#not: they should NOT have if there was even a CHANCE it was that far out

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Written in the Stars [2]

Pairing: military strategist!Mingi x royal physician!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 10.3k 🤡

Summary: Mingi had spent countless years searching for the angel who saved his life when he was on the verge of death. He believed god was on his side when she finally reappeared before him, but she was now so near yet so far, so unobtainable. No longer just a young medical trainee, she had become an esteemed royal physician—a woman working within the palace walls. And what did that mean? It meant she now belonged to His Majesty.

Part 1 | Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist

"I still can't believe you actually said yes to him. What happened to love being a luxury for us, hm?" Subin teased, not letting you off the hook since she found out about the military strategist's bold invitation. That was surprising enough, but nothing shocked her more than your acceptance.

You sighed, tightening the bow of your hanbok before heading to the full-length mirror in your room to check your hair. "Oh, stop it. You know this is nothing more than a way to demonstrate our teamwork. Officer Song is a colleague, and we are simply taking the chance to network and show support for the union with Ruhon."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure, you keep telling yourself that, unnie."

You truly didn’t want to think much of it.

You were already planning to attend the banquet anyway, with or without Mingi's invitation. As one of the more senior and recognised royal physicians in the palace, your attendance at these events was mostly expected. While his attempts to spend time with you hadn't gone unnoticed, you treated them as nothing but friendly gestures.

As you finished adjusting your hanbok, you resolved to keep things strictly professional. Whatever he thought might happen, you would make it clear that you were unavailable. You would convince him to give up, knowing his efforts would only be in vain.

Right, let's get this over with.

The evening of the banquet arrived, and the palace buzzed with activity. Lanterns illuminated the courtyards, and the air was filled with music and laughter. Excitement filled you as you stepped out of the female physicians' quarters to find the tall and dashing military strategist already waiting. He wore a grand hanbok, a stark contrast to his usual training clothes. His hair was slicked back, and his hands were clasped behind his back as he paced, eyes fixed on the ground.

You took a deep breath to calm your racing heartbeat. After all, you were only human, and this was a stunning man before you. But you had to remind yourself that nothing was ever going to happen between you two and that you had only agreed to attend the event with him as a gesture of camaraderie.

Nothing more, nothing less.

After composing yourself, you cleared your throat and called out, "Officer Song, you really didn't have to come all the way here. I could have just met you at the grand hall along with everyone else."

Mingi perked up, his heart thundering at the sound of your voice. When he turned to face you, his breath momentarily caught at the sight of you so dressed up. You were always beautiful to him, but tonight, you were even more enchanting.

He bowed slightly and stepped closer. "You look… perfect, my lady."

You blinked rapidly, hoping the blush you felt wasn’t obvious on your face. He continued, "Of course, I had to come here. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t? More importantly, you're not just anyone else to me, Royal Physician Ahn. You're my—"

Not wanting to hear the rest, you flashed a large, courteous smile. "Ah, we should probably head over if we don't want to be late. Let us go, Officer Song," you said, cutting him off. His smile faltered slightly before he nodded. "R-right, let us."

Throughout the night, the military strategist remained faithfully by your side. Unfortunately, his attentive gestures did not go unnoticed by those around you, leaving you flustered and repeatedly clarifying that you were merely colleagues.

"Really, Royal Physician Ahn? That's a shame, you two would make a beautiful couple," teased Lady Park. You sputtered, choking on your drink. She panicked and reached over to pat you on the back, glancing at a very concerned Mingi who was conversing with the general. With a reassuring smile, she mouthed, "I'll take care of her."

Officer Song resisted rolling his eyes as Seonghwa smiled dreamily at his adorable wife, not realising he was just as guilty of it—if only he knew he looked the same whenever you were around.

"I-I'm fine. Thank you, Lady Park. But I assure you, nothing can happen between us. It is forbidden; I am a woman of the palace."

The pregnant woman grinned in response. "So, are you saying that if you weren't a palace woman, you definitely would have given General Officer Song a chance?"

You sighed, offering her a half-hearted smile. "There's no use pondering that, my lady. It's impossible," you whispered the last part.

She softened, touching your shoulder gently. "Nothing is impossible if only you desire it hard enough, my dear."

Your heart warmed at her words, but you knew better than to believe them. With an appreciative nod, you gestured to her baby bump. "So, how has pregnancy been treating you, my lady?" you asked, steering the conversation away from dangerous territory. You were afraid of temptations and could not afford to give in to any of them.

The conversation with Lady Park was cut short when a certain fourth prince appeared behind her, hesitantly taking an uncertain step forward. You blinked, trying not to stare too obviously, but she noticed your eyes shifting toward something over her shoulder.

With furrowed brows, she wondered aloud, "Just what are you looking at, Royal Physician Ahn?" She turned and froze upon locking eyes with Prince Yeosang. As she moved to bow, he hurriedly reached out to stop her, gently holding her by her forearms.

"It's been a while, my lady. Would you… care to catch up?" he asked.

She bit her lip, turning to meet her husband's warm gaze. Seonghwa nodded, signalling that the decision was up to her, and she excused herself to speak with her friend. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the prince's one-sided feelings for Lady Park persisted. Everyone in Joseon had heard of His Highness' not-so-subtle advances back then. The gossip at that time was quite juicy, but it was good to see him accepting defeat gracefully. The once bratty fourth prince had disappeared; it seemed the general's wife truly had a strong hold on his heart, changing him for the better even with her firm rejection.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when your chaperone reappeared by your side. You weren't sure how to feel around the gentle giant. His presence was both comforting and unnerving.

"Everything alright?" Mingi asked softly, concern evident in his eyes.

"Yes, everything is fine," you replied, smiling up at him. "Just a bit of palace drama."

He chuckled, nodding in understanding. "Palace drama indeed. Shall we continue to mingle, or would you like to take a break?"

You appreciated his attentiveness, but the whirlwind of emotions from the evening had left you feeling somewhat drained. "A break sounds nice," you admitted.

Mingi beckoned for you to follow and you did, allowing him to lead you to a quieter corner of the grand hall. As you walked, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. The evening was proving to be far more eventful than you had anticipated, and you knew you had to stay vigilant against his allurements that seemed to be lurking at every turn.

As you both reached a more secluded area, he quickly said, "Wait here, I'll get you something to drink."

You sighed, reaching for his arm. "You don't have to do that, Officer Song. I don't want anyone to misunderstand. I've been meaning to tell you: there's nothing between us, and there never will be."

He paused, turning to face you properly. You looked away almost immediately, guilt gnawing at you as you caught a glimpse of the hurt reflected in his eyes. A heavy silence settled between you, each struggling to collect your thoughts.

Mingi knew winning your heart wouldn't be easy, but the early rejection still stung deeply. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but steady. "I understand your concerns, truly. But my intentions are genuine. I'm sorry if I've caused you any discomfort or misunderstanding. I just want you to know how much I care."

You bit your lip, the sincerity in his words making it even harder. "I appreciate your honesty, but I have my duties and responsibilities. My life is here in the palace, and I can't afford distractions."

He nodded slowly, taking a step back to give you space. "I respect your dedication. I just… before I let you go, there's one thing I need to know. We've actually met each other years ago. Did you… did you remember me when you saw me again?"

Your expression remained unreadable as you mustered a response. After what felt like an eternity, with the military strategist standing with bated breath and his heart pounding in his ears, you finally met his eyes and softly said, "No, I'm afraid don't know what you're talking about. I'm sorry, Officer Song…"

His heart sank. "Oh."

The weight of his disappointment hung in the air. He took a step back, struggling to mask the hurt that flashed across his face. He had held onto the hope that perhaps, even faintly, you had remembered him. That tiny hope had been a beacon for him, a justification for his persistence. But now, it seemed all for naught.

What if His Majesty had been right?

"That's… that's okay," he finally said, forcing a weak smile. "I must have been mistaken."

You nodded, the guilt intensifying as you watched him grapple with his emotions. "I'm really sorry. Perhaps you have."

Except that was a complete lie.

You remembered. In truth, you had never forgotten. How could you? To have seen Song Mingi in person was to understand that he wasn't someone easy to forget, even when pale and sickly on his deathbed. He was undeniably gorgeous. Beyond his appearance and physique, his warm gaze, soft touch, and sweet words lingered in your memory, impossible to leave behind.

You'd recognised him since day one.

It took everything in you to maintain a composed façade and steady your racing heart as you locked eyes with the military strategist for the first time in years. Before you stood a man, well and strong, embodying everything you had ever wanted.

But you had to quell your desires, silence your dreams, and dismiss any thoughts of the impossible. Years had passed, and you had assumed he was married by now. Later, you discovered he wasn't.

Yet, it changed nothing.

You were now a palace woman, and that sealed the hopelessness of your situation. So you chose to pretend, to feign ignorance of your shared past. It was for the best—for him and for you.

Sometimes, you wondered if you were trying to convince him or yourself more. It was the very reason you dreaded seeing him; not out of dislike or annoyance, but because you were just as captivated by him as he was by you. Had you been an ordinary physician outside the palace walls, you would have accepted his love in a heartbeat.

But things were different now.

Rules were rules.

You and General Officer Song were a beautiful impossibility, and you had to do everything to keep it that way.

Yet, his constant presence was a quiet storm, eroding your resolve. Every gentle gesture, each attempt to show he could protect and cherish you, made it increasingly difficult. His persistence, so tender and genuine, weakened your defences, and you were frightened—terrified, even—of the feelings blooming within you.

Why must he be so cruel?

His kindness, his sincerity, his unwavering dedication—they all tugged at your heartstrings, weakening your defenses. Every time he appeared with that soft smile, every time he looked at you with those earnest eyes, it became increasingly difficult to remember why you had to keep him at arm's length.

And tonight, standing in the secluded corner of the grand hall, facing the man you had spent years trying to forget, you felt your carefully constructed walls begin to crumble. The reality of your situation pressed heavily on you, a constant reminder of the boundaries that could not be crossed.

Song Mingi, with his genuine concern and quiet strength, embodied everything you had ever wanted but could never have. His mere presence was a cruel reminder of what could have been in another life, another world. A world where you were free to love him without consequence.

But you weren't in that world. You were here, bound by duty and rules that were impossible to break. So you swallowed your feelings, pushed down the burgeoning hope, and forced yourself to remember the impossible nature of your situation.

Because letting yourself love him—truly, deeply love him—would only lead to heartache for you both. And you couldn't bear the thought of causing him any more pain than you already have.

You sighed, swallowing the lump forming in your throat as you gazed up at him solemnly. "I, uh… I'm feeling rather tired. I shall retire to my quarters for the night. Thank you for accompanying me tonight, Officer Song. It truly is a joy to befriend Lady Park. It's also wonderful to finally see Joseon and Ruhon getting along well. It seems like things are really looking up for us."

But they weren't.

Both of you thought it, but neither dared to say it aloud.

You smiled courteously, bowing respectfully. "Goodnight, Officer Song. I hope you enjoy the rest of the banquet with your friends."

Just as you turned to leave, he reached out an arm to stop you, though not touching you. Damn it. Damn him and his gentlemanly gestures. "Wait, my lady. Please allow me to escort you back—"

You bowed again, cutting him off, afraid to hear the rest of it. "Please enjoy the rest of the banquet."

With that, you left, leaving behind a strong man staring longingly after you like a lovesick puppy. You didn't have the courage to spare a final glance at him, knowing another look at his pleading eyes would make you give in, and you couldn't have that. Not now. Not ever. You needed to put an end to this.

As you walked away, your heart ached with every step. The distance between you and Mingi grew, but the weight of your emotions only became heavier. The grand hall's festive atmosphere faded into the background as you focused on maintaining your resolve.

Arriving back at the female physician's quarters, you couldn't summon the energy to put on yet another fake smile for Subin. Your friend waited excitedly for you by the entrance, but her beam faltered as she registered the expression on your face.

"You told him to stop, didn't you?" she asked softly, reaching over to grab your hand.

You nodded wordlessly, too weary to say anything more. Subin wrapped an arm around your shoulder, guiding you into your room, murmuring, "It'll be okay… I'm here."

You broke into a tiny smile, leaning into her hold appreciatively. Her warmth and understanding were a balm to your frayed nerves. As you settled into the familiar comfort of your quarters, the weight of the evening began to lift, if only slightly.

Subin's presence was a reminder that you weren't alone, even in your struggle to keep your feelings at bay. She helped you sit down, then knelt beside you, her eyes filled with concern and compassion.

"I know it's hard," she said gently, "but you're strong. You did what you had to do."

You sighed, closing your eyes as you leaned back against the wall. "I just... I can't believe I'm saying this, but I just wish things were different, you know?"

She nodded, squeezing your hand. "I know, unnie. But remember, you're not alone in this. We'll get through it together. Besides, you said it yourself: we have each other, and we have our duty. That's enough. It has to be."

Her words, though simple, offered a small measure of solace. You knew the path ahead would be challenging and that things with the military strategist would never be the same again, but with her by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope.

"Trust me, you'll get over it in no time."

God, I sure hope so.

Meanwhile, Mingi did his best to keep it together for the rest of the event. After all, you had told him to enjoy it with his friends, so he did—or at least he tried his hardest. Feigning a huge grin, he returned to General Park and Royal Secretary Choi's side, casually mentioning that you had retired early. He didn’t want to burden them with his love troubles; the last thing he wanted was their pity. He didn't need to feel any worse than he already did.

Despite having braced himself for the possibility of hearing those words, the pain of your rejection cut deep. "There's nothing between us, and there never will be." Those words echoed in his mind like a broken record as he lay in bed that night, unable to find solace in sleep. He was caught between the urge to fight harder for you and the need to honour your wishes.

Yet, he couldn't shake the image of your face when he asked if you remembered him. The fleeting look of conflict troubled him deeply. Why did you seem so torn? Why did you hesitate? Could you have been lying? If so, why hide the truth? He needed answers. Whether or not you would ever be his, he needed to know them.

Mingi resolved to seek those answers, slowly and carefully. In the process, he hoped to soften your seemingly hardened heart, guarded by steel walls that showed cracks despite your efforts to conceal them. He might have been a fool most of the time, but his attentiveness had never been keener than now. All for you. Because he believed fate must have brought you back into his life for a reason.

"You good, hyung?" Junghoon asked, feeling his mentor shift on the bed for what seemed like the thousandth time that night.

The older man nodded despite the internal turmoil within him. "Yeah, I'm fine. Go to sleep already, young man."

"I'm trying... if only you'd stop moving."

Heaving a sigh, Mingi turned to face his apprentice. "Hey, what do you think it means when a woman tells you to stop pursuing her but looks really sad while saying it?"

The younger man rolled his eyes. There goes my sleep, he thought as he pushed himself up into a seated position, legs folded and hands intertwined. "Alright, sit your dumbass up. Time for Love Lessons for Dummies 101."

"Are you sure this is going to work? She's not—" Mingi's words were cut off by his apprentice, who mocked him with air quotes. "'Not like other girls.' Yeah, yeah, I know. That's what every man says about his crush. Trust me, women are all the same. Nothing melts their hearts more than an attentive and caring man. Now go before she's already out for her lunch break."

Junghoon had finally convinced his mentor to see his dream girl after avoiding the royal medical hall for nearly a week, giving you the space you needed. But Mingi knew that to win your heart, he couldn’t stay away. He'd have to approach gently and slowly.

With a handmade lunchbox in hand, the military strategist's first mission was to show you he wasn’t bound by gender norms, relegating kitchen tasks only to women. He wanted to demonstrate what having a husband like him would be like. If you wished, he could drop by each day with lunch prepared just for you.

His heart pounded with anticipation when he arrived at the medical hall for the first time in what felt like forever. He had missed you like crazy, each day without seeing you dragging on like a year. As he stepped inside and approached the counter, confusion set in when you were nowhere in sight. Could you have gone out with the first batch of royal physicians for your lunch break? That was odd; you always preferred the second batch.

"Good day, Officer Song. Are you injured or feeling unwell?" one of your colleagues asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. Mingi blinked and cleared his throat. "N-no, I'm here for Royal Physician Ahn. Is she already out for lunch?"

Your colleague suppressed a knowing grin, pursing her lips before answering, "She's not. She hasn't been in for a few days now. She's been down with food poisoning ever since attending the royal banquet with you."

Mingi felt his heart sink.

He muttered a quick thanks and dashed out, his feet moving automatically towards the female physicians' quarters. Nothing else mattered; he needed to see you, to know you were okay, to apologise for not taking better care of you that night.

Meanwhile, you pressed your face into your pillow, curling into a ball and clutching the comforter around you as another stab of pain hit your stomach. The discomfort was unbearable, making it impossible to go to work today. Seeing your agony, the head of the royal physicians had allowed you a day or two to feel better before returning to the royal medical hall.

As the pain subsided and you slowly felt a wave of drowsiness enveloping you, an unusual rustle from outside alerted you. Someone was there. But who? Everyone else should be at work. Was it Subin coming to check on you? Your thoughts were interrupted when your breath hitched, realising a man's silhouette was standing by your room entrance through the paper walls.

What fool would dare come here, a place meant only for women? Not even eunuchs were allowed in, let alone a well-built man of his stature. Was it a prison escapee? Lord knows what he'd do if he found you alone. Before you could attempt to get up and go someplace safe, another sharp pain hit, and the wince you let out was inevitable. Unfortunately, the man heard you and immediately reached to pull the doors open.

As the door slid open, your heart raced, fear gripping you as you braced for the worst. But instead of a stranger, you saw Mingi's concerned face. His eyes widened in alarm as he rushed to your side.

"Physician Ahn, are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with worry.

