#ive been staying at his place all week due to. tensions. at home

[suqqubus]

btw ive been playing house with karaoke guy all week. married vibes. DON'T ask..........

[hermannsthumb]

hello i adore your fics <33 could you write something during the war where newt & hermann sleep/cuddle in each other's beds whenever they're stressed (but are still incredibly repressed)? no pressure obv!!

SURE THING!! getting back in the prompt game!!! been working on longer fics and some regular work this summer so sorry ive been spotty with writing 👀 I'm aiming to get through a bunch of these at 1k words each

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Newt isn't necessarily expecting the knock on his door a little bit past midnight, but he can't really say it surprises him. Hermann was more on edge today than usual, getting pissed at Newt for stupid little things (like finishing off the coffee creamer that Hermann doesn’t even like in the lab fridge, or humming along a little too loudly to his iPod), discreetly taking ibuprofen for what Newt knew was a bad headache, swearing under his breath and erasing his entire chalkboard every time he made the tiniest calculation error. It’s the culmination, Newt knows, of a majorly stressful week—another kaiju attack, multiple mandatory Shatterdome personnel meetings about the kaiju attach, reports on the kaiju attack and the mandatory meeting due, Hermann hoarding the weight of where the deployed jaeger failed and pushing himself to fix it all, immediately. Newt’s not sure he saw Hermann have a full meal (ie, something more substantial than black tea and a cigarette) once all throughout all of it. He’s not sure he saw Hermann sleep somewhere other than his desk either, or even change his clothes.

So, no, Newt isn’t expecting it, because expecting it means it’s something they do (which they one hundred percent don’t), but he showers early that night, and he changes into a big t-shirt along with his boxers instead of just the latter, and he makes sure his spare pillow is fluffed and placed delicately on his bed. Just in case. And all of it in time for the timid knocking at 12:13 am.

Knocking which isn’t even finished before Newt swings open his door. “Hey, dude,” he says, leaning casually against his doorframe.

Hermann stands in front of him in pajamas, his pillow tucked under his right arm, his toothbrush clenched tight in his left fist. His pajamas are old and clearly well-loved: blue plaid, hanging slightly off his frame, missing the third button from the top. He hasn’t worn this pair over to Newt’s bunk yet. Newt recognizes his thick wool socks, though. He teases Hermann for wearing socks to bed every single time. (Not that Newt is keeping track of what Hermann wears on the super and totally random times he comes over.) “Good evening, Newton,” Hermann says with a terse, polite nod, like they just bumped into each other on the street, or it’s pure coincidence that Newt happened to be behind this very door that he decided to knock on. He peers around Newt into his bunk. “Oh, have you tidied up?”

“I picked my dirty laundry up,” Newt says, by which he means he dumped it all onto his desk chair to deal with later.

“It’s a sight better than it usually is,” Hermann says. "I can actually see your floor."

He clears his throat.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he continues. “I know it’s rather late.”

“Nah, not at all, I’m always up now," Newt says. It's kind of a lie. He's asleep by now on normal nights (barring when he really needs to pull an all-nighter in the lab), but he kind of had an inkling he'd need to stay up an extra hour or so. It's weird how well he knows Hermann sometimes.

"I was taking a walk and thought I might stop by," Hermann says.

Hermann’s eyes drift over Newt’s shoulder, over to Newt’s bed. Newt made sure that his sheets were fresh, too, and he's stripped his bedspread back enough for them to peek out invitingly. Newt’s become shockingly more hygienic since this became a whole totally not-thing. Hermann shifts his weight a little more heavily to his cane. “Very good,” he says. “Er. Well. Considering we’re both awake, I wonder if I might come in to—talk. Or some such thing. I’m having…difficulty sleeping.” He clears his throat again. “Insomnia.”

Newt feigns surprise. “Oh, man, really? Of course, totally come in!” He opens his door wider. “My electric kettle is already boiling if you want tea or something. I mean—I turned it on so I could have tea, but there’s enough water for two people. I wanted a lot of tea,” he adds.

(Newt bought the kettle for Hermann after he almost had an aneurysm when Newt tried to heat up water in the microwave for him.)

“Tea would be nice,” Hermann says.

While Hermann shows himself in, Newt steps over to his bookcase and begins rifling through his tea collection for some of the herbal decaffeinated stuff he keeps on hand for the completely random occasions Hermann drops in. Honestly, though, all of Newt’s tea collection is also kind of for Hermann. Newt is generally more of a coffee sort of guy (barring boba tea, which rocks), so his tea collection kind of just sits there gathering dust when Hermann’s not there. He quickly fixes a cup of herbal tea in Hermann’s favorite of Newt’s mugs (a sturdy old MIT mug, big enough to fit two regular cups) and turns to find that Hermann has already made himself at home in Newt’s bed. “Thank you very much,” Hermann says.

Hermann is taking up the right side of the bed, his own pillow and Newt’s spare propped up beneath him, his cane propped against the wall. It’s the side he always takes. Newt has started thinking of it as Hermann’s side, actually, and has stopped bothering to return items that Hermann routinely leaves on the bedside table because of it—his spare glasses cleaning cloth, a half-finished book he’ll let Newt read along with him over his shoulder, a notepad he’ll sometimes scribble random equations down in. Newt’s own stuff (a lamp, his alarm clock, his glasses) looks barren without Hermann’s at this point. Newt’s kind of afraid to decide what that means.

He hits the light and slips into the left side of the bed. He tries very hard not to look at Hermann's delicately crossed ankles, because it's cute and it makes him feel disgustingly warm and affectionate inside, which is totally not how he should be thinking about his fussy lab partner. “Did you want to talk about anything?” he says.

“Mm,” Hermann says. His arms are crossed across his chest, too, very prim-and-proper. “Not particularly. It’s been a miserable week, is all.”

He drinks his fill of the tea, then sets both his mug and his glasses onto Newt’s side table. Newt doesn’t have to be asked to pull back the bedcovers for him or to gently drape them over Hermann when Hermann makes himself sufficiently comfortable on the mattress. He especially doesn't have to be asked to wind his arm around Hermann’s side, nudge his knee between Hermann's legs to prop up his left, and draw him snug up against his chest. Hermann showered, too—he smells like the same PPDC-standard soap Newt uses, and his short hair is still damp and tickles Newt’s nose. Immediately Hermann sags against him, like all the tension is leaving his body. Newt feels him sigh softly. A moment later, Hermann squeezes his hand. “Thank you, Newt,” he says. It's so quiet Newt thinks he imagined it for a second.

“Sure,” Newt says.

Maybe they’ll talk about it eventually—Newt knows they probably won’t—but the truth is that Newt never sleeps as well as he does with Hermann in his bed, too.

[matryosika]

shoot me, chapter V

pairing — changbin x reader

rating — 18+

genre of the overall series — smut, angst, fluff if you squint

prologue chapter I chapter II chapter III chapter IV chapter V

word count for this chapter — 3.7 k

warnings — exhibitionism, fingering, mild humilliation, dirty talk, daddy kink, sort of orgasm denial?

note — this chapter was more focused on describing where the story it's going to go next. also some insights as to what changbin has been thinking the whole time.

i want to thank you all for waiting, once again, and next week i'll be completely free from school so that's nice! i think there are a very few chapters left for this, so stay tuned :-)

taglist:@cozyblues @ahgasearmyfan @binnie-m00n @minaamhh @pinkishwen

that night was all it took for you and changbin to start fucking almost every single day. at arthur's house when he wasn't around, his place, his parent's place, his car... the hunger you both had for each other was insatiable and you couldn't really understand why.

sex was awesome with him, he was perfect for you in that aspect. but every time he opened his mouth... god, you just wanted to get into a fist fight with him. he was cocky, arrogant, proud, kind of stupid, egocentric, self-centered... long story short, an asshole. you disliked him so much but maybe that was the reason behind you being completely at his mercy in bed.

"so, i was thinking" changbin went as the two of you entered the elevator of arthur's company ready to leave. he was nice enough to offer you a ride to arthur's house because you had lunch plans with hyejin, your sister "how about dinner tonight?"

you looked at him confused, a slight smirk appearing at the corners of your lips "do i look like i'm interested in getting to know you?" you asked, playfully. you could see from the side how hard he swallowed, licking his lips and trying to gain composure after how you mocked him for inviting you to something so casual as a dinner can be.

"we spend a lot of time together anyways" he responded "i was trying to be nice with you"

"you couldn't be nice even if you tried" you replied, pushing the botton of the building's first floor "we both know we are fucking and that's it. i'm leaving in a couple of months, you will never see me again... no need to get to know eachother"

changbin made a grin as he snapped his neck, releasing the tension of his shoulders. you wouldn't know this, but it actually took him quite courage to invite you.

"dinner" you whispered, laughing faintly "god, men are so pathetic thinking we are all waiting for them to be our charming prince when in reality you are all useless"

"really?" he asked, watching as the numbers of the little screen decreased, indicating that there were 7 floors left. "even me?"

"specially you, changbin" you said, crossing your arms without parting your gaze from the doors "all cocky and arrogant, if you didn't know how to use that mouth for something else you would be a pity"

suddenly, the elevator stopped and the lights were dimmed. you glanced right at changbin, who was pressing one of the elevator buttons as it shuted down "what the fuck are you doing?"

"you don't get tired do you?" he mumbled, approaching your body. the elevator was painfully small to escape, so your back soon met the other wall that was now suffocating the both of you "you never get tired of opening that stupid mouth of you"

"i don't know what you did to the elevator but you better make it work again" you said, swallowing hard. changbin's thigh parted yours, his jeans making contact with your clothed core immediatly "i have plans and i'm not going to be late because you have the libido of a 14 year old who can't control himself"

"when has that bothered you, princess?" his lips approached your ear, nipping at your lobe, giving you goosebumps on your skin "because as far as i can remember, you are always who ends up begging for me to fuck her"

you looked right at changbin as his lips left your neck.

his eyes.

his fucking eyes.

you couldn't count how many times you had cum only because he made eye-contact while he was fucking you. his gaze transmitted a lot of things that his mind and mouth failed to do.

"is my princess already too needy?" he asked, laughing. you snapped back from his gaze and soon realized that your hips were already grinding against the end of his thigh. your cheeks turned bright red as the arrogance you showed just a few seconds ago was already gone.

"i can't fucking deal with you" you spitted, your whole body sweating due to the lack of air conditioner and how aroused you were by changbin's closeness.

"look at how pathetic you look, y/n" he growled, his voice getting deeper. you had fucked with changbin enough to learn his body language when he started to feel aroused. his voice would get deeper and lower, his eyes would get darker, his breathing would get heavy... you knew every detail there is to be known about him. "i can feel through your skin how hot you are, i bet your tight cunt is throbbing isn't it?"

you licked your lips, trying to part your eyes from his in an attempt to lower your libido "my poor princess must be dripping wet" he pouted, his thigh still making contact with you but the rest of his body was mere inches away from yours "i bet my pretty princess is just thinking about daddy pounding into her so fucking hard right here in this elevator"

he knew what he was doing.

he knew how much you loved it when he dirty talked like that, specially referring himself in third person. you couldn't really know why, but it drove you insane.

"changbin" you moaned, your head falling back as your hips moved slowly against him "if you are going to do something, just do it now"

"but i'm useless" he laughed, now using your own words to make you even needier "i'm a cocky arrogant asshole, you said it yourself"

"yeah, was i wrong?" you asked him, whining at the feeling of him withdrawing his thigh from your cunt.

"you just don't learn anything" his body approached the set of buttons next to the elevator gates, ready to press the same button he did just mere seconds ago.

"stop" you mumbled, approaching him as fast as you could. your whole body jumping into his embrace as you planted an aggresive kiss into his lips.

changbin's neediness only made you more wet, his hands on your ass gripping it as he landed a few spanks on it "who was the one who had the libido of a 14 year old?" he muttered in between kisses, his voice sending shivers to your spine and core.

your hands traveled instinctively to his belt, trying to release his painful bulge that was now rubbing against your pubic area.

"mhmh no" he breathed, landing you on the floor as he turned you around so that your back could meet the wall for support "i have a meeting after this, you are going home. i can't afford to ruin my clothes"

with greedy hands, and while he was on his knees for you, your panties were now gone of your body "such a pretty princess" he moaned, covering you in kisses from your legs to your thighs "open up your legs a little bit more for me"

and you did as he ordered, your whole body shaking in anticipation of contact. your breathing was strangled and it was getting really hard to swallow. your heart was beating ten times faster as a trail of thoughts flooded your mind "are there cameras in here? what if the elevator starts working again and the doors open? is it going to start working again in the first place? fuck, this feels so good"

"you still think i'm useless?" changbin asked, a smile appearing on his face as your whole body squirmed at the feeling of his breath against your wetness "i can make you all this worked up in a matter of seconds and you still think i'm useless"

"just shut the fuck up, please" you moaned, gripping his black hair and sinking his lips against your clit "fuck, just shut up"

changbin's hands held to the back of your knees for support as both of your hands were on his head, trying to get him closer to where you needed him the most. changbin's way of eating you out was needy and messy, his tongue and lips tasting every single part there was of you down there, licking all your wetness and making sure to make contact in the places he knew would make you feel good.

your hips moved in circular motions against his mouth as you were riding his face, changbin's eyes fixed on how your chest was moving stupidly fast.

"right there daddy, right there" you moaned, your head reincoporating to make eye-contact with him, immediatly making your hips move even faster.

"right here?" he hummed, sending waves of pleasure throughout your whole body that was barely standing, your knees threatening to give up any time.

"changbin" you moaned, feeling how his fingers made their way through your legs and into your inner thighs "god you make me feel so fucking good"

changbin's cock twitched at your words, making him growl against your body as his tongue increased its pace, now accompanied with two of his fingers pounding inside you.

"daddy" you cried, your legs shaking as one of your hands left his dark hair to support yourself even more by resting on the lowall "i think i'm going to cum"

as you breathed out the last words, changbin withdrew from your cunt with a proud smirk growing in his face as he witnessed the sight of tears streaming down your cheeks.

"too bad i'm just a cocky useless man" he mumbled, one of his hands reaching the exact same button he pressed to make the elevator stop, only to push it again.

the lights of the elevator turned on as well as the engine, the air conditioner now working. your gaze could catch a glimpse of the floor you were in, but your mind was too fucked out to even re-think your decision.

before changbin could get up from his knees, your hands traveled all the way to his hair as you aggressively grinded against his lips again, the now threatening knot to come undone at any second.

6th floor.

the arousal from being in a public space, the possibility of being caught, changbin's gaze, your inner frustration and the faint sounds of changbin moaning against your skin only made you needier.

5th floor.

with strength, changbin's nails gripped the back of your thighs, his tongue accelerating the pace to match the one from your hips.

4th. floor.

"fuck i-" you moaned, tears uncontrollably streaming down your cheeks and getting lost at the fabric of your dress. changbin's gaze admiring your whole body was the last thing you needed tu cum.

3rd. floor.

"changbin" you cried as the knot came undone. his growls were coming out louder than ever, the excitement of being at a public place intoxicating all his senses. you could feel yourself dripping into his mouth, something that hadn't really happened before. changbin's lips never left your core, licking clean all your juices as his hands now caressed the back of your thighs.

2nd. floor.

"fuck" you cried, changbin standing up from his knees as his lips and chin glistened with your own fluids.

1st. floor.

carefully, he took the panties you had worn that day and he stuffed them in one of the pockets of his black jeans.

"give them back" you whispered, your voice raspy as you spent the last 5 minutes with your mouth opened. changbin gave you a side smile as you fixed your dress and hair, standing in front of the gates as if nothing had happened mere seconds ago.

your breathing was fast, just like your heartbeat, and your skin was glistening with sweat.

the doors opened.

five men and a woman were waiting desperately for it, almost running inside as if they were already late for whatever they had to do. before you and changbin could even get out, he pulled you in for a kiss so you could taste a glimpse of your own juices on his lips right in front of them.

he kissed you at a public place.

not just a public place, but a place where people knew him and you.

before the doors closed again, changbin stepped out of the elevator while pressing gently your lower back as he guided your movements to start walking. you were still in shock about everything that happened, specially the last part of it.

with a swift movement, he approached your ear as he was walking besides you, whispering the words you'll never forget

"next time, learn to watch your mouth when you are speaking with the man who owns you"

[Changbin's POV]

the thought of you was driving him insane. the sight he got from you at the elevator was something that would be tattooed in his mind for the rest of his days; the way you eagerly chased your orgasm using him for your own pleasure as droplets of sweat toured your whole body, the sound of your whines and moans as you were approaching the highest point of your arousal, the gaze you gave him just right before you came undone on his lips... he had fucked too many women before, never bothered to learn the name of any of them. but you, every single part of the way you moved, talked and acted was like an invitation to get lost into a territory he knew wasn't supposed to explore.

and that only made him want to explore it even more.

"have you talked to jisung yet?" bang chan asked him, sitting down in the couch right besides him as he extended him a can of beer.

"he won't talk to me" changbin replied without even looking at him.

"it's been almost 3 weeks since the party" chan argued, relaxing his whole body on the couch as he took a sip of his beer "i know he has been texting you, he showed me the messages"

"okay, yeah, he has been trying to talk to me" changbin muttered, annoyed "but i don't want to talk to him just now, alright?"

"look" chan said, reincorporating into the couch to be closer with him "jisung didn't know that you liked the-"

"i don't like her" changbin interrumpted, making a gesture with his hand so chan would stop talking.

"then why wouldn't you talk to jisung then?"

changbin made a pause and bit his lower lip, trying to come up with a lie quickly.

"why are you acting like a fucking highscooler anyways, changbin?" chan stormed, leaving the can of beer in the the coffee table by the couch "seriously, all you have been talking about for the past month is her. there's nothing wrong with liking someone, you don't have to make such a fucking big deal about it"

"i don't know" changbin slightly grunted in frustration "i don't know"

"do whatever you want to deal with your emotions but just talk to jisung, please" chan pleaded, resting one of his hands on changbin's shoulders "i won't give you any dating advice but please, for the love of god, leave your fucking jealousy and possesiveness issues and talk to him"

changbin was left alone at chan's living room as he finished his can of beer, reflecting on some of the things the brown-haired just said.

"what's the big deal about it? i'm fucking obssessed with her and i can't do anything about it"

[flashback]

"changbin, can i spare some of your time for a minute?" the old man asked as y/n and changbin's parents were leaving his office. changbin looked at him with half-lidded eyes as they were leaving to grab some lunch together. "we will be joining you in a while, i just have to talk with him about work"

his parents smiled as they continue on walking towards the hall, followed by the long-haired woman changbin met at the bar last night"

"you like what you see?" arthur asked, following changbin's gaze who was now fixed on y/n as she walked through the corridor.

"excuse me?" changbin cleared his throat, unsure of what to answer to a very specific and blunt question.

"do you know her?" arthur asked, the environment of the room changing drastically as he persecuted the young man with questions.

"why would i know her, sir" changbin replied.

"you were looking at her as if she was familiar"

"no" he answered, trying to keep his posture so arthur couldn't catch any glimpse of his awkwardness.

"look, changbin" arthur mumbled in a sort of playful tone, landing a hand on changbin's back as he palmed it slightly "you know i trust you, right?"

changbin nodded.

"i don't know how much time she will be staying here, but i would really love for her to have a healthy time while she is in korea" the man said, smiling as if changbin was understanding his words "meaning i don't want her getting with any man around here, you understand me?"

"yes, sir"

"and that's why i want you to get close to her while she is here, so you can make sure she is not... doing anything she isn't supposed to"

changbin licked his lips and nodded, kind of unsure on what answers to give since arthur had never approached him with such a serious topic.

"and that includes you" he said as his grip on changbin's shoulder went rougher "i don't want you near her with any intentions other than to take care of her as if she was your family"

"right" changbin agreed.

"what would people say if they saw my daughter engaging in... that kind of behaviors, drinking, smoking, doing whatever the hell you young people do before marriage" arthur clicked his tongue as his head moved from side to side "i brought her here because my fiancee told me to, but y/n can be quite problematic and i don't want her to ruin my status"

this wasn't about her, this is about him.

"i understand" changbin replied, a hint of anger sparking through his veins at his words.

"i don't want her to distract you either" arthur continued "the minute i see you getting closer to her in a way you are not supposed to, you are out of here"

arthur's words were serious, but his tone was playful and even teasing, as if the two of them were just joking about casual things and not the probability of losing the future changbin worked his ass for.

"that last part is just out of pride" arthur smiled "she is my daughter after all"

[y/n's pov]

"are you alright?" hyejin asked you as you had barely touched your food.

the thought of the kiss changbin gave you right after exiting the elevator was completely engraved in your brain. it was risky, it was innapropiate, and it was something that felt amazing in ways you couldn't even begin to explain.

that shouldn't be happening.

you were just fucking with him because 1) you liked it and 2) because you liked the idea of fucking someone your father thrusted with his life.

it was like some sort of deranged payback for all those years he wasn't around. the idea of someone putting at risk his loyalty to arthur for you was exciting enough, and that was the main reason of why you continued the game.

or so you thought.

"what do you know about changbin?" you asked her, bluntly. she laughed and covered his mouth as particles of food made their way out as she gasped.

"do you like him?" hyejin asked, fixing his hair behind her ear as she landed her chopsticks on the plate "i didn't think he was your type"

"i don't like him" you replied, taking an extra effort to hide any hint of nervousness that could be seen by her "i'm just interested in knowing why my father adores him that much"

"well" hyejin started "i have never really talked to him, like ever. he has been around for as long as i can remember but we had never gotten along. i believe its because of the age difference, you know?"

you nodded.

"his parents are arthur's best friends since college, maybe, i'm not too sure" she hummed as his eyes looked everywhere on the restaurant, trying to remember more information about the man himself "there's not really much to know about him anyways. i went to school with one of his friends's brother, his last name is Han"

jisung's brother, the guy at the party.

"we worked together a lot in university and we would often get together to make projects and stuff, uh... changbin was there often too, because of jisung. he really has a bad reputation with women, you know?"

you licked your lips and took a sip of water, intrigued.

"they were barely adults at that age but they would often talk about all the women they allegedly fucked" hyejin laughed "that man has a longer list than i do and i'm 26"

the memory of changbin with that girl at chan's party strucked your mind, and a lot of questions started to flood your mind. is he fucking someone else while he is fucking with me?

not that it mattered, because this was solely for the sex, right?

"he is cute, i'll give you that" hyejin followed, ignoring the comment you made earlier about how you didn't actually liked him "but if i were you, i wouldn't go down there. not only is he some sort of casanova but i also heard arthur threatening about being careful around you"

you opened your eyes, completely surprised. "what do you mean?"

"the very first days you arrived here" hyejin mumbled, his mouth full of food " i was going to ask arthur about some project we have in mind and before i could enter to his office, i heard this little chat with him. the usual, you know, but he did told him something along the lines of being careful with his job and future regarding you"

you swallowed hard.

the kiss had now even more impact than it did before.

the idea of arthur threatening changbin was all in your head at first, you didn't actually believed he would do such a thing. but hyejin saying this so casually only made your soul ablaze.

changbin wasn't supposed to be doing any of the things he was doing for you and he was still risking them.

whether it was lust, ambivalence or obsession, the thought of him breaking rules only made you feel a current of electricity through your veins.

falling in love wasn't part of your plans, but ruining arthur's pride was.

and changbin was the best option for this.

[dothwrites]

part v of mafia!au 

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

---

Dean’s never been so happy to see Sam in his entire life. 

His gangly little brother sits behind the wheel of the Impala, face drawn tight with worry. He relaxes in stages as he sees Dean, sees the blood on his clothes, then sees that little of it belongs to him. 

“Where’s Gabriel?” Sam demands as he rushes to open the backseat for Dean. His eyes widen as he takes in the ruin of Castiel, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“I don’t know,” Dean says, grunting as he hefts Cas’ unconscious body into the backseat. “Get his legs.” 

Between the two of them, they get Cas into the backseat, though not as gently as Dean could hope for. If a few extra bruises are the price which Cas has to pay for his freedom, then Dean’s willing to fork that payment over. 

He collapses against the Impala’s sturdy frame, chest heaving. Carrying Cas wasn’t easy; despite all his jabs about Cas being a nerdy little dude, Cas is solid, and carrying his deadweight through the halls of the Novak mansion counts as a workout. Sweat dapples the back of his neck, cooling unpleasantly as Dean waits. 

Once again, he’s in the garage of the Novak mansion. He tries to keep his eyes away from the spot where he last saw Cas, though he can’t stop his morbid fascination with the place. He wonders if there’s a bloodstain there. 

“Where the fuck is Gabriel?” Dean growls, when his body temperature changes from overheated to clammy. “We can’t risk sticking around here too much longer.” 

As if in response to his prayers, Gabriel comes tearing down the staircase. He races towards them at a dead sprint, tossing a few flashbangs behind him. “Get in the car, get in the car!” he shouts, heaving himself in the passenger seat. Dean doesn’t wait for another invitation, but gets into the backseat, arranging Cas’ head on his lap. Sam spares him one shocked look before he gets behind the wheel. 

Sam slams on the gas too hard, causing the Impala’s wheels to squeal and smoke against the concrete of the floor, but when he eases off a little, she jumps forward, as eager for freedom as the rest of them. Dean doesn’t breathe until they crash through the gates and the outline of the mansion disappears in the rearview. 

After weeks, they’re all finally free. 

---

Only when the mansion vanishes completely does Dean dare to look at Castiel. 

Once he does, he regrets it. 

He got a few glimpses when he first saw Cas, but he hadn’t been too interested at cataloging injuries. At that moment, escape was the only thought in his mind and Cas’ injuries were only obstacles to be overcome. 

They have time now, or at least a lack of pursuit. In their world, it amounts to same thing. Dean flicks aside the tattered remains of Cas’ shirt and looks down at the bleeding ruin of his chest. His gorge rises as he looks at the wounds littered over Cas’ torso. Some of them are still bleeding.

