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pieroulette · 11 months

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Did I, A Side Character Became the Male Lead's Wife?!

2023 | 13+ | ONESHOT | YANG JUNGWON × READER | -> PART 2

SUMMARY you — a side character in a royal novel doing absolutely nothing but enjoy your rich ass yet boring life, only watching over the female lead and doing your job in protecting her, only for a pair of kittenish eyes to fall not upon the female lead but on you, unfortunately.

AUTHOR'S NOTE not me writing a whole ass oneshot at 5am bcs of that sweet ask from that one anon, imma name u serotonin dopamine anon lmao- and jungwon bae u r truly my muse.. also inspired by sum manhwas cuz I binge read 90+ chapters in less than a day 💀💀💀 plus happy 900+ followers for me <333 mom wake up I'm famous even tho I'll never let u know what my secret writing blog is about 😊😊

a side character, how cute?

well, you only came to know of this very horrible (not really) fact that you're nothing close to a main character's vibes cause look at you babe, where's the sparkling shiny starry dust on you as you walked through the red carpet at the ball?

and did they even spare a glance at you? unfortunately, nope. because the female lead, Liz; was your enemy, at least in how your character was written in the novel by the goddamn author which was you.

yes, that's right!

you, a hella introverted author dwelling in the deepest corner of her room doing nothing but spent an ungodly amount of hours creating the perfect and enchanting characters after crying for major character death of a fic a few years ago. wiping your dripping tears off your cheeks in a comical way as you pull open your laptop and risk your 20/20 vision for life, just so you can reverse the aching pain in your chest that you wore a thick ass glasses now.

Liz, the female lead. Swooning over her was your religion, throwing not one but a ten whole buckets explaining how perfect she was—or how tremendously kind she was, delicate and utterly sweet. patting yourself on the back for creating such a goddess of a character, so it's only wise for you to give her a fitting male lead, right? Okay we'll talk about that later since it's about you right now.

So how did you end up in your novel? Well, because of one fateful day of you doing absolutely nothing but taking a goddamn rest, and whoever the god in heaven that just randomly decided to throw you in the novel you wrote yourself—must be utterly insane. Perfect indeed!

it took you a humongous realisation to see yourself in a dark green puffy dress that represents jealousy, envy, and betrayal—which also represents the side character standing behind the female lead on the thick cover of your book. you've originally written her as that wicked best friend that uses her seductive way of speech to seduce men, and at last turning her back at the female lead by accusing her of a horrendous crime.

her fatal fate consists of her head being snapped by the guillotine, unfortunately. but for you, not really, cause you are so in for destroying wicked characters but jokes on you—you're now in the body of that character.

pfft, can't the gods put you in a character that lives near the sea, with your straw hat on and as you drank your lemon juice away from the public drama, angsty dialogues, cringe moments you yourself have created because you don't have atleast an ounce of social skills that's why you pour it all on your characters.

"oh my apologies, milady— pfft—" three ladies sticking with each other like a super glue, had thrown the glass of wine on the female lead's gown—earning a series of gasps from everyone who saw but you were sure won't pay an ounce of consideration towards her as you had written almost everyone in this novel as "the world against the weak, fragile character."

oh, right. the hyena laughters of those you describe in episode 3 of "the flashy ball"; the three evil sisters, because why not? they added the extra spices in your tongue to the point you couldn't wait for them to get slap by the female lead or possibly someone.

ah, the tremendous satisfaction.

and you were one of that person whose hands itching to smash their skull apart, you cringed enormously at them as they were the ones that brought total trouble wherever they went or whoever are unlucky enough to get in their way. unfortunately, you seal your female lead's fate with them as she need some little obstacles, doesn't she?

you as hell were not sure what you're supposed to do, whether to just let things happen as the story goes or you do the male lead's job in protecting the female lead cause you have no idea why is he taking such a long time to appear, when he should've made his grand entrance at the freaking introduction?

and you wrote it that way cause you got fed up with male leads making their first appearance at the ball, and somehow quickly gaining the female lead's heart like Cinderella cause dear lord where's the slow burn?

just say, you're a conservative grandma type of a mindset or that you are skeptical over love at first sight. yep, you're right. that's why you ain't gonna let your precious female lead get bullied in front of your very eyes. she's like your granddaughter right now, seriously.

a shriek echoed through the entire ball, gaining everyone's attention. "oh my god! my dress! you— lady Liz! who did you even brought with you?!"

oh right, you forgot it's your first time at the ball either. "my apologies, milady. it's just that i saw a bunch of hyenas roaming around.." you rubbed the back of your neck.

"hyenas?! guards—"

"chill, what's the commotion here?" a bright dashing blonde haired man in a red royal suit came around, with sets of stars dusting upon his form which you already realise to be part of the main characters but unfortunately you forgot. you ain't having that extra superhuman memory just because you are an author.

the bunch of hyenas before you reasoned with the prince, but you slowly realise that the prince was none other than Prince Jake. Inspired by that one puppy image idol from fourth generation of kpop, you were apparently slurping your noodles in the local restaurant when you watched him imitating a dog from the tv, causing you to choke on your noodles.

it's safe to say, he's hot enough that he had to be part of your main characters. aah, that signature dashing smile of his as he defended the female lead with his wisely chosen string of words which immediately melted everyone's heart at sight.

times like this you wish you were actually the female lead, but the logical side of you beg to differ; you are not emotionally capable of spewing cringy romantic words for that's only reserved for writing. So thank you, i'll pass.

Surely, Prince Jake ain't the male lead for your precious female lead but you just let them converse with each other despite her with her absolute kindness, urging you to talk with them too, atleast a word. it sort of felt for a moment like she was trying to match you with the prince.

like no please, you'd rather not to. hot guys are hot, but they're not worth the emotional investment past the fangirling section.

plus the prince doesn't seem interested you as he doesn't spare not even one look at you which obviously you couldn't care any less, you sneakily went out the ball after a series of mishaps—for example your heavy puffy ass gown with its sole purpose to only look pretty but the reality ain't that pretty to say the least, panting like a dog as you took each step towards the entrance all while cussing yourself for ignoring your logical part of brain that you shouldn't have been adding humongous useless words to describe the gown just to make it sound extremely pleasing to the readers.

now you're the one to bear the consequences of your own writing, the fuck.

"one! two!—" a long, long, depressing sigh echoes. "three! ah!—" consequently falling upon your face, what a perfect day indeed. you just wanted to go home, tuck yourself in your comforting blanket, eat your hot cup of ramen or indulge yourself in the sea of chocolate while daydreaming of your favourite idols and fictional characters.

not this awful disaster of you getting tangled in the courts' affairs.

"i suppose, you need help, milady?"

oh no, certainly not. don't call me milady, pretend i do not exist for i certainly do not have the social skills to pretend that i like you, or form a decent conversation especially with men.

"milady?"

you curled yourself, burying your head into the comfort of your gowns. wondering quite a bit of how odd you look in the middle of the hallway.

"milady?" his voice-like whisper came closer, obviously standing beside you right now. "are you okay?"

fuck it. "please, i beg of you to kindly leave me alone as my day has been utterly ruined and—" oh wait, he seems oddly familiar. those lush fluffy hair and kittenish orbs that only softens among those he were close enough.

prince jungwon.

oh! the male lead, oh my god! your jaw hang so low it fell on the ground, your eyes sparkled in dozens of star like universe as you took in his marvelous beauty that you had spent creating meticulously after studying all the '101 rules of how to create the perfect male lead that had the readers heart evaporating & a huge ass green forest that certainly would cause blazing flames'.

"oh my god! you look absolutely gorgeous, i've done it really well didn't i?! oh my god!"

"o-oh—! absolutely, you did well!" he immediately replied back, pressing his lips tight nervously.

wait what? what did he say? oh shit, oh well, covering your mouth instantly as you accidentally let it out before the prince, your precious male lead that you solely created for the female lead. "i—.."

the prince, your very precious character—obviously taken aback with a slight blush dusting of his adorable cheeks as he raise his fist up to his lips, coughing a couple of seconds. a personality trait you very well are familiar of cause that's how you wrote him when he fall in love with the female lead.

your eyes ogled out at that familiar sight, screaming at the back of your mind—wait, wait! you're not supposed to fall in love with me, you idiot! go back! go inside the ball, she's inside there!

"that's oddly brave of you, milady. i'd certainly go as far as to say that i've never seen such traits from a lady." kitten eyes softening at you, crouching down as he lend both of his hands for you. you raised your eyebrow confusingly at what is he trying to pull at but you realise he was intending to get you up.

"u-uhm? uh, sorry. i could get up on my own, actually." yeah, that's what you did. pushing yourself back up despite his protests because you ain't gonna let him fall any further for you, nah uh, not in this life, your mission is to get him and your female lead together inside the frames of birds holding flower wreaths as they went on to their happily ever after.

not with you!

"may i have the honour to know your name, though, milady?" why the fuck isn't he leaving, what is there so interesting in you that he is still standing here asking you such generic questions.

you shouldn't be having the characters attention on you as you obviously wrote it that way, and that even though your character in the novel had tried to get the prince's heart, despite resorting to foul actions, that he never truly had been attracted to her despite this characters' seductive aura.

for you squealed so loud at the scene you wrote, with jungwon putting her in her place. "you are not her, and you would never be her." along with the bunch of your readers hosting a flamboyant celebration under the comments, screaming over how loyal he was.

so what in the actual fuck is this?

"you don't need my name." you nonchalantly answered.

"my apologies?"

"you see, my best friend is in the ball—" you gestured your hands to the entrance of the ballroom, "and she needs your help more than i do."

"wait? why would she need my help?" his eyebrows knitted together in utter confusion as you pushed him through his back.

"of course, she do! don't ask anything!"

"wait!— my name is!" he forcefully turn to face you again, but you immediately covered his mouth with your hands—kabedonning him against the wall.

an excruciating silence occured between you two in the silent hallway, Jungwon freezing to his core when your other hand shoot beside his head.

"listen i don't need your name, dear sir." you emphasise each word, you certainly don't need to know his name nor his status as a prince, not wanting to risk any possible connection with him judging by how he acted before you just now.

"b-but!" his words were muffled into the void as you cupped his mouth tighter.

"shh, shh. stop talking and listen, will you?!"

jungwon nodded slowly, what an odd situation he was in right now, he thought. but somehow he likes it.

"so first step, is go inside the ballroom. second, look for the lady in pink gown, and third—"

"t-third?"

"third is tell her your name! my best friend needs it more than i do!" you release him from your grasp as you went to swing open the huge double door, "now go!" waving a goodbye before kicking his body through the entrance, pulling the door back with your entire strength despite his protests.

oh of course, you finally let out a gag after suppressing it in front of him the entire time as you've never had a proper conversation with a male without stuttering, somewhat a sad tragedy for you, unfortunately. you felt quite guilty about your readers who swoon over the romances you wrote between your leads, weeping over how you're so good at it—not knowing you're a complete introvert with only a gigantic ass dictionary with you.

finally, the male lead and female lead's romances are about to start! you squealed with your hands clasping as you went on your way to the carriage, gesturing for the rider to embark on the way to your heavenly puffy manor with the widest big grin ever that it had him questioning you, "has any gentleman had caught your heart, milady? a couple of hours ago, you were often beyond distraught to attend the ball but insisted when you heard Lady Liz was going."

"oh, you silly." you giggled as you swayed your hand, "of course, that's one of the reasons. but there's another one.."

"may i ask what is it, then?"

you leaned in closer, urging him to get closer as you whispered. "i got the chance to become a Cupid!"

"a Cupid?" you squealed before the old man, hopping like a child for quite awhile before flying into the carriage much to his surprise, but only shook his head in amusement—appalled by how his mistress had changed so much.

"so?" you couldn't help yourself from pulling out the widest eccentric grin at the female lead, extremely curious and ecstatic over what romances had bloom between her and Jungwon.

Liz raises her eyebrow in confusion, "so?.. what do you mean, milady?"

you shrugged, falling back to your seat as you raise your eyebrow in a comical way, "that.." whispering ever so seductively, "prince."

"p-prince?

"yes!" the teacup rattles at your excitement oozing so much that you tapped the table a couple of times. "what happen? what's the tea~"

she lets out a soft giggle, a bit amused by your excitement. "i have no idea what you're trying to imply, milady."

"wait? what are you saying? didn't the prince went to you last night?"

Liz shook her head slowly, her expressions clearly stating that she absolutely don't know what and who you were talking about as a smile pulled up on her lips once again, taking a few sip from her teacup.

veins popped out from your neck as it dawned on you, your head snapped towards the castle on top of the mountain, you stupid of a prince! you cussed at him endlessly at the back of your mind, tightening your fist as your ears and nose fuming in anger. how dare he? he didn't listen to you at all? what in the actual fuck? would this somehow divert the original route? a dozen question arise into your mind one after another, causing you to let out an exaggerated sigh.

facepalming yourself as you imagined the imaginary heavenly light on top of you, weeping to yourself about how tremendously unlucky you are to have a hard headed male lead. it's impossible, you have never added a trait so irritating like this in his profile so how could this happen?

"milady?" the gentle voice of your precious female lead pulled you out of your inner desperation, you leaned in closer, whining so much over how unlucky you were and such, the rest only being in your mind as you pouted.

"ah, i remember now, the prince—"

"WHAT?—" you immediately seated yourself after giving her a potential heart attack, "my apologies, what did you actually.. remember?"

"i assume you were talking about the prince from yesterday? prince jake?"

"no not that bitch— oh certainly not him, ehem.." you took a couple of exaggerated coughs, avoiding her evident confusion. "isn't there a prince.. name jungwon with you that night?"

"oh my goodness! right! prince jungwon!" she shook her head in disbelief with her finger on her head.

right, how did you even forgot that the female lead in front of you had a "weak ass memory" in her profile description. tsk tsk, truly a forgetful author you are. you should be trying your best to remember the things you wrote before and revise it as best as you can, to avoid any possible problems in the future, atleast.

"right, how did i even forget, the prince asked me for your name, milady—"

"huh?" you look at her with confusion, as you were out of reality a couple of seconds ago. your orbs terribly widened as her words slowly sinking in to your brain. "HUH?"

ask your name?! why your name, why not hers?! what did the prince ate that night before stumbling onto your way that he had to ask for your name before the female lead—his own lover?!

laughing awkwardly, you raise your leg on top of another as you nervously swayed your hands repeatedly. "oh dear, oh dear. you might have heard it wrong, the prince?—" snorting outloud as you gestured to yourself, "asking for my name? what a funny news!"

"i didn't, milady. the prince came to me and asked me for your name, as he was immensely curious of who you are so i—"

"so what?—" you can't believe this, you really can't bring yourself to believe any words she was uttering. you should have been bestowed by the news that the prince had taken an interest in her, a hand in marriage, or anything, anything as long as you're out of the picture! "y-you didn't tell him my name, d-didn't you?"

"of course, i did!" exclaimed she did with the widest grin ever.

why are you so freaking happy over this?! clasping your head in your hands as you tragically fall on your knees causing the lady to gasp in shock, ushering to your side to get you up.

"milady?! what's wrong?"

"d-dear," you pouted as you look up to her, "you didn't tell him where my manor's at, r-right?"

she simply replied, "i did? the prince informed me that he's going to send a letter for you to be his partner to the ball."

an imaginary arrow struck back to your heart, forming a humongous hole that threatens to give you a panic attack. what? what in the actual fuck? did you accidentally did something to divert the original story you yourself created? but you didn't even do anything! you tried to do your best to keep the interaction with him as short as possible and he dared to take an interest in you?!

"milady, a letter from the royal palace had arrived for you."

"discard it. throw it. keep it away from my sight."

"milady?!" Liz and the head of the maid exclaimed in utter shock at your nonchalant answer.

"forget about it, forget about it." you clasped your forehead in utter disappointment, yet your brain were creating another plan b for this unexpected turn of events. what should you do? even more so, what would you do now that the prince had asked for you to be by his side to the ballroom?

this won't do, you won't let this happen—you had to look as unattractive and ugly as possible for him to cringe on and finally divert his attention back to the rightfully person who deserved it; the female lead.

your maids could only fall apart every single time you pluck out the enchanting gems they attached on your hair, ears and wrists. their efforts deemed futile as always as you had no mood for any sort of events, it was like a slap to their face as you initially weren't like this. you overheard them that they couldn't get used to how you were adamant in staying behind the spotlight as you often did your very best in dressing yourself up before, with the sole intention of gaining the favour of men and even more better, a prince.

of course, they are totally oblivious to your real identity. only a series of jaw gaping one after another with your change of character, at first—you had a dilemma over whether you should act like the character you created but you later scrap the idea as soon as the anxiety of being engulfed in the crowd suffocated your chest. opting to avoid as many as balls or public events as possible, but that obviously didn't work out that well since you heard of the female lead's arrival from the country side—just like you intended it to be.

and being the proud mother (writer) you are, of course why wouldn't you take one single look at her and see of how far she had came? but alas, one interaction leads to another one and so on—till finally, you became her best friend throughout her entire journey. waiting for the male lead's arrival, and watch their romances blooming and per se—but oh well, look at the situation you were in right now; total disaster.

you truly despise being in such an extravagant puffy gown and the numerous accessories hugging your skin, it's tremendously uncomfortable that you wanted to rip it off part in front of the prince standing before you right now, and right here.

asking for your hand to dance with that odd kittenish smile, that you swore you had never ever written in his personality profile; he should never have been this casual and chill over a person he had just met. he should've been cold as fuck, icy to touch, and a spiralling disaster if you dare to talk to him, so why?

plus how could he have taken an interest in you? you couldn't possibly have added a dose of the love at first sight trope, didn't you? you despised that trope to your very core.

"milady? may i?" he extended his hand before you, patiently waiting for your answer.

you had decided that you're going to reject him quick and efficient—just like the local fast food restaurant your mouth kept drooling over for, smashing a five star review for their inhuman speedy delivery.

"you see, prince jungwon. i have no desire to have a connection with you, a relationship, as a matter of fact."

he raised his eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by your bold words. "i'm curious milady, why so? have i done something that perhaps had annoyed you?"

cliché question, you loathe that. "what if i said you did?"

"then tell me, milady. i'll try my hardest to own up to you—" he took a steps forward, which causes you to immediately step back as well with a frown on your face. you can't, not in this life, to even give him a single chance to get close to you. nah uh.

"no need, and stay one meter apart, please." you pointed your index finger towards the floor and he hesitated, but complied immediately.

"i." you raise your index finger back to yourself and then at him, "don't like you. do you understand?"

"b-but?"

"stop questioning me, prince jungwon." you stayed firm in your spot, "i believe it's a common decency to step back when a lady had voiced out her opinion, a prince like you certainly would understand, am i right?"

Jungwon was clearly taken aback, the fact that you didn't give him a single chance to utter a word nor take a step closer was a hard punch to his face. It feels as if he was trying to reach for you, but you efficiently dodged it with ease. It kind of.. annoys him.

"base on how you didn't say anything anymore, i assumed we're done here! well then, goodbye prince jungwon." you turned your heels towards the entrance, not bothering to waste any time at this goddamn ball. "i hope this will be the very last." you scoffed inside your mind, eager for the story to return to it's original route, and that the prince would soon deem you useless and such—returning to the female lead's arms.

hm, now where's your precious female lead? she should've appeared right now and right here, strike the pot while it's hot!

"i'm afraid i can't back down that easily, milady." jungwon took a few steps forward, wrapping his hand round your wrist as he spun you around to face his eyes filled with blazing determination. one that you specifically added on top of his profile so that your readers would kept it in mind.

your breath hitched down your throat as you remembered there's only two reasons he could have this; one that reminds you when he was at war, shouting at the top of his voice to encourage his soldiers as they push through the enemies, and another reason of it appearing is when he have to get what he wanted, or else all hell will break loose, chaos will ensue.

right, you're truly an idiot. staying a few years in this novel without any memories, and only for it to surface back when you stumble upon the library—dozens of books flickering a series of eccentric images in your mind. It had cause you to lose all memories of important details, only emerging everytime you are presented with a situation you couldn't comprehend. such as when you forgot that the female lead had memory problems and such.

"i'll only present this choices to you, milady. since you tremendously intrigued me over how well spoken you were and fascinating indeed—" bitch, you don't even know how you had the sudden ability to confront him but you were just sure as hell that you don't want to ruin your own novel. no fucking way.

you can't let him have the upper hand on you.

"let me go." irritated to your core, you tried untangle Jungwon's tight grasp on your wrist but he won't budge even an inch which only had you fuming in anger. "i said let me go, bitch!"

the crowd emits a series of gasps and murmurs as you spun around—twisting the prince's arms which had him yelping in pain, and ultimately pinning him onto the ground. with rage consuming you that nothing was going in your way, you slammed your hands on the both side of his head. clenching your jaw and gritting your teeth as you emphasised each word. "you are one a dumb hell of a bitch, when i said i do not want to see you anymore. i mean it. so—"

"so what?" his smug look resurfaces, one that emerges whenever he was being challenged. yes, do that! he should despise you, not take an interest in you! he should loathe you so much that he can't even gaze at you for a second. excitement surged through your veins as you open your mouth, preparing for the last blow.

"so, get lost. just because you're a prince doesn't mean every girl would fall for you, idiot."

an even more louder gasp emits from the crowd as they clearly heard what you said, their jaw gaping and some covering their mouths with their hands as their mind are now bombarded with random questions over how exceedingly brave you are to insult the royal prince, and of what fate will you met now that you've done such an atrocious act.

a low giggle sent shivers down your spine, and goosebumps to riled over your neck as you realise the prince under you had the widest smirk on his face. you frowned deeply, he shouldn't be smirking! he should be fuming in anger and throwing you out of the palace at this moment. so why?!...

"oh milady, how truly fascinating you are." you let out a loud yelp when he grabbed both of your wrists, pulling you closer to his face—a dangerous close proximity against his fluttering eyelashes and lips that your breath caught up in your throat which causes your cheeks to heated up in embarrassment of what kind of position you two were in right now. "i like you, you would certainly be a perfect fit to be by my side."

"what?!" you exclaimed, jaws dropping and eyes about to pop out at his very words. "i don't want to be by your side—"

"a lady like you, i'm afraid to say, intrigues me very much..." Jungwon shots a kittenish wink right through your heart. "be my wife, milady. i'll show you how good I can be for you."

#「 talesofyuan 」 fics #did i. a side character became the male lead's wife?!#enha #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enha fanfic #enhypen x female reader #enha fluff #jungwon smut #enhypen fluff #enha smau #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon

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koostattoos · 4 months

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➳ There’s Only Me When There’s You || j.jk

~ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

~ Genre: slight enemies to lovers, high school au, fluff, MAJOR angst, first love, young love (Inspired by 2000's film A Walk to Remember by Nicholas Sparks)

~ Summary: Being new was tough. Starting out in a new school and new town without any idea where to go or any friends was tougher. When coming across Jungkook and his friends, school hadn't got any easier. When you get paired with Jungkook for a project your life becomes hell, or was it heaven?

~ Warnings: MAJOR character death, a fight happens, mentions of a hospital, mentions of blood, fluff, fluff, fluff! 190811!jungkook (iykyk), they’re so incredibly adorable i’m crying, use of petnames (mostly baby)

~ teaser word count: 684

full fic here!

This past summer your family moved to a new city. Yongsan was small, that’s what you liked about it. But your family wanted to get away from the big bustling city of Seoul. They thought it’d be better for you. Moving was exciting to you. Being in a new place and all. The house they had bought was small, it had two bedrooms, with a bathroom, and a big enough living space for the three of you.

The people in the neighborhood were nice. They welcomed you with fresh food and some plants to plant in the mini greenhouse next to the yard. It was very thoughtful of them. Tomorrow is your first day at your new school. You were going into your senior year. They say it’s supposed to be one of the most exciting times in high school.

After you finish unpacking your things you walk into the living room where your dad was sitting. He was on the phone talking with the moving people to figure out where the rest of your stuff was. And your mom was in the kitchen preparing dinner. You decide to take yourself out of the house and explore the small town you now call home.

Making sure your parents knew where you were, you turn your head around the corner of the kitchen and call for your mom.

“I’m gonna go out and look around town, is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Just be careful. Don’t go too far and be back before the sun goes down.” she tells you

Nodding your head, you turn to put your shoes on and make sure you have your phone with you. The air outside was nice. It was still mid-summer but the weather around this time seemed to cool down.

When you walk into the village you meet a lot of nice people. Mrs. Kim was the first person you met. “Hi honey. Are you new around here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face around here”. She ran one of the local restaurants.

“No, I’ve actually moved here a few days ago. My family and I live nearby. I just wanted to come in and see what was around here. So, I know somewhat my way around.” you explain to her. She nods her head and gasps as an idea pops up into her head.

“Well, if you ever need anything, please stop by. I’ll be glad to help” she says to you with a sweet smile.

“Thank you, Mrs. Kim. I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good night” you smile at her and walk away to explore more of the village. There wasn’t much to do. There were a few bookstores you had walked past and a few other markets. Deciding to head back home you text your mom that you were on your way. Without looking at where you were going you bumped into a firm chest. When you look up, you’re met with a teenage boy. His hair was a bit of a mess but still maintained. He was actually rather cute.

Before you could say anything, he says, “Are you okay?” you pause for a minute trying to collect your thoughts. He looks blankly at you waiting for you to respond. Finally, after staring at him for what felt like an eternity, you answer him. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m sorry for bumping into you” you bow your head slightly to him as you apologize.

“It’s alright. Are you new around here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before” you respond the same way you answered to Mrs. Kim. You tell him that you had just moved here a few days ago with your family. He nods his head and excuses himself. But not before he introduces himself.

“I’m Jungkook by the way.” He has a faint smile on his lips. You tell him your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook” he nodded and slowly started to walk away. “It was nice to meet you too” Finally, you both bid goodbye to each other and you make your way back home.

#jungkook #bts jungkook #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot

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aziraphales-library · 6 months

Note

I *love* any fics where Crowley is hurt incredibly bad and Aziraphale must save him or bring him back to health. I also LOVE fics that delve into trauma or mental health which stripes the characters of their mask and they must rely on someone/each other. Do you have any recommendations for fics that are either, or both? Happy endings are a major must for me, but I am open to any suggestions!

You'll want to check our #crowley whump, #hurt crowley, and #protective aziraphale tags for loads of fics like this. Here are some that may or may not have been recommended before, but mind the tags on all of these!...

Where's My Mind? by ebullience24 (T)

See, the thing is: Crowley is tall. His height had caused a few stares back in the days where the tallest man stood at five foot five. And, because of his height, one might be inclined to describe him as slender with spindly fingers and snake-hips. The pun is never intended on that last one but it stands true nonetheless. And Crowley would be likely to agree with these statements: he is tall and slender and spindly and snake-hipped. But what Crowley would be less likely to agree upon is the statement that he, Anthony J Crowley, is underweight. OR: Crowley has an eating disorder. Trigger Warnings now and at the beginning of each chapter.

Safe Haven by McRaider (T)

When Anthony Crowley stepped back into Aziraphale's life for the first time after eight long years missing, it became exceedingly clear with him came a world of trouble and heartache. But Aziraphale never could say no to his beloved Crowley. Can he help Crowley heal after a failed marriage, a gas-lighting ex-wife with an evil plan?

To Speak the Unspoken by ihamtmus (T)

“Uhhhh… Hi,” Crowley started lamely, scrambling to find a way to explain the situation as quickly as possible. His mind was refusing to work properly, thoughts slow as if doused in oil. He hadn’t really thought about what to say on his way here – he’d been too busy focusing on the getting here part before he would collapse. “I was wondering if I could… If I could maybe die in here, if you don’t mind..?” The expression on Aziraphale’s face changed abruptly, telling him that the angel did, in fact, mind. (In which a mortally wounded demon just wants to get somewhere quiet to die but his Adversary will have none of it. A story of how they both learn just how much they care.)

Death in Love by Aspirina_Effervescente & Cyanidechan (M)

After tempting a composer to fame and success, Crowley is cursed by his wife and tormented by her ghost until the end of his days. Aziraphale would do anything to save him, the only problem is that he doesn't know what's going on and, anyway, the problem could be much more complicated than it seems. Inspired by Giuseppe Tartini’s Sonata “the Devil’s trill”

Drops of Sorrow by EdosianOrchids901 (M)

Ten years after the failed Apocalypse, Crowley is captured by Heaven. Gabriel plans to use him as bait to lure Aziraphale into a fight. Can Crowley survive captivity, and will Aziraphale be able to rescue him without walking into the trap?

A Touch of Heaven by IneffableToreshi (E)

A despondent and defeated Crowley has been through the ringer, moreso even than his roommate, Newt, realizes. After a car accident puts him though a number of surgeries and a temporary - but terrifying - few weeks of blindness, the club owner wants nothing more than to curl up in his bed and refuse to move until things return to normal...or as normal as they'll ever be again. Newt - and his cafe-owning girlfriend, Anathema - have other plans. They think that Crowley just needs some care and pampering, so Anathema schedules him a special, off-hours appointment with a friend of hers who is a rather sought-after masseur. Crowley is hesitant and stubborn, but Aziraphale's soothing voice and comforting nature soon win him over, in more ways than one...

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #hurt/comfort #crowley whump #hurt crowley #protective aziraphale #crowley has ptsd #mind the tags #mod d

135 notes · View notes

hongcherry · 9 months

Text

pretty please (stay with me) || c.sc | 1

"After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol's obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?"

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (afab)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst; Unrequited enemies to lovers (lol), strangers to lovers, college au

🍒 Warnings: [general tw (won't be repeated in the other chapters)] reader has she/her pronouns (referred to as girl, miss), reader dresses really feminine, reader is not nice, character outfit descriptors, parent/family issues (marital problems), bullying | [chapter tw] “joke” that implies prostitution in a negative way, near car accident (rear end), brief mention of death thru a joke

🍒 WC: 14.8k

🍒 Betas: Huge shout out to my bae, @love-strike, for being with me throughout this whole process, for listening to me whine, for helping me brainstorm majors for OT13, and for being so supportive! tysm 😭 And thank you to @playmetheclassics, @here4kpopfics, @angelwoozi for also beta'ing this series! ty for your time and for your sweet feedback! i really cherish everyone's efforts and brains hehe 🥰💖 i understand this was not an easy task to take on.

🍒 Author's Note: HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML, CHOI SEUNGCHEOL!!!!!!!!! 🎂♥️ I started this fic in September 2022 and contemplated even publishing it multiple times. I think this will be the first fic I've worked on for so long and published. Also, this is the longest fic I've ever written, so that's exciting! It was supposed to be one long one-shot, but I ended up writing way too much for a one-shot LOL. I'm really proud of myself for powering through and not abandoning it, as I've done in the past. I also wrote this all in past tense and spontaneously decided to change it to present 😪 Anyway, please enjoy the start of this couple's journey 😁

also read here: AO3 | Wattpad

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

When people say good students are those who arrive on time, you find it hard not to scoff. Professors should care more about how hard-working one is rather than if they show up on the dot.

Of course, you do try to make it on time, but can you really leave your house looking less than perfect? Absolutely not. Plus, the first fifteen minutes usually consist of professors getting set up for their classes, so you don’t feel like you are missing anything of importance.

Today is no different.

Ten minutes past the official class time, you stroll inside the room. Students are seated where they normally sit, some are on their phones, and others are trying to finish some last-minute homework assignments. It’s a fairly small class, and being in your senior year means everyone knows each other well. Although, most of the people in your class think ill of you and don’t talk to you.

At first, you thought it was a pity, but in the end, you realized you didn’t want to befriend those who would only talk shit behind your back. This is what you figured they did since they were never discreet when they exchanged whispers with their eyes glued to you.

Luckily, you have at least one friend in the class. Quality over quantity, right?

“Right on time,” your friend, Dae, says with a sly smile when she spots you.

You chuckle and slide into the seat next to her. “Class started fifteen minutes ago.”

“It did, but you’re right on time for you,” she explains with a knowing grin.

“Guess I need to be more late from now on,” you tease as you take out your iPad.

The device is a holy grail to you. Majoring in fashion design means all your ideas and creations over the past few years are stored there. When you don’t have it, it’s stored in secret in your house. Maybe that’s a little excessive, but losing it would feel like losing a part of yourself. After all, art creations always include a part of the creator. The device almost feels like it’s an extension of yourself—something too personal for others to peek at.

Dae rolls her eyes. “Or you could come on time. That would be different.”

“Why would I? The first fifteen minutes are worthless,” you huff and open your notes.

“I wouldn’t quite say that,” Dae answers, sliding a piece of paper over. You glance down at it.

Prepare for the annual Senior Fashion Show! Students are to create their own fashion show with a theme of their choice. The show will be toward the end of the semester in the Main Theatre (official times and dates TBD). The project will count for 80% of your grade as this will require you to use all the skills you’ve acquired as a student. When creating your show, be sure to be mindful of the following…

“This was handed out at the beginning of class. Seems like we’re going to have to work with students from outside our department,” Dae comments after she gives you a few minutes to read everything.

So, this is it.

Every senior majoring in fashion design is required to participate. You attended every fashion show hosted during your time as a student here. You were always left in awe, motivated to be a student that would leave behind a name for themselves at the college. You want to inspire the next seniors just as the ones inspired you before.

While this assignment has your body giddy with excitement, there is a part you are dreading.

People skills are not your forte.

