoning into your sweet spot from below, the angle and speed making you dizzy with pleasure. "B-Binnie, please-" you whine loudly, nails digging into his shoulders as your head slumps forward, "feels so good, so good, wanna cum, please- "

"Cum on my cock pretty, you can do that for me, can't you? Wanna make your Binnie happy and cum all over him?" His words send electricity through you, jolting you with a force you've never felt before now.

You cum with a loud cry, eyes rolling back as you shake and quiver on top of him. You're gasping and crying through your high, his quick and precise thrusts dragging it on for what feels like an eternity. "Good girl, that's a good girl," he praises you through it, pace only slowing for the smallest of moments as he speaks to you. 

"Don't let go baby, gonna flip you over now,” He warns, and you're on your back in a second, Changbin wasting no time to slip back inside your warmth and continue his fast pace. You're breathless, body on fire, and impossibly overstimulated, but it feels so good. You claw at him desperately as he pounds into you, the insurmountable pleasure building back up just as fast as it faded. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, trying in vain to contain the myriad of noises erupting from you. Changbin's hips begin to stutter, his moans quickly turning into breathy whines in your ear. You let out a shuddering moan when his fingers find your clit, moving in desperate circles to get you to cum with him.

"One more love, give me one more, cum with me," Changbin's pleading tone accompanying all else that you are feeling sends you down a spiral; your body jolts and tenses, your orgasm washing over you in fervent waves.

The way you look writhing and squirming underneath him, lewd noises uncontrollably tumbling from your lips while you squeeze tightly around him sends him careening into his own peak. You reach for the nape of his neck, pulling him in closer for another messy kiss as you both ride the tail end of your combined highs together.

Changbin collapses next to you shortly after, both of you doing your best to steady your breathing and calm your pounding hearts. You turn your head after a moment to look at him, and see his gaze already turned to you. His look is one of pure, unadulterated love and joy, entirely for you.

You always flush red when he looks at you like that, and he laughs softly when you shyly turn away. You could look him in the eyes no problem when his dick was down your throat and when he was fucking you into oblivion, but now you're like this over a little affectionate look? Embarrassing. But he loves that about you, and he never stops finding it cute and endearing. 

"Come here, honey," Changbin says as he pulls you to him. He smiles at you, a smile that is as warm as it is bright, as he wraps you in his arms. "Thank you for tonight baby, you make me feel so much better, my sweet girl," he beams as he praises you.

Part of you feels like you should be used to it by now, but you don't think you ever will be. "I love you Binnie, you don't have to thank me for anything," you reply, a bit more timidly than you'd prefer. He shakes his head, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before he continues speaking. "Of course I have to thank you! How else will you know how much I appreciate you?" 

It's your turn to smile at him this time, an adoring twinkle painting your expression. He always warms you with his words, his sweetness unparalleled by any confection. You settle into his touch, resting your head against the crook of his neck and shoulder, nuzzling in close. You stay like that for a few moments, just wrapped in each other's comforting embrace, before you hear Changbin let out a small exhale. "Y/N.. there's something I want to ask you."

"Is something still bothering you?" you ask as you glance up at him. There's a slight flush to his cheeks, paired with a nervous expression. He shakes his head quickly, taking a small moment to gather himself before he continues.

"We are together most days, you know.. And whenever you're gone all I can think about is how much I miss you being next to me. And I always think about what it'll be like to come home from work and have you already here, greeting me every night with that cute smile of yours I love so much, and–"

Changbin realizes he's rambling and getting ahead of himself, so he cuts himself off, swallowing pensively as he tries to calm his nerves. "A-Anyways, maybe it's too soon and you don't want to yet, but what I'm asking is.. Do you want to move in with me?" 

There's a silence that shortly follows, simply because you can't believe he's even asking. "Y-You.. want me to live here? ..With you?" Changbin nods without hesitation, the certainty clear in his eyes, "Yes, I want you here with me. I always, always, want you here with me." 

You blink at him, your mind racing as his worlds settle in. He's always said sweet things to you, about how he misses you when you have to leave and how he can't wait to see you again every time you leave, but despite that, you're still astounded. "You don't have to say yes if you're not ready though! I won't hold it against you," he replies quickly, seemingly trying not to make you feel pressured to say yes if you're not sure about it.

But you love him so much, there's no doubt in your mind that you want to spend forever with him. Every moment, good or bad, you want to have Changbin at your side. You still need to talk to Chan, to make him understand that you're leaving your past behind you for good, but you feel nothing but optimism and hope.

If he doesn't understand your love for Changbin you'll make him understand, you'll put your all into making your dream life with Changbin a reality. And knowing how much he loves you, that he truly means it when he says he wants you with him every moment of every day is enough to fuel you through any hardship you might face. He'll always be here for you, with open arms and a cute, goofy smile to cheer you through anything. 

"I want to! Really, I want to," you give him a smile so bright it immediately melts all his worries away. He hugs you tightly, his happiness manifesting in a series of elated giggles. You share in the feeling, giggling along with him and kissing his cutely scrunched nose.

"I love you so much, Y/N," he says as he plants a series of kisses on your face. He meant it before when he said he'll always be there for you, that he'd never leave you, and now it's a promise that runs even deeper. Always with you, weathering any storm, hand in hand– that’s what he wants to have with you. 

"I love you too Binnie, so much," you giggle out between his kisses that are beginning to tickle. And that's how you spend your night, laying in each other's arms, excitedly talking and giggling about your future together, knowing that no past happiness could ever compare to the joy you feel now. 

The time that passes since the night that Changbin asked you to move into his house has felt like a blur of planning and sorting. Thankfully, there's not much to decide when it comes to what to do about your job; moving in with Changbin only adds an extra few minutes to your commute, which you don't mind making every day.

Having to wake up earlier in the mornings from now on was a sacrifice you were more than willing to make if it meant always seeing him when you woke up. So, in recent days, you spent most of your free time sorting your things.

You started small, combing every inch of your apartment for things you no longer wanted and putting them in a donation box to be given away. Next came packing things you wanted to keep, but wouldn't need in the immediate future, such as clothes that don't fit for the season and childhood memorabilia. 

The progress is a bit slower than you'd like given everyone's busy schedules, but you are still happy with the progress. You're happy to have help from Changbin or Jeongin when they're free, but you aren't upset when they can't make the time.

According to them, everyone has been dealing with an extra workload at the station lately, with some officers often needing to stay behind long past their usual hours to get things moving on an important (and stressful) case.

Changbin has told you about it before– a difficult, long running case that he hopes he can finally bring to a close. Apparently there has been a new breakthrough, but there's a high chance of their progress stagnating again if things don't proceed the way he wants it to.

As chief of police, he has a lot of responsibility to oversee the process and make sure every operation runs as smoothly as possible. It takes up a lot of his time these days, but you know how important it is for him to see an important case like this through, so you don't at all fault him at all. 

Jeongin, as a low ranking officer, doesn't have the same responsibilities as Changbin, but he still doesn't have much spare time due to the mafia family responsibilities he has after his time at the station.

Your brother has apparently been preparing for a large-scale operation that requires everyone to chip in as much as possible. According to Jeongin and Felix, Chan has been planning for months to raid the base of the enemy mafia he was supposed to make an alliance with, and everything he needed to conduct said raid is finally coming together.

They said there was no rat on their side of course, but Chan can't just take their words at face value. It's more important to him to obtain that truth with his own hands, and if necessary he'll make his amends later.

In his mind, it's better to be wrong and ask for forgiveness when the fire he set quells, rather than to play into whatever plans they may have to ruin him by being trusting and complacent. No one he has planted in key places has made progress on discovering who betrayed him or how he can get Minho out of prison, and it seems that this is his final gambit. 

There are a fair amount of people within the family who don't agree with the decision, as it's dangerous and will only invite even more hostility between the two families, while others revel in the anticipated chaos and can't wait to get their hands dirty.

Personally, you are among the people who don't agree with this course of action, but all you can really do is try to convince Chan to change his course of action before you leave– it's up to him whether he wants to listen or not. Though at this point, you're not sure if you'll be able to talk to him before it happens in the first place.

He initially thought up this plan months ago, but he recognized the risks and he did his best to explore the safer avenues first. He knew they would take longer, and that it could possibly leave him no further than when this began, but he wasn’t the type to needlessly put those he loves in danger.

But now that so much time has passed, and it’s become clearer to him that this raid will likely be his last chance to get what he wants, he needs to put his all into making sure it goes flawlessly. The final preparations are the most crucial of all, which hasn't left him with much time to spare to talk to you. 

You kept texting and calling, asking him when he'll have a spare moment so you can talk, but it often went unseen, sometimes for days at a time. "If you have information to deliver, give it to Felix and he'll get it back to me," he replied once, making it very clear that he wouldn't make time for anything that would distract him from his planning.

It saddened you more than anything, as you were hoping to have everything put behind you before you moved in with Changbin, but if Chan couldn't make time for you then there was nothing else you could do. 

You opted for texting him your resignation a few days ago, which you hated doing as you wanted to express it in person, but you didn't want to live with Changbin while having your "job" still being an expectation held over your head. His response was a clear cut, "I understand. I'm sorry I brought you back into it due to my own desperation, that was wrong of me. I hope you'll be happier from now on." 

You were worried at first that he was just saying those things to make you feel better and was actually upset with you, so Felix offered to ask him about it in your stead since he is around Chan for most of his days.

He asked about it between scheduled organization sessions, and relayed that Chan did genuinely seem to be okay with you leaving again, even if it meant you quitting the job. He had always felt bad for asking knowing that you wouldn’t enjoy it, but he did anyway because it was the last idea he had before having to resort to his more extreme options. 

He knew Changbin would be a tough target, and he knew there was a chance it wouldn’t work the way he’d hoped for, but it was the final barrier before making an extreme decision. And it’s unfortunate the near-miracle he was hoping for didn’t happen, but that’s what his other preparations were for. He was ready for this outcome, always, as he learned a long time ago that it pays to be prepared. 

And as things stand now, Chan had a lot of hope in his raid and the execution of his plans going well for him. So as more and more time passed, he always intended to both thank you and apologize sincerely, for once again doing something selfless for his sake, and that you would be free to leave whenever you’d want to. It was regrettable that he couldn’t give you his best wishes sooner, but he hoped you would realize their sincerity. 

It was a bit odd to have to play telephone with others to hear those words from your brother, but it eased your mind nonetheless. And he promised that the two of you would have a sibling get together as soon as he was able to, with no expectations about you rejoining or doing favors for the family; just simply enjoying one another's time as a normal brother and sister would.

The thought made you happy, and you hoped it was a sign of good things to come. You're not sure if there will ever be a time where your brother and your lover can ever meet and happily exist in the same space, but you could at least be happy if Chan cheers for your happiness from afar.

So with all that in mind, you've begun to pack more eagerly in the last few days. You have all of your out of season clothes packed now, boxes safely nestled in various corners of your apartment and ready to be taken to Changbin's place at any moment.

You even smile to yourself as you pack away your childhood objects, giddy as you think about where each object would look having its own spot in Changbin's house. Everything, from imagining where you'll display your favorite old teddy bear to what your clothes will look like tucked away next to his is enough to make you beam with delight. 

And thankfully, Jeongin is finally free to help you tonight, arriving with some desperately needed coffees in hand. "Drink up Noona, you must be exhausted from all this work," he smiles as he passes one of the coffees to you, which you graciously accept. "Yeah, working all day and then having to pack my stuff alone in the evenings sucks," you complain after taking several big sips of your drink.

Honestly, you really appreciate the help. There's no doubt in your mind that Jeongin must be tired too, but he's still deciding to help you anyways. And besides that, it'll be nice to have someone to talk to while you do the mindless task of putting things in boxes. 

"So, Chan doesn't have you working tonight?" you ask after the pair of you begin packing away your various kitchen items. "I already did my work, technically. He just wanted me to go to the station as usual today and observe everyone. I was supposed to let him know if anyone seemed more on edge than usual."

"Oh. I'm guessing he wants to get an idea about if the police are clued in on his plans again?" you ask, and Jeongin nods. "Yeah. He said that if I discovered that they knew anything, he would change tactics. Trip them up by swapping the days around, changing what time of day to strike, and things like that. But everyone seemed normal."

That makes sense, you think; while high standing officers are supposed to keep their cool at all times, not everyone has a good poker face, and if someone seemed exceptionally nervous, that could be a good indicator that something big was on the horizon. "So everything is good at the station? Are things going well with that big case Changbin has been worried about lately?" 

"I think so," Jeongin answers, as he finishes putting the last of a plate set gently into a box. "I'm a low standing officer there, so I actually don't know much about the cases Changbin oversees personally, or what goes on in the other departments. But it looks like things are going well, as far as I can tell. I won't know more than that unless I get assigned to the case." 

You nod in understanding as he speaks, taping a box shut as you finish filling it up with various dishware. It's a stressful time for everyone it seems, but you hope things go well. You'll be happier when Changbin finally closes his case and has more free time to spend with you, and you'll be happy when you talk to Chan as siblings and put your past fully behind you.

You'll also be happier when Jeongin doesn't have to lead a double life anymore like you've had to for so many years before now. More than that, you hope that following this everyone you love can stay out of harm's way for as long as possible. 

The two of you make idle small talk as you finish packing the kitchen, leaving only enough dishes out for you to use while still finishing the rest of your packing. You leave the lugging of the boxes around the house to Jeongin, as he's much stronger than you, and you'd rather him be the one to carry around all that heavy glass and porcelain.

You both jump when his phone suddenly rings and he nearly drops the box he's carrying, but thankfully he doesn't– disposing of all that broken glass and having to replace them with new sets would be a nightmare. "Help me put this down if you can, so I can answer my phone, please," he says, and you hold the opposite end of the box, helping him ease the box to the floor as swiftly but safely as possible.

He pulls his phone out of pocket as quickly as he's able, answering the phone in his usual mannerism. "Hey, Felix-hyung, what's up?" Your ears perk up at hearing him say a familiar name, and look at him with a questioning gaze, while Jeongin just shrugs in your direction.

You wait patiently for him to finish his phone call, deciding to use this time as a small break from all the work you've been putting in. You sit down, settling into your sofa before absentmindedly listening to Jeongin talk on the phone.

However, dread settles in your gut as you watch his expression change. “What? What is it?” You ask, body going stiff as your mind races through the possibilities and you prepare to hear the worst. “Chan-hyung started the raid, and it hasn’t been going well for either side. The police were there, and... Changbin is pursuing him.” 

No. You don't want to believe it. Your blood runs cold in your veins as you start to put the pieces together; the case that Changbin has been struggling with because the culprit was so elusive, the case that he was so happy to finally have a lead on after months of stagnation, the operation he's been carefully planning for weeks to finally bring the person he's been looking for to justice.. It was about Chan– this entire time he's had your brother in his sights. 

You weren't oblivious to the fact that your brother was a wanted man, you've always known that the police were looking for him and that this outcome was a possibility, but you foolishly hoped that everything would reach a peaceful conclusion.

And now they are going to be in each other's sights, with Changbin having no idea of your relation to the man he's been hunting, and Chan not knowing how you feel about Changbin, while backed in a corner and prepared to do anything to get out of it.

You’re on your feet in an instant, rushing to grab your keys to leave. “Noona! You can’t go, it’s too dangerous for you!” Jeongin rises to his feet after you, bolting to beat you to your front door. “I have to go, I can’t just sit here!” You exclaim as you try to desperately push your way past him.

“Don’t be reckless, let’s make a plan with Felix-hyung first,” Jeongin pleads, trying to appeal to your rational side. Rationality has left you however, being replaced solely by panic and urgency. “We don’t have time for that, Felix already has his hands full with everything else, we’re lucky he even had a chance to call! I have to go before it’s too late to stop something bad from happening, they’ll listen to me!”

God dammit. He doesn't want to let you walk into a situation like this, but the way you're looking at him, so full of trepidation and urgency, with eyes desperately pleading to let you pass, it makes him feel like a knife is twisting in his gut. And there's truth in your words; maybe, if you can reach them in time, you can prevent the worst case scenario from unfolding.

He hates it, but maybe it is the only way to make sure everyone gets out of this unharmed. Neither Chan or Changbin want you to be hurt, so they would stop the altercation they were having if you showed up– they’d have to. “Okay, but I’m going with you. You can’t go alone.” Jeongin concedes, stepping aside to let you out and following swiftly behind you.

You immediately start to make a beeline for the front seat of your car, but Jeongin reaches out to stop you, grabbing your arm firmly. "Let me, you shouldn't drive in this state," he reasons with you, holding out his opposite hand to accept your keys from you.

You're really in no place to argue, and he's probably right; how can you possibly worry about driving safely in this situation? So you concede easily, to Jeongin's relief, placing your keys in his hand and trusting him to get you where you need to be as quickly as he safely can. 

Jeongin gets the location from Felix, and while truthfully the drive is only several minutes at most, it feels like an eternity to you. Every attempt to calm yourself ends in vain, no amount of breathing techniques or affirmative talk being enough to calm the barrage of dread.

You're scared, you realize. So fucking scared. Scared of your brother's fate, of Changbin's, what you'll do if you arrive in time and what you'll do if you don't. Fuck, you really don't want to think about that scenario. You'll get there in time, you have to– there's no other option. 

