#patiently waiting for me to acknowledge I had it prepared but never posted it

[nerdynuala]

This is the oldest draft I had in my draft folder :')

Mikenana and Erumike brotp excuse me while I go happily cry in a corner. Good times, very good times when I had the time to be drawing all this stuff

Why did I not post this sooner? No idea

Anyway have a healthy vets triangle here

[sugamehhq]

Acknowledgement (Johnshi)

More writing for my Demons and Angels AU !

If you haven't read the first post about this AU, I suggest you do as this is a continuation of the first one :))

--

It hadn’t occurred to Kenshi how long it would take for the angel to recover from marking.

He’d been in the angel’s territory way longer than he should’ve been, but his newly claimed partner was first priority. A couple days had passed, Johnny’s leg relaxed enough for him to stand, but Kenshi insisted he take another day of rest. While the angel continued to rest, the demon provided food, water, and comfort. He never once left his side.

However, when the angel awoke, Kenshi sprung the idea of getting him acknowledged.

Johnny became visibly disturbed, “Can’t we just live here? We can find somewhere secluded, we don’t have to-”

“Johnny,” Kenshi sat in front of the angel, “I need you to be acknowledged.”

Johnny stared at Kenshi, once again wondering what laid behind that blindfold he always wore. His hand squeezed the other’s, making his fear known.

“Please..?”

The desperate tone of the demon’s voice was convincing, but it wasn’t convincing enough to get him off the ground. 

“Can it wait a few days,” Johnny sighed, “I don’t think I could face anyone if I wanted to.”

Kenshi’s eyebrow raised in confusion.

“How come?”

Johnny hesitated. Has it not occurred to Kenshi that meeting the higher-ups meant potentially seeing faces he never wanted to see again? Does he not realize Johnny’s never set foot in that area of his territory?

“I feel disgusting,” was how his mind chose to reply.

Kenshi’s hand pulled away slightly causing Johnny to speak up.

“Not because of you, or us, just because,” his voice trailed off.

He wanted to say it to his partner’s face, but he couldn’t form the words to.

With their bond, Kenshi could sense the disturbance in Johnny’s mind. His hand found its way to the angel’s mark, gently massaging it to provide comfort.

“I get it,” he smiled, “just let me know when you’re ready.”

Johnny considered himself lucky. Having landed a partner so understanding and patient was more than he could’ve ever asked for.

While Johnny prepared himself to meet his higher-ups, Kenshi took the time to head back to his territory. When he arrived, he was interrogated immediately.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Where do you think I’ve been Sonya,” Kenshi growled, not bothered to talk to anyone of his kind.

“Someone’s moody,” she pressed further, “did something happen?”

Kenshi silently nodded while collecting some items. He was avoiding conversation as best as he could. As much as he loved Sonya as a friend, he didn’t want to trust anyone with the information of him claiming a low rank, brown winged, angel.

“I’m only here to finish a few things,” he turned to face the blonde, “I didn’t miss anything important did I?”

“No sir,” Sonya saluted playfully before laughing to herself.

Kenshi smiled in response to her energy. She always had a positive light to her. If it wasn’t for her very obvious demon features he would have mistaken her for an angel. 

Having been left alone to tend to his duties, Kenshi thought about his situation. On one hand, it was relieving to know the angel was his, that he was able to secure him to a safe rank. On the other, he worried the angel would have to prove himself to his family, as well as the top demon, Sindel. He didn’t wish to put any unnecessary pressure on him, this leading him to consider Johnny’s words.

“Can’t we just live here?”

While it sounded nice to run away and not worry about anything else but each other, Kenshi was a family oriented man. If he never got the chance to bring Johnny to his family, to receive approval of his actions, he’d feel off. Johnny is a part of him now, which meant he needed to meet his family, at least in Kenshi’s mind, that’s how it’s supposed to be.

He soon realized he was jumping the gun a bit. First, they had to get Johnny acknowledged by the top angel, Liu Kang.

The day Johnny decided he was ready for his acknowledgement, Kenshi could tell.

The angel’s energy, of which is tied to Kenshi’s, was sour. Kenshi could tell he wanted to avoid it longer, but knew he had to get it over with. The second Kenshi set foot in angel territory, Johnny attached himself to him.

“It’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

Kenshi brushed his bangs out of his face before planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. He could feel the angel’s hand creeping up his back to rub at his mark, a silent attempt to comfort himself by easing Kenshi’s nerves. Noticing Johnny was trying his hardest to stall, Kenshi took his hand and started walking. 

When the higher-ups area of land came into view, Kenshi could feel Johnny pulling back ever so slightly. The demon was determined to get this done, so he pulled him forward. The angel’s eyes quickly darted back and forth across the area, unsure of his surroundings. Feeling Johnny growing more uncomfortable with each step, the demon brought him to his side.

“Calm down,” he spoke quietly, “you’re worrying too much.”

“And you’re not?” Johnny bit back more aggressively than he would’ve liked.

“Of course I am,” the demon looked around, “I’m the one who’s not from here.”

The two must’ve looked suspicious as eyes started taking notice of their strange pace. Johnny could feel the burning eyes of angels trying to figure out who he was. While they didn’t recognize him, Johnny recognized a few faces, ones he would’ve preferred to never see again, just like he thought.

Kenshi must’ve realized, his hand holding Johnny’s a little tighter than before.

For Johnny, walking the halls of such a pure and beautiful structure felt wrong. He felt as if his footsteps dirtied the place, that his overall presence tainted its beauty. It felt wrong to be in a place such as this.

Having reached the main stage, Kenshi halted their steps.

His hand fidgeted with Johnny’s, discomfort becoming known.

Johnny looked at him confused.

“Shit,” the demon sighed.

The angel opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off when an angel with their hair tied back entered the hall.

“Hello,” their voice was soft and comforting, “may I ask what you’re here for?”

It was strange, for Johnny at least. Hearing another angel speak with such proper tone and respect was off putting. His hand pulled at Kenshi’s, silently asking to leave.

“We’d like to speak with Lord Liu Kang, if that’s alright?”

The other angel smiled before gesturing forward.

The look of determination on Kenshi’s face was strong, as if he had something to prove. As the two approached the main room, their presence became known to Liu Kang. The white winged angel didn’t speak, he just observed. His face carried a polite smile as he watched Johnny kneel and Kenshi bow slightly.

“Excuse us for interrupting,” Kenshi started before looking back up at the higher-up, “is it alright to ask you a favor.”

If it wasn’t for the proper setting, Kenshi would’ve slapped himself. He sounded ridiculous at that moment.

Liu Kang nodded, still not saying a word.

Kenshi stared dumbfounded, but responded.

“My name is Kenshi Takahashi,” he grabbed Johnny’s arm and pulled him up to stand beside him.

The demon hesitated, his gaze falling to his partner beside him. He offered a soft squeeze to his arm in apology before finishing his statement.

“This is Johnathan Carlton.”

Johnny noticeably cringed at the use of his full name.

Liu Kang noticed his discomfort, but remained silent waiting for the demon’s request.

“I’ve spent plenty of time in your territory getting to know him. He’s sweet, caring, and a wonderful individual to be around. He is, was, a rank 12. I brought us here to request your acknowledgement of Johnny’s new position in rank.”

Kenshi was on autopilot. Normally he was fine with facing higher-ups, but this was different.

Beside Liu Kang stood his other half, whom Kenshi knew.

Kitana. The top demon’s daughter.

Having her there to listen to his proposal stirred his brain. He felt the need to prove his choice, prove his actions to be right.

What he wasn’t expecting to see was her smile in reply.

Only then did Liu Kang speak.

“Good for you, Johnny.”

And that was that.

Just as soon as things began, they ended.

Neither Kenshi or Johnny had time to process the approval of their bond. Liu Kang had his follower angels tend to Johnny, replacing his copper jewels with his newly earned gold ones. While they were occupied, Kenshi was left confused.

“So this is where you’ve been this whole time?”

Kitana’s voice rang throughout the room.

Kenshi quickly snapped out of his daze to nod.

“Mother was looking for you the other day,” the demoness laughed.

“She was?” Kenshi’s proper presentation began to slip.

“Yes, though I don’t believe it was of any importance.”

The demon sighed, so Sonya telling him he didn’t miss anything wasn’t completely a lie.

“I suggest when you head back you take the angel with you.”

“I planned to,” Kenshi bowed slightly.

“Good.”

With that, the demoness left to rest at her partner’s side once more.

When Johnny was released he looked uncomfortable. It was a strange change, but who was he to complain? Instead of his usual bronze jewels, his figure was adorned with a newly supplied gold set. He was told his original bronze was to be cleaned and stored in his room, of which he would learn about later.

“Well look at you,” Kenshi teased to lighten the mood, “all prettied up in gold.”

The angel huffed a laugh, unsure how to feel.

The demon reached towards him, silently asking for contact, of which Johnny complied.

“I’m not sure gold suits me,” he spoke into Kenshi’s shoulder.

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t.”

“It doesn’t do me justice.”

“Bullshit,” Kenshi ruffled his hair while tightening his embrace on the other.

Johnny rolled his eyes before melting into his partner.

“So what’s next?” the angel unintentionally asked, his nerves still blazing.

“Well,” Kenshi sighed, “next would be getting my family’s approval."

Right… His family’s approval.

--

Some information to consider:

Sonya and Kenshi are best friends in this AU.

Liu Kang and Kitana are seen as very intimidating individuals. Most people don't know they're probably the sweetest people to ask approval of.

Acknowledgement is basically just bringing attention to the fact someone's rank has changed. It's not required, but for Johnny's sake and Kenshi's peace of mind, Kenshi required it of him.

Lower ranks and higher ranks barely know one another. Liu kang might be the ruler of the angels, but he doesn't know who Johnny is, hence why Kenshi introduced him the way he did.

Johnny is uncomfortable of the use of his full name. Due to his background, his full name gives him an ick, so he prefers to be called Johnny. It's similar to his given name since he does like his name, but it's different enough to be different from his given name.

Idk if I said it or made it clear enough in my writings, but marking another person results in your energies being tied together. Whatever you feel your partner feels. If you're both feeling nervous then the feeling is amplified since there is two of you. Kenshi and Johnny, when walking through the halls of the higher-up's residence, looked suspicious for the fact they shared intense nerves in the moment. Kenshi is just better at masking it and tried his best to keep himself calm to not overwhelm Johnny more than he already was.

---

Anyway, that's all for now :))

As usual I've written this at ungodly hours of the night, so forgive me if anything sounds wacky.

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed :))

[fangbangerghoul]

ITS HERE!

Chapter 8: Acensionism

As usual: MDNI, 18+ WC: 4330 A whirlwind of emotions takes our characters to situations never imagined by any of them. Sam, Ghoul, Delgado This chapter has been on my mind since I started really planning out this entire miniseries of Starfield Tales. Thank you so much for being patient with me with this chapter and I really hope it is worth the wait! Not all will be posted here, the rest will be on Ao3 link below! AO3 Link (reblogs, replies, comments, kudos, all appreciated but never required!)

Chapter 8: Ascensionism

Everything was uncomfortable. The air was heavy, cold, and hard to breathe. It seemed the life support functions on this side of the station were just oxygen and gravity. The only heat this room retained was whatever was left over from the deck above which, if Ghoul was right about placement, was Delgado’s private quarters. Her body ached from the beatings she had taken the past 72 hours and the one in particular Delgado gave her when they were alone. She was angry at herself for giving in so quickly but she was tired, hungry, and whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not desperate for connection. Even if that connection was only skin deep. 

Ghoul knew she wasn’t strong enough to bust out of here if she could and let herself reveal too much, but there was also something about the way he commanded a room that made her want to give him even more. His prowling nature and dominance over his Fleet was something that lit a fire inside her. The way his eyes always lingered on hers like she had answers for him only she knew. Ghoul knew she shouldn’t feel this way about him even if the way he took her body made the nerves inside her tingle with electricity. Delgado was still a mother fucker for throwing her in this hole. The ‘cell’ he referred to was more so a storage room closet and it was big enough for her to fit in it and maybe one other person without their feet touching. 

She banged her head on the wall behind her to keep herself awake. The dull pain was enough to keep her alert and conscious. She stayed up through the whole night cautious of what the Fleet would have in store for her now that she was an outed traitor. She expected Delgado was holding his meeting with his second in command and a few of his trusted captains of the Fleet preparing something extra gruesome just for her. Ghoul was still shocked she didn’t have a bullet through her head yet and was even allowed to shower before she was thrown in here. It felt unusual for Delgado to keep her alive for this long considering it’s widely known how he disposes of people for less. The heavy sigh that escaped her chest revitalized some of the memories Ghoul purposely had repressed. Images of her Constellation friends, the enemies she had killed along the way, and Sam. 

“Fucking kill me already.” She said to herself with such boredom that it made the corner of her lips curve slightly. Ghoul was starting to feel the immense weight of some of her decisions but what was done was done. She knew she had to admit to herself that a lot of those decisions were made because she could have made them with or without the influence of the Crimson Fleet. She could blame her ‘mother’ but nothing would come of that. It had been so long without anyone she was finally allowing herself to call a friend that she thought perhaps they were smart and moved on. It would be a suicide mission to come after her now. The SysDef wouldn’t bother not that she wanted them to, because fuck them too. 

Her web of complicated thoughts and feelings were interrupted by the sound of metal screeching. There was a little extra light that appeared in the room she was in and her eyes immediately squinted at the sight of it. There was a dark figure that blocked the light that shone through to the room and Ghoul wasn’t entirely sure who it was while her eyes still adjusted. 

“Look who’s awake. The Rook or should I just call you the traitor?” The raspy sounding shrill was no one other than Naeva. It was clearer now with the way she casually leaned against the door frame and how her shoulders jutted forward with importance. 

“Oh, look you found me. Here I thought you all would just forget about me down here.” Ghoul said with a snide. She was not going to act like a hurt animal even though she felt as low and a bit hopeless like one. The flash memories of her ship mates panged at the shadow of her heart. It dragged her down while simultaneously encouraging her to do something irrational and impulsive. Plus, maybe if she played Naeva’s anger right, she could get out of this fucking dump. A foolish thought but when did she ever have a rational one. 

“You still got jokes. That’s reaaaal funny coming from a dead man.” Naeva loomed over Ghoul and she seemed to enjoy the display of power she had over Ghoul in this moment. She took a few steps over to Ghoul and bent over to have their faces only half a foot apart. “I know it was you who stirred up all that trouble in the bar. You still owe me for that mess you made. Now you owe me for vouching for traitorous scum. I warned you what would happen if you fucked me over.” 

Naeva spit on Ghoul after she let out a disgruntled growl and before Ghoul could respond to her mini monologue Naeva’s foot kicked her head back. The force of the boot against Ghoul’s chin made her teeth grind with immense force and her head to ricochet off the metal wall. The spot of dull pain that was on the back of her head from keeping herself awake was now a little warm and wet. Ghoul’s vision took a moment to set right again but even if she couldn’t see exactly where Naeva was about to kick her next, she knew the woman wouldn’t be able to resist doing it again. Ignoring the shockwaves of pain pulsing throughout her skull, Ghoul used her hands that were tied up to push her off the wall with enough force to lift her body at an upward angle. The rest of the momentum was focused on pushing her legs up enough to kick the bitch back. Ghoul missed and her body was flat on the floor, her frustration building while Naeva stood for a moment laughing at her futile attempt.

“You dumb bitch. You aren’t shit when you don’t have your little knives or high off your aurora addiction.” Naeva’s fingers were soon wrapped in Ghoul’s hair, lifting her off the floor and tearing at her scalp. The amount of times someone went for Ghoul’s hair was really starting to make her lose her shit just a little more than usual. 

“Say’s the bitch that follows a man’s orders all the time.” Ghoul croaked feeling like there was blood running down her throat. She probably bit her tongue enough to make it bleed again. “You wouldn’t dare hit me like this if my arms weren’t tied behind my back and we both know it.” 

The array of insults Ghoul spat back was enough to light a flame in Naeva’s eyes and the energy was matched with her fist directly into Ghoul’s face. Another impact that sent stars into Ghoul’s vision and there wasn’t much Ghoul could do to avoid the impact with her head held in place by her own hair and Naeva’s determination to give Ghoul her taste of punishment. She was preparing herself mentally for another hit to the face but Naeva threw her down and kicked her in the abdomen. 

“Are you fucking satisfied yet? Or do you want me to moan your name too?” Ghoul coughed out hoarsely and spit a bit of blood onto the floor. She wasn’t sure if she was determined to make Naeva kill her or if it was the masochist in her that made her want to goad this woman. Her head was down on the cold floor and her knees barely held her up at all. The pain was just consistent ripples that flowed throughout her body dulling with time but still felt in every inch of her nervous system. 

“You’re just a real fucking jokester.” Naeva now bent down and grabbed one of her arms and forced Ghoul up to her feet. When Ghoul started to fall from not being able to balance on her feet immediately, she just roughly pulled her up even more, forcing her on her two feet one way or another. “You know I had real high hopes for you, Rook. You were one I was looking forward to rising in the ranks.” 

“How sweet of you.” Ghoul wheezed as she leaned against the wall by the doorway. She wasn’t ready to move yet her stomach was nauseated and her head ringed from the impacts. Her body had already started to get the unpleasant side effects of aurora withdrawal a few hours ago so all the hits she felt from this woman were magnified tenfold. 

“Yeah, shut the fuck up. You were requested by Delgado.” Naeva said with annoyance as she waited for Ghoul to get back up. Naeva led the way as Ghoul slumped behind her. The way up the stairs seemed longer than when she went down only 24 hours ago. Naeva consistently looked over her shoulder to make sure Ghoul was still following and for once she was just following. Ghoul knew she didn’t have many options left to choose from and at this point she couldn’t fathom why she was even still alive. It was one thing to have been coerced into helping the SysDef but it will be a whole other mountain entirely to assist the Crimson Fleet to evade what the UC has planned.

The final hall before the command center was dimmer than usual and it felt ominous. The two Fleet members that stood guard opened the doors as soon as Naeva was in sight and their eyes were locked onto Ghoul. Watching her as if she were going to attack them at any moment.

Ghoul walked into the low lit command center, the crimson fleet logo lit in the background and a few command consoles lit up and in use. Delgado stood in the middle of the room under the one yellow ray that fell from the ceiling as if he was about to put on a show. Naeva stopped at his right and turned back to Ghoul, the both of them staring at her with impenetrable glares.

“I see Naeva had her fair share of you.” Delgado’s voice was husky and mixed with amusement. Ghoul held her stance, arms tied behind her back, and held her glare. She wasn’t going to die looking like a coward.

“Only because I couldn’t defend myself.” Ghoul retorted with a sly smile as she looked back at Naeva with challenge. The only reason Ghoul followed her so diligently was because she didn’t have a way to try to pay her back for being her temporary punching bag.

“Shut the fuck up, traitor. You should be fucking dead but-.”

“Naeva” Delgado barked her name as a command for her to stop while she was ahead. His arms were crossed and he didn’t bother to turn Naeva’s direction. “Normally in your case, you wouldn't even be breathing right now. But you have options and you better think real carefully before you run that fucking mouth of yours. I’m not interested.”

Ghoul looked at him intently, curious or what these options could even be. She assumed dead right now or dead later but Delgado seemed to have that ambitious look in his eyes that made her want to hope there was something better.

“Are you listening? I am not going to make myself clear twice.” He demanded before proceeding with her ultimatum.

[sinisterlyhan]

02. kim seungmin /  9435 words

female reader, virgin reader and virgin seungmin, oral (f & mreceiving), unprotected sex (this one is by choice, have safe sex everyone!), making out, fingering, angst with fluff

tw: light mentions of insecurities

a/n: hello, i am back after my sudden mini-hiatus to ruin everyone’s day! i have not written smut in a while, so i hope this piece isn’t too bad. also, the first part of this piece was originally posted on my sfw account so if you find something that is the exact same, that is also me.

you have always gotten emotional over seungmin leaving. even if it was just for a one-week christmas break with his friends, or a two-week music camp field trip with his choir group, or a two-month summer vacation with his family—you have gotten emotional over him leaving one way or another.

not dramatically, of course. it wasn’t like you were spilling waterfalls of tears and throwing temper tantrums over not being able to see or hold him for seven days straight; if that was the case, seungmin knew for a fact that he would not be able to handle it, especially since those absent days happen every single year.

you just get a little naggy, caringly naggy, like you’ve got amnesia every five minutes and you would keep reminding him to take care of himself, or make sure to have a good time, or think about you when he is away.

and seungmin does. he always does. whether it is at night on the soft hotel bed or walking down a loud foreign street, he makes space for you in his head and he shows that he has been thinking about you by sending you pictures and getting you souvenirs.

sometimes he becomes the annoying one because he keeps spamming you with pictures. you still remember playfully threatening to block his number after he sent you a frame by frame set of pictures, where you saw the entire process of jeongin tripping on jisung’s fallen body (because he tripped on thin air first) and falling to the ground.

it was a good blackmail material. you could pinpoint exactly the moment where jeongin realized he would be making friends with the brick ground, his eyes wide in alert and his arms flailing out in a poor attempt to grasp the air for support. when the boys came back from music camp that year, you made sure to give jeongin a big smooch on the head, which he begrudgingly accepted.

you have always gotten emotional over seungmin leaving. but not this time, not in a sense that you didn’t feel anything about his departure, it was just that… you were different this time.

you were ecstatic the first moment you heard that seungmin, along with his friends, passed theit idol audition and would get the chance to train under a prestigious entertainment. it has always been his dream to sing for people, you had been beyond proud of him to achieve the spot. it was until he broke it to you that he would have to move to seoul to pursue his opportunity when the realization finally dawned upon your silly, silly head.

he has to leave. he wasn’t breaking up with you, no, but he has to leave. for however many years it would take for him to qualify for debuting, and after that, there would be years of the dating ban, and then there would also be tight schedules and long distances.

seungmin was only leaving the city, but it felt like he was leaving you.

you left him to his own devices after that, stalling and wasting all the times you could have spent with him to make the remaining days count. you spared no playful nagging and no playful reminders, just unread texts and missed calls.

it was too much for you, you feared too much of the uncertainty—what if you couldn’t be patient enough for him? what if he couldn’t resist another’s seduction for you? what if the both of you couldn’t fight against time, the time that would pick and pinch at your affection for each other until there is nothing left to share?

seungmin zipped up his luggage just as the door to his bedroom knocked. he barely glanced behind his shoulder to look at it, his back arched in pure exhaustion at how his heart had been spiraling depressively for the past week. it was his last night in his home, his last night in his home city, that alone was enough to make him feel anxious and homesick.

but nothing had prepared him for how disastrously affected his heart would be when he realized he might have to leave without seeing you, without touching you, and without hearing that you love him once more.

the impatient knock came again and he finally stood up, his brows furrowed in annoyance. he moved over to his door, ready to tell his mother for the fifth time this night that he would not be changing his mind and he did remember to bring enough clothes, but when he swung open the door, it was you who stood before him instead.

“hey…” you said, clutching your jacket tightly.

he opened his mouth but only air slipped out. you looked as tired as he did, and he could tell you have cried yourself to sleep for the past days. as much as he wanted to immediately wrap you in his arms, to feel you against him, he found himself stepping aside and giving you space into his room first.

his room was as dim as it usually was during night time, when seungmin has the habit of turning off the main light on the ceiling and instead, flipping on the warmer light on the wall. it was a cloud-shaped light; seungmin hated it until you decided to decorate it with cartoon stickers during a sleepover. he has never looked at it the same way again.

the first thing you saw was the luggage on the floor, packed and ready to be sent away. your heart dropped slightly at its indication, then you quickly picked yourself back up. you have talked to yourself about this, you have thought about this and decided you wanted to support his dreams instead of dwelling in your misery until the sadness replaced itself with guilt and missed chances.

“you–you packed,” you said, gesturing towards the luggage on the floor before you turned around to face him.

“yeah.“ seungmin nodded. “i leave tomorrow morning.”

you hummed in defeated acknowledgment. the tension was more longing than awkward, the air waiting for one of you to break out of restraint first. turning to look at his opened closet, you raised a brow at the empty hangers lining up to the side of the closet before you finally caught sight of three colorful hoodies hung at the farthest corner.

you laughed meekly as you pointed at it, hiding the sobs in your throat. “you–you idiot! you forgot to pack your favorite hoodies.”

seungmin looked over, his fingers fiddling together nervously as his mouth hung open in a poor attempt to explain why he had left those there. his mind fired quickly and the first thing he did was only to state the obvious. “i am going to leave them here.”

you frowned at him, your lips curling down and your cheeks bulging out at the pressure. 

seungmin softened at your incredulously curious eyes, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he waited for you to speak. “but why? you should at least take the blue one, you look so good in it and it’s your absolute favorite one.”

he licked his lower lip, a faint smile blossoming on his face. he stared at you, blinking gently. “it’s your favorite one. they’re your favorite hoodies too.”

you sucked in a rapid breath, understanding his intentions. he left those there for you, a token of your relationship, a token of his love. it was a way to tell you that he, until the last minute, still thought about you; a way that didn’t require the use of cheesy text messages or well thought out confessions, which he was never very good at anyway.

just three colorful hoodies in his empty closet, all of them covered in his warmth and his scent.

you bit your lower lip to hold down a sob as you walked over to the closet. it was much less messy than usual, which felt out of place for you. being able to see the shoe boxes stacked at the back of the closet was unfamiliar, they were usually covered by his shirts and sweaters, occasionally seeing the light of day when seungmin pushes the clothes to the side or you steal one of his shirts again.

peeling the light blue hoodies off the hanger, you carefully threw it over your head and marveled at the way that even though its fabric went loose around your torso, you felt fulfilled and warm wearing it. bringing your sweater paws up to your cheeks, you inhaled the sleeves and closed your eyes at the smell of flowery detergent mixed with seungmin’s familiar fragrance.

it was a match made in heaven; it was a smell you could recognize even if you were rid of most of your senses because for so long, it was what home smelt like to you, and it still is what home smells like to you.

would you forget, after years of separating from him? would you still remember it but somehow he stopped feeling like home anymore? would your heart lose him to time and distance?

seungmin sighed with the shattering of his heart when he heard you choke out a sob. you had begun to cry, your tears staining the hoodie sleeve as you wailed your fears and longings away, and he wasn’t very sure what to do. he was never good at handling criers because he wasn’t one, and neither were you before this happened.

“(name)…” he took a step forward but stopped when you turned around.