Not because you feel awkward talking to new people, but because the conversations always end unpleasantly. Sometimes with back-handed compliments, insults, or them trying to scold you. You hope that won’t be the case while recruiting volunteers.

“So, do we have the class period to start getting things together?” you question once you finish skimming through the instructions again. You’re responsible for a lot more elements than you anticipated. You need lighting, music, a theme, backstage helpers, hair and makeup artists, an advertiser, and most importantly, models. This is when you wish you had a large network. Though, every friend you tried to make didn’t end up lasting. Dae is the only person who has stuck by your side.

“Yup,” she replies. “We’ll be doing mini assignments throughout the semester to help us prepare. I think it’s just a way for Dr. Lim to give us grades so he doesn’t get in trouble.”

“Probably,” you sigh. You are already feeling stressed. Quickly, you scribble down a list of to-do’s in your notes.

“Do you have a theme in mind already?” Dae asks after a moment.

“No, do you?” you wonder.

Dae sits back in her chair, pen resting between her fingers. “I was thinking about something with space? Maybe my main colors will be blue, purple, and black.”

“Oh? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing, though? Don’t you want to try something different?”

Although the question is harmless, the tone of your voice must have rubbed Dae the wrong way. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and then looks at you again.

“Think of it as branding, okay? Why does it bother you so much?” she wonders with a frown. Realizing your mistake, you inhale slowly.

“It doesn’t. I didn’t mean to sound rude. I’m sure your stage will do well,” you reply, forcing a small smile on your lips.

“No ‘sorry’?” Dae asks despite knowing it isn’t part of your favorite vocabulary.

You narrow your eyes at her. “Nope. Just don’t be so defensive next time.”

“You’re insufferable,” Dae answers. “One day, you will be sorry for your behavior.”

Shrugging, you say, “There’s always a chance, but maybe if the world wasn’t so insecure, saying sorry wouldn’t be so wanted.”

Dae exhales disapprovingly at your thought process, displeased with your reply. “Well, for now, maybe try to be more empathetic?”

“I have bigger things to worry about right now. For instance,” you start, a finger at the top of your to-do list, “I’ve got to find someone who can provide me with music.”

Fuck, it’s too loud in here.

The sounds of different instruments being played at once, all emitting different tunes, have a migraine bubbling in your head.

You make a beeline to the professor who is sitting in the corner. She is an older lady, evident by her wrinkles and gray hair. Yet, her features are soft, and the smile she gives you makes you feel at ease.

“Hello, miss, can I assist you?” she asks when you’re in hearing range.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I was hoping you could help me with an assignment?” you wonder and offer her a kind smile, hoping she won’t shoo you away immediately.

“Ah, it’s alright. They’re just practicing for an upcoming assignment today. What is it you need, dear?”

“Who would you consider your best student? Is there a way you can get me in contact with them?”

The professor’s eyes widen slightly at the question. She didn’t expect that. Nevertheless, her gaze rises to scan the classroom.

“There,” she points as discreetly as she can. You follow her finger, which lands on a blonde-haired guy tuning his guitar. “Lee Jihoon. He’s the most talented student I’ve ever had.”

“This semester?” you ask out of curiosity.

The professor shakes her head. “Ever.”

You can’t stop the small disbelieving huff that escapes you. The best student ever? You aren’t sure how long she’s been teaching, but you doubt out of all her time, he is the best. He looks too young.

“Now, now, don’t judge a book by its cover,” she scolds gently. You have to force yourself not to roll your eyes at the phrase. You’ve heard it too many times that its meaning lost its effect on you.

“What makes him your best student?” you question, sight going back to the man who is oblivious to your stare. He sits next to another student who also has a guitar. They seem to be friends from the way they are laughing together.

“His work is versatile and very good. I’m positive he will be the perfect person for your project.” The way she speaks about him makes you believe her. There was no waver to her voice, and her eyes hold a fondness in them you know one can’t replicate if not genuine.

“How long until they have their assignment due?” you wonder, realizing you may have to wait until the class ends before you could talk to him.

The professor smiles. “I’ll let them have five more minutes so you can introduce yourself.”

Internally, you sigh in relief. You’re grateful you don’t have to wait.

“Thank you,” you say before strolling to the man.

As you near, his friend glances up. He’s mid-sentence when he spots you, eyes growing slightly at the sight of you. You’re used to getting looks like that. Your fashion is always dressier than the average college student's. People just aren’t used to it.

“Hi,” the brunette friend says. He has prince-like features, and you almost consider asking him to be one of your models. You give him a small grin out of politeness before turning to the whole reason you came over.

“Lee Jihoon?” you ask.

Jihoon’s mouth parts slightly in surprise. “Uh, y-yeah. Do I know you?”

“No. My name’s Yn. I have a project in a class and need someone to provide music for me. You won’t get paid, but any extra experience is always good, right?” you greet, not wanting to dance around the subject. After all, this is only the first of many on your to-do list.

“What major are you in?” he wonders, brows knitted in confusion.

“Fashion design,” you answer.

Jihoon is silent for a moment. “And how did you find me?”

This guy is more difficult than you wished. You just need him to say yes.

“I asked for the best student, and you were recommended. So, what do you say? Will you help me?”

Jihoon gives you a small smile, but something about it rubs you wrong. “Sorry, my plate is a little full right now—”

“Do you need money? I can give you some afterward.”

You try not to sound desperate. Lee Jihoon is not the only music major—this is obvious by the amount of noise you hear in the background.

But you never settle for less than the best.

You have been looking forward to this project since your college tour here.

“It’s not that,” Jihoon chuckles awkwardly. “I have other assignments I have to practice for, but I’m sure there will be someone else to help you. There’s a lot of talented students her—”

“But they’re not the best,” you interrupt. What else can you offer him that will make him say yes?

“Well, being the best is subjective,” Jihoon counters, voice light so you know he doesn’t mean it rudely.

You open your mouth to bargain with him more, but his friend leans into his ear. The noise from the other instruments behind you makes it hard to hear what they are saying.

Patience is something you rarely have. The longer you stand there waiting, the more annoyed you get.

“Look, you have almost a full semester to get a song done by then. I’m sure you can find some tim—”

“Fine,” Jihoon grumbles as he shoves his friend away. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh,” you pause. You are fully prepared to go down the mental list of how helping you will help him in return. One that will be complete bullshit, but if it gets him to say yes, then so be it. Luckily, you don’t have to.

“Great!” you say.

You aren’t going to give him time to back out, so you quickly retrieve a business card you had made from your purse. It’s easier to exchange contact information, and you never know when you may run into someone important. Being in an artistic field means competition. You always need to have an eye out for something, or someone, that will help you get your name out there.

“Here’s my number. Please contact me before the day ends.”

Jihoon takes the card and examines it. “Got it. What kind of music will you need?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know,” you reply. He nods in response.

“I look forward to hearing your music. I’ll talk to you later then,” you say.

You have half a heart to wish them both luck on their assignment, but part of you is a little petty that Jihoon put you through some trouble. Instead, you give them a wave before turning on your heel.

As you’re leaving, you hear a loud sigh followed by a laugh from behind you.

“Shut up, Shua,” Jihoon groans before the professor calls everyone’s attention.

Music, check. Now, what’s next?

As you make your way down the hallway, you stumble across Dae. She is surrounded by two other male students, none of whom you know. You don’t plan to greet her since she seems busy, but the sound of your heels clicking against the tile catches her attention.

“Yn!” she calls out cheerfully.

You halt in your tracks, turning to see her smiling at you. She gestures for you to come over, so you do.

“Hey,” you say to her.

“How’s your project going?” she asks.

“I got someone to help me with music,” you reply, then glance behind her to see the two guys staring at you. Dae follows your gaze and makes a small “oh!”

“Is that all? Do you have anyone for advertising or graphics?” Dae wonders, her voice seemingly excited.

“I don’t,” you answer hesitantly. Her eagerness has you worried.

“Perfect!” she exclaims, then turns to the others. “This is Yejun and Jeonghan. They’re both advertising majors. Yejun agreed to help me with my project, but Jeonghan,” she pauses to address the man. He has blonde hair that goes past his eyes. His soft features are handsome and almost angelic.

“Jeonghan, would you mind helping my friend with hers? She’s super talented.”

Jeonghan glances at you, but before he can say anything, you ask him, “What are your skills? Do you have some work I could see first?”

Jeonghan looks taken aback. “O-oh, I don’t have a portfolio yet, sorry.”

“Ah, that’s fine,” you say before looking at Dae. “Thanks for trying to help me, but I’ll find someone else.”

Dae’s eyes narrow at you. “Come on, Yn. Jeonghan is really good!”

“Didn’t you just meet him?” you question and try to stop the scoff that threatens to escape.

“Well, yes, but Yejun has been my friend for a while, and I’ve seen his work. Yejun and Jeonghan have worked together as well, and their creations are unique!”

You inhale deeply, eyes roaming from your friend to Jeonghan. He offers you a smile.

“What your friend said,” Jeonghan replies with a small chuckle.

“Trust me on this,” Dae says. “Jeonghan won’t disappoint you.”

You don’t feel at ease agreeing to someone blindly. Dae’s definition of “really good” could be different from yours. Although her work is good, you feel your standards are way above hers. You had planned to ask for the best student for each assigned task, so having been offered a random helper with no proof of their credentials is unnerving.

Granted, you haven’t heard Jihoon’s work, but you were sold on the way the professor spoke about him. Dae, on the other hand, is not a professor and could be biased as Yejun is her friend. Though, you still have a lot more positions to fill, and you need to do so soon.

Sighing, “Fine. You can work with me.”

From the way you word your sentence, it’s almost as if Jeonghan is supposed to jump up and down with glee. He doesn’t.

You grab another business card from your purse and hand it to Jeonghan. He takes it slowly.

“Just so you know, I have the right to replace you with someone else if I see your work isn’t fit,” you warn as Jeonghan slips the card into his pocket.

His eyes lock on yours. “That won’t be necessary,” he answers, not bothered by your comment.

“Oh?” you wonder and quirk an eyebrow up.

“Hm. You also need graphics, right? I have a person for that as well,” Jeonghan says.

“I haven’t seen their work yet—”

“You’re not very trusting, huh?” Jeonghan observes with a laugh. You shift your weight on one hip, not liking the way he is trying to tell you about your personality when he doesn't know you.

“I just know what I want, and I won’t settle,” you answer sharply.

Dae huffs next to you and gives you a gentle shove, indicating you to ease up. That isn’t going to happen.

Jeonghan doesn’t reply and instead takes out his phone. His fingers dance around the screen for a minute before he turns the device for you to see. On the screen is an Instagram account with various posts of different art and graphic pieces. Your eyes drift to the username. by_xuminghao_o. His art is impressive and definitely not an amateur like you half expected.

“So, about not settling,” Jeonghan trails off, a hint of a cocky smirk on his lips.

“I expect you both to contact me before the day ends,” is all you respond with.

Jeonghan pockets his phone and nods. He seems content with your answer even though you don’t confess the art meets your standards.

“All good then?” Dae asks, glancing between you two.

“We’re good,” Jeonghan replies and gives you another smile of his—one you are starting to hate seeing. There is just something about it that seems like he knows more things than you in a cocky, condescending way.

Yejun glances at his watch and then nudges Jeonghan.

“Thanks, ladies, but we have a class to attend. Nice to meet you, Yn,” Yejun says.

You hum in response while turning away from them. Dae says her goodbyes, watching as they leave before putting her focus on you.

“Do you have to be so picky?” she sighs.

“As I said, I know what I want. I’ve waited to do this project for years. It has to be perfect,” you explain and pull out your iPad. You check off music and advertising from your to-do list. Graphics aren’t listed, but you figure it will be a nice addition.

“I understand, but—”

“Just focus on your project, and I’ll focus on mine, okay?” you interrupt. You don’t feel like hearing her lecture you for a second time today.

“Alright,” Dae answers. “I’ll see you around,” she says, walking away before you can say anything else.

With her back turned, you roll your eyes at her attitude. It has your mood lowering, and you conclude you’re done with human interaction for now. You carefully place your iPad back in your bag, then make a beeline to the parking lot, ready to go home to figure out a theme for your show.

Home is somewhere you don’t enjoy being.

It always has this melancholy cloud looming over you. You can never seem to get rid of it completely. Even on the good days, it lingers in the corner of the room, always threatening to float above you. You doubt it will ever dissipate.

Your back is against the headboard of your bed, your iPad resting against your legs that are pulled to your chest. The music playing is too low for your liking, but you know if it’s any louder, your father will scold you for the high volume. Sometimes you will raise it just to get him to talk to you. Though today is not one of those days. You want to be left alone for once, which isn't usually too hard to do unless your sister needs attention. Like now.

“Today is the last day. Pleaseeee, Yn!” your sister whines at the foot of your bed. Her small body is bouncing with desperation and eagerness.

Reluctantly, you flicker your gaze up at her. The slight scowl on your face doesn’t seem to faze her… Probably because she’s seen it so much.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” you exasperate, gesturing to your iPad.

Seoah frowns. “When are you not? Come on! It’ll take, like, ten minutes. I’ve been looking forward to getting a Fallin’ Flower frap for months! You know it’s a seasonal drink.”

“Didn’t Dad say you couldn’t have any more sweets?” you say and peer down at your iPad again. You’re in the middle of brainstorming themes for your show. There are various words within bubbles, each connected with a line.

“I’ll just get a small,” she explains. When you don’t move, she walks around the bed to stand next to you. Her voice becomes softer, sadder. “You said you would take me. Dad can’t.”

“That was before I got assigned this project. It’s my—”

“Senior project that you’ve been looking forward to since your freshman year, yeah, I got it,” she responds, reciting what you’ve told her before.

You finally look at her once more. “I’ll take you for the next seasonal drinks, okay? They’re probably better anyway.”

“But I really want a Fallin’ Flower,” Seoah pouts.

“Next year,” you offer and return your attention to your homework.

“Yn—”

“Next year,” you repeat firmly without looking up.

Seoah pauses in her begging. You think she’s going to continue, but you hear the soft padding of her feet as she moves.

“Oh, Seoah?” you call out, glancing up.

She pauses by your door and looks up with some hope in her eyes.

“Don’t forget to shut the door all the way.”

“Right,” she mutters slowly, then leaves the room. You wait until you hear the door click close prior to getting back to work.

You sit on your bed the remainder of the day, only getting up to cook dinner for your father and sister. Your eyes feel strained and your body weak, but the sooner you pick a theme, the sooner you can get started.

It’s days like these when your body is mentally and physically exhausted, that you miss your mom. You try not to think too much about her as it only makes the gloomy cloud above your head darker.

Is she happier? Surely, she is. She is living her dream as a traveling journalist. Sometimes you will see her adventures if you peep at her social media. It’s self-torture to do so, but curiosity gets the best of you. You hope one day you’ll have the willpower to block all her accounts.

At this point, you’re having the same conversation you have with yourself once a month. It never ends the way you want.

Inhaling deeply, you finish plating all the food before calling your family for dinner. While your father eats in his office, needing to continue his work, you and your sister eat in silence in the dining room.

Maybe one day things will change, but for now, you’ll have to settle with this.

You are about to knock on the door a second time when no one answers it. You have allotted only an hour for this meeting, so the longer you wait outside, the more you grow impatient. You have set mini-deadlines throughout the semester to ensure you will complete this assignment in a timely manner. You just hope your recruitees aren't going to slow you down.

Suddenly, the door is yanked open. Jeonghan stands on the other side, hair a little damp and a few wet spots on his shirt.

“Sorry about that,” he says hastily. “I thought I could shower quicker.”

“I told you eleven o’clock,” you scold. Jeonghan simply smiles.

“Never hurts to give people some wiggle room. Plus, aren’t you the early one?” Jeonghan leans back to view something. He looks at you after a few seconds. “It’s only three minutes past.”

“Early is on time,” you say as if that is an obvious life choice. Although you’re never really on time for classes, you reason that to be because the first fifteen minutes are a waste of time. This, on the other hand, is not. “Invite me in?”

Jeonghan moves aside and lets you enter. His apartment is tidy for the most part. It seems as if he had started to clean up but gave up toward the end.

“Where’s Minghao?” you wonder when you saw you were the only one here. He’s supposed to be here with Jeonghan, so you can all go over the advertising designs.

“He called and said he hit some traffic. Have a seat anywhere; I’m going to grab my laptop,” he instructs before jogging to another room. Shaking your head in disappointment, you glance around again.

Spotting his couch, you walk over and make yourself comfortable. You take out your iPad and open what you have so far—color ideas, font ideas, and a few mock-up fashion designs. It has been two weeks since you last saw Jeonghan. The majority of your tasks have already been assigned to people, but you still have to find a few more models.

“Alright, so, what’s the theme?” Jeonghan asks when he comes back. He sits down next to you, causing you to bounce slightly from his weight.

You angle your screen, so he can see it easier. “I decided on the four elements—water, ice, air, and earth. The title right now is Pinwheel.”

“This gives us multiple color options,” Jeonghan examines. “Maybe we could have five designs. One for each element and then one with all of them? That would give you a variety of exposure and make the audience feel they’re not looking at the same promo material every time.”

You sit still as you ponder his suggestion. “You don’t think people will get confused seeing different designs?”

“We can make it all tie in some way. You have your own logo, as I saw on your card. We can use that and the same fonts.”

“Okay,” you say slowly. “That sounds—”

A knock on the door stops you.

“Ah, that must be Minghao. Do you mind getting that? I’m going to get my notepad, so I can try to sketch some layouts.”

You nod, setting your iPad down next to his laptop, then walking to the entrance.

“You’re late,” you groan while you pull open the door.

“Oh? Am I?” the person says with a little playful smile on his lips.

Although you’ve never met Minghao, you have seen pictures of him on his Instagram. You expected to see a head of blue hair, but you are greeted with black. Instead of a narrow face, his is slightly wider. He wears an oversized white shirt, jeans, and a colorful necklace. He looks like every other college student. Sure, he’s more handsome than the average, but not by much. Behind him are two women and one man.

“Can I help you?” you exhale a disheartened sigh when you conclude it isn’t Minghao. Meaning, he’s even later than you wished for.

The guy chuckles. “I doubt it, but Jeonghan can. Is he here?”

His voice is slightly deep. You may have found him soothing to listen to if it wasn't for his irksome words.

“He’s busy right now. You can come back in an hour, though,” you instruct and start to close the door. You don’t need any distractions.

The man sticks his foot out to stop you, causing you to exhale annoyed when you can’t get rid of him. You open the door slightly again.

“Just tell him I’m here,” he says, his teasing tone not so visible anymore but still light enough to not sound too rude.

“And who are you?” you question apathetically.

“Jesus,” someone hisses behind him before shouting, “Jeonghan, come here!”

Your eyes gaze past the man to see a woman with short-length dark hair. She eyes you haughtily, hand on the man’s forearm as if she were to push him away. Though she never does. She takes in your attire, and you once again get a look of judgment at your choice of dress. Your white dress paired with a same-colored, opened button down and beaded chain around your hips is apparently not her style.

“What’s going on?” Jeonghan asks behind you. Reluctantly, you move aside so he can see. “Oh, Seungcheol! Right. One second. Come on in. I’ll get those papers for you.”

“Actually, do they need to come in? They’re not staying long,” you say quickly before any of them can move.

“Relax, princess, he’s just being friendly. You know, like when someone is kind, thoughtful, and considerate?” the girl questions as if you’re dumb and makes her way inside despite you standing close to the door. It forces you to move over.

Her friends follow along. Three of them stand in the living room, while the second guy sits at the kitchen bar before pulling out his phone. You watch them with a fire inside your chest. Not only are Jeonghan and Minghao late, you now have to deal with this obstacle.

Just as you’re shutting the door, you see a glimpse of blue down the hall. Finally.

“You’re late,” you repeat, but to the correct person this time.

“I know, I’m sorry! Oh, are they helping too?” Minghao says, pausing at the entry when he sees the group of people inside.

“No. Get in,” you huff and point a finger in the apartment. Minghao enters without a fight.

“Hao!” the second girl exclaims with a smile.

Great. Do they all know each other?

“Hi, Hana,” Minghao greets with a gentle grin.

“What are you doing here?” Hana wonders.

“I’m helping Yn with her project,” he answers and gestures to you while you shut the door.

Hana looks your way, and you can see the distaste in her expression; however, she doesn’t say anything.

Jeonghan walks out of his room with a folder in his hand. “I hope this is what you need,” he tells the first man—Seungcheol, you presume.

Seungcheol smiles and takes it from him. He flips open the folder, doing a quick glance through the papers inside.

“Looks great,” he says. “Thanks for getting these for me.”

“Of course,” Jeonghan replies.

“Hannie, do you want to come to Shining Diamond with us this weekend?” the first girl asks, tilting her head in a way that appears as if she’s begging for a yes.

“Ah, this weekend?” he hesitates. “I have a test on Monday I was going to study for.”

“A few hours won’t hurt you,” she replies.

“Alright, Hajun, but only for an hour or so,” Jeonghan says with a not-so-stern voice.

“Great! Minghao, do you want to come, too?” Hajun asks.

Minghao shrugs. “I’ve got nothing else, so sure.”

Hajun grins widely. Her eyes go past Minghao to see you standing in the corner, your arms crossed and eyes staring daggers at everyone.

She doesn’t say anything, but her look tells you you aren’t invited. As if you are silently begging to join. The thought makes you scoff quietly.

“Cool. You all scheduled your weekends,” you start and walk back to the couch. You turn briefly to Seungcheol, who is eyeing you already. “And you got your things. Can we please continue?”

Your gaze shifts to Jeonghan at your question. He offers you an apologetic look before nodding.

“I’ll see you all this weekend. You can text me the time,” he says while walking to the door.

“We can decide that now,” Hana suggests.

“Or over text like Jeonghan said,” you interject. She narrows her eyes at you.

“Be patient. It’ll only take a few minutes,” she replies.

A few minutes, my ass.

“I’d rather you use those minutes to walk out the door.” You give her a faux smile.

“Have some respect,” Hajun scolds.

You laugh though you don’t find any of this humorous. “What a hypocrite. How about you respect people’s times?”

“I did tell Yn I’d help her,” Jeonghan cuts in sheepishly and opens the door to hint at them to leave. “I’ll text you all later, or you guys can come back in a bit.”

Seungcheol’s gaze lingers on yours as he walks toward the door. Your eyes catch on his as he makes his way into your line of sight. His stare has an unsettling feeling form in your stomach, and you contemplate asking what his problem is. Before you can, he turns to Jeonghan.

“Thanks again,” he says as he lifts the folder.

“No problem. Talk to you later,” Jeonghan replies.

All his friends have filed out except for the one male who hasn’t said a word. He glances at you. You expect to receive another jab about who knows what. Instead, he gestures at your body.

“Nice chains,” he compliments with a smile.

Your eyes widen slightly as you glance down briefly at your outfit. That was certainly unexpected. “Uh, thanks.”

“Come on, Vernon!” Hana yells from the doorway. Vernon gives you a thumbs up, which is uncanny given the situation, then follows his friends out the door.

Once they leave, you narrow your gaze at Jeonghan and Minghao. They’re quick to apologize again and start asking questions about your project before you can lecture them. Lucky for them, your hour is almost up, so there isn't enough time to do that anyway.

Weeks go by with you working nonstop on your project. Annoyingly, you also realize that the majority of the people you recruited to help all know each other. It usually isn’t something to be irritated by, but each time they run into each other, they usually end up making small talk that you have to break up. They can do that on their time, not yours. Even more frustrating is that this so-called Seungcheol and his groupies know them all as well. Their reactions to seeing you are always the same—ones of displeasure. Though the feeling is mutual.

You learn they are all business majors, except for Vernon. Well, he was a business major, but he plans to switch to something else. You can’t blame him. If all the business majors act revolting, you would leave that department as well.

Seungcheol… He isn’t as bad.

You have only ever hung out with him by himself for less than five minutes. Those conversations spur when you’re both left alone after one of your “mutual friends,” because none of these people are your actual friends, abandon you both. The conversations are awkward and never hold any weight. He doesn’t throw snide remarks at you, but his presence still makes you uneasy with the possibility. You’re normally the first to leave because of that. Maybe if he didn’t have those obnoxious friends, you could tolerate him more. You can’t help but associate him with them though. You simply want to get away from them, even if that includes him. Not that you are craving his presence anyway. You barely know him and aren’t interested in changing that.

“Those are looking awesome so far!” Dae exclaims when she peers over your shoulder to see your sketches.

You smile at her and set your iPad down on the table. The weather outside is perfect, given the cool breezes in the heat. It eases your mind, and you feel more creative being in a new environment.

“Thanks, how are yours coming along?” you question and wait for her to angle her own iPad to you. On the screen are various designs, each with a hint of purple or blue.

“Those are neat,” you compliment.

“Yeah?” she says and beams at you. “What about this one? I think the shoulder looks a little weird.”

You reach over, using two fingers to zoom in on the screen to examine it.

“Maybe just lower this,” you gesture on the screen, careful as to not move the screen on accident. “You could take this part out too and make it asymmetrical.”

Dae hums, lips pursed in thought. “I’ll try it. I guess I won’t really know until it’s on someone.”

You nod in agreement before focusing on your designs again. After a while, Dae excuses herself from your homework session. She had planned to meet with one of her helpers. You bid her a quick goodbye.

Ten minutes pass when you see someone standing in front of your table, blocking your sunlight. Your eyes rise to see who it is.

“Hi,” Seungcheol greets.

You straighten your posture upon seeing him. He wears a basic navy suit that fits him well. To your surprise, it actually looks decent on him. Your eyes dart around him to see if any of his friends came.

“Just me this time,” he answers the question in your head.

“What is it you need?” you ask blankly.

“Must I need something?” he retorts.

You suppress the eye roll you want to give him. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t come here to tell me about your day.”

“I can if you want,” he responds, then to your utter dread, he sits down across from you. From the position he is sitting at, the breeze is blowing his hair forward and into his face. He raises a hand to push it back, but it’s no use.

“You can spare me. Tell me what you want and go,” you instruct. This is the first time he has approached you—and alone, for that matter. You don’t want to make it a regular thing.

“Always straight to the point,” he chuckles.

“I just don’t like my time being wasted,” you explain.

“So, I’m wasting your time now?” His eyebrow quirks up.

“Should I spell it out for you?” you scoff. It should be obvious that you don’t feel like talking to him.

“You can try, but do you know how to spell it?” he stares at you through the hair on his face. Even though you can’t see him clearly, you can tell he has a challenging gleam in his eyes.

“At this point, I think you just came to bother me,” you sulk.

He smirks at you. “I didn’t, but it is a little fun to see your feathers ruffled.”

“They’re perfectly content being unruffled.”

Seungcheol chuckles at your response. He pushes his hair back, but this time he rests his hand against his head, keeping his hair in place. His elbow is propped on the table while his other arm lays flat on the surface.

All the times you have seen him, his hair has covered part of his forehead. Now, it’s all exposed, and you feel you can see him. Maybe it’s because he’s donning a suit for once, but he looks almost… handsome like this—dressed formally with a small glint in his eyes and his lips spread in a gentle smile.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replies. “I think you need to have more fun.”

Well, he was handsome until he opened his mouth.

“I don’t need a stranger telling me how to live my life,” you say.

“A stranger? I would think we’re at least acquaintances,” he frowns.

“You only see me because your friends are helping me. Speaking of, is that why you’re here? Does it have anything to do with one of them?”

Seungcheol bites his bottom lip, and you can’t stop your eyes from lowering to his mouth.

“Maybe,” he answers slowly. Your eyes snap back to his when he speaks. He gives you a knowing smile that has you shifting in your seat. You had only looked at his lips because he brought attention to them. Nothing more.

“Are we playing twenty questions?” you groan, finally unleashing the eye roll you have been trying not to do.

“We can,” Seungcheol says with a shrug. “You asked three already—more if you start from the time I sat down.”

Exhaling a deep breath, you put your forehead on the hand that’s propped on the table. The conversation is slowly draining your energy. The need to be alone becomes stronger with each second.

“Seungcheol,” you warn. You are not about to play a guessing game with this man. “Please.”

“Oh, so that word is in your vocabulary.”

“Yes. Would you like me to use it in a sentence?” you question, pitch raised as if you’re talking to a toddler. You lift your head to glare at him.

“Sure,” he smirks and leans forward. He still holds his hair back and this time, you can really see the way he is goading you.

“Please fuck off,” you grin widely. Your head tilts to the side as you push your arms together to act overly cute.

“Please make me,” he counters. The smirk he wears is still plastered on his lips.

“If we weren’t in public, I would,” you say, voice returning to normal as you relax your body—the cute act over.

“Oh? How?” he chuckles. From the way he looks at you, you know his mind has gone elsewhere.

You push at the arm that is stretched across the table. “Because I would rather not get caught for murder, you pervert.”

Seungcheol laughs and sits back, letting his hair fall back into his eyes. It’s the first time you notice he has dimples. Your first impression is that they are cute, but you quickly recall who they belonged to and shove that thought from your mind.

“Seokmin wanted to let you know he lost your card,” he finally discloses. “Asked if you could give him another.”

“If he lost a simple card, is he really reliable?” you sigh as you grab another from your purse.

“The good news is those stage lights are so big, he won’t be able to lose those,” he says, taking the card from your hand.

“Thankfully,” you mutter. “I hope you’re better than Seokmin at not losing things.”

“I’ll get this to him, don’t worry,” he replies and puts the card in his suit jacket. You want to ask why he is wearing that, but that will mean you will prolong this conversation. Fortunately for you, he starts to stand up before you succumb to the temptation.

“Thanks for the talk,” he says as if you had a choice. “I’ll see you around.”

You would have doubted that, but you know that won’t be true.

The second time Seungcheol approaches you by himself is a few days later when he catches you exiting a building he is approaching.

“Don’t tell me someone else lost my card as well,” you say after he calls your name. You readjust your bag on your shoulder as you wait for his response.

“About that,” he starts sheepishly.

You put your weight on one hip and cross your arms, and set your mouth in a straight line. You wait for him to tell you who is the perpetrator.

“I may have left your card in my suit jacket when I washed it.”

Well, that explains why you haven’t received a message from Seokmin yet.

“Seriously, Seungcheol?” you exasperate.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” he says, lips pouting and eyebrows angled.

Shaking your head, you retrieve another card. You make a mental note to restock later as you are running out.

Seungcheol reaches out to grab it from you, but you quickly pull back.

“Put this in your bag,” you instruct.

You slowly give him the card and watch as he slings his bag around to his front. He makes a show of unzipping one of the front pockets and sliding it inside.

“Done,” he says, acting like he should be rewarded for doing as he was told.

“Good. Is that all?” you wonder. You’ve just finished your last class of the day, and all you want to do is climb into bed.

“Yes.”

Seeing no need to continue the conversation, you start walking in the direction of the parking lot.

“Great. Bye, Seungcheol,” you say over your shoulder.

“Hey, wait,” he says quickly, walking briskly to be by your side. “We’re going in the same direction.”

You peer up at him momentarily. “That doesn’t mean we have to walk together.”

“You said before we’re strangers. This would help us not be that anymore,” he shrugs casually.

“I never said I wanted that,” you reply flatly.

“It might benefit us since we’ll have to see each other a lot.”

“Is that so?” you sigh sadly.

Seungcheol smiles at you before shoving his hands in his pockets. “You did ask my friends to help you.”

“Well, if I knew you were a package deal, I wouldn’t have.”

“Come on. I’m not that bad.”

Sighing, you slow your steps to look at him better. He stops next to you, awaiting your response. His gaze is hopeful, but you’re not sure why.

“I’ll agree if you leave me alone,” you finally say.

Seungcheol’s lips dip in a frown. “I’ll get you to admit it one day.”

He starts to walk again before you can reply. Now is your chance to let him get a few feet from you. You have the opportunity to finally end this conversation you’ve been dreading. Though, for some strange reason, your feet quickly move on their own accord.

Seungcheol’s steps are small, and you catch up with him easily. Neither of you says a word, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips.

Instead of parting ways once you reach the parking lot, he follows you to your car. Something about it being dangerous for you to walk to it alone, even though it’s light out.

“Yn?” he says to catch your attention when you open your door. You turn and give a small “hm?” in response.

“My friends and I plan to go to this poetry lounge in two weeks. Would you want to come?” he asks. You aren’t sure why he appears to be anxious.

The shock you feel must be evident on your face because Seungcheol’s apprehensive expression relaxes into a gentle smile.

“Business friends or our ‘mutual ones’?” The idea doesn't sound so bad if you are hanging out with the people who are helping you. Although you have your issues with them, they aren’t that bad to be around if you’re being honest.

“Business.”

That’s not what you want to hear.

“Do your friends know you’re asking me this?”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “No, but I don’t need their permission. What do you say?”

You can’t recall being invited to a night out with someone other than Dae. If you were to go out without Dae, it would be with your family or for a class assignment. To be invited to a place by Seungcheol, out of all people, catches you off guard.

Despite having an opportunity for a different change of pace, you answer, “No.”

“No?” he asks, perplexed.

“Your friends don’t like me, Seungcheol,” you explain matter-of-factly through a sigh, leaning against your open door.

“They just like to tease you. I’ll talk to them before,” he explains.

Tease is a funny way to describe it, you think.

“I don’t need you fighting my battles,” you answer, referring to the latter part of his reply.