Jeongin curses as you approach the surrounding area of the building that everyone is supposedly inside of– it’s completely walled off by a police barricade, with officers redirecting civilians and forcing them out of the area.

“What do we do? We need in there,” he muses pessimistically, more to himself than to you. Still driving, though more slowly so as to not approach the barricade closely, he reaches out for his phone, hoping to call Felix and find a way for you to get inside. 

But you don’t have any time to spare. You can’t wait for Felix, and you don’t have the luxury of using your limited time to make a plan of action. All you can do is go, and hope your feet carry you quickly to where you need to be.

You rush out of the car before Jeongin even has a chance to bring it to full stop, your feet carrying you as fast as they can, desperate to prevent the worst from happening. You hear Jeongin’s voice ring out behind you, but whatever he’s yelling out is lost on you. The adrenaline pumping in your veins blocks out everything that isn’t in your immediate view. You have to get to them in time, you have to, you have to.

Your eyes quickly scan the perimeter, searching for a point of chaos between the police, your family, and the rival family that you can use to your advantage. If things go your way, you could slip past the police in charge of maintaining the barricade through the confusion. And if you’re even more lucky, you could run past all the fighting and stray bullets unscathed.

You don’t feel good about how much of this relies on luck, as you’ve never had it on your side, but there’s no other options. You have to just let your feet carry you forward, and pray with all your might that things don’t turn out for the worst. Finding a spot you think will be your best bet, you take a breath to steel yourself, and run.

There are shouts all around you as you dart past everyone as quickly as you can manage, officers and mafia members alike. You ignore the voices as you run, eyes combing everything around you in hopes of finding something or someone familiar to lead you down the right path.

You’d been in your fair share of dangerous situations, but this is easily the most dire of them all. Everything is against you, but you have to carry on regardless, even if it all ends in vain. “Noona!” A familiar voice calls out and you stop, frantically searching for the owner of the voice that called out to you.

You eventually see Jisung standing in the distance, and the pair of you run to each other, dodging past as much of the unfolding chaos as you can. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be involved in this,” he talks with alarm and bewilderment. 

When he first saw you, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He hasn’t seen you in over a year, so he must’ve mistaken someone else for you. But the closer you came, the more he realized it was you he was seeing, and that his eyes weren’t deceiving him. “I need to find Chan, do you know where he is?” you ask between quick inhales.

“Noona, you should take a minute, you’re clearly out of breath and–” If this were another time, you would’ve appreciated and thanked him for his concern, but you can’t afford to waste time right now.

“I need to see Chan, right now, it’s important! Do you know where he is?” you repeat, hoping to reflect the urgency of your situation. Jisung is possibly the most confused and concerned he’s ever been in his life, but your desperation is palpable and it’s obvious to him that whatever this is, he doesn’t have the luxury to ask for any elaboration right now. 

“He had an escape route prepared in case this happened, that way,” Jisung points to the north, away from most of the surrounding fighting and police presence, before he continues, “but you really should be careful, it might not be safe–”

You begin running again before he can continue, yelling out an apology and a thanks as you go. He’s stunned in place for a moment, cursing as he decides on whether or not he should follow you. Jisung decides, however, it’d be best to stay and keep people off your path. He’ll do his best to make sure that no one that would harm you, or Chan, makes it past him.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been running for, as images blur and merge in your peripheral. This is the most you’ve ever run in your entire life, your lungs burn and your legs are becoming heavier and heavier from exhaustion with each step, but you have to keep going, no matter what.

And finally, the silhouettes of people appear in the distance. The flame of urgency burning within you that was being snuffed by exhaustion is reignited in an instant, body now reinvigorated to carry you further. 

Your heart sinks as you begin to more closely approach the scene in front of you. Changbin is injured, hand gripping his bloodied arm as the harsh gravel digs into his knees on the ground while the handgun he was granted for this operation lies yards away from him in the dirt.

Chan has his aim set on Changbin, gun cocked and ready to fire another shot if Changbin makes a move. He can’t hope to reach his own gun before Chan takes another shot at him, and he won’t be able to disarm and cuff him with his arm in the state it’s in. He’s stuck in place, doomed to whatever fate Chan has in store for him unless he can come up with a plan within the next minute. 

“Don’t shoot!” Your voice calls out desperately as you run forward, rushing to stand in front of Changbin and block him with your body before your brother can act.

“Y/N? What are you doing?” Chan is clearly surprised by the intrusion, but he doesn’t lower the gun yet, evidently waiting for you to move out of the way so he can take the shot he had lined up. “Don’t shoot him,” you repeat, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

Changbin is frozen in place, mind reeling as he stares at your backside. How are you here? What is your relation to the mafia head he's been hunting? Did you know he would be here, or was this coincidence? What is happening? Is this even real?

Was he already dead, and now in his final moments he is projecting your image in front of him to bring himself comfort? No, if you were a projection of his mind then surely things would be different. You’d hug him warmly, make his final moments peaceful by reminding him of your love and planting kisses to his cheeks.

This is reality. A dreadful reality.  

“Are you serious?” Chan says incredulously, baring an expression you’d seen many times pointed at enemies, but never at yourself. He’s angry, teeth gritting as he stares you down. “You’re going to protect him? What about Minho, huh? You’re gonna side with the man that put him in?”

His gun remains firmly pointed forward, though his hand is no longer as steady. There’s a tremble as various emotions course through him; anger, hurt, sadness, confusion. None of it makes sense to him. Why would you do this?  

“He’s just doing his job! He’s not a bad man just because you don’t like that!” You argue, hands trembling as you raise your voice to your brother. You’d never argued with him before, normally having always been on the same side. But he doesn’t see the way you’ve changed, doesn’t know the pain you harbored all these years and how it ate away at you.

He doesn't know the depth of your feelings for Changbin, and how you'd willingly put yourself in danger a million times over before you'd let something bad happen to him. “You’re the one in the wrong, not Changbin.”

Some people resort to crime because they have no choice; it’s all they know or the only way they can survive. They do it because they must, even if they hate it and even if it pains them. And you used to feel that way too– like you didn't have a choice.

You felt like your life was decided for you the moment you were born, and that you’d never be free of hardship. But you did have a choice, you always did, and Chan does too, even if he doesn’t realize it at this moment. 

Chan can choose to step away, he can choose to not let the expectations of your deceased parents determine his course, he can choose to be a better person than he was yesterday. It’s not yours or Chan’s fault that this was the life you were born into, but you realized it didn’t have to stay that way.

You had the power to change your own life, and Chan does too. Whether or not he shoots is a choice; he doesn’t have to do this, and you’ll make him understand that at any cost.

Your brother scoffs in disbelief as he lowers the gun, his expression the most cold and distant you’d ever seen pointed at you. “You love him, don’t you? Is that what this is?” There’s no other explanation.

You’d never done this before; you’ve always had strong morals, you’ve always hated the terrible things he had to do, but despite that you still never stopped him like this. So why else would you now, after all this time, unless it's love? 

“I do,” you answer firmly, trying your best to convey how serious you are. He scans your face, looking for any sign that this might all somehow be an elaborate joke despite knowing inside that there’s no way that it is.

His eyes move behind you next, taking in the utter shock and confusion painted on Changbin’s face. “He doesn’t know, does he?” Chan states more than asks. It’s obvious you didn’t reveal the truth of your life to him, otherwise he wouldn’t have such a bewildered expression.

“Know what..?” Changbin manages to finally find his voice, though he’s not sure he even wants to hear the answer. Chan shifts his gaze back to you, taking in your expression next. There’s trepidation there, sure, but underneath is a determination he’s never seen in you before you. A resolve that is both unflinching and resolute.

Are you that determined to protect this man? You’d choose him over your own brother, your family? He means so much to you that you’d throw everything else away? That's what makes him the most hurt of all. 

“I’m her brother,” Chan says almost nonchalantly, though you know your brother well enough to hear the emotion underneath. The faux calm, almost indifferent expression masking the true depth of what he feels. It would fool you if you were a stranger, but the years of growing up together gives him away easily.

It was something you used to admire in him– his ability to remain calm despite being anything but was something you were sure required a lot of self control and restraint. But now that his vindication is pointed at you, a chill runs down your spine.

You know what Chan is capable of, and you know how easy it is for him to remove threats. And while you hope your bond as siblings is enough to prevent him from doing the worst, there is truly no guarantee.

He would go to great lengths to protect the life he has, even if it meant committing to a task that agonized him; you’ve seen it done multiple times. You’re his last blood relative left, and he loves you dearly, but is that enough? Can you say for certain that he’d never, under any circumstance, harm you? 

If it were the Chan of the past, you would be assured in your safety. He’d never jeopardize you, never put you in harm's way, never be the cause for any suffering you might feel. But somewhere along the way, he lost himself, and the Chan you see in front of you now isn't the same brother you knew years ago. Years of hardship have worn on him, months of anger and betrayal warping him into someone you don’t recognize anymore. 

“Y/N..? Is that true..?” You hear Changbin’s voice from behind you, hollow and hesitant. He knows the answer is the one he hates, and he dreads having to hear it, but he has to, in your own words with your own voice. Even if the truth plagues him, even if the grief kills him, he just has to hear it from you.

You want to turn around and face him, to explain this situation from your perspective, but you can’t yet. There is a part of you that fears what will ensue if you turn your back to your brother right now.

“Please, walk away,” you plead with Chan, desperation clear in your tone. Changbin is trembling behind you, he realizes; not from fear, but from an overwhelming and all encompassing sorrow overtaking him. 

The tension in Chan’s body loosens, but his gaze is still harsh as he looks at you. “Fine. I’ll walk away– not because I give a shit about what happens to him, though. I’m doing it for you.” He turns to Changbin next, stare as cold as ice.

“My sister bought you a favor today. I can’t promise what will happen if you come after me again. Remember that, yeah?” He looks at you one last time, making sure you remember that as well. That if there is a next time, he won’t be holding back– and he expects you to accept that. 

You spend a few moments watching Chan walk away, not turning to look at Changbin until he is just a dark silhouette against the nearly set sun. Changbin rises to his feet with some difficulty, but he doesn’t accept it when you reach your arms out to help him. You swallow, biting back tears as you lower your arms. You understand why he didn’t accept your help, but fuck, does it hurt. 

“Your estranged brother I never met, that you said you haven't been in contact with for a long time.. This is why?” The anguish in his voice is evident and it makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

You nod slowly, your hesitancy not due to any lack of desire to tell the truth, but because you loathe the inevitable outcome. He’s leaving you today. He doesn’t trust you anymore. He doesn’t love you anymore. 

“And Jeongin? Does he know what your brother does too?” “Yes,” you answer, trying not to let the agony you feel make your voice tremble, “I can explain everything but you need to go to the hospital, your arm–”

You watch Changbin take a shuddering breath as he takes in your words. Maybe it’s the shock, the adrenaline, or both, but he doesn’t feel the pain anymore. In fact, he couldn’t care less about getting medical attention right now. He needs answers from you, right now, more than anything else.

“So, what was the point of all this then? You were supposed to use me and throw me away afterwards, is that it?” His tone is as accusatory as it is despondent. Tears begin to fall from your eyes, no longer able to be stopped from willpower alone. “Were you playing me for a fool this entire time?” You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. You have to be honest, lying to him even after all this will make it worse. 

“I met you because my brother asked me to, but I was never going to hurt you! Jeongin and I, we– we don’t want to do things like that anymore. We are trying to put our pasts behind us.” You plead with him to understand you, to not believe that you would ever purposely hurt him. The last thing you ever wanted was to see this expression on his face. Broken. Dejected. Miserable. 

"How can I believe that now? How am I supposed to trust that you're not telling me another lie?" Changbin bites back, a tidal wave of emotion behind each word. He loved you so genuinely, but what does he do now? How can he look at all the interactions you had and not question the motive behind each one?

He didn’t want to doubt you like this. He wanted to believe that you meant it when you said you loved him all this time. You healed every broken part of him, only to shatter him all over again.

“That day– when you told me you loved me for the first time.. You said you were afraid I’d leave you someday. Is this why?” he asks, trying desperately to believe you. He doesn't know if he can anymore, but deep inside, he still wants to– he doesn't want to let you go, despite what you've done. That almost makes it even worse.

“I love you, and that’s the truth. I understand if you don’t believe me but I’ve never lied about that.” Tears are streaming down your cheeks, your entire world feeling like it’s on the verge of collapse. Changbin’s heart aches unbearably. He trusted someone after all this time, only for it to turn out like this? 

"You lied to me– you knew how much I trusted you and you lied to me," his voice breaks now, and he turns his face away, refusing to look at you any longer.

"And did you ever think about the fact that I could lose my job because of this? You know how much my career means to me, did that ever really matter to you?" he contiues, voice wavering painfully, "If anyone finds out that I’ve been dating someone with a criminal connection, I’ll look corrupt. It won’t matter that I didn't know, I’ll be forced to resign." 

“I..” you want to reply, but you don’t have the words. He’s right, of course. The public won’t care that you’ve tried to change, they won’t care that you have a clean record or live a quiet, modest life. They’ll see a scandal. They’ll see you as someone unworthy of society.

And they’ll turn on Changbin, the man who has done nothing but dedicate his life to protecting them. They’ll accuse him, misunderstand him, drag his reputation through the mud. A scandal will ruin the public perception of police, it’ll taint his spotless career in a matter of seconds. And it’ll be all your fault, always.

You’ve always lived your life selflessly, put others before yourself, did the things you hated to make someone else’s life easier. You were selfish, just this once. Just this once, you did something for your own happiness. Just this once, you hoped that the world would do you a favor, and allow you to keep the joy you obtained. 

But, as always, that joy wasn’t meant for you. As always, the life you were born into ruined any chance at happiness you ever had. You clung, desperately, to the idea that your life with Changbin would always be happy. You clung to the hope that the sorrow you’ve lived with for so long would never make its return. You clung to the love Changbin offered you, to the peace he brought you, and to the future you dreamed of building with him.

That future crumbled before your eyes in an instant. You wish you could cry, kick, and scream, beg Changbin to believe you and not turn away, but you can’t. Because you can’t blame him for not being able to see you the same way anymore. It’s not his fault, nothing is. If he can never trust you again, or see you the same way as he did yesterday, there’s nothing you can do but accept it.

You look at him, heartbroken as stray tears falling down in his face, the grief palpable. You try to find your voice, but even if you do, what more can you say? Will it even make a difference? But you should try at least. You can’t leave things like this. You can’t watch him hurt like this and do nothing in response.

“Changbin, I.. I understand if you can’t trust me anymore. But I do genuinely, with all my heart, love you. I wouldn’t have stopped my brother if I didn’t. Even if you never want to look at me again, I hope you’ll believe that, at least,” you sob out the words, trying not to stutter with each one that passes your lips. 

Changbin looks at you, lips trembling. His mouth opens and closes, as if he was about to speak but decided against it, or couldn’t find the words. Everything hurts, he doesn’t know what to say anymore. He loves you so much, but should he accept what you say so easily? Even if he wants everything to go back to the way things were before, is it even possible anymore? 

But in the entire time he’s known you, you’ve always seemed so genuine. Your pretty smiles, your loving embraces, your sweet words. The way you cried over him, supported him, loved him.. How could any of that be fake?

And, if he thinks about it, he could understand why you wouldn’t want to share your shameful past with someone. You never went into detail about why you didn’t keep in contact much with your brother, but if your explanation is true, it makes sense. 

It’s hard to talk about the things you aren’t proud of, the things you hate about yourself or the life you led. He knows from his own experience how challenging it is to be emotionally vulnerable with someone, but it always seemed like you were trying your best with him. He can remember all the times you opened up to him well, because of how happy it made him feel to know you loved and relied on him. 

Was it wrong of you to leave out the truth of your brother? Of course it was. A lie by omission is still a lie, after all. And maybe you were just a good actor all this time, but he couldn’t help but believe in his memories.

His memories of you telling him about your life, about the things you love and the things you feel. You shared so much with him.. Surely after this long, you would've slipped up if your feelings weren't true. 

The average person can't hide feelings of contempt easily, subtle changes in their facial expressions and body language often betray them, and they drop their guard when they feel like they are no longer being observed.

And he's watched you a lot, looking at you with eyes full of love and joy whenever you thought he was no longer looking. He would see the bashful smiles, your pink tinted cheeks, the soft giggles to yourself. All so cute, all so endearing, all so real. 

No one could possibly fake that, right? Even the best of actors would eventually grow weary of their act, wouldn't they? He doesn't know what to think anymore, nor what to do. All he knows is that he loves you, and he doesn't want this to be the end. Even if it's what he should do, he doesn't want to turn away from you.

Regardless of your past, or what you may have hidden about your life, it's an undeniable truth that you helped him overcome his troubles. You made his life better simply by existing in the same space. You always greeted him with a smile full of warmth and care. He loves you. "I.. need to think," Changbin finally says after some time, "I don't–"

"Chief!" You hear a voice call out, and the both of you turn in its direction, seeing a small unit of officers running towards you. His body immediately stiffens, face changing in an instant. He can’t look vulnerable in front of his men. He can’t let them see the feelings underneath the surface of his expression.

Their weapons are drawn as they approach, pointed at you cautiously, prepared to make a move if it seems like you will take a step out of line. Changbin instinctively stands in front of you, speaking to his subordinates in a clear voice, "Stand down, she's a civilian." 

