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fernreads · 1 year

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Technology is touted as a privilege in prison, but it's a superficial fix—one that's both monetized and monitored at every turn—replete with the same dysfunction, violence, and other subterfuge that always hides what really happens in prison.

Before my incarceration at age 19 in 1997, my formal experience with technology ended with Windows 2.0 as a high school freshman. I played Sega Genesis and Super Nintendo video games, or paid quarters for tokens at an arcade. I saw dial-up internet exactly once, when my girlfriend logged into a chat room to find out when to purchase some concert tickets.

All of us who entered prison before the tech evolution of the early 2000s watched it play out on a television inside a prison dayroom, struggling to grasp new developments in our isolation outside of time. We were reminded of our isolation whenever someone new came to death row and spoke about "the internet." After a while though, they too became encapsulated in the concrete of yesterday, witnesses of the free world's technological glamor from a disconnected distance.

North Carolina prisons resisted technological advances until the mid-2000s, when canteens went cashless and a number of minimum and medium custody facilities provided limited access to pay phones. Weekly Rec Department movies were still 8mm films displayed on pulldown silver screens. Televisions were analog behemoths bolted to the dayroom wall. Nobody had hot plates, tape players, microwaves, or any tech other than a cheap digital watch and a hand-held AM/FM radio that used two AAA batteries.

On death row, we shared a single wall-mounted, steel-wired phone—identical to a pay phone, but without the coin slots—between 24 people. This system obviously came with its own limitations under normal circumstances. Those problems were exacerbated during the COVID-19 lockdowns when frustration and anxiety drove everyone to the phone, and tempers flared.

For a time, violence seemed inevitable—until a memo appeared on the block bulletin board in June 2020. In bold capital letters, it announced:

"NEW PRISONS TECHNOLOGY PROJECT"

"The Division of Prisons will introduce a new technology project that provides tablets to every offender, at no cost to you or the state of North Carolina, at all prison facilities."

Those reading the memo on death row at the time averaged 25 years in prison, each near the edge of 50. The concept of a "tablet," while simple to understand in a TV commercial, lacked any context in the carceral world.

Pay phones and profit margins

The advent of new technology in prison doesn't just allow for increased communication—it presents the state with new opportunities to make a buck.

Nationally, at the same time as the rise of social media and flip phones, an overburdened carceral system faced a growing crisis for mass incarceration. In 2005, as public officials searched for ways to cut budgets, Corrections Corporation of America (CCA) warned its investors that the demand for private prisons' goods and services would be negatively impacted by relaxed conviction and sentencing measures.

It was a perverse admission of the industrialization of prisons. More people in prison meant more money for private companies building correctional facilities—or supplying telephone services, tasers, electronic ankle monitors, and GPS tracking.

The 2008 recession supercharged the private prison industry when state governments struggled to maintain overcrowded facilities and bloated penal budgets without releasing more people from prison. By 2010 in the South and Southwest, 7 to 9 percent of all prisoners were in private facilities—compared to just 2 to 3 percent in the Northeast and Midwest, according to the U.S. Department of Justice.

Privatized prison services impact nearly everyone in the system. One such company to rise out of the 2008 recession is the online prison profiteer JPAY, a Florida-based money transfer service. JPAY streamlined the collection of money from friends and family members of incarcerated people, charging a fee for every transaction and depositing money in the prisoners' trust fund account.

North Carolina's progressive image compared to other Southern states often actually means catching up to the rest of the country. This is especially true of its prison system.

It was not until 2012 that JPAY eventually came to serve North Carolina prisons, leading the way for other profiteers to follow. Soon after, prison telecom giant Global Tel Link (GTL) contracted with the Division of Prisons to provide phone services to every cell block of every facility. By 2016, they reached Central Prison's death row. Before the phones' arrival, if one didn't write letters or get visits, a single collect call around Christmas was the only other way to connect to the outside world.

GTL—which was, and is currently the defendant in numerous individual and class action lawsuits for its aggressively opportunistic and predatory business practices, including improperly retaining money that was deposited in accounts after they went inactive for a short period of time—was the first to meaningfully connect incarcerated people with their friends and family.

For a fee.

By 2019, GTL—which rebranded itself ViaPath Technologies in 2022—reported revenues of $318 million for services provided to nearly 2,000 prisons and jails in all 50 states.

As beneficial as access to a phone is to the incarcerated population in spite of the fees, it also meant something else for prison officials: A new, amplified way to gather information from prisoners—and anyone communicating with them.

No longer did penal servitude stop at the gates of a prison. Now, it invaded the home, car, workplace, town, state, and country of anyone daring to accept a call from the inside. Through GTL, the carceral state received limitless access to the private lives of law-abiding citizens.

For us, reacclimating to a telephone seemed a silly thing at first. Who forgets how to use a phone? But after going without one for years, the rules of conversation, delay between lines, and 15-minute time limit for each call made communication discouraging for some. A number of older guys refused to use the phone. I stumbled and tripped over words while speaking to my parents. Even though an automated warning announced every call would be monitored and recorded, the pre-recorded message soon became so much background noise when it came to talking with my family.

Considering the frustration and despair caused by the pandemic and understaffing, the June 2020 memo announcing "The New Prisons Technology Project" was a welcome distraction.

"From the tablets," it read, "you will be able to make phone calls and enjoy a variety of programs and activities, such as health-focused offerings, self-help programs, and re-entry related programming to name a few."

These programs were especially tantalizing given that in 1994, the national Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act stripped most prisons of educational programming and incentives for good behavior. What was referred to as the "No Frills" prison experience was really a human warehousing of many bored, frustrated, and dehumanized people with nothing but time.

The new memo about the tablets boasted video visits, a comprehensive education package that met "state standards," and a law library that had been absent from North Carolina prisons since the 1970s. Still, despite knowing the state has never been a benevolent caretaker, everyone immediately spun elaborate fantasies about movies, TV shows, music, and games. Conspiracy theories spawned rumors and misinformation, twisting talk of the tablets with dystopian cynicism.

The New Prisons Technology Project hung like a giant carrot dangling from the perpetual stick that is life in prison. Most understood the tablets as incentives for good behavior in a system devoid of them—and, of course, as a money-making scheme for prison profiteers. But many who read the memo overlooked the primary purpose of the new technology: An extension of the state's surveillance.

Screens that watch you back

As helpful as increased communication with the outside world seemed, it also allowed prison officials to monitor, record, and gather more data on incarcerated people, and their families and friends. While the impact of that access was not always apparent, there were obvious cautionary tales. Earlier this year after an incident at Central Prison, an administrator testified at the bond hearing of a man whose conviction and sentence were vacated and awaited retrial. Using the transcript of a phone conversation between the defendant and a co-defendant who turned state's witness, the Central Prison administrator helped to get the bond denied without her testimony being considered "hearsay evidence." When clips of the administrator's testimony aired on WNCN Channel 17 news at noon, it was a chilling reminder that the only private conversation in prison is the one you don't have.

Prison is fundamentally about incapacitation, punishment, control, and surveillance. Penal philosopher Michel Foucault held that in addition to surveillance, prisons should be considered as places for the formation of "clinical knowledge" about the incarcerated, both in behavior and the "deeper state of mind."

Advances in technology increase the body of knowledge prison officials build by seamlessly integrating surveillance with the ordinary course of life—and making prisoners dependent on technology in the process. This in turn allows law enforcement to collect information on ordinary people who unknowingly surrender their right to privacy by communicating with a prisoner—be it by mail, or by tablet.

North Carolina prisons had seen a rise in technology back in 2017, following an incident that April in which a prison guard was murdered by a mentally ill man incarcerated at Bertie Correctional Institution in Windsor, North Carolina. Later that same year, four other prison workers were murdered by prisoners attempting to escape from Pasquotank Correctional Institution in Elizabeth City.

After the death in April, The Charlotte Observer published a series of investigative articles by Ames Alexander telling lurid stories of compound corruption against prison guards—a result of chronic understaffing, poor wages, and little external oversight of a decaying penal system.

This increased violence—and coverage of its causes—revealed substantial dysfunction and embarrassed lawmakers. The governor's Crime Control Commission hired Duke University Sanford School of Public Policy to study the penal system's problems, and they in turn produced a staffing and security report containing recommendations for nine urgent improvements in personnel, organizational culture, and facility safety.

All of their suggestions advanced the use of technology in North Carolina prisons; from social media "good news stories" that drew attention away from the violence, to infomercials about career opportunities, to infrared scanners on perimeter fences and cell phone interdiction tech. The seventh recommendation in particular would more closely identify the penal system as a law enforcement entity by sharing information with the SBI, FBI, ICE, and local police through an "intelligence management system," citing similar models in Pennsylvania and Tennessee which they say have "allowed for more comprehensive investigations that expand beyond the prison walls to reduce crime both in prison and the surrounding area."

After the publication of the staffing and security report, the Legislative Oversight Committee on Prisons with the Department of Public Safety created the Prison Reform Advisory Board to advise the DPS on policies, programs, and services that would improve prison safety and security. Chaired by retired Major General of the U.S. Army Beth Austin, and comprised of current and former high-level prison officials, one discussion from a June 19, 2018, board meeting is especially telling.

One board member asked what the current "largest" drug problem is in North Carolina prisons. Another member replied that "synthetic cannabinoids" like K2 and spice—which are legally sold online and in tobacco shops—are especially problematic, because they are cheap and do not show up on traditional urine screens.

The meeting's minutes continue: "Mr. Mohr asked what intelligence gathering strategies are used inside the prison system. Ms. Sutton replied that phone calls, informants, and letters sent to offenders are used. Ms. Sutton stated that facilities use local law enforcement officials to assist with criminal investigations and they work with the department's Special Operations Intelligence Section."

After the Prison Reform Advisory Board submitted its findings and Todd Ishee, a former warden from Ohio's penal system, was hired as commissioner of North Carolina prisons, the next phase of the intelligence-gathering operation began. It would quickly exacerbate the dysfunction in North Carolina prisons.

Digitized and sanitized

Piloted in women's prisons in February 2020, TextBehind is another predatory profiteer like JPAY, which receives, scans, and sends digital files of personal mail to North Carolina, Wyoming, Colorado, Arkansas, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia penal systems.

Physical mail sent to TextBehind's Phoenix, Maryland P.O. Box is digitized and sanitized. No more scented letters or tear-stained notes from girlfriends or wives. No more 4 x 6 photos of siblings that remind us of a time when the whole family was together.

I had a small pop-up card collection that became my Christmas decorations. Each year, I received a new one and exchanged it with one of the old ones. When I told my mom about the switch to scanned mail, she said: "They've taken everything from us." What remained was a grainy copy of whatever was sent, several weeks after the fact, if it ever arrived at all. Physical mail became more uncertain and undependable, requiring certified or tracked letters just to be sure TextBehind could not claim they never received it.

Some states, like Florida, make prisoners pay for a paper copy of their own mail. While this does not include letters from attorneys and court documents, or books and periodicals mailed from a vendor like Amazon, few people ever receive their scanned mail, because it is either lost in this convoluted transit, or people on the outside have no desire to relinquish their privacy to the carceral state.

Commissioner of Prisons Todd Ishee claims TextBehind is needed in North Carolina prisons to screen out contraband, especially liquid cannabinoids sprayed on paper.

However, according to the U.S. Department of Justice, prison staff are the primary source of drugs, cell phones, and other contraband entering prison. The Federal Bureau of Prisons and the state of Pennsylvania, the latter of which uses TextBehind, found that once they began scanning mail through an intermediary, drug positivity rates in prisons actually increased.

Ironically enough, the North Carolina prison Advisory Board admitted at its meetings that prison staff are the primary source of contraband in North Carolina prisons too. If prison staff are the cause of the drug problem, then the switch to TextBehind was always about creating an easily accessible digital file for the Special Operations Intelligence Section and law enforcement.

Virtually identical to TextBehind, competitor MailGuard, of Florida-based Smart Communications, has "a smart tracker" surveillance system that gives officials a cache of intelligence into the public sender: home addresses, IP addresses, email, GPS tracking names, and location of devices in use, as well as any accounts connected to them.

These programs, as Stephanie Krent of the Knight First Amendment Institute at Columbia University, told The Intercept, "force writers to leave a lasting digital footprint of their words, even if they opted to send physical mail because they preferred greater privacy."

The final phase

In 2020, when the tablets were first given to every incarcerated person at Central Prison (except to those in disciplinary segregation or designated mental health segregation), a Global Tel Link sales rep-technician gave each cell block a 20-minute lecture on how to use them. The Android device, with its touchscreen, facial recognition software, and security code entry system, felt alien. The digital image of my face above the glowing keyboard appeared much older than what was reflected in the steel mirror on the wall of my cell. Others gave similarly bemused or perplexed looks. Some listened to the fast-talking sales rep, struggling to absorb an entire technological world in that fast-moving moment.

No internet access. A select number of apps to be downloaded through the GTL GettingOut app. Some of the programs, like Khan Academy, were free. Most of the apps, including messaging, access to digital photos, and music, cost $0.01 a minute—a fortune for anyone without money or an income.

One older mentally ill man in a wheelchair grew frustrated and wheeled off, leaving his tablet on the table. Another watched Jerry Springer on the TV, the tablet forgotten in his lap. It would take most of us days to puzzle through a device that had evolved during the decades of our confinement. Eventually though, the day room stayed empty for the length of the tablet's battery life.

That was another part of the tablet's purpose: Control through fascination. Distracted people are less likely to think critically about the prison system's designs or reasons for their sudden willingness to provide access to technology. The advantage of greater communication aside, self-isolating people reduced the likelihood of violent confrontation—as well as questions about the information gathered by prison officials.

Within a few weeks of the tablets being passed out, a regular population prisoner was stabbed to death on unit three. The assault was bad enough that a crime scene photographer was brought in. The stabbing, though not fatal, forced the unit into a series of lockdowns made worse by familiar structural problems like power outages and understaffing—and now, increased levels of frustration when the Wi-Fi signal was weak and inconsistent.

Sometimes the new technology worked. Sometimes it didn't.

When the GTL sales rep tried to convince leery incarcerated people that we needed the tablets, it was the same pitch used by every prison profiteer to date: a modernized, streamlined incarceration experience. Technology is touted as a privilege in prison, but it's a superficial fix—one that's both monetized and monitored at every turn—replete with the same dysfunction, violence, and other subterfuge that always hides what really happens in prison.

#article #full article under the cut #lyle c may #prison #prisons #prison industrial complex #surveillance #policing #police state #us politics #surveillance state #abolition #technology

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jeoniius · 3 years

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Next Life | kth (m)

☆ summary: Although you and Taehyung didn’t believe in first and second lives, you both wished you’d find each other in the next life as you both looked at the sky that night.

☆ pairing: husband!tae x wife!reader

☆ genre: angst, smut.

☆ warning: sexual content, angst

☆ word count: 4k

☆a/n: Finally this is done. Thank you so much @jkiddingjeon for beta-ing the fic, it meant A LOT. I really love this fic and I hope you enjoy it too. ngl it's a pretty heartbreaking fic so get ready for some ANGST.

Love. Hate.

It’s always adjacent to each other. Something that’s always there when the other is present. It also changes people. How it makes people go from loving someone and being best friends with someone to trying everything they can to pull them down, to take them out.

You’d say you can relate to it. In more ways than one. You had seen your fair share of people going from loving them unconditionally to talking shit about them the next day. Divorce was one of them. All the promises and vows made of staying through health and sickness, through good and bad, thrown out of the window.

You thought of it as one of the most heartbreaking things and now you were here. Doing the exact thing as you watched the clock tick by, thinking of ways and excuses to get you out of this marriage. This marriage that ended everything. It hadn’t always been like this. No, you were in love. You were so madly in love that if anyone had told you you’d stand in this place today you’d not believe it.

You are still in love. So madly in love but the difference being you want it to end. Maybe that way you’d find each other again.

As time went by, you stood by the railing of your balcony. The bright light of the city shined underneath you as you thought Tomorrow would be it. The end of what once was seen as a beautiful love story by not only you but by many others. The final chapter.

Maybe love and hate stood adjacent to each other but you could never hate him.

And so you stood there, taking it all in, you thought about where it went wrong.

7 months ago

“I can’t believe you think that!” you shouted, hands up in the air as you walked back into the apartment, him following you behind.

“Well I wouldn’t if you kept your distance!” he said, raising his voice.

“Oh my god. One hug. It was one hug. And that too because he was leaving.”

“It didn’t look like one,” he argued back.

“Are you freaking kidding me right now? Nothing happened, you know that.” you said trying to calm yourself down.

“Stop trying to argue with me all the fucking time.” he bit back.

“Oh, I am arguing? You were the one who started it.” You took long strides towards him.

“You were the one who accused his wife of cheating although you have no proof whatsoever” you gritted through your teeth as your finger poked his chest.

He let out a loud groan as you run your hands through your hair. “You know what, Taehyung? You can stay here. I’m leaving.” and with that you grabbed your purse and keys and strode out the door, slamming it behind.

Kim Taehyung.

The love of your life. You met him in college. As cliché as it sounds, he was the heartthrob with his extremely good looks and his unbelievable flirting skills. You weren’t supposed to know him at all if you thought about it.

Your college held its annual fest, and you were the head of the management. You had stumbled across him when he had come to drop off some supplies instead of his best friend. You got into a small quarrel when he commented on how you were the head of the management when you were only a freshman and questioned your ability to pull the entire thing off when it was only three days from the fest and not even one percent of anything was done.

You got into a bet with him as you made him promise you that he’d treat you to something of your choice if you pulled it off. Nevertheless, you pulled the entire thing off within the next two days, proving him wrong. As a promise, he treated you to something really expensive(of course you had picked it) and then swore to never question your ability.

You started seeing more of him, with his surprise visits to your class (which usually ended up with girls surrounding you asking how you knew him) or him coming to your seat in the cafeteria just to give you some new juice he got for you. Sometimes he’d ask you to come to one of his basketball matches and then took you to dinner afterward.

You felt your heartbeat increasing every time you saw him or heard his name in fact, and before you knew it, you were confessing to him, putting your heart on the line.

The day you confessed, you ran out before he could even reply. Too scared to be rejected. But Taehyung did something you’d never expect. He brought you to an amusement park, took you to dinner, and then confessed to you with thousands of chocolate (literally).

You both had your fair share of arguments and then makeup sex. Mind-blowing sex to be exact.

Your relationship with Taehyung was built on trust. He’d be there waiting for you every time you came home late and vice versa. You’d be at all of his games. You’d go to every party, hang out with your friends.

Once he graduated, he’d wait to pick you up every day. Every day you’d go to your favorite café, with your friends, complete assignments and projects, argue about who won the last UNO game, girls vs boys.

He spent every hour with you when you struggled with your dream job and you did the same. When you finally did get the job, he asked you to marry him. You nodded then and there. Tears escaped, phone calls were made. Everyone came to the engagement party and then the wedding and you truly thought everything you ever wanted was there. Your family, your friends, his friends, him.

But what you didn’t know then was what followed after. Just like promises are made, they are broken. Trust is broken and the bond doesn’t stay.

The first two years were bliss. You went to Paris for your honeymoon and then to New York. Yes, New York for your honeymoon. You experienced the love in Paris and the rush in New York.

You spent most of the days in Paris, going to spots of attractions, enjoying the food in the café, walking around the streets drunk and completely in love, having late night sex, morning sex, just lots of sex to be exact.

But in New York, you spent your days going to Times Square, Bars, and Pubs had ‘the’ New York pizza and cheesecakes and hotdogs and whatnot. Went shopping and sightseeing. Roamed around the streets at night, met so many people.

You believed you had found what you had been looking for all your life. Someone to go to romantic dinners and the craziest parties with.

But what followed was something you didn’t think would happen. Every marriage has its ups and downs. You had to. But then it started.

Every party would become an excuse to start arguments, every late night at work would lead to assumptions. At first, you thought it would be fine. Talking would help, it was always the key for the both of you but lately, every time you spoke or tried to solve the issues, it would end in huge fights, sometimes followed by sex, or even if not sex, you’d stop talking to each other and then one day pretend nothing happened.

Although in heels you walked around the park near your apartment. ‘It will be fine’ you told yourself as you tried not to break down. Deciding it would not be a good idea to go anywhere at that hour, you sat by a bench.

The cold wind hit you as a shiver ran down your body, the thin wine slip dress doing nothing to stop it. The screen of your phone lit up as you saw multiple texts from Taehyung. A part of you was happy that he cared enough to text you. You clicked on his profile as a series of texts came up.

Tae: where are you?

Tae: come on Y/N, don’t be stupid.

Tae: it’s really late. where the fuck are you?

Tae: baby, you’re scaring me.

Sighing you got up and made your way out of the park. Since you lived in a complex, it didn’t take you too long to walk. As you opened the keys, you saw Taehyung pacing around the living room. “Where are my keys?” he muttered to himself, not noticing your presence.

A clinking sound made Taehyung look up as the keys hit the ceramic bowl on the kitchen top. “Where were you?” he asked, trying to control his anger. You didn’t answer him as you took off the heels, internally sighing when the cold floor hit your barefoot. “Are you seriously gonna ignore me? I asked where the fuck were you?” he pulled you by your wrists stopping you from going further. “Don’t do this.” you gritted through your teeth as you harshly pulled away before going inside your shared bedroom.

You slipped out of the dress and you got inside the shower, the hot water touching your skin as you stood there. No matter how much you tried not to think about it, you always went back. Where did it go wrong?

You changed into shorts and one of Taehyung’s oversized shirts as it reached mid-thigh. Getting inside the covers, you relaxed, the cool sensation of your bedsheet and covers calming you somehow as you turned towards the glass wall.

You heard a sigh as Taehyung got inside the room. He got inside the covers and stared at your back as you tried to keep calm. You felt an arm wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer, back colliding with his chest, nuzzling his face at the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” his voice came muffled as you felt the vibrations on your neck.

“I really am.” he said, taking a deep breath pulling you closer if that was possible. You sighed, turning to him.

“I felt really cheap, you know” you said, hands reaching to cup his face. “I’m so sorry baby.” he sighed, closing his eyes as you ran your hand through his hair. “I know.”

He pressed a kiss on your lips as you pulled him closer, hands wrapping around his neck. You sighed into the kiss as his lips trailed down towards your collarbone, sucking and nipping then. Soon enough he was inside you as he went on an animalistic pace. “Do you think he can fuck you like this?” he growled. You ignored him as you knew you were close, focusing on your climax. You came within the next few minutes as he rubbed your clit while thrusting.

Later on, he lapped up the spilled contents lazily as you screamed his name, your cries stroking his ego.

He wrapped an arm around your naked waist as he fell asleep on his stomach, head on your chest, legs tangled over your naked ones. You stroked his hair as you stared at the ceiling, his words ringing in your ear ‘Do you think he can fuck you like this?’

A small realization crept inside your head. He was never gonna trust you.

He stirred in his sleep, pulling you closer, he pressed an open-mouth kiss above the swell of your breast in his sleep. Releasing a long sigh, you kissed his head, quickly pushing the thought aside.

That was the first mistake.

“I love you so much,” you said.

You pulled the robe over your body tightly, a coffee cup in your hand. Picking up your phone you looked at the time. 3:08 am it read. The city still buzzed with life. The cold breeze hit your face soothingly as you closed your eyes. Only if you had done something before, things wouldn’t have gone wrong.

4 months ago

Your phone buzzed as you frustratedly rubbed your face. You dreaded picking up the call, not wanting to have to shout again. Things had been gradually worsening between you and Taehyung. Late-night fights, coming home drunk, not talking to each other for weeks had become a common thing nowadays and no matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you both tried to co-operate, you didn’t seem to escape it.

