#rage and profound sadness

[fatehbaz]

when you’re reading about the most despicable revolting outrageous inhumane shocking horrific maddening worst things human beings have ever done and you ask “who was responsible for this violence?” and the answer is very often “the scientists of the atomic energy commission” and "scientists working on behalf of colonial British/US governments" and “medical doctors in the United States”

[lueurjun]

. ˚◞☁️ ✧˖🤍࿐

▍ synopsis╰┈➤ minho had always been clear about his aversion to marriage, and initially, you accepted it. But when your feelings changed, the once-accepted truth shattered, leaving you to confront the fallout head-on.

🖇·˚ ༘┊ lee know x reader — angst. angst. just angst.

˚ ༘💭 ·˚ message from lueurjun . . . my very first skz post on this account ! this was meant to just be a enha and txt acc but i’ve decided to add skz to the list too because i couldn’t resist. anyways i’m sorry for this, i was in a sad mood.

. ˚◞☁️ ✧˖🤍࿐ྂ

Minho is a captivating read, his life an open narrative. Every page reveals a tapestry of his passions and despairs, vividly illustrated with meticulous detail. It's this transparency that drew you to him, each chapter unfolding with refreshing honesty. You find comfort in knowing what to anticipate, yet he never fails to astonish you with unexpected gestures.

One of the chapters in his book is the declaration of his distaste for marriage, and conveniently enough, it’s the only chapter without a carefully crafted explanation. He told you before things progressed that he would never be able to offer you marriage, and he told you it with full intention of letting you walk away unscathed, with your heart intact. But you were fine with it, a young adult starting their twenties with no intention to marry. It didn’t bother you; it wasn’t a significant issue.

Until it was.

Wedding season was approaching in stride with the warm weather. Three beautifully designed invitations adorned the fireplace, unopened. There was a fourth, the first and only one you pried open and then hid away from your sight with a sick feeling lining in your stomach and an ache in your heart — one of longing. You couldn’t open the others.

Guilt laid across the longing, meshing together and in turn forming one complex emotion; resentment. Not even towards Minho, but your past self for being careless enough to not consider the feelings of your future self. The now you, who envisioned a beautiful summer wedding and all its trimmings. The guilt picked at you, because Minho had warned you about this before you got too deep in. He reminded you before he told you that he loved you, that if you wanted to run, if you wanted to marry then he had to let you go, before he got too attached. Before you got too attached.

Minho wasn't oblivious to the turmoil raging within you, nor to the contradictions within your heart. He found the invitation, concealed from sight bearing a telltale water stain. He observed the wistful gazes whenever your friends conversed about walking down the aisle, and married life. They often left you out of those conversations, already knowing Minho’s views. And it killed him—because he knew you wanted the one thing he vowed to never offer.

And he knew there was only one alternative to you getting what you want.

The sun’s shift was over for the day, night just clocking in when he returns home, exhausted with a heavy heart in anticipation for what he was about to do. You’re on the sofa when he walks through the door, three cats surrounding you looking interested in whatever it’s flickering on the tv. His heart clenched at the scene, aching in his chest, nearly breaking when you greeted him with a radiant smile.

He’s not one to beat around the bush. Never has been, but as he walks toward you, he feels the words stalling in his throat. His heart pleads with him, but he sits down across from you and he swallows thickly.

“Let’s break up.”

The once-warm home now feels frigid, as if drained of its vitality—like the scented candles you loved had extinguished, and the tv shut off. A profound stillness settles over everything in an instant. Your expression collapses into sheer devastation, and Minho's eyes squeeze shut.

“Did I do something?” You manage, only just. Your heart feels like it’s ready to give way. Confusion clogs your mind with a million inquiries.

Minho shakes his head. Of course you’d blame yourself. It sickens him to the core. “No. No, you didn’t.”

"Then why?" Your tone sharpens with anger, impatience seeping through. Why was he breaking up with you? Why was he doing this to you? Why now?

Minho tilts his head, eyeing the ceiling in a pathetic attempt to keep his eyes from watering. “I can’t give you what you want. It isn’t fair.”

You’re bewildered. “I don’t understand—”

“Marriage. I can’t offer that to you, and it’s not fair. I don’t want you to cry looking at invitations knowing you’ll never ship ones out of your own. I can’t watch you be left out of conversations because I’m holding you back. It isn’t fair on you.”

“I told you—”

“And you changed your mind. It’s selfish of me to string you along, knowing nothing more will come from this. I can’t let you waste your dream, not on me. So let’s break up, because that way you can find someone who will give you what you want.”

“Do you not love me?”

Minho almost laughs at that, because how is that even a question in your mind? It’s funny because he’s doing this because of how much he loves you.

“I love you enough to know that I have to let you go.”

And just like that, your heart meets your stomach as the barrier collapses. Doongie meows from your lap, reaching up a paw to your cheek as though caressing the skin. Tears chase each other down your cheeks in a rapid game of tag, the trail ending at your neck where Soonie sits, eyeing you in confusion. Dori is behind Minho, a paw coming down to strike him but he doesn’t flinch.

“I don’t have to have marriage—I just want you!” The words rush out of you like a torrential waterfall. “I can be happy without that as long as I have you.”

Minho shakes his head. “I don’t want that for you. I can’t offer you marriage, I can’t do it. That’s not me. But there’s someone else who can, and as much as the thought of you with someone else kills me, it’s what you deserve.”

Minho's longing to comfort you is palpable, yet he remains rooted to his seat, enduring each gentle prod from Dori. With his gaze fixed on the floor, he quietly utters, "I'll stay at Chan's until I figure out where to go."

You shake your head, sobs cutting through your throat as you plead, beg and cry. You don't want him to leave for Chan's, you don't want him to pack his bags; you want him right here, with you. Marriage or not, you just want him by your side.

Though deep down, want isn’t enough. Resentment has begun to accumulate like an impending avalanche, threatening to engulf everything in its path. Perhaps Minho is correct; maybe it's best to end things now. An argument would have inevitably ensued—such clashes do when both parties want different things.

Minho doesn’t cry as he packs his bag, he doesn’t cry as he kisses your forehead and leaves a scratch on Doongie’s forehead, nor when he gets into his car and drives away.

Minho's stoicism holds until two months later, when he finds himself seated in the back of Hyunjin's wedding venue, watching the happy couple share a kiss sealing the deal of forever. It's only then, as his eyes drift to where you sit, that tears finally gloss over his eyes, haunted by visions of himself slipping a ring onto your finger.

Alone in his car, Minho finally allows himself to release the pent-up emotions. Tears stream down his face as he grapples with a mind overwhelmed by countless scenarios and a heart weighed down by regret.

[giddyfatherchris]

📱skz texts —how they react/comfort you (when you're going through a rough patch with a friend)

| including. bang chan, lee know

warnings. mentions of homophobia, anxiety and depression (but not going in depth with any of these subjects)

a/n. FINALLY!! channie and lee know’s part babyyyy honestly i kept procrastinating but today i decided enough is enough.😤 again, these are not in order but i cannot be 🎶booOoOoOthereeeddd🎶 so :) hope you enjoy mwah xxx

changbin, seungmin & i.n

hyunjin, han & felix

Lee Know

He knew from your texts you were not in your normal state. You were usually such a bubbly person, but when you answered so drily to his questions, he knew something was wrong.

As he waited for you to come home, he couldn't help but pace in his apartment. You weren't living together yet, but you spent so much time at his flat that you claimed it as your second home comfortably. In the 15 minutes it took for you to arrive, Lee Know had prepared himself for many scenarios, but he could have never predicted how you opened harshly the door and slammed it shut. Your ritual of crouching on the floor, calling for his three cats, was brutally ignored as you stomped to the kitchen.

"Hi, baby." He tentatively tried. Cautious, he kept his distance as you grunted in answer. You opened the fridge door, looked for a milli second before you closed it, then repeated the same process with the pantry. You made yourself a glass of water, didn't even take a sip, and grumbled as you looked in front of you, not really seeing anything. You abandoned it on the counter, ready to stomp away, when Lee Know put himself in your trajectory.

"What's going on?"

You would have kept walking if he hadn't grabbed you by the shoulders and blocked you from carrying on.

"Uh?" you looked at him as if you were just now seeing him. "Nothing, something at work, it's enraging." 

"Then please tell me so I can know who to kill," he replied in an equally angered tone. His hold on your shoulders tightened slightly at the thought someone had hurt you. 

You looked at him, surprised. "What, kill someone?" 

"Please, Y/n. I've never seen you like this. I don't know what happened, but for it to put you in that state, I'm guessing it's pretty serious." 

He had to pull it out of you, but you finally explained how you discovered one of your coworkers, who you considered a friend, was, in fact, a raging homophobic, queer-hating asshole. When you first heard him comment on someone else wearing a rainbow pin, you had laughed it off, thinking he was being dumb, but he kept adding on, and you realized, horrified, that he was being serious. 

Cherry on top, when you told him you were pansexual, he had stared at you with this idiotic air and asked if you were attracted to kitchen appliances. It ended up with you terminating that 'friendship' and leaving the office completely enraged. 

Your boyfriend listened carefully to your story. His piercing eyes set on you when he finally stated, "I have no idea how you managed not to smack him in the face." 

You let out a dry chuckle, telling the story again only egged you on, and brought up a familiar gloom you hadn't felt in a while. Immediately, he noticed the change in your demeanor, how the burning rage had simmered to a profound sadness. "Hey, it's okay, you can report the bastard, you know. He can't go around saying stuff like that."

You wrapped your arms around your middle, your lower lip softly shaking as you exhaled. "It's been a long time since I've been directly in contact with someone like that. I'm mad at myself for not seeing it maybe others knew, and they considered me badly for hanging out with him. I feel so bad."

He pulled you to him, softly resting his chin on top of your head. "Some people are really good at hiding who they truly are. He never said anything before, you never could have known."

"I know, but I somewhat feel like a traitor to my community," you covered your face with your hands before hiding in his chest. "Is that dumb?"  

He softly pushed you back and leveled his gaze with yours. "That is a little dumb because you did not betray your community, okay? You can't betray someone if you've also been fooled. And you know what's the best thing to do now? Report his ass. I'm sure if you do, there will be others who feel comfortable speaking up."

Your eyes lit up at his suggestion. "You're right. I want queer people to feel safe at work. The thought that I might have been seen as someone who would threaten that makes me sick. But if I speak up, that could change. Maybe we could even create a committee to do sensibilization about homophobia in the workplace." The gloom in your eyes was replaced with a fire. "One thing is sure, I won't let it happen again.

He gave you an adorable grin as he softly grabbed your chin. "My little fighter, I'm proud of you."

Your eyes disappeared into a happy smile as you hugged him again. "Thank you for always supporting me, although I am slightly scared of how little it took to convince you to kill someone." 

He laughed before grabbing you over his shoulder and whispered with a diabolical expression. "You shouldn't." 

Because really, there shouldn't be a doubt in your mind that this man was ready to make anyone who hurt you pay a terrible price. 

Bang Chan

The leader rubbed his hands on his face in an attempt to wipe away all the exhaustion. He looked back at his computer screen, feeling a violent cramp in his head causing his eyes to squeeze shut of their own accords. 

"Okay, okay. I get it. No more computer today."

He grabbed his phone before getting up, pleading his eyes to survive one last exposure to the light of a screen. He clicked on your name and quickly typed in, asking you what you wanted to eat for dinner but all signs of fatigue disappeared once he saw your answer. Worry replaced any feelings in his heart, his tired eyes fixed on the device.

What could have happened for you to be so down? He knew you were dealing with a difficult friend lately, but could it have gotten this bad so quickly? He wondered if he should push it, ask you more, but as his eyes started burning again he realized it would probably be of no help and he should wait for you to get home. Chan looked around the apartment, an uneasy feeling in his chest, a restlessness agitating his limbs. You were hurting and he couldn’t stay still, waiting for you to arrive. Then it clicked, he looked at your messages once again, closed the app and started dialing a number he was starting to know very well. As the line rang, a smirk slowly took place on his full lips.

You tiredly entered your apartment, welcomed with a delicious aroma. You kicked your boots off, more than ready to change into comfortable clothes and hug your boyfriend. 

Your heart melted at the sight waiting for you in the kitchen. Chan, his sleeve rolled up, showing his strong forearms, was very focused on the pots and pans burbling in front of him. He softly hummed to the soft jazz music playing in the background, completely oblivious to the world around him. You silently walked to him and wrapped your arms around his middle, loving how his strong back felt on your cheek through his clothes. 

"Jesus! You scared me," he whined, still, you could hear the smile in his voice as his hands wrapped around yours. "How are you?"

You didn't answer, feeling tears prickling your eyes and that burning sensation in your nose when you knew you were about to cry. You buried your face in his clothes, hoping it would muffle the sound of your sobs. 

"Y/n?" he quickly turned around, realizing you were far from okay. "Hey, baby what's going on?"

Violent sobs shook your body as you slid to the floor engulfed in Chan’s reassuring embrace, allowing you to let it all go. Once you calmed down enough to take a big breath, he asked again. "Baby, what happened?" 

Softly, he brushed his fingers through your hair. He was a calm and reassuring presence for you in all the chaos. You knew you could trust him, knew you could tell him anything and he would be there for you.

"You know my ´friend’, our relationship was already rocky, I knew that, but I thought it was getting better. When we studied together the other day, we talked so much, about anything and everything and even personal stuff. I thought we were getting over that petty argument, but today I heard them tell other people from my classes how I was faking my anxiety disorder and depression symptoms. They said I only did it to get attention and that I- I was an addict." Your voice broke on the last word, horrified that such words could have come out of their mouth.

Chan had to fight everything in him not to go after them right now. If there was one thing he despised it was when the ones he loved were hurt. He couldn't bear it. He knew how hard it had been for you to get a diagnosis and start taking medication. How could someone be heartless enough to make such comments? 

"I heard some of the people in the group defend me, but still... I can't believe it. I'm so stupid, I never should have told them about it."

"Y/n. You are not stupid. They are the assholes. You are not stupid for trusting someone you thought was a friend okay? I don't ever want you to think you are stupid for that."

You looked at him with teary eyes. He felt himself melt and soften, all anger disappearing when he realized how badly you needed him. "You are not stupid. You are not faking anything." he softly stroked your cheeks, wiping away the tears as he did. "I'm so proud of you for reaching out for help. I'm proud of you every damn day, and you know the people who really love you do too." You closed your eyes, relishing in his warm touch, allowing his soft voice to erase every doubt and fear. He softly kissed your forehead, "Okay?"

"Okay," you whispered. "Thank you I don't know what I would do without you."

"You would still do amazing because you are one of the strongest person I've ever met."

You chuckled at his comment. "You're so cheesy. Still, I'm pretty happy to have you." You lifted your head towards the stove. "Especially if you tell me you've been cooking for me." You took a deep breath in, finally registering what it was you were smelling. You looked back at him, already smiling, a look of surprise on your face. "Is- is that my mom’s… How, how did you do it?"

A proud and satisfied expression was printed on his features. "You wanted your mom’s spaghetti so I called and asked her to help me make it. Turns out the recipe isn’t that hard." He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear while you stared at him like he was the most magnificent thing you had ever seen, which he was.

"I can’t believe you did that. My mother has never told anyone her recipe!"

"Yeah, about that. I might have had to make a deal with her to get it…" You rolled your eyes, ready to hear some embarrassing stunt your mother pulled on your boyfriend. "I had to explain why I wanted the recipe, and she might have made me promise we’d go visit your family in two weeks while you’re on spring break."

You squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck, asking him a thousand time if he was kidding, if this was really happening, while he promised over and over again it was. You pulled back to look at the satisfied smile growing on his lips. Chan was a sure value in your life, maybe the only true one, and as you looked at him, his dimpled smile and the satisfaction he had in preparing all this for you, you knew this was it. He was everything you would ever need.

[sweetiecutie]

Hi there, gorgeous! For the writing event - maybe some headcanons for our big guy König? I really don’t care what that is, just give us some food🤲

Random König headcanons

Warnings: mentions of violence, anger issues, that’s all ig

It’s sad to admit that Tiktok ruined this character. Let’s get one thing straight - König is not a shying, fumbling mess of a baby, too scared to say a word in public. He’s a confident, persistent, smug mf whose domineering presence makes others shrink slightly, complying with his every demand.

This guy is a colonel, he doesn’t stutter or mumble or anything like that. König barks out orders, his voice is deep and dominant, loud enough for everyone in the field to hear. And if someone dares to make fun of his accent? They got themselves a life-long enemy. God bless this fool.

Now, let’s consider something. Who would wear a sniper hood all the goddamn time? It’s good for some operations, but wearing it 24/7? Absolutely no. That leads me to think that König prefers to wear a plain black balaclava when around the base. Hem of it rests snugly around his neck, not restricting any movements nor falling onto the table while sitting; vision range is way better than two eye holes in the hood allow; it doesn’t get caught onto his shoulders or furniture, which is great - overall way better than sniper’s hood.

Judging by his voice lines, I believe that König has a rather problematic personality. Now, first and foremost - booming rage; he’s a ticking bomb, all the work stress bottles up inside of him little by little, and one wrong word in a slightly provocative situation can cause a violent explosion. König’s rage is terrifying, everybody knows that. He rarely gets physical, at base that is. But oh boy, his words hurt worse than any punches - he shouts insults and profanities, some of them may be pretty personal. The number of new recruits this mean Colonel made cry like little babies is almost shameful😥

König tends to blow off most of his steam during missions, killing and beating the shit of of enemy soldiers; during these moments he resembles a bloodthirsty animal rather than a human, driven by pure instincts and getting off the adrenaline high.

Now, second personality trait of his I would like to talk about is envy. König is very envious. He envies people with higher position, people with better skills (even though these are rare ones), people with happy and loving families, people with knowledge more profound than his. And, surprisingly, this envy does him more good than bad, adding fuel to the fire, making König push past his limits, achieving new and new heights. Due to his envy König climbed up to the post of Colonel, acquired such amazing skills, got a respectable reputation around other soldiers.

Outside the work I think he’s a pretty chill guy - doesn’t care much about family dramas, pretty much clueless about internet trends. He has a small circle of people he trusts - two or three people max, and he just chills with them, going with the flow and living his life. And for some reason König gives me vibes of this one extremely adequate reasonable guy in a company, yk? He can come up with a smart and effective solution to nearly every problem in a matter of minutes, is always reasonable and rational.

[cheriecelestial]

Angel Pt.II

pairing*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Red Hood!Jason Todd X fem!reader

disclaimer*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ fluff. suggestive content. swearing. 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ™️. not proofread !

a/n*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ So here’s part 2. I’m aware of the poll results, but I had already planned to go against the consensus beforehand (cuz ain’t nobody tells me what to do). So smut in pt.III I promise. pls don’t be mad. Comment, Reblog and Like（╹◡╹）♡

╰ ┈➤ Part I

One of Jason's most cherished aspects of his Red Hood helmet was its ability to allow him to doze off undetected. He was curious how Y/N would react if he fell asleep at her place. He knew many people often tried, and foolishly so, to take off his helmet when he was asleep to try to find his identity. Despite his affection for her, he felt the need to ensure her trustworthiness because he knew he wouldn't be able to bear if she betrayed him. If she were to betray him, he reasoned, it would be better sooner rather than later. Feigning sleep, he waited. For a while she just sat and watched him. And not in a vigilant or cautious way, atleast it didn't that way to him. He hoped she would remain that way, but fate seemed to have other plans for him. He heard her retreat to her room, the smallness of her apartment allowing him to observe almost every movement. Maybe I'll buy her a nicer place, he thought to himself.

As she approached him, she checked once more, hiding something behind her back. She wouldn't try to take off his helmet, would she? A profound sense of dread and apprehension gripped him. She was the last person he wanted to betray him. Soon he found himself questioning his own judgment and the authenticity of the relationship. What did you expect? A sinister voice taunted him.

