#the bold message is something I wish someone told younger me

[wakkoroni]

Headcanon about Solangelo

A while after Will and Nico started dating, Will started to be more tired and less happy and outgoing. Like he was still a chill camper that would calm everyone down when needed but he just was tired from all the responsibilities. People thought that it was Nico that “ruined” him and thought that Nico consumed Will with all the negative energy and he probably got hate for that.

In reality, Nico taught Will that he doesn’t need to pretend to be happy all the time. He taught him that it’s okay if he isn’t okay. That it is fine to express your emotions and how hiding behind a happy mask isn’t the best decision. Then Mr.D backed this up and told Will that hiding your real emotions is unhealthy and dangerous in the long run. No one is expecting you to be happy all the time so it’s okay to be tired. Being head medic can be draining and it’s okay to let that show. Will loved this advice and stopped to pretending to be happy all the time. He is happy btw, he’s happy pretty often but he doesn’t show it like he used to. (His siblings love the fact the fact he doesn’t pretend anymore because now they know how they can help and Will won’t brush them off as “no everything is fine”)

To take a break from responsibilities he doesn’t work in the infirmary all the time, he’s there often though just not everyday (unless there’s an emergency) He’s taking more time for himself and taking care of himself instead of running thin and helping everyone else

Will isn’t depressed (though I wouldn’t be surprised if he was) he just isn’t as outgoing as he was.

Will and Nico’s relationship is so healthy like they both teach each other new things and are always by each others side. They’re by each other sides through the highs and lows. It’s adorable

[pink-tonic]

Prologue🔪

Previous

Next

All Chapters

Warnings: Death, graphic depictions of violence, blood

There are a few text messages so:

Bold text = Ayato

Red text = Info-Chan

Green text = (Y/N)

It's the first day back after the incident with the boy.

I have never liked school all that much ever since I was little. The condition I was born with prevented me from having meaningful friendships with others. In turn, I got made fun for it. Labeled as a monster for something I couldn't completely control.

Except for one. My childhood friend, (Y/N) (L/N). I still don't know why he decided to be my friend, but I guess it wasn't too bad to have him around. Others started to view him differently since he associated with me, but those comments didn't stop him from being my friend.

As time passed by, we both started to drift apart, but that didn't matter all too much to me. I found someone else.

His name is Taro Yamada, and he is the younger brother of Taeko Yamada.

Taeko Yamada is the girl who made my world brighter.

I first met her at Taro's house, and I fell in love with her. My world gained color, and everything became so much brighter. For the first time, I felt emotion.

I could feel love starting to bubble up inside of me, and it scared me, but I couldn't help but embrace it. And it all started with a smile and a wave from her as she walked down the stairs.

I later found out that she also goes to Akadimi. How have I never noticed her?

With Taro being her brother, I had to use his connection with her to my advantage.

I told him one day that I caught feelings for Taeko. He seemed...unsure about what I said. It was as if he didn't want to believe my word, almost like he was scared.

It didn't matter what he thought, I knew it would be easy to get him on my side, but it was clear that the progress I wished for was not being made.

With time, I found someone else who could help me. Her name is Info-chan. I was skeptical about her, but I later found out she was valuable to have around.

One day, I got a massage from her.

I think you might want to know something

What is it?

The object of your affection, Taeko Yamada, also has other people after her.

Who is it?

It's a first year, I found out he is planning on confessing this Friday under the cherry tree.

What should I do?

That's all up to you.

I tried texting her, but she didn't respond, so I decided to take things into my own hands.

A day before he confessed, I made him follow me. It was quite easy to make him follow me. I was his upperclassmen, so he practically looked up to me.

I lead him into the boys' locker room. He started to ask questions, but I told him I needed something for practice, and it wouldn't take long to get it.

He waited patiently near the entrance. I walked towards my locker and took out a knife I had hidden within it.

I slowly walked towards him and pulled out the knife. With a quick motion, I sloppily sliced open his throat. I covered his mouth, and I could feel his nails claw at my clothed arm. I held him tightly, and my eyes traveled towards his struggling figure. I could clearly see his life drain out his eyes. He twitched a bit more before he laid limp in my arms. I then dropped his body, and a loud thud could be heard echoing throughout the locker room.

When I dropped him, a pool of blood started slowly trickling out of his throat and surround him. It was after school, and I made sure none of the sports club members were inside, and they wouldn't be coming back inside to change until an hour later. I had enough time to clean everything up.

First, I took off my clothes and went towards the showers. I rinsed off all the blood and then put on my gym uniform. I then grabbed my blood-stained clothes and knife, and headed out.

I headed to the incinerator, but I was met with a surprise. The gate was closed and there was a lock. This meant I couldn't get rid of thd knife, clothes or body.

I felt my nails dig into the fabric of my uniform. How could this happen?

I now had to look for an alternative way to get rid of the evidence. I decided to go to the home economic room and throw my clothes into the washer. While for my knife, I cleaned it at one of the drinking fountains.

Now, I had to get rid of the body.

I went back to the boys' locker room and still saw the student surrounded by his own blood. I first dragged his body closer to me and away from his blood. I also made sure to watch my step, I didn't want my shoes to get any blood on them.

When I got his body away from the pool of blood, I bent down and carried his body.

I started to run to the back of the cherry tree. I made sure none of the sports club members were around and made a dash towards the back of the hill.

I dropped his body harshly and rushed back to the school. I went to the restroom and got the cleaning supplies. I filled the blue bucket with water, dumped some bleach into it, and grabbed the matching blue mop.

I rushed back to the room. I placed the bucket down as some of the water spilled down. I dipped the mop into the bucket and started to clean up the blood.

Sweep

Dip

Sweep

Dip

I repeated these actions until the blood was all cleaned up. I picked up the blue bucket which now had bloody water in it, and I ran to the bathrooms. I dumped the bloody water into the sink, and I then cleaned the sink. I then headed back to get the mop. I cleaned the mop in the bathroom and then sat it back where I found it. As if nothing was moved.

I then ran to the home economic room. I took my uniform and rushed out of the school.

My first attempt was sloppy, but even if they found the body, it didn't matter. I'm still a free man, after all, and I'm planning to keep it that way.

They didn't find the body when I left, but the next day a teacher found it in the morning.

I still remember that day. I wasn't nervous or scared. I felt confident that I would get away with it, and I did.

They questioned me, but I answered with lies. Eventually, they didn't suspect me anymore and let me go. I was just seen as another innocent student like everyone else.

When I was free to go home, I headed home and got ready to relax. I turned on the television and saw news about what happened at the school.

I listened to the television but it was the same information I had already heard, so I switched off the TV.

I started to get ready for bed, and before I laid down, I noticed a notification. It was a text message from (Y/N). The message was sent over an hour ago. I decided I would respond.

Did you hear that they're closing the school for a few months?

Is it because of the killing?

Yes, the police want to do a bigger investigation, so they don't want students to be walking around

I smirked at the message. Knowing that the police wouldn't find anything besides the body.

That's understansable.

It kind of sucks but it's an understandable decision

Thanks for letting me know.

I cut the conversation off early and went to bed.

Now, all of that is in the past, and the first day back is today. I got ready and left my house. I went to Taro's house and I saw him waiting outside for me. I hoped to see Teako, and maybe she would even join us on our walk to school, but she had already left.

As Taro joined me, he started up a conversation.

"Ayato, did you hear that there is going to be a small assembly to honor the victim," he told me.

"No."

"Oh, really? I thought you might have already known about it," he said to me,"Well, we should head straight to the gymnasium since I don't think we will have any time to spare today."

I nod at what Taro told me. I don't care about the assembly, but maybe I will be able to see Taeko there?

[littlemissmarvelous]

The bra that was 2 sizes bigger than yours.

The underwear that was lacier and tinier than any you owned.

The lipstick stains a color so bold, only a gorgeous woman could wear it.

The perfume that smelled of roses that seeped into his laundry that you wish was yours.

The hickey he came home with late one night that wasn’t there when he left for work.

What exactly was the last straw? You weren’t sure.

Most people would say that you should have known better when getting involved with a millionaire playboy. They would never change for a woman, especially one as “plain” as you as they would say. Sure, after a few years of marriage and a being a relatively new mother to your baby girl, you didn’t get dolled up as much as you used to. You used to be a top grade ballerina, which was how you met him in the first place. He had seen you and couldn’t go without laying claim on you and putting a ring on it.

He had told you he loved you.

That you were it.

The love of his life, the perfect mother of his child.

Where did you fail? You didn’t understand and didn’t have anyone to talk to. Your friends were his friends, and any of yours from before were nearly cut off when he took you from your pedestal and stuck you in his home. The only two gifts he truly gave you were your beautiful daughter and a personal studio for you to dance when you could. You’d known for so long now of his doings that maybe he would know by now. You had hoped it was short, but of course he needed the younger and more beautiful version. You knew you had to figure something else with the resources you had, and take your sweet baby with you.

There was a knock on your bedroom door that alerted you to look up and meet eyes with your husbands butler, Jarvis.

“Mrs.Stark...I just wanted to let you know lunch is ready.”

You smile though it doesn’t reach your eyes, and you know your hands are shaking as you clutch the lingerie set that wasn’t yours in your hand. “Thank you, Jarvis.”

He nod and stands silent for a moment before clearing his throat. “If I may be so bold, Mrs. Stark, I do not believe Mr. Stark deserves you or Ms. Elizabeth.”

Your breath catches and you almost sob out, “you know?”

He nods. “Mr. Stark is not good at hiding things as he thinks he is.”

“Oh god.” You’re sobbing now as your secret is out in the open now. “I’m sorry for putting you in an unfortunate position, Jarvis.”

“It’s not your doing, mam. Mr. Stark reaps what he has sewn, and he is at fault. I just am sorry you were caught in the crossfire.” He is sympathetic and you’re almost glad someone finally knows. Looking around your room, you try to spot something that will let you know that your marriage isn’t over, to hold on.

Nothing.

“He is seeing her again tonight isn’t he?” You ask softly.

“From the phone call i received...yes mam.”

Your heart breaks once again and your chest caves in as you try to think of what to do next. You knew you only had one choice, your suitcases calling your name. “Jarvis?”

“Yes Mrs. Stark?” He asks.

“Can you get Elizabeth’s bags packed? As much as you can? She should be still sleeping.”

Jarvis smiles at this, realizing your plan and glad that you are standing up for yourself. “I would be glad to. Shall I call for a car as well?” You nod with a sad smile, to which he nods and leaves the room leaving you alone to pack up your life. An hour later you had three suitcases that contained your life at your side, your baby girl in your arms, and a bare ring finger as you waited for the car.

Jarvis stands next to you, and you look at him nervously. “Am I doing the right thing? Leaving him?”

Jarvis places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes in reassurance. “I do believe so, mam. He has already hurt you enough.” He pulls out a phone from his pocket and holds it out to you. “Here is the new phone you asked for by the way, new number and Mr. Stark shall not know it’s yours.”

Taking it in your hands you smile with tears in your eyes. “Thank you so much Jarvis. For all of this. For everything.”

The suv pulled up and you let out a sigh of nervousness. This was the big step, you were actually leaving. After putting the bags in the car and Elizabeth in the car you turn back to Jarvis one last time and hand him a folded envelope from your pocket. “Give these to him will you? Already signed and everything.”

Jarvis nods and takes the envelope before watching you hop into the SUV and disappear down the street. Opening the envelope once inside the home, a packet of papers fall out, the dark bolded letters at the top spelling DIVORCE. He smiles to himself at the strength you must have had to muster to finally stand up for yourself and do this. Quickly, Jarvis placed the papers on the table with a pen on top and Mr. Starks signature drink he requested when he came home. That should be sufficient, Jarvis thought to himself.

It was the next morning that Tony finally came home, immediately ridding himself of his tie and jacket that reeked of her perfume.

“Y/n?”

No answer.

“Elizabeth?”

No answer.

Frowning he takes steps into the kitchen, half expecting you to be listening to music and baking muffins for breakfast. Instead, he finds it empty. Finally catching his eyes were the papers and his drink waiting for him. Sighing grateful the grabs the drink and begins to sip until the stark letters catch his eyes.

DIVORCE.

Choking on his drink he grabs the papers and let’s the glass crash to the floor. He sees your many signatures, all complying this was what you wanted. It was like he couldn’t breathe, his lungs squeezed tight. Why was this such a surprise to him? He had to have assumed you would find out at some point...but he had always hoped you wouldn’t. His prima ballerina wife. The mother of his child. The woman he fell for at first sight. And now she was gone, nothing but her signatures and photos on the wall to remember her by. Taking out his phone he dials your number, only to receive a message letting him know that this number didn’t even exist anymore.

You sat in your newly rented apartment with your eyes on the door while Elizabeth played with her small dolls on the plush carpet. Moments later the door opened to reveal a certain gorgeous red head you knew well.

“You got the message then.” you smiled.

She smirked in return, “of course I did. I trained with you long enough to know your code.”

“has he tried to find me yet?”

“yes,” she says, “but you didn’t tell him about...before did you?”

“no, no I didn’t.” you shook your head as brief memories passed through your brain.

“He isn’t going to find you, unless you decide to show him your colors again.”

“They didn’t call me the chameleon for nothing Natasha. He’s just lucky I didn’t have the urge to kill him myself. You have no idea how bad I wanted him to be my target.”

“Speaking of target, can I count you in on recon?”

you stand and approach a large cabinet in the hallway and open the door to reveal rows of wigs of different colors and styles followed by rows of knives and guns.

“i’m always ready.”

[selfindulgentfanfiction]

What Can I Do? (William One Shot)

WARNING: CONTAINS MINOR SPOILERS OF LOVE UNHOLYC. Please be advised reading if you have not completed at least one route past day 7. I based this off of one of William’s side stories called “A Smiling Master and a Heartbroken Butler”. It isn’t relevant enough to the side story to be a spoiler for it.

Fandom: Love Unholyc Character(s): William and MC (unnamed and gender neutral) NSFW: No Description: Slight AU where even after spending 7 days with Sol, Leo, and Hi, MC still chooses William to be their partner for their Coming of Age ceremony. However, due to William losing his adult body during the day, he distances himself from MC and refuses the second time to be their partner.

“Master?” William knocked on MC’s door 3 times before opening the door. They always scolded him for not knocking, so William was doing as he was ordered; knocking. However, he never nailed the timing on when he should enter. MC was lucky he knocked in the first place, he humored.

William wasn’t expected for the sight in front of him.

The room was empty. No master in sight. Not only were they no where to be found, but the room was mysteriously picked up. All of MC’s dirty clothes were in the hamper and their gaming desk was free of any and all debris or food. 

It wasn’t clean by any means, but it was suspiciously clean for his master.

William knew that MC was in their home 360 out of 365 days a year, but he felt panic swell in his chest. He was concerned for his master’s safety, but the thought of her with those humans made him feel even more insecure.

William’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out swiftly and almost dropped it. He cursed to himself before reading a message from his master.

MC: LIAM! MC: I’ll be home later. I have some things to do. MC: I know you haven’t been speaking to me much since you had to reverse time, but I understand.

William felt a tightness in his stomach at that. He didn’t know that MC noticed his distance, but even more so, he didn’t expect them to understand.

MC: Anyway, I picked everything up in my room. I ate before I left as well and I’ll eat before I get home, so don’t worry about making me anything. MC: I even braided my own hair today! You should be proud! (^-^) MC: Anyway, there’s no need to do anything today. Just take it easy, okay?~ MC: Oh, that’s an order from your master, by the way.

William stiffened. What was this? Why has his master done this? They’ve never done this before. William had so many questions that his head began to spin.

Then, he caught a glance of his reflection in the mirror. William clenched his fist at the sight in front of him.

The young boy in the mirror glowered back at William. He didn’t regret turning back time to save his master from Eater. He would do it a thousand more times. There was no price he wouldn’t pay for his master. He can’t help but wish that he paid any other price other than this one.

He was hundreds of years old, but during the day, he’s stuck in the body of his younger self. He also sacrificed half of his power when he turned back time. Due to his smaller stature, doing chores during the day was more difficult than ever. Keeping up with his master and a mansion in the state of his body was difficult work and often resulted in William cleaning well into the early hours of the morning. He would rest for a couple of hours before waking up to prepare MC’s breakfast. He complained out loud about how hard work has been, but he hadn’t expected his master to notice.

William looked around MC’s room. It was full of random items, all items he’d bought for them. He didn’t mind spoiling them. His master was unmatched as an Unholyc even if they didn’t realize it, managing to attract three partners on their first try for their Coming of Age ceremony. Out of all of the things they could be doing, his master plays games. He doesn’t think this is a bad thing. William’s brow furrowed at the memory of the humans. Leo, Sol, and Hi irritated him more than he could put into words.

William closed his eyes. He found the humans to be ungrateful and troublesome. He remembers how he came to be in charge of the 3 dogs.

-The day MC found their humans-

“Master, get up.” William pulled the comforter of the bed back to reveal a sleepy master, fighting him tooth and nail on getting out of bed.

“No!” MC fought, refusing to open their eyes. They rolled onto their side with a huff.

“You have to find a partner for your Coming of Age ceremony. Or, did you already forget? I swear, master. It’s like you intentionally stress me out.” William sighed. “Please, master. It’s time for breakfast and then the car will be ready for you.”

MC sniffled. Even though they weren’t facing William, he could tell they were frowning. “Why do I have to find a partner?” MC asks quietly. Their voice was laced with sleep and something else that William couldn’t place.

William did his best to hide the annoyance in his tone. “You have to in order to complete your ceremony. You have to have a ceremony to become a full fledged Unholyc. Do we need to have this lesson again?” William teased. He knew his master did not want to have that lesson again, but sometimes getting a rise out of them made them rise out of bed.

MC suddenly turned to face William. Their face was flushed and tears pricked the corners of their eyes. William’s eyes widened at them.

They looked angry at him.

“Why? Why do I need to go find a partner? Can’t Liam be my partner?” MC asked, brow furrowed.

Liam was completely taken aback by his master’s sudden boldness. He managed to open his mouth anyway.

“If my master commands it, I will be.”

MC’s face fell. “I see. Forget I said anything, then.” They got out of bed, refusing to meet William’s eye. “I’ll get ready. Please get out so I can change.”

William studied his master’s back before exiting, softly shutting the door behind him. He stood outside of their door for a few moments, gathering himself. He didn’t appreciate his master playing with his emotions like that. He didn’t want to hold out false hope of one day ending up with his master for eternity.

He didn’t want to be like that stupid butler of Shallotte’s, Pierce.

William sighed to himself. They probably only said that because they were too lazy to leave, and William was the easiest option for them since he lived with them already.

MC requested to eat in their room before they went to find their partner. William scolded them for eating meals in their room, however, it was just to mask how sore his chest felt. Truth be told, he didn’t want his master to find a partner. He wanted to be the only one to channel acme into them. He wanted to be their partner for her ceremony, and for their lives.

He wouldn’t admit this, however. He was fine being their butler forever, as long as he could remain by MC’s side.

No matter what, he just wants to be by their side. He won’t be selfish with his relationship with his master. He would only be selfish with being by their side. He told himself to never wish for more and kept the romantic feelings he had for his master buried as far as he could.

MC returned from their hunt for a partner with not only one, but three.

Not only three, but three humans.

William’s blood burned. Not only would be have to share his master, he would have to share them with three humans?

After they excused themselves to MC’s room, William quickly shut the door behind them. He couldn’t watch them channeling their acme into his master.

-

William’s gaze fell upon MC’s dresser. Before he had to reverse time, this had been where MC placed the gift he gave them on the day of their Coming of Age ceremony.

Even after spending 7 days with those humans, his master still chose him. After all of the hoops they jumped through for those humans, his master still chose him.

Liam sat on MC’s bed before curling himself up in her sheets. When he turned back time and realized what happened to his body, he couldn’t be their partner this time around. One of the humans would have to do it.

He couldn’t protect them like that anymore. He couldn’t provide for them in that way anymore.

Is that why they left today? Is that why they cleaned up after themselves? Were they preparing themselves for a life without William in it?

That must be why she chose the same three humans when he turned back time. They were choosing someone else they could spend eternity with.

-Coming of Age Ceremony-

Sol, Leo, and Hi held a gift out to MC. MC eyed all of them with surprise before tilting their head to the side. “For me?” They asked. All three of the men nodded.

“It’s your special day, my dear.” Leo piped up. “How could we not spoil you today? Especially with how cute you look!” Hi added. “After all you’ve done for us, it’s the least we could do for you, MC.” Sol finished.

William held a hand out in front of his master.

“You can only choose one gift today. Due to it being the day of your ceremony, you must choose the gift from whoever you want your partner to be for your ceremony. Choose one and make it quick.” William explained.

MC bit the inside of their cheek. They looked troubled. They were nervously fidgeting with their hands and shifting back and forth.

“Master.” William spoke up. “Just choose the one from whomever you like the best.”

“But-” MC started before stopping again. “How do I choose only one?”

“What does your heart say, master?” William asked them.

MC looked at William with tinted cheeks. “D- Did you get me a gift, Liam?”

William’s eyes widened along with the eyes of all three humans.

“I....” William trailed off. MC stared at them, urging him to continue. “....Did. I did get you a gift. However, it was a while back ago, since we’ve been waiting many years for this ceremony and all-”

“Please, can I have it?” MC cut him off. “I- I want you to be my partner. But only if you want to be my partner!” MC started fumbling over their words. “I didn’t want to order you to be my partner. I wanted you to want to be my partner.” They added softly. William barely picked up the last part. William began his ascent up the staircase.

“Excuse me for a moment.” He said over his shoulder.

William went to his room before grabbing the carefully wrapped gift. He’d gotten this for MC long ago and would re-wrap it every so often so that it still looked new. He didn’t think he would ever be giving this to them. He wasn’t going to hold back or allow MC to change their mind a second time.

William felt foolish. If he’d have just said yes to MC a week ago, he never would have had to deal with those humans. He never would have had to share his master with anyone. He wanted to make them happy over everything else, though. He didn’t know if they would be happy being his partner or if they were just scared to go find a new one.

Either way, he should have kept his mouth shut.

Descending back down the stairs, William gently took his master’s hand and led them away from the commotion and into the hallway. MC’s face was flushed and William couldn’t hold back his smile.

“Master,” William started, taking their hand in his. “In order for me to be your partner, we must first be under contract.” 

MC’s eyes widened. They must have just come to this realization. “Oh!” They exclaim. “Is it okay to do it this late into my ceremony?”

“Considering all of the steps you’ve messed up this week, breaking one more rule shouldn’t make a difference. You know the magic words, master.” William guided MC to a chaise in the hallway and knelt down in front of them. “Bind me with a contract.”

After MC recited the magic words, William felt his entire body flooding with acme. Even though he’s a few hundred years old, this feeling was new. Acme was coursing through his veins as he gazed upon his master. He’s always loved his master without question, but this feeling was different than anything he’s felt before.

Lust. Protective. Adoration. Fear. Yearning. Love.

He understood why those humans would sacrifice themselves for his master after knowing them a short time. The admiration he was feeling toward his master was almost unbearable.

William took MC’s hand in his before planting a kiss on the back of their hand. When his lips met their skin, he began to let his acme pour from him. 

“I, William, accept this contract to be MC’s partner.” He verbally signed his contract with his master before placing his lips back on their hand.

He was trying to hold back the best he could, but several years of pent up one-sided love was flowing out of him at an unstoppable speed. MC moaned, burying their face into their shoulder to muffle the sounds. William trailed his lips up MC’s arm, allowing his acme to pour into them with each kiss.

Wrist.

Forearm.

Bicep.

With one final kiss to the shoulder, William forces himself to pull back. His master’s face was flushed, mouth open as they were panting. William leaned up and placed his forehead onto MC’s.

“Liam.” They whined his name. It was music to his ears.

“Yes, master. I am here.”

-

“Liam?” MC gently shook William’s shoulder. He was sleep in their bed, glasses still on his face and hair disheveled. William’s eyes opened and fixed on the room around him. It was dark outside and he had grown into his adult body when he was napping.

“Master,” William called out to them softly. “What else can I do?”

MC’s eyebrows knitted together as they sat next to William on their bed. “What do you mean?”

William couldn’t help himself. He wrapped his arms around their waist and buried his face into their side.

“What else can I do so that you’ll want me to stay?” He asked them. He felt his chest swelling with each passing second, waiting for them to tell him to leave their room, waiting for them to yell at him in disgust.

However, to William’s surprise, MC smiled softly at him.

“Did you spend your entire day off in here?” They asked him softly, smoothing his hair down with their fingers. William’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment at the contact but he forced himself to look MC in the eye before nodding. When he snapped out of his daze, his eyes narrowed.

“Day off?” He questioned. He raised his eyebrows at them when he finally registered what they were saying.

“Yes, your day off. What did you think today was? I told you to relax!” They scold him playfully, poking him in the side with their finger.

“So, you were trying to give me a break?” William attempted to get clarification. He was just wallowing in self pity all day for potentially nothing.

MC sighed at him. “I know how hard it’s been adjusting to your body. You’ve looked after me for so long now, and I’m sorry I haven’t been looking after you as well.”

