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atzfilm · 1 year

Text

— the kraken; (m)

— kraken!yunho/f.reader, 25.5k

— fantasy, fluff, angst, smut

— finding a man in the middle of a snowstorm, you try your best to figure out how to get him back home.

— content warnings under cut

— a/n; rewrite of one of my old fics ♡ hope you enjoy ;;

content; fire, injuries, hospital, cussing, smut: watersports, tentacles

“Only three?” Jongho pouts, holding up the oranges in his hand. “But it’s buy four get one free, you don’t want to give a farmer some extra money?”

You snort, nodding as he quickly adds two more to your bag before you could protest. “You aren’t even a farmer, your grandparents are. And we’re not even close to any fruit fields. We’re next to a beach, Jong.”

Jongho and you have been friends ever since you stumbled into his shop one night after a high school breakup, tears running down your cheeks. Instead of the noble thing, he told you to make sure not to put your makeup on anything and passed you an old bread they didn’t sell during the day. At the time, you were pissed off at him for being so inconsiderate, but looking back at it now, he probably didn’t know how to respond to a random stranger walking into his parent’s, well now his, store. After seeing him in the halls and apologizing for that mess of a night you had, your relationship with him grew pretty quickly. By the time a month passed, you’re sure you knew everything about him. Insecurities and all.

Fate brought you into that shop that night, and you’ve never been more grateful for it.

He shrugs, showing you your total before you hand him the cash. “I’m just trying to run a business here, if a white lie gets me an extra dollar who really wins in the end?” he passes you your bag and you thank him, tucking it into your larger one. “Who cares if you’re my best friend and you know everything about me? You just found out about my grandparents ten years ago. People forget you know.”

You laugh, “Just ten years ago? God, I really should invest my money into other things. Like Walmart.”

He gasps, holding his hand over his chest in mock shock. “Walmart? You’d buy their pesticide-filled fruit over my luscious, moist plants? Is this who we are now?”

You stick your tongue at him. “Please don’t say moist. See you at the barn tonight. And don’t forget your pie, you know that Mingi would have a fit if you don’t bring it.”

You see the soft red on his cheeks darken, eyes flicking away from yours. “A-ah, right. Pie.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure that’s not the only thing he wants to eat tonight.” You quickly navigate out the shop, expertly dodging the old bread Jongho throws at you as you wave goodbye, closing the door lightly behind you.

You’ve lived in this town most of your life, moving into your grandparents' home after your parents' divorce. It’s not like they didn’t want you, they love you and still do. But sometimes, relationships are difficult to maintain. And for better or worse, you all agreed that spending time with your grandparents seemed like the best for everyone. For that, you’re thankful. You can't imagine yourself anywhere else.

You glance both ways before crossing the street, tucking a hand in your pocket. The sky looks a bit dark today, but you don’t recall seeing rain in the forecast. Maybe a sudden storm? The weather reports aren’t always accurate but from the look of those clouds, you can only guess it’s more than a light sprinkle. You tug your zipper up higher, unlocking your car door.

“Shit,” you shiver as you turn up the heat, placing your bag to the side and driving away.

Your mornings consist of you waking up, going to visit Jongho at his store, then going back home to organize some loose ends that they left behind before you went back to work. This week you’re off from your job, Mingi insisting that you need a break. You’ve worked at the bookstore-library combo for longer than you could remember, to the point where you’re now a co-owner, next to him. You couldn’t believe your eyes when Mingi handed you the paperwork to make you partial owner, tears springing to your eyes. He laughed at you but you could tell how much it affected him as well, explaining that he had dust in his eyes as he wiped tears. It was an easy choice at the time; Mingi has been your best friend longer than Jong has. Two peas in a pod.

Your phone rings, and you glance at the caller ID on the dash, before picking it up. Speak of the devil.

“Aren’t I supposed to be on vacation, sir?” You say, slowing down to a red. “Why are you calling me? I’m going to deduct this from my vacation.”

“Please shut up,” Mingi whines, and you only laugh. “I was just calling you to let you know that the forecast just called for a storm, so don’t go to the barn tonight.”

“What? But it’s the annual town fundraiser, how can I just not go? Everyone is going to be there!” You beep loudly at a car cutting into your lane, sighing loudly. “Idiots.” You murmur.

“Yea, I know. But we both know how you drive. I don’t want you to get into any accidents or worse. Just, stay off the road, okay?”

“Mingi, you don’t have to worry about me. You know that.”

“Yea,” his voice cracks, but you can’t tell if it’s the reception or him himself. “But I do anyway.”

Your relationship with Mingi is unique. You consider him a brother rather than just a best friend. He’s always been there. You honestly cannot think of a moment where he wasn’t always present; your middle school graduation, high school graduation, college graduation. When you were engaged at some point but broke it off just hours before the wedding. He’s your rock, and you are his. So you never blame him if he worries. You’d do the same if you were in his position.

“Fine. But I’m still going, rain or shine. I’ll take my bike instead, or walk. It’s only a few minutes away.”

“y/n…”

“Nothing you say is going to stop me from going. You might as well accept it. I’ll just call you when I leave the house, alright?” You pull into your driveway, glancing at his profile picture. It’s the day you graduated, faces squished against one another as you scream in happiness. “And don’t even try to offer to drive me there. You’re the host.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Fine. But please at least text me. I know you’re going to forget to call like you always do.”

You frown. “No need to point that out, asshole.”

“Haha. But seriously, stay safe. If you think it looks too risky out there just stay home. There are so many more events during the year you can come to. I’ll talk to you later!”

He hangs up before you can add another snide remark. You roll your eyes, grab your phone and bag and leave the car. You glance up at the home they left you. It’s an older style, the wood panels peeling off the sides, roof in stable condition. It’s enough to last for the remainder of the year, but you’re not too sure if it’s going to go beyond that. Of course, you’re forever grateful for them passing it down to you, but you can’t help but think about how much it’s going to cost to fix it all. Hopefully Seonghwa, your local contractor and good friend, could somehow give you a decent enough estimate in the appointment this week so that you could save and by the end of the year, Have enough to pass your budget in case there's any hiccups, he says.

You unlock the door, tossing your keys to the side and dropping your coat on the rack. You stretch, humming to yourself lightly as you go to the pantry, placing your oranges in the bowl. They’ve been preparing for the event for months, a yearly festival where they raise funds for the local library and other small shops that need it. It’s always successful, several thousands of dollars immediately allocated to where it needs to go. And despite Mingi being one of the recipients of the awards, he hasn’t hosted it until now.

You sit down, glancing over your documents as you sigh. He insisted that you’d take care of this tonight even though you suspect it’s because of the weather, to keep you home. You crack your knuckles, pulling up the information on your laptop and home computer.

Two can play at that game.

You lock your door behind you, grabbing the umbrella lying next to your mailbox. You can only imagine Jongho running up to your house in disgust at how you still haven’t gotten an umbrella holder after years of living here, but you digress. You’re cutting it a bit close to the time, but it’s enough to get there a few minutes late. Not to be too harsh, but there are mostly older people living in this town. Mingi, Jongho, and you are part of the very few younger people residing here.

You can recall your mayor constantly pointing you out whenever there are town halls, explaining how the “youth” would like change. Even with your blatant disgust at him wanting a large corporation to move into town, he still tried to use your face at the meeting to make it seem as if you were supporting the expansion. You could only scoff at him, shaking your head. If only they allowed citizens to make remarks without having to reserve the spot weeks before.

You open your umbrella above you, already hearing the pitter-patter of rain splattering across the concrete. You glance up at the sky, the clouds staring angrily down at you. Maybe you’ll make it before it actually begins to pour. Jongho promised that he’d take you home after so there’s no need to worry about that. You increase your pace anyway, the vision of a drowned rat circling in your head.

As you walk, you glance over at the ocean. An odd shadow sits on the creek, almost blending with the sand and dark ocean. It doesn't quite look like a body shape, maybe distorted by the distance and your subpar eyesight. You look once more before looking away, your nerves high. Your neighborhood hasn’t had any violent crimes for hundreds of years, but you wouldn’t like to be the first.

And so, the jogging begins.

“You’ve made it!” Seonghwa holds the door open for you and you thank him, placing your umbrella on the hook. Luckily, you’ve made it before the brunt of the storm unscathed, a few droplets barely hitting your shirt. “Wait, did you walk here?”

“How else would I get here Min?” You nudge him, glancing around the room. It’s busier than you thought, already half the town filling the barn. Glass jar lights hanging from the beams, something Seonghwa more than likely came up with. The lighting is dim enough to make it feel homey inside. You see Mingi running back and forth across the room, thanking people for coming and handling issues that pop up.

“How long has he been like that?” You ask Seonghwa. He gives you a sheepish look, rubbing the back of his head.

“For hours now. I don’t think he’s stopped moving since I came here.”

You sigh, quickly walking up to him and stopping him in the middle of another sprint. His eyes meet yours and he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, you groaning against his shirt as he says something too quickly for you to understand. He pulls back, about to navigate around you before you stop him in his tracks.

“y/n…” He whines. “I have so many things to deal with, there’s no time for games.”

“You’re sweating in an air-conditioned room that’s freezing. And Seonghwa told me that you haven’t gotten a break this whole time. Mingi, relax. Everything is fine. You’re fine, and people are having a good time. There’s no reason to stress yourself over this, okay?”

He sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Fine, fine. But, um, have you seen Jongho? It’s been an hour or so and he’s always early to these things?” He glances around you, a hint of a blush decorating his cheeks.

“No, I haven’t. Did you text him? He hasn’t answered any of mine…” You look at your phone, your message read, but never responded to. It’s unlike him to ever miss a message; the man is glued to his phone most of the day since businesses around here never truly get busy unless it’s a holiday. “Should I be worried? Maybe I’m worried–”

“y/n, relax. He’s fine, he’s probably up to no good like usual. I’m sure he’ll show up sooner or later,” Mingi squeezes your arm. “And I’m glad you made it here fine,” he frowns slightly. “Even though you didn’t listen to me.”

You roll your eyes, stepping to the side. “I’m a grown woman, Mingi. I can take care of myself. How about you go and track down the mayor? I’m sure he’s somewhere around here spewing some shit to make people vote for him again.”

He lets out a loud sigh, “Fuck him. You should run next time, we need young people more involved.”

“Absolutely not,” you push him in a random direction, him blowing you a kiss before he disappears into the crowd.

There’s a lot more people here than you expected, even the younger people of your community gathering inside. You’re not that shocked; Mingi’s charisma demands a crowd, even during high school. The man smiles and people swoon. With an event like this? He could probably gather the whole town without even trying. And as you push your way through, bumping and stepping over toes, saying hellos, you’re sure at least half the population is in this barn. But still, no sign of Jongho. You know Mingi told you not to worry, but you messaged him again, and no response.

you: are you okay? you’re not one to just disappear :( do you need help with anything

Again, read. Zero response. Either he left his phone open on your chat and is pissed, or… something has happened.

You step outside, away from the loud music, and dial his number. You quicken your steps to his store and home, your anxiety rising.

“Hey, it’s Jongho! If you’re listening to this, I’m either dead or exhausted. Leave a message after the be-”

You hang up, and dial his number again.

“Hey, it’s Jongho!…”

You turn the corner, bright orange and yellow flashing in your eyes. Your phone slips from your fingers, cracking on the pavement as you stare in shock. Flames rise to the sky of Jongho ’s home, bright against the dark night. Your legs pump underneath you, thoughts filled only with Jongho . The burning heat feels as if it melts your skin as you push through the doors.

"Jongho!"

Flames glide along the floor, burning everything in sight. You stick close to the floor, covering your mouth with your scarf as you glance around for any sign of Jongho . The glass scattered across the tiles dig into your skin, adrenaline masking the pain. Blood drips each time you slide, but you ignore it. Your eyes flick to an open door, and without much of a thought, you crawl through.

Jongho’s head is tilted to the side, body slump against his desk chair, head thrown back in an odd position and stained with blood. Your legs want to buckle underneath you at the sight, but you push through, reaching out and grabbing him by the shoulders, carefully placing him on the floor. He’s heavy, you struggle as you pull him through the flames. The heat burns your skin as you scream in pain, tears rolling down your cheeks, smoke slowly filling your lungs.

Your head is dizzy, fingers slipping as you fall back to the floor. You groan, glancing down at your ankle, seeing it turned in an odd position. Did this just happen? Were you walking with it this whole time? You gag, your body weakening as you struggle to grab him.

“Please,” Your tears are hot as they fall down your cheeks, eyes on him. This isn’t what you wanted. Jongho and you were supposed to be at the barn, celebrating Mingi’s first hosting as you all laughed at the strange citizens in your small town. But here you are staring at him, knowing that you don’t have the energy to pull you two the rest of the way.

“I’m sorry,” you can’t even say the words properly, coughing through your sentence, eyes fluttering as your throat burns. Before your eyes shut, you feel arms embrace your body. Wet, cold, different from the heat around you. But you don’t get a chance to see who it is, your head tilting forward as you pass out.

“y/n? Is she waking up?”

“It will take a moment, her lungs were filled with smoke. I’m surprised the patient even lasted that long with it. In ordinary circumstances…” The voice trails off.

“She isn’t ordinary.”

“Quiet down, your voice might disturb her.”

“Ah, sorry. I’m just worried.”

“I know, I know. Just be patient, she will wake soon.”

You blink slowly, a throbbing headache greeting you as you open your eyes. You take a long breath, your throat scratchy. Coughs overtake you as you lean forward, trying to figure out exactly where you are.

“y/n?! Nurse!” You feel arms hold you. You turn to the touch through your tears, the brown, wavy hair of your friend appearing between. He looks at you, eyes flicking between yours.

“I’m okay, Jong. I’m okay,” you clear your throat, the burn making you cough again. A nurse walks in before you can protest, checking your vital signs and handing you a bottle of water. You drink it slowly, the strange feeling slowly dwindling down to nothing.

“You’ll be fine,” the nurse says, smiling at you. “It’s pure luck that there wasn’t any damage to your lungs, this man over here too,” he tilts her chin to Jongho. “You lowered him to the ground and probably saved his life. A hero. Call me if you need anything. On the coms, please.” He holds up the button next to your bed, glancing at the monitor before disappearing from the room.

“Mingi and Seonghwa came, but they had to leave because their businesses needed to open,” Jongho explains, letting out a loud sigh. “You scared me, you know. Why the Hell would you enter a burning building? You could have died, y/n. I wouldn’t have been able to live with that.”

You frown, drinking more water before speaking again. “Are you kidding me? You could have died if I didn’t go in there! Was I just supposed to stare and wait for a firetruck to come? Is that what you want?”

“Yes! Yes, I wanted you to wait for the professionals to handle it. And now look at you,” he gestures to your arm, wrapped in bandages from your shoulder to the tips of your fingers. “You’re hurt because of me.”

“I don’t regret running in there and helping you. I’m sure you would do the same if it was me. I care about you Jong, I’m not the type to just stand by and watch someone like that happen. A thank you would be nice,” you murmur the last line, giving him a side glance.

He’s quiet for a moment. You feel the soft touch of his hand slowly curling with yours. You look at him, and you can see the concern lining his eyes as he watches you. He looks wrecked as well, right arm resting in a sling, left covered in gauze. Cuts scattered across his face. But it’s less than you thought, and for that you’re grateful.

“Thank you,” he mumbles softly. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I’m sorry for arguing with you, really. I just… I hate to see you hurt. I can’t even picture not seeing you for a day, let alone for the rest of my life. Just, thank you. And please be careful, you’re not a superhero. You’re y/n.”

You smile at him, leaning back into the bed. “You’re welcome.”

Your mind runs back to when you collapsed on the floor, a mysterious figure whispering something to you before you grew unconscious. It wasn’t a firefighter, that you could remember. Their clothes were dark, but you couldn’t make out their face. God, what did they say to you?

“Jong, was there anyone else at the scene? Did anyone tell you anything?”

“What do you mean?” he furrows his brows. “It was just us. Don’t you remember? You dragged the both of us outside. If we were still in there, we could have died. You saved us.”

“No, no I didn’t,” You try leaning up again, but Jongho pushes you back down.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Jongho, I couldn’t make it to the entrance. The smoke was too much, I couldn’t breathe and fell to the floor. There’s no possible way I could have made it out.”

He tilts his head in confusion. “Then how did we get outside? They didn’t mention anyone else.”

“I…” Did you imagine it? No, you could remember those last moments clearly. It was smoky, but there was enough clarity to see someone in front of you, helping you. Did they leave after they brought you outside? Why would they do that, wouldn’t they make sure you were safe? “I don’t know what happened, but I didn’t do it. Someone else did, I’m sure of it.”

“Well,” he shrugs. “They didn’t see anyone else. I don’t know how someone would be able to, anyway. The fire spread so quickly, you would have been burned trying to get through it. But…” he grins, glancing at you.

“Guess you’re not my hero anymore.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’m kidding, I'm kidding– hey, that’s my bad arm!”

The next few weeks are rough. Walking on your two feet is wobbly at first and holding things without it hitting your cuts is even worse, but you get through it. Eventually, they heal enough for you to go through daily tasks with less pain. Mingi takes it easy on you though, making you sit at the front desk and help customers that enter, sometimes picking up the phone when he isn’t lingering around to pull every single task away from you. You insist that you can handle walking around and fixing fixtures or putting books back, but he doesn’t sway from his decision. Mingi didn’t want you to come back to work this soon, pushing you to take a paid vacation. But you can’t imagine yourself shut in your home, staring at the wall, or watching television all day. Surrounded by books is something that you love, staying away is the last thing you want to do.

“Please give it a rest,” he whines, taking a book from your hand. “Your hands aren’t going to heal properly if you continue to break them open. Please.”

“It’s fine,” you try grabbing it again, but he only guides you into your chair, fingers lightly pressing into the bruises that still line your arms. You wince slightly and he panics, glancing over you.

“Oh my god I’m sorry–”

“I swear if you apologize for nudging me, I will resign.”

“I’m sorry. Now will you go home?”

“No.”

He rubs his face in frustration. “How have I ended up with the best and worst employee in my entire life? You know I could force you to go home since I am your boss.”

“We are co-owners, Mingi,” you stick your tongue at him. “And if I want to come in I can. Don’t be whiny.”

“I care about you, that’s all,” he frowns. “Be more careful, I’m serious. I’ll file a complaint on you and force you to go home if I have to.”

“With who?”

“Jongho.”

You gasp, turning around to him as he walks around you and places the book in the return cart. “Mingi–!”

“Yea, I’m using the big guns. You’re not scared of me, but Jongho would make you go home. You know he’s already wary about this anyway,” Mingi sits next to you. “I feel like I’m your parent.”

“You’re acting like one too,” you glance at the computer. “I’ll be more careful. Having these bandages on sucks, and they stink really bad at the end of the day.”

“You’re honestly the grossest person I’ve ever met.”

“At least I don’t track my crush's poops on an app,” you murmur.

“He asked me!”

“Ah, so you admit you and Jong have a thing?” You wiggle your eyebrows. He flicks your forehead, getting up from the seat. You reach out to kick the back of his legs, but he steps forward quick enough to evade your lunges. His laugh echoes around the store as he disappears into the back. You make a mental note to pay him back later, clicking on the search engine.

Search results for: how long does it take for someone to die from smoke inhalation

You click on the first website you see.

Smoke inhalation can kill a human in only a few minutes, as well as creating disorientation and obscuring vision. There is a possibility that the person may become unconscious, quickly leading to death. Long-term injuries…

You tap on your mouse lightly, rubbing your hand. Jongho and you would have died if you stayed on that floor for just a few moments more. How did this person even survive long enough to pull you two out? The possibility is close to zero.

“Who are you?” You say, staring at the screen.

You wave to Mingi as you walk inside your home, locking the door behind you. You kick your shoes to the side, throwing your bags on your couch. Your eyes flick to the kitchen, water running. Before you turn it off, an almost moist, slimy sound stops you. You look down. A foreign liquid coats your shoes, as well as the rest of the kitchen. It travels in a circle around the table that sits in the middle, before disappearing off into the back. Fingers curled around a knife you just grabbed from the holder, you walk slowly to the back, hands shaking.

This is a bad idea, you think. This is a terrible idea and here you are, being a dumbass and walking further into the back. You flick on the light, trailing along the line until you see it disappear out the back door. No, correction. The open, back door. Did something crawl into your kitchen, looking for food? And what kind of animal leaves behind this… viscous-like liquid? You look out your back door, seeing none of the liquid on the porch or in the grass. You shut the door, placing the knife on the side.

What got into your home?

“Eww, that looks sour, like funky,” Jongho’s nose scrunches up as you show him your floors through the video call. You hold the phone in one hand, mop in the other. “Maybe a colony of snails traveled through your kitchen, couldn’t find anything, and then disappeared into the abyss.”

“That sounds like the most unrealistic scenario of my life.”

“Unrealistic, yes. Impossible, no. I mean, you did leave your backdoor open. Did you expect to come home to a clean and tidy home?”

“I didn’t leave it open,” You glare at him through the screen, placing it on your stand as you scrubbed the floors. The smell is strong, but not unpleasant. You thank the universe that you don’t have to deal with a sour smell. “I looked around my house but I couldn’t find anything that would explain what it is. Seonghwa even came in and said he hasn’t seen anything like it. He works on old homes all the time, so I thought that maybe he’d have an explanation. But nope. Nada.”

“Maybe you haven’t taken a shower yet and you tracked your ooze around your home, nasty.”

“I honestly hate you.”

“Stinky.”

“Jong please,” you stick up your middle finger at him, his laughs echoing around your kitchen. “Maybe I should call a bug expert or something to check it out. What if it comes again and I can’t clean it out?”

“Are you talking about an entomologist or a pest control technician?”

You stare at the phone, deadpanned.

“Don’t give me that look! I’m trying to help you out, not the other way around. I can call my buddy I know who loves bugs, and he can check out the discharge for you.”

“…I really don’t like the way you worded that.”

“You’re really picky.”

“I’m hanging up. Oh, wait,” you throw some more cleaning solution on it, before turning to look at him. “How are you and Mingi? Progress? Did he massage your legs after the fire? How about your toes?”

You can see the burning of his cheeks even through the terrible camera quality. He rubs the back of his neck, glancing away. “Well, he’s helped me find a temporary place while they work on the shop. Seonghwa told me that it can be fixed in less than two months, which is a relief. Someone must have been watching because it started to storm even though it wasn’t on the forecast. It saved my shop.”

“Good,” you say, smiling at him. “Now to ask Mingi on a date, and everything will be sealed and ready to go!”

“y/n…” he groans, “You’re too nosy. How about you accept that invitation from Hongjoong and actually go on a date with him? He’s been asking about you every time he sees me. I feel like I’m the one rejecting him at this point.”

“He’s still lingering around?” You sigh, glancing down at the floor. It’s not like you don’t want to go on a date with him. You’ve just been so caught up with work and personal things that dating him would only be a crutch. And you wouldn’t want to treat anyone as if they’re not an option, so you thought it would be best to tell him that you’re too busy.

He’s handsome, he owns a small farm. He’s funny and kind, the timing is just… off. And he's a little strange too. You're not sure if it's just you, but he's an enigma. Something about him rubs you the wrong way.

“You know I can’t go out with him. But this isn’t about me, it’s about you–"

“You’ve been single ever since that weird kid you dated freshman year moved away.”

“Wooyoung? He wasn’t weird!”

“He put holes in his socks and wore them as fingerless gloves. Please tell me how that’s not the least bit strange.”

“I’m suddenly very busy! I’ll call you later!” You hang up before he could say bye, tossing your phone on the counter. It buzzes, and you glance at the notification.

rat: and he ate three bars of cheese at lunch

“Fuck you,” you mutter, grabbing another sponge and scrubbing.

You drag yourself into your home, not bothering to even lock the door behind you as you fall onto the couch. The injuries from the fire have faded into mostly scars, only a few barely bothering you. You still haven’t figured out who exactly helped you out of the fire, but you pushed the thoughts to the side, choosing to move on with your life. Speaking of life; it’s tourist season, and the town is filled with people who want to experience the “small-town” vibes. The mayor loves it; tourism means more revenue. You should love it too since it means more business to your bookstore and library combo.

But instead, all you do is frown at the new faces that enter your shop, Mingi having to nudge you so that you can plaster a fake smile on your lips and pretend that you care about their presence. The sales were fine before, enough to keep you afloat with extra just in case. Now they’ve gone through the roof, time during the week that you can take off because of how high it is. You’re thankful for that, Mingi spending time on his own too. But everything else…

The large crowds in the grocery stores, the constant noise at night, your early morning cafe runs ruined by the lines. Everything else only makes you more annoyed. You groan into your sofa, rolling over to stare at the ceiling. Only a few more months until the warm weather hits, and everyone leaves the town for a more traditional, beach-loving vacation. A part of you feels bad that the people on the prettier shores have to deal with it, but only a little.

Your phone rings, and you glance at the caller ID before answering it.

“Mingi, did I forget something?” You sigh into the phone.

“Please I don’t only contact you for problems, we’re still friends.”

“That depends on the day of the week,” you joke.

“Haha, you’re so funny. Hilarious, even. But no, I’m calling you because there are free drinks in the town square. I know you hate touristy events-”

“I do.”

“-but it’s free. No money, zero. And you never leave the house except for work, so this is me inviting you out to get out of your hole and meet new people. Please.”

You snort. “Added that please at the end because you knew I’d say no.”

“y/n.”

“Fine, fine,” you peel yourself off the couch, letting out a sigh. “At least let me change my clothes, I’ll be there in 30.”

“Thank you! See you there, and don’t forget your umbrella, it might snow.”