He felt his brain cloud with a whirlwind of emotions such as shock, disbelief, sadness, hurt, and confusion. When her fingertips grazed his helmet, it felt like a deep, agonizing wound piercing to his core. Initially, there was disbelief—a refusal to acknowledge that someone he loved and trusted could do that. He could feel the pit rage resurface, fierce and consuming, directed at her and perhaps even at himself for allowing himself to be vulnerable enough to be wounded in such a way.

He anticipated her lifting his helmet, only she didn't. She withdrew her hands and let out a tiny giggle. He was struck with the realisation that she didn't try to take his helmet off, rather she placed something atop it. It was out of his field of view so he couldn't quite tell what it was. From the corner of his eye, he noticed her take out her phone and snap a picture. Unfortunately for her, she forgot to switch off the flash. Jason took the opportunity and in the blink of an eye, her grabbed her wrist and flipped her over his shoulder, slamming into the couch. He pushed his forearm against her throat with his other hand pinning her under him.

“What do you think you're doing angel ?” He growled as his thumb trailed from her bottom lip to her cheek in a gesture that was equal parts sultry and sinister. Her eyes widened like saucers as cold sweat started to form on the side of her forehead. Her body might froze momentarily before trembling with fear. He didn't realise just how small she felt against him until he was on top of her. Akin to a quivering rabbit ensnared in a hunter's trap. Truth be told, the analogy wasn't far off.

"I-I'm so sorry I didn't mean to. I swear it was a prank —" She tugged at her restraints with tears forming at the corner of her eyes, her breathing becoming shallower and rapid but Jason didn't budge. She felt all too aware of the situation she was in. His proximity so close that she could feel so exposed under his gaze. It was intimidating yet so intoxicating, the feeling of being enclosed by him, the scent that was so intense and virile was enough to make her head spin. She could hear her heartbeat resonating in her ears and it was clear that he could too. Needless to say, Y/N L/N messed up big time.

"What was ? Hmm?" He leaned in closer to her face until his helmet was mere centimeters away, relishing in the sadistic pleasure of watching her teary eyes as she whimpered and muttered incomprehensible apologies. Seeing her struggle to form words, he picked up her phone to view the picture she had taken. It was him with what seemed like — a fuzzy bear ears headband? He plucked it from his helmet, staring at it incredulously. You have got to be kidding me.

"You're so fucking adorable, you know that ?" He let out an airy chuckle that was felt more than heard as he shakes with a silent laugh. "You're not mad at me ?"Y/N's voice sounded so desperate like a broken whimper. Her pretty eyes still wide and a little teary and red at the ends, a visible look of confusion etched onto it.

He wanted to stroke her cheek again, but he feared he wouldn't be able to stop himself from going further. "I don't know. Should I be?" He chuckled, and while he was mostly teasing, he couldn't help but marvel at her.

Despite his experiences with many women, he had never encountered someone so captivating. Just by the virtue of being pinned under him, she looked just so impossibly inviting. Jason found himself rendered breathless as his mind wandered into the realm of the most salacious thoughts.

"But this warrants punishment. Does it not?" He watched her breath catching in her throat, her cheeks and the tips of her ears flushing with heat.

Y/N swallowed hard," Punishment ?" She nervously peered at the man, a a slight shiver running down her spine as she could almost feel his piercing cold gaze from behind the red helmet. She understood her predicament and knew she shouldn't be enjoying it. It could take an unfavourable turn at any given moment and she wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Suddenly, he released her hands and leaned back. Despite feeling a little disoriented from his sudden absence of his towering self, Y/N sat back up. Jason held up the headband in his hand,"Do you have more of these?"

"A few. Yes" she replied.

"Go get them." he said nonchalantly. Y/N blinked at his request, feeling a hint of disappointment creeping in. As she rose slowly and made her way to the dresser, she scolded herself internally, Jesus get your brain out of the gutter Y/N. Not wanting to keep him waiting, she gathered all the headbands she had and dropped them onto the couch. "You have quite the collection," Jason chuckled, examining a headband. "Mostly from previous Halloweens and costume cafés I used to work at." Y/N explained. Jason's gaze settled on a particularly intriguing headband - white floppy bunny ears with pink bows. He tossed it onto her lap, grinning,“Put this on.”

Y/N complied without question and looked at him expectantly. Jason whipped out his phone and aimed it at her,“ Strike me a cute pose angel." Her eyes widened in a mix of surprise embarrassment," Wait what ?”

"Well you clicked that picture of me so it's pretty fair trade if you ask me." He reasoned, attempting to maintain a neutral tone, though secretly relishing the moment thoroughly. He maintained composure, not wanting to risk scaring her away. He eagerly snapped photos as Y/N reluctantly donned the headband and flashed a small peace sign, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He could feel his own heart racing in his chest and his face growing warm.

"Please don't show it to anyone. It's embarrassing," She pleaded. Jason acknowledged her request with an absentminded nod, slipping his phone into his pocket. He hadn't quite reached the stage of covertly taking pictures and plastering them on his walls like a stalker, but he reasoned that photos she consented to were fair game. Plus that was more Tim's thing, Jason liked shooting his shot up front or atleast that’s what he told himself. He casually grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it on his lap so she wouldn't have to see his raging boner.

"Now how about we fire up the console. Video games you said?" Jason suggested holding the dvd in his hand that Y/N had completely forgotten about. She eagerly grabbed the controllers and settled onto the couch, anticipation sparking in her eyes as the previous tension eased. Jason stared at the game dvd and couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. "Do you play video games often ?" Y/N asked him with a smile. "Only when I'm with the boys at the batcave or with Ro – ahem I meant Arsenal. Starfire is temporarily banned because she's burnt too many controllers out of excitement." She laughed at his words, almost imagining the scene.

"Well I'm sure you dominate in physical fights. Let's see how you hold out in a virtual one. I hope you're ready." Y/N challenged, a competitive gleam in her eyes.

"Bring it on angel." Jason replied, his fingers already poised over the buttons. Before they knew, they were completely immersed in the game, their laughter and exchanging banter and competitive jabs filling the room. Whether they were working together to overcome a tough level or engaging in heated competition, their bond only grew stronger with each passing minute.

"Oh come on ! You've won like the fourth time in a row. This thing has to be rigged !" Jason accusingly jabbed his controller at the screen in frustration, eliciting laughter from Y/N at how worked up he got over something insignificant like a video game.

"'ll let you in on a little secret. I'm a bit of a pro. Back in college, gaming was like my side hustle," she whispered with a mischievous grin, leaning in closer. Jason's interest piqued at her revelation. He couldn't deny his curiosity about how she had been these past few years. Despite his thorough investigations, he knew that no amount of research could uncover the personal intricacies of her college life - the moments of joy that lit up her face, the frustrations that weighed heavy on her shoulders, the solitary hours spent, the struggles she endured, and the victories she celebrated. It was a side of her story that remained untold, a mystery he was eager to unravel.

"In college, I used to dress up real cute and go to frat parties and challenge guys to play with me and if they lost they'd have to pay me." Y/N continued. It sounded like a perfect plan on paper. Deceptive disguise, psychologically analysing targets and exploiting their weaknesses against them, strategic thinking and meticulosity. But her explanation wasn't enough to satiate his curiosity. "And what if they won?" The most important part of any good plan was enticing bait. A part of him knew the answer but still wanted confirmation. "Something no college frat boy would reject. I said I'd blow their dick." Y/N grinned causing Jason to visibly freeze in disbelief. "I know how it sounds, but don’t worry l've never lost. Ever," she assured him quickly. After a pause, Jason's voice wavered at the start of the sentence as he spoke up, "How much did they have to pay you if you won?" Y/ N furrowed her eyebrows slightly, trying to recall the details from the past events. Amidst the long hours of studying in med school and her meager earnings from a part-time job, she had resorted to more crafty ways of earning money and gaming happened to be the most lucrative option to make more in less time.

"Well, most college students couldn't afford to pay much, so it was ten dollars per game," she explained. Jason nodded, retrieving his wallet. "You beat me four times, right ?" With determination, he placed four hundred-dollar bills on the coffee table before her, his next words filled with unwavering resolve,"Play your game with me angel.” Y/N's eyes widened at the sight of the money on the table, and she took in a deep breath, contemplating his offer for a moment. What could she possibly have to lose?

“It's okay Red. You tried.” After two more rounds of competition, Jason suffered a devastating loss before finally realizing why he felt a sense of déjà vu— it was the same video game he, Duke, Dick, and Tim had played a couple of months ago. He vividly remembered losing his temper, nearly throwing hands when Tim used underhanded tactics against him and Dick violated every rule of sportsmanship and sacrificing every last modicum of decency over the game and Damian scoffing at their "immaturity" like he always did while Duke tried his best to pacify the conflict. The reason he didn't recognise this before was because him and Y/N were playing in a different mode than this. "How about we switch up the mode?"

"Sure let's do it."Y/N grinned confidently. The two sat side by side, eyes fixed on the glowing neon screens in front of them. Their fingers danced across the controllers, every move was calculated, every strategy meticulously planned as they vied for dominance. The room was filled with the sound of intense concentration and occasional bursts of laughter or frustration. The tension in the room was palpable, as neither of them were willing to concede an inch in this high-stakes competition. With every round, the stakes rose, and the intensity only grows as they pushed each other to their limits in pursuit of victory.

"You have got to be kidding me." Y/N breathed out as the letters "GAME OVER" As the defeat screen flashed before her eyes, she recoiled in shock, her mouth agape in disbelief. Her eyes widened in astonishment, unable to comprehend how her skill that she believed to be unparalleled had fallen short. Her hands, which had been gripping the controller tightly, now hung limply by her sides, fingers trembling with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. Jason's heart raced with exhilaration, his body shaking with the rush of victory. With a triumphant shout, he leaped from his seat, pumping his fists in the air as a grin stretched across his face. "NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT !! LET'S FUCKING GO !!!”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat as she comprehended the implication of her loss. Her cheeks flushed with a faint blush of embarrassment and she averted her gaze while fidgeting nervously in her seat. Her tongue ran over her lips as she avoided meeting Jason's eyes. He noticed this and remembered what the winning condition was. He straightened up and cleared his throat, regaining his composure," You know it was just a silly game, you don't have to do that. I won't force you into doing anything you're not comfortable with." Y/N managed a small relieved smile," Thank you. But you know a bet is a bet. So how about a kiss instead ? Wait you’re over 18, right ?"

"A kiss ? Oh cool. Yeah we could do that and to answer your question I’m legal. I’d show you my ID but that kinda defeats the whole purpose of the secret identity thing." Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Despite how he composed on the outside, he could almost hear his 10 year old self rejoicing at the prospect of finally being able to kiss his first love. Ever since the warehouse incident, he had buried that naive part of himself, believing it to be dead along with other redeeming qualities, at least according to those around him.

He knew he wandered down dark paths, driven by desires of revenge, bitterness and reckless impulses. But when he looked into her eyes, deep within him, he felt that there was a flicker of hope, a belief that redemption is possible. He knew he wasn't deserving of someone so sweet and pure, but perhaps just this once, he would allow himself this one indulgence.

"So should I like bring out the scarf ?" Y/N asked. Her heart, which was felt unstable and claustrophobically confined inside of her, hammering against her ribcage as if it sought to burst out and soar away. "Don't bother." Jason interjected, producing a small black box from his jacket pocket. "I've been meaning to give you this, but never found the right moment." Y/N opened the box and found a silk blindfold which was black on one side and red on the other, the same shade of red as his helmet. As her fingertips glided over its surface, it felt like touching liquid satin. There's a distinct sensation of coolness and silkiness that enveloped her. It was like touching a cloud or being embraced by a gentle breeze. “What's this for ? Don't trust my scarf enough ?” Y/N joked. Jason shrugged his shoulders and answered casually,“Well yes and no. Your scarf is made of scratchy fabric and you have sensitive skin so I thought —”

“How do you know I have sensitive skin ?” She couldn’t recall sharing that detail, finding it peculiar that he knew. Jason bit his tongue, regretting his slip-up. It was one of those things he remembered about her from years ago. When they were younger, she would often complaint how her work uniform was really scratchy and how she hated it against her sensitive skin and he would always say that when he grew up he would buy her the nicest and softest of clothes. But of course given their current circumstance, he couldn’t tell her that.

Jason pointed to the bottle of lotion sitting on the dinner table. “That. It says for dry and sensitive skin.” Y/N turned in the direction he pointed her astonishment rendering her momentarily speechless, her mouth agape, unable to comprehend how he pieced together such intricate details. Her eyes widened with admiration, reflecting a mixture of awe and reverence for his uncanny ability to observe so keenly, she commented,“ You know everything about you is such a suspension of disbelief kinda thing. Like I’m sure you could tell me the craziest things and I’d go ‘yeah sure that makes sense’. ”Jason chuckled awkwardly, relieved that he had quickly found an explanation for his slip-up and diverted her suspicion,“Well you know being around batman, the detective shit rubs off.”

Y/N raised the blindfold to her eye level and with deliberate movements, she tied it securely around her head, feeling the darkness engulfing her vision. The fabric is incredibly fine, almost weightless against her skin. The smoothness of silk glides effortlessly against the skin, created a feeling of luxury and indulgence effectively making the moment much more sensuous than it was supposed be. With the blindfold tied securely around her eyes, a hush fell over her surroundings, amplifying the sound of her own heartbeat.

A sense of anticipation filled her, as if the world had suddenly become a mystery waiting to be explored solely through touch, sound, and intuition. She couldn’t deny the excitement coursing through her veins, feeling herself surrendering to the unknown, willingly relinquishing the sense of sight for a deeper, more visceral experience. As darkness enveloped her, her other senses heightened, attuned to the subtlest of changes in the environment. Y/N let out a soft gasp when she heard his helmet being set down on the table with a quiet thud.

“You know we don’t have to do this. It’s okay if you want to back out. I —” Jason began tentatively, carefully watching her for any signs of discomfort. She reassured him calmly, “It’s okay. I’m okay.” He slowly cupped her face and leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath on her face. Jason’s lips brushed against hers, uncertain and almost fearful. “Y/N I—” he stilled against her, waiting for her reaction. He knew this was one bridge that once burnt would either leave him at the edge of the abyss or paradise and needless to say, he couldn’t blow this. “Just shut up and kiss me Red. You earned it.”

“Yes ma’am,”Jason let out a breath of disbelief. The world around him seemed to melt away and all that existed was her and the euphoric feeling of her warm and pliant mouth on his. The beast inside him thrashed against the iron bars of his cage of self control, its roars echoing within him — wanting nothing but to sink his teeth into Y/N’s supple and inviting flesh and ravage her. His fingers cupping her face twitched with the need to touch more of her. Before he knew, his hands slid up of its own accord and tangled themselves in the soft locks of her hair.

Jason spent a lifetime honing his self control. Batman had drilled its importance into his system but as of now could feel every last ounce of self control he possessed slip through his fingers like sand. But he forced himself to focus. A part of him felt guilty for feeling the way he felt about her, his need for her — it was desperate, perverse, wrong even because Jason knew that if she realised that who he was she might never look at him the same way again but he couldn’t get himself to let go of something so damnably intoxicating. Y/N was the first one to pull away, her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as if trying to catch up with her sprinting heart. She could feel him grin against her lips.

“Good game Red.”

“Does anyone else feel like she's finally lost it, or is it just me ?”

"I can hear you, Stephanie," Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes. In retaliation, the blonde high schooler blew a raspberry at her co-worker, causing Y/N to shake her head in resignation. "That's why I said it. Babs back me up," Stephanie retorted.

“Please. We have enough crazies in Gotham as it is, there’s no need for any more.” Barbara Gordon was another one of Y/N best friends along with Cass Cain and was the daughter of the GCPD commissioner and the girlfriend of Dick Grayson. She was a couple years older than Y/N and most of all, the mom friend and pacifist of the group.

"But you know you have been acting strange. You've been touching your lips every five minutes and zoning out like right now —" Cass trailed off, sipping coffee from cup. Not realizing that she was doing that right now, Y/N jerked her hand off as if caught while stealing. The second the words left Cass's mouth, a realization dawned on the trio simultaneously, as if a light bulb had illuminated above their heads.

"What ?" Y/N muttered feeling oddly cornered. Trying her hardest to ignore the elephant in the room, she went back to working. The three friends exchanged glances, silently debating who would broach the subject with Y/N. Eventually, Barbara rolled her eyes and took charge, as neither of the younger girls seemed willing. "Y/N, I'd like to order," Barbara declared, wheeling her wheelchair closer to the counter. Y/N shifted her attention to her, nodding as she grabbed a pen and notepad, ready to take Barbara's order with practiced efficiency.

"I'd like to order tea," Barbara stated.

"Sure. So, would that be Earl Grey?" Y/N asked with a knowing smile.

"Nope."

"Assamese?"

"Not that either."

"Darjeeling ? Jasmine ? Matcha ?" Y/N proposed, offering a variety of tea options in an attempt to pinpoint Barbara's preference, her brows furrowing in confusion as to why she wasn't ordering her usual. “Then ?” She tilted her head in questioning but Barbara just smiled back and winked playfully,“You know, tea, piping hot if you know what I mean.”

“Uggh fine you win. So there's this guy,” The h/c haired woman started slowly and the three women groaned in unison. This was a common yet much disliked drill. The atmosphere shifted and a heavy silence settles over the group. Cass's eyes widened, a look worry flashing across her face. She exchanged a quick glance with Steph, who mirrored her expression. Barbara, ever the voice of reason, remained composed but her concern was evident in the slight furrow of her brow,“ We’ve talked about this.”

Y/N, the one who had made the revelation, shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gazes of her companions. She could feel the weight of their judgment bearing down on her, and it made her regret ever bringing up the topic. “Okay just hear me out —”

There was a moment of hesitation, as if each of them was struggling with how to respond to this. Finally, it was Steph who broke the silence, her voice edged with frustration.

“No there will be no ‘hear me out’s. Look Y/N Imma be honest with you. You’re legit nicer than 99.99% gothamites and in all honesty the only thing I hate about you is your fucking taste in men. Every seven months you come with hear me out on men who are leather wearing alcoholics and are always gaslighting, lying, cheating, abusive bastards or just straight up criminals !” She whispered in a tone passionately incredulous, drawing attention from other cafe patrons. Cass remained silent, but her expression spoke volumes. It was clear that she shared Steph's apprehension about their friend's poor taste in men.

Barbara chose her words carefully. “She’s right, you do have a bit of a problem. We just don’t want you getting hurt over guys like that or worse them hurting you and I don’t mean just emotionally.” she spoke gently, her tone laced with genuine concern.

“It’s not even that bad —” Y/N started. “Well you did date a two bit drug dealer.” Cass muttered quietly. “How was I supposed to know that ? It’s not like he offered me to do cocaine on the first date plus Orphan did save me in the nick of time so no harm done.” Y/N huffed in defense.

“Why don’t you try dating someone who’s actually nice for a change?”

“Sure, like who?” Y/N chuckled sarcastically.

“Maybe someone who’s like Dick?” Steph suggested. Dick Grayson was the epitome of the popular charismatic jock kid at school. It wasn’t hard to understand why he was so liked — with his sanguine personality, witty puns, kind hearted and generous personality he was pretty much the shining paragon of an upstanding citizen and your boy next door. Unfortunately, such traits rarely aligned with Y/N tastes. “I mean he’s very attractive of course but he’s just not my type you know. He’s too —”

“Nice ?” Barbara guessed.

“Yeah, that. But if he has a brother then well—” Y/N trailed off, half-jokingly.

“No!” The three exclaimed in unison, catching her off guard. Their eyes widened as if she said something really offensive.

“Whoa what was that about ?” Y/N asked. The three exchanged glances, and Barbara cleared her throat before speaking up. “Well, Dick does have brothers. Two of them are minors, so that’s an immediate no, and the third one— he’s not a bad guy per se. He would never hurt a woman, especially someone as sweet as you, but—”

“But?” Y/N raised an eyebrow and shook her head, urging her friend to continue.