“Still. I want you to enjoy yourself. You’ve probably been glued to that project of yours. Step away for a bit,” he reasons.

He isn’t wrong. Your focus has solely been on the project. Of course, you have other classes, but you aren’t putting as much effort into them as you are this one.

“I’ll pick you up and pay for any expenses,” he offers. The more he talks, the more taken aback you are. You figured he’d drop the offer once you rejected him. From every interaction you’ve had with these “friends,” it never ends well. You doubt this will be any different. Regardless, something in you feels a little… honored he is so adamant about getting you to come.

Thus, hesitantly, “Fine.”

Seungcheol’s face breaks out in a grin. “Okay. I can give you my number, so you can text me your address.”

He starts to pull out his phone, but you stop him.

“No need,” you say. At Seungcheol’s confused expression, you continued with a faint smile, “You have my card.”

His mouth opens briefly in realization before the corners are pulled up.

“One step ahead, I see,” he teases, pulling it out to inspect it as if confirming your number is there. You suppose he may think you’re lying to get out of going.

“I’ll text you then,” he concludes and places the card back.

“Alright,” you say, shifting your weight. You aren’t sure if he wants to say anything else. Why are you giving him the time to? You have already given him enough of it.

Sensing your readiness to leave, he waves as he slowly takes steps backward. “Drive safely, Yn.”

“You too, Seungcheol.”

You climb into your car’s seat, turn on the engine, and watch as he makes his way through the maze of cars until he is out of sight.

That Friday comes sooner than you would’ve liked.

Throughout the times you had met with your “friends,” you had bumped into Seungcheol one-third of the time. Sometimes, you were left alone with him again. Each interaction you had with him became easier the more you talked to him.

Dare you to admit; his presence wasn’t actually teeth-gritting anymore? At least when he was alone, you didn’t have to deal with his business friends. Despite him not usually laughing at their jokes, he never really stepped in to stop them teasing you at first. Maybe only a few times when he felt things got too heated. He wasn’t your best friend, but part of you did hope he would’ve said something.

Each time he didn’t, you felt your disappointment rise. He apologized on their behalf constantly, but his apology meant nothing when they kept insulting you. However, lately, he has been stepping in sooner. Although you didn’t want him fighting your battles initially, some things you couldn’t do alone. One thing you and his business friends had in common was that no one really knew where the sudden change of attitude came from. For once, you didn’t complain, though.

You’re tempted to cancel this outing, but talking to Seungcheol a few days ago made you realize he was a little more excited than he was letting on. The reason is unknown to you—maybe he really likes poetry lounges—but you’d feel slightly guilty if you ditch last minute.

It’s not like you haven’t been out on a Friday night with people, yet your heart is beating rapidly in your chest. You have changed about six times, exchanging your accessories with each outfit. Normally, you would dress up more, but these aren’t your friends you’re about to hang out with. They are Seungcheol’s—business majors who think skirts more than two inches above the knees mean you’re a slut. Though, you can’t figure out why that matters. You never dress with the thoughts of others. If you want to wear something that day, even if it’s “over-the-top” for some, you wear it. So, why are you in such a fashion dilemma now?

In the end, you settle for a simple, spaghetti-strapped red dress that is slightly bunched on the sides with strings that are tied in bows. You pair it with a small, heart-shaped purse and white heels. There isn’t any bling in your outfit, which is unusual for you. The accessories you wear are minimal and small. They are a matching cherry set you were gifted by your mother on your 12th birthday. Although it’s been years since you received them, they’re still wearable and delicate enough not to call much attention—unlike some of your other accessories.

You reach for a white fur jacket only to stop when your fingers graze it. Your eyes travel to yourself in the mirror as you debate on wearing it. The jacket will be too much, you conclude.

The buzzing of your phone catches your attention. It’s Seungcheol telling you he’s five minutes away. After stuffing your phone in your purse, you quickly apply red lipstick and toss it in your purse for later touch-ups.

When your phone buzzes again, you hurry to your front door. Your family is home, and you don’t want Seungcheol to meet them. Life at home isn’t ideal, and the only person who has a hint of what is going on is Dae. You doubt Seungcheol will find that out from one quick meeting, but you don’t want to risk it.

You throw your door open, ready to meet him at his car. Instead, he stands in front of you with a hand raised. He takes a step back in surprise. His eyes glide down your body quickly, but you’re too concerned about your family coming to notice.

“Oh, hey,” he greets. “I was just about to knock.”

Before any of your family can intervene, you close the door and start your way down the porch steps. Seungcheol follows you.

“You didn’t have to. I can make my way to your car by myself,” you answer. Although you’ve never been in his car before, you’ve seen it around. Plus, it’s the only unknown vehicle near your home.

You stand next to the passenger door and wait for him to unlock it, arms wrapped around your body when the chilly weather hits you.

“You sure you don’t want a jacket?” he asks when he notices you didn’t bring one.

“It didn’t go with my outfit,” you explain. It’s a lie. The coat did go with your fit, but you didn’t feel like disclosing the fashion crisis you had gone through.

Seungcheol chuckles. “So, you’re going to freeze instead?”

“It’s not that cold,” you lie again.

“It’ll get colder later, though,” he explains and comes closer to you. You step aside when he is a few inches from you. You press your arms tighter around you, eyes averting from his because of his close proximity. The small distance has you wanting to squirm away, but your feet can’t move. He peers at you with a small smile while he reaches behind you.

“My lady,” he murmurs when he pulls the door open and gestures for you to get inside.

“How chivalrous,” you reply after you force your nervousness away. You carefully slide inside his car, situating yourself comfortably in the seat.

Seungcheol waits to ensure you have all your limbs inside before shutting the door. As he walks around to the other side, your eyes scan his car. The seats are leather, and the interior has higher tech than you thought it would. It is a nice car—not overly luxurious, but enough to show it isn’t cheap. It makes you wonder how much it costs.

“You warm enough?” Seungcheol questions after he gets in and buckles.

“Yeah,” you reply quietly, hands resting awkwardly in your lap. The heat from the vents aids in your goosebumps disappearing.

Your mind is already wondering what to expect tonight. You know his friends aren’t fond of you. At least most of them. That guy, Vernon, seems nice enough. He is the quiet one in the group; however, you did notice he has his own quirks that make him unique. You foresee yourself hanging out with him most tonight. But even then, you don’t feel too great about going.

The longer you sit in Seungcheol’s car, the more you regret agreeing to this.

He stares at you for a moment; brows knitted together slightly. You feel uncanny acting so meek, and Seungcheol can't help but notice.

Silence consumes the small area for a few seconds until Seungcheol says, “Seatbelt.”

You look at him confused, then realize he is talking to you. Of course he is, who else?

“Right,” you mumble, quickly pulling the belt over your body.

“You don’t have to come, you know?” he says with one hand on the steering wheel while the other is on the gear stick.

You sigh and gesture to the road ahead. “Let’s just get going. I’ve got stuff to do after.”

It isn’t completely a lie. You still have to work on bringing your designs to life for the show, but it isn’t like you are behind schedule that you need to do that tonight. You just know you might actually back out if you ponder on leaving more.

Seungcheol bites his bottom lip, averting his focus to the road. He doesn’t reply and obliges to your request by shifting the car into drive.

During the ride, your gaze drifts to Seungcheol. He is relaxed in his seat. One arm stretches to hold the wheel while his other rests on his thigh. One which is clad in a pair of light-washed jeans with a black belt between the jean loops. He wears a white shirt tucked in and a black jacket.

You peer forward slightly to read what his shirt says. Propriety of Balenciaga? The Balenciaga? You don’t think he’s wealthy enough to afford one of those shirts. Perhaps it was a gift or a knock-off brand? Maybe he thrifted it… Though, Seungcheol doesn’t seem like the thrifting type.

“Do you need this?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. He’s holding his jacket open to show you what he means. You must’ve been staring too much.

“No, I’m okay,” you say and turn your attention away quickly. “I just didn’t realize you wore glasses.”

Although the comment is true, you need something to say before he questions why you truly are staring at him. You had noticed the spectacles earlier but didn’t feel like mentioning them.

Seungcheol laughs lightly, “Actually, I don’t. I just thought I’d try to improve my fashion. What do you say, did it work?”

He glances at you after stopping at a traffic light; his mouth quirks up in a teasing smile. You turn toward him and scan his face quickly. They do look good on him, but you aren’t going to tell him that.

“They certainly did something, but whether that effect is good or bad is a secret,” you reply, looking away again.

“I’ll take that as you not wanting to admit they look nice on me,” Seungcheol says and continues driving at the green light.

“I think they’d look better on someone else,” you answer. Though, you don’t believe what you said. Something about the glasses on him has you wanting to stare at him more. They fit his face well and make him appear more attractive. You don’t want to sit on that thought for much longer.

“Is that so? Here,” he says, pulling them off his face. The glasses come into your view, and you stare at him, puzzled.

When you don’t take them, he adds, “They won’t bite.”

You roll your eyes at his comment and finally grab them from his grasp. You pull down his sun visor to look at yourself. After sliding on the spectacles, you turn your head from side to side to see the different angles.

“I think I was right. They do look better on someone else,” you tease and face him as you shut the visor. Seungcheol turns to you at your reply.

His eyes wander across your face, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips.

“Maybe I’ll have to agree with you this one time,” he says. His stare lingers on yours so much that it has you shifting in your seat. When you avert your gaze, your eyes widen.

“Cheol!” you shout as he was about to rear-end another car. Instinctively, he shoots an arm out across your chest that has your back pressing firmly against the seat. The sudden act causes you to reach up and grab onto his arm tightly.

The car screeches as it comes to a sudden halt. Luckily in time to not hit the other car.

You both sit still, breathing intensified at the near accident. After a few seconds, Seungcheol retracts his arm. It’s then you realize you’re still holding onto him. Your eyes dart to his forearm and frown when you see small crescent shapes indented in his skin.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

Seungcheol’s focus is ahead of him but glances at you in confusion at your apology. “What?”

You quickly gesture to his forearm. When he sees the marks, he rubs a hand over them absentmindedly. “It’s fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you reply, heart rate slowing down to normal.

“I’m alright. Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t make you play dress up in the car.”

“No, it was my fault.”

Seungcheol eases on the gas pedal when the light turns green, keeping a safe distance from the car in front. He remains quiet for a while to ensure you are both safe.

“Are you sure you’re okay? First, you apologize, and now something is your fault?” he jokes.

You don’t remember what you said a few minutes ago, so it takes a while for you to comprehend what he is saying. “Shut up,” is all you can respond with in the end.

Seungcheol laughs but doesn’t pester you about it any longer.

“Oh, you can take these back,” you say and tug off the reason for almost hitting another car.

“Thanks,” he mumbles as he slides the glasses back on his face.

You nestle yourself back in the seat again and glance out the window. As the buildings pass, it dawns on you that you’ve never called him Cheol. The thought of using a nickname for him has your body tingle with an unknown feeling. It’s strange. You aren’t the first to call him that, but you aren’t that close to him to start using nicknames. Annoyingly, you spend the remainder of the car ride fretting about how he felt toward you shortening his name.

Did he even notice? If he did, did he like it? Had you crossed a line?

When he parks, you become acutely aware of everyone’s attire. Many wear jeans or tights with a plain shirt and jacket. A few have on skirts or dresses, but they are more t-shirt dresses or plain skater skirts, if anything. Plus, they are accompanied by tights because of the weather. No one has as much skin showing as you do.

The sinking feeling of not belonging consumes you. You can’t remember the last time you felt this way, and that alone has you questioning yourself even more.

“I’m too dressed for this, aren’t I?” you think out loud.

Seungcheol turns off the car, eyes raking your body again. Though this time, you’re aware of it. You tug down the bottom of your dress at his stare. It’s not like it’s predatory, but it still has your nerves skyrocketing.

“Since when did you care about what others thought of your outfit?” he wonders. The question has you sighing, momentarily closing your eyes as you remind yourself you dress for you, not for others’ approval.

“Right,” you swallow harshly and sling your purse over your shoulder—mentally throwing away the negative thoughts too. “Let’s just go.”

With that, you open his car door and step out.

“Yn wait—” you hear Seungcheol call out right as you shut the door.

Your hair is immediately pushed from your face as the wind blows past. It makes your body shiver, and for a split second, you wish you took up Seungcheol’s offer to grab a jacket when you were at your house.

Seungcheol’s car beeps as it locks before he stands in front of you. His broad body blocks the wind, and you feel your own ease from feeling a tad warmer.

“I’m sorry if that came off rude,” he apologizes softly. “I think you look great.”

You look at him, face void of emotion. You don’t believe him, but you don’t want to argue. At least not standing in this weather.

“Okay,” you reply. “We need to go meet your friends.”

You take a step forward, thinking it will get him to start walking toward the building, but he doesn’t budge. You only decrease the distance between you two.

“I mean it,” he whispers.

Goosebumps are forming on your exposed skin the longer you stay out. You blame the cold weather for them, but something in your chest tightens at the way Seungcheol is speaking to you.

“I think red is your color,” he pauses. “You should wear it more, Cherry.”

Your head tilts at his last word. “Cherry?”

The corner of his mouth raises at hearing it from your lips. Slowly, he brings a hand to your face. You stand still as you stare at him with wide eyes. His hand brushes past your cheek before he grazes his fingertips along your ear.

“It suits you,” he murmurs, eyes moving away from yours.

You follow his gaze and realize he has been looking at your cherry-charmed earrings. His eyes then flicker to the matching cherry-charmed necklace resting below your bare collarbones. You’re not sure if he means the color suits you or if the nickname he just made suits you. Either way, you’re surprised at his words.

Suddenly, the weather doesn't feel as chilly anymore. Your body heats quickly at his comment, or maybe it’s from how close he is to you. Nevertheless, you need to distract yourself from this warm, odd feeling bubbling in your chest.

You clear your throat and step back. His hand lowers steadily.

“I’ll think about it,” you reply more confidently and clearly.

Seungcheol takes the hint and moves aside, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. He nods his head in the direction of the building, and you start walking toward it. Your pace is slightly faster than his, but you don’t mind not walking next to him. If anything, you need distance from him anyway.

The moment you open the door to the lounge, the heat from inside greets you in full force. You step inside and are welcomed by a worker. He is young, maybe a few years younger than you. He gives you a friendly smile.

“Hi, are you wanting to be seated, or are you with a group already?”

“With a group,” you reply. The worker nods.

“Do you need help locating them?”

You shake your head as the jingle of the door opening sounds behind you. Seungcheol stops behind you. His hand comes to hover over your lower back, not really touching you, but close enough to feel the heat radiate from his hand onto your skin. It has you shuffling away.

“They’re over there,” he says. You peer up to see where he is gesturing. Fair enough, you see his friends at a table toward the back of the building. There are five of them, all smiling at each other. You can spot a few familiar faces—one of them being Vernon. You feel a little at ease knowing he made it here.

“Thanks,” you murmur to the worker before making your way to the table. The closer you get to the table, the slower your steps become. You’re used to keeping your chin high in situations you aren’t completely comfortable in. The whole “fake it until you make it” is on repeat in your head.

Yet the saying is not encouraging you much right now.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Seungcheol asks when he catches up to you. You don’t realize you had stopped a few feet from the table.

“No,” you say. You aren’t mad at him; you just need some space from him for now. You don’t like how you aren’t in control of your emotions when you’re around him. “I’m going to freshen up in the bathroom.”

Seungcheol eyes you for a second before nodding. You make your way to the bathroom, but right before you enter, you can hear the welcoming echoes coming from his table of friends. All of them sound cheerful and excited to see him. You don’t expect any of them to look forward to your presence, yet you feel a little disappointed when no one brings up your name—in a positive way.

After using the restroom and washing your hands, you stand in front of the mirror with your hands lingering under the warm water. Your eyes roam your face and body, taking in your appearance. Compared to your normal fashion, you really did dress down. You sigh when you realize you’re circling back to the same issue.

You retract your hands from the faucet and grab a few towels to dry them.

It doesn’t matter if you’re overly dressed. You usually are and don’t care. You look great. You should feel confident in your fit.

You gently tug the dress down before turning in front of the mirror.

You look fine. You look nice.

As you reapply your lipstick, you keep repeating compliments and reassuring phrases in your head.

They’re going to look at you funny. You are going to ignore them.

“That’s right,” you sigh to yourself as you toss the lipstick back into your purse.

Suddenly, your phone starts to vibrate. You pull it out to see Dae’s name appear across the top. You eagerly answer her call.

“Hey babe,” Dae’s voice comes from the other line. “How’s it going?”

“I’m ready to go home,” you say with a small huff.

“Damn, that horrible? Is he treating you badly?” Dae questions. You had told her about Seungcheol’s invitation when you got home that day. She was shocked, but ultimately supportive of you going.

You shake your head despite her not being able to see you. “No, he’s been fine. I just,” you pause. Although you have your ups and downs with Dae, she has stayed with you when no one else has. You don’t disclose your troubles often, wanting people to not see that side of you, but you’re feeling too low that you can’t stop the confession from coming out.

“I’m way overdressed for this place. Everyone’s in jeans or tights. I don’t belong here,” you say.

Dae sighs sadly. “Jeans are boring. I think I only own a pair,” she answers, trying to make you smile. “Just remember, if you were to die right now, would you want your last outfit to be something boring?”

“No,” you answer slowly.

“Exactly. These are people who are used to looking plain. They’re probably jealous you’re outdressing them. Don’t let them get to you, Yn. I’m sure you look beautiful.”

Your shoulders ease at her words. “Thanks, Dae.”

“No need. If they had the talent to dress themselves better, they would.”

You let her words sink in, but the reassurance doesn’t last long.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you say, beginning to pace the small area in the bathroom.

“It’s good for you to be around people from outside our department. It’ll make you more open-minded,” she encourages. “Plus, Seungcheol isn’t as bad as he seemed, huh?”

There is a teasing tone to her voice that you don’t like.

“One outing with him doesn’t mean he’s my friend,” you argue.

Dae giggles. “No, but it’s a start. Do you like him?”

“No!” you answer quickly.

“I was just asking in general. Not ‘like’ as in crushing on him,” she explains nonchalantly, but you can hear her smile.

“He’s,” you pause as you try to think of a word to describe him, “he’s been alright.”

“Well, I better let you get back to him then. I just wanted to check in,” Dae answers.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” you say.

“Remember, you don’t need their approval. You never have, and you never will. People want the confidence you have.”

“I’m not feeling too confident right now,” you mumble.

“That’s because you’re overthinking. Chin up, okay?”

Sighing, you reply. “Okay.”

“Good. Talk to you later!”

“Yeah,” you say before hanging up.

Taking one last look at yourself, you roll your shoulders back and exit the bathroom.

Seungcheol is sitting in the middle of Hajun and someone you don’t know. His eyes lift to meet yours when he hears the sound of your heels.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks.

Nodding, your eyes roam for a spot to sit.

“You knew you were just going to a poetry lounge, right? Not the runway,” Hajun comments with a small scoff.

Your eyes move to look at her, and you quirk an eyebrow. She wears leggings with a graphic tee. Her discarded jacket is slung over the back of her chair. “Are you sure you know that, as well? Or did you think you were just going back to your bed?”

“This is how normal people dress,” she replies.

“Relax, Hajun,” a voice you don’t know sounds. You direct your attention to them.

The guy has black hair that is parted on the side to expose his forehead. His eyes are narrow, and even though he has a soft appearance now, you’re sure his gaze can be fierce when needed.

“People don’t need to dress up for special occasions,” he says.

You’re taken aback by his comment. Seungcheol’s friends have always questioned your wardrobe, so for this new “friend” to not agree with Hajun is surprising.

“No, they don’t, but you gotta’ admit she’s a little overdone huh, Soonyoung?” Hajun replies.

“Hajun,” Seungcheol interjects, giving her a pointed look.

“I understand not everyone knows how to dress. It’s okay, though. I can offer my services if you need some help,” you comment, half tempted to reach in your bag to get a business card. Although you aren’t on campus, you never know when you’ll run into someone who will make a good connection, so you keep them with you wherever you go.

“Services?” Hajun laughs and rests her crossed arms on the table. “And what ‘services’ are you offering? Because from the looks of it, I can tell exactly what you offer. Sorry, I’m not interested.”

Her eyes roam your body once more, indicating that the way you are dressed, means your services consist of paying to be with people in bed.

“I don’t think those services would help you anyway. Your rotting attitude is enough to repel anyone. Though I guess some people are willing to lower their standards when they’re desperate,” you counter.

“You’re such a—” she starts.

“Can we talk?” Seungcheol asks Hajun quickly, but he doesn’t give her the option to answer because he takes her hand and pulls her away from the group.

The table is silent for a few seconds before Soonyoung speaks up again.

“Don’t pay any mind to her. It’s nice to meet you. You must be Yn?” He smiles at you, slightly bowing at you.

“Correct,” you say, trying to not show how irritated you feel.

“Come sit,” he offers, pulling up a chair so you’re sat between him and Vernon. You thank him before sitting in the chair. You sit your purse in your lap as conversations begin to spark again.

Their voices become background noise as your gaze drifts to Seungcheol and Hajun in the corner. They stand close to each other and are in a deep conversation—clearly about you. Seungcheol has his back to you, so you can’t see his expression, but you can see Hajun’s. Her lips are in a frown, her expression not as sassy as before.

Though her pouting seems forced, her bottom lip a little too far stuck out. Soon enough, she rolls her eyes, an expression similar to how it was earlier. Her eyes then move from him to you over his shoulder. When she catches your gaze, she smiles and raises a challenging eyebrow. However, her gaze doesn’t last long because Seungcheol’s hand comes up and guides her eyes back to him. Even though his hand isn’t touching her completely, she leans into his touch. The act has you stilling.

“Yn?” Vernon questions, tearing you from your thoughts. You don’t realize you’re clutching your purse until your focus goes to Vernon. You ease your grip and raise an eyebrow.

“Soonyoung was asking what your major was,” Vernon explains.

“Oh,” you say, glancing around the table. It appears the others are in their own conversation.

You look at the man to your left. He gives you a reassuring smile that tells you he is patient. “I’m studying fashion design. Are you in business, too?”

Soonyoung shakes his head with a laugh. “I could never. I’m a dance major.”

“Wow, that sounds nice,” you say. “Aren’t your career choices limited with that, though?”

“A little,” Soonyoung replies honestly. He doesn’t seem offended by the question. Maybe he gets it a lot. “But it makes me happy. I can always teach or maybe even become a dancer in a well-known group.”

You hum, understanding his words.

“Isn’t fashion design limited, too?” Vernon asks.

“Clothes are everywhere. I can do a lot with it.”

“But not everyone will wear your clothes,” Hana says, having finally heard your discussion.

“There will always be someone,” you argue, confident in your work. It may be a slow start, but you believe in your designs.

She laughs. “Who? Your mother?”

Your eyes narrow at the mention of your mom, and Hana is quick to notice the change in attitude. Instead of letting go of the topic, she continues.

“Ooh, trouble at home? See? I knew the ‘Great Yn’ isn’t as perfect as she seems,” Hana says. What makes her think you are so “great” is unknown to you, but you aren’t surprised to guess people have made up a persona for you.

“Stop, Hana,” Vernon says, but it has no effect.

“Oh, so we were right?” Hajun’s voice comes from above. You glance up to see she and Seungcheol have returned. It appears their little chat did nothing to keep Hajun from being a bitch.

“Seems so,” Hana says with a smile. “Care to share with the class what kind of mommy issues you have?”

“No wonder she dresses like that,” Doyun, another one of Seungcheol’s alleged friends, adds. “She’s not getting attention at home. I guess Daddy isn’t there either?”

“That’s enough,” Seungcheol scolds them all.

Your eyes are darting from everyone at the table. Their stares are akin to shrink rays, making you feel tiny and minuscule. You know when you aren’t welcomed, and there’s no reason to stay listening to this. You want to snap back, end the conversation with your own last words, but nothing comes to mind.

In lieu, you push your chair back and stand up. Your hands twitch with the temptation to dump their food all over them, but you just want to get out as soon as possible.

You waste no time careening for the exit.

Seungcheol calls your name; you ignore it. The worker from before sees you, telling you goodbye, but you couldn't care less and push past the door before he can finish his sentence.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the sudden breeze that slams into you. Instantly, your arms wrap around you once more. You glance around and see a bus stop down the street. You don’t care that it’s the other way from Seungcheol’s car. You hurry to the station, not sure when the next bus will come.

The bus stop isn’t deserted despite the cold weather. The area must be busy all the time since the sidewalks are littered with more people than you expect. All the seats at the stop are taken, yet you still shuffle under the shelter in hopes to get away from some of the breeze.

You are shaking, and your teeth are chattering. It’s impossible to force your body to stop since you need to generate heat somehow. You probably look like a pathetic naked chihuahua in winter.

You take out your phone, open up a browser, and search for bus times. Thankfully, there’s one coming in three minutes in the direction you need. The thought of taking the bus is not pleasurable. You hate the idea of your skin touching something so many others have touched. It feels unsanitary.

Accidentally leaning back against the wall while you silently groan has you jumping at the cold material touching your bare skin. Your jolt catches the attention of an older woman who is sitting near you.

“Aren’t you freezing, child?” she asks as she stares at your attire—or lack of.

“I’ll be fine soon,” you say, not really in the mood for talking.

“Where is your coat? Did you not know the weather was going to be cold?” she continues.

Utterly done with all the people-talk tonight, you hiss, “Focus on yourself. I’ll focus on me.”

She seems startled at your outburst. Her already crossed arms tighten as she turns away from you. Her muttered “bitch” doesn’t go unnoticed, but you don’t say anything about it. There’s no point in arguing with a stranger.

The sound of the bus calls your attention, and you mentally thank the universe for the great timing. After people leave and all the new patrons enter, you finally take a step up the bus’ steps. Before you can climb all the way, you hear your name being called. You look past the bus doors to see Seungcheol running toward you.

Just what you need.

You disregard him and step farther up the steps of the bus.

The bus driver looks expectantly at you, and it dawns on you that you need to provide payment before you can board fully.

“Card?” you wonder. The bus driver nods and gestures to a device to the right.

As you unzip your purse, you feel a hand grip your arm.

“Where are you going?” Seungcheol asks, slightly breathless. His hair is disheveled from running, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Home, idiot,” you huff and pull your arm out of his grasp so you can retrieve your card.

“Just come with me. We can talk somewhere else,” he pleads, a hand stopping your movements again.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Seungcheol,” you hiss. “Now, let go of me.”

He hesitates but slowly releases your arm. He doesn’t leave, though. “I’ll take you home. You don’t need to take the bus. Come on.”

“Go with him or get on! We have places to be,” a passenger exclaims, clearly annoyed with your drama.

You raise your head to the person, narrowing your eyes in a glare that tells them to pipe down. It has no effect on them. They shoot a fierce look back.

“I know you don’t want to take the bus,” Seungcheol comments quietly.

He’s right. Not only do you not want to sit next to a lady whose arms are filled with shopping bags—the only available seat—you really don’t want to add time to your trip home.

Seungcheol reaches out again and carefully takes your hand in his. This time, you don’t fight him as he guides you off the bus. Once you’re both off, the bus doors shut and begin its trip down the road.

You watch it silently, not knowing Seungcheol is discarding his jacket until you feel the warm material cover your shoulders. Your eyes snap back to him as if remembering who you’re with.

“I’m sorry they said all that stuff. I told them not to do that tonight,” he says remorsefully.

“Oh, so you’ll let them talk shit about me another day?” you chide and start walking away from him. Thankfully for Seungcheol, it’s in the direction of his car.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he replies as he hurries to catch up, which doesn’t take much effort as you aren’t walking too fast due to your cold, stiff legs.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll do that whenever they want to. They wouldn’t be the first,” you scoff.

“It doesn’t make it right regardless,” he says. You halt in your steps, causing Seungcheol to stop and turn to look at you.

“I talk shit about people behind their backs, too. Does that make me a bad person?” you question. Perhaps if he sees you as one he’ll leave you alone.

He exhales a deep breath. “Let’s just get in the car, okay?”

“You can admit it,” you challenge and walk closer to him. “Does talking shit about someone make me a bad person, Seungcheol?”

He stares down at you, soft gaze turning dark with annoyance.

“To the car, Yn,” he demands slowly just in case you won’t understand; his tone is sharp in a way you haven’t heard before. You don’t let that scare you away. Maybe if you weren’t so fired up, you would have been a little intimidated.

You laugh darkly and roll your eyes at his command. “You want me to sit next? Bark, too?”

“Now, you’re just being dramatic.”

Dramatic, he says.

“Woof?” you reply, dramatically giving him the best puppy-dog eyes you can muster.

Seungcheol’s jaw clenches at your response—not pleased with your sarcasm. However, instead of replying in an annoyed tone, he takes a step forward. His head draws closer to your face to ensure your eyes are glued to his.

“Wanna be a good girl and go to the car, Cherry?” he murmurs lowly, an eyebrow quirking up for a second.

His sudden change in tone has you stiffening. You want to bite back—figuratively or literately… you aren’t sure yet—but you can’t even remember what you are mad about in the first place.

“Hm?” he croons when you don't reply quickly.

Rather than a sarcastic reply, you simply grumble, “whatever,” before pushing past him to get to his car.

You stand next to the passenger side like before, waiting for him to unlock it. Seungcheol comes beside you and swiftly unlocks the vehicle. Although you aren’t arguing at the moment, you can sense some irritation lingering from him.

You get the feeling he'll always hold the door open no matter how annoyed he is with you.

You feel suffocated.

The air in the car is too hot. The weight of his jacket has you overheating. The tension is unbearable.

Seungcheol keeps his eyes on the road, not throwing you a single glance as he drives. Every once in a while he will tighten his hold on the steering wheel. One time you even catch the way his muscles flex at the motion—now exposed from not wearing his jacket. You never realized how fit he is. This isn’t the first time you have seen him sleeveless, but you just never stared long enough to notice. Or if you did, you simply didn’t care. Regardless, you notice now, and you have to force your eyes away before he catches you staring.

You want to ask for music so you don’t have to sit in this insufferable silence, but your mouth feels dry. You decide to just deal with the quietness, shifting in the seat so you’re facing the window more. Your eyes drift close as you let the hum of the car distract you.

Seungcheol’s jacket is snuggled around you, and his woodsy cologne fills your senses. It’s pleasant, and you don’t mind if you smell more of it in the future.

By the time you arrive home, you are on the verge of sleep. You stumble out of the car and shut the door without saying a word to Seungcheol. You expect him to drive off, but the sound of his tires moving never comes. Instead, you hear his car door opening and closing.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” you say while you glance behind you. Seungcheol is following you languidly.

“No, I don’t,” he says and pauses at the bottom of your porch steps. He places a foot on the first step while a hand holds onto the rail. You have your keys out, ready to slide them into the keyhole when you speak.

“Then don’t,” you reply sternly.

He chuckles lowly but doesn’t say anything about it.

“You can go now,” you say when he doesn't move.

“You have something of mine.”

Puzzled, you stare at him for a second. Seungcheol gestures to your body, and you quickly remember you’re wearing his jacket. You tug it off and toss it to him. He grabs it from the air with ease. The loss of heat makes you wish he didn’t say anything.

“Goodnight, Cherry,” he murmurs as soon as you click open your door. You step inside before turning to face him.

The nickname you used earlier forms on your tongue, yet you can’t find the courage to say it consciously.

“Night,” you answer, then shut the door before either of you can say anything else.

With your head bowed, you turn the lock slowly while you exhale deeply. His nickname falls from your lips under your breath—unable to keep the desire at bay.

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

A/N: Can't believe the first chapter is actually published 😭 I sat and stared at this for a few before hitting "post" because I'm so anxious! dfl;kbjdvs. Please feel free to share your thoughts on it so far!

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

taglist: @iammisstora, @christinewithluv, @lithelust, @musingsofananxiouspotato, @yoozuku, @lockburn-castle, @mystikhal-blog, @oncloudvii23 (couldn't tag :c), @cheolcherries (tysm!!!)

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

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romana-after-dark · 11 months

Text

The Wrong Way: Chapter 8

Dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Tommy Miller x reader (secondary)

Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, and both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!

I wanna add we're really heavy on the birth/pregnancy, forced birth, choking, domestic violence, threats of hanging and murder. Can't say I didn't warning yuh (unless i missed a warning of course. then please let me know so i cant edit ASAP) Like this is a rough chapter, a lot of violence to a pregnant woman. but I wanna say right now...

The baby will not be harmed in anyway. Baby will be born healthy, and live and have a good life in both the main ending and alt ending.

5k words (sorry not sorry lol)

Also to clarify a few things I guess i didn't make clear enough in previous chapters!

Joel only 'guessed' that Tommy and LO slept together. He had suspicions but thought he could trust Tommy and his 'girlfriend'. When LO rushed to stop Joel from hurting Tommy, that was his 'evidence'. Joel was beating Tommy because he found out about Maria.

Joel only heard part of the conversation between Zach and Little One. Nick said way back in chapter 3 the wall are thinner than she thinks. He didn't know Lorenzo had any part of it, and because LO didn't rat him out, he never will.

Thats my bad for not being clear!

Can you catch the Superstore homage? (aka i rewatched two episodes just to take it line for line lol)

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

Month 3

No one warned you about morning sickness.