You hang up, plugging in your phone and quickly changing into someone warmer. The brief shower that you took makes the clothes feel cool against your skin. You shiver before grabbing the umbrella and stepping out. There are flurries, but not enough that makes you want to run back inside. Curse your friends and their desires to socialize. All you want to do is be a goblin and hide underneath your blankets as you watch a film.

You grab your keys, shutting the door behind you, and step out. You turn on your car, sitting in for a couple of minutes before putting it in gear and driving off. You don’t bother turning on the radio, the drive takes less than ten minutes anyway. And sometimes, you like the silence. Gives you room to think of random scenarios.

You slow down at a red light, glancing over at the river. You squint, seeing something strange in the distance. Is that… a man? Lying on the ground? You quickly turn into the parking lot without much of a thought, parking right next to the entrance. Not bothering to turn off the car you leap out, rushing down the path. The man is lying on his back in the snow, eyes closed. His clothes are a bit old-fashioned, probably something that you would have worn decades ago. But that doesn’t concern you right now.

“Oh my god, sir? Sir!” You shake him, feeling the cold temperature of his skin. His pulse is low but steady. “Can you hear me? Sir?” He doesn’t respond. You glance around for a sign of anyone, but the streets are empty. Probably due to the gathering in the city center. You wrap your arms underneath him, dragging him down the path. God, if someone accuses you of killing this man…

You make it to your passenger side, flinging the door open. It’s hard to get him into the seat; he isn’t exactly light, but you position him properly, putting on his seatbelt and quickly getting on the driver's side, turning up the heat to maximum. You touch his cheek, still ice cold. His eyelashes flutter, so you know he can feel your touch.

“I’m gonna get you out of here, bring you to the hospital.” You quickly make a U-Turn, going as fast as you can through the snow. It’s heavier now, sticking to the roads. At this rate, it’d take you over a half hour to get to the nearest hospital, and you don’t know if this man even has that much time. No, now’s not the time to have negative thoughts.

“No.”

You turn to the man, his eyes still shut closed.

“No? Can you hear me? No, what?”

“No.” He says again.

“I don’t know why you’re saying no, but I just found you on the side of the river. I’m going to bring you to the hospital–”

“No,” he says, eyes slowly opening. “No, no.”

“No hospital? Then where? My home?” You snort until you see him nod. “What? No, no fucking way am I bringing a dying man into my home. I don’t even know you. You have to go to the hospital, sir.”

“No, no,” his voice trembles, hands tugging on his seatbelt.

“Hey!” You reach over, stopping them in their tracks. “I’m sorry for touching you, but it’s bad out here and that means a higher chance of getting into an accident. I can’t let you take off your seatbelt, alright?” You stare at him, and he looks back.

His eyes are brown, but it looks as if the color is swirling as he stares at you. He lets go of the seatbelt, gaze focused on you. “No,” he says again. Maybe he can’t speak well? He hasn’t said anything other than no, so he must be limited.

“Okay. No hospital. Then…” Your home? You’re going to bring this man you know nothing about into your home? It’s a terrible idea, but there’s limited options left. Either you drive to the hospital and risk this man dying on the way from hypothermia, or you can help him at your home which is only a couple of minutes away. Your fingers curl into a fist as you glare out your windshield.

You might be making the biggest mistake of your life.

“We’re going to go to my home instead.” You look at him. His tense shoulders relax and he nods, hands completely letting go of the strap of the seatbelt. You let out a shaky breath, turning your car around and heading to your home instead.

The ride is quiet as you glance at him from the corner of your eye. He’s shivering despite the heat from the vents, so you don’t dare turn it down, even if you’re sweating buckets. You have no idea how long he’s been unconscious sitting outside. From how cold his skin is, it could have been almost an hour. There aren't any signs of frostbite that you can see. Your fingers curl around the wheel, staring straight ahead. If he dies in your care… No, you can’t think about that. Everything will be fine.

Everything has to be fine.

You get out of the car, closing it and walking around the other side to open his door. He jumps at your approach, and you hold up your hands. “It’s okay, no need to be afraid. Can you walk?”

He stares at you silently, and you frown. Grabbing him while he was unconscious is completely different from doing it while he’s watching. You hesitate, glancing at his seatbelt. He tried to take it off before. Could he do it again? You point to the buckle, and he glances at it. His hand hovers, before he pulls on it.

“That’s not how you-”

The buckle rips out of the clasp, belt whipping back into the slot. You widen your eyes as he stands, paying little mind to your reaction. Did he just break the seatbelt with his bare hands? What the hell?

He wobbles, and you quickly reach out to him. He flinches.

“I’m just trying to help you, okay? You might have broken bones or something, that’s probably why you can’t walk straight. Okay?” You look up at him. He looks at you silently, and you take that as a yes, slowly helping him to your door. The treck is slow. It’s as if you’re teaching him how to walk, each step slightly more confident than the last.

You finally make it to the door, unlocking the door as you guide him inside. He rests on the couch with ease. His eyes flick around the room rapidly, chest rising and falling. He looks a bit anxious, fingers playing with one another.

“I’m going to close the door, alright?” You give him your back, locking your car with the button and closing the front door quickly. Stranger danger bells ring in your head. He hasn’t done anything to make you not trust him, but it could change at any moment. What if he suddenly starts speaking, and laughs methodically? Kidnaps you in your own home?

“Don’t be stupid,” you murmur lowly, turning back. Your eyes flick to the empty place on the sofa, blood growing cold. Shit.

Shit.

“Hello? Sir?” You ask warily, glancing around. You step slowly, looking into your kitchen. He sits at the table, fingers dragging along the countertops. If someone else were to do that in your home, you’d call them insane. But for some reason, it looks as if he’s doing it more out of curiosity than anything else. You step slowly, his eyes moving up to yours. You flick on the light and he squints, blinking quickly. In this light, you can finally see him.

His hair is a light brown, some strands darker than the rest. His skin is tanned, eyes identical to his hair. But what bothers you the most is the attire he’s wearing. It’s thin, the shirt hanging loose around his body, held together by old strings. His slacks are thin as well, and you’re sure he isn’t wearing anything underneath the fabric. But it looks old, not even something that exists at random stores in this century. It’s as if he just popped out of the 1800s on the docks.

“Do you know your name?” You ask. He blinks slowly, before staring back down at the countertops. You take slow steps to your stove, turning on the flame. The ticking makes him turn to you, but he doesn’t move from his spot. He still looks freezing, so you walk to your thermostat, turning up the heat to max.

Your phone rings. You take it out of your pocket, leaning against the counter as you answer it. “Hey.”

“Did you bail at the last minute?” Mingi’s voice is slightly disappointed.

Oh hell, you completely forgot about the square. The man stares at you as you speak into the phone. “I’m sorry Mingi. Some family things came up and I needed to take care of it instead. I forgot to contact you because I’ve been dealing with it.” You say slowly. The man tilts his head slightly, eyes scanning your face.

“Oh shit, is everything okay? Do you need me to come over?” You can hear rustling from his side, probably his jacket in the light wind. “I can make it in about a half hour if needed.”

“No, no. It’s fine, thank you though.” You can only imagine his face when he walks in and sees the man sitting at your kitchen counter. He’d probably collapse if he knew. “I’ll call you later, alright? I need to sort these things out for a while.”

“Okay okay,” his voice is sweet, something that you love about him. Unless he’s worried for your well being he doesn’t push or involve himself in things. “Please call me if you need me. You know I won’t hesitate.”

“I know Mingi.”

“I love you, y/n, talk to you later.”

“Love you too, bye,” you end the call, the man still staring at you. If only you knew his name…

Your eyes flick around his finger, seeing nothing that would ID him. You’re sure he doesn’t even have pockets on his outfit. And it’s strange. Despite being in the cold, wet snow, he’s not dripping wet. His clothing is completely dry, unlike yours. You take off your coat, resting it on a chair. You’re a bit afraid that if you leave him in the room alone, he’d disappear again. You take a ramen package off the table, placing the dry noodles into the boiling water. You add the seasoning to the water, before you sit in the chair across from him.

“Do you understand me?” You ask him again. Maybe there’s a few words that he can comprehend. Maybe it’s enough to figure out where he came from, and how you can bring him back. Somehow.

He nods slowly. You sigh in relief.

“Good. Do you know your name?”

His eyes narrow as he shakes his head.

“Okay, okay. No names. Can you say things other than no?”

“Yes,” his voice rumbles as he stares at you. “Yes. No.”

Well, at least you can ask him those types of questions. “Okay. I don’t know what to call you. Uh…” You glance around the kitchen, until they land on your manhwa. There’s one character in there that reminds you of him…

“Can I call you Yunho?” You ask.

He’s silent, eyes flicking between yours. You think you’ve offended him, so you immediately backtrack. “Oh, I don’t need to call you that–”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” You raise your brows in shock. “Okay, Yunho. Nice to meet you.” You hold out your hand. He reaches out lightly, before running his middle and index finger down the side. You shiver slightly at the light touch, pulling away. “I’m y/n.”

He nods slowly. “Yes.”

“Do you know how old you are?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember how you ended up on the docks?”

He’s silent. He doesn’t say yes or no but stares at you, as if he’s willing you to understand through his eyes alone. You hear the stove sizzle, and you quickly stand up, turning down the flame. You grab two bowls, pour the ramen into it evenly, and grab chopsticks. You place the bowl in front of him, the other in front of you.

“Can you hold chopsticks?”

“No.”

You stand, walking around the table. “Look here,” you hold your fingers in front of you, demonstrating how to properly rest the sticks. He follows your instructions slowly, before he gets the hang of it. You show him out to pick up a noodle with your food, taking a bite.

He stares as you slurp it up, before staring down at his bowl, doing the same. He swallows it slowly, expression growing wide. “Yes,” he says, eyes looking at you. “Yes.”

You can only chuckle at his enthusiasm, watching as he quickly eats the noodles. Your smile slowly fades as you observe. He doesn’t even know his name. How could you bring him to where he’s supposed to be if he can’t articulate it to you? He can’t even hold a chopstick. Did he escape from somewhere? You grab your phone, looking up missing people in the area. None of them look like him, which makes it even more peculiar.

Just where did Yunho come from?

The night fades quickly, Yunho gulping down most of your ramen storage. You’ve settled on bringing him to the police tomorrow, knowing that they could handle this easier than you ever could. You gave him some old clothes one of your flings left at your home. He’s quite tall, the clothes tight against his figure. But it’s all that you have, and it’s enough for one night. You don’t plan on him staying longer than that.

He sits on the couch, eyes focused on the screen. They haven’t moved for hours, hands tucked underneath his thighs, legs crossed. You drink your coffee slowly, watching the screen along with him. You touched him with his permission before he sat on the couch. His skin is still ice cold, but he looks completely fine. He’s not even shivering anymore, mouth slightly agape as he narrows his eyes at the bright lights flicking across the scene.

He asked for water, well, he pointed to the water. And you haven’t stopped giving it to him. You’ve stood up every five minutes just to fill up his empty cup. You’ve never seen a human being this thirsty before, and it only concerns you more. Where did he come from? Is he dehydrated? Maybe the place that he came from refused to give him anything, that’s why he just endlessly asks for it. The more you look at this situation, the more dire it becomes.

“Have you ever watched TV before, Yunho?” You asked, and he glances at you from the corner of his eyes, before shaking his head. “Do you know where you’re from?”

This time, he moves his whole head away from the screen, looking at you. It would be terrifying if the loud action music wasn’t playing in the background. “Yes,” he says slowly as if he’s gauging your reaction.

“Would you be able to show me tomorrow?” Maybe then, you can bring him back. You appreciate his presence, you’re usually alone. But taking a random stranger into your home is bad enough. You can support two people with ease, but his name isn’t even Yunho. You just made it up on the spot. Someone must be looking for him. Anyone.

“Yes.” He turns back, and you sigh in relief. You stand up from the couch, telling him that you’re going to get his room prepared. You listen closely to the TV as you walk inside the room, glancing around. It’s a bit dusty, but it’s too late to clean. And you’re sure he wouldn’t mind anyway. He’s a man of few words.

Ha. Ha.

Words, few.

Hilarious.

“Yes!”

You throw the blankets on the bed, quickly walking back into the living room. Yunho is standing, pointing at the television. He looks at you, shaking his arm as he points at the television. You turn to see what he’s looking at and widen your eyes.

A sealife show is playing, octopi crawling along the seafloor. You cross your arms, looking back at him. “Hmm?”

“Yes, yes,” he takes more steps to the TV, pointing aggressively. You’re not sure what to make of it, the exasperated look growing on his face. You nod slowly.

“Yea, octopus. What about it?”

He rubs his face, grabbing a cup next to the table. He points at it, points at the show, and then presses his finger into his chest. He… likes octopi?

“I’m sorry Yunho, I have no idea what you’re saying. But I prepared your room for you, you can come in and I can show you around before I sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.” You feel bad, you really do. But the connection between him and the octopus isn’t really clicking. Maybe the place that he came from is called octopus? It’s a long shot, but that’s all you can think of right now.

He sighs, taking his bottles and following along after you. His steps don’t make a sound, but you can feel his presence behind you as you walk inside, pointing to the bed. Each room in the farmhouse has its own bathroom, so if he was thirsty in the dead of night he could just grab some water from the sink. He watches you in silence as you explain everything to him, following you around the large room. You finish, turning to him.

“I hope you sleep well, I’ll be right next door if you need me. The door will be closed but you can knock–” you hit your knuckles against a chest– “like that, and I’ll come and help you with anything. I hope you sleep okay.” You smile at him. He places his bottles on top of the side table in silence, before turning to you.

He looks as if he’s struggling, his mouth opening and closing. You wait patiently, still wary of his condition. He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment again, before opening them. They seem to glow as he keeps your gaze, blinking slowly. “Thank… you.”

Your lip twitches. “You’re welcome, Yunho.”

You wake up bright and early, stretching out your arms before you walk out of your room. From outside, you can see that the snow piled up pretty high, probably over two feet. Which means… You can’t leave to bring Yunho anywhere. Stuck. You feel your phone vibrate, and glance at the contact. Mingi messages you and says the library is closed for today, which is lucky for you. It’s not like you don’t trust Yunho, some may say you trust him a bit too much, but leaving him in your home while you go to work is just something that you didn’t plan on doing. You glance at his door, closed shut. Listening closely, bathwater is running, so you assume that he’s just cleaning himself up. You left spare clothing on his bed before you went to sleep, so hopefully, he uses that while you clean the dirty ones.

You hold the bag of his clothes tucked beneath your arm, opening the laundry door lightly as you start the machine. You pull out each garment, wrinkling your nose as you examine it. You cannot believe a human being in this time period wears clothes like this. Sure, it may be a trend that you haven’t heard of. But the garments are so thin, you can’t imagine that it would be comfortable to wear this day and age without people giving you looks, or a police officer stopping you in your tracks.

Your finger drags along the lining, seeing it clearly through the thin stitching. “How did you wear this out in the cold?” You wonder out loud, tossing it into the washer. You didn’t see a label on the clothing so you put it on delicate and for a short amount of time, starting it.

Yunho is still in his room, no, the room, so you start breakfast, turning on the television.

“Good morning! In today’s news, a strange storm has appeared on the coast. Weather forecasters across the country are baffled at this appearance. Nothing on the radars indicated any sense of a storm to form. And from the satellites, it seems to have formed yesterday night out of thin air…”

You glance at Yunho walking into the room, dripping wet. The clothes that he wears are drenched in water, splattering across your floors. You widen your eyes at his nonchalant attitude, his blank expression not the slightest bit affected by it.

“Yunho, you can’t just walk around wet!” You turn off the stove, placing the food in front of him. He blinks slowly, watching as you frantically walk around him to grab some towels. You ignore how the shirt and pants stick to his body, showing off some things that you’d rather look away from. What an interesting man, not the slightest bit embarrassed by his appearance.

“Here, sit on the towel so you don’t wet everything. Are you not cold?” You ask, sitting across from him at the table, fork in hand. He shakes his head, hesitantly poking the food on the plate. His eyes move to you. You eat slowly, raising your eyebrow.

He glances back down, before copying your actions. He chews slowly, before his eyes widen, shoving it down quickly. You snort at his actions, knowing that your parents would probably tap you on the side of your head for eating so fast. You both sit at the table silently, the news playing in the background. Your phone vibrates again, and you check it. This time, it’s a call from Jongho that you’ve just missed. You stand, telling Yunho that you’ll be right back before you disappear into your room.

He picks up on the first ring, eyes and nose filling the whole screen. You twist your face in disgust as he laughs, pulling back. “Good morning to you too!”

“What’s up Jong?” You ask, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Any news on the shop?”

“Yes, but no. The shop won’t be completed for a while, especially since there are random ass storms brewing from thin air. But I didn’t call you about me, I called about the mysterious man in your home.”

You cough, glancing out the door. You can see Yunho from here, turned around and staring at the television in silence. How the Hell did Jongho find out about him? It hasn’t even been a full day since he’s been here.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you smile at him. He only frowns in response.

“So now you’re hiding your hookups from me? Nice, y/n. Nice.”

“First off, this is my business. And second, he’s not a random hookup. He’s my cousin, and he’s just staying over for a bit. He was supposed to leave today, but the storm is preventing that from happening. So, yea. No hookups here.”

Jongho pouts into the camera, stirring his coffee. “That’s much more boring than I thought. There’s no juicy tea here.”

“How did you even find out about this? Do you have spies on me?”

“No!” He says quickly, holding up his hands in defense. “Someone saw him in your car when you were going home, and then it spread across town. You know, exciting things don’t stay a secret around here. I’m pretty sure even the mailman knows about him.”

One of several things you hate about small towns. Nosy people.

“You look upset, don’t be upset! I won’t talk about it anymore if you don’t want to.”

You sigh softly, glancing at Yunho again. Lying to Jongho is something that you never want to do, and you know he can keep a secret for you. At least, until Mingi comes cozying up to him and convincing him to spill the beans. You can’t blame him, their love for one another is open to everyone but them. Maybe one day you’ll see them confessing. But for now, they just tell each other everything and pretend that nothing is happening between the two of them. So if everyone in town knows about Yunho, if you tell Jongho about who he actually is, there’s only a matter of time before everyone knows that too.

Wait.

Maybe you do want them to know. What if someone could pinpoint where he came from, and bring him back? You would have peace again, and not have to worry… But still, Yunho is a person too. He should have his privacy. So, that settles it. You won’t utter a word to Jong about it.

“I’m not upset. I’m just, I really don’t want to go out there and shovel.”

Jongho laughs. “Oh? So the lazy gene is kicking in, isn’t it? Don’t worry about it, the forecast calls for bright, sunny skies tomorrow. It’ll probably melt on its own. But hey, did you hear the rumor going around?”

You adjust yourself in your bed. “What now? Seonghwa is hooking up with Hongjoong or something? Marge finally cleaned her drain pipes? The mayor got into a scandal and he’s finally out of office?” The last one, you can only hope for.

“That sounds way more exciting than what I’m about to tell you. No to everything you said,” he rolls his eyes at your disappointed expression. “Anyway, have you heard of the Kraken?”

Kraken?

“As in, the big octopus monster thing?” You say, and he nods quickly. “What about it?”

“Well, there’s an urban legend that says it rises every hundred years. And in fact, the day that my place burned down is the mark of when it was supposed to wake from its slumber. And with the strange events that have been happening, it looks as if he’s walking around our town.”

“What strange events, Jong?” His idea is ridiculous, but you can’t help but entertain it. Something other than Yunho to speak about is a good distraction.

“The fires across the coast, the strange weather changes. I mean, there was no record of a winter storm coming, y/n. Usually, they predict it at least a week before, but we were said to have sunny temps for the next two weeks! How did it suddenly start to snow?”

“So your conclusion is that the Kraken has risen.”

“…when you say it like that it sounds idiotic.”

“Well, I’m not one to believe in giant squid monsters.”

“y/n, I didn’t believe a person could be as clumsy as you, but here we are. Anything is possible these days,” He grins at your expression. “Well if it appears, don’t say I didn’t say so. In fact, I should be the first person you call up and say, ‘I’m sorry for not believing in you, Jongho . Forgive me for my lapse in judgment.’”

“That would never happen.” You look up again, the spot where Yunho once was, empty. Your heart drops. “I gotta go, I’ll talk to you about your weird theories later.”

“But-”

You hang up, throwing your phone on the bed as you quickly walk into the kitchen. Yunho sits on the couch in the living room. legs crossed as he stares at the screen. You sigh in relief, falling back into your chair. He barely glances up at your appearance. You look at the TV, seeing another broadcast of that sea life show you were watching last night. He likes it a lot, you think. There must be a connection there, but you just can’t pinpoint it.

“Yunho?”

He turns around to look at you.

“Do you want to help me shovel the snow?”

He raises his brows in curiosity. “Yes.”

You grin. “Great!”

You push the shovel through the thick layers, sweat already dripping down your face. You strain as you lift it, until a hand covers yours, stopping you. Yunho looks at you, shaking his head. “No.”

“Yunho, I have to pick it up–”

He pulls it from your grasp, lifting the snow with ease. He continues to follow the path you were going, not a bead of sweat forming on his head. He stands in the middle of the snow, a frown on his face as he holds the shovel in his hands, pushing it. You haven’t picked it up once, ever since he saw you struggling with lifting a pile.

“I can help.”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

He turns to you. “No.”

You roll your eyes, looking away. “Annoying ass,” you mutter.

“y/n!”

A familiar voice makes you freeze, gaze moving to see Hongjoong walking over to your home, a shovel in his hands. He smiles at you, glancing at Yunho. Fuck.

“Oh, I came over to help you move the snow. But it looks like you already have someone helping you, hm?” He holds out his hand to Yunho. “Nice to meet you, I’m Hongjoong. y/n’s friend.”

Yunho stares at the outstretched hand, not bothering to lift his. He doesn’t even touch it as he did to yours. Instead, giving Hongjoong his back and continued to shovel. Hongjoong clears his throat, rubbing his hand against his jacket as he turns back to you. God, is no one in this neighborhood secretive?

“Hey, Joong. Thanks for the offer, but I have all the help I need.” You gesture to Yunho.

He nods slowly, “Ah, that’s fine! No big deal! Ha, just wanted to stop by and say hello anyway. I heard this was your friend, right?” You know why he’s being a bit pushy, and you don’t blame him. You’ve rejected him plenty of times, but you haven’t exactly said no. It’s your fault, yes, but him showing up at your home is just another layer of absolutely not. No matter how small your town is.

“He is. I’ll see you later, alright? I have to finish this up and make some hot chocolate.” You’re being too nice.

“Oh, sure! I’ll see you around.” He glances at Yunho once more, before disappearing down the sidewalk. You watch as he disappears around the corner, before rubbing your face in exasperation.

A soft touch interrupts your annoyance, brushing against your cheek. You move your hands away, seeing Yunho stand in front of you, expression unreadable. He rubs your cheek softly, before pulling away. He tilts his head, eyes flicking between yours. For the first time, you see something other than confusion in his eyes.

Concern.

“Okay?” He asks, blinking slowly.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine, Yunho. It’s fine.”

He hesitates for a moment as if he can read through your lies. He nods, moving back. Your body yearns for his touch again, but you ignore the feeling. Watching as he gets back to shoveling. You rub your skin where he touched, swallowing.

Not good.

Not good, at all.

“Yunho?”

He looked up from the television, giving you his undivided attention. “Yes?” Simple responses like that made you happy.

“Today you’re going to show me where you came from, so you can go back home. I don’t want to take you away from your place, and we really don’t know each other well. You’ll feel more comfortable there.”

He narrowed his eyes at your words. But you don’t backtrack; some things need to be said. It’s not like you don’t love his company, seeing him sitting in the living room whenever you come back home makes you happy. But you feel like you’re taking advantage of a stranger. You don’t really know him, and he doesn’t know you. No matter how much it pained you… He didn’t belong by your side. He didn’t even have an ID.

“Want me go?” He asked. “Want me go away?”

“No, no! Of course not! I just, I know that you’d want to go away.”

He looked at you in silence. “No.”

“No?”

“You don’t know.”

Yunho sits in the car next to you as you drive to the spot he said he came from. The path is oddly familiar; the same trip that you took not too long ago to save him from the cold. As you’ve spent more time with him, he speaks more and more. Not as much as you’d like, but improvements are improvements. Perhaps the cold that day affected him in some way you can’t understand. But still, he struggles to express his feelings the way he wants. You feel bad. He stares at you in frustration before giving up, it took you a while to even get him out of your home to find out where he came from. . So here you are, continued silence. Yunho’s gaze out the window, left hand digging into his seat. You tried to start a conversation but it led nowhere. You’re glad that he likes to spend time with you, but some good things just don’t last.

You’ve accepted that fact long ago.

“Here?” You stop in front of the dock, the same place you found him not too long ago. He nods slowly, eyes looking past you and into the river. You unlock the car and both of you walk out. It’s still cold outside, so you’re tucked in your coat, following Yunho. You still haven’t gotten his real name out of him yet, but that’s another issue in itself.

He stops in front of the water, crouching down. You stand next to him as he reaches down, his fingers gracing over the water. He looks at you, and you widen your eyes at his expression. It’s filled with longing and concern, a glimpse of a smile dusting his lips. You haven’t noticed but from the upturn of his lips, you can see light creases indenting his skin.

“Here,” He points down, letting his hand glide along.

“But, it’s just water. How could you come from water?” You furrow your brows, staring out. Did he somehow get left behind from a boat? But you haven’t seen any new ones in years. Every boat on the dock belonged to someone from the city. Maybe that day affected his mind as well. “Yunho, what are you saying?”

“I came… I come from here.” He says methodically, pulling his hand out. “Here. Home.”

Alright.