"Apologies ma'am," the one leading the unit says before they all bow an apology to you. Changbin looks at you, swallowing as he decides, for the first time in his career, that he will lie for someone. "The target evaded capture by using her as a hostage. He opened fire after I secured her."

Changbin, stout, honest, and resolute Changbin, who never went against his morals and always upheld the law, just lied on your behalf.

"Were you hurt?" one asks you, while another calls for assistance on his walkie. "N-No, I'm fine, I.." you hesitate for a moment, taking a breath that you hope just makes you appear like you're recovering from the shock of being a hostage. "He protected me."

"Our on site medics have their hands full, but an additional ambulance is on the way, Chief," the officer with the walkie speaks up, turning to you next. "We'll need to interview you ma'am. Can you answer some questions for us?"

You open your mouth to speak, but Changbin places his hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. "Let her be evaluated before you question her. Even without physical injury, she's been through a lot. She's not in a state to answer questions," Changbin says to them. He uses a commanding tone, but one that is somehow still full of care.

"Of course, sir." The officer bows to him respectfully. Changbin looks at you, his expression unreadable. You suppose this must be the stern poker face that you've heard so much about, but never seen with your own eyes.

"We'll be in contact." He says, and though you know that's something he has to tell you as an officer to a witness, you can't help the way it gives you hope. You hope there will be a day that Changbin forgives you. You hope that he will still love you as he did when this day began. You can wait, no matter how long it takes, because it'll be worth it for him.

Changbin walks away from you now, evidently to talk with his team about matters a civilian like you isn’t supposed to hear. You fall to your knees when he’s out of immediate view, with the pair of officers that stayed behind to watch over you trying to catch you.

Now that all the adrenaline has faded from your system, and you no longer have strong emotions making you ignore the ache in your body, your legs have practically turned to jello, no longer strong enough to hold you up. Your body is the weakest it’s ever felt, sore and frail from all the exertion.

The officers around you make a small commotion, trying to help you to your feet and assuring you that help will be here soon. But despite that, you still look on in the direction Changbin went. You wish you could know if he’ll be okay. You wish you could know if he still cares about you.

Or, at the very least, you wish you could know that he doesn’t hate you. You hope his arm doesn’t hurt too terribly, you hope it heals well, and you hope that he forgives you for the pain you and your brother have caused him. 

That’s all you want, you think. For Changbin to be happy and healthy. You hope he’ll still love you, but you’ll be okay if he doesn’t, as long as he doesn’t hate you for what you’ve done. You’ll be content with never having him in your life again, as long as he forgives you.

You’ll wish him well, with the best smile you can muster, even if all he ever does is accept your apologies. Because you love him, and you want the best for him. It’ll hurt, but if he decides the best for him isn’t you, it’ll be okay– it’ll have to be. 

You won’t be selfish, or at least you’ll try your very best not to be. You won’t expect anything from him that you shouldn’t. You won’t beg, or plead, or force. But you’ll hope, because that’s all you have now.

It’s all you’ve ever had, really. Hope for a better future, a better life, a happier existence. And all you can do is hope- that your better future will include Changbin. 

Changbin, who you hope forgives you, who you hope still loves you, who you hope still wants you in his life. Changbin, who has shown you how happy life can be when you let the right person in. Changbin, who melted the ice that filled the cracks in your heart, and replaced it with warmth. Changbin, who took the broken parts of you and pieced them back together, who treated you like porcelain worthy of the utmost care. 

If you’re an angel to him, then he is a seraph to you. His light shines brightly, as brilliant as the sun, his warmth beyond comparison, his smile incandescent. You’ll always love him, no matter how much time passes.

Even if he no longer feels the same, and even if he never sees you again, you won’t be able to love anyone else the way you’ve loved him. That’s just how important he is to you; no one else could take his place in your heart. 

He taught you how to trust again. He reminded you how it felt to smile with sincerity, to love genuinely, to laugh unapologetically. It’s something you will always cherish, with all that you are and all that you have.

Seo Changbin is irreplaceable, and always will be. You love him, and always will. And you hope, hope, hope, that he’ll always love you too.

It's been months since the last time Changbin has spoken to you. Long, emotionally draining months. He missed you, so terribly, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to you– at least, not yet anyways. There was just so much to think about after he learned the truth about your family, and about the lies that surrounded you as a result of it.

He could understand why you didn't tell him about your brother, but it still hurt to find out the way he did. And it also left him conflicted and confused about how he should move forward if the two of you stayed together. 

He's not just a police officer, he's the chief. Everyone looks up to him, he's the one that has to be turned to in crucial moments, the one who has to make hard decisions. He has a lot of power, the one in charge of multiple units and operations.

With all that comes responsibility, not just to his subordinates, but to the public. He has a duty to protect them, a duty to adhere to the law, and a duty to uphold the truth. And while at first, his immediate concern when he found out about your brother was what it could possibly do to his career, there was more to it than just that. 

Changbin can't ignore the fact that your brother is a criminal, even if he wanted to– it's his sworn duty as an officer to arrest criminals. Would you be able to, in all honesty, never harbor resentment or hatred for him if he had to arrest or harm your brother?

If the situation was swapped, and it was Changbin pointing the barrel of his gun at Chan, would you be able to accept that? If he had to shoot your brother, could you say for certain that you wouldn't despise him for it? If cutting off your brother for good was necessary for the two of you to be happy together, would you honestly never be angry or resentful about it?

You might say yes, and you might wholeheartedly believe that when you say it, but the human heart is complex and uncertain in nature. There may come a day in the future where you realize how much you miss your family, and come to blame Changbin for the distance between you. The ties people have to their loved ones are immense, and oftentimes inseverable by will alone. 

And maybe none of that will ever come to be. Maybe his concerns are unfounded, and you would be resolute in your choice to be with him no matter what happened to your brother, but he can't help but think about it.

A spur of the moment decision could change his life forever, and he has to consider every outcome, no matter how unlikely and how much he trusts in your feelings. His future with you is uncertain, and that scares him. 

There were many days where he stared at your contact in his phone, trying to find the words to send to you, but not being able to. He'd never known himself to hesitate like this before, never been scared of uncertainties and rejection.

Even at his most torn down, he always did his best to live his life as confidently as he could, with the mindset that if things didn't go his way he would eventually recover. There were so many losses that wore at him, so many heart breaks to recover from, but he always turned out okay in the end.

Changbin always strived to live his life with optimism despite it all. Even in his worst, most depressed moments, he dragged himself out of the muck, and worked earnestly towards getting the things he wanted. He never feared moving forward from loss, because he knew you could get what he once had back with effort.

Whenever he faltered he picked himself back up, when he was lost in darkness he would persevere until the light returned to him. But now, here he was, crippled by the fear of losing something, someone, he wants dearly, unable to pick himself back day the way he always could before.

His fear turned to hesitance, which has eventually turned to inaction– uncharacteristically, he watches life pass him by, stares at your name in his phone and does nothing. He sighs heavily, head hitting his desk as he falls against it. He just doesn't know what to do.

If he reaches out to you, will you respond? What if he wasted so much time in his fear, that now you've moved on, and he's wasted whatever chance at happiness with you he had?

He stares at nothing for a long while, his head simultaneously feeling full to the brim with thoughts and like a vast nothingness, almost numb. A knock on his office door suddenly breaks his trance, and he lifts his head, beckoning whoever is on the other side to enter. 

"Sir, Yang Jeongin is requesting to speak with you," the officer who enters says, and Changbin's eyebrows raise in surprise. The Yang Jeongin that was working here until the incident a few months ago? Your little brother? That Yang Jeongin?

"What is he doing here?" he asks after a moment, but the officer shrugs in response. "Don't know. Said it was something only the chief should hear. Maybe it's a lead on one of your cases?" they suggest and Changbin frowns. There is only one reason Jeongin would want to speak to him after all this time– it's you. Whatever he has to say, it's about you. 

"Tell him I'll be right out," Changbin says as he stands, and the officer nods, bowing politely as they close the door behind themself. Changbin takes a moment to steady his racing heart, taking a deep breath before he leaves his office. He strides coolly past the many desks where other officers are sitting, hoping to maintain a calm exterior and not give away the trepidation he feels.

Jeongin is sitting on a bench in the front hall of the station, and he offers a small wave when he spots Changbin opposite of him. "Chief," Jeongin starts, but immediately corrects himself, "Well, I guess I shouldn't call you that anymore, huh?" 

"Jeongin.. Should we talk somewhere privately?" Changbin asks and the younger man nods, standing to follow wherever the older leads. They leave the building together, walking quietly until stopping in front of a cafe that Changbin frequents.

"This place good with you?" he asks, and Jeongin nods, having no reason to object to the location. They sit, making simple coffee orders, before Jeongin lets out a small sigh. "Well, I should get straight to the point.. Y/N-noona is leaving." 

Changbin's frame stiffens, looking at Jeongin with a firm expression. "Leaving as in.. she won't be in Seoul anymore?" he asks and Jeongin nods.

"I don't know if it's my place to tell you, but.. she's always hated being involved in.. let's say "the life." She left before, but just got dragged back in and, she thinks leaving the city entirely will be the thing that will finally put her past behind her for good." He explains, choosing his language carefully given the public setting. 

So.. this isn’t the first time you’ve tried to leave, that's what he's saying? Before you ever even met Changbin, you already wanted out? You were prepared to stay away from your brother, even before you knew him? Maybe he should feel stupid with the realization that his worries were unfounded, but instead he feels relief.

It's proof you'd never hate him or blame him if you had to keep distance from your brother, proof of your morals, and proof of the truth you were trying to convey to him that day– that you would've never betrayed him. That you loved him, truthfully and wholeheartedly. 

"Can I ask you– if she wants to leave, and put everything behind her.. Why are you telling me she's going?" Changbin asks carefully, and Jeongin doesn't hesitate to answer. "Because she loves you. Even now, all she hopes for is that you still love her too. She misses you."

Changbin's heart picks back up in speed upon his words. Is that what you've told him? If he called you right now, would you be happy? Did you still want to be with him? Were you waiting for him, all this time? 

"I'm not saying you should convince her to stay here, or that you should abandon your life here to follow her, but.. I still thought you should know." Jeongin continues, "And she would be happy to hear from you before she goes. Even if you have no intention of continuing your relationship, and it's just for closure's sake, it'd be good for her. She could move on with a smile, I think." 

"I want to talk to her," Changbin says with a certainty that makes Jeongin's tense body finally relax. He was hoping, more than anything, that Changbin would talk with you before you go. All he wants is for you to be happy, or have the closure needed to move on if nothing else. "I'm supposed to be meeting up with her again later tonight to help her carry boxes, but I think she'd like it better if you showed up instead." 

“Are you sure that would be okay?” Changbin asks, and Jeongin smiles and nods without hesitation. “Of course. I wouldn’t put her in a situation that would upset her. I know she wants to see you.”

Changbin returns that smile, feeling elated for the first time since that day he walked away from you. He didn’t know what he wanted then, was hopelessly lost and confused. He’s spent enough time thinking about it, but now he knows, and he’s determined to show you– all he wants is you.

You sigh as you stare at the boxes littering your apartment, flopping onto your sofa and wiping the sweat from your brow. You were beyond exhausted, days filled with nothing but work and then packing when you got home.

You were also exhausted thinking about how you would just have to unpack everything when you arrived at your new home. You’d surely have some grueling months ahead of you. 

But leaving this city was long overdue when you think about it– you really should have left it a long time ago. It has been 2 years now since the day you first left the family, and around a year and a half since you were subsequently dragged back in and met Changbin. Your heart ached whenever you thought about him, but you could never stop yourself. Everything reminded you of him, it seemed. 

He changed your life for the better when he was in it, after all. It was hard not to see him in even the little things. When you’d watch tv to relax, you’d think about how it felt when Changbin was there with you, arms wrapped around you snuggly while you followed your little routine of choosing what to watch back and forth.

When you ate dinner, you’d think about how Changbin knew all your favorite things, and would playfully tease you about how you could eat the same things over and over again without getting tired of it. 

When you layed in bed at night, you thought about how it felt to have Changbin next to you, his soft breathing in your ears and warm body lulling you to sleep. You’d be reminded of his gentle touches, his loving stare, and his cute pouts.

The way he’d keep you close to him, beg you to stay with him as long as possible, and smile brighter than the sun itself. Everything about him was endearing, everything worth committing to your memory, everything worth loving even after he was gone from your life.

Maybe that’s another reason you finally decided to leave for good. It was hard to look at your surroundings and not be reminded of all you once had and lost. Seoul carries a lot of memories for you, often times more bad than good.

You lost a lot of things here– your innocence, your family, and your love. What good you managed to hold in your hands always seemed to crumble and slip through your fingers, with you unable to do a thing to prevent it. 

You needed a change of scenery, and to leave the painful memories behind you. It’d help, you think, if you were able to look at the world around you and not be bombarded with the feelings of loss and sadness.

Maybe you could stand on your own two feet more effectively, be the kind of happy person Changbin showed you that you could be. And maybe, if you were lucky, he would meet you again while you were a new version of yourself.

A stronger you, a happier you. Someone who didn’t falter and live in anxiety any longer, who lived the new life she was given with hope and joy. You’d be happy if you could show Changbin how much you’ve grown, how you’ve changed for the better thanks to his earnest love for you.

And not just for Changbin– living a better life is how you would pay back everyone who has helped you up until now. It’s how you would thank Felix and Jeongin for all their support in the hardest days of your life. Living a happier life was the best way to show your appreciation for all the people you love, and who love you in return.

You’d move on with your head held high, and someday in the future you would return here as the best version of yourself you could be. Even if they weren’t here with you right at this moment, it was enough to make you want to do your best. 

“You know, you could still come with me Innie,” you told him when he was here earlier today, helping you move various heavy objects to the front room of your apartment. “I know, but I still have things I want to take care of here,” he responded with a soft smile.

Unlike you, he still had a mother to watch after here. He also expressed his desire to leave Chan and the others behind on positive terms, and to pursue training at the officer’s academy earnestly, so he could come back to his colleagues an honest man. 

You were proud of him, truly, for making those choices for himself. You had nothing but faith that he would see his goals through, and be a little brother you could be proud of. He promised that he, with the help of Felix and Jisung, would help set Chan on the right path before he leaves his life there behind for good.

And when that day came, he would find you again, maybe even with everyone you love hand in hand with him. Maybe there would be a day where you could hug both of your brothers again, reunite with your old friends, and return to Seoul happily. 

Speaking of friends, Seungmin was devastated when you announced to the office you were leaving. He made you promise that you would still keep in touch, and that you’d come back to visit sometimes. Of course, you reminded him that he could always come visit you as well but he insisted it would be more fun if you came to Seoul than if he went to some obscure small town. 

You were still worried about Minho as well. It had been a long time since you, or anyone for that matter, had been able to see him in person. But he often wrote letters, expressing that he accepts where he is because it’s the natural result of the choices he made. He wishes everyone well, and hopes that everyone can live their lives happily until the day he is released. He doesn’t want anyone to risk their lives or safety for him, because he is okay. 

You’re not sure if it gave Chan closure the way it did for you, but you hope it has. All you’ve ever wanted for your brother was for him to be safe and happy after all. And there’s still a part of you that hopes one day he’ll renounce his leadership and walk away from the life he’s led up until today. You’d like it if you could return the relationship you had with him as children, where the two of you were free from worries, and the bond you had as siblings made you stronger together.  

You close your eyes, another small sigh leaving your lips. You’re tired, so tired, but strangely optimistic. Your life will be better from here on out, you’ll make sure of it.

It would be a lie to say you didn’t spend a lot of time crying at first, but when it was all over you realized how lucky you were. Lucky to have been loved by Changbin. Lucky to have friends who care about you. Lucky that you still have the opportunity to change your life. 

Life has never been easy for you, but you’re grateful for what you’ve been given. Moments of happiness, no matter how fleeting, shaped you into who you are now. Memories, shared with those you’ve come to love, giving you the morals and sense of purpose you have now.

You’ll keep those memories close to your heart, and let them lead you forward. They will shape the road ahead, and keep you going when the road is tough. That’s what you’ve decided. 

It’s never too late to change, never too late to be happy. You can take your life in your own two hands and shape it into what you desire. Life is what you make of it, and you’ve decided you’ll make it into the best it could possibly be.

And hopefully, in the future you create with your own hard work, Changbin will be there waiting for you. You’ll see his adoring smile and star-filled eyes, and know that it was all worth it. 

A knock on the door breaks you from the thoughts, and you rise to your feet to answer it. It’s a little strange, as Jeongin would normally just call you if he was here, but he also knows you are expecting him so maybe he didn’t feel the need. “Hey Innie, there you–” you start as you open the door, but the words immediately seize in your throat. 

You blink once, twice, assuming your eyes must be playing tricks on you. There’s no way Changbin is standing in front of you right now, right? Why would he be? “Y/N..” he says softly, a bit hesitant. He was feeling good when he first made the trek to your front door, but now that he’s here in front of you he feels.. Strange, almost. 

It’s surreal to be standing in front of you after all this time. He’s thought about it a lot; how you would look when you were finally in front of him again, what expression you might have and how you might have changed. And now, you are understandably looking at him like a deer in headlights. To say you are stunned would probably be an understatement. 

“Can I.. come in?” Changbin asks after another small moment. You want to speak, but you feel so astounded your voice won’t come out. So instead you nod, stepping to the side to allow him to enter your now barren apartment.