“You should talk to him.” Ae-ra said, handing you a cup of tea.

Tea.

You never liked tea. You were more of a coffee person. You preferred the rush, the adrenaline. But nowadays, you were tired. Tired of doing the same thing over and over again. Having the same quarrels and fights over and over again. Tea seemed to calm you.

“And then what? Get into another fight?”

“You know what I mean, babe.” She said as she rubbed your arm soothingly.

“Maybe later. I cannot deal with him now.” you sipped on the cup.

What you didn’t know was that “later” would come that fast. You went back to your apartment to get more of your clothes. You planned on going at night, when he was most probably out with his friends or whoever kept him busy nowadays. But to your surprise, he was there.

You opened the main door, using the key you had with you to meet with his laying figure on the couch. His head shot up at the sound of the door, eyes meeting each other. He looked drained, hair messy and bags under his eyes. You cursed under your breath, debating if you should just go back to Ae-ra’s place and come later for your clothes.

“Look who’s here.” he scoffed as he got up from the couch.

Deciding on the former, you walked past him without taking another glance, into your shared bedroom. Taking a bag out, you shoved as many clothes as possible wanting to stay away from this mess. “Are you gonna ignore me now?” you heard him as he entered the room.

You zipped up the chain as you walked towards the door wanting to leave. He grabbed your hand before you could go any further. He felt so scared when he saw you packing your stuff, so much that it suffocated him. “Fucking answer me.” his voice raised as he stared at you.

Taehyung’s eyes softened as he saw the dry tears on your cheeks and he wanted nothing more than to pull you close and never let go. To talk to you and tell you it would be fine, that you would figure it out together.

As he saw your tired eyes, glossy as you tried to keep your composure, he wanted to kiss you so badly and keep you tucked away from every bad thing; ever, even himself if he was bad for you.

And maybe he would have done that. Hugged you and kissed you. Kept you in his arms if you didn’t start talking.

“Leave me the fuck alone.” you pulled away harshly. “You know what? Yes, I am ignoring you and gladly will.”

“What is wrong with you? You cannot just come and go like that.” he said, hands gesturing to your bag.

“I can and I will. You cannot stop me” you clarified.

“ Yes, I can. I am your husband for god’s sake.” a frustrated tone laced his words.

“Husband?” you scoffed. “When were you a good husband? Where did this go when I stayed up till dawn every day waiting for you?”

“You know how hectic things have been at work.” he looked at you knowingly.

“That doesn’t mean you’d stop spending time with me!” you yelled.

You knew you were being unreasonable. Things really were hectic at work for him. But you couldn’t help but feel lonely when you came home after a long day to an empty and cold apartment and then stayed up every day almost all night for your husband. You felt so neglected when he’d come home and go to sleep straight away without saying anything.

All the doubts about your marriage slowly were coming true and you wanted nothing more than to prove it wrong. But talking about it led to arguments with Taehyung. So you decided to stay away from home, so that you didn’t have to think about it, to begin with.

That was the second mistake.

“You are going nowhere.” Taehyung took the bag from your hand and walked towards the bed. “You’ll stay at home.”

“Home?” a humorless chuckle left your throat. “I will go anywhere I want, but home.”

“I mean it Y/N. Stop acting like a kid. Go wash up and come to bed.” he sighed.

“I’m not staying” you concluded, ready to leave your stuff behind as you turned.

You felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist as he stuffed his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder. A tear left your eyes, followed by streams, and for some reason, your heart broke, it felt like he was pulling you apart from inside.

You felt his warm breath as he mumbled something. He pressed you towards him as you silently cried.

Later that night, as he fucked you slowly, something different than his usual dominating aura, your heart ached, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. He kissed you ever so passionately, that you cried.

Something told you that it would be over soon, so you hugged him as close as you could when he slept. You cried as he hugged you in his sleep like you would go away if he didn’t have you in his arms.

“I love you so much,” he mumbled in his sleep.

That’s when you realized how bad the entire situation was. How bad you were for him just like he was for you. How bad this marriage was.

And what followed after confirmed everything you ever doubted.

2 months ago

“You think I didn’t see you?” you yelled.

“What are you talking about?” he looked curious.

“Oh sure, play the good guy, make me look bad, why don’t you?” you scoffed.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” he repeated. “How would you? You thought you were good enough to keep it away from me.” you said. His eyebrows crashed as he tried to understand. “I saw you with her. Maybe that’s why you were always late. You were too busy fucking her.” a bitterness stayed in your mouth. “Are you kidding me?” he said as he raked his fingers through his hair.

“You are accusing me of cheating, Y/N? You?” he scoffed. “Don’t think I forgot about the party.”

“Oh my god. You were never going to believe me, were you?” you looked at him with a glint in your eyes.

“You are being paranoid Y/N,” he said calmly.

“You know what? Maybe I will go to him. The guy you accused me of cheating. Maybe I will let him fuck me. Clear all your doubts and make it true!” you were screaming now.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, voice so calm maybe you would have been scared if you were thinking straight.

“Neither can I.” you said as you walked out of the house.

The next day when you woke up, you felt bad for yelling at him. So you decided to go back and talk to him. And maybe you would have if fate didn’t have anything else planned.

As you walked into the house, you saw a man sitting on your couch, Taehyung at his side as paper lay in front of him. The man looked at you briefly before turning back to Taehyung. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr. Lee.” he said as he shook hands with the man. The man nodded.

Before leaving, he looked at you, “See you in court.”

You furrowed your brows before realization hit you. “Tae, what did he mean by that?”

He kept quiet as he gathered the papers. “Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” you tried again. Taehyung got up as he handed you the papers, then went to the bedroom. You stared at them as you couldn’t process anything.

You cannot get divorced. You cannot live without him.

You walked inside the room as you saw him looking out. “Tae, we can talk, right? You don’t mean this.” your voice shook.

Walking up to him you wrapped your arms around his, face buried in his back as you mumbled “This is a joke, right?”

You heard his sigh before he turned to you, eyes glossy. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“We won’t. We’ll figure it out. We don’t have to do this.” you went on.

“Y/N-”

“No, no, you don’t understand. You are out of your mind. We can’t get divorced.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot do this anymore.” he said,

You looked at him. “Why are you saying it as if it is all my fault?”

“I don’t mean that.”

“You absolutely mean that. Your face says it all.” you gestured toward him. “Oh. You really are gonna do this?” you said as he rubbed his face.

“Well, fuck you, Kim Taehyung. You can do whatever you want. You can blame me all you want but you and I both know the minute I walk out, you are going to regret this.”

“You can keep going for my heart and put all this on me, but you will miss me to your bone the minute this is over.” you said as you stormed off.

That night, you went back to Ae-ra’s place. You screamed at the sky pretending it was him while he stayed awake that night as he looked at the sky. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I love you so much” he said, tears freely falling.

It really was over. All your doubts came true. Your marriage ended. Maybe it was for the better. ‘You’re being paranoid’ he said. He was right. You became paranoid.

You wiped the single tear and looked at the sky, soft light spread across as the birds sang. 5:00 am

You picked out the attire you were going to wear to the court. Your phone buzzed as you picked it up. It was Ae-ra. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll get through it. she said.

You went to the court that day. You watched him as he entered the room, a black tux hugging his frame. He had become more buff than he was the last time you saw him two months ago. As he ran his fingers through his hair, his shoulder blades flexed. The same shoulder blades that had your nail marks reminding the night before from every morning you’ve spent together. You smiled at that memory.

Soon the judge walked in and the process went on.

At one point in your relationship with him, assuming was something you both picked up. Long gone was the trust which was the key in your relationship. Maybe it was for the better. You both were paranoid; assumptions feeding more into it.

But what you both gradually became, was bad for each other. Not at the beginning of your relationship, but somewhere in the middle, it went out of hand. Maybe if you spoke to each other more, maybe if you hadn’t pushed your thoughts the first day it came, then maybe you wouldn’t be here. But everything happens for a reason.

Kim Taehyung was the heartthrob of the campus. Kim Taehyung was the first person you confessed you loved. He was the first person who heard ‘I love you’ from you. He was your first love.

As the saying goes, some people are in our lives, just to teach us a lesson. Good and Bad. Kim Taehyung was that for you. You were still in love with him. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and yours did. You loved him more than you did before. And so maybe letting him go was easy. You were bad for him and he was bad for you. But that didn’t stop you from loving him.

And that didn’t stop him from loving you as you sat at the courthouse, as he looked at your face when it was over, as he lay in his bed alone that night.

Maybe you weren’t meant to be. Or maybe you were, but you didn’t know-how. But it was fine. And maybe as time goes by, it would hurt less.

Although you and Taehyung didn’t believe in first and second lives, you both wished you’d find each other in the next life as you both looked at the sky that night.

taglist: @mwitsmejk

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blouisparadise · 3 years

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Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Harry radiates sex appeal. We hope you enjoy this fics! If you find our rec lists useful, please support them by liking the post and reblogging it to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Gimme Gimme | Mature | 5957 words

He dragged himself to his bedroom and flopped down face-first onto the bed, groaning, and started thinking about that new neighbor. Maybe this was his chance. Maybe this was the time for him to actually try and find a love interest that lasted longer than 2 weeks. He rolled over and sat up on the bed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked out the window.

And what he saw was probably the most amazing thing on the planet.

Walking into his new neighbor’s house was a man in a suit, carrying a briefcase while his Porsche sat in the driveway.

2) Under the Vanilla Sky | Explicit | 8006 words

Who the hell wears a hat like that on a yacht? That's one of the things Louis thinks when he sees Harry from across the deck of the most expensive, ridiculous boat he's ever been on. He also thinks he'd like to get closer. Just to see what's under those aviators. Just to verify that, yes, in fact, those white swim trunks might be a little see-through when wet. Just to see if someone could really be that hot in real life. On a yacht. In the Caribbean sea just off the coast of St. Barts.

Here's what really happened on that yacht.

3) Sweet Like Cherry Vodka | Not Rated | 8039 words

When he exits the building he instantly sees him. He’s leaning against his white Mercedes Benz convertible. The car makes him look more expensive. Of course, the navy blue suit that fits tightly around his broad shoulders — making Louis want to fall to his knees, mind you — also helps to get the message across. He looks up from his phone, his sleek black aviators block Louis from seeing his dark eyes.

When Louis knows Harry's watching him he smiles. A grin grows on Harry’s mouth, his strong jaw moves cockily while he chews his gum. How does someone make chewing gum so hot?

“Need a ride sweetheart?” Harry calls to him, the statement adds to his cocky demeanor.

“You know I do, silly.” Louis laughs at how ridiculous the older man can be.

4) You And I ‘Till The Day We Die | Explicit | 10807 words

Prompt 124: A fic inspired by Groupie Love by Lana Del Rey, where Harry is a Rockstar and Louis is his cute little boyfriend who tries to hide himself in the middle of the crowd. (Preferably set in the 80s)

5) Guns N Roses | Mature | 14069 words

Harry's an assassin, Louis is a government agent. They hate each other but not really.

6) My English Love Affair | Explicit | 19198 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The thing about sleeping with a member of a famous indie band is that the inevitability of having a song written about you is most likely a hundred percent. The second thing is that in the end, nobody's supposed to find out it's about you.

The one where Harry writes a song about his English love affair and Louis sleeps with someone in White Eskimo and all he gets is a stupid song written about him.

7) The Way The Storm Blows | Explicit | 21649 words

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

8) Even The Best Laid Plans | Explicit | 25190 words

Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

9) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27086 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

10) Carnelian | Explicit | 30631 words

Louis finds himself donating blood to the most beautiful being he's ever seen.

11) Take My Pure (And Wash It All Away ‘Til I’m Cured) | Explicit | 40629 words

They're all 19. Louis is a twink, Harry is a frat boy hunk. Harry for some reason wants his makeup done for pride, and Louis is just trying so very hard to stay clear of all alleged fuckboys this year.

12) In The Still Of The Night | Explicit | 68568 words

The Dirty Dancing AU where Louis is a feisty omega who wants to change the world, Harry is an alpha from the wrong side of the tracks, and nobody puts Louis in a corner.

13) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76576 words

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

14) Your Name is Tattooed on My Heart | Explicit | 86809 words

Note: This fic has mentions of top Louis.

Louis is ready to find the love of his life, but first he has to stop falling for the punk rocker next door.

15) Beyond The Point Of Weird | Mature | 108331 words

Louis meets Harry one night and well... Of course things lead from one thing to another. How could Louis not be interested in having a go at the ex-Rockstar who'd starred in his first wet dream?

When Harry asks him to pretend to be his boyfriend to help him clear up his image, Louis agrees because why the fuck not. Yet it kind of feels like the only 'fake' part of their relationship is the title they chose for it... And then it gets confusing.

Louis' pretty sure he walked right into a trap - one he's not quite sure he wants to escape.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #sex appeal #blp fic recs #blp #larry

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Damsels, Chapter Eight: They Don’t Want to be Found

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read previous chapters here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder calls in to work the next day, too sleep deprived and mentally exhausted to function. After sleeping until nearly noon, he gets back in his car and returns to Philly. He checks into a hotel that’s just a few blocks from the club and then spends the next several hours trying to watch TV, trying to read, and jacking off picturing Scully topless. A short time later, he jacks off again, this time imagining what he’ll see tonight.

He isn’t really sure what he’s doing or why he’s here. The best excuse he can cook up is that she doesn’t have a weapon and he’s protecting her, but realistically he knows she can take care of herself. Is it really just perversion, that he wants to see her…exposed? What will he say if she spots him? He can imagine her level of mortification if she knew he was here, that he’d seen her, and he feels guilt churn in his gut. She might never forgive him for this.

He knows it’s wrong, but he can’t seem to stop himself from going back. He has to see her again.

Scully had lay awake for hours after Angel left, thinking about what had happened, wondering how it happened in the first place. She’s on a case, how stupid could she be? What if it comes to light that she’s become involved with a witness in the case? She might be suspended. At least then maybe they’d never ask her to do something like this again. What if Mulder finds out? Would he feel betrayed somehow? Would it turn him on?

Somewhere around 6 am, she had finally caved in and slid her hand down the front of her panties, groaning when she felt how wet she was. She swirled her finger around her clit, using her own arousal as lubricant, and imagined what might have happened if Angel’s phone hadn’t rung. Would Angel have touched her? With her hands, or her mouth? Maybe both. Would she have touched Angel? She was approaching the brink just thinking about it. She stopped suddenly, remembering something, and grabbed the bullet vibrator from her bedside table, switching it on and pressing it to her clit as she plunged the middle finger of her other hand as far inside herself as she could reach. Within 30 seconds she was unravelling, images of Angel and Mulder dancing in her head as her walls clamped tightly around her finger. Finally, she had slept.

She manages to sleep until nearly three in the afternoon again, then spends the day getting her nails done, reading, and devising a plan for how she might look through the files in that closet. Without knowing what’s in them, she has no way of gaging whether Ricky is likely to notice if she takes a few at a time and returns them later. Worse still, Lexie is working tonight and that gives any risk she takes the potential to blow the whole investigation. She’s positive that given one more red flag, Lexie will sing like a canary. The silver lining is that Angel won’t be at work for the next three days, so they can get some space from what happened between them.

The evening is mostly business as usual, and she’s a bit horrified to realize that this is becoming as dull and predictable as any other job. She lets her mind wander while she flexes and rolls over horny married men, wondering what Mulder is up to, whether he’s worried about her or even misses her. Part of her wonders if he might realize that his life is less complicated without her, and that he prefers it that way. She feels an ache in her chest, a bit further north than she has grown accustomed to, and realizes how much she misses him.

When he enters the club, she’s at the bar. Half her torso is resting on the bar top as she shouts to be heard by the bartender, who’s laughing at whatever she’s saying. The position she’s in pops her barely covered ass out prominently behind her and his eyes go big at how exposed she is, and how comfortable she seems with it. Her bare breasts are smushed against the lacquered countertop and he feels his cock twitch thinking about how hard her nipples will be when she stands up. Unfortunately, it would be too risky to stick around and find out, so he tugs his ball cap lower and finds a table in the back. The dancers never seem to come back here for some reason.

He keeps his head trained towards one of the other dancers at all times, while his eyes follow Scully’s every move. If he knows one thing, it’s that Scully can feel his eyes on her, so he needs to be careful. His disguise is painfully basic and all it would take is one solid look for her to know it’s him. He watches her give a lap dance to a blushing young woman, a soft smile on her face the whole time, and he can’t decide if he’s more turned on or touched by how hard she’s working to make the woman feel comfortable. The aching hard-on in his jeans suggests the former.

This time he’s mentally prepared for her stage set, and also realizes she can barely see beyond the tip rail with all the stage lights on her, so he lets himself enjoy it. He’s known from the moment he met her that Scully is beautiful, sexy, incredible in every way imaginable, but he never could have imagined her moving like this. She’s so graceful and captivating. He lets himself block out all the other jerks who are leering at her, stuffing bills into her underwear, and just watches her. His Scully. She’s ethereal.

“Seems like you’ve found your ATF,” a voice to his left startles him from his reverie.

“Huh?” he turns to see the same waitress who’d served him last night, clad in a fishnet body suit.

“You were here last night, right? You like Desi?”

He panics. “No! I mean, yes. But, don’t send her over here or anything.”

She nods in understanding. “You like to watch. That’s cool, whatever floats your boat, man. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yeah, can I get a Captain and Coke?” He walked here, why not enjoy himself, right?

Four drinks for him and ten lap dances for her later, he stumbles into the balmy night and back to his hotel room where he jacks off again. Twice.

Everyone is trickling out slowly at the end of what has been a busy shift. Scully takes her time counting her tips, sharing a cut with her bird dog and the bartender on shift tonight. While she would not say that she likes working here by any stretch of the imagination, her coworkers at the club are her only source of socialization and (with the exception of Lexie) she truly enjoys their company. She’s helping one of the custodial staff, a wiry young man they called Don Juan, put up the chairs on the club floor so he can mop when Ricky approaches her.

“Desi, can I see you in my office, please?” He has a somber demeanor that concerns her.

“Um, sure, of course.” She bids the young man farewell and follows Ricky down the hall. He closes the door behind them and she feels her heart start to race.

Ricky sits down behind his desk and motions for her to take a seat across from him. She’s reminded of her first day here and the feelings of fear and anticipation.

“I need to ask you something, Desi, and I want to make sure you don’t mention it to the other girls.”

“Okay,” she responds, taking shallow breaths to obscure the fact that she’s afraid.

“Angel told me what happened.”

Her mouth falls open but no words come out. Is she in trouble for kissing Angel?

“That’s why she was so upset the other night, when you saw her in here. She told me that she’d talked to you about her past a bit,” he shakes his head ruefully. “Some gall those dirtbags have, shaming her for being sexual in any way, then coming to a titty club on the sly.”

She breathes a sigh of relief. “Right, yes, the people who came in. She was very upset. “

“It was really nice of you to spend some time with her after work. Anyway, I gave her a few nights off. She needs a break.”

Scully nods. “You wanted to ask me something?”

“Right! So, Angel is my right hand gal, she helps me with a lot of stuff around here. With her being out, I wanted to ask you to kind of be her backup, if you will.”

For a moment she’s afraid Ricky is asking her to perform some kind of sexual favor, but she recalls that Angel had said he’s gay. “What did you have in mind?” she asks hesitantly.

“Well mostly, I wanted to give you a set of keys for the club. Angel has one, in case something happens to me and I’m not here to open and close the doors, stuff like that.”

A set of keys? Scully feels a flush of adrenaline. “Of course, I can do that.”

“That’d be great, Desi. I know you haven’t been with us all that long, but you seem pretty trustworthy, at least compared to the other girls. Like I mentioned, I’m hoping we can keep this between us, just so there are no hurt feelings from anyone who’s been here longer than you.”

Her heart is pounding with excitement at the opportunity to gain access to those files. “Is there an alarm code or something I should know about?” She recalls a sign on the door for ADT.

Ricky dismisses her concern with a flick of his wrist. “No, nothing like that. I should get one, but I just pilfered those signs from my buddy to scare off vagrants.”

She nods in understanding.

“Ninety-nine percent chance nothing will happen and there’ll be no need, but thanks for being on deck, just in case,” he says as he hands her a playboy bunny shaped keychain with a single key dangling from it.

Scully smiles at him. “I’m more than happy to help.”

After she leaves the club, she first goes home to stash her tips and change into comfortable, dark clothes, and then gets a big cup of coffee and a disposable camera from the 7-11 near her apartment.

By the time she’s lurking in the corner of the club’s parking lot, watching the door, it’s nearly 4am and there’s still a light on inside the foyer. She sips her coffee and waits, shuffling her feet to keep warm. Finally at 4:50, Denny and Ricky emerge, locking the door behind them. After they leave the parking lot, Scully waits another 20 minutes before she creeps around the perimeter of the lot and approaches the door. Glancing around to be sure no one is watching her, she turns the key and steps inside, locking it behind her.

The quiet stillness is eerie in contrast to the throbbing hive of activity it had been earlier in the night and she flicks on her flashlight, making her way to Ricky’s office. She fits the same front door key into the lock and sighs in relief when it turns. Ricky’s security standards aren’t incredibly high, apparently, but in this case it’s to her advantage. She tries the key on the hallway closets just in case, to no avail, and returns to the office. Navigating to his desk, she pulls open drawers quickly, scanning their contents. Nothing is of interest, and she’s disappointed though not surprised that his keys to other areas of the club aren’t in here. That makes things more challenging, but not impossible. She’s spent her days off at the library researching how to pick locks, including buying a lock picking kit and some padlocks at the local hardware store to practice with, and she feels relatively confident she can get this door open without a key. She might just have to be the one to pick the lock next time she and Mulder have the need. She smiles to herself knowing how impressed he’d be.

Back in the hallway, she pulls the small lock picking kit out of her back pocket and kneels in front of the door, the pen light perched between her teeth. She studies the lock and then inserts a torque wrench at the bottom, turning it slightly to put resistance in the direction it will spin when unlocked. From the kit, she selects a straight, flat pick and runs it from back to front at the top of the keyhole a couple times. Next she exchanges it for a pick with a curved end, pushing it as far back and high as she can reach as she holds her ear close to the lock in the stony silence of the hallway. Bumping against the pins inside the lock, she listens and feels for a small click or give that indicates the pin has settled in its unlocked position. She continues this until she counts five pins clicking into place, then removes the pick and turns the torque wrench.

The lock releases with a soft click and she laughs out loud as the door swings open, beyond pleased with herself. Stepping into the closet, there’s enough room for her to close the door behind her and she does so, pulling a cord to turn on the overhead light. Taking stock of the beige bank of file cabinets, she works top to bottom, left to right, and immediately feels her heart sink when the first four drawers she tries are empty. Would this be yet another dead end? When the fifth drawer snicks open, she sees a small set of files hanging towards the back. She quickly checks all the other drawers so she’ll have a good idea of how much material she has to review, but they’re all empty.

She pulls the files out and sits down with them on the floor, setting the disposable camera near her thigh. There are eight folders nestled inside the hanging file, each one with a set of initials on the tab. The first one is marked “G.A.” and inside she finds an intake form, a personal statement that’s filled out by hand, and a release of liability form. The intake form is sparse and includes nearly no identifying information. The name is listed as simply GA and the fields below it include “entry date,” “exit date,” “reason for sheltering,” and “responsible individual.” On the form for GA, the entry and exit date are both a year and a half prior, about six months apart. Reason for sheltering is listed as “threat of violence-domestic,” and the responsible individual reads “brother.” She turns to the second page, which contains GA’s personal statement.