“Oh, okay. Did you want to come back home?”

He’s silent for a moment, staring out. “Yes.”

“Can I bring you there?” You hope you’re not coming across as rude, but if he wants to go, it’s not your decision to make.

He blinks. “No.”

“No?”

“Time.”

Time. He probably needs more time to figure out how to get back. You crouch down next to him, eyes flicking out into the water. It’s funny; your town is surrounded by this river, most of it leading to the ocean. And yet, you can’t swim. Your parents always told you that it was a necessity, but why? You hated going into the water, and there was no reason for you to hop on a boat. Water and you just didn’t mix.

“Thank you.” He says softly, head resting on his hand, eyes on you. “For saving me.”

You can feel your face warm as he focuses on you. “You’re welcome, Yunho. But there’s no need to thank me. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He nods slowly, eyes unmoving from yours. You’ve never met someone like him, so willing to share his true feelings, blurt out anything that’s on his mind. Even with his staring. As your face burns and you stumble across your words from nerves, he doesn’t look away. You let out a chuckle, shaking your head.

“You’re welcome to stay at my place as long as you need to, but you have to go home soon.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“We don’t really know each other. I mean, I don’t even know your name-”

“Yunho,” he points to himself. “Yunho.”

“But that’s what I call you. You have to have another name, you know? You look to be around the same age as me-”

He laughs.

“-so, there’s someone out there that knows it. I don’t want to take your identity from you.”

He nods slowly, reaching his hand out to brush a leaf from your cheek. You shiver at his touch. He’s naturally cold, you learned that after being with him for a while. It concerns you a bit, but there hasn’t been anything that has appeared. He’s healthy, he’s just terribly cold.

“Beautiful.”

“Hm?”

His smile widens as he watches you. “Beautiful,” he says softly.

“You’re beautiful.”

You chew your food slowly as you sit in front of Jongho , listening to him rant and rant about his “date” with Mingi (it was just a bump into each other at the market), and his store. He’s repeated the same things over and over. You can’t help but zone out, think back to Yunho sitting at home, a worried look on his face as you walked out the door and told him you’d be back soon. You left for work daily, but somehow, this expression seemed more bothered than the rest.

You sigh, not noticing Jongho examining you. “y/n? I’m used to you zoning out on me, but you looked worried. What’s up? Is it your cousin?”

“My cousin?” You raise your brow, before quickly nodding. “Uh, yea. He’s had a rough… time, without his family around. It’s taking a toll on him so I’m just worried, that’s all. It’ll be fine though,” you wave off his concerned gaze. “I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” he says, taking a sip of his orange juice. “It’s okay if you don’t want to elaborate, but I’m here for you in anything. At all. Just say the word.”

You have to tell him.

“Well…”

“Jong?” You both turn your heads at the sound of his nickname, seeing Hongjoong jogging up to the both of you. You rub your face in frustration, already annoyed. Jongho gives you a sympathetic look, before smiling at Hongjoong.

“Hey! What’s up!" They do their strange handshake before Hongjoong sits in the third seat. Next to you. Perfect. Amazing. Spectacular.

Just wonderful.

“Hey y/n,” he says, smiling at you. Maybe you’re a bit too harsh, or maybe you just aren’t in the greatest of moods. But even him sitting next to you only makes your irritation increase. “How’s it going? I haven’t seen you and your cousin around for a bit.”

“Family things.”

“Ah…” he nods slowly. “He seems a bit reclusive. The last time I saw him he didn’t even shake my hand.” He laughs at the last part, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your frown deepens.

“Well, it’s about time we head out. Right, y/n?” Jongho sees your irritation immediately, quickly standing up. He’s friends with both of you and he hates to intervene, but you’re his best friend. “We’ll see you later, Hongjoong.”

“Oh, see you!” Hongjoong waves, watching as you both go. “Say hello to Yunho for me, yea?” He smiles at you.

You leave the cafe, Jongho pulling you along to his car. You shut the door behind you, throwing your head back and groaning. “Why won’t he just leave me alone? One day, I would like peace and quiet.”

“Ah, don’t be too hard on him. He just has a little crush on you, that’s all,” Jongho drives off, hand rubbing your arm in comfort. “You have to admire his persistence.”

“Persistence, more like harassment.”

“He’s a nice guy,” Jongho mumbles. “A little overbearing sometimes, but kind. I haven’t seen him do anything bad in his entire life.”

You turn to Jongho , narrowing your eyes. “Who’s side are you on?”

“No one! I just think…” he taps his fingers on the wheel, thinking for a moment. “I know you mean the best, but sometimes, you’re a little mean. I mean, Hongjoong is just trying to befriend you, and you don’t even give him the chance to do that.”

Your eye twitches. “Jong. He came to my home uninvited to ‘just say hi’, fuck him,” You make air quotes with your fingers. “I don’t know about you, but that’s a turn-off for me. He’s too involved with someone he doesn’t know. And he hasn’t taken the hint that I don’t like him. I can’t force myself to be friends, or more, with someone I can’t stand.”

“He went to your home?” He widens his eyes in surprise. “Why did he tell me that you went to his house?”

You lean forward. “What?”

“Yea,” Jong glances at you from the corner of his eyes. “He told me that you went during the snowstorm to help him out. Fuck, y/n. If I knew he was lying I wouldn’t even have let him sit at the table. I’m so sorry.”

You thought of Hongjoong as harmless, never threatening to you at all. But hearing this news from your best friend, that he’s been lying through his teeth. .. For what? To make himself sound better? Try to insert himself into your life with ease? It makes your stomach roll with disgust. Kim Hongjoong. You can feel yourself fill with anger, nails digging into your palms.

“y/n, relax. I’ll talk to him-”

“No, I can handle it. I just, I can’t believe he lied about something like that to you? It makes me wonder what else he’s been telling you. He can eat bricks,” you mumble, staring out the window. “I can’t catch a break, can I?”

“I’m sorry, really,” Jong says softly. “I’ve been a shit friend, trying to push you two together. I don’t know what to do to make it up to you.”

“Jong…” You nudge his arm. “It’s not your fault, I wouldn’t blame you. At all. Just because he’s a conniving asshole doesn’t mean I put you in the same boat. He’ll learn his lesson.”

“That sounds a bit terrifying. Please don’t kill him. Or hurt him. Or anything illegal. I don’t want to spend a night trying to bail you out of jail.”

You roll your eyes. “No promises.”

“Okay?”

You’ve been silent for a while, glaring at your phone and waiting for Hongjoong to message you back. Unfortunately, you didn’t have his number and had to get it from Mingi. He already knew about the issue from Jong (who asked you first, of course), and gave it to you willingly. Well, not before giving you a speech about how you shouldn’t kill Hongjoong, but that’s beside the point. And now, you’re just waiting for him to confirm that you can go to his home. Confront him about his lies, and tell him to never speak to you again. Simple, easy.

You feel a light tap on your hand, and glance up. Yunho stares at you in concern. He’s grown quite responsive, showing his emotions with ease. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not.” You place your phone on the side, running your fingers through your hair. “There are too many assholes in this town, Yun. Promise me that you’d leave right when you find out where your home is.”

He smiles. “I won’t leave you.”

You feel the familiar tingling in your chest. No, not now. You’ll deal with that later.

He observes you, watching as your chest rises and falls with anger. The way your hands trembled, fingers picking at the skin loose against your nail bed. He reaches over slowly, letting his hand cover yours. He can hear the slowing down of your heartbeats, the normal breathing. You look at him, and he only nods slowly.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Your lip trembles. “Thank you, Yun.”

“No thank you,” he leans forward, and you panic. Is he going to kiss you? No, you barely know each other-

He presses his forehead lightly to yours, closing his eyes. He hums for a moment, before pulling back. “Okay?”

You can feel the anger that lingered in your body dwindling down to nothing, the wild bonfire only mere ashes. “How…?” You question, looking at him. He only shrugs, moving away from you.

“Magic,” he wiggles his fingers, and you laugh. He chuckles low. “You help me. I will do what I can to give back to you.”

You walk into Yunho’s room, knocking on the door. You haven’t seen him for a while, and you’re worried that something happened. Without an answer, you peek in, glancing around. His room is neat, not one thing out of order. It’s like he hasn’t even made it his own, which is good, at least. Even if it makes you feel a little strange. He’s been at your home for a while now, a little over three months.

You open the door wider. “Yun?” Silence. You walk in slowly, glancing at his dresser. A photo of you sits there, one you gave him when you left him to shop on his own. Just in case he somehow got lost. But that was over a month ago. It’s a little creased, as if he’s kept it in his pocket the whole time.

You walk to the bathroom door, knocking on it loudly. Still, silence.

“Yun, I’m coming in. I’ll cover my eyes if you’re naked,” You say loudly, before pushing the door open slowly. His head peeks out of the tub, but he’s not moving. You yank the door all the way open, running to his side.

You shake him, seeing that he’s still wearing his pajama shorts. He jumps at your touch, eyes flicking open. You hold his face in your hands, looking between his eyes. He blinks slowly, brown eyes wide. You slowly let go of his face, looking in the bath. His skin is cold, but that’s nothing new.

“Are you okay? Did you faint?”

“No,” he says slowly, staring at you. “I was resting.”

“In the tub? Yun, your fingers are going to be pruned-” You reach for his hand, furrowing your brows. Despite being in the water for this long, they’re completely smooth. You run your hand along his palm. You let go but he grabs your hand again, his fingers curling into yours.

“You scared me. I thought something happened to you,” You mumble, rubbing your face. He takes your other hand, holding both of them.

He smiles, eyes never leaving yours. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I worried you. I take baths everyday because…” he trails off. “It makes me feel like I’m back home.”

Home. He rarely mentioned it, only when you brought him to the end of the river. You’ve waited for him to tell you where it is, but he always insisted that it was the water. There is nothing you can do to pinpoint exactly where, so you’ve accepted him as a temporary resident in your home. It’s funny; you’ve wanted to bring him home for so long. But right when he says it now, it makes you feel a bit sick. You’ve gotten too used to his presence in your home. Seeing him gone only makes you want to curl into a ball and cry.

It’s selfish.

“I can still take you home,” you struggle to say the words. “Just let me know, and I’ll take you anytime.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not possible. And I like being here with you.”

You smile. “I like you here too, Yunho.”

“Then I won’t leave for a while.” He shrugs. Compared to before, his communication skills have grown exponentially, now using anything and everything to tell you how he feels. He’s blunt and sometimes brutally honest, but you appreciate it.

Your phone vibrates. You pull your hands from his, a slight tug on his end.

Hongjoong: sorry, i’ve been out. let me know when we can meet. i wont be home for a few days, but anytime after that is okay!

He finally messaged back. After weeks of no communication, he finally says something. You quickly message him.

you: of course! let me know which day and i’ll be there

Hongjoong: friday?

It’s only Tuesday. Your plan of snooping in his home is finally coming true. It’s a bit immoral, but something about him bothers you to the core, and you want to figure out why.

you: sounds good to me! see you then

Hongjoong: :)

“y/n?” Yunho leans forward, only inches from your face. You can feel the instant pick up of your heart rate, moving back from him. An unreadable emotion flicks across his face and disappears. “Are you okay?”

“I have to go to the bookstore, I'll be back soon," You say, ignoring his gaze. If you meet his eyes, you know he'll see that you're lying. It seems as if he always knows once you look at him. So it's best to avoid his expression. For now. Until you can look at him without an ounce of guilt. It's not a horrible thing you're doing. Slightly questionable, partially illegal, but not horrible. What's the worst that could happen, trespassing on someone's property? And besides, only big crimes get attention in your town. A little snooping isn't going to hurt anyone.

"Okay," Yunho says simply.

You feel regret bubbling in your heart. Just tell him, you think. Everything will be fine, if you just tell him where you’re going. But then he smiles at you, the deep dimples you’ve admired for a while rarely appearing on his cheeks. So you decide to continue to hide it from him. It’ll be fine. Everything will be okay.

“Don’t wait up too long, okay? If I’m not back by midnight, you can just go to sleep. I’ll be fine.”

He frowns. “I need to know you’re safe. I’ll wait for you.”

“Okay,” You stand, rubbing your knees. “I won’t bother you when you’re in the tub, but just make sure the water isn’t high and don’t sleep in it. You can drown, you know.”

He smiles, amused. “I won’t. I’ll see you later.”

You almost hesitate. Almost decided to stay home with him. Almost.

But not quite.

“See you!” You wave, walking out the room. You don’t see the flicker of worry etched in his skin. The clench of his hands on the edge of the tub. The determination as he gets out of the water, something strange trailing behind him.

You walk into his home slowly, your fingers clammy and your heartbeat throbbing in your ear. You can't hear much besides the creaking of the floors as you take steps. It's a bit eerie, you've never stepped into his home before. It looks almost abandoned. There's nothing on the shelves that would indicate that someone lives here. Photos not in sight, cupboards and cabinets empty. You didn’t hear anything about him moving (the town talks), so this only grows your suspicion. Has anyone ever visited him? You're sure he'd be the talk of the town with a home *this* vacant.

Your fingers glide along the shelves, skin caked with dust. It's as if no one even lives here.

"y/n?"

You turn around, seeing Hongjoong leaning against the pillar by the door. Usually, you'd be annoyed seeing him. But something feels off. Hongjoong usually wears all black clothing, a bucket hat covering his sightline. But standing in front of you, it's as if his style has changed. Large overcoat, fancy shoes, tighter jeans. Nothing like the man you see daily. It's subtle, but you know that he's blocking your nearest exit. You should have listened to Jongho. You should have stayed home, or waited until he came with you. And now no one knows where you are.

A stupid, idiotic move on your part.

He raises a brow, arms resting on his chest. "Care to tell me why I have the honor of your presence in my home?"

For a moment, you forget the dangerous situation you're in. For a moment, only anger fuels you as you stare at him. "You lied to Jongho, told him that I came to your home uninvited. What else have you lied about, Joong?"

He laughs low, shaking his head. "You have no idea."

"Excuse me?"

He moves off the pillar, taking slow steps toward you. You take a few back, and he notices, eyes flicking to your shoes. He holds his hands up in defense, shaking his head. "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. If you thought that, you wouldn't have come here alone. We're just talking, that's it."

"It doesn't feel like it."

"Well, you came to my home without permission. Walked through the doors. Didn't even hesitate. I could call the police if I wanted and say you were trespassing on my property," he shrugs. "But we're friends."

He smirks. "Right?"

Something about him has changed. The innocent atmosphere around him is filled with confidence and cockiness instead. The grin on his face, it’s uncomfortable. As if he can see through you. He waits for you to say something patiently, eyes flicking between yours.

"Let me leave, we'll talk about this later."

He raises his brows, hands still in the air. "Later? Why not now? You're not afraid of me are you?" He laughs dryly, shaking his head. "Poor girl. You're shaking."

You can feel your fingers trembling as you watch him move closer. If the layout is similar to yours, you could run out the back door and call the police. A night in jail for trespassing is better than whatever is running through his mind right now.

"Hey–"

You quickly turn around and dash through his home, his laughter echoing around you as you frantically look for the exit.

"Oh baby, did you think I'd just let you in here without having a plan?" His voice booms. You reach the back door, your heart dropping. It's covered with boards, nailed shut. What the fuck is this man on?

You can hear his slow steps behind you, inching closer and closer. "You know I like the chase, right? Makes catching you so so much better."

You're running out of time, and he's only seconds away from getting to you. You quickly take the stairs, not caring that he could hear the stomps. Your eyes flick around, until you find an open door. You run inside and pull at the window. It's sealed shut.

"Fuck," you say between low sobs. You didn't want this, you didn't think it'd be this way. If only you listened, if only you told someone–

"There you are."

You turn, seeing Hongjoong standing in the doorway, hands tucked in his front pockets. He tilts his head as he scans your body.

"Such a shame. Maybe if things were different, we could have been together. Happy. But you had to involve yourself with that... creature," His lips curl into a snarl. "Disgusting."

"What the hell are you talking about? Just let me go, please." You'd say that this isn't him, but it so blatantly is. No wonder you felt off every time he was around you, like there was something wrong with him. Gut instincts are so rarely incorrect.

"Promise not to call the cops on me?" He pouts his lower lip, before laughing. "You're the only way I can get to that thing. It likes you." He reaches into his jacket. A needle slowly appears from the sleeves, and you gasp. You turn around, desperately trying to pry the window open.

"Please please please," You beg, but it doesn't move in the slightest. His hand wraps around your shoulder, and you raise your fist, trying to land it on his face.

He stops it with ease, hand covering yours. You raise your leg to hit his balls, but he just grabs your neck, holding you against the wall. His eyes swirl with craze and madness.

"You're demented," You gasp, clawing at his hand. He tightens his fingers, your brain becoming foggy as you glare at him. "Fuck...you."

He winks. "We'll do that later."

You feel the needle break your skin. You can feel the fogginess slowly spread across your mind, making you fall into a deep sleep. Your eyes flutter, his finger stroking your cheek slowly.

"Sleep tight, y/n."

You gasp, leaning up quickly. Tight rope holds your hands and ankles together, your head knocking against the side of...

You look around. The sounds of waves splashing echo in your ears, the fresh smell of salt water filling your nose. Are you on a ship? You tug on the restraints but to no avail. They only dig into your skin more, worsening the wounds. You scream against the duct tape covering your mouth, kicking and hitting against the wall. It seems like you're inside the captain's quarters. Blaming yourself for being stupid isn't going to help you right now, but you can't help but dwell on it. How the hell did Hongjoong even get you on a ship without others noticing? There aren't even any large ships around, only small boats in your town. Did he drive out with your unconscious body in the backseat, and throw you on as a stowaway? Or did he use a small boat and drive out to see on a larger one? So many possibilities run through your mind, but only one objective:

Getting out of here.

A loud creak interrupts your thinking, heavy stomps making their way to you. You turn to the sound, screaming at the man you see. Seonghwa stands there, staring down at you. He tsks, glancing at your restraints in mock pity.

"Poor girl. This is what happens when you involve yourself in matters that don't pertain to you. Should have left the thing on the side of the dock," he crouched down, slapping your cheeks a bit too hard. You curse, moving away from his touch.

Park Seonghwa, your Seonghwa? The Seonghwa that you lived with for years in the small town, the one that's helping you renovate your house. The one that always gave you shy smiles and winks, soft reassurances whenever you needed it. One of your good friends. Involved with Hongjoong, currently holding you captive. You stare at him in disappointment.

"Ah, don't look at me like that. I've been good to you all this time, y/n. I listened to you rant about anything and everything without complaints. I even helped you fix your home. We’re friends,“ he grins, tapping your cheek once more before standing up. ”And we should stay friends after all of this is over. Don’t let a little kidnapping change it, alright? Being bait isn’t easy, but I’m sure you’ll get through it. You’re a superstar.“

“Why are you trying to make her feel better?” Hongjoong walks in behind him, wearing the same dark clothing as either, a large overcoat covering him now. He looks down at you, a slightly disgusted look on his face. “I have no sympathy for people who help those creatures. They’ve been terrorizing our seas for hundreds of years, thousands even. And don’t listen to him, we’re not going to let you walk away from this. More than likely this sweet talker right here is gonna bury you under those waters.”

Loud waves hit the side of the ship, interrupting his rant. His eyes flash with excitement as he looks out the circle-shaped window, flicking his gaze to see something you have yet to figure out. “It’s coming soon. The waves are getting rough.”

“Ooh!” Seonghwa claps his hands, “Do we bring her out?”

“No,” Hongjoong murmurs, ignoring his pout. “There’s no reason for that. It could just take her and drag her away and we’d never see the thing again. She has to stay under here so it can scent her, and give us enough time to kill it for good.”

“Fine,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “Don’t need to be so pissy, Hongjoong.”

“Fuck off.” He looks at you. “If there was any other way, I would save you and set you free. But if I do that, you’d only go to the police and tell them. So,” he leans forward, ripping the duct tape off your mouth.

You cry out in pain, and he only sighs in frustration.

“Today is your last day living, y/n. Might as well enjoy it. I gave you a first-class view of the deck, so you can watch that creature fight to save you, while we kill it.”

“I…What are you even talking about? What creature?” You pull on your ropes by accident, wincing in pain. “You two are talking to me as if I know what you’re referring to. I haven’t helped any creatures, you must be thinking of someone else-”

Seonghwa throws his head back, laughter echoing around the small room. “Oh, y/n. How naive can you be?” He taps your head lightly, before walking out. “It’s cute!” He shouts, disappearing out the door.

Hongjoong is silent, finger resting on his lower lip as he paces back and forth, looking at you once in a while. He stops in front of you, eyes flicking between yours. “I really do like you, y/n. Most of the crew wants to get rid of you after the job is done, but…” he bits his lip. “If you want, you can join us. Help us rid of other monstrosities that lurk on this Earth. With me?”

For a moment, he looks just like the old Hongjoong. Large, bright eyes, hope-filled. No sign of the man that just drugged you and threw you on a ship, threatening to end your life once the job ended. It scares you how quick he can flick the switch, show you this innocent side that is anything but true. But you have to get out of this. If lying would save your life for even a day longer, you can figure out a way to get out of here.

“Okay.”

His eyes brighten with glee. “Really?”

“Yea, yea. It will take me a while to get used to it, but yes. We can do that.”

He chuckles happily, his hang dragging down your cheek. You flinch at his touch, but he pays it no mind. Too stuck in his own ‘happiness’ to even give it a thought. “I’m really happy you chose to stay with me. Then we’ll get to know each other even more, and maybe… maybe something more.” His hand lingers on the curve of your chin before he pulls away.

“Just stay here until it’s over. I’ll convince everyone that you’re an asset and you can join the crew!” He grins, turning on his heel and walking out. He closes the door behind him, and you let out a shaky breath, turning back to the window.

You had no idea why or what creature you helped that made you get into this situation, but you no longer wanted to question it. Just get back home, tell Jongho and Mingi what happened, Yunho- Yunho. He’s probably panicking right now, the short trip you told him about ending up being goodness knows how long. You hope that he knows the neighborhood well enough to tell someone that you’re missing.

A wave hits the side of the ship, hard, causing you to hit your head against the metal. You groan, tears springing to your eyes. “Someone help me…” you whisper softly.

The crew outside are yelling rather loudly. You turn to look out the window, and your heart drops. Men are being dragged back and forth across the main deck, by large… tentacles? You blink rapidly, hoping that your eyes are deceiving you. But no. They’re huge, the appendages slowly wrapping around the length of the ship. The strong grip has it at a standstill, but it isn’t holding it tight enough to break it in half. What scares you the most, is that it could at any moment. Throwing you into the deep depths of the sea.

You have no idea how far away from shore you are. And you can’t even float, let alone swim. You’re a trapped mouse. You tug hard on the restraints, but it only digs deeper into your wrist, causing you to cry out. The door to the quarter’s swings open, Seonghwa walking in. He smiles at you, grabbing you by the ropes on your wrists, and drags you out the door.

“Your sweetheart is finally here for you, y/n,” he says, completely wet from the pouring rain. You scream as he pulls you through the ship, your feet scrapping on the hard, wooden floors. “Keep on screaming love, maybe he won’t tear my ship up.” He says it through clenched teeth, his grip on you tightening. “Fucking disgusting creatures. This is the shit I have to deal with. Should have died a long time ago.”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “Hongjoong had the opportunity and fucked it up. Shit.” He glances down at you, before throwing you down the stairs. Luckily it’s only a few steps, but it’s enough to bruise your body. You cry out in pain, your head throbbing, cuts and bruises covering your body. Seonghwa kicks you, laughing loudly.

But you can’t pay attention to him at the moment. The sheer pain echoing in the air is the only thing filling your ears. Screams surround you as the ship violently shakes, people thrown into the air. The salty smell of the ocean fills your nose as you rock back and forth on the deck, Seonghwa’s tight stance and foot on your rope the only thing keeping you steady.

“Hey, you piece of shit, looking for her?” You hear the loud yelling of Hongjoong in the distance, and you shake your head.

“No, no no no-”

Hongjoong makes it to your side, carefully lifting you up on your feet. Your eyes turn to the large creature in the ocean. The bulbous balls move their gaze to you, one of it’s tentacles merely feet away from throwing you overboard. The fish smell overwhelms your nose as Hongjoong holds you next to him, grinning at the creature in front of you. You can’t understand how he’s not running in terror, laughing as he tugs you around.

“She’s here, your y/n. Too bad she’s with me,” Hongjoong presses his face against yours, cheek to cheek. You try to pull away, and he clicks his teeth, throwing you to the ground. “Sorry love, gotta agitate him just a little. You don’t mind it, do you?” he pouts at you, sorrow filling his gaze.

This man is crazy.

The creature roars, the ship shaking violently. People in the distance are thrown overboard, your fingers holding onto a bar on the deck to keep you from flying as well. Seonghwa steps on your fingers, and you cry out in pain, letting go. He laughs. The sound of crashes waves fill your ears as the creature lifts one of its limbs, grabbing onto Seonghwa with ease. His eyes widen as he feels it curl around his torso.

“Fuck-!” Hongjoong tries to get to him, but it’s too late. He’s pulled off the ship, the large octopus slowly tilting back, opening its beak. It looks as if Seonghwa is passed out as he’s thrown into the air, and into the mouth of the creature. You scream in terror as he’s swallowed, turning to Hongjoong.

He stands there in shock, mouth in a straight line. “Two can play at that game…” he sneers, glancing back at you. Comfort no longer lines his gaze. Instead, there’s pure anger. He grabs your ankle, tugging you to the edge of the ship. You scream, begging him to stop, to let you go.

“Hongjoong, please-! Let me go!”