He looks around, taking in the sight of every single one of your tucked away into stacked boxes, with only your large furniture pieces still left out. This is what it would’ve looked like all those months ago too, if nothing had gone wrong and you moved in with him as planned. 

It strikes a pang in his chest, one that he attempts to choke down. He can’t let all his emotions bubble to the surface just yet. There are things he needs to tell you clearly, things he wants you to hear.

You guide him past boxes, motioning for him to take a seat on your sofa. “What, uhm– what are you doing here..?” you ask cautiously, not entirely sure how you should feel now that you are finally looking at him again. 

He hasn’t changed much; his dark, curly hair has grown a bit longer, his eyes are more tired, but overall he looks the same as he did months ago. Just as handsome too, you can’t help but notice. But really, how could you even hope to ignore that fact? You don’t think you’ll ever meet someone else as stunning as him. 

“Jeongin told me you’re leaving,” he answers, watching your expression change carefully. “H-He did?” Your shocked expression changes to sadness, gaze moving down to your hands, which you are wringing nervously. “I.. wanted to tell you myself, but.. I didn’t know how, or if I should..”

“I’m glad he told me,” Changbin replies, and you look back at him, uncertainty clear on your face. “I would’ve been sad if– if you left before I could tell you how I feel,” he continues.

“How you feel..?” you question, and he nods, a tentative, almost shy expression spreading across his features. “I’m sorry we haven’t spoken, I really am. I spent that entire time thinking about– thinking about us, and what I should do. What I want..” Changbin’s tone is relaxed as he can possibly make it despite the rapid beating in his chest. 

He takes a shaky inhale, palms sweating despite all his efforts to speak to you calmly. “I know what I want, and it’s you. It’s always been you. I just.. Took too long to sort that out, I think.” He confesses, watching you with bated breath as his words process within you. “I love you, and I– I hope I haven’t told you that too late.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes watering in an instant upon hearing those words you hoped so badly to hear again. “What about your job? And my family..?” you ask, and Changbin shakes his head, as if it’s not a concern in the slightest. “I know there are things we still have to figure out, but I wouldn’t forgive myself if I let you go without trying. I love you too much to let it go so easily.” 

The tears openly fall now, not being able to stop yourself from doing anything else. He opens his arms to you, offering his embrace if you want it, and you easily wrap yourself around him. He holds you close, your head pressing into his chest as sobs wrack your body.

“We’ll figure it out together,” he speaks to you softly, hands rubbing the soothing circles you missed so much into your skin. “I broke my promise to you before, but I’m not going to leave you again.”

He holds you like that until your breathing calms, the sobs slowing into gentle sniffles. You look up at Changbin, noticing that a few stray tear stains line his cheeks as well. He’s always hated seeing you cry, after all. The fact that it was because of him made it even harder for him to not become emotional himself.

“Binnie,” you breathe, leaning up to capture his lips in a soft kiss. He lets out a relieved sigh when your lips touch, his own flood of feelings washing over him. It feels so good to hold you in his arms again, to feel his lips against yours, to inhale the familiar scent of your shampoo.

Now that he has you again, he never wants to let you go. Whatever he has to do to keep you with him, he’ll do it, without a doubt. He realized that everything else in his life is replaceable. His career can be rebuilt from the ground up if necessary, and his home can be relocated. But not you– nothing can replace you. 

You are his home. You are his life. He knows his connection with you is deep and real. In the entire time he knew you, he never had to change a single thing about himself to please you. You always loved him for who he is, right from the start.

That’s what he needed then, and what he still needs now– someone who loves him unconditionally. Who accepts him in all his silly, eccentric idiosyncrasies. 

He kisses you over and over again, like you are the source of the oxygen he needs in his lungs. He holds you tightly, keeping your body glued to his, as if you’ll vanish if he lets go. “I’ve missed you so much. You have no idea how badly,” Changbin whispers against your skin, an action that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. It also makes you giggle a little in response, because wow, did you miss that feeling. 

He always made you shy and giddy so effortlessly. All it ever took was the slightest bit of affection from him to make you feel bubbly inside. Changbin smiles when he hears your soft laugh, a warmth he hasn’t felt in months spreading over him.

He hopes from now on he can hear you laugh every day, see your shy smiles and cute, sparkling eyes. He doesn’t know what his future with you holds, but as long as he has that he will be happy. 

“I’ve missed you more,” you tell him with a sweet smile. There’s part of you that still feels like this is all a vivid dream, and that you’ll wake up any minute in your new apartment by yourself. But even if it is a dream, you’ll enjoy it until the end. You’ll feel him under your palms for as long as you can, you’ll take in the sight of his beautiful face and the sound of his sweet voice.

You rest a hand on the nape of his neck, keeping him pulled close to you as you press kisses against his lips. The soft, gentle kisses that you shared at the start become deeper, more passionate, as they continue.

There’s a desperation bubbling within you, one that becomes increasingly more difficult to contain. You missed more than just the soothing, gentle touches to your skin– you also missed the way his hands could light a fire in you. 

He always made you feel alive, for lack of a better term. In all your life, through the various men who knew you and had touched you, none of them ever made you feel the way Changbin does. You’re not sure if he realizes entirely the effect he has on you, but you belong to him.

Body, heart, mind, soul, everything– it’s Changbin’s. His hold on you is warm, protective, and loving. You’ll never regret trusting him, loving him, or giving yourself to him. 

Changbin can tell where you are leading him, can see the way your eyes have changed when you pull away to breathe. It excites him as much as it worries him; once again, he’s afraid that touching you now will be taking advantage while you’re vulnerable.

You were just crying, dealing with and processing countless emotions, and the last thing he’d ever want is to be with you while your judgment is clouded. The last thing he’d ever want is to touch you in a moment of passion and learn you regretted it. 

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he tells you carefully. He wants you to be sure you still want him, that you still love him enough to do this with him. He can always wait, build back up to this slowly if that’s what you’d need. As long as he has forever with you, there’s no rush.

But you shake your head, meeting his gaze seriously. “I want to,” you assure him softly, “I never stopped loving you. I will always trust you.” You lean back in, lips brushing against his as you speak, “I still want you.”

A soft whine leaves Changbin's lips, your words having more of an effect on him than you'll ever know. Your next kiss is impassioned, mouth open and licking at his tongue. You coax him to pursue you, to swallow your heated breaths, explore you completely, consume you entirely. 

You let yourself fall backwards against the sofa, dragging Changbin down with you. It's not the most elegant display, nor is it seamless, but you don't really care about that. You've missed Changbin so much– his every look, every hold, and every sound. It's all you crave, all that matters in this moment. 

Not wanting to crush you or leave you in an uncomfortable contortion, Changbin spreads your legs and moves himself to rest between them. He attaches his lips to your neck, deciding you’ve gone long enough without his mark on your skin. You relish in the feeling of having his teeth sink into you again, excitement bubbling in your gut when you imagine the way you’ll look with his love bites all over you. 

His hands reach the bottom of your shirt, and you lift your back off the sofa to allow it to be pulled up and over your head. Your bra follows shortly after, being discarded to the floor and forgotten as your focuses are solely on eachother.

Changbin takes a moment to look you over, refamiliarizing himself with the appearance of your body and the intoxicating image of his teeth marks on your otherwise pure skin. He doesn’t get much more time to admire you however, as you begin to reach out for him.

You paw at the hem of his shirt, not so subtly requesting that he pull it off himself. He stifles the amused smile that threatens to peak out, pulling his shirt off in one swift movement. You look at him with equal parts adoration and desire, and he can’t deny he loves it when you look at him this way. 

Changbin watches your expression change however, when your gaze meets his arm. There was a fresh scar where your brother shot him– a now constant reminder of what the pair of you had gone through that day, a permanent representation of the way you failed the person you love most.. "Bin, I– '' you choke on your words, eyes tearing up as you stare at the spot. 

"Hey, look at me," Changbin says as he cups your face, directing your gaze back up to his own. "That's not your fault. You know that, right? It's not. Nothing is."

You struggle to hold back your sniffles, but he won't accept that; he needs you to know. You were in such a hard position, one that no one should have to be in. And he recognizes that now. He understands how hard it must have been to try to balance your life and protect the things you love.

He kisses you again, thumbs carefully rubbing away stray tears. “I love you,” he reminds you with his soft tone that always brought you comfort, “nothing changed that, okay?” You nod, believing his words entirely. You really had no reason not to; he’s always been so forthright and honest about everything he thinks and feels. 

“I love you,” you tell him, and he smiles, kissing you once more for good measure. “Do you still want to keep going?” he asks, once again feeling sparks of elation trickle down his spine when you eagerly confirm that you do. As much as Changbin loves seeing you be bashful and shy, he also loves when your enthusiasm overrides it, when you show the true depths of your need for him without restraint. 

The messy kisses to your skin resume, as if nothing interrupted them in the first place, the only difference now being that your upper body is completely exposed to him. Changbin’s hands trail slowly up and down your body, savoring the feeling of every soft dip and curve without any rush. Your gasp when his hands finally reach your breasts quickly turn into titillating mewls, nipples being tweaked and rolled between his fingers.

The sounds you make alone make Changbin want to moan, a salacious symphony in his ears, a siren’s song he can’t hope to ignore. He pulls back to look at you, watching the way your body twists and squirms, legs unable to close together due to his place between them.

“Binnie,” you whine, looking at him with glossy eyes and flushed cheeks, lips turned into a small pout. “What is it, honey? What do you need?” he asks, head tilting slightly as he grins at you.  

Your stomach flips, heart skipping a beat at both his tone, and from hearing the nickname for the first time in so long. You swallow, trying your best to conjure the words despite the way he looks at you making you want to combust on the spot.

“B-Bed?” you ask softly, and Changbin smiles with a nod, lifting you in his arms effortlessly. You lock your legs around his waist, arms snuggly wrapped around his neck as he carries you through the apartment. 

You really should let him focus on getting through the minefield of boxes that is your apartment currently, but instead you kiss him with a fervor he matches equally. Even when he threatens to stumble, neither of you break away, completely committed to keeping your mouths on each other. 

Luckily, you left your bedroom door open earlier, and Changbin has no problem carrying you through the doorway. You let yourself fall back onto the bed when he lets you go, and he positions himself between your legs once again, mirroring the position you were in moments ago on the sofa. 

Rather than wait for Changbin to take the lead on this like you normally would, you reach for shorts, pulling them down as far as you can before needing him to take care of the rest. He really can’t blame you for feeling needy and eager; he’s just as hungry for you as you are for him, his own desire and ache for you being contained solely by his (dwindling) self-restraint. 

You look at him, gaze possibly the most desperate he’s ever seen it be. Your body trembles with anticipation, begging for him to touch you. And while he’d love to prolong this moment, to lavish you slowly and tenderly, to watch you grow impatient as you yearn for more his touch in the places you need him most, he really can’t wait either. 

More accurately, he doesn’t want to wait. He knows he can hold back, he knows he can restrain himself if he needs to, he knows he can do things slowly, but if neither of you can wait, if you’re both desperately reaching out for one another, then why draw it out? He knows what you want, and he wants to give it to you.

"I want to watch you cum," Changbin tells you, voice nearly a whisper in your ears. "Over, and over," he continues, your body shivering in response as you watch him trail downward. “You want that, right? To cum for me?” he asks rhetorically. He already knows the answer, but he wants you to say it anyway. 

“Y-Yes, please,” you all but whine, and he smiles, licking his lips and wasting no further time talking. He pushes your thighs further apart, hooking his arms underneath to hold them in place. You let out a loud moan when his mouth finds your clit, his grip on your thighs stopping you from squirming or closing your legs around his head. 

He’s barely even begun but you already feel like the air has been knocked from your lungs, the pleasure making you feel dizzy. Your hands reach for his hair, the groan that leaves his mouth when you pull making you shiver. Various obscenities leave your mouth as he alternates between licking and sucking, your legs already shaking as your high approaches dangerously fast.

It’s been months since you felt his tongue on you, and with his skill it was obvious you’d cum fast. You couldn’t hope to delay it even if you wanted to. His pace is perfect, remembering just how you like it as if there was never a break between you to begin with. You bite your lip, trying in vain to quiet the whimpers and moans that leave you as your high overtakes your body. 

Even as your high recedes, Changbin doesn’t relent, keeping his pace on your clit as if nothing happened. You whine loudly, overstimulation setting fire to your skin. His strong hold on you prevents you from moving even an inch, all you can do is lie there and continue to take the onslaught of overwhelming, almost painful, pleasure. 

Not wanting to hurt his scalp with your harsh tugging, you move your hands to the bedsheets, clawing at them desperately. He squeezes your thighs in his hands, as if to ground you while he unrelentingly showers your clit with his affection. Your second orgasm comes even faster than the first somehow, back arching and eyes rolling back as your body tenses and releases in an instant. 

As before, he continues through it, drawing it out and making you whine loudly when it quickly becomes too much to bear. Your arousal is practically gushing out of you, and you finally get a small moment of reprieve when Changbin moves to lick the cum from your hole. Your breathing is ragged, chest heaving and body buzzing. 

Changbin removes one of his hands from your thigh, moving it to easily slide two of his fingers into your heat. You let out another choked gasp, his fingers wasting no time to locate your sweet spot and rub against it. “B-Binnie,” you stutter out between gasps, “I-I cant.” It’s almost too good, your brain reeling when he starts to thrust his fingers into you quickly.

He looks up at you, an almost playful glint behind the lust-filled look in his eyes. “Yes you can,” he encourages sweetly, letting go of your other leg to come closer to your face. He’s looking at you intently now, smiling as he watches you succumb to the pleasure you’re feeling. Your head is thrown back, nails digging into the bedsheet and bottom lip trapped between your teeth. 

“Look at me,” he says, and he feels you clench tightly around his fingers when you do. His lustful expression makes you weak, his smile making your gut want to erupt into butterflies. You try to keep his gaze, to not close your eyes or look away, but it’s so hot you can barely stand it. You don’t think you’ll be able to handle much more of it without devolving into insanity. 

You cum again, legs closing around his fingers and head falling back as you do. “Good girl, my good girl,” he praises you through it, slowing to a stop once he feels your body begin to relax. He gives you some time to catch your breath after he slides his fingers out of you, licking them clean before he stands from the bed. You watch as he finally removes his pants and boxers, and then returns to his position between your legs. 

“I'm going to fuck you now,” he tells you, smiling when you let out a shy whine in response. Changbin lines himself up with your entrance, leaning down to kiss you as he slides in. The multiple orgasms make it easier for your body to accept him, the stretch still stinging but not at all bad.

He kisses you sweetly, always enjoying doing so while you got used to the feeling of his cock, loved making you taste yourself on his tongue as you acclimated to his size. 

It didn’t take long for you to roll your hips against his, seeking blissful friction. “Baby just can’t wait?” Changbin asks teasingly, though he has to admit he loves it. If you weren’t so dazed from pleasure, you’d see he’s just as desperate as you, if not more so. He loves when you are as equally needy as him, when you become lost in him and how he makes you feel. 

“You want to cum again, is that it?” he asks when he begins to finally thrust into you. “Y-Yes, want to cum,” you nod almost frantically, “want you to come too.” Changbin groans, your words always having an incredible effect on him. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll cum for you,” he promises as he picks up his pace, finding his rhythm with relative ease.

One hand holds yours while the other moves to your clit, rubbing it in circles. He whispers praises to you, each one making you clench around him. “Good girl, my perfect baby, doing so well, feels so good around me, love you,” he begins to babble as he chases his orgasm. He expected not to last long, but he’ll make sure it’s good for you until the end. 

If your neighbors weren’t concerned before, they definitely are now given how loud your voice is carrying through the apartment. You can’t hold them back anymore, not that Changbin would let you in the first place, but you’re too far gone to care. His once steady pace quickly grows sloppy, his low moans turning into high pitched, breathy whimpers. 

You reach your high first, mouth hanging open in a silent moan as your body quivers beneath his. Changbin follows closely behind, his hips stuttering as his cum shoots into you in hot spurts. You reach up, pulling him into one more kiss as he comes down from his high. His body relaxes, falling against you, though still careful not to crush you under his weight. 

His head rests just under yours, and you kiss his temple, hand running through his hair lazily. “I love you,” you mumble, exhaustion clear in your voice.

Your eyes are closed, your movements slow, and Changbin finds it so endearing that even in this state you want to show your love. “I love you too baby, so much,” he kisses your cheek, as it’s the only place he can reach without moving from his spot. 

He’ll take care of you soon, get the both of you cleaned up so you can sleep in his arms peacefully as you always did before, but for now, even if it’s just for a few moments, he wants to lay next to you. To hold your hand as the two of you catch your breath, to stare at your beautiful face, to feel the euphoria of having you as his.

He doesn't know what the future holds, but he’s decided that it's okay. He doesn’t need to hold every answer in his hands, or worry about could be’s and what if’s. He doesn’t know if this happiness will continue, if you’ll always be together without anything getting in your way, but how can he be satisfied with his life if he didn’t try? How can he be happy if he lives his life complacently? 

Maybe the smart decision would have been to let you go, to never see you again and let yourselves go separate ways, but would he be content with that decision? Could he say he would never lie awake at night wondering if that was the right thing to do, or if he should’ve chosen differently? And if two things make him happy, does he really have to choose between them? Would it really be so bad to have both? 