“He’s got issues. Like a boatload of them,” she finished, carefully articulating each word.

“What sort of issue ? Daddy issues ? Mommy Issues ? Parental Issues ? Parental Issues - Orphan Edition ? Step parent issues ? I’ve dealt with them all before you know.”

“More like all, in that order.” Cass muttered.

“Wow this guy sounds like a party. You should introduce me to him sometime. Him and I would definitely hit it off.” Y/N joked.

“Please don’t come up with any more of those ‘I can fix him’s. You’re a barista not Handy Manny.”

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to brush off their concerns. “You know what I usually mean by I can fix him is that I can made him tolerable till I get bored of him and dump him. Sure, I’ve made mistakes but this one is different,”she insisted.

“Different how ?” Barbara raised her brow skeptically.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she regaled her friends about the events of the video game bet, conveniently leaving out the details of Red being a vigilante and that prank incident — they didn’t need to know that. Her friends leaned in, somewhat captivated by her animated storytelling. Gasps of disbelief and amazement erupted from her friends. Their curiosity evident as they leaned in, eager to soak in every detail of the story.

The tension in the air had eased as the group exchanged glances, each grappling with their own thoughts and feelings about the situation. It was clear that this revelation had thrown them all for a loop, leaving them unsure of how to proceed. But one thing was certain – they would stand by their friend, even if they didn't particularly agree with her choices.

“You know only I was of legal age, I’d wife you up so fast it’d set world records. That ways we wouldn’t have to deal with this.” Steph lamented, earning a smack from Y/N. Despite her sassy quips and teasing, Stephanie Brown was never shy to be vocal about her affections for her favourite barista. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not into kids. Also aren’t you dating Tim ?” Y/N asked.

“Well yeah. But he’s not like my boyfriend boyfriend. He’s like my pet ferret than my boyfriend.”

“I was so sure I got promoted to pet guinea pig last Monday.” A voice piped up from Y/N’s side. She let out a small scream, her body tensing up in pure terror. Her heart raced as she spun around, eyes wide with fear, her hands poised to defend herself, only to find Tim Drake with an expression of mock offence on his face and Dick next to him with his head propped on top of his fist, listening intently with a smile on his face.

“How long have you been standing here ?” She exclaimed, putting her hand on her hip, her voice a mixture of surprise and reproach. Dick’s mischievous grin faltered slightly as she held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Oh don’t mind me," he said, trying to suppress a giggle. "I’m just here for the girl talk."

“Dick I’ve said this before and I’ll say this again. You aren’t allowed when we’re having the girl talk.” Y/N jabbed her finger in warning at him, her tone tainted with a hint of genuine irritation.

“What ? Why ? Ever since I first watched Mean Girls I’ve always dreamed of being a part of a girl clique. You can’t do this to me.” Wearing a mock expression of sadness and offence, he pouted like a five year old child, crossing his arms.

“Well you can’t sit with us detective.”

“Why not ?”

“Well because this is a girl clique. Duh.” Steph sassed back. Dick raised his eyebrows, feigning disbelief,“Discrimination, plain and simple. I demand equal rights for guy friends in girl cliques !”

Y/N rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. "Nice try but no. You're always welcome for skin care and movie nights. But girl talk is strictly off-limits. And no don’t look at Babs, she can’t and won’t help you."

Dick’s shoulders slumped dramatically, admitting defeat. "I guess it's just one of life's cruel ironies. But hey, I can still be an honorary member, right ?" He gave her a hopeful grin, knowing fully well that his charm wouldn't be enough to sway her strict rules.

“Just give up man. Winning isn’t in the cards for you. Now, scram. Y/N should please continue.” Tim shooed Dick as if he were a stray dog. “Tim you too.” Cass deadpanned.

“Why ? I’m not like him ! Pretty sure you girls can make exceptions for bi guinea pigs.” He retorted.

“Ferret,” Steph corrected,“ You ate my turkey sandwich last Tuesday so you got demoted to ferret.”

“Only if you’re ready to forfeit your right to a free coffee refills after five paid cups a day.” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. Tim’s expression twisted into sheer horror, as if she had threatened his very existence. Given his caffeine addiction, it might as well have been a threat on his life.

Tim cleared his throat and began with a disapproving look, "Ahem. Richard, isn't it utterly disgraceful for esteemed gentlemen like us to eavesdrop on ladies like that? Shame on you. What would Alfred and Bruce say ?"

“Who are Alfred and Bruce?” Y/N inquired. Tim immediately regretted his words, closing his eyes briefly. “Oh, just seniors at work,” Dick hastily replied with an awkward laugh. “You two should probably head out,” Barbara interjected with a pointed look. Tim and Dick hurriedly departed without any sign of resistance. As Y/N turned, she noticed Cass had vanished, and Steph had returned to her tasks, leaving her to process the recent events alone. Huh. Weird.

As Y/N’s weary hand reached for the brass doorknob of her house, she felt the exhaustion of the day to loosen its grip on her, replaced by a sense of relief. The metal of the doorknob offered a stark contrast between its own cold surface and the warmth of home she longed for beyond the threshold. With a familiar click, the door swung open and she hung her bag and scarf on the hat stand. The second she stepped through the threshold, a pleasant aroma of spices and the sound of someone humming to a song floated through the air. The scent was homely and comforting. Wait. I live alone then who’s cooking in the kitchen ? Puzzled and scared, she dropped her keys on the table and cautiously made her way towards the kitchen. With every step, the sound of sizzling and the clinking of utensils grew louder. Tiptoeing to the edge of the kitchen wall, she peered around the corner.

“Red ?” Her eyes widened as she stared at the most unlikely scene she could’ve ever imagined in her life. The vigilante Red Hood — Prince of Gotham, Scourge of the Underworld, the Wraith of Gotham, the Renegade Knight — stood in Y/N’s normal sized apron that looked comically small on him, stirring pasta sauce while listening to Taylor Swift. She stood frozen, unable to process the sheer absurdity of the scene in front of her.

“You’re back !” She could almost see him grinning from behind his signature mask. She blinked several times, thinking all of this was some sort of wishful thinking induced daydream. But the smell of simmering marinara and the faint sound of Taylor Swift's voice confirmed otherwise, effectively shattering any semblance of normalcy in the room leaving her to wonder how could this larger-than-life figure, feared by criminals and revered by the city, be standing in her humble kitchen cooking pasta ?

Yet, there he was, a paradoxical blend of hero and something so curiously domestic. As she watched him, a mix of amusement and curiosity washed over her. “What’s going on here ?” Y/N asked, gesturing to the kitchen in general. “Oh this ? Um it sort of happened,” Jason replied casually, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world for a vigilante to be whipping up a meal in someone else's kitchen.

“It just happened ?” Y/N repeated dumbfounded. She leaned against the kitchen counter, still trying to process the scene before her. Looking around, she noticed the counter cluttered with groceries she didn’t recall purchasing. Opening the fridge, she saw that her once-empty fridge was stocked with gourmet items she had only seen on upscale cooking shows. “Well I came to see you but you hadn’t returned from work. I got up to get a glass of water from the fridge and saw that there wasn’t anything in it so I —”he began, attempting to explain the situation.

“So you bought me groceries ? And the pasta ? That also just happened ?” she asked, her interest piqued. "Um yeah. It did," he admitted sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “It was on a whim don’t think too much of it.” Jason glanced at her, hoping she would find his gesture too strange. His eyes flitted to the clock on the wall before landing back at her,"I figured that it’s already dark outside so it’s not safe to go get stuff. Plus, I make a mean pasta," he quipped, flashing a hint of pride in his voice.

She couldn't argue with that. As she watched him continue to cook, a sense of gratitude washed over her. Despite the reputation he amassed, he was here, in her home, bringing solace that no one had in a very long time. Her world felt harmonious, as if every piece fell into place effortlessly. In that moment, Red Hood wasn't just a feared vigilante—he was a friend, albeit an unusual one, who had somehow found his way into her life and her kitchen and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“By the way,” Jason began, wiping his hands on the apron and shifting his tone to seriousness as he turned towards her, “I wanted to ask you something. Where did you get that?” He gestured towards the felt clipboard hanging on the opposite wall. Y/N followed his gaze, seeing the map of Gotham he had given her along with the necklace the week they met. It had really helped her avoid dangerous parts of the town after dark. But why was he asking about it when he was the one who gave it to her? “What do you mean? You’re the one who gave me the map,” she said, tilting her head in confusion.

“Not the map. The batarang. I don’t recall leaving any of those here,” he clarified. Y/N’s eyes fell on the sleek metal batarang pinning the map to the clipboard. Her mouth rounded in an ‘o’ when she pieced it together. “The batarang ? Red Robin gave it to me.” she exclaimed. Her words clearly struck a nerve because Jason felt completely silent following her words. “It’s a funny story actually. You know I work at a café. This one night I was closing up and Red Robin came in asking for a coffee refill. I had almost closed up the shop but the poor thing looked like he had been through hell so I refilled his coffee. He tried to pay but he couldn’t find his wallet so he paid with a batarang.” She quickly added, hoping to diffuse any building tension.

Jason wordlessly walked to the clipboard and effortlessly retrieving the batarang before swapping it with his own from his pocket. “Better.” He muttered with satisfaction, addressing no one in particular. “Hey give that back !” Y/N tried to take it from his hand but he held it above her head where she couldn’t reach it. “What do you even need it for ?” He asked sounding somewhat annoyed. “It was an experience souvenir, you can’t take that !” She tried to reason despite knowing there was no point. “Well I’m sure Red Hood cooking dinner was you is beats refilling coffee for some drenched beaten up rat any day.”

Y/N’s eyes fell on the Red Hood’s batarang that was now pining the Map of Gotham to the clipboard instead of Red Robin’s batarang. It was similar in shape and size, resembling a bat's silhouette with pointed wings extending from a central handle. Except his batarang sported his signature red hue with black-rimmed edges. On closer inspection, Y/N noticed it had the words “Property Of Red Hood” scrawled on it in near illegible handwriting with a permanent marker.

“It’s already in your colours. What’s the point of writing your name on it ?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Because there are little shits that like to take my stuff without asking. So it’s a reminder that if they do, I will find them and after than no one else ever will.” He replied vaguely.

“Thugs ?”

“Worse. Siblings.”

“That sounds… tough,” Y/N remarked. She could only imagine what it would be like dealing with having vigilante siblings and the unique dynamics they have with each other. “You have no idea,” Jason replied in a wry tone. “But y’know ohana and all. Can’t get rid of them even if I wanted to.”

“Then what do you hold against the poor kid ?”

“Look it’s not that. Everyone thinks I hate him but I don’t,” Jason countered, pausing before continuing, “Okay maybe a teeny tiny bit but that’s beside the point. It’s just… it’s just I just hate him with you —”Jason caught himself before ending up saying anything that would just come to bite him in the ass. Y/N’s eyes widened a fraction in realization before smiling. “Are you jealous ?”

“What ? No !” He swiftly shook his head, dismissing the suggestion despite the faint blush creeping up his neck,“ I’m not jealous. He’s just trouble and I don’t want him being near my —”He attempted to maintain his composure, but his defensive tone betrayed a hint of insecurity. Y/N titled her head, studying his body language carefully and asked,“Your what ?”

“My – my person.” Jason finished softly, his gaze dropping to the floor, uncertain about his choice of words. His heart racing as he struggled to find the right words to convey his feelings not wanting giving too much away nor did he want to invite misunderstandings by using the term ‘friend.’

Y/N let out a small chuckle,“ What ? So just because I work for you means I can’t interact with any of your sibling ?”

Jason raised his head in alarm,“ That’s not what I meant !” He clarified hurriedly. Oh ?

“Then what did you mean ? Hmm ?” Y/N inched closer to him, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. It had been exactly five days since he had kissed her, kissed her with insatiable hunger as if he intended to swallow her whole. Glancing down, she noticed his hand clenched around the material of his pants so tightly she feared he might tear a hole into them. Slowly, she trailed her hand up his arm, offering her sweetest smile. She felt his muscles tense under her touch, as though he was fighting - resisting. Y/N knew that teasing him might as well be biting off more than she could chew but Y/N 'life is all about taking risks and new experiences' L/N was willing to bet on her luck.

“The pasta is getting cold. You should —,”Jason's throat tightened as Y/N’s hand reached his shoulder, he couldn’t help but shiver slightly — his resolve wavering under her touch. He swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure, but her closeness was making it increasingly difficult to think straight. He watched as she looked right at him and then lowered her gaze to the part of his mask where his lips would be for a split second and then flit back to his eyes with a teasing mirth dancing in her eyes. Fuck. This woman is driving me crazy.

“— e-eat it before it gets cold,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. As a part of training, Bruce had taught all the Robins the psychology of seduction so that they could identify it and evade it and as of now, every fibre of his being screamed warnings. Her actions were daring, albeit innocent. But they weren't even half as blatant or polished as the seasoned honeytrappers and seductresses he had encountered, but they still stirred something so primal deep within him, tempting him to abandon caution. The part of his arm her fingertips grazed felt like it was on fire. No scratch that he had experienced what it was to have his skin on fire. This was exponentially worse.

Ever since Y/N re-entered his life, Jason Peter Todd was experiencing what one would call selective erectile dysfunction. Consumed by thoughts of Y/N, he found it impossible to concentrate on anything else. So a few weeks back, he sought to blow off some steam and divert his mind from the thoughts of Y/N overwhelming his system. Jason considered himself fairly easy to satisfy since all his encounters had been transactional, outlets for physical release and nothing more.

However much to his bafflement, his dick refused to react to anything for the past few days and embarrassingly so. There were plenty of flavours to choose from at the iceberg lounge but instead Jason jr. decided to give on the silent treatment instead. It was being a dick, literally. After the whole Lazarus pit shebang, whatever toxic shit he got tossed into as a part of some supervillain’s dastardly schemes, prescription meds he got talked into taking for quote unquote “mental health” — He was no stranger to bodily side effects but this was completely different.

This whole thing reached its height when Jason jr. refused to entertain the advances of a perfectly attractive busty blonde despite the fact that it was dying from sexual frustration and Jason was so ready to get over it. Under normal circumstances, it would be up and ready for action however it decided to stay completely and utterly indifferent — bored even. Effectively forcing Jason into non-consensual celibacy.

The only time it did react in his time at the iceberg lounge was when a model who had conspicuously similar hair colour and face shape to Y/N approached him with flirtation in her eyes. Jason jr. almost got hard, key word almost, when it made the important distinction that she was not Y/N and absolutely didn’t want her lips wandering anywhere his frustrating self. And by selective, he meant that Jason jr. developed a will of his own and turned into one of those overly enthusiastic parents cheering for their kids at school plays, not that Jason had experienced it personally, but that’s besides the point. The point being it would tent up and twitch uncontrollably begging for attention the second he sensed Y/N L/N’s presence in a mile’s distance. At the peak of his condition, Jason couldn’t so much as glance at a surface without his brain conjuring obscene images of how she would look pressed down against it, writhing and moaning his name.

As an avid reader, Jason was something of a hopeless romantic man and he knew that a couple’s first time was an important milestone in their relationship and could most definitely not be done on a whim. He had it all planned out, scented candles, silk sheets and all. It had to be special — touching, sweet, loving and most definitely not some lust-fueled spur of the moment thing his dick was pushing for right now. So there wasn’t much he could do, except sit in abject misery and hope to weather through the storm.

Okay, Jason. You survived being blown up by the joker. This is just another challenge. Focus on something else. Jason motivated himself with his voice of reason sounding suspiciously a lot like Nightwing and took a deep breath.

His eyes wandered till they found their way back to Y/N. She was wearing one of her typical sundresses with pastel floral patterns adorning it with a navy blue cardigan draped around her shoulders and the golden necklace resting on her neck. Her hair was fashioned into a high ponytail with loose strands framing her face.

Based on what he had observed she seemed to have a penchant for sundresses, which Jason believed complemented her overall personality quite well. He often found himself mesmerized by the way the sundresses accentuated Y/N's features, the dress hugging her curves perfectly and the fabric flowing gracefully with each movement. She almost looked like she had walked out of a cottage fairy tail. I bet I could shred it like tissue paper. Wait what ? Where did that come from ? Okay let’s try again. He turned his focus back to her. Most of her makeup had worn off from the day’s work, except for the eyeliner and the faintly sparkling light pink lip gloss on her lips, which seemed to have been touched up a few times. I wonder what she would look like on her knees, with her lips wrapped around my cock and that pretty mascara running down her cheeks.

Jason shot a glare at his pants. "Can you please shut up for just two goddamn seconds ? I'm trying to be respectful here," he muttered under his breath, hoping for a moment of peace. At this rate he contemplated the need for an exorcist to exorcise these insistent demons out of his system. He glanced up to find Y/N watching him. "Did you say something?" she asked but he simply shook his head in denial. Though she appeared skeptical, she chose not to press further. Moving to the cabinet, she requested, “Could you please grab the glasses? They’re in the third cabinet on the left,” while she fetched plates for serving and set them on the table. Jason obliged, retrieving the glasses, and as he placed them on the table, his hand inadvertently brushed against hers. Y/N glanced at him and flashed a gentle smile.

He could swear he felt his dick twitch. What are you some sort of pitiful depraved virgin ? Get your shit together. This is downright embarrassing. He scoffed at himself. Amid his current inner turmoil, he had become hyper aware of Y/N’s every micro movement from tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear to adjusting her ponytail or stooping to retrieve a fallen fork. Jason’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her bend down causing hemline of her dress to lift up, revealing a scene that would surely haunt him on his nights alone. No no no dont even- think of the lord Jason. What would Alfred say ?

Our Father who arth in heaven,

Hallowed be thy Name.

Thy kingdom come.

Thy will be done, On earth as it is in heaven.

“Mmmh this is so good !” Y/N moaned in delight as she took the first bite, her eyes widen in amazement, savoring the flavour dancing on their taste buds. Jason felt his throat dry up. Oh of course, she just had to make that sound. The universe was really against him today, more so than usual. With two dicks talking to him, he just had to figure out which one to listen to.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our — wait how did that go again ?

Despite Jason's best efforts to maintain composure, Y/N's every movement seemed to unravel his resolve further. As she savored each bite, he couldn't help but be captivated by the way her lips formed around the fork, her eyes alight with pleasure. With each passing moment, his internal struggle intensified, torn between the desire to avert his gaze and this magnetic force of a woman. Her presence seemed to envelop him, every sound she made echoing in his mind, her every gesture etched into his memory. How could he resist the temptation when she was right there, so effortlessly bewitching ?

Y/N placed her hand on his and he pulled away instinctively, the smile on her face faltered but she didn’t say anything. Jason made a mental note to bash his head into a wall hard later for hurting her feelings but as of now he was in no position of making any sort physical contact with her. “Won’t you be eating ?” she asked, attempting to diffuse the tension. “I don’t eat before patrol,” he replied, his response came out colder than he had intended it to be. “It’s best to patrol on an empty stomach because it’s not exactly pleasant.”

“Oh.” Her brows furrowed slightly at his icy response, but she nodded, accepting his explanation. His words hung in the air, thick with an unspoken tension. Y/N bit her lip, her gaze flickering between him and the plate of pasta. Feeling a pang of guilt, he tried to ease the atmosphere, though his attempt felt feeble. "But maybe I'll grab something later," he added, a touch of forced warmth in his tone.

“This is really good, you know. You should tell me the recipe sometime,” she suggested. "Nah, I can whip it up for you whenever you want," he replied nonchalantly. Y/N blinked in surprise. "No, I couldn't possibly—"

"Yes, you can," he insisted, pointing at her necklace. It had been over two months since she started wearing it, and thankfully, she hadn't needed to use its emergency SOS feature. Her thumb traced the disk-shaped pendant of the necklace. “Whatcha smiling about ?” Jason asked. “No nothing,”she replied, shaking her head. Not believing her, Jason tilted his head and urged her to continue. “Fine. So, in this K-drama I watched a while back, the female lead had a powerful mythical creature protecting her like sort of a guardian angel, and she could summon him whenever she lit a match. It just reminded me of that.”