William felt a lump develop in his throat. He tried to swallow.

“You don’t have to do that, master.” William stated. “It’s my job to look after you.”

“True, but it’s my job as someone who loves you to notice when you’re struggling and take some of the burden off.” MC stated back. William’s eyes widened at his master, staring at them with a mix of wonder and admiration for a moment before composing himself.

“I know you’re holding back because of the circumstances, but I will always love you.” MC continued. “I’m going to work hard this week to try and help you get your body back. We will find a way. Then, I want Liam to be my partner again.”

William’s grip tightened on his master.

“I will always be master’s butler. So please, never stop needing me.” He mumbled into their side. “I love you, MC. Let me stay by your side.”

MC rubbed his back affectionately. “And master will always be Liam’s master.”

[doiefy]

blue // na jaemin

“The winter has passed and the spring has come We have withered and our hearts are bruised from longing”

- blue, bigbang

In which one ceases to age until they find their soulmate, with whom they then grow old. In which everyone has moved on without you.

genre: soulmate!au, fluff, angst, slow burn

pairings: jaemin x female reader (written with a female character in mind, but it can easily be gender neutral!), features relationships with other dream members, briefly mentions haechan x jeno

word count: 11.6 k

warnings: language, mentions of alcohol and smoking, mentions of war, mentions of death, discussions of Korea under Japanese occupation, some of the historical references may be inaccurate.

taglist (DM, comment or Ask to be added): @simplicitysbabe Big thank you to @neojaems​ for beta reading this for me !! <333

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Your test comes back blue.

When you rip open the envelope containing your results, you find the little coloured square hidden between pages and pages of lab protocols, testing procedures and other nonsense you know no one actually has the time to read. Then there are the stupid pamphlets, the ones with overtly bright and bubbly messages reassuring people that they’ll find their “special someone” soon, slogans most likely written by people who found their soulmates before they even turned twenty. You scoff, shoving the useless papers back into the envelope and recalling the first time you tested back in 1945, right after the war. The receptionist wrote your results down on a piece of paper and nonchalantly told you to have your emotional breakdown outside.

Now you stare at the blue marking on your paper blankly. It simply means you haven’t aged biologically in ten years, but when you haven’t aged in decades, it means nothing. While the world progresses, you remain frozen in the same body, playing a cruel game with fate. And as with any game that one cannot win, you’ve slowly become bored with it, allowing it to take its course while you sit idle nearby. You feel only disappointed, and not even perplexed or surprised in the slightest. Something about meeting Jaemin just seemed too good to be true; after a lifetime of misfortune and failure, something about the bad news feels… expected. Inevitable. As if unconsciously, you knew he wasn’t the one.

Na Jaemin is not your soulmate. And you spend the walk home contemplating how you’ll tell him this.

When you unlock the door to your shared apartment, you know he’s already home, and earlier than usual: his shoes are placed meticulously on the rack by the door and his jacket is hung up next to the messenger bag he takes to work. The living room smells faintly of the pine and vanilla candle you bought last month, and you smell traces of shampoo and bodywash from the bathroom.

“I’m home!” you call out as you kick your shoes off and put them neatly next to Jaemin’s. There’s a muffled response of your name before the door to your room opens. Then his arms are around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he mumbles a tired greeting.

“Bad day?” You ask softly, pushing all your other thoughts to the back of your head. He looks exhausted. His hair is tucked messily under the hood of his navy sweater, still damp from the shower he took earlier. His eyes lack the usual brightness you often find yourself so immersed in, replaced with the fatigue and weariness he almost never brings home.

“I hate this company,” he sighs as you run your fingers through his hair. You feel him relax in your arms a bit. “My boss is a dick, everyone in my department hates each other and the coffee tastes like actual ass. Maybe I should just quit while I still can.”

You frown. “Jaem, you’ve been with them for literally a month. You can’t possibly be thinking about quitting already.”

“A month! A month in and I’m already having mental breakdowns under my desk at lunch. Imagine what will become of me if I spend a year there,” he scowls, but his expression softens when you kiss him reassuringly on the cheek. “Alright, alright, fine, maybe not quit, maybe I’ll just take a long, long, vacation and then retire… Move to the countryside with you…” He trails off dreamily and for a moment, you lose yourself in the fantasy he’s painted for you. The mental image of a quaint house by the ocean is quickly shattered when you remember the test results hidden in your bag. The sunflowers you envisioned surrounding the cottage are blown away in the wind, their bright yellow petals swallowed by the blueness of the sky.

“Oh, you wish,” you laugh, quickly pressing your lips to his in hopes that he won’t see your expression, that he won’t see the sadness and regret you’re fighting to suppress. “Maybe, baby, maybe one day we can do that.”

“Maybe,” he laughs, his face lighting up with the energy and liveliness that has been missing. “But enough about me. How was your day, love?”

“Mm. The same old,” you say, pulling out of his arms so you can finally take your jacket off. You crash into the couch where you fold up your scarf and toss it aside. “Stressful.”

He stares at you for a hard moment, visibly concerned as if he can tell there’s something troubling on your mind. “Is something the matter?” He asks carefully, sitting down next to you. He holds you at arm’s length so he can look at you properly. “Is this about the test?”

“What? Oh, no, not the test. I doubt the results will come in until sometime next week.” The lie slips out easier than it should, and you feel guilt slowly start to twist your insides. Just a white lie, you tell yourself. It can’t hurt anyone but yourself. He’s been through enough today. He’s tired. Not tonight. It can wait. “I’m just tired,” you shrug. “I need some dinner and a nap, then I’ll be all good again. Do we still have anything in the fridge or should we order takeout?”

“I already ordered chicken from Yong’s. I had a feeling that today would be a bad day for the both of us,” Jaemin grins. His smile is smug at first, then endearing when he sees your shock.

You practically pounce on him in excitement, and the two of you go crashing into the couch cushions until you have him pinned beneath you. “Oh my god, I fucking love you, you know that?”

Jaemin groans, curling into himself as he gives you a wounded look. “And that’s how you show your love? By trying to break my bones?”

“Besides the point,” you huff. “You aren’t going to say it back?”

“Yes, of course. I love you too.”

Unsatisfied with his answer, you lower your face so your lips are hovering just inches above his. He looks up at you starry-eyed, his fingers ghosting over your cheeks; you can’t help but notice the way his gaze travels briefly to your lips.

Then you realize how dangerous this is. You know that he’s not the one. You know that you’ll eventually part ways with him when he finds out, no matter how reluctant you’ll feel. Every moment you spend with him like this will come back to haunt you when he’s gone. It will become another reminder of what you’re about to lose, yet here you are, falling deeper into his embrace, intoxicated by his scent and lost in the depth of his eyes. You are only tying more strings between the two of you, strings that will need to be stretched and snapped. You are only making it more painful for the both of you.

But for tonight, you don’t care.

“Say it like you mean it,” you whisper.

He holds your face gently, and those sparks you felt upon your first meeting with him are still there, igniting each time he looks at you, blazing into an open flame when he tells you, “I love you.”

You kiss him with more urgency this time, your lips meeting his in a clash of teeth and tongue. He puts his hands around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer to him. For just a moment, you’re focused on only him and his presence. For just a moment, you forget about everything; the sheet of test results is just another piece of paper in your bag, the blue mark just another colour. Because tonight, he is all that matters to you.

You met Na Jaemin almost three years ago.

Though the details have faded with time, you remember your first conversation well. It began at a friend’s art show beneath the golden glow of the studio lights, the two of you surrounded by brilliant splashes of colour and bold strokes of texture. Renjun had insisted on introducing you to Jaemin before you even arrived at the gallery, and you couldn’t have possibly refused. Your friendship with Renjun goes way back to the 40s, and you often think he knows you better than you know yourself. “I think he could be good for you,” he told you quietly just before leaving to speak with his other guests.

At first, Jaemin seemed timeless. It was as if he didn’t belong to any particular time period, as if he had lived to see several generations rise and fall, but had never risen or fallen with any of them. Dressed elegantly in a fitted turtleneck and a wool coat, he appeared youthful and contemporary; yet the way he spoke hinted at a certain maturity, at wisdom and sagacity. There was something charming about him too, something about the way he recounted events of the past and drew you in with only his words.

Next to a breathtaking oil painting of the sea, you discovered your commonalities. He was almost two decades younger, but like you, had spent his entire life searching for a partner without much success. You were delighted to learn that he had also worked in teaching—though he mentioned changing careers frequently whenever things became too mundane. He was effortlessly intriguing, and every word he spoke was lively and animated. He infused your conversations with colours, painted everything in bright yellows and aquamarines that matched the swirling paint strokes of the artworks around you, left you wanting to know more without even trying.

You left the gallery that night with his number in your coat pocket. Needless to say, Renjun was thrilled.

Weeks passed before you saw him again. Your busy schedules always managed to get in the way of your plans, but the two of you still kept in touch, chatting late into the night and well into the early hours. As the months went by, you dared to hope that maybe he was the one.

You immediately scolded yourself for being naive. With all your past partners, you had been hopeful in the same way, only to be let down in the end. Your test when you were with Donghyuck came back blue, as did the one with Mark. Both have since moved on, found their soulmates and written their happy endings. Even if you still stay in touch and meet up for an occasional coffee, you know that you are only a distant memory to them in some way or another.

The prospect of the same thing happening with Jaemin had never occurred to you—you’d been so caught up in getting to know him, so blinded that you’d completely forgotten. And then you saw him differently. As if he were a flame that could be snuffed out in an instant, a feather that could be sent flying with the slightest breeze, the slightest breath. You mulled over it for weeks and always did so silently, until it finally came up in conversation.

Almost a year had passed since you’d met him. With the summer coming to an end, the two of you had driven down to the Han River where you sat in the open trunk of his car, sharing a can of cheap beer from the convenience store. There were no words, only the faint melody of an old pop song buzzing from your phone and his hand around yours.

“Move in with me,” he said at last, glancing at you expectantly, trying to gauge your reaction. It wasn’t completely out of the blue—you’d been searching for a new apartment for weeks—but it still took you by surprise. “Too fast?” He asked when he registered your shock.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head and squeezed his hand. “Don’t get me wrong Jaem, I’d love to. It’s just, I don’t know about any of this. About us. If we’re actually…”

He hummed a quiet response, his brows furrowing slightly in contemplation. “Soulmates,” he said with a melancholic sigh. “You don’t want to go any further before we know for certain. I understand.”  

You nodded. “It always hurts, you know? You think you’ve finally found them only to realize you’ve been completely wrong the whole time.”

“I know,” he said, and his empathy flooded you with warmth and reassurance. “You always think you’ll be prepared for the next time. You always think it will hurt less as time goes by. But it doesn’t.”

“Exactly.”

You tipped the last of the beer into your mouth; it tasted faintly sweet on your tongue before dissolving into a pleasant bitterness that hit the back of your throat. When you were finished, Jaemin took the empty can and fiddled with the tab, bending it back and forth until it snapped off.

“I want it to be you,” he told you after a few minutes of silence. “I want it to be us.”

“And if we aren’t?”

He kissed you, hard enough for you to see stars. It wasn’t desperate or longing, but it seemed to convey a hundred different thoughts all at once, a hundred different emotions for you to decipher. When he finally pulled away, his voice was thoughtful and he was seemingly lost in a pleasant daydream. “Oh, love, the universe has already cursed us to search eternally. We may as well spend eternity together.”

“Seriously, Jaemin, what if we aren’t?”

The tremor of your voice snapped him out of it. The glimmer of hope disappeared from his pupils and the dream slipped from his hands.

“We’ve been alive for so long,” you continued, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think I can go on like this. What if we aren’t meant to be? What will we do?”

You didn’t regret your time with Donghyuck or Mark or Jungwoo or any of the people you were lucky enough to have met, but you’d watched all of them from afar, watched them grow while you stayed frozen in time. Each new generation that came along was only a reminder of your loneliness. You felt a certain emptiness each time you invited new people into your life, one that deepened when they eventually left you behind. Or worse, when they gave you their pity. You couldn’t stand it when people told you that it was unfair or that you deserved better, all while they lived comfortably with their soulmates. You weren’t jealous, nor could you ever be angry at them for something beyond their control. Your anger was directed at the invisible forces that toyed with the world, the mischievous hands spinning the universe in some strange direction that left only you disoriented.

His expression took on a faint sadness and when he spoke again, his voice was calm, barely a whisper. “Then so be it. If you need to move on, it would be selfish of me to stop you from doing so.” He stared out at the waters wistfully, at the yachts sailing downstream. “And besides, you’re right. Maybe it’s time we settle down… even if it’s not with each other.”

Your birthday came a few months after that night, but you held off on testing. The bus you took home from work passed by one of the labs, but you never got off at the stop, always watched the doors open and close from your seat. The test isn’t that accurate anyways, you told yourself; it could produce only an approximate biological age, so maybe the longer you waited, the better.

But in the end, it was simply an excuse to escape reality, to avoid your confrontation with fate itself.

You moved in with him just before the end of the year.

New Year’s Eve wasn’t a big deal for you (you’d lived through too many for it to be exciting), but you spent the last minutes of the year with him, surrounded by cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked. Jaemin had still made some sort of effort at festivities despite your indifference: pale pink and gold candles lit around the living room, golden champagne in delicate glasses set on the table.

You were almost asleep when the clock struck twelve, wrapped up in one of his oversized sweaters and a white throw blanket. The celebratory music blaring from the TV was muffled in your ears, a pleasant symphony that lulled you deeper into sleep until Jaemin awoke you with a kiss.

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Jaem,” you mumbled, a smile ghosting your lips as you focused on the comfort you felt in his arms; on the new year, on your new home, new hope.

You know something’s wrong.

Jaemin doesn’t come out to greet you, even after you announce your arrival. He’s home—his shoes and coat are put away neatly like any other day—yet it’s deathly silent, terribly still. No music playing in the living room, no voice down the hallway. Only the occasional chirp from your broken smoke detector, which you’ve been meaning to fix for weeks. As you bend down to unlace your boots, you can’t help but worry.

You find him in your shared bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the comforter. The sun has almost set and the shadows stretch across the room, blanketing him in darkness and masking his expression with ambiguity. He doesn’t move when you turn on the lamp on the bedside table. He doesn’t move when you sit next to him.

There’s a familiar sheet of paper in his hands.

“Jaem, I…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It isn’t accusatory or hostile; his voice is laced with nothing but sadness, yet you feel so much guilt, guilt that closes around your throat and squeezes the air out of your lungs, leaving you breathless. You kept it from him for days, and now this is the way he must find out about it. From a piece of paper you were careless enough to leave where he might find it. From a piece of paper detailing the DNA extracted from a sample of your blood. You should have told him.

“I didn’t know how to,” you let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you serious?” There it is, the cold edge that begins creeping into his voice as he stares down at you. He flicks a finger in the direction of the date printed at the top of the paper. “It’s been a week, Y/N. You kept this from me for a week. Why?”

“I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, okay?” It comes out sharper than you intended; you immediately begin to drown in guilt as soon as you see Jaemin’s expression fall. You didn’t mean to lash out, and now you make up for it by taking his hands in yours. They're ice cold. “Look, the day I found out, you were already tired from work. I didn’t want to bring it up and make everything worse—”

“So you lied. Said the results hadn’t come in yet,” he says flatly and you rush to defend yourself, only to realize that he’s right.

“I’m sorry.”

The rest of your words don’t come. With a tired exhale, you bury your head in your hands, too overwhelmed to say anything else. You can only hope that he’ll understand, that he’ll empathize and that he’ll forgive you, even if you don’t exactly believe you deserve any of it right now. You hold back the tears. Only when he pulls you into his arms do they fall. He takes your hands, gently pulling them away from your face so he can wipe your tears despite your protests. There’s no coldness in his expression now, only concern.

“I needed time to process everything,” you continue, but you choke on the words. “I couldn’t even accept it myself, I couldn’t—”

“I know, love,” he says quietly as his thumb brushes against your cheek. “I know. It’s alright.”

Your silent sniffles turn into unrestrained sobs as he pulls you into his embrace, your pent-up emotions finally released in the form of silvery streams on your cheeks. You aren’t sure how much time passes. The sun meets the horizon in a hazy line of faint pink and orange. The sky darkens. Outside, the city lights up in a multitude of hues, the amber light from the street below seeping into your room. The minutes go by, but Jaemin never lets go of you until your tears have run dry.

“Better?” He asks, albeit his voice is shaky, his gaze trembling when he looks up at you. You nod.

“We’ll figure this out,” his eyes seem to say. You can tell he’s just as terrified as you are, just as unsure and as lost. Though for now, you simply hold each other. You say nothing about the paper that lays discarded on the floor or what it entails, even if you both feel the need to address it, to face its implications. In this moment of brokenness, neither of you have the strength to do so.

You eventually collect yourselves. You make dinner and force yourselves to eat before passing a meaningless hour in front of the TV. You clean up, wash up. Sleep early in preparation for tomorrow. Jaemin never leaves your side.

“Where do we go from here?” You whisper into the darkness of your bedroom.

“Tomorrow, love,” you hear him say just before slipping into unconsciousness, into restless sleep.

According to Lee Donghyuck, the chances of meeting your soulmate are 1 in 10 000. Or at least, scientifically. Theoretically. Donghyuck was a man of logic and reason, and had your lives not revolved around soulmates like the earth revolved around the sun, perhaps he wouldn’t have believed in fate at all.

“Remove fate from the equation,” Donghyuck mumbled to himself thoughtfully, jotting a few numbers down on a paper napkin. “And let’s assume your soulmate is around your age.”

“Can’t you rule that one out too?” You pointed out,  but he was too busy, already lost in his thoughts.

“If your soulmate is determined at birth and instantly recognizable at first sight… And they’re actually alive somewhere in the world…”

You watched the quick movements of his blue pen with intrigue. He spun the pen restlessly, allowing its barrel to cross over and under and between his fingers, at times so quickly that it became nothing but a blur of colour. Finally, he scribbled a final verdict and inked two definitive circles around it. “If fate hadn’t been so kind, the chances would have been one in ten thousand. One lifetime out of ten thousand.”

“That slim? Ten thousand lifetimes, that’s nearly impossible,” you said, skeptical but amused at his train of thought nonetheless. You took the napkin from him and looked over his calculations, though some of the numbers were too big for you to check without a calculator. You trusted that Donghyuck had done them correctly though. “You know, if you told that to someone who’d spent a century searching for their soulmate, they’d probably beat you up. You’re lucky I like you.”

He giggled. “We’re lucky it’s only hypothetical.” He took the napkin from you and crumpled it, smudging the neon blue ink on the tips on his fingers.

With Donghyuck, things were simpler. He was young, young enough to not be in a hurry, young enough to speak his thoughts so freely. He never pitied you or worried about offending you, and he never treated you as if you were out of place among the new generations. He offered you perspective. You knew that you weren’t meant for each other, but you were still content to spend your time with each other. To wait together.

“So… I might have found a new place.”

You don’t miss the surprise on Jaemin’s face when you tell him over dinner. His eyes widen a bit in curiosity, his brows arching upwards and his mouth falling slightly agape. He sets his fork down against his plate, folding his hands together the way he does when he’s deep in thought.

“Already?” He inquires. Maybe you imagine a hint of disappointment in his voice, a slight dip in his tone. He looks at you with a sort of sadness, as if trying to imagine what it would be like with you gone, to come home to an empty apartment every night. “Seriously, Y/N, you’re welcome to stay if you need to. We said we would take the changes slowly.” His words aren’t just out of consideration for you.

More than a month has gone by silently, and within that time, the frigid cold of winter has finally given way to spring. Nothing has really changed when you think about it, as if your test results are meaningless. And you suppose that they have become just that, a meaningless scrap of paper at the bottom of the recycling bin in the kitchen. Jaemin still holds you the same way, though his touches are just a little bit more fleeting. Your conversations still extend late into the night, though they feel just slightly melancholic. You hang onto his every word even while telling yourself not to, that maybe there is no point in doing so when everything is already coming to an end.

“I don’t know if I’ll take it… at least not for sure. And even if I do, I won’t be moving in until April. I just thought I’d tell you ahead of time,” you tell him, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I think I need some time alone. So I can adjust to all of this.”

“No, I understand. It’s just a little jarring, you know? Don’t know what it’ll be like without you here.”

“It’s literally only a block away,” you giggle, and he smiles. “I’ll still be here.”

After the coolness of February comes grey skies and a drizzly March, heavy rainfall washing the white snow to grey slush. Eventually, the clouds part across the sky for the sun, allowing the brilliant blue of the sky to peek through. April comes sooner than expected, producing blooms of yellow and white in the flowery courtyards of your new apartment complex, bursts of bright colours along the cobblestone paths.

You stand surrounded by boxes in the middle of your new studio apartment, watching the people pass by on the streets below. The windows are cracked open for air and you can hear the bustle outside, the yells of the street vendors, an occasional shriek of a child’s laughter. The new bedframe and mattress you ordered stand leaning against the wall in the corner, waiting to be assembled. Jaemin stumbles through the door with another box and sets it down before dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“That’s the last one,” he says. He collapses on the couch that the previous owner left behind, out of breath. You sit down next to him, allowing him to rest his head on your lap. He finally looks around, then at you. “Everything you hoped for?”

You nod happily. “I’ll miss having you around though,” you chuckle, playing with the soft strands of his hair, freshly dyed—after losing a drunken bet to Renjun a week ago, he reluctantly let the latter bleach and tone his hair bright silver. But you think it suits him; it accentuates the darkness of his eyes and paleness of his skin, gives him a cold and chic edge offset by the gentleness of his smile.

“I’ll still be here,” he repeats your words from two months ago. “And you’ll be much closer to work, right? No more crazy subway routes and early mornings. At the cost of me being your personal alarm clock, of course.” He grins, and you smack him with a red throw pillow.

“I won’t miss that,” you roll your eyes teasingly.

“Whatever you say, love.” He lifts his head off your lap to press a kiss against your cheek.

You spend the rest of the afternoon with him, unpacking boxes, hanging up clothes, building the bedframe and fitting the mattress with clean sheets so that at least you’ll have somewhere to sleep tonight. When the sun sets, everything is lit in an ethereal glow, and you stare out the floor-length windows, admiring the sky. Jaemin joins you after a moment, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you rock back and forth to the steady rhythm of the music playing from his phone.

When he leaves in the evening, he gives you a final hug, jokingly telling you not to miss him too much. When he’s gone, you find yourself staring out the window once more, at the blocky silhouette of Jaemin’s building a few blocks away. He pointed it out earlier, thrilled that you could see so far from this high up.

You quickly learn that on cloudy days, it is nothing but a smudge of grey in the distance.

While Donghyuck always tried to ease your worries with reason and strokes of pen ink on his skin, Mark took you on long drives around the city, hoping that the wind blowing through your hair would clear your mind.

On late nights when you couldn’t sleep, you often found yourself in the passenger seat of his 1975 Hyundai Pony, listening to static-laced 80s rock music while he drove you around the streets of Seoul. He would always roll the windows down in the summer and watch the contentment on your face, one hand around yours while the other guided the wheel.

Mark Lee was even older than you—and with all the wars and tragedies he’d lived through, he understood what it felt like to be kept awake by the nightmares. To be kept awake by thoughts of loved ones being blown to bits, to be haunted with memories of the past. With how long he’d been searching for the right person, he knew the urgency you felt and the longing to finally settle down with a soulmate. He understood.

The stories he told you were woven between puffs of cigarette smoke and gentle kisses on your forehead. He told you about Canada and the mountains that surrounded Vancouver, where he’d spent some time in the 40s. He told you about his family, about his brother’s grandchildren who looked older than he did. It was strange, he’d admitted with a small laugh and sadness in his smile.

The two of you often pointed out buildings along the side of the road, reminiscing what stood in their place before the bulldozers and big trucks rolled in. Just down the street from his apartment, the old drive-in cinema was being replaced by an upscale theatre. Next to it, a park was being cleared for a new shopping centre. Even the studio he’d rented out last summer had been demolished so a new entertainment agency could build its empire. Once in a while, he would drive by and stare ruefully at the construction site—the classical compositions he’d once recorded there were being replaced by a new type of music, with catchy beats and pretty pop stars dressed in shiny outfits.

His music had been drowned out by a new industry, and likewise, many of the things you remembered from your childhood have been lost to time. Talking about the past with him helped you remember. It was a sort of reassurance even as you moved on.

Mark eased a bit of your pain, staying out with you until the early hours of morning to make sure that you were alright. The next morning, he would almost always call to ask if you’d slept okay, unless there was an issue with the old landline phone in his office. All concept of time disappeared when you were with him, along with your memories and the demons haunting your dreams. But eventually, he would drop you off at home and bid you goodnight, leaving you to watch him drive away. Eventually, the night came to an end.

He couldn’t stay with you the whole night, nor could he stay with you forever.

Your evenings are often interrupted by Jaemin’s messages asking you to come over. Sometimes he says that he misses you, or he wants to see you for dinner. Other times, he kisses you breathless against the closed door as soon as you’ve stepped inside, always with an unmatched fervour and urgency as if you might slip right through his grasp and disappear.