Nothing will be perfect, ever. No one is promised eternal joy, or a blessed life. No one can spend every moment happy, no one can have everything always go the way they want. The only guarantee in life is that you will suffer– but it is what you do with that suffering that shapes what your life will become from that point onward. 

Maybe what he has now with you is fleeting. Maybe years from now it’ll crumble in front of him all over again. But isn’t it worth fighting for? If he has a chance to have everything he’s ever wanted, shouldn’t he do his best to take it? Shouldn’t he keep it in his hands, and protect it with all his might? 

Even if it’s in vain, even if he’ll only suffer again in the future, this moment of happiness with you is worth it. Listening to your slowed breathing, feeling your skin against his, knowing that you love him and he loves you– it’s worth it. When he wakes up to your sweet voice, hears your elated laugh, sees your adorable expressions and beautiful body, it’s worth it. 

Maybe you’ll live together in the future, and maybe you won't. Maybe you’ll have a family, and maybe you won’t. Maybe his career will remain unaffected, or maybe it won’t. Regardless of what could or couldn’t be, he won’t live with doubt.

He can be happy knowing he fought to keep you until the very end, if the end ever comes. He can live a life full of laughter and love, even if it’s only for a finite amount of time. And nothing will be perfect, ever, but as long as Changbin has you with him, it’s the closest he’ll ever have.

[luckypoppymilliemama]

I am seriously so saddened to realize people have used my name and my cat to steal money from some of you. This is crazy, never, ever did I think that my Poppy would be used negatively.

Let’s give a little rundown of who we are. I’m Michelle, a 30-something year old married mama to 3 skin kittens, and 3 fuzzy kittens. One of my skin kittens is an adult, the other two are rapidly approaching attempting to leave the nest. I am disabled, physically and mentally which leads to emotionally, too. My fuzzy kittens help a lot with that.

2 summers ago, a friend texted me asking if I wanted a kitten. Of course I did. Then I found out she was a feral kitten that her mama had left behind because her one back leg was missing a foot, so she couldn’t climb and jump like the rest of the kittens were, and she was getting too heavy to carry in her mouth. That kitten now only have 3 legs, and is my Lucky baby.

Come early February of the next year, I saw on a friend’s aunts rescue site two of the most gorgeous little calico kittens I had ever seen. I claimed them before Valentine’s Day, even though I wouldn’t be able to get them until after Mother’s Day since they were slow to grow. They were attached at the hip, there was no way I could get one and not the other. Those were my Poppy girl and Millie moon.

That’s how I ended up with my fuzzy kittens. They are the best fuzzy kittens I have ever met. All 3 of them have a different job in calming me and my middle daughter down while in emotional crisis. Poppy is and has always been that calming rumble that you try to concentrate on instead of everything else that is happening. And it works more than anyone would believe.

Poppy is sick. My go fund me has all the explanations and updates you could ever need; I even have to add the email with the vet when she gets a chance to email back to me. I have endless pictures and videos to show she is my little love.

Please, if you can, share this post anywhere and everywhere, across all forms of social media. My follower numbers are so low, I’m surprised it’s not a negative number. I know a bunch of you got scammed, and I’m sorry. I really am. If I could make it better, I would.

Myself, I’ve even cut back some of my less essential but still needed medications so I have the money to get Poppy the treatment she deserves. I just need my baby girl to be better. It’s time sensitive because we honestly don’t know how much time she has left with her red blood cell count being in the low 10s percent wise (I think it was 13-14% last time, and it should be above 35). I am extremely transparent in what I show you all because if you are helping pay for it, I figure you have a right to see where the care is going and what it’s being used for.

We are trying to get the maximum amount of funding so we can get all the testing done because the liver and spleen are just as important as the bone marrow biopsy, but we will not look a gift horse in the mouth. Whatever we get it, it’s another cent that we didn’t have to scrounge around to find, another minute off the ever clicking clock.

Best ways to donate: to the hospital itself:

Philadelphia Animal Specialty and Emergency

Dial 267-727-3738, press 2, ask to place a credit on Poppy Riggs account, #FE22554C. All of this info is able to be found on the images in the gofundme.

The Gofundme. It is the *only* go fund me I have up. Anything else is a scam.

These account below are the only official ways to donate outside of the gofundme.

My email is listed below, and I am willing to answer any and all questions via email or on here, your choice.

Thank you so much for helping. It means everything to us.

[ohtobeleah]

I can’t tell you how excited I am for the next update. Want to see Jake absolutely down bad for his wife after taking her home.

Settle in nonny this one got a little steamy. As always here’s the Masterlist for To Have & To Hold

“Well—“ Doctor Perry paused as she flashed a light up your nostril. “There’s definitely some major swelling in your sinuses that will definitely cause some major bruising.” Popping her small flashlight back into her top breast pocket. “But I don’t think there’s any major cause to be too concerned, no broken bones or cartilage."

Jake sat by the window stone cold as he listened to the doctor explain what you would need to be cautious of over the coming days. Dry blood clots, a loss of smell and taste even. Headaches and swelling from the bruising. All because some douchebag didn’t understand the word no. His knuckles still bloodied and cut from laying into the guy who tried it on with you. A trip to the emergency department to get you all checked before heading home. Well, heading to Jakes. Home was wherever he inevitably was.

“I’ll get your discharge papers ready and you’ll be all good to go—“ Doctor Perry smiled as she collected her things, sending Jake a soft smirk aswell. “Your wife here is very lucky there isn’t more extensive damage, she’s pretty beat up but she’ll recover quite quickly all things considered.”

“You saying she’s got a thick head doc?” Jake couldn’t help but to taunt as he rested his head in his hand. Elbow holding his wait on the armrest of the chair he so casually sat man spreading in. “Because I tell her that all the time, so it’s nice to have a professional diagnosis.” Doctor Perry just shook her head as she tried to hide her laughter. Walking out of the room just as Jake got up from his chair with a dramatic groan. Sauntering over to where you sat with your legs hung over the examination bed.

“You think you’re really clever for that one aren’t you?” You beamed, eyes so full of love. “If one of us has a thick head it’s you, Mr. Seresin.” Pointing a finger into Jake's chest as his hands came to linger on your waist. Standing between your legs. “Thankyou for bringing me to get checked out, it’s nice to know there’s nothing seriously wrong.”

“Happy to be of service, Mrs. Seresin.” Jake was expecting you to tell him off like you always did whenever he had the audacity to call you Mrs. Seresin over the last year and a half. But to his surprise? You didn’t. If anything he caught a glimpse of something in your eye. Something that told him that you were okay with it—that you were in fact, Mrs. Jake Seresin. “I’d do just about anything for you Hawkeye, you know that.”

“How are the hands holding up?” You asked softly as you brought them down gently against Jakes. His hands on your hips, your hands on his. He didn’t mean to let out such a hiss, but it escaped momentarily when you relaxed against him. “Fuck, sorry sorry—“ Removing your hands from Jakes he shook his head in response.

“No don’t be, just a little banged up.” He was honestly fine. “Nothing I can’t handle, nothing I wouldn’t do again if I needed to.” Tilting your chin up slightly with his fingers, Jake paused as his eyes lingered from your lips to your eyes. “I think I’m falling in love with you all over again.”

“Be honest with me.” You let your eyes wander as well, gaze cascading down from Jake's eyes to his lips then climbing again. “Did you ever really stop?”

“Oh god no—no never.” Jake Seresin was very aware he had his own flaws and weaknesses. He wasn’t claiming to be a perfect man or a man without vice. But he really did love you. “I could never stop loving you even if you told me tomorrow you wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.”

“Good thing I love you back then huh?” You tried to hide your smirk by biting your bottom lip softly. Jake's hands came to cup your cheeks as he pulled you in for a kiss so soft. He didn’t want to hurt you. But it was the laugh you let out against his lips that had Jake pulling away.

“What’s so funny?” Jake’s never been so infatuated with your laugh before. Infectious and endearing. Laughing harder with every passing second as you clapped your hands together before bringing them up to cover your mouth. “Babe, what’s so funny?” Smiling back at you Jake let himself rest his forehead against yours. Hands lingering on your hips yet again. “What is it?”

“Us—“ You beamed, your laugh diminishing to nearly nothing. “Us and this whole mess.” Wiping your tears that had formed while you were laughing. “Only us Jake, only we would end up broken and bruised from a simple dinner.”

“Yeah, we don’t half arse a night out do we?”

“Okay!” Like high school sweethearts being caught behind the bleachers by the teacher on duty, Jake was pulling away with a cough to clear his throat as doctor Perry came back into the room. “I have your discharge papers ready to go.” Trying to hide a bashful smile you took the forms from her gracefully. “Just try and refrain from any high intensity cardio workouts for at least a week while the swelling goes down. I mean the worst that could happen would be a bloody nose but still—if it can be avoided I’d rather you do so.”

“Uh, yeah yeah—that won’t be a problem.” You nodded as Jake raised a questioning brow from the sideline. His arms crossed over his chest with a devious smirk plastered on his face. “Thanks again doc, for everything.”

“Yeah, thanks doc.” Jake added as he handed you his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. “C’mon wifey, let’s get you home.” Jake's arm wasn’t far behind his jacket. Guiding you out of the room and out of the emergency department with a protective arm slung over your shoulders. “You still want to come round to my place?” You let his question linger in the darkness of the hospital car park. Walking side by side with your arm wrapped around the small of Jake's back as his wrapped around your shoulders. “Y/n?”

“Yeah, yeah no let’s go.” With a soft smile and a heart full of love for your husband, you walked with him back to his car. Knowing full well the second you stepped foot through the threshold of Jake's humble abode, you would be going against direct orders from Doctor Perry. Cardio was very much on the agenda.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Fuck—! Oh my, shit—!” Jake Seresin was a lucky man. A very lucky man. You never even made it to the bedside before your lips were on each other’s. Jake being incredibly careful of your nose, kissing you with passion but no force what so ever—letting you control the momentum.

“Feels so fucking good—!” An angel. That’s the only thing Jake could describe the way you sounded bouncing on top of his cock. His hands helping to guide you, lift you and slam you down his length. “So good baby.” Your velvet walls were so tight around his shaft, slicking Jake's length so well. “More Jake more—!” Your nectar dribbled down to the hilt, a wet slapping sound echoing off the walls of Jake Seresin's living room as you rode him on the lounge.

“God you're perfect, so beautiful.” It was the way Jake's voice groaned in your head an o five or two deeper than normal that really got you going. “So fucking pretty riding me like this?” His lips on your neck, attacking you with sweet nothings as he sucked marks up and down the junction of your shoulder. “Guess blondes really do have more fun huh?” You didn’t falter as Jake wrapped a hand into your hair, pulling your head back to expose more of your neck as a moan escaped and echoed throughout the house. “Fucking Christ you’ll be the death of me if you keep fucking me like this.”

“Who am I, baby.” It wasn’t a question, you knew. But you wanted to hear Jake say it. You wanted to hear your husband say what you were so you could get off to it. “Say it Jake—“ slowly rolling your hips as you took every inch Jake had to the hilt of his length. Throbbing inside you.

“You’re mine—“ Jake growled with a protectiveness so primal it sent waves of electricity shooting through your body as the pad of his thumb came to draw soft circles around your clit. The sensitive bundle of nerves crying out of attention. Overjoyed with pleasure as Jake gave you want you so desperately craved. “You’re mine baby, always have been always will be.” Watching you with hooded eyes and a high pooling at the base of his shift, Jake worked you a little faster, matching the rhythm and pace you set riding his cock. “Would ask you to marry me but I’ve already done that.”

“Jake!!” God he loved the way you said his name why chasing your high— an orgasm so powerful building in the pit of your stomach. “Oh god oh god oh god yes—fuck me.” That was all Jake needed to hear before he was pulling your chest to his, holding your arms behind your back with a tight grip on your wrist. “Ahhh-! Fuck! Jake please.”

“Don’t worry I got you.” Smirking, Jake planted his feet lifting you slightly before he began bucking his hips up into you. “I’ll take it from here shall I?” Taunting you as he fucked hard and fast and deep into you. “I know you can take it beautiful, god wish you could see how gorgeous you look stuffed.” You were drooling, dripping down Jakes chest as he fucked you—holding you to his chest with your arms behind your back.

“I’m—oh fuck I’m gonna cu—cum I’m gonna cum.” Babbling like a mad woman Jake didn’t slow, if anything he got faster at the thought of feeling you come undone around him. “Please—!”

“I got you sweetheart let go.” Jake groaned in your ear as he kissed your cheek softly. “Cum for me, I’ll come with you—just say when and I’m there.” He’d been holding back for this moment, determined to experience euphoria with you. The love of his life. “Cum baby, all over my cock.”

“Shit!!” You cried as your legs shook and your eyes rolled. “Cumming cumming cumming—“ that’s all you could muster to say, one word over and over again as your jaw eventually slacked. “Jake!”

“Ohhhh fuck yess—“ Hot sports of cum shot deep I add your cunt. Filling you to the very brim as Jake slowed his role, his hips no longer slamming against you more so grinding. Keeping himself tucked deep inside as his balls tighten to new extremes. Emptying everything he had inside you. “Oh Y/n, baby—“

“Fucking hell, you’ll never be a bad fuck.” Sighing as you chuckled softly into Jake's chest. He was quick to wrap his arms around you tight. Kissing your cheek. Your wrist red from his grin. “So good.”

“That's all I am huh? A good fuck?” Jake looked down as you looked up, a little blood started to run from your nose. Doctor Perry had warned you, but you really needed to be with your husband.

“No—You’re my everything.” It was the honest truth. “And I know I probably wasn’t the best wife before.”

“Don’t—“ Jake tried to interrupt you, knowing you were about to put the blame on yourself for your marriage breakdown. “You left because I wasn’t worth staying for, but I’m learning to be a better man for you.” Wiping the blood that dripped from your nose with a tissue Jake had gabbed you from the small coffee table beside the lounge as you sat up. Jake still burrows to the hilt inside you. His cock softening over time. “I wanna win you back, that’s all that matters to me anymore, you, us.”

“What about this special detachment?” Shoving the tissue up your nose, Jake could not have been more in love. “Isn’t that super important to Mr best of the best?” You were expecting Jake to tell you it was, that it was just as important. Because that’s the way it had become with him. Work was a top priority. But it wasn’t the answer you got.

“I’d leave this detachment tomorrow if it meant I got you back for good.” It felt so surreal to hear. “I love you, so much—and you’ve never been hard to get, at all Y/n.” Jake followed you as you leaned back. His hands holding your exposed back as he wrapped your legs around his waist. Standing. “You’re hard to earn.”

“You are really turning up the charm, Hangman.” Taunting his callsign his way you beamed as Jake pressed you up against the nearest wall. Your arms around his neck. “But are you being for real? You’d give up flying this mission—for me?” He didn’t skip a beat, Jake knew how important his devotion truly meant to you. He’d forgotten to put you fear for so long that you left just to feel important to yourself again. He’d forgotten to be a husband first and foremost before an Aviator. Deep down he knew he could do both—but for now? There was one thing that he wanted to mend again. Wanted back more than anything in the entire world. You.

“Without hesitation.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~*

Grey skies loomed above, threatening to wash away the beautiful flowers that littered around and above the dark wooden coffin. Glossed and proper. The jarring claps of gunfire saluting a fallen aviator rang across the fields—forcing a jolt from you each time as you stood holding the perfectly folded flag in your arms.

“You knew this was coming—“ It was Jakes voice clear as day that spoke softly in your ear. A gentle breeze rushing past you and you closed your eyes tight. Tears spilling down your cheeks. “You’re the only one here?” Opening your eyes, suddenly it was just you. The clouds above now dark and stormy. Raining down heavy as you stood by Jake's coffin.

“I don’t remember what happened?” Crying as you looked around for someone. Anyone. “Jake!?”

“We’re glad it was him instead of one of us.” Spinning around to face where Bob stood in his dress whites. “It was rightfully him.”

“You don’t mean that.” Sobbing uncontrollably as you feel to your knees. Jake was there to console you. “You don’t!”

“No, he doesn’t—but you do.” Anger laced in his voice as the colour in his eyes began to fade into a light grey. No light or life behind them. “Why did you send me on that suicide mission honey? You could have just divorced me?”

“But I don’t remember!” You were inconsolable at this point. A sobbing mess in the wet grey beside Jake's coffin. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t—I don’t want to divorce you, I love you I—I don’t wanna lose you.” Looking up as you sat back on your heels it was just you again. Sitting in the pouring rain. “I can’t lose you.”

With a sudden gasp you felt your head leave the pillow. Eyes blurry as you tried to distinguish reality from dreamscape. Looking around the room before your eyes fell to the emptiness beside you. No—surely not. With panic bubbling just beneath the surface you hurried to find a T-shirt, any T-shirt that Jake had discarded on the floor. Fuck pants, there was no time for pants. Pulling the almost wash ready shirt over your head as you padded down the hall.

“Jake? Hey Hangman! you still around?” Checking the bathroom first, maybe he had gone for a shower. Nothing. Not a sign of life anywhere in the white tiled bathroom. “Jake?” You called out again as you continued your search, landing in the living room to also find nothing. “No—no no no no.”

Your dream was starting to play nasty little tricks on you. Or were you dreaming now? Pinching your forearm as you fort of tears, you made your way to the kitchen. Stopping in your tracks when you saw him, Jake—standing at the stove top. Eggs cooking in a pan as toast toasted in the toaster off to the side.