“What creature ?” He asked with intrigue. Jason had always been more inclined to reading rather than watching in nature so he didn’t really have much experience with k-dramas but seeing how interested she was, he was more than willing to give it a go.

“A goblin.”she answered taking another bite of the pasta. “I’m not sure how I ought to take that —” Y/N’s eyes widened in realisation because she knew that goblins in western media were depicted as short ugly green monsters with horrible attitudes. “Oh no no ! Not like the DND ones. Korean ones ! He was really hot,” she clarified frantically. Jason chuckled,“Well then I guess I’ll humbly accept the compliment.”

"Maybe we could watch the show together next time we hang out you know," she suggested shyly, not wanting to appear too upfront with her invitation. A small smile played onto Jason’s lips, every single romance novel he had ever read had prepared him for this moment. He had often wondered what it would feel like to experience such a situation. Sure, they had watched random shows like ‘The real housewives of Beverly Hills’ and ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ before, but this invitation felt different, more deliberate. She specifically asked for this. This wasn’t just ‘got nothing to do so let’s just turn on the tv’ kinda hangout, this was special. Jason's heart skipped a beat as he considered her invitation. The subtle nervousness in her voice only added to the charm of the moment. It was as if the universe had conspired to create this perfect opportunity for them to connect on a deeper level.

"Yeah, that sounds great," he replied, his voice betraying a touch of eagerness despite his attempt to appear casual. Deep down, he knew that this was a significant step in their relationship. “But it’ll have to wait. I’m leaving Gotham,” he added with a sad sigh, remembering the reason he had come to see her in the first place.

“What? Why?” His sudden announcement caught Y/N off guard. Did something bad happen ? “Sorry angel, it’s confidential,” he replied briskly. It was in her best interest to keep her as uninvolved in his world as possible, knowing the risks involved in pursuing a relationship with a civilian.

As they sat in uneasy silence, Jason couldn't shake the weight of his own discomfort. He knew he had been too harsh with his response, but the walls he had built around himself were hard to break down, even with someone as kind-hearted as Y/N. Despite his efforts to appear unaffected, he couldn't ignore the concern in her eyes.

Y/N’s mind raced with questions, but she could sense Jason’s reluctance to divulge further. She bit her lip, grappling with a mix of concern and frustration.

“Red did something happen ?” she implored, her voice tinged with worry. “Is it something dangerous? Are you in trouble?”

Jason met her gaze, her expression a mixture of worry and sadness. He hesitated, torn between his desire to confide in her and his commitment to keeping her safe. “It’s just a mission. I’m sorry I can’t tell you much,” he admitted, feeling a sense of regret. “But trust me, it’s better this way. I don’t want you getting mixed up in my business.” Of course it made sense. He didn’t owe her an explanation, knowing there were lines she shouldn’t cross was one of them. This was a world of vigilantes and villains and as a civilian she couldn’t possibly fathom the complexities of his profession.

Y/N reached out, gently placing her hand on his arm. “I understand,” she said, her voice soft but resolute.“You’ll be back right ?”

“Wouldn’t have given you that necklace if I wasn’t going around for my angel. It might take a couple months, maybe three or four. I don’t know. But I’ll be back.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly and continued,“ And still if you get into trouble, you can still use that necklace. I called in a favour from nightwing and orphan.”

“So what did you ask them to exactly ? They get an alert and they’re to drop everything they’re doing and come save me ?” Y/N asked jokingly.

“Well yeah. You get hurt while I’m gone and they’ll end up as fish food in the Gotham Harbour. Y’know they're like my insurance policy for you," he added. "But hopefully, you won't need to cash it in. Just stay safe and out of trouble until I get back."

Y/N nodded, a playful glint in her eyes. "I'll do my best. But you know all that aside, cooking a girl dinner and introducing her to your family, and here I thought we were taking it slow.” Jason paused, caught off guard by her comment. Was that how it appeared ? Her playful expression suggested she was merely teasing him, but what if she was genuinely reciprocating flirtation ?

“You’re a really cruel woman you know angel.”Y/N leaned forward on the table and folded her arms infront of her subconsciously pushing her breasts forward, a coy pout forming on her lips ,“Why do you say that ?” She was fully aware of her effect on him, wasn’t she ?

Jason chuckled softly, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of amusement and admiration,“No need to worry your pretty head with that.” With a quick flick of his finger, he lightly tapped her forehead, a playful retaliation for her teasing. She let out a surprised yelp, rubbing her forehead in mock indignation.

“I should get going before Starfire and Arsenal lose their shit thinking I’ve gone MIA. Again.” He said, rising to his feet and straightening his jacket. Y/N too got up and kept the dishes in the sink. Jason turned to leave from the fire exit but he felt Y/N hold his jacket. “Be careful out there Red.” She smiled softly at him and Jason could feel his heart melt into a puddle. “Can’t promise but I will try.” His words came out with softness he didn’t know he possessed, he squeezed her hand gently before reluctantly letting go. With one last lingering look, he turned and disappeared into the fire exit.

Outside, Jason took a deep breath, the cool night air soothing his nerves. He glanced around, making sure the coast was clear before slipping into the shadows. As he moved through the darkness, he couldn't help but replay their interaction in his mind. Her soft smile, the way she held onto his jacket, and the genuine concern in her voice lingered in his thoughts.

Pushing aside his thoughts, Jason focused on the task at hand. He moved swiftly through the alleyways, his senses alert for any signs of trouble. The city whispered its secrets to him, a constant reminder of the darkness that threatened to consume it. The weight of his responsibilities as Red Hood pressed upon him, reminding him of the dangers lurking in the shadows of Gotham City.

Yet, in that fleeting moment with Y/N, he felt a sense of peace that he hadn't known in a very long time.

A/n: Jason Todd live reaction

Ngl I was in a very silly goofy mood when I wrote this.

Tags : @thisisafish123 @ceramic-raven @millyhelp @blamedbisexual @trunkswithlonghair-blog @jasontoddthings @deans-spinster-witch @12134z03

[peachesofteal]

Hey just wanted to say I love your writing!!! Somehow it fills me with a sense of contentment I haven't experienced before, maybe it's because I see so much of myself in darling from dead disco and I'm loving all the au drabbles too.

Can we please get a glimpse into what happened when darling saw them at the grocery store. Did she bolt the first chance she got? She's probably still heartbroken and emotionally exhausted but does she miss them? How is she managing motherhood by herself? Does she think Soap and Ghost tracked her down? Sorry for asking so many questions my mind is racing 💗

Hi love! Thank you so much for all your support, you're truly too kind. 🩵🩵 I'm so glad you're enjoying all these crazy little stories, it's definitely a treat to dive into.

Warnings-tags: 18+ Mature themes. Takes place after this.

It doesn't happen, quite like you thought it would.

You had expected to feel fear, when you saw them again. Expected to feel the nerves, the anxiety, the twisting in your gut when you finally laid eyes on them. You imagined those feelings would shift into anger, as they always do, the tidal wave of your rage's strength pulling you under, just as it did the night you left, nearly two years ago.

You're surprised when it's none of those things. You're surprised when it's... sadness instead. A profound sense of loss, the swell of it so strong it nearly knocks you off balance, while it brings tears to your eyes.

Your mouth hangs open in shock for what feels like too long, seconds turning into eons while you cradle the baby's head, brain sputtering while you try to process. They've done it. They've found you.

They're going to take her.

Except... they don't look like they're looking for you. They look they're just out, doing their shopping. They look like they're just... having a normal day.

And they look just as shocked to see you as you are to see them.

Bee gurgles in your arms, a happy song, and you bounce her instinctively, while you break your eyes away to look past them, at the other end of the aisle, and the towards the door. You should leave. The thought primes your muscles, preparing you to flee, when Simon's voice rings out over the dim grocery store music.

"Don't run. Please. Please, darling. Don't run." You hesitate, unwilling to leave the grocery cart, unwilling to try to run through the store, and stand frozen, rooted to the linoleum like you've grown there.

It's like Bee can sense the shift in your mood, can smell your distress, because her happy trill stops, and her face scrunches up like she's confused, before she starts to cry.

"Shhh, baby. It's okay." you hum, trying to rub her back to calm her, while your brain trips over itself trying to go a mile a minute. Run. Don't. Be calm. Panic. Scream. Cry. Run into their arms. Don't be crazy. Don't let them take her.

They're stepping closer now, easing up the aisle towards you, and you shake your head at them as a no. No. Don't come any farther. I don't trust you. Johnny tries to wipe his cheek inconspicuously, while Simon's got his hands out like he thinks he's about to catch a wild animal.

Maybe he is.

"Stop." you half yell it, the word bubbling up your throat and out like a barb, and it halts them in their tracks.

"Darling, please." Johnny croaks, his eyes locked on yours.

"Stop!" you say again, and step backwards once. Bee fusses, and Simon watches her. "I won't let you." you hiss, and Johnny's brow furrows in confusion, while Simon regards you slack jawed.

"Let us what?" He asks and you nearly laugh, except in the moment you realize your breathing is more shallow than normal, lungs tight and fighting your brain for air.

"Take her. I wo-won't." Johnny's face shifts into something crestfallen, something broken, and he makes a strangled sound. Like he wants to speak, but can't. It hurts you, wounds something deep, something you've buried, and for a fleeting moment, you want to comfort him. Want to reach out, and touch him. Only just to feel him again. Simon doesn't anything at all, just stares at you in shocked silence, his hands shaking.

"Darling, we would never-" Would never? Would never?! He seems to realize, what he's saying, and stops himself... before taking a deep breath and continuing. "We know you don't trust us. But-"

"No. That's enough." You take another step backwards. He doesn't stop.

"Please, we can at least try to help with-"

"I don't need your help." You spit, and try not to look at your trolley. It's full of Bee's food, puréed, organic foods and brightly colored snack packs, while your own is a smattering collection of bruised produce and discount rack canned goods. "We're fine." you double down, but your voice cracks with the weight of the emotions that you're staving off, and Johnny looks heartbroken. "I'm fine. I'm doing it on my own. I've been doing it, on my own."

"I know." Simon's voice is soft, gentle, the gravel pitch smoothed into something velvety, just for you. It tugs at you, stabs and twists, nips at your heart, while you try to build your defenses to keep it out.

"I don't need either of you. We don't. I'm taking care of her. And she's great, she's perfect." It's not a lie. She is perfect. An angel. Your inquisitive, sweet, beautiful baby. Your little piece of perfection. You do everything for her, sacrifice everything, for her. She's your world, and your her's.

But being someone's world who needs you to survive is hard. It's really, really fucking hard. And doing it on your own is even harder. No one understands, what it's like, and you feel so weak, so stupid, so beat down every day that sometimes, it's too easy to close your eyes in the bathtub. It's too easy, to feel like you did after she was born, alone in your tiny flat, with a screaming newborn, and no one to help you. No one to call. It's too easy to wish for terrible things, especially when you know she would be taken care of. When you know her dads would keep her safe.

"She's beautiful, love." Johnny says, jolting you from your thoughts, and you can't help but nod in agreement.

"You've done so well." Simon murmurs and you slam your eyes shut. Don't. Don't listen to them.

"T-thank you." It comes out as a cry, tears you can't hold off anymore, and they both step closer, close enough that they're maybe two arms lengths away from where you stand. "No!" you croak, and Johnny covers his face with a palm, while Simon's face twists like he's in pain.

Seconds pass, and Bee still fusses in your arms, her body wriggling in your grasp, while Johnny takes long, deep breaths.

"Are you taking care of yourself?" he asks you softly, after he rubs his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Li...like I said. We're fine." You choke it out, and Simon shakes his head. Like he knows. Of course he does. They can see right through you. You have to get out of here. "We should go."

"No, wait." Simon tries to step closer, but Johnny grabs his wrist.

"At least, let us buy your groceries." Johnny tries, but you shake your head.

"No."

"Darling, please. Please." Simon latches onto your trolley, making it immobile in his grip, and you shake your head back and forth.

"She needs to go down for her nap." You grit out. You can feel your own tears on your cheeks, and you try to ignore it, try to ignore everything except for your mission. Escape.

"Can we... get your phone number, at least?" He tries.

"That's not a good idea." I have you blocked on everything so not sure what purpose it would serve, either.

"You still have ours, right? In case you need anything?" Johnny asks gently, and you nod.

"You can call us, any time. Day or night." Simon rushes out, like he's a bit frantic, stumbling over the words. He releases the trolley finally, and you pull it away immediately. "For anything. We'll be there." Bee cries, screams, lungs screeching and you pat her back.

"Okay, thanks." You don't say anything else before you turn, swinging around and beelining for check out, all while trying to remember to breathe and soothe your crying baby.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

[ravencincaide]

You have a collect call from–

Summary:  Just because you’re still single doesn't mean you were waiting for him to come crawling back to you.You were moving on at your own pace- or so you told yourself. OR the time you made Dazai sweat a little.

Pairing: Fem reader x Osamu Dazai

Inspired by sweetober prompt 28: Calling  

Warnings: Cursing, lying, a little toxic, a little manipulative. It's BSD come on.

You have a collect call from Dazai an inmate at Mersault correctional facility. If you wish to accept the charges and proceed with the call, press 1. Otherwise–You hung up before the automated voice could finish the standard message and placed the stationary phone slowly back into its place atop the heavy, dark wooden desk inside your office. Your hand lingered atop the device for a few moments- just ready to rip it up to your ear if the bastard tried to get ahold of you again with a typical, back to back, call. 

Surprisingly, none came.  

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you pulled your hand back to your body, and dropped it heavily into your lap. Then you leaned further against the fine leathery back of your office chair. A somewhat comforting motion that put some distance between you and the thing that dared disturb your peace. As if by habit your eyes shifted to the clock which ticked away time at the opposite side of the desk. Right beside a face-down picture frame. The cursed thing showed a few minutes shy of midnight. Too early to go home in a feeble attempt to get some rest before the start of another working day; too late to go to the local bar for something stronger than a cider. 

A pity. 

Then again you were going to participate in a workshop the following day, and reeking alcohol while sitting next to the highest bosses of the organization seemed like an amateur move. As much as you wanted to take a drink; sober was your only option. 

It was for the best, you persuaded yourself for the uptenth time as you rested your head on the palm of your hand. You did not want to give Dazai the satisfaction of knowing he still had such a profound effect on you. Did not want to make him believe that just hearing his pre-recorded voice was enough to unsettle you - to make you a whirlwind of complicated emotion that only the sip of booze could dull. 

He was an ex; a part of your past. An unsatisfying, unconcluded but still a part of the past. As if on cue the phone rang again. You declined it after a second.Yet  you barely managed to pull it from your ear before the next call came. You declined that one, but then the next one rang and then the next:

You have a– 

You have a collect call– 

You have a collect call from Hello Belladonna~

With each call, each automated tone or a breath of his voice you could feel your emotions growing more messy, more intertwined. Then spiraling into a ball of burning humiliated rage. How fucking hard was it for him to take a ‘no’ for an answer? Did you seriously need to spell it out for him. Another call, another purr of his smooth voice and you finally pressed 1. A low beeping echoed in the phone then a rustling sound as your call was redirected and connected to Mersault. 

“ What the fuck do you want?!” you snapped in half a yell the second you heard his intake of breath on the other side. 

“ Aww my belladonna is angry at me, what a sad situation” Dazai’s voice sounded genuinely sad; a puppy dog whine that didn’t let you get a word in. “ Each phone call is so expensive and my Donna does not even want to pick them up. Imagine the hassle of calling your house, your phone and your cell only to find out you’re still in the office. Ahh my bella you're so cruel, I try so hard and I’m greeted with such a hateful tone. Truly– “ 

“ Cut the act Dazai” you finally gathered enough frustration to not be swept up in his skillfully crafted web of lies. Still even you could tell that your tone was not as sharp as it was before- the anger a fraction of what it was from the first dial earlier that night. 

“ My my there’s no need to be rude belladonna  I was just being polite; not easy being single in your line of work” the way he addressed you now was the more familiar tone, the playful casual smile that made it all too obvious that he thought he had you where he wanted you to. That he was certain in your infatuation with him which would have kept you waiting for his return like an obedient puppy. Clearly he didn’t expect for his puppy to grow claws. 

“ What makes you think I’m single?” you raised an eyebrow, a hint of genuine surprise sipping into your tone of voice. 

Your question made Dazai laugh; “ Come now, no one would spend a night in their office if they had a lover to come home to. Stop acting coy and just come back to me.” He sounded almost bored with his statement. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and yet you could hear the tiniest hint of uncertainty.  Combined with the fact that he was calling you; the questions he asked and words he spoke instead of simply turning up on your doorstep told you he wasn’t as certain in his statements as he made himself out to be. Wasn’t as confident that nothing changed in his absence as tried to make out. Perhaps he was even letting you see this thing- this weakness in exchange for an honest conversation- or maybe he was too tired and desperate to hide all his sides from you in a carefully crafted mask that was Dazai. Too bad you were not in the mood for his games. 

“ Don’t bother coming to my place, Osamu. It’s not your home anymore” you answered before hanging up the phone. Then you turned it off, not giving him the satisfaction to play with you. Nor the closure- or the ability to nag and manipulate your mind from an unknown distance away. If he wanted to talk to you, to persuade or trick you, he would have to do so in person. To get his scrawny little ass out of Mersault - which you both knew he was more than capable of achieving- and then grace you with his presence. 

Now all that was left was to wait; either you had just ruined any chances of rekindling your half-a-year-on-hold relationship with Dazai, or you had just intrigued and hurt him enough to make him crave you all the more, like the forbidden fruit dangling just out of reach of his lips. 

And only time would tell which one.  

©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

[cyberfreaky]

𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

— writing prompt: jake & reader have an argument over how he treats lo’ak.

— notes: this is set during atwow, widowed!jake & fem!metkayina. reader and jake don’t have an established relationship, they have a close dynamic lmaowjdiens

sngel = garbage

part two.

there was an eerie silence that had fallen in your marui pod. the discomfort was made worse with the way jake aggressively sharpened his blade, crouched down in the corner with a face of annoyance. you hadn’t dared to say anything in fear of potentially setting him off into a storm of rage — though it seemed that even the drop of a needle could throw him over the edge.

you’d secretly witnessed jake yelling at lo’ak earlier on for something so insignificant. you had seen how the younger boy’s expression was filled with such profound sadness, barely able to keep eye contact with his father while being scolded harshly. you felt hopeless in the moment, and even more so as the hours had passed.

you were aware that jake was dealing with the trials and tribulations of being a single parent, he had already told you the story about the unfortunate death of his mate. but this did not excuse his behaviour — especially since this was not the first instance of him raising his voice unfairly at lo’ak.

“what is it?”

the sound of jake’s thunderous voice broke you from your trance. you hesitantly look up and notice him glaring balefully at you, his demeanour adding to the existing tension between you both. “don’t know what you’re talking about.” you shrugged.

“don’t make me ask again.” jake seethed, dropping his equipment to the ground.

your dark brows knitted with confusion. was he threatening you? you quickly climbed to your feet and tilted your head to the side questionably. “or what?”

jake was almost taken aback by your stance. he followed suite and stood up, taking a few steps forward as he continued to stare at you with darkened eyes. “don’t get smart, kid. m’not in the mood.”

“you really wanna know what’s on my mind?” you challenged him.

“it’s what i asked, wasn’t it?”

at this point, jake was towering over you. his enraged gaze never faltered, it burned deeper into your soul as he looked down upon you — impatiently awaiting your answer. you were not intimidated by his presence one bit, in fact, his attempt to scare you into a confession was pointless. his ego was a trait of his you truly despised, and it was fuelling the slow burning resentment you were beginning to feel towards him.