He grins, tilting his head. “Okay. See you!” He grabs your waist, and before you can hold onto something, you’re kicked off the side of the ship. You scream as air whips past you, the plunge into the water feeling like bricks hitting your back.

You can no longer scream, the deep depths of the waters pulling you deeper. You frantically try to move your limbs in a way to help you swim, but it’s no use. The fear of the ocean, of not being able to, overcomes you. You open your mouth to scream, water filling your mouth immediately. Your chest tightens at the lack of air, limbs slowing down. Your eyes flutter as you look up, the moon still shining above. Before you close your eyes, you see a large shadow blocking your view of the moon. Is it your hero, your savior? Your lips curve into a weak smile, before the darkness consumes you.

Almost there.

Just a little longer, hold on.

Please don’t die on me.

You gasp, fingers digging into sand as you look around. You try to lift yourself up, but your body cries out in pain, too much for you to even turn your neck slightly. You cry out, legs struggling to even move. You somehow made it to shore, your restraints off of you.

“Don’t move too much, you’ll hurt yourself.”

A head slowly appears in your vision, dripping water on your face. You flinch at the drops, and he apologizes quickly, moving away. “I’m sorry. I just need to touch your arm for a moment, to give you enough strength to stand. Just don’t move too much. Can you do that for me?” He asks.

You open your mouth to say yes, but the salty, bitter taste of water causes you to cough. Yunho panics, quickly crouching to your side. He touches your arm, moving away from your view. “You might lose consciousness again, okay? But you’ll be fine. I’m here for you, I’ll always be here for you no matter what.”

Your eyes flutter again. This time, the pain is minimal. Not enough to consume you, but enough to cause your body to ache. You lean up slowly, rubbing your face. You turn, seeing Yunho staring at you silently. “Are you okay?” He asks. He’s still dripping wet, strands sticking to his face as he watches you.

“How…” You cough again, and he moves closer, patting your back lightly. “How did you find me?”

He chuckles softly. “I can always find you, y/n. Let’s go back home, okay?” He doesn’t wait for your answer, lifting you with ease.

You let him guide you through the streets, oddly abandoned. You’re a bit slow, struggling to move one foot after the other. Yunho is silent, but it isn’t awkward. Comforting, his large arm holding you as you walk. You look up at him, seeing wounds covering his face.

“Are you okay? You look hurt, I have some things at home to help you.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Even when you’re like this, you still worry about things other than yourself.” he looks down at you. “I’m fine. I wasn’t the one drowning in the ocean.”

Your mind immediately goes back to before. The kidnapping, Hongjoong tying you up, that… thing, eating Seonghwa. You being thrown overboard. So many things happened in just a night, your stomach turning. You hold back the acid that slowly creeps in your throat, shaking your head. No, you’re fine. Yunho is fine. It had to be a hallucination. Seonghwa isn’t dead. Hongjoong isn’t a pirate. It was just a dream, a terrible dream.

A nightmare.

Yunho guides you up your steps, opening the door. He walks you into the kitchen, until his grip loosens. You look at him, but he’s already on the floor, convulsing. You reach down to help him, but he pushes you back, sweat gathering on his forehead. This is the first time he’s seething hot, your fingers almost burnt to the touch as you try to assist him.

“Yun!”

He groans, fingers clawing into the floor. Gurgling sounds emerge from him, a wet patch slowly appearing on his back. The fabric tears, strange things slowly emerging from his back. You widen your eyes, moving back. This isn’t Yunho. It can’t be, he isn’t this thing in front of you.

"What are you?" You stumble back from the man–, or creature, fear growing in your chest. He struggles to his feet, a strange limb slowly oozing from beneath the fabric of his pants. It slowly flops to the floor, a bit of it splattering on your cheeks.

Is that... no, that's not possible… It can’t be.

His eyes flick up to you, a slow smile unveiling sharp teeth shining in the dark at you. "Do not be afraid. I won't hurt you." He tries to stand but his legs fail and he falls back to the floor. “Help me.”

"Tell me, what are you?"

“y/n-”

“Answer my question!”

He's silent for a moment. “Some people call me the Kraken. But you call me Yunho.”

You freeze in your backing up, looking down at him. Beneath the fear, beneath the tangle of limbs in front of you, you look at his face. His eyes look into yours desperately, willing you to see him. To really, see him. Yunho. Your Yunho. You’re confused, scared, furious, and… disappointed.

“You’ve been lying to me,” you say, watching as he buckles under his weight, body on his side as he takes quick breaths. “Why have you been lying to me?”

“Water…” he gasps, fingers clawing at the floor. You push your fear away and quickly go to the kitchen, grabbing three gallons of water. You rush back, sitting them next to his body. He grabs the gallon with a tentacle, squeezing it. The plastic bursts with ease, and you watch as he pours it over his body.

The wounds on his tentacles and skin slowly merge before your eyes. He uses the other two gallons up quickly, turning back to you. “Water…”

“My bathroom. Go to my bathroom!” You say. He tries to pick himself up from the floor, but he stumbles back down. You weigh the options in your head, before leaning forward, grabbing his shoulders.

You tug him along the floor, a moist trail left behind as you take him into your bathroom. With the last break of energy left, you throw him into the tub, turning on the faucet. He pushes himself underneath the flow, letting the tub fill up just enough to touch the edges, before closing the tab.

You try not to stare, but you can’t help it. He has about six tentacles coming out of his body. Dark green and oozing something you’d rather not dwell on too much. Some spill out of the tub, inches from you. You move away slightly, sitting on the floor. Your head throbs as you stare at him.

Too many thoughts occupy your mind. The man you saved being a mythical creature. Seonghwa and Hongjoong kidnapping you to take the Kraken as a prize. The creature you saw, destroying the ship, the same man that sits in front of you right now, eyes shut. Hongjoong being thrown into the ocean before your eyes, Seonghwa being swallowed.

You touch your cheeks. Hot tears trail down your cheeks, along with blood. Your head throbs as you stare at your stained fingers, rubbing it slowly. Exhaustion hits you immediately. Before you can move from your spot, you fall unconscious, head hitting the floor underneath you.

“y/n!”

You gasp, leaning forward. A massive headache and pulsing vision makes you groan out loud, rubbing your face. You glance around, seeing that you’re still in your bathroom.

“You’re awake.”

You jump, turning toward the voice. Yunho still sits in the tub, memories from last night flooding back. He sees the slow panic growing in your features, and holds up his hands.

“Hey, hey. Just take a breath, please. I can explain it if you don’t fall unconscious.”

“Fuck you, Yunho!” You try to stand but fail. "All I’ve done in the past 24 hours is pass out.”

“Be careful-”

“You have no right to tell me what to do or what not to do. You lied to me all this time, took advantage of my kindness, you…” You point at him, feeling tears trail down your cheeks. “You hurt me, Yunho. You really hurt me.”

His face crumbles underneath your sad gaze. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d be here so long. I, this is my fault. I would have left if I knew this would happen. That I promise.”

“I can’t believe that promise, Yun.” You say, looking away. “I can’t.”

“I know. But please, just listen to me for a moment. I can explain it.”

You look down at his extra limbs, tentacles curling and uncurling. You nod slowly. “Go ahead.”

A look of relief passes over his face. He turns to you, some water splashing to the tiles. But it doesn’t phase you, your mind filled with too much trauma to even think about water on the floor.

“As I’ve told you yesterday, I am the Kraken. Humans considered me a mythical creature, only found in folklore or stories passed down. But I am real, and alive. I have existed since the creation of this Earth. But not as the form that I am right now. Because I wouldn’t blend in like Mother wanted me to. So as the years passed, my appearance changed. But only temporarily.” He thinks for a moment.

“I have always existed as the Kraken. Humans have had encounters with me, but I haven’t killed as much as they say. I only defended myself when I was attacked, or when pirates sought out to kill me for a higher reputation, or other strange human rituals. I wanted to live a peaceful life. But that was impossible because of the sheer size of my true form. And the strange condition that was put on me.

“I appeared every 100 years. One year out of the 100, I appeared, and the ninety-nine, it is like I am frozen in time. And each moment I wake, I am in a different place. Environment. I know little of the language around me, but I can understand enough.” He looks at you. “That’s why I was unable to communicate properly with you for a while. Because I physically could not.

“I shouldn’t have hidden it from you this long. But for the first time in my millions of years on this planet, I had something that I didn’t want to lose. I had you, and you cared about me. You dropped many of your priorities to take care of a being you didn’t know, without complaints. That is something that is rare in nature. I should have told you, and I tried to in the beginning. But once I realized how much I cared for you, I couldn’t.”

He looks down at himself. “My form is something that humans are not used to. There are no half creatures, half humans in your world that you know of. If I walked around like this I would immediately be trapped or killed. I should have known that your friend was a pirate, I just didn’t put two and two together.”

“Hongjoong and Seonghwa? That’s what they are, that’s why they wanted to kidnap me?”

Yunho nods. “They are from an old line of pirates, dated back several centuries. Those humans pinpointed when I would rise and across the world, they would look for me so they could claim to be the one to kill me. It is strange, I cannot see why they would want that fame,” he rubs his forehead. “I put you in danger. I didn’t see the symbol on them, so I didn’t think much of it. They must have evolved and hidden the symbol somewhere. I am deeply sorry for the pain and sorrow that I have caused you. I was being selfish, and still am for staying in your presence.”

You watch as his tentacles slither across the tiles, slowly sinking into his skin. His eyes flutter, until they’re completely out of sight. His hand brushes the top of the water, in deep thought.

“I won’t keep you here for long. I must leave now that they know where I am. Hongjoong may come back, and I cannot risk your life. You don’t need to worry about that.” He smiles at you. “I know it’s difficult to wrap your head around this-”

“You have no idea, Yunho. No idea,” you rub your face slowly. “I don’t… I know this isn’t your fault, and I’m not blaming you at all. I made the mistake of even going into Hongjoong’s house. But I was kidnapped because of you, and they almost killed me.” Your fingers shake at the thought. “They threw me overboard. If you weren’t there, I would have drowned. That’s not something that I can just forgive easily, you know? I care about you, I do. And I’m sorry for you. But you’ve lived centuries, and maybe I’m a little selfish in thinking this, but… I have less than one hundred years on this planet. It was almost taken away from me that quickly.”

“I can only imagine how you feel.”

“Yea, imagine. And that makes it worse,” you look at him. “It’s funny, I don’t even care about you being the Kraken. I think I’m just more hurt about you hiding it from me. Thank you for explaining yourself, but… I think you need to leave now.”

He nods slowly. “I understand.” He slowly stands from the tub, and you get up from your spot. You step out of the room to give him some privacy, walking into the kitchen and sitting at the island.

You can feel your heart telling you to let him stay, but most of you is saying otherwise. He’s a danger, and staying here when there are pirates chasing him… That could only lead to a bad path. What if Hongjoong comes back? What if Mingi or Jongho are in your home and end up in the crossfire? You care about Yunho, you do. That’s why you think that it’s best for him to leave. Even if your heart yearns for him. Some things are just bad ideas.

Maybe you should have ignored him on the dock that day.

Yunho clearing his throat interrupts your thoughts. He stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight as he glances everywhere but your eyes. “Before I leave, I want to help you heal.”

“You don’t have to do that-”

“Yes, yes. I do.” His eyes plead with you.

“…okay.”

He drops his belongings on the marble, barely a foot away from you. He leans forward, slowly pressing his forehead to yours. A flow of calamity flows over you, the cold temperature of his skin slowly overcoming you. You look down at your injuries, seeing a strange blue glow cover them. You blink, and there is only your unblemished skin left, nothing more. Yunho pulls back, taking your arm and examining it closely.

“You’re back to yourself again,” he says softly, thumb rubbing your skin with barely a touch. Enough to feel the pressure and make you tremble slightly. He lets go, backing away from you.

“I know this might be selfish of me to say,” he looks at you, eyes flicking between yours. “But I’m very happy that you’ve decided that I’m not welcomed here.”

You furrow your brows. “Why?”

There’s slight hesitancy in his gaze as he watches you, lips pursed. He closes his eyes tightly, glancing away for a moment. You think he isn’t going to answer it, until he opens his mouth. “Because I don’t know if I’d be able to leave you when the time comes. Because for the first time in my life, I have something that I cannot imagine gone from my sight. And I know that if I stayed for even an hour more, I wouldn’t be able to leave as easily.”

No, he can’t do this. He can’t say those things, not when he’s put you in so much danger. Not when you were at the brink of death because of him. Even if he saved you, even if he promised that he’d protect you, even if… even if…

You feel the same way as him.

He turns away from you, opening the door, and slowly closing it behind him.

You made a mistake.

His presence is around your home. The two bowls you put out accidentally. The indent in the couch where he used to sit daily, watching his sea life shows. The piled up snow on your lawn, slowly melting away. The storms, gone. His clothing was left on top of his bed in a messy pile. You laughed at it when you walked in, knowing that he couldn't fold clothes. Even the bathroom that he used. Every part of this house he touched.

You made the biggest mistake of your life. And there's no turning back on it. You have to accept that he's not coming back, and ignore the pounding of your heart each time you drive by the docks, each time you look at a boat. It will fade. The feelings will fade one day, and you'll move on. It's strange; you barely knew him and it feels like you've lost the love of your life. How can it feel that way? Why does your heart betray you like this?

You place your coat on the rack next to the door, Jongho and Mingi following close behind. You told Jong about Yunho, Hongjoong and Seonghwa. At first he thought you were joking, but then eventually believed every word you said. And after comforting you, even clowning you for saying he was a fool for believing in the Kraken. You only rolled your eyes at the time. Jongho has a heart of gold, he knows how to cheer you up with ease. Mingi was harder to convince. A man of seeing and then believing, it took you weeks for him to finally crack.

"No one would be this sad about a cousin leaving," is what he said to you. "I can tell your heart is broken, and love sometimes does that to you."

You rub your face, flicking on the television screen. You insisted on being alone, but the two gathered around you whenever they could to cheer you up. And even with your annoyance, you're glad. You would be spending your time crying into your pillow, reliving that day over and over. Who could've guessed that Yunho dug himself so deep in your heart that you'd never be the same.

Mingi sits next to Jong, their arms brushing. They haven't told you about their relationship recently, probably due to your current state, but you can tell something has changed. The looks that they give one another, the brushing of fingertips as they talked, the shy glances. And you couldn't be happier, you just want them to tell you when they're comfortable enough.

"I told you two I'm fine, I was just going to make some potatoes and watch something. That's it. I'm not wallowing in my emotions anymore. I'm okay."

"Well we just wanted to keep you company, as all," Mingi says, grabbing your chip bag and chewing rather loudly. "That shouldn't bother you too much. Best friend hangout time."

Jongho rolls his eyes. "How old are you again?"

"Don't be an asshole," Mingi sticks out his tongue. "Anyway, we can tell how you feel, y/n. No need to sugarcoat it, it hasn't even been that long."

You sigh. "Yea... yea I know. I'll be fine though. You don't need to worry about me."

"We're best friends, y/n. Who would we be if we didn't worry?" Jongho says simply, biting the chip that Mingi offered to him. "Plus, we can bond too. You haven't let us inside your house in forever."

"Because you two are nosy," You grumble, sitting across from them. "And I'm out of potatoes."

"We can go get some together!" Mingi stands up, folding the chip back. "Shopping trip!"

"You two can go, I'll just wait here. I'm not really in the mood to go anywhere right now." And maybe cry a little. That always worked for you.

"y/n..." Jong says softly, eyes flicking between yours. He must have seen the pleading look you give him, grabbing Mingi's arm and pulling him to the door. "Fine, but you better not start any shows without us. I'll curse your whole family line."

"That's overdramatic, but okay," You smile at him. He wiggles his brows, ignoring the protests Mingi gives him, shutting the door behind the two.

You plop your head on your hands, taking slow breaths. This shouldn't be a big deal. He's probably fine, as you are. Maybe you did do a little research about strange weather happening around the world. And maybe, just maybe, you tracked him being in Northern Egypt. The strange storms are unlike the usual weather they have.

"What's wrong with me?" You murmur, shaking your head. "You barely know him, what the hell are you thinking?"

Knock.

You freeze. You slowly lift your head, glancing out the front window. Jongho 's car is gone, so it couldn't be them. No, you're just making things up. Nothing is happening. Nothing's wrong.

Knock.

You stand quickly, rushing over to the knife holder. You wrap your finger around the handle. A solid object stops you in your tracks, digging into the middle of your back.

"Turn around, slowly. And let go of those pretty little knives."

You drop your hand, slowly facing your intruder. Hongjoong holds a gun to your chest, index finger resting on the trigger. His eyes are wicked, scars from the incident a few weeks ago riddled on his face. His lips slowly curve into a smirk, head cocked to the side.

"Did you miss me?"

"He's not here–"

The gun is pushed harder into your chest, stopping you from talking. You can feel the intense fear rolling over you as you hold up your hands in surrender, your breaths shaky. Hongjoong laughs, head tilted back, hands unmoving.

"Oh baby, look at what we have here. Little y/n, all alone. The octopus shit not here to save her. Friends gone. Do you know how long I've been waiting for this? Hm?"

You're too terrified to give a response, and thankfully, he doesn't ask for one.

"Weeks, y/n. I tracked that fuck down across the world, but he disappeared once we made it to Northern Ireland. Nothing. Not a trace," he shakes his head, letting go of the gun with one hand to push loose strands from his face. "God, all of that time wasted. Seonghwa would be disappointed in me."

He slowly looks back at you. "I believed in you. I believed that you would come to me after I killed it, and be with me. You promised me on the ship you would be with me. But you're not. Did you even look for me, care about me?"

He takes a step closer, a sneer on his lips. "Or were you thinking of that disgusting thing? Were those tears for that thing?" His eyes widened. "No, it was for me. It was all for me, I can tell. You pushed it away. You didn't love it like you love me, right?"

He moves the gun away, light sobs falling from your lips as he lets the weapon run down your cheeks.

"It's okay, I'm here now. You don't have to worry about me anymore. One I kill it, we can be together. We can be okay. Shh, don't cry," he wipes your tears, ignoring your flinching. "It's okay. I'm sorry for pushing you into the water, but you're okay. You're fine. I knew you’d be okay, you’re a survivor-"

A bang makes Hongjoong grab you by the neck, gun pointed to your head as he holds you against his chest. Your fingers are tight against his arm, trying to pull him off.

"Did he come for you?" Hongjoong hisses in your ear. "Is that all I had to do? Mess with his little girlfriend?"

A loud crash echoes through your home. You try to catch your breaths, hiccups consuming you. All you could think about is wanting to live, not wanting to end up this way, wishing you went to the marker instead of being alone. A large shadow slowly enters the room. Your eyes strain to look around the corner to see who it is. You almost buckle at the sight.

Yunho stands there, but he looks different. The color of his skin is almost translucent, slowly pulsating, changing whenever he moves slightly. His skin is dripping wet, hair cut down to almost a buzzcut. Markings cover his skin, almost as if he's covered in purple tattoos. Tentacles emerge from his sides and back, slowly slithering around the floor. His pupils are slits. He looks more like a creature than a human. And even with that fact, your heartbeat quickens in his presence.

He's here.

Yunho stares at Hongjoong, before his eyes move to you. They seem to soften immediately, flicking over your body for any signs of injuries, before moving back to your captor.

"Let her go."

"Let her go? Let her go? Who the fuck do you think you are? I have her, I have a gun to her head. I can kill her before you'd blink, and you think I'll just let her go? Not today, you fuck."

He pushes it deeper into your temple. You can feel it digging into your skin, blood slowly trickling down the side of your face. You groan in pain, still tugging on his arm. You can't risk doing anything without him killing you. All you could do is be helpless, hoping that he can save you from the monster that has you in his arms.

Yunho takes slow steps into the room, eyes on Hongjoong. "What do you want?"

"Your head on a platter. Finish the job like I was supposed to do a while ago, instead of going on this crazy goose chase."

Yunho sits on your stool, raising a brow. "Is that so? And what will you do then, after I'm dead? Do you get a little certification that says you killed the Kraken? The whole world except a few measly pirates wouldn't believe a word you say. You would be considered a mad man, too involved in his fantasies to see reality," Yunho's finger runs down the edge of your counter. "Is that what you want?"

"I…" Hongjoong curses, tapping the gun on your temple. Yun watches the movements, narrowing his eyes. "I just want Seonghwa back. Give me back to him, and I'll give up on you. Tell the others that you are resting for another 100 years."

"Lying to me will only hurt you in the end."

"I'm serious, Yunho. I'm one hundred fucking percent serious. Just… give me Seonghwa back. I'll leave you alone. Both of you." Hongjoong glances down at you. “I just want him back.”

Yunho tilts his head as he stares at him. “That isn’t possible.”

Hongjoong’s grip loosens slightly, enough for you to lift your leg, kicking him in the shin and stumbling to Yun. Yunho quickly hides you behind his back. Hongjoong is on his knees, gun still held in his hand as he stares at the floor. His hand trembles as he pushes loose locks away from his face, lost in thought.

“You’re a fucking monster from millions of years ago, and you’re telling me that you can’t bring him back? You can’t bring one human back from death? What’s your purpose if you can’t do a simple thing like that? You’re the one who attacked the ship, you’re the one who killed all of those people, and you can’t change it?” He stands up, slowly raising his gun. “Give. Him. Back.”

It seems as if he’s unafraid of the weapon. He narrows his eyes at him, shaking his head. “I am a giant octopus, why would I have the strength to bring back a human from death? But either way, Seonghwa isn’t dead.”

What? What? You saw as Kraken-Yun swallowed him, how could he survive that? You look up at Yun, but he’s still watching Hongjoong carefully.

“After I saved y/n from your attempted murder, I regurgitated him. He is alive on an island not fair from here. I believe it’s called Hawaii.”

“Hawaii? In the middle of the ocean?” Hongjoong widens his eyes. “Are you shitting me right now? You put him there, out of all places?”

“He is fine and not injured. I thought you would be grateful that I didn’t digest him. I am not fond of the taste of humans,” Yunho shrugs. “I have told you pirates that I am not a killer, that I only defend myself from attacks and the humans that I care about.” He glances at you. “Humans do the same, but they also do senseless acts. I am just defending myself and my territory.”

Yunho gestures to the gun in Hongjoong’s hand, currently pointed at him. “A lot of pirates I’ve met are immediately violent without thinking things through, irrational. Even now, I have told you where your Seonghwa is and you still are threatening her life.”

“You are a creature, an abomination. And you must be eradicated. It’s what I’ve been taught since I was young. Nothing that you say is going to change that!” Before Yunho utters another word, he fires the weapon. Two, three, several shots echo around you and you scream, clutching onto Yunho’s arm desperately. He pushes you away from the firing with ease, throwing you back into a wall.

“Shit!” he curses, leaping to Hongjoong. His tentacles immediately wrap around Hongjoong’s torso, slamming him to the ground. Hongjoong groans as Yunho towers over him, glaring down. “Stand down.”

“Fuck, you,” he hisses as a tentacle slowly wraps around his neck. He gasps, clawing at the limb. “Not surprised you’re killing me. That’s what you do, isn’t it.”

A strange emotion flicks across his face. He slowly lets go of Hongjoong’s neck. He takes the opportunity to grab the gun next to him, neck flicking to the side and aiming it at you. He fires. You don’t have enough time to react.

Time moves in slow motion. Hongjoong smiles in a sadistic glee as the bullet pierces through your stomach. The gasp that falls from your mouth as you look down, seeing the slow spread of blood staining your shirt. The front door opens, Jongho and Mingi walking in. Yunho grabs Hongjoong’s neck as life fades from his eyes. The smile on his lips burned into your skull as you slid down, fingers touching the hole in your skin.

“y/n!” You’re not sure who is calling you, but that’s the least of your worries. You look at Yunho, yelling. Telling him no, that he can’t kill him. It seems to hit his ears, because he lets go of Hongjoong. Mingi gasps at Yunho, Jongho running around him and going to you.

“You’re okay, you’re going to be okay. This isn’t a big deal, it’s just a small wound, nothing more-”

Yunho quickly comes to your side. You’re not sure when the tentacles disappeared, but your head is throbbing. Mingi moves from the door, closing it and locking it. The three surround you as your vision moves in and out.

“It’s just one bullet.”

“There’s three in here, Jong. We have to take her to the hospital. Can’t you see the one in her chest? Oh my god.”

“I can take care of her. Get me water, now!”

Footsteps echo away as you blink slowly. Death is such a fickle thing. You never really thought about it much. It’s the end, it’s a simple thing. You honestly believed you’d live to be at least 80, but you didn’t even make it halfway there. Here you are, riddled with bullets, choking on your own blood as you stare at whoever is in front of you.

Yunho. Yes, it’s Yunho. And Jongho. Oh, he looks so scared. You try to tell him that it’s okay, but you only choke more. Tears are falling down his cheeks as he holds you, a splatter of water covering your vision for a moment.

“You won’t die on me. That I swear.”

Who’s voice is that? All you seem to do is pass out. It’s quite tiring. Maybe this time you just don’t open your eyes again. It will be fine, everything will be fine.

“Tie him up, we’ll deal with the police once y/n is okay.”

The voices are blending together now. You can’t tell who’s holding you. But the pain, the searing pain that fills your body is unbearable. You scream and choke, body convulsing as you try to stop the pain yourself. Hands hold you down against the floor. Your hands grab for anything, something to help you take out some of the pain. Fingers wrap around your hand, and you squeeze tightly, silently begging. You don’t want to die. Not now, not like this.

Hands push down on your chest, hard. You scream, this time it is echoing around the room. You grab the wrists of whoever is pushing down on you, eyes fluttering open. Yunho’s eyes are on yours, worry in his gaze. He smiles when he sees you looking at him.

“You’re okay. Breathe.”