A sigh of relief and a wave of emotions flooded your systems as you bent down to let your hands rest on your knees. Fucking Christ, Jake had been wearing his AirPods. Music blasting as he cooked. Only realising you had joined him when he turned to check if the toast had popped. Eyes beaming with a bright closed mouth smile.

“Full disclosure I literally went for a run in that shirt like three days ago and it’s been on my floor ever since.” Pointing the spatula he had been using to cook the eggs your way. You let yourself into his side, reaching up to gently kiss Jake's cheek as you brought your arms around his waist. “Mornin’ gorgeous.” You took in the scent of Jake as you held him sight, just grounding yourself for a moment as you watched him flip your egg. Remembering you liked it a little more cooked. “You okay?”

“Just had a bit of a bad dream.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You didn’t want to ruin a good thing. Shaking your head softly with a sigh as you let go. Heading over to the coffee pot Jake had brewed up.

“I’m okay, just wasn’t expecting to wake up alone.” Although you had become used to sleeping alone. After the psychological thriller you’ve just woken up from, it would have been nice to be met with Jake's warm body pressed against yours. His back still had red raw claw marks from his upper traps to the small of his waist—you’d dug deep. Watching as soft muscle moved absentmindedly as he worked to plate up breakfast. “You cook all your little girlfriends breakfast or is it just me?” Taunting Jake as he laid your egg down gently on the toast. Turning to hand over the plate as you walked back over. Coffee cup in hand with a teasing smirk.

“Only the ones who hog the whole bed.” He fired back. “You need to learn a thing or two about personal space.” Your jaw hung slack as you took the plate. Jake laughed with a low chuckle. His morning voice a few octaves lower than normal. “I’m serious, I had probably an inch of room to work with last night.” Taking a bite of his own eggs on toast, Jake took in the extent of the bruising that had come up overnight. You watched his eyes lingering around your face.

“How bad is it?”

“It’s not too bad, I’d say tomorrow is when it’ll look like you've gone a few rounds with Rocky.” Jake tried to downplay the severity of the bruising. “Does it hurt?”

“Eh, just a little—under my eyes mostly.” Besides some pressure it didn’t feel all that bad. “Think I might just wear some sunglasses around the office today.” Laughing softly as you ate your breakfast, sipped your coffee and enjoyed each other’s company, the panic you felt in your chest from your nightmare soon dissolved. It hasn’t been the first time, but it had been the first for a while. “What time do you need to be in today?”

“Ah—“ Jake looked at his wrist although he wasn’t wearing a watch. Knowing Javy would soon be on his doorstep. “Like, now—but Coyotes picking me up so until he gets here I’m golden, what about you?”

“Well I just need to be there for phase two training today, you know—make sure all my little simulations are correct and make adjustments to anything that doesn’t really work.” You pondered what time that also told you, a questioning brow upon your face as you finished your toast and dusted your hairs. “I think like ten thirty? That’s run time isn’t it?”

“Ay!” Coyote frowned as he came bursting through Jake's front door. “Whatch’a mean you need a lift for man? Your cars in the damn drive?” He hadn’t looked up as he shit the door behind him. Hadn’t noticed you and Jake both standing very close together enjoying a moment. “Lazy man, that’s what you are—oh shit.” As soon as Coyote took a step in, he looked up. Spitting you both as you smiled and waved.

“Hawkeye needs my car to get to work later dipshit, I drove her to the emergency room last night.” Last night huh? So why were you still here then?

“Yeah no doubt, that’s from the headbutt?” Javy questioned as he stood with his hands under his armpits. Confirming his suspicions you nodded gently. “Fucking hell he wasn’t messing around was he?” Jake caught to shift in your expression, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to let every Tom, Dick and Harry point out the bruises on your face. Sending Javy a glare when you ducked your head to catch your reflection in the mirror across the room. “Sorry, my bad Lieutenant Commander, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“Javy, I’m literally not wearing any pants.” You chuckled, fixing yourself up as you kissed Jake on the cheek. A gesture which didn’t go unnoticed by the Lieutenant with the ride. “I think we’re on a first name basis here, don’t you think?”

“Right, well then—Hawk, I’m gonna go ahead and steal your man because if he doesn’t kick into fear we’re gonna be late.”

“I’ll catch you later alright?” Jake kissed you softly atop your head before he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. Finally and waiting for you to initiate the force, being way too careful to not hurt you, Jake left a loving kiss upon your lips. “Just leave my car at yours and I’ll catch a ride with you home.”

“Okay.” It felt like all the stars had finally aligned. It felt so utterly amazing to have Jake on the same page again. To feel loved and in blissful ignorance of just how terrible things could go if things were to go bad. But for now? You stuck at it, giving Jake Seresin just one more chance, giving him the chance to be a better version of the already amazing man he was. The man you fell in love with. “See you soon.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~*

“I was right about the eleventh man theory wasn't I?” Jake smirked. whispering as he came to stand next to Rooster. Rooster was adamant if there hadn’t been so many people around he would have clocked Jake up the side of the jaw himself, but the risk to reward ratio didn't weigh up in his favour. “What exactly did you do?”

“I messed up.” Rooster's eyes never left Chaos as he watched her leave the locker room, doing up his flight suit as he sighed. His fist slamming against the thin door of his locker. Leaving an indent. “I messed up big time.”

“God what is it with everyone abusing the lockers this morning?” Fanboy questioned as Bob shook his head as if to say don't ask. Jake was trying his best to put the pieces together, opting to place his hand on Roosters shoulder. Smirking, still chewing that piece of gum, Rooster secretly hoped he’d choke on.

“Oh well, you know what they say man, the more you fuck around the more you find out.” Jake chuckled as he went back to minding his own business.

“Heard you got into a pretty heavy altercation last night?” Roosters mentioned as he bent down to meet his foot. Lacing you the strings as his foot rested against the bench. “You uh, you good?”

“Some douchebag tried it on with Hawk, head butted the ever living shit out of her.” Rooster could vividly see the anger rising in Jake's eyes. Clenching his jaw so tight for a second he thought his teeth would shatter.

“Shit, she alright?” Rooster was genuinely concerned. Not so much for the bruises that littered Jake's knuckles or the fact he was clearly struggling with the replay of that moment in his head—Rooster was concerned for you. A friend. A colleague. Nevertheless he was glad Jake had been there for you. “Did Penny kick the guy out or?”

“We didn’t stick around to find out.” A sigh rolled off Jake's tongue as he stretched his back. “Also, just don’t mention the bruises.” Jake was being deadset serious. His heart ached and his stomach felt uneasy just thinking about the bruises that had settled in a little too nice on your face. He didn’t want anyone making you feel bad, intentional or unintentional. “Or so help me god you won’t get a chance to fix whatever mess you made with Chaos."

***~***~***~***~***~***~*

True to your word—it was a sunglasses indoors type of day. Mainly keeping to yourself for the most part, eventually though you did venture outside into the hanger. Just after the TopGun Graduates had been told to go gear up.

“Who’s up first?” Mavericks turned to where he had heard your heels clicking against the concrete. Making your way over to him.

“Payback, Fanboy and Hangman.” Maverick as he tapped his own glasses. “Heard about last night.”

“You should see the other guy—“ Trying to keep a positive attitude the more your headache seemed to grow. “Could’ve been a lot worse if Jake wasn’t there.” You hated to think for even a moment what could have happened if Jake hadn’t stepped in. “How’s he going anyway? With all this.”

“Yeah well, he’s got skill I’ll give him that—but what he lacks in ability to get along with others will most likely end up costing him down the line.” You appreciated Mavericks honesty as you walked with him out toward the taxi way. Spitting Jake doing a once over on his super hornet.

He’d left a small bunch of flowers on your desk, a note that read ‘For the love of my life’ attached to the handpicked flowers he’d stolen from one of the Neighbours gardens on his way to work. Coyote had given him shit, but he didn’t care. Jake knew that they would make you smile. He knew his mission had been accomplished as you wave his way. Still talking with Maverick as you walked by.

“Pete, can I be frank with you for a moment?” Your fear of losing Jake after just reconnecting had started to overwhelm you. You weren’t about to throw your heart out into the open just for it to be destroyed by external factors.

“Sure Hawkeye, what’s up.” Pete stopped in his tracks, Jake watched from his place by his F-18, squaring your shoulders and puffing your chest.

“If for whatever reason you feel that Jake is the right person for this mission.” You were projecting a fear that was far too much for you to truly handle. “If anything bad were to happen to him?” Stepping a little closer so no one else heard you. Putting the fear of god in Pete Michael, knowing he was still trying to forgive himself for the last person that blamed him entirely for the loss of a loved one. Seeing that weakness and deciding you needed to use it to your own advantage to try and keep your husband safe.

“I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @justanothermagicalsara @alexsisrebekah @stinkyjax @starkleila @luckyladycreator2 @love2write2626 @shanimallina87 @dempy @mintellaine @kiarabellerum31 @abaker74

[levikra]

I have Acute Lymphoblastic Leukosis aka Blood Cancer

buckle up :D

This post should've been here for sometime now cuz I prefer keeping everyone updated across all the platforms that I use as an artist.

So - Hi! My name is Evein, on 1st of May 2023 I turned 21 and since then, from 5th of May my health decided to pull a quick one on me, propelling the events that currently make me reside at the hospital with an oncology.

It all started with a tonsillitis-like fever, accompanied by furunclosis in three places on my body, a high fever that lasted for 5 days in the first half of May itself and other unpleasant symptoms. It felt weird, I've never had such an intense streak of sicknesses kick my ass like that, but of course - I went to doctors to get checked, the classic blood testings and general examinations and stuff.

That's when on 10th of May my blood test was checked by a dermatologist regarding my furuncle problem and - after some brief moments of her talking with the main doctor at the clinic - I was rushed to the governmential hospital due to the fact that my blood results had... no white blood cells. Literally 1.83 at the accepted range being much higher than that.

Needless to say I was fucking shocked, I've never dealt with the severity of the situation and let alone while being completely on my own as a human person (working, living, providing for myself, you call it).

At the hospital, after several examinations and another blood test came the recommendation paper that doctors signed with urgency, first and foremost I needed to get to an appointment at the hematologist's. That I did on 14th of May and since that point of time, till 19th, I'd been monitored, given antibiotics for my tonsillitis-like symptoms, along with my furunclosis and after 19th we ruled out the condition to be leukosis, became my white blood cells started coming back to normal with the antibiotics aiding my immunity, but despite that - thr condition still seemed as something more reminiscent of mononucleosis (which, however, in another blood test was disproven).

After exactly a week of feeling better, albeit dealing with leftover anemia, I started developing the same symptoms back and even worse, to the point of losing consciousness and thrwoing up in an elevator on 29th of May after going out for the second pack of antibiotics my hematologist had then already approved of to use to help out.

That's when I was rushed to the hospital again and - the next day - my hematologist arranged an appointment at the big clinic that has an oncology ward specifically for my situation. On 1st of June I was officially admitted with Acute Leukosis (the diagnosis doc attached is in Russian).

Since 1st of June the treatment has been ongoing, I've received three rounds of chemo along with supporting hormonal abd antibiotic therapy. Me is balding too, ofc. :D

And thus, this story leads to a logical question - what's now?

It's day 24 of my treatment, out of 4-6 weeks of inital induction period of leukosis' treatment (the overall chemotherapy to destroy tumor cells down to <5% in my bone marrow). After the induction period, if it's proven to lead to remissions - I'm then admitted out to certain periods of time in between infusions + need to take supporting medicine by myself (hence buying it too).

As an independent freelance artist who's existence is tied to being able to do creative work out of, well, any circumstances, I was sadly forced into situation of asking for monetary support, simply because it's stupid to expect to break your own back trying to work harder when you're body is collapsing on itself.

I have a goal on Boosty open for donations and I deeply appreciate ANY and I mean ANY traction of this post. I made a similar thread on Twitter covering the situation and have recieved a lotnof incredible support that has helped me a LOT so far, but my treatment is ongoing, or to be precise - will last in its entirety for 2-3 years. With the momentary help I was able to secure my living situation and get my pet cat to live for the current time period at my friend's, but you understand how that is just a temporary measure and, of course, I don't plan on stall myself - I simply just can't afford that even while hospitalised.

BOOSTY is very sus when it comes to singular donations higher than 120$ but if you happen to donate below that or in several different ones to bypass their antifraud system (only if you wish to) - the link to a goal is here -

[moonlight-prose]

BLOOD ALONG THE MOON

➛ 03. WICKED NIGHTS

a/n: honestly i didn't expect to take a year to ever post about this fic again. if i'm being honest i figured this would become an abandoned series. solely cause the inspo for this character completely left my head. but i couldn't let go of our reporter and their love story with this bat. so while the updates may take time, i'm ready to keep going with this. enjoy.

summary: halloween was always been your least favorite night of the year, but circumstances make it so much worse.

word count: 8.2k+

pairing: bruce wayne x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, cussing, angst, fluff, awkward beginnings, a small bit of romance, murder, death, crime scenes, grief, gratuitous prose about the darkness of gotham.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Halloween. Your least favorite night of the year.

The city streets were crowded with people; a sight not unusual to the dark pit that Gotham transformed into. But that didn’t mean you had to like it. Even getting to work was a struggle due to the overcrowded platform of the subway and the scarcity of cabs. If you had your way you’d wish everyone would suddenly vanish—giving you a chance to find some reprieve before the onslaught of darkness that plagued this night every year. Although you were foolish enough to hold out hope. Foolish enough to believe that things would be different; that nothing wicked would befall this night.

If only you’d known.

Work was filled with people milling about, some in costumes, some not. You wore your usual black coat—a pair of boots accompanying your look. If someone were to ask you’d claim you were dressed as you were every other day of the year—as a reporter working yourself to the bone. It would be sure to get a laugh from a person or two in this office.

It always did in the end.

Only this time…you weren’t laughing.

The interview you had with Bruce Wayne yesterday continued to bounce around in your mind; the thought of how to write it, still missing. You didn’t want to sound like every other magazine that sprouted nothing but gossip. There’s a reason why you chose to work at the Gotham Gazette. So you could get into the nitty and gritty of the story—no matter how dark it got in the end. To you this was either a story people would talk about forever, or it would remain a forgotten piece that would later wind up in people’s trash cans come morning the next day.

“Day.” Henry leaned against the doorway of his office. A pencil behind his ear, his glasses propped on the end of his nose, and a cup of crappy coffee in his hand. “I need to talk to you.”

You hoped you would have at least five minutes of time to breathe before you were called into what you liked to claim was the equivalent of the principal’s office. But it seemed that Henry Goldfinch decided to pick on you this week more than anyone else.

The interview notes you’d jotted down during the night were crammed into your small black notebook—nearly burning a hole in your pocket. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d ask you about them; intent on seeing a full story by tomorrow night.

“Look Henry I did the best I could with the guy, but he barely even spoke—” You were cut off at the look on his face. “Am I in trouble?”

“I just got a call from Mr. Pennyworth.”

Shit, you were so fired.

“If he wants to retract any statements then I’ll work with what I've got, but you were the one who gave me this story and I think I can do a damn good job on it.”

“Would you let me talk?” Your jaw snapped shut, cutting off the remainder of your ramble; or what you’d like to call reasons why he shouldn’t fire you. “Don’t unpack your things.”

You felt your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently you caught Mr. Wayne’s eye,” he said, settling down in his seat. “That call was Mr. Pennyworth giving me notice that Bruce Wayne is heading down to The Gotham Gazette today.”

“What?” you exclaimed, nearly falling into the chair behind you. “What the fuck for?”

“He wants to take you to lunch, kid.”

You fell into the chair, staring wide eyed at Henry who regarded you with a smirk.

Bruce Wayne wanted to take you to lunch. He was coming to your work in order to…pick you up.

Any way you tried to string it together, the news still remained hard to comprehend. Still you caught on to Henry’s words from before. You’d caught Bruce Wayne’s eye and now you were going to have to deal with the consequences of that. This would be the first time in years since he’d left Wayne Tower to do something as mundane as go to lunch. Let alone with someone like you.

“What do I do?” you croaked, trying not to panic as the reporter in you attempted to take over. Was this only a social call? Or did he want to do a follow up interview?

Henry leaned forward, the damned smirk still on his face. “You go to lunch with him. Maybe he likes you.”

“Likes me,” you scoffed. “I’d no sooner learn the identity of The Batman before Bruce Wayne admitted to liking me.”

You wanted answers like any sane person would, but the idea that Bruce Wayne possibly liked you left words unavailable to you. That was the farthest thing from the truth, except coming up with some other alternative left you with nothing yet again. What the fuck were you being called to lunch for? You hoped it was just him personally asking you to rip up the notes you took from yesterday while he watched.

“They’ll be here soon. I’d get your ass moving.”

“Right.” You stood slowly, a feeling of unease spreading through you with every step towards the door. “Did—um—Mr. Pennyworth…did he sound upset?”

Henry scoffed, taking a sip from his coffee. “And here I thought you didn’t give a shit if you pissed people off Day.”

You felt the switch flip in your mind. A reminder of who you truly were on the inside coming back like lightning cracking across your body, and you stood taller in your place. You didn’t care. You never had.

“I don’t.”

“Atta girl.” He tipped his cup slightly your way, watching as you walked back out into the office—the straight set of your spine once again returning.