“i’m so sorry for ignoring you these weeks,” you said, your voice teary and timid, but loud and strong enough to make seungmin’s heart pound against his chest. “i’m sorry if i made you think i don’t support you and your dreams. i need you to know that i do and if you have to leave this place to go after it, you should.”

to be honest, the idea that you didn’t support him has never crossed his mind. he knew you would, for some reason. you had always been there for choir shows, you listened to him talk about all the musical things he did during camp despite not understand instrumental talk, you never failed to praise him for his incredible vocal talent—you had always been the first in line when it comes to him and singing.

you were upset, he understood, that he had to leave you here and he only gave you a two weeks notice that he would be leaving for years, plus the uncertainty that your relationship may never work out as smoothly as it could when he was still an unknown high school boy with big dreams.

he couldn’t get mad at you for avoiding him until the last minute. 

for one, he understood why. he supposed he would be pretty disheartened if you did the same thing as well. for two, he just couldn’t bring himself to get mad at you at a time like this, when he needed his last memories of you to be nothing but loving and heartfelt.

heaving a sigh, he got on the bed and scooted to the middle where he sat with his feet dangling off the edge. he opened his arms and beckoned you over softly. “come here, my love.”

you did, stumbling closer to him until your thigh met with his feet. he leaned in to hold your hands, giving your arms a few childish swings before he pulled you on his lap, helping you position yourself by circling his arms around your waist and preventing you from falling off his thighs.

you sniffed when he kissed your cheeks, giggling in feign disgust when he grimaced with a complaint about your tears having a salty taste, and you burst into another fit of feathery laughter when he went to smooch your cheeks again just to mend the dry trail of waterfalls down your skin.

“i missed you so much,” you muttered, your voice almost giving away as you cupped his jaw in your hands and stared into his heart-shaped eyes.

“i missed you too,” he mumbled under his breath, bringing you closer to him unconsciously. “i am so sorry for making you cry.”

you hummed in disagreement as you lightly shook your head. your fingers pressed against his cheeks, clinging to them and hugging his face carefully in a way seungmin never wanted you to let go. your accepting smile made him fall, again and again, and he had to hold himself down so he wouldn’t kiss you right then and there.

“i’m sorry for wasting all these times, we could have been this close every night,” you said quietly, trailing over his features with your teary eyes. “i hope i am not too late.”

seungmin smiled, his eyes squinting with a crinkle of his nose. you can never be too late for him, his heart is ready for you at any moment of his remaining life, whether it is thinking about you quietly or having you pressed near his body.

seungmin will always be ready for you, all that you will give him and all that he is ready to give you.

“it’s never too late to kiss me,” he whispered close to your lips, feeling your back squirm under the weight of his words.

rolling your eyes at his words, you squeezed his cheeks before gladly leaning in so you could press your lips against his. his fingers gingerly clawed at your lower back as he other hand flew up to hold your wrist, any attempt just to touch your bare skin.

god, your lips. your soft, soft lips, made out of sugar and spice. he could play a thousand strings and sing a thousand words about them; about how kissing you always make him feel so needed and loved, how it makes him feel like there is nothing else he can do better aside from giving you every ounce of strength he has.

it opens a gate to his heart he didn’t even know he had, one only you can open because you are the key.

with the influence of his excited heart, seungmin suddenly started to graze your lip with his teeth, his brows furrowing passionately when he caught your lower lip between them.

you let out a breathy moan, surprised. but you only had too little time to dwell in the shock before you opened your mouth and allowed seungmin to do whatever he wanted.

adrenaline rushed up to your lungs, causing a ruckus beneath your bones as your mind chased itself into chaos. he has never kissed you with such urgency before, with silent pleads pierced in the tip of his tongue and desperate longing tattooed in the way he moved against you. he was kissing you to make you breathless, to make your burn with revelation.

seungmin kissed you intending to linger, so the shape and the taste of his lips will haunt you every day and night when he is away. and damn, it was so good, you were drenched in blissful abandon to let him take full control over you.

amidst this heated moment, seungmin forced himself to pull away for a brief moment to allow his hazy mind to settle down. both of you were adrift somewhere in paradise and both of you had no plans of returning any time sooner.

you kept yourself close to him, your upper lip positioned tenderly against his, taunting him to resist, daring him to let go once more. your eyes were as gone as seungmin’s were when you stared into them, and you inwardly worshipped the way his inky black eyes, devoured in thunderstorms and fallen ashes, could pull you to him so effortlessly.

“i love you, okay?” he declared breathlessly, but his tone was filled to the brim with sincerity. “i love you, three or ten years from now.”

three or ten years from now, whether he only gets to talk to you every weekend or every three months, whether it would be easy to find the right time to catch up with each other or if the process would make him want to pull his hair out—seungmin loves you, and he will wait until he can love you.

“wait for me, please,” he pleaded then, the ocean in his eyes seemed brighter and ready to spill, causing heartache in your chest. he was clutching the hoodie and pressing your hand to his cheek, his shaky movements only calming down at your warmth.

wait for me. seungmin was asking. wait for me, remember me, hold on to me.

you felt like crying again. the volcanic sadness stays no matter how many times you convince yourself things would turn out fine, that you could live without him being near you eventually.

you could deal with the quiet, you could deal with not anticipating his presence when you leave home, you could deal with the untouched skin and unkissed lips. yes, you could, you have to.

“i will, i promise” you replied in a hush, lowering your head. “i’m going to miss you so much.”

seungmin pressed his thumb to your eye carefully, swiping across the wet corners and making you chuckle as you leaned against his palm, looking up at him again.

“i will text you all the time. if i don’t, my friends will,” he grumbled with a scoff, remember how bitter he felt when it took jeongin no amount of effort to get your phone number back then while he had to stall a whole week before mustering up the courage to do so. “we will keep in touch, we all will.”

“you guys better,” you said threateningly, kind of threateningly, making him smile.

and he kissed you again, much softer this time. it was to seal a sacred vow one would find harder to break than any else’s, an oath shared by two teenagers who are so genuinely, so tenderly, and so tragically in love with each other.

“how early are you leaving tomorrow?” you asked after pulling away, adjusting your legs so instead of sitting in a kneeling posture, they wrapped around his lower back, making it much more comfortable for you and giving you two more space to be closer to each other.

“hmm, since we have to take the bus to the train station and we are meeting up at the bus stop around the school before going there together…” he calculated in his head, a pout forming on his lips due to the concentration. “i think i’ll have to leave around seven in the morning.”

that was earlier than you thought. but either way, you never planned to see him off anyway. turning into a crying mess in public early in the morning would not be a plan; if you could, you would rather let him leave just as things are—a soft goodbye to your sleeping form, and maybe you will sob on his bed for a while after you wake up.

“i am not going to the train station with you,” you said, running your hands through his hair before circling your arms around his neck into a hug. you sighed. “so it is just going to be tonight.”

“okay.” seungmin flashed you a faint smile, a bittersweet but endearing one. his pinky gently tucked at a piece of your hair, his fingers brushing back against your temple and falling to your ear. “do you need anything from me before I go?”

“you should be the one getting something from me. i never gave you a congratulatory gift for getting through your audition,” you said with a laugh, tapping his nose with your index finger and pressing your chest up against his for a needed closeness. “i am very proud of you, seungmin.”

he gave you a peck. “thank you.”

and you two just looked at each other. affectionately drawn towards the other like how north sticks to south. you couldn’t help but whisper a loving confession, brushing his hair as the words “i love you” left your lips like a secret only seungmin gets to hear.

“i love you too,” he returned immediately, his eyes shutting for a brief moment to allow the rush of euphoria. then they flutter open so he could look at you and ask, “are you sure you don’t want anything from me?”

you thought for a moment, your brows furrowing in thoughts. there were not many things you wanted to ask from him, most of those you do were out of his ability to accomplish, such as not leaving you here.

“call me when you get there,” you reminded him.

“of course,” he hummed. “what else?”

you sighed, keeping your eyes on him as it hit you that there really wasn’t anything else you needed from him. you just needed him, and you had him the moment you stepped into his room, so you figured you should get the most and the best out of it.

seungmin could see where your eyes were and believe it or not, he was totally on the same page. it was not the type of nights he wanted to spend with words. there were only senses and feelings that he wanted to have threaded through his veins this night, be it loud or quiet, tender or rough, or perhaps both of each opposite.

you leaned in, your eyes moving up from his lips to look into the windows of his brilliant soul. “stay with me,” you breathed into his mouth, “until you leave me.”

seungmin wasted no time to claim your lips once more, rough exhales fanning against your face as he desperately kissed you to fulfill the insatiable desire he held for you. he could feel it in his guts—the cunning and greedy burn beneath his ribs that held so much he wanted to say to you, that the words of his inadequate language were unable to express enough, were threatening to explode from the brisk of his skin. 

in all that the world could offer, languages of all places and phrases of all great minds, the only word he knew were you, you, you. and he wasn’t even able to speak it. all he could show you of how he called out to you was through his action; the tug of his hands at your waist and the bite of his teeth at your lower lip.

you squeezed his shoulders, your eyes closing upon the familiar taste of his mouth on your tongue when he boldly slipped past your gently parted lips. the softness that once graced seungmin’s being was long gone. he was hasty now, needy and desperate for all of you, and all you could do was comply with him. 

your chest heaved with a low moan when he bit your lip again, his hand pressing you down against his abdomen. your body relaxed against his with a shiver, yet your thighs squished at his sides upon the ever-growing arousal under your waist when you felt him, vividly, against you.

“min–“ you pulled away, looking into his eyes with all vulnerability you have ever left hanging at the lashes of your eyes. you looked at him, your hands running up the side of his face and spreading within his hair, and your shaky gaze scanned his entire face as if your patience was running thin. 

he beat you to begging for the intimacy, his face leaning close toward yours just to feel the bone of your nose nudging against his own. there was something about his utter lack of ability to be away from you at this moment. 

he was not physically attached to you, but there was nothing else he wanted more of the world than to be so. he would do anything; he would tear down hell and break through heaven, he would destroy the sun and shoot down the stars if it meant to keep you beautifully by his side. 

he needed to be attached to you, the love of his life. 

“i need you,” he whispered, “please.” 

his breath was demanding, but also teasing in a way that he wanted to make this comfortable and loving for you, as opposed to the upsetting farewell you two were having.

you shivered, your half-lidded eyes staring at each shadow that cast over his face in his dim room. your hands dropped from his hair, causing a faint look of disappointment in his eyes, but that was gone as quickly as it came when he realized that you were reaching for the hem of his blue hoodie. 

you tugged at the soft fabric, making sure you brought your shirt along with it when you slowly slid them up your body and finally over your head.

the first thing his eyes gravitated toward was your chest, covered by a random bra you threw on because you did not anticipate the visit to turn out like this. he watched with an itchy hand and an unbreathable throat when your hand reached behind your back to unhook your bra. you slid it off your shoulders, showing him your breasts, and you tried to hide your shyness by looking away as you discarded your bra somewhere on the floor. 

seungmin’s eyes were glued to your chest, he wasn’t even trying to hide it. you almost wanted to laugh at the hanging of his jaw and the way he was blatantly staring at your close to naked chest, but you kept the amusement to yourself and went ahead to cup the side of his face, bringing his attention back to your face.

you smiled, but then you pursed your lips and begun to shrink into yourself when you realized this was the most naked you’ve ever been with a boy before. not to mention how unconfident you have always been with the way your body looked. the way his eyes were glued to your chest was starting to become a look of judgment rather than an action out of surprise and fondness. 

his eyes widened when you suddenly squealed, your head lowering and your forehead bumping against his shoulder. he laughed a little, his hands moving to your wrists before he gently pushed you away from you. you were frowning slightly, your brows furrowed with an uncertain pout on your face, and you refused to look at him until he tipped your chin up with your hand. 

he wasn’t too sure why you were acting this way, but what he did know was that this was your first time, as well as his. sex is a foreign subject. that kind of intimacy is drastically different than holding hands, or cuddling, or making out, or even having late-night philosophical talks until you fall asleep on the phone. 

both of you were feeling chilled to the bones with both anticipation and nervousness about how things could go, and both of you probably wanted everything to feel good and perfect.

so if you were hiding from him because you changed your mind, then he’d want you to know you could back out. he could deal with what happened in his pants by himself later.

“you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he said, poking your nose, “we can just watch a movie, or we can talk until we fall asleep if you want.”

the pout on your face faded slightly upon his words; a kind offer, but one you didn’t need. you flashed him a deadpan smile, your hands moving to clamp atop of his shoulders again as you spoke, “it’s not that. i do want to do this with you, i don’t think there is anybody else in the world i’d want to do this with! it’s just… my… my boobs…”

his eyes drifted down at them and he looked back up at you. “they’re great.”

“they are.” you were doubtful. 

“they’re boobs, babe. any boobs are great–“

“seungmin.”

“okay, okay!” he nodded with a fit of a giggle, then he moved in to kiss your lips. his hands moved to roam your sides, brushing tenderly across your skin and creating a trail of goosebumps on his way. he kept kissing you as he spoke, a kiss every other word he let out. “they are great. your body, i love it because it’s yours, and i can’t believe i’m allowed to touch you like this right now.”

you blushed with a heat rushing up your cheeks, burning hotly under his words and the way he kept kissing you. how sweet and cheesy, but you didn’t mind it much. you were too drowned in being adored by him to care about criticizing anything he says or does, you just wanted this moment to keep going so you could finally plunge into the real act. 

keeping your hands at the nape of his neck, you moved your lips with his for a second longer before you moved away, making him whine with a low hum.

his hands stayed at your side as if they were afraid, and you were getting impatient. panting, your voice was raspy when you said, “you can touch me more.”

seungmin raised his brows at the permission. his heart sped up at the thought of going beyond your waist and your back. he was thinking about it, but each time he felt the side of his palm brush against the soft skin under your breasts, he flinched away with timidity simultaneously as he grew needier for your body. 

he couldn’t let himself just touch you, he supposed, it would be such a bold thing to do. he felt like if he ever did, he would have to find a way to preserve the feeling, and he was very unprepared for that.

“seungmin…” you called out in a feminine voice when he didn’t respond, one that sounded so needy it would surely get him riled up. your hands moved to grab his, bringing them up your body until they almost met at your breasts. “touch me.”

a tease, what a tease. it was only your first time and you were being a tease, looking so divine and perfect on top of his lap you tested his composure and his control over his patience. 

he exhaled.

you asked for it.

seungmin took you by complete surprise when he moved. hoisting you off his lap, you felt yourself dip sideways before your back met the soft cover of his bed. he hovered over you, his body stuck between your spread legs, and his hands squeezed your waist to set you in place before he reached down to capture your lips again. you followed his lead, feeling his hand roam across your stomach before they finally moved up to your breasts. 

a breath got caught in your throat when he cupped his hands over the roundness. he fondled them, squeezing and pressing his palm against them just to feel your hardened nipples against him. he hummed out in satisfaction when you trembled under his touch, unfamiliar but pleasing, and he let go of your mouth to hear your noises while he moved down your jaw and your neck to leave trails of love marks on your skin as a goodbye gift.

you tilted your head to the side so he has more space to plant his bruises. you could feel his teeth graze you, and he was sucking on your skin so hard you felt pressure within the spot. it was forcing you to make friends with the reality and the level of intimacy you two were venturing into. 

he was on top of you, kissing you, dropping crosses on your body, fondling your breasts, and his hips occasionally grinding at your bottom so he could temporarily press down the impulsivity inside his pants. 

this was the reality; you two were about to become whole, you want you both to become whole.

seungmin moved away in the heat of the moment, his hands hastily reaching to pull his shirt off his body as well before he dove back to your collarbones and went down, his lips worshipping the veins and bones hidden under your skin. he took your breast in his mouth, sucking on your nipple and flicking the bud with his tongue. you arched your back at the sensation, so foreign yet exciting that you couldn’t help but push down on his head with the same hand that once carded gently through his hair, wanting more and more of him.

he was never going to leave you, though. his lips stayed attached to your body, kissing you down and everywhere he could reach, his tongue darting out the lick wet spots on your delicacy. it was until he reached the hem of your shorts when he paused—this was the place. he eyed up at you, catching the weak and pleading look in your eyes once, then he gingerly moved his fingers to unbutton and unzip your shorts. he carefully slid it off your hips, his fingers tugging against your panties on the way until you were completely naked under him.

the last of your clothes dropped to the ground without a care. seungmin was glued to the glistening sight of your exposed heat. your curled your fists, nervous about what he was thinking as he stared at you. your legs felt shaky as you thought of whether you wanted to close your knees or not, and before you could make a decision for yourself, seungmin already stumbled forward on his knees and brought himself to the edge of his bed.

he grabbed your ankles, his grip soft as he brought your legs over his shoulders with a nod of his head. you let him guide you through the ordeal—resting your ankles on his shoulders and pulling you forward to him. he curled his hands around your thighs when you were close enough.

you flinched, a quick and shivering flinch, when you felt his lips against your cunt. your knees almost smashed his head if he hadn’t tightened his grip on your thighs to keep you from moving. your eyes stayed wide open, staring dizzily at the ceiling, as seungmin continued to do experimental kisses against your wet pussy. one, two, three, four, before he decided it was time for him to dart his tongue out. 

he flicked against your clit, miraculously finding it on his first try and staying there when he saw your positive reaction. he abused it, licking and sucking on the bundle of nerves until your bud was protruding and  even a little painful from all the stimulation. but he didn’t let himself stop there. the lovely and filthy noises you were letting out, paired with the call of his name over and over again, was too much of a blessing for him to let up. 

he continued with his pleasuring, grazing his teeth against your skin as he sucked on you, his fingers making an entrance by slowly sliding himself inside your warm cunt. he didn’t want to do too much so he paid attention to your reaction. it was an ego boost each time you arch your back and moan his name. he has never been better than this.

your legs trembled on his shoulders, having never felt such sudden jolts before and your senses were not familiar with receiving such pleasure. your lips were parted to let out huffs of little whimpers and moans as you relish in the feeling of his touch—a brand-new feeling of joy seungmin was graciously gifting you that was unlike all the others. 

you were being touched, you felt touched, and he was willing to do so even when you weren’t sure if you deserved it. such simple ways to make you happy; all he needed was himself, and the lovingness in all of his movements done to your sensitive body. 

“fuck–seungmin, seungmin!” 

you tried to find words to say in the midst of the pumping of his fingers. your walls were clenching down on the intrusion, coating his fingers with your slickness until it became a slip-and-slide to go in and out of you. you were wet, oh so very wet, and it was all his doing. he could taste your arousal on his tongue and he kept wanting more, so he moved quicker with his hand as if he could fuck more juices out of you with it. your legs bent, hitting his shoulder blades, and you moved your hand down to his head where you tugged at his hair.

“seungmin! you–i’m going to–“ you whimpered out, seeing fading stars in your eyes, “please fuck me, fuck me first!”

he stopped, the manic look in his eyes fading at your words. pulling his fingers out of you, the stickiness not bothering him, he stood up and moved onto the bed and left you cold with an approaching orgasm that would soon fade. he wasn’t much thinking about that—he was still thinking about that, but there was something else he needed to make sure first: did you ask him to stop because you wanted to cum with him inside you? did you want to orgasm from him fucking you with his cock? was that what you wanted, that’s why you made him stop?

oh, but the thought alone… the thought of you orgasming because of him, the thought of you reaching that  ultimate pleasure because of him. it would surely be an honor to behold.

he leaned down to your face, his eyes genuine and also somewhat worried as looked at you. taking his clean hand, he brushed the hair out of your sweaty forehead and kissed your eyes. “what do you want?”

you exhaled, your hands awkward so they settled against his warm chest. looking up at him with round and wide eyes, you asked politely, “can you fuck me, seungmin?”

“i was,” he hummed, his other hand casually reaching back down to your heat. 

the confidence came when he realized his ability to please you, and he decided he could set his needs aside and toy with you for some reactions he would savor in his head for the rest of his life. he pressed the tip of his fingers against your hole, dipping in but not letting your feel full by inserting. 

he played with you, watching as you squirm with a needy expression when he wouldn’t give you what you want, feeling as you bucked your hips up for his hand and asked for him to touch you, and finally when you exhaled in relief as he finally moved his fingers inside your pussy.

“i was fucking you, (name), with my mouth,” he said. “i am fucking you right now.”

oh, but it wasn’t his tongue and his fingers that you wanted the most. he knew that. you knew he knew that as well. he was good with them, it was heavenly a moment ago when he was kneeling on the floor, but nothing could beat the excitement in your chest that was waiting for when he finally stretches you out and officially takes your virginity by colliding his body with yours. you wanted it, both the pain and the pleasure that would follow. 

you wanted to be around seungmin and make him feel good as well, and most importantly, you wanted your first orgasm to be when you were near him, the love of your life. you wanted to cum feeling him inside you.

“i want your–“ you shut your mouth in defeat, looking at him with a pout as if that would soften him up. 

seungmin smiled at your adorableness, but he as he dragged the back of his finger down your face, his other hand still pumping in and out of your cunt but his pace has since slowed down, all he asked was, “you want my what?”

“you’re pushing it,” you mumbled as you gave him a deadpan look, “i even acted cute for you.”

pulling out of your heat, he grinned with a roll of his eyes. then he shook his shoulders as if throwing a tantrum, his lips puckering slightly as he playfully hit his fist against your chest. “just say it once! i want to hear you say it!”

“seungmin, i’m shy!” you complained, shoving him lightly.

“you weren’t so shy when you were moaning like a minute ago!” 

“seungmin!”

“just ask me, just say you want my dick and i’ll give it to you, i promise,” he said, knowing well he would have given it to you regardless of you asking or not.

you huffed, the corner of your lips quirking downward as you glared at him before you mumbled, “i want your cock.”

“what?”

“i want your cock, seungmin,” you pleaded louder this time, looking impatient and annoyed with your furrowed brows and the stuttering movement of your shoulders.

“good girl.” he smiled and pinched your cheek. “see? that wasn’t so hard.”

you took your time with grumbling a complaint about his action. but, however you wanted to see it, he did make you feel more at ease with having sex for the first time. the playful way he talked to you just a minute ago made it feel as if this was just any ordinary activity, and there was nothing you needed to be afraid of. it was just you and him together, and he would take care of you like he always has. you would be fine with him. 

the thought diminished for a quick second, though, when you saw that he has taken off his pants and boxers. your opened your mouth, your eyes couldn’t help but stare at his hardened shaft, and all you could do the next second was turn away with an uncontrolled laugh bubbling out your throat. 

seungmin looked up slightly at the noise, trying to recognize it, and when he realized you were laughing, he immediately snapped his head to you with a look of utter disbelief.

“are you laughing?” he asked, accusingly if you listened carefully.

you shook your head, your hand failing to cover up the giggles of your throat. “no, i’m not–not specifically at you, i swear!”

he moved over to you, his elbows supporting his upper body as he grabbed your face and made you look at him. he squished your cheeks together as you continued to laugh, your eyes turning intensely into little moons when you saw the hilarious look on his face. he looked you then, the sight of your lips quirking up into such a bright smile was something he took a mental image of. and your giggles trailed into his ears, hammering against the empty space in his head looking for a permanent home. he let the sound of you in with only a single knock. 

seungmin softened, allowing him a smile as well. looking at you now, feeling you warm and safe against him now, almost made him want to abandon his dream and just stay here with you forever. how could he leave you—his girl, his favorite person, his best friend. he wanted to be with you all the time. 

but he somehow knew you wouldn’t agree to that, you would push him to chase after his goal, so he will. he will miss this when he leaves. the sound of your laughter, the way he could make you snort and scream and make the prettiest and ugliest expressions. 

he will miss everything about you during every waking second of his days without you near him, but even time would fail to take him away from you because he would love you through every second of it until he could see you again.

pressing his forehead against yours, he giggled with you. “what are you laughing at, (name)?”

“nothing! i promise!” you replied loudly, then you settled down with a quiet hum in your chest. you reached up for his hands, smiling at him. “i love you.”

“i love you as well,” he said, moving his nose against yours as his voice came out in a fearsome whisper, “please say you want me again.”

your eyes relaxed into a scratch of affection. they moved across his face, taking him in, soaking his feature in you, and you kissed his mouth to speak it into him, “i want you, kim seungmin.”

it was a risk when he pushed himself inside you, raw and bare, but it was a risk you thought you ought to take at this age, and a risk you knew you wouldn’t have regretted taking. he went in slow, his lips moving across your face to soothe out the pained creases while you clutched his arm tightly upon the burn of the stretch. he was bigger than you thought, it felt different, bigger, than when you looked at it. 

he kissed you when he moved, hoping to get you to adjust to his size and to get himself more acquainted with the warmth of your walls around him. you didn’t mind the slowness of his thrusts, they were soft and undemanding, they were solid and memorable. you could feel every inch of him sliding within, the slickness of your walls helping him move easier amongst the tightness. your bodies collided again and again with hot exhales fanning against your faces as both of you tried not to go crazy for the feeling of each other. 

seungmin kept his hands moving around your body. the map he could never forget; he would always come back to this place in his memories, in the dead of the night when he felt alone. the juncture between your bones, your delicate skin, and your warmth that covered his entirety so perfectly as you sucked him into your body, taking him so well he thought there was no place else he could be. 

he only moved faster upon your request. he rutted against you, trying so hard not to get lost in the euphoric sensation that he would begin snapping his hips against yours at a pace that could bring him to the edge even quicker. he needed to relish at this moment where the sensuality happens, and he wanted to feel all of you here alone. but while knowing he wouldn’t go faster, he did want to go deeper into you.

he kissed your lips, swallowing your moans, as he gently hiked your leg up to his back until it rested near his shoulder. he gave you a sharp pound and you let out a choked noise at the heart-pounding feeling it gave you. he inhaled, moving his cock harsh against it and pushing toward that inner part of your cunt again to get another immediate reaction out of you. 

your eyes rolled up this time, your jaw dropping with a loud whine that you thought his parents would have heard in their bedroom, but you were unable to bring yourself to think at all, you just wanted more.

seungmin smiled. that was the spot. that was the spot he was looking for. 

“is that okay?” he huffed out, thrusting into you, “did you like that?”

“ah–yes, seungmin,” you breathed out, your back arching as the same spot got hit over and over again, waves and waves of pleasure lapping at your veins. you nodded, your hands clutching his arms with whines falling alive at your lips. “fuck, that feels really good.”

he smiled at your approval, feeling the tension at his back relax upon knowing that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. you were enjoying him as much as he was enjoying you. the reciprocation was delightful to acknowledge, especially in a moment as such where he wanted to leave an impression for you to remember by later if you so needed to. he knew he would because thinking about being so close to you would soon be the only escapism he has. 

the gentle yet filthy words he had begun whispering into your ears made you feel all tingly and edged. his words praised you, his words worshipped every move you made and every surface of your being, his words loved you as much as his body was loving you. 

they made you shiver by embracing your little soul, unraveling you slowly by breaking down the walls of your assumed unworthiness, and they did not dump you to the ground to repair yourself. 

seungmin was here, the whole time, for you to reach out to.

he is always ready for you. even with the distance and limits that you were so very afraid of, he will always be ready for you.

sucking in a deep, teary breath, one that paired with a light whimper as you felt your high approaching with each thrust, you reached up for your boyfriend. you circled your arms around his neck, bringing him down to you so you could kiss him fervently. your leg fell off without his support but they clung over his waist to bring him closer with tightening of your muscles. 

seungmin’s hands laid flat to the side of your head upon your beckoning, caging you under him as he slotted his mouth longingly against yours, his brows furrowing at the passionate kiss.