You gasp, touching your chest quickly. Jongho ’s fingers are curled with yours, Mingi next to him. All of them are staring at you with worry, Yunho’s hands shaking as he removes his hands from your chest. He holds up three bullets, tsking.

“He fired all of them and they hit your chest and stomach. I was able to take all of them out and cover your wounds, but you’ll be sore for a while.”

Mingi glances at him nervously. Jongho blinks slowly, shaking his head before turning to you. “I think we should call the police. If we let Hongjoong go, he’ll just continue to try and attack you, or attempt to kill him. It’ll be an endless cycle of horror, and you’ll live your life on edge everyday. Seonghwa is too far away to find you for now, so he’s not someone to worry about.”

Jongho rubs his face. “I really didn’t think he’d turn out like this. Lied to all of us, tried to kill you…” His voice wavers as he looks down at you. “You almost died, y/n. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” Mingi rubs his back as tears trail down his cheeks.

“Maybe we send him off to a livable island,” Yunho murmurs. “I know human police are quite fickle, and it would be unwise to try to explain everything when he might tell information about me.” He looks down at you. “There has been attempts in the past to capture me by several countries. I am not too sure if this one is different.”

“I don’t want to risk you,” you say, your hand reaching for his. He lets you curl your fingers around his, looking at you in concern. “I can’t lose you again. Not now.”

“Then what?” Mingi turns to an unconscious Hongjoong, tied up. “How are you going to take him out of here?”

“Ah… you bring me to the ocean with him, and I’ll take it from there. But we have to make sure he is not conscious so he will survive the trip,” he notices your grip tightening. “I won’t be gone for long.”

“Will you come back?” You ask, eyes flicking between his. “I’m sorry for what I did, I…” You cough, Mingi rubbing your back. Yunho leans forward, pressing his forehead lightly against yours. Your lids flutter as your skin touches, the cold temperature calming the rapid thumping of your heart.

“I won’t let you go again. I’ll be back before you know it.” He pulls back, a small smile on his lips. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

He stands up slowly. There’s resistance in his grip as he lets go of your hand, glancing back at Hongjoong. He purses his lips, glancing at Mingi and Jongho. “Are either of you willing to take me?”

“Not necessarily-” Jongho m starts, earning a hard shove from Mingi. “-but I have no other choice.” He smiles at you, following Yunho. He picks up Hongjoong with ease, throwing him on his shoulders as Jong judges him silently, guiding him out the door. It’s quiet for a few moments, until Mingi chuckles, shaking his head.

“God, I can’t believe I just met the Kraken, and you’re in love with him.”

You widen your eyes. “No-”

“I know my best friend, y/n. And I know that he feels the same way. Kind of felt like a third wheel when he was speaking to you,” he says, cheeks flushing red. “Next time warn me before you two get all mushy.”

“Mingi-!”

“I’m glad you’re okay, I really am. I don’t know what would have happened if he wasn’t here. I just…” he sighs, glancing down at your body. “I’m happy that you have someone in your life that cares so much about you. Now I don’t have to worry anymore. You know, I would have probably cursed at you if I found out about you being in contact with him. But seeing how much he cares about you, how much he risks himself to help you, I couldn’t ask for a better person to care about you.”

“Thank you Mingi, really.” You say softly.

“You’re welcome. Now…” he grins. “Does he have a tentacle dick?”

“Mingi-!”

You hear a soft knocking on your door. You leap from your seat, stumbling over pairs of shoes in your way as you swing the door open. Yunho stands there, hands tucked in a new pair of pants, nervously shifting back and forth. His brown eyes immediately meet yours, the smile that you’ve missed for so long spreading on his face.

“Hi,” he breathes. He smells like the ocean and taffy, skin tanned from the sun.

“Hi,” you say back, giddy. Before he says anything else, you immediately pull him into a hug, your arms wrapping around his neck. His hands slowly move from his pocket and wrap around your torso, squeezing you tightly against him. You can feel the fast beating of his heart pressed against your chest, in tandem with yours. You try to pull away, but his hold tightens even more.

“I missed you so much,” he says softly. Tears begin to fall on your shoulders. You move your head to look at him in the eyes, hands on either side of his face. His eyes are moist, eyelids blinking rapidly as he tries to control his emotions.

“Yun…?”

He guides you inside, shutting the door with a kick. He lets go of your body reluctantly, but keeps your hands attached. He crumbles, knees hitting the floor, gaze glossed over. His hands cover his face, soft sobs rake through his body. You crouch down with him, confused. His arms curl around your body without hesitation, tucking his face into your chest.

"I don't want to hurt anymore, I don't want to do this to humans. I just want to live." He says over and over, "How can I stop this? How?"

“What happened?”

“From before. I was so willing to kill him without hesitation. The only reason I stopped was because of you, because you told me that I should spare his life. All of my time living, I have tried my hardest not to hurt a human soul because I know how short their lifespan is. But at that moment, I didn’t even care. I didn’t even think twice. Maybe I’m the monster that he says I am.”

“Yunho, you are not a monster.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not. You are one of the kindest people I know. Hongjoong’s life has been filled with people telling him what you are and what you’ve done. That’s why he calls you that, because that’s all he has ever known. But you spared him. You helped him live, you didn’t let him go to prison. You saved him.” You let your fingers run through his hair. “That’s heroic to me, the opposite of a monster.”

“I'll be here for you. Every step of the way. I won't give up on you. I promise that.

His shaking is lessened now, more stable than before. His gaze meets yours, eyes flicking all over your face. As if he's willing himself to memorize it. His hands glide along the side of your body, before resting on either side of your face. His fingers strokes your cheek, an unreadable emotion in his gaze.

"Why do you care so much for me, y/n? I have offered you only worries and trouble. But you have stayed. Why?"

How do you tell a several thousand year old creature that you're in love with him? How do you utter those words to a man that probably has never even experienced something close to love?

"I care about you, Yunho–"

He shakes his head. "That's not what you want to say. Tell me, y/n. Why do you care so much? Why–"

"Fuck, Yunho! I'm in love with you, okay?" You pull his hands off your face, standing up. He remains in his spot, watching as you walk back and forth. "And I know I shouldn't be, but I am. I'm in love with a... octopus hybrid, half man half creature, and I can't stop myself. I care about you too much, you're on my mind constantly. I mean, even when I'm checking someone out at the library all I think about is if you'll like this book. I'm just... I don't know what to do. Because you can't stay here forever. You exist in our world every 100 years, and then you go away again. I can't be in love with you, but I am."

"You are?" He asks, saying those two words slowly. "You're in love with me?" You don't see the smile creeping on his face, the steady steps toward you.

"Yes, I am. I can't believe I'm confessing to you right now. The worst possible timing ever," You snort, rubbing your face in exasperation.

“I love you.”

You stop in your steps, looking back at him. “What?”

“I didn’t know what human love was. I always questioned it, always thought that it was a frivolous human emotion that just made your relationships grow or procreate. But it is so much more than that. I don’t know when I realized it, but I have loved you for a while. It might have been when you took care of me without knowing my name, or when you sat next to me on the dock. I just… I know that I love you.”

Yunho stands closer to you, his hands entangling with yours. “I love you, y/n.”

Your heartbeat quickens as you stare up at him. Fear, Love, Care, Confusion, Anxiety, love, love love love…

You pull his face down, barely centimeters away from your lips. You both breathe slowly, eyes staring into one another’s. Before you could ask, Yunho takes the leap. He presses his lips against yours, small gasps falling from them as he kisses you. And kisses you, kisses you, kisses you…

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt and he presses his forehead into yours, lips trembling against yours. All you can hear is your breaths, until you giggle, shaking your head.

“Did I just kiss an octopus?”

“Did I just kiss a human?” He raises a brow.

“Touche,” you mumble back. He laughs, shaking his head.

“So, you two are a thing now?” Jongho says through big bites, glancing at Yunho out of the corner of his eye. “You’re dating a cephalopod? Isn’t that illegal somehow?”

“He’s… well,” you glance at Yun. “I mean, yea. Not sure if it’s illegal if he’s half human too.”

“Well, not exactly half human,” he squeezes your arm, eating his ramen. “More like full octopus, sometimes transform into a human for convenience. So Jongho is correct in that sense.”

“You’re making this weirder than it already is,” you grumble. Jongho laughs and Yunho shakes his head lightly.

It’s been a few weeks since Yunho sent Seonghwa and Hongjoong to their own designated islands, far far away from here. You’re glad that he did it, you’re not as afraid whenever you walk outside to get your mail, or go to the grocery store. Moreso, because Yunho is constantly by your side. It’s not something you mind at all, it’s just a little funny. Whenever you open your front door, Yunho appears immediately by your side, watching as you take it from the box. He insisted on doing it himself (and everything else, but you stopped that immediately). There’s always a pout on his lips as you do it, but it’s only for show. He just wants you safe, and that’s something that you don’t mind.

The grocery store is a different story. You’ve never felt closer to him whenever you go. He’s attached to your arm, fingers curled into yours as you walk around. Always asks questions about what things are, annoyed whenever someone gets a bit too close to you, hands running down your arm. You’ve noticed that when he’s nervous his skin gets a bit sticky (an almost slimy texture), and small circles appear on his hands. After you confronted him about it before, he shyly explained that it’s his suction cups, and sometimes they appear whenever he feels extreme emotions.

God, you’d never get used to having an octopus as a partner.

“How’s the shop renovation? Complete yet?”

Jongho nods happily. “Finally! Just need to get some things shipped from the farm and everything will be freshly stocked. God, that fire seems like years ago,” he shivers. “I still have no idea how it happened or how we got out.”

“I did it.”

You both stop chewing, looking at Yunho. His eyes flick between you both, light circles starting to appear on his arm. “Is there anything wrong?”

“You saved us from the fire? You dragged us out?”

He nods slowly. “I just appeared on the surface, but I sensed you two in danger so I pulled you out. I thought you knew this already, you were staring right at me as I dragged you.”

“I couldn’t see anything because it was too dark-!”

“Thanks!” Jongho interrupts you, patting Yunho a bit harshly, causing him to spill a little soup on his shirt. He stares down at it as Jong speaks. “If it weren’t for you well, we’d be six feet under right about now.”

Yunho picks at the stain. “What does that even mean?”

“Dead. We’d be dead,” you say, still staring at him in awe. He furrows his eyes at your stare. This man is more involved in your life than you realized. He’s saved you more than you know, and you wanted to push him away. What a fool you would have been. “Thank you, Yun.”

He smiles. “Anything for you.”

Everything is amazing with Yunho. You get to see him often, he sometimes visits you at the library whenever the sea shows that he watches isn’t enough to entertain him, or the park is closed. You love spending time with him, you do. But something changed. The past few days it grew even more apparent. You would come home from work, and he’d sniff you. You assumed that it was just a random encounter, but he does it each time you leave the room and come back in. Head on your neck, inhaling your scent.

And that’s not the strangest part. He’d stare at you for a moment, brush his hands over the spot, linger, then look away and pretend as if nothing happened. The first time was subtle, not enough for you to pay much mind to. But it happens too often for you to just let it slide. In the mornings, (Yunho still sleeps in his own room), he’d stand outside your door, do the usual routine, and then take his hours long baths. Everyday.

Every. Single. Day.

And now, as you sit next to him on your bed. He does the same. Your legs wrapped around him, hand resting on his stomach. His head is in the curve of your neck. This time though his breathing is heavy, fingertips indenting your side as he pulls you closer. You shudder as his tongue slowly runs down the skin, mouth closing around it, sucking lightly.

“Yun,” you stutter. He stops immediately, pulling away from your body.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he quickly runs through the apologies, finger stroking your cheek as he spills more and more. You laugh, shaking your head.

“If you wanted to have sex all you had to do was ask, you know.”

His face burns darker than you’ve ever seen him, hand trembling as he strokes your cheek. “I didn’t,” he rubs his face. “I do, I really do. But, you’re a human, and I am a… I don’t know. It might be different, and I don’t want to hurt you. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I ever caused you any injuries.”

You shake your head. “You won’t.”

“But what if I do?”

“But you won’t.”

“But-”

“Yunho.” You stop him from speaking. “I know you’re not going to hurt me, okay? I can always tell you to stop, and I trust that you’ll listen to me if I feel like there’s something wrong.”

He looks at you, his brown eyes warming as the sun hits them. “I don’t deserve you.”

You shrug, “Well, that is true…”

He laughs, shaking his head as he pulls you in for a kiss. Looking into your eyes to see if it’s okay, he slowly guides you against him, his body moving on top of yours. His hands slowly travel underneath your shirt, guiding it off of you. You lift your arms, letting him move it up your body. He pauses when it reaches your bra, pressing light kisses against your stomach, sternum, leading up to the curve of your breasts. His mouth lingers on the plump lift of your chest. You can feel as he smiles into your skin, the remainder of your shirt thrown to the side.

“You’re beautiful,” he says softly, eyes slowly lifting to yours. They’re much darker, swirling with lust and love. “Is it all for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe. He winks, his hand tugging on your bra. Before you reach to unclasp it for him, he rips it easily with a slight tug of his hand. Your breath hitches, not knowing whether to be turned on or a little scared.

Or both.

His tongue glides along your skin, reaching your nipple and sucking lightly. You moan as he pushes down your pants, nails scratching you as he quickly pushes them to the side. His fingers dig into your hips, mouth moving to the other side. His skin is cool, slowly growing moist and sticky as he continues.

You feel a strange sensation on your thighs, and look down at him. Yunho is still against your stomach, groaning lightly. Sweat decorates his forehead, dripping onto you. You quickly lean up, fear coursing through your veins. Is this what he was talking about? Does sex hurt him?

“Yun?”

Your eyes widen once you lean up, finally seeing what’s wrong. There’s a huge tear in Yunho’s shirt, tentacles growing larger and larger, some falling onto your legs, the others lying on the side. He looks up at you, eyes completely black, mouth open as he groans, fingers digging into your thighs. It’s not enough to draw blood, but you’re sure they’re going to leave behind small bruises.

“We can stop if you want,” he gasps, a tentacle slowly wrapping around your leg, inching closer and closer to your center. You fall back slowly, watching as another touches your hand with hesitancy, it’s moist texture raising your curiosity. You can feel the suction cups adhere to your skin, pulling on it lightly as it travels it’s way.

“y/n, please. Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, biting your thigh lightly. “If this is too weird for you, we don’t have to do anything. I can enjoy you as we are, nothing too far.” The pure and unrivaled care that he has in his voice. It only makes you sniffle. Yunho quickly flicks his head up to you, uneased. His whole body freezes.

“I… I love you Yunho, and I want to do this with you.”

“Why are you crying?” he asks gently, hands massaging your side.

“Because I’ve never met someone who cares about my feelings so much,” you confess, rubbing your eyes. “God, I can’t believe I’m crying during sex.”

He beams at you, “You only make me more and more elated,” his tentacle pulsates around your leg, now on your lower thigh. “And a little aroused.”

You chuckle at his dirty talk, your laugh disappearing quickly when one of the tentacles make it between your legs. It hesitantly teases your lips, before slowly guiding along your mound, pressing against your clit. Your legs tighten around Yunho as he holds you apart, eyes on your middle. It’s secretions moisten your mound more than it already is, entering you. It’s small at the end, the size of a finger. You groan, throwing your head back as it enters more and more slowly.

Yunho lets go of your legs for a moment, ripping the rest of his clothing off. His torso is covered in small circles, a more green color, as if he’s blending into your bedsheets. He leans down, eyes on you as he sucks your clit lightly.

“Fuck,” You gasp, clutching your bedsheets. “Please…”

Another tentacle makes it underneath your body, lifting you with ease. It travels around your back, slowly moving around the curve of your ass, before making it just outside the hole. Before you could tell Yunho that you’ve never done that before, the tentacle enters slowly. He trembles, moving away from your cunt, hands shaking.

“You’re so tight,” he utters through struggling breaths. “I have to tell you something.”

You nod, moaning as his tentacle moves another inch. It doesn’t hurt as much as you thought, the burn of the entrance mended by the slick skin of the tentacle. Yunho pauses for a moment.

“I know humans don’t usually urinate when they mate but…” His eyes flutter as he feels you tighten around him. “That’s how I mark my territory. My limbs are going to release into you. I just need to know if you’re okay with me inside of you.”

He looks into your eyes. Urine? You’ve never thought much of it before, but it did linger in your head sometimes. To be honest, it never turned you off whenever you stumbled upon it during your endless searches. And Yunho, staring at you as his tentacles moved inside you, doesn’t seem like a better time to try it out.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You can pee in me, fuck.” His tentacles immediately pick up the pace, suckers sticking to places inside you, moving in and out with precision. You moan loudly as the bed creaks, another two limbs encircling your chest, squeezing your breasts. Your senses are taken over by the moist, cold tentacles moving on you. Yunho leans forward, lips against yours, tongue frantic as the tentacles pick up their pace. His head tucks into your neck, breaths rapid.

“They’re about to…” he trails off, groaning. Immediately, the warm liquid spills into your ass and cunt, pushing as far as it could inside of you, filling you up. Your orgasm hits immediately, legs trembling as they tighten around the limbs, keeping them in place for a moment. With struggle, the tentacles slowly slide out, dripping as they pull out, moving to the side. Yunho reaches down, and you follow his hand.

His fingers are wrapped around his cock. It’s a light green in color, ridges running down the length. It’s an average size, but the girth is more than you expected it to be. It’s almost as thick as a soda can, and your heart only beats faster at that realization. It would split you apart.

Yunho rubs it slowly, lids heavy as he stares down at you. Fuck it.

“Can I?” he asks, rubbing his length along your cunt, the ridges rubbing against your clit. You nod, and he slowly enters you, groaning. His tentacles wrap around your back, slowly guiding you onto his cock. His length is difficult to enter you, the help of the tentacles and the layer of slick from them making it easier. Soon enough, his balls rest against the outside of your lips.

You’re a bit shocked that he made it in with such ease, the feeling of him taking over everything else. Your fingers dig into his arm as he slowly backs out, before entering you again. He does it inch by inch, lightly kissing your body to comfort you. He slowly drags his cock out of you. His gaze moves down, the combination of his slick and your arousal covering his cock. You feel empty, your hand tugging him forward again.

He chuckles. “You’re an interesting one.”

“What does tha-”

He pushes himself harshly against you, the breath leaving your lungs for a moment. He’s moving much quicker than you thought, balls slapping against you as he quickened his pace. His veins pop out against his skin, fingers slowly sticking to your skin, suckers appearing on his palm. He groans, muscles straining as he takes in the feeling of you around his cock. His tentacles wrap around your body, one moving closer to your neck. It tickles your skin, before wrapping lightly around it.

Your cunt only tightens more, encouraging him. His hips pick up the pace, cock easily moving in and out of you. The slap of his skin on yours echoes around you, the fear of him ripping you apart replaced with the need to reach your end. He keeps up the neverending pace with ease, panting and eyes focused on yours. He can feel his cock getting harder, his end getting closer and closer to fruition. You can feel your end hearing as well, the pulsing of your cunt and the high almost at the perfect spot.

“I… I think I’m going to cum,” he utters, hips stuttering. “Cum for me, y/n.” His fingers grip your hips, harshly pulling you against him. He leans forward, mouth sucking on your neck and tentacle moving to the side. “Cum.”

Your orgasm hits you at one more pump of his hips, legs wrapping around his body as you violently tremble against him. Yunho wraps himself around you, holding you against his body as you feel his hot cum against your walls, filling you as much as it could. Your breaths level out, Yunho still wrapped around you. Despite his orgasm, you can still feel how hard he is inside of you, stiff against your still trembling walls.

“Why are you still hard?” you mumble into his ears.

He laughs, kissing just behind your lobe. “I have a lot of stamina.”

“How long?”

He moves away from your neck, eyebrow raised. “At least four more times.”

“Four-?!”

“Relax y/n, I’d never make you go that far. Once is enough for me,” he says softly, love in his eyes. “I’ll do anything you desire.”

“That’s cute, kinda gross,” you murmur, and he only chuckles. “I love you, you know. I don’t care what you look like or how many tentacles you have. I’ll still love you the same.”

“What happens when I leave?” he says so softly, you almost don’t hear it. “Once I turn back into a Kraken…”

“That’s not something to think about right now. I have you at this moment. And that’s enough for now.”

He nods slowly, looking at you in deep thought. “I won’t leave you, I’ll figure something out. There’s no use for a Kraken in these modern times. I don’t need to protect the seas any longer. I will stay human.”

He somehow presses you closer to him, “For you. I won’t give up on you.”

@cultofdionysusnet

#cultofdionysusnet #yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunho fluff #yunho angst #fic: kraken

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itsclydebitches · 1 year

Text

I really want to take a moment to appreciate the conversation between Roy and Trent in 3x02, as a part of Ted Lasso's larger commentary on toxic masculinity.

Because these two are classic nerd/jock archetypes, yeah? (At least on the surface. The fact that they're far more complex than that is kinda the whole point.) Roy Kent is the handsome, talented, scariest motherfucker around, able to treat people like shit and still earn the devotion of the fans because he possesses the coveted Sports Skills. Trent, in contrast, is the queer kid who was never able to participate in sports himself, instead needing to turn to writing about them to find that in. As he tells Ted, for him sport is the metaphor and his words, delivered with an "edgy" style that pulls no punches, defend Trent in a way he's never been able to defend himself physically; they gain respect in a field where he'd otherwise be considered a joke. ("Is this a fucking joke?") Plus, given the implied backgrounds and present day characterization, I don't think it's much of a reach to believe that scathing articles like the one Trent wrote contain a certain amount of bitter satisfaction: Roy is "over-hyped," "mediocre," "disappointing," and driven by "rage." If that doesn't sound like a bullied kid finally getting back at all the jocks Roy represents, I don't know what does.

Notably, they repeat a version of this history during Trent's first week at Richmond. He's easily the most anxious we've ever seen him, jumping at loud noises, hands twitching in his pockets, very self-consciously trying to form a connection with the players and failing miserably. Trent is without his armor now - that of a high-profile journalist, safe behind his cutting words - and he's unable to rebuild any given that he's being denied the chance to write his stories. Why is that the case? Because top dog Roy Kent has decreed that no one talk to him. Now, we know based on Roy's characterization and what's revealed later in the episode that this is done out of a desire to protect his players from the abusive press, but outside of that context this looks a lot like the popular kid playing the part of a bully. Trent is the new kid entering class, being clocked as the outsider, briefly welcomed by someone with no prior bias (Dani)... and then that's shut down real fast from Roy. Funny as Ted Lasso is (and I was legitimately cracking up throughout the episode) there's also something extremely disquieting - in a very familiar way - at watching someone go from, "Hi! :D" to "FUCK YOU!" all on the say-so of someone with a lot of authority and social power. This dynamic continues throughout the whole week, with Trent growing more and more on edge until, finally, he just gives in. When Roy starts popping balloons he doesn't stand up for himself and demand that he share their office respectfully, Trent just tries desperately to ignore the bullying - and it is bullying, given that Roy stops popping the moment Trent leaves - and then quietly runs away, acting apologetic as he goes. When the players refuse to discuss strategy with Trent he tries to leave again, defeated, which is a far cry from the doggedly confident reporter who would wait for Jamie after practice. Woven among the humor, Trent is at his most vulnerable here, looking more and more like the victim in a hostile, traditionally masculine space.

Of course, given that this is Ted Lasso, the situation is far more complex than just, "Bullies exist and that's #bad." The locker room scene is initially set up to look that way, in large part because it takes place in a locker room/bathroom. AKA, two spaces where bullying tends to occur unimpeded - and we've already seen that in Ted Lasso back when Nate was the underdog, cowering before the rest of the Richmond team. Roy's control over the group is so complete that no one dares challenge his order to ignore Trent (except, of course, Ted himself. The guy who sparked Roy's growth from the get-go) even though the group is clearly very relieved when the ban is lifted. Roy screams at Trent, making him jump, and orders him into the semi-privacy of the showers. It speaks volumes to me that Ted feels the need to give a reassuring nod and that Trent clearly needed it because, again, outside of the fact that they're both obviously adults now and that on a surface level this moment is meant to make us laugh, this is all very reminiscent of the bully pulling the nerdy kid somewhere where he can hurt him without consequence, all while everyone sits there and watches, not really wanting it to happen, but not willing to stop it either. Everything from the setting, to Trent's defensive body language, to Roy pushing the wallet against his chest in a move reminiscent of the classic shove to start off a beating, all of it heavily implies that kind of bully/victim dynamic.

But, as said, it's not that simple. Because Roy isn't the bully here and Trent, crucially, isn't just the victim. The scene goes on to reveal that Trent is the one who has caused Roy harm, by printing a unnecessarily cruel article when he was just seventeen years old. (A revelation that pairs very nicely with his introduction this season - "Love that" - reminding us that just because Trent approves of others standing up to bullies doesn't mean he's never been one.) That was a decision that "wrecked" a young Roy, to the extent that he kept that quote in his wallet for years, only now reaching a point where he can admit how much that hurt him. Trent's explanation is understandable given his heavily implied backstory. Not that he was trying to build his career, but that he would do so by "seeing the worst in people" and hurting them first before they could hurt him. Roy was right all the way back in Season One, Trent is a colossal prick... but that's likely because others were colossal pricks to him first. Here then, we see that cycle of abuse once more, the same one Nate is currently trapped in. The difference, however, is that when Ted says, 'Your ego is hurting us, Roy' Roy listens and when Roy says, 'You really hurt me, Trent' Trent listens, and the three of them together put a stop to the cycle then and there. Trent apologizes. Roy forgives him. Roy lifts the ban and by the end of the episode they've reached a place where they can speak honestly with one another. Not just about Roy's feelings - which is a HUGE thing for him to make Trent privy to - but about the complexities of Trent's career too. We've already seen that balancing the truth with compassion is fine line for him to walk - as evidenced by him texting Ted, but still publishing his article about the panic attacks; leaving his job, but still sniffing out the Richmond story - but here we get the reversal of that. Trent has already said, 'I'm working on emphasizing the ethics of my profession' and now Roy comes in with 'I'm working to admit that a cruel article isn't necessarily an inaccurate one.' He did play like shit at Chelsea and though Trent didn't need to break the spirit of a seventeen year old, the players do need to come to terms with the fact that they're in a high profile career where everyone is judging their performance (something Ted himself is all too aware of). This is the kind of nuanced understanding that's only possible post-apology/forgiveness, wherein the story has reminded us, 'Victims are capable of becoming bullies themselves and they need to own up to their actions just as much as they deserve an apology themselves.'