Tonight, however, it’s neither.

It’s half past midnight when your phone is set off in a series of quick vibrations. Wrapped in nothing but a towel with your hair still dripping, you type in a reply, hesitate, press send. You get changed, slipping into a pair of jeans and an oversized T-shirt before grabbing your keys.

Jaemin is uncharacteristically quiet when he opens the door for you, his gaze downcast so you can’t see his expression. He’s deteriorating; you can see it in the way he turns his back to you after locking the door, the way he walks inside with a halfhearted invitation for you to follow.

“What’s wrong?” You ask when you’ve sat down across from him.

“I think I found them,” he mumbles and you notice how he averts your gaze. “My soulmate, I mean. I think I found her.”

“Wait, then why with the long face? Jaem, that’s great—”

He cuts you off with a sharp bark of emotionless laughter. His expression turns bitter when he pulls his sleeve up to reveal a mark along his wrist: two linear streaks of dark purple that twist together like the centre petals of a rose. He stares at it, almost with contempt. Apart from the standardized DNA tests, markings are the only other way to identify soulmates, though they almost never show. No one has any proper explanation for them and you have no explanation for why Jaemin has one now.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think she’s great. She’s smart. She’s funny. We have the same mark so I know it’s her,” he says shakily. “But god, I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this.”

You feel dread. It hits you all at once, because the way Jaemin speaks is so distant and unnerving, as if he’s lost himself in a trance and forgotten all about you. You’ve seen this dazed look before, only twice, when he was truly distressed and truly lost. This isn’t like him.

He found her. He should be happy. You should be happy for him. He should be happy.

“What is it?”

“I think I’m broken. Something’s wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, and you try to keep the urgency out of your voice for his sake. He doesn’t say anything. “Jaemin?”

“I don’t feel anything when I’m with her. Nothing.”

You don’t register his words. They don’t make any sense to you. They are barely coherent. No, you think. That can’t be possible.

“Maybe we rejected each other in a past life and then both offed ourselves. Or maybe this is just the universe’s way of saying ‘fuck you.’ Maybe—”

“Stop that,” you tell him firmly. “Whatever this is, there has to be an explanation for it. Marks don’t just appear out of nowhere, right?” You pause to take a shaky breath, suddenly realizing that your words aren’t meant to comfort only him. “We can look into it. We can figure out what’s going on. This is the 21st Century, remember?”

“But what am I even supposed to tell her?” He demands, his tone exasperated and his brows furrowed together. “‘I know you’ve been looking for me for your whole life, but I can’t see you as anything more than a friend, sucks for you’? What do I do, spend the rest of my life drowning in guilt and self-pity because I couldn’t love her the way she wanted me to? Because I could only pretend?”

You have no answers for him. Perhaps he hasn’t felt anything for her because he hasn’t let go of you. Perhaps it really was a mistake, a freak accident in the cosmos that put the wrong marks on the wrong people, designating a pair that was never meant to be. Your thoughts run wild, but you can’t put anything into words for him. Even if you could, you don’t think you would have the strength to say anything aloud.

Instead, you hold him in your arms, wiping away the tears of frustration that have formed at the corners of his eyes, running your fingers through his hair. You can only hope that his soulmate will do the same for him some day, perhaps in some future where the cruel forces watching over you cease their endless games. Genuinely, you hope.  

The tone goes off a third time. You glance at the clock across the room: 11 AM. He has to be up by now, you think to yourself as your fingers continue drumming a repetitive rhythm onto the kitchen counter.

“Hello?”

Just before the automated voice can tell you to leave a voicemail, he picks up. Donghyuck’s voice is groggy, as if he’s just woken up—or maybe he’s just about to go to bed. With his disaster of a sleep schedule, you can never be sure.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh hey, you, I know you.” You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. “How are you, Y/N? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“I’m alright, the usual, I guess. How about you? How’s Jeno?”

“Jeno adopted another cat because he’s fucking insane, so now we have three little furballs running around the house. But yeah, it’s going great! So great,” he drawls with a familiar bite of sarcasm. You smile to yourself. “If he brings home another one because ‘Oh Hyuck, look it’s so cute, can we keep it?’ I will literally choke him in his sleep. Anyways, what’s going on? You never call me.”

“You never pick up,” you huff, earning a small laugh from him. “Okay, I wanted to ask you something. What do you know about soulmate marks?”

Thoughtful silence. “Not much. I mean, I’ve got my theories, but nothing has really been proven. Why, did you get one?”

“No, not me. Jaemin.”

“Oh, Y/N… then that means…”

“It’s alright, don’t concern yourself with me, Donghyuck. I’m more worried about him, honestly.”

“Hm?”

“He found his soulmate recently, but it’s not exactly… it’s not going as expected, let's just say that. He said he feels almost nothing when he’s with her, and to make things worse, apparently now it’s mutual. God, Donghyuck, they’re so awkward with each other, it physically hurts me.”

Donghyuck is silent again, and you hear the faint clicking of his keyboard. You can almost see his contemplative gaze and the soft blue glow of his computer screen lighting his face. “Did they know each other at all before the marks appeared?”

“Yeah, they were coworkers.”

He hums. “Okay… that could be why. Marks have a tendency to appear if soulmates have been around each other for extended periods of time without realizing it. It’s like nature’s way of telling them that the person they’re looking for is right in front of them. As for why they haven’t felt anything for each other? I dunno… reincarnation can really fuck with people. Any previous sentiments for your soulmate stick with you as you pass on, even if you’re both reborn completely different people.”

I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this. Jaemin’s words echo in your head.

“Obviously, there’s still opportunity to fix things,” Donghyuck adds quickly before you can get too lost in your thoughts. “It just takes time. Honestly, I wouldn’t be too concerned”

“I know, I know,” you groan. “I’m just upset that after everything he’s gone through, this is the shit he has to deal with.”

“Yeah. I can’t even imagine.” He pauses. “You know, a lot of people would just run off if they were in the same situation. He’s lucky to have you.”

You give a breathless laugh and shrug. “I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

“You never give yourself enough credit,” Donghyuck says, a hint of melancholy to his voice. There’s a sudden noise in the distance that cuts him off, and he curses beneath his breath. “Shit, the new cat’s not trained yet and I think she’s doing something stupid in the kitchen. Jeno will kill me if anything happens to her.”

You suppress a giggle. “Go ahead. We can catch up some other time.”

“Of course. See you, Y/N.”

The line clicks.

If Donghyuck taught you to be hopeful and Mark taught you to be strong, Jungwoo taught you to be brave.

Kim Jungwoo was your first love, and in many ways, you consider him to be irreplaceable. Perhaps it had simply been the result of young naivety back then, but you thought he was unlike any other person you’d ever met. In hindsight, he was different. A bright light dancing his way into your life when you were only a child in the 30s, a free-spirited boy who went where he pleased despite living under such an oppressive regime.

The Kims lived only a few doors down. You frequently saw the boys in their front yard kicking a beat-up soccer ball back and forth between them. Jungwoo was the middle child, and he sat right in front of you in class, his back always perfectly straight against his wooden chair so as to avoid the teachers’ chastisement. He was a quiet boy, and he never said a word unless it was to answer a question. But even then, his voice was small—not exactly shy or scared, just quiet. He quickly learned to raise his voice when the teacher hit him on the back of the hand with a ruler and demanded he speak up, when the wood scraped apart the skin of his knuckles.

At the time, when Japanese was all too foreign on your tongue and you struggled to understand anything taught in class, you thought he was a genius. He always had the right answers when he was called upon and there wasn’t a trace of an accent in either of his languages. Not that you heard him speak Korean much; you didn’t dare speak it unless you were hidden in your own homes, where your parents could discuss the uprisings without having to worry about the police roaming freely outside. Though, they still spoke in hushed voices as if anyone could hear them, as if terrified for what could happen if someone did hear.

The first time you spoke to Jungwoo properly was in middle school. After a humiliating incident at school that left you in tears, he ran to catch up with you on the way home and spoke to you in timid Korean, offering to help. You were still teary-eyed and beyond upset, but you let him guide you through your homework. He rambled to you about the Japanese grammar you couldn’t understand and explained the mistakes you’d made for your teacher to lash out at you the way she had. It didn’t stop you from making the same mistakes the next day, but at least he was patient, unlike the adults at school.

“You’re not stupid,” he told you one afternoon on the way home. Again, you were in tears.

“But the teachers think I am,” you grunted. “And I feel stupid. I can’t understand a word they say. I never have the right answers. Everything I say is wrong. If that’s not stupidity, I don’t know what it is.”

“Y/N, all we do at school is memorize meaningless facts that don’t really matter,” he replied with a shrug. “Just because you can’t shove all that information into your head doesn’t mean that you’re stupid. Look at Doyoung. He was failing school but he’s still one of the smartest people I know. He just… learns differently.”

“So? That doesn’t make me smart either. They still think—”

Jungwoo scoffed. “Who cares what they think? I think you’re wonderful, and they’re the real freaks. Miss Ito, especially.” He wrinkled his nose. “She smells funny.”

“Hey, be nice, Jungwoo,” you chided, but you were laughing. He was effortlessly funny and it was such a pleasant contrast to the way he acted at school. He was always so disciplined and perfect when the adults were watching, but he seemed to let loose around you. It made you feel… special, in a way. Validated, accepted. Something you never felt at school.

You walked home with him almost everyday from then on. You became inseparable, even when your school shut down and sent all the students to gender-segregated schools, even when your parents worried that you were spending too much of your time with him instead of studying. Even when war arrived.

The Second World War plunged your lives into darkness; Jungwoo quickly became the only light to guide you. He was there for you while your parents were away, while they laboured in the factories making helmets and guns and bullets so that they could at least put food on the table. He was there when the light at the end of the tunnel went dim, though he was miles away from home.

Jungwoo had never struck you as a fighter or rebel, even if he had the physique of a soldier. He had the drive and the courage and the steel to fight, but you only saw gentleness in his monthly letters to you. The last letter you received from him still sits in a drawer somewhere, the last words he wrote sealed in a plastic envelope so that they won’t fade away.

You took the test a few months after the war ended, only because he had pleaded with you to do so. Even if I don’t make it home, he wrote to you in the same curving script he’d used to teach you years ago. Promise me.

When the receptionist gave you a piece of paper with an X marked next to your name—there were no colour indicators back then, only X’s and hollow circles—a part of you felt relief that you couldn’t quite explain. Another part of you was disgusted, convinced that you were being selfish and apathetic. You thought that maybe you had no regard for him; that you only cared for yourself and a stranger you were still searching for. He’d risked his life to join the rebel army, fought on the frontlines with the Allies, and you repaid him with nothing.

It would take you years to come to the conclusion that your reaction was only natural. It would take you years to heal and start seeing other people. In due time, you would stop frequenting the church in your hometown and your fingers would cease to brush against the memorial stone in the yard, upon which his name was carved. Just one name among many.

Jaemin’s hands are all over you: in your hair, around your throat, pushing you against the wall as he kisses you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls on the strands, forcing your head back a bit so he can continue trailing his lips over your neck and collarbones.

“We can’t be doing this,” you tell him when you manage to pull away. His arms come around your waist anyways and he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, and you glance behind him to see empty soju bottles on the kitchen counter.

“I’m not with Jieun,” he snarls. “Besides, like I said. I think we’re fucked. We aren’t meant to be.”

“Don’t say that,” you hiss, taken aback by his sudden coldness. “This isn’t fair to her.”

“It’s mutual, remember? I bet she’s out there doing the exact same thing with some other guy. She doesn’t need me.”

“Jaem—”

“We’re fucked. She told me she doesn’t need me, and I told her the same.”

You’re horrified. “You did what?”

“Hilarious, isn’t it? We had our first fight, and we aren’t even together yet.” He scoffs, pushing a hand through his hair in irritation. “Some type of soulmate.”

You’ve never heard him talk like this. He’s out of his mind. He’s lost it. “Fuck, Jaem, how much did you drink?”

“Not enough to feel better, clearly,” he snaps.

“Alcohol and whatever this is between the two of us isn’t going to make you feel any better. This isn’t going to fix your problems.”

“Then what do you want me to do?!” His words are sharp, his expression hard when he glares at you. “You tell me to move on and to give her a chance and to stop doing whatever—” he motions frantically. You’ve never seen him so wild, so out of control, and you’ve almost never seen him lash out at anyone like this. “—whatever the fuck this is, but do you even know how it feels? Do you even care?”

A sharp intake of breath, and then the world is crashing down around you.

The feelings you fought to suppress re-emerge, rising up to crush you and force you into relapse. Doubt. Regret. Guilt. The little voice in the back of your head is a raging monster now, and it shouts at you, screaming at you in a blind rage. Telling you that you’re heartless and self-absorbed and indifferent, everything you believed you were when Jungwoo died. Reinstating what you know isn’t true. You know he doesn’t mean it. You know that it’s just alcohol fueling the words spewing from his lips and nothing more, but they still bring back unpleasant memories, a sense of dread you can’t shake.

He realizes, albeit a bit too late. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

If you knew how much it hurts me to watch you do this to yourself. If you knew how much it hurts me knowing that there’s only so much I can do for you. “Don’t. I get it.”

For a few seconds, the room is silent, save the ticking of the clock behind you. It reminds you briefly of a memory that you can’t quite grasp, like a flash of deja vu before you spiral back down to the present reality where you stand in cold, frigid silence. The broken smoke detector chirps.

“I should go,” you say at last. You go to grab your keys from where you left them on the counter but he quickly stops you, his hand coming around yours. You look up at him in irritation, pulling away sharply.

“It’s late,” he says shakily, almost pleading. “You shouldn’t walk home at this hour. Not alone.”

“I’ll call a cab,” you shrug before slipping into your sweater and pulling on your shoes. You bid him goodnight and leave him dumbfounded in the living room.

You return home to a sleepless light and endless thoughts in a cold bedroom. A broken record replays his words in your head again and again, until you see Jungwoo’s face floating above you in the darkness. His features are faint, like wisps of smoke that loosely form sad eyes and lips pulled downwards in a frown. And then he’s the one asking, “Do you even care?”

You have no answer for the annoying voice in your head. You stare at the lines of light drifting across the expanse of the ceiling, wide awake as the sky brightens outside.

“How long will you be gone?”

It was the 3rd of August 1995. You knew because the next day would mark 50 years since Jungwoo’s death. The next day, you would be going back to your hometown and laying flowers on the altar in the Kim family home, revisiting the memorial you’d left behind when you moved to Seoul.

You shrugged as Mark passed you his lighter. The old zippo produced a small spark between your fingers, and then the sting of smoke was filling your mouth and nose. You didn’t smoke regularly—you’d stopped years ago—but you sure as hell felt like you needed one tonight.

“I dunno,” you said, taking a long drag from the cigarette. “A couple more days after the ceremony? If I stay any longer, Doyoung might get upset.“

“Upset?”

“He doesn’t like seeing me. Said I bring back bad memories. I think I remind him of Jungwoo too much.”

Mark grimaced. “Well it’s scary, seeing a childhood friend who hasn’t aged in fifty something years… Must he like seeing a ghost.” He paused, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear so that he could see your face. “My nephews feel the same way about me.”

“You remind them of something?” You asked.

“Their father, I guess,” he explained. “My brother… wasn’t the most understanding of them when they were younger. Whenever they see me, all they can think of is their childhood and his abusiveness.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

He took a moment of contemplative silence “No, not really. I mean, maybe it did at first. But it’s not like I go out of my way to avoid them just because of the memories they associate with me. That would be unfair for me.”

“It would be,” you agreed.

“So then why avoid Doyoung? What he thinks of you is beyond your control. If you remind him of painful memories, that isn’t exactly your fault.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. I just feel like staying out of his way might help him heal. Maybe it’ll help him move on from everything he’s trying to forget.”

“Oh, Y/N.” Mark took your hand with a breathless laugh. His smile was both sad and endearing, as if he were in awe of you—what for, you weren’t too sure until he murmured, “You’re too kind sometimes.” He paused to exhale, smoke escaping his lips and bleeding into the atmosphere, dispersing into the starry sky. He stared into the sky for a few moments, silent.

“But it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves.”

“What the hell happened to him?”

Jaemin looks like a mess. His hair is disheveled and swept messily all over the place. His skin is unhealthily pale, unusually warm to the touch beneath your fingertips. You can tell he’s had a little too much to drink; he sits on the couch in a daze, his eyes fixated on an invisible point in front of him as if searching for something that is no longer there. He yelps in pain when you wipe at the cut on his lip.

“We bumped into a couple guys at the bar. One of them took a swing at him,” Renjun explains as he passes you the bottle of disinfectant. You carefully apply a drop to a cotton swab. “And it didn’t help that he was also drunk. Thank god Lucas was there to break up the fight.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Jaemin groans in protest. “Just tipsy.”

“Tipsy? You couldn’t even tell me Y/N’s number.”

“I don’t remember anyone’s number.”

“Well, you couldn’t tell me your own name either. Got any excuse for that one, smartass?”

You ignore their bickering and continue cleaning the cut on Jaemin’s cheek, holding him firmly by the shoulder so he doesn’t move. The cotton quickly turns light pink between your fingers. You briefly examine the red marks along his jaw where he’d been hit, frowning. Jaemin has never been one to get into fights and especially not while under the influence, but the bruises on his cheek and his knuckles suggest otherwise. Hell, he rarely even gets drunk, but it’s becoming more and more frequent, to the point where Renjun makes sure to watch over him whenever they go out together. He’s derailing, you think to yourself as you brush his hair into some sort of order.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed.” You put his arm around your shoulder and help him up to his feet, nearly staggering beneath his weight. Renjun rushes over to help you move him into the bedroom.

“You should probably go home. It’s getting late,” you tell him when Jaemin has been settled in bed. You glance at the clock hanging in the kitchen as you clean up the first aid kit on the table: almost 2 AM. “I’ll stay with him… make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I really tried to keep him away from the alcohol tonight. I swear I turned away for only a second to deal with Yangyang and he— Ugh, I’m so sorry,” Renjun apologizes again, shaking his head. “This whole soulmate ordeal is really getting to him. I’m worried, Y/N.”

“You know how he is. He always figures it out one way or another” you reassure him. “I’ll talk to him again though. Maybe he’ll actually… listen this time.”

“Well, call me if anything happens. I probably won’t be asleep anyways.”

“I will. Thanks, Jun,” you nod appreciatively.

By the time Renjun has gone home and you’ve finished cleaning up, Jaemin is already asleep. He stirs when you switch off the lamp and reaches out for you in the darkness, fingers intertwining with yours. “Stay,” he mumbles, pulling you a bit closer.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say as you admire the way the moonlight filters in through the windows and draws pale lines across his cheeks. Despite the cuts marking his skin, he looks so much softer now, innocent, in a way. Again, you’re reminded of the Jaemin you met at the art gallery. He was none of this. None of this pent-up frustration released in empty beer bottles, none of these crimson bruises marking his otherwise smooth skin.

“You have to stop doing this to yourself,” you murmur. There’s no reply at first, and you wonder if he heard you at all.

“I’m sorry,” you finally hear his voice: small, feeble in the darkness. His words become more urgent as he keeps speaking, spilling from his lips uncontrollably. “I shouldn’t have said those things about you. I wasn’t thinking. You know I could never mean it.”

You hush him, wrapping him in the security of your arms. A single tear brushes against the back of your hand, then another. “It’s alright,” you assure him as you rub soothing circles against his back. “You were going through a lot. I understand, okay? It’s okay.”

He shakes his head frantically, his tears falling in steady streams now. You let out a low hiss when you see them stain pink with the blood from the wound on his cheek. “Still, that shouldn’t be an excuse. I’ve managed to fuck up everything since all of this started. I hurt Jieun, I hurt Renjun, I hurt you. I can’t even go to work and look at Jieun without feeling like such an idiot and getting mad at myself for being such a child. Without feeling like maybe I deserve this.”

Your heart drops, then shatters into a million pieces at the bottom of a dark abyss.

“Look at me,” you plead as you take his face in your hands. “Look at me, Jaem, please.” He finally lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours in the stillness. All you can see is brokenness, defeat and regret, a look you knew well. It’s an expression that once followed you around for years, appearing in every mirror and reflection you passed by. An innate, intimate part of you that you despised so much until you came to accept it. “Listen to me, Na Jaemin. You are one of the strongest, bravest and kindest people I’ve ever met, and nothing will ever change the way I see you. You don’t deserve any of this bullshit. You don’t deserve this.”

“If you knew what I told her, Y/N,” he lets out a shaky breath. “If you knew what we told each other when we found out neither of us had any feelings for each other… maybe you would think differently of me.”

“If that’s truly what you believe, fix what you broke,” you say firmly. “Apologize to her. Make things right between the two of you, unless you want to go through this all over again in another life. Things will only get worse if you don’t address them now.”

“And if I can’t?”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Jaem.” Trembling, you press your lips to his temple. “Whether or not you end up with her, whether or not you think you deserve this, I love you. And that will never fucking change.”

He leans forwards, his forehead touching yours, his nose brushing against yours and his lips just inches from meeting yours. But he never comes any closer, and you feel no urge to close the distance either. Perhaps it’s a sign that both of you are already starting to let go, to drift apart; this moment is nothing romantic or lustful, nothing more than comforting each other in your brokenness. Nothing more than trying to help each other numb the pain.

“I love you.” His voice trembles, but his words are steady, deep-rooted in sureness.

“Then promise me you’ll try, Jaem. You’ll try to set things right, for both our sake.”

“For you, love,” he murmurs, so quietly that you can barely hear him. His voice is lost to the faint rumbling of the air conditioning unit somewhere outside and the distant noises of traffic. “For you, I would do anything.”

You wonder if he’ll remember any of this in the morning. You wonder if he’ll take your words to heart, or if they’ll simply be enveloped in dreams fueled by drunkenness, reduced by sleep to nothing but a blur.

...it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves

You’ve done everything you can for him, you decide. Even if you continue to walk by his side, the rest is up to him.

One Saturday morning, Jaemin shows up at your door dressed in black jeans and a button-down shirt, his hair swept up neatly. There’s a kind of brightness to him; it’s not necessarily hope or excitement, but certainly a change from what you’ve seen the last couple of weeks. He’s meeting Jieun for lunch, he tells you nervously. He wants to see you before he goes. You tell him you’re proud of him. That genuinely, you admire him.

The next time you see him, it’s at a floral shop. He’s in the middle of picking out flowers, and he flushes when he sees you. A single rose seemed too cliche, he tells you sheepishly, and asks your opinion. He thinks she’ll prefer something a bit more unique but equally tasteful, equally elegant. You recommend orchids or gerberas. They last longer than roses, but they convey the same message. When he’s gone, you buy a small vase of irises for your apartment; your living room needs a bit of colour.

Weeks later, you find a small package in the mail: a parting gift, you realize when you tear open the padded envelope. It’s nothing too special, nothing fancy or expensive—just a piece of blue glass wrapped in silver accents, attached to a delicate chain that you loop around your neck. When you hold the pendant up to the sun, its blue tint shatters into infinite colours, tossing specks of luminous yellow and orange all over your bedroom. More than just a singular colour, it reflects the other hues around you. And for just a brief moment, you think you see your own reflection.

You watched Jaemin move on just as you’d watched Mark and Donghyuck: from afar, with reserve but at the same time, excitement. Close enough for him to know that you were still there for him, but allowing some sort of distance that grew as the days melded into weeks and then months.

For the most part, he seemed to be alright. His texts were always cheerful, covered in happy emoticons—he used them when he was too giddy with excitement to type actual words. “We figured things out,” was all he said one night, and it was all you needed to hear to know that they’d be okay.

You started to notice the fondness he’d developed for her; it was subtle at first, just a hint of affection in his voice when he told you about her over the phone. Though slowly, it developed into something more. It was just as Donghyuck said: time had forged a relationship out of nothing, out of empty words and empty emotions, growing a garden from a barren piece of wasteland.

The first time you spoke to Kim Jieun, it was over the phone during one of your calls with Jaemin. She’d chimed in on your conversation at some point to say hi, and the way she spoke almost reminded you of Donghyuck: bright, cheery, a little sarcastic in a playful manner. You quickly learned that she was easy-going though brutally honest at times, well-mannered yet well-humoured. Most importantly, she wasn’t judgemental, and she didn’t treat you any differently from Jaemin’s other friends just because you’d been with him previously.

Of course, there was still a sense of yearning, a bittersweetness whenever you saw the two of them together. Your fingers always danced fleetingly along the screen of your phone before pressing like on the photos he posted to his social media. You saw him less and less, only occasionally running into him at the bakery you used to frequent together or at a friend gathering. For the most part, you let the past stay in the past. He seemed happy. And honestly, you were happy for him.

“I told you he’d be fine,” Donghyuck murmured to you at one of Jeno’s rampant parties, once most of the guests had trickled out for the night. The two of you sat on the balcony, watching everyone stumble around in their drunken stupor: Jeno was passed out on the couch with two cats sitting perched on his chest. Renjun was trying to braid flowers into Jaemin’s hair, which he’d recently bleached yet another shade lighter to match Jieun’s platinum locks. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Chenle and Jisung exchange a few bills and bicker over a bet—Chenle was still in denial that Jisung had won, apparently.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second, Hyuck.”