"O-Officer Song? What in the world are you doing here?" you managed to say between breaths, the pain still lingering.

"I heard you were sick. I had to make sure you were okay," he replied, his voice softening as he knelt beside your bed.

The concern in his eyes was genuine, and despite the awkwardness of the situation, a small part of you felt relieved. "You're not supposed to... you shouldn't be here," you whispered, the rules and propriety still at the forefront of your mind.

"I know, but I couldn't stay away," he said, gently placing a hand on your arm. "I'm here to make up for my mistake. I should have been more attentive. This is all my fault."

You frowned, pushing yourself up to a sitting position as the pain subsided again. "What do you mean by that? How is any of this your fault? This has nothing to do with you."

He sighed. "Nonsense. If only I’d been more attentive to what they served you at the banquet, you wouldn’t have been suffering from food poisoning this badly."

"F-food poisoning...? Who told you that?" you asked, already having a clue. He twiddled his fingers nervously. "One of your colleagues. I was at the medical hall earlier and you weren’t there. She told me you were sick, and I came here as fast as I could..."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you were exasperated at your friends’ mischievousness. They hadn’t let you live it down since learning you had gone to the royal banquet with the military strategist, though they didn’t know what had transpired between you two or how the night had ended. The teasing was one thing, but you didn’t think they’d actually go this far. But of course, they probably didn’t think this fool would actually come here himself instead of sending a court lady to check on you.

You sighed. "I don't have food poisoning… it's just that time of the month. You know, the women thing…" His eyes widened in horror, and his cheeks turned red with embarrassment. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, muttering, "Gosh, why'd she lie about this?"

You pulled your comforter close as another cramp hit. "Listen, I'm not in the mood to talk right now. Besides, you really shouldn't be here. I appreciate you checking on me, but you should leave. We'd both be in huge trouble if someone saw you here."

He nodded quickly, gesturing to the bag he had brought with him. "Right, I-I'll leave immediately. These are for you, by the way. I made them myself. Please enjoy them when you're feeling hungry."

Usually, you would have melted at that, but you really needed him gone. "Yes, thank you."

As if the world had something against you, just as the military strategist neared the door, another familiar silhouette appeared at the entrance. "Are you feeling any better, my dear? I've come with some heat packs to soothe the cramps," the head of the royal physicians called out, her hands reaching for the door handle.

Mingi froze, and you panicked, all menstrual pain forgotten as you jumped out of bed and rushed towards him, exclaiming loudly, "I'm feeling much better, Head Physician Seo! Thank you for your concern. Would you give me a minute? I'm not properly dressed."

You sighed in relief when that worked like a charm as she removed her hand from the door handle and took a step back. "Oh, my apologies. Of course, let me know when you're ready."

Scanning the room in alarm, you hurried to the cabinet that usually held your mattress, pillows, and comforters when you weren't sleeping, now empty. "Get in here, quick!" you whispered urgently. He obeyed, moving as stealthily as he could to avoid making a sound and raising suspicion.

Oh god, can things get any worse today?

After shooting him a stern look and pressing your pointer finger against your lips to signal a firm 'be quiet,' you shut the cabinet doors and took a deep breath. Plastering on a huge smile, you opened the door for your superior, letting her in. She smiled warmly, handing you the heat packs she'd brought. "Is everything okay? I thought I heard someone in here earlier."

Your breath caught as you noticed Mingi's bag still by your bed. Quickly moving to conceal it with your hanbok, you feigned innocence. "Huh, really? That's weird. It's only me. I'm sure it's nothing."

She shrugged and nodded. "You're probably right. I guess all the lack of sleep must be getting to me. Well then, it’s good to see you doing better. I shall get back to work then."

You mustered a fake laugh. "That must be it, ma'am. Thank you so much for the heat packs. I really appreciate it."

She patted your cheeks softly. "Anything for my best physician. Hope to see you back at work tomorrow."

You nodded, waving goodbye as she left. As you shut the door, exhaustion overwhelmed you, and you sank to your knees. The cabinet doors creaked open as the tall man emerged, muttering, "Phew, that was close—"

As if jinxing it, your superior returned. "Oh yes, my dear!" she called through the door.

Rushing up to Mingi, you smacked a palm over his mouth to shut him up as you answered her, "Yes, ma'am?"

She chuckled. "I heard that General Officer Song of yours dropped by the medical hall earlier, seemingly with lunch prepared for you. Don't be so hard on him, hm? I know we’re not allowed to love, but he's a sweet guy. At least be a friend to him. We’re still allowed to have friends, you know? Please don’t deprive yourself of that right too."

You swallowed, meeting Mingi’s eyes as they softened at your pained expression. "I understand. Thank you, ma'am."

Finally, she left for good this time. Eyes locked with his, you pondered her words. Could you really be friends with this man? Just... friends? Perhaps that was all you could ever be.

In that moment of closeness, you became acutely aware of your position, your hand still covering his mouth, his hands gently supporting you on your back. The atmosphere crackled with tension until it was broken by the rumble of his stomach. Flustered, you withdrew, your heart racing.

What in the world just happened...?

With a nervous bite of your lip, you dared to break the silence. "You uhh... haven't eaten either, have you?"

He shook his head bashfully, his eyes reflecting a mix of embarrassment and longing. "No, I haven't."

Oh, to hell with it.

You gestured towards the lunch he had brought. "Join me then."

Things had obviously shifted between you since then, and it did not go unnoticed by those around you. General Officer Song started coming by the medical hall at least once a week, no longer pretending to have an injury but simply to share lunch with you.

As friends.

That was what you told your friends, colleagues and every other palace staff whenever they tried to tease you. Yes, friends. That was all there was to it. All you both were ever going to be. Nothing more, nothing less. Just friends. Good friends. That was all you would allow… all you were allowed, really.

But you were happy with it. You had to be. It wasn't something you had a say in.

This was your life.

Mingi's visits became an oddly comforting routine. Every week, he would show up with a handmade lunch, and you would sit together, talking and laughing. The bond between you grew stronger, and although you constantly reminded yourself that you were just friends, there was an undeniable warmth in your interactions.

One afternoon, after the military strategist had patiently waited for you to finish caring for a patient, the two of you shared lunch in a quiet corner of the medical hall. He looked at you with a soft, contemplative expression. "You know," he began, "the first time I saw you, I thought you were the most admirable woman to exist. I'm glad I wasn't wrong. You really are an angel sent by the heavens."

You felt a flutter in your chest but quickly suppressed it, grinning softly. "Am I really? You know I'm not the only female physician around. The others are just as admirable."

Yes, but they're not you.

He nodded, though his eyes held a depth of emotion you couldn't quite decipher. "I suppose you're right," he said gently.

Not wanting to dwell on the serious atmosphere, you playfully nudged him on the shoulder. "Of course I am. I'm always right. And I bet you were a complete crybaby the day we first met, wailing like a child as you received treatment."

He scoffed, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically and feigning offence. "I was not. I'll have you know I was the most courageous soldier on site that day."

Brave enough to ask you out.

"Sure you were," you mocked sarcastically, sticking your tongue out at him. Your heart warmed internally because he was right. You remembered how calm he was despite the pain he endured. But he could never know you remembered. Never. That would complicate things too much, and you didn't need that. Not now, not ever.

Things were perfect as they were.

Or were they?

Irked by your teasing, he swiftly reached out to snatch a piece of dumpling—your favourite—from your lunchbox and stuffed it into his mouth as revenge. You let out a surprised yelp, smacking him on the arm. "Wha—hey! That was my last piece! Give it back, Song Mingi!" Your laughter filled the space as you wrestled with him, his eyes disappearing into adorable slits as he hurriedly chewed on the dumpling, annoying you with it. He chortled, speaking through his mouth full, "Ha! That's what you get!"

The fun was abruptly cut short when the head of the royal physicians appeared at the doorway. "Am I interrupting something?" she asked, her tone light but curious.

You sputtered and shook your head, immediately pushing yourself off the tall man. "Absolutely not, ma'am. He was just about to leave. We're done eating," you said, glaring playfully at Mingi as he swallowed the last of your dumpling.

The military strategist bowed respectfully to the elderly woman, seizing the opportunity to escape your wrath. "I apologise for taking up so much of Royal Physician Ahn's time. I'll leave at once," he said.

She shook her head, smiling warmly. "Don't apologise. I'm not sure I've seen Physician Ahn this happy in a good while. Please stay for a bit more if you wish, Officer Song."

Both your cheeks grew warm at her words as Mingi scrambled to pack up his belongings and leave, clearly shy. "Thank you, ma'am, but I really shouldn't. Besides, I have training to attend as well."

With a final bow to you both, he was gone, leaving you standing there, your heart still racing from the sudden interruption and the unexpected compliment from your superior.

Head Physician Seo approached you, a knowing smile on her face. "You and General Officer Song seem really close. Are you sure there's nothing more going on?"

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "We're good friends. That's all."

She raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. "Well, as long as you're happy. I'm glad you took my advice and allowed him in."

You nodded, reaffirming your own belief. "You were right, it's nice to have someone who genuinely understands and cares."

In the back of your mind, you couldn't ignore the ache of wanting something more, but you reminded yourself that this was your reality. And so, you continued to cherish the time spent with him, finding solace in the friendship that had blossomed between you.

As the weeks turned into months, the boundaries of your friendship were constantly tested. Every shared smile, every lingering glance, and every comforting touch made it harder to maintain the illusion. Deep down, you both knew what you had was special, even if you could never openly acknowledge it.

Despite the constraints, you found happiness in the moments you shared. Each lunch, each conversation, and each quiet moment of understanding reinforced the bond between you. The stolen glances when no one was looking, the way he would subtly take care of you, and the warmth that filled your heart when he was near—it all painted a picture of a love that couldn't be spoken.

In the silence of the night, when you lay awake thinking about him, you allowed yourself to dream of a different life. A life where societal expectations didn't dictate your choices, and you could be free to express your true feelings. But for now, those dreams remained just that—dreams.

You took comfort in the friendship that had become an integral part of your life. It was a bittersweet reality, but one you had come to accept. And in those precious moments you shared, you found a contentment that made the impossible feel almost within reach.

Meanwhile, Mingi found himself growing more hopeful with every step closer to you. Though it hurt to hear you remind everyone that what you shared was merely friendship, he was almost certain you returned his feelings. Yet, he didn’t want to make assumptions; he needed to hear it from you. He was prepared to wait a long time, even forever, as long as you continued to allow him to be near you. This closeness was already more than he had ever hoped for, and a part of him had accepted that this might be the way things were meant to be.

Being friends was better than nothing.

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that," Junghoon smirked before letting out a whine as his mentor hit him on the back.

"Shut up, kid. What do you know about love anyway? Taking advice from you nearly got me and her in trouble," Mingi grumbled.

The apprentice rolled his eyes, rubbing his back. "Oh, please, don't act like it didn't help you get close to her. I dare you to say you didn’t enjoy having her pressed up against you that day, keeping your mouth shut with her hand, all alone in her room—"

Mingi slapped a hand over the younger man’s mouth, eyes wide and face burning with embarrassment. "If you don't shut your trap right now, I'll tell His Majesty you’d like to quit and join the eunuchs."

That was all it took to silence Junghoon.

Truthfully, the apprentice was right, being close to you had made Mingi greedy for your affections. He often wondered what it would be like to have you willingly run into his arms. But the military strategist knew that was probably as far as he would ever get. Friends were not meant to be any closer than that, and he had come to accept it. If only you would stop making things more difficult.

One day, a soldier was seriously injured during training due to faulty weapons, and the royal medical hall was notified. You appeared at the training grounds with Subin beside you not long after, slightly out of breath as your eyes searched hastily for something or… someone. When you didn’t find who you were looking for, you blurted out, "Where's Officer Song? Is he okay?"

The soldiers greeting you furrowed their brows in confusion. "Officer Song…? Yes, he's fine. It's not him who got injured. Did someone tell you that by mistake?"

You sputtered messily, flustered for giving yourself away, while your childhood friend suppressed her giggle beside you. "O-oh, no... I just... I assumed it was him since he gets injured nearly every week. Never mind that, please take us to the injured soldier."

"Yes, my lady. Come with me."

Quickly, you followed the man, eyes glued to his back, not wanting to catch any knowing glances thrown your way. Unbeknownst to you, Song Mingi was hidden by a stand and had heard everything, struggling to keep the smile off his face at your concern. Were you thinking about him just as much as he thought about you? Were you worried about him? Did you... feel the same?

He desperately wanted to hear it from you but dared not ask the questions, fearing the answers you'd give him—answers that he knew would never reflect your true feelings. He watched you tend to the injured soldier from a distance, the smile lingering on his face, feeling a warmth that hadn’t been there before. Though it stung to always be reminded that what you shared was nothing more than friendship, he clung to the moments when your actions betrayed your words, showing a deeper, unspoken bond.

For now, he would be content with this.

Until he couldn't.

He arrived at the medical hall the next day with lunchboxes in hand, ready to spend time with you as usual. Instead, he was met with the devastating news that you had been dispatched to a plague-ridden village to provide assistance. His heart fell, and his world crumbled.

"I don't understand. What do you mean she's gone, my King? She was just here yesterday."

"Forget her, Officer Song. I told you it's impossible to be with her," said the ruler, rubbing a hand on his temple. "She volunteered to go without hesitation. I think you have your answer loud and clear. And as much I hate to say this, we're not sure she will return from this trip. Most physicians going on such missions are like soldiers going to war; they risk their lives and could be gone for months or even years. You deserve someone who can stay by your side."

The King's words cut deep, but Mingi's mind was a whirlwind of worry and despair. The thought of you in danger, far away, made it hard for him to breathe. The idea of losing you, of not knowing if you were safe or if you would ever come back, was unbearable.

"Where is this village, Your Majesty?"

The elderly man sighed deeply, shaking his head. "What will it take for you to give up? You'll only end up in pain, as if you haven't already been in enough pain. She has denied all your attempts from the start. Why do you do this to yourself, hm?"

Officer Song clenched his fists, his voice trembling with emotion. "Because love isn't about possession. Love is unconditional. I don't care if she will never accept my love in this life; I will continue to be there for her, to protect and care for her as long as I am alive. I'll be damned if I let her face all that danger on her own. So, I'm asking again, Your Majesty, where exactly is this village?"

The desperation in his voice was palpable, the rawness of his love laid bare. He would do anything, go anywhere, to ensure your safety. For the military strategist, there was no greater purpose than being there for you, no matter the cost.

Meanwhile, you struggled to keep yourself together as you arrived at the terror-stricken village. The place had been overtaken by a sudden, rapidly spreading disease, claiming lives at a frightening pace. Violently woken in the middle of the night by Head Physician Seo, you joined the royal physicians gathered in the main hall to hear the grim news. Guri, the very village where you and Subin had lost everything, was now cursed with another wave of illness, intent on wiping out the population and destroying families again.

But you were stronger now.

You would rather die trying than let more innocent villagers endure what you did all those years ago. This time, you were capable of saving lives. Without a second thought, you and your friend volunteered to go. It wasn't until you were in the carriage that you remembered a certain Officer Song. Crestfallen, you realised that perhaps this was all for the best. Maybe, with your absence, he could finally move on and find someone with whom he could have a future, instead of being held back by you.

And you... you would be doing the very thing you had trained for all your life. There was no time to dwell on matters of the heart.

Forget him, lives are at stake.

As you arrived in Guri, the sight was both familiar and heartbreaking. The streets were eerily quiet, with only the occasional sound of distant weeping or the hollow coughs of the afflicted. You, Subin, and the rest of the royal physicians immediately set to work; assessing the situation and organising the sick villagers for treatment.

"Help my mother, please!"

"It hurts, make it stop!"

"I don't want to die yet... I'm scared."

Doing your best to calm the terrified villagers, your mind was a whirlwind of medical procedures and strategies to contain the spread. Every moment was a battle against time, a race to save as many lives as possible. But amidst the chaos, thoughts of Mingi lingered at the edge of your mind. His gummy smile, his stupidly cute laughter, the way his eyes lit up when he saw you—they all haunted you, a bittersweet reminder of what you had left behind.

Sometimes, it felt like those thoughts of him were the only thing keeping you going. Nearly a week had passed, and the situation had only slightly improved. With minimal sleep and just enough food to keep you alive, you worked tirelessly to tend to the sick. All the while, you wished you had a certain tall, handsome, and silly strategist to help lighten the constantly heavy atmosphere. At this point, you had lost count of the times you had imagined him by your side. The imagination could be so vivid, you were convinced you were hallucinating from the immense lack of rest.

"Need a hand, my lady?"

You froze, your actions of reaching for the top shelf of the makeshift clinic for some medicine halted at the familiar voice that had been haunting your well-being for the past week. Shit, were you hearing things now? Surely, it was the sleep deprivation acting up.

It can't be.

But then, you turned around, and there he was. General Officer Song, standing in the doorway, looking just as real and solid as ever. His eyes held a mix of concern and determination, and he was carrying a medical kit of his own.

"Mingi?" you whispered, almost afraid that speaking his name would shatter the illusion.

He stepped closer, a gentle smile on his face. "Yes, it's me. I'm here."

To his surprise, you were angry when you realised it was really him and not just a hallucination. "What… in the world are you doing here?" you questioned, your voice filled with frustration and disbelief.

His smile fell. "I came to help—"

You cut him off. "This isn't a joke, Song Mingi! This is serious. People are dying! You shouldn't be here just because you wish to keep pursuing me or anything stupid!"

His expression hardened with determination. "That's exactly why I'm here—because I can't lose you!"