All of which is REALLY important for the framing of Nate's arc because he is in Trent's position, poised somewhere between victim and bully. It's obvious the ways in which Nate was a victim of the Richmond team, of his father, and even of the public, but it's significant that he's still a victim even as he now consciously hurts others too. Rebecca had a long speech this episode about how charming Rupert is, how he'll pursue you and in the process make you feel like you're the most important person in the world, someone chosen... and though she was talking about Zava, all I could think about was Nate. He's still being charmed and wooed by Rupert, what with the compliments and the new car, but all of it comes with reminders that he's worthless without that approval (surely a cleaning lady must have parked there...). Rupert is the top dog at the moment, his oh so benevolent popularity extending to Nate, encouraging him to model that behavior in order to keep his interest... but inevitably Rupert will toss him aside, just like he did with Rebecca. He'll become bored and Nate will have to grapple with the fact that, in his effort to avoid being a victim, he became the bully instead, just like Trent had. Rebecca is waiting to help Nate understand the ways in which Rupert can demolish your sense of self-worth. Trent is waiting to help Nate understand how to own up to your mistakes. And of course, there's Ted Lasso in the wings, the American outsider who can offer a much needed, compassionate perspective on the whole of it - as well as some personal insight into panic attacks during interviews. The entirety of the Richmond community, thematically, is being built into a reflection of Nate's struggle; a collection of experiences and wisdom and kind-hearted insight that can help him if (when!) he chooses to accept it.

#Ted Lasso #Ted Lasso spoilers #Trent Crimm #Nate Shelley #mymetas

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iwonderwh0 · 7 months

Text

Toxic codependent coworkers (more like sentimentally attached. I really tried but it didn't turn out toxic, but rather everything but)

(AU where Hank and Connor work as partners for years(or at least months) prior to revolution, and not on deviancy cases)

Despite being an android Connor has apparent lack of respect to Hank's superiority status, and at first it drives Hank nuts. He thinks he must be broken and fills the form for condition tests, but they come back normal, and as Hank finds out he's pretty much the only one having problems in making his android partner listen to his commands. After that Connor becomes even more annoying, as if specifically messing with Hank.

Hank, spends month begging to be partnered with someone else. Finally gets his wish granted and for one case he gets partnered with someone who is actually listening to him with respect and doesn't do or say weird shit. And it feels so off and boring that the next week or even day all he does is quietly asks to get Connor back.

This change made him aware that although sometimes annoying, his work has become much more fun and bearable with the presence of this specific android in it. It actually helps him forget things and distracts him enough from his regular thoughts for him to almost feel like fully-functional human again. Despite how much he hates overtime work, he's now occasionally taking some, especially on some holidays that he couldn't bear the thought of spending alone. This change of character is a bit shocking for everyone to witness, but Connor pretends to not notice, sparing him sarcastic notions this time.

Connor, being an android basically never leaves his work place. He leaves sticky notes on Hank's desk to report to him everything minor that happened in his absence, like overnight. The observations he's sharing aren't exactly worthy of a report, it's just things like "Someone had broken the coffee machine again (can you guess who?)", "That guy who came to report his stolen bike had a living rat in his pocket 🐀", "I've counted 12 spiders in this room alone, do you think I should give them names?"

He does that just out of boredom. He used to message Hank before, but the other threatened to block Connor's number if he keeps messaging him about work in his spare time, so now he's just leaving him notes. Sometimes they're just "Your shirt is ugly today" and Hank goes "How did you know which one I'll be wearing?" to which comes the response "Hank, we both know that they're all ugly"

In Hank's phone Connor is named as "smartass", periodically being renamed into other names. What Hank doesn't know is that Connor is aware of every name change. One time he makes it clear by saying something like "I can't believe I finally got promoted to Connor in your contacts. Not plastic asshole or smartass. I'll miss robot emoji tho."

One time Connor mentions that he charges his battery in the morning before Hank arrives and this fact now consumes his thoughts. So much that one day he shows up an hour earlier just to see that. When he doesn't account for is that Connor is deeply moved by this his decision and is like

"You hate waking up early, but you came here today an hour before your shift starts just to see me? Oh..."

For a moment Hank is embarrassed and half-expects his snarky partner to make fun of it, but instead he's just...so glad to see him it almost makes him feel bad.

Android doesn't rest and Hank can't help but feel kinda bad for him, even though he knows he's just humanizing him and shouldn't bother. Sometimes he's almost certain that he looks tired, but can't really explain what gives him such an impression.

One time Connor fucks up bad. For a regular reason of deciding to do something without being given a command to do so (which in absolute most cases was resulting in their favour before). For all Hank knows, such cases should be reported and usually result in temporary detention. But Connor is an android. He apologies frantically and visibly panics thinking about what it could mean for him. Hank ends up taking all the blame – the report on the case doesn't mention Connor doing anything out of line.

After that Hank can't deny feeling a sense of responsibility for his partner. After deviancy cases started to spread out, every android at the station is required to be tested weekly. As his partner, Hank is required to run those tests on Connor. The really first time results show "deviant".

Hank looks at him for a long moment

"I knew it."

"You're a good detective."

He marks the results as negative in the record. From now on they both keep pretending that everything is as usual. Hank never missed the day of assessment to keep marking "negative" under Connor's deviancy status, but Detroit is becoming more and more unstable. They start to get assigned their first deviancy cases. They let everyone escape and wonder how long they can keep doing this before they're both replaced. One day Connor receives the key to Jericho. Hank encourages him to get the hell out from DPD the same day it happens.

He gives him his gun and some money, they both dispose of his android uniform and Hank helps him to remove his LED. He says to throw it away, but actually saves the LED in his pocket in case it happened to be the only physical reminder he has left. They hug goodbye and part ways.

Hank fills the resign form the next day.

#dbh #dbh connor #dbh hank #detroit become human #platoniconk #Fic ideas that I'll never write #kinda

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pattywinchester · 7 months

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Suptober 2023 Day 4 -Nimbus

“Cas, I’m telling you, something’s not right. We must be a target or, at the very least, this... What are they calling it... phenomenon is somehow connected to us."

“Really, Dean, I think you are reading too much into this.”

“Seriously? Let's recap. We have been on what? Six hunts in six different cities in the last eight weeks, and in each of those cities, every night that we’re there, the sky lights up like the Fourth of July, complete with shooting stars and shit. You telling me that’s a coincidence? I don’t think so.”

“Well, in either case, it appears to be harmless. People haven’t reported any threats or destruction of property, have they?”

"No, Cas, you know they haven't. Everyone we have spoken to says it's the most beautiful thing they've ever seen."

"So, see, Dean, why worry so much. Don't borrow trouble. It's fine."

“Man, what’s gotten into you? Since when do we give crazy shit a pass just because it's 'pretty.'”

Cas shoots Dean a look and raises one brow before remarking, “I do it every day for you, Dean.”

"Oh, you're a wise guy now?" Dean says as he leans in to give his angel a kiss and a slap on the ass.

Their argument is temporarily forgotten when they end up in a tangle of arms and legs and quiet moans, causing them to get little sleep.

As they stow their gear in Baby the following day, the men overhear motel guests, remarking on the previous night's incredible light display.

“Fucking hell, it happened again. What the fuck, Cas? Don’t you think we should investigate?”

“Nooooo, I don't think so... I mean, what is there to investigate, really. What are we going to do, question the sky?" Cas responds as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

Dean looks at Cas for a full minute before he says, "Man, what is up with you? You’re acting cagey as hell."

“I don’t know what you mean, Dean. I am behaving normally. My responses are completely natural and truthful.”

“Oh, is that right? Cas, you gonna tell me what the fuck is up? This shit is weird, even for you.”

Cas stares at Dean unblinking, not saying a word until Dean gives up, slams the trunk, and makes his way to the driver's seat. "Get in weirdo. We’re going home."

They barely reach the freeway when Dean's phone chimes in his pocket. He pulls it out, glances at it, and hands it to Cas. "It's Sam. What's it say?”

"There is some ghost activity in Lincoln. He wants to know if we are 'up’ for it." Cas says, employing his now famous air quotes that never fail to make Dean both cringe and go incredibly fond.

“I’m good if you're good, Sunshine. What do you say?”

"Sure, Dean, Let's take care of it."

They pull into the parking lot of yet another seedy motel a little after midnight. Too late to do anything at that hour, they decide to get a good night's sleep and start fresh in the morning. After hot showers and Door Dashing burgers, the two men crawl into bed exhausted. It doesn't take Dean long before he snuggles against Cas, kissing him down his neck and nibbling at his earlobe. Cas' response is immediate, as it always is, and he turns his body to feel all of Dean's body against his.

"Dean, you should sleep..." Cas says reluctantly into Dean's mouth.

"Yeah, Angel. I'm way too far down this road. There is no turning back now." Dean says, pressing his hips against Cas as evidence. "Besides, there hasn't been one night since we've been on the road that I haven't felt you inside me, and I don't plan on changing that.”

Cas lets out a strangled groan, pushes Dean onto his back, grips his wrists, and pins him to the bed. Holding nothing back, Cas gives Dean what he wants.

The following morning, Sam calls to inform the men that there have been more reports of strange lights in the sky, this time in Lincoln.

"Well fuck, Cas. Whatever this is, it's definitely following us. I don't know why you've been shrugging this off, but we are investigating right after we handle this ghost."

"Uhh, sure... it's harmless... but I suppose we can 'look' into it if it makes you happy, Dean."

"If it makes me happy? Cas, you crazy son of a bitch, since when do we hunt to make me happy? You know what, forget it. You're going to tell me what is up with you when you are good and ready, and until then, I'm doing my job and investigating this thing."

"I love you, Dean."

Although confused, Dean's agitation leaves him instantly, "I love you too, Sunshine. Come on, let's go ruin some ghost's day."

What they thought would be a routine salt and burn turns out to be so much more. As a result, they both come back bruised and bloody. Dean instantly falls asleep after Cas stitches him up.

In the morning, Dean wakes up stiff and a little worse for wear but determined to figure out those goddamn lights in the sky. He and Cas get ready to head out to start interviewing and researching when Sam calls to let them know that last night was the first night since they've been gone that there has been no anomalous activity.

"See, Dean, it's nothing. We can go home now. Don't you want to go home?"

"Well, yeah, Cas, but let's think about this for a minute. What made last night different from all the other nights since we hit the road?"

"Nothing?" Cas says nervously

Dean laughs and says, "Yeah, the only difference is that I didn't knock your socks off last night like every night."

Cas looks at Dean nervously, eyes wide.

Realization slowly dawning, Dean exclaims, "Holy fucking hell, Cas. It's you, isn't it? You're doing this?”

Cas, at last drops the façade and responds, “Yes... Not purposefully... I'm sorry... I've been trying to control it. I hope this will not impact the frequency or the intensity with which we copulate.”

"So let me get this straight, having sex with me is so good that it causes you to create a fucking celestial light show?”

"Yes, when I orgasm..."

Dean stares at Cas blankly, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide.

"Dean, say something. Are you angry?"

"Holy shit, Cas, that's the best fucking thing I have ever heard," Dean sputters, doubled over with laughter.

#destiel #supernatural #cas x dean #castiel supernatural #dean winchester #destiel fic #cw supernatural #suptober23

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 7 months

Text

Something There (Chapter 9)

7.1k words Roy Kent x Reader Warnings: Language, moment of violence (yay!), one scene of angst, lots of fluff and buildup A/N: Okay now THIS is my favorite chapter! I listened to Taylor's 'Daylight' for most of this, highly recommend 😘

Series Masterlist

He wasn’t letting go of her. Not this time.

Roy squeezed her tight, letting his cheek rest on her hair, the hair that smelled like fucking lavender and vanilla and was just as soft as he remembered. She felt good, pressed close to his heart like this. Right. Like she belonged there. The way she clung to him, trembling ever so slightly, told him that she was thinking the same thing.

Saying something would break the spell. So, Roy kept his mouth shut, wishing they could stay here, in this little office with its humming air conditioning and fluorescent lights, and forget about reporters and tabloids and non-boyfriends and hell, even forget about football. All he wanted was right there, in his arms, clutching to him like he was a life preserver in a storm.

But of course, staying frozen like this forever wasn’t a real option.

The sound of someone walking through the Greyhounds office had them releasing each other, not quite stepping away, as if they couldn’t bear parting, not quite yet.

Ted stood in the doorway, mouth open and eyebrows raised, glancing from one manager to the other. “I, uh, just wanted to see how you’re doin’,” he finally said, nodding to Buck. “That was a hell of a press conference, Coach.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, wiping her damp face; Roy realized she’d been crying into his shoulder. “I’m, uh, pretty tired. Should be heading home.”

Ted nodded, his face telling Roy he was sorry for interrupting. “Yeah, you get some rest. You deserve a good night’s sleep.” He offered a small wave. “Goodnight, coaches.”

Both managers mumbled their goodbyes to Ted before turning back to each other.

“I should go home,” she finally repeated, taking a step backwards to her desk, where her things were waiting to be packed up.

Roy nodded, suddenly unsure about what to do with his hands if they weren’t holding her. “Yeah, yeah. But listen-” He cleared his throat, eyes on the ceiling. “You… deserve to celebrate. Taking first place, the press conference, surviving all the shit we’ve been through. Maybe next week, when you’re up for it, I could… buy you a beer or something?”

When he forced himself to look at her, the corners of her red lips were tugging upwards. “Yeah. I’d like that, Kent.”

Before he could say anything else, his mobile vibrated in his pocket, further breaking the spell. He pulled it out, only vaguely registering the name on the screen.

“Answer it,” she hummed, starting to pack up her bag. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Roy nodded and started backing into his own office. “See you later.” He turned, answering his mobile as he walked through his office, into the changing room. “Hello?”

“Roy.” Trent’s voice was that serious tone he often used. “I, uh, got that information you asked for.”

Oh, shit. “Right, right. Anything… interesting?” he glanced over his shoulder as he entered the empty hallway, making sure he was alone.

Trent’s sigh sounded tired. “Oh, it’s interesting, alright,” he muttered dryly. “So, the photos were taken, but they weren’t going to be released. Keeley had done a good job convincing The Richmond Star to sit on them.”

“The fucking Richmond Star?” Roy’s chest tightened; he knew that paper.

“Yeah.” Trent paused. “They were going to just ignore them until… one of their reporters saw them. And gave them to another publication.”

Roy stopped in the middle of the hallway, ready to punch a wall. “Any idea who the reporter might’ve been?”

The hesitation on Trent’s end gave Roy his answer before the writer even spoke. “George Willows.”

“FUCK!”

Trent cleared his throat. “Figured you’d feel that way,” he hummed. He sighed. “I hate that it’s him. She’s… she’s lovely. She doesn’t deserve that.” The next pause was heavy. “Are you going to tell her?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Gotta… gotta think.” He let out a low, growling sigh. “Thanks, Trent. Really.”

“Good luck, Roy.”

Keeley had, thankfully, forgiven me for going off-script. On the contrary, she thought my rant was brilliant and long overdue. Rebecca, while concerned about the language and the reaction from shareholders, was proud of me.

After a the most light-hearted practice the Whippets had had in weeks, I found myself in my office, going over the report on our next opponent, determined to keep our first-place status.

“Hi there, Coach.” Ted Lasso stood in the doorway, smile on his face. “How was training today?”

“Good,” I chirped, waving him in. “Anything I can do for you, Ted?”

He shrugged and leaned on my desk. “Just didn’t get to chat last night.” His eyes searched my face curiously. “Sorry for, uh, interrupting.”

My face went warm. “It’s fine,” I murmured, looking down at my report. “We were just-”

“No need to explain,” he assured me, clearly trying not to grin goofily. “It was an emotional night for ya. For Roy too.” He raised his eyebrows. “The two of you… deserve something good. Some happiness.”

“The two of us,” I repeated with a little cough. “I mean-”

Ted placed his hand on top of mine, silencing me. “Lemme just say one thing. I know we’re practically strangers and it’s none of my business, but I dunno. I feel like I know a thing or two about a thing or two.”

My curiosity was piqued. “What’s up?”

After a quick glance around, Ted leaned in close. “Roy… he thinks you’re special. You know that right? Because it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. Heck, Helen Keller would be able to tell ya that Roy thinks the world of you.”

My heart stuttered as I looked at Ted. “I- you know, he-”

“But Roy’s pretty darn special too,” Ted continued. “He is so darn good. He’d do just about anything for the people he cares about. He’s got to be one of the most passionate people I have ever had the pleasure of knowin’. The man is a great coach and an incredible friend.” He cleared his throat. “Like I said, just a real special guy. And…” He shook his head. “I dunno. I think, and I’m sure a lot of other people think, that maybe you two… could be somethin’ special… together.” He threw his hands up as he hopped off my desk. “I said my piece. You can ignore me if you want, like I said it’s not really my place to talk.” He started towards the door, pausing halfway out of the office to look at me one more time. “But Roy… well if you let him, he’d care about you like no one’s business.” With a friendly nod, he was gone, leaving me alone with thoughts full of Roy Kent.

It was like Roy’s mind was at war with itself for a couple of days after the Whippets match. On the one hand, he was so angry with what he’d learned from Trent. Of course fucking Willows was behind this whole mess; the man was scum, after all. And the fact that her trust had been so fucking violated just crushed Roy. And now he had to figure out a way to tell her that didn’t look like he was just trying to break them up. Fucking hell.

But, even with all this inner turmoil, Roy couldn’t help feeling… happy. She was smiling at him, cracking jokes, and a couple of times he caught her gazing thoughtfully through the window from her office to his. Something had shifted, and Roy’s heart was soaring.

Still. How was he supposed to tell her who was behind their shared hell?

He was contemplating this when Rebecca bumped into him in the hallway.

“Oh, Roy, just who I was hoping to see.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

She nodded, stepping closer. “I was wondering how you’re doing. We haven’t had a chance to talk since… well, the other night.” Her eyebrows flew up. “That press conference was interesting, wasn’t it?”

“Interesting,” Roy repeated, shifting his weight and his gaze. “Yeah, you could call it that.”

As if summoned by Roy’s discomfort, the Whippets’ coaches walked by, chattering quietly. The two managers locked eyes, and Roy was the recipient of the softest smile, the kind that made his breath hitch and his fingertips tingle. He nodded back, keeping his eyes on her as she continued down the hall; to his absolute delight, she glanced back at him before disappearing around a corner.

Rebecca’s face softened as she watched the manager squirm. “Roy Kent, when are you going to fucking tell her how you feel?”

He sighed, glancing around, praying no one could hear the two of them. “Rebecca-”

“No, don’t ‘Rebecca’ me,” she scolded in a low voice. “Come on, Roy, I’m sick of seeing you stumble around here in this little daze. There’s something between you two, we all know it. It’s so damn obvious. It’s been there for months. Hell, it’s probably been there since the day she arrived. So go fucking tell her that you have real feelings for her.”

“Rebecca,” he warned, face burning. “It’s not that fucking simple-”

She rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you? Stop getting in the way of your own happiness. Stop acting helpless, because you’re not. You’re Roy fucking Kent! You deserve to be happy.”

Roy felt his blood boil as he finally snapped at his boss. “And you’re Rebecca fucking Welton! So when are you going to stop pretending you don’t love Ted and let yourself be happy?”

The color draining from Rebecc’s face told Roy he was right on the money. It wasn’t as if it was some great secret; everyone knew there was more than friendship between the owner and former manager. Well, maybe everyone except the owner and manager in question.

“Exactly,” Roy went on, confident that he’d ended this particular conversation. “When you talk to Ted about your feelings, I’ll talk to Bucky about mine.” He nodded, more to himself, and began to turn to walk away; Rebecca’s hand on his wrist stopped him in his tracks.

“Fine.”

Before Roy could say another word, Rebecca dragged him down the halls of the Dog Track, ignoring the curious looks of the people they passed as her heels click, click, clicked against the tile. She didn’t stop her quick pace until they were in the Greyhounds office, where Ted was chatting pleasantly with Beard.

Ted’s eyes lit up at the sight of Rebecca. “Well, hey there-”

“Ted Lasso,” Rebecca commanded, releasing Roy’s wrist. “Are you ever going to kiss me?”

Roy had never seen Ted’s face so pale. “I-” the American choked, Beard wide-eyed next to him. “Well, gee- Becca, we-”

Rebecca took a step forward, raising a cool eyebrow at Ted. “Oklahoma.”

“Well, shoot.”

He cupped her face carefully and pulled her into a deep kiss; behind them, Beard’s arms were in the air as his mouth widened in a silent scream. Roy felt his ears go warm, his heart drumming with a mix of annoyance at Rebecca’s frankness and joy at seeing these two finally admit how they felt. He could also feel a twinge of envy in his chest; fuck, he wished he could be so honest.

Rebecca released Ted and turned to Roy, a goofy grin on her face. “There,” she hummed triumphantly. “Your turn, Kent. Off with you.” She looked back to Ted, fixing the collar on his polo shirt. “This one and I have some things to discuss.”

Blinking a few times, Roy turned his head towards the Whippets office, where Lucas stood with wide eyes. Realizing the answer to his current problem had been just through that door this whole time, Roy quickly ducked into the office, leaving the lovebirds behind.

“What in the world-?”

Roy shook his head and closed the door behind him. “Don’t fucking ask.” He glanced around. “She around?”

Lucas shook his head, clearly trying not to grin. “Want me to go get her for you?”

“No.” Roy cleared his throat, ignoring the heat on his face. “Lucas… I need your help with something.”

Today was the day, I decided. For a couple days now, I’d wondered if Roy was going to remind me about that beer he’d offered me. Even though we were on better terms than we’d ever been- saying hello when we passed one another, laughing, heck just smiling at each other- he hadn’t said anything else about grabbing a drink.

Of course, I didn’t mention a word about that to George. Things were icy since the press conference, with him insisting on going out to dinner the night after, which resulted in my picture going up on Twitter. But honestly, I didn’t care too much. Like I’d told everyone- I wanted to focus on my team.

Which I was admittedly struggling with since hugging Roy Kent.

Still, I did my best to get on with my day, running practice like I wasn’t wondering why Roy hadn’t asked me for a beer again. By the time Lucas and I made our way back to our office after most everyone else had left for the day, I was mentally composing a text to the Greyhound if he was free the next night. I threw my bag over my shoulder, mumbling something to Lucas about George picking me up for dinner. When I saw the sour look on his face, I sighed.

“What?”

He blinked at me. “What, what?”

“Luke,” I started slowly. “You’ve been weirdly quiet today. And the couple times I’ve mentioned George, you made these faces like you want to throw up. Is there something I should know?”

I had never seen such discomfort in my assistant coach’s expression; it had my stomach knotting up. “Bucky…” He ran his hands over his face. “Yesterday… I found out who leaked your photos.”

My heart nearly stopped in my chest. “You… you…” I clutched my bag, knuckles turning white as my voice lowered. “Who was it?”

Lucas closed his eyes, wincing. “George.”

It felt like all the wind was knocked out of me. “George?” I repeated, barely croaking it out. “As in my George?”

“Yeah.” Lucas rubbed the back of his neck, not quite looking me in the eye. “Trent Crimm, you know Trent, apparently he did some digging around… and found out that the Star had the original photos and… and George, well he passed them along to another publication.”

I sank into my chair, staring up at Brandi Chastain. “Why would he do that?” I whispered.

Lucas leaned on my desk, tenderly placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bucky. Really. I know I pushed you to go out with him, I know I-”

“No, Lukey,” I murmured, using the nickname I only called him when he was truly upset. “You didn’t know. Don’t you dare feel bad.”

He shook his head. “I’m gonna kill him,” he muttered, leaning back. “I swear, Bucky, when he walks through that door, I’m gonna-”

“You’re gonna go home,” I told him, standing up. “And you’re going to get some rest, and you’re going to come into work tomorrow like normal. And you’re going to go to tomorrow night’s Greyhound’s match with me. And we’re going to keep winning and leave all this shit behind us, alright?”

“What are you gonna-”

I shrugged. “Gonna tell him I know. Gonna give him exactly two seconds to explain himself. Then gonna have him permanently banned from Nelson Road.” I stood and offered Lucas my closed fist. “I’ll be fine.”

Lucas tapped his fist to mine. “Call me when you get home.”

After he left, I sat in my chair, not bothering to take off my bag, just staring at the hallway door. When George appeared, he was wearing that smile, that boyish, charming smile, the one that used to make my heart flutter.

“Hey, you,” he hummed, not noticing the stony expression I wore. “What d’you want for dinner? I heard about this great new restaurant-”

“Why the fuck did you do it?” I was on my feet, face burning. “Why the ever-loving fuck would you give those photos to someone to publish?”

He cleared his throat, shuffling his feet. “No, see, Buck-“

“Fucking explain it,” I interrupted, bringing my face to his. “Tell me why you would put me through absolute hell. Why you would do something that put my reputation, my job, my everything at risk.” I blinked, refusing to let this man see my tears. “Tell me, George.”