“stop treating your son like sngel.” you spat, meeting his stare with an equally malefic glare. “you should never yell at your child like that.”

jake’s jaw clenched at your words. he was struggling to adhere to the fact that you had the audacity to even speak about how he spoke to his children. could it be the complexities of your ‘relationship’ had somehow opened up a door to allow you to critique his parenting? had he somehow given you leeway to make such a ludicrous comment? he was aware you had a mouth on you — but he didn’t think you’d outright cross personal boundaries.

“you have no place to say how i parent my kid.”

you looked at him baffled. jake was so oblivious to his own poor behaviour, you began to question why you even bothered to say anything. “you’re right, it’s not my place.” you stormed past him and grabbed his tools from the ground, throwing them angrily to jake’s feet. “take your stuff and get out.”

he laughed with disbelief, placing a frustrated hand to his temple. “ya’ gonna throw me out? even though you’re the one who started this?” he collected his things from the floor, shaking his head in discontent. “i don’t need this shit from you.”

“then leave!” you point towards the entrance of your pod. “go scream at your kids again, jake. show them what a great father you are!”

for a moment, you noticed the fury in his face contort into an empty look of hurt. it was as if your venomous tone had pierced through his chest, hitting him in the most painful spot imaginable. jake could only stare at you blankly before silently exiting, the numbness that settled into his body made him unable to conjure up any kind of argument. the fact that you had implied he was a terrible father was enough to break him — the one thing he prided himself in had been tainted.

you held your composure as you watched him leave, despite the rush of guilt that was rapidly emerging into your tummy. the remaining of your night was spent regretting everything you had said to him.

— all rights reserved ©️ cyberfreaky (2023) do not repost, translate or copy my work without given permission.

[melancholicmaxine]

Enough for me. (Roy Kent x Fem!Reader)

pairing: (Coach) Roy Kent x Fem. reader

word count: 824 words.

warnings: roy being sad/doubting himself, roy x reader fluff, reader comforting roy, slight sexual themes suggested (near the end), roy hating on trent crimm

a/n: hi!! this is my first ever fic so... pls be gentle. this fic is based on season 3 episode 2 of ted lasso. thanks for clicking on my post out of the millions, i appreciate you :)

summary: roy comes home, frustrated and in need of some comfort after a confrontation with trent crimm about the column he wrote on roy's premier league debut.

It was a normal day- mundane if anything. You had not too long ago returned home from work, now lazily being slumped over the couch scrolling on social media. Your shared home with the newest coach of AFC Richmond was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Roy, you expected, would be home soon, probably coming through the door stringing curses together. Something of course happened at work, the only question was who exactly he would be pissed at this time.

Just as the scenario of an angry Roy played in your head, he walked through the door. You chirped up, happy to see him after a long day, when you noticed the down look of his face. It was less angry and more...disappointed? "Hey, Roy" You spoke, gently due to the unawareness of what was happening. As you stood up and walked toward him, his eyes planted on the ground, you noticed closer the expression splayed on his face. His brows were furrowed, and he seemed to be in a deep solemn thought. It was only when you lightly touched his harm that he seemed to snap out of his thoughts.

You offered him a comforting smile, "You alright? Talk to me." After you spoke, you moved behind him, beginning to take of his coat. "I don't know." He finally spoke, his tone being gentle. Silence filled the air for a brief moment until he spoke again, "Can I ask you something?" He was now meeting your gaze. "You know you can."

"Do you think I'm good? Like, good enough?" What? A puzzled look fell over your face, and he spoke again before you got the chance to. "I don't know- fuck. It's hard to explain." His gaze diverted once again, now focusing on his fingernails he softly picked at. "Roy, I'm not sure what's going on, but you can talk to me. What happened today?"

"Today was fucking fine. It was normal until that prick Crimm had to interfere." he paused, alternating his eyes from you and the floor, "It's bad enough he prances around the fucking place like he owns it, but today he just had to come talk to me and shit." He picked at his fingernails, a little rougher this time, and you could tell he was wallowing in a mixture of hate for both Crimm and what had gone down today.

You knew he wasn't very fond of Crimm, but not exactly why. You had always figured it was because he was a-in his words-pretentious dick. But this was deeper than that, you just had a feeling. You shot Roy a concerned look. He slowly reached for his wallet and drew out a slip of paper, placing it in your hand and urging you to read it.

What welcomed you was a small excerpt claiming "Newcomer Roy Kent is an overhyped, so-called prodigy whose unbridled rage and mediocre talent rendered his Premiere League debut a profound disappointment.” As soon as you read it, you shot Roy a sad glance. You were angry for him, not believing someone had the will to write such negativity.

"Crimm wrote that." He paused to take the small slip out of your hand. "I was 17, and I had just started playing. Seven fucking teen." He gritted his teeth, grimacing. You rubbed his arm, waiting for him to start again. "I have been living my life since then feeling like I was shit. Then today Crimm revealed he did it just to be 'edgy' and make a name for himself."

Not knowing exactly what to say, you continued to rub his arm. "Roy I'm so sorry. I can't imagine the dejection you’ve been feeling all these years.” He gave you a weird look, a mixture of solemn and happy.

“You know what I really can’t believe? I kind of want to forgive his ass.” You were shocked at what you could assume was Ted’s influence. “Really?” He nodded. “As much as I don’t want to fucking admit it, yeah. He was trying to do his job I guess. I just wish he would have picked on..some other prick, I don’t know.” He was now stifling chuckles, just as shocked from the situation.

“You know what Roy?” you spoke, not breaking eye contact. “Hm?” He tilted his head. “I’m proud of you for coming to that conclusion. You could have blown up, yeah? Been angry, upset. But you handled it all well.” Your graze moving up from his arm, now on his cheek. A good minute passed as you enjoyed holding his rough face.

He leaned down to kiss you. It was gentle and sweet, spreading a honeyed heat through your being. He continued placing small kisses on your face, your neck. Slowly turning into esurient nibbles.

“I fucking love you.” He spoke through kisses.

“I love you too.” You felt him smile against your skin. “And Roy?”

“Mhm?”

“You will always be enough for me. Always.”

[adiraargent]

"I'm sorry I can't love you the way you deserve."

warnings: angst. ANGST. breakup Summary: he knows you deserve better than what he can give you.

The words echoed in the silence, reverberating through the room with a weight you hadn't expected. You stared at him, your heart sinking with each syllable that fell from his lips. His eyes, usually warm and comforting, now held an indescribable sadness as he spoke those words.

"I'm sorry I can't love you the way you deserve."

Your mind raced, trying to comprehend the weight of his confession. It felt like the floor had fallen away beneath you, leaving you suspended in a void of disbelief and heartache.

"What do you mean?" Your voice trembled, a mix of confusion and hurt lacing your words. You couldn't fathom the thought of him not loving you in the way you had always believed.

He sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor as if unable to meet your eyes. "I care about you deeply, but… it's not the kind of love you deserve. I can't give you the love you need," he explained, his voice strained with the weight of his own emotions.

Tears welled up in your eyes, aching to spill over, but you fought to hold them back. The ache in your chest felt suffocating, a knot of emotions tightening with each passing second.

"Why?" The question slipped out, barely a whisper, but laden with a desperate plea for an explanation.

He hesitated, searching for the right words, but they seemed to elude him. "I wish I knew," he confessed, his voice filled with regret and an unspoken apology.

It felt like a storm raging within you—a maelstrom of hurt, confusion, and a longing for things to be different. You'd never imagined this moment, the one where the person you loved couldn't reciprocate in the way you'd hoped.

"I thought… I thought we were happy," you managed to say, your voice cracking with emotion.

He nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "We were, but… I can't keep pretending," he murmured, his voice barely audible, heavy with a pain that mirrored your own.

The weight of his words settled upon you, a realization slowly sinking in. You felt a hollow ache, a sense of loss that seemed too profound to comprehend. This wasn't how you'd envisioned your relationship with him—it was supposed to be filled with love and promise, not this agonizing goodbye.

"I'm sorry," he said again, his voice thick with emotion.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over. "I understand," you whispered, though the pain in your heart made it hard to truly grasp the reasons behind his confession.

As he turned to leave, you watched him go, feeling a piece of your heart shatter with every step he took away from you. The ache in your chest was unbearable, a longing for something that was now beyond your reach.

Alone in the echoing silence, you sat, grappling with the enormity of his words. The love you had hoped for had slipped away, leaving behind a void that seemed impossible to fill. All that remained was the ache of an unrequited love and the shattered fragments of a relationship that had once meant everything.

//* Slytherins: TOM RIDDLE, MATTHEO RIDDLE, Theodore Nott;

//* Anime TR: Manjiro Sano, HANMA SHUJI, Kazutora Hanemiya, Nahoya Kawata; KNB: Makoto Hanamiya, DAIKI AOMINE, SEIJURO AKASHI, Eiji Shirogane KNY: Sanemi Shinazugawa, AKAZA, Giyuu Tomioka AOT: Eren Yeager, LEVI ACKERMAN, Thomas Wagner Bleach: Byakuya Kuchiki, GRIMMKITYYY, Maki Ichinose, Ulquiorra Cifer, Jin Kariya, Sōsuke Aizen JJK: GETO SUGURU, Choso Kamo, TOJI ZENIN Haikyuu!: Kōrai Hoshiumi, Wakatoshi Ushijima MHA: BAKUGO KATSUKI, TOUYA TODOROKI, Keigo Takami

[shootingstar-scuderia]

tomorrow never knows

summary: oscar knows a lot of things but when logan seat gets taken from him it turns out that oscar really doesn't know anything at all

(or my brain is still stuck on australia 24 and one (1) line from taylor swift and phoebe bridger's nothing new )

Oscar knows it before the news even breaks. He’s hanging around the garage, antsy, waiting for one of his engineers to get back to him about the data they were going over earlier.

He’s been on edge all day really, anxiety chewing on him in ways that don’t make sense. He’s at his home race, surrounded by fans who love him, who are excited to see him race and somehow that’s not the part he’s nervous about.

He’s nervous about Logan. Worried about whatever is happening behind closed doors at Williams. There hasn’t been any official statement yet, but the writing is on the wall. 

There have been whispers of it all over the paddock, murmurs of “that’s tough luck” or “what a shit thing to do to your driver” throughout the McLaren garage. No one is too worried about it really, Logan’s not their driver, but Oscar can still feel something still hangs thick in the air. It’s the knowing he thinks, the waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And then the other shoe does drop.

The other shoe drops and it’s like nothing has even happened. Everyone in the garage is still going about their jobs, unaffected by the news. Head down, it’s not your team, it’s not McLaren. And Oscar thinks that he would be the same way too, if it was someone else and not logan. He thinks he’d be able to get by on a shared look with Lando and a murmured “horrible.”

But it’s not. It’s Logan. And Oscar is with a rage that simmers under the profound sadness he feels. Because he knows what this means for Logan and he knows what this means for them.

It’s almost unconscious the way his feet move. One moment he’s in the McLaren garage and the next he's in Williams trying to find Logan. Trying not to think about the way his eyes water when he’s distraught. The way he shifts his feet from side to side, when he’s antsy and desperate to be anywhere but where he is right now.

When Oscar does see him it’s not a pretty sight. He can see the panic in Logan’s body, torn between fight or flight, surrounded by his team in a way that Oscar knows is suffocating rather than comforting. 

He breaks through the little circle that’s formed and grabs Logan by the shoulder to pull him away from everyone. Oscar doesn’t even care that people try to stop them, single mindedly focused on corralling Logan down the corridor and into his driver’s room.

“Osc, what are you- they still- I’m so,” Logan’s neck cranes to look behind him, but his feet keep the marching pace Oscar has set.

Oscar gives Logan a quick squeeze, “I know,” he says. “I know. They can wait.”

He sits Logan down on the little massage table that’s been set up and settles down next to him, pulling him close. “Come ‘ere.”

And that all it takes for Logan to throw his arms over Oscar’s shoulders and bury himself into him.

“It’s so unfair.”

“I know Logs, it’s not fair at all.”

“I know.” It seems to be all Oscar can say and he hates it. Because it’s not really true is it? He doesn’t really know, does he? He doesn't know how it feels, he doesn't know why Williams did it, he doesn’t know anything at all.

“What’s worse is that I think I could have done it. I could have gotten us points.”

And the only thing Oscar can do is pull Logan even closer to him, “they’re making a mistake, you would have gotten points. I know it.”

Logan doesn’t cry, he just lets out a shuddering breath, his body sagging against Oscar’s.

“No you don’t,” Logan says his voice wavering, “you don’t know that.”

And Oscar knows he’s right. He knows that they’ll never get the chance to know if Logan could have gotten points this weekend. That they were robbed of it before they even could figure it out.

“And I know what people will say,” he continues, “I know they’ll be saying that it makes sense from a points perspective, that they did what they had to do. And they’ll say that I’d be better suited in Indy, at something else.” 

Logan sighs, his whole body collapsing in on itself. “But I don’t want to be better at something else, I want to be better at this.”

And Oscar knows that too. Because he knows Logan, because he knows that it was always the dream. That it was supposed to be the two of them, on the podium together, winning championships.

It feels impossible to know if this holds true now. A couple years ago, when they were moving from F3 to F2 and winning, they knew there was a chance. But when they were younger, they knew this without a doubt. They knew that it would be Logan and Oscar, Oscar and Logan, racing each other until time itself stopped.

How could they have known everything at 15 and 16, but nothing at 22 and 23?

He’ll come with Logan to the track tomorrow Oscar thinks, hide him away in McLaren for a little bit until he has to go and play nice with everyone for the cameras. And he’ll hold Logan close tonight and stop him from thinking of the future, of the cliffside of legacy they’re teetering on the edge of. That much he knows and that’s enough for tomorrow. And for the day after that, and for the day after that. 

Oscar knows that Williams didn’t make the right choice, but they made a choice and they’ll continue to make choices. Choices about Logan’s future in F1, choices that will shape his image as a driver. Choices that they can’t control and ones they won’t know about but will have to face together.

Oscar can only hope that when the time comes they’ll make the right choices.

[johnlockissess]

never felt what i feel about bbc sherlock about anything else ever. it's complete rage. it's deep love and fondness. it's such a profound sadness over what has never been. i could tear walls with my utter anger alone. i love johnlock so much. it's like my child. i'm so angry. it's so beautiful. i want to come back to it. i must desist otherwise it will be my end. i'm gaslit and i love it. i hate that trash show. it's really bad writing

[written-in-flowers]

Get in the Water || PSH X fem!Reader

Pairing: Seonghwa x fem!reader / Side pairing: Mingi x Yunho

Word count: 1k

Genre: angst, slight bit of fluff

Summary: The sea god finds the person who killed his lover, and has only four words for them. Seonghwa can only watch for so long.

Tags: murder, mentions of murder, established relationship, nothing particularly bad tbh. You and Seonghwa have a kid. YN not physically featured. Mentions of pregnancy and talk of futures.

A/N: inspired by the song "Get in the Water" from Epic: The Musical

****

The sea king only had one request for the captain:

"Get in the water".

Seonghwa saw the water starting to swim in his eyes, yet his face not showing sadness or pain. The young pirate saw nothing but anger. Fury. Pure rage. He saw the god's hands, long and large, curled into fists that were ready to guide the seas onto their vessel. He glanced over to Hongjoong, his captain and best friend, who stared back at Mingi, God of the Seas, with defiance. Seonghwa knew this was only a show of bravery. He caught his captain's trembling hands, the resistance in his eyes slowly fading as the two stood towards one another.

Standing on top of a rock that erupted from the sea floors, Mingi, God of the Sea, wore the plated breastplate with his horse sigil on his chest. His crown, made of driftwood and pearls, sat upon a mop of black strands and the trident he held was made of shining steel. The lower half of his body was a merman's tail of the deepest black, shimmering even against the crashing waves hitting his perch. Hongjoong, in his own armor, planted himself firmly on the dock. With a small step or push, Hongjoong could indeed get in the water. Once in the deep, dark depths, the sea god will have him.

All because Hongjoong wanted gold.

"Get in the water," Mingi repeated, his piercing eyes narrowed on him.

"For what reason?" Hongjoong replied in a shaky voice. "What have I done to offend you, Sea God?"

"You took what was most precious to me. You slew the one who calmed my angry oceans and warmed my cold heart. You killed the only person I ever loved," Seonghwa heard his voice crack at the last person. "So now...Get in the water, captain."

Seonghwa knew of whom Mingi spoke: the siren on the shores of the golden island. Siren scales fetch hefty prices in the market places. They are said to attract love and fortune. Hongjoong believed a siren's tail would make him a rich man. Seonghwa told him he was foolish to believe so. They'd all die for certain. With wax in their ears, their orders clear, Hongjoong and the rest of the crew hunted down sirens in the farthest reaches of the sea. Seonghwa regretted what he'd done, but he had a family back home. He had you and your son, Minho.

"Get in the water," Mingi said again, "Or I'll bring the waves so high everyone in your little shanty sea town will die."

Hongjoong paused, that resistance starting to crumble. Tempest may not be the most glamourous of places, but it was home for their crew. Seonghwa thought of the sea breeze that blew through the tiny village. He saw you at the tavern, serving drinks and food to hungry sailors and fisherman. He thought of your smooth, supple skin and warm kisses. Your smile and laugh haunted his dreams. He pictured his own son, Minho, running down the sandy roads with his friends. You tell him he's a spitting image of his father. Seonghwa's heart shattered thinking of his home, his family, and everyone he knows drowning and not able to save them.

"Wait..."

"I'll make tidal waves so profound," he said, "Both your wife and children will drown."

Suffocating. That was how drowning felt. Seonghwa recalled the time he'd fallen overboard during a storm. The waves almost pushed him under each time he came up for air. The currents carried him farther and farther, tossing and crushing him. Even on land, he could feel his lungs contracting as air was sucked out of him.

"No, please..."

"Get in the water."

"I didn't mean to-"

"-You didn't mean to?" Mingi snapped, and he swore he saw lightning slash through the sky in the distance. Seonghwa saw the waves around them suddenly turn dark, rolling onto one another over and over as if reaching for Hongjoong. "Did not mean to kill my beloved and steal his tail? To take his life in hopes of gaining riches? Get. In. The. Water, you pathetic human filth!"

The thunder rumbled along with the god's insult

"Don't mistake my threats as bluffs, captain," he continued. "I will go to your little town and crash every ship that comes your way. I will bring rain and water until it floods their crops and destroys their homes. I will leave your people with nothing! Nothing, you hear me?!"

Hongjoong's pride came back over his face. "I don't think you will. You make claims all the time and never followed through."

"Captain, what are you doing?" Wooyoung, the ship's builder, asked in disbelief.

"He's all talk."

"Are you insane? He will crash our ships if we go out to port. How will we get home?"

They're so close to home. Seonghwa could almost smell your cooking in his nose. He could feel Minho's little arms around his neck, his body in his arms as he kissed his precious face. Your warmth in his bed. His son's bright eyes glimmering up at him with happiness. He'd trade all the siren scales and gold in the world to be back home.

"Get in the water."

"He can't touch me," Hongjoong said to Wooyoung, "As long as I'm on land."

"Get in the water," Mingi said once more, trident twisting into the hard rock beneath. Seonghwa knew with one swing of that weapon, the ocean around them will sink their fleet and homes. "Or I will release the kraken. I will call upon the sea serpents of the north, the giant squids of the south, and the monstrosities of the deepest depths. They will break your ships. They will break you and your crew."

He thought of all the sea monsters his grandfather used to tell him about. Beasts so terrifying and deadly that sailors steer clear of their hunting grounds. He pictured himself being eaten by such beasts, no longer there to protect and provide for his growing family. You must be swelling by now, from what your last letter told him. You told him right before he left for the sea again: you're pregnant. With another mouth to feed, your wages as a barmaid will not cut it. You needed him. He needed you. What if you died in childbirth?

"Get in the water."

And Minho and your baby end up alone?

"Get in the water!"