You were left speechless, grappling with the rush of emotions at his sudden presence as well as his words. You felt conflicted, overwhelmed by the happiness that he was really here in the flesh, anger at his recklessness, fear for his survival, and frustration because you wanted so badly to run to him but knew you could not.

After what felt like an eternity, you sighed and tossed him a handkerchief. "Cover your nose and mouth with this at all times. Since you're here, make yourself useful. Get that bag of herbs and come with me. We have no time to waste."

As he opened his mouth to speak, you shot him a warning glare. "Save your breath. If you do not intend to work, please leave."

With a firm nod, he complied, grabbing the bag of herbs and following you into the chaos. Despite the tension, having him there added a strange sense of comfort and determination, and together, you continued to fight the disease that had plagued Guri.

The entire day passed by in a blur, just like the previous ones. There was not a moment of respite as you rushed around, with Mingi following you obediently, doing as he was told without question. Subin and your other colleagues raised surprised brows at his presence, but the situation left no room for teasing or questions.

At the end of the day, even when things had calmed down a little and most villagers were asleep, your work was far from done. You sat by the bed of a small child who was badly affected by the disease, your tired hands rinsing and wringing a towel repeatedly, wiping the sweat from his tiny head over and over to ensure his fever didn’t worsen. Mingi remained by your side, watching you care for the child.

Sensing your lethargic movements, he gently offered, "Here, let me do it." He reached out for the cloth, and you gave in, handing it to him. He took your spot, and you moved aside to make space for him on the bed, finally having the opportunity to take a good look at him since his arrival.

His face was etched with concern and determination, his usual playful demeanour replaced by a steadfast resolve. He worked with a quiet intensity, carefully tending to the child as if his life depended on it. The sight filled you with a mixture of emotions—gratitude, admiration, and a touch of sorrow.

"You shouldn't have come," you whispered, the weight of the day's events pressing down on you. "But... thank you."

He glanced at you, his eyes softening. "I had to. I couldn’t just stay behind knowing you were here, facing this alone."

You sighed, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I'm sorry for the harsh words I said. I was just... worried about you. I still am."

"And I was worried about you," he replied, his voice firm yet gentle. "We’re in this together now. We'll get through it."

Shaking your head, you squeezed your eyes shut. "It's not going to be easy. You don't understand… this, Mingi. This village was once my home. I was born here, and for the first few years of my life, I had a family. Until a plague, one similar to this one, broke out, taking my parents and siblings, leaving me with nothing," you explained, your voice breaking as you finally revealed your past.

He sat, shell-shocked, learning about your tragic history for the first time. He hadn’t known you had endured such a tough life, and it only strengthened his affection and admiration for you. You were even stronger than he had perceived.

"And that's why I was so afraid of seeing you here," you continued, your voice trembling. "Because I… I can't lose you too."

His breath hitched at your words, a moment of silence enveloping the room before he dared to cover your hand gently with his bigger one, whispering a soft, "Really?"

Embarrassed, you cleared your throat and nodded, avoiding his eyes. "Yes, because you're a good friend to me."

He chuckled, nodding in defeat. "Right, of course." He knew better than to expect anything more by now. He was just glad you no longer pushed him away.

That was all that mattered.

The following days settled into the same gruelling routine, but your shoulders undeniably felt lighter with Mingi's presence. His unwavering support and the arrival of the physicians who had raised you and Subin provided much-needed relief. Their presence brought a sense of comfort and familiarity.

On a slower day, the military strategist sat with one of the senior physicians, assisting with brewing medicine. Catching the tall man's eyes glued to your busy figure in the next room, Kyungsoo, who had been like an older brother to you, smiled and remarked, "Quite the workaholic, isn't she? Nothing can stop her from working. She's been that way for as long as we can all remember."

"She really is," Officer Song replied.

Through your mentors, he learned more about your childhood years. Kyungsoo shared stories of how hard you had worked and studied to get where you were, all to repay them for taking you in. Mingi now saw the depth of your dedication and the sacrifices you had made to become the renowned royal physician you are today.

As he watched you tirelessly care for the villagers, a realisation struck him. It might be selfish to want to tie you down in marriage just because he thought he loved you. If he truly loved you, he should let you do what you loved. You had fought so hard to achieve your dreams; how could he possibly take that away from you?

His heart ached as he finally understood the wisdom in His Majesty's words. Maybe you really were not meant to be, not in this life. Perhaps in the next, he thought to himself, his eyes lingering on you with a mixture of admiration and sorrow.

For now, he would support you in the best way he could—by standing by your side, helping you save lives, and cherishing the moments you shared. Because that, he realised, was also a form of love.

You've won, my King. I yield.

You had somehow felt the distance Mingi seemed to be putting between you, no matter how minuscule. You were hyper-aware of him, always had been, so this change, despite how small and unnoticed by the rest, bothered you more than you cared to admit. Was he growing tired of this? Of you? Perhaps he was realising how impossible it was to reach you and was giving up.

And who could blame him, really?

He deserved to be free; free to love another, to love someone who could give him so much more, all the things you never could.

"Hey, everything okay?" Subin asked, noting how you had nearly disposed of a new bandage instead of a used one.

You snapped out of your thoughts, apologising for the mistake as you rubbed your eyes. "Oh, I'm fine. Just tired, that's all."

She sighed, squeezing your shoulder. "It's Officer Song, isn't it?"

You stilled. "Huh? I-I don't know what you're talking about—"

She rolled her eyes, cutting you off. "Save it, unnie. I'm tired of hiding it from you. He's already received permission from His Majesty to pursue you. That's why he's been so bold in his attempts. If you feel the same way about him, then please, for the love of god, stop putting yourself and him through this nonsense any longer."

Your heart pounded as her words sank in. "Permission from His Majesty?" you echoed, disbelief and confusion in your voice.

She nodded firmly. "Yes, my dear friend. He's been allowed to court you on one condition—only if you willingly agree to it. That’s why he’s here, risking his life. He’s doing it all for you. If you care about him even a fraction of how much he cares about you, you need to let him know. This back-and-forth is tearing both of you apart."

You swallowed hard, grappling with the revelation. It felt as if a door had opened, one you had convinced yourself was forever locked.

"But Subin-ah... what if he realises I'm not worth the effort?" you whispered, voicing your deepest fear.

Her eyes softened. "That's not for you to decide. Let him make his own choices. If he’s here, fighting for you, it means you are worth everything to him. Don’t push him away because of your own insecurities. Give him—give yourself—a chance."

Before you could process her words, chaos erupted as sudden screams filled the air, panicked villagers running in all directions. You rushed outside to see what was happening, your heart pounding in your chest. Amid the commotion, you finally caught on to someone yelling, "Fire! Fire! There's a fire in the kitchen!"

Gasping, you spotted billowing black smoke rising from a hut at the back, where the kitchen was situated. Turning to Subin with wide eyes, you began, "I-isn't that where—"

She nodded before you could finish, confirming your fears. "Officer Song and Kyungsoo oppa were brewing medicine!"

Without a second thought, you sprinted towards the kitchen, your mind racing. The heat and smoke intensified with each step closer. Villagers and fellow physicians frantically attempted to extinguish the flames with buckets of water, but the fire raged on.

"Kyungsoo oppa! Mingi-yah!" you shouted, your voice trembling with fear and urgency.

Amid the thick smoke, Kyungsoo stumbled out alone, coughing violently. You rushed to him, desperation gripping your heart. "O-oppa, where is he? Where's Song Mingi?!"

Pointing towards the kitchen, nearly engulfed in flames, the senior physician gasped, "That fool's still in there. He insists on saving the medicine. We need to get him out, now!"

Your heart pounded with dread. "I'll go!" But Kyungsoo grabbed your arm, panic in his eyes. "No, it's too dangerous—"

Ignoring his warning, you darted inside.

Your heart plummeted when you spotted Mingi foolishly attempting to salvage the pot of medicine. "Stop, you idiot! Leave it!" He froze at the sound of your voice, turning to see you. "What are you doing here? Get out, the place is falling apart!"

Rushing up to him, you desperately tugging on his arm. "Not without you!" Yielding to your urgency, he abandoned the medicine and turned to leave with you. But dread washed over him as he noticed the fragile beam above you, threatening to collapse at any moment. Time seemed to slow as he pushed you towards the exit just in time for the debris to crash down in front of him, trapping him inside.

Your cries echoed as you saw him trapped. "No!" He managed a weak smile, feeling the smoke filling his lungs. "I'm sorry, my lady." Tears streamed down your face as you screamed for help, men rushing to save him. Kyungsoo and Subin restrained you, their grip firm as you thrashed against their hold.

"It's okay, he'll be okay," they repeated, their assurances failing to ease the turmoil in your heart. When they finally emerged, carrying his unconscious body, relief washed over you, but it was quickly replaced by a profound sense of guilt and regret.

God, you were such a fool. How could you have been so blind to his importance in your life? Why did you take him for granted, making him wait for so long?

"Wake up, Song Mingi! Please, listen to me," you pleaded, your voice trembling with emotion. "I remembered everything, okay? I never forgot about you, not for a single moment. I'm sorry for lying, for pushing you away. But I accept it now—I want to be with you. Please... don't leave me."

Amidst your sobs against his chest, you halted as you felt his hand tenderly stroking your head. Lifting your gaze to meet his, you found him smiling weakly down at you.

"Wow, I never thought I'd hear those words," he murmured softly.

"So, that's your secret, huh? Faking your own death to get the girl?" Junghoon quipped, wearing a mischievous grin. Mingi let out an exasperated sigh and playfully smacked the younger man on the back of the head. "Faked my death? I nearly died," he retorted.

Junghoon raised a sceptical brow. "Yes, but did you die though?"

"I swear to god, you rascal—" Mingi's fist hovered in the air threateningly until you appeared, hands on your hips.

"Excuse me, no violence is permitted in the medical hall. If you two want to settle this, take it to the training grounds," you scolded.

The military strategist turned to you with a pout, attempting to play innocent. "But, my angel, I brought you lunch."

You rolled your eyes. "Alright. What's Junghoonie doing here then?"

The apprentice eagerly showed you his sprained ankle. "I actually got hurt, noona. Unlike someone, I don't fake my injuries."

Before Mingi could retaliate, you quickly summoned a colleague to tend to Junghoon, then dragged your idiot away, much to his chagrin. "That's enough, you baby."

"Yes, I'm your baby."

A month had passed since the plague in the village was eradicated. It was after the fire, that you managed to find a quiet moment with Mingi and poured out your heart to him. To your surprise, he didn't immediately respond with joy.

"Are you sure this is what you truly want?" he had asked, his expression serious. "Because I could never ask you to choose me over your career if it's more important to you."

His words struck a chord deep within you, revealing the depth of his love and understanding. He wasn't seeking to possess you but to ensure your happiness, even if it meant letting you go.

In that moment, you realised that this man was worth loving, worth everything. He had waited patiently for years, only to ask you that question when he finally had you.

In response, you didn't need to speak. Your answer was a simple and direct kiss to his lips, conveying all your love, gratitude, and certainty in that one tender moment.

Upon your return from Guri, you promptly sought an audience with His Majesty. There, you expressed your desire to be with Mingi. Needless to say, the soft-hearted King who had been secretly rooting for you both did not take too long to agree.

Granting you the freedom to be courted by the military strategist, the King also bestowed his blessing for marriage, should you both deem it the right path. With a sense of relief, you exchanged grateful glances with your lover. It marked the beginning of a new chapter, brimming with hope and love, as you eagerly anticipated embarking on this journey together.

"I still can't believe you're meant to be the coolest and most renowned military strategist in all of Joseon. If only the people knew what an adorable little princess you could be," you chuckled, playfully feeding Mingi a spoonful of rice as he attempted to fashion you a new handkerchief, boasting about his newfound skills learned from his dressmaker friend.

"Oh wow, is that really how you thank your devoted future husband, who's putting all this effort into making something special for you?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with affection as he reached for another piece of cloth, determined to create something perfect for you.

You snickered mischievously. "Alright, princess, how about this? You handle the cooking and cleaning, and I'll be the queen of the castle, bringing home the gold. Deal?"

He stared at you, unamused. Leaning in, you stole a kiss from his lips, and in that moment, his resistance melted away. "Ugh fine, I suppose that doesn't sound too bad," he admitted with a playful sigh.

Anything for you, my angel.

You couldn't contain your laughter at his surrender, eagerly returning his affection as he leaned in for another kiss.

Sometimes, it's astonishing how, despite years of separation, no matter how distant you've become or how impossible it seemed to reunite, you always find each other again. It's as if your paths were meant to intersect once more, as though guided by the stars.

You were destined to find each other.

Lord, I did not plan for this to be so long. I'm so sorry this part took like a thousand years and I sincerely hope it was decent! I've managed to include all the details I came up with but am somehow not too happy with the delivery (then again, when am I not unsatisfied with my own work lmfao).

More importantly, I cannot believe I now have 2k followers😭 thank you all so much! I cannot wait to finish Jongho and Yeosang's spinoffs and then work on more new stuff!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[mayukisu]

AVENTURINE X FEM!READER

tags: brother's best friend aventurine, ratio is your brother, modern au, somnophilia, noncon, cunnilingus, aventurine is a jerk, overstimulation, no protection

Aventurine was your brother's best friend. They had been close since childhood, which was the reason why you also knew him. He always stuck beside your brother, and you always wondered why your brother— Veritas Ratio, the genius and should have been embodiment of the perfect kid— hung out with someone as unruly and mischievous as Aventurine.

Whenever they were hanging out at your place, Aventurine would piss you off until you raise your voice at him. Your brother would shake his head disappointedly, wanting the two of you to get along but that could never happen. As dashing as Aventurine was, he simply made it his mission to push all your buttons which meant you will never like him. Ever. Your parents were away, that's why that day, Aventurine took that chance to invite himself to annoy you and your brother.

God, you just wanted him to go home and disappear. He was so annoying, smirking at you the moment you locked eyes with each other earlier. He told you not to stare because you might find yourself falling in love with him, but you cursed at him and told him that was impossible. You would never fall in love with a man who was never afraid of hitting on you in the presence of your brother, going as far as telling you how you wanted him but never admitted it. He was the bane of your existence, but it was his ambrosia to see all sorts of reactions on your face. You would never love him, not even like or tolerate him.

But lust was a different thing.

The way he sat so confidently on your couch while they watched TV was so charming, and the way his eyes focused on things that he loved... It made you wonder what it was like to have Aventurine look at you with so much interest and passion, not the preying kind, as if you were a jackpot.

It was embarrassing to even acknowledge it yourself, but tonight, you were touching yourself with him in mind. You swallowed your pride and accepted that no matter how much of an asshole he was, you had thoughts of being fucked mercilessly by him.

Just earlier, he was downstairs watching a movie with your brother, and his eyes lingered on you while you got yourself a glass of water. You could swear that he was eyeing you, but you didn't want to assume. He was probably just thinking of what to point out about you so he could piss you off about it sooner.

But his gaze. He looked at you as if you were some prize he needed to have, a risk he was willing to take, a gamble he was determined to win.

"Aven..." You moaned, your fingers thrusting in and out of you so desperately. The sound of squelching echoed in the four corners of your room, but you were much too drowned in your pleasure to care enough about it. Your clothes were long torn off of you, littered across your bedroom floor— proof that you were so needy to even just toss your clothes anywhere.

God did it feel so good, trying to imagine his long, slender fingers dragging along your tight hole— you were whimpering and calling out his name so desperately, not realizing that you could have been heard.

Your brother was already in his room, probably asleep or reviewing some notes because he got fed up with his best friend, but that was a natural occurrence. Aventurine was very much comfortable in your home as he was with his own. Which was what you failed to consider because as you were fingerfucking yourself, he was outside your door stroking his dick as he listened to your sweet moans.

When your juices coated your fingers and leaked out your cunt, you sighed and closed your eyes. It wasn't like Aventurine was shameless enough to enter your room without permission, right? God were you wrong. When you were drifting off to the waves of slumber, Aventurine carefully turned the knob of your door and welcomed himself quietly before locking the door behind him.

You looked so enticing before him, and his eyes feasted on your helpless figure. Your eyes were closed and your legs were spread, your body glistening with a thin layer of sweat, and your sex... He bit his lower lip at the sight of your leaking slit, wanting so bad to lick you off and taste every drop of you.

As he inched towards your bed, he stripped off of his clothing. His garments joined yours on the floor, while he gently pushed up your knees. You looked so lewd before him, legs spread while sleeping. He smirked, wanting to take a mental photograph of how you looked, but he figured he wanted to have a taste rather than a picture.

His thumbs spread apart your folds, and the way your wetness glistened turned him on. His hot tongue deliciously licked your slit so dangerously slow, his eyes closing as he savored your love juices. Heavens, how you tasted so sweet. He kissed your cunt and played with your clit as he continued to suck, your thighs trembling even in your sleep.

Were you having a wet dream? Were you dreaming of Aventurine fucking you? Oh, but it wasn't a dream. You thought an incubus visited you, but it was someone more dangerous than that— Aventurine himself who decided it was best if he took you then and there even as you were asleep.

He groaned, kissing your thighs and licking them, marking them. When he was done licking all over you, his slender fingers rubbed against you while he changed positions. By now he was on top of you, careful not to wake you as be positioned himself between your legs. His fingers massaged and rubbed so teasingly slow on your wet sex, and he let out a soft fuck as he saw your nose scrunch up the moment he inserted his middle and ring fingers inside you.

He was surprised as to how you remained asleep, but what he didn't know was that you merely thought you were having a naughty dream about your brother's best friend. It felt realistic, but you were convinced he wasn't bad enough to fuck you asleep. But he was. God, did he want to mess you up and ruin you.