For the first time since we met, his face held no confidence, only panic. “See, this is what happens to women who-who sleep with Roy Kent,” he stammered. “Honestly, aren’t you glad you found out now and not later? That being with Roy Kent is the wrong thing for you?”

“Oh my fucking-” I felt like everything was spinning. “You absolute jackass,” I groaned. “You piece of absolute shit. Because you were jealous that I had sex with Roy Kent, you told the world I had sex with Roy Kent? And this was supposed to make me want to be with you? I should fucking-”

“Buck?” Roy stood in the doorway between our offices, eyes wide as he stared at me. “You alri-” His gaze landed on George. “Oh, you fucking twat.” He stormed across the office, putting himself between us, chest to chest with the reporter. “You have three seconds to get the fuck out of here, otherwise, I will cut off your-”

“Roy.” I pulled him back by the shoulder, shaking my head at him.

He immediately stepped back, eyes never leaving George’s face and fists staying clenched at his side.

I whirled back around on George. “You need to leave,” I said in my lowest voice. “And you need to never, ever fucking talk about me, think about me, or write about either of us ever again. Or I will hunt you down and show you why I led the NWSL in fouls in my first season.”

George scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Maybe the two of you deserve each other,” he grumbled, nodding towards Roy. “Two washed-up has-beens, coaching low-rate teams, trying to stay relevant. Apparently the only time you’re relevant is when you’re getting fucked by that broken old bastard. No wonder you want to keep him around.”

It had been a couple decades since the last time I punched a boy on the playground, probably after an insult much less vulgar than this one. But as I looked at the smug look on George Willows’s face, I definitely remembered how. My fist connected harshly with his jaw with a satisfying thump. He staggered backwards, clutching his face.

“Bitch,” he hissed, stumbling towards the door. “Fucking bitch.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled, cradling my fist in my other hand. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

We stood in silence as George trudged out, the sounds of his footsteps echoing through the otherwise empty halls. When I finally turned to look at Roy, he was already gazing at me with wide eyes, clutching his own jaw. The look of pure admiration in his eyes was almost enough to make me forget what I’d just learned.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed. “That might have been the coolest fucking shit I have ever seen.”

I blinked at him for a moment, ignoring the pain in my hand. “Did you know?” I asked softly, taking a step towards him.

He looked down at my hand, tentatively taking it and holding it up. “Let’s get you some fucking ice,” he murmured. His soft eyes met mine again. “And then I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Roy kept my hand in his as he led me to the treatment room, only letting go so he could find an ice pack while I hopped up on the treatment table. He turned back to me, more confident now as he lifted my hand off my lap and pressed the ice pack to it, watching my face carefully as he continued to hold my hand. I scooched closer to the end of the table, letting my knees brush against the front of his thighs.

“I… asked Trent to do some digging,” he finally began. “And he called me after your press conference.”

“That was the phone call you got in the office.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah.”

I tried to focus on his words instead of how incredibly close he was, close enough that I could feel his warm breath on my face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Think about it,” he chuckled glancing down at our hands. “You know I fucking hate the guy. You know I wasn’t… excited about you being with him.” He shrugged. “It’d look like I was just trying to break you up or some shit, like I was… I dunno…”

Like he was jealous.

“No, I get that.” I ducked my head, willing him to look me in the eye again. “So you told Lucas?”

He glanced up through his eyelashes. “So I told Lucas,” he confirmed. “Told him he could even call Trent if he wanted to confirm. You… you could call him too if you want. If you need to confirm.”

“I don’t need to.”

The corner of his mouth tugged upwards. “Well, I’m not going to pretend that seeing you punch that twat wasn’t the most bad-ass thing I’ve ever seen.” He cleared his throat. “But I am sorry it happened this way.” His eyes were again on our hands, his thumb slowly stroking my skin. “I… would never want to see you hurt.”

“Thank you.” I followed his gaze, a warmth filling my chest as I realized how nice his hand felt in mine. “Can I ask…” I trailed off.

“Anything.”

I wrinkled my nose, thinking for a moment. “Why’d you hate him in the first place? The whole thing with throwing a chair at him?” I couldn’t help but grin. “Which I now realize was probably well-deserved.”

He gave a full smirk now. “Fucking ’course it was,” he hummed. “It’s… pretty shitty, honestly.” With a sigh, he threw his head back, as if wondering where to start. “See, he always had some shit to say about my private life when I was a player. And it was really fucking annoying.” He scowled as he looked back down. “And, see, there was this whole thing… with Keeley… and some fucking video of her… a private video…”

“Oh.” It suddenly made sense why Keeley had fought so hard for me and my photos; fuck, I wanted to hug her.

“Yeah. We were already broken up, and it had nothing to do with me, but, you know, fucking hurt like hell to see her go through that.” He cleared his throat. “And George fucking Willows decided to ask me if I’d seen the video and if I knew who it was for. So, I threw my fucking chair at him.” He shook his head. “That’s why I was so pissed seeing the two of you together, even without… the gala stuff. And I should have fucking said something. Should’ve told you exactly the kind of shit he was from the moment he started sniffing around you. It’s my fucking fault.”

I shook my head. “Come on, Roy. You know I wouldn’t have believed you back then. I wouldn’t have even let you finish one sentence about him.”

After a heavy pause, Roy offered me a small smile. “We’ve… come a long fucking way, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.”

My heart hammered as we gazed at each other, holding hands in the quiet treatment room. It felt just like the night of my press conference, when we hugged in my office and just held each other. Quiet, calm, natural. Good. Like we weren’t dealing with all the shit we were dealing with, like we were just frozen in this moment. Like we could finally have a moment of peace.

“Any chance I could drive you home?” His soft eyes were begging me to say yes.

But the realization of everything that had just happened tonight came crashing down around me; as tempted as I was to accept the ride home, maybe suggest a detour to a pub, I knew I needed to say-

“Some other time.” I cleared my throat and nodded down to my hand. “Kind of want to walk. Just take the evening to myself. Get some rest. Ice this thing some more.”

If he was disappointed, he wasn’t going to tell me. “Yeah, I get that.” He stepped back and helped me down from the table. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

I nodded. “Yeah.” I squeezed his hand before reluctantly letting go. “I’ll be at your match, by the way.”

“Well.” He smirked, flexing the hand I’d been holding. “Here’s hoping I can impress you as much as you impressed me the other night.”

My face warmed as I tried to figure out what to say; honestly, I just wanted to prolong our conversation, not say goodnight and walk out of this room and away from whatever moment we were having. Seeing Roy haloed in the fluorescent light, I wondered what would happen if I just leaned forward and-

“Oh.” Will stood in the doorway, holding a laundry basket. “Hello, coaches.”

Roy took a small step away from me, eyebrows raised. “Will.” His eyes shifted to me before returning to the kitman. “How much this did you hear this time?”

Will shrugged. “Walking home, going to the game, impressing each other.”

“Right.” Roy cleared his throat and turned back to me. “Goodnight, Coach. I’d shake your hand but…” He nodded to my hand, still red from the ice pack, and let out a little huff of a chuckle. “Anyways, goodnight.”

“Night,” I echoed, turning back to the door. “Goodnight, Will.”

He nodded to me, clearly trying not to grin. “Goodnight, Coach.”

As I walked out, I could hear Roy’s voice, rough and low.

“Will. Not a fucking word.”

“I know.”

Roy wasn’t sure the last time he’d been this nervous for a match. It had nothing to do with their opponent; he knew his team could beat Sheffield, that was no problem. But tonight she would be watching him, and that had him feeling a bit like he did when he was a young man and would have a girlfriend come watch him for the first time: giddy, excited, desperate to impress.

As he took his spot in the dugout, he found himself looking up into Rebecca’s box. Sure enough, there were both Whippets’ coaches, chattering with Rebecca and Ted and Keeley, laughter all around. His heart melted a little, seeing her so carefree, as if she hadn’t just been betrayed and wasn’t still being watched and judged. Ever since her press conference, she seemed to not care anymore; she ignored the papps who still wandered in the parking lot, she had told Keeley to not bother mentioning any Twitter trends, and she laughed at the cover of some magazine featuring an unflattering photo of her mid-sentence in that press conference.

Almost as if she could feel his gaze, she looked down at the dugout, locking eyes with Roy. Her red-lipped smile widened as she gave a little wave, one Roy found himself returning with a grin of his own. He ignored the clearly amused looks from his friends in the owner’s box, as well as the knowing chuckles from his fellow coaches. It was clear to everyone at Nelson Road that something had changed, and for once, Roy found that he didn’t care about people knowing his business.

Not when his business was her.

“I see we have some visitors,” Beard hummed, raising his eyebrows at Roy.

Roy shrugged, turning his attention to the pitch. “Yeah,” he murmured, wondering if his blush could be seen from the owner’s box. “Nice of them to come.”

The two assistant coaches exchanged grins, shaking their heads at the pleased expression Roy couldn’t quite hide.

To Roy’s delight, the Greyhounds outdid themselves, playing better than they had all season. It was almost as if the guys knew he was hoping to impress her; it wouldn’t completely surprise him if that was exactly the case. When the final whistle blew on a 4-1 win, Roy found his eyes gravitating to the owner’s box; she was already looking at him. She offered him a grin and a playful shrug, almost as if to say Yeah, you impressed me. He tapped his fingers to his temple, saluting up to her with a smirk.

He could get used to his, having her at his matches. He considered asking her to come again to bring him luck, because she clearly did tonight. He definitely felt damn lucky receiving that smile after a win.

His stride was uncharacteristically light as he entered the changing room, where he shouted compliments at his team, who were all wearing the most shit-eating grins he’d ever seen. Those grins only grew when the Whippet coaches popped in to offer their congratulations. As she went around giving hugs and high-fives to the team, Roy couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes kept shifting to find him; he was sure everyone else noticed too.

Finally, she approached him, offering her hand. “Good job out there, Coach.”

He gently shook her outstretched hand, melting a little at her wince. “Your hand alright?”

“Definitely bruised,” she mumbled, making a face. “But fucking worth it.”

Roy nodded. “Well, if you need some help icing it some more…”

“You’re my first call,” she assured him, smirking. They stayed there for a moment, exchanging smirks, fully aware of the eyes on them. It took Jamie asking if she saw his two goals to finally bring them back down to earth. After answering Jamie, she gave Roy a friendly little shove and turned to walk out.

“Oi.”

She stopped, looking back at him with a coolly raised eyebrow.

Roy shrugged, suddenly bashful. “So? Did I impress you?”

Her coy laugh had his heart stuttering. “I’ll let you know when you buy me that beer you owe me.” With a teasing wave, she linked arms with a smirking Lucas and strutted out, taking Roy’s gaze with her.

Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, Roy made his way to his office, where he found Ted, Beard, and Nate all waiting for him, expectation on their faces. He raised his eyebrows at them, closing the door behind him; he had a feeling he didn’t want the team to hear whatever this conversation was going to be.

“Yes?”

Ted spoke up. “Y’all are pretty darn cute together.”

Roy scoffed, pretending he didn’t love hearing the word together. “Fuck off,” he mumbled, not really meaning it as he took his seat.

Nate leaned on his desk dreamily. “You ask her out yet?”

“No.” He glanced down at his hands, thinking about holding hers. “Should I?”

“Yes,” all three men practically shouted.

Beard leaned back in his chair. “Roy, it’s pretty damn obvious the two of you like each other,” he pointed out. “You two’ve been very friendly, smiling at each other like you’re a couple of kids. And tonight she was like your own personal cheerleader. Please put us all out of our misery and ask that woman out.”

For once, Roy didn’t argue. Instead, he looked at his friends with something close to anxiety in his eyes. “How?” He cleared his throat. “Everything that’s happened… Don’t think I can just walk up and say ‘Hey let’s go to dinner and a fucking movie’, now can I?”

“That’s true,” Beard murmured, raising his eyebrows at Ted. “Sounds like what Roy needs is a…”

Ted snapped his fingers. “Grand gesture.”

Roy wrinkled his nose. “Excuse me?”

“Y’all are in the third act of your love story,” Ted explained, practically bouncing. “The rules of rom-communism state you need a grand gesture to show her how ya feel, somethin’ special and big, like- like runnin’ through the airport or holdin’ a boom box over your head or paying the dowry for her teenage sister to marry a slimy soldier.” He shrugged. “Show her how important and special she is to you.”

“Grand gesture,” Roy mumbled, tapping his fingers on his desk. “Grand fucking gesture.”

Sure. Roy could do that- right?

The following week was a blur of football, the announcement that Ted Lasso would be coming back onboard as a scout for both teams, continuing to field annoying questions from journalists, and, dare I say, flirting with Roy Kent. We had resumed running together in the evenings, time now filled with making fun of the reality tv playing in front of us as we pretended that we weren’t eyeing each other yearningly. Well, maybe I was the only one yearning; while I definitely caught his eyes leaving a burning trail down my body as I ran on the treadmill, he still hadn’t mentioned that freaking beer he promised me. Even after I took him up on his offer to drive me home a couple of times, he always stopped right in front of my building and wished me a good evening before I hopped out of the car.

Maybe we were friends. That was good, right? After all this time, being friends with Roy Kent was a relief to everyone at the Dog Track.

But damn, I thought as I sat at home on that late Friday afternoon, listening to the sounds of the rain that had us calling an early weekend, our first free one in a while- I didn’t want to be just friends with Roy Kent.

Underneath all the shit that had made me hate him for months, there was something special, as Ted as said. Roy was kind. Caring. Passionate. Almost funny. He loved his team and his friends and his adorable little niece. He completely understood my pain about retirement and the determination to stay close to the game. He’d been protective of me and supported me and, hell, even inspired me.

And the tabloids would be thrilled to hear that I thought he was fantastic in bed.

Fuck, I realized with a groan as I slumped further into my couch. My dumb ass loves Roy fucking Kent.

What the hell was I supposed to do with that?

The afternoon wore on, with the rain coming down progressively harder as I tried to distract myself with a movie and my playbook. But my mind kept wandering back to those brown eyes and that bearded smile, reevaluating every interaction we’d ever had, right back to that first night in the club. Clearly Roy was attracted to me; that had been pretty clear from the start, even when we were constantly arguing. But did he like me?

As I wondered about all the smiles and looks he’d been giving me lately, a timid knock at my door sent me jumping. Probably Lucas, I thought as I stood, adjusting my Richmond fleece sweater. We hadn’t said we wanted to hang out tonight, but he could always be counted on to randomly stop by with food and a movie.

But when I opened the door, there was no one in front of me. I frowned, ready to turn around and close the door, but something at my feet caught my eye: a small box, darkened by the rain, with a folded note taped to the top. I bent down and opened the note; its sloppy writing read:

I hope you never play nice again. Except maybe with me.

“The fuck?” I breathed. I bent down again to open the box and stood up holding a black and white soccer ball. As I turned it over in my hands, I slowly began to realize it had writing all over it: autographs. The names were familiar to me: Julie Foudy. Kristine Lilly. April Heinrichs. Mia Hamm. Brandi Chastain.

The 1991 United States Women’s Team.

I looked back at the note, realizing I knew that handwriting.

Roy.

I quickly shoved the ball and note back into the box and tossed it inside, stepping in only to put on the sneakers I kept by the door. Not caring about putting on a coat or checking my hair, I ran outside as fast as my stupid ankle could carry me, immediately finding myself drenched in the rain. I looked both ways, my heart sinking when I realized how empty the street was. Finally, I saw that giant black car, the one that had brought me home earlier that afternoon. And walking towards it was someone in a black leather jacket.

“Kent!” I called out, breaking into a full sprint, ankle throbbing. “Fucking Kent!”

The figure stopped, tense and motionless. Roy turned around, brown eyes wide as I kept racing to him. He walked towards me until we stood face to face. He studied my face as I put my hands on my hips, breathing hard from the run, pretending that my ankle wasn’t killing me.

“You alright?”

I shook my head. “The fucking… the ball. You won it? Back at the gala?”

“No, actually.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking pitiful and beautiful with the rain dripping down his bearded face. “I did put a bid on it. But I got outbid.” He cleared his throat, bouncing slightly. “So I tracked down the wanker who won it. Had to pay twice as much as he did, and I’ve got to make an appearance at his idiot kid’s birthday party but…” He shrugged. “D’you like it?”

“Yeah.” I nodded feverishly, the nervousness in his eye making me desperate to assure him. “Fucking love it. But why…” I stared up at him, resisting the urge to wipe the rain off his cheeks. “Why would you do all that?”

His eyes roamed my face, as though searching for something. Finding whatever it was he was looking for, he took a miniscule step closer, our bodies nearly touching. “Because that team… it means something to you. And you… well, you mean something to me.”

I swallowed hard, not caring about how drenched I would be by the time I got back to my apartment, or that I hadn’t locked the door behind me, or the fact that anyone could walk by and see us. All I cared about was hearing whatever Roy Kent had to say. “I do?”

He nodded anxiously. “Yeah.” He put an uncertain hand on my arm, watching me carefully for a reaction. When all I did was continue to gaze up at him with what I knew were adoring eyes, he went on. “Right. Just… just let me say this, alright? And then you can tell me to fuck off and we- we can go back to ignoring each other, or this friendship thing, whatever you want, I honestly don’t-”

“Roy?” I raised my eyebrows, desperate for him to keep going.

“Right, right.” He took a deep breath, hand still on my arm. “I feel about you the same way I did the night of the charity gala. I just think you are the most incredible woman I have ever met. I fucking admire you, all that you’ve done and all that you are. And I care about you, so fucking much.” His hand left my shoulder to cup my cheek, his grip soft and warm and everything good. “I cared about you the night of the gala. Probably cared about you for a long fucking time before that, but I was too stupid and prideful to realize it until we were already in the middle of everything. And my biggest regret in all of this was not waking up before you so I could keep you in my bed and make you breakfast and assure you that you were never going to be a one-night stand. You never fucking could be.” He shook his head gently. “Not you, Buck.”

Roy ducked his head and brought his face to mine, moving slowly, almost as if he was trying to give me a chance to stop him. Instead, I grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him to me, crashing my mouth into his in the most desperate kiss I’d ever felt. My head turned light as my body remembered Roy and his hands and his mouth and his body, as if it had missed him even more than my heart had. Suddenly, I recalled what I’d thought the night of the gala, as he kissed me for the first time on his couch.

Roy Kent was everything I never knew I needed.

His other hand grabbed my hip, tugging me flush against himself, humming a little as my lips parted for him. The rain poured down on us, drops of water sliding between our faces, but neither of us seemed to notice; we were too wrapped up in finally, fucking finally, winning. When his tongue gently brushed against mine, I gave a soft groan; fuck, I’d forgotten the beautiful taste of Roy Kent.

I’d kissed plenty of men plenty of times. Hell, I’d kissed Roy plenty of times the night of the gala. But, as his fingertips dug into my hip, I realized how starved I’d been for this kiss, the one that held way too much heat and way too much affection. How long had I been waiting for it? Since the press conference? Since the gala? Since the first time I saw him shirtless on a treadmill? Or from that first time I spotted him at that club, leaning against the bar, miserable and rude as hell?

His hand slid from my hip to my back, trying to pull me closer, if that was even possible. Somewhere in the kiss, I lost track of whose heartbeat was whose; my entire body was pulsing and tingling. The rain sounded so faint and far away compared to the sound of Roy’s breathing and soft groans against my mouth. I wanted to swallow those groans, to rip off that leather jacket, to let myself have everything I’d been stupid enough to deny myself all these weeks.

Sensing that I probably couldn’t handle much more, lest we really give the paparazzi something to publish, Roy pulled back, face soaked and smiling. “Fucking hell,” he whispered, his thumb stroking my face. “I take it you don’t want to just be friends then?”

I laughed, probably the most real laugh I’d felt in a while, and gave his jacket a playful tug. “Fuck no. Who’d want to be friends with Roy Kent?”

He leaned down and kissed me again, slowly, tenderly this time, smile pressing against smile. “Play nice,” he mumbled against my mouth. “Or I’m taking my football home.”

“How about I play nice,” I murmured as I leaned back, smirking, “if you finally take me out for that beer you’ve been teasing me with? I believe you still owe me one, Kent.”

Roy smiled and let me go, taking my non-bruised hand and interlocking our fingers. “Fuck that,” he chuckled. “Everything we’ve been through, I’m buying you a whole damn bar.”

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dilly-oh · 1 year

Text

Firsts

“Oh shit, Hatake, on your six,” Genma hisses in Kakashi’s ear, who has to smother the urge to snap the other man’s neck at the sudden intrusion of his personal space. “Check out the new cutie at the mission desk.”

Okay, maybe he can forgive him.

Kakashi glances over and lets out an unimpressed grunt. Sure, the guy’s got a nice face, but he’s a little mousy-looking with that scruffy ponytail and array of pens in his pocket. A new Chunin, obvious from the freshly-pressed flak jacket and lack of PTSD. Nice complexion, decent body. Scar’s a little sexy. Guy’s a solid B. Nothing to scream about.

“I’m gonna ask him out,” Genma says with grim determination. “Cover me.”

“Naw, you got this, champ,” Kakashi says, shoving their mission report into Genma’s hand and slithering out of the room. He’d rather not see Genma perform his mating ritual or whatever is the equivalent of making an ass of himself before the gawky Chunin stammers out a polite ‘no, thank you, Mr. Jounin, sir’.

Which is why he’s utterly flabbergasted when Genma goes sailing by overhead as he’s walking out the building. He looks up in bafflement to see the Chunin decisively slamming the second-story window shut and locking it for good measure.

“I think I’m in love,” Genma croaks from the dumpster.

Kakashi thinks he might be a little bit, too.

---

Kakashi has a mission report to turn in and no friends around to pawn it off on. If he waits one more day it’ll go from being fashionably late to downright obnoxious. And when he pokes his head into the Mission Office of course the Chunin is there on duty, straightening the line with nothing but a sharp glance and incurring silence with a single frown. Word had gotten around about Genma’s fate, as well as the fate of several unfortunate Jounin who’d tried to retaliate and instead found themselves also ‘dumpstered’, as the term had been coined. Now everyone knew not to cross him.

Resigned to his fate, Kakashi joins the line.

When it’s finally his turn, he takes a deep breath, drops the scroll on the desk, and spins on his heel to leave.

“Wait.”

Kakashi’s feet are rooted in place. His eyes snap to the window. How far away is the dumpster again? If he can get the trajectory right, he can use his own momentum to land on his feet and avoid-

“Hatake, right?” The Chunin glances up at him, smiles a little. “I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself to you yet. I’m Umino Iruka. Pleased to meet you.” He extends a hand. Kakashi stares at it like a hissing viper. Is this some kind of new move? Maybe he’ll snap Kakashi’s arm before tossing him out the window. Break a finger or two. “Oh, come on, I don’t bite.” Iruka laughs, a warm, bubbling sound. Against his better judgment (and years of ninja training), Kakashi slowly reaches out and shakes the other man’s hand. It’s just as warm as his laugh, calloused and strong. Kakashi’s gaze travels up the toned arm, past surprisingly broad shoulders to meet a pair of mischievous brown eyes. “Pleasure.” Iruka flashes him a devious smirk and winks.

Kakashi can kinda see what Genma was talking about.

And then Iruka looks down at the scroll and scowls.

“Is this your handwriting or did a chicken walk all over your paper? …And then shit on it?”

On second thought, fuck Genma.

---

Kakashi freezes in the tree outside Naruto’s place. A second chakra signature is inside the run-down apartment, oddly familiar. Kakashi peeks around the window, his suspicions confirmed: Iruka is inside, bustling around the small kitchen with Naruto in tow. He’s cooking for him. More than that, he’s actually attempting to teach Naruto how to do it.

The most Kakashi’s ever done is bring over some packets of instant Ramen and a couple fresh vegetables. Maybe put down a little newspaper and spray some Febreeze. That sort of shit. Nothing this…domestic. He’s a ninja, for god’s sake, not a nanny.

He sits outside in the tree, watching, for a long time.

---

“You know you could join us, next time,” Iruka says when Kakashi stops in to pick up his newest assignment from the mission desk. He stares back at him blankly, hand still outstretched. “For dinner,” Iruka clarifies after the silence becomes so painfully awkward Kakashi almost wishes a Missing-Nin would jump out of the garbage can and kill him. “Naruto would enjoy it. What’s your favorite meal?”

“…Miso soup,” he finally says, taking the scroll. “With eggplant.” Iruka nods and gives him that damn smirk again.

“Sounds like a date.”

Kakashi absolutely does not trip a little as he turns to leave.

---

The dinner (singular) turns into dinners (plural), with and without Naruto. Which is fine, seeing as Iruka is a font of amusing stories involving his rambunctious students, whose exploits are so absurdly idiotic that Kakashi is seriously concerned for the village’s next generation of ninja. Then again, he’s met Naruto, so he shouldn’t really be surprised.

They settle into a familiar rhythm, the two of them enjoying food or drinks a few nights a week, filled with stories, laughter, and a little harmless flirting. Nothing more.

Kakashi tells himself he’s content with this. It would be selfish to ask for more, especially when he has nothing to give in return. This is enough. He repeats that, again and again, until he almost believes it.

Until Iruka’s pulling him into a searing kiss.

Until he’s dragging him inside his apartment.

Until he’s holding him in his arms.

And then just like that, Kakashi’s perspective of Iruka has gone from safe and friendly to something terrifyingly close to love.

So Kakashi does what he always does when faced with feelings.

He avoids it like the fucking plague.

---

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Iruka stands in the doorway of Kakashi’s hospital room, glaring so furiously he can feel the heat even through the haze of painkillers. “You ghost me for a fucking MONTH and then have the gall to ask me to bring you fucking ICHA-ICHA while you’re on your fucking deathbed?!”