“you’re my heart, min,” you confessed softly against his eyes, “i love you.”

he could feel the tears in your eyes but they weren’t falling just yet. he hoped they wouldn’t fall, he wouldn’t know what else he could do aside from kissing those tears away until he has to leave you tomorrow morning. giving you a nod, he rubbed the side of your face with his thumb and smiled endearingly down at your face. “wait for me, okay?”

wait for him, and he will dream, always, about your eyes when you laugh, the way you shove him when he tells a lame joke, and the mediocre food you cook for him during weekend hangouts. he will dream  about coming back to your side, about holding and kissing you again, about the intimacy he has carefully shifted into a precious spot of his head. 

wait for him to come home so he could make all the dreams come true again.

you nodded hastily, partly because your walls had started to clench on his shaft impossibly upon the tightening of your abdomen. getting closer, seungmin snapped his hips against yours, trying to bring you over the edge and push you down for the ultimate rapture. he looked—stared—at you when your peak approached, a rush of warmth coating his skin as you came around his hard cock, burying him in a blissfully hot place. 

your eyes rolled skyward, and he could feel your fingers tightening around his neck, your nails digging into his skin upon the overwhelming pleasure.

he moved, holding your hands through your orgasm, fucking the intensity out slowly and settling you down. he watched as you breathed, waiting for your panting to come to a halt before he picked up his speed again so he could find his own climax. you held him close to you, feeling him hard inside you and giving out light moans upon the feeling of strange friction against your walls. 

you could tell when he was getting close, considering his movement become even more stuttered and erratic when he was about to lose himself in you.

he knew better than to cum in you, though. before he could reach his high, he pulled out of you and moved away slightly, his hand going down to pump at his length instead. you blinked—right, you forgot, you two did not use protection. the whiny sounds coming out of seungmin’s mouth helped you come back to your senses and you quickly sat up. 

you replaced his hand with yours, an amused gleam evident in your eyes when he stared at you with confusion while being pushed down on the bed by your hand.

you leaned your body down, pumping him to keep him aroused while you found a comfortable position to lay on, and without a second thought, you took him in your mouth. he hissed in surprise, his thighs flexing at the lukewarm sensation of your mouth around his cock, as well as the gentle suction of your inner-cheeks. he pressed his head against the pillow, his mouth hung ajar with whimsical huffs as he buried his hand on your hair, needing something to grab onto as you sucked him off.

the way his cock disappears into your mouth, his tip poking at your cheek with each bob of your head, and how you choked around him when his tip hit the back of your throat was a bliss all too intense for him to handle at once. what was he to do—he knew he could not hold on much longer. 

he has never felt his way before, his own hand was inadequate to provide the satisfaction you were giving him. the licks of your tongue, the graze of your teeth, the wrap of your lips; nothing could compare to this, he was drowning in abandonment and this was no false heaven.

his hip bucked into your mouth when he emptied himself in it, a loud groan leaving his lips. you let out a strangled noise of surprise when the bitter taste hit your throat, your eyes widening in dismay but you made yourself take all of him. you sucked all the way back up to his tip, your lips popping off with an audible noise, then you reached up to wipe away the saliva away. you panted, his cum slowly dripping down your throat, and you smiled at him when he looked at you.

“that was…” he licked his lower lip for a second, then he decided against talking and instead raised his arms to beckon you closer to him. “come here.”

you moved over to him, your body slumping down next to his as he brought you into his arms. your lips locked for the millionth times tonight, unable to get enough of each other when each time there was a new taste to the kiss you shared. 

“that was my first time,” you commented after pulling away, laying your head on his arm.

“so was mine,” he said, even though you knew.

you sighed then, a blissful sigh. “i’m glad it was with you.”

“so am i,” he whispered against your temple, and when he felt that you wanted to make a joke out of his words, he held you tighter against him and he scoffed. “you know what i mean.”

you giggled, “i do… i just want to make fun of you while i still can.”

“i can’t believe i am about to say this but,” he paused for dramatic effect, “you can make fun of me whenever you want to.”

“you’re right!” you exclaimed, turning on your side so you could look at him. “after you debut, if i catch you doing anything embarrassing on variety shows, i hope you know i will never let you live it down.”

“hey, that’s not fair,” he whined. “one of the main elements in variety shows is to embarrass their guest.”

“yeah, that’s why they can be so unfunny sometimes,” you muttered.

he laughed along with you. that was all he could do; talk about the future as if it wouldn’t be painful, talk about it in light-hearted ways until you could surely let it go.

he caressed your cheek with his thumb, his eyes unable to leave your face. “i’ll come back to you. i don’t know how long you will have to wait, but i promise i’ll find the time.”

“text me a lot?” you asked. he nodded. 

“and call me, it doesn’t have to be face time but call me,” you asked. he nodded.

“don’t fall in love with other people,” you asked.

“i won’t,” he answered this time.

and there was nothing more you needed from him. 

you sighed, snuggling closer to his warm body so you could breathe with your head on his chest. even though you might wake up finding yourself alone in his room and your head on a pillow, the hollowness stronger than ever, you still moved closer to him. falling asleep to his heartbeat was worth waking up to his ghost.

“then just stay with me now.”

stay with me until you leave me.

seungmin can do that.

[rocorambles]

Bonus Scene

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader x Iwaizumi 

Genre/Warning: NSFW, Yandere, Rape/Non-con, Dub-con, Edging, Overstimulation, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Sex Toys, Mindbreak, Manipulation

Summary: When Oikawa and Iwaizumi find out their team manager is a camgirl on the side, they realize just watching her on a 2D screen isn’t enough 

Requested by Anon

Exhausted and in post-coital bliss, it’s all you can do to sit up and flash a peace sign and smile at your webcam before saying goodbye to your viewers. As soon as your camera turns off you slump back down on sweat-soaked sheets and grimace as the tip of the dildo you had just used prods your back. You lie there for a minute, catching your breath before you look at your phone to check the time. With a muffled curse, you spring up, cleaning and putting your toys away and throwing on your Aoba Johsai tracksuit before racing out the door. The team had recently changed the time of weekend practices and unfortunately for you, it meant you barely had time to get ready after your weekly Saturday livestreams. But this was your most profitable session and you didn't want to lose followers or money by changing the time, so you just grit your teeth and dealt with it. 

You cheerily greet the team of white and turquoise clad boys as you enter the gym. The first and second years politely acknowledge you, while your fellow third-years more casually welcome you. Iwaizumi nods his head in your direction and Oikawa flashes you a smile before returning their attention to the court. Towels prepared and water bottles filled, you sit on the sidelines watching your team practice. You aren’t particularly good friends with anyone on the team and you’re not incredibly passionate about volleyball, but when the usually reserved Iwaizumi had come up to you in class one day and asked you to be their team manager since he knew you weren’t part of any other clubs, you agreed. It’s not like you didn’t have the time and you were a little flattered that Iwaizumi had even thought of you. Your reminiscing is cut off by a whistle and you stand up to provide towels and water to the sweat-drenched boys.

Practice ends and you all part ways. Oikawa walks home, excited to just shower and laze away the rest of the day. Freshened up and only in a towel slung around his waist, he sits at his desk, grateful for the fact that the house will be empty for at least a few more hours as he browses camgirl sites. Regular porn just comes across as crass to Oikawa. Why would he want to watch some unattractive male pound away into a girl? No, he much prefers watching pretty camgirls and focusing all his attention on their soft feminine curves, imagining it’s him inside them instead of whatever toy they’re thrusting into their wet cunts. He haphazardly clicks through links, but freezes at the current image on his screen. No, there’s no way...he clicks play and he’s stunned as your familiar voice fills his room. Have you always had so much sex appeal? It’s not that he found you unattractive, but he had purposefully not entertained the thought of you as anything other than their team manager for the team’s sake. But now, watching your chest rise up and down as you pant like a bitch in heat, watching the way your thighs clench as you play with your clit, he regrets trying to be a responsible captain.

Out of curiosity, he looks at the timestamp of the video and his cock twitches at the realization that you had filmed this minutes before practice today. He had thought you were limping a bit when he saw you earlier and he now understands why as he watches you desperately pistoning a realistic dildo in and out of your drenched heat. Without even realizing it, his hand begins stroking to the rhythm of your pumps and his eyes fixate on your face as you moan with your eyes rolled back. All he can hear is your sweet voice brokenly crying out above his pounding heartbeat and when you wail and arch your back as you reach your peak, Oikawa hisses as thick white spurts splurt from his throbbing length. He leans back in his chair physically sated, but nervous excited energy still thrums inside him at this new information he’s found out about you. He reaches for his phone and calls the first person he always goes to whenever he wants to talk about something. “Iwa-chan, are you free right now? Want to come over?” 

Iwaizumi grumpily sighs as he treks over to Oikawa’s house. He had literally just seen the other boy earlier at practice and if he wanted to hang out, why didn’t he just ask him when he had dropped him off at his house? Already irritated, he can feel his temple pulse in anger when Oikawa opens the door with a cheery “yoohoo!” and drags him to his bedroom. “Oi, Shittykawa, what’s the big deal? Stop pulling me!” Oikawa apologetically releases his grip, but ushers Iwaizumi to sit at his desk. Confused, Iwaizumi allows himself to be seated in front of Oikawa’s computer screen, but screeches at the sight of a nude female masturbating. “What the hell, Tooru? Did you ask me to come over here to watch porn with you? I’m leaving!” Eyes shut, Iwaizumi attempts to get out of the seat when strong hands on his shoulders prevent him from moving. “Iwa-chan, look more closely! Doesn’t she look familiar?” Hesitantly, Iwaizumi opens his eyes and scrutinizes the screen, but his face pales when he sees your familiar face now twisted in ecstasy. “Isn’t she pretty? Who knew our team manager had a hobby like this?” 

Iwaizumi hates the way he can feel arousal pooling in his stomach at the sight of you writhing as you hold a vibrator to your engorged clit. “W-we shouldn’t be watching this. It’s none of our business what she does in her free time,” he shakily stutters. But Oikawa smirks as he watches how Iwaizumi can’t tear his eyes from the screen. “Are you sure, Iwa-chan? Because it looks like your body disagrees with you.” Embarrassed, Iwaizumi covers his now fully erect shaft with his hands. Oikawa hums thoughtfully as they continue watching your stream together. “Don’t you want to see the real deal, Iwa-chan? Recordings are fine, but now I want to see our little manager-chan in person.” There’s a pause and Iwaizumi wrestles internally between what’s morally right and what he wants, but after a few minutes he speaks up. “What’s your plan, Shittykawa?” Oikawa smiles. 

You’re putting things away after another grueling practice when you hear someone enter the equipment room behind you. Turning around, you see Oikawa and Iwaizumi file into the small room and close the door behind them. Confused, you ask them if they need anything, but your heart drops when Oikawa shows you his phone screen and you see your latest livestream displayed. You’re already prepared to apologize and resign from the team, but Oikawa’s quick to dismiss your worries as he tells you that Iwaizumi and him just wanted to personally tell you they’re big fans of yours. Slightly embarrassed that the captain and vice-captain had found out about your side gig, you’re at least grateful that it’s them and not anyone else on the team. Both players had been nothing but respectful to you the entire time you’d managed the team and if you’re honest, a tiny flame of pride flares inside of you when you realize the two handsome athletes enjoy watching your recordings. 

You’re about to thank them for their support when Iwaizumi opens his mouth. “We were wondering if you’d be okay with us watching one of your streams in person,” he nervously asks. You stand shell-shocked at his words. The reason you enjoy being a camgirl so much is the safety and power you feel behind the camera, knowing countless eyes are on you from behind a screen, but never close enough to actually do anything to you. You stare at the two boys waiting for a response from you. Iwaizumi and Oikawa wouldn’t ever hurt you or do anything you didn’t want, right? You imagine green and brown eyes watching you. You imagine staring at them as you make yourself cum over and over again. With eyes hazed over with lust, you agree. 

It takes some time to coordinate. You agree a Saturday livestream would work best for all of you, but you need to patiently wait for one of the few weekends where the team doesn’t have practice. (There’s something a little mortifying about the idea of going to practice right after doing what the three of you are about to do.) Finally, one such weekend comes along and you take a deep breath as your doorbell rings before letting the two taller boys into your home. You lead them to your room where they situate themselves behind the camera so they won’t be seen and, shooting a little smile in their direction, you start the stream. 

Oikawa can feel himself salivate as you teasingly untie your silky robe and slowly slide it off to reveal a white lacy lingerie set. The duality of how angelic you look in the pure color versus what you’re about to do has his heart racing. Iwaizumi watches enraptured by the way your head leans back and your mouth opens as you knead your breasts in your hands, pinching your nipples every once in a while until he can see the pebbled bumps beneath the lacy fabric. You giggle and tease your viewers for being so impatient as the comments scream for you to take everything off, but you oblige and unhook your bra, tossing it to the side as you continue playing with your now bare chest. Oikawa licks his lips and imagines what it would feel like to suck on one of your already hardened buds as he begins to slowly palm his hardening cock. You lean back and spread your legs and Iwaizumi almost groans at the wet spot already forming and seeping through your panties. You slip a hand underneath the flimsy material and he watches you finger yourself as your eyes roll back. The room begins to fill with squelching sounds as you become more and more aroused and you finally slip off the now soaked fabric and both boys almost lose it when they see your drenched pussy on full display.

You reach over to your nightstand and grab a thick curved metal toy. Oikawa watches you slide the thicker round end inside your dripping heat, while Iwaizumi takes in every line of your face as you gasp at the feeling of cold metal sliding past warm walls. “It’s so cold, but it feels so good inside my pussy. AH-it rubs against my g-spot perfectly.” You’re panting heavily as you talk to your viewers and you begin to gently thrust the toy in and out of you, your eyes rolling everytime steel rubs against the spongy spot inside of you. You can feel yourself rushing towards your end and you pause your movements, pushing the toy firmly inside of you as we reach once more for your nightstand. The ace and setter groan at the sight of the huge vibrator aggressively whirring in your hands. They watch as your body contorts on the bed as you press the vibrations against your aroused nipples and they watch as drool begins to trickle out the sides of your gaping mouth as you trail the vibrator down between the valleys of your breasts, past your belly button, before finally landing on your puffy clit. Iwaizumi grits his teeth at the wail you release and he wishes he could hold your legs down as you twist and turn at the onslaught. They continue watching you move on the bed in front of them, but they stiffen when you look directly at them as you finally fall apart with a scream, squirting your juices everywhere. You keep the vibrator on you at a lower intensity as you pull the metal toy out of you and you moan as you suck it clean in your mouth, never breaking eye contact with the two guests in your room. Only when the first pangs of overstimulation hit you do you remove the vibrator and weakly sign off of your stream.   

You lay your spent body down on the bed and are about to say something to your visitors when you yelp as you feel hands roughly grab your thighs and spread them apart. Startled you try to sit up, but are stopped by hands pushing down your shoulders. Panic begins to swell within you as you stare up into chocolate brown eyes smiling down at you. “Thanks for the show, cutie. But it would be rude not to let us enjoy the real thing, right? You can’t just tease your guests like that.” His pout would have been cute in any other situation, but now it only triggers fear inside of you. “Let me go! I let you guys watch as friends. I don’t want this.” You sob as you feel Iwaizumi begin to push his cock inside you, stretching you far beyond what your toy had. “Fuck, she’s so tight even after cumming like a whore. I guess your toys can’t replace a real cock.” He groans as he finally sheaths himself completely inside of you and despite the anxiety eating away at you, your eyes roll back and you moan, already turned on and sensitive from your earlier actions.  

You feel Iwaizumi’s calloused hands hold your waist in a bruising grip as he starts a brutal pace and tears fall down your face from the pleasure and Oikawa’s humiliating words. “Do you like Iwa-chan’s cock that much? You’re moaning like a slut. Tell Iwa-chan how good he’s making you feel.” You bite your lips in an attempt to stifle your lewd cries, but Oikawa leans forward and begins to rub your clit and you can’t hold back the slew of pleasured moans that leave your mouth. Iwaizumi is filling you so well and his thrusts are stronger and deeper than anything you try and replicate with your toys. It’s not long before you feel another climax quickly approaching and you tense your body in preparation only for everything to suddenly stop. Frustrated and confused, you blearily look up at the two boys only to see them predatorily leering down at you. Oikawa coos at you as he brushes your hair from your face. “Tell Iwa-chan exactly what you want or you don’t get anything.” You spitefully ignore him and try to roll your hips, but Iwaizumi firmly holds you still and you almost scream at being denied. 

Pride and anger at being forced into this hold your tongue still and Iwaizumi tsks in annoyance as he begins to work your body up again. You try your best to push down the desire building inside of you, but you’ve always been so easy to rile up after you’ve already orgasmed and it’s not long before you feel yourself peaking again only for the thrusts to stop when you can almost taste your climax on your tongue. The cycle goes on a few more times until you’re sobbing in frustration and your will finally breaks. You can’t think of anything else other than Iwaizumi’s cock inside of you and cumming. “Iwaizumi, please make me cum. Please make me feel good. I want to cum so badly. Please please please…” You can’t even fully make sense of your slutty begging, but it’s good enough for Iwaizumi and he savagely tears into you again and again until both of you roll over a cliff of pleasure together.

You whimper as Iwaizumi pulls out of you and you sink into his hold as he lies next to you on the rumpled bed sheets and wraps his strong arm around your waist. You’re too tired to push him off and his body heat is comforting to you as you wade through the delirious afterglow. It’s only when you feel another body settling in between your legs that you try and muster the strength to move away, but Iwaizumi tightens his hold on you as he begins to bite and suck on your sensitive neck. Aroused and impatient after holding himself back for so long, Oikawa rams completely inside of you in one swift motion and your mouth opens in a silent scream at the overstimulation. You’re almost thankful for the way Iwaizumi’s arm keeps you grounded as your body tries to thrash around, unable to cope with the stings of pain and pleasure you feel with every movement of Oikawa’s hips. You can feel a rollercoaster inside of you creeping slowly to the top, but with a few more thrusts, Oikawa stills as he releases deep inside of you before you can go over the curve. 

You mentally recoil as you hear yourself whine for Oikawa to help you finish, but it’s like your brain has gone on autopilot and you can’t control the lust-filled pleas for more. Iwaizumi and Oikawa share a smile before Iwaizumi moves his hand and begins to tweak and fondle your nipples while Oikawa slides down your body until you feel air blow on your throbbing hole. You should be ashamed about the way you can’t stop begging and moaning as Oikawa devours your sopping wet cunt, but with just a few more licks, sucks, and tugs of your abused nipples, you come undone and you melt into the space between the two bodies now lying on either side of you. Your brain feels like mush and you can feel your eyelids growing heavier as fatigue consumes you. A warning bell deep inside of you faintly rings when you hear Oikawa’s voice say, “I can’t wait until the next time we do this, cutie”. But you’re so tired and you just let yourself pass out in the pair of toned arms embracing you.    

[mysmegrace]

Hii! Could I request “why is it so hard for you to believe me?” “I love you” prompts with Jumin, Zen and Saeran? Thank you!

hello~ omg anon you are giving me too much fun with these prompts lmao. i’ve decided to split them up in a fanfic style. i’ll post jumin’s here, then later zen’s and saeran’s. i’ll leave the links to them here once they become released but i’ll also have the links in my masterlist. have a great day!

summary: jumin comes across a text notification that flashes on mc’s phone. being curious, he reads it. things don’t add up to him and he accuses mc of cheating. mc is heartbroken, as the text was nothing more than a friendly conversation between cousins. it’s only until later does jumin realize his mistake.

topics / tw: cheating, angst, pregnancy, death, wrongfully accused individuals, car accidents, drunk driving, definitely not spoiler free. 

words: 5.3k

*reminder: you can check out my masterlist to see which requests i am currently working on!*

just wanna put out there that the title is a lyric from shin yong woo’s (jumin’s VA) song. i plan to title saeran’s fic and zen’s fic the same way, just with different songs. here’s a link to the song if you’re interested.

Sad Endings Stay Sad

---

october 5th marked the birth of one of south koreas brilliant billionaires. and of course, there were ups and downs to that kind of life. living the rich lifestyle while working your life away for your young years. however, birthdays were supposed to be exemptions for the hectic ways of that life for just a day.

jumins birthdays consisted of four main concepts. birthday presents from people he’s only spoken to once, being met with “happy birthdays” whenever you turned the corner, parties being held in his honor (four-to be exact), and his favourite part, time spent with you and elizabeth the third.

he could endure the day as long as you were at home, safe and secure, waiting patiently for his return. knowing that made his struggles a little more bearable. he had all he could’ve asked for in his possession, things money can’t buy.

hence why he always asked you to refrain from giving him birthday gifts. he already had everything he needed, he could buy anything should he desire it, they took up unnecessary space, and they were pointless to him.

so when he arrived home that night to pick you up alongside driver kim in order to attend the han family birthday dinner, the look of confusion on his face once he laid his eyes upon the birthday gift left for him on the kitchen table was understandable. 

had you forgotten his wishes, or were you simply teasing him? he knew his wife liked to play around from time to time. perhaps this was just another one of your silly “i love you” gifts. he decided to give you the pleasure of watching him open your gift, seeing your face light up playfully as he received a small plushie or tiny confetti canon. 

little to his knowledge, you had planned something different to gift him. something incredibly more significant that you both were expecting to happen in the near future. after five years of marriage, you were excited to be sharing this news with him.

facing the mirror, you had heard the door open and close, signaling his arrival. meanwhile you were still getting ready for the dinner. so you allowed him a couple minutes to himself, taking in the foreign object greeting him.

with the last flick of mascara, you reached for the door handle, preparing how to answer the questions he was bound to ask. walking out to greet your husband as you weakly closed the door behind you, he turned his head to the sound of your heels meeting with the floor. 

giving you his typical smile, the one that made you want to melt into the expensive floor tiles, he walked to greet you as you made your entrance in the living room. his beautiful wife was always a wonderful sight to see at home.

regardless, he knew you both had a place to be and he needed to hurry the conversation up. the last thing he wanted to be was late. so he questions,

“love, i thought i told you not to gift me anything this year. having you with me is more than enough.”

a modest giggle left your lips, those beautiful lips he would kiss every morning before work. you made a small gesture to the present, telling him to open it. yet as he picked the gift up, you noticed you didn’t have the birthday card on you. you couldn’t have a birthday gift without a birthday card. everything had to be perfect. 

after all, it wasn’t everyday that you would announce you were expanding your small family. so you quickly exclaimed, “one second, i forgot something!”. he stopped, taken aback but respecting your wishes. he watched as you ran off to the bedroom, leaving your phone on the table.

as you were off scrambling through your shared drawers, he was examining his surroundings to pass time. the clock seemed to be forward by five seconds...strange. he’d deal with that later. yet suddenly the ping of your phone caught his attention.

you had a text message. he bent forward ever so slightly to read the contents of the text, not daring the move the phone from his original spot. you two trusted each other, no way would he consider this a branch of your privacy. despite that, he felt the need to read the previous messages with this person after reading what was shown on your scree.

he could feel his heart drop as he read, “okay see you then, love you”. he had never heard of this man you were texting with, but why was he texting you using that language? the language of a lover that should be reserved to coming from him towards you, not from anyone else.

and from the looks of things, you had made plans to meet this man beforehand. you had never made any mention of him yet you made plans with him? his heart was racing, he wasn’t sure if it would remain in his chest at this rate.

swiping up to investigate further, he was met with your password screen. thinking nothing of it, he inputs your password. the same one you had for years and shared with him, even when you changed it. however this time he was met with an innocent password notification.

surely this was a mis-input on his end. re-entering your password with a slower, more accurate, finger aim. the outcome was no different, “incorrect password”. why had you changed your password and why hadn’t you told him?

things were not adding up. all rational thoughts were leaving his mind as everything he had never wanted to happen might have been happening right in front of his eyes. 

meanwhile you were continuing to search for the card in the bedroom, you couldn't find it anywhere. yet your attention directed to the hallway, hearing the voice of driver kim throughout the house, yelling “you’re going to be late, hurry”.

crap, you thought. things would have to wait, on your side and jumin’s. he had no time to question you about the text, silently deciding to recluse into a reserved state for the rest of the evening, from everyone, including you.

walking out of the bedroom, you met jumin in the hallway as he picked up the umbrella sitting beside the door to shield the two of you from the downpour of rain outside. opening the door, he left, barely leaving it open for you. that was nothing like jumin. perhaps he had rushed because of the time, you thought.

through a slow car ride, you felt an overwhelming sense of awkwardness. he wasn’t acknowledging your presence, which was quite unlike him. his face just remained with the same blank expression facing forward. 

this behaviour continued all throughout dinner. only talking when expected to, turning his shoulder everytime you walked towards him, and disregarding any words you spoke to him. you knew this man like the back of your hand, there was 100% something bothering him.

what took a prick to your heart, however, was how he hadn’t told you what was on his mind yet. you understood the concept of privacy, but you had promised each other to always confide in the other through anything, so why was this time different?

who knew two hours could feel like two days as you waited for the event to come to an end. that way, you could finally confront him about the situation. it was killing you. 

in the corner of your eye, you watched as a few of the associates started to clear up the area. you could feel the breath you weren’t aware of holding release as you began thinking about the next course of action. knowing your love, he doesn’t make sense of things unless they’re said blatantly. 

finishing up with respectful goodbyes, jumin lightly signified for you to join his leave. boarding the car, nothing was changed since the car ride to the event. just the presence of jumin, driver kim, and yourself. now you had to encourage yourself to sit through another awkward car ride with your anxiety consuming you.

you found yourself at a slight ease once driver kim had pulled up to the home you and jumin shared. it wasn’t long before you found yourself alone with jumin in the comfort of the familiar walls. just as you began to get your words out, you were interrupted by your husbands deeper tone of voice.