“But you were worried,” he grinned smugly.

“Why wouldn’t I be worried?” You sighed and knocked back the rest of your wine before motioning for him to pass you the bottle. You swiftly poured yourself another glass. “If I couldn’t have my happy ending, at least I wanted him to have his. As… cliche as that sounds.”

Donghyuck raised a brow at you. “What’s to say that you won’t get yours too? They can’t keep you waiting forever. The longest it ever took for someone to find their soulmate was 241 years.”

“Goddamn, are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

“Better, of course! Okay, what I’m trying to say is that it’s rare for anyone to wait longer than two centuries. If everyone lived for up to three hundred years, we’d have a lot of dictators and other crazies running the world. The universe would spontaneously combust.”

“I know I’m barely even halfway there, but come back to me when I set a new world record,” you rolled your eyes, to which he responded with a small chuckle.

“So what now?” He glanced at Jaemin, who sat across the room with his eyes half-closed, an empty red solo cup in his hands. Jieun had her head on his shoulder, rambling drunkenly about something to Renjun. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought she’d been a part of the group all along; she fit in so seamlessly, and it warmed your heart to see her getting along with everyone.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Nothing for now, I guess. Just waiting.”

“Whoever it is, I’m sure they’ll be worth it,” he hummed in reply.

“You think so?”

“People say that the longer you wait, the better. It’s all in your head, of course, but they have a point.”

You sighed, lifting your head to gaze at the stars hanging overhead. “I suppose they do. Maybe someday I get to find out.”

He patted you on the shoulder reassuringly. “You’ll figure it out. You always have.”

Donghyuck left a little later to get a drunk Jeno to bed, and then you had only the quietness of night to keep you company. Your mind drifted and you contemplated his words, repeating them silently to the wind. The night sky replied with nothing but a gentle breeze against your skin.

You could be patient, you thought as you watched the others inside. You fished the pendant out from beneath your shirt and stared at the reflection in the glass. It was as if you were grasping a piece of the night sky between your fingers: the stars and a crescent moon captured in a single, translucent oval. In the dark, the pendant appeared deep indigo, not too different in hue from the four coloured markings you’d acquired over the years.

But the sun would rise in due time, you thought to yourself mirthfully. Beneath the brightness of morning, you’d hold a different colour in your hands. You tucked the necklace back into the fabric of your shirt. You could wait.

read the epilogue, yellow

[twinkleallnight]

A Twisted Tale

Chapter 1

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Word count: 1787

Characters: Liam, Leo, Riley.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Warning: None.

A/N: An AU of The Royal Romance paving its way through mixed emotions of wants, needs and desires, of revenge and regrets, of trust, faith and hope.

A joint venture brought to you with love by @annekebbphotography and @twinkleallnight .

Liam’s POV

It is one of those days again. I have to attend a UN function and I am not looking forward to it. There’s more than one reason, one is that none of my friends have joined me for this function, and the other reason is that the girl I am pinning for doesn’t want anything to do with me. How in the world will I win her over? I have tried everything, but I am almost sure she sees me as my father.

I look myself over in the floor length mirror, I look the same as always, the regal king. Did I want to be king? No, but when my father died unexpectedly and my brother took off, I had no choice but to take over. That is when things changed for me and now, I am fighting an inner battle with myself.

After a short drive, I walk into the hotel where the UN function was being held. Like always everything is posh and regal. What I wouldn’t give for something to be a little different. I scan the room and my eyes land on a petite brunette. She has a pink floor length dress on, it hugs her curves perfectly. My feet follow their own path as they walk over to her. She isn’t like everyone else, she’s open and her smile is divine.

I freeze as my heart stops when she laughs. Why am I feeling like this when I am in love with someone else? Maybe it’s just because I am feeling lonely.

She turns around and locks eyes with me and I swear I feel my heart skip a beat. She’s got the most dazzling blue eyes, but it doesn’t compare to the eyes that haunt my dreams. What I wouldn’t give to be with my love right now.

“Hi, I’m Riley Brooks.” She holds her hand out to me to shake. I take her small hand in mine and smile at her.

“Liam Rys.”

Her eyes go wide and she drops in a curtsy. Her cheeks have a faint pink tint to them.

“No formalities please. It’s just us.” I give her a reassuring smile.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She says relieved.

There was something about her that made me want to get to know her better, not romantically, but as friends. She makes me feel at ease.

A song comes up and I give her a wicked grin as she shakes her head from side to side. “Would you like to dance?” I hold my hand out to her as everyone else watches us.

“I would love to dance.” She says through gritted teeth and takes my hand. I lead her to the dance floor and pull her closer to me.

We move together perfectly, she leans in. “I am so going to get you for this.” She whispers, and for some reason that statement excites me.

“Do your worst.” I twirl her out and pull her back to me. She laughs as we move around the dance floor perfectly.

After the song ends, we walk off the dance floor and towards the bar.

“You are not what I expected. When they told me that a king was going to be here, I thought he was going to be old and uptight. I am happy it’s you though.” She glances at me to see my expression. All I could do was smile at her.

We order our drinks and take a seat at one of the tables. We talk about everything and anything.

I learned that she has a political degree and has applied for a PA position in Europe. I also learn that it is just her, no family and that she hopes to find that special someone one day. She is the fresh air that I need in my life.

I look at my watch and see that It’s almost time for me to meet Leo, but I don’t want to say goodbye to Riley just yet.

“What would you say if I offered you an PA position at the palace?” I ask without hesitation. I need a personal assistant and with what I see and heard, she will be perfect for the position.

“Are you being serious right now?” She basically jumps up and down in her seat.

“Yes… I want you to be my personal assistant. You will have to come back to Cordonia with me tomorrow.” I raise my brow and wait for her to explode with excitement.

“I would love to. Where should I meet you and what time?” Her eyes sparkle with excitement and I can’t help but get lost in them.

“Meet me at the airport at 8am. The flight leaves at 8:30. Please don’t be late.” I look at my watch again and know that I have to leave right now.

“I will be there.” She smiles as I get up.

“I have to go. I will see you tomorrow.” I lean down and kiss her cheek. It doesn’t feel the same as when I kiss HER. The one that has had my heart for so many years. I need to speak to Leo, he would be able to help me get my mind right.

I give Riley one more wave before I walk out of the room heading to where I have to meet Leo.

*******************

I walk into a dimly lit bar and see my elder brother sitting at the bar. He looks happy and relaxed.

“Sorry, I’m late…” I apologise.

Leo smirks at me. “Your majesty!” He curtsies teasing me.

“Always the funny one. How have you been brother?”

I take a seat next to him as he pushes a glass of whiskey over to me. I need this so badly. I have two pairs of eyes haunting me right now.

“ Never felt better.” Maybe he is trying to express his new found freedom after abdication.

“Are you alright little brother? You seem delusional.”

I have as I take a sip of whiskey letting it burn my throat as it goes down.

He continues prodding. “Are the kingly affairs burdening you or the extra affection for the king from the fairer sex exhausting you?”

“I…. I’m confused….” Leo raises his brow at me motioning for me to continue talking. “I’m in love with someone but she hates me or should I say our family. Or that’s what I gathered. And then tonight I met a girl with the most dazzling blue eyes and the sweetest personality. But she’s just not Her….” Leo nods in understanding.

“Green versus blue or green versus brown.. maybe we Rhys men are always in a dilemma to choose.”

I know he is comparing my situation with his own. Referring to Madeleine’s green and Kate’s brown.

“It’s not for me choosing. I know who I want, she just doesn’t want me. To make it worse I am taking the girl I met, back to Cordonia with me.

“Woah! You mean you have your baklava in the freezer back at home and you are buying cronuts to take home?”

I spit the whiskey I had just taken a sip of, out and cough. “What…. No not at all. She will be my new assistant.”

Leo sits there unaffected just smiling at my state. “The assistant, like the billionaire’s assistant from the romantic books?” He nudges.

“Nooo, it will strictly be professional….” I get half a smile as I take a small sip again. “And maybe a bit to make someone jealous.” I know I am all confident with Leo,but let’s face it I will never do anything more than just attend functions with her.

“All work and no play makes the king a dull boy”. Leo tries to push in his playboy streak.

“I will have you known that I am not dull at all. I have my fun.” I say a matter of a fact.

Leo’s eyes widen to take in the new image of his younger brother displayed in front of him.

“Close your mouth big brother, you will catch a fly.” It’s my turn to tease.

Leo’s open mouth turns into a wide grin. “I will make sure to follow ‘The Trend’ to read about your adventures. Make the Rhys blood proud, baby brother!” He raises his glass in a toast. “So what advice are you looking for Li?”

I consider him for a moment. What did I want from him?

“How do I make Her fall in love with me? How do I make her see I am more than just a Rhys.”

“You have been drooling over that girl since you grew balls. Had it been me, by now I would have given her the magic of my physical therapy. That always works for me.”

I wince at the imagination of my brother in action. Before Leo can give more varied ideas I raise my hand. “ I think that’s enough food for thought.”

Leo shrugs, “ As you wish. I would still say, be bold and try taking some risk. What fun life is without a bit of adrenaline rush?”

I nod and ask for the bill.

On that note, I bid Leo farewell and get back to my hotel to prepare for the journey back home.

********

I wake up with a heavy headache the next morning. Why can’t I get the two ladies out of my head. It is like they are playing ping pong in my mind. ‘I need to get back home. I need to make Her see that I care about her. I need her to see that I am not like my father.’ I get ready with that thought.

*************

I have been waiting for Riley at the tarmac. She messaged that she was running late. I think of calling Her in the meantime. I heard the phone ringing and it dragged me into her thoughts.

She must be sitting at her tea table at this hour. Her slender manicured fingers playing at the rim of the cup making circles. Her pink lips touching the porcelain softly, sipping the hot beverage. The skin on her throat would be moving slowly, warming up as she would swallow her drink. I have imagined my fingers over her silk smooth neck, many times. Her sharp voice pulls me back from my day dream. “Hello” At the same time when Riley calls, “Hey Liam. Sorry I got late.”

I signal Riley to hold on for a minute.

“Good evening to you, Olivia .”

Olivia snaps, “You are with someone? And calling me?” She abruptly hangs up with that.

My head is hung low. Riley looks at me questioning.

All I can utter is, “Bad timing!”

∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆|∆

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[swiss-cheeze]

French Road, East || Spencer Reid

Request: YES/NO: Hi! Do you take requests?? If you do, can I please request a Spencer x Reader (Including the BAU), where they are dating and the reader is a year or so younger than spencer, but just as smart and very loved by the team, and one day she has to save the team from an unsub and gets really hurt and after everyone is safe they are all really worried about her?? Idk if that made sense at all. Love you work!

A/N: OKAY SO, myself and a few other tumblr accounts got sent this exact same request from the same requester. I have spoken with all of the accounts i know of that have gotten the request and we have all mutually agreed that we will continue with our own fics in our own way on the basis/sense of ‘every writer is different and it's cool to see how others interpret the same request’, please go check out their fics too but please also dont message any of us about this little thing thats happened or saying one was better than the other because that's not what we’re doing here.

We write because we love writing and we love making worlds and being creative, this is a mutual agreement, yes we’re not too pleased with this happening but we are fine with going ahead with both of our fics.

Thank you.

A/N: I also got a little carried away with this little thing and kind of forgot about the ‘they get hurt’ part and instead left the end open for angst purposes; possibly a second part if requested? I don't know. This is also 10 full pages on Google Docs.

Words: 5727

Gender: they/them, none.

Warnings: descripton of people being beaten, kidnapping, mention and use of drugs, previous trauma of the BAU team brought to light, mentions of sexual abuse and assualt, mentions of possible rape.

Description: when 6/8 of the BAU team gets kidnapped, it's up to you and Garcia to find them before it's too late, but what happens when an old nightmare may consume someone's life again?

PART 2: https://snitchthewitch.tumblr.com/post/626602019637149696/french-road-east-apartment-23-spencer-reid

------

Spencer had slept over at Dereks after they had both consulted over their paperwork while you had gone to yours and Spencer's apartment alone, normally you two would arrive at work together with coffee ready for the day but today it just felt...off. Coffee in hand you entered the elevator and checked your work phone for any missed messages.

Derek Morgan phone (4)

Derek Morgan imessage (6)

Spencer Reid phone (2)

Spencer Reid imessage (4)

Okay, that was a bit weird. They normally called once, maybe twice, had your phone shut down last night? As you entered onto level 6 you stepped off to the side of the opening on the hallway, out of people's way, as you opened your phone for the messages, Derek first.

‘Going out with Spence and Pen’

‘Spencer misses you’

‘Pen says she wants to hug you’

‘We’re fucjlkeddd’

‘I don't think somethings okay’

‘Pick up’

Fuck, okay, maybe they just encountered a mugger? Spencer next.

‘mISS YOUUU’

‘Derek ssaysys he doeessdnt frrl ojay’

‘Someoned follow us’

‘French road, east’

What the fuck? So apparently they got followed? And then? What the hell is french road east? Was it an actual road to the east? Maybe the voice messages would help.

“HEY (Y/N/N)!” its Derek, “WE’RE HAVING OUR BEST TIME! WISH YOU WERE HERE!” the music was as loud as Derek was shouting in your ear, you couldn't help but smile.

“(Y/N)!” Spencer, “I MISS YOUUU!” you laughed at his drunk talking, “SHOTS!” and it finished.

“Hey (Y/n), we’re uh,” a laugh, it's Derek, “we’re walking back to my place now, with Pen and Pretty Boy over here,” you heard a faint shout of your name before laughter and the call ended. There was one voice message left, “someones following us. Under six foot, black clothes and looks disarmed but I can't tell from where we are and it's dark. I'll update you later (Y/n), i'll keep Pretty Ricky safe. I promise” and that was it. You brought your phone away from your ear and looked at it skeptically, Derek's story was backed up by Spencer because they both said they were being followed, Garcia hasn't messaged you though, she probably got cut off from her phone before anything happened, probably in Derek's pants pocket. Maybe they were playing a prank? No they wouldn't, Derek’s voice was too certain to be a prank. You shook your head from the thoughts before walking into the Bullpen and dumping your bag at your desk and looking around, Anderson, Mike, Daffey, even Esmerelda was at work today and yet you couldn't spot a single one of your teammates.

Okay, maybe they all slept in? You walked up to Hotch's office and knocked before putting your head through the door; looks the same as it was left. Funny. Hotch was always the first one in, if he ever left at all. You walked to Rossi's office and yet this was the same as Hotch’s; untouched and unmoved. Okay, this was a little scary, you made your way to the conference room with quick feet as the creek of the door being opened sent a shiver down your spine as no one was waiting for a case or even grabbing coffee, but you did notice the one folder that sat alone in the middle of the table. Cautiously, you made your way over to the file, picked it up and opened it, the photos inside the folder almost made you throw up.

Hotch, Emily, Derek, Spencer, JJ and Rossi were all sitting against a wall, beaten, bruised and dirty, arms positioned behind their backs. Underneath the photo was a piece of paper with bold red writing, almost blood like.

YOU WERE WRONG.

Your throat constricted as your breathing increased, you started hyperventilating as you heard the click clack of a certain pair of heels.

“(Y/N)!” Garcia yelled, she was running as quickly as she could with her platform, a file and laptop in her arms, “the-the team they've” she took a breath, “they've been taken, captured, abducted!” it took Garcia a few seconds to realise that you were close to fainting. Garcia put her things down on the table as she directed you to sit in a chair, got you a cup of water and started the breathing exercises that she remembered Spencer teaching her, he taught everyone tricks to help those when having a panic or anxiety attack as its something they would definitely encounter during their time with both agents, victims and unsubs, a few minutes passed and you finally calmed down.

“T-they, they tried to contact me” you said quietly as you looked at Garcia who was red eyed.

“And i was there (Y/n), they dropped me off home and where going back to Dereks, i didn't know if they made it or not because i had already past out by the time my head hit the pillow” Garcia reminded you, it took you a moment to realise but you where both in the same situation, and you nodded as the plan started coming together in your mind.

“Okay,” you stood up as Garcia opened her laptop, “when did you find out?” you asked, you needed to determine how long each of you knew the team was missing.

“I unlocked the batcave and I had the same file on my desk, when I saw the photos I ran up here and then to you,” you nodded as Garcia spoke.

“Okay, I want cameras of every place each of our team members have been, bars, apartments, anything and everything. See if there are any recurring cars or bikes or vans that drive past the streets, do facial recognition on anyone following them like with Reid and Morgan, see if it's happened to all of them.” you took a breath as you called in someone from the bullpen and handed them both the files you and Garcia had been given, “Get this to the lab for fingerprints, this is top priority; we have a team missing” you'd told them, they nodded slightly scared and confused before walking off as Garcia started talking.

“I've got the filters on and they're searching but it's going to take some time,” Garcia said sadly.

“Look up previous cases the BAU has had including the words ‘you were wrong’, ‘French Road’ and ‘East’, possibly other words like ‘it was wrong’, ‘they are/were wrong’ that type of thing, date it back to Rossi's days,” you ordered Garcia.

“(Y/n), a lot of those files are physical if you go back to Rossi,” the tech analyst reminded you.

“I know but still, set filters for that and go as far back as you're able, tell me if you get any hits, i'm going to go down to the file room and i'm going to go back as far as Rossi's days for the physical copies until he started going digital,” you told Garcia, she looked reluctant to let you go so you moved to where she was sitting and you gave her a large hug, “we’ll find them Pen, i promise” you mumbled into her cherry scented hair.

“What about Spencer?” she asked softly as the two of you let go of each other.

“He sent me a message saying ‘french road east’, that has to mean something,” you smiled, “i'm going to try and find that road through all of DC and if there's a hit i'm going to go there and see what's up with it, it might be where they were taken or a street Spencer noted as an important thing for us to know” Garcia nodded and quickly sat back down and started typing on her laptop as you left.

God only knows what your teammates are going through right now.

-----

“YOU SON OF A BITCH” Derek yelled as J.J. was dragged to the middle of the floor and repeatedly beaten.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT” Hotch yelled as J.J. started to whimper, the people stopped at Hotch's comment and left J.J. on the floor, Emily and Spencer scrambling with their hands bound to get to their teammate, making sure she was okay.

“What do we want? We want you guys on our side!” one of the people said, he was happy, how could this make anyone happy?

“FBI agents in our group? We’d rule the world!” another one exclaimed as the rest of the group laughed.

“It obviously took a lot of time and planning didn't it? To capture all of us” Hotch said cooly, though on the inside he was boiling.

“Six months,” someone said, it was a new voice that came from the entrance of...the sewers? Poor Spencer was probably having an attack with all these germs.

“Hey boss! We got ‘em” another one said, god there was too many to remember.

“I can see, you missed two though” the Boss said as he looked at the team, a few of his men dragged Emily, Spencer and J.J. back to the wall they all sat at, “genius's lover, and the black guy's girlfriend” the man noted as his men became eerily quiet.

“The blonde girl was with that skinny guy,” a man pointed to Spencer, “And that one,” he pointed to Derek, “but they kept going to crowded places and bumping into people that we couldn't get them, and the other...one”

“The sexy one?” the boss's voice rang out with a grin.

“YOU LEAVE (Y/N) OUT OF THIS YOU BAS-” Spencer yelled before one of the men kicked him in the stomach, causing him to cough harshly.

“Shut it druggie” the Boss said, the looks on the teams faces gave him all the pleasure, “oh yeah, we know all about you guys; how Hotchner lost his wife, Rossi has had 3 divorces, Morgan was sexually abused, Prentiss has had an abortion at 15 and J.J., sweet little J.J. had a miscarrige” snickers from the men could be heard as the team looked away, embarrassment? No, just confused as to how these people knew such intimate things about them.

“And that little lover of yours, genius?” another voice questioned, the voice came toward Spencer, gripped the poor boy's hair and ripped his head up to look up at him as a pained expression came over the doctor, “they’re in for it big!” he cackled, “gonna have a lot of fun with them when we get them later,” and with that he threw Spencer against the wall, Spencer groaned as a few of his teammates called his name but he didn't register it, only the pounding in his ears and the feeling of blood rushing down his head. And with that, the men and their boss left, the door to the sewer room shut and the click of a lock echoed around the room, the silence the team heard afterwards was loud, deafening.

------

“What’ve we got Garcia?” you asked the analyst as you walked back into the room, placing 3 files on the table in front of her.

“Okay, very few cases including those words you gave me, a lot of the cases were only one unsub or two and I highly doubt there were only two unsubs so I crossed them off and? I got nothing,” the girl sighed as she got rid of the tabs to continue working, “the facial recognition software and car registration is still going, i've got hits for all of our friends being in the places that they mentioned, all of them had unfortunately been walking at the time but they go from one camera to another and then suddenly they're gone,”

“So our unsubs are sophisticated, this definitely took time to plan and get the right things for,” you mumbled as you looked at the victim board Garcia had hastily made up on the clear plastic, each member of your team's faces were up there along with a few other colour pieces of paper for the unsubs, and that's it.

“I haven't gotten any hits on the cars either” Garcia mentioned softly, you nodded.

“Okay well, i've got three cases here that all mention those words from before. First one is a group of five unsubs from Rossis and Gideons days but a lot of them are in jail if not all of them, the second is a cult group from Missouri and the last one is a gang of over thirty people; and not all of those thirty people had been found, prosecuted, jailed, killed and etcetera you get it” you fanned out the files and opened each of them.

“Which one do we think it is?” Garcia asked, we had no leads of which one it really is, so you took a breath and read over the files.

“Okay well, the five unsubs are all in jail and only two have been let out of prison in the last six months and it wouldn't be them because they only have two people in their gang, they’re loyal so they wouldn't start a new group without the originals” you closed the file and pushed it away and moved onto the other one, “the cult is rather big but they’re based in Missouri and i don't think they’d travel all the way over here to kidnap agents. This isn't religious or anything and they are so, definitely not them” you closed the file and landed on the last one, “okay, this one,” you looked over the file as Garcia started typing away, “fifteen have gotten out of jail in the past 2 years, five where never found and the rest are still in jail” you looked to Garcia, “this could be it”

“AH HA!” Garcia exclaimed, “i have a hit on three of those people who are in the system and they are following our lovely friends” Garcia typed another second as multiple video cameras came up showing your friends walking (or stumbling depending on who it was) along with one of three people following behind them a few feet.

“It has to be them then,” you said, “i'll go back down and find the rest of the files, Garcia i want you to find every bit of land, buildings, warehouses and houses they have ever bought, i want to know what they ate for breakfast on the third of january last year, i want to know what plumbing system they used in 2016; i wante everything” you said, albeit forcefully, as you walked out of the room and towards the file room again as Anderson walked back into the conference room and handed Garcia a few papers.

“Thank you Anderson,” Garcia mumbled as he looked over the paper, and sure enough there was fingerprints that matched one of the people who followed your teammates, Garcia then pulled up the video surveillance of the BAU and the facial recognition was quick to find the man enter the room, place the folder down with glove-less hands before walking out, he had a visitors pass.

-------

The scraping of metal against the floor awoke each member of the team slowly as a few people walked into the room, placed food trays on the ground in front of each team member, uncuffed the team and then walked out. The team looked to each other as a voice floated through a P.A. system above them.

“It isn't poisoned, and if you don't eat it then that's up to you but you will starve,” and the system shut off with a harsh beep.

“Hotch?” Derek asked.

“Eat unless you want to die,” was all their unit chief said before he moved forward and started eating the sandwich he had. Emily followed suit and gave a throaty moan as she drank the water from the goblet on the tray, the others soon followed.

-------

“There's nothing,” Garcia said as you entered the room again, “they don't have any land or anything,”

“Well find something then,” you said harshly, Garcia jumped slightly at your harsh tone but started typing again as you pinned up photos of each of the members out of the prison, “have you done a deep search on each person that's out of prison and that wasn't found?” you asked Garcia.

“Yes! Yes, five of the fifteen have alibis from the night our friends got taken and i can't find the rest nor can i find those other five that were never found, they really are off the grid (Y/n)” Garcia said as her fingers flew fast against the keyboard, you looked at the clock on the other side of the room.

“Ten hours,” you muttered, “god only knows what they’re going through,” you rubbed your hand over your face and paced slightly, “we have 15 persons of interest and we can't find them, do the ones with alibis have addresses?”

“They all do, three have work and home and the other two dont work and are stay-at-home-dads, all of their names and addresses have been sent to your phone” Garcia told you as a ping from your phone sounded.

“Okay, i'm going to go and check out that place Spencer gave me before he got taken, i'm gonna grab a few other people to go to other addresses because it'll save time and then regroup back here,” you said as you pulled your phone to your ear and started calling a few people.