You didn’t come to Gotham to make friends. You came here to work, to build a career that would outlast you if you were determined enough. Pissing off Bruce Wayne had never been on your list, but you figured it was bound to happen eventually. It was either now or later in life. Thankfully everyone had their hands full worrying about The Batman and the election—so you pissing off the Prince of Gotham would go unnoticed.

Grabbing your bag, you did a quick sweep of your desk to make sure that everything was accounted for before you left. You weren’t sure how long this lunch would take, but you didn’t intend to come back later.

The elevator doors opened once again with a loud creak, thankfully revealing it to be empty. Your heart thrummed in your chest a mile a minute, the tension still in your shoulders as you walked towards what might be the end of your career. While you knew the possibility of this simply being a social call was high, you couldn’t ignore what might very well happen. The ding of your stop brought you out of your daze enough to get out and head towards the front doors.

Glancing up towards the sky you saw the gloominess still remained—a reminder of where you were, what this city was reduced to. While you may have called it pollution of the environment, others would call it weather. After all there was always a difference in opinion when the opinion came a bit too close to the actual truth.

A sleek black car sat directly outside of the doors, a man in a black coat was hunched beneath an umbrella leaning against its side. You recognized him the second he raised his head, his blue eyes practically singeing your skin. Henry really wasn’t kidding when he said Bruce Wayne himself was coming to pick you up from the Gazette. People stopped and stared at the spectacle that was this man. By all means he was considered a hermit from the rumors that spread through Gotham like poison, and yet there he was, meeting with an unknown woman—a reporter nonetheless.

“You don’t seem like the lunch date type of man,” you said, standing far enough under the awning of the building where you didn’t get wet from the rain, but still felt it splatter against your coat.

His lips twitched, eyes skimming your figure before flicking up back to your face. You wanted to ignore the flutter in your chest from that simple gesture, but your body wouldn’t let you. It seemed that whoever Bruce Wayne was…he had an affect on you—a hold that refused to be severed.

“It wasn’t my idea.”

Scoffing, you turned to glare at a man who stood only a few feet away, clearly eavesdropping in on the conversation.

“So you aren’t here to have lunch with me. You’re simply here by the orders of Mr. Pennyworth,” you retorted.

“Alfred,” he said, finally standing to his full height for the first time since you met him. He was taller than you actually anticipated. “He thought it would be a good idea.”

“He thought going on a date with a reporter was a good idea?”

He shrugged slightly, the tension in his shoulders made the movement awkward. “Would you call this a date Miss…”

“Day.”

“Day,” he repeated quietly, his lips forming around the word as if it was already familiar to him. “Interesting name.”

“Nick-name,” you replied.

He nodded slowly, his gaze so intense you found you had to keep looking away. “Your real name isn’t printed on any of your bylines.”

You smiled albeit rather ruefully as you stepped close enough to be underneath his umbrella with him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to earn my real name Mr. Wayne.”

Again you watched—entranced—as his lips twitched slightly. Almost like he wanted to smile, but forgot how exactly to do it. He’d been in pain so long, suffering the grief of losing those he loved most for nearly his entire life, and not once had he learned what the true meaning of happiness was. For some unknown reason, you wanted to be the first one to show him.

“Okay,” he murmured, turning towards the passenger seat door and opening it for you. “And it’s Bruce.”

The words were accompanied with an outstretched hand to help you into the car, his hold simultaneously gentle yet firm as you sat. Your eyes met his briefly, something flickering to life between your gaze, before the door shut entirely and you were left in silence for a few brief seconds. It gave you enough time to catch what little breath you had in your chest—the interaction far too electric for someone like you.

Get some fucking sense.

You weren’t the type of person Bruce Wayne would fall for. One day he would find someone as wealthy as him, someone who knew his life due to shared experience. You hated those fucking words with a burning passion. Shared experience with people never went over well in your line of work. For a reporter, shared experience meant you had nothing original to say. It meant that you were the same as everyone else around you and to you that was damnation itself.

“Where would you like to eat?”

The question was barely loud enough for you to hear over the traffic and rain, but his soft tone caught you in its hold until you were solely focused on him. Once again that unfamiliar spark of energy crackled in the air. You were afraid that if this continued, you’d walk out of this lunch date with a newfound crush on Gotham’s Prince. That thought alone was enough for you to tear your gaze away—settling in the seat and staring through the front window.

“You invited me, Mr. Wayne. Why don’t you pick?”

He fell silent, hands shifting from his lap to the steering wheel and back again. “I don’t know many places to eat around Gotham anymore.”

Of course Bruce Wayne of all people would eat at home day in and day out. Thus was the luxury of having a personal chef in the Wayne Tower. Although you couldn’t stop the small grin from forming at how funny you found all of this.

Going to lunch with this man. It should have been absurd—almost laughable—but there you were. About to tell him to drive into the heart of the city just to take you to your favorite diner. Reporters would murder you just to stand in your spot. To spend mere moments with him. Yet it seemed that all you had to do was exist.

Rather than dwell on the moment any longer, you told him where to take you and it seemed that he knew the city a lot better than you expected. Pulling out of the spot with ease, he swiftly swung the car around in a rather illegal u-turn before making a quick right turn. You had to hand it to him…he knew how to handle a car. Part of you wanted to call it sexy, but you killed that echo in your head before it could manifest into something else.

Feelings were dangerous in your line of work—having seen the pain several reporters went through when they fell into bed with lethal people. You wouldn’t wind up like them. All you could allow in your life was friendship, nothing more. A friendship with Bruce Wayne wouldn’t hurt you. Not when he refrained from speaking to anyone, let alone the worst of the worst that roamed Gotham.

He turned another corner, the rain getting worse the further you traveled into the city. Driving in this weather would have stopped you from going, but it didn’t seem to phase him. He took it in stride, focusing intently on the road with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting between you. It would be so easy to pick it up, to run your fingers over the lines in his palm. And for a moment you indulged. You imagined what being with him would actually feel like.

Would he treat you the same way? Or would you suddenly become special. You couldn’t picture him treating anyone in a loving manner, let alone you and that’s where the fantasy died.

“That’s it,” you said, pointing to the flickering sign out front that only read DEM as opposed to its usual bright DEMETER’S TABLE name.

“Is it closed?”

You laughed, barely a puff of air, but you knew he heard it. Opening the door you ignored the downpour that threatened to soak you down to your very soul, and patiently waited until he got out himself. The expression on his face caught you slightly off guard as you watched him get out. You would have figured it was nothing—having seen him wear a grim expression all throughout your interview with him—but this looked different.

“I know it’s not the best place, but the food is—”

“I could have opened the door for you.”

That killed the worry filling your chest in an instant. He wasn’t upset that you brought him to what looked like the shittiest diner in all of Gotham. In fact, he could care less about that. He wanted to open the door for you…like a gentleman.

You nearly laughed in his face, but the rain was starting to seep into your shoes, causing your whole body to shiver and he fared no better. It caused his hair to stick to his face, the coat doing absolutely nothing to keep him dry.

The sign from the diner cast a luminescent glow across his face, highlighting his high cheekbones. You found yourself wanting to brush your lips across them. Though it was daytime and the sun remained stuck behind the clouds somewhere, you still felt as if night encased you in its cold embrace. Yet standing there with him in the rain, keeping his stare, you felt warmth flicker in your chest. As if he had placed a piece of the sun in your heart.

“You don’t have to do that with me,” you said softly, turning away before you grew too attached to this odd man.

The bell above the door rang throughout the building, alerting her of your presence. Your friend Dem stood behind the counter, her graying black hair wrapped up in a loose bun—a pen going directly through it to hold it in place. She looked up at the sound, a broad smile pulling at her wrinkled cheeks and bringing to light the soft lines around her eyes. When you first moved to Gotham she was the person who practically took you under her wing.

“Day! You are soaked hun. You shouldn’t be out in this weather.” She walked around the counter, immediately handing you a hot steaming cup of coffee. “Especially not since you just got over pneumonia. What are you trying to do, kill your…”

She trailed off, her eyes growing wide as the bell rang again and Bruce entered behind you, looking worse than you did. You knew the shock she was feeling, having gone through it about thirty minutes ago yourself, and did your best to drag her back to the present.

“Got a free table?” you joked, knowing the diner was practically empty.

That seemed to do it. The smile—though hesitant this time around—was back as she gestured to the second booth by the door. “I’ll be right with you sweetie.”

“Thanks Dem.”

You slid into the old brown booth, feeling your clothes stick to the fake leather. “Here.” You pushed the mug of coffee his way. “It’ll help with the cold.”

“I’m okay.” He reached up to push it back, but you held it in its place.

“I’m not asking Wayne.” Smiling, you leaned back. “Besides…can’t have one of the most important people in Gotham getting sick on my watch. I’d definitely be fired for that.”

Without another word, he lifted the mug to his lips, placing them directly where yours were mere moments ago. The spark flared to life again, cracking like a familiar bolt of lightning through your body and burning you to the core. Looking away, you clasped your hands together in an effort to seal in any heat that might try to escape your body. You weren’t sure if you liked the feelings that were causing your body to go haywire. For all you knew, you could have been imagining this entire thing.

You wouldn’t put it past your mind to play tricks on you as you sat across from him.

“Why this place?” Once again, his question caught you off guard.

“What?”

He set the mug down, pushing it your way. “Why this diner?”

His blue eyes were fixed on your face, as if attempting to see past the shield you wore day in and day out. When a person suffered enough pain to last an entire lifetime, they tended to become closed off. You were that person and from what you could see…so was he. The temptation to ask him how he survived through the pain, how he managed to come out of it at the end somewhat of a person, was on the tip of your tongue.

But you figured it was better to stay silent—keep it to yourself until the right moment came up.

“It was the first place I came to when I first moved to Gotham. I used to live a block away from here.” Sipping on the coffee, you tried to busy yourself to avoid his piercing gaze. “Though, I had to move because my apartment got broken into while I was sleeping.”

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger? No…something else.

Clearing your throat, you continued in the hopes of appeasing your now racing heart. “Anyways. Dem took me in, she took care of me and it felt nice. So I stayed.”

Before he could reply, Dem arrived with two plates in her hands. You smelled the burger before she even placed it on the table—your stomach clenching with hunger. Her specialty that you first ordered when you came here. It made your heart warm seeing her place it in front of Bruce, her smile kind and welcoming. No matter who he was, Dem always saw the good in people. Saw what they needed and willingly gave it to them without question.

She was a mother to the strangers that wandered into her diner.

“More coffee?” she asked, staring at the single mug that sat empty in the center of the table.

You noticed she didn’t ask if you’d like a second cup, her body language telling you enough. She thought this was a date. You weren’t sure if you should correct her or not.

“Please,” Bruce said, interrupting your thoughts. He handed her the mug, never asking for an extra one, but seemingly happy to share with you.

Once again your heart fluttered and this time…you let it.

“Dem’s burgers are possibly the best thing to be created.”

His lips pulled up in a small barely there grin. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You should,” you replied, smiling around a bite of your fry. “As a reporter all I have is my word.”

You didn’t catch the way he looked at you, his eyes shining with something that hadn’t been there in a very long time. Instead you focused on gazing out the window at the rain. The way it transformed the city into something dangerous. Yet even through the darkness you could see it. The small hints of the light seeping through the clouds and shining down on an otherwise grim place.

Carole King played on the old speakers—a favorite of Dem’s you learned early on—and it created a soft symphony of warmth as it mixed with the rain. You wanted to stay there forever. In a place of comfort and love.

You’d even include Bruce in it too.

He bit into the burger, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the taste burst across his tongue. The sight caused your heart to lurch in your chest, warmth spreading up your neck and into your face. And you tried your best to shove it down. How ridiculous of you to find the sight hot, but there you were. Speechless, watching as he enjoyed one of your favorite meals.

Dem’s voice humming to the song snapped you out of your ogling; you looked to her to find something else to focus on. Except the small knowing smile she wore on her face and the wink she threw your way did nothing to help your situation. Rather than dwell on it, you began to eat. Content to remain silent until the both of you finished.

The singular cup of coffee was set down in between you two, dragging your gazes back to one another. You glanced at the mug, then back at him. As if that was the defining factor of whether or not this was a date. He chewed thoughtfully on a fry, his eyes still on you, while you mulled over whether or not you could magically turn the one mug into two.

It turned out to be an impossible feat, but one you found you didn’t mind.

“So tell me—” You pried your trench coat off, draping it over the back of the booth. He’d discarded his thirty minutes ago, his black button down now rolled to his elbows. “What’s Bruce Wayne been up to?”

His eyebrow quirked, lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. “This isn’t a second interview is it?”

You shrugged. “I’ve gotten enough for my article already. This is me asking.”

“Hm.” He leaned forward, hands clasped together and hair falling back into his eyes. “And who are you exactly?”

The smile you’d been fighting for an hour came through. “I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.”

The coffee mug had been refilled three times now, your energy coupled with the spark of attraction (you were still denying) between you brought life back into your body. While he didn’t disclose much about himself—saying bits and pieces here and there—you still found yourself engrossed in his words. You wanted to know more, to see the man behind the mask that was Bruce Wayne.

Maybe if you were lucky enough he’d show you his true self one day. For right now you were content to remain just as you were.

A reporter who shied away from any aspects of love, sitting with a man who was discovering what the meaning of joy was all over again.

“I can wait,” he murmured, his eyes no longer resembling the cloudy skies outside. You could see the lightness in them—the shining blue unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

You glanced down at the mug, seeing something in it you hadn’t before. For whatever unknown reason Bruce Wayne—the man who had been reclusive his entire life—trusted you. Even though he didn’t say it outright he didn’t have to. You saw it well enough and something told you…he knew you could see it. He wanted you to see it.

Time was slowly ticking away, reminding you that you had a job to get back to, but you still remained. Sitting with your elbows pressed to the table—unconsciously trying to get as close to him as possible. Maybe if you never left the world would melt away. If you became a permanent part of this diner, the city that happily ate away at every resident would leave you be. You’d be forgotten in a place that thrived on the lost and forlorn.

“Why me?” you inquired after the beat of silence threatened to swallow you whole.

The soft lilting notes of Billie Holiday echoed in the empty diner. Dem was nowhere to be found and the only two remaining customers were you and Bruce. Still sharing that singular cup of cold coffee. It had created a ring on the table, your lipstick a slight stain on the white mug. The color smudged off from where Bruce had placed his lips. Sharing a hint of a kiss that would never be.

He leaned back in the booth, no longer stiff—the nature of a man who had hid from society for years now traded in for someone different. His body language was enough to make you stare. Transfixed on the way his shirt continued to hug his figure even though it had dried an hour ago.

“Why not you?”

You huffed. “Answering my question with another question. And here I thought I was the only reporter in the room.”

“I’ve had my fair share of interviews.”

“None that I’ve read.” You slid your plate to the side and clasped your hands together in the hopes of looking as intrigued as you felt. “Do tell Mr. Wayne.”

The tension was beginning to set in his shoulders again. A small overlay to the man that lingered beneath. As if he was bringing up a mask he constantly carried with him. He hid constantly day in and day out, but right now he didn’t sit before you the Prince of Gotham, but instead a man who was trying to relearn how to live. Whether you wanted to admit it to yourself or not…Bruce Wayne was like you in ways you couldn’t have imagined.

“Alfred keeps them from printing.” The admission alone was enough for you to change the subject, but he continued to talk—cracking open yet another small sliver to the impenetrable armor he wore. “People they don’t…they always look for something wrong.”

You nodded, digging your nail into your palm. “Flaws are sometimes easier to sell.”

The sad truth of being a journalist is more often than not people weren’t looking for the truth. At least not in Gotham. They wanted something to sell. A piece of the person that one would deem too vulnerable to be shown to the rest of the world. They wanted to satiate the greed that clawed its way to the front. Rarely was the truth their only reason for writing a story.

“You’re not interested in flaws.” His eyes grew softer, hand splaying on the table to trace a random shape as he watched you. Saw through the facade you wore. He dug right down to the depths of your persona and dragged it to the surface—a relenting and brutal act.

Yet you wanted it to happen all the same.

“I like the truth.” You distracted yourself with the shape of his finger, the length of it as it shifted. “It sounds better.”

For a split second you allowed your eyes to flicker up, to meet his in the dim lights of the diner, and you finally caught hold of that niggling emotion. The one that held you captive in your own right. You liked him. Despite only meeting him yesterday, you found yourself drawn in by his haunted eyes. The same ones that practically burned a hole in your skin, until he was forever a part of your form.

Bruce Wayne felt familiar to you.

Not in the way that a stranger finds a face in the crowd familiar. Not even in the way an old friend would feel seeing someone from their past once more.

He was familiar in the way two souls separated beyond time and space were familiar. You couldn’t quite explain it, but somehow you knew these eyes that traced the lines and curves of your face. Committing you to memory. You were two distant beings made up of different particles of the universe. Yet there in that diner you found one another—as if gravity had dragged your cells together all along.

Two halves of a celestial being finally forming to be one.

You almost wanted to laugh at the notion that Bruce Wayne and you had anything in common. Let alone that there was any physical attraction between you.

But there it was. The truth you’d been searching for all along.

You could almost laugh at how fucked it all was.

How horrifically beautiful.