Bruises spread over his skin in varying shades of purple, yellow, and green. There are several puncture wounds that Dean recognizes as belonging to a taser. Rage clouds up high and sour in his throat as he considers the varying stages of healing of the wounds. They’ve been hurting Cas from the first day they had him. 

Rage and nausea rise in Dean until he thinks he might choke on them. The bastards turned Cas into a canvas.

“Son of a bitch.” He looks up to see Gabriel leaning over the front seat. Thin white lines of fury etch along his mouth and eyes. 

In the past few weeks, he and Gabriel have come to understand each other as partners and allies, pushing aside their prejudices in favor of a common goal. Dean trusts him as much as he trusts anyone other than Sam, but for the first time since he began working with Gabriel, a little tendril of fear pokes at him. 

“He’s alive,” Dean says, the barest form of comfort he can offer while being truthful. “He’ll be ok. He’s strong.” 

A muscle twitches in the corner of Gabriel’s jaw as he stretches out his hand to brush through Cas’ hair. A soft noise caught between contentment and distress escapes through Cas’ lips and Gabriel withdraws his touch. 

“Just get us home,” Dean tells Sam. 

---

In hindsight, he should have expected the nightmares. 

They made it back to their safehouse without anyone following, which makes Dean stupidly think that they’re out of the woods. Sure, they probably have both the Novak and Winchester families gunning for them, but he, Sam, Gabriel, and Cas are all under one roof. Together they’ve got enough brains, skills, and ruthlessness to take down any threat. 

Dean thinks that right up until the first scream splits the peace of the night. 

He bolts upright, gun already in hand, eyes darting wildly around in search of the potential threat. When he finds none in the immediate vicinity, he runs out of the room, already calling for Sam. 

Sam’s head pokes out of his room, hair sleep tousled and eyes heavy with interrupted slumber, but he looks confused instead of terrified. The fear on his face is directed outward instead of for himself. “Dean? What’s going on?”

Another scream rips through the night. This time Dean recognizes the voice underneath the terror. 

“Cas,” he murmurs, thundering down the hallway. 

The door opens under his touch into a horror show. Cas writhes in the middle of the bed, sheets tangled around his body. His back bends into a rigid, impossible arch as his fingers claw at the mattress. Tendons in his neck bulge as he forces a scream out through clenched teeth. His feet kick uselessly, forcing Gabriel to try and dodge his inadvertent blows. Blood trickles down Cas’ bare chest as his wounds reopen. 

“Cas, you’re ok, you’re all right, come on Cas.” Gabriel’s voice is frantic as he tries to pin Cas’ flailing body. “Easy Cas, easy!” 

Cas screams again. The raw sound tears through the quiet night like a knife blade. The safehouse is removed from civilization, but not so far away as to be isolated, and Cas’ shrieks are loud enough to break glass. 

“Sam, go get my bag,” Dean says. His heart is pounding so hard it’s amazing he hasn’t fainted. His gun is heavy in his hand, pulling his whole arm down to the ground. “There’s a sedative in there; it should be enough to knock him out.” 

“No!” 

Gabriel’s voice cracks like a whip, stopping Sam in his tracks. “What the hell?” A ragged, tortured sound rips out of Cas’ throat. It seems impossible that a single person could hold that much tension in their body without snapping in half. 

Wild eyes and bared teeth are all Dean sees of Gabriel. “You are not putting anymore drugs into him!” 

Dean’s eyes fall to Cas’ arm, to the series of haphazard bruises blossoming along the vulnerable flesh of his inner arm. An awful, terrible picture paints itself in Dean’s mind, one which explains Cas’ state of mind, his hazy eyes and wandering train of thought. It’s not real, none of this is real...in my head, there are things, there are people, and they lie--

Dean thinks he might be sick.

Without consciously realizing it, Dean finds himself moving forward. At first, he means to do nothing more than to help Gabriel restrain Cas from hurting himself, but then he finds himself murmuring soft reassurances, things that his father would have slapped out of his mouth if he could. 

“Hey Cas, you’re all right, you’re all right, you’re ok, I’ve got you, me and Gabe are here, you’re ok now--” 

He runs his hand over Cas’ forehead, wiping sweat away from his skin. “You’re safe, you’re all right. No one’s going to hurt you, I’ve got you.” 

He’s aware of the weight of Sam and Gabriel’s eyes, but he keeps his eyes focused on Cas. One last, thin wail rips from his throat and then, like a puppet cut from his strings, Cas collapses bonelessly onto the mattress. He shudders once and is still. 

Dean holds his breath for ten seconds. Then, when Cas sleeps peacefully on, he lets it out in one long whoosh. His knees buckle, threatening to send him crashing onto the mattress right beside Cas. 

“Go back to bed, Sam.” A few hesitant protests come from Sam, but they’re swiftly silenced with a sharp bark of his name. 

“Call me if anything changes,” Sam shoots off as a parting salvo, but Dean doesn’t think it’ll be necessary. If Cas has another screaming fit, Sam will know.

Sam’s door closes and Dean takes a few steps backward. His shaky legs give out just as his back hits the wall, and he slides down until his ass hits the ground. “Jesus,” he breathes. He buries his face in his hands, unwilling to allow Gabriel this view of his weakness. “God, oh god.” 

For thirty seconds, he allows his horror, and anger free reign. Then, with effort, he pulls himself back together, stitching together reason and rationality until he’s able to think. He looks up at the bed, where Gabriel’s head is bowed low over the mattress. 

“Drugs?” Dean finally asks, his voice a hoarse rasp. 

Gabriel’s head rises like it’s moving on rusty hinges. His golden eyes are bleak. 

“I recognize the handiwork. It’s from Naomi, one of Dad’s pets. She likes to experiment. Pump them full of hallucinogens, tear them apart, and see what falls out. By the end, they’re reprogrammed into something else they wouldn’t even recognize. Stands to reason they’d set her loose on Cas.” 

Bile rises in Dean’s throat. Cas is brilliant, his mind sharper than a steel trap. Behind blue eyes, thousands of gears are constantly turning. To think of someone rummaging around in that machine, upsetting the delicate balances and systems...It’s perverse, an upsetting of the natural order. Dean doesn’t believe in God, never has, but the idea of Cas losing his reason due to outside influences is as close to blasphemy as anything else. 

“Why don’t you get some sleep? I can stay with him.” 

Gabriel’s scoff isn’t as strong as it could be. Instead, he just looks weary and defeated. “You know, when I first thought of a Winchester taking my place, I thought I was going to kill you myself. And now...” He shakes his head, dismissing whatever he was going to say next. “I’m going to get a few hours worth of sleep. I’ll come get you then.” 

For a moment, Dean thinks Gabriel might go so far as to pat him on the shoulder. His hand hovers awkwardly in mid-air before it drops to his side. Gabriel shuffles towards the door, each step taking an eternity to accomplish. He waves at Dean, a limp gesture, before he heads down the hallway to his bedroom. It shuts behind him, leaving Dean alone with Cas. 

It takes almost all of Dean’s energy to make his way to the opposite side of the room. He collapses into the armchair, still warm from Gabriel’s ass. 

Blood dries tacky on Cas’ chest. None of the wounds he ripped open were deep enough to really hurt him, but seeing the reminders of his treatment torn stark red on Cas’ chest is still like getting a punch to the gut. 

It seems wrong, somehow, for him to see Cas brought low. He knows Cas wouldn’t want to be seen like this. When he wakes up, Cas will probably either punch him or shoot him, and that’ll be fine. It’ll be worth it to see Cas’ eyes open and shine with lucidity. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. His voice sounds harsh in the quiet of the room. The very air molecules bristle with disapproval. It’s nothing compared to the contempt which Dean feels for himself. 

“If it hadn’t been for me, you never would have been caught up in this. For whatever reason, you looked at me and you saw someone worth saving. I don’t know why you thought that. I don’t know what I did to make you think that I was ever worth this.” 

Dean’s fingers crawl across the mattress to take Cas’ hand in his. Cas’ fingers are cold and limp. Blood is caked into his cuticles. In his sleep, Cas murmurs. Whether it’s a sound of distress or happiness, Dean doesn’t know. He’s afraid to know. 

The first time he saw Cas was at the exchange. The Novaks were lined up on one side of the hotel and the Winchesters on the other. Dean had barely been able to swallow his rage at being sold off like a pawn, all so his father could swagger around the city like he owned something. He’d focused that rage on the family who, up until a few weeks ago, it was his purpose to thwart in any way possible, death not excluded. Now he was expected to join them, with nary a word spoken otherwise. 

He recognized Michael Novak and he’d gotten intimately familiar with Gabriel Novak’s file. Neither of those Novaks were as interesting as the Novak who stood at the back of the room. 

Even without knowing his name or anything else about him, Castiel was the Novak who caught his attention. He moved through the rest of them like a panther moving through wolves, all coiled grace and tightly bound intent. Where the other Novaks were stiff, he was fluid, where they were cold, he burned hot. Dean looked at him and saw the proverbial diamond in the rough, one jewel amidst a sea of imposters. 

And now here he is, shattered into a thousand pieces, a sacrifice laid in front of the altar of Dean Winchester. 

“I’m sorry.” Dean’s voice croaks on the last syllable. “Cas, I’m so sorry.” His instincts tell him to crush Cas’ hand in his, to bring him back with nothing more than sheer force of will, but he already knows that’s not an option. He needs to learn how to hold things without destroying them, how to love something without smothering it. 

“I wasn’t worth it. Whatever you thought you saw, it wasn’t worth this.” Heat prickles behind Dean’s eyes and works its way up his throat. “I’m so sorry Cas.” 

Misery forces his head low and Dean presses his forehead against Cas’ knuckles. Cas’ hand is so cold. The rise and fall of his chest is subtle, worryingly so. Dean doesn’t know how it feels to fall asleep without the taste of fear thick and sour on his tongue. 

He falls asleep with his lips still shaping the word sorry. 

---

Dean drags himself up from the pit of sleep, roused by a stimulus so weak it might as well be nonexistent. It’s still enough to pull him out of a troubled slumber, heart pounding. 

It takes his pupils a few seconds to adjust to the lack of light. When they do, they immediately find Cas. He lies, flat on his back, but his hand reaches out towards Dean. The weight of his hand is almost like a whisper as his fingers ruffle through his hair. 

“Cas,” Dean croaks, his pulse suddenly racing like a runaway carriage. “Cas, are you awake?” Are you ok, are you whole, please, tell me you’re all right, tell me that I didn’t destroy you like I destroy everything else in my godforsaken life-

A faint smile creeps over Cas’ face, like the sun struggling to break through the darkness of night. It’s a faint sliver of a thing, but it’s there, inescapable and wondrous. 

“Hello Dean.” 

[peachiikawa]

Fly | Route Selected: N. Yuu

genre: mafia au

warnings: violence, guns, blood

word count: 3.2k

Fly Masterlist

“I..I choose him”

You made eye contact with the short man with a blond streak in his hair

“What?”

The distaste in his voice was evident

It was so silent in the police precinct that you could hear a pin drop

Daichi cleared his throat to try and cut the tension

“Ok well if thats your choice then thats that. Nishinoya, make sure they get home and get them to work tomorrow. Dismissed”

Nishinoya nodded his head

“Yes, sir.”

You were surprised that he had little objections about it

But you were soon pulled out of your thoughts when he roughly grabbed your wrist

“Stop daydreaming lets go”

He let go once the car he called came for you two

And as soon as the door closed and the car was moving he pinned his arm against your neck, almost choking you

“I dont know who you are or what youre doing here but i swear to fucking god if i think youre going to hurt anyone here then i will kill you. Nod if you get it”

You nodded your head as fast as you could and he backed off of you

You were too terrified to say anything after that you basically tried to make yourself as small as possible in your seat

After about ten more minutes the car finally arrived at your apartment

“I’ll..um..see you tomorrow nishinoya. Oh im y/n by the way!”

He just grunted and waited for you to shut the door

After he left you went to your room and just fell onto it while taking a deep sigh

Just what have you gotten yourself into?

Nishinoya was at your house at 8:00 AM sharp. He was leaning against the hood of it, checking his watch every two seconds waiting for you

You knew he was there but your nerves refused to let you go down there

Only when you two made eye contact from your window did you know that you had to go

“Sorry im late!”

He said nothing as he got into the car

The car ride was awkward to say the least

You could hear your own heartbeat, could he hear it too?

You were so caught up in your thoughts that didnt even realize the car had stopped

“Hey”

You snapped your head toward him

“Yes?”

He rolled his eyes

“We’re here so get out already”

You undid your seat belt and tried to keep up with him

Where were you exactly? You looked up at the building in front of you to see ‘Sawamura Inc.’ plastered on the front of it

Your eyes widened, you were working here now?

“Get your ass inside”

Noya brought you out of your thoughts once again and you hurried yourself in

You were then stopped by an intimidating looking man

“Hey im asahi and ill be training you today.”

Between nishinoya and him you didnt know who was more intimidating

Actually it was nishinoya, dont know why you even had to ask yourself that

But despite asahi being the one to train you, nishinoya never left your side

You could practically feel his eye burning holes into the back of your head the entire time

This continued on for weeks

Nishinoya always made sure you were within his eyesight

You were printing some charts out for suga and noya was leaning against the doorway

“Nishinoya, can i ask you something?”

You took his silence as approval

“Dont you have other work to do? Im sure that you probably have better things to do that just watch me run errands for everyone”

You were right, he did have other things to take care of

But you were his number one priority during the day

“I can just take care of my other things at night. I was ordered to watch you so i am. Besides you chose me so if you have a problem thats your own fault”

You shook your head

“I dont have a problem with you, dont misunderstand, i just hope that im not being too much of a hindrance to you? I just mean...i know you didnt ask for this so..im sorry if ive caused you any problems”

You took the stack of papers from the printer and turned towards him with a smile on your face

“But thank you for taking time out of your day to watch over me, whether you were ordered to or otherwise”

You walked out and he just stood there for a moment processing your words

He just scoffed

Why would you be thanking someone who threatened to kill you only a few weeks ago?

You were strange

He thought it was weird that you had absolutely no sense of danger

But hes noticed a ton of weird things you do over the days hes been watching you

How you scrunch your nose when you dont understand what youre doing

Or how you play with your fingers when youre nervous

All of these little actions were so annoyingly cute--

Wait no. not cute. 

Definitely not. He had to focus. You could still be a threat to the mafia and he wasnt going to let anyone, no matter how cute they were, hurt his family

But watching you interact with the rest of the mafia made him feel as if he didnt have to be as hard around you anymore

He thought it was funny how you teased kageyama sometimes actually

And he almost wanted to join in on the fun

But he knew his place

Right now was one of the rare instances that nishinoya wasnt on you

So you turned your head to asahi who was sitting across from you doing his work while you had the chance before noya came back

“Hey asahi?”

He looked up at you

“Whats up y/n?”

You fiddled with your fingers

“Does nishinoya not like me? I mean i can understand since i take up a lot of his time but i feel like theres a wall between us that he wont lower no matter how much i try and talk to him”

Asahi just let out a deep sigh

“Thats not surprising. He...hes slow to trust. Out of any of us here, hes probably been with the sawamuras the longest. His loyalty is unparalleled”

You nodded along as you followed his words

“Then..i guess ill just have to earn his trust!”

That didnt happen for a couple more weeks though

It had happened when some grunts that worked in the office barged into the break room to get some coffee

They had shoved you out of the way to get to the counter

Luckily nishinoya caught you before you could fall

“God can you believe Daichi is pulling out of the shiratorizawa alliance? What a dumbass move”

“Yeah maybe hes going stupid in the head. Knew he wasnt cut out for this”

They both started laughing and you could feel noyas arms going stiff

“H...hey!”

You stood up from the ground before noya could jump in

Both of them turned their head towards you with scowls on their faces

“You got something to say?”

You kept your gaze firm

“Actually yeah, i do have something to say. Daichi is a good boss and he always does what he thinks is right for everybody. If he thinks that pulling out of the shiratorizawa alliance is whats best then i trust him on that and you should too! I mean, you two work for him! Dont you think you should show him a little respect?”

They just both busted out laughing

“Respect? For him? Hes nothing without his father. He never wanted anything to do with us anyways. Hes a weak bastard”

“Yeah well at least hes a better man than you two will ever be”

Maybe you provoked them too much

“You wanna say that again bitch?!”

You raised your hands to cover your face bracing yourself for the impact

But you opened your eyes when you heard their strangled voices cry out

“Dont touch them”

Nishinoya was in front of you, the man who was gonna hit you on his knees with his wrist in noyas hand

A sickening crack heard in the room

“Leave. I dont want to see either of your faces here ever again”

Both of them scrambled out of the room as fast as they could

You let out a shaky breath

“Thank you nishinoya”

He turned towards you with his hands in his pockets

“It was nothing. Just doing my job”

After that he wasnt as abrasive with you anymore

Talked to you more at work

Even joined in on teasing kageyama with you!

It made you smile every time he helped you with something as simple as bringing you a drink in the morning

Seeing you smile in the morning started to be something he would look forward to

He trusted you more now

And eventually it led to him knocking on your door at 3 AM on a friday night

You opened the door to your apartment still only slightly aware of what was happening

“Hello?”

You immediately perked up at the sight in front of you

Noya looked like he was about to collapse from the amount of bruises and cuts on him

“Can i come in?”

You quickly got him inside and sat him down on your couch

“Um stay here and undress ill go get my first aid kit

He just nodded his head as you ran off

Once you came back you poured some alcohol on a rag and went for the bigger slash on his side

But you stopped at what you saw

He had so many scars

You unconsciously brought your hand up to one of them and ran a finger over it to which he shuttered under your touch

“Y/N?”

You pulled your hand away and focused again

“Sorry, this might sting”

You saw his face grimace and his hand tighten around his shirt

“Did that hurt too much?”

He shook his head

“No its fine keep going”

Once you were done disinfecting and bandaging all of his wounds, you laid him down on a pillow so he could rest

“Oh! Let me go get you some water”

But once you came back he was already asleep

You set the water on the coffee table and grabbed a blanket from your room and laid it on top of him

You sat on the ground next to him just taking in what had just happened 

He looked so different when he was asleep but still just as handsome

You slowly fell asleep with your head leaning against the edge of the couch cushion

Noyas eyes slowly opened due to the cracks of sunlight coming through the window

When he turned his face he was only a hair length away from yours

Which startled him so he shot up from the couch which made you bolt awake

“What is it? Whats happening??”

You looked around looking for the fire only to see that noya had woken up

“Oh good morning nishinoya. Sleep well?”

You stretched your arms out and yawned

“You can take a shower if you want. Ill go get you a towel”

He was about to object but you left too fast

He stood up and looked around your apartment and saw some photos on a shelf

He picked up the frame to see a young you, probably around five or six with two adults sitting beside you

Your parents

He suddenly realized how...ordinary your life must have been

“Nishinoya?”

He snapped his head towards you and put the photo down

“Cmon ill show you the shower”

You had a smile on your face that made his heart do something weird

He didnt understand it

After he got out you were sitting on the couch with your first aid kit

“Do you need help rewrapping your bandages?”

He nodded his head and made his way toward you to sit down

You started wrapping him up, trying to be careful not to irritate his wounds

He just stared at you

Normally someone would be curious in this type of situation

So why werent you saying anything?

“Are you not going to ask any questions?”

You just kept applying ointment

“No, unless you want to talk about it but i know it doesnt really concern me as im not..officially in the mafia with you guys. What happened is your business, i know you handle your jobs at night since youre busy dealing with me during the day”

He was kind of shocked at how understanding you were

His hand reached out on its own and pulled you into a hug before he knew what he was doing

You froze as soon as he pulled you in

Just what was happening?

You both slowly pulled away from each other, hints of reds and pinks covering both of your cheeks

“Im done wrapping you up so I’ll um go shower now. If youre hungry feel free to look in the kitchen for something to eat”

You rushed off with a hand covering your face

Noya sat there confused

What had gotten into him?

He put his shirt back on and left before you could come back out

He wasnt being himself and needed to leave

Monday came around and you hadnt seen or heard from noya since saturday morning

You were shocked to see that he was gone when you had come out of the shower

But at the same time you were relieved to see him gone after that awkward moment together

Noya had picked you up like usual though and he acted like nothing had happened

So you decided to just follow along and did your job as usual

It was kind of awkward between the two of you

The only thing breaking the silence between you two was nishinoyas phone notification going off

“I have a meeting with daichi. Ill be back later”

You nodded your head

“Ill be here”

He quickly left the room and you let out a sigh

Noya quickly made his way to daichis office, clutching the area above his heart

Why did it race around you now?

You didnt even do anything

You were just...there

“God what the hell is wrong with me?”

He ran a hand through his hair

You on the other hand finished all your tasks for the day

You looked at the time...only half past two

There was a bakery right around the block, maybe you could pick something up real quick for everyone

So you went on your way grabbing only your wallet since it was so close

As soon as you turned the corner though you felt something was wrong

You picked up the pace, hoping to get to the bakery before anything happened

But as soon as you picked up the pace so did your stalkers

You yelped when you felt someone yank on your arm, pulling you into an alley

“Someone help! Nishinoya!”

You tried to kick whoever was holding you

“Shut them up we need to get out of here”

A white cloth came over your mouth and you were quickly unconscious

Itd been hours since noya had last seen you and he could feel his stomach dropping

Where the hell were you?

Kageyama said he last saw you finishing up a report for suga and suga said he received that hours ago

Noyas foot wouldnt stop tapping the ground, he couldnt sit still and everyone around him was starting to notice how antsy he was

“Hey noya whats up?”

Asahi was just trying to get noya to calm down from whatever was bothering him

“I havent seen y/n since my meeting with daichi. For some reason my chest gets tight when i think that something bad mightve happened to them. When they smile my heart races and i cant stand the idea of anything bad happening to them”

Asahi just let out a deep sigh

“Nishinoya, have you ever considered that you might love them?”

He...loved you?

Suddenly everything made sense to him

How he caught himself smiling whenever he saw you teasing kageyama or how when he woke up that morning in your apartment he wanted nothing more than to wake up like that every morning

He loved you

A ringing sound echoed in the room and noya pulled out his phone

An unknown number

Unease settled in him as he answered the phone

“Hello?”

“This Nishinoya?”

His hand tightened around his phone

“Yeah. Whos this”

“Meet us at the warehouse on 6th near the port in thirty minutes and come alone. If you dont then itd be a shame if something happened to y/n”

Noya could hear your strangled whimpers before the phone call ended 

His blood ran cold

“Asahi..someone took y/n”

His voice was low and feral, it sent chills down asahis back

“I'm going ahead. Bring backup ill send you the details”

Nishinoya grabbed his jacket and left the building 

His feet hit the ground as soon as he got there, he couldnt care less about his own safety right now

The cold metal pushed against his hands as he opened the door to the warehouse

“Y/n?!”

He felt his heart stop once his eyes landed on you

Blood ran down your face, your beaten body limp on the floor

“Took you long enough. They werent as fun as we thought they were going to be. Glad you got here before we broke ‘em”

Noyas jaw tightened as he instantly recognized them

How dare they touch you

He had shown them mercy the day they almost hit you in the break room

But now he knew that was a mistake

“What do you want with me?”

They both had disgusting smiles on their faces

“You got us kicked out of the mafia, something that was important to the both of us. Of course we had to return the favor, though we’ll be taking them”

The man gripped your chin and noya saw your eyebrows twitch from the discomfort

“Dont touch them!”

Red flooded noyas vision

He hadnt felt this amount of rage and fear in a long time

But as soon as he moved one of them had a gun pointed at him while the other was on you

“Theres no way you can win this. Just sit and watch”

“Is that what you think?”

Noya turned around at the sound of daichis voice

Hed never been so relieved to have backup before

In their shock the karasuno mafia quickly got the upper hand against the two former members

And as soon as noya could he lifted you into his arms and wiped away the blood on your face with frantic movements

But you slowly grabbed one of his hands and intertwined your fingers with his

“Thank you for coming nishinoya”

His lips quivered as tears flowed down his face and onto yours

“Im so sorry y/n”

You shook your head

“Its not your fault noya. Please believe me when i tell you that”

He nodded his head and tried to stop his crying

“I love you so much y/n. You wont ever have to go through this ever again, i promise”

His brought your hand up to his lips and he kissed your knuckles

“I love you too, noya. Now cmon, lets get home im really tired”

He lifted you up and carried you out, not bothering to talk to anyone as he left and no one talking to him either

For the first time karasunos guardian had something else he wanted to protect

And he was going to love and treasure you for as long as he was alive

taglist: @the-ironic-me​ @multisun​ @my-mass-hysteria​ @sugawsites @youbloodylegendyoudidit @sinthxy @celamoon​ @tinymouth @fait-de-fleurs​ @tsukifanbase​ @69owo​

[angrylizardjacket]

morning light {John Deacon}

Anon asked: do you think you can write more fluff for deacy like a lil “morning after”ish bc i’m sad and i love him

A/N: 1877 words. I’m in sever pain and my ankle Hurt. I just want BoRhap’s Another One Bites The Dust!Deaky to tell me it’s going to be okay so picture him, and also just pretend he’s not married please and thank. Not exactly what the prompt asked for but God i’m a sap.

It’s... it’s weird waking up in the morning, and he’s still there, sprawled out beneath the duvet, morning light peaking through the curtains. Not weird bad, just weird. You didn’t really think you’d get this far; you’d been working as an assistant for the company that produced a majority of their music videos, and somewhere along the way, they’d started remembering you. Well, actually, John started remembering you.

It had started with ‘We Are The Champions’, in which you had the tedious job of being more or less an usher for the audience, though it was just a small crowd. While you were seating a particularly excited bunch close to the front, you look up for a moment to see the band warming up, and John Deacon smiling fondly at the excited audience members, before he looks to you. For just a moment, you share a look, and he gives a single nod of solidarity, which you return, before you both go back to your jobs.

When you show up to the filming of ‘We Will Rock You’, practically freezing your ass off in Roger’s backyard, you debate ever getting in to the music industry, and offer to go get coffee and tea for everyone as something to keep you moving.