Continue Reading Here

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #case file #case fic

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wiltingofthewhitelily · 3 years

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{Hetalia Platonic Ships Week 2021} Day 7: Free Day - Iceland & Latvia

A/N: Submission #7 for @hetaliaplatonicshipsweek!

Aaaaand the last day! I was originally planning to do Canada and Cuba (a platonic pairing I just adore) for this day until I realized I didn't actually have any solid story ideas for them :')

Sooo I chose Iceland and Latvia instead, because I imagine the two to be pretty good friends. This is just a high school au (bc as many of y'all know I'm a sucker for them) that I came up with one day while sitting in class lol. You can choose to see this as taking place in the same universe as the fic I wrote for family week (the Anko Family submission for Day 5, Embarrassment) if you wish, bc everything lines up pretty much to a T. Also, my demiboy Iceland hc is back, so he/they pronouns again.

Also, here's the reference for human names again (though most of these characters are only briefly mentioned):

Emil - Iceland

Raivis - Latvia

Leon - Hong Kong

Michelle - Seychelles

Mei - Taiwan

Lili - Liechtenstein

Ok, I hope you guys enjoy!

»»————-　➴　————-««

Being a librarian's aide at a high school wasn't nearly as bad as it appeared on the surface—well, at least for Emil it wasn't. It was always nice and quiet (for obvious reasons, since it was a library), and it allowed him to get out of a couple of boring classes which he didn't even need to take since he'd already received all the credits for them. Plus, the librarian herself was always very nice and even gave him free coffee and donuts from the teacher's lounge on most days. So, needless to say, Emil actually liked being her aide very much.

It wasn't even that much work, honestly. Not that much work at all. Usually just stacking returned books back on the bookshelf and taking out papers from the printer and giving them to students and teachers. Emil didn't have to interact with too many other kids as there were only a couple of other aides—a senior girl who was the librarian's secretary, and a boy named Raivis who Emil was pretty sure was a sophomore. Raivis basically did the same tasks as Emil, placing books on the bookshelf and whatnot.

Raivis was a curly-haired brunet who was very short for his age, barely even coming up to Emil's shoulder; he had a round boyish face that added to his middle-schooler look. Though he seemed to be a pretty quiet kid, just like Emil, since the two worked together they evidently had to communicate with each other sometimes—and honestly, Emil really enjoyed talking with him. He seemed to have a lot of the same interests as Emil—video games, indie music, hell, he even liked science fiction novels too—and a similar personality to them. Emil wouldn't exactly consider themselves close enough to Raivis to consider him a friend, probably just a very good acquaintance; however, they definitely saw the potential for friendship. It was there.

Sometimes Emil wondered if Raivis even had any other friends, as they'd never seen the boy really talk to anybody else. They wondered where he sat at lunch and tried to recall countless times if they'd ever seen him at lunch with anybody else (at their school, all juniors and sophomores had the same lunch period, so Emil knew that they had lunch with Raivis).

Anyway, on one Thursday morning Emil and Raivis were in the library, organizing books in the—what do you know—science fiction section. They had set their uneaten donuts and coffee on a nearby table and were just talking and laughing among each other, as well as sharing some of the good books they'd found that they happened to have read in the past. Emil made a mental note of all the reading suggestions Raivis had given him. I'm gonna have to check out those books when Mrs. Newman lets me pick some out again, Emil thought to himself (Mrs. Newman referring to the librarian). Another perk to being a librarian's aide was that they got to pick out more books than the other students, about three to five every other week.

Everything was going okay until these two boys who Emil had never seen in the library before casually walked up to the table that had the two's donuts and coffee and sat in the chairs.

However, Emil just kept their attention on Raivis, who was laughing as he told them about this one dystopian book, holding it up so Emil could see. "Yeah! And the best part is when—" Raivis stopped talking abruptly when he noticed the two boys there; his eyes grew wide and he got a...scared look on his face? Hurriedly, he shoved the book back in its spot on the shelf, averting his eyes from the boys and holding Emil's arm loosely, trying to guide him away from the section they were at. "Um...how about let's go sort out the encyclopedias," Raivis suggested quickly.

Emil cocked his eyebrows, now very confused. "But what about our food?"

However, Raivis didn't respond and instead continued to try to push Emil away from the boys.

"Hey, short stack!"

Raivis visibly cringed at the voice of one of the boys. This prompted him, as well as Emil to lift their heads up. One of the kids was cackling annoyingly, while the other one had carelessly taken a bite out of one of Raivis' donuts.

Seeing this latter action immediately caused Emil to furrow their eyebrows. "Hey, what the heck?" they said sternly. "That's Raivis' food."

The kid who'd eaten Raivis' donut snickered. "Yeah, no shit, Dad."

"Emil, just leave them alone..." Raivis said quietly, still holding onto their arm.

Emil ignored him and, though his heart was pounding nearly out of his chest with nerves, he continued to try to set the two boys straight. "I'm going to tell Mrs. Newman if you two don't stop," he threatened.

The other boy, who'd started to drink Raivis' coffee, set his cup down and made mocking jazz hands. "Ooo—Mrs. Newman. I'm so scared," he said sarcastically.

Emil shot the two one last glare and went up to the front of the library to do what he'd just said he would do—tell Mrs. Newman. As he began to walk, he heard the sounds of pounding footsteps, splashing, and then a high-pitched wail that could only belong to one person. Emil whipped his head around and gasped. The kid with the coffee had dumped the entire beverage onto Raivis' head; it was dripping from his hair, and onto the floor.

Now simmering with anger, Emil stomped up to the two kids—he was about to yell something until he heard one of the boys snort loudly and then run up to place the now-empty cup of coffee into Emil's hand. The ash-blond didn't have time to be too confused; he was much more concerned for Raivis at that moment. He prepared to yell at the two boys to get the hell out (he honestly didn't care at that point that they were in a library) before he heard a voice behind him: "Hey! What are you two doing?"

The teens all looked toward the voice and saw Mrs. Newman standing there, hands on her hips, her expression very angry looking—though not at Emil and Raivis, rather at the boy that'd spilled coffee on Raivis' head, as well as his friend.

The two boys, though they'd just mocked Mrs. Newman a mere few minutes prior, stood there, scared, until they glanced at each other briefly and then dashed out of the large library doors. Emil smirked internally as they saw this. Now they're afraid, huh? they thought to themselves.

Mrs. Newman stared at the boys like a hawk as they ran out into the halls, but once they were out of eyesight she turned to Raivis, her face instantly growing from full of anger to full of concern. She walked up slowly to the boy, gently placing her hand on a part of his arm that'd been untouched by the coffee. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

Raivis shrugged his shoulders slowly, his face looking so solemn, so pitiful. "It's fine..."

The tall blonde woman turned to Emil then. "Honey, will you take him to the office to get a fresh change of clothes?" she asked. "He will probably need to use one of the showers in the gym too...can you walk with him, please?"

Emil nodded instantly. "Yeah. Sure thing."

Mrs. Newman smiled back. "Thank you."

Soon, the two teens were walking off to do just that. Raivis was very quiet all the way to the office—which Emil could understand one hundred percent. Poor kid must've felt so embarrassed. He decided he wouldn't make the situation any worse for him and kept his mouth shut, too. They swiftly went to the office to get some spare clothes and then got the clear to go down to the gym bathroom so Raivis could wash up.

The two got to the gym and were standing in front of the door to the bathroom; Raivis glanced up at Emil, his face a little pink. "Um," he began, holding his hand out a little, "could you give me the clothes?"

"Oh, yeah," Emil replied, handing Raivis the sweatpants and t-shirt.

Raivis nodded his thanks and headed on in. After he shut the door, Emil just decided to sit against the wall and wait for him while he showered and changed.

Nearly thirty minutes later, Raivis finally came back out. Emil looked up, put his phone back in his pocket, and then stood up. "How was it?" he asked the sophomore.

Raivis sighed deeply; his eyes were very close to watering, even though he looked and smelled as fresh as a daisy. "Um...okay I guess," he answered, voice quavering a little. "There was a lot of coffee on me."

Emil nodded, but tsk-tsked. He began to walk out of the gym, and Raivis followed close behind. "Who even were those kids?" Emil asked.

Raivis shrugged, looking down at his toes. "Eh, just some kids from my grade. They're jerks."

Emil bit his lip. "Seems like it. I can't believe they put that coffee cup in my hands like they were trying to frame me or something," he said. He laughed, a bit bitterly.

Despite himself, Raivis managed to chuckle a little. "Yeah. Don't they know Mrs. Newman has cameras in there? She could've checked them if she really wanted to."

Emil snorted. "I know, right?"

It was silent for a moment afterward, with Raivis gulping loudly every now and then. Emil turned their head, noticing this. He cocked an eyebrow, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Raivis (who Emil could tell now was definitely on the verge of crying) sniffled and rubbed at his face. "Yeah," he answered, voice hushed. "It's just...thank you, Emil. No one has ever stood up for me like that."

The boy's voice was so sincere that Emil had to grin. "It's no problem—really."

"You're a great friend," Raivis added.

Emil's heart was warmed at that—they didn't know if it was just the way he said it, or the knowledge that he actually thought of them as a friend. He answered warmly nonetheless. "Thank you. You are too."

Raivis glanced at him and gave the most genuine smile Emil thought he'd ever seen on the younger teen.

"Hey, where do you normally sit at lunch?" Emil asked Raivis, just out of curiosity.

Raivis' smile fell a bit. "Oh...well, I normally just sit outside," he said quietly.

"Alone?" The word seemed to echo in the empty hallway, though it might've just been Emil's imagination.

Raivis nodded a bit solemnly. Emil grew the same solemn expression for a moment before asking, "Hey, would you like to sit with me and my friends at lunch?"

Raivis looked up then, eyebrows shooting up. "Really?"

Emil nodded, cracking a small smile. "Yeah. I sit with my best friend, Leon, and then my other friends, Michelle, Mei, and Lili. Leon's really cool; Michelle and Mei might seem a bit...much at first, but they're really nice and cool too."

Raivis' expression slowly began to brighten the more he heard Emil talk, until he paused. "...Are you sure that's okay? I wouldn't wanna ruin your guys' lunch..."

"Trust me, you won't," Emil assured instantly.

The sophomore paused for a minute, as if thinking. "...Okay. I'll sit with you guys."

Emil grinned. "Good. I'm sure they'd love to meet you."

The two continued to walk back to the office to get passes for their next class in comfortable silence, the content feeling one feels after finding a new friend overwhelming both of them.

#hetalia #hetaliaplatonicshipsweek #hetalia event #hetalia fanfiction #fanfiction #aph iceland #hws iceland #aph latvia #hws latvia

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teamhappyme · 3 years

Text

a series of promising events (1/5)

aaron hotchner x female! reader

word count: 7.9k :)

a/n: hello hello hello! this is my first hotch fic, and the first of three parts (edit: it’s actually 5 now lolol). it’s going to cover 8 (maybe 9?) events over the course of several years, so it needed to be broken up in the most rational way possible. this is my baby, and has been in the editing process with my lazy brain since september. please, please, please, let me know if the timeline or anything is confusing to you! i have a tendency to under explain things (as my profs will testify to), and i don’t want y’all to be confused. i hope whoever stumbles across this enjoys!

also, big shoutout to @winterscaptain, you are a gift to the world, tali. i am in love with the ajf universe, and that shit inspired me to polish this piece up for the tumblr verse to see.

alright friends, here we go.

link to part 2: here

****

June 2005

You wouldn’t forget your first day in the BAU for as long as you lived. It was forever ingrained in your memory, the good, bad, and embarrassing moments all stored away. Stored away that is until Derek Morgan decided to dredge it back up as you passed your six month mark on the job.

Derek, Prentiss, Reid and yourself were finishing up paperwork in the bullpen after an unusually slow friday. You were usually the first one done, earning a groan from the doctor across from your desk. They all envied your English degree and professional writing skills.

“Hey bobo,” The nickname Derek had assigned to you was named after your alma mater, and extremely annoying. “Remember your first day, when I tricked you into doing Prentiss and my paperwork for almost two weeks?” You shook your head, not having to look at Morgan to be able to hear the smirk in his voice. “Do you think I could trick you again?”

7:47. Thirteen minutes earlier than you needed to be. Yet the room full of agents you were supposed to join was already filled. You liked these people already, they were punctual and functioned in the morning.

You pushed one of the glass doors open with your ballet flat, juggling your box of office supplies while keeping your crossbody balanced on your shoulder. The sound of fingers pounding on keyboards, phones ringing on loop welcomed you into the BAU. Along with a shove to your back, causing you to lunge forward. You felt something cold run down your back, cursing yourself for wearing a white blouse.

“Are you alright?” You looked up to find a tall mop of brown hair and big brown eyes looking down at you. “Well, I’m a little damp.”

He nodded while looking at your box full of sticky notes and pens. “You must be y/n l/n. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. We’ve been taking bets on what time you’d arrive. And you beat us all with your extreme punctuality.” You laughed. “Sorry to let you down. It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.” You extended your hand for him to shake, but he just stared at your extended limb.

“Yeah, he doesn’t do that sort of thing.” The new voice came into view, shaking your hand that was meant for Reid. He was tall like Spencer, but was lean with a smile on his face. Confident. “I’m Derek Morgan. When JJ told us the new recruit graduated with an english degree, I expected someone with tweed elbow patches and big round glasses.”

“You’re an english major? Statistically speaking, only three percent of the agents that have been recruited for the BAU didn’t have any background in law enforcement or field experience.” This wasn’t the first time you’d been questioned at the FBI for being a liberal arts degree profiler. Your english degree and your fresh age of twenty five left many people to dismiss you through your time in the academy. But you got used to it.

“Sorry to disappoint your stereotypical profile of an FBI agent,” You started, shifting your weight between your feet, now uncomfortable and a little embarrassed in front of your new co-workers.

“Oh I didn’t mean it as an offense. I-” “He’s a genius, but he lacks some social cues. You’re the first girl he’s been around that’s his age in the workplace.” Morgan added and Reid elbowed his ribs. You covered the smile on your face as the two of them started to quietly bicker.

“Let the poor woman go and settle in at least before you harass her.” A brunette woman in a black pant suit came walking toward you. She had a stern face while looking at the two men, but when she turned to you, her face softened into a smile. “Special Agent Emily Prentiss. You do not understand how happy I am to have another woman out in this bullpen.”

You laughed as she led you to the empty desk across from Dr. Reid’s. “Welcome to your new home.”

“Thanks.” You placed your box down before taking the place in. “I’m supposed to meet with SSA Hotchner,”

“Agent l/n,” All heads turned to the man descending the stairs into the bullpen. He was taller than the other two, and that was saying a lot since they practically towered over you. He had a clean boys haircut, paired with a suit and tie. No question that this was the unit chief you were to report to. “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner. Welcome to the BAU.” He shook your hand before looking at the others. “JJ’s ready to debrief in the conference room.”

And just like that, the three agents sprung into action, leading the way to the board room. “We can go over the particulars when we get back from Nebraska. You ready for your first case?”

His face didn’t change, no change of tone in his voice. He lived and breathed for the BAU. Until you noticed the wedding band on his left hand. It was always the first thing you looked for when you met someone new. It was shallow and patriarchal, you knew, but it was instinct. And it put you at ease knowing there was someone out there he was doing this for. Someone he didn’t have to hold this demeanor around.

“Ready.”

“Funny. But if you have any other insults to give, direct them to the head of the english department at Bowdoin. Mention that you’re talking about y/n l/n, with the 4.0 GPA.”

Prentiss led a slow clap as Derek shook his head.

“I think that’s what the kids are calling a ‘mic drop’.” Spencer added and you couldn’t help your laugh. “Alright kid, why don’t you get out of here before we inevitably find ourselves back.”

You turned off the lamp on your desk and grabbed your crossbody and backpack. “Have a good weekend guys. And Reid,” He looked up, and you laughed as he pushed his hair out of his face. “Please recite the old testament for these two if they mock me while I’m gone.” He gave you a mock salute as Prentiss flipped you off on your way to Hotch’s office.

In the six months you’d been here, these three people you shared the bullpen with had quickly become the siblings you never had. Morgan acted as your annoying older brother, constantly picking on you and Reid. Not only were you the newbie, but you were now the youngest, only a year behind Spencer. Emily Prentiss on the other hand, was the protective older sister you always dreamed of. She was confident and held her own against the male dominated team, but knew when to be soft spoken and caring with victims and the team when needed.

And then there was Dr. Spencer Reid. The smartest person on the planet, in your book. Sure, he was a little socially awkward and didn’t know when to stop listing off all the stats he knew, but you understood. He was consistently the youngest and smartest person in every classroom he walked into. There weren’t many people that wanted to get to know him without bullying him or picking apart his eidetic memory. Despite the problematic first encounter you shared, the two of you stuck together considering your combined intellect and young age. He taught you the ins and outs of the BAU, and helped you get accustomed to D.C. Although, Spencer himself hadn’t really ventured out into the city in the four years he’s been here. So the two of you tried to see as many things as you could in the rare weekends that you weren’t working a case. You worked your way through a third of the smithsonian's, and saw the Declaration of Independence. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little emotional while looking at it. Spencer had called you a nerd, and you didn’t mind one bit.

You walked up the steps to Hotch’s office, case reports in your hand from this week. The blinds were open, you could see him working through the stack of files on his desk. Despite the exhaustion written all over his face, his sport coat was still on, tie still impeccably tight around his neck. Even when he was in private he kept up the put together facade.

You knocked on the door, and heard a quiet ‘come in’ as you twisted the door knob. “L/n,” “I have my case reports from this week.” “Just place them on my desk.”

“How much longer are you here for?” He let out a sigh while closing the file in his hand.

“Another hour or two.” You opened your mouth to respond, but he beat you to the punch. “And before you offer to stay and help me, I don’t need any help.”

“You just don’t want to listen to me singing Coldplay under my breath.” He huffed out a semblance of a laugh. A month into your bout here, Morgan had accosted you on the jet on the way home from Milwaukee. None of you had slept in three days, and you were currently enthralled in your new mp3 player and Coldplay's newest album ‘X&Y’. After the third song, a paper cup was thrown at the back of your head, followed by a ‘I’m trying to sleep, bobo’ from Derek. It was a habit of yours that you had yet to kick.

“That’s part of the reason.” “I knew it.” He opened another file, and you took that as a cue to wrap up the conversation. You rummaged through your purse, looking for the blue envelope you sealed this morning.

“Um, I also wanted to drop this off. It’s for Jack, you mentioned he was being Christened this weekend.” You placed the card on top of the pile of paperwork, your cursive handwriting on top. “I was going to get him a stuffed animal or some type of toy, but he’s only three months old and wouldn’t know the difference. This check may be the penny that helps you guys afford Harvard.”

A real laugh escaped his lips now, as he picked up the card. “Thank you, y/n. You didn’t have to do this.” You smiled. “I know, but I wanted to. He’s a cute kid.”

He looked at the framed picture of Jack on his desk, then back up to you. No one else had mentioned the Christening after Hotch first brought it up. He was quiet, and only liked to talk about his family if he initiated the conversation. You could tell you were the only person who had reached out like this, with a simple gift.

Hotch had been the hardest person to get to know in your time here. Despite Morgan saying there are no secrets kept among the team, you knew these people had their demons. And Hotch certainly had enough both professionally and personally. You didn’t want to push the professional boundaries, but you always wanted to be present in the lives of people that you shared time with. To let them know you were thinking of them, and cared for them. It was probably your most damaging personality trait.

“I’ll let you finish your work so you can get home at a reasonable hour. Tell Haley I said hi.” He nodded. “I will y/n. Have a nice weekend.”

****

December 2005

You pride yourself in the fact that you haven’t shot your weapon in the year you’ve spent with the BAU. It meant that you were successful at connecting to these people’s emotions, despite the asterisk next to their name labeling them as a serial killer or sadist. Guns were there to protect you, and they were always the last result. But as you pulled up to a log cabin in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania, you had a feeling your record was going to be broken.

The team was working a case where six bodies, two adult males and four teenage males, were found mutilated, along with a cut from sternum to belly button. It was the first case you worked that had no female victims. A small victory, in your mind. But, it was also the first case you worked that the profile of the unsub fit a sixteen year old girl, who had most likely been assaulted as a young child. When children were involved, the team acted differently. They were failed by the people that were supposed to care for them, they were consistently hurt with no one to turn to. And as a result, they would spend the rest of their lives paying for it.

You, Prentiss, and Hotch got out of the suburban, strapping the bullet proof vests onto your bodies. Thanks to Garcia, you had found the unsub’s location once she turned her cell phone back on. A cruiser pulled up behind you guys, two more cops falling out.

“Prentiss, you take the two officers down with you to the exterior basement access. L/n and I will take the main floor.” Hotch ordered as he pulled his gun from his holster.

You could feel the anxiety rising in your chest, but there was no time to calm it down. You barely had enough time to strap on your vest.

“Ready?” Hotch looked at you before taking another step toward the cabin. You nodded, pulling your own gun from it’s holster. “Ready.”

You followed him up to the front porch, announcing yourselves before kicking the door in. You cleared the living room as Hotch cleared the dining room and bathroom, leaving you both to meet up in the kitchen.

That was where you found her. You saw her first, hiding half of her face behind the rifle that she had pointed at you. She was trembling, dried tear streaks left on her cheeks. She was petrified.

“Stephanie Moore?” Her grip on the gun tightened at the mention of her name as you heard Hotch’s footsteps get closer. “My name is Y/n L/n, I’m with the FBI. I don’t want to hurt you Stephanie, but I need you to put the gun down.”

Hotch joined you on your left, both of you directing your weapons toward the young girl. “I did what I had to do to survive. They took everything from me, every last shred of dignity I had. I wasn’t going to let them kill me.” You never thought it would be possible for your heart to break while listening to an unsub. But this tiny girl standing in front of you, with her whole life ahead of her, it just hit you too hard.

“I know you did, Stephanie. You were so brave and so strong. Not many people could survive what you did.” She started to loosen her grip on the rifle, you were getting through to her. “I’m here to help you. I want to put an end to all of this.”

You glanced at Hotch and he gave the slightest nod, giving you the okay to take a step forward together. “I couldn’t let them get away with it.” Ever so slowly, the gun started to lower in her hands.

“You’re doing great. Just a little lower and this will all be over.” Before she could completely lower her weapon, you heard the storm door to the basement slam shut.

Stephanie jumped, raising her weapon back up in her hands.

“You said you were here to help me!” She exclaimed, the gun pointed at you as Hotch took another step forward. “I am Stephanie, but other members of my team are trying to help the boy you took.”

Fresh tears started to fall down her cheeks and you knew you were losing her. “Y/n,”

He whispered to you and she moved the gun from your chest to Hotch’s. “Shutup!”

“Stephanie, hey, look at me,” She shook her head, continuing her stare at Hotch. “He’s in on it, he has to be!”

“He’s not! He’s my boss, trust me, Stephanie.” You heard the safety go off, and before her foot landed as she took her first step towards Hotch, you emptied two rounds into her chest. He rushed forward as she fell, kicking away her gun and checking her pulse. Nothing.

You lowered your gun as your breathing increased, looking at the lifeless sixteen year old lying in front of you. A hand covered your mouth as you realized what you’d done.

You killed her.

You remembered what it felt like to be sixteen. Struggling to find your identity, wanting so desperately to be noticed by someone. For anyone to reach out and help you.

But you took that away from her. You ended her life before it even began.

“Are you guys okay?” You heard Prentiss come up through the basement, but your eyes were closed as she entered the room. “We’re good. Y/n took the shot.”

Hotch stood up and dared a look at you, taking in your grief stricken state. “Did you find the boy?”

“Yeah, he’s gonna be fine.”