“explain the text on your phone from earlier” he said, almost as if he were making a statement. the feeling of your jaw slightly dropping didn’t catch your attention, but it caught jumins. taken aback, you start rethinking all the texts you had received from that day. however you couldn’t come up with any results that would warrant his question being asked.

taking notice of your face, he continues, obviously not expecting a response from you anytime soon, saying “i saw the text you received earlier from a male saying he’d see you soon, even referring to you as love, what is that about?”

you couldn’t reply. you didn’t know what to say. were you really being accused of cheating right now? did his trust for you fall that much..? yet you hadn’t seen such a text. truth be told, you haven't even looked at your phone since you left to grab the card. 

your thoughts were suddenly interrupted, hearing “not to mention that you’ve changed your password to your phone and haven’t told me. haven’t we agree to rely this information to each other?”. at this point, you weren’t sure if you were in shock or dreaming. surely this wasn’t real, you would never cheat on him. the only texts that were kind of similar to what he said to have seen were the plans to meet up with your friend and close cousin.

other than that, nothing he was saying was making sense. yet how come you couldn’t respond..? you didn’t want to hurt him, but you couldn’t let him go on another minute thinking you had cheated. with your phone now in the bedroom, it wasn’t like you could walk away to check what he was speaking of from the living room.

“are you cheating on me?” he asked, clearly not wanting to waste anymore time before deciding his next move. mustering up the little willpower you had left, you mumbled back “no”, leaving space to continue, but not knowing what to continue with.

a sign escaped his lips, before they parted to speak, “you’re not very convincing. you have nothing to say for the text message and sudden password change, this is very unlike the mc i know, or used to know.” those last few words sparked something in you.

perhaps it was because of the shock of the situation or the emotional imbalance you were currently dealing with, but you started to fill with many negative emotions, more so than before. betrayal, anger, and defeat were beginning to run rampant. you knew that you could not prove your innocence to jumin in this state.

giving it a go, you start to confront his accusations, saying “i don’t know what you’re talking about. i have never, and will never, cheat on you. why don’t you believe me? i love you! how could you think so little of me? are you that insecure to think every man i talk to is someone i’m trying to persue?”

oh no, you thought. you hadn’t meant to touch on his insecurities like that. you let them slip in a fit of hurt, but didn’t think about what you were saying in detail. you felt incredibly guilty as soon as the words jumped out. maybe, a night apart would be good to calm the both of you down and think rationally. 

therefore, you followed up saying “i’m sorry, i’m going to leave for now, i can’t do this tonight”. quickly looking down as to not be swayed by any expression he makes, you nearly run to the bedroom.

pulling out the backpack you had since you were 18, you unzipped it to prepare for everything. you would only take essentials, such as your phone and some cash you had earned on your own, securing the items before turning the door.

walking out to the hall, you saw from the corner of your eye how jumin had left, leaving the area empty. yet one thing caught your eye, that being the present you had left from earlier.

not thinking about it much, you ran to grab it, shoving it in your bag as you left through the front door. in your unusual luck, no security guards were around. giving you the perfect chance to left without bringing yourself anu attention.

reaching the outdoors, you begin walking. to where, you haven’t decided yet. after all, you had a lot to think about. refocusing your mind after a few disappointing seconds, you pulled out your phone, being met with the lockscreen of jumin and elizabeth the third taking a nap together.

oh how things have changed in such a short time. looking through your notifications, a message from you cousin had crossed your eyes. “see you then, love you” it read. oh god, how would you explain that to jumin tomorrow.

 you hadn’t introduced him to your cousin yet, mainly because he lived half way across the world. the two of you had always been close however, being there for each other when your immediate families weren’t. saying “i love you” was normal, because as children the only time you would hear those words were from each other.

never have you even thought that it could be interpreted as a romantic relationship. for many reasons, the biggest being that you were biologically related and he didn’t have a romantic attraction towards women.

thinking about it, you could understand how jumin could have taken it. as for the password, you had only changed it because of the employee who had taken your phone without your knowledge correctly guessed the password, attempting to become closer with the chairman. 

coming back to your senses, you find yourself looking down the empty road with only the streetlights and moon providing you any sense of sight in the late night. you began looking for hotels nearby, coming across an affordable one for the night.

only problem being that it was 30 minutes away by car, and in your tired state you were not willingly to walk for so long. so off to booking a cab you went. finding the cheapest option, saving some money for anything you may need later, you promptly requested a ride. 

with the cab puling up 10 minutes later, you began your journey to your  residence for the night. the wind hitting your face from the open window as you were riding provided you with serenity, reminding you that you were still living in this moment.

as the minutes passed, you started noticing some questionable things about the driver. sure you weren’t an expert driver, but you were fairly certain cars weren’t supposed to be driving over the white line dividing the lanes. you weren’t oblivious to the cars unnecessary fast speed either. was this driver okay, you thought.

as time went on, you could only feel the car getting faster and faster. you tried getting the drivers attention, but to no avail. now they were driving completely in the opposite lane. only to switch over, then back, then over, then back.

you would be lying if you said you weren’t scared. you could feel your heart racing, almost like it were about to jump out of your chest, with your gut telling you something horrible was about to happen.

everything happened so fast. half way through the trip, a car driving towards the vehicle as the driver was driving in the wrong lane again, crashed into you head on. you started grabbing onto random things in the car as they flew around, just now noticing the several empty vodka bottles in the trunk. you felt yourself spinning inside the car uncontrollably.

glass had pierced through several parts of your body, deriving from the mirrors. with no warning, the car had fallen off the road, down through the wooded hill on the side.

with the driver now passed out on the stirring wheel, you were at a lost on what to do. the only option was to relax and pray you’d survive. suddenly, you shot forward in your seat as the car collided with one of the many trees. you felt a piercing pain throughout your body, yet your brain had no time to reregister where the pain was coming from as you passed out with your head on the drivers seat.

yet jumin was completely unaware of this. he had walked off to pour a glass of wine, and saw that you left not long after.

being left alone was nothing unfamiliar to him, but it became an extremely unpleasant circumstance after he had formed a relationship to you. he always thought you would be there with him 24/7, but now that wasn’t the case.

he couldn’t wrap his head around the events that just took place. of course he trusted you, but he couldn’t ignore the text. needing clarification as soon as possible, he contacted seven.

knowing his hacking abilities, he could only rely on him to give him peace of mind. he knew it wasn’t right, but he felt the circumstance was understandable enough. hence why he asked seven to hack into mc’s phone without giving him too much detail.

seven hesitantly agreed, it was her husband after all. if there were any affairs going on, though he doubted it, he deserved to know. getting to work, jumin got his results quickly. he was sent dozens of screenshots containing the conversation between her and this man. 

it was only an easy job for seven, hacking into phones was nothing for the genius. while reading through the text messages, jumin became overwhelmed with guilt.

he read as they reminisced over their childhoods, talked about what the future held, and even planning to meet each others significant others. he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. had he really driven her away because he assumed the worst of her?

the sooner he could find where she was staying, the better. apologizing was his first priority, he would answer to his work later. being wrecked with remorse, jumin sat facing the window overlooking the city, preparing for the worst as he became increasingly more drunk as time went on.

he didn’t want to live a life away from his soulmate because of one stupid mistake. the years you had spent together meant too much to be thrown away so effortlessly. calling seven back, he asked for him to track you down.

there were many ways he could go about this. he could track her phone, follow cctv footage, or go looking around himself. whichever way he choose, jumin would give him the resources possible to do so. it made his heart break thinking how you might be spending the night alone, crying to your pillow instead of him.

upon tracking your phone, as seven had chosen to do, he had to do a double take. things weren’t adding up. were you sleeping down a hill? deciding to get clarification before taking the wrong moves, he decides to follow you along cctv footage as well.

that way, he’d be able to directly see what you were up to. following along carefully, everything seemed normal. well, as normal as the situation could get. however it didn’t take him long to catch onto the drivers horrible driving. just like you had thought, he knew something bad was going to happen.

as time went on, he watched in horror as he witnessed the car getting hit, spinning off the road, smashing the windows, and ending up in the ditch as it aggressively hit a tree in the wooded area. seven hasn’t been speechless many times in his life, but he couldn’t say anything at this moment in time.

after a minute of sitting with his face close up to the monitor, he recollects himself as he dials jumins number. the reality of the situation kicks in. how would he be able to tell him that his wife had gotten in a serious car accident? one that definitely killed the driver, there would be no way in hell they would’ve survived the impact.

“jumin, she got into a car accident. she’s besides the road outside of the city. we need to call somebody” he said, his voice slightly raising as he begins to panic. his friend was in a car accident, how could he not panic? 

jumin didn’t give his mind time to process the situation before calling driver kim to take him to the scene of the accident. everything else could wait. he couldn’t find himself caring about the cheating accusations at the moment, his wife was possibly dead.

god, that broke him. his soulmate might be dead. no, she couldn’t be. she’s survived so much in her young life, a car accident wouldn’t take her that easily. but in case of the worst scenario, he needed to be prepared.

on the way to the scene, he arranged the best doctors to treat her in the nearest hospital. even if she were to end up depending on him for the rest of her life, he would be there everyday. 

he could hear the sounds of sirens as they approached the scene, increasing his anxiety more and more. practically jumping out of the car as they arrived, he laid his eyes upon a box of metal extremely crushed, what he assume to be the car.

it was horrendous. the windows were completely gone with glass everywhere, the hood was shriveled up towards where the front mirror was supposed to be, and two tires had rolled off of the car.

what was of more concern to him was his wife, who was being lifted onto a stretcher. there wasn’t much he could see over the paramedics, but what he did see wanted to make him crawl up into a ball and pretend like it never happened.

like this was all a dream. like he didn’t make her want to leave their safe home, resulting in her injuries. wasting little time, he spoke to the paramedics as they examined you. careful to not direct their attention off of you, but still asking questions.

“is my wife okay? what happened?” he asked. he knew the answer to a certain extent, but he needed someone to give him the facts. not moving an eye off of your body, a male paramedic responded “we don’t know for sure. we will give you the results at hospital once we can conduct a proper exam. what i can tell you is that she’s alive, though looks to be in critical condition. the driver has passed unfortunately”.

with all due respect, he didn’t care about the drivers life in this moment. they had almost taken your life with theirs, so why should he feel sorry? the paramedic continues “as for what happened, we’re still actively investigating but this is very likely to be a case of drunk driving due to the empty vodka bottles and the drivers blood alcohol levels.”

he had to pause and compose himself, because he nearly had a heart attack hearing that information. how could someone put their passengers life in danger like that? did they not know how special you were? perhaps the driver was lucky to be dead, because if they had survived, they would be living the rest of their life behind bars.

he would get you justice for this one day, he promised himself. with jumin being allowed to ride with you in the ambulance, he quickly hopped in as you were being loaded in. 

now he was given a clear view of your face right in front of his eyes. a face so beautiful given so many scars. the glass in your face, the bruises, the blood leaking from your head, they were all staring at him. 

he could do nothing but stare at you the entire ride. he was worried you would give up on him if he were to turn his back. the shallow breaths you took in reminding him of your living form. 

the sights around him blurred as you entered the hospital, only focused on you. he followed until a nurse told him to take a seat in the waiting room as you were rushed into surgery upon further examination.

hence why he found himself surrounded by white walls on the night after his birthday. staring straight ahead as to live fully in his head for the time being. now was when he could truly feel himself becoming tired. most likely the alcohol had worn off on him, leaving him in a haze.

3 minutes turned into 30 minutes, which turned into 1 hour, which turned into 2 hours, which turned into 3 hours. all extremely drawn out times, the only interception being the visit from the paramedics.

they had given him the things you had brought with you, many bent or broken. there laid your essentials as well as the present you have given him earlier. he could try to open the present, but it would be no use. it had already been deemed unrecognizable just by the packages damage.

exactly 200 minutes, over 3 hours, later, he was greeted by the main surgeon. mentally preparing himself for the outcome, he listens as the surgeon speaks, saying “mr. han, we tried everything we could..”

no, this wasn’t happening. he knows how this goes, but he doesn’t want to accept it. if there is a god out there, please make this be a big nightmare, he thought. yet he knows, he knows. this is real, too real.

the surgeon continues, “...unfortunately she had succumbed to her injuries. she fought until her last breath...” he blanked, being left speechless. this couldn’t be real, you can’t leave him like that. you can’t. you were supposed to grow old together.

he could feel as every structure and thing with significance fell in his life. hell, he didn’t know if he still had a life outside of you. how would he go on..? you had showed him the path to true love, accepting him like no one else ever had.

his company flourished with you present, people being grateful you were there to convince him to be a tad more human and give some laid back time. you had lightened up everyone’s life in many ways.

“...the baby unfortunately did not survive either..”

cutting off his thought process, he was now faced with confusion. the baby? what was the surgeon talking about? “what baby?” he asked.

“the baby, as in the baby you two were expecting in around 7 months?... were you not aware?” the surgeon responded. she was pregnant and hadn’t told him...? there’s no way this was actually happening. maybe they got her confused with another patient. he would know if she was pregnant, wouldn’t he?

his thoughts were cut off by the surgeon pulling up her medical records, confirming his previous statement. everything was there. he couldn’t believe, there was too much going on.

he first lost his wife and now he lost his unborn child, one he didn’t even know existed. sensing the agonizing energy in the room, the surgeon leaves with his best wishes. now left alone, he was stuck. 

he had no idea what to do. he felt like crying, could he even cry...? everything just felt so numb as he realized he was on his own again. allowing his face to drop and relax, he stared at the floor thoughtless. 

somehow his father knew and showed up at the hospital. had jumin called him? he couldn’t remember if he were honest, everything was going in one ear and out the other. he doubted if he was even seeing things right.

later, as he was invited to give his last goodbyes before her body would be taken to the morgue, he spoke to his love for the last time.

“i’m so sorry i couldn’t protect you...thank you for giving me the life i’ve always wanted. i never meant to hurt you like i did, please give me your forgiveness through the afterlife. take care of our child up there, my love for you won’t stop until my heart does. rest easy darling”.

grabbing a hold of your delicate hand for the last time, he placed a kiss as he left. letting you go like the princess you were. eventually he found himself outside your room door, standing in the narrow hallway. was this it for him? nothing else mattered to him as much as you did.

finding himself at home once again, the sun being awake at this point, everything hit him like a truck. only this time, he could feel his tears plaque his face. last night you were breathing, this morning you weren’t.

how could the universe do this to him? hadn’t he proved himself worthy enough of you? in the back of his head, he was reliving the event every second. he would never forgive himself for what he said to you the night before your death. he would blame himself for the rest of his life.

he could only hope you would have forgiven him by time he meets you again up there. the next week was nothing but a blur, the only thing he could remember was your funeral.

how you laid so beautifully down, now at eternal peace. being laid to rest with the child he never got to meet, but already loved so much. everyone said their goodbyes, as your friends wept for hours. 

finding himself at home again, he really started to hate the place. he wasn’t meant for only him. yet at the same time, he couldn’t leave. you had lived here with him for years, your mark was stick. 

as advised to do so by many, he cleared out the drawers and closet of your clothing to save in a box. one he would take with him to the grave. amongst the pile of clothes occupying the top shelf, an envelop met with his head. standing in confusion for no more than a minute, he opens it.

he could feel his eyes swell with silent tears as he read the contents of the envelope. it was a card with a picture of an ultrasound. things were making sense, you were planning to surprise him for his birthday. he couldn’t believe what he had done.

he couldn’t go on. it all hurt him too much. stopping the cleaning process, he went to lay on his bed. observing the photo of the unborn child, he couldn’t control as the tears fell, clouding his vision in seconds.

he laid there for the following evening hours, fantasizing about a life with you and the little one. wondering which parent they would’ve taken after most, innocently hoping it would’ve been you. imagining them getting married, having a happy family of there own.

but he would never experience that while on earth now that you were no longer under the sky. over time, he let fatigue overcome him, drifting off with the ultrasound photo held to his chest.

that night, he could’ve sworn it was you how had embraced him and whispered “i love you” quietly in his ear. anyone might call him crazy, or say that he’s going crazy despite his usual rational nature.

no matter what anyone else thought, he knew it was you. there was no doubting that.

---

01:32 AST - 07/28/21

[queenmuzz]

So, anyways, I saw something @liulyam had posted for Spardaverse a while back I DON'T KNOW HOW I MISSED THEIR WONDERFUL ART FORGIVE ME! Anyways, I saw specifically THIS piece of art, and it sent the brain juices into overdrive....

So, the same thing plays out everyday. Nero gets off the school bus and runs in, backpack flying, and tells his uncle excitedly about his day at school, before racing up the stairs to tell his dad the same thing, in the same adorably animated manner. Unfortunately, Vergil doesn’t respond the same way as Dante, sitting still, not even acknowledging that the boy is talking to him. Initially, Nero doesn’t mind, understanding his recently rescued father has been through a lot, and needs time and patience to recover. But as the months pass by, Dante notices that his nephew doesn’t run up the front steps as eagerly, his descriptions of school become shorter, paler. And most worryingly of all, Nero spends less and less time with Vergil, preferring to peek his head in the man’s room, sigh, and slowly make his way to his own room, closing the door sullenly.

“What’s going on Nero?” Dante takes the plunge and asks him one day, before the boy trudges up the stairs. “You haven’t been that rambunctious ball of energy lately.”

Nero kicks the worn hardwood floor. “It’s dad… I know you told me I need to be patient,” his face scrunches up at the word, it’s a thing he’s never been able to truly do. He’s definitely a Sparda boy. “But he just keeps ignoring me. He won’t talk, won’t even look at me. It’s like I don’t even exist! Maybe...maybe he doesn’t want me to exist-”

“Hey now!” Dante needs to nip this train of thought in the bud. He knows first hand where it can lead to. Had he not found Nero nearly nine years ago, while wandering the world, drinking up every bar’s entire inventory in a vain attempt to fill a void in his chest, who knows where he would have ended up? “Your dad...well, even without the stuff he’s been through, he was never much of a talker. Always preferred to have his actions speak for him.” “But that’s the thing, Uncle Dante!” Nero blurts out, close to tears. “He DOESN’T DO ANYTHING!!! He doesn’t care!” And with that, Nero bolts up the stairs, past Vergil’s room, not even checking up on him, and slams his bedroom door with such force, Eva’s portrait wobbles on the desk and tips over. Dante sighs, sets his mom back up, and slowly makes his way up the stairs. Not to Nero’s room; Dante knows better than to provoke that tiger cub when he’s in an ornery mood. It’s time to talk to his dad.

Vergil, or what’s left of him, is sitting in an oversized chair, the only one that fits his giant frame, facing the window, the only one in the place with a view. If he’s heard the ruckus (and Dante knows he has), he makes no indication that it affects him.

“Verg,” he calls out, “I know it's been rough, I know I piled on a lot of shit on you, the whole thing about having a kid and everything these past nine years. I’m not expecting you to just snap back to normal, and start insulting me like in the good old days, but…” Dante’s not good at this sort of thing. He’d rather Royal Guard his emotional turmoil. It used to be with alcohol, but now it’s with a cheery smile. “The kid needs a sign that you’re still there, you’re still fighting. I know you are, hell, you’re the one that helped me take down that bastard Mundus on Mallet Island. But that’s the thing, Nero’s only heard things that you’ve done, not seen them. You need to show him yourself, otherwise…” Vergil makes no motion, and even Dante, stubborn as he is, knows it’s fruitless to continue much more, “you’re gonna lose him too.” And then Dante heads back downstairs, to see if he can whip up a snack to bribe his nephew to come out of his lair. Strange, he swears he hears the rustle of fabric from Vergil’s room, as if his brother had just moved.

--

Nero sits at Dante’s desk, working on his math homework. It’s his least favourite thing, fractions. Uncle Dante is a whiz at them, and usually would be able to help him, but he’s gone out on an ‘Really quick, won’t be more than a half hour’ errand run. It’s been nearly two hours, and the only other adult here is his dad… so Nero is practically by himself.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Nero’s neck prick up, and he hears scrabbling at the front door. He’s still not allowed to go out with Uncle Dante or Auntie Lady on their hunts, but he knows what a demon feels like, especially when there are a lot of them. ESPECIALLY when they’re really powerful Instinctively, he grabs a chair, and wedges it underneath the door knob, and looks around in a panic. He’s never had to deal with a demon attack by himself before. He remembers his uncle has a case of weapons that he was told to NEVER touch beside the jukebox, but Nero figures that he can say sorry to his uncle later. He smashes the lock with a billiard ball, and yanks open the lid. He’s disappointed. He thought there would be a treasure trove of swords and guns, but all there are two swords, one red and one blue. But he doesn’t have much of a choice, and the whine of protesting wood ends with a thunderous CRASH, and demons pour through. “FIND THE HERETIC GOD SLAYER!” One says, before turning in Nero’s direction. Without much warning, it shrieks as it launches at him with razor sharp obsidian claws.

Nero might be little, but his uncle has trained him well. Whipping the two blades around, they connect the monster’s waist in a pincer move, and like a pair of scissors, bisect it in a shower of blood and ash. Nero swears he hears a voice (or is it two voices?) approvingly say, “Impressive!” but doesn’t have a chance to savour his very first demon kill as another demon comes at him, knocking him over. The reddish gold blade clatters away on the floor, way out of reach, not that it matters. Nero’s pinned to the ground by a skeletal foot, as the demon lifts a blade to impale him. He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the end.

The final blow never comes. Instead, he hears shriek, and the pressure on his chest instantly subsides. He opens his eyes, to see it stagger back, its decapitated head clattering to the floor. Its brethren likewise are either dead or dying, their high pitched screams shattering the glass in the jukebox.

Nero’s first thought is that his Uncle has finally come home, Dante’s come to save me! But what’s odd is that there’s no sound of Dante’s beloved Ebony and Ivory. And last he checked, his uncle never was able to shoot out blue ghostly blades that now impale most of the horde. But it doesn’t matter, because his uncle is here to save the day! That is, until he yelps as he’s quickly, but not roughly picked up and held as whoever holds him spirits him out of the building, the blue blade still clutched in his hand. Nero begins to panic, but hears a voice, almost like a croak, as if the vocal cords had been in disuse for years…

Nero

And even though the voice is harsh sounding, it's one of the most comforting things Nero’s ever heard.

--

Of course that half hour errand run would turn out to be three hours. But when he was promised a free pizza for clearing out that demon nest on the West side, Dante couldn’t say no. Besides, he’d pick up some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the way home as a way of apologising to Nero. The kid might be cross with him, but he’d forgive him the moment he smelled those chewy biscuits. Dante might even let him have more than half of the package.

So when he gets home to find his front door smashed open, his office trashed, and worst of all his jukebox shattered-wait no, worst of all, his nephew missing, all thoughts of pizza and cookies vanish from his mind as he rushes in, guns drawn. There’s no sign of life, but the black splatters of demonic ichor painting the walls shows that some real bad mojo went down here. The strangest thing though, is Agni, a weapon Dante was definitely sure he had under lock and key, laying there on the ground, alone.

“Alright, time to spill your guts” he yanks the blade up so that he’s at eye level with the pommel, “What the hell happened here?” Agni makes the same response as Vergil. Which means silence.

“I swear to…” he pulls out ivory, and presses the muzzle into the (more troubled than usual looking face), “You’re gonna tell me what went down, or we’re gonna see how many bullets I can jam into your ugly mug.” “You told us to remain silent.” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, consider that rule temporarily relaxed.” “There was an attack.” Agni starts, its distorted voice unusually agitated, “The little one fought with great valour, but eventually even he was overwhelmed.” Dante’s blood goes cold. “But then a great bulk of a demon came out and slaughtered the attacking filth, and spirited the boy away, alongwith my brother.”

“Rudra’s still with Nero?” That’s odd, if they were trying to capture the kid, they’d disarm him first.

“Yes, they are not far, I think they’ve stopped moving.”

“Alright,” Dante makes his way out of the disfigured wood, “let’s go find the kid and your bro...and if he’s alright, maybe I’ll reconsider giving back your talking privileges.” “Oh, that would be wonderful, will you allow us to leave the dark box? It’s been so long since we’ve fought, we crave batt- ”

“I said IF, and I won’t guarantee anything if you keep jabbering on and on.”

--

Angi directs the demon hunter to a dark secluded alleyway, a few blocks from Devil May Cry. One hand on its hilt ready for attack, the other fingering the trigger of Ivory, he cautiously makes his way past the recently overturned garbage cans, to a shadow alcove, where a shadow crouches. Beside it is Rudra, glowing faintly, it’s turquoise blue light providing enough illumination for Dante to make out what has happened. There’s Nero, peacefully slumbering away, apparently unharmed, not even his shirt is torn. And holding him gently, stroking his downy white hair with a giant hand...is Vergil… And for once, even though he is still staring straight ahead, there’s a different look on his face, a sense of contentment.

Huh Dante thinks to himself as he holsters the weapons, I was right, actions DO speak louder than words.

[sxnxsterdrabblings]

A/N: Its been a long time since i posted, right?

Request: Hanzo orders his dancer to dance until she collapses, but then punishes her when she collapes quite quickly (due to her having low stamina?) because he thinks she could have danced longer.

Heavy blankets of cigar smoke roll amongst the ill-lit room as Hanzo sits relaxed against a lush couch with one leg crossed over the other. A thick bulge is straining against his slacks as a hefty cigar lays lazily against his plush lips, supported by resting fingers decorated with fine jewelry. With each increasingly long drag, more smoke flows out from the mouth of the dragon, of danger. The proof being thick poisonous clouds that leave nothing untouched.

Except him. He remains untouched by the filth. His crisp suit hugs his form to no fault and stands to show the perfection that is Hanzo Shimada. He’s filthy rich, enviably- unreasonably beautiful, and he holds a gaze that can strike any man with fear. A predator. Honorable, nonetheless... supposedly.

Hanzo has grown to fancy a bit of pain with his pleasure, and god if it isn’t delicious. His eyes shamelessly trace her figure as she sways her body just for him- shamelessly studying his prey, playing with his food. Honorable indeed, working his beautiful dancer until they’re sweating and buckling under their own weight, body collapsing from exhaustion.

Her right knee crumbles and hits the floor first, hard. Then her right elbow, her hip, and an audible choke follows the next arm. As soon as the thud dissipates, a gasp and an audible swallow replace it. She realizes her failure. His disappointment. The punishment to come.

Yet still, the show must go on. As fear roots in her eyes, she makes work of her collapse by spreading her body across the floor. Steadily breathing the dragons breath deep into her lungs, shaking fingers run along her body to sell it as much as she possibly can.

As much as she’s tried, and as much as Hanzo enjoys toying with his food, he knew that his dancer wouldn't make it. This display was quickly worsening his current predicament of what to do.

Hanzo had previously unabashedly laid out the not-so-pretty picture of what he would do if she was to fail, and made it clear to note that it was not up for debate...

—

His eyes slowly scoured the surface of her body as she hesitantly began the descent into the game. Their dance. Hanzo felt himself swell. His decorated hand reached for a cigar, lighting it a bit too far as he looked her in the eyes and the end flared red hot. He eased off the cigar, and with the movement came the first puff of dragon's breath.