“I remember you.” You’re so focused on the warmth of the drinks in your hands that you’re surprised when someone says more than ‘thank you’ when you give them theirs. It’s John, smiling at you, shivering, and holding the styrofoam mug so tightly you’re a little afraid it might burst.

“You do?” You answer, and his smile turns amused, before your brain kicks into gear. “I- yeah, I was there for the last shoot.” You agree. “I’m Y/N. I’d shake your hand but-” You gesture helplessly, both hands holding trays of drinks.

“Well it’s lovely to meet you, Y/N, I’m John.” He says, as if you don’t know, and you have to bite back a giggle. It’s then, when he sees the way you smile, and can feel his answering smile brighten, that he decides he likes you.

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you too.” You nod at him and he thanks you for his tea before you move on to the others, only preening a little bit when they praise you for bringing them warmth on the cold, winter day. ‘I remember you’ plays in your head on repeat; you can’t stop thinking about it, about the way he grinned at you like he’d know you his whole life, and you realise a few days later, when you’re still dwelling on it, you don’t even remember how cold it had been, just his smile.

“We really have to stop meeting like this.” On the set of ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ you’re the one everyone turns to as the go-between for the band and the crew, seeing as how you’d been working with them for over a year at this point. Now, you’re holding out a water bottle to John, pulse a little quick when he fixes you with a surprisingly affectionate grin of thanks, “I was asked to give you guys these.” 

“Is that the water I asked for? That was quick; Y/N you’re a bloody legend.” You hear Roger call from behind you, bounding down from behind the drums to snag one of the other three bottles from your arms. John stays quiet as he takes the drink from you, watching Roger with an amused smile. 

“I’m parched, thank you, dear.” Freddie takes the second, and after you and John share a look, an endeared smile at the grabby but thankful nature of the others, you turn, raising the final water bottle above your head.

“Brian?” You call, and he looks up from where he’s been tuning his guitar.

“Is that for me?” He asks, and you nod with a smile. He comes to collect the drink, and they all disperse back to their original places.

“We really do have to stop meeting like this; it’s what, the fifth time?” John finally agrees once they’re out of earshot, and you turn back to him, grinning.

“Sixth, actually.” You say, and he nods, making a face like he’s cataloguing the information in the back of his mind.

“Six, wow,” and after a beat, his gaze returns to yours, “six videos and I’ve never seen you at a wrap party?” At that you duck your head with a chuckle.

“I work during the week.” It’s easy to admit; it’s not that you dislike parties, persay, but you’re also not fond of turning up to your day job hungover. John hums, low and thoughtful.

“You should come to tonight’s.” He says, and you hesitate for a moment, looking up in confusion. “You don’t have to drink or anything - ignore whatever Freddie and Roger say - but it’d be nice to have you.” After a beat, he shrugged with a small smile. “But only if you want to, of course.” And you can’t help the small, pleased smile that makes it’s way onto your face as you head back to your station.

You do attend the party, squirrel yourself away on a sofa in the corner of the room, nursing your drink and talking to a revolving door of people who are getting progressively drunker as the night goes on. It’s getting close to midnight, however, when John finally joins you. The two of you had had a few conversations during the night, but he was inevitably pulled away by someone else, and you didn’t like to admit to the sinking sensation in your chest. 

He asks you if you’re enjoying it, but your answering smile and nod is unconvincing. Truth be told, you were feeling a little lonely, a little out of place, and a little Cinderella having to still get up tomorrow at a reasonable hour. As soon as you admit you’re thinking of heading home, he offers to join you, to make sure you’re safe, telling you it’s no trouble when you try to wave off his kindness.

Your home is within walking distance, and you’re thankful for the breezy Spring air as you walk through the streets talking about everything and nothing with John by your side. He’s got his hands tucked in his pockets, and at one point you tuck your arm into his; he doesn’t comment on it, but you can see him smiling.

You’re an adult enough to admit to yourself that you’d developed a crush on him, observant enough to know he liked you well enough too, unsubtle enough that Roger had told you to get a move on, though he had been quite drunk at the time. As you walk, you’re not sure what’s holding you back, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything.

It turns out, you don’t have to, at your doorstep, he hesitates after saying goodbye, before quickly leaning in and kissing you on the cheek.

“Sleep well.” He says fondly, turning to leave. You reach out, grabbing his hand and he turns back in surprise, and you step forward to press your lips to his, soft and chaste. He’s actually blushing a little when you move back, seems a little surprised.

“You too.” You tell him, voice gentle and fond, and you head inside, catching his flustered smile as you look back over your shoulder.

He gets your number during the next video shoot, or rather, after.

“I should have your number.” Is what he actually says, voice serious like he’s been musing about it for a long time, despite the fact that he’s naked in your bed, a little out of breath, fingers linked with yours as you both take a moment. You’re heart’s still racing and you’re still in quite a heady state, and all you can do is laugh, warm and bright into the darkness of the bedroom.

You wake up the next morning and he’s still there, one arm around you where you’ve got your head on his chest. There’s an anxiety, an uncertainty in your chest, tension creeping into your muscles due to this change, this development in your relationship. But then he wakes up, voice rough with sleep, giving you an easy grin in the morning light as he greets you. 

He’s warm and secure, he always has been, but it’s strange to have such solid confirmation, to feel his arms around you and feel like nothing could move you from that spot if you didn’t want it to.

He calls you, actually follows through and asks you out, and the next thing you know, the two of you are sitting in a fancy restaurant on an actual date. He’s so unwavering genuine, in his smile, his words, in the warmth he gives off; when you talk, you knows he’s actually listening to what you’re saying. 

You learn he’s an engineer; he sort of fell into music, but he’s always had a passion for electronics, and after a few weeks, he shows you the amp he built (and then the false one he built for his mini fridge, which delights you). And then he’s plugging in his record player into the amp, puts on some old jazz single you didn’t really think he’d own, and he’s offering you his hand.

Taking it, you do actually giggle at the whole situation, a little bit flustered by the sweetness of it all. You’ve seen him dance on stage, of course, in videos, but here he wraps an arm around you, swaying gently in his studio, the carpet soft beneath your bare feet. As the music picks up a little, he gently prompts you to twirl, and when you’re back in his arms, there’s nothing but adoration in his eyes. You can’t help but kiss him. 

The music keeps playing, but it’s like the two of you are frozen in time, the world falling away around you as you kiss him. Still holding each other like you’re dancing, his grip tightens just a little on your waist, his thumb brushes yours where your hands are linked before he lets go, moving to hold steady on your other hip while you wind your arms around his neck. 

The song comes to an end, but neither of you break apart. The world feels right, here.

So even now, almost a year later, it’s weird to wake up in the morning, sometimes, and see him there, after everything he’s done in his life, all the places he’s been, and he’s still by your side. He takes your breath away sometimes, when he doesn’t even mean to, like now he’s not even awake but he’s so serene and you woke up holding his hand and you felt like your heart might burst. 

“Good morning, darling.” Voice scratchy, he yawns, and you press an affectionate smile against his shoulder, a little embarrassed for still being so sappy after all this time. His free hand is gentle when he coaxes you up, pressing a kiss to your lips, amused and endeared. “What’s gotten you all smiley?” He asked, and you kiss him again.

“I just love you is all.” You tell him, and his smile brightens in the early morning light.

“I love you too.”

[triforceangel13]

Move the the Music Ch. 11 (A Sidlink Cinderella Story AU)

Chapter 11: Freedom

The weeks that passed were ones that Link would remember for the rest of his life, good and bad things happening that would stay with him.

He had immediately moved into Sidon's home with his family shortly after all of his hospital visits. Zelda had gone back to the house and had gotten his stuff for him, leaving nothing behind back in the house that had been like a prison to him.

He had been rushed to the hospital shortly after his rescue, having to be put on an IV drip as well as have his arm re broken and set so it would be able to heal properly. Thankfully it did not need surgery but getting that done had been necessary in order for him to have complete and full use of that particular arm.

Sidon was with him every second, Zelda being by his side almost as much as the redhead. She was their eyes and ears of what was happening on the outside of this hospital, bringing any news of the culprits that had treated him terribly for so long.

Hilda had been arrested at the house, claiming she did nothing wrong. There was more than enough evidence to put her away for a very long time for the things that she had done as well as for not bringing it to the attention of what Ganondorf had done.

And speaking of Ganondorf...the man was nowhere to be found. He had come to find out about what had happened to Hilda and now was on the run from the police, a wanted man. No one had seen him which worried many.

Needless to say it scared the living day lights out of Link that he as out there somewhere. He had no idea if he was going to come for him and just stuff him back down in that basement, this time for the rest of his life.

Thankfully Sidon never let him out of his sight, wanting to make sure that he was alright and that he wouldn't be taken away again just in case.

Link would need to appear in court later on when he was feeling better but there was more than enough evidence against the two of them to put them away for several years, never to darken his door ever again.

That is if they ever found Ganondorf.

Vaati had been awarded for his bravery for helping get Link out of that situation. He was even granted full custody of the house and whatever was in it.

He could finally start having a life of his own as well.

After what seemed like forever Link was allowed to leave the hospital. Vaati had offered him to come back home now that Hilda and Ganondorf were gone but Link had declined the offer despite the kindness. Too many terrible memories came with that home. Even with the promise to make better ones he didn't know if he could handle being in that home.

So to Sidon's place he went. He was welcomed with open arms by his father and sister, telling him how Sidon's happiness had spiked when he had started dating Link. It was finally the warm loving family he had always wanted.

Knowing he had brought so much happiness into Sidon's life had Link beaming. Sidon had brought a light into his dark world as well.

And in the end had saved him from a terrible fate. He would always be eternally grateful for what he had done for him.

*

Link sat in his new room for the moment, his arm still in its cast and in a sling, shifting around some of the items that he had put up on the shelf as his eyes cast near the window closest to his bed, the shades mostly drawn from the outside world.

Ganondorf was still out there some where. Despite that Sidon was always nearby and he never went anywhere alone, he still felt as if he was being watched and that he would be taken at any moment when he was least expecting it.

It was like he felt that his step father was waiting for the most prime time to strike when he felt he wasn't a threat any longer.

But why would the man want to do that to him any way? Just to have a live in maid that he treated terribly or was it something...more?

Was it that he now had something to prove. Something to prove to himself that he could control everyone around him.

He had done it for years so perhaps he wanted to have that power again. Having Link under his thumb again would mean he had everyone once more. Link was the most defiant person he was sure that Ganondorf had ever met, taking a lot of beatings, mentally and physically, to be able to keep him in line.

Thankfully despite all the times that he had almost been forced into the mold he wanted, he broke out just a bit.

A terrible cycle to go through.

Living in the Ruto house had taken some time to get used to. Living in a place where he didn't need to worry about someone sneaking up on him or touching his things, but he felt safer, loved. He did have some set backs from time to time, feeling as if he needed to do something or he would get himself in trouble, but he was getting better each day that passed while he was there.

Sidon noticed as well, being extra careful around him as to not startle him. Just like this moment he  knocked softly on the door to alert that he was there. Who knew how many times Hilda had come up on him only to scare him to get a laugh for herself.

“Want some company?” Sidon asked warmly.

Link turned around, a bright smile coming across his face as he nodded. “I would love some company, especially from you.”

Sidon returned his smile, coming into the room and taking a seat on the new comforter that was spread across Link's new bed. Only the best for his love.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Link, looking at his arm with a twinge of sadness. He still felt as if it was his fault that this had happened to Link despite that he rally didn't know anything that had happened behind those closed doors.

He felt that he should have seen the signs somewhere but he had been so blind to it. But he hadn't been the only one. Everyone had been fooled. He was going to make it his mission now to never, ever let anything like that happen again.

Link knew better than to hide things from those that were closest to him now, no matter any other consequences should they arise against him. He was free and had no risk of getting hurt any longer, no risk of being locked in that basement again. He had no reason to lie to them. He felt terrible that he had in the past.

“Doing alright. The pain medication seems to be helping a little more today,” Link admitted, taking a seat next to the redhead. Without a second thought Sidon wrapped his arm around him, holding him close as Link rest his head against his shoulder.

“I'm very glad to hear that,” Sidon mumbled, kissing his forehead and squeezing him to his body. Link let out a small sigh, taking a deep breath as he relaxed.

This was where he belonged, right in Sidon's arms.

The redhead tilted his head up to him, leaning down to brush a kiss against his lips gently. Link let out a small sigh against his lips, returning the soft kiss.

He could never get enough of it.

Link could get used to something like this. Being able to just sit with Sidon without any worries and just kiss him whenever he liked. But there was the one thing that kept him from fully enjoying having Sidon kiss him.

The risk of being taken again.

Sidon pulled away, sensing Link's tension. He didn't even need to ask what was on his mind. He already knew.

“I won't let anything happen to you,” he whispered to the blonde, tucking some hair behind his pointed ear. “I promise.”

Link leaned into his hand and nodded, leaning up to kiss him again.

A clearing throat caused them to pause and look to the doorway. Zelda stood there with a gentle smile on her face.

She looked exhausted but they all did with the amount of stress that had been hanging over them these past couple of weeks.

“This a bad time?” she asked with a bit of a laugh as she stepped in, taking a seat on the floor in front of them.

“Of course not. You are always welcome, right Link?” Sidon asked. Link leaned into the redhead, nodding his head. The medication was starting to make him sleepy and feel a little weird. It was a good thing he wasn't expected to do that much due to the trauma he suffered and the injures that he had withstood.

“I come baring some good news,” she said softly, resting her hands on Link's good hand and smiled up at him. He looked at her nervously. He hoped it was very good news and not something that could back fire on him.

“Well first, you don't need to report for court now actually if you don't wish to with Hilda's case. The judge wanted to give you that option if the stress was too much.”

Link shook his head a bit. “I should be there. I really should. Who knows what kind of lies she will be spouting. She takes after her father remember.”

“He does make a good point,” Sidon added. “We want to make sure that she doesn't talk her way out of this one. After what she had done to Link and what his step father had done, neither of them should have a chance to plead their case.”

Link nodded his head in agreement. The two of them didn't know the half of what happened in that house but from what they did know they knew that the rest just had to be terrible. They were determined not to let it happen again.

“I have some more news,” she added after a moment.

“I don't know how much more I can take,” Link sighed with a frown and sad eyes. “Please tell me it's actually more good news.”

“I should say so,” Zelda said, holding up her phone so that Link could look at the news article that was there.

Link took the device, scanning over the words and his eyes slowly grew wide. He blinked a bit, rubbing his eyes and passing the phone to Sidon.

“Am I reading this right?” he asked.

“Early this morning, the man wanted by the police, Ganondorf, had been arrested near the...Ruto household,” Sidon read slowly. He tensed hard next to him and looked to Link who had tears coming to his eyes but a smile on his face. Ganondorf had been near Sidon's home, watching him and waiting for the moment to strike.

But someone had seen him. Someone had reported it to the police right away. Another person on their side.

“He was arrested Link. You're safe,” Sidon said to him, opening his arms as Link launched himself into hugging Zelda and Sidon as best as he could.

Zelda and Sidon both wrapped their arms around him, holding him tightly to them. Zelda felt relief that this was all over, Sidon felt a little tense that Ganondorf had been so close to his home but he was happy that he had been caught.

“You're free Link,” she said to him, holding onto her best friends.

“Forever free,” Sidon added, kissing his head. Link smiled, happy tears running down his cheeks. Who knew that one night moving to the music would help him get the life that he had always been chasing after.

Freedom with love.

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[mvssmallow]

Cloudy With A Chance

Chapter 30 Part IV: …of bloodlines.

Masterlist

Soundtrack for this chapter: The Luckiest 

Barely two weeks into the new year and he’s almost over it already. His dad makes it out of the ICU but then spends another week in rehab because of the residual numbness in his hand and big holes in his memory from the brain hypoxia. There were moderate changes to his dad’s personality too, it waxes and wanes depending on the day but at least that unpredictability is something they were all used to.

Hanbyul deals with everything better than expected. She was scared of the IV lines and cardiac monitors for the first few days but by the end of the week, she’d taken to hospital life like a duck to water. It was unexpected but he’s relieved, feeling maybe slightly guilty for ever underestimating her resilience.

He deals with things as best as he can: with fake resolve on the surface but anxiety deep down in his gut. His mom carries on with quiet eloquence and a bulletproof grace that he just didn’t inherit.

They stop allowing Jiwon to come, despite his protests, because the BeatBox schedules started early and even though it was only preliminary meetings to discuss concepts and finalise the recording team, he didn’t want Jiwon to miss any of it. Jiwon’s life had to move forward. One of them had to have the better future. They had fought over it but eventually, Jiwon surrendered when he realised that maybe this wasn’t the best time for Hanbyul to meet a strange new face.

And really.

It’s fine.

It’s okay.

He waits for the World to come crashing down again but it doesn’t.

Things settle down.

They get into a routine.

They wake up, pick a cereal, he nags Jiwon to add fruit, Jiwon nags him to eat more, they call a truce and leave separately, only reuniting again at the end of the day for a late supper unless he’s having it with his family or Jiwon has a dinner meeting with BeatBox.

But it’s good.

It’s good.

He’s thankful his dad survived with only a few residual deficits. He’s grateful there’s still a chance to prove himself, to fix the family, to show his parents that Jiwon’s existence doesn’t mean the end of any dreams they had for him. Yeah, there’s nothing like the threat of death to help you sort out your priorities. When you almost died, surely having a gay son is now the Second Worst Thing in the world. Surely.

“When are you back at work?” His dad’s question cuts through his inner thoughts.

“Oh, um next week.”

“Why do you insist on doing that job Hanbin? At least negotiate a raise. You’ve been there for years.”

It’s a Thursday. His old dad was back. But this time, instead of arguing and defending himself, he finds he can’t exactly disagree.

“Maybe I will, I’ll think about when I get back.”

“Good.”

The answer seems to satisfy his dad for now. It’s weird not to argue, like hearing a new language or eating something you’ve never tried before. This must be what it’s like to have a normal conversation with your parents. If only it was always like this.

“What did you get up to on your break from work? Don’t tell me you’ve been here the whole time?”

He shakes his head even though it’s the truth. “We did a few things but we just like staying home mostly.”

It’s only after the words leave his mouth that he realises his mistake.

We.

Not I.

Or she.

Or me.

We.

Post stroke or not, his dad doesn’t miss it.

“We? Who is this we?” The question is directed at him but his dad turns to his mom, confused. “Do you know anything about this? Did he get engaged while I’ve been under? Or is this another hole in my memory?”

“I’m not engaged dad.” He says with a weary sigh because some things never change.

“Oh. So who is this We you’re talking about? Not Hyungwon’s daughter is it? She seems a little bit bland for you Hanbin. Bit low on the IQ front.”

The irony of their conversation makes him want to laugh out loud. “No, dad. It’s not Eunji. She’s nice though. I thought you liked her.”

“I said nothing of the sort.” His dad sniffs. “So who is it? What’s her name?”

He looks cautiously at his mother but all she does is give him a small shrug, neither of them knowing how to broach the topic at a time like this.

“Um, it’s Jiwon. Kim Jiwon.”

He gets the name out. Then holds his breath.

His dad looks squarely into his eyes, intense as he is during a board meeting or the business end of a long scolding session. For a few seconds he thinks that this might be it, this might be the time that his dad remembers who Kim Jiwon might be…

…but he doesn’t.

“Kim Jiwon? Oh. Like that actress your mother likes. What show was it…..we watched it but I can’t remember it now. What was it again?” His dad asks, face grimacing in frustration when he can’t find the memory he is searching for.

The doctors had told them to let his dad try to remember things on his own but that’s easier said than done, the reality of it is watching a brilliant mind fighting itself because there are so many holes in its memory. They let it go for too long today and his dad is already sitting forward in bed, distressed by something that seems so trivial.

“What’s that show? You’ve both watched it! What is it? What is it?!! What’s the show?! You watched it!”

His mom places a tentative hand on his dad’s shoulder, alleviating some of the distress but not the deep frustrated frown.

“Yes, I watched it.” His mom says patiently and gently. “It was Descendants of the Sun.”

“Oh! Descendants of the Sun!” His dad says victoriously, relief spreading on his face as the tension leaves his shoulders is one fast swoop. “Has she come to visit here?”

“The actress?”

“No, silly boy. Not that Kim Jiwon, your Kim Jiwon.”

Your Kim Jiwon.

It’s only a small thing, and he knows it’s because his dad’s personality and mind are both a little erratic right now, but it makes him smile anyway.

“No, Jiwon hasn’t come to visit you yet. We weren’t sure if you’d be okay with it.”

“What does she do?”

“Jiwon….is a musician.” He replies, trying to keep his panicked nausea at bay.

“A musician? Still committed to those starving artist types are you?” His dad asks with a resigned sigh. “Maybe your mother and I should set you-”

“No, dad. Not again! Those don’t work. They think I’m too weird.”

“Weird? Who said that? Which ones?”

And so it goes, back and forth, for days on end. Some days his dad remembers Jiwon and some days he doesn’t. Some days he is questioned about his orientation, some days he isn’t. It’s all over the place.

Some days they talk business and his mom has to repeat her speech about how a deputy manager has been assigned to his dad’s position now but the company are prepared to accept him back once he’s well. It won’t be the same job anymore though. He still remembers the first time they had to break the bad news; his dad took it badly, lashing out, ranting furiously, wanting to make bitter phone calls “to those ungrateful bastards” but after awhile, a long long while, anger eventually gave way to a reluctant kind of acceptance.

It happened sooner than he expected. His old dad, pre-heart attack, would’ve made those bitter phone calls and threatening demands. His new dad, post-heart attack, was a walking contradiction: less angry but also more blunt. Complete acceptance of the whole situation hasn’t happened yet but progress is progress and they’ll take any small victory at this point.

Maybe there’s a special place in hell for him for thinking this way; as if he’s happy that his dad suffered a major neurological event that changed some aspects of his personality. His dad was the same but different. They all had to show more patience but somehow, everything was also a whole lot easier to deal with.

The last few weeks is the most time he’s spent with his family, especially his dad, for years. It’s the most they’ve talked without arguing. In the worst of settings, it’s the happiest he’s seen his sister in a long time and he knows that’s because they’ve haven’t really been a family like this since he moved out of home.

So yeah, he’s probably going to hell and satan will ask him why he’s okay with the fact that his dad suffered two major health events on the same day. He’s going to hell and he’ll just reply that there’s a price to pay for everything. This was the Universes way of recalibrating their family and of forcibly stopping his dad from killing himself due to overworking and bad dieting. It’s the Universe’s way of forcing the entire family to glue itself together again.

Ahh yeah, nothing like the threat of death to sort out your priorities.

He’ll go to hell for this and he doesn’t care. It might be worth it. If the entire family is happier, was it really all a bad thing?

“You’re in a good mood today, things going pretty well with your dad huh?” Jiwon asks later in bed. It’s nearly midnight, he stayed up answering work emails as Jiwon abandoned his BeatBox homework to read the rest of Life of Pi.

“Yeah, they’re alright. He’s better and the physio was happy with him this afternoon. He’s got a bit of minor weakness in a few fingers but it’s nothing he can’t deal with.”

“Oh, good. That’s good.” Jiwon says with a grin. “What about…”

“His head?”

“Yeah.”

He sends the last email to Donghyuk then slides his laptop onto the bedside table to shut down.

“Well. He’s a little erratic, some days he’s the same dad I had growing up, some days his behaviour is completely different. There are huge holes in his memory but sometimes he can remember ridiculous details about the most specific things. He doesn’t remember you but he’s remembering your name now.”

“My name?”

“Yeah, Kim Jiwon from Descendants of the Sun.” He replies with a sheepish smile that slowly fades into a frown. “I….I didn’t tell him you were a guy. I didn’t know how to and I didn’t know if it’d set him off, so-”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Well, it’s not really.” He says with a sigh. “I told myself that the whole near-death thing was a wake-up call. That I should stop being so scared of him but he’s just gone through rehab, so now I don’t know if it’s selfish or-”

“It’s not. You dating a dude is not exactly gonna help his recovery. He literally just got over his heart attack.”

“Yeah I know but it’s like I keep waiting to introduce you to him and it never happens.”

Jiwon pats his leg under the blanket, eyes already back on the book. “It’ll happen when it happens. Don’t worry so much about that.”

He flops down on his pillow in a frustrated and dramatic huff. The sudden puff of air ruffling Jiwon’s hair and a few pages on Life of Pi.

“Why are you so chill about this? Doesn’t it bother you that my dad still doesn’t really know you?”

Jiwon sighs, dog-ears the page he’s reading then drops the book onto their bedside table. That’s his chance to snuggle right up against one of those hard muscled arms, hiding his face in the sleeve of Jiwon’s t-shirt until some firm fingers coaxes his jaw away.

“It doesn’t bother me. I’m fine with it. Don’t worry about us, worry about your dad. We’ll meet when the time is right.”

The fingers against his jaw slacken and move up his cheek in a soft gentle caress. Sometimes Jiwon’s sweet, rational pragmatism infuriates him, it’s in a good way but it’s still infuriating.

He pushes the hand away and buries his face back against Jiwon’s arm. “You’re supposed to be irrational with me! How am I supposed to be pissed off when you’re being all nice and chill? It’s annoying.”

Jiwon rolls his eyes. “Oh you want me to be irrational with you? Okay, how’s this: I can’t believe I still haven’t met your dad! I can’t believe he hates me! I can’t believe he hates the gays. How will we move on from this? I guess we’ll just pretend I’m a girl forever and be miserable until we die.”

He kicks at Jiwon’s ankles but he’s laughing too. “Don’t make fun of my problems!”

“You’re laughing!”

“I’m not!” He giggles.

“Come here, loser.” Jiwon says, enveloping him so completely and securely in those strong arms that it feels like the World will never touch him. “You’re a big ridiculous baby with big ridiculous problems.”

There’s a wet kiss on his cheek that makes him squirm.