His fingers slid in and out of you, curling and dragging them to feel every inch of your tight hole. When he touched a certain pleasurable part of you, you arched your back and he scissored you as his lips now latched onto your hardening nipple.

"Fuck, you're so sexy," he whispered, digging his face in your chest as he lined up his tip on your cunt.

He rubbed it up and down your leaking folds, and used his hands to grip your hips. He inserted his length in you, panting as he grinded so desperately against you. His shaft was thick and you could feel his veins scraping your walls, his tip bullying itself onto the depths of your womanhood.

You gasped and opened your eyes, woken up by the uncomfortable feeling you had on your privates— you were almost in tears as you saw Aventurine fucking himself into you without a single care about whether your brother would hear or not. His hips snapped desperately against yours, his hands gripping your hips hard (you were sure it would leave a bruise), as his tongue swirled around your nipple and bit on your chest.

"Ah, fuck, if I knew you wanted me this badly, I would have fucked you every time I came over," he whispered into your ear, chuckling as he heard you whimper. "Did I wake you? How does it feel having my cock shoved inside you? How does it feel being fucked by the person you hate?"

"Stop, Aven... You..." You whimpered, but you were moaning as he thrusted in and out of you in a pace so fast your back was arching. He stretched your walls and he filled you up with his thick cock so good that you couldn't think properly.

"What? Do you like it or not? Use your words," he said, thrusting with every word. "I bet your brother would hate me after he hears you moan out my name."

You never thought it could be arousing to be fucked by the person you hated. But there you were, creaming on his cock, coating him as if you wanted nothing but to be fucked by him. He chuckled darkly as he felt you cum, but he whimpered and moaned against your ear as you felt his thrusts going at an irregular pace.

"I'm so close, fuck," he whimpered, "You take me so good. I'll fuck your hole until it's molded in the shape of my cock. How does that sound?"

You were powerless under him, but your body was too tired and you were too much in a daze to respond. Aventurine was an asshole, but he sure does fuck you good.

His seed spurts inside you, warmth covering every inch of your walls as he thrusted it in to you. When he pulled out, he was still hard and he rubbed his tip against your clit, making you shudder and let out a small cry.

"Aven, please," you begged, "Do me more."

"How shameless. You liked being fucked by your brother's best friend? Fine," he replied, panting as he saw you.

You looked so divine and fuckable, stretching your arms out as if you wanted him to hold you. So he did.

It was going to be a long night. If he knew you'd squeeze his cock and milk him dry if he just made the first move, he would have done it sooner.

Your brother didn't have to know. He didn't have to know that on days after that, you and his best friend kept fucking in your room whenever he was shutting Aventurine out.

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 1

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

“Jungwon, stop,” you cry out. This wasn’t the first time that things had gotten rough with your boyfriend, especially as of late, but something about his gaze this time in particular, eyes narrowed and looking at you with intensity causes a pit to form in the bottom of your stomach. 

His silence is eerie. Your boyfriend, when you had started dating him, was an exemplary gentleman. He was warm, charming, and polite, and you could go on for hours listing all of the traits that attracted you to him. He seemed like the picture-perfect boyfriend–he was chivalrous, he bought you flowers, and he seemed strong-willed and determined. He was also the leader of a powerful mafia clan. 

Of course, you didn’t know this when you had started dating him. When he first told you, you were incredibly surprised, as well as a little bit scared. He assured you that you had nothing to be afraid of, that nothing would change, and that you would be incredibly safe with him. He had such a way with words that immediately persuaded you he was telling you the truth. This was your boyfriend, after all. Yang Jungwon, that you have come to know and love. 

Should you have run that very first opportunity he had given you? You think back to the night he sat you down at his desk. For a second, you remember giggling and telling him that you felt more like you were at a doctor’s appointment than in your boyfriend’s office, and he had just given you a sweet smile before he proceeded. “Have you ever heard of ENHA?” he had asked you. Of course you had. At that point, everybody in the city had known about ENHA and SKZ, the two notorious and rival mafia groups that had control over the city. Though you didn’t know much about them, you had certainly heard of them. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but I’m the leader of ENHA. I want to lay all my cards out on the table for you, here and now. This is your chance–your out. If you want to leave, you can walk out that door right now and I will never contact you again.”

Two months. That’s how much time you had dedicated to your relationship with Jungwon before you found out the truth about him. You know your sister would have laughed in your face. She had told you from the very beginning that it wasn’t meant to be, that you were making a mistake with this one, but you had brushed her off. She had never liked your romantic pursuits, so what made this one any different? You didn’t listen to her. You didn’t walk out the door, and you made the decision to stay in your relationship with Jungwon. You wish you had; all of those traits that you had once admired in Jungwon had since become the downfall of your relationship. His overprotectiveness and desire for you to rely on him had caused you to become overdependent on him–and out of a job that you were actually incredibly passionate about. By the time you noticed that he was becoming more abusive, you relied on him for housing and income, and you had no way of contacting your sister even if you had wanted to. He had forced you to cut ties. 

That’s how you got here, really. You were too far in. While once you imagined spending your entire life with him, now you dreamed of a life free of him. Your boyfriend, Yang Jungwon, was a walking contradiction. He had a warm exterior to most, a bright smile that charmed his way through any conversation; on the inside, he’s an indifferent, cold and murderous machine. 

This is especially apparent to you now. His stoic expression contrasts scarily with the harsh words he spews at you. The intent in his eyes that bore into your skull tell you all you need to know. You’re on his shit list. 

“Stop,” you repeat again, louder and with more force behind your words. You’re slotted right between his legs, no method of escape, pushed up against the brick wall outside of one of the many clubs owned by ENHA. Though the wall is scraping against your skin, it’s also bitter cold, a welcome contrast from the heat escaping your body. 

You look rough. You know that you do without having to look in a mirror. Somewhere in the whole ordeal you had lost your shoes, and your mascara is currently running down your face in long wet clumps. Your hair is matted from where he had grabbed it, dragging you out of the club and caring less about your appearance. Your dress has more than one rip in it from when you had fallen onto the concrete, and your fingernails are steeped in blood from when you had tried to claw away. Thankfully, the ringing in your ears provides enough adrenaline to dull some of the pain you’re experiencing. They don’t ring enough to block out his words, though. 

“You’re going to come into my club and act like some whore who doesn’t know who she belongs to? What the fuck were you thinking, getting into a bar fight at my club? People are going to think I don’t know how to control what belongs to me. Fuck, you’re unbelievable, Y/N. You make me sick to my stomach, I can’t even stand to look at you,” he says as he pushes you harder into the wall. Your skin scratches harder against the brick, leaving red bloody marks behind from the contact. Your breath hitches–Jungwon has never been this violent or demeaning to you before. His expression is blank, as if he has no remorse for what he’s doing, and that scares you even more. This wasn’t like anything you had seen in your boyfriend–this is a snap. Like a shelf that holds much more than it can carry, piling more and more on it until it starts to concave and the wood splinters in the middle, Jungwon has decided that he is not going to carry your burden anymore. 

The first time he hit you, he had pushed you and shoved you around like a cold and calculating machine, no thought or purpose behind his actions. Minutes later, it was as if life had come back into his eyes. He got onto his knees and sobbed, repented for his actions and begged for your forgiveness. He reminded you of the fact that you were the only one who could ever love someone like him; nobody would be kind enough to let a mafia boss into their hearts and love them with all they had like you did. You’re all he has, he would remind you, you have to forgive him. He would get you the best medical treatment available, you would forgive him and it would be like it never happened. Until the next time, and the next. 

Now, given the circumstances, you’re not sure you can defend him. Not with the way he’s speaking to you like you’re less than scum, worthless and indecent to be around. You feel belittled and small. To be the direct target of his rage, though there’s a reason for it this time, makes bile rise up in your throat, threatening to spill out. You’re beginning to see why your boyfriend isn’t to be messed with and why he’s considered one of the most dangerous men in the country. To add to it, he had been drinking and the stress of the other mafia group closing in on them was adding unwanted pressure. You were also a little bit intoxicated, which is probably what gave you the bravery to do what you had. 

You were intentionally trying to rile him up. It was an innocent mistake, but you had the goal of making him a little bit jealous tonight. You were hoping things would take a different turn, after all. Your friend had told you about the time she flirted with another man in front of her boyfriend to get a rise out of him and it had worked, and he had taken her to the car and fucked the life out of her on the spot. She insisted it was the best sex she ever had. 

You really should have known better; your relationship isn’t normal and you will never experience things the same way your friends do. But, you had tried it out. You started flirting with a stranger at the bar, just some light conversation and casual touches to the shoulder. At one point you had caught Jungwon’s eyes and mistook his dark gaze for jealousy, not rage, which fueled your desire to continue. 

You had dragged the stranger out to the dance floor, and he was more than eager to go with you. He was much too touchy, sliding his hands up and down your hips and grinding his body into yours. That’s when his girlfriend was added to the mix–absolutely trashed, angry, and ready to start a fight she wasn’t going to win. You caused a scene, shouting expletives right back at her. You won, easily. But not before a hand was embedded in your hair and you were face to face with your very angry boyfriend. It seems like all it took was for one incident to completely change everything. 

You’re scared. Empty words rise from your throat to defend yourself, to plead with him and try to change his mind, but a hand snakes around and cuts you off. 

“Don’t bother coming back, bitch,” he spits. “You’re lucky if I keep you alive.” His hand tightens around your neck, leaving your vision to darken. Your hands come up around his, trying to yank his hand away to relieve some of the pressure to no avail. Your legs start to flail and kick in a last ditch effort of disparity. 

“Please, Wonnie,” you choke out. He repeats your words back to you, mocking. Your hands are hitting at his and you’re gasping for breath, hot tears streaming down your face. 

“Don’t call me that,” he seethes. “You should’ve fucking known better! You brought unwanted attention to yourself. You deserve to be taught a lesson for acting like such a fucking slut in my club. I bet you would’ve let him fuck you too, right?” You try to shake your head, wanting to deny and explain yourself when he suddenly lets go of you. You fall to the ground, your bodyweight now completely unsupported by him. 

You look up at him for a second, large doe eyes blinking away tears. He stares right back at you. One second passes by before you plant your feet into the ground, breaking into a rub. Your bare feet scrape against the concrete and you turn the corner, ready to shout but no sound comes out of your throat. Just as you make it two long strides, his lightning fast reflexes have already caught up to you. Jungwon grabs your wrist and squeezes it tight, and you feel a sharp pain along with the popping sound it creates. 

With the momentum he has, he slings you to the ground. Your face meets concrete and you feel warm, wet liquid on your skin. You blink and blink to realize that your vision has gone completely dark. You’re hit, again and again, but at some point you don’t hear his words anymore. You feel like you could throw up. You wonder if you do when you feel your stomach contract around nothing. Hit after hit and wound after wound, eventually you stop registering it. 

Deep down, you try to comfort yourself. He doesn’t mean it. He’ll take you back, and once he sobers up he will realize that he fucked up majorly. He’ll cry and grovel and really apologize, promising to change his ways. Sunoo will patch you up and stitch over the wounds that need it the most, just as he has before. You’ll laugh about the situation in retrospect, cry about it some, but ultimately end up in Jungwon’s bed. Where else would you even go? You have no money, no job, no way of contacting anybody, so surely, surely, he’ll accept you back. You crack a smile at the thought and wonder if you’ll have to beg him to take you back or if he’ll take you into his arms himself. 

You’re not sure how long you’re on the concrete for. When you lift your head you hear a loud, pulsing sound, accompanied by a sharp pain that encourages you to put your head back down. You do, comforted knowing that Jungwon will come back, he will come back, he will come back. 

Two sets of footsteps find your way to your field of view. They’re blurry, and for a second you think, those don’t look like Jungwon’s shoes, and you begin to hear muffled voices. The ringing in your ears is so loud, but their voices are louder too. Why are they speaking so loud? Are they really yelling or is it just this splitting headache? God, you don’t know, but as you open your mouth to speak and the voices get louder, it stops. Everything stops. 

You have finally lost consciousness. 

You recognize the sensation of being in a car, and you even smell cologne. It’s unfamiliar. You don’t fight to keep your eyes open, instead succumbing to the murmur of voices and warmth of the car that contrasts from the shockingly cold concrete, and let yourself drift off into sleep.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

When you wake up, you’re propped haphazardly against a wall. Your eyes crack open, and notice a well-furnished office, complete with leather chairs and a desk that was probably hand-crafted and expensive. You’re alone in the room, and your eyes flicker to the windows, the door, and then to your beaten and bruised frame. If you looked rough before, you certainly look awful now, and you feel even worse than you look. You are definitely sobered-up now, though, enough to realize that you are not at home, and definitely not at the ENHA base. 

Three figures enter the room, and you wonder if you should react or if you’re even in any imminent danger. You close your eyes again, wondering if you can get away with pretending to be asleep so you can feel out the situation. 

“Hyunjin, check her pulse,” you hear. Warm breath is on yours in an instance, and you fight your heart to stop beating as fast as it is. Two fingertips press against your neck, cold yet firm. 

“Good morning,” the voice whispers against your frame, loud enough for only you to hear. You don’t react outwardly, but your heart beats just a little bit faster. Is this man going to tell him that you’re awake?

“She’s fine,” the man says. “Her pulse is stronger than before. She’s lost a lot of blood but she’ll be okay.” The man’s presence leaves yours, and you rely on just your hearing to tell that he is back on the other side of the room quicker than your heartbeat. “So, what’s your angle here? I know you’re not keen on helping beaten and bloody women in alleyways too often, so I’m sure there’s some sort of play here.” 

“Yang Jungwon’s girlfriend. Or, I suppose you can say ex-girlfriend, if she’s smart” a man says.. 

“Are you insane? You’re just trying to get on his nerves!” says the man that checked your pulse, Hyunjin.

“I suppose you could say that. Binnie and I found her about a mile from the ENHA base, beaten practically within an inch of her life. If we’re smart, I think we use her as leverage against him. We keep her, use her to piss him off. If we had the upper hand before, we definitely have it now,” he explains. 

You try not to furrow your eyebrows in confusion. 

“You should have called me, for fucks sake! This was a major decision for you to make on our behalf and not consult me on. It’s my job.” Hyunjin is furious, evident from his rapid speech and loud tone, but he sounds professional nonetheless. “You don’t even know if he wants her back. She could be worth less than trash in his eyes, and that’s the best case scenario. He did beat her, after all. Worst case scenario? She could be bugged, or a spy! Did you think about that? Chan, this is unbelievable.” Your eyes shoot open instinctively, and you lurch forward, holding onto your stomach and fight yourself from hurling on the spot.

“Chan…” you rasp out. Your throat burns… You wonder if it was from Jungwon’s tight grasp or if you had been screaming without realizing it. Now you’ve realized the exact scenario that you’ve ended up in. Bang Christopher Chan is the leader of SKZ… the rival mafia gang. You had only heard rumors about the man since being involved with Jungwon, but they’re enough that you’re shaking involuntarily. You know he’s dangerous, and you find yourself wishing you paid more attention to mafia politics to really get a sense of what you’re getting yourself into. Chan is the one that brought you here, and now you’re defenseless, vulnerable, and in his territory. 

“Easy there,” a voice calls. A stranger approaches you and puts a hefty hand on your shoulder; when you meet his gaze, you immediately flinch. The man is very well-built with broad shoulders and large biceps that counteract his shorter frame. A black compression shirt hugs his skin, showing off his muscles. You don’t know anything about the man but everything about him screams bodyguard. 

Your eyes meet the man sitting in the leather chair at the desk, Bang Chan. You can tell just by the way he carries himself that he is an important man and he knows it. His gaze is intense but he smirks at you as if he’s amused. He is also fairly muscular, wearing all black but dressed nicer than the stocky bodyguard. His hair is dark brown and falls neatly around his face, parted down the middle with strands falling loosely around his ears. He is attractive like a magnet, you realize, when you know you should be experiencing repulsion. 

You realize everybody is watching your every move, and you feel pressured to say something, to perform, even. 

“Hey,” you say, and it comes out weaker and raspier than you would have hoped. Chan’s mouth lifts into a smile. “Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure.” 

You rack your mind for the right words to say. “Are you… going to kill me?” 

He lets out a hefty laugh, one that makes you feel stupid. You feel like it was a valid question, but let out a nervous chuckle at his response. 

“If you give me a reason to. But we don’t want that, right sweetheart?” You nod in agreement, face turning red at the demeaning lilt to his words. The man finally rises from his chair and is in front of you in just two long steps. He crouches down but still towers above you, leaving you feeling even more defenseless and intimidated. His hand reaches to stroke a strand of hair behind your ear, and his thumb reaches to lift up your chin and meet his gaze. You want to look anywhere but, but you’re even more scared of the consequences. Your eyes meet, and his gaze is so intense that it makes your skin crawl. His expression is now devoid of any emotion, and he is dead serious. 

“You almost died,” he says. He tells you this as casually as one would talk about the weather. “Jungwon almost killed you. You would have died on that sidewalk if we didn’t find you and administer emergency medicinal treatment.” His fingers tighten around your jaw, keeping your gaze locked onto his, as if to say, ‘I am the most important person and you will listen to me when I am talking to you.’ 

“He wouldn’t… It was an accident. He was really drunk, and I–” You’re cut off when his fingers trail lower, reaching your throat. Your breath hitches, unsure of what he’s going to do and you feel terror overwhelm you from what you know the man has the capacity to do to you. Two fingers prod at your throat, poking at what is most definitely a very nasty bruise. You cry out, hands reaching to soothe the spot that he had just touched. 