Before Emily could greet you, you ran to the corner of the room, heaving up whatever was inside your almost empty stomach. Your throat burned as you threw up for a second time, vaguely registering two people calling your name.

“You’re okay, y/n,” Prentiss approached you, gently resting a hand on your back. You coughed a few more times before a towel was being rushed to your side. “It’s okay.”

The whirring of more sirens forced you to open your eyes and straighten up from your sick position. Prentiss had eyes filled with concern, not letting go of you until you gave her a slight nod. She handed you a water before she exited the house, letting two uniforms in. They went straight to Hotch, asking questions and looking over the body before their eyes landed on you. You felt exposed, like you were the one lying lifeless on the ground for all to see. You took a few deep breaths to get your breathing under control, and tore your gaze away from Stephanie.

Hotch finished his conversation with the officers before walking over to you. “Hey,” He rested a hand on your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but flinch. “It was a clean shot, but protocol states they have to take your gun and badge as well as give a statement to IA.” You nodded, taking your badge from your pocket. “They’re gonna take you back to the station and do an interview. This should all be wrapped up in a few hours. We’ll meet you back there, alright?”

You glanced up at his big brown eyes, warm as they bore into yours instead of their usual slanted nature. “Okay.”

The two officers escorted you to their patrol car, taking your badge and gun before you got in. You felt naked without them, like you were a nobody wandering the streets looking for someone to help, or looking for someone to help you.

It was a good thirty minute ride to the station from the cabin, and when you got there a detective from IA was already waiting for you. They led you into an interrogation room where they already had Section Chief Strauss hooked up through video call. Great.

The questions they asked were pretty straight forward, nothing that couldn’t be answered by a crime scene report from the technicians. But the government insisted on interviewing cops involved in shootings, just in case it wasn’t legal. As if anyone wanted to deal with the psychological repercussions of taking another’s life.

It took them nearly an hour and a half to get through the interrogation. In part due to you almost throwing up a third time as Strauss asked you to repeat the moment you shot Stephanie. They gave you a few minutes to regroup, some ginger ale and crackers from the vending machine to help settle your stomach. They took your fingerprints last, letting Strauss finish up with the bureaucratic discussion.

“That’s all for now Agent L/n. We’ll debrief tomorrow morning when you’re back in Quantico.” “Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

They led you out of the interrogation room and back through the lobby leaving you at the conference room your team had been set up in the last three days.

The white boards were still littered with images of the victims, crime scenes, and the unsub. Piles of evidence were scattered along the table, and you tried to resist looking through them again. You knew if you went through the images of the mutilated boys again, you wouldn’t survive the emotional turmoil. But you needed to know that you made the right choice, the only choice to prevent more families from going through the same pain and suffering as the Corbins.

You turned to the white board, glancing at the first victim. Connor Corbin was fifteen years old, on the varsity soccer team, and involved in musical theatre. He was cousins with the teenager that abused Stephanie. She targeted all the men in her abusers life, letting them know what he did to her. Wanting them to understand the pain she’d had to endure because of their ignorance.

You looked through the rest of the victims, the abusers two younger brothers, father and uncle were among those killed. The boys were only twelve years old. You brought a hand up to cover your mouth, remembering meeting their mother on the first day you were here. JJ was the one to speak to her, as the communications liaison, most people trusted her with being the most empathetic. That fact was up for debate, in your opinion. She was a wreck, and JJ needed help comforting her from Morgan. But you understood, boy had you understood. Her whole family was killed.

“Y/n,” You jumped, startled by the new voices in the room. Hotch, Spencer, and JJ had arrived back at the station. “Did they clear you?”

You nodded as Spencer walked over to you. “Yeah, Strauss just wants to debrief again tomorrow morning.” “Of course she does.”

Section Chief Erin Strauss is a hardass and not the biggest fan of the BAU. “Did they give you your piece back?” Your hand immediately flew to your left hip, void of your gun and holster. “No, I completely forgot about it.” You went to move toward the door, but Spencer laid a hand on your forearm. “It’s okay, I’ll get it.” He gave your arm a comforting squeeze before leaving the conference room.

You spared a glance at Hotch as you started cracking your knuckles. “JJ, why don’t you call the airstrip, tell them to get the jet ready.” “Yes sir.”

In an effort to keep your mind busy, you started to take down the pictures from the white board, erasing all Reid’s notes in his barely legible handwriting. The boy had three PhD’s, yet couldn’t figure out the concept of penmanship.

“Are you alright?” “Fine.” You pulled an empty manila folder out, stuffing Connor’s pictures in. “You don’t have to clean this up for them.” “I know.”

He sighed. “Y/n, stop.” His voice was stern now and you dropped the files. “I asked if you were alright.”

“Why wouldn’t I be alright, Hotch?” You crossed your arms over your chest, letting a breath out. “We found her, we saved her from hurting anyone else, and we brought closure to Mrs. Corbin. Case closed, the BAU gets to go home.”

Your eyes started to water but you refused to bring your hands up to wipe them away. You wouldn’t let them fall. “We’ve all been where you are right now.”

“I’m confident that you’ve never felt what I’m feeling before.”

“Try me.” He didn’t flinch, his hands remained in his pockets, stare heavy on your own.

“When JJ presented this case to us, that two teenage boys and their fathers had been murdered, it was a no brainer for all of us to take it. Two twelve year old boys dead, two more teenagers missing, how could we not take it? But then we got here, and we met with the victims' families, we learned the boys' backgrounds, the unsub’s profile.” You scoffed, not sure who you were angered with at the moment. “This girl was raped by a seventeen year old boy and his father for two years, and we’re still supposed to treat her like a monster, like Tim Vogel?” You shook your head. “I’m not condoning what she did, but, can you blame her? And then we went in, and she had a gun raised at us. I would’ve been able to talk her down, I know I could’ve saved her if she didn’t have the gun.”

“But she had a gun.” You nodded. “She had a gun and it was raised at you. And I didn’t even flinch to take the shot. All it took was two seconds for me to forget her pain, her trauma, and reduce her to a sick serial killer.”

Even though that’s what Stephanie ultimately was, you didn’t want to accept it. Because she was a person before she went through all that pain, she was someone’s daughter, who was involved in gymnastics and softball, and had stuffed animals scattered across her bedroom. God, were you ever going to forget what she looked like?

“Feeling guilty about taking someone’s life is a good thing. It means your human, that you care.” Hotch freed his hands from his pockets, taking the file you packed out of your grip. “You’re not like them, y/n.”

You dared a glance at him as you felt more tears spring to the surface. Those big brown eyes could tell a story all on their own, and right now, they were pleading for you to believe him. You would try.

“Got the goods.” Spencer came back in, your gun and credentials in hand. “They really had the audacity to I.D. me, as if we hadn’t just worked a case with them the last seventy two hours.”

He got you to laugh, which served you enough cover to wipe your eyes dry. And out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw a rare smile cross Hotch’s face.

But Aaron knew there was more to your guilt than just this little girl. He was the leader of this team, it was his job to know the people he was in charge of like the back of his hand in order to keep them safe. And in the year that you’d been here, he noticed how reserved you were. Too reserved and too broken for a twenty-six year old. How you took on the giver persona to hide the fact that you were terribly closed off to others and your emotions. You would be the first to offer help, to be a listening ear, or lend your shoulder to cry on. But you never accepted it from anyone. Not that you had to, until today.

When Hotch started to notice you and Spencer growing closer at the three month mark, he was excited. Proud, even. He knew you were struggling with the gruesome cases (he knew you threw up after every crime scene, despite your best efforts with barf bags and travel size mouthwash) and hoped you could share your burdens with the young doctor. But it seemed like they only grew in time, like the smile on your face. Hotch just hoped you knew your limits.

“Gather whatever else you guys need for Quantico. Wheels up in thirty.” Reid nodded for both of you as Hotch left the conference room, presumably to find JJ.

“Everything okay in here?” He asked as you continued to empty the white boards, this time at a faster pace. Of course he had noticed the red rim on your waterline and the red tip on your nose. Spencer could read you better than anyone else, regardless of being a profiler or not.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just talked through the case.” His feet stayed nailed to the ground, yet his eyes continued to stick to the back of your head. You sighed and stopped moving, turning to face him. “Spencer, I can feel you boring holes into the back of my head.”

He had a sheepish smile and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. We have copies of all this back at the office, I already faxed it over to Garcia. Why don’t we spend the next twenty eight minutes searching for a good burger before the flight home.”

You smiled. “Okay. As long as I can get a vanilla shake, too.”

****

May 2006

Growing up, you always wanted an office job. A boring nine to five with your own cubicle, a script to follow when your phone rang and a customer needed help. You’d have a generic wall calendar pinned on the particle board, sticky notes littering your monitor screen, and maybe a few pictures of pets and future family. It was safe, predictable, and what you were constantly told all you would be capable of.

Now, as you’re sitting on the FBI owned jet with your six special agent coworkers, you can’t imagine living that life you once dreamt of.

It was nearing two a.m., and you were two hours into the flight home from Los Angeles. Reid was passed out on the couch, Prentiss and JJ in the same state of mind in the cluster of four chairs, legs spread out. Morgan and Rossi were sitting across from one another, each listening to their own playlists. And by the way Rossi was tapping his fingers against the arm rest, you knew it was some genre of opera.

This left you in the back of the jet, staring out the window as you passed over Nebraska. You always had the map up on your screen, wanting to know every state you passed over. No matter the case, you always looked forward to the plane ride. It calmed you, oddly enough.

“Not tired?” Hotch took the seat across from you, handing you one of the two cups of tea. “Plane rides are too exciting for me to catch any sleep.”

You took a sip of the hot drink and your face scrunched out of instinct. You never liked tea, but you tried it again and again when people assured you that it would calm you down. It never worked.

“You could just say no,” He added and you smiled. “I know. But my taste buds may change one of these times.”

He took a sip out of his own cup, no change of expression on his face. You couldn’t help the chuckle that left your lips and his eyes narrowed on you.

“What?”

“Well, you may enjoy the taste, but it seems like it’s calming chamomile effect has never worked on you, either.” “We’re not supposed to profile each other.”

“Then don’t even think about rattling off excuses of why I’m not sleeping.”

He looked down at his cup, slowly nodding his head. “Well if you don’t want to talk about what’s really bothering you, because I know it’s not sleep, I can bore you with Jack’s sleep routine we have to stick to.” You smiled. “You know that I’m the only one on this team that would actually be interested in Jack’s sleeping routine. Hell, anything with that chubby little baby would interest me. Bring it on, Hotch.”

It was no secret that Jack Hotchner was your favorite person on the planet. Not only was he the chubbiest little nugget you’d ever seen, he was the result of two of the strongest people you knew.

The first time you met Haley, she was six months pregnant with Jack, begging Hotch to leave the office early for a date night. You made the afternoon walk up to his office, dropping off some files for him to sign when you first saw her.

“Come on, Aaron. This baby is going to be here before we know it, and who knows the next time we’ll have any alone time will be.”

Before he could respond, you knocked on the open door. Both of their heads snapped over to you, and a red blush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks. “Sorry to interrupt, sir. Just dropping off some reports for you to sign off on.”

You smiled at the petite blonde woman while placing the files on the desk. “It’s okay l/n. This is my wife, Haley Hotchner. Haley, this is Agent y/n l/n, she started about a month ago.” She smiled back at you, extending a hand to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n. I’ll leave the agent part out, it makes you sound like a robot.” She said and glared at her husband before placing her hand back on her growing belly. You laughed once you heard Hotch let out a breath, knowing he wasn’t offended with her joke.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” The smile only grew on your face as you looked at her, admiring her own belly. “Congratulations on the baby. It’s always exciting to bring a baby into the world.”

“Thank you. If only my husband thought going out with me was half as exciting, he would’ve been gone a half an hour ago.” “Haley!” He was more than surprised that she would speak so cavalierly while at the office, especially around someone he had barely gotten a chance to know yet. But the two girls only shared a laugh.

“Hotch, why don’t you go. I can hold things down around here.” “Y/n, it’s not your responsibility to. And quite frankly-” You dropped a file to the desk, boldly interrupting your bosses statement. You were only acting like this because you knew his wife deserved half the attention he gave to this place. “It’s a friday night, and your beautiful, pregnant wife is asking you to go to dinner with her. JJ and I will be here if anything comes up, I’ll even redirect your calls to my desk.”

“I like you.” Haley said with a smile, gently squeezing your shoulder. “She means business.”

Hotch let out a sigh, reluctantly grabbing his briefcase and punching a few buttons on his phone to make sure his calls went to you. “You or JJ call me immediately if I’m needed.”

“Promise. Now go have fun.” He gave you the smallest smile as he grabbed Haley’s extended hand to him. “Thank you, y/n. I owe you one.” Haley said as they exited his office. But you weren’t looking for a favor in return. You did this to make them happy, and you always felt better when those that surrounded you were at their best.

But Haley did end up paying you back. She asked you to babysit the first night her and Hotch went out after the baby was born. Apparently, she was impressed with your background in social services that Rossi had drunkenly let slip at the office christmas party. And only you would get excited to babysit a poopy baby, for free. And you continued to do it as many times as they needed you to.

You earned a smile from the reserved unit chief, and raised a fist in the air. “I’ll have to add that to the team tally sheet. I’m now tied with Reid for the lead in making you crack a human expression.” “Doesn’t matter who’s in the lead, you’re all behind Jack.” He quipped back and you returned his smile.

You looked back out the window of the jet, the view of any terrain was quite literally clouded. You could see the moon reflecting on the puffy clouds, and you knew then and there you could be converted to a night person if you could look at this view every night.

“I wanted to check in with you, about Randall Garner.” You looked back to your boss, eyes glued to your own, an earnest gaze in them. “With what happened last time-”

“Last time it was a sixteen year old girl. This time it was a psychotic father who was torturing his child. There’s a broad spectrum.”

“So you don’t feel guilty about taking his life?” The way your stomach flipped at the mention of your actions merely hours ago should have worried you more than it did.

“Of course I feel guilty.” You quipped back, and quickly looked around to make sure you didn’t disturb anyone else. Hotch didn’t even flinch. “I didn’t take this job to play God. I wanted to help people, I wanted to stop people from getting hurt. To be on the other side of the heartbreak.”

Before transferring to Quantico, you worked as a social worker in Brooklyn for three years, straight out of college. You saw first hand the horrors and trauma that came with being in the foster system, and you wanted to help children going through the same situation you had.

This became your life, even after you escaped it. And one day, it became too much. You needed a fresh start, to make a change and help people from a different platform. And with your degree in English, and minor in psychology, the BAU seemed to be a perfect fit for a new career.

“Why did you leave DCFS?” It irked you to no end how his voice stayed so calm when he was clearly agitated. Especially since the silky smooth tone had talked you off an emotional ledge one too many times.

“Why are you interrogating me? Strauss said it was a clean shot, that she was proud to have a man like that dead and accounted for.” A direct quote from the ever emotionless section chief. If only she had any field experience, she would understand what this job was like. “Besides, I’ve been here for a year and half. You should have my file memorized by now.”

“Half of your file is sealed. Strauss must have a soft spot for you.” You actually laughed at that. Strauss most certainly did not have a soft spot for you. She was however under orders from the Attorney General of New York to keep my file sealed, no matter my employer.

“My sealed file has nothing to do with the actions I took tonight.” You uncrossed your legs now and turned your body to face him. This conversation wasn’t ending any time soon. “If I needed help grieving this process, I would ask for it, Hotch. I’m fine.”

He wanted to believe you. More than anything else, he wanted to believe that you had found a routine that helped you forget the daily horrors you saw. But he knew that you were the last to leave the office every night, he knew you drove home with the light on in the backseat of your car every night. Deep down, he knew you weren’t fine.

“We don’t ever truly know the people we work with. Despite the fact that we say there are no secrets in this unit, we all have our own demons we hold onto. I know you’re not fine, y/n.” You let out a strained laugh as you started tapping your foot anxiously against the ground.

“I do though.” For the first time tonight, Hotch had no idea what you were talking about. His furrowed brow only made your throat tighten. “I know every single one of these people’s secrets. They confide in me because they know about my past with DCFS. Everything I knew was confidential, and it ate me up inside not being able to tell anybody the horrors these children go through.” You ran a hand through your hair; the flood gates were open. You feared there would be no turning back now. “It started out as me just wanting to get to know them. I wanted to be liked, and I wanted to trust my coworkers. And then overnight, I became Father l/n, sworn to secrecy by the Parish of the FBI. I’ve become a suggestion box, papers filling me up to the top and no one is coming to empty me out.

“But I can’t even be mad at them,” I said as my eyes started to water, remembering what Spencer said to me two months into our friendship. “Spencer told me I’m the only person that’s ever listened to his problems without suggesting that he see someone to talk to. He said I was the only person that’s ever laughed at his stuffy jokes without making fun of him. I can’t be mad at them for confiding in me in their time of need. But I’m just,” You tried to smile as a tear rolled down your cheek. “I’m just really overflowing.”

Aaron Hotchner was lucky enough to have never experienced a heartbreak in his life. He met Haley his junior year of high school, she was his first and only girlfriend, hurling him into a life of love and happiness, sparing him any pain from loving someone too much. But as he watched you break in front of him, feeling so overwhelmed by the responsibility to be everyone’s rock, to be everyone’s source of light, he experienced his first heartbreak. And he was sure he never wanted to feel it again.

“So confide in me.” You didn’t think his tone could become any softer. His baritone voice had already been strained to keep from waking the others, and he somehow became even softer. But you shook your head, quickly bringing your hands up to wipe the tears that fell down your face. “Why not?”

“Because you’re the boss. You have all of us to worry about when we’re in the field. You have Strauss breathing down your neck, waiting for one of us to screw up.” He rested his elbows on his knees, slightly leaning toward you. “Most importantly, you have Haley and Jack that need you to be their confidante. That beautiful family needs you to be there when you’re not here.”

“Y/n, if you can’t come talk to me when you’re drowning in your own thoughts, I’ve failed you as a boss.” He sighed at your continued silence. “I can’t force you to open up. But I can’t watch you give and give and give without earning a reprieve of your own.”

So the two of you sat there, in a deafening silence, as you counted the seconds passing by. You were both too stubborn to pull away first, because that would be admitting defeat, and this conversation would end then and there. You counted to one hundred and eighty seconds, three minutes, when you finally got tired of staring into the endless brown eyes of Aaron Hotchner.

You thought carefully about what you were going to say, what you would reveal in the magic that covered the two a.m. air. And no matter how hard you tried to in those one hundred and eighty seconds, you could not keep your eyes from watering.

“I grew up in foster care.” You started, scanning his face for any judgements. You weren’t going to find any. “The last, and most permanent foster parents I had were horrible. It was basic shit that happened to every kid in foster care, nothing scandalous enough to get them to be turned in. But their birth son,” You swallowed, trying to resist the urge to pick your fingernails. “He moved back in with them when I was fifteen. He was a loser, and he started to take a share of the subsidy checks. I heard him in the living room one night with Charlotte, one of the younger girls that lived there. She was only twelve, and I found him pinning her to the couch, a knife to her throat. And I just snapped. I lunged at him, knocking him off of her. It’s all blurry now, except for when I stabbed him in the throat.” My hand scratched at the side of my neck, subconsciously finding the spot I stabbed him. “He died before the ambulance got there. Charlotte and I both gave statements, and it was ruled as self defense. But the statement still lives in my file, and with some convincing, I got Strauss and DCFS to keep it sealed.”

In all honesty, Hotch didn’t know what to expect when you decided to open your mouth. But he never would’ve guessed this. Not from the doe eyed kid that never forgot a birthday, that got everyone a donut and coffee on Monday mornings. Not from the kindest person he worked with.

“You know that took a lot of courage to get out, so it would be nice if you could say something.” You started to panic, wondering if he saw you as a monster, as a killer.

“You were the oldest one there, weren’t you?” Your eyes widened, how did he know that? “You grew up quick and took on the role of the parent for those younger kids. You wanted them to be safe, stay innocent for as long as they could.”

You finally tore yourself away from his gaze, starting to become too strong. Baby steps.

“None of us had a family. I tried my hardest to shelter them from those people and make a family out of the five of us. And it worked. Because all four of them still reach out and tell me how successful they are.”

“But they don’t feel like your family.” You had a sad smile and looked back up at him.

“Do you ever stop profiling?” He mirrored the smile you gave him. “No, they don’t. But I was old enough to understand that they needed each other more than I needed them. Besides, I found a pretty weird family to take me in.”

You earned another laugh from Hotch as you made a check mark in the air, referencing the team tally. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, searching through the cash and cards he had in there.

“What are you doing?” He pulled out a thin wallet picture and turned it over to you. It was of him, Haley, and Jack on his first birthday. “You’ve got more than one weird family to belong to.”

He extended the picture to you, but you shook your head, the anxiety forming a pit in your stomach. “Hotch, this is your family. I can’t,”

“You can. And this family wouldn’t be half as happy as they are in this picture if it weren’t for you and everyone on this team.” You smiled down at the picture, Jack had frosting from his birthday cake all over his face. You reached out and took it between your fingers. “You’re a giver, y/n. You wear your heart on your sleeve and exude more empathy than we know what to do with.” You let out a laugh as you pulled out your own wallet now, tucking the picture in one of the plastic sleeves. “It’s time you learned how to accept the love you give.”

It was deep, too deep to be coming from your boss on the private jet at two in the morning. But he was more than just your boss, and they were more than just your team. And this job, boy this job was so much better than sitting in a cubicle, answering questions from a recited list.

****

#aaron hotchner x female! reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #jules writes shit ??

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hana-bean · 3 years

Text

Close to you (3/7)

I will always be by your side Though I can do nothing else

---

His eyes fluttered open, hearing the faint sounds of chatter from outside his closed bedroom door—all female. Seiya stayed still for a few moments to process his incapacitating physical pain and his surroundings, the decor reminding him of the meeting room from the previous night. After a few more seconds of waiting for the rest of his body to wake up, he also recognized more than one of the voices; Serenity stayed true to her promise by releasing Yaten and Taiki from the detention center.

Seiya staggeringly readied himself for company, taking advantage of the unused toothbrush before dressing in the previous night’s clothes. He grabbed his cane and hobbled out and down the hallway until he happened upon a bright dining room, the chattering voices no longer muffled.

He was met with the scene of a transformed Yaten and Taiki, as Sailor Star Healer and Sailor Star Maker respectively, standing while surrounded by five women including Serenity. She was clothed in a flowy white robe while holding an ornate teacup in one hand as she poked at the purple band on Maker’s arm with the other. The four other women asked questions as they more or less kept their hands to themselves.

“So what happens when you get all sweaty? Does the leather not stick to you?” One woman with long dark hair inquired, rubbing her hips while imagining the discomfort of leather adhering to skin.

“No, actually it kind of expands when we get hot.” Healer answered, mimicking her movements. “The gold part in the middle is actually a separate pair of shorts.”

The gaggle of gals looked at each other with a synced resounding of, “oh” and steady nodding. However, the sight of Seiya was caught by one of them, and a woman with half of her long golden hair tied up in a red bow pointed at him as he leaned on the doorframe.

“Hey, there’s the other one!”

As all eyes were directed his way, Serenity’s gaze was warm and welcoming, paired with a smile emitting breathy laughter. The sweet sound serenaded Seiya’s heart into continuous drumming.

Healer and Maker then immediately charged him, taking him in tight embraces from both sides around his neck and waist, ignoring his grimace.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Maker whispered with a sigh of relief.

“What?” Seiya wrapped his free arm around her waist. “Of course I am.”

“These chicks are weird.” Healer’s voice cracked in his other ear, also at a whisper. “I can’t tell if they’re gonna eat us or become our best friends.”