“You are the most pessimistic person I know. You didn’t think we’d work out and we did. You thought your mom would hate me and she doesn’t. You thought your dad wouldn’t make it and he did.”

“What’s your point?”

Jiwon kisses his other cheek. “My point is that whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. I mean, if nothing else works out, what we got so far is pretty good don’t you think?”

He looks up at the earnest face above him. There are replies that float around his mind and his mouth opens and closes so many times that Jiwon gives him a curious look. In the end, he just hooks a finger into the collar of Jiwon’s t-shirt and tugs it downwards so their lips are just touching.

“Yeah, this is pretty good.”

****

“I just realised something else.” Hanbin says at breakfast the next day.

“What?”

“You still haven’t met Hanbyul either.”

“There’s plenty of time for that, let your old man settle at home first.” He says, going back to his berry waffles.

“Maybe we should have a dinner and you can meet them both at the same-”

“No.”

“Why not!” Hanbin cries indignantly.

He doesn’t like to do it a lot but sometimes he just has to put his foot down.

“Hanbin. Baby. I love you. I do. But I’m not meeting them when your dad has barely gotten out of hospital. It’s too much and too soon. You know it. This should be a time for you and your family.”

“Not 3 months ago and you said that you were my family so-”

He gives Hanbin a withering look. “Are you really calling me out on a technicality? Really?”

Hanbin has the decency to hide sheepishly behind his morning cup of tea. “I’m just saying that I don’t want to waste any more time. Who knows how long we’ve got with him. Did you know the that chances of having another heart attack is-”

“Not this again. It’s too early for this.” He groans, looking at the clock on the wall and getting up to wash their plates and mug. He doesn’t exactly respond to Hanbin’s morning rants, because it’s almost identical to the one yesterday and the one last week, but he knows not to interrupt either.

Hanbin follows him from room to room and they fall into a rhythm getting ready beside each other.

“Maybe we can take Hanbyul out for lunch or something. So she’s not around my parents when she meets you. She’ll probably act more like herself without them hovering.” Hanbin muses at the sink as they brush their teeth.

“Uh-huh.” He responds casually, sometimes it’s just easier to agree and let Hanbin talk it all out. He read that in a book once.

“It’ll be good for her to do something besides being in the hospital.”

“Yeah.”

“And maybe when dad’s better, you can come over. Then at least we’ll know if he likes you or not.”

“Sure thing.”

“Are you even listening to me?”

He laughs and ruffles Hanbin’s hair on the way out of the bathroom. “Always.”

They kiss at the front door and he’s glad that the ribs under his fingers don’t stick out as much as they did before and the bony hips are a little less bony now.

“He’s coming home today so I’ll be having dinner at the house again.” Hanbin says when they pull away. “What time do you think you’ll be done tonight?”

He adjusts the zipper on his jacket and shrugs. “It’s another long ass meeting about my demos so it might run late. I’ll get dinner with the team, don’t worry about it.”

“One day, we should actually have dinner with each other. Last time I checked, you were still my boyfriend.” Hanbin says, fixing the collar of his jacket with a soft dimple smile. That one gets him every single time.

“Whatever you want baby.” He smiles, leaning in for another kiss that they definitely don’t have time for. It’s always like this, he knows. He gets into certain moods where he can’t let Hanbin go.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”

“No.” He replies right into Hanbin’s mouth.

There’s a laugh right back into his and then it’s followed by a soft push against his chest. “Go to work. I’ll see you tonight.”

“But I could just see you right now.” He murmurs against Hanbin’s ear and can feel the way the smaller body shivers against him. It’s not so one-sided after all.

“Okay, no!” Hanbin replies in exasperation. “We really don’t have time for that.”

He’s not proud to say that he might have pouted and whined like a kicked puppy but it’s been so long since they’ve done anything remotely nasty and he’s been so patient. He wonders if his wounded puppy look still works on Hanbin but as soon as he turns it on, there’s a hand pushing his face away.

“Don’t even try it! You are not screwing up your career again because you want to get laid.”

“My career will be fine.” He says, dragging Hanbin’s body even closer. “It can wait.”

Hanbin grabs his wrist and holds up the Winnie The Pooh watch. “No it can’t. Winnie says it’s 5 past 8. You have to drive through peak hour traffic.”

He groans dramatically in frustration because it always seems to make Hanbin laugh. “Fine! Fine! I’ll go to my meeting but I just want you to know that I’ll probably be hard and thinking about your mouth-”

“Oh my god! Get out!” Hanbin screeches and laughs at the same time. “Get out of here!”

He doesn’t actually make it that far outside the door before a hand grabs his jacket and pulls him back with surprising strength. Before he can think, Hanbin’s mouth is on him again. It’s not really a kiss, it’s more like a punch in the face; deep, insistent, hard and fast. It’s the kind of kiss that knocks the air out of him. It’s the kind of kiss where he can taste everything Hanbin wants to say.

Listen to yourself, you’re a godamm poet at 8 in the morning.

When Hanbin lets him go, they’re both a little breathless and pink in the face.

“Have a good day at work?” Hanbin says, voice quieter and a little shy all the sudden. It’s something he’ll never understand; how Hanbin can go from this sweet awkward guy to a hungry animal. It gives him whiplash every time.

“Yeah, I will. You have a good day too okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye loser.”

“Bye Bambi.”

There’s a bright laugh and two deep dimples on Hanbin’s face.

He’s lucky. He knows he is. Even if nothing else works out, this is enough. More than enough. It was enough from the day they got together. It’s these kinds of thoughts that always gets him out of bed in the morning when he really doesn’t want to. And it’s these kinds of thoughts that makes him want to succeed and work hard at his new career. It’s these kinds of thoughts that makes him want to be a better person.

“So. The team likes the Trap-Rap from the demo tape.” Tablo says as soon as the BeatBox meeting starts. “It’s a bit rough and raw but it’s different. The backing needs some work but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. I’ve got some ideas on how to clean it up.”

Jin is sitting beside him, sipping on his coffee and watching everything with eagle-eye vigilance. He used to find it so off-putting and claustrophobic but now, after a Japan trip and countless meetings, he barely notices it. Jin might be the world’s smallest bulldog but man, he’s grateful the bulldog is in his corner.

“The Bonnie and Clyde revision is what management want you to release first, it’s more typical and radio friendly so it’ll be easier to promote. Needs some work with the verses though and we need to rethink some of the lyrics.”

“Okay.” He nods, even though he’s always been proud of those verses and getting him to change the lyrics will probably end up in an argument. He wrote some of those lyrics for Hanbin, BeatBox can change the lyrics over his dead body.  

“As for the Beethoven,” Tablo starts ominously, “We’re not really sure what to do with that one. Personally, I like it. I think it has a lot of potential and the sampling and looping is refreshing and different. Management think it’s a bit of a gamble. I know it’s something of a love song, maybe we can make it a B side or something to rework and release later once you get some traction in the industry.”

He opens his mouth to ask a question, but then realising how rude it must sound, closes it quickly again. Jin raises an eyebrow. That guy never misses anything.

“What it is?”

“Nothing….it’s just that, well. I don’t mean to offend anyone but if BeatBox is an independent label then why are the releases controlled by GlobalKore’s management?”

Tablo sighs and Jin closes his eyes briefly before answering. “Because you’re still a rookie. GlobalKore controls all new releases but as long as we can demonstrate that we’re making feasible business decisions with our artists after debut they’ll get off our backs about the creative side of things.”

Feasible business decisions?

Those words have no place in music at all but at the same time he tells himself to stop being so naive. Of course it has its place. Music is a business. He is in the music business. And it’s all a necessary evil. You need both aspects to survive, as much as he’d like see it differently. His first advance paycheck won’t be for another fortnight but that money has to come from somewhere and he needs to be smart about what he says or else he’s gonna lose more than just one paycheck. There’s a game to play. That’s what Hanbin had said so it’s probably the right thing to do.

“Well, I’d rather save Beethoven till later. Till the album.” He says, voice uneven because he has no idea how decisions like these really get made and if he has any say in it at all. “I think I kinda agree about Bonnie and Clyde. That’s my most developed track and the easiest to perform live. So yeah, I don’t really have a problem with that being the first release.”

He feels completely out of his depth, not knowing if he should be this frank or not. God, where was Hanbin when you needed him.

“Excellent!” Tablo exclaims suddenly, reaching over to thump his back heartily a few times. “Glad we don’t have to spend the next 2 hours convincing you of the game plan. So we’ll go ahead with Bonnie and Clyde as the title track and the Trap-Rap as a B side. Save Beethoven and the rest for the album. Doc McKinney won’t be free until the later half of the year anyhow.”

He nods. Jin nods.

That’s good, right?

That everyone agrees?

Is everyone supposed to agree? Is it supposed to be this straight forward?

Jin must sense his unease and reaches over to tell him that he can speak up at any time because BeatBox “aren’t really in the business of keeping unhappy artists on their roster.”

He takes the advice, chiming in whenever he can but holding back that 1% that might get him fired. The rest of the meeting isn’t as difficult now that they’ve made clear decisions on what they’re all doing. They begin to discuss aspects of the song, what to change, what to keep. They like some of the lyrics but not everything. He asks them if he can look at it again and “revise” the rhymes. There will have to be a compromise, he can see it coming, but he doesn’t really want to argue about it today. Not when everything was going so well.

The rest of the day is spent going through his proposed schedule for the year. It’s long, tedious and incredibly boring. They barely need his input but as Jin puts it sympathetically, “legally you have to sit there and agree to it.”

It’s past 8pm by the time they wrap up another day, this time with pizza because they all suddenly had a hankering for cheese. There’s only one item left on the agenda: contract negotiations. He saw it written there and wondered why there needed to be negotiations at all. Hanbin had read and gone through the requests already. The contract had already been signed.

He swallows the lump in his throat as Jin opens his mouth to speak.  

“One last thing Jiwon, GlobalKore decided to revise your contract. There are minor changes to the terms and touring obligations. I marked out the changes but I suggest you take the time to go through it all just to be sure.”

There are yellow Post-It notes sticking out of the familiar looking contract document. He tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut but what if they make him tour forever after all? Maybe 7 months ago it would’ve sounded like the dream job but well, his life is different now and he needs to think about that.

“Don’t look so pale Jiwon.” Jin says reassuringly. “It’s nothing you can’t handle. Go through it with someone, a lawyer if you need to, and we’ll talk more next Tuesday. I want you to be happy about it. Nobody puts in their best work under duress.”

He trusts Jin to manage him but BeatBox is still part to GlobalKore and at the end of the day, Jin still works for them. The financial backing and power of GlobalKore can’t be denied. The creative meddling and scheduling conflicts are slightly harder to get used to.

He comes home to an empty apartment, knowing that Hanbin will probably stay late to help settle his dad back home. The revised contract feels heavy in his hands, maybe heavier than it did before, but he knows that’s just some crazy psychology messing with his head.

There are proposed changes to the touring section. He will be expected to participate in group tours as part of promotions. It’s just around South Korea so that’s not so bad. There are some changes to his album cuts and the percentages he’ll take. Those revisions are a little harder to make sense of so he’ll have to go through it all with Hanbin at some point this weekend.

He spends the rest of the night going through the Bonnie and Clyde rap lyrics, giving up some time after 10pm because no, he doesn’t want to change anything at all. Why do compromises have to come from him and not Management?

Hanbin comes home just before 10:30pm, looking exhausted but smiling. That’s always a good sign.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Hanbin flops down next to him on the couch and snuggles against his arm. “Good day?”

“Yeah, pretty good.” He replies, cradling Hanbin’s head so he can place a kiss against his temple. “Gonna start recording soon.”

“Really? Already?”

“Yeah, they got this crazy schedule planned and they want to get the music recorded early.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess.” Hanbin muses, before sitting upright again, lines of concern on his face now. “It’s so weird that it’s starting so soon.”

“I know.”

He can feel it, the beginnings of Hanbin’s anxieties rolling in like a storm in the distance. But he knows how to handle these things by now. He read about that in a book too.

“So hey, how was your day? Your dad settle at home okay?”

There’s subtle waves of worry on Hanbin’s face but at the change in topic, they’re abruptly diverted and transform into a hopeful smile. It’ll only be a temporary fix, he knows this, but temporary fixes get them through the day.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. He’s doing fine. Complained a lot about the fact we’ve only got salt-reduced soy sauce in the house and substitute butter. I just hope he doesn’t drive mom and Hanbyul crazy.”

“Salt-reduced soy sauce is not real soy sauce and fake butter sounds nasty.”

Hanbin turns to him with a look of betrayal. “Don’t you start with that! Whose side are you on? You sound just like him.”

“I do not.”

“You do!”

“Whatever.”

“Anyways, he asked about you today. Well, the girl Kim Jiwon he thinks I’m dating.” Hanbin says with a weary sigh. “I haven’t told him yet and now it’s too late to correct him and I knew I should’ve just done it the first time he got it wrong.”

“Well, it’s not like you lied.” He points out, trying to be helpful. “You just didn’t correct him. Maybe I don’t like pronouns? You never know.”

Hanbin shoots him the same withering look that he remembers giving this morning. “If I’m not allowed to catch you out on a technicality then you can’t use that either.”

“It’s all gonna turn out fine.” He declares.

“You always just say that.” Hanbin grumbles. “Do you even believe it?”

“One of us should.” He stands up and hold his hand out. “So are you gonna mope out here or come shower with me?”

Hanbin’s misery fades at the suggestion, a small smirk taking it’s place and eventually he lets himself be lead to the bathroom. “Are we saving water again?”

“Yep.”

“You just like the economics of it right?”

He laughs, spinning Hanbin around to pin him against the wall. “Yeah I love the economics of saving water. The hot wet naked guy is okay too I guess.”

“Oh really? Just okay?”

“Yeah, I mean, I wouldn’t write a song for him or anything but he’s alright.”

Hanbin leans forward to kiss him. “But you did write a song for me.”

“Yeah I did and they’re gonna release it one day.”

Hanbin’s eyes widen like well, like Bambi in headlights. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” He kisses the prominent nose in front of him, then each dimpled cheek. Bambi is still there when he looks up again. “Why are you so shocked? What do you think I write about? Cars, money and girls?”

“And getting gold teeth.”

“And you.”

“You need more hobbies.” Hanbin says gravely.

It always makes him laugh, the way their weird conversations go but he doesn’t mind being the punchline if it means his neurotically anxious boyfriend gets through the day in one piece.

“Come on.” He says, letting go to Hanbin’s wrists. “Shower time. Then sleep. I’m so fucking tired.”

Hanbin eyes the Winnie The Pooh watch on his wrist before taking it off. “Winnie says it’s 1050 pm. You’re officially geriatric if you’re ready for bed now.”

“We’ve been up since 7am. I don’t care what you wanna call me. Sleep is more important than life right now.” He says, leaning into the shower to turn on the water. “Sleep is more important that you right now. Don’t mess with my sleep.”

He moves to take off his shirt and jeans and by the time he turns back, Hanbin is already shouldering past him into the shower. It’s a little cold but he finds himself just standing there watching the warm streams of water run down Hanbin’s skin, from his long neck down past the Pi tattoo on his chest and over all the ridges of his ribs.

Yep, saving water is the best idea he’s had all day.

“Stop staring like a creep and get in here.”

When he says this is the best idea, he really means that it’s the worst idea. Maybe they take turns washing their hair and rinsing out the conditioner but when it comes time for the rest of it, he realises that they’re not going to be saving water at all.  

He scrubs Hanbin’s back, listening to the soft satisfied noises and trying not to let it get to him. No such luck because he’s got a primitive brain when he’s tired. All the noises get to him. In one specific place.

“Here, turn around. I’ll do your back.” Hanbin says.

Firm fingers knead the tension out of his muscles and fuck, it feels so amazing. Why don’t they do this every night? They’ve wasted so many showers not doing this.

“You are so good at that.” He murmurs, mostly to himself but Hanbin hears it in the small confines of their bathroom. “That’s so nice.”

“Better than sleep?”

“Nothing’s better than sleep.” He replies, just to be annoying.

The hands on shoulders slide down the front of his chest, not stopping until they rest on the lowest groove of his hip. He’s already half hard from all the noises Hanbin was making before but by the time those fingers curl around him, he just gives up trying to restrain himself.

“What about this?” Hanbin says softly into his ear. “Is this better than sleep?”

“Mhhhhhmmm, maybe…”He replies, already leaning back into the body behind him and just wanting to focus on how Hanbin’s fingers glide slowly up and down the length of his cock.

It’s too slow and too perfect, slightly tighter grip than usual, which is how he likes it. He wants Hanbin to go faster but at the same time, he doesn’t want it to end.

“Wait, wait…I wanna see you.” He gasps, turning around and wasting no time connecting their mouths in a rush of heat, spit and water. Hanbin whines against him, tongue sliding so heavily against his that a growl escapes from somewhere deep in his throat. There’s a surprised gasp when he takes Hanbin into his hand and starts stroking at the same time.

“Cum with me, I want to hear you.” He says against Hanbin’s swollen lips.

The slick and wet sounds echoes even louder in their bathroom and soon there are no words, just water hitting the tiles, skin on skin and desperate whimpers next to his own heavy breathing.

Hanbin cums first, all long drawn out moans and teeth digging into his bottom lip. He loves that sounds, it goes straight to this cock and a few seconds later, he spills over Hanbin’s fingers with a blissful laugh.

“Ah, fuck.”

It’s silent after that, just breathing and water again. He presses tiny kisses against a wet shoulder and waits for them both to come down from the high.

“You know this was a total waste of water right?” Hanbin says eventually, now leaning heavily against his body like a dead weight.

“Worth it.” He shrugs, feeling lethargic and floaty at the same time.

Hanbin hums some kind of sleepy response and yawns. “I’m tired.”

“Me too. Waters getting cold. Let’s get you outta here and into bed.” He nudges at the body slumped all over him and it takes about three attempts before Hanbin grumbles, rinses the mess off and makes his way out of the shower.

They dry off quickly and don’t bother to get dressed before crashing into bed. He’s two seconds from falling asleep when Hanbin reaches over and touches his arm.

“You’re right though, sleep is more important than everything.”

He chuckles into the pillow. “Night, Bambi.”

“Night, Loser.”

****

It’s a Saturday the next day. Thank God.

There’s a chill beyond the sheets but underneath it he’s warm, toasty and never wants to leave. It takes him a few moments to realise that: he’s awake, it’s probably early and his phone is buzzing at him. The panic kicks in a few seconds later.

“Mom? What is it? Is something wrong?”

Jiwon shifts beside him, waking up at the worried tone in his voice.

“No, no. Everything’s fine.” She reassures him. “Sorry that I woke you so early but can you pick Hanbyul up from her classes this afternoon? My car is still getting serviced and dad’s car suddenly decided not to start this morning. Mrs Lee next door was kind enough to drive her there.”

He breathes out the anxiety.

“Yeah yeah, I can pick her up.” He replies, rubbing Jiwon’s arm softly to let him know everything’s okay and to go back to sleep. “You could’ve called me earlier. I could’ve taken her this morning.”

“We were already late. She went with the Lee kids, you remember them? The really noisy ones who do taekwondo.” His mom says with a chuckle. It’s good to hear her laugh now and he tries not to think of how long it’s been.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen them for awhile.” He smiles into the phone. He hated those kids growing up, they were always so loud with their backyard basketball and soccer games. He’s not exactly proud to admit that he refused to return one of their balls that flew over the fence but in his defence, he was 14 and trying to study for a science test dammit.

It’s good that Hanbyul has kids her own age to hang out with in the neighbourhood though. And he never actually failed a single test at school so those Lee kids can be forgiven.

“It’s only temporary. The garage says it won’t take more than 2 days.”

“Wait, so you have no car right now? What happened to dad’s? Why didn’t Lexus give you a rental?

“I didn’t take it though because we had your father’s car. I have no idea why it didn’t start this morning. I’m waiting for the weekend mechanics to open so they can take a look at it.”

“Well, you need to have a car, just in case something happens. Do you want to just take mine?”

“What are you going to drive?”

“We’ve got Jiwon’s car. It’s fine.”

He misses his mom’s replies because there’s a persistent tap against his arm. Jiwon looks at him blearily, not fully asleep but not fully awake either.

“Does she want me to come look at it?”

“What?”

“They got a car that’s not working? Want me to look at it?”

He can hear his mom saying his name through the phone.

“No mom, I’m still here. Sorry. Um….Jiwon wants to know if you want him to come over to look at dad’s car? Figure out what’s wrong with it?”

“Oh, that’s right. He was a mechanic in a previous life wasn’t he?”

“Yeah. So do you want him to? I mean, we don’t have to say anything to dad if you think it’s too soon…” He trails off, feeling guilty Jiwon has to hear that when he just offered to help his parents out.

“Well, it would be helpful, as long as it won’t inconvenience him?”

“It’s fine mom. We’ll come over after breakfast?”

“Alright. I’ll prepare you father.” His mom chuckles again, the nerves can be heard in her voice but well, if they’re all going to finally meet, it’s a good thing that she’s already half on Jiwon’s side. “See you soon.”

“Okay, bye.”

He drops his phone back on the bedside table and sighs into the pillow.

“So, we going over there?” Jiwon asks, voice still rough from sleep.

“Yes.” He mumbles into the sheets. “Do you feel like meeting my dad today?”

“Sure, why not.” Jiwon replies with faux over-enthusiasm. “I’ll fix his car and he’ll tell me to fix the gay and leave you the hell alone”

He looks over but Jiwon isn’t angry. He’s smiling dopily, still not fully awake yet. Some higher being put this guy on the Earth just for him. He knows it. People like this don’t exist in real life.

“What if he does though? What if he remembers everything about my fight with him? What if he still hates that I’m gay? What if-”

“Are you planning on breaking up with me?” Jiwon interrupts.

“What? No?”

“Good. Then don’t worry about it. We’ll deal with it like we deal with everything else, I guess.” Jiwon replies with a yawn, eyes already closing again. “Can I sleep for 5 more minutes though?”

I love you.

I love you and that’s all.

He leans down to press a kiss against Jiwon’s cheek. “Yeah, I’ll wake you up in half an hour.”

****

He doesn’t breathe the whole time they’re at his parent’s house.

His dad’s memory might be glitchy but his brain was functioning as usual.

It was fine at first; they pull up, his mom handed over the car keys and they leave Jiwon to try and work out what was wrong with his dad’s C200. It’s nice watching Jiwon work again, not just with music and lyrics but physically and with his hands. A small part of him misses the time when they were just writer-Hanbin and mechanic-Jiwon, that’s the first Jiwon he fell in love with and no matter where Jiwon ends up, nothing will ever change that fact.

His dad shuffles out after awhile wearing his thick dressing gown even though there’s only a slight breeze, it’s no doubt enforced by the vigilant woman beside him.

His heart is in his throat as he watches the two men talk to each other.

“Good morning.”

“Oh, good…good morning Mr Kim, sir.” Jiwon stutters, nervously bowing too many times for good measure.

“You’re the mechanic?”

“Um, yes sir.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jiwon.”

“Alright, so Jiwon, what do you think is wrong with it today?”

There’s no recognition in his dad’s face but then again, why would there be? He’s never met Jiwon. The only thing that might trigger anything is the name but there’s not much of a reaction after that either. He can see Jiwon trying to school his nervous face and can only shrug helplessly whenever those eyes flick his way. What can he even do anyway? Anything he says will make it worse.

But he underestimates Jiwon’s abilities.

He overhypes him and underestimates him at the same time.

“Well, um. I think it’s just a dead battery because one of your doors doesn’t lock properly anymore. I’ve seen it happen with similar models before.” Jiwon says, voice more confident when he can talk about something he’s well versed in. “The central locking doesn’t work on the passenger side door so it’s sending out alerts on your dashboard and that really draining your battery every time.”

“Oh.” His dad nods, clearly expecting something more convoluted and harder to understand. “Can you fix it?”

Jiwon wipes his hands on his jeans and nods. “I can recharge your battery now but the central locking is going to take a few hours. I don’t have all the right equipment with me today if you want a full check up, it’ll be better to take your car to the garage for that.”

And then.

Weirdly enough.

That’s that.

There’s some hesitation but eventually, Jiwon rolls up his sleeves (revealing all the tattoos with it) and recharges the battery. Then he’s kneeling somewhere under the steering wheel to poke at some wiring, hair a bit of a mess, face dead serious in concentration and teeth biting that pouty bottom lip.

There he is. The teenage dream.

Mechanic-Jiwon is everything he’s ever had a crush on, past, present and probably future.

There’s a tug on his sleeve which drags him back to reality, it’s his mom’s subtle way of trying to lead him inside the house but there’s no way he’s leaving Jiwon and his dad out here unsupervised. She sighs and lets him be.

It’s surreal watching the scene in front of him: both of the men in his life are now standing in front of the car, the hood is propped open and for whatever reason, his dad is asking Jiwon so many questions about oil changes, unleaded petrol and grit in the carburettors. He has no idea what any of it means but at least Jiwon does. Thank God he does.

“No Mr Kim. Spending the extra money on that isn’t worth it. Personally, I think you’re just paying for a brand name with no added benefits. My garage used to fit the generic brands and they’re still holding on after 3-4 years. The engine is where your money should be going if you want longevity and performance.”

“I knew it! We’ve been swindled for years!” His dad mutters bitterly, looking every bit like a cartoon in his bright orange dressing gown.

His mom comes back out and rolls her eyes when she notices that he hasn’t moved from the position she left him in before. “Come help me with the morning snacks, Hanbin. You can leave them for five minutes.”

“No, I really can’t.”

“Darling, you’re going to have to trust him at some point.”

“It’s not Jiwon I can’t trust. It’s dad.”

“Hanbin.”

It’s that stern Mom-Voice. He hates that voice. It almost always works. Dammit.

“Alright alright….” He grumbles, rising from the planter box and following his mom back inside the house. He looks over his shoulder, Jiwon has a smear of grease across his check and his dad still looks ridiculous in his orange dressing gown. But they’re not arguing, so there’s that.