You knew fuck all about sex before you came to Joel’s, just a thing or two from your friend back at the ranch and how to get a man off with your mouth or hands, but pregnancy and birth was next to nothing. You didn’t even know how pregnancy happened really, other than a penis in a vagina until you asked Tommy early on if you were going to get pregnant. After a very uncomfortable talk for both of you, Tommy explained that Joel told him he pulls out, so you should be good… Lorenzo said you can still get pregnant that way, but thinking back to the night Joel almost killed Tommy and you… Joel finished inside… the timing added up.

Pregnancy and birth were entirely unknown to you, and you wished someone would just give you a heads up. Joel had a daughter and no doubt had been through at least once pregnancy, and Lorenzo had mentioned 4 of his 6 older sisters got pregnant before leaving the house… something about no sex education, men too old for them, and their religion not believing in birth control or abortion… but you didn’t know what half those words meant, and after Lorenzo mercilessly made fun of you for days about not knowing Joel’s song for you was actually a very famous song, you didn’t dare ask him about the words, or anything with pregnancy. You didn’t want to ask Joel either, not wanting to give away how terrified you were, not wanting him to think you didn’t want to… But you did! You did want this baby, you reminded yourself again and again and again, because Joel was good to you, Joel took care of you, Joel would care for this baby too. You’d be bound to him, and he’d never get tired of you this way, and he wouldn’t hurt the mother of his child, right?

The birth was something you tried not to think about.

So here you were, puking your gut out before you even had breakfast and Joel held your hair back.

“Shhh, shhhhhhh” he coo’d and you heaved, yellow bile and acid coming up from inside you since the little food in your stomach from dinner had been thrown up 5 minuets ago.

With a final spit into the toilet, you sink back and Joel wipes your mouth for you. “I think that’s it.” You mutter, and Joel carries you into your shared bedroom, laying you down with the care of an infant before kissing your forehead.

“Don’t worry about breakfast, little one. I don’t need anything this morning.” He says before kissing your cheek. But you were worrying about breakfast, because you wanted it… but the only way you’d be getting food is if you made it. Tommy wasn’t here to care for you anymore. “I’ll be gone until the evening, what's for dinner?”

The thought of cooking, the thought of raw meats and the strong smells of spices made you want to vomit again. “I dunno…”

“I think a few of them chickens is ready to be butchered, you ever made chicken parmesan? We got that cheese I brought back yesterday, you could make something like that.”

You groan a bit, exhausted and tired despite being only 3 months in. You didn’t sleep at all last night, nightmares of the past and the future plaguing you. He knew that you didn’t sleep, you had told him… “Joel I can’t, the butchering, I feel so-”

“I’ll make Lorenzo do it.” He promises. “Chicken parmesan it is then?” He decided for you. What he didn’t understand is it wasn’t just butchering a few chickens. To make chicken parm you need chicken breasts, not the rest of it. You didn’t waste meat, so Lorenzo kills (you could do it on a normal day, but not with your heightened smell) then you pluck, clean, Lorenzo butchers, then you have to separate the different parts and put them into hygienic storage and take them to the freezer locker, then thoroughly clean yourself, all the tools and surfaces (and Lorenzo) to prevent illness. It would take hours. But Joel didn’t see that, he only ever saw the food at the end of his day.

“Okay” You agree reluctantly, and he begins kissing your neck and groping you, no doubt wanting a quicky before a long day of unspeakable violence. “Joel, please, I don’t feel good.” You beg him not to, but you learned in the past that this never got far.

His morning breath wasn’t helping anything as he tugged down your shorts. “I’ll be quick.”

You knew what that meant. Joel slid into you with no prep, no lubrication, and it burned. The steady rocking was the last thing you needed right now, and with his head buried in your neck, you covered your mouth as the nausea took over. You threw up, but like everything the last several months, you just swallowed it down again to deal with when Joel was gone. When he came inside (wasn’t he worried about you getting pregnant again?) you quickly pull up your pants and run to the bathroom, pushing past Lorenzo no doubt on his way to babysitting duties with you.

As he watched you run past and heard the sounds of throwing up, Lorenzo caught Joel’s arm as he brushed past. “Peppermint or ginger. Find it, whatever form it's in. Oils, drops, whatever. If you can find the leaves or the root we can make it into a tea. Just find it, it’ll help her nausea.”

Month 4

“Okay Lorenzo, I got a question for you, and you can’t make fun of me.” You say as you cook, the swell of your belly beginning to show now.

“No guarantees.” He says, sitting his drink. How did he find so much alcohol?

“Fine. Okay… when Joel and I have sex-”

He visibly cringed. “Since when do we talk about our sex lives?”

“Renzo.”

“Fine, go on. But remember I’m not exactly an expert on female anatomy.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay. Well I told you he always pulls out right? Um… ever since I told him im pregnant… he doesn’t.”

Lorenzo waits for you to continue, but you don’t. You think that’s it. “What the problem?”

You continue to avoid looking at him, stirring the soup. “Well.. what if I get pregnant again?”

He stares at you like he’s trying to make sense of your question before the recognition sets in. “OH!” But before he explains what he means… his face shifts… theres something sad in there, a hint of pain in his eyes you only saw once, the face he had as he looked at you in disgust while Joel carried you from the bedroom to the bath while you were covered head to toe in spit and cum and period blood… was it pity? “Jesus kid… No one really taught you anything, did they?”

“C’mon, just tell me.”

Scrubbing his face, he sighed. “No, you can’t get pregnant while your already pregnant.”

Oh. “Wait… really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Ah. Okay then.”

There was a long, long silence before he spoke again. “If you got any other question about, like… pregnancy and birth… I can try and answer.”

Joel had been trying to find a doctor, a midwife, something for you… but it was slim pickings in Wyoming.

Five minuets later, you were squealing, covering your ears, but laughing. “Ew! What the hell is a mucus plug! You know what, I don’t wanna-”

“IT’S A PLUG FULL OF MUCUS IN YOUR VAGINA WHAT DO YOU THINK IT IS?!?!” He yells loud enough to get past your attempt at blocking your ears.

“NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH!!! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” But you still could.

“Honestly in the last month or two all kinds of weird things are gonna come out of you including but not limited to a very slimey and weird looking baby.”

You gasp, feigning indignance. “How dare you insult my unborn child!”

“It ain’t personal, sweetheart. All babies look ugly as fuck as newborns. Now, let’s get back to the gritty details.”

With a squeal, you try to run away. “No! I know enough!” But you’re laughing. It felt like you were messing around with Zach back in your childhood home.

“My sister Elaina lost like 4 teeth.”

“AAAHHHHH!”

Month 5

Joel had finally found a midwife of sorts. Well, technically, Jack did, as it was his cousin. Maura had been a nurse in the birthing wing a short time before everything went to shit and had been helping women deliver babies ever since. Initially, she told Jack to keep his mouth shut. She hated Joel and didn’t want a thing to do with him, but when no one else showed up and you were in your 5th month, she relented, purely for the sake of the innocent kidnapped girl.

“Put the fucking gun away, Joel.” She said as she entered your room, grabbing the barrel in Joel’s hands and pointing it to the floor. “Point that shit at me again and I’m not helping your child bride.” She stared him down, head tilted up only slightly to reach his eyes. If she was intimidated by Joel, she wouldn’t

Joel glared at her, but he didn’t have many options. “If you hurt her-”

“From what I hear, you’re doing enough of that yourself. Now, you stand up against the wall and watch if you want to, but don’t interfere, and do not try to intimidate me, understood?”

You watched in awe as she stood her ground… It had been months before you had done anything of the sort against Joel, only standing up to him when Tommy’s life was in danger. Joel gave a curt nod and she turn to approach where you lay, sat up against some pillows.

A gentle smile was on her face, but it was clear she was here for business. Still, her confidence and certainty put you at ease.

“My name’s Maura, I’ll be helping deliver this baby.” She was beautiful, with long black hair and a light smattering of freckles on her face, but got straight to the point. It was clear she knew what she was doing, asking you questions you hadn’t even thought of yet and examining you. When she was done, she stood up, looking at you, not Joel. “It seems despite the circumstances-”

Joel tried to interrupt. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean”

But Maura ignored him, keeping your attention with her bright brown eyes. “Despite the circumstances, everything appears to be progressing naturally, theres no cause for concern as of right now. But you need to keep things low stress.” It was then she turned to glare at Joel, to emphasize her point.

Maura said she’d be staying near-by and Joel was paying her a hefty price for her services. When you’d go into labor, Joel was to send a man on horse to fetch her, preferably Jack, but she warned she would armed, and she’d be there shortly.

That night, Joel held you close as you discussed baby names.

“How about Loretta? Like that singer you liked?”

Joel hums, none commital. “I always liked Dorothy, we could call her Dolly as a nickname. I know you like Dolly Parton” Joel had been teaching you about old country music, and you certainly had a few favorites. Not knowing many women in general, your pool of girl names was not strong so you drew from singers he’d mentioned.

You scrunch up your nose a bit at that. “I like Dolly, I don’t like Dorothy.”

“It was my grandmas name, I’d really like to name our daughter after her.” His voice had that tone to it, the one that left little room to argue, but you tried to push past Dorothy.

“Maybe June? Like June Carter?” You knew how particle he was to Johnny Cash, but also... that was the name of the only friend you had before Tommy.

“That’s beautiful, little one, June it is.” He smiles into your skin, and you think you’ve won, when he says. “Dorothy June.”

He had already decided, and there was no real option to argue or change his mind. You’d just call her Dolly, then.

You had one thing you really, really wanted for boy name, and you desperately hoped you could get it, but you couldn’t tell him why. You didn’t want any more kids so this was your only shot. You hadn’t even wanted this one, but as your stomach swelled with life, motherly love came with it and you decided you’d make the best of the situation. The child inside you was your number one priority. “Okay, boys? I really like Caleab… It’s my favorite boy name…” You didn’t have to tell him that was Zach’s middle name.

“I like it, bebita.”

You got what you wanted. You knew Joel was hoping for a girl, so you figured he was less particular on the boy name.

“Got any ideas for the middle name?” You ask him.

“Nothing in mind, really. I’m open…” He kisses your neck. “Anything you want?”

You keep quiet. The name you wanted… he’d never go for.

Joel pulled you closer, nuzzling his face against you as he whispered. “Ah. I see.” You freeze. Tommy hadn’t been so much as alluded to since he barely made it out alive and you thought for sure Joel would have a fit, and you began to prepare yourself to feel a hand wrapped around your throat… But he tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed into your locks as he settled down for bed. “Caleb Thomas”

Month 6

Lorenzo was getting on your fucking nerves today, and you were about to fling the frying pan, bubbling grease and all, at his face.

“Will you shut up?”

“No, I’m not going to shut up because you are being fucking stupid!” Instead of his usual spot sitting at the kitchen table, he’s standing, arms crossed, in the doorway as you tried to get diner done. “I told you the first day, you are a dumb. Bitch.” he was drunk, three sheets to the wind and absolutely no filter.

“You have no fucking idea what I am! I am trying to fucking survive, Lorenzo, I am trying to keep myself and this baby-”

“You are playing housewife to a serial murder and a rapist!” He yells at you, clearly frustrated. “You are rewarding all the bad things he’s ever done you just give positive reinforcement-”

“Don’t fucking blame me! I’m not reinforcing the bad, I’m reinforcing the good!” You storm over to him, glaring Lorenzo down. “You have no fucking idea how bad things were! I used to dream about killing myself, about dying, about Joel finally snapping and doing it! I am doing the best in the conditions I have!”

“You could have left! You could have left with Zach and gone off with him for fucks sake!”

With a burst of anger you didn’t know was even in you anymore, you shove him, hard, causing the drunk to fall over. “You wanna know what he did last time I tried to run? He caught me within 10 minuets, dragged me back and chained me to this table-” You point at the table that you and Joel sit at most evenings now for diner. “And raped me in front of everyone, Lorenzo! Then he branded me and left me to be gang raped by all your little buddies here! And no one could stop him, not even Tommy! All Tommy could do is stand by and watch, and unchain me after Joel left before anyone could do anything more!”

Lorenzo was not deterred. “That’s my fucking point!”

“If I leave and he catches me, I am dead!”

Scoffing, Lorenzo rolls his eyes from where he’s slumped against the floor. “Yeah, that’s why”

Unsure how much more you can take from him, you motion him to continue.

“You just don’t wanna admit you fell in love with your rapist.”

That was enough. You begin to walk away from him, but he follows after you.

“What about when you give birth, huh? What kind of father is he going to be? Are you going to stand by while he beats your kids?”

“SHUT UP!” You scream, still walking away.

“And what if you have a daughter? You just gonna let him molest her like your dad-”

You wipe around so fast you don’t even have time to blink. “No, Joel isn’t like that.”

Lorenzo laughs at you, cruel and loud. “You are 20 years younger than him, he raped you! You really think he’s above-”

“YES! He will not hurt her like that!”

“And if you have a son? Do you really wanna raise a man like Joel? The kind of man who beats and rapes innocent girls?”

Tears prickle at your eyes now, a terrible tightness in your chest bubbling with stomach bile. “N-no, that’s not gonna happen, I won’t let-”

“Oh, because you’ve had so much choice the last year, havn’t you. Sooooo much control.”

“I won’t.” You shake your head vigorously. “I won’t let anything happen to my baby, Joel won’t hurt them.”

“So, say he doesn't. You really gonna raise a kid here? Half the men here would’ve raped you, given the chance! You really think your child is safe here?”

You can’t argue with him when he’s right. But he doesn’t get it. Joel is good now, Joel protects you, Joel will protect the baby… Joel is gentle now… soft, kind… he thinks of you, he sings you songs… he plays music for you, he’ll be a good dad… You’ll be okay…

You shut down, going into autopilot. You don’t look at Lorenzo as you walk back to the kitchen to finish frying the chicken. Joel would be home soon.

Month 7

“JACK! GET MAURA!” Joel shouts as you groan on the bed, the tight contractions hurting.

“Joel, it hurts!” You call for him, and in a flash Joel is at your bedside, letting you squeeze his hand.

“I know, little one, I know…” He pets your hair, having flashbacks to Sarah’s birth…. He wanted another girl so bad, but god, he just wanted a healthy baby and for his girl to make it out alive. Birth was dangerous in modern medicine, nonetheless a post-apocalyptic shitstorm.

Lorenzo stood in the doorway, biting his nails. “You’re not due for another 8 weeks!”

Grunting through the pain, you let a rare bout of sarcasm slip. “Oh yeah, that’s right, never mind.”

“Could be false labor, you know? That’s called Braxton-Hicks contractions?” Lorenzo looked more nervous than you.

Joel ignored him. “It’s gonna be okay, Maura’s on her way and I think even out here 32 weeks is gonna be okay.” Joel wasn’t entirely sure about his own words. 32 weeks meant a premature baby, and pre-mature usually meant NICU… but there was no NICU to go to… if the babies lungs were under developed or anything like that, there were no options.

Lorenzo was chewing through his nails enough to draw blood. “Or maybe it’s Braxton-Hicks”

At that, Joel finally acknowledges Lorenzo. “Okay, we get it, you know the term Braxton-Hicks, we’re all very impressed.”

“AHHHHHHH” You yell, wishing to get there was something for the pain.

Lorenzo wouldn’t shut up. “Okay, contractions are getting longer, that means your in active labor?”

“Her water hasn’t broke yet!”

“Is she dilated?”

“Does it look like her pants are off to you?”

“Well check!”

“I don’t know how to tell! Weren’t you bragging last month you helped your sister give birth in a Walmart?”

“That doesn’t mean I know how to check if she’s dilated!”

“You know more than me!”

“I’m not sticking my fucking face between legs!”

“Oh, because you’re gay you’re suddenly scared of vagina’s?”

“What are you talking about?”

“So you’d rather let her just die?”

“DIE? Joel she’s not gonna die because I’m not looking at her fucking cu-”

“GUYS” you shout, causing both to turn and look at you. “The contractions stopped.”

There’s a moment of silence before Lorenzo speaks. “Oh. Huh. That’s uhhh… Braxton-Hicks I guess. False labor.”

As Joel kissed you that night, sex was the last thing you wanted, but you knew there was no point in fighting it.

Joel sucked on your throat, already bruised with dark marks from the night before, now sore and aching with new licks and bites, his hands roaming to expanse of skin presented before him. Gripping, feeling, pinching, tugging, some things felt good, some hurt, but that didn’t matter. He’d get you off, he always did, at night anyway, but you knew sometimes he just liked to feel you, feel what he owned. The pain is mine. Your cries are mine, your cunt is mine. And if you bleed? Your blood is mine.

Your belly round and swollen with child, he could not hardly keep his hand off it, every time his hand traveled to explore, it quickly found itself returning to its home, never wanting to miss a kick. He slithered down, nestling his face between your legs and devouring your pussy the way he did your neck, the way he did every piece of you, body and soul and until there was nothing left but this subservient version of you, weak and obedient to his hands. He lapped you up, skilled tongue exploring through your folds only pausing to nibble at the soft skin of your thighs or kiss the round stomach above him. He felt extra possessive today, a desperate, anxious way about him as he devoured you so hungrily you wondered if he intended to eat you, swallow you whole to keep you with him forever; a communion, and you were the eucharist, a matrimony of cannibalism.

You wanted to tug at his hair, you wanted to entangle yourself in him but your belly was in the way, so you simply laid back and enjoyed as he tongue fucked you, prodding at your entrance, his hands on the globe where your child waits to be born.

“Fuck, Joel, need you, need to cum, please.”

You beg for him, plead, and he devours. Joel knows you love when his perfect, plus lips such at your mound and your clit with long fingers fingering into you, and you yelp when they curl up and hit that spot inside you. “Keep moaning, little one, let me hear you.”

You obliged. Sometimes you wondered how sick everyone in the house was of hearing you, but they weren’t the ones you needed to please; pleasing Joel kept you alive.

“I need you inside me, please” Nudging him with your leg as you cry for his cock. “Joel, I gotta have you inside me, I need to cum on your cock, please? Please, Joel-”

A wet, sloppy sound as he detached from you, and his eyes looked just as hungry as he acted while he crawled up. “You beg so pretty, little one, such a pretty little cock whore.”

But you didn’t have time for his talking, you needed him inside you, now; the hormones of the pregnancy had a mind of their own. You take a chance and push him down, watching Joel smile as you straddle his waist. “God, I just- just need you.”

“The take me, little one, take me”

You cry out as you sink down onto him, feeling your cunt split on him. “Fuuuck!” Sobbing, you take him fully and begin to fuck yourself on him.

“Just like that, pretty girl, fuck, taking me so well, gonna have you all stretched out to have this baby, huh? Gonna give me a child, little girl? A baby of our own? Fuck, fuck you look so pretty like this, swollen with my child, stretching your stomach as I stretch your cunt, fucking perfect, my perfect wife.”

Wife.

Wife?!

You knew Joel was delusional… but fuck, Lorenzo was right… you were playing house wife. Joel thought of you as his wife…

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, again, and again, keep you constantly knocked up, make our happy little family, you and me and a dozen little kids running around, FUCK, our family, our family.”

You continued the pace, you couldn’t falter, you couldn’t slow down, you couldn’t hesitate; you couldn’t give any sort of reason for him to think you didn’t want this…

But it suddenly struck you

You were trapped. Joel trapped you with a baby, knowing you’d need him to protect it, knowing you’d never leave your child… and now he was going to keep you pregnant. You could never leave with 5,6,7 kids, it would be impossible.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my cock little one, just little that…” Joel reached out to touch you, roughly manhandling your tits that were swollen and engorged.

You begin to cry, but that wouldn’t give away anything for Joel; he fucking loved that shit.

One hand on your breast, one on your clit. “Cry on my cock, baby girl, cry when you cum.”

You did, you sobbed as you came, your body betraying the horrors you felt at his hands.

Month 8

“Hey Joel? Can I talk to you about something?”

You had to do it. You had to. And it had to be now. You two had fucked less than half an hour ago and he was currently eating your food, humming contently. He was always lovey-dovey after sex, and was always much happier after food… The pair didn’t line up often, so now was your chance.

“What’s on your mind, little one? Nervous about being a mother? You’ll be a great mom; I just know it.” He smiled at you with puppy dog eyes, looking up from his plate, and you couldn’t help smiling back, not when he showered you with compliments.

“Well… you’ve said before you wanted lots of kids… but we… well this little baby was an accident.”

“A miracle, not an accident.” Joel corrected you. You didn’t see how conceiving a child the night he was threatening to blow your brains onto a wall for sleeping with his brother if you didn’t shoot said-baby’s uncle was a miracle… but you digress

“Right. Well… we never really talked about more kids… and although I’m over the moon about this baby, I did initially not want to have it.” Joel’s face began to darken, but you powered through. “Maybe we could see how we feel about one kid after a few years before thinking about-”

Joel slammed down his silverware. “What are you trying to say.”

But you freeze. This was a bad idea, you needed to placate immediately, you needed to calm him down. “N-nothing, Joel, just thinking out loud.”

He stood up, a deadly, blank stare on his face, so far removed from the adoration as he bestowed kisses on your ever-growing belly. Joel walked around the table, standing behind you and placing firm hands on your shaking shoulders, leaning into your ear.

“You say’n you don’t want my kids? Don’t wanna be their mama? You don’t wanna be my wife?”

“No, no that’s not-” But you don’t get a chance to finish, his hand is wrapped around your throat and insane strength pulling you up and out of the chair, the wooden furniture toppled to the side in a loud clatter. He slams the back of your head against the drywall, you’re toes barely touch the ground; struggling to breath, you claw at his hand, but he doesn’t even blink.

The panic begins to set it.

“YOU ARE NOT IN CHARGE! YOU DO NOT GET TO MAKE CHOICES!” He screams, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as a few men hesitantly gather, like vultures waiting on the next piece of deadmeat. You couldn’t see who, but it didn’t matter. Even the good ones couldn’t intervene.

Joel’s face was suddenly right in front of yours. “Everything you have, any freedom, any luxuries, any power you think you have is because I have given it to you.” Black spots appeared, your vision blurring, sinking into the unknown and god, did it feel sweet. Was it finally over? “I bought you, I own you, you have no rights! You are nothing! You are nothing but a toy for me to play with, a breeding bitch and you should be so lucky to sit at my table!”

He let go, but as you gasped for breath, Joel yanked at your hair and patched you across the room, not letting go of his grasp on you as you flung into the counter. What he didn’t know, what he could never understand was how the handle of the draw rammed into the brand on your side. Suddenly, all sense, all rational went out the window, and you were violently thrust back to last year as he burned his initials into your skin. The flashbacks were triggered, and the result was nothing short of hysteria. You cry out for the only person who would step in.

“TOMMY!TOMMY!TOMMY!TOMMY!TOMMYYYY” You scream, the fact Tommy was miles away didn’t matter, nor did the fact this would only anger Joel more. This didn’t matter; you wanted him, no one but him, and all sense was knocked out of you.

Joel pulls you up by your hair and slaps you hard enough that you taste blood and screams at you to not say Tommy’s name, but you can’t stop, you scream and scream and scream for him to come save you and your baby, the precious little life inside you that has never done anything wrong.

You fight and claw and panic, hysterics drowning out the one or two voices telling Joel to stop; who they belonged to, you couldn’t say.

Joel stopped listening, and the voices grow louder as Joel drags you, kicking and screaming, outside; rope and a chair in his hand, your hair in the other, and Joel walked with long strides to a tree outside.

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

YEEEEEEESSSSHHHHHHHHHHH Cliiiiiff hanger, hanging from a cliiiiiiffff thats why he's caaaaallled, Cliff Hangers!

Who else used to watch Inbetween The Lions? Anyway.

Who wanna guess what happens!

Only two chapters left!

For the sake of credit, if you didn't find the superstore reference or dont watch the show, most of the dialogue between Joel and Lorenzo and LO was between Amy and Jonah from two birth related episodes of superstore

Also, Maura is named after my dear dear friend @maura-honey who although is not generally a fanfiction girlie, made a tumblr so she could read, like and reblog this series and always sends me such lovely messages <3

Reblogs are the best way to spread and support, but comments mean the world. I know not everyone likes to share dark content on their blog, but even a kind anon is such support!

for those who voted you dont like or hate or Lorenzo, I hope that doesn't mean you hate him as n he's a bad character. I got a comment on AO3 that said "i cant tell if i like lorenzo or not, but i like him in the story" which makes sense! His victim blaming is really fucking shitty.

no poll today, sorry!

MoonBanana said they think LO copes by lying to herself until she beleives it, what do y'all think? is she as delusional as joel?

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lunar-ghoulie @pedritosdarling @dreamonseems @alwaysdjarin @amoramorquetepintas @milla-frenchy

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critter-genfic-events · 2 months

Text

This week, we have eight amazing timeskip/future fics recced! Some skip ahead a handful of decades, while some skip ahead centuries, but all of them are wonderfully heart wrenching and hit just the right spot. Check them out under the cut, and as ever, comment or kudos if you like them!

The Matter of Lot 19 by pagerunner (10102,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

Keyleth returns to Whitestone after many, many years to see about a unique and precious clock that's up for auction. But she's not the only one intending to bid...and her competitors might not only be interested because of the clock's connection to a certain legendary de Rolo.

Reccer says: Beautiful and Bittersweet and has a lot of great older Kiki and Sun Tree moments.

Library Magic by westwind (2739,General) Warnings: None Pairings:

After the Mighty Nein's adventuring days are over, Caleb travels with a library in an enchanted wagon. He comes across a stranger who's nevertheless familiar.

Reccer says: I liked it

The More Things Change by FinnsKeeper (4922,Teen) Warnings: Major Character Death Pairings:

Beau is hurt. The best chance they have of saving her is asking for her to be consecuted

Reccer says: A heartbreatking but fascinating take on the nein being consecuted

Unexpected and Predictable by alullabytoleaveby (2131,General) Warnings: Pairings: Verin Thelyss & Caleb Widogast

The last thing Caleb expects to hear on a rainy Tuesday evening is the sound of a knock at his door and Verin Thelyss, Ambassador of the Bright Queen to the Dwendalian Empire, on his doorstep. But he should have expected it. After all, Essek had already prepared for this eventuality.

Reccer says: I love this glimpse of Verin, and Caleb being able to explain his relationship to Essek's brother.

What Makes a Home? by literalfuckinggarbage (3188,General) Warnings: Child abuse, abusive parenting Pairings: Beau & TJ

TJ turns up on Beau's doorstep after running away from Kamordah. Beau takes care of her little brother.

Reccer says: It's really lovely seeing an older Beau step up to being an older sister and the relationship between her and TJ is incredibly sweet. They have a rapport, they banter, and the love that's grown between them over the years is plain in each word between them. The ending is so wonderful too and it's a concept I really should rotate more.

cycles by justsleepwalkin (500,General) Warnings: Major Character Death Pairings: Caduceus Clay & Essek Thelyss

Caduceus and Essek take a walk among the falling leaves and have a talk about endings and beginnings.

Reccer says: Beautiful and atmospheric - a perfect moment between the two of them.

From the Mixed-Up Files of The J. Lavorre Catalogue Raisonné by renquise (2328,General) Warnings: None Pairings:

An art history report on the famous artist Jester Lavorre

Reccer says: I adore epistolary fics and this perfectly scratches that itch. Seeing what people might say about Jester and her friends centuries after they are gone is a treat!

a little birdie told me by Ink_Beneath_Her_Fingernails (1647,Not Rated) Warnings: None Pairings:

Kiri absently wonders if the Gentleman somehow had the foresight to keep her name out of their ears, and how he'd managed it for all these years. (Or: The mob boss Kiri we all deserve.)

Reccer says: Mob Boss Kiri - what's not to love?

This is one of our weekly communally-generated gen rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. Please note that the summary and content notes are provided by the reccer, and may be different than what the author has provided. Please assume good intentions all around. <3

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring prank fics!

Then, it'll be Ashton focused, Hair Care, and Pre-Campaign!

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

If you're looking for some more, check out some fics written in the critter genfic bingo tag, or the older rec lists! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

#critical role #critter genfic rec lists #timeskip au #future fic #keyleth of the air ashari #vox machina #caleb widogast #beauregard lionett #verin thelyss #tj lionett #caduceus clay #essek thelyss #jester lavorre #kiri critical role #the mighty nein

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randomficrecss · 1 year

Text

Klance Fic Rec

been so busy guys but trying to catch up i promise!!

I dreamed you were a cosmonaut (of the space between our chairs) by iybms

T | 11K | 1/1 | getting together, flirting, kissing, near death experiences, mutual pining, canon compliant

"You know, you can be a pretty hard guy to find," Lance says, and his steps end at Keith's side, overlooking Orla'an canyon.

"Funny you always say that," Keith remarks, "since you find me, regardless. And," he finally glances at Lance, "…always wearing something weird."

---

Lance comes to Keith when he needs someone to pry him open.

Nameless by AveryScribbles

E | 97.8K | 22/22 | AU college, vampires, soulmates, major character injury, angst with a happy ending, blood drinking, slowburn

Lance McClain was not pale. He enjoyed the sun as much as any other, and though he was often run down or fatigued, this was due to his amounting college work, not his need to sleep upside down. He was everything a vampire wasn't. Oh, except for his constant cravings for blood, and the name in cursive imprinted on his wrist.

Since the name had appeared on Lance's thirteenth birthday, he'd been desperately waiting for the day he'd finally meet his soulmate. And then it finally arrives, delivering a boy that causes everything Lance had fantasized to come crashing down around him. Not only is his mate a human, but he's the kind of human that despises vampires. A hunter named Keith.

But matters of the heart aren't the only thing standing in Lance's way, for a much greater enemy is on the horizon, posing a threat not only to Lance and his family, but to Keith, too. The nameless are coming for them, and soon.

just come to me once by laallomri (absolute fav fic ever)

T | 94.5K | 3/3 | fluff, angst, pining, canon typical violence, post season 6

Lance’s smile widens. He leans forward, and the prickling in Keith’s chest gives way to butterflies, fluttering wildly in his stomach, and oh wow has Lance always had this many freckles, has he always had eyelashes that long, has he—

Lance pokes his cheek, right over the Galra mark. Keith blinks.

“I can’t believe you and your mom have matching face tattoos now,” he says, and it’s so fucking dumb, but it’s exactly the kind of dumb thing Keith has longed to hear, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s surging forward, almost knocking Lance back against Red’s paw, and throwing his arms around him.

In which Keith lives on a space whale, goes on a road trip, and (eventually) gets a boyfriend.

Like the Night Falling by iybms

E | 51.9K | 1/1 | rivals to friends to lovers, slow burn, astrophysics, sexual content

Keith reluctantly takes a lead role in an outreach program that forces him outside his comfort zone of solitary work. It would be a lot easier if he and his partner in the endeavor had anything in common.

Catch Feels, Not Covid-19 by Jenanigans1207

G | 20.2K | 7/7 | quarantine AU, covid 19, falling in love, confessions, artist keith

“Well, there’s really only one option, then.” Lance says as he steps further into the room. At least he looks equally as uncomfortable as Keith feels. At least he seems to know he’s broken their boundaries.

“Really?” Keith grinds out, but his anger is deflating. The stress of the situation is starting to wear on him and he just wants it to be over. “Because as far as I can tell, there are no options.”

“You’ll just have to come home with me.” Lance says and Keith balks. He physically feels the color drain from his face as he whips his head around to meet Lance’s blue eyes. He doesn’t even get the incredulous question off of his tongue before Lance is rushing on to explain. “My family visits Cuba every year at this time and since they closed the borders, they’re stuck there until this is over. So my home is completely empty which means there will be tons of room for you, too! And it’s only a couple of hours away, so we won’t risk getting caught anywhere in the middle. And it’s free.”

-- Or:

The coronavirus shuts down Keith and Lance's college and Keith has no choice but to go into quarantine with Lance.

At the Bottom of the Ramp by iybms

T | 12.2K | 1/1 | aggressive rollerblading, strong language, minor violence, getting together, rivals to friends to lovers

Lance is usually the first person to befriend new rollerbladers at the skatepark; it's a small community, and he's a friendly guy.

But not this time. This new guy looks the epitome of edgy and unapproachable, and he's stealing all of Shiro's attention.

#keith kogane #lance mcclain #klance #klance fic #fanfiction #fan fic rec #fic rec #klance fic rec #voltron #voltron legendary defender

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olichat-reads · 1 year

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Mountain

Bakugou x reader

Summary: Your love for Bakugou is like a mountain but even mountains crack & crumble eventually, don't they?

Warnings: angst :D like all the way. its just angst. maybe w a sprinkle of fluff. major character death not katsu dw.

A/n: its one in the morning & i chose violence 😂😌 here's to the first proper angsty fic i've ever written. please join my mourning.

🌟

"Hey, Katsu. I know this is pretty selfish of me. And I know this will be nothing but a nuisance to you. Even so.." you trailed off, lifting your gaze off the ground to meet those ruby eyes you've fallen for, practiaclly beaming up at him.

"I like you, Katsuki!"

That was the day it all started, the day your friendship changed.

Bakugou & Y/n. The two of you were a well known pair amongst the students in UA & everyone in your presence in general. Everyone knew the explosive blonde who was loud, rash & rude, the ambitious Bakugou Katsuki who vowed to devote his life to become the future number one hero.