~

You parked the car and made your way to French Road which was, as Spencer did say, to the east of the FBI headquarters. It looked like any other little street, a few cafes and a few empty blocks, it wasn't in the city but it wasn't in the suburbs; it wasn't deserted but it wasn't crowded, you noted this. Spencer and Derek weren't taken from here because they were in the middle of the city at the time of abduction, so there has to be something here that Spencer saw to make you come here. You looked in every alleyway on both sides of the street, doing a shallow dig in the dumpsters, opening a few cafe doors and asking a few questions but ending up with nothing. You let out a huff as you looked up and down the street again, until you realised something.

This was a dead end street. The end was a large circle so cars could do a U-turn and go the opposite way, stationed at the end of the street is a path to some sort of forest/secluded jogging track, this had to be a lead, it has to be. The leaves and sticks crunched as you walked along the track, your gun positioned next to you in your hand, ready for action whenever needed, that's when your phone made a large shrill and scared you half to death.

“What is it Mike?” you asked into the receiver after realising it was the other team who was out asking questions.

“We have a lead for the group from one of the stay-at-home-dads; they’ve been planning this for awhile but haven't put effort into it except for the past six months. We couldn't get a name because the guy was too loyal and was convinced they’d come after him but he did tell us that they tried to get in contact with him to regroup, he obviously refused but they left him alone after that, one phone call and nothing else,” Mike said, you could hear the slam of a car door as he got into one of the SUVs with his partner.

“Okay, that's good Mike, get that to Garcia and see if she can try and trace that call and what tower it's pinged from,” and with that you hung up as you heard Mike say ‘got it’ before the line went dead. You looked as far down the path as you could from where you stood but didn't go any further, if this was a lead then you would need backup and probable cause as to why you're there.

~

“All five of those men checked out with the same story, they each got a call asking them to rejoin the team and they refused, the caller disconnected right after that but they haven't gotten any threats since then. Unfortunately i couldn't find a tower it was pinging from and the number was from five different burner phones too,” Garcia said as you looked over the victim board.

“Background searches with those ten we had earlier?” you asked, “found anything else?”

“Um one, he's only 26 and but its a loose thread,” the picture came onto the screen, the man looked like he could pass as 16, “James Micheal, 26, the only thing i could find was that his credit card has weird transactions over the past six months so it fits our timeline however, i can't find the account it's going to so it must be a bugged one or fake or something similar” Garcia said as she brought up the transactions.

“Found him on the streets?” you asked, Garcia grinned and brought up a video feed, and upon further inspection, plus audio, you now had a profile.

-------

“Right-o,” a voice said, the metal door screeched open causing the team to wince as he and 2 other men stepped in, “who wants to go first?” he questioned, the sickening grin could be heard through his speech as the sewer was way too dark to see 3 feet in front of them.

“Grab the kid, he had the addiction,” another voice muttered before the men moved forward.

“HEY FUCK OFF,” Spencer yelled as two of the men tried to pin him down, Derek started scrambling towards Spencer to help but after a nasty blow to the jaw he backed away with guilt.

“Get the needle,” one of them said, this caused Spencer to tense, fuckfuckfuckfuck, this can't be happening, no way are they gonna inject him again.

“Look nerd, it's your old friend!” the first man said as he shook a small clear bottle in the slim stream of light from the roof, and sure enough there was a label with the one word that caused Spencer's fight or flight to make its appearance, Dilaudid.

“NO, DON'T YOU D-” a punch to the jaw caused Spencer to splutter and breath heavily as his arm was grabbed roughly, tied and the needle entered into his skin and vein, he sobbed. The team heard Spencer whimper as he felt the liquid inject into his veins and bloodstream, the telltale shortness of breath was quick to take its mark along with the immediate drowsiness as the men walked out without saying another word.

“SPENCE” J.J. exclaimed as the man in question fell into a slumber and the team crowded around the twitching boy, it was just like last time.

“Protect him,” Hotch said, “don't let them take him in this state, fight, bite, kick, i dont give a single shit,” the team looked at Hotch and nodded as they all took a silent oath to protect their friend.

------

“Our unsubs are up to ten people, possibly fifteen or more if they have recruited new people,” you started the profile with Garcia standing next to you, “we have one person of interest as of right now, James Micheal, we have video evidence and audio evidence of him speaking to each member of the BAU team trying to proposition them, as you all know a few of our team members would have ignored him, and a few would have talked or said a simple no; those who didn't say anything he continued to walk next to and annoy until that team member said something,” you took a breath, “we have evidence of James stalking the BAU team for the past 4 months from their work, to their home, to where they go for dinner on a special night or the bar; this includes both myself and Garcia in this stalking pile, we have added extra security to our own homes.”

“James has been making up to five thousand dollar transactions to some bugged account for the past six months and another two thousand dollars to a seperate account 2 months prior to those first six months,” Garcia was now delivering the digital trail, “this means he has been with this team for at least eight months, possibly more, he is most likely new, shy and unsure of what he is doing. James is being used and he knows he is but he has no way out as our unsubs keep saying things like ‘ill kill your family’, ‘you're nothing without us’, stuff like that,” Garcia used her hands to talk as she also pointed to the victim board to the photo of James’ driver's license.

“This team on unsubs are highly dangerous and we must proceed with caution around and with them, they all have gotten out of jail in the past 2 years and they obviously have a vengeance plan, please remember this. We also have a lead to where this team of unsubs could possibly be hiding but until we have James we cannot infiltrate the area. There is a fake missing person report out for James so we can hopefully get him into questioning, thank you,” and with that the people around you filtered away back to where they were meant to be going. You turned to Garcia.

“Do you think that was enough? What if we don't get to them wh-”

“Garcia stop, we cant think like that, we are the best of the best even without the team, okay?” you held Garcia enough to ground her as she nodded and wiped her tears.

“SSA (L/n)?” a new voice asked, you looked to the glass doors and sure enough, James Micheal was waiting there.

“James,” you said as you walked towards him.

“I saw the flyers and I just have one proposition,” James said, his voice was deep and definitely didn't match his face.

“What is it?” you asked as you walked to the interrogation room and allowed James to sit down in front of you with your back to the mirror, Garcia and Anderson were already standing in the small room before the interrogation room.

“I want protection until those guys are back in prison, i don't want them anywhere near me and i don't want them to find me,” James said, his voice was ridden with anxiety, you nodded.

“We can do that James, it's alright,” you reassured the man in front of you, “can you tell us who is in this group? Where are they staying?” you asked, James nodded.

“There's ten in the group, they're off the beaten track down some street in the east-”

“French Road?” you questioned, James nodded.

“Yeah, yeah that one,” he agreed, that was everything you needed from the previous encounter, “they don't have a lot of security but they’re pretty sophisticated with what they have on hand. They know everything about all of that team though,” Jack mentioned, “Emily got an abortion and that Red dude?”

“Reid” you corrected.

“Reid, they know of his Dilaudid thing and Hotch and his wife - they know everything,” Jack was shaking now, “they-they said they were going to use that against the team, the addiction, the trauma all of that”

“They’re going to dose Reid?” you asked with your shaken voice, that wasn't a good thing. Jack nodded as he looked to the clock.

“Most likely have already,” he whispered, you looked to the clock, 12 hours since the disappearance. Fuck. You nodded.

“You’ll be taken by another agent to a safe house and let out when this team is apprehended,” was all you said before walking out of the room and letting the door shut behind you. Your throat tightened and you couldn't breath as you sunk to your knees, Garcia and Anderson rushing to you.

“Breath (Y/n), breath” Garcia reminded you, “breath with me my sweetness” she said, Garcia made more effort to show her breathing as you tried to copy her, a few minutes passed before you had finally calmed down, tears streaked your eyes as you bumbled your words.

“I-its French road, Spencer was onto something,” you mumbled softly, “th-they know everything, from Reid's addi-addiction to Emily, and Hotch's wife,” you took a deep breath, “I-I want S.W.A.T. stationed with me, w-we’re going to infiltrate that place with the hel-lp of Jack and his direction-ns, possibly a map,” you looked to Anderson who nodded and walked out while taking out his phone to call for S.W.A.T., “Garcia i dont want you there,” you said, looking at the girl, she nodded in understanding as you stood up and started walking towards the way of the S.W.A.T. team.

------

J.J, Derek, Emily, Hotch and Rossi all whimpered as each member got kicked, punched, pulled, twisted and everything in between, Spencer was only just coming to from the drugs.

“N-no, dont,” Spencer whimpered, he was weak and could barely open his eyes but soon slipped back into a slumber.

“Y-you won't get away with this,” Emily whispered as one of the men gripped her jaw, her voice hoarse and scratchy.

“Oh darling, we will,” the man grinned as he threw the girl to the floor as the others piled the team on top of the others, all groaning and silently crying.

In retrospect, (Y/n) was rather glad that all members of the team were in the room when the door was busted open.

“FBI, PUT YOUR HANDS UP,” you yelled, the words echoing around the room, the men snickered as S.W.A.T. trained their guns on the men.

“It’s alright boys,” the boss said, your eyes trained towards the voice.

“Let. My team. Go,” you said calmly, gun now cocked, the man laughed.

“Go on boys,” the men moved out of the room but the boss stayed standing.

“Grab the team,” you said to S.W.A.T. behind you, the men walked in slowly and trusted you with your trained gun as they started carrying or walking out your team members, one having to cradle Spencer bridal style, “ambulance,” you said into the mic on your vest, “we need an ambulance for a poentional OD, Dilaudid was used, possibly a cocktail of other drugs but its unknown. Dont use other narcotics and if i find out you do i will be going to jail due to murder of doctors and nurses,” the sirens wailed in the distance.

“You’ve got tendencies too,” the boss said in front of you, “murder, killing, everything” you scoffed.

“Everyone does, its whether we have the empathy and understanding of ‘that's wrong’, which is why we don't do it unlike you people,” you seethed through your teeth, “hands up, you are under arrest for the kidnapping and torture of six FBI agents,” the man stayed silent for a moment.

“(Y/n) (L/n),” the man said, “pathetically in love with Agent Spencer Re-”

“It’s Doctor,” a voice said behind you, the cock of a gun could be heard before the tell-tale sound of a bullet being fired next to you, your natural reflexes made you dive to the right (as the bullet came from the left) as the boss was hit in the forehead and fell to the floor. You looked to the gun carrier.

Spencer Reid.

Gun held out straight, no tremble and a stern look.

Spencer looked to you and tears immediately spilled from his eyes as you stayed stone against the floor, “i see you got my message,” Spencer said softly with a smile before he collapsed to the floor in a heap of limbs, the gun clattering to the floor as paramedics rush to Spencers aid.

It seemed to go in slow motion, everything whizzed past you as other paramedics helped you to your feet, your eyes glassy and vision blurred as you got brought to the back of an ambulance. Around you each member of your team was being attended to, brought to a stretcher and taken in another ambulance, eight ambulance’s in total.

It was okay, you got all of the men, all of your team was safe.

Except.

“HES FLATLINING”

“We need to get him to the hospital NOW!”

“HE'S GOING TO O.D.”

[valeriethepussycats]

Inside Out

Chapter 3

Pairing- Loki x Reader

Warning- cursing and characte dying.

Your thoughts and other characters are in italics. Flashbacks are in bold.

Jane enters Darcy's car parked outside the restaurant. “And I hate you.”

“What?! I thought he was cute.” Darcy proclaimed.

“Just shut up and drive.” Jane replied.

Darcy pulls out and drive off, as they are driving through London suddenly Jane's is shocked to see a guy sat in the back seat. “Who's he?”

“He's my intern.” Darcy stated.

“You have an intern?” Jane questioned.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Hello, Dr. Foster. It's uh...it's a great honor to be working with you.” Ian Boothby stated.

“Right. I have to call Erik.” Jane remarked

Ian checks the navigator then looks at Darcy. “Oh, uh...take a right.”

Darcy quickly makes a sharp turn.

“Left!.” she then turns quickly left. “I have totally mastered driving in London.”

Jane calls Erik and leaves a message. “Hi, Erik, it's me again. Where are you? I came here because you said you were onto something and then vanished.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

A news report is then shown where Selvig is naked and running around Stonehenge while the police try to catch him.

“I'm here at Stonehenge, for what has been an interesting unfolding of events today. The police reported the scene shortly after 11 a.m. this morning, after a seemingly harmless rambler approached the area then started to strip naked and effectively terrorize tourists there with scientific equipment while shouting that he was trying to save them. The man later identified as noted Astrophysicist Dr. Erik Selvig has been called in for questioning by police.”

Darcy pulls up outside an old abandoned factory and they all get out of the car. “Come on, this is exciting! Look, the intern is excited.”

“Ian.” He Corrected.

“Do you want the phase meter?” Darcy asked Jane.

“No.” Jane answered.

Darcy looks over at Ian “Bring the phase meter.” she throws the car keys at Ian and starts walking off. “The toaster looking thing.”

“I know what the phase meter is.” Ian said under his breath.

As Jane walks towards the factory Darcy calls her on her cell phone which starts playing an annoying music tone. “How do I change the ring tone on this thing?”

“An Astrophysicist with three degrees should be able to change her own ring tone.” Darcy exposed.

Jane turns to look at Darcy. “Why are you calling me?”

Darcy Lewis: “I didn't want to shout.” Darcy told Jane. Then looks at Ian, who's following behind her. “Intern, the entrance is this way.”

“Ian. My name's Ian.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Loki is walking around his cell when his reality starts to change. A memory starts to

form, the now dungeon cell was replaced by warm morning sun. Loki sees Y/n sleeping happily in her bed. then she wake up to the sound of House of Pain - "Jump Around" with a big smile on her face she gets out of bed and rushes to the bathroom and brushes her teeth dancing and mumbling the lyrics to the song when she finish in the bathroom she heads downstairs to see that Gambit is in the kitchen making her favorite breakfast.

“So what are we doing today?” Y/n askedas she sit at the table.

“Today we’re gonna go to Mardi Gras.” Gambit said flipping a waffle.

“I thought I was not enough to go to Mardi Gras?” Y/n said picking up ‘her’ Game Boy.

“Who said...I was about your age maybe younger.” Gambit disclosed.

Gambit looks over at Y/n sees she playing with a game. “Where’d you get that?”

“I stole it from one of the boys from school.” Y/n answered. “He was bullying one of my friends and I didn’t use all my powers.

Gambit gives her disapproval look.

“It’s was the only way to find out what he really loves.” Y/n explained. “That’s what we do steal from the mean and rich.”

Gambit gives her a smile that reaches the eyes he then grabs a plate and place Y/n’s waffles on it and hand it to her. “Eat a up Petit we have a big day today.”

Y/n starts to scarf down her food.

Loki looks at their dynamic and can see this Gambit person is a very important person to Y/n, and that she was a thief. She looks happy and content with her life.

Could I make her that happy?

Would she love living on Asgard?

Loki shakes those thoughts out his head, Odin has already made him question if is he worthy of Y/n’s love he doesn’t need the those thought. The memory beings to fade out and Loki reappears on the streets of New Orleans and see Gambit and Y/n. They’re walking the streets of the infinite Paris in laughter of people of all shapes and sizes.

“Mardi Gras. You smell that Petit.” Gambit said with a broad smile.

Y/n laughs as she looks up at Gambit she can tell that he’s very passionate about his city. “Can you tell me more about Mardi Gras.”

“What do you wanna know, Petit?” Gambit wondered.

“Anything.” Y/n with a smiles.

“Well the King Cake is only eaten during Mardi Gras.” Gambit said as he picked Y/n up and put her on his neck so she can see everything.

“What’s the King Cake?” Y/n said looking down at Gambit with her brows together pulling together in a frown.

“It made with brioche dough Braided and laced with cinnamon, the dough is then glazed with purple, green and gold sugar or covered in icing in those same Mardi Gras colors.”

While Gambit is talking all of a sudden Y/n starts hearing voices.

“I haven’t hear from him in a weeks no one at shield can contract him.”

“How can I tell her that someone she knows since she was five could be dead.”

“What....” Y/n said sad grimace.

Then all sudden a loud bang of a gun goes off and her and Gambit falls to the ground. She crawls from underneath Gambit’s head,and see his bleeding.

“Gambit tell me what to do.” Y/n urged.

“Y/n are you ok?” Gambit questioned.

“I’m fine, tell me what do I do.” Y/n stressed.

“There’s nothing you can do.” Gambit answered.

Loki rushes to young Y/n side and tried to to help but his hands go straight though her.

“No...no...tell me what to do...please.” Y/n wept. “You’re all I have....your my family.”

“Your gonna be fine your father with find you.”

“My father is dying and I need to save him.” Y/n proclaimed.

“I love you, Y/n.” Gambit drawled.

“No don’t say that please don’t say that Gambit.” Y/n sobbed.

Gambit’s chest laid still, no flickers of life or his usual burning red eyes. Y/n’s heart stops. When she realized that she can’t hear a single thought. She starts to get a pain in her stomach, like when you get butterflies but make it painful.

“I can not.....I can’t do nothing.......I do not wish to see this.” Loki said with moist eyes. He’s having a hard time looking at what’s happening in front of him. But he knows he needs to see this to understand her more.

Y/n’ s chin trembling, eyebrows elevated, snot running down her upper lip. She spoke in a cracking voice. “Gambit...Gambit..”

The street begins to shake Loki looks around and all the cars in the area gets crushed under a pressure like gravity. All the windows of the houses shatter, all the street lights pop making it dark, but little did Y/n know it was a dream.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Back on Asgard, Thor,Y/n, and Gambit are walking the hallways for Thor’s home. He’s telling them all the stories of his childhood and all the things they accomplish by keep Nine Realms safe. He’s telling them about all their custom and what they do and what they believe in. They end up back at the celebration because of Y/n’s amazing persuasion skills. Thor and Y/n are sitting at a table while Gambit is sitting with a group of women soaking up all the attention.

“What’s why you can’t stay in one place to long.” Y/n started. “The warriors on Asgard protest Nine Realms.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s amazing. The way you protect people...”

“I do love being a warrior but I can no longer do that.”

“Because you’re next in line for the Throne.”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to make Jane your queen?”

Thor looks at Y/n shocked trying to find the words to say. “I forgot how blunt you are.” Thor said with a smile.

Y/n shrugs shoulder. “I know when you become king it’s gonna become harder to see Jane.” Y/n specified. “And after New York she called me wanted to know if you’re coming back.”

Thor looks over at Y/n withm unfocused gaze.

“I didn’t give her answers because I didn’t know.” Y/n told Thor. “I can tell you miss

her a lot.....And she misses you.”

Y/n looks at Thor and can tell he’s far away and he’s becoming even more so. “Go.”

Thor looks over at Y/n knowing she can feel and understand what’s he’s going through. “I still have more to show you.” Thor said in his best convincing voice. He hasn’t seen his best friend in a long time his mind shouldn’t be on Jane it’s should be on how his friend is.

“Go. I’ll be here.” Y/n said with a encouraging smile.

“Thank you.” Thor said returning her smile. “I will return.”

“I know, now go.” Y/n said with a quiet and empathetic voice.

With one last look, Thor walks away.

After being free from his distractions Gambit walks over to Y/n. “Where did Thor go?”

“He went to go see a friend?” Y/n said then looking over at Gambit with a smirk. “Now let’s go get some drinks.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

As they enter the old factory they hear a noise. “I am not getting stabbed in the name of science.”

She holds up her hands and shouts. “It's okay, we're Americans!”

“Is that supposed to make them like us?”Jane replied.

Suddenly the hear some kids voices. “Make it go away..”

“Ssh!”

Three kids come out of their hiding place.

“Oh, they're kids.” Jane said with a sigh of relief.

“Are you the police?” Maddie asked.

“No, we're scientists. Well, I am.” Jane specified.

“Thanks.” Darcy said dryly.

“We just found it.” Said one boy.

“Can you show us?” Jane asked.

The three kids lead Jane, Darcy and Ian to a truck, one of the boys touches the truck and pushes it up with two fingers, they watch in amazement as the truck floats in mid-air.

“That doesn't seem rigged.” Darcy disclosed.

The kids then take them to a stairwell in the factory, one of them drops a bottle down and they watch as the bottle disappears into thin air.

“Where did it go?”

The girl points her finger up, they look up to see the bottle reappear above them and continuously fall and disappear in the same spots in the air.

“That's...that's incredible.”

Jane picks up an empty can and drops it down and it does the same thing, it disappears into thin air, but when they look up to watch it reappear nothing happens.

“What happened?” Darcy asked Maddie.

“Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don't.” She answered.

“I want to throw something. Jane, give me your shoe.” Darcy proclaimed.

Jane ignores Darcy and picks up her gadget to look at the readings. “I haven't seen readings like this since...”

“New Mexico? Only if Y/n was here she would be able to tell us.” Darcy commented. (But she just miss hanging out with Y/n.)

Jane give Darcy a meaningful look before rushing off. ““Don't touch anything!”

Darcy Looks over at Ian. “Give me your shoe.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Jane walks away from the others and watches them on the stairwell dropping objects down and watching them disappear and reappear, she sees looks at her gadget and sees the anomaly is nearby and starts walking off; back on the stairwell, Ian drops the car keys down and they watch it disappear but when they look up it doesn't reappear.

“Where those the car keys?”

Jane follows the readings on her gadget which takes her to another part of the factory, as the readings get stronger a gust of wind pushes her forward and she finds herself teleported in another realm.

“Darcy!” Jane shouted.

She looks around and finds the column holding the Aether, she reaches her hand out and suddenly the Aether enters her body and she passes out; at the same time we see Malekith being awakened in his ship, knowing that the Aether has been found.

“The Aether awakens us. The Convergence returns.” Malekith divulged.

[5-seconds-of-bucky]

Letters To A Boy Who’ll Never Read Them

A/N: Kinda inspired by To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. Anyone who knows me will see how much I projected on this but oh well. Also, this is the longest fic I’ve ever written! (Which is kinda sad I guess but oh well)

Summery: The letters to Peter were never supposed to leave that box 

Word count: 2.6k+

Warnings: I like half proof read this so probably some typos

Peter Parker was a boy you liked to admire from afar. You’ve gone to school with him for the past three years and were yet to feel the courage to talk to him. The first time you laid eyes on the curly haired boy, you were a goner. Everything about him was perfect to you, even if he was considered a nerd by most others. You liked to imagine that he felt the same towards you, but you were sure he never took a second to register your face among the hundreds at Midtown. 

And maybe you owed that to how perfectly average you were. Sure, you were fairly smart, but so was everyone else at the school. You were pretty enough, but it wasn’t something that set you apart from everyone else. You blended into a crowd like a chameleon on a green wall. 

Your one special talent, if it could even be called that, was your writing. Your teachers always commented on the eloquence of your essays and your friends liked to ask you to come up with witty captions from their Instagram posts. You were even on a competitive writing team.

 Writing was the one thing that set you apart, but it was something that went unnoticed by the majority. 

Unbeknownst to you, Peter Parker was very aware of your presence in a room. Your “average” beauty was more than average to him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d known that he liked you, but he guessed that it started around the first time he read one of your essays. Your way with words was something he would never stop admiring. He was a science kid, through and through but he could see your passion for writing even in the simple essay you had to write about symbolism in Lord of the Flies. 

He wanted to talk to you and ask you just how you did it, but there was always something holding him back. You were either hanging out with your small group of friends and he didn’t want to interrupt or you were studying quietly in the library and he was sure you wanted to be alone. He never seemed to have the courage to talk to you and he wasn’t entirely sure why. 

So he never approached you. In the three years he had known your face he never spoke a word to it. Every class that you had together never required a group project and assigned seats that were never next to each other. Sometimes, it felt like fate was keeping you apart. 

~

You kept a container under your bed. There wasn’t anything that special about it originally. You put some stickers on there when you were a little younger. There was no reason in particular that you did it, you just had some stickers and wanted to put them to use. You ended up sticking it under the bed eventually and left it there for a while. 

There was a day when you got sick of keeping your crush at bay. It wasn’t all that long after you “met” Peter. Who knew that staring at the back of someone’s head could make you like them so much? 

So you did the thing you knew best; write. 

You wrote him a letter. A letter you hoped he would never read because it was too embarrassing for him to see. 

Dear Peter, 

How does one tell you they love you? Perhaps I could tell you in this letter, but a letter alone could not capture the raging feelings I have for you. The butterflies I feel when you walk in a room, the sense of calmness I feel when I see you smile, the giddiness when you shoot your hand up to answer a question. Not a day goes by that I fear I won’t see that smile again. But that doesn’t come close to the fear that you’ll never see me. For I am little more than another face in the crowd. I’m average and you are anything but. I wish this letter could make you see me, but I doubt anything really can. I hope this is a letter you’ll never read, but fate has ways of changing the things we want. Maybe, some day, you can be mine. 

With love, 

                 The girl I wished you’d see

You read the letter once over and weren’t sure what to do with it. You obviously couldn’t give it to Peter but you didn’t want to get rid of it. 

Your eyes caught sight of the container under your bed and you grabbed it, folding the note and putting it in there. You placed the container back under the bed and worked on more homework, hoping that somehow, the letter would rid you of your feelings. 

Over time, the container accumulated more letters. From little notes to full length letters describing how you felt, they never left that container. You even wrote “Dear Peter” in sharpie on the side. There were things you hoped you could mention in the hallway as you passed him and things you could only hope he would never know. 