“If you fail-

“I won't hesitate to hurt you. You will not enjoy it. You will cry, scream, and beg. I will make sure of it, and I will only stop when I see fit.”

He takes another long drag without breaking eye contact, followed by an onset of billowing smoke. Hanzo makes sure she sees him tracing her body with his eyes before speaking once more in a harsh, firm tone. The mood in the room shifts dramatically.

“I’d find it in your best interest for you to service me, and take what I give to you. If you may find it within yourself to disagree, then this is over, and you can ensure that I will not hold back when lashing you.”

—

But now that raw meat had become a rare steak at the discovery that it was still trying to please him upon its failure, despite being afraid? Now that tears were leaking from her eyes- so close to her breaking point where Hanzo so desperately wanted his dancer to fall over? He throbbed in his pants again. Hanzo wasn’t so sure anymore. It was going to be so much more fun to act on the possibility of playing now, despite not being able to entertain his original plans. Enticing little thing. Infuriating piece of meat.

“Stop.”

The cigar is put out in a nearby ashtray that is just as unnecessarily lavish as everything else in the room, and Hanzo’s eyes immediately shift to your shaking body on the floor. Your head lifts slowly, still hurting from the tumble, and your eyes are wide with fear. But you obey him- your limbs still in place as you wait patiently.

He’s sure if he could eat you, he would do so. He’s leaking uncontrollably in his pants at the sight of you hanging on to his every word and command despite your limits clearly being abused by him.

“Be still.”

The shimada hums in acceptance of your compliance as your body lies stiff. But this doesn’t last long, because seconds later he’s right in front of you, spotless shoes placed right in your field of view. One of them tilts up under your chin, tilting it upwards at a painful angle. His gaze is daring you to disobey to escape your discomfort as his shoe pushes against your jaw higher and higher. A whimper of sorts comes from your throat, and at that moment he hopes you learned to have kept quiet, because his foot drops immediately and you weren’t expecting it. Your chin busts against the floor and you can neither be still nor quiet. You cry out and gasp as fat tears roll down your cheeks, but your mouth keeps pursing as if to hold it all in. You keep trying to please him though, and that’s what keeps him going.

Quiet whimpers are still coming from your mouth and you’ll twitch occasionally due to the crying, causing your chin to wobble and burn worse than before, but your mouth is mostly closed to the point that you’re trying not to breathe in order to obey. Your body is attempting to still it’s movements as you lock the knees you previously busted on the floor, and he knows that it hurts. But he’s throbbing in his pants all the more, leaking with need.

Hanzo decides that he won’t be denying himself any longer, and begins to palm himself. Once more he puts his shoe in front of your face, and he sees more tears continue to form in your eyes, but you remain silent… mostly.

“Lick.”

You open your mouth immediately and Hanzo watches you shake again, your jaw not nearly ready for the onslaught before the recovery.

I might have to keep you.

Your tongue comes out and licks a long broad stripe up his shoe, breath audibly shaky. You continue to do this a few more times, and he knows that turning back will not be an option for him now. Gripping himself tightly one last time through his slacks, he makes sure you hear him unbuttoning them… unzipping them… and shoving them past his v-cut only enough for him to pull his cock out and begin stroking. The slick sounds erupting from above are not lost on you, and he can tell that if you weren’t afraid before, you are now. Or at the very least, you’re about to be.

His knees fold onto his calves so he can balance on his feet, bending down to you. Hanzo can pinpoint the exact moment you realize that he’s shifted to meet you, because his shoe that you were so urgently servicing has now been propped up and creased to support his weight, and your eyes widen to the size of saucers. It makes him chuckle darkly into the room. The next realization comes to you when his hand is gripping your jaw, pulling your face upwards so he can look into your eyes again, or rather, so you can look at your next task. Your face is cradled in his huge palm, and the other hand is steadily stroking while Hanzo gazes at you.

Without breaking eye contact, he pulls away to place the other palm in front of you as well.

“Spit.”

You don’t have the privilege of opening your jaw at least a bit slowly, because this time the shimada does it for you. He grips your jaw tighter, causing it to fall open out of pain, and there’s no rest for you even then. He makes sure of it. Two thick fingers are forced into your mouth quickly, repeatedly, and you cannot stop gagging. Saliva produces even faster now, and as soon as Hanzo sees enough has pooled in your mouth, he’s digging it out and stroking it into his cock. Not too long after, his fingers will go jab back into your gag reflex repeatedly and the process repeats until his dick is glistening with your spit.

Apparently you have learned- he acknowledges with a hum- because when he abruptly drops your jaw this time, you catch yourself.

You’re breathing heavily and drooling into the floor when you settle again, leaking tears. Hanzo pulls himself away once more. He begins to circle you very slowly, stroking slower as he’s observing now. The clack of one shoe sounds off a few feet from your head, and after a few long seconds pass the next audible step is near your shoulder. This continues agonizingly slowly until you hear him circle around to the other side of your head, letting out a pleased sound once more.

You may have collapsed, but this dance is still ongoing. He’s at the top of the food chain, the most dangerous predator, and you unfortunately have fallen into the place of his prey. He’s circling you like his next meal, and Hanzo decides playing with his food has never felt so good. He tucks his cock back into his pants and barks an order,

“Up, girl.”

Shit. You let out a shaky breath, and mentally prepare yourself for the shock that you know is about to shoot down your knee.

You prop yourself up on your hands first and push up, when your elbows begin to shake. The huffs out of your nose become more violent and your throat chokes up as your knee is now at an awkward angle. You attempt to move it inwards in order to gain more leverage but it erupts in pain and you call out- before closing your mouth immediately in fear. You hear heavy footsteps approaching and remind yourself that staying calm should help you escape a harsher blow in the end- but you find yourself leaking tears and gasping for breath again anyway as Hanzo’s blurry shoes appear in front of your hands on the floor. And the blow never comes. Instead, two fingers are gripping your jaw, slowly raising your view to meet his eye line. He’s blurry too.

“I’m sorry, sir, I-“

“Stop.” He pauses to make sure you’ve heard him and only continues once your harsh breathing recedes. “Let your knee relax. I’m going to lift you.” Then suddenly, he’s not so blurry anymore, your knee relaxes, and you gulp audibly. He bends down to grip you around your waist with his big hands and as he raises you cautiously, your knee scrapes across the floor and he pauses. He hasn’t broken eye contact. He’s…. looking for confirmation? But there’s no indication on his face of leniency nor sympathy. You decide not to search for it. You nod shakily and he lifts you up the rest of the way into his arms. Such compliant prey, he thinks.

And as Hanzo carries you away, you realize you shouldn’t have let him. Hanzo smells divine and his clothes are extremely soft. And it only makes it worse that he’s so fucking warm and huge. Inevitably, you start to drift to sleep. You try to make it known to him by nudging your head into his chin lightly to get his attention, but he takes it as you trying to nuzzle into his neck that he then pushes you further into with a hum. You realize it’s a lost cause as your eyes flutter shut and he speaks, sending a sharp pang of fear striking through you.

“I’ll be keeping you.

You may drift off now, you’ll need your rest for your next performance.”

You need to stay awake. Fight him. For once. Keep you? He wasn’t being sweet, he was taming his prey. Playing with his food. Tenderizing the meat. But as the feeling of your head in his kneck and his huge arms around you remains...this only manages to be a thought. You reluctantly succumb to sleep with tear tracks staining your cheeks along with more bruises littering your body to count, head filling with dreams of dancing in shackles.

[shipping-receiving]

“Is there a chance you won’t be okay?”

An Analysis of Hwang Si-mok and Han Yeo-jin’s Final Scene in Stranger/Secret Forest Season 2

Alright, it’s been almost a week, I’m still crying every time I re-watch this scene, and somehow I’ve written 3,500 words about five minutes of this damn show, so here we go:

As with Stranger/Secret Forest Season 1, Si-mok and Yeo-jin’s final scene in Season 2 ended with a farewell meal, complete with soju. On a very basic level, this meal felt significant in a season where Si-mok was subject, more than ever, to interrupted meals or meals he didn’t particularly want to be present for – at least until he was able to have a drink with Yeo-jin in 2x12, and then lunch with her in 2x13.

More importantly, though, this scene is the most loaded scene we’ve ever witnessed between these two characters. That’s saying something for such a nuanced, detail-oriented show, in which two people placing their phones in a storage locker at a detention centre can possess such emotional weight, particularly when played by two actors who make very subtle and sophisticated acting choices.

I’m struck particularly by the way this scene bursts with subtext – things unsaid and unresolved – when Lee Soo-yeon could just as easily have written a neater, more light-hearted exchange that reaffirmed their connection, more along the lines of their final scene in 1x16. There are a thousand other ways their farewell could have been presented to us that would have given a greater or at least a more comfortable sense of finality, even taking into account their character development over this season. This lack of resolution is evident not just from what happened during the scene, but also when the scene happened within the episode itself. The meal occurred after Yeo-jin had been bullied by her colleagues, but before she met her new boss – at this point, it seemed to the viewer that her promotion would likely bring not the pride she experienced in S1, but more challenges and isolation.

More so than the Seo Dong-jae cliffhanger, this scene makes me think that this was written with a future Season 3 arc in mind, one in which Si-mok and Yeo-jin’s relationship will continue to evolve and deepen substantially (whether that will be ‘romantic’ remains to be seen). Considering they’re the core partnership of this series, there was a deliberate withholding of stability in their farewell, rather than an affirmation of it. I won’t go so far as to say destabilisation – because despite their separation, I think their bond is more profound than ever – but at the bare minimum an absence of certainty, when it could have been written otherwise.

Anyway, on to the breakdown:

The scene opens with Si-mok carefully folding a napkin and placing cutlery on it for Yeo-jin, a simple gesture of care that Cho Seung-woo plays with a startlingly gentle attentiveness. Immediately, it signals that there’s been a shift in Si-mok – how he’s able, at least with Yeo-jin, to do something that isn’t just polite, but also thoughtful. The director even snuck in a little clue that Si-mok is thinking of Yeo-jin as he’s doing this – Yeo-jin actually appears at the left side of the frame from the start, as the camera pans over to Si-mok: 

In this shot, Si-mok is visually separated from Yeo-jin by a pillar. This could be read on the one hand as a kind of sectioning out of his mental space – a visualisation of his thoughts of her as he prepares her cutlery – and on the other hand, as a foreshadowing of their impending separation. (I do, however, enjoy the first interpretation more. It reminds me a little bit of her sketch of the inside of his head from 1x06.)

Back to the napkin: if you look closer, Si-mok didn’t fold a napkin for himself – his spoon and chopsticks are on the table next to his bowl – so this isn’t just a matter of neatly setting the table for their meal. In a very small way, he’s anticipating her needs, just as she has done with him in much more demonstrative ways in both seasons (helping him with his headaches being the most obvious one). This isn’t something he’s necessarily actively worked on in the past two years; he’s still the person who doesn’t instinctively say ‘hello’ over the phone, or ask after someone’s kids without being reminded. Yet, it’s a capacity for care that has expanded significantly, at least where Yeo-jin is concerned.

Compare his behaviour with the equivalent scene in 1x16 – back then, he only ordered a bowl of noodles for himself and not for her. Interestingly, Yeo-jin’s comment to Si-mok during that part of the S1 scene was, “Gosh, you haven’t changed one bit,” suggesting that he was, by nature, somehow unable to be considerate to someone else. Just from the opening to the S2 scene, we see that that comment is not or no longer true, at least when it comes to the way he acts around her. In both the S1 and S2 scenes, he was the first person to arrive for their meal; in S1, the first thing he said was, “Why are you late?” and had already ordered his soju and noodles. This time, however, Yeo-jin asks him, “Why didn’t you order something first?” – implying that although she was late again, he was patiently waiting for her to arrive.

There’s also a difference in the way he responds to her appearance. Now, I personally don’t think we can frame Si-mok’s connection with and care for Yeo-jin in conventional understandings of romantic attraction (which is not to say romance isn’t possible for them canonically, I just think it will manifest differently). Nevertheless, I’d say that he responds to her haircut in a way that is probably as close to the mechanics of attraction as we could possibly expect from Si-mok – not just the shock of “oh, you cut your hair,” but lingering looks and nostalgia for when they first met; nothing at all like noticing that she’s wearing lipstick and saying, not so kindly, that it looks weird. In fact, in a direct parallel to this moment in 1x16, Yeo-jin asks him if her haircut is “weird”, and he says, “I just meant it’s different.”

(I think the way he stares at her is not wholly due to being ‘transfixed’, but also because he’s trying to figure out what such a drastic change means, and why now, and whether he has to worry. Basically, his brain is trying to compute; part of his stare is him trying to analyse her behaviour, just as part of it is him revisiting his memories of her from two years ago, and part of it might well be an attraction he doesn’t quite understand or know how to reel in. He does stare at her for an inordinately long time.)

Switching over to Yeo-jin, I really enjoy this little routine of hers when they have meals together – how she narrows down options for him to a series of questions, and even helps him decide on occasion. It never feels like she’s trying to speak for him, but rather that she knows his likes and dislikes. Her question in this scene – makgeolli or soju – is phrased like her question in 2x02, when she asks him to choose between stir-fried octopus and hot pot; when she specifically requests a lot of cabbages, she must be thinking of how he ate lots of them in 2x12. This kind of care comes naturally to Yeo-jin – we’re talking about the person who took in a murder victim’s mother in S1 – but it’s still a form of intimacy, and one that Si-mok is clearly used to as well.

Soon, though, we have our first indication that things might not be so comfortable – not in the sense that their bond has weakened, but that there are fundamental shifts occurring in both of their lives that affect this bond. Si-mok, after a lot more staring, points out that her short hair reminds him of when they first met. (He wouldn’t have needed to take that much time to come up with that simple observation, which makes me think he was trying to choose his words carefully.) With enthusiasm, Yeo-jin responds with, “I haven’t changed a bit, right?” – echoing her comment about Si-mok in 1x16.

Perhaps Yeo-jin had meant this comment sincerely in the moment, but given context, her cheerfulness feels performative. We’ve just witnessed her crying after being bullied by her colleagues, in contrast to the warmth that she enjoys with her old Yongsan team; we’ve observed her changes – a result of maturity, disillusionment, a loss of innocence – throughout the whole season. In fact, she seems to have cut her hair precisely because she feels weighed down by all that has unfolded, just as one might after a break-up or some kind of painful life event. It’s a decision that seems to say: I acknowledge that everything has changed around me, but maybe doing this will make me feel like myself again, or the ‘myself’ of two years ago.

Si-mok, of course, isn’t quite so able to agree that she hasn’t changed. Multiple times this season, he’s observed the changes in her – “You don’t draw these days?” in 2x06, “Didn’t you want to work in police administration?” in 2x08, “You weren’t the kind of person to postpone things.” in 2x12. Now, he doesn’t respond to her question, and instead looks at her in silence, smiling only ever so slightly when she shakes her head playfully (and we know that she can make him smile wider than that). Perhaps he’s even choosing to withhold any judgment of her. But this is a moment, I think, that factors into his decision to ask her that question at the end of this scene.

Next, we have confirmation that Si-mok was the one who asked Yeo-jin out for dinner, just as he had in 2x02 once he’d settled into his new posting. It isn’t clear in 1x16 if it was Yeo-jin who’d asked to meet Si-mok when she found out he was being posted to Namhae, but it’s been affirmed twice this season that he prioritises this time with her (even more so than meeting his own mother). Then, he breaks the news to her that he is leaving for Gangwon Province this weekend.

In 1x16, Yeo-jin finds out that Si-mok is leaving from the special investigation team, without Si-mok being present. At the time, they still think he’ll be sent to the US for training, and Yeo-jin is visibly disappointed. She has the same crestfallen look on her face in this scene, in front of Si-mok. She doesn’t want to be separated from him, and when she asks about his cases, it seems she’d expected him to stay for quite a while longer to see them through. Mind you, Wonju is only about 1.5 hours drive from Seoul (yes, I mapped it), but Yeo-jin still looks like she’s had the rug pulled from under her. Perhaps, in an uncertain time, she’d hoped that Si-mok would be in her life more than the few weeks he’d spent in Seoul.

Yeo-jin’s responses in both 1x16 and 2x16 are a pretty big indicator that she has feelings for Si-mok (whether she’s aware or willing to acknowledge those feelings is another matter). I suppose one could argue that her reaction is simply out of sadness at the thought of being separated from a friend, but based on certain events in S2 – for example, Choi Bit questioning Yeo-jin about her relationship with Si-mok, and Yeo-jin deflecting – I think the viewer is at the very least meant to question whether their bond is truly ‘platonic’. This isn’t the type of show to include superfluous details just to tease their viewers, and in any case, Si-mok and Yeo-jin’s connection has only deepened through the course of this season despite being on opposing sides of the council. It feels like the emotional stakes are much higher this time than back in S1.

As Yeo-jin is absorbing this news from Si-mok, there are a couple of little details here that feel significant to me, but could be nothing: first, the way Si-mok half-holds out his hand as Yeo-jin is pouring her soju, just as he’d held out his hand when she was pouring makgeolli in 2x13. Second, how she pours out a cup of soju for herself first, but not for Si-mok. In any other situation, it might seem impolite – after all, Si-mok is the one who’d chosen the drink – but here it seems that she’s pouring a drink to steady or busy herself more than anything, and she doesn’t drink from it till after their toast.

Following this, Yeo-jin confides in Si-mok that “I never thought the council would end like this. [...] Will the higher-ups be replaced with more honest people while I’m catching bad men out there?” When he replies with, “Why are you talking as if those two are the same?”, it’s yet another of his probing questions, questions she never seems to have an answer to. The Yeo-jin of old would never have assumed that all the higher-ups are dishonest – she has always seen the good in people – but she feels betrayed by Choi Bit, the one person she sincerely respected. Here, she changes the topic rather than opening up, reverting to her most comfortable mode of showing care for someone else by asking Si-mok why he looks so tired. It’s a guardedness that we’re not used to seeing from Yeo-jin; when Si-mok met with Choi Bit at the start of the episode, he describes Yeo-jin as someone who “opens up easily”, even if she doesn’t “blindly trust or respect just about anybody”.

While Yeo-jin is evasive, Si-mok is more willing to be vulnerable in comparison. His openness isn’t surprising, given that Si-mok has shared more about his life and thoughts with her than with anyone else, but it is still heartwarming to see. Instead of brushing off Yeo-jin’s comment, he tells her about his dream of the prosecutors from the Western Office. For anyone else, this might not seem like a significant conversation topic, but for someone who hardly ever dreams (which Si-mok mentioned in S1), it feels like he’s sharing something special with her. This dream, and his factual recounting of it, seems to be a means for his brain to process the traumatic events of two years ago.

Before Si-mok tells Yeo-jin about his dream, there’s a quick insertion here – a lament about seeing your boss in your dreams – that suggests that she is still troubled about Choi Bit, more than she’s letting on. Again, Si-mok doesn’t push her to elaborate, though I think he’s been absorbing all the things that seem off with Yeo-jin since she arrived. Yeo-jin proceeds to analyse his dream in her head, but doesn’t verbalise her interpretation (that Yoon Se-won might be considering suicide, since he went off in the same direction as two characters who have both passed). As she’s deep in thought, Si-mok tilts his head questioningly at her; she says that he probably won’t have time to go anywhere else this weekend, implying that she was thinking of bringing him with her to visit Yoon.

Knowing that Si-mok won’t be able to come with her, however, leaves Yeo-jin resigned. As she announces, “All right, then,” I wonder if this is the moment that she’s choosing to steel herself. The two people she treasures and respects most in her life (Si-mok and Choi Bit) are disappearing from it, and she will have to learn to move forward without them.

Now, we come to their toast. In the corresponding scene in S1, their toast is bittersweet, but has a sense of resolution; upbeat piano music plays in the background as Yeo-jin says, “Goodbye, I won’t be able to see you off,” while Si-mok echoes that with, “Good luck in your new position. Sorry I can’t attend the ceremony.” In S2, the music is quieter, and much more sombre – I’ve been describing it in my head as ‘breathy sad wooooo music’ – even as Yeo-jin laughs and says, a little helplessly: “It feels like we keep repeating this.”

Si-mok, on his part, doesn’t even echo her laugh with anything more than the barest smile. Instead, he says, with a deep sincerity: “Take care, Senior Inspector Han.” As I mentioned earlier, there are many ways that they could have written or played this scene to convey even a little more resolution – choosing different music, or having Si-mok smile along with Yeo-jin, or even giving Yeo-jin a bit more notice of his departure so that she can prepare a gift (as if to say, she doesn’t draw as much these days, but she would for his sake). But the viewer is made to feel all of their reluctance, even sadness at this separation, even if those feelings are hidden beneath pleasantries. “Well, I guess I’ll be okay,” Yeo-jin says, as if there’s a possibility that she won’t be – that this is something she has to recover from in the future.

Si-mok considers her words, her phrasing, her demeanour, tilts his head at her again and says: “Is there a chance you won’t be okay?”

This, above all other lines, shows how much Si-mok has grown in the past couple of years because of Yeo-jin’s influence. Whereas he started S1 cold, guarded, and isolated from the rest of his colleagues, he has arrived at a point where he has cultivated enough of an emotional sensitivity to ask her this question – to show her care, just as she has shown care to him and other people around her. I’d even venture to say that Si-mok feels, himself, that there’s a chance he won’t be as okay with their separation as he might have been two years ago. In 2x05, during the conversation with Seo Dong-jae outside the prison, Dong-jae asks Si-mok: “You don’t feel a tad bit sad even if you’re sent far away, do you?” Si-mok answers, “No.” That doesn’t feel so definitive anymore. There isn’t anything either Si-mok or Yeo-jin can do, given that they both prioritise their careers and understand that these careers follow a certain trajectory, but parting feels a little bit harder this time.

Yeo-jin answers Si-mok’s question as reassuringly as she can, with an adorable smile and shake of the head; she lets out an “ah” after she downs her soju, as if to reorient herself. Yet, her cheerfulness in the rest of the scene – her excitement at the food, her over-enthusiastic chewing – rings empty as the sombre music continues to play in the background. For perhaps the first time in the entire series, there is something about Yeo-jin that seems feigned. Strangely, it is Si-mok’s blank expression that represents the more authentic emotion in this scene – communicating the very resignation that Yeo-jin must be feeling inside, beneath a facade that might read as comical in any other context.

“Is there a chance you won’t be okay?” is, in fact, the last thing that Si-mok says in this whole scene, despite quite a few more lines of dialogue from Yeo-jin. The way he looks at her for the rest of the scene, though, is charged with meaning. It seems to say: ‘I don’t really believe that you’re okay, but I’m going to give you space because I can tell you don’t really want to talk right now.’ It’s not as if Yeo-jin hasn’t confided in him before – their phone call in 1x15 was especially intimate – so it’s not that Si-mok is incapable of listening to her. Still, he respects her choice to deflect, and continues to observe her closely while ignoring the pajeon, even leaning forward right at the end of the scene. This very overt concentration on her is something we’ve never really seen from Si-mok before; even in the rooftop scene in 2x06, which is probably the most loaded scene they share after this one, they’re standing beside each other and rarely make eye contact. Here, his focus on Yeo-jin is palpable.

As much as this scene felt heartbreaking to me (thanks breathy sad wooooo music), it actually left me with a lot of optimism for the development of their relationship in the future. Lee Soo-yeon has said that she has enough material for five seasons of the show, and while I’m not so sure we’ll get as many seasons as that, it feels like she’s pushed Si-mok and Yeo-jin out of their comfortable friendship – planting the question, “is there a chance we won’t be okay?” I wonder if we’ll see something quite different in the third season (which is apparently in discussion!), which surely won’t see them on opposing sides again.

I’ve been burned by enough ships that can potentially be read as ‘platonic’ to know that I shouldn’t hope for any overt romance, but Si-mok is such a unique character and has such a unique connection with Yeo-jin that I’m hopeful that their relationship could be deepened with nuance, even if it doesn’t become romantic in ‘recognisable’ ways. (I have other thoughts on his asexuality/aromanticism that I won’t get into here.) It’s precisely because their connection is built on mutual trust, respect, and understanding that it remains so compelling, and I think this scene promises growth, and some resolution, whenever we see them next.

[chudleycanonficfest]

Day 29, Post #2 by @maggotsstuff

Title: The Masterstroke

Author: maggotsstuff

Pairing: Ron-Hermione

Theme: A Friendship like no other/Bravery 

Beta Credits: Two amazing person – Adenei and Folk-melody.

The sleepy stone corridors of the Castle of Durmstrang reverberated with the sound of heavy footsteps. The echo of the rhythmic pace pierced through the silence of several corners and passages until it came to a halt before an old wooden door. There was a gentle knock on the wooden surface, which was soon followed by a series of raps. 

The din was answered by a slow and lazy creak of the hinges, followed by the dim light of a candle that floated in the air. The silhouette of a woman dressed in black robes and a black hood appeared at the door.

“Prince Draco! What business brings you here to my chamber at this hour? Could this not have waited until the daylight had shone?” she asked haughtily.

“Huh? Is this the way to speak to the future King of Slytherin, Ravenclaw?” 

“My fault, Prince Draco. But your aunt, Queen Bellatrix is still the Queen of Slytherin.”   

Draco became so pale that his face was almost the same colour as his silver blonde hair. The sentries escorting the Prince, who stood a few steps behind him, lowered their heads.

Draco’s face contorted with a scowl, which was smothered by the smirk playing across his thin lips. 

“You are too smart for your own good,” Draco replied darkly. He didn’t wait for her reply as he paced back through the corridors. 

Ravenclaw heard warning bells chiming inside of her. Draco certainly had not come to invite her for any midnight tryst. She hurried after him. The floating candle moved ahead of all.

The quartet marched through the long corridors and then through a small passage, which opened in a big hall that was decorated with a throne with a serpent headed backrest. Ivory chairs were arranged in rows at a distance from the throne on both of its sides. The tall walls of the hall had human heads affixed to them. It seemed that each head had a story of an atrocious death to tell.  

At the far end of the hall, a flight of spiral steps was erected. The small procession halted there. Draco turned back and feigned surprise.

“Ah, Ravenclaw! Did you follow us until here? Am I so lucky that the mighty witch of my land has finally discovered the truth in my words?” he jeered, raising a silver blonde eyebrow of his at her. 

“I cannot ignore the nephew of my Queen. If he cares to visit me at this hour he would certainly have urgent orders for this servant. I am waiting for your commands, Prince.”

“I am humbled that the mighty witch has expressed her desire to fulfil my wish,” Draco stroked her cheek over her black hood. She clenched her fist to resist herself from cursing him back.

“But tonight, your service is reserved for my aunt. You will regret wasting more of her valuable time. The fulfillment of my wish can wait until then,” Draco brushed his hand against hers.