Then there was you, his bestfriend since childhood. The complete opposite of the angry blonde- a good natured, friendly chatterbug who is seemingly blind to her bestfriend's outright menacing demeanor, Bakugou's happy second shadow he can't seem to get rid of. You made quite the jarring pair indeed. But being friends with Bakugou came to you easily.

It was no wonder loving him felt just as simple. Regardless of your feelings being unrequited.

Somehow, despite having attempted crossing the line of platonic friends, you managed to keep your friendship with Bakugou. Persistent enough to stay by his side. Never allowing things to be awkward. Sometimes it felt like nothing ever changed, like you were the same annoying bestfriend that stuck by him growing up.

And sometimes you'd randomly blurt out your feelings for him when he so much as buys you your favourite drink on a whim.

"Aahhh Katsuki I love you-"

"Why the fuck must you go out & say it at the weirdest times?!"

"I can't help it! I have so much love for you y'know? Sometimes it just overflows! Especially when you're so nice to me!"

"I'm never being nice to you again, dammit!"

☆

Every valentine's day held a memory Bakugou obtained against his will.

"Bakugou Katsuki, please go out with me!"

"Hah? Is this whats got you so damn twitchy all day?"

"Aw come on! I'm asking out the guy I like here. Of course I'm nervous!" You pout childishly, still holding out the black box of chocolates wrapped neatly in an orange bow.

"Tch. As if you haven't been doing that every other day for the past 2 years. Whats left to be nervous about?" He rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of it all. Shifting his attention to the box in your hands, he narrowed his eyes as if it personally insulted him, before returning his annoyed gaze to you.

"You know I'm not taking it. When are you going to learn that this ain't going nowhere, hah?"

"Ugh, you meanie," you huffed, flopping down in Midoriya's empty seat, spinning it round to face the grumbling blonde's desk. "Its always worth a shot," you mumbled out. Undoing the the ribbons, you'd open the box & share the chocolates with him. Chattering about your internship & studies as if you didn't just got rejected by him.

☆

He asked once, after rejecting you yet again, if you were ever going to give up on your feelings for him. If you were ever going to realize that your efforts were futile & there was nothing for you to keep fighting for.

"I can't give up so easily, silly! My love for you is so heavy, it feels like I'd suffocate sometimes you know. Its like- like a mountain!" You explained eagerly, hands waving in the air to emphasis your point.

"Tsk. And what happens when you run out hm? What happens when that mountain chips away bit by bit, until there's nothing left?"

He'd seen it that day. Something flickering in your eyes just for a second, disappearing before he could put a finger on what it was, replaced by that same stupid smile you always wore.

"Wah~ I'd actually be crushed, huh? Who knows if I'd survive~" you sang out playfully.

It was hurt.

He recognized it now. Who knew how many more times you've blinked that look away, locked up the agony he inflicted upon your heart that only yearned for him to accept its love. How many times that stupid smile masked the heartbreak underneath. How many times he convinced himself it was fine, because you were smiling. That you were fine.

"Goddamn idiot."

☆

Your love for him was like a mountain, you'd say. He wondered if it hurt, every time he chipped of a piece by his harsh words. He wondered if it pained you everytime his rejection made a little of that love crumble.

There were times you'd appear at his door in the middle of the night. So late, that you didn't wear that smile & he didn't yell at you for waking him up, both of you too tired to keep your own walls up to notice the others' was down. You'd look so tired, so small & frail, like a broken soul defeated by life itself. Yet something would still faintly sparkle in your eyes, no matter how dull, when you looked up at him apologetically.

Neither of you would speak. You'd climb into bed with him & hide away in his chest. He'd never see it, having you curled uo so tightly against him, but he knew you'd cry yourself to sleep, feeling the tremble in your body & the tears soaking his shirt. He'd stay awake until your breathing finally evened out.

He'd never ask you. Everything seemed like a dream the next day. He'd wake up alone, no signs of your late night visit. He'd see you in class as usual, the spark back in your eyes as bright as ever, as if it never dimmed in the first place. You'd act as you always would, bubbly & way too excited.

He never knew what had you crying on those nights.

He'd be convinced he dreamt up the night before if you didn't address it in your own subtle way.

When Mina & Kaminari would go on their daily pestering about your blatant crush on your bestfriend. Moaning for you to just go out with one of them instead, whining why you'd waste your feelings on their grumpy friend while you giggled at their antics.

"How could I not love Katsu," you'd say, subtly locking your eyes with him from across the classroom. Something soft & grateful in your gaze before you turned back to your noisy friends.

☆

Your heart seemed thethered to him no matter what he does.

He remembered the time you burst into recovery girl's office. You've been away on your internship. You must have heard about his incident from your classmates when you got back. Knowing them, they must've made a bigger deal off his injuries than they actually were.

He'd jump slightly as the door slammed open to reveal you- wide eyed & panting. Your frantic gaze searched the room until they landed on him, scanning him for the severity of his injuries.

Having seen he was okay, that he was conscious & well, you all but fell to your knees, the last of the adrenaline seeming to have drained from your exhausted body.

"Fuck," you breathed out a shaky laugh. "Fuck, Katsu. That's bad for my heart."

He saw you crying that night, tears wetting your cheeks & dripping off your face. Yet you still wore that smile, as wobbly as it was.

He hated that stupid smile.

Even now, as you lay on the hospital, it never leaves your face. That dopey, lovesick expression looked terribly out of place on your broken body.

"I thought you loved me, hah? Was that a lie? If you love me then hold on, you little shit. You want me to love back, don't you? Then, stay alive. Don't you dare die on me now or I'll kill you myself, you hear?" He heard his own voice crack, felt his cheeks grew wet, but he didn't care.

"Fuck. Fuck. I love you too, you fucking dumbass."

You laughed at that. It sounded wrong. Weak & frail, muffled by the oxygen mask that was barely helping your shallow breaths. Yet, it was just as melodic as Bakugou remembered. It has always been such a pretty sound.

"Thank you, Katsu."

☆

Standing at the edge of the beach alone, he felt as though he could almost hear you laughing by his side as he looked on at the blue sea. Just as you did all those time you pestered him into going to 'your favourite place in the entire world' you claimed.

"Because this is the place I fell in love with you," you'd tell him every single time. Recalling the day your entire world changed & your heart grew twice its size with love for your bestfriend.

"Sounds fucking cursed." His response the same each time as he watched the waves crash into the shore, lightly lapping at his feet.

And you'd laugh something so happy & free in the golden light of the setting sun, the bubbly joy so contagious, he couldn't help but crack a smile.

He holds onto the memory, keeps it safe in his heart as to never forget what your laughter sounded like, worried one day he'll forget.

Its been awhile since he heard it after all.

5 years felt like forever with the emptiness you left behind.

His life felt too quiet with you no longer around to fill the silence. It left his heart heavy. He could almost hear your teasing at the thought.

'I thought you said you'd enjoy the peace & quiet when I'm no longer around, hm, Katsu? Gonna finally admit that you were wrong?'

It was a weird feeling. He knew you so well, he could guess what you'd say to him as if you were still around. Could almost hear it, to the point it felt like he was talking to a ghost of you.

Somedays it was comforting. Other days it felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

"I miss you, stupid."

'I know, Katsu.'

Sometimes Bakugou wondered.

If he hadn't left so many cracks in your mountain, if he hadn't let it crumble & chip away along the years, would you have had enough love to stay alive?

🌟

A/n: i can't believe i actually wrote this in one sitting. i feel like i'd hate the formating when i reread this tomorrow morning. but hey i hope you enjoy the read. or broke your heart. one of those.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou angst #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #oliwrites

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angelst4re · 1 year

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Hello lovely! I love your writing!! I was wondering if you could do a 001 fic where the reader is another one of Brenner’s subjects at Hawkins Lab with Henry/001. They mutually have a crush on each other but of course they can’t really act on their feelings, besides quick interactions in the dark corners of the hallway out of camera view. BUT then they get called into Brenner’s office one day and told that the lab is going to conduct an experimental program, to breed the most powerful subjects for the next generation, and they will be the first to begin it since they’re the oldest (obviously both would be like 18 or 19 years old!) and they finally get to get it on 🤭 but definitely starts out kind of awkward since this would be both of their first time hehe.

ugh this idea>>> also i barely ever get Henry/001/Peter requests and it makes me kinda sad becasue he's literally my favourite jamie character (jace, i am sorry.)

002- Henry/001/Peter x Reader

summary: in the request :)

warnings: NSFW!! contains smut, this was also written at like 3am

notes: this is 4.5k words?? i feel like it could've been better though haha, BUT ALSO JAMIE SHAVED?? THE BEARD IS GONE??!!?!?! (but never forgotten <3)

You’ve known Henry for the majority of your life, or at least the half of your life that you remember. You had both been taken from your homes, your deaths faked while you were put under the care and control of a certain doctor and given new names, although they weren’t names. They were numbers. Yours was 002, Henry’s was 001.

When you first arrived at the lab, you were shaken up, you refused to talk to anybody or even interact with the other boy. However, you soon learnt that you had a lot more in common than you had hoped. You had powers, it explained why you could see glimpses into the future, predict things and guess what someone was thinking- although you knew now that it wasn’t guessing. It was all true. You had believed that in the first 9 years of your life that these things were all ‘in your head’, as your father told you when you asked him if he was seeing other women, cheating on your mother. You refused to believe there was something unique or special about you.

As the years passed, your powers grew stronger, and you also began to form a friendship with the other boy in the Lab, Henry. He was a year or 2 older than you, you never knew for sure. The first time he ever spoke to you was when he warned you about the Doctor tattooing you, he showed you his sore, red arm with 001 written in black ink. He told you to try to stay calm, he got punished for moving about in his seat when the pain got too much. You thanked him, and from that day he made a promise to himself- he promised he would keep you safe and that one day he would escape with you, so you could both live the life you deserved.

As more years went by, you and Henry continued to grow closer. More children also began to arrive at the lab, none of them were over the age of 6. Doctor Brenner ordered them to call him Papa, you and Henry had quite rightly refused to call him this. He began lessons, helping these children to use and build their powers, to grow them stronger. You and Henry would also attend these lessons, Brenner would often ask one of you to help the children, to give them advice- but most of them were only 5, they struggled to understand. This resulted in punishments, which you and Henry had to leave the room for.

As you got older, you realised your feelings towards Henry were more than what you should feel for friends. You had a crush on him. Upon realising this, you started to behave differently around him. You would blush when he felt the cut on your cheek, wishing his soft fingers would caress your cheek to pull you in for a kiss instead, or when you be alone with him in the Rainbow Room you would try to keep a little distance and appear engaged in an activity so he wouldn’t try talking to you, you would only stumble on your words as you spoke back.

He picked up pretty quickly that you liked him in this way, he couldn’t help it with his powers, could he? He could use and control his better than you could, meaning he could read your thoughts, whilst you struggled to read his. However, you liked it better like this, you knew that you and Henry would probably die in the lab before you could leave, meaning you’d rather spend your in-between years as friends and not risk the shame of rejection.

However, you needed to tell someone about this crush- it was driving you insane. Martha, the nurse, was the only person in this place you could trust, besides Henry, so you opened up to her one day when she was treating your most recent wounds before performing an overall health and wellness check as it was leading up to your 18th birthday. For your 16th birthday, you and Nurse Martha spent an afternoon in a sex education lesson, so you wondered what was in store for your 18th. Peter said nothing special happens, that it’s just like any other.

However, your 18th birthday was one to remember, it seemed even better than your 7th (which you could only vaguely remember, you received a dollhouse that you had been begging for all year). You spent the majority of the day in lessons with Brenner and other doctors and scientists, but the evening made up for the last 9 years you had spent in the Lab.

There was a knock on your door, you expected it to be Nurse Martha, but when you opened it you were met with…

“Henry?” You gasped, poking your head out the door to check the halls before grabbing his arm and pulling him into the room, “what are you doing? If you get caught you’ll-”

“If I get caught then at least it was for a good reason,” he smiles, pulling something out from under his black jumper, what had he been hiding? “Happy birthday.”

He handed it over to you, it was wrapped up in some tissue? A napkin?

“Cake?!” Your eyes widen, and then soften as you look up at Henry. You remembered from your years before the Lab that birthdays were usually celebrated with cake, yet Brenner never allowed it on birthdays. “Where did you get this from?” You ask, sitting down on your bed.

“Stole it from the kitchens, one of the ‘children’ caused a fire on the south side of the building today and the staff were made to evacuate.” He said, yet (for the first time) you knew what he was thinking, you knew he was lying.

“You started a fire? To get me some cake?” You chuckled in disbelief.

“Well, you deserved something to make you happy. I wish I could’ve gotten you a gift.” He said, looking down at his lap, you could tell he was thinking about something else, you couldn’t quite work out what it was.

“You can think of the cake as a gift!” You said, smiling as you picked at a bit of it before taking a bite, it was delicious. “Anyway I like spending time with you, and we don’t get to see each other as much as we used to.”

“That’s because we’re at different levels, y/n. I’ve known about my powers and how to use them since I was young, you only discovered them in there. Brenner doesn’t believe you’re as… powerful as I am, but I know you can prove him wrong, can’t you?” Henry’s eyes fell on you as he asked the question, you nodded your head, telling him you will prove him wrong, that you’ll make him feel stupid for ever thinking that way about you, to which Henry whispered a small “that’s my girl.”

“What did you say?” You asked, feeling the heat rush to your face.

“I didn’t say anything,” he smirked. You must have read his mind again. “Can I tell you something?” Henry asked.

“Of course.” You said, finishing the last bit of cake, folding the piece of tissue up and placing it on your drawers.

“Do you remember when you first arrived at this place? I was finally happy to have someone else with me, but you were too afraid to even talk to me. I spent years trying to get you to trust me, you may not have realised that, but I wanted to be your friend. Before I was brought here, I didn’t have any friends, I spent most of my time by myself and that’s how I wanted it to be, but it was just so lonely and cold here, I wished I spent my time differently. I knew it was too late by then, but then you arrived. I knew, given the situation, that you would most likely shy away from me, attempt to escape, but I wanted to try. I wanted to know that I at least tried to make a friend, but I feel like I’ve done more than that,” he said, placing his hand on your knee, “I’ve realised in these last months that I… like you. More than a friend should like a friend. And I won’t lie to you, I know you feel like this about me too, but I wished I would have heard it from your mouth rather than your thoughts,” he chuckled, his eyes coming up to meet yours.

“C-can you kiss me?” You ask, stupidly stumbling on your words as the feeling of his hand on your bare skin and his eyes looking into yours became too much.

“It would be my pleasure.” He smiled softly, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek.

You were the first to lean in, needing to know if Henry’s lips were as soft as you imagined- and they were. Your breath was snatched from your lungs as his lips pressed into yours. He could taste cake from your lips, causing him to smile into the kiss before carefully pulling back. You didn’t want to stop, it took everything inside you not to pull him back.

“Thank you.” You whispered, watching as he quickly stood up, adjusting his clothes before grabbing the door handle.

“I should go now, so I don’t get in any more trouble with Brenner. But I hope we can do this again… soon.”

“Me too,” you smiled, still trying to process the fact that Henry had admitted he liked you back and kissed you in the space of 5 minutes, “I hope you get back safely. Good night, Henry.”

“Good night, love.”

—————————♡—————————

“002?” A knock at your door distracted you from the drawing you were working on, you placed the pencil down on your desk and made your way to your door, opening to be greeted with Nurse Martha, who had Henry by her side.

“Hello.” You chuckled nervously, “is everything okay?”

“Yes! I was asked by Doctor Brenner to collect you and 001 and to take you to his office, he would like to tell you both about his newest… project.”

“I’ll be two seconds,” you say, rushing over to your bed to grab your jumper, throwing it on to cover your tank top before returning the door, shutting it as you follow Martha and Henry down the halls.

You gave Henry a glance and in your mind you asked him ‘do you know what this is about?’, he then looked back over at you and shook his head, ‘no, he hasn’t said anything about a project.’

“Here we are,” Nurse Martha smiled as she knocked on the door to Brenner’s office, “don’t be nervous, sweetheart.” She said to you, patting your shoulder.

“Ah, thank you, Martha, I can take it from here.” Brenner said with a cold smile as he held his office door open, inviting you and Henry inside as the nurse turned around and headed back down the halls.

You and Henry sit down when instructed, on the chairs opposite the Doctor’s desk. He opened a cabinet, pulling out a folder and placing it in front of you and Henry as he sat at his desk.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here,” Brenner mused, opening up the folder, looking at the two of you as if you were supposed to know, but you both shook your head. “Over the years, I have worked with several doctors and scientists to try to find a way of combining both of your powers, seeing as the children here have only inherited percentages of your abilities from the testing we have done. But there may be a way to go about this that could potentially be successful, as you two are the oldest and possess the the most unique abilities-”

“What are you trying to say?” Henry asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “Do you need to take more blood samples?”

Doctor Brenner thought about his next words carefully, not wanting to scare either of you off with his proposal. He folded his arms in front of him on the desk and leaned forward.

“To put it simply, we want you two to begin the next generation, to reproduce, to-”

You interrupted him by choking on air as you finally realised what he meant. He wanted you and Henry to have a child together, in hopes that this child will inherit both of your powers and abilities.

“And when do you want this to happen?” Henry asked, his voice avoiding any signs of emotion as he looked into the eyes of the Doctor.

“Nurse Martha has been tracking 002’s menstrual cycle, and this week would be perfect for successful conception. Maybe even today?” Brenner said with a joyous smile. Of course he’d be happy, he won’t be the one to carry this damned baby for nine months. “So, is that okay with you?” He asked, as if you and Henry had a choice.

“Yes, Doctor.” You replied in unison.

“Wonderful!” He clasped his hands together, “you may do… it… in either of your rooms, we haven’t got any spare rooms at the moment- and I believe it may be helpful to have some sort of comfort.” He said before walking over to the office door, holding it open for the two of you.

—————————♡—————————

You and Henry walked in silence, you had non-verbally decided to go to your room- or at least that is where you were both heading. The silence between the two of you was unbearable, you needed to say something-

“So, you are definitely comfortable with this, right?” Henry asked, his fingertips brushing against yours as you walked side by side.

“I guess so, we can’t risk saying no-”

“If you don’t want to do this then we won’t.” Henry stated, confidently.

You thought for a moment, you wanted to do it, you wanted to feel Henry close to you like this, it’s what your body has been aching for for the last month- when he would send a small smirk your way when he caught your eye you would feel your lower half tingling, when he would place his hands on your waist as he moved past you when you were sent to retrieve something from the cramped storage cupboard you wanted nothing more than to push yourself up against him, when he-

“I’ll take that as you being okay with this then?” He smirked, wiping the small drip of blood from his nose. Bastard. Your thoughts were private!

“Yeah,” you smiled, finally arriving at your room. You took a deep breath before opening your door. Henry followed you in and carefully shut the door behind him. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Henry gave you a gentle smile as he slowly moved closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek like it had done a few weeks ago, when he had kissed you on your birthday. He leaned down slowly, your noses brushing as your lips touched. You run your fingers through his hair before pulling him closer, catching his lips in a sloppy, clearly inexperienced kiss.

His free hand rested on your hip, pulling your body closer to his, so close you could feel heat radiating from him. He kissed you hungrily, like this was his last chance to show you how much you mean to him, even if he can’t properly tell you.

He moved his hands to the bottom of your jumper, tugging on it, ‘let me take it off’.

And you allowed him, breaking free from the kiss for a mere 5 seconds made you feel empty, cold, like a piece of a puzzle was missing, but when Henry had taken your jumper off and let it drop to the floor, his lips crashed into yours once more.

‘Your turn’, you told him. You loved how you could communicate with his like this, not having to take your lips off of each other to speak.

Your hands fumbled about as you found the bottom of his jumper, beginning to lift it up. He took over, breaking the kiss once more as he dropped it to the floor, now lying in a pile with yours. His hands now played with the waistband of your grey joggers as he gave you a puzzling look- a look full of lust, desire, want, but also love. He slipped his fingers into the waistband and began to drag them down your hips.

“Henry,” you whispered. He stopped immediately and looked at you, scanning your face for any signs of fear. “I just… I wanted to tell you… I don’t know how to do this.” You admit, your face flushing a deep red.

“Neither do I,” he tells you, “why don’t we figure it out together, hm?” He raises his eyebrows, continuing to pull your joggers down, slowly revealing your underwear.

“Okay.” You say, smiling as you stand awkwardly, not knowing what to do with your hands as he undresses you.

When the material pools at your feet, you step out it, now left in your underwear, bra and a thin tank top. Henry was still fully dressed. He caught on quickly and rid himself of his t-shirt, letting that fall on to the pile of discarded clothes that lay on the floor. His hands moved down to push his joggers down his legs, leaving him in just his white boxers. You took that as a sign and removed your top, leaving you in your white bra and panties.

“You’re beautiful.” Henry said, looking at your body, “I never thought something could be so beautiful.”

“So are you.” You said, placing your hand on his chest, noticing the scars on his skin that were undoubtedly caused by a certain doctor. “What do we do next?”

“...we get naked.” Henry said, his hand coming up to play with your bra strap, “is that okay?”

“That’s okay.” You tell him.

‘Can I take this off?’ he asks you, his eyes finding yours as you nod your head. His hands slide around you, to your back to find the clasp of your bra. He immediately notices that this would be more difficult than expected, so he gets you to turn around, with your back facing him.

He easily unclasped your bra, carefully sliding the straps off of your arms before taking the material and letting it fall on the floor.

He could feel his blood rushing down to his cock as he thinks about how you’re standing braless in front of him. He tells himself not to worry about what you would think as you turn back around to see him hard through his boxers, that was meant to happen, that’s what needs to happen, right?

“You can turn around now.” Henry says, swallowing thickly.

Your hands cover your boobs as you turn back around to face him, but he quickly removes them, telling you not to be shy. Then your eyes finally catch what was between his thighs.

“Henry… is that…?” Your eyes were full of curiosity as you stared at his erection.

“Yes, I expect you’ve never seen one like this before.” He says, you shake your head.

“I’ve only seen what was in t-the anatomy books.” You tell him, and he smiles softly. He feels like he has a slight advantage here, having heard his classmates at school talk about sex all the time, he felt repulsed by it- but that was before he met you.

He finally takes off his boxers, you watch carefully as his cock leaks precum, your hand unexpectedly reaching to wipe it off with a finger, causing Henry’s breath to hitch.

“Can I?” You ask him, ‘can I make you feel good?’

Henry nods his head, taking your hand in his and wrapping your fingers around his length before guiding it up and down at an achingly slow pace. He bites his lip, holding back a groan from escaping his lips as you quicken the pace.

“S-stop,” he warns you, “I want the first time I cum to be with you.”

You nod your head and remove your hand, not knowing what his words meant.

“Can I make you feel good?” He asks, hooking a finger into the waistband of your underwear.

“Please…” You whimper, “when I’m with you I feel things down there, what does that mean, Henry?” You ask.

“It means you need my fingers, darling.” He whispers, pushing your last remaining garment down and off of your body, revealing your cunt to him. “Fuck…” he groans, getting down on to his knees to look at you closer, he had never seen this part of the female body up close before.

He dips a finger into you, delighted to find you were already wet for him. He moved his finger up along your slit, searching for your clit. He knew that would make you feel good, and he was desperate to hear you moan for him.

“Oh my-” Your knees buckle when his finger grazes over the nub, he smirks, replacing his finger with his thumb as he rubs circles where you needed him.

He continues to examine you, two fingers from his other hand spread your folds apart and he watches you pulse, a sign that you wanted more.

He stands back up and removes his hands from you, placing one on your waist.

“Lie down,” he tells you, guiding you backwards towards the bed.

You lay down, your head against the pillows, your arms by your head and your legs spread slightly. He was happy to see you were comfortable around him.

He follows you, kneeling between your legs, spreading them a tiny bit further. He brings his hand back to your heat, teasing your entrance with his fingertip.

“Tell me if it’s too much.” He says, sliding his index finger into you slowly, earning a pleasured gasp from you. “Does that feel good?” He asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he eases it back out before pushing back in. He believes you were ready for a second one to follow, so his thumb rubs your clit as he slides his middle finger in too.

“Feels too good, Henry.” You moan, a lazy smile on your lips as you look up at him.

He replies with a satisfied ‘hm’ as he continues his actions. He feels the way your walls pulse around his fingers, and basically hears your heart pounding in your chest, he knows you’re close.

Slowly, he stops what he was doing, leaning down to pepper kisses on your thighs, even placing a delicate kiss over your clit.

“I think you’re ready now, sweetheart.” He says, moving up a little on the bed so your hips were in line with his.

“Okay.” You say, not knowing what he thought you were ready for, but agreeing anyway.

He took his cock and swiped off the precum that had leaked from the tip and swiped it over your clit, making your hips shuffle as he lined himself up with you, slowly inching his cock inside of you.

The pain was hot and red, it took you by surprise and you found yourself clawing at the bedsheets. Henry noticed this and took your hands in his, moving them to his back. You didn’t want to hurt him but as he pushed in further, your nails began to dig into his skin, sure to draw blood.

“You’re doing so well.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Does it hurt?” He asked, although he knew the answer before you nodded your head.

When he was fully inside you, you let out a whimper. You had never realised you could feel this way before, so full. You loved it.

He didn’t move for a few moments, until he felt you were ready, when you caught your breath and your walls stopped clamping around him. That was when he began to gently rock his hips, thrusting in and out of you.

Sweat beaded on Henry’s forehead as he tried his best to hold himself back from rutting into you at a faster pace, but as your legs wrapped around his waist, he began to quicken his pace.

“Oh my… Henry, faster!” You panted.

He did as you said, not holding back anymore. After weeks of wanting nothing more than this moment, Henry couldn’t believe what was happening. Surely this wasn’t real- but as your nails clawed at his back, he knew it most definitely was real.

“I love you.” The words slipped from Henry’s lips and caught you by surprise. You didn’t say anything, not knowing what to say. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you, your lips crashing into his.

You suddenly became aware of how he felt inside you, the spots he hit deep inside your body that you would have never known were there, but especially how good it felt.

“Henry… I feel something… In my tummy-”

“Let it go, darling.” He said, his hand sliding to your lower stomach, just below your belly button, and pushing down. The pressure resulted in even more pleasure, you felt so good, you never wanted this feeling to leave.

Suddenly, a white wave of ecstasy crashed over you, spreading through your whole body. You almost felt euphoric.

“Gonna… gonna cum inside you- fuck!” He groaned, his thrusts growing slower and sloppier, and then you felt something hot rush inside of you.

Henry remained above you, his arms placed either side of your body to support him. He was trying to catch his breath before he stood back up and continued with his day- but you pulled him down, making him put all his weight onto you.

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close to you as you both came down from your highs, worried that if you let go of him, he would leave and you would never speak about this again.

When you realised he was still inside of you, your walls involuntarily clenched around him again, causing him to groan into the crook of your neck. You whispered a soft apology before you ran your fingers through his soft hair.

“I love you too.” You finally confessed.

He lifted his head up, giving you a smile before kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Our baby isn’t going to grow up inside this place,” Henry told you, “I have a plan, I’m going to escape- and I’m going to take you with me.”

#peter ballard smut #jamie campbell bower #henry creel smut #001 smut #stranger things #henry creel x reader #peter ballard x reader #jamie campbell bower x reader #henry creel #i dont like how this turned out

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thelunaticghost · 6 months

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xvn fic recs !!

i have been meaning to do this for a while : mostly because fic recs are fun to compile and also thee seems to be a BIG shortage of any fic rec posts!! so here are some fics i have enjoyed over the years!! ofc this list is non exhaustive please note the ratings of each fic and heed the tags before reading! sorry, that i am putting in the shorter summary

anyway!! feel free to put in more fic recs too!! :D

End OTW Racism | over the edge of all our knowings by merthurlin [ G, 10,146 words , 1/1 ]

Years down the line, after the whole business with Lumine and her brother has been concluded, Venti decides to go on a world tour. He sends Xiao letters.

merthurlin got me into xiaoven so ofc my list starts with her fic! this is just so so sweet and even if its not necessarily fluffy there is a warmth to the writing it is a comfort read for me! i recommend every work by her (regardless of fandom). though in xvn End OTW racism | never dreamed of nobody like you is another excellent fic!

nocturne by yanrans [ T, 34,540 words, 4/4 ]

In which Venti sells magical music boxes, Xiao is his unwitting customer, and there is absolutely, definitely nothing more to it at all.

modern au where venti is - a scammer? - i mean a music box seller and xiao is just a regular guy and and. its funny and delightful and absolutely breath taking. i wouldnt elaborate more so as not to spoil anything further but the fic has many unexpected surprises in it! yanrans is another writer i definitely recommend to check out more! their writing style is very flamboyant and poetic.

what hides in neon shadow by morii_tea [ T, 7,547 words, 1/1 ]

In which Xiao is a cyborg, Venti is a thief, and the glittering city of Teyvat hides more secrets than they’re prepared to find out.

its so rare to see morally grey venti is potrayed (even though he isnt v morally grey but still. xiao having to remembering that venti isnt as honourable as he appears is yesssss wohoo). this fic has some thrilling action and a v fun cyberpunk world!! i wish it was longer but it is v exciting nevertheless

every morning in the dark by magicites [ M, 77,124 words, 34/34 ]

Stuck in a time loop where he succumbs to his karmic debt, Xiao struggles to see the point in moving forward. Venti struggles to save him.

READ THE TAGS!!! character death and suicidal thoughts are two major warnings. but DAMN this fic it's just so. SO FULL of everything WRONG with xiao!! and venti too but such a GREAT angst fic!! it gets everything so Right. magicites also happened to have written one of my most favourite genshin fic too :] and if you havent read her other works!! you are missing out!!

the half-life of the yaksha is absolute by GStK [ G, 1,000 words, 1/1 ]

Venti digs his thumbs in to keep open the wound but it is too late His gaze snaps over to the teal essence dancing over Xiao’s fingers. Now all those words will belong to him And Venti will belong to him, only.

READ THE TAGS!! now that i have went into the time loop fic ofc i have to mention the beautiful corrupt xiao prose. the imagery is flowery and grotesque!

foreigner's god by smallghosts [ T, 3,818 words, 1/1 ]

Lord Barbatos falls asleep for a few hundred years. Xiao copes with his absence in strange ways.

a pre-canon fic where xiao becomes - in a way - a worshipper? it's SO GOOD. its about the yearning!!!!!!!!! SCREAMS i dont think i have to explain further

love me like you do by Limerancy [ T, 3,000 words, 1/1 ]

They aren’t the kind of friends that touch.

TOUCH STARVED AND TOUCH AVERSE XIAO!!!!!! this fic makes me a lil bit feral. a little unhinged. i absolutely enjoy reading about the yearning , the desire JUST!!!! AAAA. this writer also writes v fluffy modern au one shots!!! so be sure to check them out too :)

The Kissing Tree by Princeliest [ G, 7,581 words, 2/2 ]

Venti kisses Xiao, and Xiao does not understand why.

VENTI COMMITMENT ISSUES!!!!! as much as i adore reading xiao angst, venti angst is still something i love seeking out and its a tragedy that its not explored enough in this ship :c but anyway!!! such amazing characterization and exploration!! princeliest is one of fav genshin writers and this fic delivers!

wishing on dandelions all of the time by OedipusOctopus [ T, 8,270 words, 1/1 ]

When Venti first catches sight of the swords artfully hung on the wall of his new roommate's bedroom, he regrets putting up the sublease on Craigslist. Firmly believing this guy is a total weirdo, Venti is more surprised than anyone when he realizes the total weirdo is actually adorable. It's not against some invisible Roommate Code to dream about kissing your roommate, right?

ofc there is a classic roommate au fic!! this was one of my most favourite fic from last years xvn week: its hilarious and silly and just a perfect relaxing read!! the characterization and their banter is so entertaining i admit i have read this multiple times!

Where Words Fail by kavvueh [ T, 27,926 words, 11/12 ]

"You're Barbatos," Xiao repeats breathlessly. The young man in front of him nods. "Yep." "But..." Xiao cuts himself off and tries again. "You're the God of songs and poetry." The Anemo Archon nods his head sagely. "More or less." Xiao fixes Lord Barbatos with the most incredulous look he can manage. "... You're failing Music Theory."

this fic is such a delight!! it has some light background lore, some silly shenanigans, miscommunications, pinning - a truly fun mixture! the fic is v light hearted but written with a lot of tenderness. i am v excited to see its conclusion!

what queer sins stain thy soul by Anonymous [ M, 3,232 words, 1/1 ]

In which Xiao, long-established asexual, learns that identity is not as stable as he’d like to believe.

there is some explicit things in it (in non explicit way) i believe religious guilt is one of the best flavouring to xvn. it is an under-explored area in this ship imo and this fic not only has that but also!!! asexuality !!!!!! this fic so so personal and its exploration of desire that gets to me a lot

unholy virtues by morphasia [ E, 17,065 words, 6/6 ]

In exchange for his body in more ways than one, Venti summons a demon to reclaim something that has been stolen from him. It's a just contract. That's all it's supposed to be. That's all it was ever supposed to be.

READ THE TAGS!!! this fic truly went creature/creature. this au is just so fascinating and funny in a twisted way (but not bad). this fic isnt for everyone though but it is definitely worth the shot.