His son will be put to work; work unfit and unsafe for a boy of seven. The babe will be given away or worse.

"No!"

Minho is a gentle lad.

"Get in the water!"

He loves the sea. He loves fishing and swimming. He collects seashells and starfish.

"Get in the water!"

Those things will be taken from him. His innocence will be stolen, no doubt.

"Get in the water!"

The ocean started to swell. For the briefest of moments, he saw a tentacles break the surface before diving back down. Too long and too thick to be any ordinary creature. You needed him. You mean so much to him. He knew he loved you the night he met you at the Rusty Pot. The banter between you both made him feel alive, and your smile warmed him from head to toe. When you said 'yes' the night by the water, he'd been the happiest man. No treasure trove or siren scale could replace his love for you.

"You can find another," Hongjoong scoffed. "It's not as if I killed them all."

Hongjoong, a ladies' man who frequented brothels, never experienced real, deep love before. He'd never understand. Seonghwa knew if someone ever harmed you, he'd gut them himself. He remembered the siren. A male with deep black hair and round eyes that looked so innocent. He'd been sitting on a rock, enjoying the ocean breeze and singing softly to himself. The silver chain and charm on his neck should've clued them in: a prancing horse, so similar to the one on Mingi's breastplate, matched the one Hongjoong snatched off his corpse. His grandfather told him all about the sea god's favorite: a siren named Yunho, who had the most beautiful singing voice. They'd grown up together, he'd told Seonghwa. Side-by-side, moving through the decades and centuries together. He'd always wanted a love like theirs; he'd gotten it in you.

"You...Pathetic...Worthless...Weakling..." the sea god's fury came down in thunder and lighting, dark clouds overcasting the sky. "You dare..."

It'd been Hongjoong who killed him. He launched the net that pulled him into the boat. He'd screamed. Seonghwa's eyes closed as those screams and pleas echoed in his ears. He'd looked so scared. Hongjoong slaughtered him without mercy. Seonghwa had helped.

"Get in the water. You've lived more than enough, little pirate."

But, it was Hongjoong that Mingi wanted.

"He wasn't even that pretty."

Surely, he'd spare the crew if the one who killed his beloved was dead.

"Are you mad?!" Wooyoung called out.

They'll die because of their captain's greed and pride.

"Kind of weird for a god to care so much for a lesser being..."

Seonghwa could not let that happen. He must get home to you, Minho and your baby. He hoped it was a girl. He'd like a daughter who would be her mother in miniature. You're likely due any day now. The doctor said you'd likely already have the baby by the time he came home. The flicker of another tentacle, this time bright pink, floated through the thrashing waves. A squid. A kraken and a squid.

"Get in the-"

He did not know what made him do it: the desperation to get home, the need to see his family again and hold his newborn child, or perhaps fear of losing his own life. Thinking of his house at the edge of town, he pressed his hand to Hongjoong's back and pushed him into the waves. Only Seonghwa heard his screams so close to the water, the rest only heard more rumbling and crackling. He stared down, tears filling his eyes and guilt in his heart, and saw Hongjoong's arms desperately reach for the surface. Right as his face broke the waves, he was quickly yanked back down. Even in the darkness, Seonghwa saw crimson clouds color the sea foam created by the waves.

Mingi's cruel cackle struck fear into his chest. Seonghwa stared up to see the sea god laughing, throwing his head back a moment before continuing to watch the kraken tear the captain apart. When the waters stilled, the blood starting to fade with the tides, he looked at Seonghwa.

'YN...I love you. Minho, my sweet boy, I'm sorry.'

Mingi stepped a foot forward and immediately a wave caught him. He walked along the ocean surface until he reached the edge of the dock. Seonghwa shivered in place, rain and mist starting to seep into his clothes.

"You just killed your captain, sailor," Mingi said. "Why?"

"I have a family," he whispered. "A wife whose pregnant...an eight-year-old son who hardly has his sea legs...I cannot let his greed take them from me. I told him, your greatness, that killing sirens is a sin against the sea. Killing Yunho, the most enchanting of them all, was foolish and would only bring pain and devastation. He did not listen. I was not going to lose my family over his greed." He mustered his courage and said, "Is your vengeance satisfied, great sea lord?"

Mingi hesitated. Seonghwa saw him contemplating the question. He then finally said, "I've seen you before...You've come to my altar."

"Every time I go onto the water, my lord."

"Your wife's name is YN...Your son is Minho...You've given my offerings for protection at sea..."

"I am all they have. If I die, life will be difficult for them."

"You must love them very much to kill a good friend so swiftly."

"I do. More than any scale or gold coin in the world." He held back his tears, "I am just a man whose trying to go home."

He stayed silent a moment longer. "You may go, but know this, should you or your crew ever sail in my oceans again you will experience my anger firsthand."

"We understand, my lord."

Seonghwa watched him return back into the ocean. As the waves stilled again, Seonghwa turned away and walked back down the dock without a word. He had to get home. He could find work on a dock or in a shipyard. He could get a job where he'd be on land.

He'd done it all to be with you.

****

A/N: this idea came to me at 4am, and I needed to write it lol I really love the songs from Epic: The Musical, and couldn't help seeing Mingi as a vengeful sea god. 'Get in the Water' is definitely one of my favorites. Hope you guys enjoyed this short, angsty tale <3

[prideofcelestia]

❝when he yelled at you but then you started crying❞

« characters - lucifer, asmodeus »

« gender neutral reader »

« headcanons »

req by @lilithram

levi, beel, belphie

satan, barb

simeon, mephisto

LUCIFER

Nobody was surprised when he yelled at you. Some would say that that's what he did best, and maybe they were right because his anger discouraged shenanigans to some extent so he was strict to maintain discipline. But Lucifer, your Lucifer seldom got so mad at you that he raised his voice. It startled and scared you. In his defence, he was stressed, perhaps it had exceeded his limits a while ago but he didn't notice. He had never been one to notice, after all, even more so now that he had you for company. How could he be distracted by minor matters as his mental health? Yes, it was wrong of him to be negligent. You were the best gift life could give him, a therapeutic remedy for his aching joints and tired soul. So, why should he not be in his best state to fully enjoy the time he had with you? How could he make you unhappy by not caring enough about himself?

With a heavy heart, he came to your doorstep to apologise. If there was one thing that disturbed Lucifer to no end, it was to be the reason of your gloom. How could he stay calm knowing that you were hurt because of him? What did you want? What could you ever want that he wouldn't go every imaginable length to give you? He would do anything, anything in his power to show just how sorry he was. Please don't be sad anymore. Let his arms comfort you. Let him whisper sweetly into your ears as his hand ran down your head gently.

ASMODEUS

Asmo had never been able to accept defeat easily. How could he when he firmly believed that he was the most beautiful of them all? A magic mirror would have shattered merely because of his ethereal beauty that had no twin in any of the three realms. So, when he was tied as a winner of a beauty pageant, he couldn't contain himself. Was it a statement that there was another being of beauty that could rival his? He had been walking around his room in circles for hours when you softly knocked on his door. Even though he didn't mean to, he lashed out at you - the one person who could have cured his temper with a subtle touch. If only he had stopped there, you might have been spared his yelling and his face contorted in rage. He froze when he saw who it was, but still unable to form any coherent thoughts, he started to cry. But that would not stop your own tears from falling. It was a sign of fear and betrayal. How could sweet Asmo, the one who usually cheered you up and then let you cheer him up during his distress ever be so cruel as to shout at you? You fled the scene and felt a little distant from reality, but Asmo's heart was just as fragile as your own. Even a demon as sure as the Avatar of Lust was afraid of losing you, and to let the scar that he inflicted pester your heart. Profound apologies spilled from his lips and when you finally agreed to look at him, you felt bad for his condition. He hugged you tightly with the vow to never have a situation like that again.

[yournameloveskpop]

Trust. . .

Paring: Yeonjun & Beomgyu x reader

Warning: no warn

Style: angst, romance, Fluff, friendship, forgiveness

Word count: 9.596

Y/N dashed through the labyrinthine halls of HYBE, her heart pounding not just from the sprint but from the anticipation of what was to come. She was running late, a rarity for her, especially today when she had scheduled a dance practice with Yeonjun for their upcoming project. The thought alone sent a flutter through her heart; after all, Yeonjun wasn't just anyone. He was the person she harbored the most profound affection for, her feelings for him an open secret among their circle—Soobin, Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Hueningkai were all in on it.

As she hastened her steps, she couldn't help but rehearse the moment of meeting him in her mind, playing out various scenarios. "Maybe he'll smile his bright, welcoming smile," she mused silently, "Or perhaps he'll start with a joke, easing the tension."

Little did she know, Yeonjun was well aware of her feelings. It was a truth universally acknowledged, yet he had maintained a respectful silence on the matter. It wasn't that he found her affection unworthy; rather, it amused him, her adoration evident in her every shy glance and hesitant smile. But beyond that amusement lay an unspoken boundary, his feelings a closely guarded secret.

Upon finally reaching the dance studio, her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. The door swung open to a scene that brought her world crashing down. There, in the middle of the room, was Yeonjun, locked in an embrace, sharing a kiss with someone else. It was a sight so starkly opposed to the scenarios she had imagined that for a moment, reality seemed to fracture.

Y/N stood frozen, her heart fracturing under the weight of betrayal. The room, the people, the very air around her blurred into insignificance, leaving her in a void of shock and heartache.

"Yeonjun," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. The word, once filled with warmth and affection, now felt like a shard of ice on her tongue.

Yeonjun's reaction was immediate. Pulling away, his eyes locked onto Y/N's stunned figure. His expression shifted from shock to a paled realization of the magnitude of what had just transpired.

"Y/N, I—," he started, the words catching in his throat as he took a step towards her.

But Y/N was rooted to the spot, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Betrayal, confusion, and a deep, aching sadness swirled within her, leaving her unable to articulate the storm raging in her heart.

Yeonjun's voice was a mixture of desperation and panic as he tried to explain, "Y/N, please, you've got to believe me, it's not—"

But Y/N wasn't listening. Her heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces, each shard a testament to her misplaced trust and affections. As she turned to leave, her eyes met with the girl's, who wore a smirk that seemed to twist the knife deeper into her wounds. With no words left to say, Y/N fled, her tears blinding her as she ran.

In her haste, she collided with Beomgyu, the impact bringing her to a momentary halt. Her tears were uncontrollable, each sob tearing through her with a visceral force. Beomgyu, caught off guard by the sudden encounter, instinctively reached out to steady her.

"Y/N, what happened? Why are you crying?" Beomgyu's voice was laced with concern, his heart aching at the sight of her distress.

"Just leave me alone!" Y/N choked out between sobs, pushing past him and disappearing from sight.

She couldn’t bear anyone seeing her like this, especially not when her heart felt like it was being ripped apart.

Beomgyu stood there, stunned for a moment, before his concern turned to anger. He had harbored feelings for Y/N for what felt like an eternity, feelings he had managed to keep hidden. Yet, seeing her in such a state ignited a protective fury within him.

Without a second thought, he stormed towards the dance studio, his mind racing with thoughts of what could have made Y/N so upset. He barged into the room, his eyes immediately finding Yeonjun, who looked guilty, and the girl, who seemed indifferent to the pain she had been a part of.

"What the hell is going on here?" Beomgyu demanded, his voice filled with a cold rage.

The girl, taken aback by the intensity of his anger, quickly excused herself and left, leaving Yeonjun to face Beomgyu's wrath.

"Beomgyu, I can explain—" Yeonjun began, but Beomgyu cut him off.

"You think you can just play with Y/N's feelings like that?" Beomgyu's voice rose with each word. “You knew, Yeonjun. You knew she liked you,” his anger palpable in the tense air of the dance studio. "Do you have any idea how much she cares about you?"

Before Yeonjun could respond, the commotion attracted the attention of Taehyun, Soobin, and Hueningkai, who hurried into the room, alarmed by the yelling.

"What's going on? Where's Y/N?" Soobin asked, his voice filled with concern, as he took in the scene before him—Beomgyu, seething with anger, and Yeonjun, looking like he was on the verge of explaining himself.

"Y/N saw something she shouldn't have," Beomgyu said through gritted teeth, his anger not abated. "And Yeonjun here," he pointed accusingly, "is at the center of it."

Taehyun, Hueningkai, and Soobin exchanged worried glances, realizing the gravity of the situation. It was unlike Beomgyu to lose his temper so publicly, signaling that whatever had transpired was serious.

"I'm going to find Y/N," Beomgyu announced, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And you," he directed his glare back at Yeonjun, "stay away from her. You've done enough damage."

Without waiting for a response, Beomgyu turned and left the room, his steps determined and swift. He knew he had to find Y/N, to be there for her in a way Yeonjun had failed to be. The others lingered for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Soobin finally broke the silence, suggesting they give Beomgyu some space to find Y/N and help her through this ordeal.

As Beomgyu dashed through the labyrinthine corridors of HYBE, his heart was a tempest of emotions. Every corner he turned seemed to echo Y/N's cries, her tears a vivid image he couldn't shake off. He was driven by a singular purpose—to find Y/N and be the support she so desperately needed at this moment.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere back in the dance studio was thick with tension and regret. Yeonjun stood silent, his head bowed, the weight of his decisions pressing down on him. Taehyun, Hueningkai, and Soobin remained, each lost in their thoughts but united in their concern for Y/N.

"So, what exactly happened?" Taehyun pressed, looking at Yeonjun with a mix of disappointment and concern. His voice broke the uneasy silence that had settled over them.

Yeonjun wiped his face, trying to compose himself before he spoke. "I... I made a mistake," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't think about how my actions would affect Y/N. I was selfish."

Hueningkai shook his head, struggling to understand. "But why? Why would you do something like that if you knew how Y/N felt about you?"

Yeonjun had no answers that could mend the hurt he had caused. "I don't know," he confessed, the remorse clear in his voice. "I just didn't think. And now, I've hurt her, and I can't take it back."

Soobin, always the peacemaker, looked around at his friends, their faces a mixture of anger, confusion, and sadness. "We need to figure out how we can support Y/N through this. She's going to need all of us."

Back with Beomgyu, his frantic search ended when he found Y/N, but she wasn't alone. Jungwon and Heeseung had found her first, offering the comfort and solace Beomgyu had been rushing to provide. Seeing her there, in the arms of her friends, brought a momentary relief to Beomgyu's racing heart.

"Heeseung, Jungwon," Beomgyu greeted, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "How is she?"

Jungwon looked up, his expression somber. "She's... it's been tough. But we're here for her."

"Y/N, Beomgyu's here. He's been looking everywhere for you." Heeseung added.

Y/N's eyes, red and swollen from crying, met Beomgyu's. There was a flicker of something like gratitude in them, but it was overshadowed by the hurt and betrayal she felt.

"Beomgyu, I..." Y/N started, her voice a fragile whisper.

Beomgyu kneeled down beside her, offering a hand in silent support. "You don't have to say anything, Y/N. I'm just glad you're not alone."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the kind of silence that speaks volumes, filled with shared pain and understanding.

"I just... I can't believe he would do this," Y/N finally whispered, her voice breaking. "I thought he... I thought there was something more."

Beomgyu felt his heart break a little more for her. "I know, Y/N. I know. But we're all here for you, okay? You're not going through this alone."

Y/N nodded, a small, fragile gesture that conveyed her gratitude amidst the storm of her emotions. After Jungwon and Heeseung left to reunite with the rest of ENHYPEN, the room felt significantly emptier, leaving Beomgyu and Y/N in a bubble of shared silence and understanding. Beomgyu watched over Y/N as her breaths deepened, a clear sign she had succumbed to the exhaustion and emotional toll of the day. Observing her peaceful face, he couldn't bring himself to disturb her slumber.

Time seemed to stand still as Beomgyu sat there, Y/N asleep against him. He was lost in thought, reflecting on the day's events, the turmoil it had caused, and how it had inadvertently brought them closer. His protective instincts kicked in; he knew he couldn't leave her in the practice room overnight.

With a gentle maneuver, Beomgyu carefully lifted Y/N into his arms. Her head naturally found the crook of his neck, her breath warm against his skin, her arms reflexively wrapping around his neck while her legs encircled his waist. He adjusted his grip, ensuring she was secure before making his way to the dance room where she had left her belongings earlier.

Upon reaching the dance room, the door creaked open to reveal Yeonjun and the rest of the group, still there, seemingly locked in a discussion that halted abruptly at the sight of Beomgyu carrying Y/N in such an intimate manner.

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, the air charged with tension. Beomgyu's gaze locked onto Yeonjun, his eyes cold and accusing, a silent testament to his feelings of betrayal and anger.

"What are you doing with Y/N?" Yeonjun finally broke the silence, his voice a mix of surprise and concern.

Beomgyu's glare didn't waver as he adjusted Y/N's weight in his arms, making sure not to wake her. "She fell asleep," he stated simply, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. "And unlike some people, I actually care about her well-being."

Yeonjun flinched at the accusation, guilt washing over him anew. The others exchanged uneasy glances, the atmosphere heavy with unsaid words.

"Beomgyu, let's not do this here," Soobin intervened, attempting to diffuse the situation. "Y/N needs rest, not more drama."

Beomgyu nodded, acknowledging Soobin's point but not softening his stance. "I'm taking her home," he declared, his voice firm. "She shouldn't be here, not after everything that's happened."

Hueningkai stepped forward, his expression one of concern. "Do you need help with her stuff?" he offered, trying to be of assistance in the only way he knew how.

"No, I've got it," Beomgyu responded curtly, carefully bending down to gather Y/N's belongings with one arm while securely holding her with the other.

Taehyun approached, his voice gentle. "Beomgyu, we're all worried about Y/N. Please, let us know if she needs anything."

Beomgyu paused, his gaze softening as he looked at Taehyun. "I will," he conceded, recognizing the genuine concern in his friend's eyes.

With a final glance at Yeonjun, Beomgyu turned and walked out of the room, Y/N still cradled in his arms. The silence that followed was heavy, each member of the group left to reflect on their actions and the consequences that had unfolded.

As Beomgyu navigated the quiet halls, his thoughts were solely on Y/N. He felt a surge of protectiveness and care for her that went beyond their friendship. In this moment, he was her guardian, her silent confidant, and perhaps, in time, something more.

The journey home was quiet, with Y/N remaining undisturbed in his arms. Beomgyu couldn't help but feel a sense of rightness in holding her, a promise to himself and to her that he would be there, no matter what the future held.

Upon reaching her home, Beomgyu gently laid Y/N down, taking a moment to tuck her in and ensure she was comfortable. As he stood by her side, watching her sleep, he made a silent vow to protect her, to be the friend she needed, and to help her heal from the hurt that had been so carelessly inflicted upon her.

As Beomgyu settled Y/N into her bed, the serenity of her sleeping face offered a stark contrast to the tumult of the day. Each breath she took was a soft whisper in the quiet room, and Beomgyu found himself mesmerized by the peaceful expression she wore—an expression so different from the tear-streaked face that haunted his thoughts. He brushed a gentle hand over her forehead, pushing back a stray lock of hair, and allowed himself a moment to marvel at her resilience.

"I promise you, Y/N," he whispered into the stillness, "I'll be here. No matter what comes, you won't have to face it alone." His vow was a silent commitment, a pledge made in the quiet company of her peaceful slumber.

With a final, tender kiss on her forehead, a symbol of his protective promise, Beomgyu reluctantly pulled himself away from her side. He moved through her apartment with a familiarity born of countless previous visits, each room holding memories of laughter, shared secrets, and now, a new layer of unspoken bonds.

Finding his way to the couch, Beomgyu made himself as comfortable as possible. The fabric felt oddly comforting beneath him, a reminder of all the nights spent just like this, though none under such strained circumstances. It was during moments like these, enveloped in the quiet of Y/N's apartment, that Beomgyu allowed himself to reflect on the depth of his feelings for her.