“You don’t really believe that, do you? If so, you’re more stupid than I thought.” He stands, leaving your mouth agape. “You should look at yourself. You’re in really bad shape. We were able to stop some of your bleeding from that nasty head injury you got yourself, but damn. Do you even know how long you were out for? It’s been at least half a day.”

Half a day? You gawk at the man and say nothing. The other two men have decided to stay silent for the conversation, doing not much more than observing your sorry state. You decide you don’t want to speak much more on the subject, and change the topic instead. “What do you want with me?” you swallow. 

“You’re going to stay here, at the SKZ base while you recover. I’m sure you heard, but you’re going to help us get the ENHA situation under control. You’re leverage.”

“You’re keeping me? So I can’t leave? Please,” you start to plead. “You’re not serious.” 

“Dead serious,” Chan replies. “It’s not like you really want to go back, right? If you get beaten like this again, there’s probably not going to be anybody to save you. You might die,” he blinks. 

“It’s not going to happen again,” you all but spit out. You decide it’s time to test your body and stand up, and though your bones and muscles ache, you manage to get onto your two feet. “It was one time, a mistake. I’m sorry, but you’re out of line, and I would really like to get back home.” 

“Out of line?” Chan challenges.

“I’m sorry to say this, Y/N, but I don’t think Chan is out of line,” Hyunjin speaks. You finally get a chance to look at the man. His dark hair frames his face, resting just past his chin. At first glance he appears more delicate than the other two men, but his muscles are apparent the longer you stare at the fitted t-shirt he sports. He’s very pretty, a statement usually not used to describe someone in his profession. He has very full lips and a perfectly chiseled and angular jawline, sharp nose and long, feminine eyelashes. As he steps forward, he continues on his tangent. “Not only that, but this isn’t the first time Jungwon has hurt you, is it?” 

Your breath hitches as you find the words to defend yourself. You’re cut off by the man who is very adamant about what he is about to say.

“Your record shows that you have been in the hospital two times in the last year. Are you trying to tell us that a concussion and broken wrist are just coincidences?” You stay silent as the man’s eyes scan up and down your frame. You wonder how he knows so much, as someone that was arguing minutes ago about how your presence was a mistake. He’s done his research on you for sure, and you realize it’s probably his job to know everything about everyone. That’s probably why he was arguing with Chan about not consulting him. You try not to think about what else he knows.

“If you stay here, we can guarantee your safety. We don’t even know if Jungwon has plans to try to take you back, but if he does, we are sure that this will be the safest place for you. We know you don’t have a job or a place to stay out there, but here you’ll have a room and necessities. And you will be benefiting us as we get the chance to get a rise out of their group, and the opportunity to use this advantage to put them in their place.” Chan seems sure in his decision, and you find something reassuring about the firmness in his tone and his ability to make quick decisions, knowing that his leadership abilities are one of the reasons why SKZ is the top mafia group in the country, ENHA’s rival. You step forward and wobble, and strong arms steady your frame. 

“Okay,” you whisper. The decision feels wrong, like a betrayal, but you still feel dizzy and unsure, so you decide to put your safety first. 

“You still need some rest. We can escort you to your new room and give you some time to patch yourself up, shower, and get a change of clothes. We definitely suggest tending to your wounds,” Chan says.

“My room? Are you sure this is okay?” The bodyguard wraps an arm around your shoulder, allowing you to lean on his dependable and sturdy build, and you let yourself do so. 

“More than sure. Make yourself at home. You’ll be here a while.” Chan says. He finally returns to his desk and sits in his chair, hands intertwining with one another as if he’s deep in thought. “Changbin will show you the way. Don’t do anything stupid, and you and I will have a talk later tonight. Look forward to it, sweetheart. Hyunjin, call the others for a meeting. You’re dismissed.” 

And with that, you and Changbin, the aforementioned bodyguard, are left to find the way to your room. You stumble but he is strong, and with his arms around you the walk to your room is not a struggle. He does stay eerily silent, which you welcome so that you can think. You arrive at your room and thank him, stepping into the space and shutting the door behind you. 

The room is not huge but it’s comfortable. It’s definitely larger than any room you’ve ever lived in before, and it’s nice to finally have your own space seeing as you previously shared a room with Jungwon. The room is obviously set up to be a guest bedroom, with cream colored walls and a large bed in its center adorned with a white quilt and decorative pillows. It’s simple but you’ll certainly make-do. You look around and notice a large rattan wardrobe stocked with a variety of clothes in different styles and sizes. Some of the fabric looks like it’s large enough to swallow you while others would just barely fit. You hum, content, and pick out a clean outfit that suits your comfort levels, even if it's not the prettiest. On your way to the bathroom you're surprised to notice a small vanity, stocked with makeup. You realize this guest room is probably for guests of SKZ, maybe their family members if any of them had any that would come to visit, hence the women’s clothing. Either way, the makeup will come in handy later to cover your bruises when you need to. 

And on that note, you finally allow yourself to look in the mirror, and you gasp. 

You have never seen your hair so matted and disheveled, and your head is stained in your blood. A bandage covers the top left of your head, and you uncover it to observe a nasty scar that had been treated with some kind of ointment. In addition, your bottom lip is busted, and you are adorned with all sorts of scrapes and scars and bruises all over your body. Your throat is covered in nasty dark hues of purple and blue that are sure to only get worse. Your wrist had received the same treatment, sporting some nasty bruises, and you recall when it had made a noise that resembled a pop yesterday. You roll the joint, testing the waters, and groan out in pain. At best, it’s sprained. You try not to think about it, and finally get into the shower, noting the first aid kit on the counter. 

The water feels nice on your skin, though it stings most of your scrapes and wounds. You welcome it nonetheless. You allow yourself a moment to cry, letting your tears mix in with the shower stream, wondering if this is the only chance you’ll be able to show how vulnerable you are. You don’t know much about SKZ and their men, and you’re sure you should tidy yourself up and do your best to pretend you’re strong, showing no weakness. When you comb through your hair you decide that’s just what you’ll do. You already look more presentable than before when you step out of the shower, as you have rid yourself of the blood, sweat, dirt and grime that littered your skin. And as you step into the new clothes you had found for yourself, you really do feel much better. You take the time to sanitize some of your worse wounds, paying special attention to your head that met the concrete last night. You cover yourself with bandages and decide to spend some of your time putting on makeup. It’s the only way to cover the bruises, you decide, and you won’t let any new members that haven’t seen your sorry-state know that you’re here because you were beaten and weak. If any one of them notices your vulnerability, there’s no telling that they won’t prey on it. So after about an hour, your skin looks close to its normal self again thanks to your expertise in color correction under your layers of foundation and concealer. You smile at your handiwork – if you weren’t looking for the bruises and scrapes, you certainly wouldn’t be able to find it. Even your makeup-covered throat and wrist, which had gotten the worst of it all, really look fine. 

You leave your room at last, and it has been some hours since your previous meeting with Bang Chan and the others. You roll your shoulders back and make your way around the house. The intention here isn’t snooping, you tell yourself, but you desperately need to find food. You don’t have to look too hard, as you stumble into the kitchen. 

You make direct eye contact with two men that you haven’t seen before. Their eyes flicker to you and their conversation stills, and you know you’ve interrupted them. 

You’re going to be here a while, right? You suppose it’s time to introduce yourself. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: it's hereee (for real this time)! so excited to share this with you and what is to come! (if you saw me post this the other day by accident no you didn't) <3

taglist: @shuporanporang @purp13st4r @eurydiceofterabithia @heartsbyandra @thicccurls @rylea08 @the-sweetest-rose @oddracha @kapelover @goldenmellow

[diazsdimples]

"You're the only person I could even fathom doing this for" + Buddie

"You're the only person I could even fathom doing this for," Eddie grouses as he and Buck weave their way through the crowd, heading towards the meetup point near the starting line.

There are ten other teams (couples? Eddie's never entirely sure what to call them) also milling around, waiting to be called up. Among them are what feels like hundreds of crew members, camera people, health and safety coordinators, you name it.

Buck nudges Eddie's shoulder with his as they walk. "And can I just once again reiterate how grateful I am that you agreed to come. I could have asked Hen or Chim, but I don't think they would have been so keen."

Eddie snorts. "Hen and Chim would have walked off before you even finished the first leg." He hoists the overly large backpack up his shoulders, swinging it around to do a last-minute check that they've got everything they need.

"They just can't keep up with my boundless enthusiasm," Buck replies airily. He grins down at Eddie. "It's not their fault, I suppose. You're just the only person I know who's got a chance at keeping up with me."

"Yeah well, I did say I'd have your back." Eddie puts on a show of sighing loudly, but there's no hiding the grin that's pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I probably should have seen this coming."

Buck stops, causing a crew member to dodge him and shoot him a dirty look. He remains oblivious to this as he regards Eddie with amusement.

"You should have anticipated 7 years ago, when you said you'd have my back, that I'd sweet talk you into coming onto a reality TV show with me?"

"Yep. Exactly that. Silly of me, really."

Buck laughs, a bright sound that makes something in Eddie's chest warm. Buck's smile is a beautiful thing to behold and Eddie can't help but grin right back.

"You're ridiculous," Buck chuckles, falling into step beside Eddie once again as they make their way over to the tent where the other racers are waiting.

When Buck had approached Eddie with the idea of applying for the Amazing Race USA, it had initially seemed like a harmless joke, a "yeah we should totally do that," without any real intention of actually applying.

And then Buck had shown up at his house with a tape recorder and a grin, and had begged and begged and begged for them to record a clip to send in. Had it not been for Christopher's puppy eyes ("please Dad, I'll be the coolest kid in school!") Eddie probably wouldn't have gone through with it. But Buck knew Eddie's weakness (his son) and boy had he weaponised him.

They sent in the tape the next day within a week had received a callback, and now here they were, several weeks and one somewhat awkward conversation with Bobby about why he'd be losing two of his firefighters for a month later, wondering how exactly they managed to push past all the other people applying.

Eddie wasn't one to turn down the opportunity to win a million dollars, not that that amount of money went particularly far in this economy. As he'd joked to Buck, if they won he'd use his share of the money to pay off Christopher's student loans, and then buy himself an ice cream with the leftover cash.

Also, he'd get to travel the world with Buck, which was a huge selling point. Eddie knows he's whipped when it comes to Buck. The idea of travelling with him, seeing the world, competing against others, being at their peak BuckandEddie, it would have been too good to pass up.

They finally reach the tent where the rest of the racers are, and are immediately swooped on by a hoard of crew members, checking over them, making sure they're mic'd up, general TV show admin, Eddie assumes.

"No turning back now, huh," Buck comments, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible. Eddie, however, can see right through him. He hears the slight quaver in Buck's voice, notices the way Buck doesn't quite meet his eye, how Buck's eyes are flickering around him as though on high alert.

"Hey," he says as he places a hand on Buck's shoulder, his thumb brushing against Buck's pulse point. "We're going to be okay. It's going to be fun! Just breathe, okay?"

Buck takes in a deep breath, his shoulders rising and pressing against Eddie's hand before releasing it. Eddie rubs his thumb back and forth over Buck's neck, giving him the smallest of squeezes.

"Right," Buck nods, his mouth quirking into a half smile. "Just us versus the world, huh?"

Eddie returns his smile with an easy grin, and he has to resist the urge to lean over and press a gentle kiss to Buck's cheek. "You and me, and 11 countries. We've got this."

There's a loud foghorn noise, signalling the teams to line up at the starting line, facing the host. Eddie's hand moves to cup Buck's cheek, patting him once, twice, before dropping down to his side. Buck flushes a beautiful pink and together they make their way to the line, ready to begin the adventure of a lifetime.

Gonna tag some friends who might be interested.

@theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @bidisasterevankinard @neverevan

@spotsandsocks @aroeddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @watchyourbuck

[galedekarios]

gale’s early access dialogue transcripts - the tiefling party [romance path]

at the tiefling party in early access, you were able to lock in your romance choice for the first time.

a second time, you were able to do so while traversing the ebonlake to the grymforge. the narrator gave a general overview of your deeds so far (including rescuing the tieflings/siding with the goblings, etc.) and ended on your li choice.

i'll include the screenshot of that moment here bc there's not much worth talking about romance-wise past that point:

Narrator: *It hasn't all been bad, though: you fondly remember your night with Gale.*

back to the tiefling party: you were able to talk to the companions at the party after zevlor, the tieflings and your group arrived at the camp, and they all propositioned the player to spend the night with them, some more subtly than others, depending on who you talked to first and accepted.

the romance option for the night was then locked in if the player took a long rest and, from the dialogue options, picked their partner of choice.

for gale, the proposition to the player looked as follows:

Gale: Thank you. - Player Option 1: I'm sure you're welcome. Gale: There's that confidence I like. [Go to "Amidst all the merriness...] - Player Option 2: What for? Gale: I'm glad you sought me out. [Go to "Amidst all the merriness...] - Player Option 3: Spontaneous thank yous make me suspicious. Gale: Come now! This is a night for celebration, not suspicion. I thank you for seeking me out. - Gale: Amid all this merriment I wasn't sure we'd have a chance to speak this evening. I wasn't sure we'd have a chance to make merry, just the two of us.  - Player Option 1: I think that's the wine talking.  Gale: As they say in Waterdeep: In wine there is truth. That's usually followed by: In water, there is good sense. Good sense will have to wait till the morrow. - Player Option 2:  Make merry, just the two of us. What would that entail? Gale [if Weave scene successful + talked abt the Weave scene with Gale after]: We shared a romantic moment of the mind while cloaked in the Weave, didn't we? And I seem to recall a fond allusion to that moment afterwards. - Player Option 3: Actually, I think I'll go mix and mingle.  Gale: Too bad. One should never be afraid to live life to the fullest.  But before you go... I know there are many things about me that remain shrouded in mystery. [Gale would then invite the player to talk again the next day & reveal his background story + the convo ends] - Gale [if the player is interested]: Allow me to make the following proposition: there is a book that circulates in Amn, detailing the first thousand nights of a newly-wed king and queen. Gale: They turned everything they did into an art. The art of conversation. The art of taste, time honoured and newly acquired. The art of the body. The exploration and acceptance of the self and the other. The art of the night itself. I say we take a page from their book.  - Player Option 1: Leave it to you to woo someone with a book. Gale: Forget the book then. Let's be blank slates on blank sheets, delightfully new. - Player Option 2: You're remarkably upfront about your intentions.  Gale: I'm many things, but coy's not one of them. What do you say? - Player Option 3: I'll remind you we're newly acquainted, not newlyweds. Gale: Then we'll start writing the prequel. What do you say? - Player Option 4: Let me stop you right there. That's not something I'm interested in. Gale: Too bad. One should never be afraid to live life to the fullest.  - [if the player accepts] Gale: We'll let the night run its course. And when everything is quieting down, safe in the arms of sleep, I'll come by to find safety in yours. [end]

if you clicked on gale again before long resting, he said:

Gale: There's promise in patience, I assure you. Let the night run its course so that we can run ours as well. [CAMP_GoblinHunt_State_GalePartner]

if you then talked to any of the other companions, who were much more reactive to your choices and what happened around them in general, they had something to say about the player's decision to spend the night gale:

shadowheart

Shadowheart: Everyone seem to be in high spirits. I saw you with Gale. You two looked... cosy. Far be it from me to judge. Blood must be running a little hot after everything.

wyll

Wyll: There he is - the man himself! Let us raise a glass! To you - a legend in the making! And to you and Gale. May your stars burn ever bright.

lae'zel

Lae'zel: I have seen the kith'raki tear a screaming neogi's legs from its belly to fashion into blades. Yet they could not match your nerve today. It was enough to drive me to madness. A pity for us you have promised your body to Gale. I've no doubt he is as seductive as he is succinct.

funnily enough, if both weren't romanced by the player character, lae'zel would try to sleep with gale at the party. he - unlike wyll and astarion, both of whom used to accept lae's advances - did not do so.

lae'zel used to complain about this the next day if the player questioned her about her night with gale, saying he only wished instead to talk:

Lae'zel: There are, after all, other spreads before me. Gale looks particularly tempting tonight. [GALECOMPANION, CAMP_GoblinHunt_State_WyllPartner]

follow-up the next day:

Player: You said you were going to share your bunk with Gale. Lae'zel: So I did. And he wanted only to talk.

astarion

Astarion: By the Hells. Passion. Fun. It's easy for some, of course. You and Gale seem to be getting on very well. I wonder if he uses magic in the bedroom? That could go very well... or very badly.

the pictures here are all from an old gifset of mine.

there is no option for karlach in early access because she, at that point, wasn't a companion, but an npc to a much different set-up with anders the paladin of tyr and his companions.

if you clicked on the bedrolls around the camp fire to select the long rest, the narrator used to say the following:

Narrator: *The buzz of celebration quiets to a soothing hum as you approach your bunk.* *Though you seek repose, you needn't spend the night alone. With whom will you share a bed?* Player: Gale. Narrator: *Your heart skips a beat. What treasures might this night bestow?*

it used to then lead into the actual romance scene of early access.

i'll be talking about in the next ea meta post because it's a longer one as it encapsulates the romance scene itself, but also gale's confession about his backstory, karsus's folly, mystra's and gale's relationship, as well as possible ways to cure gale of his orb.

🖤

[puppyxprincess]

Training Logs, Entry #2

6/23/24

I’m happy to report that her training has been a continued success.

The subject is eagerly submissive to me, her dedication grows in intensity with every passing day.