There’s coffee to prepare, some fresh fruit and a yellow cake he’s never seen his mom make before.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s a semolina cake. The nurses gave me the recipe. It’s a little healthier than regular cake but it’s still a cake so your father will hopefully complain less.”

“Is he allowed to drink coffee?”

“It’s decaf.”

He laughs. “He’s going to hate the next few months isn’t he?”

His mom purses her lips, clearly in restraint. “He will just have to deal with it won’t he? He’s had his chance. Now he eats healthy and he’ll learn that fruit won’t kill him.”

He doesn’t believe it but if there’s anyone who can sort out his dad, it’s her.

There’s a comfortable silence as they gather the plates and cups but he notices his mom is watching him closely out the corner of her eyes.

“What?”

“He’s….a nice boy. I’m not sure about those tattoos though.”

Warmth explodes inside his chest, it’s followed quickly by the feeling of overwhelming pride and then, finally, relief. Long overdue relief. The smile on his mom’s face might be a little strained but it’s a smile and it’s a compliment and at the end of the day, those are the facts. He knew she tolerated Jiwon but he never expected her to like him, not for a long time anyway.

“He must really care about you to do this.” His mom says with a serious but soft expression.

“Do what?”

“Meet your father unprepared.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, Mom.” He replies, not missing the irony of his statement at all.

“You know what your father is like. He wants facts and honesty and 10 year management plans. He’ll see through anyone remotely fake.”

He frowns deeply and stares at the floor. “I don’t think he realises who Jiwon is yet.”

“Oh, you didn’t introduce them?”

“No, I didn’t have the chance.”

That’s a lie. He did but he paused for so long that his dad just shuffled past and ignored the silence.

“I don’t even know what to say.” He mutters miserably. “I can’t just drop the bomb on him now. What if he gets another heart attack?”

“Oh rubbish!” His mom scoffs daintily. “There’s no need to treat him with kid gloves Hanbin. You keep forgetting who he is and what he’s been through in his business life. He might not remember all of it but he’s dealt with much worse than all this.”

He blinks at his mom, finding it surreal that they were even having this conversation at all. He never thought he’d get here. Ever.

“So. Do you think I should tell him? About me and Jiwon?”

“I can’t make that decision for you.” His mom replies. “But I might suggest that you just let it happen naturally. If it comes out in conversation then so be it. He’ll come to whichever conclusion he will. Some things are out of your hands and you’ve got to learn to deal with it”

He sighs and stares even harder at the floor.

“Oh, don’t look so pale. Have faith in him, Hanbin. In them.” His mom squeezes his shoulder before picking up a tray and motioning him to do the same. “Come on, it’s time to give Jiwon a break now.”

It’s weird. Strange. Bizaare. Completely uncomfortable. One minute they’re pouring decaf coffee and the next, he realises that they’re all sitting around the planter boxes and eating healthy cake. There’s small talk but it’s mostly his dad grilling Jiwon about all the other ways luxury car garages scam people into paying for things they don’t need. For a few blissful moments he thinks this is probably what it’d be like if his dad ever accepted his relationship with Jiwon. Maybe they could be this kind of family one day and sit around other tables, drinking fake coffee and eating fake cake…but with the truth all out in the open.

It’d be nice.

It is nice.

He wishes it could last longer but they need to leave to pick up Hanbyul. His dad’s car might be working now but he insists on doing his big brother duties. So caught up in the weird events of the day, he hadn’t actually prepared for how they were going to say goodbye.

“We better get going-” He starts, dusting off his pants and motioning Jiwon towards their car.

“Wait a minute, what do we owe you Jiwon? Do you take cheque or-”

“Oh it’s okay, Mr Kim. It’s fine.” Jiwon stammers uncomfortably, realising that this is the part where the truth might actually come out.

“What do you mean it’s fine? Of course we’ll pay you! Don’t be silly.”

“It’s really okay. I’m happy to help out.”

There’s a tense silence as his dad looks between them. “Help out?”

“Don’t worry about it, dad. I’ll take care of it.” He interjects quickly, unable to hold back any longer.

“But this is ridiculous.” His dad turns to his mom, confused as ever and not used to having mechanics giving him a discount. “What’s he talking about?”

It can’t come out like this. Not now. It feels forced and wrong. Jiwon and his mom were right and all he can think to do is send her pleading looks to help bail them out of this awkward situation.

“Let Hanbin sort this out.” His mom says, already gently guiding his dad back inside. “They’ve got to go pick up Hanbyul anyhow. You know how she is when she has to wait too long.”

“Right right.” His dad nods, skepticism still all over his face but not arguing (a miracle in itself). “Well, thank you for your help then Jiwon. My wife and I appreciate you coming over.”

“It’s no trouble Mr Kim.”

“Okay, we really need to get going now.” He says, hurrying things along. There are too many opportunities for questions and they’re pathetically unprepared.

Safely inside Jiwon’s BMW, they just sit in silence for a few moments.

“That was…..”

“…weird.”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Well, I stopped breathing 2 hours ago.”

Jiwon laughs and starts the engine. “Let’s get outta here. They might be watching from the windows.”

“Getting paranoid?”  

“Yeah, been hanging around this cute neurotic guy for too long.”

It’s not until they’re driving out the neighbourhood that he can finally relax. He knows it must be the same for Jiwon too because the further they get from his parent’s house, the less tense those shoulders are.

“You think he knows?”

“No. I mean, he’ll probably call me later wondering why we came and left in the same car. Or why your name rings a bell. But hey, then again, he didn’t threaten to kill you so he probably still thinks you’re just Jiwon the Friendly Mechanic.”

“Can I say something crazy?”

“What?”

“Maybe we don’t tell him? About you and me, I mean.” Jiwon says cautiously. “He doesn’t hate me as the mechanic. So there’s no real rush to just tell him I’m sleeping with his son right?”

He groans at the choice of words. “Can you not say it like that, geez!”

“How do you want me to say it?” Jiwon cackles. “Hey nice to meet you. I’m banging your only son.”

“Jiwon!” He cringes, blushing bright red instantly.

“You’re fucking adorable! Why are you even blushing?” Jiwon laughs, reaching over to poke at his dimple.

“Just don’t ever say that to them! Or to anyone!”

“Fine fine.” Jiwon smiles, “What about if I just say, “Hi Mr and Mrs Kim, I’m Jiwon and I love you son”. Is that better?”

“NO! That’s even worse!” He scowls.

“How is that worse?!”

“I don’t know! But it’s the same!”

“Oh my god.”

“Stop talking. Just drive.” He pleads.

“Oh hey.” Jiwon says suddenly after a moment, “I’m gonna meet your sister today.”

They’ve been so distracted with his dad they they completely forgot to prepare for that.

Oh.

God.

No.

“Geez, don’t look so sad. Maybe I’ll win her over with my cool big brother jokes. You never know.”

He shakes his head in misery again. This is too much stress for one day and he’s going to get a headache any second now.

“Just don’t….freak her out too much. And don’t get too touchy with me. I don’t really want her telling dad anything.”

As soon as he says it, he feels guilty. Who does he think he is to instruct Jiwon like this? Why does he care? He said he wouldn’t care anymore. Life is short. People can be gay. Who cares?

But he does.

He can’t help it.

“Sorry. I just mean….I’d rather we tell him about us. I don’t want you to keep pretend you’re something you’re not. That’s not how I meant that.” He says. “It’s just that she’s a kid. She’ll say anything and everything to my parents and it might come out all wrong.”

“I know, baby. I get it. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” He says quietly.

It’s not okay. It won’t be okay until the truth is all out in the open. He just has to hang on till then.

“You wanna go with the roommate story?”

He shakes his head, staring out the window instead of looking inward. “No. Just tell her we’re friends and you’re a mechanic. Maybe she’ll think it’s cool. I mean, she kinda already likes you because of what you got her from Japan.”

“Okay.” Jiwon shrugs, looking frustratingly unbothered by the events of the day.  

“Okay.” He echoes, feeling like he’s about to have a stroke of his own.

Hanbyul has dance in the morning, followed by Saturday school for maths and English. It’s a lot for a 9 year old but he remembers his childhood Saturdays in classrooms too. The only saving grace was the piano lessons afterwards.

When they pull into the parking lot of the school, his anxiety surges up his chest. The whole place was filled with mom and dads in SUVs and family sized sedans. Jiwon’s black BMW isn’t anything to be embarrassed about but it does stick out like a sore thumb. Even if they could sneak into the corner parking spot, the growl and grunt of the engine has everyone turning to look at them.

Jiwon laughs at the curious and mildly disapproving glances, clearly used to the way his car announces his arrival.

“They probably think we’re here to rob them or sell drugs.”

He’s supposed to be nervous but suddenly the thought of Jiwon robbing anyone just makes him chuckle under his breath.

“I’ll go get her.” He says.

“I’ll try not to steal anything.” Jiwon replies.

There are kids everywhere. All sizes, all ages, all really really loud and shrill. There’s a small area near the front entrance where the parents gather to wait and gossip. He wonders if anyone is talking about him.

He waves to a few familiar faces that he recognises from before but it’s a little strange every time he’s standing there. A good kind of strange but strange nonetheless. There’s always a small flicker of paternal pride, of curiosity and wishful thinking that maybe one day he’ll be standing right here picking up his own kids from Saturday school and gossiping with other parents about school fees and unfair soccer referees.

Well. Maybe one day.

He spots his sister, walking out with her spikey backpack, ballet bun neatly pinned on the top of her head and chatting to a few similar looking girls. Seeing her with friends makes him smile, at least she still has some.

When she finally sees him across the parking lot, standing next to all the other parents, her face lights up and there’s a quick “bye guys!” to her friends before she’s running towards him, looking closer to 5 years old than her actual 9.

“Hanbin! Are you picking me up today!?” His sister half-yells in excitement.

“Yep.” He replies, hugging her with one arm because God forbid he embarrasses her by being too affectionate. “Had a good day, Peanut?”

“It was okay. I hate maths.” Hanbyul grimaces.

“Who doesn’t?” He says, patting her sympathetically on the back. “Hey, listen. I’ve got a friend with me. He’s here with his car actually-”

“The big loud one?”

“Oh. You heard that huh?”

Hanbyul rolls her eyes at him in dramatic disappointment. “Everybody heard it, Hanbin! Minhyung said it was a street racing car but he’s stupid.”

“Minhyung? The kid next door? Thought you liked him?”

“NO!” Hanbyul glares at him venomously. “Minhyung is dumb.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Sorry. You hate him, got it.”

“Is he driving us home?” His sister asks, motioning towards the familiar dirty blonde leaning against the black shiny BMW.

His mouth goes dry. The other parents are definitely seeing and talking about them now. Part of him cares too much what they think. The other part of him doesn’t give a shit because Jiwon….well, when his hair is messy like that and he’s in a loose shirt which engine oil stains on it, just casually leaning against the car, Jiwon is still his Teenage Dream, the type of guy he never thought he’d ever have a chance with.

Hanbyul is pulling at his sleeve now, eyes wide with curiousity. “Hanbin?”

“Yeah yeah, that’s him. Be nice to him okay?” He says in a rushed breath. There must’ve been something on his face and in his voice because his sister doesn’t argue or give him a snotty reply, she just nods and holds his hand like she used to when she was a toddler.

Jiwon breaks out into a grin when he sees them approaching. They should’ve prepared for this. Why didn’t they prepare for this?

Calm down, Hanbin. Calm down.

“Okay, Peanut. This is my friend Jiwon. He’s the one that got you your backpack from Japan.” He says. “Jiwon, this is my sister, Hanbyul.”

“Hey, how are you. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Jiwon says, lifting his hand to do an awkward wave that he’s never seen Jiwon do once in the last 8 months.

To his surprise, his sister mirrors the action and waves back. “Hi.”

“I like your backpack.” Jiwon winks. “Pretty cool, huh?”

Hanbyul is selective in who she will talk to. She’s always been that way since she learned her words and he knows it’s due to the way his own behaviour rubbed off on her growing up. It surprises him that Jiwon gets a reply at all.

“Minhyung said it was spikey so I could put rocks in it and use it as a weapon.” Hanbyul blurts out.

He’s vaguely horrified but Jiwon just laughs. “Who’s Minhyung? Is he your friend? He sounds a bit crazy.”

“He’s SO crazy!” His sister confirms melodramatically. “And he’s NOT my friend!”

“Oh. Okay. Sorry, he’s not your friend.” Jiwon apologises, serious but amused. “Hey, thanks for picking out my watch. How did you know I liked Winnie the Pooh?”

“I like Winnie the Pooh too!”

As soon as Jiwon pulls up his shirt sleeves to reveal the watch, his sister’s eyes double in size. It’s all the ink and colours across Jiwon’s skin that’s shocking to a 9 year old who has probably never seen a tattoo up close before.

“How come you have a tiger drawing?” Hanbyul asks, finger hovering hesitantly over the inky lines on Jiwon’s skin, probably wanting to check if it’ll rub off like a pen mark or if it was there permanently.

“It’s a famous tiger. You should ask your brother to tell you the story one day.”

Shyness takes over and his sister withdraws her hand but he can tell by the wistful look on her face that Jiwon and his tattoos are going to be an endless source of fascination for her.

“It’s cool.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

“Minhyung said he will get drawings too but I think he’s lying.”

“He’s probably a bit too young to get them right now.” Jiwon says in Minhyung’s defence.

“He said he wants to get a Pokemon drawing but that’s lame.”

Jiwon pretends to be offended. “Pokemon are cool though! Pikachu, Evee and Charizard…”

“…and Jigglypuff!”

“Yeah, can’t forget about that guy.” Jiwon laughs.  

He looks at them like they’ve both gone crazy. They’re really going to bond over Winnie the Pooh and Pokemon? Really? What the hell was going on here?

“Come on, let’s get you home.” He says, interrupting the ridiculous conversation.

Jiwon moves to open the back cardoor with a dramatic gesture. “Lady first.”

He can tell by the way his sister giggles that she’s completely won over already. Jesus. His sister rarely opens up to anyone new and this must be some kind of record. Maybe he should be more worried about how good Jiwon is with charming everyone. What if it’s even worse when he’s famous?

“Woah, your car is cool!” Hanbyul gushes in awe. “Jiwon’s car is better than yours, Hanbin.”

“Thanks Peanut.” He replies flatly. “Maybe you can get Jiwon to drive you everywhere then.”

“Yeah!”

“Oh my god.” He mutters under his breath. “I think she just demoted me.”

“Everyone in your family loves my car. Admit it.” Jiwon smirks. “Worked on you too, don’t forget.”

“Yeah Yeah. Just shut up and drive.” He mutters, unable to hide the small smile that sneaks across his face.

The Beast wakes up with another deep menacing growl and he knows Jiwon did that on purpose because Hanbyul’s face is wildly enthusiastic in the rear view mirror.

Everyone in the parking lot is looking at them now.

His parents will hear about this.

So much for being careful and discreet. There’s a small voice inside his head that wants to nag Jiwon for being so reckless and ostentatious and drawing attention to them but his sister is bouncing in her seat and giggling every time Jiwon accelerates on the freeway. If this is what it takes for her to be happy, then who is he to get pissed off about it?

And she is definitely happier now. It just makes him feel more guilty about all those times when he came to the house to visit and she would hide in the corner, a withdrawn and quiet shell of a girl, because all the adults in her life were arguing with each other for the hundredth time.

He’s deep inside his head but he vaguely registers the animated conversation between Jiwon and his sister. Something about Pikachu, chocolate waffles, this poor Minhyung kid and if she could come over to see their apartment. Jiwon is patient with her. It makes him feel warm and so completely….grateful right now.

When they drop Hanbyul off at home, she hugs him quickly and throws a chirpy “Bye Jiwon!” in their direction before running inside. Their mom is at the front door, slightly surprised by Hanbyul’s cheerfulness.

“Did you buy her ice-cream?” She asks him with a quirk of an eyebrow.

He shakes his head with the same amount of disbelief. “No, I think she just really likes Jiwon.”

“Maybe she’ll be able to sway your father.”

“Maybe.”

There’s some shuffling and soon enough, his dad joins them at the front door with a notepad in his hand.

“Oh is he still out there?”

“Who? Jiwon?”

“Yes, I need to ask him about your mother’s Lexus.”

He gives his dad a confused look. “What? Why? Isn’t it getting serviced right now?”

“They could be ripping us off. I want to know if the recommendations they gave were legitimately or a scam.” His dad replies earnestly and shuffles further out the door and down the driveway towards Jiwon’s BMW.

He watches for a few seconds before turning back to his mom. “What just happened?”

“Perhaps you underestimated him.” His mom replies.

“Who? Dad?”

She shakes her head. “No. Jiwon.”

He watches the scene unfold; his dad shaking Jiwon’s hand, showing him the list on the notepad, pointing to something on the BMW and talking animately about it. Jiwon keeps looking over to him in some silent pleading, “What do I do?!”

But Kim Hanbin is useless. Again. Frozen in his spot and only offering a weak shrug when Jiwon looks at him very pointedly again.

I don’t know what to do.

Eventually, they watch both men walk up the driveway. They’re not exactly arguing, so there’s that, but it does nothing to calm his nerves. When they’re all inside the house, he pulls Jiwon back, whispering a panicked, “What the hell happened?!”

“He told me to stay for lunch.” Jiwon whispers back, a little shellshocked and mystified. “What do we do?!”

He squeezes his eyes shut. The migraine should be hitting any second now. “Just…..just….don’t say anything about us yet. I was thinking….that maybe you’re right. He likes you as a Jiwon the Mechanic so-”

“-so we’ll just pretend we’re friends?”

“Yeah. Let’s just go with that.” He nods, relieved that they’re on the same page about this.

Jiwon looks up and down the empty corridor before lean forward to give him the lightest of kisses on his lips. “Ready?”

He shakes his head.”No.”

“Do it anyway?”

“Yeah.”

****

He’s having lunch with Hanbin’s parents and sister.

It’s unexpected and nerve wracking and just plain weird.

Hanbin’s dad doesn’t actually hate him but then again, he’s probably still Jiwon-The-Friendly-Mechanic-Who-Will-Save-You-From-Scams. Who wouldn’t like that guy?

Hanbin’s mom is sort of nice to him. And Hanbyul, well, she insisted on sitting next to him and asking him 20 questions about Pokemon Go!

It felt too easy. So easy that he’s just waiting for it all to come to a car crash stop any minute now. It’s crazy that he’s been optimistic his whole life but when it comes to Hanbin’s family, all his doubts and insecurities just come out of the woodwork.

It’s easy because it’s a lie.

As he passes the black bean noodles around the table, he can’t help wondering how different this would all be if Hanbin’s dad knew what about the relationship or Hanbyul realised that her brother was gay. What then?

“How long have you been a mechanic Jiwon? You seem to know an awful lot about luxury cars.” Hanbin’s dad asks, regarding him with a look that’s half way between interest and interview. He’s met plenty of parents before and there’s always a point where they stop looking at him like he’s a threat. It’s the moment when they let their guard down and (sometimes relunctantly) allow him to date their son or daughter. But he’s not exactly sure what’s going to happen here.

“Uh, it’s been about 5 years.” He replies truthfully. “I used to work on a lot of the luxury models.”

“Used to? What is your area of expertise now?”

“Uhmm, I like vintage cars actually and some of the Japanese custom builds. They’re more interesting.”

Hanbin’s dad nods a few times and hums like it all makes sense. He has no idea of anyone around the table knows what the hell he’s talking about. He glances quickly in Hanbin’s direction and frowns at how pale and green his boyfriend looks.

Jesus, his anxiety must be off the charts right now.

Right on cue, a hand lands on his leg under the table. He squeezes it tight, knowing they both understand each other.

For the entire day, Hanbin’s dad has never once been suspicious of ‘Mechanic Jiwon’ and his intention. He hasn’t been threatened or treated as something dangerous that has to disappear. But right now, as scrutinising eyes focus on him, he’s wondering if his insanely good luck is finally running out.

“So, how do you know Hanbin?”

The fingers on his leg dig painfully into the flesh. Hanbin is freaking out, maybe not on the outside but definitely in his head. He’s got to fix this and steer the conversation somewhere safer somehow…

“We’re-”

“-he fixed my car.” Hanbin interjects suddenly, voice too loud and too sharp. “We started hanging out after that.”

Hanbyul barely reacts and continues to eat, completely unfazed by the elephant sized drama that’s playing out in front of her.

Hanbin’s mom keeps her poker face but he catches the way those eyes widen with for a split second, as if expecting an entirely different lie.

They must all be holding their breaths because there’s a collective rush of relief when Hanbin’s dad finally speaks again.

“That ridiculous Nissan? Haven’t you thought about upgrading it by now?”

He smiles, not really because anything is funny, but because he’s so fucking relieved for some reason.

“That car is a lost cause.” He says then, earning him a chuckle or two. Well, it’s better than nothing.

“You said you used to work on luxury cars. Have you moved to specialised models or have you moved on from cars altogether?”

There it is. He almost wants to laugh at the question because he was waiting for it, waiting for the moment when Hanbin’s dad would throw him the most perceptive of questions, the stroke and heart attack clearly didn’t do as much damage as everybody thought.

It’s funny really, the way he’s sitting around a table having lunch with all the people that shaped Hanbin. He can see exactly where all his genes and personality came from. He can see how all three of them shaped the guy he’s crazy about. He can’t hate anyone that important, no matter how difficult things have been or will get.

And with that thought, or maybe it’s the misjudged sense of security, he suddenly feels brazen and brave. He suddenly wants to tell the truth but well, he doesn’t want two heart attacks on his hands so he goes for something slightly less reckless.

“I still remember how to fix cars but um, well, lately I’ve been getting into recording music.”

The hand on his leg freezes in shock then digs into his skin again. Okay, so it was still a reckless thing to say. If it all goes to shit, he’ll never hear the end of it but something inside his heart told him to take the gamble.

“Recording music? Like a recording artist or hobby?” Hanbin’s dad asks, always cutting right to the chase.  

“Recording artist.” He can feel Hanbin’s tense stare on his face probably screaming, “shut the hell up!” in silence. But it’s too late to back down now.

“Which company have you signed with? Who represents them?”

Business questions. This is what he wanted. Hanbin had told him that business questions were always somehow neutral grounds for them, even in the heat of an argument.

“It’s BeatBox, a subsidary of GlobalKore. The legal team is from Lee and Koh.”

“Have you signed a contract? Did you get Hanbin to read it?”

“I signed one but they recently revised it so I-”

Hanbin’s dad ignores him for a moment, turning to focus on his son instead.

“Have you read it yet? Make sure you read it. Revisions are almost never a good sign. You know that.” The stern order has Hanbin bristling beside him, the claw on his leg more painful as the seconds tick by before leaving altogether.

“I’ll read it when we get home.” Hanbin replies through gritted teeth. “He only got the revision yesterday.”

Well, shit. He’s mad.  

It’s kinda justified. He forgot to tell Hanbin about the new contract revision. It’s still sitting on the kitchen table.

“Maybe you should bring it over here, Jiwon. I’ll go through it. You’ve saved me some scam money today, the least I can do is return the favour.”

Hanbin exhales beside him. “Dad, I can read it when I get home. It’s fine.”

There’s a (unfairly) disappointed look thrown in Hanbin’s direction, it’s dismissive and patronising and everything he hates in a parent.

“If you had read it properly the first time, maybe there wouldn’t have been a need to revise it.”

Oh. Shit.

No, no no. This is not where this conversation should be going.

“Actually, Mr Kim, the revision is just mainly because I said I wanted to tour as early as possible.” He lies. “The first contract was fine.”

He’s not really sure if anybody is convinced, he’s never been good at lying, and he’s praying to every God who might be listening right now to do him a real solid and salvage this situation.

“Hmm. Well, have Hanbin read it anyway. He might be wasting his potential at that magazine but he’s always had a talent for business law.”

“I will.” He replies. “He’s been a big help with all this.”

“Well, he enjoys the arts.” Hanbin’s dad continues. “I’m not entirely sure whose genetics is responsible for that. It’s definitely not mine. He always used to complain that business ruins art but I say-”

“-it’s a necessary evil.” He finishes.

The table is silent, stunned. It takes him a few seconds to process the nauseating fact that he and Hanbin’s dad just said the exact same thing in unison.

Fuck.

So this must be what Hanbin’s mom meant.

Maybe she was right.

And Hanbin is looking at him like he’s gone crazy now.

“Come now, that’s enough shop talk.” She announces, motioning them all to eat. “Hanbyul wants to say something about school today.”

‘Grateful’ doesn’t begin to explain what he feels towards Hanbin’s mom right at that moment. Sometimes, in his delusions, he thinks she might kinda approve of him. Maybe. A little.

Lunch drags on and on but it’s mostly filled with Hanbyul telling them all kinds of stories that nobody really understands but everybody listens to anyway. He’s beginning to think she has some kind of weird personal vendetta against this poor Minhyung kid from next door.

He fields questions about his tattoos, his career, his car, his family. Nobody asks him about his real relationship with Hanbin but once or twice, when he looked up, Hanbin’s dad was looking straight at his face.

He’s gotta know. How can he not know?

Hanbin is quiet but at some point there’s a hand on his leg again, hopefully to tell him he’s forgiven for being so reckless. All in all, he doesn’t mind any of it. It’s not the worst time he’s ever had. It’s about 101% better than he thought the first in-laws meeting would go.

Fuck. In Laws?! Did I just say that….

Don’t freak out Jiwon, don’t freak out.

It’s 2:30pm when they say all their awkward goodbyes. He doesn’t realise how tense he’d been holding his shoulders until they’re in his car, cruising on the freeway home, that he can finally, finally, let out the longest sigh. Hanbin is silent again, preferring just to sit there and stare out the window.  

“Hey? You okay?” He asks quietly.

Hanbin nods but doesn’t turn to look at him. “Yeah.”

“It didn’t go that badly?”

Hanbin shoots him a dirty look, as if to say, “Are you kidding me?”