His contemplation was abruptly interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. Glancing at the caller ID, he felt a surge of frustration upon seeing Yeonjun's name flashing on the screen. With a resigned sigh and an involuntary roll of his eyes, Beomgyu answered the call, his voice edged with a coldness that mirrored the chill in his heart.

"What do you want, Yeonjun?" Beomgyu's greeting was far from welcoming, his patience thin.

"Beomgyu, I... I need to talk to you about what happened," Yeonjun's voice came through, tinged with a desperation that Beomgyu found both irritating and pitiable.

"And what could you possibly say that would make any difference now?" Beomgyu retorted, his words sharp as knives.

"I know I messed up, Beomgyu. I just... I didn't realize how much I was going to hurt her—or you," Yeonjun admitted, his voice breaking slightly with the weight of his guilt.

"Realization comes too late, Yeonjun. You played with her feelings, with our trust. Do you have any idea how broken she was?" Beomgyu's anger bubbled to the surface, each word laced with accusation.

There was a heavy pause on the other end, Yeonjun struggling to find the words. "I... I want to make it right, Beomgyu. Please, tell me there's something I can do."

Beomgyu sighed, the anger in him simmering down to a weary sadness. "The damage is done, Yeonjun. Right now, all you can do is give her space. Let her heal. We all need to reflect on our actions and their consequences."

"Beomgyu, I'm truly sorry. To you, to her, to everyone," Yeonjun's apology felt sincere, but the chasm his actions had created was too vast for mere words to bridge.

"Just... take care of her, okay? She deserves better than what I've done," Yeonjun said finally, the resignation in his voice clear.

The silence of the conversation hung heavy between Beomgyu and Yeonjun, a tangible presence that seemed to occupy the entire room. Beomgyu's heart was a tumult of emotions, each beat a reminder of the responsibility he had taken upon himself.

"Don't worry about that, I will," Beomgyu assured confidently, though the weight of his words was like an anchor, grounding him to the reality of the situation.

As he ended the call, Beomgyu couldn't help but feel the burden of their conversation settle heavily upon him, a fog that clouded his thoughts and lingered in the air. He lay back on the couch, the darkness of the room enveloping him like a cloak. His mind, however, refused to quiet, drifting inexorably back to Y/N, who slept in the other room, oblivious to the turmoil that surrounded her.

The first light of dawn had barely begun to seep through the curtains when Beomgyu was roused from his fitful sleep, not by the sun, but by the sound of sobbing. Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the remnants of his dreams fading into the background as reality took hold. The sight that greeted him was one that tugged at his heartstrings: Y/N, looking lost and confused, her petite frame seeming even smaller as she tried to make sense of her surroundings, her cheeks stained with tears.

He sighed, the sound heavy with concern and a deep-seated ache for the pain she was going through. It was clear that the events of the previous day were crashing down on her anew, the hurt caused by Yeonjun's actions reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal.

"Y/N," Beomgyu began, his voice soft, trying to break through her distress with as much gentleness as he could muster. "Hey, are you okay?"

Y/N looked up, her eyes wide and red-rimmed from crying. "Beomgyu? How did I—? What happened?" The confusion in her voice broke his heart a little more.

"You fell asleep. I brought you home," Beomgyu explained calmly, moving to sit closer to her. "You've been through a lot. It's okay to feel like this."

"But why?" Her voice cracked as she spoke. "Why would Yeonjun do this to me? I thought he... I thought we had something special."

Beomgyu took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "Sometimes, people make mistakes, Y/N. Yeonjun made a big one. But remember, you're not alone. I'm here for you, we all are."

"But it hurts so much," she sobbed, the words barely a whisper. "I feel so stupid, so betrayed."

Reaching out, Beomgyu gently took her hand, offering a silent promise of support. "You're not stupid, Y/N. You trusted someone, and they let you down. That's on them, not you. And I promise, the pain will lessen in time. Until then, I'll be right here."

Y/N looked at him, a flicker of gratitude shining through her tears. "Thank you, Beomgyu. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Beomgyu offered her a small, reassuring smile. "You'll never have to find out. Now, how about we get you cleaned up, and then I can make us some breakfast? Sound good?"

A tiny nod was her response, the smallest of agreements, but it was enough. Beomgyu stood, helping her to her feet, guiding her towards the bathroom with a care that spoke volumes of his concern.

As he waited for her to emerge, Beomgyu busied himself in the kitchen, the clatter of pots and pans a welcome distraction from the heavy emotions that had filled the apartment. The act of making breakfast, something so mundane, felt grounding, a semblance of normalcy in the chaos of their lives.

When Y/N finally joined him, her appearance somewhat refreshed, Beomgyu had already laid out a simple but comforting meal. They sat together, the silence between them filled with unspoken words and shared sorrows.

"Beomgyu, I..." Y/N started, her voice hesitant.

"Shh," he interjected gently. "You don't have to say anything. Just eat, okay? We can talk about everything else later."

After the dishes were done and the kitchen tidied up, Beomgyu directed Y/N towards the couch, draping a blanket around her shoulders with a gentleness that spoke volumes. It was his way of saying, without words, that he was there for her, a shield against the turmoil of her emotions. They settled into an uneasy silence, punctuated by the light, cheerful banter of a sitcom playing on the TV—a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere between them.

As the laughter from the screen filled the room, Y/N seemed to relax slightly, her body unwinding from the tight coil of stress and hurt. Beomgyu watched her from the corner of his eye, a bittersweet feeling in his chest at the sight of her trying to find solace in such simple joys.

Eventually, the episode ended, and the reality of their situation crept back in. Beomgyu stood, stretching slightly, his movements catching Y/N's attention. Her hand shot out, gripping his hoodie with a sudden intensity that surprised them both.

"Where are you going?" Her voice was tinged with panic, her eyes wide and fearful at the thought of being left alone.

Beomgyu knelt beside her, his hand covering hers, gently prying her fingers from his clothing. "I'm just going back to the TXT apartment for a bit," he explained softly. "I need to grab a few things. I promise, I'll come back. I'm not going to leave you alone like this."

Y/N looked up at him, searching his eyes for the sincerity she so desperately needed to see. Finding it, she nodded, releasing her hold on him but the reluctance clear in her eyes.

Beomgyu offered her a reassuring smile before heading out, the promise to return hanging heavily between them.

---

Upon arriving at the TXT apartment, the atmosphere was tense, the air thick with unspoken words and heavy glances. Beomgyu's entrance was met with a mix of concern and disappointment from his bandmates, all of whom had been caught in the emotional aftermath of Yeonjun's actions.

"So, how is she?" Hueningkai was the first to break the silence, his voice full of genuine concern.

"Not great," Beomgyu replied tersely, his mind still on Y/N's vulnerable state.

The room's attention then shifted as Yeonjun entered, the weight of his guilt making his steps heavy. The tension spiked, a tangible force that seemed to push against the walls of the room.

Beomgyu's gaze locked onto Yeonjun, a glare so intense it could have sparked flames.

Yeonjun swallowed hard and tried to speak, “Beomgyu I-,”

"No," Beomgyu cut him off, his voice sharp. "You don't get to speak. Not after what you've done."

Yeonjun flinched but pressed on, a desperate need to explain himself evident in his tone. "I just want to make things right. I know I messed up, but—"

"Messed up?!" Beomgyu's voice rose, a crescendo of anger and disbelief. "You broke her, Yeonjun. And for what? A moment's folly?"

Soobin, ever the leader, stepped in, his voice calm but firm. "Guys, this isn't helping. We need to think about how we can support Y/N through this, not tear each other apart."

Beomgyu, his heart racing with a cocktail of protection for Y/N and anger at Yeonjun. He turned away, his movements brisk as he began to pack his things. The rest of the members watched in silence, a somber mood settling over them.

"Beomgyu, please," Yeonjun tried once more, his voice low, "tell her I'm sorry. Tell her—"

"Just stop, Yeonjun," Beomgyu snapped, his back still turned. "Your apologies mean nothing now."

With his bag slung over his shoulder, Beomgyu left the apartment, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through the room. The remaining members were left to contemplate the fractures within their group, the weight of Yeonjun's mistake pressing down on them all.

Beomgyu's return to Y/N's side was swift, his thoughts consumed by her well-being. Upon seeing him, Y/N's face lit up with a mixture of relief and gratitude—a balm to the turmoil he felt inside.

"I'm back, just like I promised," Beomgyu announced, setting his bag down with a thud.

Y/N's response was a soft smile, a silent acknowledgment of his return. They settled back into the couch, the previous tension melting away in the comfort of their shared silence. As Y/N nestled closer to Beomgyu, the warmth between them felt like a small beacon of hope amidst the storm. The TV's chatter faded into the background, its light-hearted sounds a stark contrast to the complexity of emotions swirling between them.

Y/N broke the silence first, her voice soft, "Thank you for coming back. I was worried you might... not."

Beomgyu looked down at her, their eyes meeting. "I promised, didn't I? I'm not going anywhere." His voice was firm, yet gentle, a testament to his commitment.

"I just... I feel so foolish, Beomgyu. How could I not see this coming?" Y/N's voice trembled, a mixture of hurt and confusion.

Beomgyu sighed, his arm tightening around her. "It's not your fault, Y/N. We see the best in the people we care about. Sometimes... they just don't live up to it."

Y/N leaned her head against his shoulder, the comfort of his presence a salve to her aching heart. "What do I do now?" she whispered, more to herself than to him.

"You heal. You move forward. And you remember that you're surrounded by people who truly care about you." Beomgyu's voice was soft but filled with an unwavering certainty.

Back at the TXT dorm, the atmosphere was stifling, the silence thick with unspoken thoughts and regret. Yeonjun hadn't moved, his gaze fixed on the door Beomgyu had stormed out of, the finality of that moment echoing loudly in his mind.

Soobin finally broke the silence, his voice laced with disappointment and concern. "We've never seen Beomgyu that angry. Yeonjun, what you did... it's affected all of us, not just Y/N."

Hueningkai nodded in agreement, the hurt visible in his eyes. "We're supposed to be a family, a team. How could you let it get this far without talking to her?"

Yeonjun looked down, shame and regret mingling in his expression. "I... I was scared. Scared of hurting her by rejecting her feelings. But I see now... I've hurt her, and all of you, far worse by not being honest."

Taehyun, always the voice of reason, chimed in, his tone serious but understanding. "It's going to take time to repair the trust you've broken, Yeonjun. Not just with Y/N, but with all of us."

The room fell silent once again, each member lost in thought. The bond they shared had been tested, revealing cracks that needed mending. It was a sobering realization that actions have consequences, and the path to forgiveness and healing would be a journey they all had to undertake together.

As the day turned into evening, Beomgyu and Y/N remained on the couch, their conversation drifting from healing to hopes for the future. It was a tentative step towards moving past the pain, guided by Beomgyu's unwavering support.

"Beomgyu?" Y/N's voice was hesitant but curious. "Do you think things can ever go back to how they were before all this?"

Beomgyu pondered her question, his gaze shifting to the fading light outside the window. "I think... it might not go back to exactly how it was. But maybe, we can build something even stronger. Sometimes, it takes a storm to clear the way for a fresh start."

Y/N smiled, a glimmer of her usual spirit shining through the shadows. "I like that. A fresh start."

As days turned into weeks, the gap between Y/N and Yeonjun seemed only to widen, an unspoken agreement keeping them apart. The situation with the dance project hung heavily over Y/N, a constant reminder of the rift that had formed not just between her and Yeonjun, but within their circle of friends. After much back-and-forth with the management, they finally reached a compromise: Y/N wouldn't drop the dance, but she was allowed to choose a new partner. The condition was simple — the showcase must go on as scheduled.

The task of finding a new dance partner proved to be daunting. Y/N pored over her friends' schedules, hoping to find a gap that could align with her own. The search was exhaustive, her list of potential partners dwindling as each name was crossed off due to conflicting commitments. Even with Beomgyu's help, finding someone with the talent to learn the choreography on such short notice seemed near impossible.

One afternoon, Y/N and Beomgyu found themselves in the dance studio, surrounded by the echo of their failed attempts to secure a partner. The silence between them was a heavy cloak, laden with frustration and the ticking clock of the looming showcase.

It was in this moment of quiet defeat that Taehyun and Hueningkai entered, their presence a burst of energy in the stillness. "Any luck finding someone yet?" Taehyun inquired, hope tinting his words.

Y/N shook her head, the weight of her situation evident in her slumped shoulders. "No, everyone's schedules are just too packed. It feels like I'm back to square one."

Beomgyu sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "Yeah, and it's not just about finding someone free. They need to be able to pick up the choreography fast."

They delved into a discussion about potential candidates, each suggestion met with the reality of clashing schedules and time constraints. It was during this conversation that Hueningkai, who had been unusually quiet, spoke up.

"You know," Hueningkai began, his tone casual yet laced with a hint of determination, "my schedule isn't actually that packed right now. I've been following your dance preparations and... well, I've picked up most of the choreography."

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Hueningkai in surprise. Y/N's eyes widened, hope flickering in them for the first time in days. "Really? You'd do that?"

Taehyun smiled, a sense of relief washing over him. "That's great news! Hueningkai, are you sure you're up for it?"

Hueningkai nodded confidently. "Yeah, I've been keeping an eye on the routines, and honestly, I've been practicing in my free time. I think I can do it and Besides, it's for Y/N."

Y/N felt a wave of emotion at Hueningkai's words, her heart swelling with gratitude. "Thank you, Hueningkai. I... I don't even know how to thank you enough."

"No need for thanks," Hueningkai replied with a grin. "Let's just make sure we nail this showcase."

The studio, once filled with a heavy air of uncertainty and tension, was now alive with the sound of music and the rhythmic tapping of feet against the polished floor. Hueningkai, it turned out, wasn't just familiar with the choreography; he had mastered almost the entirety of it. His dedication was evident in every move, every step in sync with Y/N's, save for a few close contact moves that needed refining.

As they practiced, Beomgyu and Taehyun observed from the sidelines, their expressions a mix of surprise and admiration. "I knew Hueningkai was good, but this is just... wow," Taehyun murmured, his eyes following their every move.

Beomgyu nodded in agreement, a warm smile spreading across his face as he watched Y/N find her rhythm alongside Hueningkai. "He's really stepped up. Look at them, they're almost perfect together," he commented, his voice carrying a note of pride.

Meanwhile, hidden from their view, Yeonjun stood silently behind the slightly opened door, watching the scene unfold with a complex mix of emotions. The dance that was meant to be a duet between him and Y/N was now being brought to life by someone else. The realization stung, a poignant reminder of the consequences of his actions.

Inside the studio, Y/N and Hueningkai paused for a moment, reviewing the steps they had just practiced. "That spin needs to be tighter," Y/N pointed out, her tone constructive.

Hueningkai nodded, his focus unwavering. "Got it. And when we come together for that lift, we need to be more in sync. Let's try it again?"

"Sure," Y/N agreed, readying herself for another run. "And, Hueningkai? Thank you. Again. I can't tell you how much this means to me."

Hueningkai flashed her a reassuring smile. "Don't mention it. We're gonna kill this showcase."

Their dedication to perfection was palpable, each repetition bringing them closer to the seamless execution they aimed for. As they worked, Beomgyu turned to Taehyun, his voice a whisper, "It's amazing how quickly they've adjusted to each other, isn't it?"

Taehyun nodded, his gaze still fixed on the duo. "Yeah, it's like they were meant to dance this together. It's... bittersweet, though, seeing what could've been for Y/N and Yeonjun."

Beomgyu's expression grew somber at the mention of Yeonjun. "Yeah, but maybe this is for the best. Y/N needs people she can rely on right now."

Unseen, Yeonjun's heart ached as he listened, the words cutting deeper than he'd care to admit. He had hoped, in some small way, that watching them would ease the guilt he felt. Instead, it only served to magnify it, the sight of Y/N moving on with the dance — and perhaps, in time, moving on from him — a silent testament to the distance that now lay between them.

Back in the studio, Y/N and Hueningkai continued to refine their movements, their determination unyielding. After several more attempts, they finally nailed the sequence, their execution flawless. A collective cheer erupted from Beomgyu and Taehyun, breaking the intense concentration.

"That was perfect!" Beomgyu exclaimed, clapping his hands in approval. "Seriously, if you guys keep this up, the showcase is going to be amazing."

Y/N, out of breath but beaming with pride, leaned on Hueningkai for support. "We couldn't have done it without each other. Hueningkai, you're an amazing partner."

Hueningkai, equally flushed with exertion and satisfaction, grinned. "It's all about teamwork, right? We're gonna make this showcase unforgettable."

As the group celebrated their progress, laughter and chatter filled the air, contrasting sharply with Yeonjun's solitary retreat. His footsteps echoed in the hallway, each step away from the studio—and Y/N—felt like a heavy burden, his heart heavy with regret and longing. The mirth from the room he had just left was a cruel reminder of the camaraderie and connections he had jeopardized.

"Alright, everyone, let's call it a day," Y/N announced, her voice steady but tired from the intense rehearsal. "We've done amazing work. Hueningkai, you've been incredible. Thanks, everyone, for staying late."

Hueningkai, ever the gentleman, grabbed Y/N's bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "No problem at all. Let's make sure we all get home safely."

Beomgyu, maintaining his protective stance, casually draped an arm over Y/N's shoulders. They walked out together, a close-knit group, until they noticed Yeonjun's retreating figure.

"Yeonjun!" Taehyun called out, his voice echoing down the hallway. The figure paused but did not turn to face them. The tension in the air was palpable.

Yeonjun's voice, when he finally spoke, was thick with emotion. "Yeah?"

Y/N's heart ached at the sound, torn between the hurt Yeonjun had caused and the evident pain he was in now. Beomgyu's grip tightened, a silent plea for her to remember the past hurt.

"I thought I told you to give Y/N space, Yeonjun," Beomgyu stated, his voice firm and cold.

Yeonjun slowly turned, revealing his puffy, red eyes—evidence of his inner turmoil. Y/N's breath hitched at the sight, the urge to comfort him overwhelming her sense of betrayal. Despite Beomgyu's efforts to hold her back, she broke free, stepping forward with a resolve to face Yeonjun.

"Yeonjun, why are you here?" Y/N asked, her voice soft but laced with an unresolved pain.

"I... I needed to see how you were," Yeonjun admitted, his voice breaking. "I've made a terrible mistake, and I can't stop thinking about the pain I caused you."

The group fell into an awkward silence, watching the scene unfold. Beomgyu's heart raced with a mix of anger and jealousy, but he held his ground, respecting Y/N's need to confront Yeonjun.

Yeonjun stepped closer, hesitantly reaching out before pulling Y/N into a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I don't expect forgiveness. I just needed you to know."

Y/N's arms slowly wrapped around Yeonjun, a gesture of comfort rather than forgiveness. The hug was long and filled with a silent exchange of apologies and heartbreak.

Beomgyu watched, his heart cracking a little more with each passing second. The sight of Y/N in Yeonjun's arms stirred a deep jealousy, but he knew Y/N needed this closure.

After a moment, Beomgyu stepped forward, gently pulling Y/N away from Yeonjun. "It's late. We should all head home," he said, trying to mask the turmoil inside him.

Yeonjun nodded, stepping back as he wiped away fresh tears. "Take care of her," he said to Beomgyu, his voice barely a whisper.

Beomgyu wrapped his arm around Y/N, leading her away but not before giving Yeonjun a look that was both a warning and a silent acknowledgment of the pain they all shared.

As they walked away, Y/N leaned into Beomgyu, seeking comfort in his presence. Beomgyu, feeling the weight of Yeonjun's gaze on them, whispered, "I'm here for you, always."

Y/N nodded, her heart heavy with a mix of emotions. "Thank you, Beomgyu. For everything."

The group's departure left the hallway in silence, Yeonjun standing alone, a solitary figure consumed by regret. The echo of their footsteps was a stark reminder of the distance his actions had created.

Back with the others, Beomgyu felt Y/N's weight against him, a reminder of the responsibility he had taken on. He was determined to help her heal, to show her that she deserved someone who would never take her for granted.