Our baseline levels of trust have far exceeded my expectations for her, which I attribute to her sharp judge of character. She has deemed me “safe” and has in turn, handed herself over to me willingly. I’m gaining a strong appreciation for subjects so happy to be trained.

I just concluded a rather impromptu training session, the subject requested I ask her some questions to further my knowledge on hypnosis, utilizing her existing stores of information on the subject. She suggested i drop her, making her incredibly tired and deep in trance before asking these questions, to see if she could recall our conversation in full.

At first I was intimidated, I must be transparent. An impromptu session stripped away my ability to be prepared for anything, to have my goals and path mapped out, my triggers pre-planned, all of it, gone. I almost told her no, I wasn’t feeling up to it, I couldn’t possibly engage in anything successfully. Better to wait than risk damaging progress, damaging her faith in my abilities, is how i reasoned with myself.

But something possessed me. Maybe it was the two drinks i’d just finished, maybe it was my intuition, my unwillingness to let the opportunity slip out of my hands.

I agreed to her request, how could i deny an eager puppy the chance to train?

I set up my equipment and took a deep breath. I began my greetings, already donning that syrupy, lilting tone reserved near exclusively for her, and I hoped inspiration would strike me.

I asked about her favorite inductions, how to decide on one, how to avoid falling into routine and allowing it to become predictable.

She began to explain using some comparison to a math concept I couldn’t really grasp, but I began to understand her point when an idea appeared to me.

Previously, my pet had mentioned to me that the bell jingling on my cat’s collar worked as an “ears perked” sort of effect. Instantly capturing her focus and drawing it to my words.

I removed the cat’s collar and shook gently it a few times near the mic. The puppy immediately lost her words, it was so wonderful to see. I prompted the pet to continue, but only let her get a few words out before i let the bell chime again. She lost her train of thought, immediately becoming focused on the sound of the bell, her thoughts slipping from her mind.

It was hard not to laugh, seeing the composed, intellectual subject immediately reduced to a brainless puppy. The efficacy was truly shocking.

I took the opportunity to wield her focus against her, knowing her predisposition would be to go deeper, to agree with anything i might suggest.

“Do you even remember the point you were trying to make?”

“Can you even answer my questions, pup?” The subject clung to the explanation that she could, but that she was just so focused on me, it was hard to let anything else take precedence.

“Doesn’t it seem like it would be so much nicer to put all that aside and be a Silly Puppy for me instead?”

At this point, her responses consisted only of an eager “mhm!” or two, if she was feeling very excited by the suggestion.

I interspersed the jingling bell over any pauses, increasing her focus on me each time. This began to work so well she stopped being able to respond. At this point, I asked the subject if she’d prefer to remain under and fall asleep, or if I should bring her back up. She requested “Up,” so after a few more moments i began to bring her out of trance.

The subject was still dazed when she began to communicate her amazement at my insecurity, even going as far as to ask if I had been joking, fully aware of my ability to drop her so quickly and effectively.

I laughed, assuring her that the entire session had been unprepared, allowing my ego to swell at the high praise from my far-more-experienced subject.

Over a brief discussion of the session, as my pet spoke to me, I couldn’t resist the urge to use the bell against her again. She slipped back down easily, blindly obedient once more.

After playing with my favorite subject a bit more, I brought her back to herself, and had to force myself to stay quiet. Every time I opened my mouth I pushed her back into that sharp focus and her brain into a state of arousal that rendered her unable to sleep.

One of the last things we talked about before I finally allowed her to rest was how towards the very beginning, when she first lost her train of thought, she found it difficult to grasp what she had been speaking about even once out of trance.

Something of note regarding this pet is that she has often recounted how ineffective memory impacting trances have been for her, likely due to her history of hypervigilance and perceived need to protect herself. Communicating that my spontaneous session may have allowed even a small memory to slip out of her grasp has emboldened me to try again and test my skills with a more overt memory play session with her.

It definitely serves my purposes that she’s so eager to hand over full control to me, not one ounce of doubt or distrust towards me present in her pretty little mind.

My next goal has been set: Make the puppy forget something.

I think it will prove easy enough.

[moonlightndaydreams]

Room 143 | idol!han x fem!reader

Delulu! Absolute delulu!

So we all know a skz comeback is in the works (including a tour) and I have suddenly felt all nostalgic about seeing them in Sydney in 2023.

Last year I wrote a little fic about y/n going to the concert and by chance having a night of passion with the yummy Han Jisung.

I thought it might be nice to revisit it with a rework (the original had an original female character but I’m changing it to y/n).

I’ve only changed a little bit so far and want to know if you want me to continue to share the fic?

Plus…. I thought it might be nice to revisit to celebrate 1k followers here.

If someone had told you that you would have one night with Han Jisung, you would have laughed in their face.

[ Han heard your frustrated, pathetic cry. “Tell me what you need me to do.” He whispered huskily between kisses.

“Touch me, Han.” You breathed, and you reached down to touch his hand on your thigh. “Please.” Your voice was barely audible.

He let out a shaky breath and looked down to where your hands were resting together on your leg. Your hand slid back up his arm to grip his bicep, and he slowly inched his fingers up the inside of your leg, his hungry eyes following his hand as it disappeared under your skirt. ]

Earlier that day…

It was finally Tuesday, and you woke up in the hotel room with excitement. Tonight was the night. Stray Kids were having their Sydney concerts tonight and tomorrow night and you were going to both!

You flicked the sheet off of you but continued to lay there trying to ground yourself in the reality that you were actually going to see them in real life. They would be in the same place as you. At the same time. You squealed and flapped your arms and legs around in excitement. You were such a nerd.

Sydney had been hot this week. February was the hottest month of the year in Australia, but this week was outrageously hot, and STAYS were getting worried about the outfits they had chosen for the night. It was definitely not the weather for black pants and boots, or any of the punk/goth-like attire many had planned to wear. You’d been sweating for days, and you hoped the boys would be able to cope tonight. They had already performed two concerts in Melbourne, and that city had had a heatwave too.

You had arrived at the hotel yesterday evening, to give yourself a little bit of a mini break from your busy life, and, because you didn’t know anyone who liked Kpop, your mini break was also a solo one.

But that didn’t bother you at all. You knew from the STAY’s Facebook group that many were going to the concerts solo. You loved the idea that young people these days are happy to enjoy the things that light them up, even if no one else they know likes it.

You checked the time on your phone. 8am. You had too many hours to kill, and decided you’d go have some breakfast and then go do a workout in the hotel’s gym. That should pass some time and get a smidge of your pent up excitement out of your restless body.

Down in the restaurant you ate the standard “Continental breakfast”, and filled up on pastries and orange juice. The restaurant was practically empty. Any business folk would have already eaten (if they had even eaten at all) and be off to work, and since it wasn’t the weekend, there weren’t any families around. Empty and quiet.

Once you had enough to eat and drink you headed to the gym room.

You’re not the fittest person in the world, and you were definitely not the most confident person in a gym setting, but you did like to make sure you exercised three times a week to relieve stress.

You were thankful the gym was empty too. Good, no one would see your awkwardness. The room was moderately sized, with several treadmills and elliptical machines along the back wall, a floor area for mat work, some strength training equipment and free weights along the full length mirrored side wall. Two weights benches were parked nearby.

After warming up on an exercise bike you wandered over to the weights and picked up the 4 kg dumbbell and sat down on a bench and began a set of bicep curls.

That’s when you heard voices outside. Male voices. Getting closer to the gym.

Fuck. Don’t tell me some gym guys are going to come in here?

You could feel your skin flushing as you became flustered. You listened hard trying to find out what the voices were saying.

One voice was bellowing loudly, another laughing. But you couldn’t understand them. They were speaking a foreign language.

The gym door burst open and three men dressed in black confidently sauntered in.

They noticed you right away and nodded a polite hello to you, bowing slightly when they did.

You automatically responded with a friendly smile and a “hello, how are you.” But inside you had frozen.

It was fucking 3Racha.

A/n: I’d love to know if you want more of the story???

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @starr-lvst @queenmea604 @queen-in-the-shadows @bethanysnow @newhope8 @chuuchuu1224 @vanillacupcakefrosting @3rachasdomesticbanana @fun-fanfics @palindrome969 @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @yaorzu-blog @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @everythingboutkpop @jiminssluttyminx

[doubleragnarok]

My friends, let me introduce you to my lazy mini-comic about the X-men "Evolution" AU. First read the text, then look at the accompanying picture below. Lets go ~

tw: blood. But nothing really scary is going on.

This summer, another new student entered Xavier School. They were older than the other students (23 y.o.), so those around them suspected that their X-gene had manifested later than the others. They asked to be called "Morph", and made friends with all the mutants so quickly it was surprising.

One day after a battle, Morph broke away from the others, and Jean asked Wolverine to find him.

Jean: Logan, we need your keen sense of smell!

Wolverine: There you are. And you look pretty scratched up.

Morph: How did you know it was me? Oh, yeah, your super-sense.

W: What's wrong with your face?

M: Oh, this?

M: This is my real face.

W: What's going on? Does it show up when you're hurt too badly?

M: What are you talking about, ha ha. I was just in too much pain to focus on holding the image. But the wounds are superficial, I'll be fine.

W: F@ck! Then why do you have such a mournful face, like you're dying?!

M: But my real form is terrible! Doesn't that bother you?

W: You should have realized by now who you're talking to. X-men will never judge you for being different from the rest of us. We are all just like you.

M: Yeah, when it comes to superpowers. But all the other x-men look good. Kurt has to change his look, but he's handsome!

You're all beautiful!

M: Now look at me. My skin color is like a corpse. My face looks like a skull, no pupils or irises. I don't even have a nose! It's like I'm not a human being, I'm a human template!

W: I'm the last person who cares about your outer beauty. No nose? But you breathe somehow, right? That's the most important thing.

W: Besides…

W: If you don't have a nose, it won't get in your way when you kiss.

M: Wait

Was he flirting with me?

M: WOW.

...

M: Maybe

M: Maybe I have a chance?

M: Besides, our age difference is not critical, right?

(Morph didn't yet know that the age difference was far greater than they realized)

It all started with @balkanbitch 's post and @baylecn 's drawings (I hope you draw something else on this theme). I couldn't help but join in.

Bonus: the first versions of Morph's design.

[friezaglasiencold]

Frieza, how are... arcosians even born? I don't want to get into detail with the possibilities but there is one fan way people have been theorizing- the gem on your chest being said theory. So per chance, would ripping out the gem under your chest birth Kuriza? Or.. Am I getting this all wrong?

I was pregnant, you moron! I spoke about it so recently you could have scrolled for half a second and found that out yourself!

Biogems are vital organs, not meaningless ornamentation--if we should ever meet, you’re staying far away from mine.

[amyelevenn]

heyy any chance i could request 25 ("Don't get in my way") with Max and Red Bull driver!reader?

winner of what?

PAIRING; Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!reader

SUMMARY; Max thinks you are going to ruin his chance at a fifth World Driver's Championship, and he can't let that happen. set in 2025, but doesn't necessarily follow the schedule

WARNINGS; small description of violence of a crash, angst, manipulative Max

A/N; thank you so much for this request! I hope I did your idea justice:)) also the longest fic I have ever written? thats crazy

not proof read

3.7k words masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・♥︎・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・♥︎・✫・゜・。.

You were new here. You were an outsider. You knew that, and you hated every moment of it.

Despite knowing most people on the paddock by now, you couldn’t get rid of the lingering feeling that some of the mechanics or others despised you for taking Checo’s seat, even though you had rightfully won it. You knew that no one actually thought that, but the idea always sat idly in the back of your mind.

The season had barely begun (if you count pre-season testing as the start of the season), and yet here you were, already finding new ways to doubt your own abilities.

After a rough season with RB and Daniel, you were more than ready to actually be in the fight for podiums and wins, rather than measly points. Even with a one-year contract, you were determined to make this season yours, proving to Red Bull that they should keep you around for a little while longer.

Your new teammate, Max, was just coming down from a high of winning his fourth DWC and constructors’ with Red Bull, and you couldn’t be more excited to join the likes of these champions.

You hadn’t really met or had a chance to interaction with him, despite the many team meetings and social media outings you did together. He never really introduced himself; was there really any need too anyway? You knew he was Max Verstappen, 4-time world champion, and that was all you really needed when it came to him. You had raced with him on the grid for a few years now, so it brought you a little comfort to be able to say you at least were familiar with the surface level version of him.

From what Daniel had told you, the persona the media had given him was far from the truth; he wasn’t a villain, a monster out to make everyone’s race a living hell. No, Max was a pretty stand-up guy. According to Daniel, he was “just your type” and the two of you would “vibe like crazy” when you finally spoke to each other.

In fact, it was your ex-teammate who was the one to take the first initiative and introduce you to each other. You were at a season launch lunch, sitting by yourself at your table when Daniel, dragging Max along behind him, sat himself down beside you.

“It had recently been brought to my attention that you two have not been formally introduced, so I am going to do it for you,” he grins, almost proud of himself. Patting the seat on your other side, you look up a Max, silently offering him a seat.

He politely refuses, but the glare Daniel gives him is enough incentive for him to quietly take the seat.

“Now talk to each other.” The Aussie stands, taking his leave. “I am going to go back to the bar an get some more drinks, but I better see both your traps yapping or I’m not gonna be happy.”

An awkward silence entails, neither of you knowing where to start after he walks away.

“…He can be very bossy when he wants to be,” Max chuffs, being the one to break the silence. You laugh quietly in agreement, and the conversation flows pleasantly for the next few hours.

It isn’t until the sun begins to set that you realise how long you had been talking, and that Daniel never did come back. In the most subtle way you can manage, without disturbing Max who was looking on his phone for the best photos of his cats, you peer around the luncheon in hopes of finding your ex-teammate. Spotting him sitting at the bar, he was already looking your way; smirking, he taps his watch, and you can almost hear him say I told you so.

It’s the opening race of the season, and what a stellar start it was for Red Bull; a front row lock-out in qualifying, and a 1-2 podium, Max triumphing for what was the first time this year. It was exhilarating, being up on the podium with the others, especially considering it was your debut race with your new team. It wasn’t your first podium, of course, but this time around it felt much more earned, like you were finally getting recognised for your achievements.

At the debriefing, Max off-handedly mentioned the team going out to celebrate the win and asked if you wanted to come along. It was a stupid question, and he knew it; who were you to turn down the opportunity to commemorate your maiden podium?

You were out all night, not officially going back to your hotel room until the sun had risen the next morning. Although you didn’t remember much, there were multiple accounts recounted to you that you had been glued to Max’s side for majority of the party, including from the man himself. Photos of the two of you swarmed your messages and social media; his hand on the small of your back, yours grasping his shoulder for dear life.

He bought you drinks; you bought him drinks. It was a sweet cycle that had you both wasted within a couple hours, you more so than him. Even with your foggy recollection of the night, you knew that Max and you were getting closer, and you didn’t mind one bit of it.

The second race saw a similar fate; P1 for Max and P2 for yourself again, and the afterparty leading to very close proximity for the pair of you. Whilst you didn’t drink as heavily this time, you still felt just as intoxicated from the mere presence of him so near you.

“I know it’s only two races into the season, but you are already by far my favourite teammate that I’ve had,” you laugh, sure that he would barely be able to hear you over the blaring music.

He laughs too, leaning closer to you to be able to whisper in your ear, “same goes for you, Liefde.”

You didn’t even know what the nickname meant, but it sent chills down your spine. You didn’t question it, letting the mystery of his native language sway with you to the bass of the music.

The next few races would follow the same pattern; Max would finish the race above you, he would invite you to a party, and you would dance together much closer than two friends ever would. Even after coming second to Charles in the Monegasque’s home race, Max kept up this new tradition you had created.

Outside of the clubs and bars, he never acknowledged his behaviour. And because he didn’t, you didn’t either. No one asked about it, so it never got brought up, but people knew enough to expect it during any afterparties.

Interviews, podiums together, and in the cool down room, all that the public would see is two teammates celebrating each other’s achievements.

It wasn’t until you were actually able to give Max a run for his money for P1 after he had a poor pit stop that there was a falter in the routine. It all came down to the final lap; you overtook him at turn 1, he retaliated into turn 3, you got a better jump from the hairpin, but ultimately, he was the one who crossed the line ahead of you, even if it was only by a couple tenths of a second.

The cooldown room was tense, a state it had never been before. Even Carlos, known for his non-stop yapping, was quiet, knowing that something wasn’t quite right between the two of you. Of course, he didn’t know what it was, but honestly, you didn’t either – to your understanding, you were just having a good, competitive race, but Max must’ve thought otherwise.

He didn’t invite you to any celebrations afterwards, but others did. It made no difference either way who you went with; he was nowhere to be seen.

You didn’t talk to him much during the doubleheader, focusing more on the want to finally get your first win. With how well the car had been performing, and the statistics showing that you were closing in on Max more and more every race, a win this week was well within the realm of possibility.

With 5 laps left in the race, Max was leading with you hot on his heels, and Lando hot on yours. But all it took for everything to spiral into a flaming hot mess was for Max to cut you off, not leaving you enough room. It resulted in sending you spinning and crashing hard into a wall. Max, struggling to regain his composure, was overtaken by Lando. Red flags were waved, and the Brit was the first to see the checkered flag, trundling along behind the safety car.

To say you were heartbroken was an understatement. Nothing could describe just how angry and devastated you were that you didn’t even get to finish the race, and how willing your teammate was to just blatantly cut you off, all but forcing you into the wall.

Honestly, you wanted to cry, but you held yourself together throughout the media conferences, restraining yourself from diminishing Max’s performance today. As much as you wanted to, and boy did you really want to, a manager pulled you away before you could express your true feelings.