Seiya snorted. “Probably neither. You barely suffice as an appetizer, and you’re mean.”

Healer growled before she pulled away to dead-leg Seiya. While Maker and his cane saved him from completely wiping out on the floor, his wobble was hard to miss.

“Seiya, are you okay?” Serenity approached the trio, a worried expression hovering over her teacup.

“Yes, your highness.” Seiya straightened up as he shot a glare toward Healer, who stuck her tongue out back at him. He softened his face with a smile as he looked at Serenity. “Trying to get used to bowing with one leg.”

“No need to do that! Please sit down!” She shuffled toward a chair at the table and pulled it out.

“You’re too kind, your highness.” Seiya began to make his way over to the offered seat, taking the opportunity to press his cane on top of Healer’s foot using all of his weight. The Starlight’s breath caught in her throat as she let out a quiet squawk, hiding her tears and yelp in Maker’s shoulder.

Once Seiya was seated, the rest of the women huddled behind Serenity to get a better look at the third alien guardian in his male civilian form, all the while blushing at his telepathically agreed-upon handsomeness. However, the queen found herself staring and smiling a bit too long herself and had to be elbowed by a green-eyed brunette to come out of her daze.

“So uh, um... these are my friends and our fellow guardians—Ami Mizuno, Rei Hino, Makoto Kino, and Minako Aino!”

Each woman perked and waved at him when their respective names were said as Seiya smiled and tilted his head forward as a greeting.

“Ooh, Ami, tell them about what you're doing!” Serenity got excited and patted Ami’s arm repeatedly and eagerly, then turned around to wave Healer and Maker back over. While both obliged, Healer seemed to have picked up Seiya’s limp suddenly.

Ami nodded and took out her crystal cell phone from her back pocket, swiping and tapping around a few times before addressing the three foreigners.

“As of five AM this morning, we’ve been scanning a database of alien artifacts and antiques registered with the CTDAAA. Anything considered to have royal, historic, or scientific significance from another planet that is brought to Earth must be registered in this database by law. So if the incense burner you’re looking for is in fact here, theoretically we should find it from this scan.”

Maker cocked her head. “Theoretically?”

“Yes, well, the merchant would have had to register it themselves. Of course, many things are smuggled, especially if it’s illegal or has been reported stolen. Or perhaps they simply don’t want to deal with the paperwork and waiting periods.”

Healer crossed her arms. “So how far along is the scan?”

“A whole point-three percent!” Ami’s voice and expression held sarcastic enthusiasm. “This database does span the whole planet.”

Serenity sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Well then, I guess the only thing we can do now is eat!”

The rest of the women erupted in agreement and dispersed to find their seats at the table. As Seiya watched Serenity head for the chair next to his, something within him said it was okay to grab for the royal hand. And to his surprise, he was faced with her kind and curious cerulean eyes.

He tried to gulp down his blush and excitement, but the feeling of warmth on his ears told him that did nothing.

“Thank you… your highness… for all your help. And happy birthday.”

She wrinkled her nose as she grinned, squeezing his hand in appreciation.

---

Waiting in the queen’s chambers, Ami, Rei, Makoto, and Minako each gasped and held their breath as Serenity emerged from the bathroom.

“So?” Minako widened her eyes, expecting good news.

Serenity couldn’t bring herself to share in the shared anticipation and shook her head to relieve them of their happy mood. The four women groaned.

“I’m so sorry.” Makoto took the queen in an embrace.

Serenity released a sound between a sigh and a sob, sinking into Makoto’s chest. “What is wrong with me?”

The rest of the group took that as their cue to join in on the hug.

“Nothing is wrong with you.” Rei stroked her back. “You still have plenty of time.”

“But how long will that take? Another four years… four-hundred years?”

“When it’s meant to happen.” Ami rested her forehead on one of Serenity’s buns. “You know Chibi-Usa will be here. You need to trust destiny.”

Serenity sniffled. “Yes, that’s true. But it’s just… I don’t understand why it’s taking so long.”

“It'll happen, Serenity. But on the bright side: at least you can drink today.” Makoto’s mouth twisted in a smile as she pulled back from the group hug.

The others let up as well, allowing Serenity to dab her eyes with the sleeve of her robe and nod in agreement. “Sure. I just wish Mamo was here.”

“Is he still in LA?” Ami furrowed her brow.

“Yes. He was supposed to come back yesterday but there’s been a series of bad storms over there and he’s been stuck. They’re saying flights won’t open up until the end of the week. Then he has to go straight to Canberra.”

Rei scoffed. “That sucks. I’m sorry that happened.”

“Don’t be.” Serenity hugged herself and shook her head. “I’ll have an eternity of birthdays for him to attend.”

“At least we got cute men to hang out with this year.” Minako raised her eyebrows to indicate her impish thoughts. “I call dibs on the short one.”

“Dibs on Seiya!” Rei clapped and raised her hands.

Serenity dropped her jaw in disapproval. “Rei, you can’t call dibs on him.”

“What?” Rei’s jaw also dropped. “Mina just called dibs on Yaten!”

“Yes… but… Seiya’s injured. That’s a little messed up, don’t you think?”

“The man has a limp, he’s not braindead.”

“Okay, but his whole body is still healing! You saw how he almost collapsed this morning—”

“If he’s horizontal, it won’t matter—!”

“Okay-okay-okay!” Makoto, unable to contain her smile, walked in between the bickering duo as she held her palms out on each side of her. She then turned her attention to the fiery guardian, speaking through laughter.

“Rei, it would seem that our queen has already called dibs on Sailor Bar Fighter—”

“What? No!” Serenity tried to sound as offended as possible, but her blush betrayed her.

Ami gasped. “Serenity! How could you?”

“Ami, it’s not like that!”

“You know he does look a lot like Endymion…” Minako tapped her pointer finger to her chin.

“Mina! Don’t!”

Rei rolled her eyes with a smirk, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Well, I guess since it’s your birthday, you can have him—”

“Rei, stop it!” Serenity threw her hands up before rubbing them down her face in distress and then defeat. “Fine, have at him, and have fun doing all the work!”

“I need some exercise anyway.” She blew a kiss.

Minako looked over at the only two women who had yet to call dibs. “So who wants lanky legs?”

Makoto and Ami met each other’s gazes, their eyes squinted in opposition.

“How should we do this?”

“The old-fashioned way, of course.”

If an arm was covered with a sleeve, it was rolled up. Or if it was bare, it was being massaged in preparation. Both then slapped their right hands together and curled their fingers into each others’.

“One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war!”

While the rest of the group was distracted with the competition, Serenity walked over to her birthday bar cart stocked with cakes, pastries, and premade mimosas and poured herself a full flute of the orange drink. As she emptied the glass down her throat in only a few gulps, she secretly hoped Seiya wasn’t attracted to Rei.

---

Please note if you would like to follow this story, I will be updating the rest of the chapters under the tag: hana bean close to you and other iterations of the spacing. I love you all!

#hana bean close to you #hana-bean close to you #hanabeanclosetoyou #hanabean close to you #seiya x usagi 4eva #seiya x usagi fanfiction #seiya kou fanfiction #seiya usagi fanfiction #seiya x usagi

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7wanderingpaws · 4 years

Text

Simply, yours (8) (M)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: family AU, hapkido teacher AU, PhD AU

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: cursing, mature content, angst

A/N: This one was so easy and fun to write frankly! Thank you so much for letting me know your opinions for the last chap, it motivates me like 1000x more! If you could tell me what you thought about this one as well, it would be nice! Thank you 🎉 And sorry I edited this one, but Im sure there will be typos and sentences that made sense in my head while I edited but they actually dont, apologies!

Tags: @milky-baek @itsbaekhyunsbutt @luvhtears @ shesdreaminginoverdose (if you want to be tagged/untagged let me know! Im always open^^)

MASTERLIST

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8

Once again, you entered your apartment in silence, except the few times Baekhyun let out a tired, exasperated sigh. Your phone was blowing up with messages from your boss; honestly, you didn't understand why was he even trying to contact you after everything that happened. By now you knew you wouldn't be able to save your work spot. Not after what Baekhyun did. And here you were, worrying about not telling your darn boss about your pregnancy.

In the safety of your apartment full of love, you were able to feel. The hotness of emotions was coming back to your bloodstream, the numbness from throwing up and the adrenaline of the fight -it was all palpable in fading touches.

This time, it was you who let out a tired sigh, but you felt the burn behind your eyes yet again as you made your way to the bedroom to collect some clean clothes before making a beeline for the bathroom, ignoring Baekhyun's angry expression as you passed by him.

Before you could close the door, he murmured your name in a warning.

“What.”

“You know we need to talk, right?” he snapped, turning to you. He spotted your bloodshot eyes, full of unshed tears and he assumed you weren't seeing him properly. He was right.

You saw him blurry like a modern art painting. Pretty, yet so… unreadable, almost worrying at how you couldn't see to the depths of it. “I know.”

At your terse answer, he clenched his jaw and you blinked, letting the tears roll down your cheeks just to see the tick in his jaw, the set of his chin almost scary. “Go,” he sighed, pushing his hands into the pockets of his dress trousers. “We will talk once you're out of there.”

Without waiting for your response, he turned abruptly but to your surprise, he reached for the front door, swinging it open. You closed your eyes just in time for it to slam shut. And he was gone.

Quietly, you took a long shower, thinking he wouldn't be back until… well, until he deemed good to be back. Which could be whenever.

Honestly speaking, you never had such a big, troubling fight before. Never. Yes, you did fight, but he never left you. Not at that hour, anyway. And you were also never pregnant. So this was one of a kind problem you found yourself in, and as you tried not to sob through your entire shower, your mind instead stormed through options you had with what happened.

Except, you had none.

You were out of job.

Your boyfriend, a hapkido master, used violence on your boss.

Your boyfriend could be reported.

You lied to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend… was mad at you. Livid.

Was this the end of your relationship?

No.

He wouldn't let go of you that easily, and the realisation of that made you sob right then and there. The relationship you two shared was stronger than any of your doubts that were scaring you; it was stronger than any bad word, any bad action, because you two were more than that and your connection was stronger than that. As much as it hurt you that he left without telling you, you knew him well enough to know he would be coming back to you. You knew he would forgive you and he wouldn't break up with you. Not when you were carrying his children. Baekhyun was much, much more than an angry emotion and a protective action.

And you were pregnant with him.

Three kids. Three.

“Fuck,” you sighed as you closed your eyes under the hot water, wanting it to drown out all of your intruding thoughts.

If there was an issue you two genuinely had to worry about, it was how you would feed them and yourselves. Would you even survive bearing three children till the end? Would you survive giving birth? You were way past the first trimester which meant you were over the dangerous period, but you knew better than that. Bearing one child was a constant risk. Three? Definitely playing with fire.

Not wanting to create a huge water bill, you reluctantly turned off the shower even though your body screamed for more. Tired and aching, you dried yourself up, not bothering to put on a lotion; smells had been playing with your stomach too much and you literally despised and hated the constant throwing up game.

It was just ten minutes after your shower; you were lying in the bed, tucked in and ready to call it a day, when Baekhyun came back. His timing was perfect and it meant he didn't wander off in the dark streets to let his frustrations out. He probably went for a short walk.

Some shuffling later, he appeared in the doorway, the small lamp next to the mattress you were lying on gently illuminating your tired self. You didn't dare to look at your boyfriend, but you knew you had to do it. He was expecting you to. He was not in the place to beg for forgiveness now. If it was anyone, it was you.

Sighing, you pressed your lips together as you sat up slowly, looking him dead in the eyes; those dark eyes that had still some leftover heavy showers in them.

“Baekhyun,” you started and he kept your gaze daringly, leaning against the doorframe. When he didn't speak, you pursed your lips. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have told you.”

Silence.

“I will need more than that.” Was his cold answer.

“Don't you want to sit down?”

He was quiet for a moment, but then he crossed his arms. You knew better than to test him. When it came to irrational stuff you did, he was using the “I'm older” type of power against you, and you couldn't argue with that. “What did he make you sign?”

Once again, it was quiet. He was burning you with his scorching gaze, and you felt your cheeks heat up in complete embarrassment and self-loathing. But you needed to be honest. “I-I'm not sure if it was in the contract,” you started, trying not to stutter, “but he made me… Ehm, I was not supposed to fall pregnant. In exchange of him promoting me at work.”

As expected, Baekhyun let nothing to be read from his face. “Did you sign the contract and not read what it said?”

Please, make this stop. “Yes. But I really didn't think that-t-that-”

He spoke your name, cold and harsh, obviously upset. “You didn't think what?! Just how irresponsible it is not to read the conditions of a piece of fucking paper that can be used against you, huh?!”

Slowly, you tried to breathe. This was necessary. He had to let it out.

“You could have signed him owning you for all I know! Fucking hell,” he sighed, now running his hand through his hair wildly, turning away from you for a moment before sharply turning back, startling you. “And you just wanted to do it because what- you wanted more money? Is it all about money for you?! Since when did you become so fucking materialistic that you would stand in your own damn dreams!!!”

Tears, tears, tears, and he was completely right. Opening your mouth, he snapped.

“No, don't speak! I don't want to hear it right now! Fuck,” he murmured, and paced in front of you, his jaw set strong. “You weren't even pregnant when it all happened, why would you want to get to more money so badly?!”

“I wanted to provide for us as well!” you shouted back now, but your voice was so shaky you felt like you sounded pathetic. He had to know, though. “We are coming from a low-class background, Baekhyun! Why is it so bad for me to want to do more when I am perfectly able to do so?”

“Because you would have ruined your own dreams while chasing something so artificial!” he shouted back, stepping closer to where you were sitting, but you didn't budge from the sudden movement. “Money was, and money will be! But us creating a family together won't be a forever opportunity! And you were willing to just hang it up for, what, 300.000 won more? Don't be ridiculous! Plus! He is a fucking arsehole! If he isn't touching you up, he is treating you like complete shit; you deserve better than any of this! And if I could have, I would have beaten him up long ago.”

You averted his gaze. His words were driven by his love for you, you knew that much. So as much as you wanted to be offended and hurt, he was hundred percent right. Everything he just threw into your face was correct and you couldn't defend yourself, because he would come at you right away.

“Is this really everything our relationship means to you?” he asked, a bit more quietly, but his tired tone was scarring your heart. You dared to look back at him, to see him staring on the ground, one hand on his hip.

“No,” you said and you cried again, “it isn't and you know it, too.”

“Do you think I am incapable of taking care of us? Of the kids?” he looked at you, huge puppy eyes on full display as he slowly let his guard down. “Because all of this just proves you don't trust me as the breadwinner of this household.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress your arguments, but ended up going against it. “Baekhyun, we aren't in a situation where I need to stay home, clean and do nothing while you get to earn money as if it was some easy thing to do. I am, and I will continue to work,” you replied resolutely despised tears rolling down your cheeks, “and it isn't you as a breadwinner, but us.”

The society surely was patriarchal, so if you dared to talk to your father in this manner, he would have slapped you. There was no such thing as a woman who got to go against her husband or brother.

Baekhyun, however, wasn't your father or your brother. He wasn't even your husband, and when you saw his troubled look, he finally let himself sink down on the mattress. He was your kind, loving boyfriend. “I already said this,” he started, “but I am not, and I won't keep you inside the house, locked up, while waiting for me to return to you after work. I won't tell you what to do, you know I never did,” he said in a more friendly manner, but it still beared authority. “I respect you as a woman,” he said, speaking your name softly, “and you are my everything.” His hand reached out to caress your cheek that was still wet from your tears. “I need to see you only smiling, happily, but I cannot accept you lying to me like this again. I thought we had been together long enough for us to earn each other's trust, and you going like that behind my back and signing bullshit was nothing but stupid and irresponsible. Especially because your pregnancy was jeopardized like that. You can't be under stress like that, sweetie.”

Hearing him calling you a pet name, you knew the war was over and he finally was on the positive side. His authoritative voice still kept you on edge, so you didn't throw yourself at him just yet.

“If he kicked you out, which I'm pretty much convinced he did, I wouldn't be against you not working until you give birth.”

“Baekhy-”

“Shh, let me speak, honey,” he said quietly and shuffled himself closer, sitting right opposite you cross-legged as he took your hands in his. “Listen. I know you know it, but having three babies under your heart is a dangerous situation,” he whispered loudly, bringing your intertwined hands to his lips. “It's dangerous especially for you. You are very tired after work, and you come home late and don't get enough rest. Sukyeong even told me you don't always keep up with your meals, and I don't like it one bit.” The way his lips moved against the skin of your hand was soothing you. “Accept that he threw you out, before I file a lawsuit against him for harassing you and making you sign nonsense contracts, and stay home. Find a part-time job instead, but you need to rest, darling.”

“Baekhyun,” you finally spoke and he hummed, as he let your hands fall to his lap. His eyes were now so gentle and full of worry. “I am so sorry. For everything. I shouldn't have done any of that, but please know I did it with good intentions.”

Baekhyun went silent for a bit, analysing your face, your tired features and pale skin, which only reminded him you had been throwing up today and dealing with the situation in the restaurant. Suddenly, he felt so guilty for making you go through all of it in just one evening, (although you were responsible for it, too). Let alone he just shouted at you for good ten minutes. He couldn't even imagine what other things you must have been feeling the past weeks, given how your body was changing day by day. “It's alright, babe, it's alright. I understand. C'mere,” he whispered, opening his arms and you threw yourself at him, making him almost fall back on his back. You snuggled your face into his neck, and he let out a satisfied breath, caressing your back gently. “I'm sorry for shouting at you. But I'm not sorry for punching that idiot. He deserved it.”

You were looking at the skin on his neck and how it disappeared under his shirt that had the first two buttons undone. “Thank you for standing up for me, honey.”

“My baby,” he murmured lovingly into your hair before he gave it a kiss. “My only baby.”

You woke up to slow, gentle caresses on your small belly as your shirt was ridden up just a tiny bit, Baekhyun not wanting to wake you just yet. He was behind you, wanting to spoon you as soon as he washed up and fell in bed next to you last night. It didn't take long for both of you to fall asleep, as surprising as that was. The events tired you out, and he wanted you to sleep as much as you could.

He kissed your clothed shoulder before he nosed your neck and buried his face in your hair, while his caresses didn't stop. Letting his eyes close for a moment, he brought his front just a little closer to you, his leg wrapping around yours that were politely connected. His hand absentmindedly wandered further up before going dangerously low, sending shots of pleasure down your core without even paying attention. You knew he would soon realize his effect on you, because you definitely felt like squirming in his hold.

His hand lazily dragged upwards almost touching the underside of your breast when you couldn't keep it in anymore, breathing in sharply just for his hand to stop right under the-

“Oh, I finally have you awake,” he murmured, his husky voice sending another set of chills down your spine.

You couldn't help but smile, happy you woke up to this. The fluid down there was saying something else, though.

“Slept well?” he murmured into your ear, as he continued dragging his hand up. You groaned softly when he groped your breast as he pushed himself even more into you, and you felt it. He was so ready for you.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, enjoying the massage as he proceeded to nibble on your ear from behind, your eyes closed in pleasure. “You?”

“I realised we didn't keep our promise, babygirl.”

Your breath hitched in your throat when your realised what he was implying.

“So, is my beautiful lady still horny enough to go the remaining two rounds?” His voice was so deep, you felt yourself scrunching your eyes shut, the adrenaline quickly making its way into your bloodstream. “We will take it,” he murmured and this time his hand was going down, down, down, the panties the only barrier from his wandering hand as he lifted the hem of them teasingly, testing just how ready you were for him, “very slowly, my dear.”

His fingers played with you just for few seconds before he pushed his middle finger inside, your mouth opening in a silent moan as you leaned back into him.

“It's so early, but you are already like this,” he continued while your head was swimming, his ministrations nothing short of slow, yet so pleasurable, “all for me.”

Your insides were squeezing painfully, and he wasn't moving faster, nor did he have the intentions. “Baekhyun,” you said, trying not to pant too loudly, “I just want you.”

“Hmm? Speak louder, I'm still sleepy.”

“You're such a tease,” you whispered in disbelief before surprising him by reaching behind you to touch him exactly where he needed you. He hissed, his eyes looking at your profile to see the smirk you had on your face.

“I wanted it to be slow, romantic and all of that,” he mumbled before pushing your hand away while he sat up, causing you to fall on your back. As soon as his hand was out of your panties, you felt a pang of frustration before he covered your body with his, his face close to yours as you tried to calm down from him fingering you so sensually.

“I want none of that,” you replied as you grabbed his face for a heated kiss, “I want you inside me, just about now.”

“Needy, naughty…” he muttered with a flirty smirk as he teased you at your opening, causing both of you to groan. “Are you ready, sweetie?” And he still made sure you were okay with him.

“I'm always ready for you,” you whispered, spreading your legs even more for him, as he pushed himself in, your eyes instantly closing in wonderful pleasure only he was able to give you.

He stayed inside, buried and panting into your hot mouth as he rested his forehead on yours. “Sweetheart, open your eyes for me, hm? I love you, you know that?”

“I know that. And I love you, do you know that?” you reciprocated, smiling up at him only to be rewarded with his smiley eyes as he pushed back before diving right in few more times, where he hit your sweet spot. Moaning loudly, he dragged his face to suck on your neck before he took one of your hands, intertwining them with his as he pushed it up above your head.

“I know that. You are my angel,” he said, finishing it with a guttural groan as he felt you pulsing around him, knowing you were about to cross the edge and he was not far behind you. “Come for me. We have another round,” he breathed before kissing you passionately, messily, moanily.

You mentioned you wanted none of slow. And in the second round, he gave you just that. Baekhyun became ruthless, just before whispering: “Are you riding?” And he was fast to change positions. He helped you straddle him although you definitely had the energy to move and climb by yourself, given your crazy hormonal drive.

“That was just a warm-up session.” He warned, not waiting for you. Your screams, his groans, the heat, it was all so fucking amazing you were left in a complete bliss. You were fast to catch up to him, moving your hips while he was watching from beneath you, eyes dark, glazed over and completely smitten by you.

“You're the best,” you breathed out as you dragged your hands to you breasts, but Baekhyun wanted none of that. He swiftly sat up, his chest almost pressed to yours while you continuously rode him, up and down, your hands being pushed aside just to be switched with his as he added his sinful lips to the swell of your breasts.

“You're a goddess, mummy,” he muttered, leaving a wet trail on your chest while his hands squeezed and massaged your mounds.

“Baekhyun!” you scolded, and despite the sweat and the delightful pull in your belly approaching yet again, you blushed; the blush definitely caused by his choice of words.

He looked into your eyes, his ones proud and lustful. “It's true,” he muttered, groaning as you sank down exceptionally hard, almost falling onto his sturdy chest. His hands were now squeezing your sides, helping you out, unable to keep the needy touches to himself when you looked so gorgeous like that. He squeezed your arching body to his sweaty chest.

A quick glance at your swollen belly that he made sure you noticed, his hand came to touch against it and you were gone. He caressed you there gently while swallowing your moans as you grabbed his face, kissing him, your hair falling, creating an intimate curtain just around where your mouths were connected. You still had an unearthly energy to help your boyfriend out to his orgasm, not wanting to be in the ecstasy alone, and as much as Baekhyun needed the release, his hands slid across your sides, holding your hips to stop their movement.

“Enough, baby girl,” he whispered into your mouth, leaning back ever so slightly to see your flushed cheeks, sweaty forehead. “I don't want you to hurt yourself.” He was still panting and you swore to god he looked so handsome with his hair glued to his forehead, puffy cheeks. You might have gotten horny again.

“Come with me,” you insisted, attempting to to move again but he bit his lip, a cheeky glint in his eyes, and he held your back tenderly, moving you to lie on your back, while slipping out of you. Hissing, he stood up quickly.