#luna rambles #genshin impact #xiaoven #venxiao #thats all i think ?#anyway this made me realize that i forget to bookmark so many fics.....#whoops #and also that i tend to like fics on how much i like venti's characterization. hehe #but yeah this is non exhaustive list! if someone wants to add they can ofc! sorry for my over commentary #and even though i repeat it in the post itself 13804 times: check out other works by the writers!!!#i wanted to include more but. but the post is so long already you know? like i couldve done a shorter format BUT AAAAAA #i could idk it's just not. the same #making such posts is just a destress activity to me tbh

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liyawritesss · 1 year

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ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ ; ᴘᴀʀᴛ ll

ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ʙᴏʀɴ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴅᴏʟʟᴀʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɪx ᴅɪᴍᴇꜱ

Characters: MCU!Shuri Udaku x Black!Masc!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 6.8k

Synopsis: Your return to Wakanda is welcomed, but there is no time for celebration. In preparing defenses against Talokan, you urge Shuri to concoct a serum that would enhance your abilities for the fight to come, despite knowing the complications it comes with.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of reader having post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), mentions of medical tools such as syringes, blood from said syringe, body convulsing, major character death (rest in power queen ramonda)

A/N: here is the second part of this series! I sincerely want to thank @kingstormpostsshit for originally pitching this idea and allowing me to turn it into a series. This one goes out to all the masc women out there cuz we deserve some love too ‼️

Tags: @inmyheadimobsessed @badass-dora-milaje @babyboiboyega @verachii @heartsforjojo @letitias-fav @kingstormpostsshit @shurismainbxtch @zayswriting @rxcently @nzia-writes @writingintheshadowsforever @hufflehans @kokichiis7 @xxmilli @typicalme111 @zestgodtj @generallysapphic @ziayamikaelson @shuriszn @yvxmpire @justariellove @n7cje

“Is she not going to come in?”

Shuri’s hopeful look only makes it harder for T’Challa to break the news to his dear sister - that you had absolutely refused to step foot into her lab. Even after multiple attempts at coaxing you with persuasive words, the crowned prince had only managed to get you to the hallway, and you wouldn’t go any further. In an attempt to compromise the situation, he allowed you to examine the vibranium-laced walls that made the hallway shine a bright blue color and the glass tanks of fish that lined the walls, while T’Challa ventured further into the laboratory to fetch Shuri.

Quite frankly, T’Challa had never been more nervous in his life. In an ideal world, he’d want for you and Shuri to get along well. He believed it good that you had some sort of companionship, especially for the times when he would not be around. Given the fact that you and Shuri were in the same age range, he felt that it would be a good start to integrating you into regular life.

Though, this was not an ideal world, as he is reminded of every time he looks at you, and remembers why you’re even here.

“Remember, Shuri,” T’Challa eases, “she’s not very…fond of labs.”

Shuri is fifteen and easily excitable, so the arrival of a possible new friend had the young princess smiling uncontrollably the entire morning. It was nearly impossible for T’Challa to keep knowledge of you a secret from his little sister - more or less because her brilliance would allow her to uncover any secret within minutes of noticing an air of secrecy. Therefore, the crowned prince felt it necessary for at least the royal family to be aware of your existence, and that there was a possibility of introducing you into Wakandan life if integration into the Avenger’s at home base proved difficult.

The one aspect of you that would make things a bit difficult with your assimilation, however, was the very place he stood in with his young sister. With different beeps and clicks and whirring of machinery, as well as the pristine whiteness of the lab, would surely trigger unpleasant thoughts and memories of your past. And Bast forbid T’Challa would put you through that, by any means necessary.

So it didn’t confuse T’Challa when Shuri’s smile faltered slightly at the news of your refusal.

“She is in the hallway, though,” He hums in an attempt to pick up Shuri’s spirits, and it works. Upon hearing this, Shuri is all but ready to sprint out of her seat, but T’Challa’s towering figure calms her eagerness, as he isn’t done explaining just yet.

“We will have to be patient with her, dear sister,” T’Challa continues, “so we will have to meet her half way in a lot of areas.”

Shuri tilts her head to the side a bit, furrowing her eyebrows at T’Challa’s statement. The young princess was made aware of your unfortunate previous situations, but even T’Challa could see that she found it a bit difficult to grasp your resistance to certain situations. In her young mind, things were much simpler. You were in a safe place, so should you not feel safe? Wakanda’s technology was made to help, not harm, so why were you so wary?

In many ways, T’Challa viewed Shuri’s innocence to the horrors of the outside world as a blessing. However, there were times where he dreaded having to explain complex concepts to a young mind that seemed to have a simple answer to everything. Because in reality, the world was not simple, and neither was your situation.

“I thought you said she was an Avenger?” Shuri questions as the two begin to walk to the aforementioned threshold to the hallway. From her understanding, and observations from T’Challa’s own affiliation with the group, she believed Avengers to be fearless people, and had expected that same rhetoric to apply to you.

“She is, though, not for the reason you may think.”

Bounding the corner, T’Challa and Shuri’s pace come to a halt at the sight of your curious figure examining the walls embedded with vibranium up close. Your hand traces down the length of a sliver of the precious material, the blue glow from it dancing beautifully on your skin. Your curls fall messily over your face, obscuring your visual, and the Princess finds herself entranced by the mystery girl who refuses to enter her sanctuary, but seemingly finds solace in toeing the line.

The sight leaves Shuri holding her breath.

The royal sibling’s arrival startles you as you see them come from around the corner. You immediately pull away from the wall, which held your attention while T’Challa went inside to fetch his sister. Now your feet were planted stiffly in the middle of the walkway, and your body shrunk further into your already baggy clothes. The exchange that followed could be likened to that of a human introducing two infant kittens to one another; as T’Challa began walking closer to you, gesturing for Shuri to follow. By the time the princess stood in front of you, your body was rigid with discomfort.

You hated meeting new people. Especially new people you couldn’t read right away.

“(Y/N), this is Shuri, my sister,” T’Challa introduces, gesturing to the ball of energy that stands in front of you, who is trying her best not to make any sudden movements that would frighten you. “You both are around the same age. I think it would be nice for you two to get acquainted with one another, yes?”

Your gaze shifts between the two siblings, eying them down, attempting to uncover some secret plot or scheme they could have concocted together. Though, the more you look at them, the less likely that is. Unlikely, because you know T’Challa, and the man had proven to you numerous times that he would make no move to put you in harm's way. And despite the giddiness that simply bleeds from the girl in front of you, part of you determines that she is the same.

“Hi!” The princess starts, her voice high and eager, and the suddenness of her greeting almost causes you to step back.

Almost, but you don’t.

T’Challa radiates warmth and protection. He is soft and gentle and attentive, and he has a knack for compromising that has helped him, help you. His eyes encompass security, and looking into them lowers your guard and relinquishes trust to the crowned prince.

His sister, Shuri, is a beam of unforeseen light, brighter than the blue mineral that shines on the three of you. Ambition seeps from her pores and there is a thick air of curiosity around her, of which you visibly see her trying to keep under control.

Yet, when you look into her eyes, it is the same as T’Challa’s. They are warm, inviting, and it makes you remember your humanity.

“Hi.”

The memory leaves you the moment you open your eyes back to the real world.

It’s a fond memory, that much is clear by the way your eyes soften at the thought of the pair of you, innocent in your youth. When times were simpler and for the first time in your life, you didn’t have walls guarding your person, and you were allowed to be vulnerable when needed.

“Does it feel different, being back in Wakanda?”

Ayo’s question had been mulling over in your head since you’d landed. It loomed over you like a cloud, uncertain in your answer.

You had been gone for almost a decade. You’d lost your accent that you adopted from the people, and your guarded walls had all but rebuilt themselves in your time away. Warmth exuded from the land itself, but you found it hard to embrace it.

After all, who could, when your return home is due to an underwater nation ensuing war with it?

There were times you would lie awake at night, playing reels in your head, planning your return home. How Queen Ramonda and T’Challa would embrace you deeply, delighted for the return of their daughter, their sister. How Shuri would embrace you deeply, euphoria washing over the both of you, having been returned safely into each other's arms.

“If anything, I wish I could’ve come back on different terms.”

Ayo and you walk in tandem with one another, your set destination being the Design Group laboratory, where Shuri was currently working.

The minute she stepped off the ship, Shuri’s feet carried her to her lab. She was silent as her figure walked off into the distance, only disappearing when you turned to the queen to accompany her back to the palace with the young American scientist.

You knew why she was so brisk in her getaway; Shuri wasn’t that hard to read to you. She knew what had been set in motion with your actions back at that underwater cave, probably more than what you had determined yourself just from your observations of the entire situation. There was no doubt in your mind that Shuri’s beeline to her sanctuary, her laboratory, was to prepare defensive measures just as much as it was to quell the buzzing in her head from everything that’s come to pass.

“For what it is worth, Wakanda is grateful for your return.” Ayo hums as the both of you round the corner to the entrance of the laboratory. You could hear your feet treading on the glass floor beneath you, and the sun's rays from outside disappeared as you were enveloped in the cold blue glow that the vibranium gave off.

Your feet slowed, as the sound of machinery and murmuring voices grew louder the closer you came to crossing the threshold. It was overwhelming for you, even after almost a decade away. The looming ambiguity of the lab washed over you the same way it always had, with its pristine cleanliness, crisp white interior, and technology at any turn.

It made you feel sick, and yet, you pushed forward.

“Princess, (Y/N) has entered the laboratory,” Griot’s familiar voice echoes alerting Shuri of your arrival. She had been looking at a holographic screen, with scribbles and notes of equations and various charts that you were never able to understand. She turns to you, and as Ayo leaves the two of you alone in her little sector of the lab, another blanket of ambiguity makes itself comfortable atop your shoulders.

“Hi.

“Hi.”

The greeting is short and curt, and you’re almost certain it’s due to Shuri’s defense mechanism. She’s on the defensive, trying to keep herself in tact.

“I didn’t think you’d come here,” Shuri confesses, turning back to her holographic screen. She’s recalibrating something, that much can be determined, and while it is important and holds most of her attention, it also acts as a distraction. In truth, she doesn't think she can stand looking at you for too long without certain thoughts intruding. Certain thoughts she longed to act on the moment she saw you, thoughts that were housed in her dreams, of which detailed your return to Wakanda on brighter terms, “I would have met you elsewhere if you needed me.”

“What I’m about to ask you can only be done here.”

Shuri pauses in her movements, turning to you once more. You step closer to her, growing so close her arm makes contact with your chest. It’s a slight touch, with the fabric of your shirt and her jumpsuit clashing, and the ever so light contact of your body onto hers, but even so, it causes the princess to slightly pull away. If things were different, perhaps Shuri would have fallen into the touch, but in this case, she resists, despite her body screaming otherwise.

“Can we talk,” you mutter, low enough for only to hear, “somewhere where there isn’t a bunch of people?”

The people aren’t mainly what you’re concerned about, Shuri knows this. She knows this because the grip you have on her elbow is one she’s familiar with despite not having felt it in years. You never liked prying ears, especially when it came to discussing yourself, your powers, your state of being. She also knows because when her gaze shifts to your eyes, they scream with not only the desire for privacy, but also rising anxiety, and she’s sure it’s because of the technology that surrounds the both of you. It’s overwhelming, she’ll be the first to admit that, and while it has brought her more comfort than anything in the world, she remembers how damaging the very premises is to you.

Glancing between you and the holographic screen in front of her, Shuri nods, sets down her stylus, and closes the screen out. She takes the first steps away from her desk, and you follow right after.

The Wakandan royal leads you to the upper level of the laboratory, where there’s significantly less lab personnel, making the space quieter and private, and further into an unguarded hallway, where the blue glow from the vibranium laced in the walls dances on both of your faces so prettily.

Shuri looks at you, determining the look on your face being that of worry and uncertainty. “What are you thinking?”

A sigh protrudes your lips, your gaze falling everywhere but on the princess herself. “I feel it, Shuri.”

She cocks an eyebrow at your statement. “Feel what?”

“The poison- or whatever the fuck he injected me with,” you clarify, the memory of such an encounter still fresh and painful in your mind, “I feel it. It’s heavy, like- like lead. I don’t know what it is, but it’s fucking with my nerves, and thats why I can’t control anything.”

Your revelation only brings more questions to the princess. “How do you know?”

“I’ve felt it before…back in that lab.”

Shuri shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She holds your gaze firmly; it brings you an odd sense of comfort.

“When I was blacked out, memories started coming up. I remember being strapped to a table when those scientists did it, and it was the same exact feeling, pain and all.”

There was a lump of discomfort that formed in Shuri’s stomach from your recollection, as she was still in the dark as to what exactly happened to you when in captivity in those caves. The only thing she’s certain of is that the image of your limp figure being brought to her on a stretcher would always haunt her memories.

“I know there’s a cure for it, because those scientists had it, and that fucker probably knew about it, and if anyone can figure it out, it’s you.”

“What are you asking of me, (Y/N)?”

You’ve always hated this laboratory. Anything technology related, you were extremely apprehensive of, given its dark link to your past. And to think, you had come to a point in your life where you actually needed it for something.

“I need you to take my blood-” you begin, outstretching your arm with the underside of your elbow facing up, of which catches Shuri’s attention, “-and make a serum to get me back at one hundred percent-.”

“No,” Shuri’s response is almost immediate, her gaze refusing to rest onto your exposed arm. She doesn’t wish to think about it, think about causing you harm. She begins to walk away, but you’re quick to grab her arm and bring her back to you. It’s a desperate touch, one that’s strong with the longing for closeness. Shuri should know better, but her body betrays her desire to keep to herself, one of her dark hands hesitantly running the length of your arm as she shakes her head, “I can’t- I can’t do that to you-”

“There’s no other way, Shuri,” you interject, and with the same arm you had exposed to her, your hand, as well as the other, come to grasp her upper arm, desiring contact with the princess. “You think I’d ask this if there was any other option?”

Shuri swallows thickly, her gaze returning to yours.

“Wakanda needs all the help it can get right now. I can’t be fightin’ with half-assed powers out here. If there’s anyone on this god-forsaken planet that can recreate that serum, it’s you, Shuri.”

The princess is silent. It was the kind of silence you hated around her. It was the silence she held when she knew she had to do something, but was still considering against it. She was always stubborn and argumentative; and it was a blessing and a curse; endearing, but nevertheless, infuriating. But you knew the only reason she didn’t want to do it was because it would hurt you on so many levels.

But you couldn’t think about yourselves individually, when soon, an entire nation was at risk of feeling the consequences of your actions.

Shuri curses under her breath, taking hold of your hand and dragging you back into the main room of the laboratory. She positions you near an untouched counter, and goes off to one of the many cabinets surrounding the room. You have no doubt she’s fishing around for medical tools, and you are proven correct when she comes back to your side with a variety of items you were familiar with.

“I’ll need a full vial-” she begins, it’s the start of her rambling, over-explaining herself as a result of guilt. She’s guilty because she knows she’s going to hurt you, and there’s nothing she can do about it.

“-I know-” you reply, as she takes your arm into her hands, swabbing down the juncture where your vein protrudes against your skin with an isopropyl alcohol wipe.

“-and it is going to hurt-”

Shuri preps an empty syringe, the needle glistening in the crisp white overhead light.

“-I know-”

Your hand starts to reach up to Shuri’s face.

“-your PTSD might flare up-”

“Shuri.” The princess’s rambling ceases when your hand comes in contact with her face, caressing her cheek and directing her gaze to yours. It’s your turn for your eyes to ease her mind.

“I’ll be fine.”

Shuri takes your word for it. “Don’t look.”

You feel an uncomfortably familiar pinch in your arm, letting you know that the syringe has pierced your skin and has started drawing blood. You wince, jumping from the contact. The thought of it, its very presence in your body makes your chest tighten, but just as quickly as you feel the pinch of the needle, Shuri pulls it out, and a soreness replaces it. You release your breath.

Shuri’s nimble hands make quick work at wrapping gauze around the middle of your arm to cover the puncture wound. She transfers your blood from the syringe into the vial, walks over to a nearby synthesizer, and gives direction to Griot as she drops it into one of its many slot.

“Griot, synthesize (Y/N)’s blood and find whatever was used to incapacitate her. Then detect any possible antibodies for antidote production.”

Suddenly, you're sixteen again, and you’re meeting Princess Shuri for the first time.

You couldn’t deny that all of this, the suddenness of everything, was starting to get to you.

You were just starting to get the hang of this thing called ‘life’ when you bunkered down in Massachusetts. You’d chosen a decent part of the city to dwell in, one where chaos was known to ensue, thinking that the chaos of Boston would give you a great cover. It was a good advantage point, near all the needed stores and shops and institutions, near the water, and would have served you well in your hiding. It would have been the fifth place you had moved to since your departure from Wakanda, but you didn’t much mind the back and forth, state hopping thing. It oddly provided you with a level of thrill you hadn’t felt since your Avenger days.

But this - being pulled into a war with an underwater nation - this was almost too much. Even with the experiences and skill set under your belt.

You watch as Shuri busies herself, preparing the serum that had been synthesized. You were laying on a table, about to have said serum administered to you. Though the setting was uncomfortable, sparking memories you’d long ago buried, you knew what you had to do to get things done. And if it meant sacrificing your comfort for a few minutes, then so be it.

Well, you’d be sacrificing more than your comfort, but Shuri didn’t need to know that.

“Are you sure this is alright?”

Shuri’s voice is filled with concern, rightfully so, given your history with these sorts of things. The listed side effects for this serum, of which Griot was so gracious to point out to her, did very little to comfort the already anxious princess, mainly because they weren’t just the ‘simple’ side effects that could be cured with rest and herbal medicine.

Hypertension, blood clotting, muscle spasms, nerval pain - it sounded like it would be doing more harm than good to you.

You knew the risks; of course you knew the risks, as you endured this same ritual long before your presence was known to Shuri. But knowing she would refuse if you told her just how much agonizing pain you’d be in from the serum alone, not to mention the stripping agent that was used on you prior would surely increase the level of agony you’d be in - if she knew you would be subject to waves torture from it, she would have never agreed.

So, you lied.

“Yeah- yeah, it’ll be fine,” you replied.

Shuri was still hesitant though, as she walked over to your lying figure, syringe in hand. You took a deep breath, attempting to calm your nerves, as she looked you in your eyes for confirmation to continue.

Her eyes always held a whirlwind of emotions, you remember. Those chocolate brown irises were home to sparkles of happiness, of thoughtfulness, of anger and distress, of guilt and agitation, always carrying the weight of having to prove herself to people, to her people; the same people who were suppose to uplift her, but who instead doubted her and mocked her brilliance.

Right now, her eyes screamed unease. “I don’t want to do this if it’ll hurt you-”

You quickly placed your hand over hers, which rested beside your hip, and gave it a light squeeze. “Shuri, I’ll be fine,” you reiterated, “please…just do it.”

There was a pause, a moment of reflection, before Shuri did as told. The injection itself was short and swift, and Shuri found herself holding her breath with anticipation, her stomach tightening with panic as the scientist in her tried to decipher what would happen next.

But nothing came as fast as she had expected it to, and so, she made the mistake of letting go of the breath she was holding. The princess had only turned to set the syringe down, to have herself take a deep breath to prepare for one of the side effects she was sure would ensue, but in the split second she turned her back to you, a loud thud rang out in the tiny medical testing space.

Shuri spun right on her heels to see an empty table, and she didn’t have to look much further before she saw you, on the ground, heaving and wincing heavily at the pain that was coursing through your veins. You were trying your best not to scream, hands balled into tight fists, your nails surely breaking the skin of your palms as you tried to keep everything together.

Before she could comprehend her movements, Shuri was at your side again, unsure of how to bring you any comfort, but nevertheless, allowing the sudden urge to console you overtake her senses.

She’s on her knees here, and despite your attempts to swat away her hands, to push her away out of fear of you hurting her, the princess grasps onto yours and holds them tight. The sight of you gritting your teething, grunting, groaning, spewing curses of which Shuri had never heard before; it was traumatizing to watch, especially when Shuri began noticing your veins protruding against your skin with a deep, royal purple, despite the darkness your skin tone held.

Shuri wasn’t sure how many minutes had passed before your convulsing body began to calm down, leaning in to her touch. There were tears in Shuri’s eyes, but she did not let them fall, selfishly not wanting you to worry about her, but the other signs of distress weren’t easily quelled. The quivering lips, her own heavy breathing, the trembles that racked through her body; Shuri’s mind fell into disarray at the sight of your vulnerable body in agony. And she could not do anything about it.

Shuri isn’t sure if it was the pain or the exhaustion from your desperate struggle to keep any screams or cries within that caused you to pass out, but nevertheless, she continued to hold your body in a silent prayer; because even though she was there when you woke up once before from this, the thought of losing you haunted her now more than ever. Even when two Dora soldiers come to the entrance upon hearing the loud thud of your body on the ground, offering to hoist your body back up onto the table, and your vitals appeared back on the screen, her worries did not rest.

Shuri had already lost a piece of her heart, and she couldn’t bear to lose another.

You weren’t used to this.

You took your time walking through the royal garden, it’s location sat high in the palace to receive the best sunlight for the plants inside, and for the moonlight to shine beautifully within its glass walls. There were plants here you’d never seen before, never heard of before, of varying sizes, colors, and shapes. The intricate design of the space flowed beautifully, and it truly deserved the title of royal garden. But despite the beauty these plants and flowers held, you were not here to see them.

You’d heard that Queen Ramonda was up here, presumably to enjoy the beauty of the garden. You didn’t know much about queens, or about royalty in general. Being annexed into the royal family by affiliation had given you a glimpse of the royal life, but despite the beauty of it all, you’d determined that a royal’s job wasn’t easy.

T’Challa, for example, was the crowned prince. His father, T’Chaka, a man you’d only seen a handful of times, but according to T’Challa, he was the previous Black Panther. T’Challa didn’t spend his days doing just anything; he didn't indulge in simpler pleasures like food, drink, and woman (in fact, you’d only ever heard him talk about one woman in particular, and you’d come to determine that the lucky lady had the prince wrapped tightly around her finger. After learning the term ‘lovesick’, you’d only ever described T’Challa as that when he spoke of Nakia). T’Challa took up the Black Panther mantle and all the difficulties that came with it - mission after mission, risking his life out on the field for his people.

Shuri, the crowned princess, had burdens on her shoulders that she never showed, too. No one would say it, but it became quite clear very quickly that her youth, brilliance and natural affinity to technology was not accepted amongst the elders on the Royal Council, of the elders of the country. Regardless, she’s proved her capability and remains true to her passion, helping her people with what she knows best.

And Ramonda, the Queen Mother…She wasn’t just a pretty face sitting beside her husband or her son, watching over the decisions they made. She took her title as Queen Mother very seriously, evolving into this maternal figure that everyone looked up to, that everyone could depend on. Whatever one needed, the Queen took great care in aiding that person to the best of her abilities.

And you…you weren’t used to asking for help. But Ramonda was the only person you felt could actually help you.

You’d finally found her, walking unaccompanied, though you assume that the Dora entourage she normally had with her were the same two guarding the entrance of the palace garden. Without much thought, your feet began to pick up the pace to catch up to the Queen, who took notice of another set of steps approaching behind her. She turns, greets you with a warm smile, and stops walking for you to catch up.

“(Y/N), what a pleasure to see you.”

Her tone is warm and inviting, it almost makes the initial anxiety within you fall away. You nod your head down in acknowledgement, then you go to speak, but suddenly your words are gone, and silence is the only thing that leaves your lips. It’s an embarrassing moment, but Ramonda quickly chases the silence away as she asks you to walk with her through the garden.

“How are you enjoying your stay?” The Queen questions. She’s taken a seat in a nearby gazebo, watching you become fascinated with the greenery around you.

“It’s alright,” you mumble in response. Though, you soon remember who’s speaking to you, so you redirect your attention to Ramonda and clarify your reply, “I mean- I like it here. It’s…nice. I can’t complain, I guess.”

“And my son, T’Challa, has been hospitable to you?”

“Oh, yeah. T’s been amazing-” theres a quick pause and a clearing of your throat, as you correct yourself once more, “T’Challa. T’Challa’s been helping me settle in alright.”

Ramonda nods in approval, a light chuckle escaping her lips at the mention of the fond nickname you had given her son.

“And Shuri, my daughter?”

You’d visibly tensed at the mention of the princess. It took everything in you to keep down the heat that rushed to your face.

“Shuri’s cool, too.”

Ramonda gave you a knowing look as you approached the bench she sat on to take a seat, but she did not press further.

“Something troubles you, child,” Ramonda hums as you take your seat, your gaze landing in your lap, unable to make eye contact with the Queen.

“It’s not…’trouble’, really,” you mumbled again. Ramonda tilted her hair slightly, urging you to continue, “I, uh…wanted help with something.”

“Whatever you may need, I will try my best to help.” The Queen eases.

You chewed your lip in thought, a sudden urge to dismiss your original statement, but then, Shuri’s words rung loud in your head. ‘Mama is just like any other mom,’ she said, ‘and you’re like her daughter. She would kill for you; what you are asking of is childsplay. She will agree immediately!’

“Can you, um…” you began, your hands finding each other and fiddling with one another out of nervousness. The Queen remained silent, waiting for you to continue. It was a long pause, and Ramonda was growing slightly concerned, one of her hands moving to rest on your shoulder, but before she could make contact, you spoke up to finish your request.

“Can you help me with my hair?”

You spoke so fast, Ramonda barely caught the words that spilled from your lips. Examining your figure and how tense you seemed, she could tell that you weren’t used to asking for assistance

“Your…hair?” She repeated. You nodded in response, uncertain in your voice, maintaining your gaze in your lap. You weren’t sure what you were waiting for - a hysterical laugh, a lecture, an aggravating tone - but what you were met with was something you didn’t expect.

“Well…what did you have in mind?”

Wait. She’s….actually gonna help you?

You swing your head up and to the side, facing Ramonda with a look of shock on your face. You try to speak, but nothing comes from your throat but sounds of surprise.

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?” Ramonda questions, re-initiating the action of placing her hand on your shoulder.

You honestly thought, if she was willing to help you, she’d recommend a braider of sorts right off the bat. But she was asking you what you’d wanted, and honestly, you hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“I, uh….didn’t think I’d get this far,” you admit, releasing the breath you were holding. Your body relaxed into her touch, “so I don’t have anything, actually…”

Ramonda hums, and you watch as she gives you a once over. You shift a little under her gaze, wondering why she was looking at you so intensely.

“How do you feel about locs?”

“Like…dreads-?”

“Locs, dear. We do not call them ‘dreads’, here. There is nothing dreadful about your hair.” Ramonda is firm in her correction, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was actually becoming your mother here. With her firmness, there’s no room for debate, and so your response is a simple nod.

“Locs- locs, right. Um…I think they’re nice, I guess.”

And it’s here that Ramonda looks at you with an emotion unfamiliar to you. You’ve seen it before, it’s the same way she looks at T’Challa and Shuri; with immense warmth and care, with a desire to nurture and protect. The look of every mother to their child.

“I think you would look beautiful with them.”

By the time you had woken up, an hour had passed.

Unlike when you were in the cave, this regaining of consciousness came smoothly and without troubles, save the dull ache in your head and, oddly, in your arm. You awoke in the same room, only Shuri’s presence was missing. Lifting your upper half up first, you swung your legs off the edge of the table, taking your time to stand up so as to not cause a headrush. While your body was still a bit weak from the effects of the serum, you pressed forward to find the princess.

As soon as you exited the threshold of the medical room, you saw Shuri sat at a workstation with another holographic screen up, presumably the one she was working on hours before your initial arrival. Your eyes scanned the rest of the room, noting that no other laboratory staff were present. Descending down the stairs, you called out to the princess, but the moment she turned to you, vexation was written on her face.

“Woah, woah, woah-” you begin, as Shuri stands on her feet and is fast approaching you, and you can practically feel the heat radiating off of her.

“You lied to me!” Shuri says through gritted teeth.

It’s then you remember her asking you about the serum, whether it would be alright to inject you with it, and your less than truthful response. Her face shows that she knows; that she knew of the side effects before she had even consulted you, which only binds your position further into a corner. Funny how this blinding heat of crossness was exactly what you were trying to avoid, but as always, you’d somehow managed to do the exact opposite.

“Listen, Shuri, I can explain-”

“-explain lying to me? Once more? I would love to hear your reasoning.”

The ‘once more’ stings a little too close for comfort. You know she’s referring to when you originally left Wakanda; when you packed up everything and went back to the very country whose scientists were after you, for the sake of protecting such a sacred place, and its sacred people. It stings because she still doesn’t accept that as the real truth. It makes you think has Shuri made you out to be some villain, and if so, for how long?

“My reasoning?” You scoff, becoming defensive at her accusatory tone. “You know damn well if I told you what would happen, you wouldn’t have agreed in the first place!”

Shuri doesn’t reply to you, instead, she chooses to walk away, frustrated, because she knows you’re right. She wouldn’t have agreed to it, at least, not right off the bat, because despite what she may feel - if she could even put a name to this feeling of desiring your closeness but despising your presence - she could not bear the thought of harm coming to you from her hand.

She tries to walk away, but before she can get far, she feels her arm being tugged back, and she’s forced to turn back around to face you once more. But before another exchange of words can ensue, the ground beneath you two begins to shake, and the light fixtures above you blink in and out from the startlement. You and Shuri share a look of confusion and worry, which is even worsened when Griot’s voice echoes to life with unsettling news.

“Princess, there seems to be an attack on the capital city. The river's defenses have been breached.”

Talokan has started its retaliation.

“What is the damage?” Shuri questions the AI, her tone frantic, as the Griot brings up three screens above the sand table that stands in the middle of the room. One shows camera footage of hysteria overtaking the city; another shows a list of sectors within the city’s defense barriers, some of which show up in red, showing that the defense mechanisms have been compromised; and the last shows a high percentage of the damage done to the defensive barriers and the city itself.

You and Shuri share a look of distress, a void forming in your stomach. Everything starts happening so fast, you can barely keep up with it.

It’s as if a switch had been flipped inside the both of you, one that’s turned off your petty argument and set it to the side, forcing the both of you into action. You direct lab personnel to seek shelter, Shuri is directing Dora soldiers to the landing pad, and in the split second it would take for you to think, you’re up in the air in one of the smaller talon fighters, with Shuri as the pilot, as you sail out into the city.

The damage that Talokan has already done is equivalent to that of a great flood. Thousands of homes submerged in water, and thousands of civilians desperately reaching for higher ground as they are swept away in the current.

You look on at the devastation in panic. Namour was truly a cruel man, retaliating on thousands of innocents for the one life lost. You’d sympathized with him before, but now, all thoughts of sympathizing with this fish man went out the window for you.

Scouring the land beneath you, you spot that Shuri is flying right above the river, and with confidence, you take a leap of faith

“Drop me off at the river!” You suddenly shout to Shuri, who is all but confused.

“What? No! I’m not doing that!”

But she’s too late, you’re already unbuckling your seatbelt and discarding your head gear, reaching past her to slip through the glass opening of the talon fighter, and despite Shuri’s pleas and protests, the howling wind has made your ears deaf. And without a split second to think, you jump.

Shuri’s heart stops as she watches your figure falling from the high altitude, disappearing into said river she was now soaring over. But her horror is soon replaced with awe as she watches the water below swirl into a whirlpool, and gradually rise higher and higher into what she could only describe as a tornado-pool of water from the river, with you in the middle of it.

You gesture for her to continue flying on, and once she’s out of view, you start to focus your energy on the water around you, bonding with the molecules themselves, conjuring up two large water tentacles that encompass your real arms and perform the same motions. With height on your side, able to see the sweeping currents and the civilians struggling against them, and with your new elongated limbs, you start to fish out civilians and survivors, swooping them up in your tendrils and placing them on whatever nearby roofs or hills that withstood the strong flooding currents. Your mind is set on one thing - saving as many people as possible from this onslaught.

When you’ve picked up the last visible civilian you see from the currents, you start to command the whirlpool of water holding you up to shift from one area to another, fishing for more survivors. But as you do, you catch a glimpse of something that makes your heart drop to indescribable depths.

Namour, flying right in front of the palace. Right in front of the glass window of the throne room. And with him, something you can only describe as a water bomb.

The world deafens around you, even to the point where your own scream of terror comes out virtually silent, as you watch the glass break, the throne room flood, and only one word echoes throughout your shattered mind.

Mother.

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jimilter · 1 year

Text

on the borderline — 02 | pjm.

Park Jimin has been your buoy, your anchor and the ship of sanity that guides you to shore amid storms of self-doubt, nearly all your life; as have you been his. That is not to say nothing has ever brewed beneath the surface of platonic friendship, or that the two of you have never been victims to mistiming. Regardless, you would never risk the friendship you have with him now for anything. Even if you have to hurt him – or even yourself – in the process.

pairing: jimin x reader

rating: m (18+)

genre: humor | fluff | friends to lovers!au

word count: 7.7 k

— warnings: swearing + unresolved sexual tension + mentions of therapy + commitment phobia + innuendos in an office setting + really lame humor, again + some dark humor, again + sexual thoughts (pertaining to ass-grabbing, wet panties, choking, dick sucking) + jimin and yn being annoying bffs to each other + yn does not have a crush...on anyone...bec she's above crushes (but she's also a pathological liar so take that w a grain of salt) + a new (potential) love interest has entered the scene (:

— note: idfk why some bits of this fic are so hard to write??? but anyways, i took 3k words of unnecessary chatter and cleaned this part up. so much more satisfied w this than the mess it was yesterday, smh. anyyyyways, this is a burfday post - guess whose? hehe 🥺 hope y'all like the interesting turning of events in here and prepare yourself for the major twists coming w the next chapter! drop me a word~ 💜

ps. the rating, genre and warnings mentioned above pertain to this chapter, only.