From

Dear Peter, 

Your smile makes me happier than One Direction. 

To

Dear Peter, 

Sometimes, I fear that you’ll realize that you’re too smart and kind for the people at Midtown to treat you like they do and that you’ll leave. Sometimes, I wish I could be the one to make it better. 

You never told anyone about the container. It was something you felt was too personal to share. Even if your friends knew all about your crush on Peter, you weren’t sure you trusted them with the things you wrote to him. 

~ 

“Alright, I’m gonna get changed,” you said to your friend, Becca, as you grabbed your pajamas and headed to the bathroom across the hallway. The two of you were having a sleepover and you didn’t want to be in jeans while you watched movies. 

Becca twisted the ring on her finger as she waited for you when it accidentally came out of her grasp and rolled under your bed. 

“Oops,” she said to herself as she kneeled on the ground to get it. She swiped her hand under the bed before she found it, curiosity striking when she felt the box it was resting against. She looked down and was met with the container, the “Dear Peter” in your handwriting facing her. 

“What’s this?” She pulled the container out enough to see the folded letters sitting in it. She pulled one out and read part of it.

Dear Peter,

I love you. There, I said it. Well, wrote it, I guess. But that’s as bold as I can be right now. I’m still the girl you’ve never seen; the girl you’ll never see. 

The sounds of your footsteps interrupted her reading and she quickly put the letter back, shoving the container under your bed. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, seeing her kneeling on the ground. 

“Oh, my ring dropped.” 

You smiled. “You need to stop dropping that thing, my gosh, Becca.” 

“I know, I know,” she chuckled. 

Later that night, when you were asleep, Becca took some of the letters and shoved them in her bag. There were tons of notes in there. Surely, you wouldn’t notice if five of them were gone. Maybe she could get these to Peter. It wasn’t the nicest thing to do behind you back, but she was sick of hearing you swoon over the boy. Just because you were oblivious to the yearning looks Peter gave didn’t mean she didn’t see them. 

The next Monday at school, Becca didn’t hang out at your locker for long, claiming that she needed to go to the bathroom before class. While you went to class early, she pushed the letters in through the crack of Peter’s locker. All she could do now is hope that Peter knew what to do next and that you wouldn’t kill her. 

~ 

“Dude, did you even read the chapter last night?” Peter asked Ned as they walked to his locker. 

“Of course not. Why do you think I’m asking you about it now?” 

Peter scoffed as he put the combination to his locker in. “What if everything I just old you wasn’t true?” 

“You would never-”

Ned was cut off by a few pieces of folded paper flying out of Peter’s locker. Peter picked one up, reading the short message written in small handwriting. 

Dear Peter, 

Your eyes are like the midnight sky. Dark and mysterious yet beautiful. 

“What is that?” Ned asked, reading it before Peter could move it out of eyesight. 

“I don’t know. Maybe someone’s putting notes in people’s lockers or something.” 

“Then why do you have four others in there?” Peter closed his locker, leaving the rest of the notes in there. 

“Aren’t you going to read them? What if Y/N finally confessed her love to you?” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “She is not in love with me. And I’ll read them later.” 

Little did Peter know that Ned was right. As he read the notes later, he couldn’t help but wonder what led you to put such personal and deep notes in there. 

Dear Peter, 

It’s me again. I know I’ve written a million notes for you, but I don’t know what else to do. I am helplessly and completely head over heels for you. You and your cute sweaters, your genius brain, that little smile you get when you know all the answers to a test. I’ll probably be stuck writing letters to you ‘till the day I die, but oh well. You are the sun and I am a small blade of grass in the middle of a field. You are the ocean and I am one of the thousands of fish. You are you and I am just me. Maybe one day I’ll gain the courage to tell you that to your face, but until then, I remain the little fish in the big pond. 

Sincerely, 

                The little fish, 

                                      Y/N 

Dear Peter,

Yeah, you’re Peter Parker and I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N but what if you were Peter Pan and I was Wendy Darling? (That sucked, I’m sorry but not really)

Love, 

         Someone who wishes they were your darling

He couldn’t believe his eyes. He had been dreaming about you for years and all of a sudden you just threw some love letters in his locker? 

Of course, it could be fake. It was a little elaborate to be fake though. Ned couldn’t write like that and nobody else knew about his crush on you. Maybe it was an actual dream come true. 

~ 

“Hey, Y/N!” Peter called when he saw you standing at your locker the next day. He didn’t know what you were doing there since it was a lunch period but it didn’t matter. He walked towards you quickly, one of the letters subtly stuck to his side. 

You gave him a confused look. He knew who you were? Since when? 

“Hey, I uh . . . I got your letter.” 

“What letter? I never gave you a letter.” You closed your locker and turned to face him fully, arms crossed as you leaned onto it. 

“Well this letter says it’s from you. Unless there’s another Y/F/N Y/L/N in this school I don’t know about.” He held the letter up and your eyes widened. You snatched it out of his hands and scanned over the message. Yup, it was definitely yours. 

Dear Peter,

I love you. There, I said it. Well, wrote it, I guess. But that’s as bold as I can be right now. I’m still the girl you’ve never seen; the girl you’ll never see. I keep telling myself that if I can confess these stupid feelings behind the pen, then I can do it in person too. But that day hasn’t come yet. I guess it’s like liquid courage but with ink. Ink courage? That’s weird. 

That wasn’t even the end of it. There was a lot more on the page, things that even if you were to tell him how you felt, you would never want him to know. And you were absolutely mortified. 

“How did you get this?” 

“I don’t know. I was in my locker the other day. There were like four others with it.” 

“Four?” You stared at him like you had just seen a ghost. 

“Yeah four. This was the deepest though.” He had a shy smile, but you couldn’t even look at him. 

“You were never supposed to see this.” You leaned your head on the locker and brought a hand up to cover your face. “I don’t know how it made it to you.” You’ve never told anyone about the box of letters. 

“Well-”

“I’m so sorry you had to read that, Peter. It must be so weird. You don’t even know me. I’m really really sorry. You were never supposed to read it.” 

You looked like you were about to burst into tears in the middle of the hallway. Thank goodness nobody else was around to witness it. 

“Hey, no. It’s okay. I thought it was really sweet.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it softly. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but he had an urge to comfort you somehow. 

“You don’t think it’s weird that some girl you’ve never talked to is writing love letters to you?” You finally let your hand fall and glanced up at him quickly, reverting your eyes to the ground when he made eye contact. 

“No, it’s really cute actually. Just because we’ve never talked doesn’t mean I don’t know who you are.” He looked sincere, but that did little to relax fear and embarrassment swirling inside of you. 

“You know, Y/N, I’ve always thought you were cute too.”

Your head snapped up quickly, banging on the locker and causing you to grimace. 

“You okay?” He immediately stepped closer and took your head in his hands, checking to make sure you hadn’t really hurt yourself. 

Warmth spread through your body like a fire. The feeling of his hands was a little more comforting than you cared to admit. “Yeah, it’s just a locker. I’m a little tougher than that,” you laughed softly. 

“Just making sure.” He smiled sheepishly and pulled his hands away. 

You stood there, staring awkwardly staring at each other's shoes until you spoke up.  

“So can we agree to just forget about this and never speak of it again?”  

“Only if you will go on a date with me.” 

Your head shot up and you hit it on the locker again. Peter laughed and you sighed as you took a step away from it.

“I really need to stay away from lockers apparently.” Peter smiled a little wider and you swore your whole word was on fire. “But yeah, I’d really like to go on a date with you,” you said shyly, scratching your neck as a surge of nerves pulsed through your body. Peter Parker actually just asked you on a date. 

“I’ll make sure to go somewhere without lockers.” 

“Oh, how considerate of you.” 

“We should probably get to lunch.” 

“I’ll walk you there.” 

“To the cafeteria?” 

“Where else? Unless you want me to follow two steps behind you like some creepy stalker.”

“No, no, that’s okay. I guess you can walk me.” 

“What a privilege.” 

“It is actually. You get to walk with the Y/F/N Y/L/N.” 

“True, true.” You both turned and walked in the direction of the cafeteria, smiles on your faces. 

“Happen to have any more of those letters?”

“Oh you have no idea.” 

~

Please reblog and leave some feedback! :)

[kpopblurbs]

11:45pm

Pairing: Minho/Hyunjin/Reader Word Count: 3k Tags: Teasing, Degradation, Rough Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Subspace, Vaginal Sex, dom!Minho, sub!Hyunjin, sub!Reader A/N: Ik the original request didn’t have Hyunjin in it but since I already wrote a dom!Minho brat taming fic I decided to toss in Hyunjin to spice it up uwu Smutmas Masterlist AO3 Link

You sighed and shifted around, nestling further into Minho’s side in the hope of conveying your impatience. It felt like Hyunjin had been at your apartment forever despite the fact that it had only been maybe an hour. The three of you were halfway through a movie that you hadn’t even been interested in to begin with so could you really be blamed for the way you were starting to focus on Minho? You placed your hand on his thigh, glancing up at him to make sure he was still focused on the TV before moving to his inner thigh. You felt him tense as you inched your hand higher stopping just beneath his crotch. He wrapped his arm around you, squeezing you tightly in a subtle warning. You bit back a smile before your hand continued its journey, resting delicately over the bulge in his pants. You looked up at him to see him glancing at Hyunjin, making sure the other boy was still focused on the movie before pinching you quickly on the arm. He looked down at you, his eyes narrowed as he mouthed “Stop.” and you pouted up at him before beginning to palm him slowly.

You turned away from him ignoring his glares and the occasional pinch to your arm as he tried to get you to stop teasing. He picked up his phone typing up something and you barely held back your laugh as your phone lit up with a notification. You picked up your phone with your free hand and checked it, the text Minho had sent was easily readable from your lock screen as it just said, “I’m not sending Hyunjin home.”

You sighed, not bothering to respond before tossing your phone down, knowing that ignoring the message would only make him angrier. You knew you were right as he let out a grumpy sigh, you smirked before continuing to palm him through his pants. You felt his growing erection begin to press at the fabric and you were quick to unbutton his jeans. You only got so far before he wrapped his hand around your wrist, gripping tightly and stilling your movements. “You’re just not gonna give it up are you?” he asked aloud and your eyes went wide, turning around to glance at Hyunjin who was looking at the two of you, confusion written all over his face. “What? Is this not what you wanted?” he asked, reaching down to grip your chin and force you to look at him. “If you’re tough enough to tease me in front of Hyunjin, you should be tough enough to get punished in front of him too.” he said, his tone sent a shiver down your spine.

“Y-You were supposed to send him home.” you said, trying to maintain your attitude as you were now very curious to see what would happen if you kept pushing his buttons.

“Oh, princess, I’m not supposed to do anything you know that.” he responded with a sarcastic chuckle. “It’s cute that you thought Hyunjin being here would stop me, though.” he said before looking up at the other boy. “Do you wanna know what she told me one time?” he asked, a sly smile on his face.

“I -uh- s-sure?” Hyunjin responded his voice trembling slightly and you wished Minho would let go of your chin so you could look at him.

“She said that if she could invite any of my friends into a threesome-” he started before you cut him off with a whine.

“Min don’t.” you whined squirming gently in his grip.

“Don’t be rude.” Minho said his grip on your chin tightening before he turned back to Hyunjin. “Like I was saying,” he continued, “If she could invite any of my friends into a threesome, she’d choose you.” he finished and you let out another whine.

“I-Is that true?” Hyunjin asked.

Minho nodded before looking down at you, “Go on, princess, tell him how much you want to fuck him.” he instructed. You shot a glare at him and pressed your lips together refusing to say anything. “Brat.” Minho spat before releasing your chin, he moved his arm off of your shoulders before grabbing you by the waist and spinning you around to roughly pull you into his lap. You squeaked at the rough treatment before realizing you could finally see Hyunjin who was staring intensely at the two of you, his eyes flicking back and forth between you and Minho. Hyunjin’s pupils were blown wide and his hands were gripping the couch next to him so tightly his knuckles were white. You almost gasped as you saw the tent in his pants but held it back, not wanting to embarrass him.

Minho, however, did not have the same thought, apparently having noticed the same thing you had and immediately cooing at the younger boy, “Aw, Jinnie, are you hard just from watching us?”

“N-No I-” Hyunjin said, tugging his shirt down to try and cover himself.

“Do you wish you were the one manhandling her?” Minho asked and Hyunjin was still for a second before shaking his head slowly. “No?” Minho confirmed before continuing, “Then do you wish you were the one being manhandled?” he asked and you could see Hyunjin’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red before he nodded almost imperceptibly. “How precious.” Minho cooed, “Do you need help with that?” he asked, gesturing down to where Hyunjin had stretched his shirt over his lap.

“I can just -uh- go it’s fine.” Hyunjin stammered out though he made no move to get up.

“Why would you leave when there’s a whore right here on my lap who would love to suck you off?” Minho asked causing you and Hyunjin both to look at him with wide eyes. “What? I think it’s only fair that if she caused it, she should take care of it.” he said smirking at you.

“You decided to do this in front of him though,” you said, “So I think by your logic, you should be the one sucking him off.” you said.

The triumphant smile was quickly wiped off of your face as Minho reached a hand up to tangle into your hair and tugged your head back so you were looking straight up at the ceiling. “Those are very bold words for someone who’s so desperate for my dick she couldn’t even wait till we were alone to try to touch it.” Minho said, his voice low and you could hear the anger in his tone. You almost missed the tiny whimper that escaped Hyunjin’s mouth but Minho didn’t, “Do you want to touch yourself, Jinnie?” he asked. You couldn’t hear a response but Minho pushed your head back up so you were looking straight ahead, his grip in your hair never loosening. You looked at Hyunjin whose hands had moved to his thighs, he was biting his lower lip so tensely you were sure he would start bleeding. “You see how he’s not touching himself?” Minho said lowly into your ear, “That’s what obedience looks like.” he continued. Hyunjin let out another whimper, “What does obedience get?” Minho asked you, giving another tug on your hair to encourage you to speak.

“Rewarded.” you said through gritted teeth.

“Oh look at that, you can answer questions.” Minho said, “Go ahead Jinnie, you can touch yourself.” he instructed. Immediately Hyunjin was palming himself through his pants, his body relaxing immediately from the stimulation. “Hyunjin was a good choice,” Minho hummed and you could hear the smile on his face, “Now, why don’t you go and help him out and then we’ll decide what to do with you.” he said. He released your hair and nudged you off of his lap, you sighed before moving onto the floor and nudging Hyunjin’s legs open so you could settle on your knees between them. You put your hands on his knees and trailed them up his thighs before stopping on either side of where he was still palming himself. You looked up at him, making eye contact and silently asking for permission, he nodded quickly and moved his hand away. You pushed your hands forward, immediately hooking your fingers into the waistband of his sweats and his underwear, tugging both down at the same time, allowing his erection to spring free and smear a small amount of precum onto his shirt.

You spit onto your hand before wrapping it around his dick and stroking him slowly, he sighed happily as you moved your hand up and down his length. You leaned forward and kitten licked at the tip making his dick twitch and a small whimper escaped his lips. You smiled at his reaction before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. He squirmed beneath you and you heard Minho sigh, “Be rough with her Jinnie.” he instructed and you shot a glare at him. Hyunjin lifted his hands up cautiously and rested them on the back of your head, using hardly any pressure to try and move you further down on his length. You easily resisted, happily suckling on the tip of his dick while your hand worked on the rest of him.

You heard another sigh from Minho and then the tell tale sounds of him shifting around on the couch before the weight of Hyunjin’s hands left the back of your head. Quickly, Minho tangled his hand into your hair and shoved you down on Hyunjin. You gagged when the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat but Minho refused to let you up, forcing you to adjust as you took him into your throat. His dick was longer than Minho’s making the intrusion more difficult than you were used to. Minho forced you down until your nose was pressed into the short, curly hairs above Hyunjin’s dick. Tears sprung to your eyes as you tried to keep yourself from gagging again, your hands gripped Hyunjin’s thighs tightly and you tried to push yourself back but Minho held firm. When he finally let you up you pulled back, a long string of spit connected his dick to your mouth as you gasped for air. Minho let you take a breath before forcing you back down onto Hyunjin’s dick, this time forcing you to bob up and down on his length making sure you were taking him all the way every time he pushed your head down. “See?” Minho said and you felt him move Hyunjin’s hand to tangle in the back of your hair, guiding his pace before completely removing his hand, “Keep doing that Jinnie, don’t give her a break.” Minho instructed and Hyunjin only moaned in response.

You tried to let out a whine as Minho moved away from you but it broke into a gag as Hyunjin’s dick it the back of your throat making Minho laugh. “What’s wrong, princess, do you need more attention than you’re getting?” Minho asked and you let out another whine, this one shorter to avoid the inevitable gag. Hyunjin grunted as your noise sent vibrations around his dick, his thrusts were starting to get frantic as he chased his high. You did your best to prepare yourself before he shot his load down your throat, he held your head still, his hips bucking up into your mouth as he hit his high. He released your head and you pulled back, coughing and taking in as much air as you could.

You heard a whine and looked up to see Minho with his hand around Hyunjin’s dick, stroking the poor boy into overstimulation. Hyunjin squirmed, he had a hand wrapped around Minho’s wrist but wasn’t actually trying to stop him, his other hand moved up to his mouth where he slipped two fingers inside. He sucked on his fingers, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to push through the discomfort, “You can do that again right Jinnie?” Minho asked, his voice soft and soothing. Hyunjin whined around his fingers but nodded, his face slowly relaxing as the overstimulation morphed into pleasure. As soon as he knew Hyunjin was comfortable again, Minho let Hyunjin’s dick fall from his hand drawing a long needy whine from the younger boy. Minho hushed him before turning to you, “Stand up.” he instructed and you sighed, rolling your eyes as you did as you were told.

Minho reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, he opened it up and pulled a condom out of one of the folds in the leather. He held it out to you and you cocked an eyebrow at him, “You know what to do, princess.” he said, nodding his head towards Hyunjin who was still suckling on his fingers. You tore open the condom, flinging the foil wrapper onto the floor before turning to Hyunjin and rolling the latex onto his dick slowly. Hyunjin whined, his dick twitching in your hand as you stroked him a couple more times before moving to straddle him. You lined his dick up with your entrance and sank down without waiting for Minho’s permission too busy chasing your own pleasure to care.

Hyunjin moaned loudly around his fingers as you settled in his lap, you took a few seconds to adjust to the intrusion before lifting yourself up slowly. You sank back down quickly, setting a pace that was quick enough to not be torturous but slow enough that it wasn’t exhausting. You knew you wouldn’t be able to rely on help from Hyunjin as he was completely lost in the sensation, his fingers still in his mouth though it was now hanging open, his eyes were squeezed shut and his head was resting on the back of the couch. 

Minho moved to sit on the back of the couch, looking down at Hyunjin before grabbing his wrist and gently pulling his fingers out of his mouth. Hyunjin opened his eyes to look up at Minho and you stilled your movements to watch their interaction. “You still with us, baby?” Minho asked softly.

Hyunjin nodded, “Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” he said, his voice soft but steady.

Minho maintained eye contact with him for a few seconds until he seemed to believe him, “Well, it looks like you need something to do with your mouth.”he said. Hyunjin only whined in response, his mouth hanging open desperately as he looked up at Minho who immediately tugged his pants down just enough to pull out his dick. He adjusted his position slightly, making it easier for him to insert himself into Hyunjin’s mouth. You couldn’t help but whine as you watched Minho tangle his hand into Hyunjin’s hair and push the boy further down on his cock. “Keep moving princess, that’s all the dick you’re gonna get tonight.” Minho said, grunting as he forced Hyunjin up and down on his dick. You let out another whine before doing as you were told, throwing all caution to the wind and focusing on your own pleasure. Hyunjin let out a choked whine as you shifted around trying to find the best angle before you started to get frustrated with not being able to find the right one.

“Min, please, can I touch myself?” you asked as you moved slowly in Hyunjin’s lap, the clear desperation in your voice making Minho smirk.

“Hmm I’m just not sure if you’ve been good enough.” he responded before tugging Hyunjin off of his cock, “What do you think Jinnie, has she been good?” he asked.

You took the opportunity to clench around Hyunjin as you moved your hips slowly, “Feels - ah- feels good.” was all Hyunjin could mumble before he stretched back towards Minho’s dick.

“Alright,” Minho said with a sigh as he let Hyunjin sink back down on his cock, “Go ahead, but you can only cum after Hyunjin.”

You pouted but brought a hand up to your clit, rubbing quick circles knowing that Hyunjin wasn’t going to be able to last much longer if the way he was tensing beneath you was any indication. Sure enough it only took a few more bounces from you and a couple of well timed thrusts from Minho before Hyunjin was cumming for the second time that night. Neither you or Minho slowed down, continuing to use him to chase your own highs while he squirmed beneath you. Tears had begun to roll down his cheeks dropping onto his chest and mixing with the drool that was dribbling from his mouth by the time you reached your high. You came with a loud cry, your thighs twitching and trembling as you worked yourself through it. You were just lifting yourself off of his lap when Minho pulled out of Hyunjin’s mouth quickly and released his load into his still open mouth. Some of the cum landed on Hyunjin’s face and as soon as the boy swallowed what had made it into his mouth he licked his lips trying his best to collect everything.

You shifted off of Hyunjin’s lap, moving to sit next to him before pulling him into your arms, rubbing his back soothingly and whispering soft praises into his ear while Minho began cleaning him up. He started by slipping the condom off of his dick and tying it off to throw it way before grabbing a washcloth and doing his best to clean up his face and body. As soon as he was done he helped you get Hyunjin up and move the exhausted boy into your bedroom, letting him flop down on the bed while the two of you changed into more comfortable clothes. Minho got comfortable on the bed, laying on his back and letting Hyunjin cuddle up to one side of him while you cuddled up to the other. “I know I didn’t get to focus on you tonight, but you did good.” Minho said softly to you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head for emphasis.

“I get it, Min, he needed the attention, I’m fine.” you said before tilting your head back and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Next time though, I’m gonna need more attention.” you said with a smile.

Minho chuckled, “I think I can make that happen.” he said and you hummed happily before burying your face in his neck and letting sleep take you. 

[castielsshield]

Sutton

Title: Sutton (Leave A Message Part 3)

Pairing: Female OC/Sam Winchester

Synopsis: After losing Jess, Sam continues to leave messages on her phone as a coping mechanism. Unbeknownst to Sam, that number has been adopted by another person.

Word Count: 1,871

Warnings: None

Part 2 || Part 4 || Masterpost

— • —

   May 14th, 2006 - 8:13 p.m

     “Hi, babe. Dean and I went after a werewolf earlier today. I almost messed up the entire hunt. I had gotten to know the werewolf before we knew she was the monster, so I didn’t shoot her when she came after me. I just stood there and watched her come after me. I couldn’t see her as a monster. I only saw her as the girl I had previously been protecting. I’m sorry, Jess. I wish I had stayed away from you. If I had, you might still be alive. Sure, you would be with someone else, and I would be alone, but at least you would be alive. For that, I’m sorry.”

     May 27, 2006 - 10:18 p.m

     “Hey, Jess. Dean and I pulled over for lunch by the ocean today. It reminded me of the first time you took me to the beach. Do you remember that? I cried when I first stepped into the water and felt the waves. I know you saw, but you pretended not to notice. I don’t think I ever said thanks for that so, thank you, Jess.”

     June 6th, 2006 - 5:29 p.m

     “Hey there, Jess. I wish you were here, babe. I think Dean’s not telling me something. I don’t know what it is, but I’m so worried, and I don’t know what to do or what to say. I need your help, Jess. You were so good at figuring out a way to convince people that it was okay to tell you their secrets. I remember you wouldn’t even tell me what was going on if the other person wasn’t okay with it. I just don’t want Dean to get hurt. I wish I could get your help, Jess. I miss you.”

     June 7th, 2006 - 6:37 p.m

     “Jess, you wouldn’t believe what just happened. Well, maybe you would. Dean ate five burritos at dinner, and now he’s locked in the bathroom. The thing I left you a message about yesterday, how I thought Dean was keeping something important from me, he was just deciding what he wanted to eat five of today. I still wish you were here. I still miss you. I love you, Jess.”

     July 16, 2006 - 7:06 a.m

     “Jess, I don’t know what to do. We found Dad and saved him, but a demon hit us with a tractor-trailer when we were in the Impala. Dad is hurt, but he’s okay. Dean isn’t waking up and the-- the doctors are talking about taking him off of life support. A reaper is after Dean, but I can’t lose him. If Dean’s gone, I’ll only have dad left. Jess, do you remember what I told you about how dad used to treat Dean and me? What if he starts doing that again? What if-- what if dad tells the doctors to let Dean go? God, I wish you were here, babe. I need your help, Jess.”

     July 19, 2006 - 6:32 p.m

     “Jess, dad sold his soul. He’s gone. The last thing dad did was sell his soul so Dean could live. The demon that killed you and mom killed dad too. Jess, I’m losing everybody. What if I lose Dean too? I’m going to kill this damn demon. I’m going to kill it for killing mom and dad and you. I swear, Jess. I swear to you that I will kill this demon. I’ll kill it even if it kills me.”