“I'll be right back.”

Trying to calm your breath, you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling in your aching body. A knowing smile played on your lips; Baekhyun would rather get a cold shower then another orgasm from you, just because he was worried about you. If that wasn't some darn good self-control, you didn't know what it could be.

Just as he promised, he was back soon, a towel in his hands to help you clean up. Once done, he lied back down next to you and you immediately curled up by his chest. “That was amazing.”

“Hmm, you are amazing,” he said. After a little pause, he asked: “You feeling alright?”

“Perfect. But I could go again, you know? You don't have to be so careful with me.”

He snorted as he played with the ends of your hair. “Jeez, you already have my baby! Actually three of them! Slow down, woman.”

You both laughed heartily, and he loved the sound.

“But I want to have youuu, my love,” you whined.

“You have me. You always have me. I'm yours. I'm just simply yours.”

A/N: just to clarify, this isnt the end, we still have quite some things to get through actually - more drama ㅠㅠ! Just didnt want to leave you on a cliffhanger. Hope you liked this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Any feedback is very much appreciated 🥺 🥺

#baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun fic #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun imagine #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo smut #exo fluff #exo au #baekhyun au #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #kpop au #my writings

214 notes · View notes

purpleyellow · 4 years

Text

When my love blooms

BTS 8th member

Sunny’s masterlist

“Sunny's expeciences during When Our Love Blooms”

a/n: JUST FYI, Jinyoung plays a dude named Jaehyun and Sunny plays the character named Jisoo. Your opinion is very important for me, send feedback and requests anytime 💜 Also, don’t be shy and interact a little, ask box is always open

DAY 1

Looking at herself in the mirror, Sunny fixed her now brown hair and snapped a quick picture. Sending it to the BTS group chat with an “I should have bangs more often :p” she quickly locked her phone and put it away, leaving the small changing trailer the stylists had led her to.

“Sunny, let’s go this way so you can do a table reading before we start shooting” One of the producers called her to one big room where most of the staff were already seated in a big table.

Looking for her name tag, she saw her empty spot next to Got7’s Jinyoung, who was already seated playing on his phone. The few times Sunny had met him before, they never really interacted that much, since she usually stuck to talking to Bambam because they’ve known each other since trainees. Bowing respectfully, she sat down next to him trying not to stay too close.

“Excited to start shooting?” Jinyoung tried to make the atmosphere less awkward, turning towards her as he took a sip of his coffee.

“Yes, a little nervous as well” Sunny nodded, suddenly trying to remember all of the acting classes she had taken the week prior.

“You’ll be fine, table readings are a great way to get used to the storyline and build confidence in your character” he smiled sweetly at her.

Smiling a thanks to him, she paid attention as the director and producers started giving out tips to the actors and fully explaining the storyline to every little detail. “It’s important all of you get in sync with the ages you’ll be interpreting” was a sentence heavily repeated, since the story would be set in two different times.

After about two hours, when the meeting ended, the two idols stood up and grabbed their stuff from the table. “Your character is really in love with mine” Jinyoung nudged her with his elbow smirking.

“He’ll be just as whipped for her in less than two episodes” Rolling her eyes, Sunny joked back and started walking side by side.

Looking around to see if anyone was paying attention, she decided to share one of her worries with him. “I know this might seem out of nowhere, but I’m dating Sehun from EXO. And by what they said a few minutes ago there will be a lot of kissing involved. Do you think I should tell him about it?”

With wide eyes at the sudden confession, Jinyoung assessed the situation before speaking “Does he know you’re acting and I’m the love interest?” After Sunny confirmed he shrug his shoulder, face back to its relaxed state “Then it’s implied. Mentioning it to him would only make it look like it’s a bigger deal than it actually is”

Still a bit unsure about it, Sunny tried to assure herself it would be fine, Sehun had never been the jealous type and he looked very excited when she told him about the project. Sensing her uncertainty, Jinyoung placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Look, seventy percent of the shots will be manipulating camera angles and lighting, we’ll just need to stand very close to each other” She rose an eyebrow at the last part and he sighed “I swear everything will be strictly platonic, just try to look like you’re in love with me when the cameras are rolling” With a breathy laugh, Sunny calmed down a little.

DAY4

Stepping out of the fake bedroom, the girl grabbed a tissue handed by a staff member and started to dry a few tears. Waiting for the director to tell her what to do next, she looked around and found a very excited boy jumping and waving her way.

“Okay everyone, that’s enough for today” The middle-aged man shouted and Sunny took off towards J-Hope.

Engulfing her in a hug, he patted the top of her head and smiled brightly “I missed you so much. You’ve been working a lot lately, we barely see each other on the dorms since you always leave way too early and come home very late”

“It’ll only be for a couple of weeks. Here let’s go to catering, I haven’t eaten yet” Sunny grabbed his arm and took him to a bunch of trailers parked.

After she got her lunch, they sat down in a table and she started eating with him stealing a couple of bites here and there. “Jungkook said he will pay you a visit as well, he’s trying to set a date with Yugyeom so they can come together”

“He’s really tight with his 97 friends huh? I wonder if he would come at all if Jinyoung wasn’t in this” Sunny rolled her eyes remembering the many times she had to repeat what she had said because Jungkook was too absorbed in his group chat to pay attention.

“Let’s just be happy he’s making friends” Hobi smiled and Sunny laughed “I’m being serious, you were very quick to befriend other idols and do your thing, I thought Kookie would never leave our side”

“But he did talk to other people” Sunny tried to reason with him.

“Yeah, only when V or Jimin was around, the boy took introverted to another level” he looked around and reverted his gaze to her. “And you, have you made more friends here?”

“I talk with a few actors and the staff are nice I guess” Sunny shrug her shoulders “You just said I made friends easily, why so worried out of nowhere?”

“Because I know you” Hobi smiled gently at her “You probably spend most of your day worrying about doing a good job and studying the script. Not trying to break this to you, but I don’t think you’ll ever get the chance to do this again, do you really want to let the experience pass instead of making connections and having the time of your life?”

Sighing, Sunny placed her arms on the table and looked around as well “It’s just, people here are always working. I know that seems like heaven for me, but it gets tiring only talking about techniques and obsessing over the storyline. Also, I don’t think other people are interested in talking with an idol. I’m like a choir kid who wanted to try out the drama club”

J Hope laughed at her comparison “I’m glad you’re not leaving Bangtan to become an actress then” He smirked and she rolled her eyes with a small smile “How about the other actors? I guess Jinyoung’s on the same boat as you”

“I guess so. We talk in between shots sometimes, he’s probably the closest I have to a friend” as she said that the boy raised his arms in victory.

DAY6 (yes, it was on purpose)

“Okay, cut” The director yelled and Jinyoung retreated his lips from the corner of Sunny’s mouth “Please don’t leave the phonebooth, I’m going to check if we need to do that once again”

With the amount of space restricted, Sunny rested her back on the glass and the Got7 member tried to back away as much as possible, but it wasn’t enough to be a respectable space.

“I’m sorry if this is awkward,” Jinyoung said looking everywhere but at her. Not that Sunny knew because she was literally doing the same. “I’d open the door, but I’m sure he’d yell at me for doing so”

The girl didn’t have time to respond back, as someone yelled they were done for the day. Finally breathing properly, she stepped out of the small place and saw Yugyeom and Jungkook on the back watching the staff work.

Looking at Sunny with wide eyes, her groupmate walked very fast towards her and dragged her somewhere more secluded. “Do you know how intimate that looked?” he said like he was scared making the girl laugh.

“Well, it is a romantic drama. I’m sure it was supposed to look like that” she said shrugging her shoulders and leaving to get out of her costume.

Grabbing her arm again, Jungkook prevented her from moving “Still, it’s awkward. Aren’t you uncomfortable with it? We can talk to your manager and get them to change the script or something”

“Are you crazy?” Sunny put her hands on his shoulders and shook him a little, getting him out of his shock “They signed me to play their character, I’m sure they would straight up fire me if I did anything even remotely close to changing the scenes”

“Well… I-I’m uncomfortable with it” He stuttered a bit but ended up crossing his arms and fixing his posture as if he was some kind of authority, all Sunny did was raise an eyebrow at him “Sehun Hyung won’t like this either. Plus you’re like a child, isn’t this like, illegal?”

“I’m literally a year younger than you” she reminded him,

“Well, it’s legal then” He nodded “But, Sehun? Does he know this?”

“Of course, I’m not going to lie to him about where I spend most of my day”

“I’m not talking about that” it was Jungkook’s turn to raise an eyebrow, making Sunny sigh.

“I haven’t told him about the kisses, if that’s even what they are, but he does know I have a love interest” She linked arms with him and started walking towards a trailer, she desperately wanted to get out of those clothes and go home “I’m scared if I talk too much about it it’s going to seem like I care too much about what’s going on”

“But if you don’t it might seem like you’re trying to hide something” Jungkook pointed out being led by her “If it were me I’d want to know. I would probably become petty though”

“Yeah, you would” Sunny smiled at his personality.

“What do you mean by those not being kisses by the way?”

“Oh. Fake kisses are so boring, like, lips aren’t even fully touching. Plus, the real feeling of-”

“That’s enough” He cut her off flustered “ I already know that I don’t know why I needed for you to say it. Please forget I even asked”

DAY 7

“So, that’s what has been going on” Sunny said to her phone. Pacing from one side to the other on the empty makeup trailer.

“Okay” She heard Sehun’s muffled laugh on the other side “I already know you would be doing stuff like that. It does worry me a little that something made you feel like you had to tell me this now”

“I had talked with Jinyoung about this and he told me it wasn’t a big deal, but Jungkook came yesterday and said it would be better if you were aware”

“Oh, so you asked your fake boyfriend what to do about your real boyfriend?” Sunny could feel him smirking through the phone and unconsciously rolled her eyes.

“This really isn’t going to become a problem right?” She stopped pacing and faced her brunette figure in the mirror.

“Trust me it isn’t. You’re going to give me double the kisses to make up though” Sunny smiled at his silliness “I have to go right now. I love you”

“I love you too” she blew a kiss and he hung up.

Leaving the trailer, she saw Jinyoung also walking towards the set she was going to. “Hey, settled everything with the boyfriend?”

“Yeah, and he said he already expected it” Sunny started walking with him, the space between them enough to fit another person.

“I told you, you should have trusted Sunbae” Jinyoung smiled at her, using his nickname from the drama, and Sunny rolled her eyes once again.

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll have to start calling you Jaehyun” she spoke with a mischievous grin and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“Aah Jisoo, your friendship means the world to me”

2 Months later

Sunny was laying on her bed while scrolling through social media and checking out people’s reviews on the latest episode when her notification bar rolled down showing a new message from Sehun

“Come to my place, we need to talk”

(please don’t kill me, pt 2 will be coming soon)

145 notes · View notes

icecoldflames · 4 years

Text

Gold Star (Sanders Sides)

Human AU

Romantic Analogical

Background Romantic Royality

***

Virgil’s eyes flashed open. His alarm went off. The sun streamed in through his window. It’s going to be a good day today, he thought to himself as he heaved himself out of bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

He padded over to his closet and opened it, eyeing his clothes. Virgil didn’t often care about his outfit. Usually, he just wore his usual hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. Nothing too loud. But today he wanted to try something new.

Virgil’s eyes glanced over to his fancy clothes. He ran his hand over his purple tie but then immediately dropped it. No, that wasn’t the look he was going for.

He eventually settled on a purple plaid shirt with a black tee underneath along with a pair of jeans. Good, he thought to himself as he looked in the mirror. Something different but not too different.

Forty five minutes later, he climbed aboard the bus and sat down next to his friend, Roman, who looked him up and down appreciatively. “I see you’ve upped your style today. What’s new?”

Virgil shrugged, a grin creeping up on his face. “Oh, nothing.”

Realization dawned on Roman’s face. His eyes widened. “You’re getting your Math test and English essay back today, aren’t you?”

Virgil nodded in delight and his heart fluttered.

“I swear, Virgil,” Roman began, “if you get a higher mark than Logan, please don’t shove it in his face and if he gets the higher mark, don’t start a fight. I’m begging of you.”

“I can’t promise anything.” Virgil said, dropping the smile and putting on an annoyed expression. “Logan just gets on my nerves so much. Who does he think he is?!” He griped.

Roman sighed and crossed his arms. “Alright but I’m not going to pull you out from a fight again.”

The bus came to a halt and some other kids boarded the bus.

“Don’t worry, Ro. That was forever ago.” When I did hate Logan, he added in silently. “Besides, he started it.” That wasn’t true but Roman didn’t know that.

Roman huffed. “I think I know what it feels like to be an exasperated mom…”

When the bus finally arrived at the high school, Virgil told Roman he’d meet him at his locker in a bit.

Virgil’s locker was right next to Logan’s. Virgil knew Logan arrived at school at promptly 7:30 and stayed in the library until five minutes before the bell where he would head to his locker to pick up his books for first period.

As Virgil neared his locker, a pair of feet caught up to him and began to match his pace. “Virgil.” Logan said with a curt nod. He had a book under his arm: The Murder of Roger Ackroyd.

Virgil’s heart fluttered. Logan was wearing his usual black-collared button up with a blue tie. Most of the other kids thought he was a bit excessive with his tie but Virgil really liked it. It suited him really well. Virgil put a disinterested look on his face along with his signature scowl. “Logan.” He was early—it was ten minutes before the bell, not five.

They both arrived at their lockers at the same time but Logan was the first to unlock it and swing his open.

Out of his peripheral view, Virgil watched as Logan carefully placed his book on the top shelf before methodically grabbing his Math textbook and binder. He put his pencil case and book on top of that.

Virgil began unpacking his bookbag which didn’t have much in it—just some random stuff like gum and his Chemistry homework. Logan took Biology.

Virgil, just slightly, wished he had chosen Biology even though he was terrible at remembering terms and parts of a cell. Just seeing Logan again for another hour would have made up for his cruddy mark in that class. Then again, if he took Bio, he would lose a lot more in their competition.

Their competition started last year when Virgil moved here. He and Logan were put in the same Math class and the teacher would give out a sticker to the top grade every test or assignment.

Roman told him that, last year, he had heard that Logan had received the gold star every single time. For the entire year.

Virgil had called the whole thing stupid when Roman explained. “What are we?” He had asked Roman with a scoff. “Kindergarteners? A gold sticker?” The whole thing had sounded absurd.

Virgil liked math. It was weird, but he found doing equations were therapeutic. That first unit, Logan had gotten the two gold stars. Virgil hadn’t minded. Again, gold stars were childish in his books.

But then the second math unit was trigonometry. And Virgil loved any type of math that had to do with shapes. And, that first assignment he had scored a 100% and gotten the gold sticker. He experienced great joy that class feeling Logan’s fiery stare boring holes into him.

Virgil had turned to Logan with triumph gleaming in his eyes. “Feeling glum there, Logan?” He had goaded. He hadn’t gotten an answer.

Virgil received the gold star on the trig test too. A 97% while Logan had gotten a 95%. He found that he enjoyed that golden star that the teacher had probably bought at a dollar store.

The next unit was algebra and Virgil was just half percent away from Logan’s 99% and gold star. Logan had looked so triumphant as he flashed the gold sticker in Virgil’s direction. He made a dramatic frown as Virgil scowled in the corner.

And so it went on like that for the rest of the year: Logan and Virgil trying to out-do each other and receive the gold star.

At one point, maybe during the quadratic unit, it had gotten so intense that Virgil almost started a physical fight with Logan after the tests came back and Logan had received the gold sticker. The teacher stopped giving them out after that.

But that didn’t stop anything. Both Logan and Virgil were far too gone to let that stop anything. While the gold sticker was no longer there, their percentage still was.

That summer, Virgil got a job at a LGBTQ+ youth camp with Roman as counsellors. And, lo and behold, Logan had gotten a job there too as a lifeguard.

That was when something changed between them. And not because Virgil often saw Logan shirtless up on that lifeguard chair or walking out of the shower.

It was nighttime when all of the campers were gone to sleep. Or, at least, they thought.

Logan and Virgil had been paired up to do one last sweep of the main campground. It was, understandably, tense until they heard a child’s whimpering off in the distance.

It was terrifying. It had been dark, the paths in the woods filled with tree roots, and the only flashlight they had had run out of batteries. So they were looking for a child in the woods using only the moonlight. Thank goodness it had been a full moon.

Once they found the child (he had gone off to pee in the woods because all of the other stalls had been filled and apparently he really had had to go. He had gotten lost once he had finished), Logan and Virgil had been inches away from each other outside of the boy’s bunkhouse. Virgil had been sure that they were about to kiss but then Patton, another counsellor, had poked his head out of the bunkhouse, asking if they were alright.

They didn’t bring that moment up again.

This year, Virgil shared two classes with Logan: Math and English. They didn’t have the gold star teacher. The competition was still there, maybe with even more vigor, but something else was behind their jabs at one another.

Virgil prayed that Logan felt it too because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he found that Logan didn’t harbour the same feelings as he did.

He grabbed his math books and stuff and then left to go find Roman before the warning bell rang. “Good luck,” he sneered as he passed Logan.

“You’re going to need it,” Logan retorted, not even glancing up at Virgil.

“Please tell me you’re feeling calm,” Roman said as he saw Virgil.

Virgil took in a dramatic breath and breathed out loudly. “I’m fine.” He said with a roll of his eyes. “So, how was last night?” He asked, changing the subject. Patton and Roman had gotten together recently. They had met at camp last summer but that was when their friendship was formed. Their romantic relationship had started just a couple of days ago.

Roman didn’t seem to notice the subject change. “Oh, it was amazing. To be honest,” he said in a whisper, grinning, his face flushed pink, “I could hardly concentrate on the movie…we were holding hands and his laugh whenever there was a joke was just so cute. I can’t wait until you get a boyfriend and then we can all go on double dates!”

Virgil thought about Logan and just smiled. “That would be so fun.”

***

When Virgil made his way into Math after the bell rang, Logan was already sitting in his assigned seat. Virgil found his own, across from Logan and against the wall.

Logan didn’t even acknowledge Virgil as he sat down, just kept reading his book. Every so often he would push up his glasses when they slipped too far down his nose.

As soon the teacher walked in the two of them immediately straightened up and Logan put away his book with a bookmark filled with old gold stars. Probably just to spite Virgil.

But that was okay. Virgil had his phone case decorated with his gold stars.

When the last student trickled in and the bell rang again the teacher began passing back the tests they had done last week.

It hadn’t been a difficult test but it hadn't been necessarily easy either. The only thing Virgil was worried about was that last word problem where he wasn’t sure if he had plugged in the numbers right.

Logan’s test was passed back first. Virgil stretched his neck and straightened his spine even more. 99%. Logan grinned over at Virgil, his eyes twinkling. ‘Beat that,’ he mouthed.

Virgil pursed his lips. He had to get a 100 if he was going to win. Then again, he still had the English essay later on in the day so even if he didn’t get a 100% he might beat Logan with the essay.

The teacher walked over to Virgil and he held his breath as she placed the test on his desk. 100%. Yes.

He didn’t even bother waiting for Logan to crane his neck at an awkward angle. He pulled up the side of his test with the mark on it and gave him the middle finger with his free hand. Virgil grinned over at him.

Logan scowled.

“Got a little overconfident there, didn’t you Logan?” Virgil said, rubbing it in. His cheeks hurt from so much grinning.

Calm settled on Logan’s face. He pushed up his glasses, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair. “We still got one more today, Virgil. Don’t get too cocky. I do write a sublime essay.”

Virgil chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”

***

Their research essays counted for quite a bit of their English mark. It could be on anything they wanted but they had to take a side. Of course, it had to be appropriate for school. They had started preparing for it almost a month ago and now it was the moment of truth.

Virgil had decided to write his research essay on how cellphones have a positive impact on youths (maybe not always positive but they weren’t 100% bad). Logan must have seen Virgil’s topic somehow although he couldn’t figure out how because Logan’s topic was on how cellphones have a negative impact on youths.

Virgil wasn’t even sure that Logan believed that.

Their English teacher was known to be a hard marker so, when Virgil got his essay back and saw the 85 he mentally fistbumped the air. He was going to win this. He lifted his paper so Logan could see his mark behind him.

When the teacher gave back Logan’s essay Virgil spun in his chair and snapped his head down to look at Logan’s mark: 89. Logan smiled triumphantly up at Virgil. “Look who’s overconfident now.”

“Draw,” Virgil sniffed. He had won Math, Logan English. It would have been nice to win both but one was better than none.

Logan smiled as he put his test in his binder smugly. “Sure.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and turned back around to face the front.

***

When the last bell rang Virgil saw Logan already at his locker, piling in books into his blue bookbag.

Virgil pursed his lips as he neared his locker and Logan. He opened his locker and began packing his backpack as well. “Hey,” he finally said, swallowing his pride. “Can I read your essay?”

Logan glanced up at him with slightly narrowed eyes. Suspicious eyes. “Why?”

Virgil shrugged. “I just want to see what arguments you used. Do you even believe that cellphones have a negative effect on youths or did you just choose that because I was doing the opposite?”

Logan grinned but didn’t say anything. He just grabbed his essay and handed it over to him.

“Well?” Virgil prompted. He wanted to know how Logan figured out his topic. It wasn’t like they shared their topics before writing them.

“Oh, I’m pretty neutral on the debate on cell phones. I could have gone either way, to be honest. But I overheard you talking to Roman about your topic outside of the library and,” he shrugged and gave a toothy smile that made Virgil remember that night at camp, “I just thought it would be fun to do the opposite argument that you were doing.”

Virgil had no recollection of speaking to Roman about his topic but it sounded about right. But then a memory resurfaced and he scrunched up his nose. “Hey, no. I told Roman about my topic when we stayed behind to help Ms. Morrison organize her textbooks to get volunteer hours!”

Logan flushed a deep pink and Virgil’s stomach did a little flip.

“I don’t think so,” Logan said quickly, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure I was in the library.”

But the memory was becoming clearer now. Virgil’s eyes widened in realization. “You were spying on us!” He breathed.

“No—”

“—Yes,” Virgil cut Logan off, nodding his head vigorously. “Or you overheard us…whatever. No difference.”

The crowds around the hallway were beginning to thin out. Logan sighed. “Okay, fine. I was just running back into school because I forgot my book and I overheard you in Ms. Morrison’s class.” His face was still pink as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Virgil grinned as he shut his locker. “Okay.”

“It’s true!” Logan exclaimed hotly, closing his own locker and swinging his backpack onto his back.

Virgil began to walk to the bus line. Roman was probably wondering where he was.

He knew Logan walked home so he was surprised to hear his footsteps trailing behind him. “Hey, listen. I got something for you.” Virgil was so used to their witty banter that he was caught off guard when he heard how genuine Logan’s voice was.

Virgil spun around in surprise and waited for Logan to catch up. “What? Really?” He raised his eyebrows.

“It’s-it’s nothing really,” Logan fumbled, digging around in his jean pocket. “It’s just a little trinket I saw at the store and thought…” he shrugged and pulled out a gold star keychain.

For a long moment, Virgil stared at it. “But I tallied it up last week, overall you’ve won!” He had gone through all of his old tests and assignments, curious to see who was in the lead. Logan had been ahead by two tests. “I mean,” Virgil amended, “thank you, but why?” Why would Logan give him a gold star keychain if he wasn’t winning?

Logan ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Because I think you’re intelligent.” He pushed up his glasses and coughed awkwardly. “And I really like you.”

Virgil froze but then hesitantly took the keychain from Logan’s hand. He looked at it closely before carefully clasping it onto his bookbag. “Truce?” He asked, holding out his hand.