Without another word or a second look, Ravenclaw glided over the staircase. 

***

Queen Bellatrix lived in the innermost quarters of Durmstrang. Her chamber was decorated with exotic furniture and guarded by the Naginis. They were serpents with human heads and were her pets. The Naginis spiralled themselves on the way to her bedroom. They hissed at Ravenclaw. Their hisses were silenced as a tall woman with dark hair and heavy eyelids strode forward from behind a tapestry. Ravenclaw bowed to her.

"Welcome to my palace! Was my nephew good to you?" Bellatrix winked.

Ravenclaw did not want to bite her bait.

"At his best, my Queen." She tried hard to maintain a neutral expression.

Bellatrix snorted.

"I know you have much disdain for me and my actions. Yet you never fail me, Ravenclaw. Isn't it difficult for you to serve the same woman who wiped out your entire village, maybe even your family?"

"If you hadn't raided my village and stolen me from my family that day, the villagers would have killed me because they thought I was a curse to the village." 

The Queen acknowledged with a nod. 

Since the Queen was silent, Ravenclaw continued, "May I ask the Queen why she summoned her servant at this hour?"

"This is what I like in you. You're always in to business," Bellatrix laughed.

Ravenclaw stood silently. There was stony silence, which was soon broken by the Naginis' hisses.

"Alright, I take it that you don't want to have a friendly chat with me. Ravenclaw, tonight I dreamt of a knight." 

Ravenclaw's eyes blinked in astonishment. She was not at all prepared to listen to the Queen's rendezvous with a knight in her dreams. 

"The Vision," Bellatrix gestured towards a glistening mirror, "told me that he can give me the child who will help me conquer the world." 

Bellatrix, who was pacing around Ravenclaw, stopped on her tracks and gauged her reaction. The witch kept on staring straight. Bellatrix handed over a scroll of parchment, several quills and an assortment of ink pots to Ravenclaw.

"I want you to paint me a picture of this knight. With your mystique powers you will tell me who he is."

***

Ravenclaw sat deeply immersed in her thoughts in the confines of her dingy room. Her companion of recluse, the black robes and the hood laid discarded in a corner. Eyes shut, she let her mind run free.

While she was at Bellatrix's palace, she had decided to safeguard the man from the evil designs of Bellatrix whose sketch she had unintentionally made. Soon after, her mind worked at the speed of light.

Bellatrix wanted to have him captured by her Dementors. She convinced Bellatrix that if the Dementors captured Ronald, Gryffindor would definitely know that Bellatrix had him kidnapped. 

King James of Gryffindor was not on good terms with Bellatrix. (The relationship between the two monarchs had soured after she had executed Sirius, her brother and James’ friend, on charges of treason.) The king would encash the opportunity for a war because of this; Slytherin's army would not be able to sustain Gryffindor's warfare, she reasoned. 

Instead of creating unwanted repercussions, Bellatrix could allow her to steal him away from Godric's Castle.  No one would know as she would kidnap him through her magic.

Bellatrix's eyes gleamed with evil delight. The echo of her savage laughter still rang in the precincts of her mind.

Ronald — the valiant warrior of the kingdom of Gryffindor — the knight appearing in Bellatrix's dreams — the man with fiery red hair grown up to his shoulders, long nose and strong jaw, with arrogance in blue eyes — his eyes stirred the memory of someone far, yet so near, that someone who was always so kind to her, that someone whom she loved, whom she might still love. But Ronald was not him. Still….

"RONALD! We shall meet soon!" Ravenclaw thought aloud.

At Godric's Castle, which was miles away from Durmstrang, Ronald heard his flute piping out a syllable which strangely felt like his name. He hurried to the object which was staked in his old leather bag. 

He shook his head in disbelief and unwittingly blurted out, "It's not possible!"

But a part of him still hoped.

***

Draco kept lurking around and pestered her for information about her meeting with the Queen. But as days elapsed, he gradually lost interest in the matter. Ravenclaw regarded that the time had finally arrived as Draco’s prying eyes were off her. 

One moonless night she flew off to Gryffindor in quest of Ronald, the man with blue eyes. She flew hundreds of miles across rivers, forests and oceans, until finally she noticed Gryffindor's red and golden flag fluttering with the wind. Her tired body immediately recovered with a fresh surge of energy. 

Ravenclaw hovered over Godric's Castle for a few seconds. To her relief there were no protective enchantments over the Castle. But the Castle was much bigger than Durmstrang. She decided to perch on top of a low tower until it was dark.

Ravenclaw chose a window as her hiding place which was hidden from direct view.  When she crawled onto the panel, she was alarmed by the sound of a low cough. She crawled through the panel into the tower and found herself standing in a small bedroom and staring at an old dog.

"Fang!" she exclaimed. The dog ran towards her, barking with delight.

But, there was a rush outside and she hid herself under the simple four poster bed. 

"Fangiekins! What's up," the entrant hollered. Fang pulled him to where Hermione was. 

Down under the bed, Ravenclaw tried to control her breath. She knew it was him.

Ronald — Ron! What would she do now?

Before it was too late and Ravenclaw changed her mind, she exhaled through her mouth, emptying her two lungs. Right after her action, she saw Ronald's legs lose balance and before he tumbled onto the floor she withdrew herself from her position and helped him fall asleep on the bed. Fang fell asleep too. All she needed was to wait until dark to steal him away. She hid herself again under Ronald's bed, her mind wandering back to the alleys of Hogsmeade where she met Ronald for the first time.

***

Before darkness crept in, Ravenclaw came outside. She paused to stare for a moment at the tall man sleeping soundly in his bed and then set to work as fast as she could. She gathered ropes, leather straps, even iron chains that she found in the tiny room and strapped Ronald securely to his bed. When the Castle went silent, she levitated Ronald's narrow bed and with a little shove pushed it outside of the window. She fastened her robes to one of the four posters and flew away towards the land of Slytherin where Bellatrix was waiting for her prey.

***

Ravenclaw zoomed into her chamber with a sleeping Ronald on his four poster bed, through the open window of her chamber. The morning rays of sun followed her soon after.

No one noticed except a man with silver blonde hair who had patiently waited for Ravenclaw's arrival since her departure. He hurried towards the Queen.

Ravenclaw headed straight for her bathroom. She needed a bath and food for further functioning. But when she finished her bath and entered her room a hard punch on her head welcomed her, knocking her straight to the floor.  

She laid on the floor trying to gather her wit when she saw Ronald's familiar pair of boots running past her. There was a thud and the door to her chamber swung open. She tried to crawl towards the door, but she felt too weak.

She heard Ronald. He kept on swearing. There was the sound of hitting, punching, kicking and cries of pain. Ronald roared. 

Ravenclaw somehow managed to stand on her feet. She snatched a scarf, covered her face and hurried out of her chamber. Injured bodies of sentries laid scattered on the stone floor. She saw Ronald clutching Draco’s neck and suffocating him with his bare arm.

"Ronald! No! Please don't kill him!" Ravenclaw screamed. Ronald continued holding Draco’s neck but it seemed to her that he had relaxed his muscles. 

"Bring him to my palace." Everyone who was not gravely injured turned  with surprise to the spot from where Bellatrix's voice came.

"Well done, Ravenclaw. But your service is not over yet. Follow us to my palace," Bellatrix commanded. Ravenclaw obliged, forgetting that she was awfully hungry.

On their way to the hall, Draco sidled her.

"Why did you bother to save me from that beast?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe because I hoped that you can do better than what you are," she whispered back. Draco became sober.

***

Bellatrix ordered all but Ravenclaw and Ronald to leave the hall. Ravenclaw furtively glanced at Ronald. He was still fuming. 

"Follow me," she commanded while climbing up the stairs. Ravenclaw followed. But Ronald could not break the magical barrier and climb the staircase.

"My Queen, this is the magic of your ancestors. No man can ever cross this barrier and reach your chamber," Ravenclaw said concernedly.

"But you're a witch. Break the barrier so that Ronald can follow his destiny," Bellatrix demanded. Ronald frowned.

"Your ancestors' magic is far more superior than the feeble witchcraft I practice." 

"In that case, I beseech the responsibility of his well-being upon you. My nephew Draco shall be commissioned for your assistance."

Ravenclaw understood the subtle warning. Yet, she felt relieved. 

"Unlock any room nearby to your chamber and arrange for his stay. You can take him away now." With an air of finality, Bellatrix flounced away.

***

"Why am I here?" Ronald growled as he followed Ravenclaw through the corridors and passages.

"I am not supposed to tell you. Ask the Queen," Ravenclaw kept on marching forward without looking back at him.

Ronald let out an exasperated breath.

"You are the one who kidnapped me, aren't you? Not her. So you will tell me."

"I didn’t know you could be so naive, Ronald. If you haven’t noticed, I am a plain servant here and I work on orders. It's the Queen who decides," Ravenclaw's voice vibrated out shrilly. 

Ronald was taken aback. They walked in silence for some time and then Ronald said grumpily, "I am hungry."

"So am I. I haven't eaten for more than twenty four hours. Besides, there was nothing to eat in your room at Godric's Castle and the stench in it was horrible," Ravenclaw barked. 

She was listless. That was the first time after so long; she had a banter with someone and was thrilled about it.

"Now it is my fault that I don't keep food to feed my kidnappers!" Ronald retorted back. 

Ravenclaw smirked. They kept on walking and reached the same point where Ronald had caused quite a stir some time back.

"This is where you will stay. I will send for some food if you are hungry. And behave yourself. Don't try to run away again. We have had enough of your nuisance," she said sternly.

"This is mental." 

Ravenclaw heard him say before she left, and she felt butterflies fluttering inside her belly. 

***

Almost a month had passed since Ronald's kidnapping. To Ravenclaw's relief, Bellatrix was yet to figure out how to let Ronald into her palace. The wizards she had summoned to break the jinx failed miserably in their mission. Bellatrix ensured that those wizards were punished adequately.

When Ravenclaw entered Ronald's room, he was lying on his small bed, blankly staring at the ceiling. He didn’t even stir when he heard the door to his room open and close. 

"I just came to check on you," Ravenclaw tried to be as comforting as she could. He said nothing.

Over the past one month Ravenclaw had shared many details of her dark life and Ronald shared his experiences.  They became much more civil to each other, if not friendlier. 

"Look I never wanted to put you through this—" 

"Bellatrix came here yesterday," Ronald blurted out. 

Ravenclaw's palm automatically covered her mouth over her hood; her eyes popped so wide that it could have bounced out of its socket.

Ronald stared at her for a moment and then said, "You knew about her intentions, didn't you?"

Ravenclaw slowly nodded her head. She knew that he would now hate her forever.

"Then why did you bloody kidnap me?" he yelled.

"Or else she would have sent the Dementors after you. They are the worst kind of species. They would have plundered everything you had in Gryffindor and scarred your people for life," she screamed back.

"Huh, Dementors! As much as Bellatrix called you a brilliant witch who traced me out of her dreams, you failed to understand that I am not afraid of any mortals or demons. But since you wanted to become this angel," Ronald marked quotes in the air, "you could have spared me too. Why did you bring me here?" Ronald asked sarcastically. 

"Because I was stupid and thought that I could protect you. Besides, I knew that Bellatrix's palace was forbidden for man. Her father, King Salazar, was a wizard and a blood purist. He cast those unbreakable spells so that no man of lesser blood ventures near her. And I knew you didn't have royal blood running in your veins. But I must admit that I didn't know Bellatrix well. I didn't think that she would keep you a hostage and…," Ravenclaw's eyes were downcast with guilt and she faltered.

"What if I refuse to oblige. Would my head be displayed on the wall of that scary hall?" Ronald asked, frowning.

"No. I will never let that happen. Tonight you will escape from Durmstrang. And you needn't escape through that tunnel underneath your bed." Ronald stood up in attention.

"You think I didn't notice," Ravenclaw said with a chuckle. Ronald deliberately bumped his head against one of the posters on his bed. 

"Don't do this," Ronald snarled. "I don't want you to risk your life for me."

"You needn't bother about me. I'm tired of my life, anyways. People like Bellatrix keep me safe, but scar my soul. Your world will not take me back because of who I am," Ravenclaw turned away to hide the tears glistening in her eyes.

Ronald tentatively placed his hand over her shoulder. This was the first time he touched her in the past month of their acquaintance.

"You never asked me why I didn't kill your friend Draco when you asked me not to kill him," Ronald said gently. Ravenclaw turned around in surprise.

"The day you kidnapped me, I heard your voice coming out from the flute an amazing girl once gave me. She was a witch, but she didn't know that I knew. We seldom met. But I remember all the moments we shared together in the village of Hogsmeade," Ronald paused. Ravenclaw's eyes began to shed those unshed tears of years.

"One day she told me that she cannot be friends with me anymore. Rumors of her being a witch had already rippled through our village. I told her that I wanted to be friends with her no matter what. I would stand by her even if the gods were against her. She cried. Just like you're crying now." 

He brushed his fingers against her tears. Ravenclaw closed her eyes.

"She gave me a magical flute and said that if she ever needed me she would call out for me through that. She had indeed called out for me on the day she vanished from her village. I went in search of her, but the entire village was in shambles," he hesitated and then added, "her family was murdered too."

"OH, RON!" Ravenclaw wrapped her arms around Ron's torso and buried her head into his chest and cried. He embraced her with equal passion. 

They sat down together on Ron's bed. She craved more of Ron's warmth and comfort, which he was more than willing to give.

"What gave me away?" she asked softly.

"Your voice, Hermione!" Her body tensed at the mention of her name which she thought had died a thousand deaths already. 

"You could have found me using your magic. Why didn't you do so?" Hermione could sense hurt in Ron's voice.

"I was in captivity, mind you. But after that I thought that you would never want to be my friend after knowing my truth," she said with a shaky whisper.

"From the day we met here, I wanted to say something to you, but couldn't sum up my courage—," Hermione covered his mouth with her palm before he could complete his sentence and said, "Say it Ron."

"That Ravenclaw is a stupid name and your costume is ridiculous," he chuckled.

Hermione punched his gut. 

"Ouch! Hermione it hurts!" He gasped in pain.

"I can curse you and make you speechless," she threatened him with mock anger.

"I know you won't because, I — I wanted to say that I was and will always be yours," Ron whispered.

Words didn't seem enough to express what Hermione felt at that moment. She lifted her hood in one swift motion and kissed Ron's mouth. She was finally back with the one she belonged to.

***

Hermione braced herself to execute the plan of their escape that she and Ron had hatched. If caught, she knew both of them would face a gory end. Ron was, however, amused to find her so worried. 

"Come on, love," he said, "I am the best commander of Gryffindor. I know the rules of the games. From what I could make out of the excellent details you have provided, we are on the right track." 

We are on the right track—We are on the right track— She kept on repeating. 

And then she found the person she was searching for — Draco. He was standing on the edge of an open terrace.

"Good Evening, Prince! Have you gotten tired of spying on me so soon?" Hermione cooed. Draco was startled. "And oh! Please don't let yourself stand on these edges. A sweet little shove could be fatal," Hermione murmured into his ears and smirked mischievously. 

For a moment Draco was shocked at her audacity, but thereafter he composed himself. 

"Why did you come here?" he grunted. "Are you not supposed to be guarding your captive?"

"Umm… the Queen herself guards him now." 

Draco glanced at her sharply. 

"Didn't you know why she made me kidnap him? She wanted to have an heir to her throne. The Vision told her that Ronald is the man who should father her child if she wanted him to be invincible."  

Draco was gobsmacked. "And did she tell you all this when she summoned you?" 

"10 points to you. At least you figured this out. Yes, indeed she told me. You should have known that he meant more to her than other men when she refrained from killing him after he created all that nuisance on his first day here."

Draco was staring at her in silence.

"But I pity you, Prince. After how she murdered your grandfather and your parents, you still believe that she will let you be the king of Slytherin."

"You are lying. My parents murdered my grandfather and she punished my parents for spilling the blood of their father. She brought me up like I was her own progeny," Draco countered.

"For a Prince, you have an intellectual range of a teaspoonful," Hermione snorted.

"What do you mean by that?" he growled.

"Your aunt staged everything. She didn't kill you because you're not capable of harming her while you're a kid. But times have changed."

Draco contemplated for a moment.

"But why are you telling me all these things? I have never been really good to you. In fact, my words only confirmed my not so good intentions for you," Draco said plainly.

"Like I said before, I believed you could be better. I always considered your behavior towards me as an act of spite. You said those things because you were jealous of me and wanted to rile me up. If I am not wrong you would have considered it to be a personal insult in laying your hands on the dirty knickers of a witch," Hermione said in a breath.

"What now?" Draco asked intrigued. He had dropped all his pretense and listened to Hermione with rapt attention.

"News is that Ronald is going to escape tonight. If I were you I would have never stopped him," Hermione finally made her move.

"I will not stop him. But who's going to stop Bellatrix? Her Dementors will find him from any corner of the earth," he stated matter of factly.

"Did you know how your grandfather was murdered?" Hermione asked.

Draco scowled and shook his head affirming his lack of knowledge.

"Bellatrix turned the Dementors against him. And from what I know, you have access to her palace being of royal blood. Bonus — the Naginis would not be very happy with her if they knew that Ronald does not have royal blood running in his veins, yet she had been pursuing after him."

"Ravenclaw, you are simply a genius. I would have actually married you if you were not a witch. What do you want in return? I will give you anything," Draco blurted out. His eyes were gleaming with pleasure.

"I want to leave Slytherin. No one should come hunting for me," she said boldly.

"Granted. Tonight you and Ronald can leave Slytherin, and no one from Slytherin will come after you. I will handle the rest," Draco announced.

"Fine. I take your word. Goodbye," she said.

"Ravenclaw, one final word. If Ronald does not accept you, you can still be the old witch of Slytherin," Draco sniggered.

Hermione left him without another word. 

***

The death hour had arrived. Ron didn't agree to be flown away by Hermione. He wanted some action during his escape so that no one became suspicious of Hermione helping him. In case Draco ditched them and Ron was captured, he didn't want her to be tortured.

When it was dark, Hermione reluctantly let him crawl out of the tunnel he had dug out on the wall. She supplied him with all the ammunition he wanted. They kissed each other before he left promising to meet soon. 

Hermione watched through her window as Ron dropped himself on the ground with the help of ropes suspended from the tunnel. He was dressed in the robes of sentries of Slytherin. After some time, she saw his silhouette riding a horse towards the entry gate. And then she saw the big gates ajar. Draco had ultimately kept his word. She heaved a sigh of relief. She watched until she could see his silhouette fading away in darkness. 

Hermione swept her glance one last time all over her little room and then with a smile on her face leapt out from her window to fly away. She deserved to share her home with Ron. They had always belonged with each other.

***

The news of murder of Queen Bellatrix by her own pet Naginis spreaded like wildfire through Gryffindor. The king of Gryffindor, James, announced a feast for all his countrymen in honor of his dead friend Sirius, who was framed and killed by Bellatrix. 

Hermione watched everyone making merry from the small quarters where both Ron and Hermione now lived together along with Fang. 

Ron watched her golden wedding ring glisten under the sun. He tried to steal a glance of her content face as she examined her ring. As much as he tried to watch her smile, the cascade of her brown untamed hair teased him by causing hindrance. 

In a way, her wild hair was like dark clouds in the sky, hiding away the brightness of the sun beneath them, he thought. In his case, it was the pleasure of experiencing the sweetness of her smile that her hair was robbing him off. Ron smiled. He was a goner.

Ron trudged towards the window beside which his wife was standing. He lightly grasped a fistful of her hair and kissed her neck. Hermione sighed. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling.

"Ermynee! You're so intoxicating. What have you done to me?" Ron breathed into her ears.

Hermione turned to face him. They kept on staring into each other's eyes.

"What did I do?" Hermione asked, raising her brows. 

"I was a savage warrior. And now I am a moonstruck lover."

He pressed his hand against his heart and staggered backwards.

"But how could I help in this situation?" Hermione asked with mock dismay. 

She flung her arms around his neck. He embraced her with fervor and crushed her chest against his.

"As much as I like your clothes, your skin suits you best," he hummed breathlessly, lacing his fingers in her hair. And then they kissed. 

"I love you so much, Ron," Hermione murmured in between kisses.

"I love you more," Ron panted and smiled. 

They kissed deeper and became hungrier. The anticipation of intimate touches became too much for both of them to bear. Ron pulled Hermione to their bed and worshipped every inch of her body with every inch of his until both of them surrendered to spasms of ecstasy.

Hermione smiled. She would never need those black robes and the stupid name with Ron around her. His love was enough to keep her safe.

[wizkiddx]

worst case scenario part 3

umm so, never ever intended it to be this long but here we are. again this is v dark so please please read the warning!! also [and obvs] this is very medically inaccurate and just a work of my head aha

[part 1] [part 2]

warning: mentions of death / hospital / mentions of childhood abandonment too- please don't read if this could affect you <3

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His heart was thundering in his chest, so much so it drowned out all other sounds making all the doctors words fade into the background. Conciously, he really was trying to listen to what the doctor was saying; consciously he knew she was trying to prepare him to see Y/n; consciously he knew she knew he wasn’t okay. But really? It didn’t matter, and as they drew closer to his fiancé Tom felt an urgent sense of relief purely know she was there. She was there and she wasn’t dead…yet. 

Only two people were allowed to go up, just because the nature of the ward - everything was meticulously controlled, including the comings and goings of visitors. If you’ve never been in an ICU it’s a pretty hard environment to describe. Really, it’s just another hospital ward, with capacity of about 20 beds. Each bed has much more equipment surrounding that the average and a nurse is stationed per patient, monitoring every possible variable that the machienes are measuring, so any trend (either positive or negative) can be identified at the earliest point. Though in everyones head, it seems as though ICU is a common place ending up for some unfortunate sod when something bad happens, it’s actually really rare for someone to be so ill and dependant on medicine to maintain normal body functioning. Only the most severe trauma, infection of the most dangerous microorganism, surgery of such high stakes normally make an appearance on the ward. And ,on average, between 8-20% patients that are admitted to an ICU never make it out. 

And those grim figures were unignorable to anyone. As soon as you walk through the doors, the atmosphere is intense and ineffable. It’s not spoken, but is so incredibly morbid it makes anyone shiver. 

Dom felt this, squeezing his sons shoulder as he followed Tom and the doctor, just a pace or so behind them. Having offered to go with Tom, whilst Harrison took Nikki to see the baby, Dom was now feeling just as clueless as his son did. Except he was actually listening to what the doctor was trying to warn them about and it scared him. The three, made it to the door and with a swipe of her ID card the doctor admitted the Holland men in. Gratefully, none of the staff took any notice of who was walking in, they were much too busy for that - Dom was incredibly relieved, had someone recognised Tom when he was in this state, god knows what would’ve happened.

The doctors pace was with purpose, perhaps so that the two couldn’t spend too long ogling the other patients in the beds - who all looked almost unhuman with the amount of tubes and wires coming out and into them. But then, she slowed up, halting infront of a bay about 5 or 6 down the ward. Spinning on her heel and with a subtle nod to momentarily release the nurse from her post at Y/n’s bedside, to give them a bit of privacy, she looked at the two men. 

“You can touch her, just be gentle with the wires.”

Shellshocked and terrified, Tom was frozen those 2 metres away from the bed barely able to see her face over all the equipment. Yet undoubtedly, it was his finance’s delicate visage lying on the white pillow, with a thick white mouthpiece and tube covering her mouth and stuffed into her nose. Not able to move, both Dom and Dr Goodwell sensitively waited - it was an adjustment to say the least, seeing someone you knew so well look so different. With quiet tears starting to roll down his eyes, Tom eventually started to inch toward the bedside, taking his time to try and absorb everything of this frankly ridiculous situation. He couldn’t get over how, even considering it all, above her nose it just looked like Y/n. Like she was asleep in their bed, eyes closed as if she had once again  fallen asleep infront of a random Netflix movie Tom had bugged her enough to watch in bed. And it was, ever so slightly comforting. That was still her, that was still the love of his life lying there. And she was still alive - which given the last few hours, was enough. 

Reaching the bedside, Tom naturally reached out and stroked the top of her head delicately, pulling into place a few rogue strands that seemed to have a mind of their own - she had always hated when her hair got frizzy. The picture had Tom’s mind casting back to their first holiday, a serene if quick few days in Fiji-  though Y/n didnt know this , that holiday had been one of the most important times in their relationship for Tom. Until then, given the nature of his job, the couple had only ever managed brief periods together. They spent time together as and when they could in between Tom’s busy schedule but it was never as long as they’d like. Somehow though, he’d managed to squeeze a few days away to surprise Y/n with the trip. 

It was everything he’d ever hoped it would be and more. In fact it was then Tom was oh so sure he would be spending the rest of his life with her. This thought crossed his mind on the last morning, when he had for once woken up before Y/n - her head mere cms away from his on the pillow. Just like now, her hair had been all over the place and her sparkling green eyes locked shut. Contrastingly though, in Fiji the sight had made him smile softly; now it just made him cry again. 

“Would you like a minute alone Mr Holland? We will just wait outside?” Not even turning round to properly respond to the doctor, Tom just nodded violently, not taking his eyes off his fiancé - waiting till he heard his Dad and the doctor leave the bay; then the curtains be completely drawn to a close, before he shakily cleared his throat to whisper.

“Hey darling… you um-you’ve scared me shitless today… and… and I’m supposed to be the dramatic one in the relationship.” Chuckling wetly, Tom clasped his other hand in Y/n’s - still mindful of the IV port coming out of the top of her wrist. Not that he was expecting any sort of response, yet the lack of her squeezing his hand back still had his heart sink. “Look I…I love you so bloody much and I really need you to get better okay? You’ve never listened to me before but I really am begging you to now, I just.” Swallowing thickly, he shut his eyes momentarily and delicately rested his forehead on hers - his touch feather light. Just needing to feel her. “I just really need you and I really love you., okay?” 

Unsurprisingly he didn’t get a response. The rhetorical question hung in the air alone, safe the mechanical whir of the ventilator and various chimes of the machines and monitor, till his Dad came in. Grasping and squeezing his shoulder lightly, Dom provided the stimulus for his son to unfold from over the bed, standing upright, as both men just took in the sight of Y/n lying there for a minute or two. 

“I need her Dad. I-I-“

“I know Tom.” Speaking so quietly it was barely audible, Dom’s eventual agreement at what Tom was saying was in a way a relief. Haz and his mum had both either been saying or implying that they would be okay no matter what - which came from a good place but was so infuriating. Because god forbid, if this situation got worse Tom knew it wouldn’t be okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. So his Dad’s simple acknowledgment meant a lot, causing Tom to turn round and embrace his slightly shorter father. 