He sighs apologetically. “I know I know but you’re always going on about not being scared of saying anything so I kinda thought I should just say it. And if he hates me then he hates me.”

“That’s so not the point.” Hanbin grumbles.

“But it worked out okay didn’t it? Isn’t that what matters?”

Hanbin squeezes his eyes shut in frustration but after a few simmering moments, he nods again. “I know.”

“Sorry I didn’t check it with you first….”

"No….you’re right.” Hanbin concededs, “You needed to say what you did because if it was up to me, we’d be waiting for another 2 years.”

“I think we should just let him believe what he wants to. Maybe he hates scammers more than he hates the gays. At least the gays won’t rob him blind.”

Hanbin laughs despite himself.

“You never know!” He says, they’re at a red light and he can’t help reaching over to run his hand through the soft dark strands of hair. “Maybe this year is gonna surprise you.”

Hanbin captures his fingers and hold them between his smaller hands. “I just want….”

“What do you want, baby?”

“I just want to go home now.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The light turns green and the BMW lets out a menancing growl before speeding ahead.

****

Skin.

Tanned and warm and smooth under his fingertips. It’s perfect skin, interrupted by swirls and lines of dark ink which probably all have a story behind them. It’s embarrassing that he doesn’t even know half of it.

It’s only 9pm and they’ve already showered and gotten into bed like the boring couple they’ve turned into. He secretly loves it, this quiet life. It won’t last much longer, especially now that BeatBox has Jiwon on a tight schedule, but at least the weekends were still free (for now). He has to savour it, remember it, lock all the good memories away in his head and heart incase one day, it won’t be there anymore.

Jiwon is laying on his stomach, re-reading the last chapter of Life of Pi with furrowed brows and confusion on his face.

He tries not to sprawl all over that broad back but how can you not? When it’s right there, unobstructed by a shirt, and flexing every time Jiwon shifts to turn a page. He settles besides the bigger body, fingers lightly tracing over all the inky lines.

There’s small dark cross at the base of Jiwon’s neck, it’s small and almost discreet, a total contradiction to the circular religious words in the centre of Jiwon’s upper back.

Hate Only Sin. Fear Only God.

He traces around the words causing the muscles of Jiwon’s back to shift and flex like shadows and valleys in the Grand Canyon.

“Why did you get this one?” He asks.

Jiwon turns a page but pauses to look over his shoulder. “Huh?”

“This tattoo,” He says, tapping on the religious ink, “why did you get it?”

“Ah, I got that with my dad and brother. They liked it and I kinda went along with it.” Jiwon shrugs at the end and goes back to reading his book.

“Do you really fear God?” His voice sounds weird and he wonders why that is. Maybe he’s still scared of the answer, having never really been very religious at all. It’s a little hard going to Sunday Mass when everything and everyone there makes you feel like a dirty, guilty sinner.

“No. Not really.” Jiwon replies after a long pause. “That tattoo is really about my family and trying to stay clean and not being scared of anything. I mean, there are way worse things to be scared of right now.”

“Like what?”

“Like, if this rap thing doesn’t go that well and I fuck up our future. Or if your dad changes his mind about me. Or….if you change your mind about us.”

Jiwon is still holding the book open in front of him but he’s not reading anything on the page anymore.

“None of those things will happen.” He replies firmly and with as much conviction as he can dreg up at at time like this. “Thought you didn’t care what my dad thought?”

“I kinda don’t but I know you do. So kinda gotta care a bit.” Jiwon chuckles before dropping his book on the bedside table and rolling over onto his back. “What’s with all the tattoo questions right now?”

He sprawls over Jiwon’s abdomen and shrugs. “We just never talk about it. Every time I can see them it’s always too serious or well, we’re kinda…”

“-fucking?” Jiwon smirks.

He rolls his eyes. “You are so uncultured.”

Jiwon laughs and ruffles his hair. “I read Life of Pi for you! I’m getting cultured! What more do you want, geez?!”

“Do you like it? The book?” He asks with a grin. “Because you’ve got like 2 pages left right?”

“No, I finished it last night. I just had to re-read the ending again.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Did you like it?”

“You want the honest answer?”

He grins again. “Yeah.”

“It’s so fucking weird.” Jiwon grimaces. “Like, the idea of it and what he’s trying to say is better than the actual story? I got so annoyed reading it.”

He kisses the hard wall of Jiwon’s abdominal muscles and laughs, relieved and a little (okay, a lot) proud.

“What’s funny?” Jiwon asks, confused and irritated that he’s being laughed at for getting a book wrong again.

“I don’t really like that book either.” He says, giving Jiwon a big cheeky smile. “What you just said about it is what I think of it too. It’s a good concept and a bad read.”

Jiwon eyes narrow at him and the hands on his shoulder are now pushing him off, like their proximity is suddenly so offensive. “What?!!! You don’t even like it?! Why did you give it to me? Why did you make me read it!?”

“I didn’t make you read it!” He cackles loudly, thinking how good it feels just to laugh like this. “You decided to read it all by yourself!”

“I read it for you!” Jiwon yells back, just as loud. “You said it was gonna tell me about Richard Parker and he’s hardly even in it. It’s bullshit.”

He stops laugh long enough to try and sprawl all over Jiwon’s chest again. “But you did learn about him right?”

Jiwon lays down beside him, head snuggled into his lap in a show of rare and oddly childlike vulnerability. The dirty blonde hair between his fingers is getting so long now and he knows he will miss it when it gets cut.

“Yeah I did. I know why you wanted me to read it though.”

“Why’s that?”

“To figure out why you got your tattoo, right?”

He smiles to himself. “What did you figure out?”

“It was to see if I’d get through the book too right? Even though it’s bad?” Jiwon laughs. “My tiger is Richard Parker. You’re Pi. The tiger isn’t real though is he? Pi made him real but he made Pi sane for long enough to survive the shipwreck.”

Jiwon pauses then, looking up at him with wide earnest eyes. “Is that right? Because if it isn’t then I don’t know what the hell I just read.”

“Yeah, it’s right.” He says softly, awed that Jiwon figured something out so fast, something that took him months to rationalise himself. He cards his fingers through Jiwon’s soft messy hair again, still wondering how any of this was even happening.

“Why did you say you got Pi for the number then?”

“I got it for both reasons.” He says, feeling vulnerable but somehow, not scared about telling the truth. “They’re both about you anyway. You just wanted me to say it.”

Jiwon’s arms come to hug his waist snuggly. “Yeah maybe.”

He can feel the way Jiwon smiles against his skin. He loves that he knows it’s a smile without even looking. He loves that he can say some of these things now.

But…there still are so many other things he wishes he could tell Jiwon. Like wanting to cry when he read that quote in the Japanese notebook. Does Jiwon realise that it’s just a more eloquent summary of Life of Pi?

And how does he tell Jiwon that he’s never taken anyone home to meet his parents before? That today was one of the best days he’s ever had?  Maybe he was nervous and quiet but he just doesn’t know how to say “I’m so glad you’re in my life” in words so he’s writing it all down on paper. Does he tell Jiwon about that?

He knows what he won’t tell Jiwon though. How he used to drive down to the coast every day for a week, just to stand on the cliff and stare into the ocean. Maybe he thought about Richard Parker keeping Pi sane in that split second before he wanted to throw himself into the cold waters. No, Jiwon can never know about that one.

“Do you ever think about what you’d get if I didn’t have Richard Parker on my arm?”

“I’d still get Pi for you. Or you know, your name on my butt.”

“That’s like the nicest fucking thing anyone has ever said about me.” Jiwon laughs and then, without warning, his t-shirt is pulled up and there’s a sloppy wet kiss across his stomach that has him shrieking and scrambling across the bed.

“Argh! Don’t do that! It’s ticklish!”

Jiwon just looks at him coolly. “I know.”

“I hate you.” He sulks.

“Nah, you love me.”

His face heats up again. “You’re annoying.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jiwon shrugs. “So. You wanna get naked now?”

“What? No!”

“Why not?”

“Because! We were having a moment and now you want to just…”

“-fuck?”

“Can’t you be serious for like 5 seconds?!”

Jiwon rolls them over and hugs him from behind, close enough to press his body and his hard cock rightthere.

“Sorry baby. Finish what you were saying.” Jiwon apologises, lips grazing his ear and sending shivers down his spine. That bastard.

“The one time I try to tell you things and you’re thinking about this.” He scowls, not really angry about anything, just thrown off by all the emotions whizzing around his body.

“Uh-huh. Keep going then.” Jiwon encourages in that low gravelly voice that he has never once been able to keep calm over. The hardness grinding against his ass is not helping. At all.

“Well, it’s just that….that…”

“…that what baby?” Jiwon turns his voice all honeyed and mellow, almost silky against his ear. He grinding back, he knows it, it’s almost involuntary, the way his body responds to Jiwon’s existence.

“That….”

He’s so hard now.

Damm this guy.

“Argh! You are so annoying!” He says, pushing the other body away.

“Sorry…” Jiwon says with a smirk.

“You’re not sorry.” He says, hating Jiwon’s arrogance as much as he loves the way it also turns him on.

“I am!”

“What do you want to do to me huh?” He asks, grinding back so hard towards the body behind him that Jiwon makes a noise he’s sure he’s never heard before. “What do you want?”

“Jesus…stop for a second..”Jiwon screws his eyes shut, as if the answer and possibilities are too much to imagine. It must get too overwhelming because there are large hands holding his hips still now and Jiwon is breathing heavily.

“What’s wrong?” He asks innocently. “Don’t you want me anymore?”

Jiwon growls, flipping them over and throwing him back down against the sheets. “You. Are. So. Bad.”

The wet kisses against his neck always make him giggle at the start but the further down they go, the louder his moans get.

“Come on, just do whatever you want Jiwon….just do it…..I don’t care…..” He babbles absentmindedly, lost in the sensation of Jiwon’s mouth on his skin and the hot hard body press down on his. It makes him feel small, precious, wanted….loved.

The kissing stops abruptly then and Jiwon looks at him, worry flitting across his face for a split second. “Wait a sec. Wait a sec. Promise me something?”

“What?”

“Be careful who you say that to. Don’t just say that to anyone.”

He furrows his brows in confusion. “Say what?”

“That you don’t care what they do to you. There are really fucked up people out there who won’t stop when you want them to.”

Oh.

“I won’t say it to anyone else. It’s just you….it’s just you.” He whispers breathlessly, pulling Jiwon’s head down for a deep and slow kiss, the type that makes his toes curl and stomach drop.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He says against Jiwon’s lips, pausing long enough to look into the worried eyes. “It’s just you. I want you. I trust you.”

He’s swallowed back into Jiwon’s mouth with it’s hot tongue and mellow earthy taste. His t-shirt and boxers land on the floor somewhere next to Jiwon’s shorts and he’s turned onto this stomach.

“Tell me to stop. If you don’t want it, just tell me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

There’s a part of him that doesn’t really understand why Jiwon was so worried now. It’s not their first time together, far from it, and even when they get rough (mostly because he asked for it), he’s never once been scared of getting hurt.

Jiwon can be gentle and frustratingly tender with his touches, like the way he is now, just trailing kisses down his spine and kneading his skin softly like they had all the time in the World and everything outside their window was irrelevant.

Sometimes everything is rushed, like a chaotic storm of skin and hands and spit, but sometimes, like right now, everything feels like it happens in slow motion and he doesn’t want any of it to stop.

It starts with a firm hand massaging the skin of his inner thigh before easing them apart, the fingers inching closer and closer towards that spot that makes him whimpers and pleads for more, his legs spreads on their own because whenever they do this, he wants everything.

“Stay still for me okay?” Jiwon says all the sudden, voice hushed but no less commanding.

There’s a flush rising up his chest because he know Jiwon likes looking. He feels exposed, always has and probably always will, no matter how much he wants it. But the silence and waiting stretches on and on….

“Jiwon? Stop looking. Can you just-ughhhhhhh…..” He scrambles up the bed, shocked by the sensation of the heavy warm tongue pressing against his ass. “Oh my god….”

Hands grab at his ankles, gently coaxing him back down the bed until he can feel Jiwon breathing against his skin. He hears his pulse thumping loudly in his ears and the nervous anticipation in the pit of his stomach but as soon as the wetness of a tongue glides across his ass hole again, he slumps down into the sheets, speechless, overwhelmed and a little high.

“Relax babe.” Jiwon murmurs against his skin.

"Okay…okay….” He’s whimpering desperate into the sheets now, hands clenching and unclenching in the sheets, fighting between wanting to get away because it’s Too Much and wanting more more more.  

Jiwon pauses to kiss the soft skin of his inner thigh. “You gonna be a good boy for me today?”

Oh Fuck.

He hates it when Jiwon talks to him like this.

It makes him go crazy and they both know it.

“Answer me, baby.”

“Yes….yes….”

“Okay, turn over. You’re gonna watch me eat you out.”

“What?” He asks, mind reeling and breathless.

There’s a pillow wedged underneath his hips and a hand that pushes him down onto his back.

“Watch me.”

It makes him blush again, the way Jiwon is looking at him and lowering that mouth right down between his legs. The first first glide of tongue across his entrance sends a thousands nerve signals to his brain, like fireworks bursting and setting him on fire over and over again.

“Ahh fuck….I can’t….I can’t….” He cries out, wanting it all to stop but wanting it to never stop.

Fingers dig into his thigh now, lifting his leg up slighting and spreading him out even more. The new angle is even better. He’s moaning all kinds of disgusting words and sounds now, it makes Jiwon smile because he thinks he can feel the way the corners of his mouth curls up against his skin.

But they need to stop.

He’s going to cum in 30 seconds if they keep doing this.

He pushes weakly at Jiwon’s shoulder, almost unable to get his words out.

“Stop, stop. You’re gonna make me cum too fast.”

Jiwon laughs, gets one last taste before lowering his leg back onto the bed. “So you like that huh?”

“Yeah…” It’s the only reply he can manage because the rest of his energy is spent on trying not to cum at the mere thought of Jiwon’s tongue in his ass next time.

“Wanna do the other stuff?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Be back in a second.”

He’s stares into space and waits until Jiwon comes back to kneel between his legs again, only sighing in relief when he hears a plastic cap being flicked open and then, finally, the more familiar pressure of slick fingers instead.

“Mmmmmmmm.”

“That better?”

“Yeah, that’s so good.”

There’s another kiss against his other thigh as Jiwon adds another finger and then another one. He misses being stretched out like this, just laying on his back and taking all of Jiwon’s fingers, one by one, until he’s just a loud imcomprehensible, demanding mess again.

This is true bliss. He can’t even hear his own thoughts anymore, just the sound of his own whimpering and begging mixed in with Jiwon’s sympathetic groans.

“Fuck, you should see yourself.” Jiwon says in awe. “One day I’m gonna get to all five in.”

“I’m ready….it’s enough…..”

“No, babe. Just a bit more so you can fit me.”

“No! I’m ready now!”

He protests with all the swear words he knows but being in this position, he can’t even reach for any part of Jiwon to grab onto, there’s just sheets and pillows.

“You always think you’re ready when you’re not.” Jiwon teases with an amused chuckle. “Begging for it when you’re still tight around a few fingers.”

“Jiwon…” He moans, repeating it over and over. ‘..please…please…Jiwon now…”

“No. We haven’t done this in weeks. You think I’m gonna rush it? Not a chance baby. You’re gonna fuck my fingers until I tell you you’re ready.”

He hates and loves it when Jiwon gets into these moods because those fingers feel amazing but after 5 long minutes he gets restless and twitchy and closer towards being too sensitive.

“Jiwon….now…” He pants, breathing loudly and shakily. “It’s too much….do it now!”

“No. Five more minutes.”

“NO! NOW! DO IT NOW!” He cries out, “I will never talk to you again if you don’t-”

There’s another kiss against his thighs and a soft laugh as Jiwon shifts and withdraws his fingers, one by one.

“So many threats but you’re still gonna spread your legs for me, aren’t you?”

He does it automatically anyway, self consciousness a distant memory now that he can feel the head of a hard cock against his ass hole.

“Want some dick baby?”

“Yes.”

“How you gonna ask for it?”

“Please fuck me….fuck me….I want you in me….” He pleads, muscles tense and aching from the frustration of having all this delayed for so long. He feels like he’s been wound up too tightly now and if Jiwon draws this out any longer, he’s going to either explode or break something.

“You sound so fucking hot like that.” Jiwon groans, pressing forward just a little bit more, it’s not enough to push inside but just enough to make his toes curl. “Say it again.”

He spreads his legs even further apart and reaches down to feel how much Jiwon’s fingers already stretched him out. It’s not that tight but then again, his fingers are a lot smaller.

“Oh fuck. If you keep doing that, I’m gonna blow my entire load on our sheets.”

“Mmmm,” He lets two of his fingers slip inside, just to be mean. “Then fuck me. I want it. Get in here…”

He stretches himself out a little more and that’s really all it takes for Jiwon to growl at him and push in before he has time to pull out his fingers.

“Ahhh ahhhhh wait-”

“No babe, leave them there, fuck…..fuck!” Jiwon says in a strained voice, holding his wrist in place so he can feel the slide of a hard wet cock along his fingers and all the way inside. If it wasn’t a tight fit before, it’s almost unbearable now, but in that same way his tattoo aches a little….it’s a good kind of ache, a good kind of fullness, a good kind of dirty.

“Ahhhhh babe….babe….yeah, fuck…fuck!”

But they can’t go on like this, he’s going to go insane. He pulls his fingers out and collapses heavily against the sheets, just wanting to feel and remember everything.

He loves all the disgusting sounds they make together, that wet slick noise every time Jiwon pulls out and then slams all the way back in, the low rumble and grunts coming from the back of Jiwon’s throat and the way he just wants to cry out, long and loud and without caring if anyone hears it.

Jiwon smacks his hand away when he tries to stroke himself, leaning down to snarl in his ear. “No hands. You’re gonna cum when I tell you to.”

Jiwon leans down now, licking across his Pi tattoo, hard enough to hurt but soft enough that he wants more. But then, without any warning, Jiwon thrusts back into him so hard that he inches up the bed and has to get dragged back down. There’s no more slow and steady pace, when Jiwon starts grunting like an animal and tensing all his muscles into tight knots, he knows he’s in for something uncontrollable.

The build up is always long and drawn out but the sprint towards the finish line is always a blur. He’s always dizzy, mind spinning out of control and body screaming for release as it free falls down a cliff somewhere.

“Let me cum….let me cum…..” He begs, voice now wrecked and scratchy.

Jiwon’s hands grip at his bony hips to pull him even further into his thrusts and the rhythm gets to the point where he just feels like a rag doll being fucked without mercy.

“Let me…let me!” He cries out again, the tension in his balls aching more and more.

“I love it when you beg.” Jiwon whispers hoarsely against his ear, the gravelly timbre of it goes right to his dick. “Cum in my hand, baby.”

He barely registers the firm grip of Jiwon’s hand before he completely lets go and surrenders to his own piercing release. What happens after that, Jiwon will tell him later.

He thinks he remembers watching Jiwon licking the cum off his hand as he slows the thrusting down to something slow and deep, knowing how oversensitive and prickly his skin always feels afterwards.

“You taste so good, baby. You gonna let me eat you out properly next time?”

“Uh-huh….” He murmurs, just agreeing and trying not to go crazy from the pleasure that’s slowly turning into pain.

“You want me to cum in you again?”

“Yeah, do it. Do it inside me.” He slurs, feeling high and out of sorts.

It always amazes him that Jiwon always cums with a growl instead of a shout. There’s always bites against his neck and the scrape of teeth when he gets careless. And then, there’s always that sudden warm wetness inside him, only this time it he can feel it against his fingers too.

“Mmmmmmmmmmm.”

He loves it. All of it. No matter how oversensitive he gets. He loves it when Jiwon demands all of his thoughts and energy and channels everything into one singular animalistic focus where nothing else matters.

“Holy shit.” Jiwon laughs and slumps down next to him on the bed, breathing heavily. “Holy shit, babe….”

“We need another shower.” He says, squirming and sweaty. “We’re wasting so much water this week.”

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“No!” He replies defensively. “I’m also kinda thinking about how badly I need to wash these sheets.”

“Hanbin….shut up..”

“Okay.”

“Love you though.” Jiwon slurs, foot nudging at his ankle lazily.

“Love you too.” He kicks back.

“Even if you made me read that fucking book.”

He rolls over and laughs into the pillow. It’s not even that funny but for whatever reason, he just can’t stop laughing at how ridiculously everything turned out.

Yeah.

Maybe we’re going to be okay.

Maybe.

[highroadsteve]

a growing pain — p.p.

a/n: this is the longest fic ive ever written, and it was going to be so much longer but i needed to put something out! im also working on something else that i am in love with so here u go while u wait ;)

pairing: peter parker x reader

warnings: language, angst

summary: your relationship that was headed on the right path took a wrong turn when Peter had gotten an internship

You and Peter were that couple. Your bond was unbreakable, the two of you were just two teenagers that had fallen in love. It was so smitten, the little kisses that you shared at random times, the laughter never ending, the mean (but meant in a sweet way) nicknames. It was obvious that the two of you were going to last forever.

It was a cliché story, really. You two grew up together along with Ned, going to the same schools throughout your lives. The three of you had chosen to go to Midtown School of Science and Tech, only because you all wanted to graduate and succeed together. When your teenage years had come along, you and Peter grew feelings towards each other and it had blossomed into a young but adorable relationship. The two of you were incredibly close, almost never leaving each other’s side for anything. The playful banter between the two of you was what kept your relationship from being cheesy, and more casual. From the meme references that the two of you shared to the ‘you’re so fucking cute, you loser’ type of communication, your relationship seemed to be going on the right path.

However, as cute as it was, your relationship was starting to come to an end. Well, not yet at least, but it began to feel that way as soon as Peter had started becoming distant.

Usually on days before assignments were due, the three of you guys would go over to someone’s place and work on the assignment together. This was honestly just an excuse to hang out but you all knew that you worked together perfectly anyway and at the end of the day, the work was done no matter what. When you all put your mind together, the work just became extremely easier and faster.

But recently, with Peter’s distant behavior, it was bound to happen that he would cancel on a hangout. Of course, the first times it was fine because he is probably busy; however, he bailed on you guys almost every single time and that’s when it started to irritate you.

“He canceled again.” You sighed, throwing your phone on your bed and looked at Ned sitting on the floor with his homework laid out in front of him. He rolled his eyes and put his pencil down on the notebook with a bit of force.

“Of course he did. Man, I’m so damn tired of this Y/N, like no offense to you because you’re super smart, but we work better when it’s the three of us.” You nodded with Ned’s statement, biting your lip with hesitance. You wanted to complain too, but you felt like maybe he had a good reason to cancel.

“Yeah, but I mean, maybe he really couldn’t come this time.” You responded to his comment and he threw his hands up in the air, widening his eyes in annoyance.

“You say that all the time Y/N! When was the last time you got to hang out with him?!” He looked at your face which was showcasing sorrow and a bit of regret, “yeah, it was probably weeks ago.”

Ned shook his head with another roll of his eyes and continued with his homework. You tapped your pencil slightly on the textbook that was sprawled on your lap, a small exhale escaping your lips before you went back to doing your work.

Peter had shown up to school the next couple of days, his eyes becoming heavier but nonetheless, it was still the same Peter. The jokes continued on, both you and Ned forgetting all about the tension towards Peter. Everything was going back to normal until Peter hadn’t shown up for a day.

You were in your room just listening to music and doing your nails. The volume of the music lowered down for a second, notifying you that you had gotten a text message. Walking over to your bed, with your unpainted hand, you grabbed your phone and sat down.

Peter didn’t fucking show up.

The text was from Ned and you had to admit, your blood started to boil. You were fine with Peter canceling on the work days, but this was different. Ned and Peter had a huge project that they’ve been working on for months and it was due the following day. Peter had promised that this time he wouldn’t cancel and he did, so now Ned had to finish the project all by himself.

I’m sorry.

The next day rolled around and Peter didn’t even go to school. Although you were slightly mad at him, your worry for him was more intense than anything. You convinced yourself that he was just sick and that he wasn’t just ditching because he wanted to. But deep down, you felt like that wasn’t the case because he would always text you during the school day if he was sick, so you ended up blowing up his phone with texts.

Peter where are you?

Why aren’t you at school?

You better have a good fucking explanation on why you ditched Ned.

Call me back, I love you.

The day continued on as normal, going to classes, paying attention, going to lunch, hanging out with Ned, and then finally going home. You threw your backpack at the corner of your room and then threw yourself on the bed, exhausted. Today had been both physically and emotionally draining for you. You checked your phone constantly, hoping you could get at least a smiley face from him, because then you’d know he was fine.

The doorbell had rang so you sighed and got up from the bed to go to the door. You looked through the peephole and saw Peter standing there, his hands in his pockets and his hair a mess. You quickly opened the door and stared at him, him staring back at you. He had a black eye and a bleeding lip, a nervous smile appearing on his face. You shook your head and jumped into his arms, wrapping your own around his neck and kissing him all over his face. He hugged you back and proceeded to kiss you on your lips, with happiness and relaxation engulfing his body.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You brought him into your house and closed the door, letting him sit on the couch in your living room. He sat down, exhaling a bit and looking up at you.

“I got an internship at Stark Industries.” He told you with a small smile. You furrowed your eyebrows, confused because he had never mentioned signing up for it.

“Stark Industries? As in Tony Stark? As in, the Iron Man?!” You practically yelled, starting to see how huge of an opportunity that would be for Peter to carry out his studies. He laughed softly and nodded. You smiled and hugged him, kissing him again before pulling away and looking into his eyes.

“I’m so proud of you.” He thanked you and smiled, bringing you in closer for another kiss. Everything was okay in the world at that moment, and you had completely forgotten about the fact that Peter was all bruised up.