Logan smiled and took Virgil’s hand. “Truce,” he repeated. He cocked his head to the side. “So does this mean you like me too?”

Virgil grinned. “What do you think?” He laughed and intertwined his fingers with Logan’s. By now, the entire hallway was empty and Virgil was sure that the busses had already left.

They walked down the hall hand in hand.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #analogical #royality #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders

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asphora · 4 years

Text

02. Rose-tinted | hvc

a non-sequential accounting of pivotal moments in yours and Hansol’s relationship. Love is a wonderful thing, but for all it’s tenderness, you learn that it doesn’t come without it’s struggles. But this is worth it; Hansol is worth it, right?

wc: 10385 | fluff, angst, f!reader, modified idol!verse, cursing, slight allusions to smut, series, cliff hanger, best friends to lovers

soulmate(ish) au

a/n: part 2 in my Technicolor series woohoo! Again, I know it’s hella fuckin long, even longer than the last ones, but I just had to huhu I hope you guys like it! Lemme know what you think or not, it’s all good kthanksbyyeeeee

01 . 02 . 03 . 04

It’s late, and you and Hansol are in bed at his apartment. He is on his side of the bed that you’ve now grown accustomed to sharing; he is already lying down, head on his pillow as he quietly tinkers with his phone. You are on your side, slightly higher up that him with your back against the headboard and a book in hand, quietly letting the words on the page lull you to sleep, when for some inexplicable reason, his silver hair catches your attention. It’s messy and longer now, sticking up in strange places and revealing the black of his roots that have already started to show as they grew out.

Your eyes trail down to his that are oblivious and trained onto a game on his phone, his lashes so long they’re practically brushing the soft skin of his cheeks. His lips are a soft shade of pink, slightly parted, a biproduct of Hansol’s laser focus. Your eyes trace the line of his jaw – sharp but delicate all the same – that would often clench in frustration and relax into softer smiles when he saw you, the habitual action of the muscle there allowing you to read his moods without so much as a word. He swallows and his Adam’s apple bobs slightly, and you almost physically feel yourself salivate at the involuntary motion. Stopping your racing thoughts, your eyes trail the skin of his neck down to the chain that hung around his neck. Hansol wasn’t a vain man, only wearing things with meaning and letting his fashion simply be whatever he wanted it to be. Even now, when he had color you weren’t surprised by the strange combinations he’d choose, often matching clothes as if he didn’t have the sight.

You watch the simple chain reflect the light, kissing the delicate angles of the dips in his collar bone. Hands longing to feel his skin, you contemplate doing the same, but quickly brush the thought off; it wasn’t the time for that right now. Your eyes wander lower to the soft skin revealed by undone buttons of sleeping shirt, and your hands twitch longing to touch milky and supple skin there. That’s when he notices you, eyes boring into his chest so intently that he could practically feel your stare. Locking his phone and discarding it onto the bed slowly, so as not to break your focus, he watches you, a gummy smile forming the more he watches how absolutely enchanted you are by him.

“Like what you see?” He teases, his tone completely derailing your train of thought and bringing it to an embarrassing halt.

You laugh, wanting to fire back a witty quip. Deciding against it, you feel yourself melt at the sight of his smile which you returned with a soft sigh. The sound makes him stop a little. Usually, you would have rebuked him easily. Instead, you were just silently smiling at him.

"Are you okay, babe?" His hands move to wrap around your waist and in one fell swoop, the two of you rearrange yourselves with such ease, like puzzle pieces fitting each other's hold. With his head now resting on your bicep, the rest of your arm wraps around his shoulder. Cradling him like this, you found the position equally adorable and amusing as he hugged himself to you like a child holding themselves close to their mother.

“Yeah, I’m okay, Sol.” You reassure him, your fingers playing with his hair and softly combing the growing tresses away from his face to the back of his ear.

His eyes flutter closed at the contact, melting into the calming touch of your hand. He hums in appreciation as you gently rub his scalp with the pads of your fingers. With closed eyes, he reaches across you for your free hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

"What's on your mind?" He coos your name with his eyes still closed.

“Hmmm, nothing much,” you watch him appreciatively, pleased to be getting an even closer view, “just you.”

“What about me? Can’t believe how you ended up with such a catch?”

"Hmph, barely," you chuckle, and he does too, "I was just looking at you and thinking about you. There's nothing really going on in my head."

He hums in acknowledgment, nodding slightly and slowly before replying with a knowing, "I love you, too."

Him being able to read you like an open book, even with his eyes closed, makes you smile, thinking about just how lucky you are to have him. “For as long as I can.” You add to his statement, knowing full well that he understands what you mean.

“What do you think death looks like, Sol?” He opens his eyes to look up at you and meet your gaze.

“Hmmm,” He ponders for a moment, animatedly furrowing his brows, “maybe like a dream, and when we wake up, we’re someone new? Like, us, but different.”

“So basically, like a reincarnation?” You tease his lack of eloquence with a slight giggle.

He flashes you an appreciative gummy smile, “took the words right outta my mouth, baby. This is why you’re the brains and I’m the charm.”

“You mean brawns?”

“Nope, you’re the brains and I’m the charm,” he reiterates. “You and I both know I got guns for days, but that my best quality is my charming personality.”

You roll your eyes in amusement, “oh yes, so charming.”

“Why the sudden question?” His tone isn’t pushy, just actually curious as he goes back to closing his eyes to revel in your touch.

“No reason, just something off the top of my head.” You explain nonchalantly, “Do you think we’ve met before, in other lives I mean? Since you believe in reincarnation.”

“Definitely. A hundred percent, yes.” He replies, without even a second to spare for thought.

“Maybe I was the handsome pilot and you were the mysterious attractive passenger. Our eyes probably met while you were getting off and that was that.” He explains matter-of-factly.

“Ah, and I was on my way home to my husband and family?” You tease, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he continues to recount the various fantasies wherein you two might’ve met.

“Yeah, sure. Or maybe we met at a party, where you were lost and I helped you out, we’d probably talked for a while before parting ways.”

He laughs before continuing, “I’m sure there’s a universe out there, or another life where we have two kids—names can be your pick since you know I’m shit at that—and we live in a simple house, in a quiet town, and those versions of us don’t even know we’re having this conversation right now.”

“That version of you must be really fucking smart for me to have married him.” You play along.

“Nah, he tricked you just like in this lifetime.” He sticks out his tongue at you and you nudge him, laughing.

“I bet there are lifetimes where we don’t even meet.” You muse and he simply hums in agreement.

“Sign me up for that shit ‘cause I don’t even know what I got myself into in this one.” You joke and he laughs loudly, his mouth widening so wide it almost seems exaggerated, but you know him and this is just how he was. He opened his eyes, expression suddenly completely deadpan, chocolate irises staring you down.

“Is there something you wanna tell me about? Like seriously?” His question only makes you laugh along with him when he finally cracks, unable to keep a straight face.

After a few moments of silence, you press your lips to the top of his head, a rare moment of tenderness in your relationship that had barely changed since becoming official almost a year ago.

“I’m glad I met you in this one,” you whisper into his hair.

"Me too," he drawls out softly and you can tell by the sound that he's already half asleep. You shut the bedside lamp and lower yourself and your head to your pillow, nestling in his warmth.

As you drift to sleep, you hear him murmur in his sleep, “I love you, you fuckin’ loser.”

Half-asleep, you reply, “I love you too, Hansol.”

* * *

The tiny café bar is a completely different scene than you remember; where there used to be tables spread out evenly throughout the main space in front of the stage, they were now pushed to the sides of the room to accommodate the throngs of people coming in to watch tonight’s performance.

You’re 15 minutes early. Even though Hansol had told you it would be fine to come at exactly seven when the show would start since his set wasn’t until around 7:30, you knew better than to come on time and end up stuck in line.

Sat along the bar at the far back of the room, you sip on your martini as you watch people slowly trickle into the tiny venue, when a flash of familiar silver hair peaks out one of the doors near the stage. He looks around the room, his eyes landing immediately on you, able to find you immediately despite the growing crowd.

You had never seen Hansol like this before.

His hair which he rarely ever bothered styling let alone comb, was now perfectly set, parted on one side, his bangs resting naturally on the rest of his face, a sliver of his forehead peeking through. His face was fully made up, some smokey make-up lining the outer corners of his eyes, making his chocolate irises pop even more. You feel your jaw slightly unhinge, your lips parting as you drink in the sight of him; Hansol had always been beautiful to you, but somehow in the dim yellow lighting of the bar, his make-up catching the light perfectly, it made him look deliciously otherworldly and even dangerous. Suddenly you felt like prey under his piercing gaze.

The corners of his mouth shift into a soft smirk in recognition. Right away, he can tell the magnified effect he has on you from the way you stare him down as though he is an oasis in the desert, and before you can even compose yourself enough to get up to go to him, he's already taking long purposeful strides over to where you're seated. It knocks the breath out of your lungs.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He says cheekily, one arm leaning onto counter, while the other reaches for the back of your seat, efficiently cornering you – not that you had any real qualms about it – taking advantage of your initial shock.

Hearing his words, you immediately recognize the dork that is none other than your precious Hansol underneath his contrasting outer appearance. You giggle at the little charade he’s pulling and return his playful smile, quickly regaining your composure.

“I don’t know,” you pretend to ponder his offer, “I’m waiting for my boyfriend. He’s one of tonight’s performers and I don’t think he’d appreciate it.”

“Oh,” his eyes widen in mock surprise, his mouth exaggeratedly forming the syllable, “you have a boyfriend? Well, he’s a really lucky guy then.”

He eyes you up and down, pretending to hit on you, but genuinely appreciating the way the off-shoulder sweetheart neckline of your black dress compliments you, never having seen you in that particular dress before. It wasn't every day that he got to see you all dolled up, especially when it was just for him and his performance, and even more when you looked so good he could ravish you right then and there.

“Well, I’m a really lucky girl to have him.” You smirk, shrugging a bare shoulder at him and you see the way his eyes follow the exposed skin intently, his mouth practically watering at the sight.

“Nah baby,” he drops the act, placing gentle hands on the skin of your neck and moving towards you for a kiss.

“I’m the one who’s lucky.” He murmurs the words against your lips in between kisses and it makes you smile against his.

Unwillingly, you pull away, not wanting to ruin his make-up with your kisses. You shift backward on your seat to look at him, noticing a tiny smudge in the lipstick of his lower lip. You tell him not to move as you carefully take his face between your hands and press your thumb to the smudge.

What should be a rather simple task for such a small amount of excess lipstick, proves to be difficult as Hansol refuses to stand still, insistently trying to catch your thumb either in between his teeth or in soft butterfly kisses. It’s only when there’s a cough that comes from your side and Hansol looks slightly up, distracted by the arrival, that you finally manage to erase any trace of the color.

“Still very much in love and mushy, I see.” You immediately recognize the voice to be Mingyu and you look up at him to see all 12 boys dressed nicer than usual, happily greeting both you and Hansol.

When it's time for Hansol to go back and prepare for his set, he sweetly kisses your temple. He pats the shoulders of both Mingyu and Minghao who are seated closest to you on the bar, motioning to you, as he says, "take care of my girl." Then gives you an enthusiastic wink before heading off in the same direction his producer disappears.

When it’s Hansol’s turn, the night is still fairly young. So, while the crowd is pumped and excited for the rest of the show, they are a mass of chattering bodies, only half paying attention. Once he starts though, his perfect English starting his rap and the unique treble of his voice piercing through the room, he quickly has everyone's attention.

It was the first time you’d ever seen him perform, let alone heard him rap in a proper performance setting. It would have been a gross understatement to say that he was utterly enthralling; gone was the dorky, adorable boy you knew, replaced on stage by confidence and swagger that seemed magnified by the exhilaration on stage, his presence washing over the room like a tidal wave. He was everything you knew and loved about Hansol, but somehow different, greater, and larger than life. On stage, he was someone that shone too brightly and authentically for this world. You had no words as you watched him, pride bubbling up in your chest and spilling out of your eyes in the form of tears. Just like you, everyone in the crowded bar is entranced by the words that flowed effortlessly from him, never missing a beat, and seemingly never running out of breath or losing energy.

“Aw, don’t cry, y/n.” Minghao soothes, patting your head kindly. If you hadn’t already been so close with everyone, you might’ve been embarrassed to be caught getting emotional, but these boys have seen you and Hansol through everything. He flashes you a sweet and understanding smile and you chuckle under your breath as you expertly dab the moisture out of your eyes.

In typical Hansol-fashion, there are multiple curse words littered throughout his rap, but it only serves to stimulate the crowd further. Even more so when he starts jumping, banging his head to the upbeat riff of the music. In the crowd, you can see people jumping and dancing along with him, and you're so proud that you almost want to join them, his energy and confidence undeniably contagious.

Down to the last verse of his song, he keeps his energy high. He’s a sweaty mess, his make-up trickling down his face, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His smirk is still just as captivating as ever, drawing the audience in, and his bravado unparalleled and unreachable. At this point, you’re full of emotion, but well past crying. Instead, you’re jiving effortlessly to the music, savoring the way the sounds of the music and his voice were making you feel.

Then you see it; his eyes locked onto you as if calling you out, mesmerizing you completely with just one look. Knowing perfectly well that he's gotten your attention, he gives you a subtle wink, keeping his gaze focused on you as he gets out the last chorus. Like a secret message that travels past the unknowing crowd and straight to your chest, his look is one you recognize right away: I love you.

Suddenly, the color in the room feels more vibrant despite the dim lighting; the beat is thrumming louder in your ears, and his voice singing above the music seems to overtake your senses until there's nothing and no one else but him. Watching him do what he was born to, you had never been prouder and more enamored with him than at that moment. Holding his gaze, you stand from your seat, pressing a kiss to your palm, tossing it enthusiastically at him.

The gesture surprises him, his eyes widening, and before he can even register his actions, his arm flashes out and reaches up to quickly catch your kiss as if it was a palpable object flying towards him. For a moment, his mask slips, and the charismatic and mysterious stage persona, Vernon, falls away. His cool expression melts and he breaks out into a beaming smile, eyes flooding with affection and softening into crescent moons, revealing the beloved bright puppy-dog of a boy that belonged to only you, Hansol.

Never in your life had you ever seen him glow the way he was now.

When he rejoins the rest of the group, the boys are the first to welcome him back, congratulating him loudly with hugs and high-fives. He moves over to you, standing next to you at the bar and resuming his spot from earlier, leaning over you. This time though, he’s sweaty and out of breath. His silk dress-shirt clings to his skin with sweat dripping down his face, but you don’t care. You wrap your arms around him eagerly, pulling him close.

“Baby, I’m sweaty, you’ll ruin your dress.” He chuckles, whining in protest, but his body betrays him, melting into your touch and wrapping his arms at your waist.

“I don’t care.” You kiss his damp, make-up stained cheek. “I am so fucking proud of you.”

"Bet your boyfriend couldn't do what I just did." He says teasingly, wriggling his eyebrows and recalling the joke from earlier.

You tilt your head back in laughter, moving your hands to his face. You push away the silver strands of hair sticking to his damp skin, no longer worried about ruining his make-up. You move closer, your breath at the shell of his ear giving him goosebumps. You whisper, "Sorry to break it to you, stupid, but you are my boyfriend.”

Those words alone are enough to have him erupting in booming laughter and you watch his face light up as he clutches his stomach, trying to calm himself down. As hot Vernon was, and as amazing as his presence was, you much preferred this scene in front of you; the beautiful, expressive, genuine, and all too familiar laughter of Hansol.

“Okay, that’s enough, love-birds!” Jeonghan hollers, effectively popping the bubble of your tender moment. The older male wraps his arms around both of your shoulders, sitting Hansol down in between you and him, and handing you each a shot.

"A toast,” Jeonghan calls out, raising a shot glass and everyone joining in the toast, raising their own, "to Vernon's first-ever album, and him finally losing his virginity!"

All the other boys shout and cheer boisterously, clinking their glasses together, sloshing the transparent liquid around, before downing their drinks.

"Congratulations on not being a virgin anymore, babe!" You follow suit after clinking your shot glass with theirs and Hansol's. Once the burning liquid goes down completely, you cheer loudly along with the others, kissing your boyfriend's now rosy cheeks.

“Fuck you, y/n.” He laughs despite his humiliation.

“You did, baby, that’s why we’re celebrating!” You rebuke, and if he hadn’t already been utterly mortified, he was now. The redness in his cheeks spread to the tips of his ears and his shot glass, still full of liquor, remained raised mid-way, seemingly forgotten in all the chaos that was his friends and girlfriend ganging-up on him.

* * *

"You said you would call two hours ago?" The words are phrased like a question, but the drop in your voice makes it clear to Hansol – if your downcast eyes and saddened expression hadn't been indication enough – that this time you’re not interested in the answer.

He watches you on the screen of his phone as you bite down on your lower lip and gnaw on the sensitive skin there, inhaling deeply as you wait for what he has to say for himself. He can tell easily that you’re trying desperately to stop the angry tears that are threatening to spill and at that moment, he wishes more than anything that he was beside to you press his thumb to your lips to remind you to stop biting. It makes his heart drop into his stomach, making the contents of lunch do somersaults, threatening to spill out in the form of vomit.

You knew there was no point in fighting or arguing, especially when he was miles away and busy with his tour and all his shows. But you couldn’t help being disappointed. You were constantly waiting for him, rearranging your sleep and work schedules for even just a glimpse of him, while it seemed like he was perfectly fine away from you. While the emptiness in your shared apartment only magnified and reminded you of the distance between you, it seemed the new people and places he was meeting and experiencing filled it for him.

"I'm so sorry, y/n." He tells you almost immediately, his voice is soft and audibly exhausted. After almost two years together, and nearly four being your best friend, Hansol knew better than anyone else what you needed the most right now. More than his excuses or justifications, even if he had a good reason, all you wanted was to know that he was sorry.

You can tell by the way he fidgets on the screen, his eyes quickly darting to the ground then back up at you, that it’s taking everything in him to keep from looking away in shame. You’re thankful for the effort as he tries his best to meet your eyes, his apology pouring out slowly and sincerely from his lips.

It had been more than a week since the two of you had last spoken or even seen each other over facetime. Yes, there were messages here and there. Replies and updates sent with distracted, disconnect and seemingly rushed fingers; good mornings and good nights spread out between all the wrong hours of each other’s days thanks to the time difference; pictures of random things that though beautiful, (like buildings, sunsets, concert halls where he’d perform and pictures of Hansol smiling and enjoying in groups and crowds of people you didn’t even know) felt like empty fillers for absent conversation, and only served as reminders of just how tangible the distance was becoming between the two of you. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d manage to exchange ‘I love you’ messages, but even those felt hollow without his voice to make them more than just a cluster of letters pieced together on a screen.

It wasn't just the time difference though. With all the work you were both doing, you with your manuscripts, and meetings; him with his tour, appearances, and the constant need to network at parties, a common time was just something that seemed to evade you both. Each time the two of you managed to agree on a time, promising to call, your plans ended up consistently ruined by something seemingly more important; extended practices, last-minute shows, last-minute meetings, falling asleep waiting.

Suddenly it felt like the more effort either of you put into trying to catch each other, the more elusive the other became. Like trying to catch a train and arriving at the platform minutes earlier, only to realize you had been waiting on the wrong side. You watch your train stop across you on the opposite platform, so unbearably close, but utterly unreachable.

Only this time, there was no next train coming. More and more it was starting to feel like you had both just been keeping each other waiting for something that wasn't coming.

“I just miss you so much, Sol.” You finally crack. Like a dam that was only one blow away from bursting at the seams, you felt your resolve break. You could no longer pretend that this wasn’t taking as much out of you as it was, and it seemed like all the struggles of this these past months had compounded itself into one single blow wrapped up in the single syllable of his name.

Your voice cracks, a sob choking out of your throat, causing a strangled cry right as you say his name; it was a sound he'd never heard from you before. Like a thunderstorm that wracks your chest, he watches you quiver as you bury your face in your hands. As though it was painful to even think of him, or say his name, let alone look at him at this moment.

It broke him.

He ached to touch you, to wipe the tears from your face and pull you into a hug, to feel your arms around him again and reassure you that this was only a temporary struggle, but he couldn’t. Even as you were right there in front of him, there was nothing he could do to actually reach you, and it had reached the point where words barely meant anything anymore.

“I’m sorry, baby, please…” He doesn’t know what he’s pleading for – maybe for you to stop crying, or not to leave him? Whatever it is, his voice betrays the emotion that is unreadable on his face in the dim lighting of the moving vehicle driving him back to his hotel, and he feels the tears start to well up and seep out of his eyes.

Looking up from your tears, you catch a glimpse of his tears, glimmering slightly in the inconsistent beat of the streetlights as his car passed them. You had never seen Hansol cry before.

“I miss you too,” he says, no longer trying to hide the tremor in his voice, “so, so much. You don’t even know.”

He had been struggling too, you realize. Hansol had never been the type to share his worries. While you'd been caught up missing him, thinking that he was lucky to be the one in a different country filled with wonderful distractions, you hadn't thought that maybe he was hurting too.

“I know it’s hard, but we’ll be okay.” You can hear him sniffle from the other end of the line. As sad as it is, the sound makes you smile, your shoulders softening and the sobs calming down.

“I’ll be home soon, and everything will be okay.” You could hear the conviction despite the shake in his voice, completely sure of every single word he was saying.

"Everything will be okay." You repeat his words to him, hoping they also offer him some form of comfort, and in hushed whispers, the two of you repeat the words to each other, a quiet mantra of reassurance, but also a promise. That the two of you would survive this, and anything else, together.

* * *

Within the first thirty minutes of meeting his family, you’re absolutely, a hundred percent enamored. They step out of the living room to prepare dinner, giving you and Hansol some privacy on the couch. When you're quite sure they're completely out of earshot, you hook your arms around the back of Hansol's neck, pulling him into a hug with the brightest smile he'd ever seen on you.

For the first time in the year he’s been dating you, the roles were reversed. There you were, animatedly giggling and pressing what felt like a million kisses face. In tur,n making him laugh unabashedly, despite his family in the next room. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. Not enough for his liking, but just enough that it would be acceptable in his childhood home and enough to have a better vantage point for catching your fervent kisses.

“Babe,” he laughs, trying his best to keep up with your kisses. Some meeting his lips, while others he completely misses, landing elsewhere – not that he was complaining.

"I love them." You tell him and he can't help but return your beam, flashing you his signature gummy smile with his eyes forming into crescent moons, consumed by his happiness to the point they looked closed.

"I'm glad you do, baby," he says, leaning in for another kiss, this one less frantic than the previous ones. Instead, it's soft but purposeful, determined to relay with this one simple gesture the fluttering of the butterflies in his stomach and the quivering of his heart: I love you.

You return the intimate action with just as much tenderness. He doesn’t say it, but you feel it clear as day, and so you caress his face with your hands, thumbs rubbing soft circles into his cheeks. You reply, your answer hidden in the space where yours and his lips meet: I love you, too.

“They love you too, you know?” He whispers when the two of you pull apart, loosening his grip, but keeping his arm around your waist.

“You think so?”

“Hell, yeah.” He’s so quick to respond that it relaxes your shoulders that you hadn’t known were tense and exhaling a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“What the heck’s not to like?” He fluffs you up, knowing perfectly well how to boost your confidence and comfort you all in one sentence.

You look at him, examining his expression, brows furrowed in such sincere astonishment and outrage as if he couldn't fathom how someone could not like everything about you or even find something to dislike. The exaggeration is so serious that you can't help but laugh, completely forgetting what you were even worried about.

Resting your temple on his shoulder, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers, something you two didn’t usually do, but when you did, it was a quiet intimate gesture. After a few seconds of silence, you pipe up, finally verbalizing the initial thought that had made you so overjoyed in the first place.