Dr Goodwell silently watched the exchange for a short while and once the men eventually pulled away she stepped forward to give some more information. She went through what all the biggest and scary looking tubes and wires were doing for Y/n, before explaining the next steps. 

“Now as I said before we are sedating her at the moment, while we wait and see if she gets any complications from the surgery that are better treated while she is asleep. By this afternoon we will have a clearer idea and by that point we may choose to withdraw that sedation. It’s important that you are aware though that she might not wakeup immediately. Sometimes some people that have suffered similarly to your fiancé will be unconscious for a while in what I’d presume you’ve heard of as a ‘coma’. Now it’s not as dramatic as you see on TV shows, it’s just Ms Y/l/n’s brain giving her body a chance to recover. It’s often a longer process, which I know is something you don’t want to hear, but I have to be honest.” The doctor was stern but in a softer and from-a-caring-place. “These patients are suggested to possibly recover quicker if they have a steady support network behind them, which it seems like she does. That means that you need to look after yourself so you can help her sir, especially in what could be a long process. It’s not going to be helpful for Yn if you’re killing yourself trying to be here all the time… It seems like Y/n already has quite a big group of you here for her, so please remember you’ve got all of her care team here and everyone else to help you too….Does that make sense sir?”

“Tom” His Dad, in a gentle but firm warning tone, urged Tom to speak and to listen. Properly listen. 

“Yeh… I-yeh It’s just all a lot right now.”

“Of course… and we promise that if anything changes with her condition, you will be phoned straight away. You are welcome to stay as long as you want - the only rules are two at a time, no flowers, sign in and out and then sanitise your hands pretty excessively. If you need anything, Ms Y/l/n’s nurse will be your first port of call.”

“Thanks for everything” Dom nodded in a gracious manner, which the doctor seemed to massively appreciate - apparently, for the job they do not receiving a hell of a lot of thanks. 

“I’ll pop back in a little bit.”

And for a couple of hours everything everything felt like a bit of an anticlimax, nothing happened, not a lot changed. Just Tom and Dom sat next to Y/n’s bed in silence; Harrison and Nikki downstairs with the baby, till Dom got a phone call from Nikki asking them to meet at the neonatal unit  - which was limited by visitor numbers unlike the ICU. Thinking it’d be simple, the elder man gained Tom’s attention with a call of his name, explaining they should go down to meet up. 

“I’m not going down there.”

“Son, I know you’re worried by Y/n isnt going anywhere right now. The doctors said they’d call you if anything happens.”

“It’s not-“ Tom stopped himself, biting his tongue and looking away from his Dad. “I just don’t want to go down there.” Slowly, Dom was more and more realising Tom’s thought process and honestly… it scared him. In the hopes this was just a big misunderstanding he offered a different option - hoping Tom would equally refuse that. Dom suggested going down to the cafe instead, which most unfortunately Tom agreed to. It wasn’t leaving Y/n that was the issue, it was being near the baby. 

Tom’s daughter. Unnamed and apparently abondoned by both parents. 

Anyhow, Dom resigned to playing into Tom’s choice, perhaps Nikki and Harrison would be able to swing him round, to see sense. It still took Tom getting the nurse to triple check they had his correct number on record , just in case, before Dom could tear him away from the bed. Fortunately the pair found a quiet and secluded corner table, where Tom was still yet to be recognised, while Nikki and Haz found them too. 

What followed was Tom answering all his mum and Harrison’s questions about Y/n’s condition, in a blunt and emotionless manner - without Tom returning fire by asking any questions at all about his beautiful little baby girl. Eventually Nikki braved it, someone had to bring it up. 

“Well it sounds like littles going to change for a while… maybe you should head home for a bit? You’ve been up half the night and you look shattered love. You don’t have to go back to yours… you could stay in your old room for a bit?” Tom being by himself at the moment sounded like the most incredibly stupid idea ever, Nikki was offering it as a choice - when in reality there was only one option.

“Maybe later this evening I will? Just don’t want to leave her alone yet.”

“It’s already 7 love, you’ve not eaten all day, you got to look after yourself too.” Harrison and Dom sat awkwardly while Nikki tried to delicately encourage Tom into what was the only sensible plan, watching him nurse the small hot choclate in both his palms. Time really had lost all meaning at this point, for him it felt both years since he’d first arrived with Y/n and at the same time barely 10 minutes ago. It felt weird. 

“We can take shifts? If-if you want someone with her I mean… I don’t mind staying for a bit longer if it means you head back to your parents.” Harrison really truly didnt mind, in fact he sort of wanted to. He wanted to see Y/n’s face definitely alive, wanted to feel reassured by the monitors. Shockingly, Tom slowly nodded his head, surprising everyone with his lack of argument. None of them could work out whether it was a good thing him not putting up much arguement ; either he was heeding everyones advice of taking care of himself - or he had just given up. Harrison, as much as he didn’t want to, was favouring the latter. 

“Okay” Nikki declared optimistically “So maybe you and Harrison go up so you can say good night to Y/n, then we can all go and pick up the baby?” She opened the plan to the floor, allowing for input but got nothing - except maybe Tom’s jaw unconsciously tensing uncomfortable at the latter part of her statement. Dom noticed. 

Not one noticed but knew what it meant. His son blamed his granddaughter. His son, right now in that moment, hated the unnamed and totally helpless baby girl. 

part 4?

[savnofilter]

FLF Day 6

𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨 𝐱 『𝐆𝐍』𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

↬ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ(s): Merinthophobia — The fear of being tied up or bound. mentions of ptsd and counseling.

↬ ʀᴍ: february love fest

↬ ᴀ/ɴ: ahhhh i was really conflicted on writing this one! maybe spoilers if you are super behind in the fandom/series for it be considered spoilers lmao. decided to just to go with hcs since i will be posting dabi & hawks fics! this is more bakugo centered but i tried my best dnvjkfnjv- as always, if there is anything that needs to be fixed, let. me. know. ASAP!! thank you for reading. ˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙

we all know the sludge villain attack right? well ive got sumthin for you.

may or may not have seen this around but i hc heavy that bakugo just does not like anything near his neck or anything that could restrict his neck area.

~ complementary bakugo pics to demonstrate what i mean? say less.

(and i think that him with a loose neck cover on his winter suit and a scarf are just general but him wearing a tie after the spoets festival is symbolism hmm)

now you may be thinking, “but he wears a tie like once or twice” shhhh we finna keep the hc rollin.

how this intertwines with you is that you had coincidentally had the same phobia and you two met because you both had interned at Best Jeanist’s agency.

like every Bakugo relationship, it took you some time to get in his good zone.

oftentimes with your friendship (at least what you liked to call it) you initiated the conversations, and on the off occasion he would start something too.

Best Jeanist being the mentor he is, had counseling or something to that degree so you two would be at the best shape you guys could be.

most times there was nothing for you to talk about and sometimes it would just be about school and stress overall. in sessions he didnt talk much but in the back of his head, he still appreciated it even without saying it outloud.

before you guys had separate ways was when you had opened up about your phobia, and surprisingly it was like it made sense to him. hearing you wearily speak about how a spar match had stressed you out felt so familiar to him.

Bakugo had been sitting on his realization as it took long late nights to actually process and access his emotions and gather his thoughts.

when it's a day of the week for him to be at his agency, he has fully prepared himself to open up about his own weakness and sort out his feelings.

when the pro-hero suddenly goes missing and you two cant intern with him anymore, so many mixed emotions enter within him.

when you two go on your separate ways to go to other internships was so frustrating to him. the only person he had ever been able to actually help acknowledge with couldnt even see him anymore.

just like he always did, he kept it to himself anyways. Deku (derogatory) or Kirishima would ask him to see whats up and he would never budge. 

the few weeks where he goes to Endeavor’s is fine but it was nothing like his experience before.

randomly when hes getting ready for bed, he gets a text message from you. 

for the first time in forever hes surprised, startled almost. 

how in the hell did you even get his number-?

that question didnt linger as he was just happy that you guys were talking again.

your conversations were casual and it surprised you on how he was able to keep up a decent conversation versus how curt and uninterested he used to talk.

Bakugo contemplates heavy on whether or not he should to talk about what he wanted to share before you guys parted ways.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did”

“Shut up I’m being serious.” Bakugo rolls his eyes at your sarcasm, texting you back. 

Your brows raise at that, shooting him a message back as well. 

“Sure”

talking about it wasnt easy for him. you waited patiently till he was done, responding accordingly to the texts that seemed appropriate enough for a response.

you share that youve taken up counseling outside of the agency you intern at and invite him to it. he tries to seem like he thinks the idea is cheesy but he agrees to come with you anyways. 

for some reason hes nervous but  chill with the fact that youd be there as well. you encourage him to take it slow at first, reminding him that he doesnt have to go to every session feel be about the phobia and healing past experiences takes time.

ultimately, his mood changes and even the people around him notice as well.

Bakugo stays the same as he usually is (duh) but the slight changes as what makes him feel lighter on some days.

because you supported him about getting help, he doesnt feel alone. 

it's such a new feeling to him he doesnt even know how to process his emotions. 

without having to admit it, hes glad that you were here to help and relate to him.

and with every step he takes, he feels more confident with you beside him.

[mymindwide]

I’m gonna heal you

Pairing: Ashton x Female reader

Word count: 2059

Warning: none, this is full on fluff with one mention of a prevoius sexual encounter.

Summary: Your boyfriend fell sick, and you’ll see a side of him you haven’t before, while you two share cute moments because of it.

Author’s Note: It was written more than a year ago. Again something I didn’t think I’ll post, but here we are. :) (If you bump into any grammar mistakes, I apologise in advance, that’s because english is not my native language.) Nevermind, I hope you’ll enjoy it!

***

You have a very bad habit, but at least you’re getting better and better while practicing it.

For a while now when you wake up earlier than Ashton (which is almost every single day), and give him his morning kiss he doesn’t even notice it, and you like it that way. Whatever body part you can reach – it always depends on what position he’s sleeping in at the moment of your waking. Sometimes it’s one of his cheeks, sometimes a shoulder, his neck, his forehead. You couldn’t explain why it’s so important to you, maybe you’re just weird, and like watching and admiring him while he sleeps. Knowing how hard they work, it just feels good to see him not worrying about anything and just having a well-deserved rest, even for a few hours.

But this morning something didn’t feel right, not like usually. As your mouth gently touched his temple, his skin felt strangely hot against your lips. You knew you should check it again, but the thought itself made you sweat, because you were not sure he wouldn’t wake up this time. But you convinced yourself pretty quickly that it’s for the good of him, and if he runs a temperature indeed, he needs to wake up anyway to take something in as soon as possible.

You leaned back again and pressed your lips against his temple, and then you tried it with the back of your right hand while your left one checked your own forehead for comparison. Miraculously he didn’t wake up, or leastways didn’t show any sign of will to move or open his eyes, his breathing remained steady, although at this point you wouldn’t even care, because he definitely had fever. Murmuring a low “fuck”, you headed for the bathroom to pick up the thermometer and went back with it to the seemingly sleeping boyfriend.

“Sweetie, just keep it there and do not move, please. We have to measure your temperature” you put the thermometer in his armpit.

He muttered something with his eyes still closed, but on one hand, you didn’t understand, on the other hand you left him there to check what medication you have in the bathroom cabinet. You were happy to acknowledge that you were fully prepared for such disasters, albeit since you moved in with him, thankfully, you didn’t even need to open the medicine box.

You had a slight guess about the possible outcome of this fever measurement, therefore with quick steps you ran to the kitchen to make a tea for your newfound patient. Coming back you put the tea on the nightstand and reached for the thermometer to reveal the truth. 102,2 Fahrenheit.

“Double fuck” escaped your lips as you looked at the display of the digital thermometer.

“Do we have to? I’m not feeling too well” came a drawn-out groan from Ashton.

“No shit Sherlock…” but of course this assumption made you smile. “I wasn’t talking about wanting to fuck. I’m talking about you having a fever. 102,2 °F actually.”

“Oh” this seemingly woke him up as he pushed himself up on the bed.

“Whatever you were planning to do today with the guys, it is out of the question now. And take these in” dropping an antipyretic and painkiller pill on his palm you gave him the now not so hot cup of tea you’d made.

“Yeah I guess so. I’ll tell them” he said before swallowing the pills.

“I’ll be here if you need anything” you indicated the living room. “Lay back and try to take a rest or sleep back” you pecked his forehead.

You turned back from the doorway just to look at him once again, and the cutest sight caught hold of your eyes. Or leastwise your sick girlfriend heart considered it cute… he was sitting in the same position you left him a few seconds ago and just stared in front of him, wasn’t even blinking, you could almost see his brain still processing the info that he most likely got sick. End of the world. You felt for him, you really did, but he looked so lost it was cute. He looked adorably useless and that’s certainly something you have not seen him yet.

For you the bright side of the situation is that at least you really can be here and look after him, since last night you could cook while he was out with his friends. In the background you heard him run a shower.

“So much for resting… but at least it’ll help him cool that body temperature down a bit, so after all it’s not a bad idea at all” you thought.

You made yourself comfortable on the couch and already decided you’ll watch a movie that is entertaining enough to switch off your brain for a few hours, and you exactly knew which one is the perfect choice that meets your high expectations and requirements.

While you were considering your options Ash finished with the shower too and joined you in the living room wearing his leisure pants and a clean white t-shirt.

“Is everything okay? I mean besides the obvious.” you tilted your head back against the sofa backrest to look up at him.

“I have a headache and I start feeling my throat.”

“Sounds like the definition of miserable.”

“Right?! Thank you.”

“Would you like to join me?” you smiled at him grabbing a pillow from the couch that you laid on your lap tapping it a few times.

You didn’t have to ask him twice; picking up the plush blanket which is constantly lying at the end of the sofa he laid down, wrapped himself under the blanket; his head resting on the pillow in your lap, his posture facing the TV. Your fingers, as a pavlovian reflex, dived into his gorgeous hair, whisking away a few stray curls from his face.

“And what are we doing?”

“I was about to watch the greatest movie of all time.”

“The Pursuit of Happyness?”

“Nope, Avengers: Infinity War.”

“That Hiddleston again.”

“Hon, you know he’s going to be killed off in the 10th minute into the movie, right?” you had to laugh.

“Good. He deserves it.”

“What is it? Do I hear jealousy?” you got bloody happy and started enjoying your conversation even more.

“Abslttthhaa nauh” he mumbled something under his nose that reminded you of absolutely not.

"Last time I checked it's not him who's lying on my lap dying."

"Lucky for him, cuz that'd be the last thing he does..."

“Ashton, you’re killing me” you couldn’t contain your laughter.

“Wasn’t kidding.”

“I know” you grinned as your thumb stroked his cheek.

This new Ashton entertained you more and more. You leaned forward to blow tiny kisses on his temple and yoke bone leading a path to his ear.

“Also, last time I checked it wasn’t him who had his way with me on the kitchen counter the other day…” the tip of your nose brushed his ear as you whispered and the mention of your latest lovemaking made a smug smile spread across his face. “And do you know what else I remember?! I remember moaning a three letter name, but it wasn’t Tom… help me out… oh wait, that’s it, it was Ash...” you were trying to add a slight annoyance to the tone of your voice.

“Convinced enough?”

“I have no strength to disagree” reaching back for your right hand to take it in his, he towed it to his lips and planted a kiss on your wrist. Without saying anything he interlaced your fingers and just pulled it to his chest. As if his grumpiness had been cut off, he nestled a bit to find the perfect and most comfortable position, then got fully relaxed and your left hand slipped back into his hair to caress and massage his scalp, to play with his soft black locks.

“Alright, play it, I want to see if he resurrects for the millionth time” he egged you to press the play button to start the movie.

“Oh, we’ll see…” you smiled insinuatingly.

“You’re just joking, right?” he turned his head upwards to look at you. “No, you’re not. They just can’t get rid of that guy, can they?”

“Get comfortable baby, two and a half hour fun just awaits for us” you winked.

Although you watched the movie together, you were pretty sure Ash's thoughts were going somewhere else since you weren’t even like 40 minutes in, when he started playing with your fingers. Your eyes jumped back and forth from the TV to your hands, but eventually your attention ended up on what he was doing. His fingertips grazed your palm and fingers with slow, tender and deliberate moves; it felt intimate like never before, as if he touched your hand for the first time, he went from finger to finger, as if he wanted to get to know and memorize the shape of your hand, the feel of your skin.

Your first thought was “if he won’t stop I’m gonna cry”. But he didn’t stop and eventually and surprisingly you did not cry either, although this scene undoubtedly made you quite emotional, because you haven’t seen him this cuddly in a long time. He’s an affectionate man, but definitely not a clinging one. And you really enjoyed this situation; sometimes you crave this kind of attention like air.

A few more minutes have passed during which your focus returned back to the screen. You felt his hand stopped playing with yours, and with his eyes closing shut he turned over and nuzzling his face close to your belly he fell asleep pretty quickly. Getting your right hand back, now it could rest on his waist, while your other hand could keep caressing his hair, neck, shoulder, just with extra carefulness not wanting to wake him up.

By the end of the movie he still laid on your lap breathing smoothly, and watching him made you think about him being such a positive force. Not only in your life but so many others’, as well. Family, friends, members of other bands whom they met only sporadically…  You loved listening to their stories about Ash being nice and thoughtful and polite. That’s how he treats people in general, even strangers. It’s so effortless for him, yet you have no idea how he does that.  Always thinks about making others happy, but is he happy? Do you make him happy? You can only hope, because he deserves the world. At this point, an unpleasant feeling put a stop to your train of thought.

As much as you didn’t want to do it, and wished to stay like this forever, it was time for you to stand up since you started feeling your legs getting numb after sitting stock-still for the last two and a half hours.

“Ash” leaning over his face you started caressing his cheek with your nose.

Your technic was clearly successful, because he slowly turned over nuzzling his nose against yours demanding more contact. You kissed his cheek, his nose, the corner of his mouth, while he enjoyed the love showering on him.

Soon your lips met in very light kisses that became needier with every touch from Ashton’s side, as you felt his tongue brush over your upper lip. Your heart ached but you had to pull back an inch ending the connection between your lips resulting in a dissatisfied moan escaping his lips.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but if we go into this deeper, you may risk losing your nurse to a deadly disease” you whispered smiling on his lips.

“I’ll make it up to you… in a few days… when I get better” he said sleepily.

“Make up for what?”

“For the canceled double fuck.”

“I can’t with you, Irwin. I swear to you I’ll lock you up in the bedroom until you sleep enough.” you had to laugh tho.

“But you love me.”

“Yes, yes I do. What a correct observation.”

“Good, because I love you, too.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Now come Captain Obvious, let’s sleep a bit more.”

And with this you took his hand in yours and led him into the paradise of peacefulness that is your hospital room for the next few days.

[kosmosguk]

sasaeng yan. jungkook x reader; drabble

warnings: yandere themes, mentions of violence, obsession, sasaeng behavior, stalking

a/n: coming to the end of the school year always hits diff, so hopefully that means I can post more frequently. thanks for being patient with my infrequent posting AND for the 1.5k followers we’ve hit. I never thought this acc would grow to that point so I’m in TEARS at how much ily <3 

Jungkook couldn’t stop looking at you from his spot near the front of the fansign line. In the midst of all these wannabe artists, you were a diamond in the rough. Sweet, kind, and gentle; Jungkook was more certain than anything else in his life that you were better than the rest. And you were here, real and in the flesh, and looking even more beautiful than you did on screen. 

He barely glanced at your other band members as he passed them through on his way to you, fighting a wave of nausea as they touched his album and signed on the back what he saw as crude, sloppy signatures. He could practically taste the bitterness of the hours of time he would waste later trying to wipe the ink of their pens off his album. He was reserving the front of the album for your signature only, for your touch only. 

It felt like forever before he reached you, but the time spent on his way to you was worth it. You were worth it. Everything he had done to prepare for this fateful encounter had been worth it. 

‘‘Hi! What’s your name?” you cutely smiled at him, looking breathtakingly gorgeous in the soft pastel colors of your group’s new concept. Jungkook could feel the heat on his cheeks, reddening his skin as he forced himself to meet your pretty eyes.

‘‘Jung...,” he stammered out before clearing his throat, nervously pushing the album onto the table before you,” Jungkook. Sorry, I’m just so nervous at how pretty you are in person.”

You paused for a second, flustered at the compliment the seemingly shy fan in front of you just spoke before shaking your head and grinning widely. Despite all the time that you had spent as an idol, compliments from your fans always managed to throw you off and fluster you, especially since they were more rare due to you being one of the less popular members of your group. ‘’That’s so sweet of you. Thank you for being a fan of my group, Jungkook-ah!’’

You called his name. You said his name in such a familiar way. You knew who he was. Jungkook’s heart nearly stopped in his chest as he watched you take out a thin pink marker and uncap the marker. 

‘‘Where should I sign?” you poised the pen over the album, looking at him expectantly for an answer.

Jungkook’s index finger shook and trembled as he eagerly lowered it to the very center of the album’s front cover. ‘’Here.’’

Your smile seemed to grow even bigger, like flowers blooming on a warm spring day, as you swirled your marker over the cover, leaving pretty curved letters that formed your name in the marker’s wake. When you lifted the marker off the album cover, your name had been permanently etched into the cover. Jungkook let out a shaky exhale at the sight, his ears tinging red in anticipation as he placed a small gift box in front of you. 

‘‘Oh? Is this a gift for me, Jungkook-ah?” You asked him, reaching out and opening the gift in smooth, gentle movements after he had nodded quickly in response, unable to respond properly. Positioned in pristine white tissue paper was a single cellphone charm of a bunny holding a pretty pink gem in the shape of a carrot. 

‘‘This is super cute; thank you so much for your generosity!” you pulled out your cellphone and clasped the cellphone charm onto your case, showing it off to him proudly. Jungkook was practically vibrating in happiness. You had accepted his gift, after all; didn’t this mean that you acknowledged and accepted him?

You poised your hand out for him to take, a common sign that it was him to move onward from his spot in front of you to the next member. Jungkook didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay in front of your forever, inhaling your subtle sweet scent and looking into your starry eyes. But if he stayed then he would be forced to move forward by security, and he couldn’t risk looking anything less than a man in front of his beloved. 

He reached out and clasped your hand with his, breathing in shakily as the warmth of your hand spread a drunk-like buzz from his clammy fingertips to his brain. 

He took the chance to blurt out what had been on his mind, knowing that you, his idol and his love, would never cruelly reject him. 

‘‘I love you, (y/n)!” he choked out, his voice raspy. He could feel his heart thrumming his chest frantically as he waited for your response. You blinked at him in surprise before your eyes curved up in upside down crescent-moon shapes and the tips of your lips curled up happily.

‘‘I love you, too, Jungkook-ah! Please continue supporting my group and me in the future!”

Jungkook’s heart ached in his chest as he forced himself to move away from you and onto the next member. He was dizzy now with elation to the point where he could collapse. You said you loved him back, just like he knew you would. You two were fated to be together, and cruelty would be keeping the both of you separated.

---

You sagged into the seat of the van, aimlessly playing with the cellphone charm one of your fans had given you at the fan meeting several weeks ago. You lightly mused to yourself as you sat in the empty van, having come out from an individual music video shooting that took an exhausting 6 hours for your 12-second part. The director had been super picky with your group’s new comeback, retaking one after the other.

The charm really was pretty, wasn’t it? It must’ve costed a lot of money too, judging by how the gem looked pretty authentic and real. You were broken out of your thoughts when the driver door slid shut, your manager coming in to take you back to the dorm room building. You barely glanced at the driver’s seat before turning on your phone to check on your SNS account. 

 You let out a long drained sigh when your phone beeped slightly before the screen turned completely black, your battery completely drained by the long shoot. The phone charmed sparkled underneath the flickering lights of streetlights as the van passed them.

‘‘Manager-nim,” you called out,” Do you have some water?”

A plastic water bottle was passed to you, and you reached out for it, too tired to care about your manager’s aloof behavior as you twisted off the cap and practically chugged the entire bottle until your thirst finally wavered. You wiped the droplets of water that had trickled onto your chin with the back of your hand and fell back onto the seat with a yawn. There was some strange taste lingering on the back of your throat, but you wrote it off as the faintly plastic-y taste that usually came with bottled water.

Your eyelids were getting droopy now, and you wondered how long you had been in the van. Usually, the filming place wasn’t this far of a drive from your dorm. 

‘‘Do you like the charm?” your manager spoke, in a softly sweet voice. You tried to blink your eyes open as you heard the voice. Your manager didn’t have that voice; his was usually more rougher and gravelly. You could barely fend off the wave of exhaustion as you tried to focus on your manager. Your manager’s build looked more different than usual, as he looked taller and more built. 

‘‘I’m sorry,” you slurred, trying to force your vocal cords to work,” What do you mean by that?”

‘‘It was pretty hard to get that charm, you know? It has a little chip on it that tracks your location, so I always know where you are. It stresses me out when I don’t know where you are, baby, so I’m really glad you were comfortable in accepting my gift. Don’t worry, your manager is safe too; I know you’re too kind and think about the well-being of others. I just gave him a light hit on the back of his head, nothing that severe if he’s strong enough.”

‘‘Hmm?” you could barely form words now. You were too exhausted to properly think. You met your driver’s eyes--he wasn’t your manager--in the rear view mirror, your vision bleary. You, you knew those eyes. He was one of the few fans who really paid attention to you at fansigns. 

‘‘Jung-?’‘ you couldn’t finish the word as your eyes, against your will, began to slide properly shut and the wave of sleep achingly gripped onto your bones.

Jungkook laughed lightly as he saw you fall asleep, succumbing to a mixture of sleep deprivation and the drug he had slipped into your water to make sure you got proper rest. You were so cute like this. He could stare at you forever, watching the way you breathed in and out in your sleep and pouted your lips slightly. He knew that when you woke up, you would understand. He had to do this. No one else deserved you but him. 

He shifted his eyes back to the night road, breathing out a soft,’’ Good night, baby. I love you.’’

He knew that if you were still awake, you would look up at him with pretty wide eyes and reply to him just like you did at the fansign. You would blush cutely and say to him,’’ I love you, too, Jungkook-ah.’’

[elsannabackwardsposts]

Bonus Feature (apology for the chapter delay)

I think this was a requested Bonus prompt from a long while back. Posting as a little apology for the delay in getting out Chapter 40 Part 1. :) 

Flynn POV; Mid-Chapter 12 time frame

“Hey, Elsa,” waved the boy from across the lobby of the campus’ business building. The blonde woman turned her attention from her notebook, curiously looking up from where she sat on the cushioned bench. With a smile, the brunet plopped down beside her, backpack falling at his side. “Got a minute?”

Raising a brow, Elsa nodded, making one more pencil mark in her notebook, filled to the brim with print outs of what looked like a class’ power-point slides. Once the book was closed, resting on her lap, pencil fit through its coiled binding for safe keeping, she turned her head to face her underclassmen.