For whatever reason he thought it was appropriate, it was the Dutchman who invited you to celebrations of his win. You declined, being as polite as you physically could, claiming you just wanted to go back to your hotel room and sleep the night away.

He muttered some sweet nothings about ‘it not being the same without you,’ and ‘the party will be such a bore if you aren’t by my side,’ as if nothing had happened between you.

The stark contrast between his personas almost gave you whiplash, but regardless of you left by yourself. You tired and tried your hardest to convince yourself that the reason you weren’t partying tonight was because you just wanted to forget about such a poor end to such an amazing weekend. But in your core, you knew it was because you didn’t want to be with Max, to fall into his traps, be seduced by his niceties.

Were they even real? You weren’t sure what they were anymore.

You were in a new country within a day of the last race, completing videos for Red Bull’s socials, some even with Daniel by your side.

Naturally, he questioned your relationship with your teammate once the cameras were off.

Stunned silence was the only answer you could give him. With some gentle coaxing, he gets some information out of you.

“It’s just… I don’t even… I’ve never delt with anything like this in my life. Normally I can separate my outside life and racing, but he is just there. Always there,” you sigh, not realising how heavy the situation was weighing on your chest.

He hums in understanding. “I think you need to talk to him about it all.”

“I tried, once. He just pretended like he didn’t know what I was talking about, as if there was nothing happening between us,” you say. “It isn’t like a want a fully committed relationship with him or anything, I just… I’m so confused, I don’t know what to do. I really like him Dan. I don’t want to stop hanging out with him, he’s become a good friend, but I also don’t want to keep being led on like this. If that is what this even is?”

You collapse on your chair, covering your face in shame. The Aussie doesn’t have much to offer except some quiet consolations, softly rubbing your back in hopes of bringing you some comfort.

Your confidence had taken a hit, and it showed in your race results. Finishing P5 behind Max’s P1 wasn’t exactly a poor result, but for consistently being on the podium this season, you were not happy. You wanted to blame the car, or the slow pitstops (they were actually the two fastest of the race), but you knew deep down it wasn’t either of those.

A knock on your driver room door made you falter, unsure of who even knew you were in there.

“Who is it?” you ask, not bothering to move from your position.

The door creaks open, and you look over your shoulder to see the handsome smile that belonged to the one and only.

“What do you want, Max?”

“‘Congrats on the win Max, you had a great race.’ That’s so sweet, thank you,” he mocks your voice, laughing as he leans against the doorframe.

You don’t laugh, finding no humour in the situation.

“We are going out again tonight, to Frankie’s. you heard of it?” he continues, as if you weren’t glaring daggers at him.

You turn yourself to face him. “Who’s we?” you ask, ignoring his question.

“You and I, of course,” he says, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m not going out with you tonight.”

“Sure you are, we have to celebrate my win!”

“No, Max. And that’s final.” You stand, grabbing the door to usher him out.

“I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”

“No.”

“I’ll see you then,” he grins, walking away to his own room.

And true to his word, he is at the door of your hotel room, three minutes to 8. You don’t bother answering the door, leaving him knocking and calling your name. He leaves not long after, and you’re left to spend the night alone.

Finally, it was time for the Spa Grand Prix, the reigning World Driver’s Champion’s home race. You knew this race was important to Max, and what better way to one up him than to beat him in his home country?

You out qualify him in every possible way – free practises, Q1 and Q2. When it came time for Q3, you wish him luck as he jumps into his car. He grants it in return, but you know it doesn’t hold much value to it.

You complete your timed lap first, clocking the fastest time the last two days have seen. Max is on track to beat it, but understeers around one corner, leading him to…qualify the same time as you?? No, that couldn’t be right…

You sit in shock, looking at the checkered flag was waved. You. In P1. You would start the race up the very front for the first time in your career. You would start ahead of Max. in his home race.

He didn’t have much to comment on it, knowing that the actual competition would come during the race.

The night was a blur, and before you could prepare yourself, the five lights were out, and you were racing in Spa.

You lost the lead before the first lap was even over, and of course it was to Max. You tried to not let it damper your hopes for the win, fiercely fighting him for first place. Halfway into the race, the pair of you were over 30 seconds ahead from Charles, running in P3. You couldn’t remember how many cars you had lapped, but it had to have been at least half of the grid.

With only tenths between you, he crossed the line first. Your heart shattered, but at least you had the fastest lap, right?

Content with the weekend, you took Max up on his offer to go to a party together that night. It didn’t take much to convince you to have a few drinks, and it wasn’t long until you were out on the dance floor. The Dutchman accompanied you, not nearly as drunk as you were.

You let him run his hands down your waist, eventually resting your hips. It made you queasy, how easily he could control every thought you had. You wanted nothing more than this night to ever end, and that was only aided by the sweet nothing he would whisper, only for you to hear.

“I missed having you here with me,” he murmurs, barely audible over the drone of the packed bar you were in. “You’re the only reason I enjoy celebrating my wins.”

A blush creeps up your neck and cheeks, pulling him closer to you. The proximity has you weak, supported only by his hold. You let him sway you side to side, enjoying this side of him. This side you only saw when he was drunk, and you were too.

You couldn’t help but fall back into the rhythm of your relationship with Max. His sickly intoxicating words were music to your ears, leaving you wanting more and more every time. It never escalated into anything physical, but the illusion that it might had you holding onto this faux reality so tightly.

The season was coming to an end, only a few races left on the calendar. One of which was your home race, and you had never been more excited to be a driver in your life. Qualifying saw you on pole for the second time and, a surprise twist for everyone, saw Max sitting in P4, behind the likes of both Ferrari’s.

The thought of him being so many cars behind you brought some comfort to the nerves racking your body. You had never felt so anxious in your life, not even when you were on pole in Spa. You were so, so desperate for this to be your first win.

Red Bull were secure in their Constructor’s Championship, winning for the fourth year in a row. The Driver’s Championship, however, was still anyone’s game. It would be hard for Charles, who was sitting in third, to come back and win it, but it was still a possibility. Sitting in second, you were miraculously only 24 points behind Max. That was close enough to give you hope, determined more than ever. He, on the other hand, was not a happy chap.

On the racetrack, he didn’t really acknowledge you unless he had too. Off the racetrack? Max was a completely different person, never one to break the routine that had begun again.

During the formation lap, you felt the nerves and cheers radiating off of the crowd, supporting you in their wake. Being their only representation, you had a lot sitting on your shoulders.

The lights flicked on. One by one, taking what felt like forever to finally disappear. And when they did, you got the best jump of the group, leading the grid into the first, second, third corners and what would be the next 30 laps of the race.

Max had made up positions, closing in on you in first. It wasn’t until he made a stupid, irresponsible decision to try and overtake in a corner that was not made for two cars, causing a collision that his car couldn’t walk away from. Yours was in much better shape, only having damage to the front wing.

Whilst yeah, you lost multiple positions, his DNF sparked so much hope in your chest that there was almost nothing stopping you from winning this race.

Within record time, you jumped from ninth to first, giddy at the idea of actually winning for the first time in front of your home crowd. With only 1 lap to go, you were crying. You couldn’t lose it now, with whoever was running second so far behind you there was simply no chance of them catching up. You vision was blurred, but you could still see the checkered flag clear as day. People were screaming over the radio, but it all muddled together.

Stepping onto that first-place podium and hearing your national anthem was a dream come true. Literally. Sweat mixed with champagne, and for once you didn’t dread being sprayed. Revelling in the cheers of the crowd, you were overwhelmed with emotion that you couldn’t even form coherent sentences.

Someone, you aren’t quite sure who, mentions that because of your win, you were now first in the Driver’s Championship; Max’s DNF cost him the lead. How ironic.

Back in the team garage, you’re pulled away before you can get a big team photo.

Surprise is the last thing you feel when you see your teammate being the one to lead you away from everyone.

“What are you doing? We need to take the photo, Max. I don’t want to miss the photo,” you whine, laughing from the absurdity of the situation.

The door of whatever room he’s pulled you too slammed behind him, a loud bang you weren’t expecting.

“What the hell were you doing out there?”

“…what?” you ask, confused on what the hell he was talking about.

“Your shitty driving pushed me into the wall. Your shitty driving cost me the championship.”

“No, Max, the incident was your fault. Not mine.”

He looks like he’s holding back from strangling you. “No. I told Christian that you would ruin everything, and here we are. What a surprise, I was right.”

“There is still like 3 races left in the season, and I’m only a couple points up. You could very easily come back. No need to freak out.”

“Do not get in my way of my fifth championship, or else I’ll make sure you never race for any team, ever again.”

He had never been this mad, not in front of you.

“Fuck you, Max. At this point in time, I hold the title. Not you. It is not yours to claim,” you retaliate, fed up with him ruining your day.

“I bet you grinding your ass on me every night was a manipulation tactic, wasn’t it? To get in my head, fuck with my races.”

“What?? You were the one asking me to come with you, not the other way around. Do not try and turn this around on me Max.”

Down the hall, you could hear people calling out for you. He notices it too, opening the door with much gusto. “This isn’t over. Get in my way again, and I will personally see to you never getting in a car again.”

He stalks off, nowhere to be found for the photo. You tell the team not to wait up for him, knowing he would not be coming.

Safe to say that this weekend, this race that you had dreamed of for your whole life, was ruined.

Yeah, you were a winner, but a winner of what?

.・。.・゜✭・♥︎・✫・゜・。.

[kikidoesfanfic]

Stevie Harrington at The Hideout, dragged there on a Thursday night by her boyfriend Tommy, the boy heckling at the band on the small dingy stage and generally making an ass of himself while she sits there bored out of her mind, ignored.

Until she notices the woman on stage in a leather jacket and ripped jeans, Edie Munson, and can't bring herself to look away. Stevie sees her around school all the time, how could she not when the other girl climbs on the tables in the cafeteria to monologue about conformity and jocks any chance she gets in her platform boots. (And so what if Stevie secretly agrees with her, that the womens sport teams are given nothing even when they make championships while the boys teams can lose every game and still get extra funding and practice time, rewarded for not even meeting mediocrity. That it's all unfair.)

Tommy makes another crack at the band, Corroded Coffin, Stevie remembers, and she tells him to shut up and let her enjoy the music without even looking away from the stage. Tommy is of course, ego bruised, and starts making a scene, which gets Stevie looking at him.

Until she hears Edie sing low, with a bit of gravel in her voice, "I could be a better boyfriend than him, I could do the shit that he never did." Pulling her back like a siren.

And Tommy is pissed, grabs Stevie's arm and tells her they're leaving. It's the final nail in the coffin, and in this moment she can't understand what she was ever thinking agreeing to date someone like him.

"Thinking I'm gonna steal you from him, I could be such a gentleman," Edie sings, and it feels like it's for Stevie's ears only as she pulls herself away, tells Tommy they're done.

"Find your own way home then," Tommy spits, storming out the door, and Stevie should be mad, should absolutely be angry that he's leaving her in a strange bar on the outskirts of town alone with no way home, and tomorrow she might be, but...

"If I could give you some advice, I would leave with me tonight," Edie practically purrs, using the microphone stand as a prop, bringing her body against it in a wave, entrancing. Stevie can't be mad at Tommy, can't think of him at all, not when Edie Munson is looking at her like that.

"Never would have left you alone, for someone else to take you home," she sings with a wink as Stevie sits back in her booth, barely looking away from each other until it's time for Edie to drive her back into Hawkins proper.

Stevie wakes up the next morning in Edie's bed, having had it thoroughly proven, even with one night, that she's a far better boyfriend than Tommy could ever dream of being.

[byemambo]

The Beauty of Subtlety and Change: A Deep Dive [We Are EP. 12]

As more episodes come out every week, I fall more and more in love with this series. I know when the trailer came out, there were some people that we off put by "another university/engineering student" series, or weren't as enthusiastic about the comedy being present in the series, I think that's fair since everyone has their own preferences and qualms with how past series have approached this genre, but I truly believe once people give it a chance and start to watch the further episodes, I start realizing how intentional and well crafted the character development has been with each introduction of a new story arc or group dynamic. Eventually I want to dissect more parts of the series that I resonated with, but the first definitely has to be Tan and Fang's development as the series progresses.

One thing I appreciate about the handling of these two characters, which I continue to give my flowers to Aou and Boom. This is my first time watching them in a series (I was only familiar with Pond and Phuwin from Never Let Me Go, as well as Tee when he played a supporting role in Only Friends), and I instantly fell in love with their on screen characters, but eventually the actors themselves as the series progressed. Both actors do an amazing job portraying the personalities of their characters and their distinct differences between their past and present selves, where the performance is well thought out without being too over the top which is what the sound effects are for hahaha.

In episode 12, the conversation between Tan and Fang caught my attention the most, especially when I rewatched episodes in my free time while waiting for new episodes to drop. When Tan shares his story with the gang about how Fang and him met during episode 9, you wouldn't have even thought both of them would be as hot headed as they were in high school versus how we were introduced to them as university students in the first few episodes.

These exchanges with Fang reflected Tan's past self well: a smart ass, condescending, provoking. I think the juxtaposition between past Tan and present Tan really shows itself when we see how Tan speaks about Fang in private now that they're an established couple: compassionate, attentive, loving. Aou does an amazing job with his microexpressions, saying a lot without saying anything at all.

Episode 9 vs. Episode 12

What was even more of a shock to me was the introduction of Fang's past self, completely opposite of how we were introduced to him in the first few episodes. High school Fang was also just as condescending and hot headed, which was later revealed by Tan that he only punched Fang back to save face on the field with other people around. But can we please address how much of a menace Fang is from that expression alone?

Episode 9

To think that present Fang, someone observant, reliable, and introverted, used to be someone blunt, confrontational and spiteful only reinforced my belief in the evolution of individuals: that a person of their past is in fact, the same person in the present, that not everyone should be tied down to the person they used to be and to make room for the person they're aiming to become. I noticed the shift in their perception of one another when we watch the second half of the flashback after Tan helps Phum and Fang escape an ambush.

Episode 9

This becomes one of my favorite Tan moments so far (as of episode 12): the defining moment of his innate character as selfless, courageous, and heroic. That despite how Tan felt about Fang after their first encounter and the many other arguments and fights to come, that never crossed Tan's mind when he first witnessed the confrontation: that his natural instinct was to help. He further reinforces this value when Phum asked him why he helped them, Tan answering: "I don't believe in dirty tricks."

Episode 9

After Tan's true character redefines itself in Fang's eyes as this asshole that instigated an argument with him for no reason actually has a heart of gold? We also see this shift in perception between Tan as he witnessed Fang's brotherly nature helping Phum with his injuries, later creating a core memory between the three as both of them let their guards down and mutually accept: "You know, this is all turning out way different than what I expected and...I'm not mad at it." In my humble opinion not that I find helping people/aiding people to be an extremely attractive trait in someone, this planting of the seed that leads up to their own way of flirting and eventually becoming a couple makes sense and as Q says: "You're totally rivals-to-lovers". The ability to protect and help others is a strong trait to have, and this makes sense once Fang begins to open up to Tan about his home life.

When Fang seeks out Tan during episode 12 after seeing his brother and father argue, the best way I could put Fang's complicated feelings into words: survivor's guilt. Fang reaffirms this idea through sharing:

"The moment he returned from abroad, I could still remember the look in his eyes clearly. It has remained my trauma until today."

As someone who identifies with Phum and his upbringing in being the lesser favored child by our parents, having a sibling grow up alongside you being raised by the same-but-different parents is a difficult pill to swallow on both ends, especially as we get older and begin to realize how intense and traumatic that experience can be when we reflect back on childhood, often times manifesting into resentment as we see with Phum and his parents currently in the story. On how real those discrepancies become when intervention and self reflection occurs, on quite frankly, how shitty it is to finally see the ugly truth after disregarding reality or protecting (intentionally or not) those who are the root causes of the pain and suffering.

I resonate with Phum and his journey in learning how to express himself in effective ways that can be heard through the ears of others, even though our childhood made us believe that we're not worthy of bare minimum love and attention, that we're bound to be misunderstood. A lot of Phum's tendencies at the beginning make sense for someone dealing with childhood trauma and abandonment issues cause same here, resulting in isolation, disconnection, and eventually waking up surviving every day instead of living every day. Something I personally battle with in my daily life that I'm sure Phum can relate to: "If my own parents can't support and love me unconditionally, who can and who will? Will I even experience that one day? And if I do, how long will it take until it's taken away from me?" Fang also brings up this same insecurity when opening up to Tan:

"Though I act unreasonable and don't behave well sometimes, if one day you feel you no longer want to be with me, just tell me straight. Because if you disappear, I would be in so much pain."

I'm sure once Fang really understood the effects of Phum's treatment by his parents, his need and "role" to protect and care for Phum intensifies, the conflict between pleasing his parents while also pleasing and helping his brother becomes burdensome to the point where he disregards his own feelings in order to "keep the peace." Although these methods seem rational and effective in the moment, it's only a matter of time before the methods become obsolete and unsustainable, and the foundation built on sticks and desperation to remedy the pain and chaos collapses. Then what finally remains is someone who's scared of the unknown, scared of reentering the same detrimental period of preparing for peace time and war time, someone who regulated themselves through adapting hypervigilance and eventually, general anxiety (as someone diagnosed with anxiety, Fang's moments of overwhelm and "dramatic" all or nothing statements are clear as day to overthinkers), someone who realizes that he can't save everyone, and that's a horrifying feeling to accept once you subject yourself to being the peacemaker.