Peter had told Ned about the internship and the three of you were always talking excitedly about it. Working with a freaking Avenger sounded like the coolest job on the entire fucking planet. The three of you admired him so much, trying your hardest to pursue the same career path that he is in. And Peter only being a teenager gave you and Ned hope that someday all three of you will be working together.

Peter had been skipping your hangouts a lot, but you and Ned both knew it was because of the Stark internship so you didn’t let it bother you. You knew he was working hard, doing whatever he is doing and putting his entire effort into it. And sometimes he has to choose between his personal life and his education, so you’re glad that he’s choosing his education because you all share the same moral of education coming first. The only problem that had finally arose was when Peter had gotten his report card.

It was a Friday morning and you, Ned, and Peter shared a class together where the teacher was handing out the updated grade book. You looked for your number on the list and flipped your hair sarcastically, pretending to brag about your grade because obviously you knew you were going to get an A. Ned saw his grade and made a fist, whisper-yelling a ‘yes’ while doing so. You laughed with him, giving him a fist bump and turning to look at Peter. He looked at his grade and shrugged, passing it to the next person.

“I got a C, ayyy.” He said in a sarcastic voice. You looked at him and frowned a bit because the Peter you knew would be crying and ranting about how it was a mistake.

“Uh...at least you’re passing dude.” Ned scratched the back of his head and Peter shrugged again, acting like he didn’t care. It was unbelievable, you were absolutely dumbfounded at the fact that this boy that you had to comfort before over a B plus, was brushing off a C as if it was nothing.

You ended up seeing his entire report card and it honestly had taken your breath away. It was after school and you two were sitting on the subway. He didn’t have a single A, the highest grade was an eighty-five percent and it was in Chemistry, also known as the only class Peter cares about. After looking at his grades, you looked up at him with a shocked look on your face, your mouth opened slightly.

“Peter, what the fuck?” You asked him and he looked over at you, puckering up his lips a bit and nodded. He shrugged again for like the thousandth time, not really caring about it.

“Your grades are amazing babe, I’m proud of you.” He smiled and placed your report card on your backpack that was on your lap, grabbing his own from your hands which stayed in the same position. You kept looking at him, not knowing what to do because this wasn’t Peter. There was no fucking way this is the boy you fell in love with. Yeah, he looks exactly like him and he makes the same jokes he does, but this isn’t fucking it. The Peter you love would be stressed out about the grades, he would do everything he could possibly do to bring up a B to an A. But this...this Peter isn’t your Peter. This Peter is out of his damn mind and you’re kind of getting tired of it.

“Peter, I don’t think you should be doing that internship if it means you’re getting these grades.” You stated with a sigh, shaking your head at him. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at you with a confused smile.

“What do you mean? My grades are fine.” You blinked a couple of times because you just couldn’t wrap your head around the situation. Who the fuck was sitting right next to you because it sure as hell isn’t Peter.

“You know exactly what the hell I mean, Peter. You don’t have a single A for fuck’s sake!“ You raised your voice a bit, but keeping yourself as calm as you could be because after all, you are in love with this kid. And you’re in a train with other passengers.

“Mr. Stark said C’s get degrees, Y/N. It’s all good. I’m not going to fail in life because of a few bad grades.” He laughed slightly and put his arm around you. You gently grabbed it and removed it from your shoulders, sighing.

“Look, Peter. I know you’re so fucking excited over this internship, and if it’s something you want to do, then by all means go for it. I’m not going to hold you back. Just, don’t forget about where your priorities are.” You looked up and held eye contact with him. He nodded slowly and whispered a small ‘I know’ before kissing you on the lips, putting his arm around you once again.

Life keeps going on, and Peter is still behaving the same way, and you were starting to get annoyed. He was skipping classes and having Tony Stark sign him off as excused because he has the power to do almost anything, obviously. So you would be sitting in class, doing your work with Peter when your teacher would get constant phone calls, excusing Peter to go home. He would get out of his seat excitedly and shoot you a quick wave before leaving you alone to finish the assignments.

You and Ned would hang out after school almost all the time, planning the same study dates you used to do with Peter, and just getting to know each other better. You were starting to prefer hanging out with Ned over Peter, only because Peter would only be on his phone when he was with you, hoping to get a call or text from the infamous Iron Man, resulting in one sided conversations between the two of you. During the times Peter would be at school, he would do the same thing with his phone and you would have to direct your stories to Ned, who would actually be listening.

The school year had finally ended and you were completely dreading the summer. The year before, you, Peter, and Ned would take trips to the beach or to a theme park, having the time of your lives together and creating amazing memories. But this year, Ned went on vacation for the summer and you were left alone at your house, only having your bed as your company.

The loneliness that you felt daily was definitely the worst moments you experienced during the summer. They were moments where Peter would stop texting you for hours and you would lay on your bed, scrolling through social media and intrusive thoughts getting into your head. You started overthinking your relationship with Peter and it was breaking your heart with every second that passed.

Was it even worth it to keep this going? Do I really love him as much as I did? Yes, I care about him, but it feels like I don’t know him anymore. Why am I always the one making sure we hang out? Does he even love me?

Days were spent on your ideas of what to do to help save your relationship. You thought about the pros and cons about breaking up, and the pros were always surpassing the cons. You were laying in bed with tears in your eyes and aching in your chest, because this isn’t what you wanted at all but being together was just creating a burden on your entire life. Your effort was exceeding Peter’s and you hated it, you didn’t want to feel like you’re the only one who actually wants the relationship to last. So after countless days of arguing with yourself, you finally came to the decision that it was time to break it off.

Come over now. Emergency.

You heard a quick knock at your front door. Your heart rate sped up incredibly fast and you started to feel cold flashes erupt throughout your entire body. You took a deep breath and with a shaky hand you opened the door.

”Are you okay?!” He asked when he saw you. His heart was racing for a completely different reason than you, his worry for you was clearly evident in his eyes. You shook your head, your lip quivering slightly and your throat tightening up, a sign that you were about to start bawling. You guided him inside and you sat him down on the same spot as you did last time, standing up in front of him and taking a deep breath.

“Baby what’s wrong? You’re...you’re scaring me.” Peter looked up at your tear filled eyes that looked at anything but him, the frown on your face getting deeper by the second.

“We need a break.” You choked up, a tear slowly falling down your cheek. You glanced at him, seeing his eyes blink rapidly and his Adam’s apple slowly move up then down as he gulped.

“I-wh...what?” He was getting choked up as well, a sob threatening to spill out. But you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your hands flew to your face, the sob escaping your throat and making its way out until it was softened by your hands covering your mouth. You couldn’t control it, you couldn’t stop the sobs that were filling the air with tension and sadness. Peter got up quickly and wrapped you in his arms, only to have you gently push him away and shake your head.

“I can’t do this shit anymore, Peter! I can’t keep acting like you haven’t changed and that we’re still the same fucking couple we were a year ago. Hell, we aren’t even the same fucking friends we were years ago. You aren’t the same Peter and you know that I’m right. We can’t keep this game going because fuck, I can’t take it anymore. I can’t Peter, I can’t.” You were practically yelling at him, your face blushing, your tears flowing, and your nose running. He was crying as well, sniffing every once in a while and his lip was quivering. It killed you to see him like that, but you knew it was for the best. You knew it.

“Y-yes we can Y/N! I’ve been busy and I just...I can’t get out of it and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry baby, but I promise we can make it work. Please, look at me,” He got closer to you and gently placed his hands on your arms, putting his finger under your chin and making you look at him, “We can make it work. I still love you so fucking much.”

You looked at him and there were millions of thoughts going through your head. You were contemplating on whether it was a good idea to stay with him or not. You wanted to, fuck, you wanted to stay with him so bad. Right now it seemed like the best idea, maybe you could make it work. Maybe he will change and he won’t be as distant. Maybe you can be together after all.

But something inside you knew. It just knew that it wouldn’t work out. It’s going to be the same, you’re going to end up right back here in a short amount of time. You’re going to continue to feel the loneliness, you’re going to continue to feel the weight on your shoulders over this relationship. At the moment, it was amazing because you finally had Peter in your arms again, but you knew at one point he is going to leave, and he isn’t going to be the Peter that’s facing you right now. So for your own well-being, and for Peter’s, you stepped away and took a deep breath.

“We can’t. We can’t, Peter. You fucking know we can’t. We drifted apart and I fucking hate you for that. I hate you so fucking much Peter, but I hate you so fucking much because I love you even more. I’m still so in love with you but I can’t make myself suffer like this. I can’t...I can’t keep...hoping that you’re still the same nerdy kid that I fell in love with.” Your throat was hurting, the sobs clawing at it, but you kept yourself straight. You kept yourself from making sounds other than your voice because you knew that if you were to choke out a sob, you wouldn’t stop.

Peter kept his mouth shut. He saw you breaking down, he saw the pain in your red, swollen eyes and he hated himself for it. He knew this was his fault, he made her feel like this relationship wasn’t worth it. He made her feel like shit, and he hates that he let himself hurt you like that. Which is why he was going to let you go. He didn’t have anything to say, and neither did you, so you both stayed silent until Peter walked up slowly to you and hugged you.

The moment your head hit his chest is the moment you let it all go. You let all your frustrations, sadness, and tension go with every tear, every cry. Peter was doing the same, letting his tears fall down onto your hair and shutting his eyes tightly as he let out shaky breaths.

“I love you Peter. And I want you to keep doing the internship. Use that smart brain of yours to do good things. I’m so proud of you.” You whispered into his hoodie, the wetness from your tears clinging onto your cheek. You sniffed, hugging him tighter.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Y/N.” You heard him choke out, the words barely audible. You nodded, telling him that you know. You know he’s sorry, and so are you.

“I love you Peter.” You sniffed, pulling away a bit to look at his red face and swollen eyes.

“I love you too Y/N.”

[mysteriousjim]

Day 12: Uncle Ecks

(much, much longer today–not because I wrote more, but because I am choosing to add the section I had written prior to contextualize the new bit I wrote. I realize that perhaps doing bits of this before might have made other entries clearer, but it’s only just come to me! Ive put a break before I get into what I wrote today though, if you just want to read that, since there’s so much to read from everyone and I know I’m so terribly behind keeping abreast of everyone’s stuff!)

I met Uncle Ecks and saw him die in the space of just two months, back when I was eight. Even at that age, it was obvious to me that Uncle Ecks was neither my real uncle nor even liked by either of my parents.

He appeared on our doorstep one february morning and had told us that he needed a place to stay for he didn’t know how long.

If there were ever any deliberation over whether or not it would be a good idea to house Uncle Ecks, it must have been done very quickly and very quietly, because he had moved in and had become my “Uncle” by that very evening.

Thinking back, I can only imagine that he must have lent my parents money some time before I could remember, and they were merely paying their dues.

My father collected old boxes from our storage room and redistributed them throughout the house until there was a space clear enough for Uncle Ecks to lay down some foam to sleep upon.

We would later buy a cheap twin-sized mattress for him, that my father took to the landfill shortly after Uncle Ecks had died, even though he had hardly slept on  it a dozen times.

We had given him some old clothes, a pack of disposable razors and some soap and as far as I could remember, those were the only possessions Uncle Ecks had, because he had come to our door with his arms swinging.

He must have been a man of simple means, because even though he would leave the house regularly, he never seemed to return with anything of note, and when he died, simply returning the displaced boxes to the workroom was all it took to erase every trace that Uncle Ecks had ever lived with us at all.

Even now, I can only remember him as half-a-person, more of a presence or a ghost than a real flesh-and-blood person who shared that house with us so many years ago.

Uncle Ecks did not resemble anyone in our family—he had light skin, though always badly sunburned, and he was fat in strange places—especially about his jowls and shoulders, so that he looked like he was constantly wearing women:s shoulder pads.

He reminded me of an ogre and I was glad when my parents told me to leave him alone and to stay out of his way. But of course, that was impossible.

The first time I was forced to interact with UNcle Ecks, it was in the kitchen, it was late at night and I had expected him to have been asleep in his room, but there he was, fiddling with an apple.

I immediately regretted having come upon this stranger who seemed to have been waiting on me, and I wanted to back away, but he had already locked eyes with me and had called me over to his side.

I was afraid that he was going to hurt me.

“Look what I have here,” he said, “Can you believe it?”

Uncle Ecks had a way about him: it was as if English were not his first language—because he always fumbled with it, laboring to put simple sentences together and to turn his feelings into words. He had a constant wonder for ordinary words and phrases as if he was constantly learning them for the first time.

“Can you believe what I found?” he asked again, thumbing his apple.

I was scared and unimpressed.

“You can’t grow these here, you know. It’s far too hot. But there it was: I found this in the St. James market.”

I had never thought of where our apples had come from; but it was true: I had never seen an apple tree in our country.

“Do you know what someone told me once? They said ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’—how about that?”

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“I don’t know! Where do you think this apple’s tree is? Very far from here, I think. So I don’t know what to make of a saying like that.”

“Who told you that?” I asked.

“No one important. But you know what? It didn’t sound like it had a nice meaning.”

“Can I use the fridge please?” I asked.

“Of course,” Uncle Ecks said, “Don’t let me get in your way.”

But Uncle Ecks barely stepped aside, and I had to squeeze and brush against him to get to the fridge. And by then, I had lost my appetite. I tool out the water jug and poured myself a shallow glass and went back to bed to dream about apples.

Another day, and Uncle Ecks had a new fascination: he seemed to disappear into his room whenever my father was home, but on those afternoons when I would chance home early, I would see him outside, leaning against our door, smoking a cigarette.

He called me excitedly one day, as if he had a deeper relationship than we did—as if he really were my uncle.

“I heard something today—something truly wonderful. Do you want to hear it?”

I did not want to talk with Uncle Ecks and the scent of his cigarette made me sick.

He ignored my body language and continued:

“Che sera sera,” he said.

He took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled away from me.

“Have you ever heard anyone say something so wonderful before?”

I hadn’t.

“I had heard people say it before, but only today did I learn what it meant.”

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“Absolutely nothing! It is just something to say when you’re stuck for words. If something happens and you don’t know what to say, you can just use that—che sera sera—and people listening will understand.”

I was confused.

“For instance, what if I were to tell you that someone you knew was about to die?”

I was terrified again.

“What else can you say to that, if it can’t be helped?”

His eyes were twinkling as he asked me that question.

“Just that: you say che sera sera and I would know that you didn’t know what to say, but that you wanted to  say something very much. Amazing, isn’t it?”

Uncle Ecks must have seen that I was upset, because he quickly clarified:

“Of course, no one is really dying, That was just an example. You can use that phrase whenever you want—and for happy things, too.”

And I could tell that he was wracking his brain to come up with an example but they all escaped him.

“Well, look at that. My mind’s gone blank. Che sera sera! No?”

I nodded and ran inside, waiting on my father to return, at which point, Uncle Ecks would disappear into his room, where I preferred him to be.

Another day, not long before he would die, Uncle Ecks called me over again from the other room. This time, my mother was in the room with me, reading her book. I do not know whether he had known that there was anyone else in the room. But my father’s previous edict remained clear: top stay away from Uncle Ecks.

My mother glared at me like I was responsible for his calling. I looked at her helplessly.

She narrowed her eyes and called back to Uncle Ecks, “We are reading, Ecks.”

Uncle Ecks, if he had known that my mother was there, was unperturbed. He called back.

“You will appreciate this, then. It is something lovely I read today.”

He entered the room and I remember that it scarcely seemed like he had discovered anything wonderful. The skin around his eyes was tight and he seemed pale.

“Maybe,” he croaked, “You have read far more complicated things than I have. But I am a simple man so simple things interest me. Listen to this: ‘One swallow doesn’t make a summer.’ Isn’t that wonderful?”

There was a palpable tension between my mother and Uncle Ecks. I was afraid.

“We don’t have swallows or summer here, Ecks.”

“It’s true. I didn’t understand the connection at first, myself. But I went to the library today to do some research and do you know what it means?”

“Ecks,” my mother said, “Travis learned these things in school years ago when he was only five. He doesn’t need to hear it again from you. He only listens to be polite, even though we have told him that it isn’t necessary.”

Uncle Ecks’ eyes twinkled and he shrank a little.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

And as he turned to walk away, I noticed that his hair had thinned around his crown. He looked sick. I didn’t know what the phrase had meant at the time, but I suspected that, like his other fascinations, that it was a sad phrase too.

Uncle Ecks died the following week, though I never learned how. I only remember returning from school and having my father tell me very plainly, “your Uncle Ecks has passed.” Even though I knew what the phrase meant, I did not understand at first; at that time, I had never known anyone to die before and not thought of death as something that happened to people you knew. My father remained standing in front of me after he gave me the news, perhaps not knowing what to say, because he did not like Uncle Ecks, and he knew that I did not like him either and yet, we seemed to have been the only people in his life. I think that we felt something like the same emotion that day: the guilt of feeling nothing for the sake of someone who felt everything for you.

We stood in silence together, my father and I, for some time until finally, he broke spoke, asking that I help him return the displaced boxes to the storage room. My father had already taken the mattress out to the landfill during the day, which must have meant that Uncle Ecks had died not long after I had left for school. Everything was back to the way it had been before Uncle Ecks had come into our lives within a half hour.

My mother calling us to dinner finally broke the silence, and I genuinely do not remember our family ever speaking about Uncle Ecks ever again. I suppose the poetic thing to have said at that time would have been “Che sera sera” but one doesn’t really think that way at that age. But the good thing about the phrase is that it really does suit those stories with no point, or an untidy resolution, to so that whole episode of my childhood, it suffices to say: Che sera sera.  

[rileypark]

Ships In The Night Ϟ Self Para

TIME: July 28th to August 6th.

PLACE: NYC

GENERAL NOTES: After the last events in Riley’s life, she gets to spend the week by herself, a great opportunity to think of what’s ahead.

COMMENTS: Riley’s feeling/thoughts are so hard to write because she won’t even share them with me, so this was fun. It wasn’t.

I

The fundraiser extends long past 3am, and it’s such a wide success for Riley that she can’t imagine being able to sleep any time soon due to all the emotions and the adrenaline of the night. She doesn’t see Daina for the rest of the event, even when she catches herself trying to find the woman in the sea of people. She’s never been more thankful to have great, competent assistants reminding her of her itinerary, because she seems to still be in a haze after that kiss. Pathetic, really, she chastises herself mentally. Daina’s probably soundly asleep by the time Riley finishes saying goodnight to all the guests, thanking them for their donations. 

The silence in her bedroom is usually the most welcoming enviroment in her life, the one place she can just be herself, and not this persona she’s crafted so perfectly for her job. But silence this time means her mind is running wild with thoughts she would like to ignore at the moment. She shifts constantly in her sheets, questioning whether to go over Daina’s room and wake her up to discuss everything while emotions are still on the surface, or if she should let her rest considering her early trip in the morning. Her rational side, as usual, beats what her heart desires, but the punishment for it is not being able to sleep until 5am, plagued by unwanted thoughts and haunted by blue eyes.

II

What would Daina and her together would even look like? she ponders over her brunch on Saturday. Her wife was already gone by the time she woke up, and for once, she’s relieved by the fact that she has a moment to herself, just like old times. Her and Daina together would mean nothing but banter, and bad times, she’s sure of it. Now that she’s had a moment to go over everything that occurred between the two, she’s not sure physical attraction is enough to sustain a marriage. That’s all there is at the moment, right? She is mistaking the thrill of the tension between them for something with more depth. She’s more and more certain that, when the time comes for the talk, she’ll be able to stand her ground and decide they’re better off in this awkward semi-friendship state they’re in, instead of risking it all at the chance of a real relationship.

By the time she goes to bed, however, her position has shifted in 180 degrees. Objectively, she’s clearly grown fond of Daina, even if she despises how cliche and predictable the whole situation is. She’s not looking forward to the endless waves of ‘I told you so’ she’ll receive if she chooses to take the opportunity with Daina. She feels her frustration weigh in her throat, a heavy lump, as she usually does when she’s faced with strong emotions and situations she can’t control. When her eyes finally flutter close, all she’s sure of is that she’s been proven once again, that her decision of staying out of serious relationship her whole life was right all along. Everything else is up in the air, including, whether or not she’s ready to venture into something more with the woman she’s married to.

III

On Sunday, she takes Bailey out for what she initially believed to be a quick walk around the block, but turned into an unexpected morning jog. She had never realized just how much energy was contained inside that beast until she was the one being pulled by the leash, ending up miles away from her home. They make it to a small park eventually, and she lets her free to play with the rest of the dogs, keeping the promise she had made Daina to give her some recreational time. As the woman passes through her mind again, she debates whether to call her, or message her, anything after two days of radio silence. What would she even say? she fights back, because she wouldn’t be able to pretend like nothing’s changed between. A nonchalant message would feel anticlimatic when they are due for a long conversation when she’s back. It’s all too much pressure, and Riley’s had trouble relaxing any time she’s reminded of it. She’s thankful for Leila’s husband, Sam, and his timely interruption, joining before she can act on her impulse. They chat for a while then, and it’s nice enough to vanish any thoughts of the blonde from her mind.

IV

The week is easier to survive, as she buries herself in her work, feeling much like herself again, in power, her mind sharp making the most pertinent decisions regarding business, with that critical thinking she can’t seem to translate into her personal life.  

V

Her and Daina just make sense, it’s the thought on Tuesday, and it’s either thought number 7 or 20 regarding this whole situation. She’s sort of losing track already. They’re both intelligent, hardworking, goal oriented, beautiful women. They would be a power couple, in all aspects. She’s attracted to her, without a doubt, and if she were to try and open up just slightly, there’s a chance that things could be good for them. Great even. After all, she’s a risk taker at work, why would her personal life be any different? She can feel the excitement bubbling up, convincing her she should go for it. That all sounds ideal, except when she’s reminded that she’ll have this woman prying into her deepest secrets and feelings, seeing her at her most vulnerable, and suddenly she remembers why she’s so against it in the first place, her heart tightening at the thought, arms moving closer to her chest in a subconscious attempt to protect herself. It’s not as if she hasn’t dated for long periods of time in the past, she’s not incompetent. She managed to last a good amount of time with her previous girlfriend, but even then, they were both in agreement that their relationship was temporary and completely focused on having fun for the time being, with no promises of a future together. On the other hand, there’s obviously a big, obnoxious, neon sign with the words “forever” attached to her and Daina. It makes all the difference.

VI

She walks past her music room on the way to the library on Wednesday, when she stops in her tracks, suddenly noticing the piano in the corner, the same piano Daina is so drawn to. It gives her an idea, and before she can talk herself out of it, she makes the right calls to ensure her plan is set in motion. She’s not confident Daina would even approve of her spending so much money on a surprise for her, their money issues seem still unsolved, like everything about them. But she can’t think of a better peace offering, that much she’s certain of. She wants that, more than anything. Whether they end up falling in love with eachother or not, they need peace for the challenges to come.

VII

It’s late on Thrusday, and she’s feeling uneasy, struggling to get some sleep again, when she pulls up her phone, helpless to get any rest. She goes over her extensive contact list, filled with business related people, until she finds the name she’s looking for. She feels her heart pound faster, not only because her mind wanders off briefly to San Francisco, but because she’s embarrassed by the mispelled name she hasn’t changed since that horrible first encounter. That’s how terrible she's been acting because of a stupid unfair law. She couldn’t take back all those unpleasant moments, even if she wanted to, but she knew the future could look different if she tried just a little harder to not be a complete bitch. Finally, she changes her wife’s contact from “Diana” to “Daina”, a small gesture, and she feels completely ridiculous for doing it --though she’s more embarrased for keeping it for so long out of spite-- but she thinks it’s a start. She’s not sure what stops her from texting her about it, but when she wakes up in the morning she’s particularly happy for her restraint.

VIII

Saturday is filled with a sense of dread, she’s been counting the days until Daina comes home as if she was counting down to her death. She busies herself with Bailey again, who’s obviously missing her mom and is acting especially clingy with her substitute mother. She takes her to the scheduled vet appointment she promised Daina she would go to, before they kissed senseless in the middle of her kitchen, of course. She knows, thanks to one of her maids, that Daina’s been facetiming her dog, so at least it’s a reassurance that the blonde is very much alive and coming home to have this talk sooner rather than later. The dog behaves like a saint with the vet for her check up, thankfully, and she feels weirdly proud of a pet than isn’t even hers to begin with. Riley on the other hand, paces uncomfortably at the sight of needles for the duration of the appointment. As they drive back home, the idea of potentially spending time with both Daina and Bailey in the future passes through her mind. Perhaps hiking would be an activity everybody would enjoy. Her hand rests atop Bailey’s back, drawing lazy patterns as she’s catches herself smiling at the thought. It doesn’t so too bad, after all.  

IX

The news of her firm establishing a business deal overseas comes on Sunday, and it makes for the perfect night of celebration. She hasn’t been able to stop reminding herself of the impending conversation she’s going to have with Daina in a few hours, when she’s back from San Francisco, and she’s not going to say no to an opportunity to clear her mind and ease her anxiety. The Marquee Nightclub is one of her favorite places and the perfect venue to do so. It’s past 2am, and the party is in full swing when she’s alerted by a friend that her phone is vibrating in her bag. Her annoyance grows, fumbling inside her purse to find the phone, wondering who could possibly be calling so late at night. 

She stares at the screen while her phone vibrates in her hand, freezing as the name of her wife --rightfully spelled this time-- lights up in front of her. Thinking of their time difference, she wonders briefly if it would be smart to answer a call someone’s making so close to midnight. Bad things happen in night calls, people can get embarrassingly clingy and sad when it’s their bed time. She wasn’t ready to deal with that side of Daina, especially when she’s had a few drinks and she’s less likely to remain in control. Her thumb ghosts over the button for a couple of seconds, and against her better judgement, she slids her finger to accept the call, excusing herself from her group of friends, to find a better place to talk. Bringing her phone to her ear, she can hear a similar enviroment coming from the blonde’s end, and she furrows her eyebrows in confusion before speaking. “It’s late” she states bluntly, making her way to the bathroom. The distress she can hear coming from Daina’s voice make her stomach twist in the most uncomfortable way, and she’s completely bothered by the fact that she’s let this woman affect her in such way already. “Are you okay?”