     July 27th, 2006 - 1:09 a.m

     “Hey, babe. Dean and I hunted down a vampire nest today. I had to kill one as it stared right at me. I hope I never have to kill another one. When it looked at me, it seemed so human. I almost stopped and dropped my machete when it came after me. Its eyes were blue, just like yours. I miss you, Jess. I wish I were back at Stanford with you. I was so close to asking you to marry me, Jess. You would’ve been Mrs. Jessica Winchester. You would’ve been my wife. We would’ve been happy together. I would’ve been happy.”

     Those were the types of messages I got for the next couple of months. At first, I didn’t understand a thing about the werewolves or vampires. I especially didn’t know anything about the demons. However, my lack of understanding quickly mutated into motivation, yearning for knowledge. 

     I began reading old lore books. I bought everything from lore on werewolves to lore on angels and demons. I had my own money from selling my art and writing pieces online, so I never had to bring my father into the loop on what I was doing. 

     I would research one type of monster at a time, taking precise, organized notes about it as I read. I wanted to be able to reference the notes years in the future, so I kept the order of the records consistent. 

     The title of the page was the name of the monster, always placed at the top. The middle of the page was the signs and identifiers of that monster, how to kill it placed at the very bottom. On each side of that was a small column about half the size of the body paragraph. The right column was a rough sketch of the monster while the left column was filled with wardings, symbols, sigils, and other items that could be used against the monster.

     As I got farther along in my research, I decided to buy a laptop to help me research more and find signs of monsters around the country. I was also able to make copies of the lore pages in a document, so that will be helpful if I ever need to move around.

     After the message where the man revealed his last name, he began saying where he and his brother were going to ‘hunt’ the next monster. Every time I got a new location on the brothers, I would read up on the latest news articles of the town they were going to. Sure enough, every single time, the lore would match the signs in the town.

     As time went on, I learned more about the people that kill the monsters; Hunters. I learned what they did and how they moved around. I often found hunts around my state and the ones that surround it. Most of the time, I couldn’t hunt the monsters I found, but they still needed to be taken care of. My solution to that: inform other Hunters.

     At first, it was difficult to find other Hunters to pass the information to. But all I needed was one. Alexander Sutton is his name, and he was the key to my own life as a Hunter. 

     I first met Alexander when there was a string of odd killings in my hometown of Clayton, North Carolina. It was the end of February, a bit over a year after I got the first voicemail. I was at the gas station just down the road from my house. My dad was out on business again, and I had felt a need for something sour.

     I placed my sour gummy worms and bottled Coke on the counter, reaching behind me to pull out my wallet. As I twisted to my right, I caught sight of a newspaper headlining murders. I picked up the paper and began reading the first section of the article.

     ‘New Body Found By Police, Signature Matching Murders From Previous Months,’ read the headline. My eyes darted down to the sub-heading, and I inhaled as I read the bolded text. ‘Bodies Found In Clayton, North Carolina Without Their Hearts.’ 

     “Werewolf,” I murmured to myself, wincing as I remembered werewolves eat the hearts of their victims. I tapped the newspaper I was holding, signaling that I wanted to buy it as well. Pulling the cash for my purchases out of my wallet, I handed it to the cashier. He bagged my items and gave me my change. I gave him a tight smile and said, “thank you” before walking out of the building. 

     Before I made it out the door, I heard the man behind me rush forward and toss something light onto the counter. “Keep the change,” he said, pivoting on his heel and heading for the door as well.

     I was following the pale squares of the sidewalk away from the store when I felt a hand grab my shoulder. My body snapped around, and I took a step away from the person behind me. Instinctively, my left hand strayed to my back pocket, where I kept my new silver pocket knife. 

     Looking up, I realized the person who had grabbed me was the same man who stood behind me at the cash register. His eyes flicked to my hand, and he chuckled, taking a small step away from me.

     “Calm down, kiddo. I’m not trying to hurt you.” He leaned against the brick wall at his side, and he looked down at me. “You’re a Hunter.” It was a statement, not a question.

     “I’m more of a researcher, so far, but yes. I’m a Hunter,” I responded, mirroring his actions of leaning against the side of the building. I looked up at him, meeting the intense gaze of his grey eyes. ‘I might be young, but I’m not ignorant,’ I thought to myself.

     I hooked my thumb in the back pocket of my jeans, keeping my other fingers wrapped defensively around the knife. “I take it you’re a Hunter too.”

     “Yes, ma’am.” The man pushed himself off of the wall, extending his hand towards me. “My name is Alexander Sutton. I’ve been a hunter for fifteen years now. I started when I was twelve, so a bit younger than you, I’m guessing.”

     Reaching out, I clasped his hand in mine and gave it a firm shake. “I’m Ashley Whitman, but I go by Ash.” As I pulled away from Alexander, eyes focusing on his once again, I noticed the shock registered on his face. 

     His eyebrows furrowed together as he squinted his eyes. “You said your last name is Whitman?” 

     “Uh, yes. Is something wrong?” I questioned, my head quirking to the side.

     Alexander rubbed his hand down the side of his face as though trying to brush away a thought. “No, nothing’s wrong. I, uh, I just confused your last name with the name of another Hunter. That’s all it is.” He flashed me a grin, using it as an ending to his reassurance. “So, Ash, you seem to know quite a bit about hunting and I’m looking for a partner. Would you like to work on this case together?”

     I considered his offer for a moment before returning his grin with a crooked one of my own. “I don’t know. Would you be able to keep up with me?” 

     At my words, he threw his head back and laughed. Once he had regained his composure, Alexander stepped forward, gripping one of my shoulders in one hand. “I think we’re going to get along just fine. You’ve got potential, kid. You could go far in the hunting world.”

[pyxisblue]

The Wolf’s Calm

“It’s a secret between the Crazy Wolf and I.”

|| A3!: Omi Fushimi // 2nd POV Yume (self-insert), Swearing/cursing, a bit of violence, mention of alcohol

You already knew about your boyfriend's drunk habit: his previous gangster personality comes out whenever he had too much to drink. And you couldn't say you're a fan.

That one particular night, drinking with his friends, had him reconsider about allowing himself too much alcohol. With it almost costing his friendship with his clubmates, it was something the two of you didn't really fancy.

Sure, it does bring out a very different side of him, which you loved to know about, but if it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, you included yourself in the list of people who wouldn't want that to happen again, him on the top of the list of course.

You thought he'd already learned his lesson after his friends didn't talk to him for a week due to that incident... well, he thought so too.

A call from one of his university friends was something you didn't expect in a late night. Drying your hair with a towel, you yawned before you answered the ringing phone.

"Ah. [Y/N]... can you help us out?" You can hear the repressed panic in the voice of the man over the phone. He was one of Omi's friends in the photography club.

"Uh. Sure. What's up?" A lot of possible reasons ran through your mind as to why he'd call you in an ungodly hour while he fumbled with words. But what he said next wasn't one of those you considered.

"It's Omi... I think... he had too much to drink."

The same friend led you to a small karaoke room where you found lots of empty bottles and cans all over. Plates of unfinished snacks covered most of the table. The mic lies silently on one of the long cushion seat while the t.v. displayed a repeating video of sceneries as colorful texts flashed over them saying "Insert Song".

In the middle of the other long seat, there's a familiar figure sitting motionless, had his head hanging in front of him as the tiny disco ball from the ceiling showers him with neon lights in the scarcely lit room.

A sigh escaped from your lips when you saw him alone, left by the friends who 'convinced' him to come along only to leave him to himself when they've met the consequences of their actions.

As much as you wanted to call them idiots for running with their tails between their legs after baiting out the wolf inside the actual sheep Omi could be, you couldn't entirely blame them.

No one could deal with Crazy Wolf Omi.

No one...

Except for you.

And that's exactly why one of them called you for rescue.

"Omi. It's time to go home," trying the amicable approach, you wished it'll be over just like that. But the way he scoffed after a glance at you when he lazily lifted his head... You instantly geared yourself for war.

"It's [Y/N], huh? You're here," he stated as if he knew a battle was coming. 

Well, he's damn right, you thought, because you're not about to be a prey... not tonight. You knew damn well that dealing with drunk Omi meant a lot of things. One of them is making sure you don't get overwhelmed by his rough attitude.

Another exasperated sigh came out of you before you sat beside him, hands clasped in front of you.

You saw a corner of his lips curved into a smirk when he realized you're not here to fool around, and somehow, this Omi was amused.

"Look. We don't have all night. Both you and I have stuff to do tomorrow. So, we better go home now," your voice came out in a business-like manner.

Whenever you talk to Omi, your tone is always endearing and full of love. What else would this caring man deserve? In order to fill the gaping hole of his insecurities, self-doubt, and guilt, you always made sure you’re able to relay how much you love him down to every part of his being.

But tonight, the man beside you is in his usual demeanor. So, you knew the situation required a different approach.

You weren't here to persuade him into coming with you. He caught the impression--the one you made sure was obvious-- that you're ready to drag him home if need be, but still you were willing to try and ask nicely.

That... that posed as a challenge for him, and this bold side of his was not about to back down easily.

"Oh, really?" In an instant, his handsome face was in front of yours, wearing a challenging smirk, after he guided your face closer to him with just his fingers on your jaw. "I think we have all the night."

You couldn't help but gulp. This view should already be something you're used to, but his fierce eyes boring into yours with tight brows over them made you feel... things. Not to mention, the scar on his jaw made his appeal more... heart-racing than you expected. The man in front of you was dangerously irresistible that you almost got lured into a kiss.

He's your boyfriend; there shouldn't be a problem with it, but the possible consequence this will bring had brought you to your senses. 

A punch in the gut made Omi double over, releasing you from his grip. 

"What the fuck?" He cursed with a deadly glare to your direction which you met with an unfazed one once you stood away from him.

"We will return to the dorms. Now." No more playing the nice guy, you thought. You turned to your heel to march away, hoping he'd get the message that you weren't asking nor suggesting this time.

But him catching your hand made you stop on your tracks. Just a look in his eyes, you already knew why he was once called “The Crazy Wolf”.

In those burning amber eyes, it was only you who was reflected.

You actually became worried you've provoked him further.

"There shouldn't be any problem, right? You're mine," he said in a low voice that sent a shiver down your spine just as his grip around your hand got tighter.

What he said is true, but there was something  bothering you that gave you courage to deny him.

As strong as he is, you've caught him off-guard when you shook your hand free. 

He thought he already intimidated you into submission like a sheep backed into a corner. But you're [Y/N]... you're no prey, even to the Crazy Wolf. Wasn't that what attracted him to you... your fiery wild heart that doesn't bow to anyone?

With a resolute voice, you told him, "You're right. I'm yours. But I don't want to do something with you that you're gonna regret afterwards because you thought you hurt me."

His eyes grew wide not only because of your words, but also because of the way there was pain in your eyes as they met his, foreseeing an expression you'll bear if you went with this, and he regrets everything once he's sober.

It pierced through him, and even with this intense personality... he still have the same heart that never wanted to see you with that pained expression.

You turned around once again to leave. You were ready to give him another jab in the gut after he took your hand again and pulled you to him... but you found yourself unable to fight back his embrace.

"Then, let me at least do this," his warm voice was still bearing a hint of his gangster persona as he held you like you're the most precious thing in the world. 

He grinned, amused and amazed about how you dealt with him with no fear.

The absence of his domineering attitude a minute ago made you blink in confusion twice.

Did he finally become sober?

"Thank you," his words were soft and gentle to your ear, making a warm pleasant feeling bloom in your chest.

You didn't know which side of Omi was speaking, but all you knew is that no matter how troublesome his drunken persona is... you knew it's still him, the man you fell hopelessly in love with.

The two of you stood there in the middle of the small space, disco lights glimmering with the silence of the bright karaoke machine. 

The setting was far from being romantic, yet you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming affection that made you hug him back. 

"Let's go home, Omi." This time, you said it like you were coaxing a child.

And in even in his drunken state he couldn't help but feel... 'Ah, I'm really no match for this woman.'

No other woman can beat you at what you do to him.

You weren't his prey. You were his calm... the breeze that chases away the madness of the wolf... the one strong presence in his life he'd never be willing to let go. 

When you thought he'd finally let go after you asked to go home, he didn't move an inch. Instead, you suddenly felt his heavy weight on you when he finally blacked out.

You struggled to support his large frame weighing over you as you reach for your phone to call Sakyo and the others for help.

Waiting for them to fetch you, you tried to bring your now asleep boyfriend back to the seat. It was no easy task, and you cursed yourself for not asking someone from the company to come with you.  You sat beside him and pulled his head gently to your shoulder.

His sleeping face looked so serene and gentle even under the multi-colored dancing lights. You giggled to yourself, finding it funny how it was a far cry from the expression he had a while ago.

A few minutes later, Sakyo and Banri arrived to witness the mess in the room whilst the two of you slept with your heads over the other. It was a sight that made the older man exasperatingly sigh and the younger one grin in amusement. Both were relieved they didn't come to a chaos, but the out-of-place image of two adults peacefully sleeping, leaning on each other, in a room where it's supposed to be booming with high energy was nothing they expected. 

----

You yawned without a care as you ambled to the kitchen. There, you find Banri with a smirk as he shrugged and said, "You two were really getting it on when we arrived."

"We what??" The knife Omi had been using to cut the carrots fell to the chopping board. His eyes wide at Banri, shocked about the troupe leader's remark. 

Usually, he can easily ride this kind of conversation as he knows of Banri’s way of messing with other people. But the absence of his last night’s memories made him consider what the younger man is saying might have truth in it.

Unfortunately, Kazunari was also present, "Ooh. I didn't know you had it in you, Omimi. But then again, you were drunk. You said your old personality emerges when you're drunk, right?"

"Yeah. But I wasn't." All heads whipped to your direction at your sudden interruption.

Your boyfriend became even more flustered with your statement. A color of red appearing on his cheeks, his eyes grew even wider.

"Unlike someone, I knew what was happening, and I remember everything," you ambiguously said just to get back at him for what you went through last night.

He stood frozen by the kitchen counter, seemingly not breathing. Probably trying to recall scenes of last night...only to no avail.

"Oof. Omi.exe stopped working!" Exclaimed excitedly by the Summer troupe member.

This... this is the very reason you did not want something to happen when he's drunk. He'd be too flustered to deal with the aftermath. 

"So... something really happened, huh?" Banri was a bit surprised under the impression that he hit the nail right in the head. Though, he’d usually be really amused if that were the case, somehow, not this time. Probably because he only saw the two of you in your peaceful snoring last night.

He was met with your shrug as you approached Omi to make sure he was still breathing.

The curious pair had their brows raised as they tried to decipher what you just meant, not sure how to take it in if the 'something' they thought really did happen.

"Shouldn't you two be at the university by now?"

"Oh, shit," the two younger ones jumped and dashed away once they realized what the time was. 

You were relieved you didn't have to use the director's name to have their butt moving. Meanwhile, dealing with the man beside you was another story.

"I-- I... I didn't hurt you, did I?" You felt guilty as you were met with a heavily concerned expression. It wasn't worth keeping score if he's gonna be burdened with guilt.

You gave him a smile as you held his cheek, the side where his scar is, "No, you didn't. I was just trying to turn the tables on them."

He blinked at you with a bit of hope, "So... nothing really happened?"

"Well... something happened... but not what they were expecting."

"...?" He pulled that adorable expression he does when he's clueless, making you giggle.

"Don't worry. It's nothing to be concerned about."

"Then, can you tell me what went on?"

And to that, you grinned, "It's a secret between the Crazy Wolf and I.”

You left him in the kitchen with a wink as he stared at you in confusion and curiosity until you disappear from the room entirely.

"Why do I feel like I missed something big?" He whispered to no one as he unwillingly let it go and decided to ask the carrots on the cutting board instead.

----------------------

This was a self-indulgent one I had written when someone mentioned about a fun fact about Omi who has his gangster persona returned whenever he’s drunk.

I scoured A3! sources to confirm this and was able to read the backstage story about it. I wondered how he really was as Crazy Omi and if ever we’ll see it again when he’s drunk, so...

I have so much love for this man. He deserves all the love I can offer.

Hope you enjoyed~

[jonathananubian]

Te Dralyc Kar 10 [Star Wars Fanfic]

Synopsis:

Jango isn’t quite sure how he came to adopt a blonde slave boy after a job on Tatooine went sideways, but he honestly couldn’t complain. The boy is a little genius, brimming with compassion and a willingness to learn. The only hiccup, as far as Jango is concerned, is the fact that his boy is a naturally powerful force user. Someone the jetii would want to get their hands on.

Of course- he’d just like to see them try.

[This story isn’t linear. More like a series of snapshots. At least until later chapters.]

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022666/chapters/57795934

A year and a half on Manda'yaim and his son had grown immensely. Not that his personality or appearance had changed much, besides getting a little taller and getting his hair cut short. Rather than the shy and uncertain child he had been when they met he was growing into a confident and capable boy who seemed more in tune with his own inner power. A year ago one of the leaders of the allied Clans in their House offered to train his son in some of the force arts she'd learned from her life before becoming Mando'ad. Jango wasn't all that surprised by how quickly his son absorbed the new lessons and implemented them into his training. He already knew his son was a genius. His boy's only real issues seemed to be his insatiable curiosity, boundless energy, and a need to be doing something at all times, unless he was asleep. Thankfully there was always someone around to keep his hyperactive kid busy and engaged. Some days they had him fixing damaged speeders, other days it was broken droids, and on the rare occasion he even helped fix a ship or two. They'd teach him new skills and useful tricks for the field. They'd take him exploring in the fields or hunting in the forest. They even told him stories about those who had marched onward. Each day Anakin grew more fluent in Mando'a and more knowledgeable about their culture, their way of life. He began to blend almost seamlessly with the other kids of the House, only differentiated by virtue of being Jango's son. The younger kids flocked to the boy, wanting to hear his stories or asking him to fix their toys, knowing the blonde boy would indulge them with patience and kindness. The older kids quickly learned to respect Anakin's strength and intelligence, often bringing him problems they couldn't solve alone and didn't want their parents to know about. If anyone had any lingering doubts that Anakin was the rightful heir to the House or the title of Mand'alor they had long since given up voicing them. Now it was a waiting game. Ducking the swing of a beskad he brought his own up into a defensive position and waited to see what else Wad'e wanted to try against him. The man's eyes glinted with amusement as Anakin cheered them both on from the sidelines, cleaning his own sword carefully even as his eyes followed the two warriors without fail. When Jango had first contacted Wad'e and asked for his help the man had agreed to train his son for six months. "So the kid knows enough to not skewer himself at least." But after all this time the man had yet to leave. In fact he'd only gotten more invested in Anakin's training. To the point where he'd demanded Jango learn alongside his son so the boy would have other opponents to train against. Over time more clans and unaffiliated Mando'ade slowly began to trickle in, swearing fealty to House Mereel. Every time a new clan showed up at the compound Jango had to wonder about the state of the system if so many where fleeing their homes in order to join him. Jango did his best to meet secretly with the clans that were in areas heavily influenced by Vizla or Kryze, wary of the possibility of betrayal. After all Jaster had lost his life when Montross betrayed him and left him to die on the battlefield. He didn't want to believe it of the Mando'ade but he had a child to keep safe, he wouldn't be taking any chances. A lot of the clans from farther out sent representatives to try and feel him out. They seemed to be under the impression that he was a lot more aggressive in his demand for clans to join his cause, which couldn't be farther from the truth. While he wanted to amass enough power to pose a threat to Vizla and Kryze he didn't want to be a tyrannical dictator. Part of being Mando'ad was having the choice to live your life freely. He wouldn't force anyone to stay under his command if they didn't want to be there. Even if he was determined to wrest control of the system back from the two false leaders he knew it was not for him to accomplish. Anakin would be the future Mand'alor of a united system. Jango was just building his power base until his son was old enough. Surprisingly his son helped ease his path during some of the negotiations with a few clans who were under the thumb of the New Mandalorians. The boy had walked right into a meeting he was having with a group of representatives, not even looking up from is datapad and allowing the Ka'ra to guide him. His short hair was swept back and there was a smear of grease across his nose. The newly fitted durasteel armor he wore was already dented and scratched from his practice with Wad'e. Looking up when he finally sensed the others in the room he flushed slightly before giving the group a bright smile. He welcomed the representatives to their home and introduced himself politely in flawless Mando'a. Jango had been so proud of him in that moment. The representatives smiled back at the boy as Anakin turned to his father and asked for his assistance when he was finished. Then he excused himself, giving the group a polite blessing before leaving the room. "That was your child?" One of the group asked with clear disbelief. "Anakin, I adopted him three years ago. He's the best thing that ever happened to me." Where before there had been hesitance and resistance there was now excitement and acceptance. The representatives couldn't help but bring up their own children, sharing holos and laughing about the ridiculous things the kids got up to when no one was looking. "An'ika likes to take things apart to see how they work. He doesn't always know how to put them back together again afterward though." The disgruntled look on his face made the group laugh and Jango knew they'd finally relaxed completely in his presence. "I think we were wrong about you, Fett. It's very obvious you love your child. I can't see you diving straight into a major conflict while he's still so young." Jango frowned, surprise warring with confusion. "You have no idea what we're talking about, do you?" They brought out a datapad and streamed a saved video. It was the security footage from when he had taken out K'tharsin and his slave operation. From the outside it looked cold and calculated, which it was. The fact that the security had picked up his comment at the end made his face feel hot with embarrassment. He wasn't usually one to make bold statements aloud, letting his work speak for itself. "They said that this was revenge but no one ever said what for." There were questioning looks, clearly tinged with suspicion. Jango scowled. They needed more clans on their side. He couldn't hide and say it was a 'contract.' They needed to know how far he would go for his son. How far he would go for his clan and house. "They kidnapped my son and were going to sell him back into slavery. On top of running a slave operation for children." There was a collective gasp and an almost low buzz of anger in the room. Even those with New Mandalorian leanings knew how precious children were. No matter how much Kryze tried to stamp out their culture some things would be eternal. The importance of family was one of them. "Back into... you adopted him three years ago, hm?" Jango bristled as they put two and two together. It was not his place to speak about Anakin's experience as a slave. He gave them a single firm nod. The group leaders looked at one another and after what felt like an eternity of silence later they pledged their support to his cause. "One of your people forwarded us Jaster Mereel's Supercommando Codex. We'd never been allowed to read it before and a few of us didn't even know it existed. While we do not wish to be warriors we agree that the Codex is more fair and honorable than we had been led to believe." That had to be the fault of Kryze. Vizla would just tell everyone that the Codex made them weak and punish anyone who adhered to it. While Kryze was burying and destroying any texts that disagreed with her views on a peaceful Mandalore. "I..." He swallowed. "Before I joined Clan Mereel my family were farmers." It was something he almost never spoke about, but the absolute silence that followed his words and the surprised looks on their faces was worth it. "Being a non-combatant and a True Mandalorian are not mutually exclusive. We accept those who do not wish to fight but want to contribute to our community in other ways." It was this comment, in the end, that settled them firmly in the allies category. Once the representatives had taken their leave Jango was on his way to find his son when a call came through. "Fett." "Jango." He frowned at the slight wavering in Roz's voice. "What's wrong Roz? What happened?" He stopped in the hall, staring down at the communicator. "Fett. Long time no see." Jango felt his breath hitch in his lungs. He knew that voice. "Montross." He growled. "It's time to finish what I started on Korda VI." A message came through from Roz's station- a set of coordinates. "Come alone. I'll be waiting."

[artificialqueens]

Lemon’s Misadventures in Dating, Chapter 2 (Lemon x Everyone) - Mermelada

(Formerly called The Tinder Chronicles)

A/N: I’m back back back again! Thanks again to everyone who left feedback and sent me lovely messages about the first chapter! As a reminder, this fic is set in a universe without Covid-19. Please remember to socially distance and avoid physical contact with people not in your immediate household or support bubble. The sooner we wipe out lil miss ‘rona, the better!

“Oh my god you went for the lemon drizzle cake, you have good taste! Although I already knew that ‘cause you picked me!”

If you had told Lemon yesterday that just 15 hours after downloading Tinder, she’d be on a date, she’d have probably laughed and cried simultaneously. But sometimes life has a habit of accelerating things. She’d matched with two girls in the space of an hour, so decided to try her luck and chat to them. While she had been left on read by Kiara, Kyne had replied to her generic opener of “hey cutie!” immediately. And again. And again. Even more surprising was when she found herself accepting the student’s offer to meet for coffee the next day. So here she was, sat opposite the bubbly younger girl, praying to any god who’d listen that she wasn’t about to be lured into a murderer’s lair.

Kyne, so far, had been very chatty. Incredibly chatty. She had shown absolutely no nerves at all about meeting a stranger from an app, immediately pulling Lemon into a hug and kissing her on the cheek. She launched into a one-sided conversation about the café they were going to, her class that morning, her messy roommate… and Lemon just tried her best to keep looking interested, even if she sometimes caught herself thinking about what she was going to have for dinner once she made it back home.