Episode 12

Being able to see how Tan eases Fang's anxiety (which is well depicted in Boom's acting cause I know that feeling of wanting to be brave and express the truth and trying not to cry through it) was incredibly sweet and became one of my favorite moments the two share. That outside of Tan's go lucky, hyper, and expressive self (who used to be this closed off person that only began really changing once his friends gave him an ultimatum to quit fighting or their friendship ends and poor Peem having to find out the truth of Tan's injuries that wasn't from a bike accident LOL) is an emotionally intelligent, understanding, and aware individual that only wants what's best for his loved ones in the moment. Rather than only hearing Tan's reassurances, which is a result of losing faith in other people and dealing with their lack of credibility in their words versus their actions, we see this during Phum's argument with his father when he double downed:

"I'm paying attention to you now. Everything I've done is for you."

When you hear everything in the book and fail to not only see real action, but accountability and seeking of forgiveness through apologizing is like pulling teeth with some generation of parents, so I truly believe the reaction Phum exhibited was expected. When there's no true understanding of the effects a parent's decision had on a child, there's no foundation put in place to accept and move forward. Skipping steps such as reflection, apologizing, and accountability and getting straight to what you think your child wants is not only disregarding: it's insulting. Given that Phum experienced many iterations of this throughout his childhood, I can only imagine Fang experiencing this secondhand or through witnessing his younger brother dealing with these hardships. When words stop having meaning, the weight of people's words can only hold so much value for individuals that deal with anxious tendencies. In my words: "I need to see it to believe it."

Not only does Tan verbally reassure Fang and telling him not to overthink, he also extends this same sentiment through physical touch. Hand holding, grabbing him by the shoulders, poking his nose, hugging, any moment to be playful with Fang. Growing up with an absent parent usually means an overall lack of physical affection, which can feel unfamiliar or foreign and become even more meaningful to those to express their love and adoration through physical touch, which you can see throughout the scene as Tan's reassurance is calming Fang down and finally bringing him to smile for the first time during their conversation.

For all the people who believed that Fang wasn't showing affection enough for Tan and that he didn't like Tan as much as Tan liked him: I will defend Fang like no other because I identify with him. I'm not one to have a track record on expressing my love for others through physical touch (which doesn't mean I despise it, I just simply forget that's another form of affection I'm allowed to express), which doesn't discount Fang's expression of love and writing him off as unaffectionate simply because Tan has established his primary love language to be physical touch. We see Fang's affection and reciprocation of affection most through quality time and acts of service, such as him allowing Tan to help him with his architecture projects or keeping him company, or Fang trying to reach Tan through phone to see him after a rough time with his professor and being to beat up whoever upset his babe, or Tan waiting for Fang to finish class for them to go eat dinner together. Fang has also exhibited his love and affection through buying Tan little treats or making him his only mastered recipe spaghetti which Tan will never complain about because it's the thought that counts.

It may not seem as overt and obvious as Tan's expression of love, but we can't deny Fang's love for him that's simply a quieter version of love. Just because it's different, it doesn't make one invalid versus the other, look at his smile from him being around his silly little boyfriend. But as time goes on as these two strengthen their bond as a couple, we can already see how Tan's habits and antics rub off on Fang through playful exchanges. Although Fang is more shy about expressing his feelings, it becomes a beautiful balance of your ideal golden retriever-black cat relationship and a wonderful representation of how successful couples become with candid communication, understanding, and reassurance.

Ok I think I got everything out on the hill I'll die on now, so if you've made it this far, I hope I entertained you enough and left you with from food for thought, but I also appreciate your engagement if you have any thoughts! All is much appreciated <3 As you can see, I'm very normal about this series hehehe

[thatnewweeb]

Coming Home | Blue Lock P. 2

Characters | Itoshi Sae, Itoshi Rin, Chigiri Hyoma, Kunigami Rensuke, Barou Shoei

CW | None (I guess missing them/you?), pro player AU

A/N | And here it is! Part 2! I only know to the end of the anime thus far, so apologies if anything seems out of character for any manga readers

Itoshi Sae

Without fail, you are waiting for him at the airport when his plane lands whenever he has to go overseas for games.

When he sees you, he'll put down his bags and open his arms, ready for you to run into him. He'll hug you tightly, waiting for you to loosen your arms around him before he lets go of you, letting you decide how long the hug goes on. This usually leads to hugs lasting ten minutes or more

You'll get through the airport as quickly as possible, holding his hand as you drag him through all the people wanting his attention. Not that he wanted to give his attention to anyone besides you anyway.

You always drive on the way back home, knowing he's typically tired from jetlag. He'll have his hand resting on your thigh, letting himself relax now that he's on his way home with the love of his life.

You'll offer to take his bags inside when you get home, but he never lets you. For the rest of the day, you are not allowed to get out of bed. He wants you there to cuddle him, even if he won't admit it out loud. He doesn't need to, it's obvious.

Itoshi Rin

Rin asks that you go to the store the day before he arrives back home so that he doesn't have anything to do for the few days after he gets back, just wanting to relax and spend time with the love of his life (aka you).

He likes to get back into routine as soon as possible, so the plan for when he gets back is to cook a meal together. He says that, no matter how nice the food he eats while he's away is, it can never compare to your home cooking.

He'll get home and immediately come into the kitchen. As soon as he sees you, facing towards the counter preparing some ingredients in advance, his arms are around you, squeezing you gently and pressing up against your back.

He will hold you there, not letting you turn around as he nuzzles his face into your neck, giving you numerous kisses there too. Once he lets you go, he'll give you the chance to hug and kiss him before you finish making dinner together.

You'll eat together, and then spend the rest of the night cuddled up together, just enjoying the time you get back together. He may not show it as much as a lot of boyfriends do, but he loves you so much.

Chigiri Hyoma

You know what he wants to do when he gets home, pretty much every single time.

When he walks in, he'll obviously give you a big hug and plenty of kisses, he missed you and your touch, after all, but he has something specific he likes to do.

After you get his text to let you know he's on his way back from the airport, you get everything ready for a full self care night. For both of you, that includes hair care, skincare, giving each other a massage, along with other activities.

Once his hugs and kisses are done, you shower together then head into the bedroom to give each other massages. After that, you change into the comfortable clothes you laid out for the both of you, then help each other with skin and hair care.

When you're done with that, you'll cuddle in bed and watch a movie, just happy to be back together after what felt like forever apart.

Kunigami Rensuke

Whenever he has to go away for a game, he will take you with him if he can. He doesn't want to have to spend time away from you if possible, but that of course can't always happen.

When he finally comes home after you had to stay home, it's late at night. His flight ended up delayed, so he was a lot later than he was meant to be back.

He doesn't expect you to still be awake, he did message you to say that you should go to bed and just welcome him back in the morning, but there was no way you were going to miss out on greeting him at the door.

The second the door was opened, you were running towards him, throwing yourself against his strong body. It was a good thing that he reacted in time and braced himself, or you would have both ended up sprawled on the floor.

"Baby, it's late. You should be asleep!" he scolds, but he can't hide the soft smile on his face as he wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly against him.

He locks the door behind him before picking you up and carrying you to bed, leaving his bags in the entrance to your shared home. Right now, he doesn't care about things like getting organised, he just wants to cuddle and fall asleep with you in his arms again.

Barou Shoei

You're his immediate priority when he gets home. The first thing he does is open his arms up as he walks inside, knowing that you're bound to be running from wherever you are in the house to throw yourself into his arms.

He'll pick you up the second you're in his arms, holding you tightly as you kiss all over his face, smiling ever so slightly at how cute you are.

Once you've had about five minutes of him just holding you and you kissing him, you will both take his bags into your bedroom and put his things away straight away, not leaving it to do later.

While you're putting his things away together, he'll tell you about how his games went, what he did in his free time, and most importantly how much he missed you.

You usually finish putting everything away quite quickly, so he'll continue talking while cuddling up on the couch together, making up for the missed time. When he's finished talking about his time away, it's then your turn to tell him about what you did while he was away.

This routine is your little ritual for when he gets home.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

there's just... there is no reason to make yet another cop show in this day and age. copaganda is not only bullshit, it is a failure of imagination.

you want to watch brooding characters with dark pasts investigate crimes in an official capacity? just use private detectives (cops have a miserable solve rate anyway). want eccentric geniuses & their sidekicks solving mysteries? i present you with armchair detectives & neighborhood busybodies. oh, you're craving a workplace comedy-drama starring overworked protagonists doing their heartfelt best to resolve community conflicts? social worker office sitcom! bitch this is ACHIEVABLE

[l3irdl3rain]

How is my best friend Arthur has he helped you baldur any gates

He’s been good! My washing machine broke last week and I hauled it out the other day in preparation for the new one and he’s been loving his new Top Secret Hiding Spot.

We are taking a little bit of a Baldur’s Gate break right now just because I was getting burnt out. We’re slowly making our way through Mass Effect Andromeda for the second time. I’m very excited to get back to BG3 tho.

I left off right at the start of Act 2. I’m playing a Githyanki monk named Ez’rai and spent way too much time coming up with a backstory for them. I’m going to be romancing Wyll this time. I think Ez’rai growing up in such a harsh culture that didn’t have room for soft romance will go together in such a fun and cute way with Wyll. A noble’s son who is just so sweet and romantic and good.

[leupagus]

The degree to which Davos and Brienne are going to become reluctant BFFs, because their lieges keep coming to them complaining about each other, is UNREAL

or, more from this fic that's slowly eating my life

~

Their journey to the Northern army's camp had revealed a great deal about Lady Stark and her lords and petty chieftains: their patronizing generosity, their gruff suspicion of outsiders, and above all their mind-boggling obstinacy. Ned and Lyanna had been much the same, from what he remembered, and Stannis had seen shades of it in Jon Snow, though couched more gently than he'd expected from a bastard. He'd imagined — insofar as he'd imagined her at all — that Lady Stark would be gentler still, her mother's line warming that chilled Northern blood.

He had been disastrously mistaken. It was a wonder only one Stark had survived, but it was already clear that she had gathered the entire share of Stark mulishness.

"I have conditions, Your Grace," said Lady Stark. "If this alliance is to succeed in retaking Winterfell, I feel it right that you hear them." She placed the parchment in her hand carefully on his table and stepped back, hands folded primly.

She had requested, and been granted, this conference shortly after Stannis's army had made camp alongside the Northern soldiers. Stannis's tent had barely been erected when she came to him with this parchment, her wolf, and a determined expression. He had thought he'd listened to her enough on the journey as she'd prattled away with Shireen, but he was in the mood to be permissive.

Reading through her list of demands, he could feel the headache building along his jaw and up through his skull. "Have you lost your mind?" he said, for the second time in a week to an unreasonable woman.

Melisandre had brushed his question aside, but Lady Stark was not made of such supple stuff; she stiffened and glowered at him. "That is a peculiar way to agree to my terms, Your Grace."

"Your terms are rather more than peculiar, my lady," he said, tossing the parchment back on the table.

In truth, the first one was not so peculiar: it said that should they regain the Keep, he would recognize Sansa Stark as Lady of Winterfell and Warden of the North in her own right. He would not pass her over in favor of some lesser Northern male relative, nor would he obligate her to marry and rule only as companion to her husband. Considering Stannis's own intention to ensure Shireen sat on the Iron Throne after his death, he could hardly begrudge her this.

Considering the other two stipulations, however, he felt very much inclined to begrudge her everything.

"Supposing your younger brothers turn up?" he asked, thrusting his chin at the parchment. "Or Jon Snow is legitimized?"

This question didn't faze her, he suspected because it was a question of logistics and protocol rather than a personal remark. "If Jon is made legitimate, I don't believe he would want Winterfell—"

"Duty is not a question of wanting, Lady Stark," he reminded her. "And the Lord Commander is—"

"The Lord Commander, as you say, is the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," she retorted. "His life has already been pledged to the Wall. If he didn't abandon that cause in aid of my brother Robb, he won't abandon it now."

Stannis observed her. There was bitterness there, certainly, though less than he would have thought. Lady Stark clearly understood the ties that bound men to their duty, even if she did not like them.

"However," she continued, "Should any of my brothers wish to make a claim to Winterfell in my place, I won't stand against them." She paused for a moment, and added, "I have no wish to die at their hands out of misplaced pride."

Stannis clenched his jaw but let that go for the moment — it would be addressed soon enough. "You call me 'Your Grace,'" he said, tapping at the parchment, "Yet your second stipulation says that you will not bend the knee to me, even if I regain Winterfell for you."

"No, it says that I will not bend the knee to any claimant to the throne until they hold the majority of the kingdoms," she shot back. "The Lannisters hold the Crownlands, the Westerlands and the Reach at present. The Riverlands are still in chaos, the Vale has withdrawn from all alliances to sulk in their mountains, and both Dorne and the Iron Islands have declared for themselves, more or less. You can, at best, claim that the Stormlands still support you, though I've seen no evidence for it — they didn't march under your banner at first, did they?"

That was the second time she had brought up Renly, however obliquely. If she were trying to drive him mad, she couldn't go about it any better. "When I hold the North, my lady, I will have more land—"

"Setting aside the notion that it will be you alone who holds the North, you'll have more land and fewer men than any other region. If you wish to win against the Lannisters, you'll need more than mountains and glaciers fighting your battles. And if I wish to be Warden of the North, I can't keep the respect of my lords by swearing fealty to a man who has yet to earn it."

"I could have you burned for such talk," he said, getting to his feet and pouring himself some water, hoping it would ease the throbbing in his head.

"You don't burn nobles, you behead them," she replied cooly. "I should know. I was there when the Lannisters took my own father's head for supporting your claim to the Iron Throne. I have no intention of sharing his fate." She took a deep breath, and only then did he note that her hands had been clenched together, her right covering the balled-up fist of her left. "I won't take arms against you now or in the future, on that I give my word."

"And if I do have you beheaded?" he asked, putting the tin cup down before he crumpled it in his hand.

It seemed to amuse her. "Then my words will mean even less than they do now."

"They mean nothing, because you will not give them!" He pinched his nose and attempted to regain his composure. Surprisingly difficult, with this — child.

She regarded him for a moment. "You call me Lady Stark, Your Grace," she said, "but tell me, have you heard anyone else call me that?"

Stannis, thrown by the question, was forced to consider it. In truth, he had heard only Lady Sansa, though said with more reverence by her men and lords than he could ever recall being addressed himself. "You are Lady Stark."

"Not without Winterfell," she said, shaking her head. "It's more than just the home of the Starks, it is our…place in the world. We belong nowhere else. Just as there must always be a Stark at Winterfell, so too do we need Winterfell to truly be Starks." She gave him a pointed look. "Just as Your Grace needs the Iron Throne, and the fealty of all the Seven Kingdoms, to truly be king."

She was wrong, of course, but Stannis felt the same lurch in his belly whenever his footing slipped during a bout. "Perhaps your reticence has something to do with this last stipulation," he said instead, going back to the table and jabbing his finger at the third line. "Falsely accusing a king is treason."

"Is Lady Brienne falsely accusing you, Your Grace?" she asked, smooth as ice. Her hands were still clenched, he noted.

"I was nowhere near Renly's camp when he died," Stannis said, with perfect truth, even as he felt himself balanced on a knife's edge.

He had been nowhere near. He had woken up just before dawn with the lead weight of certainty in his belly, knowing what had happened — what the Red Woman had said must happen — and lying there, staring up at the tent's canvas, he had wept. Wept for the brothers he had loved and who had never loved him back. He would never know if Renly had had a hand in Robert's death; just as he would never know if he himself had had a hand in Renly's. Had he ordered Melisandre to kill him? Had he believed her when she said she could make such a thing come to pass? Davos had begged to tell him of what had happened in the cave that night, what monstrous thing the Red Woman had done to bring Renly's death about. Stannis had refused to hear it. Perhaps there was a sort of rough justice in facing his accuser now, the only one living who knew the truth.

"Lady Brienne has served me faithfully," said Lady Stark, "and my mother before me, at great cost to herself. I believe her testimony, Your Grace."

"Her testimony that I murdered my own brother."

Lady Stark regarded him steadily. "I will not insult either of you by declaring one more honorable than the other. But when I regain Winterfell, my duty as Warden of the North will be to adjudicate all such matters, and this falls under my purview. Even if you were crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms in the Red Keep itself, the North holds all persons, regardless of title, under its laws while they reside here."

"Renly didn't die in the North," was all he could manage to say.

"He died, Your Grace." Lady Stark looked almost pitying. "And for that, I'm sorry. I know what it is to lose your brothers. But on this point I will not waver."

"Is there any point on which you have?" he asked, curious.

She continued serenely. "Lady Brienne will be permitted to make her accusation publicly; how you respond to it is your affair, but if you prevail, you must give me your word now that she will not be held guilty of treason, nor will she be killed by any member of your party by any means." She put enough emphasis on the last two words to make her meaning plain.

"And if she prevails?" Stannis asked. "Your stipulations do not mention the outcome of the trial, only that it will take place." He smiled grimly. "Your father always said that he who passes the sentence should swing the sword, my lady. Will you behead me yourself?"

"I doubt either of us would find that a pleasant exercise, Your Grace," she said, her lip curling slightly. She didn't blanch, however; young as she was, she had seen worse. Had possibly done worse, if the rumors about the Purple Wedding were true. He'd not asked. "If you are found guilty, then you will ride south. If you win the support of the other kingdoms, the North will bend the knee to you. But you'll never come north of the Neck again. Does that satisfy?"

Stannis glanced down at the parchment again. There it all was, in black and white: the price he must pay for the North. The blasted girl had even provided a space for him to sign at the bottom.

"Not remotely," he said, but reached for his pen.