Taking the acknowledgment as her means for him to continue, he sighed. “I need some ‘dating’ advice..” He had caught the widening of blue eyes, and although already knowing the real reason behind why the older rower held such a surprised reaction, he played it off innocently. Running a hand through his loose bangs, he sighed, shrugging his arm. “I know. Me, of all people. Crazy.”

When he glanced toward the Senior again, he noticed that she’d schooled her look back to that of a more controlled expression; one which matched her soft voice. “I don’t know how much of a help I’ll be on this..”

He waved his hand. “Don’t sweat it. I just don’t really know how to approach this one girl. None of my usual ideas are working..” He let his gaze fall, hand absently raising to scratch the nape of his neck. “She’s on the team, which may be why it’s harder. I’ve never, ya know, dated on the team before.” Flynn knew it wasn’t the greatest way to pose this question, but really, he didn’t know what else to do.

“You know how I feel about dating teammates, Flynn..” Elsa said quietly, having turned her eyes away solemnly, a bit of warning in how she spoke his name.

“Yeah, I know..” he said apologetically with a sigh, lulling his head for an instant before locking his honey-hued gaze on her. “But you’re also filled with wisdom that I don’t have,” he said, trying to give a cheeky face, although feeling the sincerity slip a little too much into his words. It did seem to give the blonde a pause before looking back at him with a bit of amusement. “Seriously though, if you were to ever go about dating again, team or not, and, hey, look. I get it, you totally won’t, but just hear me out.” The smolder was locked and loaded in his wide, pleading eyes.

The older of the two made a face, finally rolling her eyes in an exasperated manner, motioning her hand with a twirl, letting the man continue. He smiled.

“Alright, so. If you were to ask them out.. what would you suggest? Or even say?”

There was a long silence and the blonde averted her eyes. The way her expression morphed into a pensive gaze gave away the fact that she was just taking her time to really think about the question. So Flynn casually pulled his leg up to his lap, relaxing back into the seat, prepared to wait patiently for his quiet friend’s response.

“I’d make sure to remind her of the importance of putting crew and studies before a relationship.” The young captain groaned, lifting his eyes dryly to the ceiling with a long blink. Elsa frowned at his reaction. “What? It is very important to get that out of the way in the beginning,” she stated firmly.

Hanging his head, Flynn nodded, voice defeated, but tinged with a delicate sadness more than anything. “Yeah, I know..” Seriously. What else did he really expect from the lone woman? After all she had been through, of course she would opt to make sure every one else was warry, not wanting to see anyone else get all caught up in feelings only for it to all end painfully. But he could appreciate it fully all the same, because no doubt Elsa would not offer this advice, one learned so deeply due to cuts in her own heart, up to many others, if any others, but him.

Tucking a strand of flaxen hair behind her ear, Elsa softened her look. A few thoughtful seconds later, she gently added, “Just.. keep showing her that you care; that you respect her. Be yourself. Honesty is what means the most to everyone.”

Turning, seeing the gentle look cross his childhood friend’s face, the boy felt himself inhale, just in the slightest, just because of seeing the glimpse of ease emanating behind sapphire eyes for the first time in a long time. Unable to handle the elated emotion of seeing the Senior finally melt, even if in the slightest, in a highly delicate moment which could be easily ruined if he harped on her heart’s submission, or made mention of it at all, he instead played it off in the best Flynn way possible. He made an ugly face.

“Ugh, that’s it?” He closed his eyes, tilting his nose up. “No offense, but that really is girly advice.”

“Full offense,” Elsa genuinely laughed, hand shoving the boy’s shoulder lightly as he grinned back. “If you didn’t want a woman’s input, why did you not ask your guy friends?”

Flynn rubbed the light scruff of his beard. “I don’t talk about this ‘touchy-feely’ stuff with most people. And Hans is never around anymore since he’s so busy with Anna. I really didn’t have anyone else.” His honey colored eyes fell to the side, noticing how Elsa had looked down to her hands again. He blanched, realizing his words. Shit. “Ah..! I know you two don’t get along, sorry for bringing him up.”

But the girl shook her head. “No, it’s fine.” Her blonde brows furrowed in a strange way, as if there was a hint of confusion and some sort of disdain intermingling in her emotion. “Honestly, sometimes I forget that they’re together, so thanks for reminding me.”

Something about the way she said that made Flynn pause. He honestly couldn’t really comment much, as the young couple always seemed to hang out outside of crew practice; only a handful of sparse remote moments could be recalled of the two giving off romantic vibes at the boathouse or after a race. Maybe Anna wasn’t the type to talk about her relationships very much with her teammates, airing away from typical PDA-type antics. Or maybe the Freshman was discreet enough and careful of Elsa’s feelings to not bring up the boy in conversation (as Flynn had just absentmindedly done here), effectively keep Hans out of Elsa’s mind.

He hoped it was the latter. From what he had begun to observe, the rowing pair had seemed to have a good mesh, even noticing a bit of brightness returning to his best female friend as the fall season began to roll into early winter. If Anna was that considerate of Elsa’s feelings, she was definitely a good person who’d treat her friendship with Elsa well, prioritizing the gentle soul over the novelty of a boyfriend.

His eyes scanned the Senior once more, noticing something else in her eyes; a distance usually reserved for her pensive thoughts. A place she’d fallen in and out of periodically as her years at university rolled on, usually when reflecting on her race performances and, if ever another person, it would be her Ex.. But this expression was never offered regarding the auburn haired Junior boy. So, given the conversation, did that mean it was the talk of Anna who had triggered the look this time?

Blinking, Flynn held his breath instantly as the connection was made, looking at the stoic woman with a new eye. Her expression paired with her previous reaction at the couple’s mention. His brain was suddenly pulling up images from before; her reaction Halloween night, the way every time he recently messaged her she happened to be studying or exercising with Anna. Nowadays, everything that he knew of Elsa revolved around Anna. When had that happened?

Could it be that she..?

Does Elsa actually have feelings for..?

Blue eyes were suddenly on him, narrowed. “What are you looking at?” asked the woman tersely, a frown on her lips, making Flynn startle.

“Ah, sorry, thinking of, um, you know, how I can go about wooing my lady.” He grinned sheepishly.

Sitting forward, he watched as Elsa slipped her notebook into her backpack and sat up straight, sliding her satchel strap over her shoulder. For a moment, the Junior Captain thought the woman was about to stand and take her leave, but instead, she stayed still, a pale hand lingering on the strap.

“Hey, um..” Flynn was looking directly at the porcelain face which was turned downward, gaze locked on the brilliant tile floor. “What about studying together and hanging out afterwards at your place?”

The boy blinked and tilted his head. “Huh?”

Elsa made a small grimace barely visible in her side profile. “A suggestion for you and her.. to get closer.”

The Starboard rower brought his palm beneath his chin as he leaned forward, eyes still watching the Senior. “Huh. Well, we don’t have any classes together, but maybe that’d work.” He looked to the high vaulted ceilings and the gorgeous chandelier overhead and smiled. “Yeah. Study date and a movie. Sounds like a plan!”

This time, the blonde looked at him. “Why a movie in particular?”

He laughed good-naturedly. “It’s the perfect ‘hang out’ excuse to blur the lines of a friendly date. Even if nothing happens, or if conversation lulls, you can at least extend your time with the other person and quietly enjoy it that way.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t have to be a Netflix and chill deal.”

The Senior slowly nodded in understanding at his response, if not also scrunching her nose in confusion at the final weird phrasing he had chosen, before finally standing and bidding a farewell. Flynn reciprocated in kind and watched his blonde friend head off toward the glass-walled entrance of the building.

He leaned back, arms crossing against his chest with a smirk.

Despite his excellent acting skills revealing the total opposite, Flynn himself did not miss the subtle implications hanging in the blonde’s suggestion, nor how there was an honest curiosity in hearing his interpretation of why a movie could be a nice transitional date option. He really hoped he had worded the idea optimally enough. And although he certainly was down to implement it in his own endeavors, with what he had assumingly discovered regarding the elusive woman’s heart, he hoped he would not be the only one picking out a movie this week..

[xiaomomowrites]

zhongli, come down

Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary: “When I’m with you, I feel happy,” his eyes are fixated on the ceiling as he speaks. Childe, on the other hand, can’t look anywhere but at him. And although he speaks of his happiness, there are deep waves of sorrow rolling off of him. Zhongli’s makeup had washed off when he took a steaming shower, leaving Tartaglia to see the dark circles under his eyes and the faint wrinkles underneath. The light in his eyes had dulled without the bold presence of his usual red eyeliner, and it seemed as though his face appeared more sunken in when the light hit him at a certain angle. 

Childe’s heart pangs in his chest. Sometimes, his husband really looks his age.

Or, Zhongli and Childe visit Snezhnaya, but there’s a certain adeptus on Zhongli’s mind.

Find it on Ao3!

WARNING: this fic contains mentions of death/minor character death. Read at your own risk!

This part takes place between act V and act VI, which is still in the works~

A/N: I had meant to get this out earlier, but I live in Texas so we’ve been having sporadic power outages for the past three or four days. I had spotty connection and it was freezing in my house so this ended up a little delayed! Plus, act VI really just doesn’t wanna be written :( I want it to be perfect before I post it though, I don’t wanna give y’all mediocre Tartali food lol. But I hope you all enjoy, I’ll be adding a little message at the end if you’re interested, so stay tuned. -u.n.

--

Zhongli felt another full-body shiver rack through him when the wind whistled by again ruthlessly. Archaic divinity and equity aside, he wanted nothing more but to spit and curse the harsh ice beneath his feet. He had all but lost feeling in his fingers and toes as he stood still in the snow, waiting for Childe to finish grabbing them coffee. The Harbinger had offered the drink out of the kindness of his heart when he had seen how badly Zhongli was shivering, as if they hadn’t come here together before. Zhongli accepted the coffee with enthusiasm, knowing it makes Childe happy when he accepts his gifts.

He found himself at the doorstep of Snezhnaya with Childe, visiting his family for the year as they did each November. Unfortunately, November through February seemed to be the harshest that the winters got. The weather would breach zero degrees and drop past negative ten, the wind would lash furiously past parkas and scarves and mittens and kiss bare skin. And Zhongli, in all his divine beauty, would miss the warm summer nights of Liyue so much that he needed to remind himself of how much he loved his husband just to agree to get on the train with him. 

Childe, his darling ginger, simply hummed alongside him and tucked Zhongli’s arm beneath his own to keep him from slipping on the ice. His time in Liyue had not shaken his immunity to the cold at all. His other hand sipped at the warm coffee encapsulated in green cardboard, humming a happy noise from the back of his throat. Even if it was a one time occurrence years ago that ended with minor bruising along the ex-Archon’s back, Childe never let him live the moment down and swore to hold onto him every second they found themselves in his hometown. Zhongli had insisted that he need not pace himself just to walk alongside an old man like him, but he had just pinched his cheeks, kissed his nose, and reminded him that he wasn’t that old. 

“You’ve got that sexy rich-middle-aged-man thing going on for you. Except, all your money comes from me, and you’re actually six thousand years old,” Tartaglia had told him then, beaming up at him so brightly it made Zhongli blink. 

Soon enough, Zhongli finds himself at his in-law’s residence. He takes a deep breath, preparing for the onslaught of Childe’s siblings enthusiasm, and waits for Childe to knock. The Harbinger grins at his anticipation and raps his knuckles against the comforting wood. Not even a beat later and the oak swings open, revealing Teucer, Tonia, and Anthon. They’ve all gotten so big since he last saw them, watching them grow fills the ex-Archon with pride. Zhongli finds himself smiling, squeezing Childe’s hand partially because he’s overwhelmed with joy, and also so he doesn’t slip and fall on his ass too hard when he’s tackled. 

Seconds later he finds himself with an armful of red headed siblings. He stumbles, but thankfully Childe’s there to steady him upright. Zhongli squeezes his hand again in thanks. 

“Mr. Zhongli!” One of them screeches in his ear, “You’re back! Do you have any presents for us?”

“Mr. Zhongli!” Another one yells, “did you bring me a new book?” 

Luckily, Tartaglia’s mother begins barking at her children to reign them back inside and to  ‘leave the nice man alone’, so that he has time to readjust and step inside the warmth of their cozy abode. Zhongli smiles, cheeks red and ears redder, and bows as deep as he can. 

“Thank you for having me,” the honey-like voice glides against the wooden walls like it belongs there, “it is a pleasure to see you all again.” 

“Oh stop,” his mother-in-law gushes, “we’ve seen you every year for years now, honey, drop the formalities!” she waves him off while pulling her own son into a bone crushing hug. “And it’s good to see you too, hun.”

“Hi mom,” Childe responds sheepishly, careful not to squeeze her too hard, lest her back start cracking again. He raises a hand to cradle the back of her head with a fondness reserved only for her. “Where’s dad?” 

The question hangs above their heads heavily. A beat of silence passes before she smiles warily and squeezes her son’s cheeks. “He’s at the fireplace, Ajax.”

Childe nods, and eyes the urn sitting high above the crackling fireplace. It’s a beautiful marble urn that Tartaglia paid for in full, with a single ruby gem nestled right beside his father’s name. Even in this state, his father has the largest presence in the house. It is a presence even Zhongli can acknowledge and respect. The thought pushes Zhongli to squeeze his hand and mutter, “Go?” 

Tartaglia nods, and swallows hard. Zhongli urges him forward carefully with a gloved hand against the small of his back. His mother watches him go along with sullen and somber eyes. And it is only when Childe is stationed in front of the fire, a single gloved hand covering his mouth, when Zhongli breaks the silence. 

“So,” Zhongli begins, turning to his in-law. “The last time we spoke, you promised me a recipe for that delicious meal you served us last year. Were you able to hold up your end of the contract?” 

The red-headed woman beams up at him and grabs at his hands. Her hands are so small, so soft and delicate, Zhongli wishes nothing more but to protect this family with his life. And well, that makes two of them. 

“Of course, dear,” she says excitedly, “come with me.”

The next hour or so consisted of Zhongli patiently waiting in the kitchen while his mother-in-law bustled around, excitedly explaining the process of dough rolling, frying, meat filling, and then frying again. Zhongli watched with fascination, always one to appreciate cultures from all around the world. He hummed and nodded in confirmation every once in a while when she would turn to him, asking him if he understood, and he smiled. 

Tartaglia came padding into the kitchen later, eyes slightly red and puffy, and Zhongli didn’t need to ask if something was wrong to understand what was going on. He knew all too well of his feelings of conflict toward his father in the past. Now that the man himself was gone, Zhongli could only imagine the things Childe was feeling at the moment. 

Zhongli never exactly had a family to grieve, anyway. As far as he knew, all the family he had was in this very house alone. 

And Xiao, the voice in his head whispered, snapping him out of his reverie. Zhongli blinked the voice away. Now was not the time. 

“Talking behind my back, Xiansheng?” Childe teases, coming up behind him to snake his arms around his waist. “That’s not very husband-like of you, you know.”

“Yes, yes,” Zhongli played along, “your mother and I were just discussing how unruly you are in the morning, and how you leave wet towels on the floor after you shower. Truly a horrendous habit, Tartaglia.”

The ginger pouts over his shoulder and leans in to bite his cheek, reveling in the way Zhongli squeezes one eye shut in a faux flinch. He quickly kisses the flesh he sunk his teeth into and settles back against his husband. 

“Smells good, mom.” 

“It always smells good, Ajax,” she tuts, waving her spoon in his face, “what do you think of your mother, huh?”

“Why am I being attacked,” Tartaglia pouts, the end of the sentence lilting upward in a whine. Zhongli clicks his tongue at his behavior and pats his head reassuringly. 

“The food will be ready soon,” he reassures, “besides, she was just telling me all about a soup that I must try my hand at next year.”

Tartaglia groans dramatically and leans all his weight against Zhongli in response. 

—

Night falls, and Childe finds himself lighting the fireplace in the room they stay in upstairs, letting the flames embrace the room in an auburn glow. His siblings are tucked in and finally quiet after Zhongli’s endless stories of Liyue. His mother had turned in an hour earlier after smothering the two in kisses, and the couple had stayed in the kitchen for a bit sipping wine and conversing in the moonlight. After downing a good amount and feeling a light buzz through their systems, they called it a night and headed upstairs, pinkies linked as always. 

But Zhongli was off during the entire conversation. It may have seemed like he was himself to an outsider, but Tartaglia knew better. He knew when his husband was somewhere else. He had seen it too many times before.

So later, when Zhongli finds himself sitting on their windowsill rather melancholic, watching the snow fall, Childe regards him with a careful stare. The ex-Archon eyes the way the snow falls so tenderly yet so purposefully, as if they all held a secret that even an ancient being like him didn’t understand. He shivers at the cold that seeps in through the windows and kisses his fingertips where they meet the glass, and cradles his hand back to his chest slowly. 

“Zhongli,” Childe calls. The said man turns from the window, eyes bright and oddly wet. Oh, Childe knows that look. “C’mere,” he beckons. Zhongli obeys and pads over to where his husband is situated on their bed. He crawls onto the mattress next to him and slumps against the headboard, still deep in his thoughts. 

The Harbinger looks at him with concern and squirms over to where Zhongli sits. He uses his chest as a pillow, wrapping his arms around a lithe waist and tucking his nose in the crook of his neck. He breathes deeply the mature scent of silk flowers and feels his heart thump happily in his chest. Childe stays quiet for a moment, and allows himself to focus on the rise and fall of his sturdy chest. Zhongli runs the length of his palm up and down Tartaglia’s side as he ponders.

Childe decides to break the silence before he falls asleep. “What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, voice barely above a whisper. Zhongli’s hand comes up to his hair and scratches at his scalp the way he knows Childe likes it. 

“Nothing. I am just… thinking.” His voice trails off pensively.

“Hmm. As usual,” he hums, “what about?” Childe prods gently, knowing there’s a fifty-fifty chance his husband will indulge him.

He’s quiet for a moment. Far too quiet. Childe wonders if he should drop the subject.

“Xiao, actually,” he says suddenly. “I am thinking of Xiao.”

“Xiao,” Childe parrots, confused as to why the legendary adeptus lingers in his beloved’s head at a time like this.

Zhongli sighs, and his shoulders hunch forward, eyebrows furrowing in mild discomfort. “Whenever I am with you, I cannot help but think of him.”

Childe’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead. “Elaborate?” He’s only mildly offended, but he jests nonetheless in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

Zhongli chuckles and pushes a thumb between Childe’s frown. “Not like that. You know there’s no one in my heart except you. Besides, he’s like… family to me. I simply care deeply for his well being.”

Childe offers a wry smile. He knows, he’s just teasing. “So what’s wrong?”

“When I’m with you, I feel happy,” his eyes are fixated on the ceiling as he speaks. Childe, on the other hand, can’t look anywhere but at him. And although he speaks of his happiness, there are deep waves of sorrow rolling off of him. Zhongli’s makeup had washed off when he took a steaming shower, leaving Tartaglia to see the dark circles under his eyes and the faint wrinkles underneath. The light in his eyes had dulled without the bold presence of his usual red eyeliner, and it seemed as though his face appeared more sunken in when the light hit him at a certain angle. 

Childe’s heart pangs in his chest. Sometimes, his husband really looks his age.

“When I’m with you, I forget all my troubles. My burdens are made lighter simply by your presence. I forget what it felt like to be a part of the Archon War, or what it was like having so much blood on my hands. When I’m with you, I forget all of that. And I am happy.” Zhongli’s tone of  voice certainly does not match the topic he speaks of.

Still, Childe gulps. The ex-Archon can be too sappy for his own good, he might have a heart attack.

“Xiao, on the other hand, carries burdens almost heavier than mine,” he speaks as if it were an irrefutable fact. Although Childe wants to protest, he allows him to continue. “Millennia of suffering. Centuries of torture. Generations worth of karma building up on his plate. And he has no one he can turn to to help him forget; no one to help him bear it. Xiao is… alone.” His voice cracks pathetically.

Ah. 

The wind turns colder. There’s a chill that goes through the room, and it seeps into Childe’s bones. The Harbinger’s eyes dart to the fireplace, almost accusing it of not doing its job. He’s mildly aware of the new presence outside of the window that reeks of karma and a heavy heart. The tidal waves of grief and remorse spill into the room, and Tartaglia almost wants to wave a hand in front of his face to waft the energy away. Nevertheless, Childe dismisses it knowing that it is harmless, and turns all of his attention on his partner. 

“What about that traveler,” Childe offers, “Xiao seems to be fixated on him.” 

Zhongli shakes his head. “Young Traveler is far too free spirited for that, and Xiao is the type to only give his heart when he is certain that the source is stable and everlasting.”

Childe nods in understanding. He’s the same way, after all. “He was right to give his heart to you.”

“And yet I betrayed him, did I not?” Zhongli asks.

Childe frowns once again. He wills his voice to not sound too accusing when he asks, “In what way?” 

Zhongli waves his free hand in the air, trying his best to convey the emotions that had been eating at him all evening. 

“I am here, parading away with my husband while he still watches over Liyue per my request. Even though our contract ended, he still persists. He still fights the demons of the gods I slayed myself. He still is trapped by the shackles of Liyue, cleaning up my mess, worshipping my name, while I lay here wondering if I want coffee or tea when the sun rises.” 

His voice wavers. Childe’s heart tugs. The Harbinger shuffles closer and squeezes him tighter. 

“I can’t help but feel as though I am responsible for his suffering. I am the one who summoned him, am I not? The fierce Yakshas… oh how truly amazing they were,” Zhongli rambles, fingers tightening their hold on Childe. “And now they are all…”

“Zhongli.” He cuts him off sternly. The man in question shakes out his reverie, glassy amber eyes meeting cerulean. Childe brings a hand to his cheek to caress the sinfully soft skin there. The ginger leans in, pressing his forehead against his temple and pleads.

“Stop,” he whispers, and then his hand finds purchase on his husband’s neck. “Stop.” 

“I am not worthy of it any longer, Ajax,” Zhongli’s voice warbles, “all I want is for Young Xiao to rest and finally find peace. I no longer want him to have nightmares, asleep or not. I want to be the one to be rid of his burdens. I want him to be happy, Ajax, I want—“

“No,” Childe interrupts again, “there is nothing you can do, my love. And I’m so sorry you feel that way. I truly am. But his suffering has nothing to do with you anymore. Xiao looks up to you—“

“But he shouldn’t.” 

“Xiao looks up to you,” he persists, “for a reason. He adores you, okay? No matter what you do. No matter what you say. No matter how you look. Even if you’re skin and bone and wrinkly with gray hair, Xiao would still admire you. Your strength has withstood the test of time, and so has his loyalty to you.” He brushes a stray hair from Zhongli’s face and continues.

“You were the one that saved him. Have you ever thought of that, old man? You saved him and named him. I mean, if someone were to pull me out of the abyss and give me a hug for god’s sake, I probably would have turned out different,” Zhongli’s eyes soften even more, but Childe refuses to make this about him. He thumps a fist against Zhongli’s chest in mock petulance. “Xiao respects you because you deserve it. It is as simple as that.”

Zhongli is quiet, pondering, so Tartaglia takes that as an invitation to continue. 

“You have served your time bearing your burdens. You have saved souls and you have killed your own share of demons, and you fought to get where you are now. You deserve a break, Zhongli. And you don’t need to feel guilty that someone out there hasn’t been liberated of their own issues. You of all people understand Xiao’s strength. Probably more than Xiao himself, right? So have faith in him, Xiansheng. And know that you don’t have to carry the burden of freedom on your own. Burdens are meant to be shared, and I’m your husband, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget,” Zhongli chuckles as he jests. His voice still warbles, but Tartaglia will take what he can get. Childe pinches his cheek playfully. 

“Sooo,” Childe trails off, running a finger down the length of Zhongli’s pale neck. “With that being said, I think you should enjoy the time you have now, with me, instead of reminiscing about the past.”

Zhongli nods. 

“After all, I won’t be here forever-”

“Do not.” Zhongli interrupts, looking away. His chest stops fluctuating, and it takes a moment for Childe to realize he was holding his breath. And just like that, his defensive wall is back up again. Tartaglia looks at him with wide eyes. Obviously he had struck a chord he hadn’t meant to. The grip Zhongli had around the back of his neck tightened like he meant to keep him close to his chest forever; greedy, selfish hands continue to grasp at the back of his shirt.

“Oh,” Tartaglia breathes, “I’m sorry, I was just joking.”

“I know,” Zhongli all but whimpers, “but my brain doesn’t exactly register those kinds of things as jokes.”

Tartaglia nods, unsure of what else to say. So, he ditches the thought of saying anything, and lifts a deft finger to tilt Zhongli’s face back to him. He abandons his words and leans in instead. He captures his God’s lips with his own and presses close, desperate to show him that he’s there. Tartaglia’s alive and well and very much in love, and he’s there. He’s not going anywhere; he wouldn’t even dare to think about going anywhere. Their marriage was more than a contract, it was a covenant. The vows that were sworn on that night kept them glued together, and only ‘til death do they part. 

Well, until Ajax’s death, at least.

The thought makes Tartaglia’s head pound, and he shakes the thoughts away with determination.

“I’m here,” he reassures anyway when they part, kiss-bruised lips brush against his cheek as he speaks. “Let me prove it to you.”

Zhongli nods wordlessly, cupping Childe’s face with one hand and dragging the Harbinger onto his lap with the other. They press against each other, nice and close, so that one would not be able to decipher where one began and the other ended. 

“I love you,” Tartaglia confesses into the dark, breathless. Zhongli drags him impossibly closer. 

Xiao takes that as his cue to leave, the wind chill harsh and no longer gentle as he vanishes into thin air.

--

A/N: Okayy I’m gonna get a little serious in the end notes hehe so if you wanna skip out on that, thank you so much for reading! And I hope you have a wonderful week :) find me on twitter @/xiaoscribbles and AO3 @/unironicallynapping

I wanted to write this because I’ve been on my own journey to recovery lately. My family suffered many losses in 2020 and since then, I had been struggling to get back on path and find a healthy mindset. But there’s a passage that I read in a book I’ve been reading that covers the guilt we sometimes feel when we recover, knowing and know that there’s someone out there who is suffering, too. The guilt can become unbearable, but it doesn’t need to be felt. You can take your feelings of guilt and turn it into something good. You can enjoy the life of recovery you’re living while still being there for those who need it. You can show someone you love them while also reveling in the happiness that you deserve. You don’t need to feel like you don’t deserve it just because you recovered, and someone else hasn’t. Everyone is on their own path, so rejoice in the fact that you’ve made it to your own happiness! 

I hope this fic/message spoke to some of you. It’s a really important message to me, and I just wanted to share :)