As they reached the car, Taehyun turned to Y/N, offering a supportive smile. "You're strong, Y/N. And you're not alone in this."

Hueningkai added, "Yeah, we're all here for you, no matter what."

As the months slipped by, the showcase's arrival was imminent, and the synergy between Hueningkai and Y/N had reached a level of near perfection. Their dance was a seamless flow of energy and emotion, a testament to their hard work and dedication. It wasn't just the routine that had improved; Y/N herself was healing, slowly stitching the fragments of her heart back together.

In the midst of this healing process, both Yeonjun and Y/N felt a longing to salvage their friendship. They wished to tread back to a place of understanding and mutual respect, but Beomgyu's protective presence cast a long shadow over their intentions. Beomgyu, who had stood by Y/N through her lowest, found it hard to let go of the past. The idea of Yeonjun being close to her again stirred a fear in him, a fear of being sidelined after being her constant support, especially when he harbored feelings deeper than just friendship.

Yeonjun's text broke the monotony of the afternoon, a simple message waiting at the top of Y/N's phone screen.

Yeonjun: I'm by the HYBE entrance. Need to talk. Can you meet?

Y/N, her heart a mixture of nerves and anticipation, quickly started to gather her things. As she reached for her bag, Beomgyu's hand found her hip, stopping her in her tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?" Beomgyu asked, his voice betraying his concern.

Y/N sighed, turning to face him. "Yeonjun wants to talk. I... I think I should see what he has to say."

Beomgyu's grip tightened, his eyes pleading with her. "Y/N, after everything... Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Y/N met his gaze, her resolve firming. "I need to do this, Beomgyu. Not just for him, but for me too. I need closure."

"But I've been here for you," Beomgyu said, his voice cracking slightly. "Doesn't that mean something? I... I care about you more than you know."

Y/N placed her hand over Beomgyu's, feeling the warmth of his touch. "It means everything, Beomgyu. But I can't ignore this part of my life that needs fixing. Please, try to understand."

Beomgyu reluctantly let go, his heart heavy with unspoken words and feelings. "Just... be careful, okay?"

Y/N nodded, offering him a reassuring smile before heading out to meet Yeonjun.

The city's bustle surrounded them as Yeonjun led Y/N to a quaint café tucked away from the main thoroughfare. It was a spot they'd visited a few times over the past weeks, each meeting an attempt to navigate the delicate process of rebuilding their friendship.

As they settled into their seats, Yeonjun broke the silence first. "Thanks for coming, Y/N. It... it means a lot."

Y/N unfolded her napkin, her fingers tracing the edges. "We agreed to work on our friendship, Yeonjun. I'm just keeping my word."

Yeonjun nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "I know. I just want you to know how sorry I am. For everything."

Y/N looked up, meeting his eyes. "I appreciate your apology, Yeonjun. It's been hard, but I'm healing."

There was a pause, filled only by the ambient noise of the café, before Yeonjun spoke again. "I've missed our friendship, Y/N. The way things were before... before I messed up."

Y/N sighed, her heart heavy. "I've missed it too. But we can't go back, can we? We can only try to move forward."

"Exactly," Yeonjun agreed. "I'm not asking for things to go back to how they were. I just... I want a chance to prove I can be a better friend to you."

Y/N considered his words, the weight of their shared history pressing down on her. "It's going to take time, Yeonjun. And effort."

"I'm willing to give both," Yeonjun said earnestly. "Whatever it takes."

Their conversation flowed more easily after that, touching on lighter topics, the tension slowly dissipating. Yet, beneath the surface, there remained a tangle of emotions and unsaid things, a reminder of the long road ahead in their journey of reconciliation.

As the afternoon waned, Y/N glanced at her phone, noting the time. "I should get going. Rehearsal with Hueningkai starts soon."

"Thanks for this, Y/N. For listening." Yeonjun stood with her, the shadows of the setting sun painting the café in a soft light, "and maybe in the future. . . We can be dance partners again."

"I'd like that." Y/N offered him a small smile. "Thank you for being honest. I'll see you around, Yeonjun."

The atmosphere within the TXT dorm had been stifling for weeks, an unspoken tension hanging heavy in the air. Beomgyu and Yeonjun, once inseparable, now found themselves caught in an awkward dance of avoidance and silence, their friendship fractured by the events that had unfolded. Soobin, ever the peacemaker, had observed this growing rift with a heavy heart, determined to find a way to mend the bonds that seemed so perilously close to breaking.

One evening, as the golden hues of sunset bled through the windows, casting a warm glow over the living room, Soobin decided it was time to intervene. He gathered the members, signaling for Beomgyu and Yeonjun to sit on the couch, their shoulders tense, the distance between them palpable.

"Soobin, what's this about?" Beomgyu asked, a note of apprehension in his voice, eyeing Yeonjun warily.

Soobin cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over the two. "It's about us. About our team... our family," he began, the weight of leadership evident in his tone. "We've been through a lot together, and it hurts to see two of my closest friends so... distant."

Yeonjun shifted uncomfortably, his eyes on the floor. "I know I'm the cause of this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm sorry, truly. I miss... I miss us."

Beomgyu sighed, his arms crossed defensively. "I don't know if I can just forget what happened, Soobin. It's not that easy."

"I'm not asking for instant forgiveness," Yeonjun added quickly, meeting Beomgyu's gaze for the first time that evening. "I just... I miss my friend."

The room fell into an uneasy silence, the tension thick as Soobin searched for the right words to bridge the gap that had formed between his members. "I know things have been hard," Soobin continued, his voice steady and reassuring. "But we can't let this keep going. We're not just a group; we're a family. And families work through things, together."

Beomgyu's resolve began to crack, the weight of the past weeks pressing down on him. He looked at Yeonjun, seeing not just the source of his anger but the friend he had lost along the way. "It's not just about forgetting, Yeonjun," Beomgyu said, his voice low and strained. "It's about everything that's happened. How can we just go back?"

"We might not go back to how things were, but maybe we can start anew," Yeonjun offered, his tone hopeful yet tinged with sadness. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again, Beomgyu."

Beomgyu's gaze faltered, landing on his hands. "You were my safe space, Yeonjun. For years," he confessed, the hurt palpable in his voice. "And then... then everything changed."

"I know," Yeonjun replied softly. "And I regret every moment that brought us here. I was selfish, and I didn't consider how my actions would affect everyone, especially you."

The conversation that followed was fraught with emotion, both Beomgyu and Yeonjun laying bare their feelings, their grievances, and their regrets. Beomgyu, who had always been more reserved with his emotions, finally broke down, revealing the depth of his pain and anger.

"I've been holding back for so long," Beomgyu choked out, tears streaming down his face. "I love Y/N, Yeonjun. And I've been burying that because she loved you. I thought I was okay with that, as long as she was happy. But then you... you hurt her."

Yeonjun's own eyes filled with tears, the weight of Beomgyu's confession hitting him hard. "I didn't know you liked y/n like that, Beomgyu. I swear, if I had known..."

"It doesn't matter now does it," Beomgyu said, wiping his eyes angrily. "What's done is done. But it hurt, Yeonjun. Watching her break because of you... it tore me apart."

The room was silent, save for the soft sounds of Beomgyu's sobs, each member wrapped in their own thoughts, the gravity of Beomgyu's words settling over them like a heavy blanket.

Yeonjun, his own heart heavy with remorse and a newfound understanding, tentatively extended his hand towards Beomgyu. His gesture, hesitant at first, transformed into a comforting embrace, pulling Beomgyu closer in a silent promise of support and understanding. As they connected, Beomgyu's tears found new strength, his body shaking with the force of his emotions, yet in Yeonjun's hold, he found an anchor amidst the turmoil.

"Beomgyu... I'm here, okay? I'm so sorry," Yeonjun whispered, his voice laced with sincerity and regret.

The warmth of his embrace seemed to break down the walls Beomgyu had built around his heart, his grip tightening around Yeonjun in a desperate search for solace.

"It's... it's been so hard," Beomgyu managed to say between sobs, his voice barely audible, a testament to the depth of his pain.

"I know, I can't even begin to imagine how you've felt," Yeonjun replied, his tone gentle, each word carefully chosen to offer comfort.

"I tried to be strong, for her, for everyone... but seeing her hurt like that..." Beomgyu continued, the bitterness of the past mingling with the pain of his unspoken love.

Yeonjun pulled back slightly, looking Beomgyu in the eye. "I've been a fool, Beomgyu. I was so wrapped up in my own confusion, I didn't see the damage I was causing. Not just to her, but to you, to all of us."

Beomgyu wiped at his eyes, a mix of anger and sadness still evident in his gaze. "How do we move past this, Yeonjun? How can I trust that you won't hurt us again?"

"I want to rebuild what I've broken, step by step," Yeonjun said, his voice firm, underlined with a resolve that hadn't been there before.

"It's about her, about how we... how I deal with my feelings for her now," Beomgyu admitted, his admission hanging in the air, heavy and fraught with implication.

Yeonjun nodded, understanding dawning on him. "You love her... and you've sacrificed so much. I can't undo what I've done, but I want to support you, in any way I can."

Beomgyu sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. "I just... I want her to be happy, Yeonjun. That's always been the most important thing."

"And she will be, Beomgyu. With you by her side, how could she not?" Yeonjun offered a small smile, an olive branch in their complicated web of emotions and relationships.

Beomgyu managed a weak chuckle, the sound brittle but genuine. "Thanks, Yeonjun. I... I appreciate that."

The two sat in silence for a moment, the echoes of their conversation settling around them like dust after a storm.

Hueningkai, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up, his youthful optimism shining through. "and no matter what, we've got each other's backs, right? We'll help Y/N through this too."

Yeonjun looked at each of his bandmates, a sense of gratitude washing over him. "Thank you, guys. I've been so selfish, and yet, here you are, still willing to stand by me."

"Because that's what families do," Soobin said, his gaze encompassing each member. "We stand together, even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard."

Beomgyu nodded, a sense of resolve fortifying within him. "Let's make a promise, here and now. To always be honest with each other, to support each other through everything. For her, for us."

On the night that had been eagerly awaited by many, the backstage area was buzzing with nervous energy and excitement. Y/N and Hueningkai, both looking stunning in their performance attire, shared an unspoken bond, their eyes locking in mutual encouragement. Yeonjun, finding a spot closer to his bandmates, couldn't help but admire the duo.

“They’re going to be amazing, aren’t they?” He murmured, a mix of pride and wistfulness in his voice.

Beomgyu, catching Yeonjun's gaze, nodded enthusiastically, his eyes bright. "Absolutely. And have you seen Y/N? She looks incredible tonight," he couldn't help but gush, his admiration for her barely contained.

As the duo made their way towards the stage, their hands found each other's, a source of strength and comfort. Their entrance was met with an eager applause, the audience's anticipation palpable in the air. Hueningkai gave Y/N's hand a reassuring squeeze before they took their positions, ready to captivate everyone with their performance.

From the wings, Yeonjun watched, awe-struck by the fluidity and passion of their dance. "I wish that was me out there with her," he confessed to Soobin, who stood by his side. "But, seeing her shine like this, maybe it's for the best."

Soobin placed a comforting hand on Yeonjun's shoulder. "Your time will come, Yeonjun. When things are lighter, who knows? But for now, let's just enjoy their moment," he advised, a gentle smile on his face.

As the final pose was struck and the applause thundered through the auditorium, Beomgyu couldn't contain his excitement any longer. He rushed towards Y/N, his heart racing with pride and joy. "You were phenomenal!" he exclaimed, lifting her off the ground in a whirlwind of happiness.

Y/N, caught by surprise, laughed, wrapping her limbs tightly around him. "Beomgyu! You're going to make me dizzy," she protested, her laughter infectious, her heart soaring from the rush of the performance and the unexpected affection.

"I could spin you around all night! You and Hueningkai were perfect out there!" Beomgyu's words were filled with genuine admiration, his eyes sparkling with emotion.

In a moment of boldness, fueled by the adrenaline and the magnetic pull between them, Beomgyu leaned in and kissed her. It was a kiss that had been a long time coming, a kiss that spoke volumes.

Y/N responded with equal fervor, her arms and legs still securely wrapped around him, the world around them fading into a blur. The kiss was passionate, a declaration of feelings that had simmered beneath the surface for too long.

From his vantage point, Yeonjun watched the scene unfold, a pang of jealousy and regret lacing through his chest. "I guess I really did mess up, didn't I?" he muttered under his breath, the sight of their happiness a sharp reminder of what he had lost due to his indecision.

Taehyun, standing next to him, offered a sympathetic look. "It's tough, Yeonjun. But sometimes, we learn the most about ourselves through our mistakes," he said, his voice soft, hoping to offer some solace.

As the kiss ended and Beomgyu and Y/N finally parted, still wrapped in each other's embrace, the rest of the group approached, their expressions a mix of surprise and delight.

"Hueningkai, you were incredible too!" Beomgyu was quick to include him, his enthusiasm unabated when he jokingly leaned into h hueningkai for a kiss. "It was a perfect performance."

“Thanks man, but I think I’ll pass on that kiss,” Hueningkai laughed and gently pushed beomgyu away.

Yeonjun, gathering his courage, stepped forward. "Yeah, you both were amazing," he admitted, his voice sincere. "I'm really proud of you, Y/N. And Hueningkai, great job."

Y/N, still in Beomgyu's arms, smiled at Yeonjun, a gesture of forgiveness and understanding. "Thank you, Yeonjun. That means a lot."

The group's dynamics had shifted, but in that moment, there was a sense of closure, of new beginnings. As they all congratulated Y/N and Hueningkai on their successful performance, there was laughter and shared joy, a testament to the bonds that held them together, through highs and lows.

As the night wore on, and the adrenaline from the performance began to fade, Y/N found herself reflecting on the whirlwind of emotions. The kiss with Beomgyu had sparked something undeniable between them, a connection that both had sensed but never fully explored until now. As the celebrations continued around them, Y/N's thoughts kept drifting back to that moment, the warmth of his lips on hers, the way her heart seemed to beat in sync with his.

Finally, stealing a moment away from the crowd, Y/N found Beomgyu leaning against a secluded backstage wall, a contemplative look on his face. She approached him, her steps hesitant but determined.

“Beomgyu,” she began, her voice slightly shaky from the cocktail of emotion swirling with in her. “About that kiss…”

Beomgyu's gaze met hers, intense and filled with an emotion she couldn't quite decipher. "Yes, about that..." he echoed, pushing off from the wall to stand a bit closer to her. "I hope it was okay. I mean, I've wanted to do that for a long time now. But I never found the right moment until tonight."

Y/N couldn't help but smile, a warmth spreading through her at his admission. "It was more than okay, Beomgyu. It felt... right," she confessed, her heart racing at the vulnerability they were sharing.

Beomgyu took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently grasp hers. "I'm glad to hear that because I've had feelings for you for the longest time. And seeing you up there tonight, so radiant and full of life, I couldn't hold back anymore."

Y/N's eyes softened, her own hand squeezing his in return. "I've had my share of feelings too, Beomgyu. But everything was so complicated, and then there was Yeonjun..."

Beomgyu nodded, understanding her unspoken words. "I know. And I don't want to rush you into anything. I just... I want you to know that I'm here, for you, whatever pace you want to take things."

Their eyes locked, a silent agreement passing between them. "Thank you, Beomgyu. That means the world to me," Y/N said, her voice laced with a mixture of relief and newfound excitement. "Let's take things slow and see where this journey takes us."

Beomgyu's smile widened, his heart lighter than it had been in ages. "I'd like that very much, Y/N."

As they rejoined the ongoing celebrations, hand in hand, there was a new sense of possibility in the air. Both were acutely aware of the challenges that lay ahead, but in that moment, they were content in the knowledge that they would face them together, step by step.

[callsignfate]

Grief...

(Tw: Death, talk of death, angst. Viewer discretion is advised. Context: You die, they watch it happen, and the events after.)

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Tears blurred her vision as she gazed down at you, her heart aching with an unbearable heaviness. In that frozen moment, the world around her seemed to fade into oblivion, leaving only your lifeless form before her. Your stillness, the absence of your presence, was a gaping void that threatened to swallow her whole.

Her trembling fingers traced the contours of your face, as if trying to memorize every detail, every imperfection, every nuance of the person who had meant the world to her. The gentle touch of her hand on your skin was a poignant contrast to the lifelessness that had settled over you like a cold blanket.

The pain in her chest, the crushing weight of loss, was almost unbearable. She clung to you, unwilling to let go, as if by sheer force of will she could bring you back to life, see your smile once more, hear your laughter and snide comments fill the air. But deep down, she knew it was impossible.

Her tears that had fallen freely slowly stopped, each drop a testament to the profound dread that had enveloped her. She couldn't comprehend a world without you, and yet here she was, forced to face the unbearable reality. Her once helpless sobs and pleas for you to wake up had stopped. Her hysterics ending as fast as they had started.

Her shoulders, tense and locked up from her emotions, now slumped down as her breathing evened out into a slower, deepened pace. Her body was exhausted, wracked with endless emotions threatening to show themselves.

The sound of planes overhead stirred her from the depths of her grief, a cruel reminder that life continued its relentless march forward, indifferent to her pain. She pointed at them, just as you once did, a simple gesture that carried with it a universe of memories and emotions.

"Look, a plane," she whispered, her voice fragile and trembling, a shadow of its former self. It was a voice that had lost its everything, the one who had given it warmth and meaning. She felt as if she was now alone.

The weight of your body, still propped up on her legs, felt both comforting and unbearable. She couldn't bring herself to let go, not yet. Her trembling hands reached for your dog tags, handling them with the utmost care, as though they held the essence of your being. As if they held your soul. Pulling them slowly from under your gear, over your neck and head felt like she was trying not to stir you awake with her movements.

Days turned into an endless blur of gray, the house around her an empty shell, a haunting reminder of your absence. She had called it "our home" before, but now it was nothing more than walls and memories, void of the life and love that had once filled its every corner.

Her anger, a fierce, vile thing, born from grief, shattered the fragile stillness of her solitude. The glass that was once full of bitter and warm alcohol now flew through the air before hitting the wall of the dark kitchen. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the house, a symphony of pain and frustration.

"Why did you take the bullet for me?!" she screamed, her voice a desperate plea to the void. "Why?! This is worse than dying! It's not fair! You understand that, don't you?! We were supposed to do so much more. You had more time. We had more time!"

She turned and looked around the house as if you were there, as if you were the walls. She yelled and screamed as if you could hear her desperate, angry emotions that forced their way past the unrelenting sadness.

Her rage was replaced by a crushing sense of helplessness as she knelt down to pick up the shattered glass, her hands trembling with a mix of emotions. In the midst of her despair, a ghostly image of you appeared before her, kneeling beside her and offering comfort from a past memory.

"You cut yourself? I have a band-aid, don't worry, wait right here," you said with a smile, and then you vanished like a fleeting memory into thin air.

She looked down at her finger, where a small cut had drawn a drop of blood. She laughed, a sad, bitter sound that held a multitude of emotions. The grief was like a heavy stone on her chest, and she wiped away her tears with the back of her forearm.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling with gratitude and sorrow. She stood up slowly, feeling a cold flat piece of metal against her chest.

The dog tags found their place on her neck, the same day you died, the cool metal pressing gently against her skin. As they settled into their home, they created a soft, comforting sound as they lightly clinked together. These tags, once worn by you, now served as a constant reminder of your presence, your love, and the memories you had created together.

With the weight of your memory resting close to her heart, she stood in the quiet emptiness of the house. The silence was a stark contrast to the vibrant life you had once shared. Yet, in that silence, she saw the last thing you had touched on your way out of the house on that day.

Her gaze drifted to the kitchen island, where your ring lay. It was a symbol of your love and commitment, a token of the life you had built together. She picked it up and held it in her hand, feeling its weight, its significance. She read over the engraving that was hidden usually against your skin. "Amor meus in aeterno."

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