“You think your parents would wanna adopt me?”

Hansol looks at you with a raised brow, lips puckered in confusion then laughing at the outrageousness of your request, “What the fuck, even?”

* * *

The two of you are on the couch in Hansol’s apartment – practically yours too at this point if the spare key he’d given you was any indication. But since the both of you were trying to keep it low-key, no one knew just how frequent you’d been sleeping over, let alone just what the two of you had been up to during your rather frequent and lengthy sleepovers.

Hansol is doing his usual lazy Sunday channel surfing, his eyes intently trained on the random shows that flashed on the screen. You, on the other hand, were working on a manuscript that was due at the end of this month, furiously typing away at the laptop conveniently set on your lap while your legs stretched out comfortably across his lap; his hand casually placed on your one of your knees, lovingly rubbing circles into the skin there.

“What’s that fucking word, goddammit.” You curse under your breath, pressing the tip of your thumb to your teeth and biting down on it hard, a bad habit that you’d developed to cope with moments of stress.

Without even batting an eyelash or even ungluing his eyes from the screen, Hansol absentmindedly reaches out, his hand fumbling and missing yours in the first few tries. Third time’s the charm, he manages to finally find the hand you have pressed into your mouth and gently pull it away from your bite.

“Don’t bite, baby, you’ll hurt yourself.” The words slip so lazily from his mouth, that he’s practically mumbling them. If you hadn’t known how he when he got distracted watching TV, you probably wouldn’t have even realized he’d said anything coherent.

The sentiment is so tender, so natural, and automatic to him that it makes your chest tight. You look up from your work to just look at Hansol. Admittedly, you did this far too often than you would ever confess; just watching him. Not because he was beautiful – which he undeniably was – not because you couldn't believe he was real, but you couldn't believe he was truly here with you.

Quietly, you push your laptop off you and onto the couch, careful not to call his attention, not wanting to get caught staring. You watch him; the way his chest peeked out from under the v-neckline of his shirt, its subtle rise and fall, the way his mouth opened and closed unconsciously, how his jaw would clench in reaction to the scenes on the television, and his slim fingers rubbing absentminded patterns onto the skin of your knees and calves.

Despite wanting to admire him for longer, you give in to the greater desire to reach out to him and stroke his hair, gently hooking a loose strand behind his ear and affectionately caressing his cheek. He hums in response and approval, leaning into your touch to face you with a serene expression on his face, the tiniest smile playing on the edges of his lips.

“Tired, baby?”

You shake your head in response, pulling yourself up, shifting so that you were sitting on his lap, straddling him. You put your hands on either side of his neck and he rests his head against the back of the couch to look up at your face which is now slightly higher than his, his smile soft and relaxed but inviting.

"Of you? Never, Sol. I could never." You press your lips to his, your hair falling past your shoulders and creating a curtain around the two of you. He leans up to meet your lips half-way. His hand moves up to your face, brushing your hair away, to caress your cheek. Bringing you closer and deepening the kiss, while his other hand snakes up your thigh to your hip, squeezing you there.

When the two of you pull apart some few seconds later, Hansol's eyes are no longer soft and languid. Instead, they were warm and wanting, shifting between your eyes and lips hungrily. As if contemplating if he should take you right then and there and steal the breath from your lips. Where his calm smile once was, his lips are parted, letting out shallow exhales.

You make the first move, locking your lips with his. He returns your fervor just as passionately, pulling you flush against him by the hips until there isn’t a crevice between the two of you that isn’t touching. His hands are rough and demanding, but you like his harshness as they trail down to the backs of your thighs, lifting you, and bringing you up along with him as he stands, murmuring something about heading to the bedroom as he kissed feverishly down your neck.

You can only giggle in response, arm wrapped securely around his shoulders and a hand threaded through his silver hair.

* * *

“Sometimes, you’re here, but it feels like you’re not.” You thought he would be surprised by your words, but as he sits on the couch across from you, he only nods, listening without a single hint of shock on his features.

"I'm sorry. It's just been so busy with the new album and the rehearsals, planning, and everything…" He trails off, knowing full well that you aren't interested in his excuses or his reasons, but your expression is soft as you nod, listening to him.

Your eyes meet and your irises are soft and understanding, “I know,” you sigh, “I know you’ve been busy but I–I just…” You don't know how to say the words; if you say them now, it will be an admission of weakness, a chink in the armor of yours, and Hansol's relationship that had always seemed so impenetrable.

Until now.

“It’s just that ever since you got back from your tour in America, you feel different.” The words are soft and barely above a whisper as you say them; they feel like a confession you aren’t ready to give. But you know you have to if you want to work it out, however it doesn’t make it any easier to say.

“Things were great when I got back,” his tone is so calm that it sounds almost like a suggestion instead of a defense. “I mean, those first few weeks they gave me to rest, those were really good.”

“Yeah, I guess they were.” You seem only half convinced. He was right, but deep down you also couldn’t shake the feeling that something in the foundations of your dynamic had shifted.

“Sometimes, I feel like I have to choose between you and my music, and I don’t want to have to choose.”

You swallow the lump that forms in your throat at his words. You understood exactly what he meant; it had been good for those first two weeks. It was only recently when he'd been spending more late hours, entire days and nights at the studio preparing for his upcoming album, that you’d become more restless.

Before you can reply to apologize, he speaks first, “but it’s okay. I know me being gone was hard on you.”

“It was hard on both of us, Sol. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be asking so much that you feel like you have to choose between the things you love most.” At your reply, he takes your hands that are folded across your lap and he rubs soft patterns into your knuckles. Smiling, he brings them to his lips and presses soft kisses there, one on each before intertwining your fingers with his.

“I’m really glad you told me though, I mean, I know it’s hard, I know I’m – um, not the easiest when it comes to talking about things like this, but thanks,” he clears his throat, masking the emotion in a cough, “for telling me.”

Finally, he looks up from your hands and meets your teary-eyed gaze. “I know I’m not an expert at being a boyfriend, but I am still your best friend, so even if it’s hard, I’m happy you told me.”

Before he can say more, you quickly interject, "I love you." The words spill out of you in a rushed exhale and it doesn't help that you were in tears already.

“I love you, Hansol.” You repeat, firmer and clearer this time. You watch him tilt his head sideways, processing your words before exhaling in a light chuckle of relief. This time it’s your turn to pull his hands close and press a kiss to the soft skin there. You let your lips linger for a moment, some of your tears falling onto his hands.

He shifts his hands, changing the position to cup your face in a loving caress, tilting your jaw so you can meet his eyes, “I love you, too. For as long as I can.”

“Everything will be okay.” You say it first, the words that you know will reassure you both that you’d get through this. Hansol’s eyes light up in recognition and he nods, pulling you by the nape into a warm hug.

* * *

“Sol, are you here? I’m home, baby.” You call out into the apartment as you enter, your feet pushing the front door open, keys jangling from one hand, the other full of groceries.

Like clockwork, he comes out of your bedroom to welcome you home, a bright smile on his face. Upon seeing your somewhat haphazard, but still lovely state, he hurries to take the bags from your hands and relieve you of the weight.

“You went to the grocery?” He asks, setting the bags onto the counter and giving you a confused look, “I thought you and Sofia had a date today?”

“Yeah, we did.” You reply, helping him unpack. “We went for lunch after the movie, then groceries.”

Ever since you'd met his family six months ago, you and his sister were inseparable; meeting every month for dates that would last entire days, some even resulting in sleepovers at the Choi house (without Hansol, much to his dismay). It was an understatement that the two of you adored each other. While you often helped her with her homework and general teenage concerns, she often talked with you about books or songs you liked, giving you the female companionship you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

It wasn't that you didn't love all the boys to bits; you had lots of common interests with them and could even spend countless days talking to each one about various meaningful topics. They were always so sweet and entertaining, and it had always been apparent that they had adored you just as much, but there was just something different about talking to another female – even if it was oftentimes her brother at the center of your discussions – something that felt warm, familiar and comfortable.

“You two are weird.” Hansol muses. “Sometimes, I feel like you’re dating my sister and not me.”

“Honestly, I’d date your sister. She’s great.” You tease, playing along. He laughs at the sentiment as he, transfers oranges from the bag to a fruit bowl, setting it onto the table.

“But,” hopping over, you startle him by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close, “you’re the only one I want to do this with.”

Stepping onto your tiptoes, you press a kiss to his lips, and he bends down, arms wrapping around your waist as he leans down to return the gesture.

When you pull apart, arms still encircling each other, he smiles your favorite kind of smile and presses a kiss to your forehead, "I'm glad you didn't decide to sleepover at our house today, you spend way too much time with Sofia.”

You laugh, tipping your head back and falling backward with your full weight, knowing full well that Hansol's sturdy arms will catch you with ease, pulling you to his chest.

“Hansol Choi!” You feign shock, “Is that jealousy I hear in your voice? Are you actually jealous?”

“No way, loser.” He scoffs, setting you upright and unwrapping himself from you and walking towards his phone on the coffee table. From the side, you can see that a slight rosiness has spread across his cheeks and you giggle to yourself in pride that you’ve finally won a round in this back and forth you two had going.

“I can’t even believe she wants to babysit you, free of charge too.” He calls over his shoulder as he disappears into your shared room, as you laugh in response.

That night, Hansol falls asleep browsing his phone and as you’re prying it out of his sleepy hands, you feel the device vibrate, lighting up beneath your touch. On the screen, you see it’s a notification for a message from Sofia that reads: “You’re just jealous cause she likes me so much better.”

Opening the phone with your thumbprint (which Hansol insisted you input onto his phone for “emergency purposes” which were really just moments when he was too lazy to text), it opens to their conversation where you can see Hansol’s previous message: "Stop stealing my girlfriend."

Locking his phone and setting it down onto the bedside table, you settle beside him and giggle under your breath as you watch him sleep. You press a butterfly kiss to his forehead, a silent good night gesture, and the tiniest hint of a smile flutters across his lips.

* * *

The airport is a jam-packed hall of people rushing left and right, some trying to get to their luggage, while others are trying to chase down their flights; some flying home to their families, some to work, and some you imagine, are frantically trying to reach a love they are hoping they aren’t too late for.

Maybe it’s all the romance movies you’d watched with Hansol this week leading up to his departure, or maybe it was the melancholy you just couldn’t shake from your chest, your stomach doing flips as you anticipated having to say goodbye to him in a few minutes.

Beside you, he's calmly and very casually looking over his flight details, checking the boards for his flight number and check-in gate. Trying to distract yourself, you stare down at the tile of the terminal beneath your feet. Unlike you, they are made to withstand goodbyes. These halls have probably heard the word goodbye more than hospitals have, and you wonder how many ever actually return.

Deep down, you know you’re being too emotional about all of this. It was just two months, three tops. He wasn’t going away forever, and it was for his work, his dream. Finally, the thing he had been chasing so earnestly was slowly coming to fruition and you wouldn’t let yourself get in his way.

The good intention, however, does nothing to calm the pit that only deepens in your stomach as his departure draws nearer and nearer; Hansol knew how you felt about goodbyes, he knew your relationship with your parents (as non-existent as it was) and how their abandonment had scarred you. Still, you put on a brave face, you place your hand on his shoulder, grabbing his attention and pointing to the numbers in red on the departures board that you recognize to be his flight number.

"Your gate’s F-18," you tell him, peering over his shoulder to double-check and cross-reference the numbers with his documents, "and it opens in about 30 minutes."

“Thanks, babe,” he smiles, taking your hand in his, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The sentiment is sweet, but you know he’s just saying it to ease the anxiety he knows is building in you, despite being invisible on the surface. Pulling you to an emptier section of chairs in the massive lobby of the airport, he sits the both of you down and intertwines your fingers with his, placing it in his lap. With his other hand, he types a quick message to his producer that he’s already arrived and would just see her inside at the boarding area.

“Breathe, baby.” He whispers in your ear, pulling you out of your racing thoughts. He presses two fingers to your lower lip that you’ve unconsciously taken in between your teeth in your nervousness.

“And please stop biting, you’ll hurt yourself.” He smiles, placing his free hand on the side of your face and pulling your head close to him to press a kiss to the side of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair as he does.

“Sorry,” you bow your head in shame, leaning into the feel of his lips in your hair, and pressing your shoulder into his, reveling in any comfort you can find in his warmth.

Angling his head to the side to give you a better view of his face, he gives you a kind and understanding smile as he shakes his head. “You don’t have to be sorry. I know it’s hard.”

You meet his eyes and in them, there’s nothing less than adoration and empathy. The sight shatters your guard, and you feel the hot moisture start to build in your eyes, the image of Hansol slowly becoming blurry.

Again, he hugs you to him, pulling you into the crook of his neck. Finally giving in, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the comfortable space, silently pouring your heart out there.

“There’s my little cry baby, y/n,” he chuckles, alternating between rubbing your back and smoothing your hair, “for a minute there, I thought you transformed into some, alien mature version of yourself, yuck.”

“You’re such a dick, Hansol Vernon Choi.” you sob into his shoulder, voice breaking as you reprimand and slap his shoulder. It only makes him laugh harder. “I can’t believe you’re laughing at me right now.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, chuckling as he tilts your chin up to face him, “you were just trying so hard to act tough, I couldn’t leave you like that. Besides, you’re so cute when you cry.”

He presses his lips to yours in apology; if he tastes the tears, he doesn't say, not that he minded anyway. He would take all of you anytime, rain or shine, in laughter, and even in cute sobs in the middle of busy airports.

“It’ll be okay, baby. Just a few months.” He rubs your shoulder as your tears subside into soft sniffles, “I’ll call you every day and we’ll talk all the time, I promise. It’ll be so often that you’re gonna get sick of me anyway.”

You shake your head, slapping his shoulder again as you pull him closer to you. "I could never. Never ever, Hansol, don’t be a fucking dumbass.”

“I know, y/n, I’m just teasing you. I’m gonna miss that while I’m away.”

“What? Teasing me?” You pout.

“No, you physically abusing me when I tease you.”

You shift, facing him completely, your face tear-stained, but more visibly annoyed than anything else. His eyes are watching you intently, anticipating your reaction while he bites his lips, obviously trying to fight a smile from breaking out.

Letting out an exasperated huff of air, you say the only thing you can think to as a final resort. "I'm going to tell mom and Sofia on you."

That’s all it takes for him to burst into boisterous laughter that makes other waiting passengers look over at the two of you, some of his saliva splattering onto you as he grips your shoulders, shaking you playfully as he buries his face into your shoulder as he tries to calm himself.

Not immune to his charms, you feel yourself swayed by the sound of his laughter, finding yourself laughing along with him. You're sure that more people are staring at the two of you at this point, but you don't care. Right now, you were completely swept up in his laughter and you would savor the happiness while it lasted. You laugh until your sides hurt and you both can no longer breathe properly.

Once your giggles have subsided into bright smiles, he wipes the tears that have pooled in his eyes from laughing. Then he pulls the sleeve of his sweatshirt and reaches up to clean your tears and his spit from your face, which at this point, can no longer be differentiated.

Looking over at his watch, you note that there are only ten minutes left before he has to check-in. You look at him, straightening the orange beanie on his head, "Don't worry about me, okay Sol? I'll be fine, just come home to me."

Automatically he replies, “of course. Always.”

Right on cue, the airport announces the opening of his gate and you unwrap yourself from him, the two of you getting up to head to his counter where the two of you would inevitably have to part. The two of you walk there in silence, fingers intertwined.

Once you reach the gate, you face him with a smile, pressing a kiss to his lips and telling him to take care. When you try to untangle your hand from his, surprisingly he's the one who doesn't want to let go. He pulls you back into his arms, crushing you in a hug that seems to last for an eternity, but not nearly long enough. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply as if trying to catch and memorize your scent.

“I’ll see you soon, okay y/n?” He whispers into your skin, but you can tell that the words are more for him than they are for you.

“I’ll see you soon, baby.” You rub his back, giving him a squeeze, before prying him off you, withdrawing from the hug to set some distance between you. He kisses you once, twice then thrice more, before finally grabbing his luggage and heading to the entrance. When he reaches it though, he turns around, waving as he calls out, “I miss you already!” Knowing exactly what he was trying to say, the actual words that if he said might cause you to cry, you fight the tears.

“I miss you already!” You yell back; I love you too.

"Oh!" He turns around, facing you again, "And don't tell my mom or Sofia on me, please? If you do, I won't hear the end of it. We both know they love you more than me."

You laugh, motioning for him to go through the security check already, “I’ll think about it!”

* * *

When the boys find out, it’s a wild and complete understatement to describe it as a literal fucking shitshow. That morning, Hansol is at the dining table having breakfast – technically brunch since he'd woken up later than he intended thanks to last night's antics – scrolling through his phone, and you're hovering over him, clad in nothing but his white-button up, pouring freshly brewed coffee into his cup. As you do, he notices how the shirt hikes up your form in the slightest, but most delicious way, revealing just a sliver of the skin of your backside.

Immediately, he finds himself distracted by something else. Setting his phone down, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you to him in one swift movement, setting the coffee pot out of your hands.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He says bending you over to him, so he can kiss you, his hand finding the now more exposed skin of your rear, as you press your lips to his.

“Oh, my fucking god.” You recognize Jun’s voice, followed by rushed footfalls with worried and shocked shouts. Immediately recognizing the voices, Hansol is on his feet in a flash, covering you up as you try to maintain whatever modesty you still have.

In the doorway, there stood your 12 closest friends – the very people you had been hiding this relationship from – cramming themselves through the doorway craning their necks to see.

"I fucking knew it!" Mingyu breaks the tension, enunciating every word while pushing past the others, striding into the apartment proudly. “Wonwoo, Coups, Seungkwan, and Minghao, pay up."

His composure is enough to snap everyone out of their shock and the entire apartment ensues into chaos. Jun coming in to set his things and the snacks they’d bought onto the dining table beside you, smiling brightly and congratulating you and Hansol.

"I knew you two would eventually date. This is so great, congratulations you guys, we should go on a double date sometime." Somehow, he had managed to be utterly sweet and sincere, while completely oblivious or just indifferent to the fact that you were almost completely naked.

As Jun moved to find a spot in the room, behind him, the boys were arguing loudly, Seungcheol stomping his foot while debating fiercely with Mingyu, "Nu-uh, if they don't say they’re dating, it doesn’t count!”

Beside him, Seungkwan and Minghao are fervently agreeing and contesting Mingyu who was laughing loudly, shaking his head, and having none of it.

Hoshi on the other hand – who you noticed had just changed his hair color to a deep green– was coming in hot. His excitement had him practically bouncing to you and Hansol, shouting, “Our Vernonnie is a man now! You two are so cute! Don’t forget to use protection, okay?”

From behind him, DK comes bounding in, placing his hands on his hyung’s back affectionately, before chiming in, “Congratulations, Hansolie! You’re really lucky to have y/n.”

You almost melt at his sweet words, but that sentiment quickly evaporates when he adds, “And don’t worry,” he looks to you, “we didn’t see anything.”

“Yup, nothing at all we promise!” Hoshi agrees, both winking at you as though it's an inside joke and you are so fucking mortified you could choke on air and die right then.

"We should have brought alcohol and more food since we’re celebrating Vernon losing his virginity!” Jeonghan complains from across the room, loud enough that despite the noise bustling in the apartment, everyone hears him perfectly.

From the couch, Dino raises his phone and calls out, “I can order more food.”

On the side, the boys are still arguing, angrily quarreling as they walked towards you both. “Y/n, Hansol, please tell these dummies that you two are actually soulmates and that you both have the sight and are happily dating, please?” Mingyu demands and you feel your mouth open reflexively to answer him, but so overwhelmed by the situation that nothing comes out.

“See? She isn’t saying anything! It’s not true!” Seungkwan argues, pointing at whose face is frozen at flabbergasted, mouth open and brows furrowed.

“Yeah, silence means no!” Seungcheol argues, lightly punching Mingyu in the arm, “Right Hansol? Don’t forget I’m you’re hyung." Confused, you wonder how the conversation has evolved from mere chaos to down-right intimidation and threat-filled.

“Don’t listen to him bro,” Mingyu coaxes Hansol, “love shouldn’t be hidden away!”

“Friends can sleep with each other and not have to be soulmates, Mingyu!” Wonwoo counters, “Sex and love aren’t mutually exclusive, Gyu.”

All this happens within the first minutes they arrive, and you find yourself reaching for Hansol’s hand for comfort. He takes it easily, perfectly in sync with you, squeezes it gently to offer his strength, a silent promise that he'll take care of it.

Somehow, you and Hansol manage to slip past everyone; him covering you from every angle he possibly can as you scamper into his room, immediately closing the door and locking it, so rushed that it slams loud enough that a sudden silence washes over the entire apartment.

The two of you take a breath. You look at him and his eyes meet yours almost instantly and the flustered look on both your faces is all it takes for you to erupt into embarrassed laughter, burying your face into his shoulder. At the sound, he finds himself unable to keep from joining you, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting hug, his hands moving to the back of your head, smoothing out your hair in downward motions.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Hansol chuckles, “I forgot they had a spare key, too.” You shake your head at him, still laughing at the craziness of the moment. He didn’t have to apologize, you had both forgotten, all caught up in your bliss.

“Please don’t break up with me.” He jokes, kissing your temple and you laugh even more.

“I love you, Hansol.” You kiss the skin of his neck as you hug him tightly.

* * *

It’s been almost two months since Hansol returned from his tour in America. After some bumps here and there, the two of you had finally fallen into a comfortable rhythm to navigate daily life. He was still spending most of his time at the studio, but you'd both worked out a schedule wherein you'd have a day every other week that would be yours and yours alone. There were also no more overnight songwriting sessions unless they were absolutely necessary.

You, on the other hand, had learned not to ask for too much of Hansol's time. Things were different now with his growing popularity, naturally, you couldn't expect things to stay the same. So, you busy yourself with work, hanging out with the boys, dates with Sofia, and even some classes you've decided to take for yourself.

Admittedly, the transition had been somewhat of a rough patch in your relationship, but after a long period, you were starting to feel like the two of you were finally in sync again. Coming out stronger and more understanding to each other. The constant reassurances you’d given each other had paid off, because now things finally were okay.

“Babe, you headin’ out already?” Hansol’s voice from the bedroom, pulls you out of your reverie and you’re brought back to your reflection staring back at you in the mirror, out in the hallway.

Giving yourself a once over, you realize it had been snowing lately and it would be good to wear a scarf, knowing how easily you got cold. “Yeah, almost. Could you hand me my lavender scarf?” The one you got me when you first confessed like a loser, you want to say, but don’t. If you started the teasing match with him now, you’d never make it to class.

Popping out of your bedroom, he walks over to you. “Here you go,” he says wrapping the scarf around your neck then pulling you in for a hug. He kisses your forehead, telling you to be careful and have fun, before turning around and heading back where he came, dragging his feet tiredly as he goes.

You turn around to check your reflection again, wanting to straighten out the scarf knowing it’s probably strewn haphazardly on you, judging from how lazy a mood Hansol seemed to be in. You freeze, seeing your reflection, finally seeing the scarf clearly and realizing.

It’s blue.

The 5 minutes it takes for you to snap out of your shock feel like forever, but you pull yourself out of it, tearing your eyes away from the vibrantly not lavender scarf. Forcing your mouth to move, you call out, “Bye, Sol, I’m headed out now. I love you.”

It takes what seems like an eternity for him to reply, but once it comes, it seems to echo through the dimly lit apartment, taunting you even as you turn the knob and walk out the door.

“I love you too.”

3. Love is a fickle thing: if you find it, treasure it, because color can leave twice as quickly as it comes.

Fin.

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