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𝐈𝐈 ⇢ 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ♪ you give to me, everything anything that i could dream

“That wraps up all the major delegations,” you announce to the organizing committee gathered around the table before switching to the last slide of your presentation which displays, in a large font – ‘The 2G-Spot’, “and brings us to the last discussion of this meeting – our keynote and our guest of honor.”

"Wait, we still don't have them finalized?" Jackie, the Senior Sales Executive, looks at you with confusion in her gaze. "What happened to the names Zac and I picked out last week?"

You gingerly pull yourself a chair and delicately sit down, eyeing the three anxious faces around you in trepidation. This is gonna cause an uproar. Clearing your throat, you quietly inform them: "Boss man rejected them all."

Three gasps echo around you

"What?" Zac, your Social Media Manager, cries out with more than a little drama, both his arms spread apart and face contorted in a grimace. “I picked out forty-three people and Jackie shortened the list to twenty-seven. How could he not like one profile?”

“None of them fit his criteria of hitting the 2G-Spot.” It feels weird even as you say it, and the three pairs of questioning eyes that oscillate between you and the characters on the screen in absolute bewilderment make you clear your throat in discomfort. “He needs a glam guest and a genius keynote. A g and another g. The 2G-Spot. It’s not—” You break off with a puffed out exhale. “Don’t make me talk about it, please.”

Lea, the final member of your meeting of four, and the company’s Sales Strategist pats your back in a comforting gesture. But her eyes look absolutely soulless when she meets yours. “I can't imagine how that meeting must've gone… My brain's dying a slow death, one braincell at a time, just reading this. Did he not see the euphemism? Or did he intend it?"

You just shake your head, honest to God clueless.

She blinks. "Not that it makes much sense otherwise either, because what the heck does glam even mean?”

“Does he want some model to sit in as our guest?” Jackie squints at the screen, tilting her head as if the words will present you all with an answer if you look at them hard enough. “Does our boss hate us, guys?”

"No other way to explain whatever…this is.",

“I don’t think he hates anybody, he just wants us to – learn. Through hits and misses. And grow.” Lea scrunches her nose up in an evident display of how much she believes her own words.

“Oh, I'm learning alright. Learning how many blood pressure spikes my body can handle everyday before I succumb to heart failure under duress. Is that what he wants, Lea, is it?” Zac definitely carries the most amount of dark humor in your team.

You just exhale, because this is pointless. This cribbing about your boss is helping no one.

So although you more or less agree with the sentiments being thrown around, you don't participate in it. As the Sales Manager, the mess that was last month's sales is partly your responsibility. Marketing and Advertising shoulder the blame, too, but you were also at the center of it.

This workshop, being organized as a result of that fib, thus, has to be perfect and exactly how your boss wants it to be.

“Guys, I know it looks unfair,” you begin consoling your disgruntled team, “but I’m sure Boss is just being careful. Remember how meticulous he was with the selection of all the experts for different sections of the workshop?”

A grunt, a sigh and an eye roll. Wow, enthusiasm is rife in your office today. This won’t do.

"Guy, guys. Stop.” You raise both your palms up and three long faces turn towards you, disappointment pulling them down. “We don't get to do this. Let’s not forget the reason why this workshop is even happening in the first place – we ventured a new product into a new market and it absolutely crashed.”

You clap your hands together, drawing attention to the seriousness of the topic.

“We couldn’t sleep properly for days when the numbers started coming in. Remember? We need to think about how much worse it must have been for Boss. He had to answer his investors and even the media because of how huge the launch event had been.”

Lea’s back straightens at that. Jackie’s pout turns into a frown. Zac finally stops scowling and presses his lips into a concerned line. Wow, are you a good leader or what?

“What we can do, here, is coordinate well with Marketing and Advertising for this event. Help make it a learning experience for all. Find our faults and correct them before the next product launch, so that we don’t even have to play the blame sharing game. How does that sound?"

A collective, uplifted sound of agreement echoes around the huge conference hall. You smile, proudly.

“That’s what I like to hear. So. Let's begin by breaking down the implication of the word glam.”

Zac turns his laptop towards you. “We could bring in our brand ambassadors? We've got an A-list model and a daily soap actor with us. They can be glam, right?”

You look at two pictures on the screen. Both your brand ambassadors are definitely glam. But you somehow don’t believe this is what your boss wants. Besides, what would they even say in their mandatory speech?

“Um, I was thinking more of a customer,” Lea butts in when you’ve been silent for too long. “It can be a fun activity to engage with our consumers. Select someone that has used our products for a long time and ask them to talk about their experience with the company at the workshop?”

“I feel like that’d be a bit too attention grabby,” Jackie points out before you can, and you nod because you were gonna say something along similar lines. “Not to mention, a complicated ordeal to execute less than two weeks before the event.”

"We can push the date back if we really need to," you remind them.

“Agreed with what Jackie said, and also, Lea?” Zac clicks his fingers in front of the girl's face. “We sell bulbs. And a guest that can talk about bulbs at an event cannot be called glam, by any means. At least in my dictionary.”

Chuckling, you slowly nod because they’re all correct on some level. Lea looks at you with a sigh. “I’m out of ideas, then.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the strategist? Use your skills, dude,” Jackie prompts her, which has you standing up to turn off the projector.

“Alright, guys, listen up,” you call for their attention. “We have another hour before work begins, so how about we privately brainstorm some ideas and later discuss ’em?”

You’re just making your way back to your seat when a throat is cleared at the door to the conference room, followed by the sound of knuckles rapping against the glass doors. Your gaze flies up to catch the intruder because you weren’t expecting anyone – and freezes in surprise.

It’s Kim Seokjin. The CEO’s cousin. The gorgeous, model-esque guy who doesn’t work here and yet frequents these offices more than some of the employees. The only person in this building that is literally everyone’s favorite.

Well, more like everyone’s crush, to be honest.

Not you, though. You’re above crushes.

You prefer to be an objective admirer of the breadth of his shoulders, the plumpness of his lips and the symmetry of his facial features. It’s just an aimless appreciation of his looks that you expect nothing out of. You would have tried to sleep with him, though, if Jimin hadn’t yelled at you about it being a bad idea.

Seokjin's blindingly good looks, though, are not what has you gaping at the man like a fish. It's actually his presence here, right now, outside the conference hall which is the only occupied room in your office building right now, while the rest of it awaits the arrival of the company’s employees, an hour from now. You wonder who made a social media post about you all being here early. That is the only way Seokjin could have caught wind of your meeting.

But you especially wonder why he has decided to show up. You didn’t know he knew you existed. But now he’s looking straight at you, gaze expectant and lips smiling softly.

“Oh my God, is that Seokjin?” comes an astonished whisper from Jackie, which launches you into action.

Quickly blinking, you pull a grin upon your face and walk up to the door, letting the really tall and really broad man into the huge conference hall that he manages to somehow belittle by his form.

“Good morning, Mister Kim,” you wish pleasantly but with an undercurrent of confusion in your voice.

Wait, is this the first time you’re talking to him? Why do you feel like a fangirl, right now?

Didn’t you just establish you’re above crushes? Where’s your maturity and detachment at?! Wow, liar.

“Hey,” he says to you with a grin, waving his fingers in a butterfly wave as he walks in. “Your guy Zac posted an Instagram story about you being a hardass that made him wake up at six, so I decided to come in earlier and see what it’s all about.”

Your head snaps to shoot an icy glare at Zac, who just swallows and focuses his wide eyes upon the table.

Seokjin, meanwhile, takes a seat next to the guy. “Good morning, guys. Hope I’m not disrupting your meeting sesh.”

A cacophony of ‘not at all’ and ‘our pleasure’ bursts around you as you look on in surprise. While you make your way back to your chair, your team has filled Seokjin in on your dilemma of the moment, for some reason. You wonder if they have interacted with him better than you have.

"Would you look at that," Seokjin begins after they're done, looking towards you with a smile. His gaze is kinda piercing. It's kinda hot. "You guys encounter a problem and the solution walks right into your meeting!"

You're…confused. What problem does he think you're facing? Given the lost looks on your team members' faces, they don't seem to have any idea either.

"Uh, Mister Kim," Lea begins with a frown, "what…solution…?"

He gives a scoff, chuckling as if he finds Lea's joke very funny. Except, you don't believe she was joking. "Come on. Can there be a better fitted glam guest of honor for your event than yours truly?"

Your jaw slowly drops open, stuck in unsurety because you can't tell if he's being serious or just putting you through some impossible to understand test. But Zac is leaning away to eye Seokjin with a contemplative look on his face, already.

“You, um, you will have to say a few words about the company,” you finally speak up, lashes fluttering in unnecessary self-consciousness against Seokjin’s strong stare. “Some good things. And also about the failed product…a little…”

Seokjin shrugs. “Sounds simple enough, I can do that.”

He can?

Jackie suddenly excuses herself, before getting up and dragging you to the other side of the hall too. “This is a great idea, why are you hesitating?” she hisses at you. “There’s no way Boss will reject his own cousin, ma’am!”

That much is true. “But does he even really know what we do here at Sales?” you whisper your doubts back, which makes your sales executive roll her eyes.

“Of course, he does. He’s here all the time!” He is? When? Does the guy actively avoid you or something? “Come on,” Jackie goes on, “let’s give him his moment to shine. We have nothing to worry about even if he messes up – Boss will have to take charge. Not that he will mess up.” Jackie looks over her shoulder and grins at the other three. “Man loves to talk. He’ll be good as the guest.”

At the end of the day, you remind yourself, it’s just a company workshop. No outsiders, no one to impress but the CEO.

Seokjin is a workable idea.

You finally nod in agreement, which has Jackie clapping once and then joining the group at the table. Before you can join them as well, Seokjin’s call of your name has you stopping.

“You need a keynote, too, right?”

Tentatively, you move your head in a nod. “Uh, yeah… We’re – we’re looking for an industry expert from Marketing, Advertising or Sales itself.”

He squints at you. “Your friend that is here every other week… isn’t he Geisha Global’s Regional Director?”

Jimin?

This dude knows you’ve got a friend that you regularly meet up with after work – and what said friend does for a living? What? How? You’re beginning to wonder if Seokjin just doesn't loiter your hallways out of boredom but is in fact some sort of a detective working for your CEO.

Flustered, you try to formulate a response, “I, um, yeah, but—”

“Brilliant! He’s the director of an ad agency, he’ll make for a fantastic keynote for our little event!” Seokjin gets up and forwards a hand for you to shake.

And you obviously take it, because his fingers are so long, palms so huge, and—oh. His hands are warm, too. Before you can stop yourself, you’re envisioning them wrapped around your throat. And then grabbing your ass.

All that, while you still haven’t said a word about Jimin’s participation in your workshop that you’re more than certain he’ll refuse to, because your best friend despises public speaking.

What the heck is wrong with your horny brain, today?

Your team is looking at you with wide, shocked eyes. Damn, they didn’t know who your friendly, flirty, people pleaser friend is professionally. And now the questions will never stop.

“He’s generally a very busy guy, I hardly even get to see him lately.” Your last night’s clothes are still at his place. You're turning into a pathological liar. “But… I’ll try to catch him in a chat about this over the weekend. He might not have time on his schedule to be able to come, though, but…"

“In that case," Seokjin picks up your incomplete sentence, "maybe you should give him a heads up. You guys are friends, I'm sure he'll prioritize you asking for a favor if you give him enough time."

Is it just you, or is this conversation unbelievably weird?

It probably is just you, though, because everyone is looking at you with an expectant gaze again. Shit, the pressure is physically pressing down on your chest the longer they stare. It's as if they're reaching in to pull your intestines out, your stomach starts to churn so badly.

People's expectations ruin your life because you can't freaking say no.

Coughing, you discreetly press a fist against your collarbones and clear your throat. Yeah, people's expectations cause you breathing troubles. Your therapist deserves a fucking raise for dealing with you. But because you just had an appointment last week, you’re gonna have to dump your stress over Jimin, the second this meeting is over.

“I’ll – I’ll talk to him after work. Arrange for a meet-up whenever he has the time, explain everything about the workshop.”

You're lying again because you plan to meet him during lunch hour today, if he's available. You briefly wonder if you are the one with a lying problem and not Jimin, before nodding at the hopeful faces looking at you.

"I'll tell you guys how it goes. Although, next week might really be a short notice for him."

“Hey, didn’t you say Boss will allow us to push the workshop back if need be?” Lea squints at you and you resist the urge to smack a palm against your forehead. Why did you have to tell them that? “We’ll do that if Jimin wants us to. Oh, should I be saying his name like that?” She winces.

“Please do.” There’s a grimace on your face that you can’t turn into a smile despite your best efforts because what a mess. “Please do.”

"It'd be really cool to have Jimin at the event," Zac murmurs with a small smile, sparkling eyes looking at you hopefully. "He's always such a comforting presence…"

"Yeah, he really is," Katie adds with a nod, eyes similarly glittery.

And you nervously swallow. For all the bravado and the general badass energy you claim to walk around with, it's hilarious how you can never say no to people. No matter how wild the expectations, you're always willing to bend over backwards to accommodate everyone. Which is fucking crazy!

You wonder how you've survived corporate jobs and promotions without sucking any dick. Maybe you're lucky to not have faced truly lecherous people.

The point of the matter being, you feel like you're gonna have to drag your best friend to the workshop if these guys pin so much hope onto you.

Seokjin suddenly claps his hands together with a large smile on his face.

"That is wonderful!" he exclaims, as if he has anything to do with this workshop at all. This man would have been so freaking irritating if he wasn't so damn handsome. Sigh. "Please convince Jimin to join us next week?"

Oh God, now he has a shimmer in his eyes too? Why are these people doing this to you?

“I – I’ll talk to him… No promises, though, guys—”

“I’m sure he won’t say no to you,” Zac says to you with a sage smile that makes him look twice his age and makes no sense to you. “You guys are best friends.”

You awkwardly nod, unable to figure out a response. You fear noisy breathing sounds would come out of you if you opened your mouth. So you keep your lips sealed and stealthily reach into your bag to extract your phone.

Texting Jimin cannot wait till after the meeting, you're minutes away from hyperventilating.

Text Message to Min 🌟 ↳ SOS ↳ meet for lunch today?

The response comes within five seconds, and you’re so fucking thankful your phone was on silent. He’s generally very busy, yeah right.

Text Message from Min 🌟 At my office @ 1 Bring pizza From the eatery down my block Pls 👅 ** 🥺 I MEANT 🥺 I SWEAR

Why is your best friend a literal clown? You immediately lock your phone and slide it into your pant’s pocket, holding in the snort that threatens to escape. Well, at least his typo has caused you to breathe easier now.

"That officially concludes this meeting, I guess," you finally say, voice a little tight as you avoid everyone's excited gaze by looking at your laptop. You clear your throat with pursed lips. "We have twenty minutes before work starts, so grab a coffee or some breakfast if you skipped this morning."

Your team, along with Seokjin, bounds out of the conference hall like enthusiastic children, leaving you behind to slowly collect your stuff. You do so with a sigh, already dreading the conversation you will have to have with Jimin.

“I have been blindsided.” Your best friend is frowning at you, hands crossed against his chest petulantly as he leans back in his revolving chair. “This doesn’t sound SOS-y at all."

You exhale. “Jimin—”

“No, first of all, where’s my pizza? Second of all – why would you suggest my name for a public speaking stint when you know I don't like public speaking? Neither of these acts exhibit best friend behavior.”

“There was a mile long queue outside of your damn eatery, okay? And my break lasts thirty minutes, so—”

“Your company isn’t strict on lunch timing, don’t try to fool me.”

“—so, I ordered your pizza online and it’ll be here in the next five minutes.”

He shuts up that, lips curving up in an excited smile. “Hey now, why didn’t you lead with that? I would’ve been more understanding.”

Your eyebrows rise up in expectation.

“Which means I would’ve rejected you softly, instead of yelling at you.”

You deflate again.

“No, don’t get all pouty on me. You know about my weird introversion about public speaking.”

“It’s called stage fright, stop making up new shit.”

“Case in point – you know I don’t like it. Why didn't you say no on my behalf? You’re my best friend, you should be on my side, not your company’s.”

Keeping the way Jimin is dramatically making this a bigger deal than it really is aside, you’re getting irritated at his claims upon your friendship. You do know he doesn’t like it, which is why your immediate thought when Seokjin brought him up was that he won’t agree to do it. You tried to dissuade them so many times, citing Jimin's non-existent busy schedule. Where's your credit for that attempted resistance? Nowhere! Instead, the guy seems to think you had a hand in encouraging this.

"I didn't say no because no one would believe me if I told them a company's Regional Director isn't fond of public speaking." You eye him, askance.

"That feels oddly offensive…"

"Jimin. Be fucking for real. You speak at events, like, every week. What's one more added to the pile?"

"I do that because I'd be out of a job if I don't," he bemoans, eyes shut and face crumpled like a toddler's. "Public speaking as a favor is a completely different exercise that I do not wish to participate in, nuh-uh. Pass."

“What if I’m out of a job because I couldn’t persuade you to come?”

He gapes at you. “It cannot possibly be that serious, babe, it’s just an office workshop!”

“You know what my boss is like – every fucking thing is a huge fucking thing for him,” you grouse, shaking your head.

“Is there no one else you could think of, though?”

Okay, yeah, that’s enough. You’re gonna have to tell him it wasn’t your idea because this is getting irritating. Seokjin’s name gets you earfuls, so you will avoid mentioning he was the one who instigated this, but you can at least tell Jimin that it wasn’t you.

“I didn’t bring up your name as a prospect, Min,” you finally clarify upon an exhale, watching the way his eyebrows slowly start to furrow. "It was…suggested. Because you’re kind of famous, you know? And people at my office know you.”

He leans over the table, a crease in his brow. “You didn’t? Then who did?”

You wave a dismissive hand. “They’re not important.”

“They? Are you being ambiguous or is that their pronoun?” He squints into space, mumbling something to himself, and then shakes his head. “Nope, you don’t have a non-binary coworker in your department, you’re just being ambiguous. Which – a lack of representation. Ask your HR to look into it, okay?"

Scowling, you shake your head at him. "How can you possibly know that?”

“Babe. I know everyone in your department.” He gives you a flat stare. “By name. So, spill. Who was it?” His eyes suddenly widen, glee spreading over his face slowly. “Wait, is it Lea? Your sales strategist?”

Ugh, he’s really on a first-name basis with your entire department. It’ll take him minutes to go down the list and you'll have to lie to get out of this. Or just tell him the truth and face that lecture on why seducing Seokjin is a bad idea.

You shake your head with a resigned sigh.

“Given how she’d looked at me with really wide, shocked eyes, no." With an eye roll, you rest your face on a palm and lean on his desk. "I don't think she even knew what you do for a living… Much like the others.”

“No? Oh.” He slumps back in his seat, lips downturned. And then he sits up again with renewed joy. “Ooh, wait, is it your sales exec? Katlyn? Katie? She always says hi to me, right? Wow, she’s kinda hot…” He leans across the table with a wide grin. “Tell you what, I’ll agree for the keynote thing if you set me up with her.”

“What? No and no, Jimin! You can't date people from my office!” You scoff at the guy when he rolls his eyes. “I mean you can’t date, period, but you shouldn’t even hook up with people from my office."

Jimin gives a drawn out groan, ever the dramatic bitch. “Why?”

“Because.” You shut your eyes and massage your forehead. “Because it’ll make things weird for me.”

“Weird? Why?” He wiggles his eyebrows, a smirk on his lips. “Do your colleagues think we're a thing too?”

You read forth to flick at his forehead.

“Ow, what the hell?”

“Yeah, what the hell? No, they don’t, Jimin. And it’s not Katie, okay?”

“FIne, okay, so then who was it? Why’re you being so mysterious about it?”

He is looking at you through narrowed eyes now, peering into your very soul. And immediately, your brain rushes to compare his stare with that of Seokjin’s for no other reason but to ruin your already tiresome day.

Seokjin looked at you with pretty much the same intensity as Jimin, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. Whereas your best friend seems to be scrutinizing you as if you’ve been placed on a slide under a microscope. And yet, the alternating warm and cold currents that run through your nerve endings right now affect you worse than Seokjin’s flirtatious smiles did.

Oh God. The morning’s rush made you almost forget about your recent sexual awakening regarding your best friend. Ew, sounds gross even in your head.

But now that you have reminded your brain of the same – including the innuendo-infused face-off you two had in the bathroom and the wet dream that you had last night – it decides to conjure up all these scenarios where Jimin gives you this exact stare, but in an atmosphere with a dimmer, warmer lighting and few to no clothes on your bodies.

Oh. God.

Desperate to distract yourself from witnessing what is sure to be a very embarrassing x-rated video featuring you and Jimin in your head, you resort to initiating the one conversation you planned to avoid when you came here.

With clenched fists, you stare at the back of Jimin’s laptop, and exhale in a rush: “Okay, fine, it was Seokjin.”

Jimin draws away from the table, back flattening against his chair as if shoved by the force of your words. You just focus on your breathing while you wait for him to respond, strictly keeping your eyes away from his person and trying to fill your head with work-related, appropriate thoughts.

“Kim Seokjin?” Jimin finally mumbles, pulling your gaze to his frown. “Your boss’ cousin, Kim Seokjin?”

“Do you know any other Kim Seokjins?” you grumble, crossing your arms against your chest in irritation.

You’re being unfairly cranky because it’s not even Jimin’s fault at this point. You’re the one with a malfunctioning, horny brain which keeps making you feel like a teenager, Jimin’s just living his life.

So you exhale in resignation, and nod. “I mean, yeah. That’s the one.”

“Dude,” he begins in an accusatory tone, shaking his head at you, “you're totally trying to use me to impress him.”

Rolling your eyes, you resist the urge to groan in frustration. “Impress him? For what?”

“Didn't we establish that your crush on him was a bad idea because you shouldn't sleep with your boss’ cousin?”

This time you let the groan escape. “I am not crushing on him anymore, Min! I just…like to look at him from a distance, just some objective admiration…”

Jimin blinks at you. “That's what a crush is.”

“Absolutely not! I respect him and like how he looks, without any unrealistic expectations and imaginary scenarios.” You shrug your shoulders, trying to act nonchalant in the face of the imagery of Kim Seokjin’s gorgeous hands on your throat and/or your ass. “Just some friendly admiration, as – as I said.”

“No, you said objective admiration.” Jimin goes back to observing you like a specimen under a microscope. “And to me, that still sounds like you wanna sleep with him.”

“Untrue, it’s just—”

“Well, do you wanna date him, then?” He raises a brow, a weird eagerness spreading across his face as if he wants you to say yes.

Maybe he actually does, maybe this is him hopping onto the ‘I will convince you to get back in the dating game’ bandwagon again. God, he’s so annoyingly persistent.

“No, Jimin, no way in hell.” You glare at him. “Okay, you know what? Everyone else backed him up too, so I'm not tryna impress just him. The others in my department want you to be there, too. They even talked about pushing the date back to accommodate you.”

“Aha! So Katie does remember me!” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “See, soulmates.”

“You literally called her Katlyn twice…” You deadpan.

“Ah, that's a minor blip that I and Katlyn—Katie," he corrects with a wince. Then clearing his throat, he grins at you again. "I and Katie will work through it, don't you worry."

“Jimin. Please. Everyone will really love it if you’re there. Zac even said you’re a comforting presence…”

He frowns at you. “Zac? Ellis? Oh man, does he still think I was flirting with him that one time? Please clarify it to him that I’m straight, Y/N!”

“It was you that told him and Jiah that story about you hooking up with a guy in college, Min,” you remind him with a giggle, resting your chin on a fist to wiggle your eyebrows at him. “What did you expect to gain out of that, if not an admirer?”

Jimin seems to get a bit serious at that. “I… Well, they just looked kinda tired, sad and uncomfortable, you know? So I thought I’d cheer them up a bit with a fun anecdote…”

His response is so genuine and so wholly him, that your heart goes out for the guy. You reach forth with your free hand to pat the back of his own. “I get it, buddy. But you don’t have to always comfort everyone. You need to think about your own comfort and happiness at times, too. What you need, instead of always taking care of what others need from you.”

He looks at you with wide eyes and then slowly nods. “What I need, huh?” he mumbles, blinking with so much innocence in his gaze, it’s uncanny. “How about that pizza I asked for?”

You lift your fingers off his fist and bring them back down in a snap. Can never have a serious conversation with this for two seconds.

“Ow!”

Checking your phone for the ETA with a roll of your eyes, you hiss at him, “Will be here in less than three minutes. Asshole.”

He just giggles, entirely gleeful and not one bit sympathetic about your predicament. And then he surprises you by getting up and squeezing your shoulder. "I'll think about it, okay?

Eyes going wide and lips curving up, you jump out of the chair to hold him by his forearms. "You will?"

"I said think," he corrects you, but there's a resigned smile on his face which tells you he's gonna say yes.

"That's good enough," you hurriedly tell him before engulfing your best friend in a bear hug. "Thank you, thank you!"

"You are really not welcome to this again and it absolutely won't be my pleasure," he grumbles into your shoulder.

You wack him on the back, and relax in his grasp, silently asking to pull away. "That's enough emotion for a week, Min…"

He throws you away with a scowl, but there's no real heat to it. You laugh at his irritated face, settling down again to fill him in about the details of the workshop so that he can prepare his speech.

Barely into your discussion, the pizza arrives. You two share it while you discuss some points he wishes to make in his speech.

When you finally take your leave, his secretary is on the phone right outside his office doors. You wave at the girl you know is a sweetheart, and she absently smiles at you.

That is when her words register to you:

"...lunch with his girlfriend so we had rescheduled you for three o'clock, but he is available now, if you wish to meet-up?"

The girlfriend part gives you a pause but doesn't really shock you, because now you know what goes on at Jimin's office. What has you stopping completely in place and frowning – is the postponed meeting part. Did Jimin cancel a prior engagement to make room for you?

Whipping out your phone, you shoot him a text.

Text Message to Min 🌟 ↳ did u have a lunch meeting?

His response takes a while, only pinging your phone when you've exited the building and are getting into your car.

Text Message from Min 🌟 Uh 🧍🏻‍♂️ You JUST left my office??? And we had lunch together? So I'd say yeah

↳ no smartass ↳ i mean a scheduled one

Min 🌟 Well Kinda? But it's no issue, I got it pushed to 3

↳ it is an issue w ME! ↳ see this behavior is exactly why your office thinks we're dating ↳ why would u push back a meeting to have lunch w me???

Min 🌟 Because you literally told me it was an SOS situation!

↳ oh

Now you feel kinda dumb. You made the guy postpone a meeting because of a situation that was a lot less than an SOS, if you're being honest. But he should know you're prone to exaggeration.

↳ i'm sorry?

Min 🌟 Are you apologizing for having lunch with me? Because I will physically tackle you to the ground and make you take it back 😠

Your best friend is insufferable but also really fucking cute.

↳ apologizing for delaying your meeting ↳ and causing u to stay longer at the office potentially

Min 🌟 It'll be fine with me if you need to grab your stuff from my place and run home while I’m gone

↳ yeahhhh was kinda hoping I could do that 😬

Min 🌟 You never have to think so hard with me, grumpkim <3

Ew, what the hell is that?

↳ …tf? ↳ is this a new nickname you're trying?

Min 🌟 Yes!!! Isn't it adorable? Like pumpkin cause you’re cute but grumpy because that's your natural state of being :)

↳ okay one - i am NOT grumpy, just a lil short tempered ↳ which im working on rectifying ↳ and two - no cheesy nicknames bw us hello??? u yelled at me for calling u bestie once!!!!

There isn't a response for a while, so you start your car and drive back to your office. You're ten minutes past the lunch break ending, but just as Jimin said, one of the only redeeming qualities to your boss is that he isn't hard about lunch timings.

It's when you've settled into your cabin and have pulled your phone out to keep it on your desk that you notice Jimin's response.

Text Message from Min 🌟 You were friend-zoning me with the “bestie” tag How am I supposed to flirt with you if you do that?

You can’t help the snort that leaves you. This is so on-brand of him, it’s almost funny.

↳ soooo “grumpkin” is flirtatious?

His reply comes instantly:

Min 🌟 It can be if I want it to be ;)

You hate the way that stupid freaking winky face makes your cheeks warm.

This is your childhood best friend, for fuck’s sake! What the hell is wrong with your brain?

The longer you stare at the text, the warmer your face feels. And the warmer your face feels, the hotter your heads get.

At the end of a whole minute when you are beginning to feel how Bruce Banner must feel right before his transformation, you grab your phone and lock the screen, leaving your best friend on read. But that doesn’t feel quite enough, so you jerk a drawer of your desk open and toss the stupid device with your stupid best friend’s stupid text into it.

Just as you have shoved the drawer close, Jackie, passing your office by right that moment, stops to raise her eyebrows. “Need a mallet to deal with that?”

If you could take a mallet to your stupid brain and beat the stupid parts with the stupid thoughts about your stupid best friend out of it, you would take Jackie upon her stupid offer.

The next few days are normal, but…very strange, at the same time.

Normal on the front that work goes back to the usual. No unwanted, tiresome meetings await you at the office, your boss having been really satisfied with the final choices your team submitted for the guest of honor and keynote appearances at the workshop next Friday. Sane working hours leave you feeling productive and a lot energized.

The strange part comes in the form of one Kim Seokjin.

Guy’s been sort of hovering around you lately, and you don’t exactly hate the attention. You’ve decided you’re not gonna “fuck and chuck him” like Jimin has told you not to. Mostly because your best friend never butts into your love-life (read: the academic roll of people going through your bed, but anyways), while for this one guy he has been screaming at you to not do it, every chance he gets.

You’re gonna respect that. And also, you get what he means. Fooling around with your boss’ cousin with no intention of getting serious has the highly delicate risk of complicating things at your workplace a bit. Or more than a bit, depending upon how badly you deal with it – and you usually break your own records of how badly you’re dealing with an ex-lover.

So. You’re not gonna sleep with Seokjin.

But, you’re absolutely giving back your one-hundred percent into the dangerous smirks and heavy glances he sends you any time you meet his gaze, which you find yourself doing a lot of. You’re not breaking any rules if you present him with the hope of possibly pursuing something, right? And who knows? You might actually end up dating, too. Finally break the freaking fast!

It’s strange but also strangely fun doing this, if you’re being honest. And also, this whole back and forth is kinda helpful in keeping your mind somewhat off of the x-rated thoughts your brain has recently found out it loves conjuring up about your best friend. Like, seriously, you feel like you need a fucking mental intermission to get your brain to recover from the constant overdrive it has been riding around in for nearly a week now. It’s exhausting when you have to ward off a variation of the same repetitive thought twenty times in a single hour.

Your interactions with Seokjin have helped a bit in that regard, dwindling it down to five thoughts an hour, Which is a lot workable, so you call it definite progress.

But, despite all of that, this feels wrong to you.

You’re not necessarily betraying Seokjin, right? You don’t even know if he is as much into it as it seems! And who is to say that you aren’t? You could date him if you want. Jimin would be so proud! What the hell is your problem?

You wonder if this is just a psychological repulsion born out of your self-imposed ban on dating? In the way that you have gotten so used to steering clear of anything touching the themes of ‘romance’ that your mind now detects those thoughts as something negative?

In all honesty, you ought to be feeling negatively about all the way your imagination has been running wild about Jimin. Those are the kind of thoughts that stand to harm your deep and profound friendship of years.

But what do they do, instead?

Leave your panties wet.

It is when emotionally available, interested in you and not a childhood friend that you might lose forever Seokjin brushes past you with a meaningful smile that you get this sense of foreboding. As if you shouldn’t be allowing this to happen between you and a perfectly handsome, well-natured, intelligent and funny guy.

Why aren’t you scared of losing your best friend but wish to hide away from a guy you should be fantasizing climbing up?

It could be because you know Jimin is safe. As in, nothing will come out of having thoughts about him because you will never act upon him. But with Seokjin, things are tangible. If you give him signs, he might actually pursue you with a seriousness that might actually, really, factually lead to a romantic entanglement.

Wait… so this is basically your commitment phobia making your life difficult again?

Sure sounds like it.

Your ex should be burnt in fucking hell. And your therapist definitely deserves a raise, damn.

So aside from the whole whatever the fuck you’re doing with Seokjin, the days following Monday go by pretty normally – until, that is, things take a turn.

The first wave of change hits you on Friday.

Zac Ellis comes into work late and somehow catches your boss’ eye. Which leads to your boss unnecessarily giving you all an hour long lecture on the importance of punctuality. Which, in turn, makes you all stay an hour late to finish up the day’s tasks because it is the end of the week.

By the time you finally get to leave, ten minutes later than your team as is the curse of a Team Leader, you are dead on your feet. Dragging yourself out of your cabin, you yawn with your mouth thrown wide open and eyes squeezed shut, allowing them to water. You are dreaming of cuddling under some blankets with a heating pad between you and the cushions because your back hurts like a bitch.

Your colleagues don’t seem to share the sentiment, though, because the six pm clock out time gives them the idea of going out for dinner together.