As Kyne took a bite of her muffin, Lemon took advantage of the lull to try and steer the conversation to something a bit more relevant to herself.

“Have you ever been to the Portuguese place around the corner from here? They do the best custard tarts, I used to go there to study and I’d somehow manage to eat five in a day!”

The Filipina looked at her through her furrowed brow, wiping a crumb from her lip with her knuckle. “Didn’t you do dance at college? What would you need to study for?”

Trying her hardest not to roll her eyes – she had had this conversation before, but it had never been put to her so curtly – Lemon sighed. She had decided a while ago that the date wasn’t going well due to Kyne’s apparent disinterest in anything but herself, and now her mocking tone was the icing on the cake. Nevertheless, she squeezed out a small, horizontal smile. “Obviously it was mostly practical work, but we had classes on dance history and theory, like different choreographers and schools, and quite a lot of anatomy and physiology.”

Lemon always tried to see the best in everyone, it made life so much easier when the positives were amplified. But it was becoming increasingly difficult when Kyne scoffed at her reply. “Yeah, but it’s not as if it’s real studying, is it? I probably could’ve passed the exam without taking the classes!” And just like that, she began on another tangent about how her Grade 9 science teacher would give her college-level homework for fun. Unfortunately for Lemon, she was far too polite – and Canadian – to think of an excuse to wind things up early.

Eventually, just an hour after they’d first met at the subway station, things seemed to come to their natural conclusion. Just as Lemon was wrapping her scarf around her neck, Kyne spoke up again. “Listen, Lemon, I’m sorry. I can tell you haven’t enjoyed this one bit, I’m really not good at social stuff.” For the first time that day, the brunette actually seemed sincere, which took Lemon completely off guard. Damn it, she cursed herself, why am I so soft? Look at those big, sad eyes, how could I be mad?

“It’s okay…” she began, but Kyne stopped her.

“No, seriously, shit, I panicked when I first saw you because you are just as gorgeous as your profile and I had no idea what to talk to you about, so I went into overdrive. I’m really sorry for wasting your afternoon.”

“Kyne, seriously, don’t worry. I’m totally new to this and would’ve had no idea what to talk to you about either.” Lemon’s inner voice was saying something completely different to her outside one, her sudden change of heart shocking herself. Where has this come from, you were desperate to escape a minute ago! Stop being so nice! Maybe she was just flattered by Kyne calling her gorgeous, maybe she was just a lonely lesbian who was desperate for any sort of spark. Whatever it was, she now wished she could stay a little bit longer.

Pulling on her coat, the younger girl subtly wet her lips, meeting Lemon’s eyes in an alluring gaze. “If you don’t have plans now, you could always come back to my apartment and I can make it up to you?”

Kyne’s forwardness should have surprised her, but in an odd way, she had expected this to happen: they did meet on an app, after all, isn’t that what most people use it for? Lemon quickly weighed up her options. They always say that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, and judging by today, Kyne would definitely want me under her, so that might be fun… but then what if she lives in a dungeon and nobody ever sees me again? I’m not ready to be on a True Crime podcast… Glancing back across the table at the short girl in her zebra-print jacket, still watching her expectantly, she decided that she was genuine. Plus, she was so petite that Lemon could definitely take her down if she had to.

“Fuck it, why not?”

Kyne’s eyes crinkled as she grinned wildly. “Great news, because my roommate is working ‘til late and my vibrator died last night!”

The blonde couldn’t hold back a cackle at her companion’s eagerness, and for the first time, she felt somewhat at ease around her. “Perfect, just let me text my parents that I’ll be out late.”

“Oh, so she likes to take her time, duly noted!” sniggered Kyne, earning herself a light slap on the shoulder.

Fishing her phone out of her handbag to text her parents (and Jan, just in case), she noticed two bold notifications.

Congratulations! You have a new match!

You have received a message from Rita!

[domesticsns]

Did Sasuke discover that Izuna told Tobirama the true?

He did. But not from Izuna. 

They were serveiling a warehouse where they got a lead and the car was so quiet and tense. Neither spoke too each other. The tension had been there for the whole day. Neither mentioned it. 

Until they were in the car, two hours in. Tobirama looked briefly at his phone to check the time, ignoring the four messages he got from Izuna. Sasuke could see that. This is precisely why he was opposed to Izuna and Tobirama fucking around. Izuna was family and Tobirama was his partner in this case and seeing him ignore his cousin’s text just rubbed him in the wrong way. 

“You’re given judgement eyes,” Tobirama said. 

“You slept with my cousin, I can make judgement eyes.” Sasuke shots back. 

There was a silence. 

“So what’s the deal anyway. Why my cousin? Are you taking advantage because he is in a bad position or you using him to bug me-” 

“Bold of you to assume it has something to do with you.” Tobirama says. “You’re pretty full of yourself.” 

“Does it not?” Sasuke asks, looking at the side of Tobirama’s face. The men’s red eyes were glued in front of him, but they seemed very focussed for somebody who was just staring at a warehouse. 

“You lied to me.”  He said after a few seconds of silence. 

Sasuke didn’t say anything. Now he was a naturally good lair and not opposed to a white lie here and there. He went back in his memory to try to remember any recent lies he had told, but none came to mind. 

“You lied to me about Itama’s last words.” 

Sasuke averted his gaze when Tobirama’s eyes shot over at him. He was pulled back to nineteen years ago when he was just fourteen years old, dragging the body of his dead classmate through the back gates of the school. He could smell the awful scent that came from the cut bowls. The blood covering his hand as he tried to push the bowles back, holding the dead body he wished had some chance of survival. He had seen other classmates die, but none so brutal. None he got to know...He considered a decent person...A friend. 

Sasuke took a deep breath, trying to push the images out of his mind. He looked down at his hand, they were clean. No blood. He cursed Izuna under his breath. 

“What do you want me to say?” Sasuke asked him, “There should’ve been a part  in you that always knew.” 

“I took your words over mine.” Tobirama spoke softly. 

“You took my words because you wanted them to be true. That is why you blocked out your own reasoning.” 

“That is not what I want to hear!” Tobirama raises his voice angry. “I want to know. Why did you lie all those years ago? Did you think I was pitiful?” 

“Come on-” 

“No. No I want to know.” Tobirama adjusted his position in the front seat so he was facing Sasuke. 

“It is so long ago I don’t even remem-” 

“Bullshit, you know just as well as I that you remember everything. Everyday. Every creak and ever god damn cockroach in that building. I know. Because I do. Because Kakashi does.” 

“I was thrown in solitary for two days! I was starving and was thirsty and I was weak. You know how many people had it out for me? I was in the top ten ranking students of the school and just a first year. I couldn’t fight, I couldn’t hide...I just needed a fucking shower. I was covered in Itama’s blood I was forced to look at the little pieces of his bowels under my fingernails! They grew hard! I had no idea where the blood ended and my skin started!”

Tobirama could see Sasuke’s fist clenching, his jaws pressed tightly together. He recognised that look in his eyes. That exact same look he had of anger and resentment. He remember seeing it on his face that same day, all those years ago. They had cremated his brother’s body, together with the bodies of all the other first years that had passed. He had held Kawarama, wiping the tears of his last brother left. Promesing he was there for him, he will always be there for him. His heart had felt restless and he hadn’t slept well. He never slept well, but it was worse knowing Itama was dead. He couldn’t get the image out of his head. How that boy carried his body over the gates. How Tobirama was relieved for a second seeing his younger brother’s characteristic hair...Only to be shocked by the sight of his dead body. Itame’s stomach was slashed open, his bowels were hanging out. He did not know how did it. Who killed his youngest brother, but he remembers the boy holding his brother. A part of him wondered if Danzo had put him up to it. Kill Itama, bring his body to the gates. Make the number one student suffer, let him know his precious siblings could not be protected by him forever. 

He had wanted answer, he was ready to go to any extent to get them. He had been looking for that boy. He ranked number seven. Very high for someone who was just in their first year. Danzo must have had something to do with it. His ranking must have gone up by killing Itama. Tobirama was sure of it. He couldn’t find him for the past two days, it was suspicious. But then he heard noises, whispers in the night. He was walking down the corridor, passing the bathroom. He lingered around the door, hearing talking, some laughter.

Students killing students...It wasn’t a odd sight. Everybody had some beef with each other. Everybody wanted to rank higher, everybody had done some wrong. He opened the door, pushing it open slightly. He saw four seniors holding this a first year down. wet towel on his face as they poured water over him, making him unable to breath. The pulled the towel away, pulling him up as the boy gasped for air.

He recognised Sasuke immediately. He looked pale, he was covered in bruises and gasping for air. His dark eyes looking with that hateful expression. He looked weak. Tobirama wouldn’t be surprised if he start begging for his life, screaming for help.

Sasuke didn’t, the guy cupping his cheeks, forcing him to look up. 

“Not so tough now are we? Number seven? I knew a first year could never get a single digit. Who did you have to suck off to get a higher rank, hu?” 

The three other guys laughed at this. 

Sasuke’s hateful expression never changed. He spit right in the guys eye causing the older boy to back off. He took this opportunity to kick him in the crotch. He tried pulling away, but he was in a disadvantage. Not only where they taller, stronger and had and advantage in number. Sasuke hadn’t gotten food other than a stale piece of bread for the past two days. He was weakened and tired. They pushed him back down, pushing the towel back over his face and pulling him back. His head hitting the sink hart before the put the faucet on and held him down as the water began pouring over his face. He was struggling, he kept struggling. Even as he grew weaker and weaker, lacking oxygen. He kept on struggling. 

Tobirama slammed the door shut behind him, catching the attention of all four of his classmates. They must be real sour being pushed down the rankings when Sasuke had been pushed up. The stopped everything they were down. Sasuke fell through his knees onto the wet tiles. He pulled the towel away and gasped for hair. How sweet those first couple of breaths felt, he probably never forgot. 

“Get out.” Tobirama said, looking at the four one by one. They knew Tobirama. They saw him in combat. They had seen him fight...They saw him kill. He he;d the proud title of number one and he had earned it. They didn’t hesitate to get away, they seemed even grateful nothing lead to a fight. They quickly ran off.

Tobirama looked at Sasuke on the ground. His white shirt was wet from the water. It was all he wore with exception of the navy boxers. He looked up, looking at Tobirama. He must have had a thousand questions running through his head for a moment, but he narrowed it down to one. 

“Are you here to kill me?” He asked, getting up from the floor. His knees were shaking for a second before he seemed to stabilise himself. He had spirit. Tobirama had to admit. 

“That depends,” Tobirama said.

“I am not going to suck your fucking dick.” Sasuke said. 

“I’ve been looking for you the past two days? Where were you?” 

“Hawaii,” Sasuke said sarcastically, “Where the fuck do you think I was? In this fucking hell of course.” 

“Solitary...” Tobirama wasn’t surprised, seeing the state of the boy he must have been there for over a day. In an annoyingly small, dark and cold room. Barley any water and food. With annoying high pitched music playing loudly for the entire day only to be turned off for five minutes, giving you the relief ot thinking it was over only for the same tune to play over again and again and again. Tobirama was no stranger to that room. But he hated it and avoided it at all costs, even if it meant twisting a few necks. 

“Do you know me?” Tobirama approached Sasuke. Sasuke didn’t back off right away, but as Tobirama was getting closer he stepped back until his back hit the wall. 

“You’re the first ranking student,” Sasuke said, looking around the bathroom. There was not much he could run or hide. He felt cornered. “Itama’s brother.” 

“He gave you his name...” Tobirama looked slightly surprised at this.

“Yeah...” Sasuke said. 

“How did he die?” Tobirama asked. 

“You saw him, you saw how he die-” Sasuke stopped talking as the senior frustratedly punched the wall, right next to Sasuke’s face. Sasuke didn’t flinch, but he tensed up. Looking up to meet Tobirama’s eyes. 

“Did you kill him?” Tobirama asked. “Did Danzo make you kill him?” 

“No...” Sasuke spoke. 

“Then who did?” Tobirama hissed. 

“I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know! You saw him! You dragged his body here-” 

“I don’t know because it wasn’t student!” Sasuke lowered his eyes, recalling the event. His lips trembled slightly, not being able to get any more out. He felt his heart pound in his chest. He had seen Tobirama around, he had heard about him. If anything he heard was true he was a very dangerous man and worthy of being the number one student in this school. Yet he remembered Itame’s words. How kind and gentle his older brother was. How he looked out for him and his other brother, what a good guy he was... It was hard to believe Itama when all he felt at the moment was the equivalent of a gun being pointed at his head and there was nothing he could do.

He felt a hand gently cup his cheek, moving his head up so he was looking back in the intimidating narrow, red, eyes. 

“I need you to tell me, exactly what he looked like..What he sounded like...And how he acted.” 

“What are you going to do?” Sasuke asked him, knowing the answer to that well. 

“I am going to murder him,” he said those words in the kindest possible way it felt  comforting, although the words were not.

Sasuke tried to recall everything he knew, it wasn’t hard. He couldn’t get the image of the man out of his head. What was hard was finding his voice to do so, falling silent a lot to his frustration. But Tobirama didn’t get annoyed. Not that he showed it at least. 

“Anything more?” Tobirama asked him after a while. Sasuke shook his head. 

“Can I go?” He asked after a small silence. 

“Just...One more thing..” Tobirama removed his hand from Sasuke’s cheek, stepping away from him to give him some room. “What did Itama say before he...Before died?” Tobirama asked softly. 

Sasuke looked at the senior. His one cheek was scarred, his hair was brown. His eyes red. He shared similarities with Itame. They were brothers after all. The sounds of Itama’s screaming came to his head. His cries. His disbelief and shock. His repeated agonising screams.

What were his last words? 

He had none...He was screaming...He was in shock...He died crying not believing he was holding his own intestines in his hands. Pleading he was not ready to die. Screaming he was scared. That’s how the boy died. 

But was he going to say that to the man that was capable of murdering him in a second. The number one student in the horrible school...The things the guy must have done to reach number one ranking. How could he say the gruesome truth. 

“He said to tell his brothers that he loves him...” Sasuke said. 

“I was scared, okay...” 

Tobirama was snapped back to reality as he looked around him. He was in the car, watching a warehouse...While in an alleged argument with Sasuke. 

The man next to him turned his head away. He was upset. Of course he was, he was forced to recall memories he had suppressed so deep. 

“I am sorry...” Tobirama said. Sasuke kept his face turned away from Tobirama. 

“I should not have gotten mad at you. Should now have ambushed you with these questions and...I should not have slept with your cousin out of spite.” 

He didn’t get a response from Sasuke. 

“I’ll get your favourite coffee for a week long?” Tobirama offered. 

Still no response. 

“With your favour bagel...” 

“Okay fine...” Sasuke muttered, moving his head so he was looking back at the warehouse. 

--------------------

Back at the precinct. Izuna was enjoying his little cupcake as he suddenly hears a loud bang followed by his name being screamed. He put his cupcake carefully down and got up, grabbed the files. Looked at his cousin storming up to him. Threw the files at him before running away screaming, “HELP ME! HELP ME! HE IS GOING TO KILL ME!” 

Precinct full of police officers and law enforcement...None dared to stop Sasuke on his path of rage. They were going all over the precinct and just when Sasuke was about to get to Izuna, ready to disfigure his cousin for life. Tobirama grabbed Sasuke around the middle, threw him over his shoulder and carried him away while Izuna was hiding behind Kakashi for protection. 

“This isn’t over! I am going to cut your tongue off you snitch!” 

“Can I file harassment charges?” Izuna asked Kakashi. 

“Get in line. There are a ton of people who want to do that.” 

[jenomark]

Talk

○Pairing: Mark x Reader (Female) ○Other Members/ Characters: Mentions of Jaehyun ○Genre: light angst & a little fluff ○Warnings: panic attack tw ○Word count: 2,122

→Summary: Your boyfriend Jaehyun sends you a text message that makes you have a panic attack out in public. A shy boy on a bike sees you, buys you flowers, and unknowingly gives you the confidence you need to face yourself.

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Jaehyun: When you get home, can we just talk?

  You read the text and reread it again. Each word felt like it was written in bold. You focused on each letter, watching as they blurred into one line of fear. You fought back tears, and shoved your phone deep into your pocket. You had known it was coming, so there was no point in overreacting. Besides, you were out in public, and the thought of snot running over your lips as people walked by was not appealing. You knew how people liked to stare, how they would use your sadness just to make themselves feel better about their own shitty lives.

  Fuck. There was a heavy feeling in your chest, and it was hard to breathe. You leaned against a tree and tried to calm yourself down by doing breathing exercises. When they didn’t work, you closed your eyes and thought of happy thoughts, but every thought made its way back to Jaehyun. His smiling face greeted you, the wind in his hair revealing the forehead you liked to kiss so much. You pushed him out of your mind and brought yourself back to the present. 

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The tears were threatening to spill again. You looked down at your hands and remembered that you were alive. You wiggled your fingers and remembered that you could feel. It was a beautiful day outside. Even under the shade of the tree, the sun still kissed your skin. There were families with children bouncing about, dogs barking, and flowers blooming all around. The heavy weight of the phone sat in your pocket along with those eight words, but they didn’t have to exist with your happiness.

  When you met Jaehyun, you finally felt like your entire life had been leading up to that moment. You never wanted to be one of those people who put the weight of their own happiness into their relationships, but sometimes it was more complicated than that. Jaehyun provided you with safety, with the validation you craved. Sure, the story never ends there, but you didn’t mind being blissfully ignorant to all of the bad stuff. Things were good when they had to be, and bad when you were least expecting it. Two years, a shared living space and all of the good memories couldn’t save you. It was just hard being proven right. 

   You put your hands down and watched the people around you. Everything still felt heavy. Your feet felt like they were permanently rooted in the little square of dirt you stood in. You could call it home and no one would bother you ever again. You could live there and keep watching those people: the family pushing the stroller with the screaming toddler, the woman with a yoga mat tucked under her arm, and the boy walking his bike down the street that was staring at you. 

    The boy was younger than you. When you locked eyes with him, he looked down at his feet shyly. The bike walking next to him looked too big for his body in a comical way. He stopped outside of a convenience store and leaned his bike against a brick wall. You noticed the bouquet of flowers in his hand, the petals wilting.

“Hello.” he said

“She’s a lucky girl.” you said, gesturing to the flowers.

  You didn’t make a habit out of talking to strangers, but there was something about him that begged for your attention. When he heard you, he held up the bouquet and smiled proudly. One of the flowers fell over and hung limply down the plastic packaging, but he didn’t notice. He stopped in front of you and shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. 

 “ Are you okay?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I saw you and-and I...here these are for you.”

  He handed you the bouquet. Everything about the exchange felt awkward, but charming. The way he looked at you, it was as if he was waiting for you to scold him. There were a million questions running through your head, but you stopped to smell the flowers. 

  “I can’t accept these,” you said. “They’re beautiful, but I-”

“-I know it’s weird,” he said. He squinted, his face crinkling in embarrassment. “Flowers always make me feel better, and I saw you and I thought..Ah, I’m really sorry.”

“That’s really sweet of you.”

“I...are you okay?” he asked. 

   You were going to reply, but you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Your whole body stiffened at the thought of reading what Jaehyun had to say next. Your eyes fell a few inches from the boys face and focused on the blue sticker attached to his shirt that said: 

                                                                  Hello my name is : MARK

 “Mark, I know I don’t know you, but can you take the phone out of my pocket and tell me what my last text says?” you asked.

   Mark hesitated. He looked all around him as if you were both filming a hidden camera show, and he was going to be humiliated. Quiet tears started streaming down your face. You acted like they weren’t there. When Mark looked into your eyes, he immediately dove into your pocket and took the phone out. After you told him the pass code, he looked at the last text message Jaehyun sent. 

“He says, ‘ I’ve been thinking too much about you, about us….I’m not sure if I can read this next part I-” Mark said.

“-Please,” you said. “If I read it myself, I’m not sure what I’ll do.”

 Mark licked his lips. “He says, ‘I wish I’d never met you.’...Yo, this guys a douche.”

  You looked up at Mark through your tears and held your hand out for your phone. He placed it carefully into the palm of your hand like he might break you if he handed it back normally. Lamely, you shoved it back into your pocket and thanked him. 

“Why are you with a guy like that, anyway?” he said. “Who breaks up over text?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Stick up for me when you don’t know the situation,” you said. “He’s not a bad guy, he just…”

“Doesn’t know a good thing when he has it?”

  Mark’s words made you fall silent. Your side of the relationship with Jaehyun wasn’t perfect, by any means. You had fucked up more times than you could count, and there were things you have done that you weren’t proud of. You liked to think you tried harder than Jaehyun to make it work, bending over backwards to make him happy, and it hurt to realize that none of that could change anything. You didn’t ever want to stay where you weren’t wanted, but a part of you couldn’t help but cling to every piece of him. You weren’t good for each other, and the reality bit into you quick, its venom spreading through your veins.

“I’m sorry,” Mark said. “ I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries. I always do that.”

“It’s okay.”

 You wiped your tears and felt yourself wanting to laugh out of bitterness. You couldn’t help but want to place blame, but truthfully, there wasn’t any.

“ If you want, I’ll kick his ass,” Mark said. “I’ll fight him. Where is he? Do you want me to kick his ass?”

“No,” you said, a laugh bubbling up your throat. “That’s okay.”

  You looked at Mark, who wasn’t that much taller than you, and thought about Jaehyun. Someone like Mark would be crushed under the weight of all Jaehyun’s influence. The thought of Mark potentially kicking his ass made you smile. You had a feeling that he was stronger than he looked, but he would be no match against the man you called your boyfriend.

“You’re an interesting boy, Mark, “ you said. “Where the hell did you come from?”

 He shrugged. “Canada.”

 The laugh that escaped from your mouth was so loud that people looked in your direction. Mark looked confused, as if he didn’t know why you found that funny.

“And after that, New York,” he said. “I moved around a lot. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“No,” you said. “But I will be. It takes time.”

  You stared at Mark a little long before realizing where you were and what you were facing. The laughter evaporated, leaving you with a stale feeling. 

“I should go,” you said. “Thank you for the flowers. It was a really nice gesture.”

“Of course,” he said. “Do you need a ride?”

  You looked at Mark’s bike and felt the need to laugh again, but you didn’t. He was very sincere about his offer. There was something very innocent about him that you wanted to protect. You wondered how long it would take him to be corrupted just from hanging around you.

“Before you decline, “ he said. “I want you to know that I know all of the road safety precautions, and only the prettiest girls get to ride my bike.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, I’m sure.”

 Mark took a black helmet off the back of his bike and placed it on your head without waiting for an answer. His fingers grazed underneath your chin as he buckled you. Feeling his touch made you shiver. 

“Where did you come from?” you asked.

“Huh?”

  He was straightening out his bike and not paying attention to you. His own phone was in his hand and he was texting someone. He looked over at you and gave you his undivided attention.

“Nothing,” you said. “ What are you doing?”

“Texting my friends, “ he said. “I’m telling them I will be late for dinner tonight.”

“Really, “you said. “ I don’t want to hold you up, Mark. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

  If you were in a movie, this would be the perfect opportunity to fall in love with a stranger. He could ease your pain for one night, a month, half a year maybe. You could go on vacation together and eat free pastries, lounging on pool chairs catching rays, or taking yourselves back to the hotel for hot sex. It would be easy being with someone like Mark, who noticed you when you felt your own self disappearing into the background of your own life. You could see all of the paths you could take from there on out, each one bumpier than the last.

“It’s okay, “ he said. “I don’t mind.”

“But I do,” you said. “Mark, you seem lovely, but I think I have to do this on my own. I think I’ve spent way too much time taking things from other people.”

“I understand,” he said. 

  Mark removed the helmet from your head, but this time, he was careful not to touch you. The respect he paid you made you feel human. Being so close to him made you aware of how handsome he was, but how so very young and impressionable.

“But just so you know, “ he said. “He’s an idiot. In fact, all men are idiots.”

“And you too?”

Mark laughed. “Especially me.” 

“I somehow doubt that.”

 You held out the flowers for him to take back, but he refused you. He said how much he really wanted you to have them just in case you felt like you were losing yourself again. 

“If you look at the flowers, “ he said. “I hope you’ll find your way back.”

  Mark got on his bike and put his helmet on. There was something special about the boy, but you couldn’t put your finger on one specific thing. He smiled and looked down at his shoes like he was embarrassed by the way he was acting.

 “Thank you.” you said.

“You’re welcome. I’m not normally like this. I’ve been having an interesting day myself ,and I think you helped me, too.” he said.

“It’s funny how things work out like that.”

“It really is.” he said.

 Mark’s gaze searched your face. The tears were dry and were replaced with eyes that felt so shrunken from crying.

“I guess this is goodbye.” you said.

“Yeah. Good luck with your life. I really hope everything works out.”

You smiled only just a little. “ Me too.”

  Mark put his hands on the handlebars of the bike and squeezed them tightly. He looked at your face again for any signs of tears before steering his bike away from you. Before he could ride off, you walked over to him and put your hand on his shoulder to stop him. When you leaned over and kissed his cheek, his face reddened and he broke out into a smile.

“Talk to you later, Mark.” you said.