Night was beginning to settle over the city, calling to the horrors that lingered in the shadows. Prompting them to finally emerge for the one night where fear ran rampant in the streets of Gotham. Being scared on Halloween wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but this year things felt different. You could practically taste the blood that would run through the grime filled streets come morning. The same one that you would later have to report on.

Bruce stood beside his car next to your apartment building. You had directed him here after another hour spent in Dem’s diner barely speaking yet saying more than you would have liked. For some reason he was able to unearth more about you than you had found out in the entirety of yesterday’s interview with him. If being a Wayne didn’t wind up working out for him, he’d make a killing out of being an investigative journalist.

You told him as much before you left.

“Got any plans for tonight?” you asked, already knowing the answer you’d receive.

He looked up to the slightly darkened sky, at the way that the clouds did nothing to allow even slivers of the sunset to break through. You had to hand it to the city. There was some irony in the way even nature plagued the city in darkness. As if its legacy was always meant to be this. An abyss that drowned everyone within.

A barely there quirk appeared on his lips. “I’ll be out of the city tonight.”

Convenient.

The thought crossed your mind of asking him to join you for a lonesome dinner and half a bottle of wine. But the line had been drawn in the sand long before you agreed to accompany him for lunch. An invisible border you couldn’t cross. He was a Wayne. A part of a world you could only reach through second hand stories and gruesome aftermaths.

If the lunch had been more than strangers sitting across from one another, you would have joked about your house being Capulet and his Montague. But something told you irony wasn’t his strong suit. Nor would it favor you being able to see him another time. That is…if he even wanted to see you. For all you could tell this was merely a social call placed on his shoulders by Alfred—the man you came to see as Bruce’s father figure.

“Well…”

“Would you—”

You smiled, feigning being professional for the sake of your giddiness. “You go first.”

He cleared his throat. “Would you be available in a few days?”

“Oh…” Rather than take it easy on him, you decided that the best course of action was to jab at his wall just a bit. Just to see if something would crumble even further. So with a smile you stepped closer, watching the rise and fall of his chest quicken just a bit more. “That doesn’t sound like Alfred speaking.”

A heavy breath left his lungs—washing warm across your skin. “It’s not.”

“So this is you asking?”

He nodded, probably irritated with the way you were clearly teasing him. But that’s the thing. He let you tease him. He gave in to your small ruse and let it play out until you felt like you were finished.

If you could get away with this, who knows what else you’d be able to get away with. Perhaps calling him a stupid nickname. Or even getting to know his favorite color.

Something told you it was brown.

“What’s your favorite color?”

His eyebrows rose, mouth parted slightly as if you’d thrown him for a bigger loop than anyone had before. And much to your own surprise…he answered. Honestly.

“Black.”

Ah…you were close.

“Tuesday. The rush of Halloween will be over and my paper should give me some free reign. I’ll be available then.”

Another solemn nod as if you just informed him that you were attending a funeral for a recently departed loved one. You learned to realize that his nods were simply a part of his personality. Eventually you would be able to decipher what each one meant, what they were attempting to say without using words. His voice seemed to be an afterthought—actions speaking louder than words could say.

“Tuesday it is,” he replied with a soft hesitant smile. You wanted to see it again, ask him to never frown again, but this was merely a fleeting moment in the grand expanse of things.

He stood there for a minute more as if leaving was the last thing he wanted. Then got into his car, turned the engine once, and drove down the street. And you watched him disappear into the already dark horizon. The day never existed to begin with, but the storm wouldn’t stop the chaos of the night. So you gave one last glance to the street before heading inside, ready to hole yourself in your locked apartment til sunrise the next day.

The shrill ringing of your cell phone startled you from your small nap on the couch. A throw blanket that was a mishmash of colors was thrown over your body, a half empty wine bottle on the coffee table and the book Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde face down beside it. Ever since finding it in the Wayne tower, you began to look through the old text. With the silly hope that you would find pieces of Bruce Wayne in the words.

“What?” you grumbled, rubbing a hand over your face to rouse yourself from the groggy state of sleep. Your brain was sluggish, body content to remain on the couch for many more hours, but Henry’s grim voice startled you awake.

“The Mayor’s dead.”

You sat up. “What the fuck do you mean the Mayor’s dead Henry?”

A quick glance at the clock told you it was nearing the middle of the night. The noise outside still persisted though. People always partied the worst on this night. Especially in this city.

“If this is a joke—”

“Shut up and listen will you.” Your mouth clamped shut, eyes falling to the book. “They found him in his home. And it’s gruesome. Whoever did it was a right fucked up person, but I can’t get there at this time. The streets are too packed.”

The breath caught in your throat, even as your eyes stung with exhaustion. “And I’m closer to the scene.”

“It’s a favor and it’s a big one Day.”

You sighed. “I’ll leave in ten. Who’s on the scene?”

“Gordon.”

Good. Gordon never gave you shit for being a reporter like the other detectives did. Many wanted your kind out of Gotham all together simply because of how good you were at getting your nose into places it shouldn’t be. With Gordon there at least you would have a chance to do some meaningful reporting—or at least help where you could in figuring this out.

Henry listed out a few details they told him, what was going to occur within the next few days. But all you could think about was Bruce. You’d miss your chance to see him Tuesday after all. Too stuck in the midst of a city wide crime scene that would take up more or less all of your time. Which left him on the outs. You scribbled down in your black notebook a note to call him and ask for a rain check.

At least then one good thing in your life wouldn’t disappear without a trace.

You grabbed your coat, shoved your arms in the sleeves, and locked up your apartment as the weight of the news rested heavy on your shoulders.

With the death of the Mayor came an investigation. One that would no doubt lead to more bloodshed in the streets and leave a city divided amongst itself. You had heard about shit like this happening in Gotham, but you were never around to see it yourself. Yet there you were. Right in the thick of it with no other option but to see the chaos through.

People filled the streets. Some drunk, some not. Which didn’t make getting to the scene easier. You fought through the crowds, managed to catch a train down there, and somehow came out unscathed. And above in the night sky…his sign hung like a full moon. It called out to the chaos of the night, and made a promise to those who liked the cover of darkness that they would only be safe for so long.

“Shit,” you muttered, feeling the rain strike against your cheek. It stung as you crossed the street.

Police cars lined the sidewalk, sirens blaring and bright, and for a moment…there was light in Gotham. You could barely see in front of you, but at least they illuminated the pathway to the front entrance. Many of them were taping off the building, others standing around and gazing at the sky—probably asking themselves if he would show up.

“If it ain’t Miss Day!”

You felt the weight lighten as you reached the top of the building steps. “Officer Martinez. Funny seeing you here.”

“You come to talk to me tonight?”

The smile was involuntary on your lips as he let you head in with him, holding the door open for you. Martinez always had a soft spot for you when things like this befell the city. After all he was usually around when it came to Gordon and with a job like yours, you ran into cops a bit too often for your liking. But Martinez was the exception. He brought you coffee on long nights at crime scenes, cracked jokes at the worst times, and even drove you home if he was around.

“Of course,” you said with a grin, bumping his shoulder. “I’m here to write a piece about the greatest cop in the city.”

He scoffed. “Flattery will get you everywhere chica.”

“Do you know what happened?”

Another flight of steps revealed even more cops scattered around the place. You could see the flash of a camera in the distance, whispered voices filling the air as you entered. Several cops gave you nasty glances, scoffing to themselves at the fact that you were allowed to enter. A reporter. Someone beneath them. To them you were the vulture that came to pick apart the mess they were left to clean.

“All I know is what Gordon told me. And even that’s not much.”

“Where is Gordon?”

Martinez shrugged. “Went out to fetch someone. Figure another detective.”

One more step into the room and you felt it. The pressure in your chest, the pinch of pain in your side where you were still healing. As if crime in Gotham called to crime. A horrid likeness that permeated the air. When Henry said the scene was gruesome he wasn’t kidding. You were ready to bolt the second you could smell the blood—the sight nearly too much for your stomach to take.

“Fuck,” you murmured, eyes wide and body wracked with fear.

“It’s not easy to see.”

“He’s…oh fuck.”

You didn’t need words to know Martinez was concerned about you. His eyes told you enough. They lingered a bit too long, tried to see past your mask you quickly pulled up when it came to scenes such as this. If you were lucky you would make it out tonight without any nightmares.

You were rarely lucky.

Someone called his name, causing him to leave you alone in the room with a few other people. Yet all you could focus on was the Mayor. The message scrawled across his head screamed so loud you could practically hear the voice of the killer. It punched right through your chest, made you pay attention without any barriers. Without mercy.

“What the fuck?”

You turned when someone’s voice filtered through the air, disbelief clear in their tone. Perhaps they found something worse. Something that would make you want to unsee everything that happened tonight. But what came to your attention was not what you expected. Your heart dropped to your stomach, a flutter going through your body, as the sight of him filled your view once more.

For some reason he seemed bigger in the room. He towered over everyone here, eyes still striking against the dark color of his suit. For a moment you couldn’t breathe, nerves filling your body with each heavy thump of his boot against the hardwood floor. How he would react to seeing you again took over your mind. Yet you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe…he forgot about you.

Maybe to him you were just another lost soul in a sea of tragedy.

Someone he saved once and didn’t think twice about second.

He stopped midstep, gaze falling to your form, and for a split second…he stiffened entirely. Recognition flashed in his eyes before something darker took its place. You were reminded of the night he dragged you home, the night he held you as you cried about death. As you begged him to keep you alive.

You wondered if he was thinking about that too. If you stepped close enough maybe you could see it in his eyes. Fragments of a memory that still burned bright and alive in your mind—a bad movie you could never turn off. So there you sat in the theater. Forced to watch it replay.

Maybe if you asked he’d sit with you. Keep you company in the darkness.

“Daywalker.”

Gordon had a habit of using the formal version of your nickname. A call sign that seemed to jolt you from your own mind—eyes snapping from The Batman to the man standing beside him. He regarded you with a confused look. A question lingering on his tongue.

One you quickly overlapped with one of your own.

“What the hell happened Gordon?”

His eyes went soft. “Chaos.”

The pain in your side flared to life again. “And what’s he doing here?”

The thump of his boots echoed behind you as he circled the scene. No doubt taking notes about what happened, what was left behind for them to find. Gordon held up a green envelope, writing scratched into the paper as if it was left there in anger—the pen nearly breaking through. A formal address to the man who still remained behind you. A call out to The Batman himself.

Either this guy was insane…or he understood what The Bat would react to.

“So all this…was for him?”

Eyes burned into your skin when you said the words, another thump letting you know he still remained, still listening in the shadows of the room.

Gordon shrugged. “That’s what he’s here to find out.”

You nodded, stepping back to let Gordon do his job with the others as you surveyed the room yourself. Every once in a while your gaze fell back to him. How he stalked about with purpose, each step measured and calculated. He understood the tension in the room, how cops hated that he stood amongst them.

After all, he fell lower into their likeability category than you. To them you were the vulture, but he was the thief. He took their image—their reputations—and made it worse. He took their jobs right under their noses. Not because they couldn’t do it, but because with him it would come to a final end.

You caught bits and pieces of the conversations at hand, heard how the Mayor must have died, but your attention still remained with The Bat. How he stood wary with his back to the window. Every now and then you swore his gaze fell to you, but that might have been your imagination. Your mind hadn’t stopped racing since you stepped past the threshold; the crime scene doing nothing but wracking your body with fear and anxiety. Two things that were an enemy to a good reporter.

“Killer may have come through the skylight.”

You glanced up, eyes tracing the metal lines of the glass above and tried to imagine the scene playing out before you. How they’d get in, how they’d hide. In your head it matched up, but something felt off—as if the scene itself was too perfect. Too pristine for you to gather anything notable.

Gordon’s voice peaked your interest, drawing you closer. “What does a liar do when he’s dead?”

“There’s a cipher too.”

Something flickered in the back of your mind. You remembered Henry having a book of riddles on his desk. Some cheap Christmas gift someone in the office got him in the hopes of giving their boss a sense of humor. You had flipped through it once or twice while waiting for him to show up for a meeting. But you could recall the same riddle being printed with all the others—in a list of nearly three hundred, you remembered that one for its dark flair.

“Lies,” you murmured to yourself, attention forced to the outburst towards Gordon.

But it was the darker and much deeper voice behind you that sent a cold shiver down your spine. “He lies still.”

The answer to the riddle.

Yet even that didn’t tell you much. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t going to give Gotham the easy way out. No, you could see the darkness lingering in the distance. The threat of something more on the way. And there wouldn’t a fucking thing anyone in this room could do about it. Except for him. His name was on the envelope, his sign in the sky and soon…Gotham would be turning to him for more than just an answer to a riddle.

“Happy fuckin’ Halloween,” the commissioner spat, turning away from the scene with enough anger to rival the killer. Grief plagued the air and while you should have stayed, asked for statements, all you wanted to do was go home.

So you bid Gordon goodnight with the promise to call him tomorrow for more than just this. Your stomach was in knots, bile filling the back of your throat, but you could barely move. His gaze still burned a hole in your back, watching as you left on semi-steady feet—the wound that lingered now a reminder that you were nearly this person. You were nearly another story in a newspaper.

Martinez came up beside you as you stepped out into the hall, a cup of hot coffee in his hands. He must have grabbed it from down the street, because he held his own. The rain still pounded outside striking loudly against the window but it had become a drowned out echo. Simply background noise to a tragedy that kept you locked tight in its grasp. You could see the headline of tomorrow’s paper. The words bold and loud amidst the gray color—a color that matched the sky.

GOTHAM MOURNS.

“Want me to give you a ride home?” Martinez asked, eyes still plagued with concern. You wanted to wipe it from his face, place his carefree smile back where it belonged. Except no one would be smiling tonight.

You sucked in a cold breath, sensing the presence of The Bat as he followed Gordon out to the hallway.

“Yeah. A ride would be nice.”

Tomorrow was a new day, but the truth still remained, waiting to break free. Darkness ran through Gotham so deep it would take prying the streets up to see it, but something told you exactly that would happen. This was not the end of the blood that would turn this city red.

It was only the beginning.

[onboardsorasora]

Sugar Baby Daniel

oooh it has been a minute and a half since we had an update here. Couldn't leave this AU out of Lewis' win AO3 Link: Sugar Baby Daniel | First Tumblr chapter: How they met

The noise was deafening when Lewis drove across the chequered flag. Silverstone was in raptures and there was no one exempt. 

The mechanics and engineers were hanging off of the walls and railings, Toto was jumping and cheering and Carmen was squeezing him tightly. Daniel was in a state of euphoric shock. Reasonably, he knew that Lewis was a world champion and beloved by the sport and fans alike. Reasonably he was very aware that Lewis had all of these stats and awards and accolades for winning. 

But, Daniel realized at that moment that he’d never seen Lewis win. He’d never witnessed the rapturous energy in the paddock, never seen such delight on the faces of the team he’d come to know in the last few years. His joy felt explosive and he knew it was mirrored in everyone around him. Quite literally everyone was happy for Lewis and that made Daniel’s happiness grow. 

He hung back during the ceremonies, shaking his head and waving for Carmen and Linda to go on without him to greet Lewis in parc ferme. He didn’t… he hadn’t been here long enough to bask in the feeling of it all. He didn’t understand the two and a half year drought as much as the people around him had. He didn’t experience it the same way they did. He didn’t know any better. And he felt he would be doing Lewis and his family a disservice by enjoying this moment with them.

He was proud of Lewis, so so proud. So happy for him. Lewis had been excited the night before, buzzing about the possibilities, how he planned to take turn one, the works. Daniel and Roscoe had listened attentively, well Daniel had, Roscoe fell asleep. Daniel knew Lewis would win, had felt it in his bones. What he hadn’t expected was the full blown imposter syndrome trying to make this all about him when it was supposed to be about Lewis.

He was sitting in Lewis’ driver room when the door opened. He saw when Lewis got whisked off to media and Anthony had suggested he wait here, with Roscoe. Lewis stepped in, sweaty and beaming. Golden trophy in hand. 

Daniel stood up and threw his arms around him, tucking himself close. Lewis squeezed him tight and Daniel didn’t even mind the press of the metal edge pressing into his shoulder. 

“I knew you would do it.” Daniel muttered against Lewis’ skin and Lewis laughed joyously in response.

“I didn’t see you out there.” Lewis pulled back to ask, Daniel bit his lip and looked down.

“I uh, I wanted you to have your moment with everyone. I know how much it means to everyone.”

“And to you?”

“Ok ok I didn’t come out cause I was bawling. I was so overwhelmed.” Daniel blushed and covered his face, Lewis’ smile turned soft– understanding. “I’m here now.”

“I’m happy you’re here now.”

Daniel pulled Lewis into a deep kiss, pushing all of his happiness and pride into the feeling. Lewis kissed him back with just as much vigor.

“You know, this is a first for me. I’ve never seen my boyfriend win a race before.” Daniel muttered almost conversationally. Lewis laughed.

“Was it everything you expected?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I could have expected this. Did you know you’re like.. a God?” 

Lewis snorted and shook his head, demure. “Gods have worshippers and all of that, these fans are just fans.”

“Gods also have supplicants…” Daniel trailed off with a raised brow, Lewis’ blood heated.

There was a knock at the door and one of the PR people called out for Lewis. He groaned while Daniel chuckled.

“Hold that thought.” Lewis suggested and Daniel licked Lewis’ lips before kissing him.

“Tonight, I’ll tell you more.”

“Good.”