“Guys… you should go on without me, I’m really tired,” you politely tell them, shaking your head when Lea pouts at you. “Seriously. I would if I could, but I just want to get into bed and sleep for ten hours today.”

“Ah, understandable.” It is Seokjin that speaks up, emerging from the group to smile at you. Yep, one of those secret smiles that seem to convey more than what is visible. “Some days ask ten hours of sleep out of you.”

You give him an awkward chuckle, unsure how to maintain a civil conversation with the guy with all the heavy gazing from the past three days. Especially in front of the entire Sales department.

“Yeah…” You lamely nod, watching as the crowd of people begins to shuffle away from you and towards the elevators.

Seokjin looks at you again, kinda smacking you in the face with his good looks with the way he gives you a lopsided smirk. One of his eyebrows arches up and it’s certain death to your brain, because the damn organ forgets to work your lungs and your oxygen supply just cuts off.

“I hope this wasn’t due to…” He trails off and steps closer. You just started breathing again but now you wish you hadn’t, because his cologne is delicious and makes you want to sniff him. Fuck. “Was it?”

You quickly shake your head to assure him. “No, no! Absolutely not, please trust me.” Forcing a smile upon your face, you thickly swallow and will yourself to not break eye contact. “I really am very tired.”

“I was looking forward to having dinner over some casual chat with you, but… I understand.” He smiles at you fully.

It doesn’t feel nice saying no to such a friendly, harmless invite. To a group gathering, too. But because you are sincerely not kidding about the kind of pain your body is in, you grimace at the man. “I am truly sorry, Seokjin. Raincheck?”

If he finds your sudden usage of his name odd – because you are pretty sure you have never said it out loud before; and it has been well-established that your brain is a dangerous place so whatever happens up there doesn’t count – he doesn’t show it. But your response makes his eyes glimmer a little, and his smile turns serene.

“That is quite okay,” he tells you with a wave of his hand. “How about tomorrow? Just us? That Korean BBQ place down the block?”

You blink, a bit taken aback by the sudden invite. “Uh…”

“My treat.” He smiles conspiratorially, and you wonder if he thinks that the prospect of free food is enticing to you.

Like, of course it is, but of course he shouldn’t know that.

You take a moment and then shrug. “Sounds good to me. What time?”

“I’ll text you.”

He waves as the two of you get into the elevators with the last of your floor’s members, and you wave back with a small smile that matches his own.

It is when you are pulling your car out of the building that it hits you.

Just us… My treat… And that smile? Dude just asked you out on a date!

i, he didn’t specify the word and it may as well actually be a friendly dinner, but… It is definitely going to be a dinner with benefits. Fuck.

And you said yes because you are the biggest dumbass of the century.

“He wasn’t thinking about free food, you absolute idiot!” you yell at yourself.

Your mind immediately goes to Jimin.

What would he say? What would he think? Theory says he will be over the moon, but also… this is Seokjin and the dinner could still be a dinner-with-benefits thing and not an actual, official situation, so.

You really don’t know what your best friend will say.

But you really care about what it will be.

God, you need to call him as soon as you get home, fuck your back!

“Ow!” a pang of pain runs across the small of your back as you accelerate away from an intersection.

Okay, no, not fuck your back. Nap first, Jimin immediately after.

links to be updated at a later date!

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threewaywithdelusion · 1 year

Text

I Would've Liked To Know You: Max

(Warning for major character death (Steve) that occurs before the fic starts, implied/referenced child abuse (Max, nothing on page). This is set in 2002).

Max got the stranger who had given her a ride to drop her at the edge of the cemetery. Her cell phone rang — probably Lucas again, wondering where she was — and she switched it off. She couldn’t handle talking to him. Not yet.

She made the walk across the fields of the cemetery from memory, pulling her coat closed around her. It was early October and it was chilly in Hawkins. She’d forgotten, since moving to California, how cold it could get here.

Max passed the part of the cemetery where she knew Billy was buried, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

She kept going until she reached the far corner of the cemetery. It had been described to her before — the headstone was under a huge tree, which bloomed with flowers in the spring. She ran her fingers over the letters carved into the rock, confirming she was in the right place.

Steven James Harrington

November 13, 1966 - September 17, 1986

Son, friend, hero

She had long since memorized the words on the headstone.

Maybe she should’ve felt guilty, visiting Steve and not Billy, but she didn’t. Because Steve was more her brother than Billy ever had been.

She folded her cane and took a seat on the grass, a foot away from the headstone.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Max said. That was a lie. “I mean, I know a little. I didn’t, like, run away and board a flight from California and then take a bus down here from Indianapolis for no reason.”

Max fiddled a bit with her cane, folding and unfolding it. She hadn’t said it out loud yet. Had barely admitted it to herself.

But she’d come all this way to talk to Steve, dammit, so she was going to get her shit together and do it.

“I’m pregnant,” she said. She gave a little laugh. “You’re the first one to know. I haven’t even told Lucas yet.”

Her phone felt heavy in her pocket. She hadn’t told Lucas where she was going. She’d taken the pregnancy test in a pharmacy bathroom and then had to ask the teenage girl behind the checkout counter to tell her if there were two lines. The girl had said yes, sounding judgmental. Which was maybe fair given that all she knew was that Max was in the kind of situation where she was taking pregnancy tests in a public bathroom when she couldn’t even read the stupid results.

Max had gone home, not slept for a week straight, then picked a fight with Lucas and run away, all the way from Los Angeles to Hawkins.

“I’m, uh. I don’t know if you can feel time passing, but I’m thirty-one. This isn’t a teen pregnancy or anything, and Lucas has a job and we haven’t broken up in years. It’s not… it’s- I should be ready for this.”

Max cleared her throat. The wind was blowing, cutting through her jacket and making the trees rustle. Max hated trees. She hated forests. They all made her think of the Upside Down. She loved the never-ending concrete of Los Angeles, the only nature the beaches and the ocean that she still loved.

When she was in California, it was easier to pretend that everything that had happened in Hawkins had been a bad dream. That she and Lucas were fine and normal and had never killed or fought or watched loved ones die.

“I’m scared,” Max admitted. “My dad left and my mom tried, but she was never good enough. Neil yelled and Billy hurt me and how the fuck am I supposed to take that kind of upbringing and believe I’m someone who can care for a kid?”

The funny thing was that even without the monsters, Max would have been fucked up. She’d had to explain it to Lucas — how when he was silently angry it was worse, because she kept waiting for the moment he’d snap. How he could put down a plate too hard and she’d flinch, scared he was about to grab her or shove her around. How an empty fridge made her heart clench, even after years of always being able to afford food.

She wasn’t fit to raise a baby. Especially not Lucas’s kid, who should have everything good in the world. Lucas would be an amazing dad, would play games with the kid and teach them basketball and tell stories while doing funny voices, like he did for his DnD characters.

Max knew he wanted a kid. She also knew he hadn’t said anything because he knew she wasn’t ready. That she might never be ready.

And then fate or a broken condom had gone and put her in this situation anyway.

“I thought about getting an abortion,” she told Steve. Maybe it was fucked up, but it was easier to talk to Steve’s grave. Steve had been so patient with her when she’d been a teenager, always offering to listen to her problems, and she’d turned him down time and time again, staying silent and refusing to let him help her.

“But I couldn’t do it. I don’t want to be a shitty mom, so maybe it’s the right thing to do. But I keep trying to picture my kid for some reason. And I see this little girl with warm brown eyes and my round cheeks and Lucas’s huge smile and some part of me wants that. I want to have a baby that’s half me and half Lucas and I want to do right by her.

I was lying awake, trying to figure out what I wanted to. Thinking about my shitty childhood. And then I thought of you.”

Max set her cane down in the grass, smiling faintly at Steve’s headstone.

“I thought of the way you drove me around and patched up my skateboarding injuries and bought me milkshakes when I was said or angry but didn’t want to talk. I thought of the groceries you bought me when Mom was too drunk to remember or when there wasn’t enough money, even though I never asked and always said I didn’t need your charity. And you fucking saved my life, over and over again, like that’s a normal thing to do. You jumped in front of a demodog for me when you hadn’t even known me for a day. You didn’t even know my name.”

There was a lump building in Max’s throat, tightening so much that it hurt to talk. But she had to. It had been so hard to start and now the words were just spilling out.

“We always used to call you Mom, and we were teasing. Making fun of you cause you were some popular basketball guy but you also heckled us about our manners and picked us up from school and shit. And you acted all offended, but I saw you smiling a few times. You liked it,” she told the headstone accusingly. “You liked being our mom.”

The headstone didn’t say anything, but Max knew that if Steve were here he would be denying it, committed to the bit that he wasn’t their parent, just a reluctant babysitter.

Max cleared her throat. “And I was thinking… God, you were just a fucking kid. Like, I’m thirty-one and I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. And you were nineteen, with seven kids and a monster dimension under your feet and you were still a good mom. So like, I guess I didn’t just have shitty parental figures in my life.”

Max glared at the headstone, as if daring it to judge her for being emotionally vulnerable. Not that Steve would have done that, even if he hadn’t been a bunch of bones in a coffin buried under the grass she was sitting on.

Steve would have probably been proud.

“So I’m gonna do all that shit,” Max said. “Drive the kid around and kiss her boo-boos and buy her milkshakes when she’s feeling bad. All the things that you did. And I guess maybe that means I can be a mom.”

She blinked and a tear rolled down her cheek. She wanted to swipe it away, but she didn’t. Steve deserved to be cried over.

They’d all moved away from Hawkins. Max only saw the town these days in her nightmares. But Steve’s grave was still here and sometimes it felt like they’d abandoned him. Even if there wasn’t a him left to abandon. Even if he would’ve wanted them to go, to escape this helltown and chase better lives elsewhere.

He’d been gone sixteen years. More than half her life.

It hurt to miss him still.

“I wish you were here,” Max whispered. “I wish I could talk to you for real. I wish you could tell me I’m not crazy for thinking Lucas and I can do this.”

Max let herself fall apart a little bit, crying over the future that would never happen. Steve would never come watch the baby so she and Lucas could go on a date night or finally get some sleep. He would never get to be the fun uncle, or the one her kid ran to when they were pissed at her and Lucas for some teenage drama. To her, he would never be anything more than a memory. To her child, he would never be anything more than a story about a long-dead stranger.

Max leaned forwards so she could touch the headstone, running her fingers over the letters that spelled out Steve’s name.

“You would’ve made a great Uncle Steve,” she whispered.

She bowed her head against the gravestone for a moment, resting her forehead against the cool rock.

Then she stood, wiping the tears off her cheeks and the grass stains off her jeans. She extended her cane and made her way out of the cemetery, pausing by the gates to turn her cell phone back on.

It kept dinging with missed calls, but Max ignored that, dialing a number by heart.

“Max?” Lucas’s voice was warm and concerned and so full of love that she almost started crying again.

“Lucas,” Max said. “I’m in Hawkins. I, uh, I had to talk to Steve.”

Lucas was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Are you okay?”

Max nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay. I’m coming home.”

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #Mia writes fanfic #max mayfield #steve harrington #lucas sinclair #tw: major character death #tw: child abuse #pregnancy

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quaranmine · 24 days

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Hi, not sure if you remember me, but i sent an ask a while ago saying how i love the Incadescence of a dying light and that i talk about it with my friend and how we both really liked the story and are juts you know discussing it well update to now. we still do that lol. i cant stop thinking about it, i listen to the firewatch OST on the daily, resonating with each track at a time. I love it. I live it. I am enamored. Everytime Im studying Polish (my native language) and revising each epoch for my upcoming finals i cant help but connect themes and motives to that wonderful story of yours. If i land on a fitting topic in my oral final exam (like pop-culture, creativity and arts, certain themes in modern media) you BET Ill be talking about this fic (with all the credit I can give of course!) cause USARWSETDYRVUHUISC I cant get it out of my head. Its such an amazing example of how the media of fanfiction elevates the story to its maximum potential. How knowing the characters makes it so much easier to connect and resonate, even though Mumbo is absent from the majority of the fic, we still feel hurt after finding out whats happened to him. Like, its such an amazing creative medium I love fanfiction and TERSSXEFJNKVCRXSERARXSXERCDJNGIKKDc :thumbsup: oh gosh The Incadescence of a Dying Light. yeah so fun fact i actually had to look up what it means cause i didnt know the word before and oh. oh. oh its so much worse and more painful. really love it, i do, oh i do! I now have acquired (idk how to spell it lul) the never subsiding lust for nature and outdoors and hiking and being a part of it. I love it, you made me regain my love for it. I loved it before, yes, but i was caught up in my own head and had so much stuff i had to do, but now i love to look out my window even more, i love strolling in my garden. i love it. thank you, thank you, thak youuuuu!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :thumbsup: So yeah, this fic is one of my faves of all time, i like it a lot, it has inspired me to live more and be alive basically and also. and for the end a fanart of an alternative ending where Mumbo somehow survives and just lives in the forest like a wild animal, living his best life, eating berries (i decided on drawing him eating berries [peace love and plants] instead of chowing down [is chowing a word??] on some rabbit lol) and then grian finds him and its super awkward

HI! Yes, of course I remember you! First of all, had a really wild day yesterday at work, but I read this at soooome point on my phone during the middle of the day and it made me smile :)

This ask is just so??? AAAAAAA???? I almost don't know how to respond, because it's just SO wonderful to hear this about something I created. Like I did that? I made a thing that is sticking deeply with people? I'm just soooo <333333

I like your point about how fanfiction can maximize story potential! I think it'd make a wonderful essay topic honestly. I have thought about this in connection with fanfic a lot--specifically, the divide between original fiction and fanfiction. In original works, you have to make the audience care. You have to introduce me to a character, setting, and story I will be interested in. I've read a lot of negative book reviews that start off with "the author didn't make me care about the characters" (i have also...said this myself about books I ended up not liking.) With fanfic, you skip that step! It lets you jump right in. I don't have to explain Mumbo and Grian's friendship or demonstrate it to you. You just Know. Someone reading it fandom blind would get the implication about how important they are to each other simply by seing the depth of Grian's grief, but for my intended audience, I can do whatever I want because I trust you to already have the background information you need.

The title is from a line I really like in a song (Post Humorous by Gus Dapperton). It just...painted such a nice word picture. Especially for a story about grief death and fire!

I just. Love that this fic helped you regain a desire for nature? That just makes me feel...warm, I guess, to know that I was able to spark that with something I created. I hope it goes well for you, and you get to take many walks. This spring I've been using the trails near my aunt's house (not.....hiking paths. too urban.) much more. I wanted to walk this week but I was too busy lol. I hope you have many wonderful experiences out in the Great Outdoors <3 one of these days, I swear I'll up and move to a place with "better" nature and "real" trails close by.

Also, SKFJSLFJSKFLSJKF your fanart made me laugh so much. I have like. Entertained this idea. Not as an actual or serious part of the story but I was like man wouldn't it just be off-the-wall if he was just vibing Out There 😭😭😭 You've caught the vibe perfectly LOL

this was all around such a special message to hear, thank you SO much!

#fave #save #hc_firewatch_au #quara asks #again <3333333333 #i feel like this response doesnt really adequately express how much this ask means to me i'm just really tired sorry <3 #i lvoe how many people i've induced firewatch brainrot into slfjsklfj

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kanatajelly · 2 months

Text

illogical processes

yandere!five pebbles x reader

author's note: hello rain world fandom... i have no idea if y'all are interested in yandere fics lmao, but i love pebbles so i wrote one anyway. also reader is an ancient in this fic.

warnings: general yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, forced isolation, a lot of angst, major character death (reader)

word count: 4134

There was most definitely something wrong about all of this.

It had been so long since someone had come to visit you. Of course, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to being confined to one room for hours and even days on end, but eventually there was always someone who came to visit. Your father, or your aunt, or some of the few friends you’d managed to make in your early childhood, or even sometimes colleagues and acquaintances of your father, who would ask you of his great innovations as if you actually had any worthwhile knowledge of their inner workings.

But now it was just you.

And Five Pebbles.

“Pebbles, I’m bored,” you complained, sluggishly tossing aside a pearl you’d been turning around in your hands for the past few minutes. A pearl that you’d read over and over and over again, just like the rest of them. A sigh came from the robot suspended above you. His umbilical cable moved down the wall as he lowered himself to your level, looking you in the eyes. “Then read something. Or listen to music,” he said matter-of-factly. You glared up at him, annoyed with his response. “I’ve read and listened to everything in this room hundreds of times now,” you pointed out, your voice strained, “Can’t I go outside for once? Or talk to Big Sis Moon and the others? It’s been such a long while since you let me chat with them over communications.”

Five Pebbles mirrored your expression, although his glare contained a venomous iciness that yours lacked. “Don’t you dare say that name,” he seethed. You knew that something had to have happened between him and Looks to the Moon, since he had recently started speaking of her as if she were a horrible person (which she was not); but you had no idea what exactly had happened. Every time you tried to ask, Five Pebbles simply dismissed your inquiries. However, now that you had his full attention, you thought it’d be worth another try. “Why shouldn’t I? I love Big Sis Moon, and I miss her a lot. I know I can’t go and see her anymore, but I want to talk to her at least,” you said, trying to keep your voice as free of frustration as possible so as to not anger Pebbles too much. He avoided your eyes and mumbled something under his breath.

Tilting your head to the side, you pressed, “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” Pebbles’ eyes darted up to yours again before he repeated, louder this time, “I said, that’s not possible.” Clenching your hand into a fist, you retorted, “Why?! Why isn’t that possible?! You never properly tell me anything, Pebbles! You never tell me about Big Sis Moon… or about my father. Why can’t I see them anymore? Where have they gone?!” Your shoulders heaved along with your breaths. You had been trying to be calm, but his constant dismissals were really starting to grate at your nerves. An odd emotion flashed in Five Pebbles’ eyes for a moment. He looked almost… guilty. But before you could properly process it, it was gone, being once again replaced by the ice-cold annoyance that always seemed to rest on his face. “You ask too many questions. I’m going back to work,” he concluded, returning to his previous position, suspended above you like some sort of god or otherwise ethereal creature.

You were silent for a while, lost in your thoughts. The only noise in the small space was the low hum of Pebbles’ operating system as he worked through his calculations as always. He really never did anything but work, did he? You wondered what he was always doing. You had faint memories of your father explaining why he built Moon and later Pebbles; something about ascension and the Great Problem. You never really understood your people’s obsession with transcending in the first place - you had other things to worry about, after all.

“Pebbles?” you tried again after around ten minutes had passed. He let out another sigh upon hearing you call him, but it wasn’t as exasperated as the last had been. “Yes?” he responded without moving from his spot up in the air. “Can I at least go outside? Just for a bit,” you asked gingerly. Pebbles put a hand to his forehead, rubbing at his temples in frustration. “There’s never an end to the questions with you, is there?” he remarked, surprisingly not sounding as irritated as you assumed he would. You pouted, saying, “Well, if you’re like me and you’re stuck in a plain-looking room for hours on end with your only company being a literal supercomputer who’s always busy and never has time for you, you would do nothing but ask questions too.”

Five Pebbles’ shoulders twitched at your scathing words. He was quiet for a moment, before you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and towards him; a result of his gravity manipulation, no doubt. Once you were close enough to him, he tentatively placed a hand on your shoulder. The contact shocked you a bit, as Pebbles had never been the type to initiate physical affection. Even when you gave him hugs and such in the earlier days of your time together, he would simply grumble and begrudgingly accept, but never reciprocate, the contact. His next words were spoken in a very soft tone that was also out of character for him, “Look. I’ve told you this more times than I can count, and I’ll say it again. You’re sick. Going outside could potentially be dangerous for your bodily condition. Even if I send an Overseer with you, there’s no guarantee of your safety. What if you collapse and nobody’s there to bring you back to me? What if you get found and eaten by some sort of creature? There’s too many unknowns. Just stay here.”

One look at his eyes told you that Pebbles wasn’t budging on his point. Your expression fell, the little bit of hope that you felt from his unusual treatment of you having been extinguished once again. “...You used to let me out,” you murmured, “You used to let me go into the city. I want to do that again. I want to be able to see the view from the top of your superstructure again. Please, Pebbles. I can’t handle being stuck in this room anymore… Please.” His hand fell from your shoulder, instead reaching out to take your hand, but stopping halfway. “That’s not possible anymore. The city isn’t what it used to be,” he replied, his tone almost pensive. He then quickly recomposed himself before turning away from you and continuing, “Either way, I’m busy. If you have nothing worthwhile to say, I’d like for you to stop bothering me now.”

That statement was the last straw for you. “Hah, I’m always bothering you, aren’t I? If you don’t want me around so much, then why don’t you just let me die,” you spat angrily. Five Pebbles snapped his head back around to look at you. “How utterly illogical,” he retaliated, “The way your mind works is impossible for me to understand sometimes. Just do as I say and occupy your time with something other than continuously questioning me about such… ridiculous topics. As I say all the time, I am busy.” With that, he floated you back down to sit on your makeshift bed, and resumed his calculations. As per usual, when Pebbles decided that the conversation was over, you had no say in it anymore.

Your body formed a little ball on your bed, trying to hide the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. “Things were better when I lived with Big Sis Moon,” you whispered, curling into yourself. Suddenly, the mechanical whirring of Five Pebbles’ computer processes stopped all at once, almost like he’d short-circuited. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. When you didn’t reply, he repeated his words, this time in a furious shout, “I asked, WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” All the electronic systems in the room abruptly flared back to life as soon as Pebbles had raised his voice. Multiple discharges of light that looked almost like thunderbolts projected out of the holographic circle which was always behind him. He was really angry this time, and it honestly scared you. You huddled further into yourself, as if doing that would put you in some sort of safe shell where Five Pebbles couldn’t harm you.

Before either of you could say anything, a loud beeping started ringing out in the room. “Shit!” Pebbles yelled, the expression of profanity an unusual thing to hear from him, “Ugh, of COURSE you made me make an error in my processing! All of you are so absolutely unbearable! Both you, and Moon! You’re always interfering, always getting in the way!” Sticking your head out of the ball you had curled into, you softly said, “Pebbles, I’m so-” Turning to you, he screamed, “SHUT UP! I don’t want to hear anything out of you anymore!” You flinched at his harsh tone, and the tears that had been threatening to spill from your eyes all this time finally came out. As you sobbed quietly, you could hear Pebbles frantically working, trying to fix the apparent error that your interruption had caused him. He was mumbling things to himself, most of which you couldn’t hear. There was one thing you could make out, which he repeated several times, “I hope this didn’t make things any worse…”

Quite a bit of time passed after that - you honestly weren’t sure how long it had been. Pebbles seemed completely engrossed in his work, the multiple screens around the room telling you that he was computing way more parallel processes than he usually did. A thought suddenly occurred to you. Since he seemed so wholly focused on what he was doing, maybe this was your chance. Maybe, just maybe, you could finally get out of this godforsaken room.

As quietly as you could, you crawled off of your bed and slowly walked over to the wall, enough so you were right under the pipe that would take you outside. You glanced over at Pebbles. He was turned away from you. Perfect. You bent your knees to get more momentum, then jumped as high as you possibly could. With the help of the low gravity, you got about halfway up the wall. While floating in the air, you kicked yourself off the wall to further propel yourself upwards, and reached your hands above your head. When you managed to catch the edge of the exit pipe, you used all your strength to pull your body up into it. Although it took a little while and left you feeling exhausted, you eventually managed to pull yourself through the pipe and outside Pebbles’ room. Somehow, you’d done it.

Once you were outside, one look around told you that you’d gone through the wrong pipe. Instead of ending up in the access shaft that would take you on top of Five Pebbles’ can, you had accidentally taken the pipe that led to the inner workings of his superstructure. You considered going back to change pipes, but figured that it was too risky. If Pebbles had already noticed your absence and you went back in, he could use his gravity control to render you essentially immobile. Shrugging, you decided that you’d try and find another way out by going through his superstructure. As long as you avoided the dangerous-looking mechanical parts, you should be fine… right?

As you floated through the center of Five Pebbles, you marvelled at all the colours and noises that filled the large space. Sure, it was a little overwhelming, but it really emphasized the fact that you were inside the heart of a supercomputer. You could see all his neuron flies and other biological parts around you. When you reached out to catch a neuron in your hand, it felt oddly warm, almost like holding someone’s hand. It was a nice feeling compared to the cold metal that Pebbles’ puppet body was made out of. You hugged the neuron fly to your chest for a brief moment before letting it go. Suddenly, you felt awfully guilty for leaving Pebbles alone. Shaking your head, you told yourself that it was fine. You could never understand why he was always so dramatic about you leaving; it wasn’t like you’d be gone forever.

Not long after you’d started your journey, you made it out of what seemed to be the central area of Five Pebbles, and ended up in an area that sported mostly white walls, along with more biomechanical parts. This area was a lot less visually striking than the central part you’d been in before, but it was still fascinating to you. You’d never known that the inside of this superstructure consisted of so many different looking spaces. It just made you admire Pebbles all the more. Of course, this admiration also extended to your father, since he was one of the people who built all of this. You missed your father. Maybe you’d be able to see him after finding a way out, and then you could tell him that you finally understood how amazing his creation was.

Eventually, you exited the white-walled area, and moved into an area which was much darker than the other two you’d been in; although there was a dull, teal-coloured light that illuminated the chamber enough to see. The other odd thing was that this area seemed to have little blue lights along the walls, as well as blue ropes running between them. You continued downwards, wondering if those blue ropes and lights were also some of the biological parts of Five Pebbles.

Suddenly, the entire room shook violently, causing you to freeze, before you suddenly found yourself free-falling. You let out a yelp and managed to barely catch onto one of the blue ropes before you hit a solid surface. Was the gravity on now? The teal background lighting had turned red, so maybe that signified that the zero gravity controls were disabled. That was strange… This hadn’t happened in any other part of the can that you’d travelled through. You wondered if Pebbles himself had been the one to stop the gravity, maybe as a way to prevent you from moving any further; though that theory was quickly debunked once you noted that it also prevented you from going back. Pebbles would never act that “illogically”, as he would say.

As abruptly as the first time it had happened, the room shook once again before the light turned teal, and you felt your body floating. The zero gravity was back on, it seemed. Pushing yourself off the rope you’d been holding onto, you used the momentum to propel yourself further downwards, grabbing onto another blue rope soon after to ensure you didn’t fall when the gravity turned back on, which it soon did. This was definitely strange, but you didn’t really see the point in pondering it too much. After all, you knew very little about the inner workings of the iterators; maybe this was necessary for some specific purpose.

While you waited for the gravity to switch again, you observed the little blue lights on the walls of the room. Suddenly, one of them twitched, almost like it was alive. Your eyes widened, and you decided to look closer. That’s when you realized that these blue lights weren’t a part of the wall; they seemed to belong to fleshy, black creatures that were attached to the wall. The creatures also had stubby little tentacles that protruded from them, wiggling back and forth in the air. As soon as the gravity switched, you let go of the blue rope you’d been holding onto, now very aware that those weren’t part of Five Pebbles, but some other… thing. Whatever they were, you didn’t want to go near them. Unfortunately, as those “ropes” were the only things to hold onto in the open space (other than the occasional metal pole), you were forced to latch onto another one to avoid falling to your death once the gravity turned off again.

Something flashed in the corner of your eye. You looked to the wall next to you, only to jump when you noticed something new coming out of a section of the wall that was devoid of the weird black creatures. Your initial shock faded when you realized it was one of Pebbles’ Overseers. The little robot was projecting a holographic arrow at you, pointing up in the direction which you’d come from. It then added a little picture of Pebbles next to the arrow, obviously trying to convince you to go back to him. “I’m not going back yet,” you told the Overseer, “I want to go outside for once. I’m not leaving forever, I’ll be back at some point. I know you can hear me through this thing, Pebbles - so don’t freak out too much, okay? I promise I’ll be back.”

The Overseer did not seem happy with your reply, shaking back and forth violently as if it were trying to say “no”. It then projected an X in the air, later adding a drawing of a mouth behind the X. “What? Are you asking me to stop talking? My god, Pebbles, you can be so annoying sometimes. I’m leaving,” you stated, propelling yourself off the blue rope you were hanging onto. Pebbles’ Overseer seemed incredibly distressed at this, and went back to trying to convince you to return to Pebbles by pointing upwards. You simply ignored it, huffing in annoyance.

Suddenly, you started to hear a squelching sound. You couldn’t really compare the sound to anything else you’d ever heard in your life, but whatever it was, it made you shudder. You looked below you to see what was producing that sound… only to see a large, spider-like creature advancing up towards you. The main part of the monster looked like the fleshy black things that lined the walls - only this one was mobile and had several long tentacles, some of which it was using to climb upwards. The tentacles that weren’t propelling the creature up were reaching up, reaching towards you. You screamed and frantically swung your limbs upwards, as if you were swimming. The Overseer pointed you upwards once more, towards a metal pole that you could use to pull yourself away from the creature. Reaching out towards the pole, your fingers barely brushed it before the room shook and the zero gravity turned off.

As your body catapulted downwards, you tried to reach for something, anything, that you could grab onto to prevent yourself from falling into the tentacles of the terrifying black-and-blue creature. However, your efforts were in vain. You felt a tentacle wrap itself around your ankle and pull you down towards the creature’s bulbous body. “PEBBLES! HELP!” you cried out, reaching towards his Overseer. Unfortunately, his Overseer could only reach so far, and it wasn’t far enough. And what could it even do for you if it could reach you? Nothing. It was only an Overseer; its only capabilities were hologram projection and acting as a camera for its iterator.

Even as the zero gravity came back on, you were still being dragged downwards, closer and closer to the creature. As you neared it, it latched more of its tentacles onto your other limbs to stop you from struggling. Once you were close enough, it began to shove you into what you assumed was its mouth, despite being unable to see any sort of facial features on its body. First went your legs, then your hips, then your torso. It felt so painful; as if your body was getting crushed up into mush, every bone in your body slowly shattering and the remnants of your limbs being forcibly pushed together as the creature squeezed you into an easily digestible pulp. Before the creature totally consumed your head, you were able to let out one final, broken cry of Pebbles’ name. The last part of you to go was your hand, still outstretched towards the Overseer, something that couldn’t even help you in the first place.

~~~~

After Pebbles had finally managed to correct the error that he had caused due to his anger at your final statement, he turned back towards your corner of the room, ready to apologize and smooth things over with you (as much as he didn’t want to admit his own fault). However, he was shocked to find that you weren’t there. He called your name a few times, only to receive no response. Had you somehow slipped out of his room while he was busy fixing things? “No… How could I have let them get out?!” he shouted, angry at himself. He sent a large number of Overseers out to look for you, covering every part of his can, as well as the exterior of it.

Eventually, Pebbles found you. But he found you in the worst possible place you could be in. You were in the area of his superstructure that he called “Unfortunate Development”, as it was the place where the Rot infecting him was the most virulent. He told his Overseer to convince you to come back as quickly as possible - there was no way you could survive in Unfortunate Development. He could hear you speak through the Overseer, “I’m not going back yet. I want to go outside for once. I’m not leaving forever, I’ll be back at some point. I know you can hear me through this thing, Pebbles - so don’t freak out too much, okay? I promise I’ll be back.”

“Don’t be stupid! You’ll never get out of there alive. Come back, come back right now!” Pebbles shouted, even though you couldn’t hear him. He told his Overseer to tell you to stop speaking, as some of his observations had shown that the mobile Rot cysts reacted mostly to noise. “What? Are you asking me to stop talking? My god, Pebbles, you can be so annoying sometimes. I’m leaving,” you declared through the Overseer, then pushed yourself away from it. Shaking his head, Pebbles screamed, “No, no, NO! LISTEN TO ME!” He continued commanding the Overseer to try and convince you to come back, but his efforts were futile. There was a Rot cyst advancing towards you, and Pebbles couldn’t do anything about it. He had completely lost control over the gravity system in Unfortunate Development some time ago, so he couldn’t propel you away from the Rot cyst; and there was nothing his Overseer could do except project holograms. He could only watch as you were consumed by the Rot.

Five Pebbles had failed once again.

It was all his fault. If he hadn’t been so antagonistic towards you, maybe you wouldn’t have thought of leaving in the first place. If only he was more like Moon; kind, caring, friendly, and warm. But he wasn’t any of those things. He didn’t know how to be kind, didn’t know how to care for others, didn’t have any friends except Seven Red Suns (who he had lost by now), and he was so, so cold. If only he could have made you love him as much as he loved you, maybe this would have never happened. A little voice in his head told him that that wasn’t true. Even though he loved you, it wasn’t like he’d ever told you that. He always treated you horribly too, locking you inside his room with no entertainment other than the pearls that you’d read or listened to over and over again until even they became a source of boredom.

The mechanical whirring that rang out through Pebbles’ room became almost inaudible as he slowly paused or shut down all the processes he’d been working on, as well as all the Overseer camera feeds. They didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did. He’d gotten so used to your presence, and now that you were gone, potentially even dead, Pebbles couldn’t bring himself to do anything. Even if you somehow weren’t dead and you did reincarnate into the next cycle, why would you ever come back to him? There was no way you would. After all, why would you want to be with someone who kept you locked in a tiny room for cycles on end? Pebbles sank to the bottom of his chamber, his legs hitting the floor and putting him in a hunched-over sitting position. He hid his face in his hands; he was sure that if he could cry, he would be right now.

Now he really had nothing.

He was all alone.

Just as he deserved.

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