[ao3-hipster-fangirl-trash]

Small noises

Ok so… not sure about word count again :/

Can you do a drarry with Draco doing something like waving his hands while their fighting or like slams his hand on the table or something that makes Harry flinches and retreats into himself and starts apologising like crazy and Draco is just like what and they talk about how shitty and abusive the Dursleys where. I feel like I didn’t articulate that well but just something along those lines I guess sorry I am not good with words this is why I’m asking you to do thank you love your work 😄

Warnings: swearing, eludes to PTSD and being triggered

Let’s get to it, gay angst? Hell yes

Soph xx

It was a petty squabble in hindsight, Harry had simply forgotten to make the bed, as he was the one who had been the last one to get out of bed, yet why it had escalated into a full scale argument, no one would know. Perhaps it was the fact that neither of them had slept well last night, or that Draco’s parents were coming to visit in a week, putting both of the boys on edge, either way, they were now in the living room screaming at each other, both bright red in the face and both of them angrily gesturing towards each other accusingly.

“AT LEAST I’M NOT THE ONE COMING HOME AT MERLIN KNOWS WHAT HOUR.” Harry retaliated. Draco had just taken a stab at how lazy Harry seemed to be getting due to how he didn’t need to go into the ministry to get work done.

Draco gave out a frustrated growl and ran his hands through his hair, for about the fifth time in the past hour. It was longer than usual now, snaking past his ears and ending just above his shoulders.

“Maybe if you actually cared to stay up for me YOU WOULD KNOW WHAT TIME I STAYED UP FOR TO EARN A LIVING.” Draco had enough, they had been having a screaming match at each other for the past two hours, it was now 11:30 and he was getting hungry after using up all his energy by violently articulating his opinion to his lover.

“Maybe if you didn’t take the night shift or actually gave a damn about me you would have tried to change it.” Harry spat, sick and tired of saying the same thing over and over.

Draco tensed, this was a sore subject for the both of them and Harry knew it. Every time this argument was brought up they both slept separated hat night, and tension remained high for the next couple of days, until one of them apologised and it was forgotten until next time.

“I have tried,” he growled, “you know Ive tried, all I’ve done is FUCKING TRIED YET NOTHINGS GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU IS IT POTTER.” At that, Draco slammed his hand onto the coffee table beside him, his frustration finally breaking through and taking control of him.

As he looked down, he felt his hand start to sting, as well as the blood begin to pump in his ears. Everything had gone silent except of the breathing between the two.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said weakly.

Draco looked up confused, only to be greeted by a sight which haunted him ever since.

Harry was standing rigid, stiff from his shoulders to his knees, yet he seemed to be trembling as if he were cold, but it was a summers day outside. His face was ashy grey, whilst also tinged green as if he were about to be sick, but his eyes is what really got to Draco.

They were widened in fright, looking anywhere but at him, even flirting down to Harry’s feet at least twice before returning to the spot where Draco’s hand had hit the wood. There were tears building behind his glasses yes Draco saw how Harry wouldn’t let them fall.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean it I’m sorry.” Harry began to repeat the phrase over and over again as if it would become a sort of shield, or softener to the blow which he expected to receive.

Draco instantly felt remorse for what he had done, guilt taking a spot in his stomach much like it had during the battle of hogwarts, or after Dumbledore’s death, yet this was a different kind of guilt, one that left him disgusted with himself and his actions rather than the ones of those around him.

As he made a step towards Harry, he flinched visibly, yet still frozen to the spot in complete and utter fear, if Draco didn’t know any better he would have said that Harry had been struck with a petrification spell.

Draco took another step, slower this time, yet Harry still flinched.

“Harry?”

Harry didn’t respond.

“Harry, is it ok if I come near you?”

Still no response.

“Harry? Can I come closer to you.”

Just as Draco was about to give up, he saw a small head movement, almost imperceptible at first, yet when he focused, he saw a small nod from Harry.

He crept forward and eventually made it to about an inch away from where Harry was standing, his breathing having picked up and his tears dangerously close to falling, Draco bent down slightly in order to be smaller than him.

“Harry, Harry can I hold you?”

Harry just closed his eyes and let the tears fall, mapping their way down his cheeks as he stood in the same position as before, still unmoving.

Draco straightened up a little, yet not enough that he would be taller than Harry, yet before Draco new what was happening, Harry launched himself into Draco, his arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he bunched the fabric of Draco’ shirt up and buried himself in his shoulder.

He shook as violent sobs racked his body, rendering him completely victim to his own emotions, every tear betraying him again and again as he could do nothing to prevent them.

Draco wrapped his hands around Harry’s waist and pulled him closer, caressing his hair as he sobbed into the woollen fabric, whispering gently into his ear apologies and reassurances that he was no longer trapped by them, whilst Harry kept whispering an array of ‘I’m sorry’s’ over and over again, each of them clinging to each other like a lifeline.

By the time Harry had calmed down, both of them had forgotten the argument from before, either because they didn’t want to remember or they didn’t care anymore.

Harry slowly removed his arms from Draco’s neck, and moved them down to his waist, making it easier to look at him.

When Draco opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of a red eyed, rosy cheeked boy who had his forehead pressed against him, and as Harry began to pull away, he placed a small kiss on Draco’s cheek before letting go, and muttering a small thank you.

Just as Harry began to walk out of the room, he heard Draco mutter something under his breath.

“Those fucking Dursleys.”

[coruscorp-blog]

DEAR, MR. ( MATTHEW KANG )

We are pleased to have you back for another year as an UPPER SECOND YEAR STUDENT at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We sincerely hope your classmates in GRYFFINDOR treat you well.

I. EARLY YEARS

born to an eccentric herbologist couple, matthew grew up surrounded by magic, funny plants and lots of love. though his parents were both born to south korean parents, his mother grew up in the united states and his father, in england – but they met ten years ago when both of them were working for an herb vendor located in london. his father, who was a hufflepuff at hogwarts, traveled all over the world to search for new plants to discover and to assess the properties of magical plants that haven’t been studied thoroughly. his parents lived in a rural home in the middle of a canadian forest with their five-year-old daughter for some time, trying to locate a mysterious plant native to the area; this was where they found out about their second child.

a few months before matthew was born, they decided they’d like to move to a bigger city; they found a small townhouse in toronto and moved into a muggle neighbourhood, and then settled down for a few years as his father works on studying plants in the area.

a loud child with a hyperactive streak, matthew has always been a bit of a handful compared to his mild-tempered older sister, chloe; while enrolled in muggle-populated public schools in canada, he tended to get himself into trouble for talking too much, passing notes in class, climbing trees in the schoolyard – basically anything he could get up to that he believed his classmates would find funny. he took on the ‘class clown’ role, and in middle school especially, he felt the pressure on him to be that light-hearted and fun-loving popular kid who could make the rest of the class laugh – which often landed him in detention and made his grades suffer… to his parents’ and teachers’ chagrin.

his parents always thought, well – he’s the offspring of wizards, perhaps he’s just restless because of the magic pent up within him? they held hope that once he went to ilvermorny, the american school where chloe was enrolled and where his mother graduated as a thunderbird, he would have an outlet for his magical powers and would, eventually, settle down and become… at least manageable.

II. ILVERMORNY

this, however, wasn’t the case. he did go to ilvermorny – and was sorted into thunderbird, just like his mother – but if anything, he got more energetic and rowdy. for his first two years, he played on thunderbird’s quidditch team as a beater, and was the instigator of all kinds of shenanigans. his professors found him tiring to deal with, but charming at the same time; most of them remembered his mother and her sweet but fiery nature, and were able to pacify their annoyance with matthew wtth the hope that he would turn out to be a good student in his later years, just like his mom.

his holiday breaks and summers were exciting – any time he got to go back to toronto, he was happy. he had many muggle friends in his neighbourhood who missed him when he was away for what he told them was just 'a really awesome boarding school in massachusetts’. though he’d made wizard and witch friends too by now, matthew still had a lot of muggle friends and acquaintances from his neighbourhood in toronto – so he often spent his summers playing outside, staying out too late and making his parents worry more than he should have.

matthew remained very happy for a long time. he continueds attending ilvermorny and embarrassing his older sister at school, while honing his magical abilities ( despite not doing very well academically. )

but though he came back every summer, he never noticed there was something wrong at home; oblivious and happy just to be together with his family and friends, he didn’t sense that growing tension and the bad energy between his parents, the tired circles under his father’s eyes or the forlorn, unhappy looks his mother casted out the window. they didn’t want matthew to know – he was still a child. he was only home for such a short period of time and they could at least keep the illusion for that long, right?

III. WHEN EVERYTHING GETS FLIPPED-TURNED-UPSIDE DOWN

it’s the summer after matthew’s fourth year at ilvermorny, that everything spirals. the day matthew returns for the summer, he comes home to a strangely empty-feeling house; his sister, who already graduated the year before was quiet on the drive home but matthew’s chatter filled the silence and he didn’t notice how her knuckles were white on the steering whaeel or the worry lines creasing her forehead. had he noticed, maybe he would’ve been prepared to find his dad waiting for him in the house alone.

when he first hears the word 'divorce’, he thinks it’s some weird muggle thing. his dad explains to him the concept of falling out of love and all of these fluffy words but as matthew stands still in the living room, he just wants to know why his father is talking about his mother’s feelings and thoughts as if she can’t tell him herself. matthew cuts him off mid-sentence – why are you talking like she’s not here? where’s mom? is she at work? – and even when his dad and sister explain where he is, he can’t process it.

he finds out later that apparently, though it was her idea to settle down in the city at first, she had grown tired of her surroundings. she felt trapped by this muggle neighbourhood, their tiny townhouse and everything; she said their father was too obsessed with his work and she didn’t feel the love in their relationship anymore. in the middle of an argument, she had taken the floo network out of their fireplace one day and though their father caught the destination she shouted as she disappeared – a korean word, apparently the name of a restaurant in her hometown – he never bothered trying to find her again because he always figured that if she wanted to be with him, she’d just come back. she never did.

fourteen-year-old matthew is deeply wounded; he demands, for a while, to know the name of the place she disappeared to but his sister doesn’t know and his father refuses to tell him. he storms out of the house and spends his time kicking things around and venting to his muggle friends who, of course, don’t understand what the hell a “floo” is but they understand the meaning of divorce and are able to give young matthew some comfort, or at least distraction. matthew doesn’t speak to his father or his sister for a few weeks while he’s at home, blaming them for not letting him try to find his mom, blaming them for letting her leave without saying goodbye.

it’s midway through summer that matthew gets even more bad news, the cherry on top of the shitty cake: he has to move away. without his mother’s help, his father has reached a dead end in his research in canada, and in order to make enough money to sustain their family he has to find another job – but there’s nothing left here except mindless muggle jobs, which he doesn’t have enough experience in to actually land; the only option left is to move away from the townhouse and back to his old neighbourhood, the wizarding community in london, england. there’s a small herb shop there with a shopkeep who knows matthew’s father well; according to an owl letter he’s received, he has a guaranteed job there if he can take over the store.

when matthew’s father tells him that they have to move to europe, forcing him to transfer magic schools to hogwarts in scotland, matthew at first thinks it’s a joke. it’s not, though; his hands ball up into fists and his eyes well up with tears as he realizes he not only has to say goodbye to his muggle friends this summer, but since he’s transferring before his fifth year, he doesn’t get to say goodbye to his ilvermorny friends, too.

he begs and complains and bargains for days, but there’s no use. his father writes back and forth with hogwarts and they make the arrangements to help him move, due to his special circumstances they are able to set up a late sorting before he starts at school, and luckily the curricular at ilvermorny and hogwarts is almost exactly the same so he doesn’t even have to do any studying over the rest of the summer. but it still sucks, and matthew tries to find ways to get out of it, to no avail.

a few weeks before the beginning of his first hogwarts school year, they move into his father’s old house in england, and matthew meets his paternal grandparents for the first time. they’re nice, but stuffy and traditional and without his mom around, matthew feels like there’s a warmth missing from their house. it hurts – he keeps expecting her to come back, but their new house doesn’t have a fireplace. he pesters his father – does mom know where we are? how will she get back? – but he only gets vague answers and uncomfortable looks from the family.

he decides, without telling anyone, that, somehow, he’s going to find a way to floo himself to where his mother is and bring her back. he’ll break into a neighbour’s house to use their fireplace if he has to, he thinks… once he finds out the name of his mother’s floo location.

IV. THE ( WANNABE ) FRESH PRINCE OF HOGWARTS 

though matthew is stubborn about it at first – he’s sure that he’ll hate hogwarts – he finds that he really likes it after the first few days. he meets some nice students on the train to hogwarts ( many of them are really confused about how an older-looking student hasn’t been sorted yet, they think he’s a really tall first-year until he explains his situation ) and after being sorted separately before the big first-year ceremony, he makes friends at the gryffindor table almost instantly. though he attracts some attention for being new and “american” ( he corrects them and says he’s canadian all the time, but not many people pay attention to the difference ) he gets along well with the other students and manages to blend in pretty quickly. some professors understand his situation, and some remember his father from his hogwarts days; making it easier for him to ease into his new school life.

in the summer after his seventh year, he comes home to his father’s house one summer to find a strange new lady living there named lisa. matthew tunes out the explanation – by now he’s tired of coming home to find out that his life keeps changing. couldn’t you send a letter to warn me this time? he demands in anger, then slams his bedroom door shut. he avoids talking to this lisa, who apparently is supposed to be his step-mom, for the whole summer. next year, he still avoids her over the christmas holiday. the summer after that, he ignores her for the whole summer but manages to have a few conversations with her towards the end of his holiday. she tries to be nice to him, but he sees her as evil for trying to replace his mom and he sees his father as a traitor for not waiting for his mom to come back anymore.

in his upper years, matthew is studying a wide variety of things because he has no idea what he wants to do in life – he pretty much only likes watching quidditch (he’s tried to get on the team, but he never makes it for various reasons), messing around with friends, and napping in class. most people in his family expect him to go into herbology like his dad, but when asked what he wants to do in life matthew typically gives one response: literally anything but herbology.

at hogwarts, he still keeps up that class-clown nature, although now it comes with a bit of an edge; though he still likes to make people laugh, he’s developed a bit of a temper that most likely comes from his not-so-repressed anger at his family. he’s quick to make friends and for the most part, he’s well-liked, though he takes any kind of offense against him personally and likes to hold grudges. he’s a good person though, and a good friend to many – he doesn’t like to be taken seriously, and it shows.  

[idolapps]

| OOC INFO.

NAME/ALIAS, PRONOUNS, TIMEZONE: kristine, she / her, est

RESERVATION: did i put a password……

| MEMBER PROFILE.

FACECLAIM: byun baekhyun, exo

NAME/STAGENAME: ryu jaehyun ( mononymously known as jaehyun )

BIRTHDATE/AGE: twenty-two, born march 03, 1994

COMPANY/POSITION: under crystal media as diamond’s main vocal !

HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 174cm / 57kg

TRAINING PERIOD/JOINING YEAR: nine years, 2003 - 2012

INTERESTING FACTS:

out of the other members, jaehyun has been a trainee with crystal media the longest.

his great-grandfather is the founder of a popular restaurant chain in east asia.

jaehyun taught himself english and mandarin since he was a child, making him fluent in both languages plus korean. he also speaks conversational japanese, and hopes to learn more languages in the future.

he has been playing the piano since he was seven years old, but he’s nervous about learning any other instrument.

known as the “aegyo king” due to his natural cuteness, as well as the fact that he’s always volunteering to do aegyo before he’s even asked. very into a lot of fanservice.

STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

///// → strengths.

vocals. | jaehyun is one of the strongest vocalists crystal has, the only reason why he’s one of diamond’s main vocalists. after training for nine years, his techniques have refined over time. even since his debut with diamond, he has continued to show improvement in pitch and support. he is able to stay consistent throughout the majority of their stages despite their fast-paced choreography, primarily having focused on perfecting his stability as he grew up. however, if it’s not his extensive range that makes him most memorable, as he’s learned to broaden his horizons as time went on ( even if his lowest and highest notes both tend to strain his voice if he puts too much tension in them ), it’s the way he knows how to showcase the utmost emotion as he performs. since his voice is his strongest asset, he puts the most effort and passion onstage to ensure he exceeds expectations with every performance. he’s constantly doing what he can to improve, but he’s on the verge of straining it if he doesn’t give it a rest any time soon.

dance. | like with his vocals, jaehyun has been working hard on his dance skills since he was young. he may not be the best dancer in the group, he’s able to keep his movements smooth and fluid, and on good days, his stamina would be at its peak which allows him to stay as energetic as he needs to for numerous performances. although he’s focused both on dance and his vocals during his training, he still thinks he lacks in dancing when he’s not actually as bad. he may not have that special charisma or power in his flow that would promote him to the dance line, but he’s decent enough to stay in time with everyone else without missing a beat. diamond’s choreographies are always clean cut, and although dance isn’t his strongest suit, he’s more than capable to meet expectations.

stage presence / natural charm. | his ability to captivate an audience was how he had gotten noticed by crystal media staff in the first place. he’s always been a natural performer since he was a child, and he’s only improved since the first time he was noticed as a potential artist. he’s best at using his voice to convey the best emotions, which is how he’s able to draw people to him most often. he isn’t the most confident member, but any insecurity is masked as soon as he gets onstage. he always has the right facial expressions and a unique way of standing out, while managing to not outshine the other members either. even when he’s offstage, he continues to carry a warm aura around him on varieties and radio shows. in front of a camera, life is his stage and he’s going to own it.

///// → weaknesses.

insecurity. | coming from a sheltered environment, he bears a lot insecurities deep down. he had grown up in immense wealth, the world practically in the palm of his hands as a child. since he grew up in such an opulent household, with the idea of being able to have anything that life could offer at the snap of his fingers, he grew up with the mentality that just because he could get it, doesn’t mean he necessarily deserves it. while this way of thinking makes him humble and down-to-earth, he chooses to let it affect him negatively because the luxury is so large. he doesn’t want anyone thinking that he had managed to buy his way into one of the most difficult entertainment companies. he always feels the need to prove his talent because he often feels like he doesn’t deserve it. sure, he’s worked hard over the past 13 years, but he underestimates his strengths despite working at them for so long now. he just needs a little confidence boost, but that seems a little unlikely after all this time.

bend and break. | anyone who knows jaehyun knows that he’s a hard-worker; he has his fair share of fun and games, but when it comes to his profession there’s no way he’s going to slack off. however, his hard work eventually becomes a double-edged sword, as he tends to over-work himself without means to halt for a break until he breaks himself. it’s never his intention to work until he literally can’t, but it happens more often as he chooses to allow the demons in his head to get to him. when he manages to exert too much energy for his false sense of perfection, his own strengths mean nothing. he relies on his own energy to be at the top of his game, but he thinks it’s his own confidence and that’s not the case at all. this is a work in progress—but he doesn’t seem to be getting very far.

health concerns. | crystal media isn’t stupid—they know jaehyun is prone to health scares. after what happened on the second week of diamond’s debut, they are very careful to ensure anything similar doesn’t happen again in the future. he may be twenty-two, but he’s stubborn when it comes to practicing; he aims for an unrealistic goal of perfection, which often results in him being hurt one way or another. usually, after diamond promotions are over, he’s either forced into doing many varieties ( if he hasn’t been cast in a drama ) to consume his time, or he’d be on a “group hiatus” for a few months before they begin preparations for their next comeback so that he won’t be in the practice rooms instead. it’s the only way they can ensure that he’ll be at his peak instead of fainting once again.

| BIO / PERSONALITY.

TRIGGER WARNING: IMPLICATIONS OF AN EATING DISORDER & DEPRESSION CW

i. | on the rainy day of march 3rd 1994, ryu kyungtae and kang seungmin welcomed their first child, ryu jaehyun. as raindrops cascaded down the window, loved ones crowded each other to catch a glimpse of him. much like the rain, he was calm—he did not cry, not even once, despite the busy environment he was currently in. he was born into a opulent family, and his parents hoped that his serenity was a sign that he’d fare well in their busy lifestyle. jaehyun’s father was a executive director with his sights set on becoming the next president and ceo of the family’s restaurant chain corporation, while his mother was on her way to becoming a university professor. they were fairly young, but they high hopes that this untroubled beginning with their son was a good sign. they’re busy people, and they don’t want him to be stressful at an early age considering they wouldn’t be able to spend the most time with him.

ii. | growing up, despite their busy schedules always conflicting with each other, they always made time for their son. family time where both his parents were present were rare, but that didn’t stop them ensuring their son that they want to be involved in his life. he spent more time with nannies and caretakers on a regular basis, but that didn’t make him think any less of his parents; he was always taken care of, always had company and always secured safely no matter where he went. the days his parents were both home were his favorite. sure, he was fine being in the large home with neither of his parents home, but having both around was always a gift that didn’t stop giving until they were gone the next morning. jaehyun was never upset about it; they were always calling when they could if they couldn’t make it home, and that was enough for him.

iii. | he first fell in love with the art of performing for others after a family get-together in hawaii, where his relatives did karaoke almost every night. no matter how they sounded, they always looked so happy and free when they sang. it inspired young jaehyun to begin singing as well, doing his best to imitate many of his favorite singers like rain and all1. now his parents may be absent for most of his days, but his growing love for music and performing didn’t go unnoticed by them. along with some of the staff in their household, they noticed that he had the potential to make it big one day with a push in the right direction. they began signing him up for contests at the age of seven, and although he didn’t win anything in the end, they could see that he was having fun and that his potential was growing. he was nine years old when he and his parents were approached by a representative from crystal media; jaehyun may have won second place that day, but he could only remember it as him winning the entire thing.

iv. | he was signed under crystal media in 2003, but since the company was still in its early stages, he was only assigned personal coaches to help him begin his training. it wasn’t very difficult in the beginning; he was only nine years old and they couldn’t be too hard on him. he was only learning the basics to becoming a better performer, while taking baby steps to begin refining his vocal techniques. at this time he didn’t feel any insecurities—he was always praised for doing better every day, but he didn’t realize it could get worse as he got older. when he had became a full-fledged trainee, training alongside other trainees under crystal, he didn’t realize he’d soon find himself comparing his skills to everyone else. he soon began downplaying his own, unsure if he was as cut out for this like everyone else around him was. while he began working harder, he took it to an entirely different level in order to fulfill his own satisfaction.

v. | it began with pushing himself to practice until he passed out. he couldn’t always stay in the company building, him still being a child, but luckily his parents had turned one of the rooms in their house into his own personal practice room for him so practicing didn’t need to stop when he got home. he spent a lot of time in there, longer than he ever needed to, and some days he wouldn’t even leave that room until he was personally pulled or pushed out. since his parents were still rarely home, this schedule worked perfectly. he began eating less so that he could practice more, reducing his meals to one of the core three with a few to absolutely no snacks in between. he took the saying “practice makes perfect” a little too seriously, doing what he could to be certain that he’d be perfect enough for crystal media to debut. but he wasn’t getting better; he was only becoming more and more sick as he continued, but he was always very good at acting like he was fine. he was always good at pretending he was fine, even if he was on the verge of passing out every time he performed a routine.

vi. | despite the amount of stress and ache he was putting himself through, there was no doubt that all the hard work paid off as he was one of the seven trainees selected to be a part of the final lineup of diamond. he happily accepted his place as one of the two main vocalists, but that didn’t mean he was ready to slack off. diamond’s debut had been pretty successful, netizens reacting positively to their choreography which pleased jaehyun since he worked hard to perfect his own movements. what he wasn’t happy about were the live performances, because while he couldn’t wait to perform, it was only until then when he realized that he wasn’t going to be at his best; nothing even close to the best he could be. his body was extremely worn out and in need of immediate rest; following the first few of the debut stages, people began to notice how frail he looked, almost ready to break after every move made. yet jaehyun kept pushing himself, because he knew he didn’t want to let the group down— he couldn’t do that to the boys he’s trained with for so long; they deserved better than that.

vii. | then the unthinkable happened; during their inkigayo debut stage on the second week of promotions, jaehyun had collapsed mid-performance and had to be taken to a hospital immediately.

viii. | jaehyun would call his time on hiatus from the group the worst time of his life. he was incredibly stubborn— he was sick, more sick than any idol should ever be. over-exhausted and not eating enough, he was going to stay with them until he fully recovered on orders from the company. he wasn’t sure what he was more upset about: the fact that he was letting everyone down, or the fact that he let this all occur. he hadn’t even meant for this to happen ( no one ever does, ) and he couldn’t figure out what went wrong. he only wanted to be the perfect idol that crystal media deserved. seeing the success of the boy groups in other companies… he wanted that for diamond and crystal media. he wanted to make the people around him proud, but he only caused worry the longer he stayed on hiatus. he was strictly monitored in the hospital for a few months to be certain of a successful recovery, and although jaehyun wouldn’t admit it, he was thankful that he was healthy once again. to avoid another situation like that, he’s vowed to take better care of himself; and although the company is carefully watching him, he isn’t sure how long his clean streak would last.

ix. | he’s been okay for a few years now. he’s had scares here and there, but for the most part he’s been doing really well. sometimes he can’t help but feel the need to go back to training like that again, even with the consequences a memory he can’t quite forget. he’s always thinking about how he needs to put in more work all the time— that single reminder that he needs to prove his worth always tempting him to stay longer in the studios when he has the chance, and sometimes against his better judgment, he does and doesn’t go back to his penthouse until morning if he doesn’t continue practicing through the day. he was on that same ill-managed routine for nine years of his life, and has been trying to get himself to stop even to this day. he pretends he’s alright, plastering the brightest smile he could to preach nothing but taking care of yourselves first. he’s trying to prevent others from making the same mistake, while hiding the fact that he still makes these mistakes more often than he’d like to admit. but old habits die hard, and this routine isn’t exactly the easiest to get out of with a mindset like his.

x. | his demons are screaming for him, they’re roping him in. are he going to fall for this again?