“…Gai’s out on a mission,” Kakashi rasps, his throat still sore from the feeding tube.

The resulting silence is filled with such murderous intent an ANBU pokes his head in the door to make sure everything is alright, spots Iruka, and gets the fuck out of there.

“You…” Iruka swells up, like he’s about to literally explode, angry words choking in his throat.

And then his face goes carefully blank. That scares Kakashi more than anything. Anger, he can deal with. It’s a familiar enemy, one he can beat. This cold resignation isn’t something he knows how to fight. Or at least recover from.

Without a word, Iruka drops the books on a chair and calmly walks out of the room.

Kakashi really can’t blame him.

He’d dump himself, too.

---

Months go by, and Kakashi heals. Physically, at least. He sees Iruka at the mission desk, but there’s no smiles or winks for him now, just a stiff “thank you, Jounin” before moving on to the next. He’d almost rather be dumpstered. He takes more missions, longer ones, just to get away, to try to forget. He’s had breakups before, but none of them ever hurt this bad. It almost feels like someone is stabbing him the chest, sliding a knife right between his ribs- no, wait, that’s the Missing-Nin who is doing literally that. Kakashi curses, rips them apart with a Chidori, and blacks out.

He wakes up to find Iruka sitting in the chair beside his hospital bed, Icha-Icha open on his lap.

“I wasn’t reading this,” Iruka says quickly. “I was reading it…to you. It doesn’t count.”

“…Did I miss any of the good bits?” Kakashi asks, his voice weak and scratchy.

“Kind of hard to when there aren’t any,” Iruka snorts back.

The silence that follows is punctuated by the beep of Kakashi’s machines and the drip of his IV.

“I miss you,” Iruka says quietly. It hurts more than getting stabbed, and that hurt like a bitch.

“…I miss you, too,” Kakashi replies, even softer. Iruka looks at him, and the anger is still there, but it’s anger FOR him, not AT him, which isn’t something he’s ever experienced before.

“Why did you run away? What could possibly make you attempt to go off and get yourself killed? What the fuck are you afraid of?”

“…You,” Kakashi says simply. Iruka blinks, gaping at him in disbelief.

“Of…what? Me? Why? Because you love me or something?”

“Yes,” Kakashi replies, because it’s true, and because he does.

“Oh my God, Kakashi…” Iruka heaves a weary sigh, covering his face with his hands, which is a shame, because Kakashi hasn’t seen it in a while. “Could you at least…act like a fucking grown man and talk to me? Instead of just avoiding the issue? Maybe, I don’t know, voice your concerns so I can help you through them? You might not realize this, but I care about you, asshole.” Iruka lowers his hands to glare at him, and there’s tears shining in the corners of his eyes. “Did you ever stop to consider that I might actually feel the same?”

He hadn’t, honestly. He’d been too busy running.

“…Do you?” he asks, voice shaking a little. Iruka gives him the most insultingly condescending look.

“Of course I fucking do.”

Kakashi has to force himself to stay calm, otherwise his heart monitor will go haywire and a nurse will come rushing in and fuck everything up.

“So…” Iruka goes on, “if you want this…if you want me…I need to know. None of your self-destructive bullshit. No running away. Just answer. Yes…or no.”

Kakashi swallows, his throat painfully dry. His chest aches, but he can’t tell if it’s from the stab wounds or his own anxiety. The fear is still there, but Iruka is, too.

And that gives him the courage to answer.

“…Yes,” he says in a hushed whisper.

Iruka sits there for a long moment, digesting that, then nods.

“…There room in there for two?” he asks, jerking his chin at the bed.

There isn’t, but damn if Kakashi’s going to say so.

---

“You know you don’t always have to wear that,” Iruka teases, running a hand through Kakashi’s hair.

“Of course I do,” Kakashi says, admiring the gleam off the golden band on his finger. “It’s a first for me.” Iruka snorts beside him on the bed and smacks him in the face with a pillow.

“And your last, dumbass.”

Kakashi wholeheartedly agrees.

-End-

(Written for KakaIru Valentine’s Week 2023, Day 1 Prompt: Firsts, hosted be @kakairu-rocks)

#kakairu #umino iruka #hatake kakashi #naruto #fic #firsts #kakairu valentine's week 2023 #kakairu.rocks #rated teen for language

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myveryownfanfiction · 2 years

Text

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

YOU WILL BE BLOCKED AND REPORTED

warning: swearing, mentions of abuse, mentions of drugs (weed), bullying from the other members of the breakfast club

I looked around the room at everyone. They all tried to avoid my gaze before I shook my head and turned away from them.

“You should all be ashamed of yourselves. You shouldn’t have said anything.” I locked eyes with Andrew. “Anything.”

“How were we supposed to know?” He mumbled. Allison grabbed my sleeve of my jacket just as I lunged towards him. Andrew cringed back and I shook my head again.

“Pathetic.” I muttered out. Allison let go as I turned towards the staircase John Bender had made his home for the time being. I climbed up the stairs and made sure to make noise on each step. Stopping on the landing, I stood next to him, my fingertips just brushing his shoulder. “Bender? It alright if I sit here?” He nodded without looking up at me. I mirrored his position and sat down. It was quiet for a while before he turned to look at me.

“You didn’t have to do that you know.” I nodded. “I heard what you said to them. You didn’t have to.” Meeting his eyes, I shrugged.

“Let’s just say I’ve been there.” I drawled out. “I know how much it can hurt. Even if you won’t say it out loud.” John nodded before raising an eyebrow at me.

“Been there?” He supplied. “With people like them or…” I bit my lip.

“I know what it’s like to deal with shit parents and then play around with snot noses like them.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “So I guess my answer is both. If you really wanted to know.” I rolled up my sleeve to show off a thin scar running the length of my forearm. John hestitated before reaching out and running a finger along the scar. “My sister. For existing.” I shrugged as I pulled the sleeve back down. I pulled my other sleeve up to my elbow. A small circular scar sat at the base of my bicep. John’s eyes widened. “My dad. For interrupting the sports game he was watching.” John reached out and pulled the sleeve down for me.

“How do you cope?” He asked. I shrugged.

“Same as you I suppose.” He smirked at me. “Copious amounts of dope.” I caught his eye and we started to laugh. “Honestly, that’s why I’m here most of the time. Sure it looks like shit on my transcript but my grades are good enough and it gets me out of the house.” John’s smirk came back and he shrugged to get more comfortable.

“Being bad feels pretty good, huh?” He chuckled.

“It’s even better when you get away with it.” We settled into a comfortable silence. Not long after, we trekked back down to join the others. It wasn’t long before we went on an excursion to John’s locker. “Nice.” I leaned down to look at the pictures he had posted in there while Andrew made some comment about how messy it was.

“My maids on vacation.” John shot back before tapping my back. He closed the locker and waved a little baggie in front of my face.

“John Bender. You sure know the way to someone’s heart.” I teased as we set off back to the library. After getting sidetracked by Vernon and losing Bender from our little gang in the library, I fingered the baggie in my jacket pocket. “Fuck it.” I muttered. I started to stand up when there was a loud crash.

“Oh shit!” I rolled my eyes and sat back down. John walked into the room rubbing his neck. “What? I forgot my pencil.” I shook my head as I stood up and started to head to the back of the library. John followed me and sat down next to me. "So do you have it all still? Or did Vernon catch you?"

"Your little reference to Johnson threw him off. I think he suspected but he's too scared to actually reach down and check." I chuckled. John swallowed and leaned in.

"Vernon threatened me. Told me to take a hit at him." My eyes widened. "I didn't. But he said that when I finally leave here I'm destined for jail. And he'd be there when I got out. Just to beat me. And if I told anyone, well you know his authority complex." I slowly held out my hand, palm up. John put his hand in mine, letting me squeeze it before drawing back just as Brian walked over. Everything became peaceful for the first time that day once we lit up. John and I ended up leaning against each other, watching the prom queen and the brain get high for the first time. We shared a look before going off on our own.

"What do you think you'll do when you leave here next year?" he asked. I shrugged as I settled into the chair in the office.

"Who knows. I'm not concerned just yet." I twirled around, using the desk to help propel me. "What about you?"

"Leave this deadbeat town." I nodded in agreement. “Figure it out from there.” It was silent for a bit while John reached for my hand and started to play with my fingers. A blush crept up my neck as I watched him. “Come with me.” I slowly raised my eyes to meet his.

“Seriously?” He nodded. “You really want me to come with you wherever you go?” John smiled and shrugged, looking away from me in the process.

“Why not?” He finally looked at me again. “I like you (Y/N).” He gently hit my shoulder with him. “In case you haven’t noticed. Besides you understand. Even if nothing comes from it, at least we’ll have each other.” I smiled at him before leaning in and kissing his cheek.

“I’d love to.” John blushed and I reveled in the fact that it was me who got him to do it. “Besides, if you haven’t noticed, I like you too John.” He smiled at me before leaning in and kissing my cheek in return.

#John bender #john bender x reader #john bender fanfic #John bender fanfiction #John bender imagine #Judd nelson #judd Nelson x reader #Judd Nelson fanfic #Judd Nelson fanfiction #Judd Nelson imagine #Breakfast club #breakfast club fanfic #Breakfast club fanfiction #Breakfast club imagine

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soulgazingwithbucky · 1 year

Text

Chances (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Agent!F!Reader

Summary: For most, life is too short to miss any chances. For Steve Rogers, life is too long to take all of them.

Warnings: swearing; mentions of blood, gun use, violence; unhappy ending (alternate ending needed?!)

Word Count: 8.3k

A/N: hey everyone i have a crush i cant do anything about so i made it everyone's problem in the form of this fic. also i swear bucky's coming back to my writing with a vengeance

“Coulson, slow down,” you grumble. The clock reads an ungodly hour, and Coulson’s near-incomprehensible speech only propels you further into half-conscious annoyance.

“Get up,” Phil urges. “We found him.”

⋆⋆⋆

You lean in, ears straining as Captain America addresses Agent Horowitz.

“Where am I, really?” he says.

Your eyes dart back and forth between several screens.

“Shit,” Fury hisses. A moment later, you hear the door slam behind you.

“Told you!” you call after him as Horowitz reports a Code 13.

You turn around to look at Hill, who watches the monitors with her arms across her chest.

“I told him,” you say as Captain America breaks through the walls, shoving agents to the ground.

⋆⋆⋆

Fury takes a seat beside you with a huff.

With your eyes on your computer, you start, “I–”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

Maria peers at you over her screen, flashing you a barely-there smirk. You instead ask a question to satiate your curiosity.

“Is…he okay?”

Fury gives an exasperated shrug.

“Said he had a date.”

⋆⋆⋆

“How’s the apartment, Captain Rogers?” Fury asks. Across the desk, Steve sits, shifting uncomfortably as the chair struggles under his frame.

“Fine,” he says curtly, his eyes flitting between all the different objects in Fury’s office. You and Maria share a look.

“Have you been getting enough rest?” she asks.

“Trying.”

“Well, we have another meeting to run to, Captain,” Fury says, “but you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. The agents have a gym in the basement, and the dining facility is on the tenth floor.”

He stands up; you and Maria follow closely behind.

There’s no meeting. You had planned to spend an hour with Captain Rogers, but it’s clear there isn’t much to say. You look back at Steve with his head low, his back hunched.

“What do we do, Fury?” you ask, closing the door behind you.

“Give him time.”

While Hill and Fury retreat to their offices, you change into your workout clothes and make your way to the basement. You’re surprised to step out of the elevator and see an impossibly muscular frame standing by the gym entrance.

“Captain,” you greet. He’s peering past the glass with a slight grimace, staring at the equipment–fancy, shiny things with a thousand buttons each.

“Agent,” he responds, replacing his uncomfortable expression with a solemn nod.

“Nice, isn’t it?” you say, standing beside him to observe the room together.

He chuckles, more out of astonishment than anything.

“Yeah,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. His eyes shift downwards at his feet before peering back up, watching your coworkers sprint on the treadmill or re-rack their weights. “It’s something.”

“What are you gonna do?” you say, eyeing the leg press machine that’s calling your name. You look over at Steve just as he glances at the punching bag. He opens his mouth to answer you, but then he notices the odd wires coming from behind the bag, the complicated mat beneath that seems to be flashing at least five different colors. He closes his mouth and instead shakes his head.

“Just giving myself a tour,” he answers.

You tilt your head at his fib.

“You got a minute?” you ask, your request earning a raised eyebrow.

⋆⋆⋆

“Migs!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up at the sight of the combat gym owner.

He yells your name in response as you meet in front of his business’s entrance.

“Appreciate it, Migs,” you say as the older gentleman pulls you into a side hug. You wrap your arm around his back, returning the embrace.

“Anything for you, kiddo,” Miguel, a near-father figure who has a few decades on you, responds as he unlocks the gym door.

Behind you, Steve smiles at the friendly exchange. He stays a good distance away, partly out of respect and partly out of caution.

Regardless, it’s hard to ignore the man built like a linebacker with striking movie-star looks.

“Who the hell is this guy?” Miguel demands, gesturing at the hero in the shadows. Steve blinks in surprise. In the past few weeks, he has been the center of attention–not unlike his life before the ice, but somehow completely unlike it at the same time. Despite his longing to be invisible once again, he’s taken aback that someone doesn’t recognize him.

“A friend,” you tell him, shooting Steve a wink. He smiles, welcoming the anonymity.

Miguel turns on the lights, illuminating the gym in dim orange. Steve steps in, admiring the weathered facility. Surrounded by muted walls, a dusty floor, and tattered boxing ropes, he feels a sense of comfort that’s completely novel to him since coming out of the ice.

Miguel takes all of thirty seconds to show the captain around.

“We got mitts, gloves on the rack over there,” he says, keys jingling as he gestures around him. “Boxing ring with a round timer, obviously. Uhhhh, jump ropes, elliptical–if it’s working. And then you got the bags…Oh, and we also got one-on-one training-” Miguel pauses, scanning Steve from head to toe “-if you need that sorta thing.”

Steve chuckles, murmuring his gratitude.

“You need anything else, ace?” Miguel asks you.

You shake your head. “Just sign up my friend for a membership, and we’ll be good.”

Steve’s head snaps up at your request. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

As Miguel passes you an application on a clipboard, you say, “Good thing you didn’t ask.”

⋆⋆⋆

“I hope I’m not overstepping,” Steve tells you, gesturing for the waiter as you slide into the booth.

“Not at all,” you say, still catching your breath from hurrying over. You’re not sure why the captain has called you, but you know it has to be important. Steve’s eyes drift to your brow, where a butterfly bandage holds a wound closed.

“That Loki’s a fun one,” you say, bringing a hand to the injury. You don’t feel the need to indulge him in the details of nearly getting buried underneath a collapsing building. “Is everything okay, Captain?”

“Steve, please,” he insists.

“Is everything okay…Steve?” Though you’ve seen the captain’s name printed in briefs and articles a million times, it feels odd to address him by name. “Miguel didn’t try to charge you that ridiculous sweating fee?”

He lets out an amused exhale through his nose and shakes his head.

“It’s funny you mention Loki. I…wanted to ask your opinion. On the Avengers Initiative.”

Surprise paints your face. You weren’t expecting to be Captain America’s advisor tonight. But you lean back and sigh with the weight of his request. Your waiter comes to take your order, giving you a few moments of reprieve.

“I know what Fury would want me to say,” you say after your waiter exits.

He leans forward, resting clasped hands on the table.

“I want to know what you want to say,” he implores, his piercing gaze making it difficult to collect your thoughts. You take a deep breath.

“I think…you need time to heal,” you begin. “To recover. I mean, not like I’ve got the experience, but something tells me you don’t wake up after seventy years fully assimilated. In a perfect world, you would get all the time you need to be okay before getting back out into the world, let alone saving it.”

He knows the answer, but he presses, “And what world is this?”

The words feel heavy on your tongue.

“One that needs you.”

You watch his troubled eyes, the twitch of his lip.

“But you already knew that, didn’t you?” you say.

He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” he mutters to himself.

He looks up at you, repeating: “Yeah. I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else.”

“Glad I could help,” you say. You peek over his head, trying to peer into the kitchen. Steve nudges his plate towards you, and you gratefully take a few of his fries.

⋆⋆⋆

“Dillard, find out what’s going on in Bay 3 for me. So what do you think?”

The upper half of your body is hidden under thick pipes. You peer closely at the maze of metal, willing the leak to show itself.

“He’s…cute.”

You lift your head to look at Nat. The loud bang echoes throughout the room as your head meets pipes. You wince, dragging yourself out of the underbelly of Helicarrier plumbing. Nat raises an eyebrow as you rub your head.

“Not what I thought you were going to say,” you reply.

“So you disagree?” she says, tilting her head.

“Uh. No?” you say, tapping nervously on the wrench. She smiles as you avert your gaze. “How are the…other ones? Thor and Dr. Banner and the rest?”

“I should probably make sure they’re not tearing each other apart,” Nat says, rolling her eyes. “You coming?”

You look around you. The hull is so much quieter than the rest of the carrier, allowing you to bask in comfortable silence while you and your crew work.

“Nah. Hill is better at that kinda stuff. I’ll be here if you need me.”

⋆⋆⋆

Above you, the ceiling shakes slightly, scattering dust around you. You stand up slowly, the sound of distant rumbling calling your attention.

“All hands to stations.”

“Shit!” you cry, dropping your tools and sprinting up the stairs.

Agents are running all around you, and the hallway is flooded in flashing red. You have no idea what’s going on, but you rush to the weapons room, ready to defend the Helicarrier from god-knows-what.

You crash into someone’s shoulder, the force sending you spinning to the ground. Strong hands grasp your arms, lifting you to your feet.

“Sorry,” Steve says between breaths.

“Steve,” you say. “What’s going on?”

“Under attack. Be safe. Check in later.”

“Copy that.”

He clasps your shoulders again before disappearing into the crowd of agents. You watch him for a second before turning around, continuing on to the weapons room.

Agent Weaver catches up to you.

“First name basis, huh?”

“Shut up.”

⋆⋆⋆

You hesitate before rapping on the door three times.

Steve greets you with a smile. Beads of water are dripping from his hair down his neck. He’s in sweatpants and a white tee that could definitely be sized up. As you enter his apartment, he hands you a takeout container.

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he closes the door behind you.

“Well, when you bribe me with shawarma…”

He laughs, but he’s rubbing his hands together and crinkling his eyebrows. You set your food down and plant yourself in front of him.

“Hey, it’s just a debrief,” you tell him, wrapping your hands around his biceps. Your touch brings him back to reality. “It’s no big deal. Fury just talks for an hour.”

“Yeah, it’s…been a while since one of these, I guess.” He tries to laugh it off.

You leave his side, sitting down at the dining room table.

“If it makes you feel better, you did about two million dollars less damage than Bruce and Thor.”

“It’s not that.” He throws himself on the couch, stretching his legs along the cushions. “I guess authority has never been a big fan of me.”

“Authority doesn’t get along with Captain America?”

“Authority doesn’t get along with the punk that lied about fifty times to get into the military.”

You speak between bites: “Then you must’ve gotten along with Tony Stark. Wonder why Nat said you had your panties in a twist over him.”

He perks up, resting his arms along the back of the couch. “She said that? Exactly like that?”

You snicker at his sudden interest, choking on a slice of tomato. “Does that bother you?” you tease.

He concedes, leaning back on the couch’s arm. “That Stark is something else. I wonder what Peggy would say if she knew I almost fought Howard’s son.” Steve stares at a spot on the wall, his mind a flurry of what-ifs.

⋆⋆⋆

Ambush. You’ve been tasked to partner with Captain America for his first official SHIELD assignment, and it’s a fucking ambush.

“Stay close,” the captain says.

Steve tosses his shield at someone behind you. You hear them slump to the ground while another approaches; the shield narrowly misses you as you duck and sweep your leg out, causing a third henchman to crash to the floor.

“Watch it!” you say before Steve knocks you to the ground, shielding your body while a whizz of bullets flying past.

“Guess someone has to,” Steve shoots back before pulling you up. You roll your eyes as you unholster two weapons on your belt, one pointed to your left and the other pointed behind you. You pull both triggers without batting an eye. You don’t bother looking; Steve’s mesmerized expression confirms that you’ve hit your targets.

Steve is speechless. He has never seen you in battle before, and it’s–

“Six o’clock, Rogers!” you say, causing the hero to duck down as you aim a bullet at a man sprinting towards you. You hear yet another coming from behind, and you aim a bullet at Steve’s shield. You turn just in time to see the ricocheted bullet take out the last goon.

Knowing you were safe, you let out a fatigued sigh and pat your newest coworker on the shoulder.

“Welcome to SHIELD, Cap.”

⋆⋆⋆

Macau was absolutely beautiful, but the jet lag never quite wore off, especially when your tasks still catered to Eastern fucking Standard Time. As much as you could appreciate the change of pace, you hoped Fury would never give you an assignment like this again.

- idk steve, seems a little unfair to assign me to track the train in vancouver when i was assigned the lemurian star just a couple weeks ago. did you KNOW what time it was over here?!

- anyway, im going to bed. night!

- You've only told me a hundred times. I’m glad it was you helping us out, even if you had to track the Star from thousands of miles away.

- Good night. Sweet dreams.

- :)

You smile at the three notifications on your phone. Tucking yourself under the covers, you reach over to turn off your night lamp.

Ring ring ring.

Maria’s name on your phone earns a prolonged groan from you. So first they schedule meetings at all hours, and now they expect you to pick up the phone at every possible second.

“Hill, I love you, but I swear to god–”

“You remember that sushi place? The one on 10th Avenue?”

You feel a sudden sweat forming on your brow, even though the air conditioner is blasting. You had first heard the coded emergency message years ago, when you first trained for SHIELD. Never did you think it would actually be used.

You clear your throat, forcing your voice to steady.

“Yes, we were there with your mom and your grandma.”

Is someone listening? Are you okay? Who compromised SHIELD?

“Right. I’ll talk to you later.” Maria’s voice betrays nothing before she hangs up the call.

You only brought a duffel bag to Macau, and you’re now shoving it full of underwear and clothes.

Wait, honestly, fuck it–Hill’s call told you scatter immediately, who the fuck cares if you had enough shirts?

You leave the SHIELD-sanctioned apartment, tossing your phone into a nearby garbage bin. You think of Nat, of Fury, of Steve. You wonder if they’re okay, but you have to settle for never knowing.

⋆⋆⋆

Red pixels fill your screen, slowly sharpening into a familiar face.

“Nat,” you gasp. Any suspicion about the unknown number on your burner phone melts away.

“Hey,” she says. She delivers her greeting with the nonchalance of a friend who has just seen you for brunch. “If you were a traitor, you would tell me, right?”

You match her lopsided smile. “No, of course not. Hey, what’s your social security number again?”

Natasha laughs, but her joy dissipates quickly.

“Nat? What’s been going on?”

On your end, you’ve been on the run, though you never quite knew who you were running from. You’ve had no contact with your coworkers since you received the call from Hill. You’ve heard various rumors, but you haven’t had the comfort of confirming their truth.

She peers somewhere off camera.

“A lot.”

She turns back to you, continuing: “He…hasn’t been good.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

You hold your breath as Nat stands up, willing her shaky camera work to still. You can barely make out their bare environment, lighted only by bars of fluorescent light.

“Maybe he should tell you himself.”

You watch as Nat hands over the phone. Steve looks up at her in confusion before turning towards her device. You see the relief flood his features. He says your name like it’s a breath of air after being held underwater.

“Steve,” you greet softly. “Are you okay?”

Steve presses his lips together. His eyes become dazed as he tries to find the words. After a few moments, you say his name again.

“I had a friend.

“A best friend,” he begins. “I thought I lost him.”

He hangs his head, and for a moment, all you see are strings of blonde hair.

“But the truth is much worse.”

The last time you had spoken, Steve was an explosion of excitement, practically setting the world record for longest run-on sentence as he told you Peggy was alive. Now, your heart breaks at the sight of the dejected hero.

“He doesn’t even remember me,” Steve continues.

You want to cry for Steve and tell him everything will be okay. You want to invite him into your arms and hold him. Instead, something tells you to push that aside. You grit your teeth; your grip is tight on your phone. You have half a mind to book a plane ticket to…you don’t even know where they are, but you want to be there, dammit.

“Then do something he won’t forget, Steve.”

⋆⋆⋆

You rush through the halls, dodging white coats and crash carts.

Room 311, room 311, room 311…

An armed guard reaches out to stop you before recognition settles. You glare at him, but the delay causes you to rethink storming into the hospital room after Steve’s near-death experience. You peer at him through the window, pressing your hand onto the glass. With the stitches along his cheek, the bruising on his jaw, and the scrapes along his browline, he looks…fallible. Vulnerable. Human.

You make eye contact with the man sitting beside him. He looks unfamiliar to you, but the bruises and cuts on his face tell you enough. He gives you a slow nod before turning back to his book.

⋆⋆⋆

You and Steve lean in closely, pretending to be deep in conversation while you keep a watchful eye on Bruce and Nat. You lean against the Stark Tower wall while Steve stands in front of you.

“I knew it,” he whispers, testing the limits of his peripheral vision as he peers at his friends.

“Yeah?” you say, taking a sip from the flute of champagne.

He turns his attention away from the two to face you. “One hundred percent. It was a perk of being friends with Bucky–I could see the girls drooling from a mile away.”

“And if they were drooling for you?” you say, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Yeah. Right,” he says, his eyebrows shifting upwards in disbelief as he takes a sip from his own drink.

“Maybe you just couldn’t tell,” you inform him.

“I think I would know, agent,” he tells you.

You reach out to adjust the collar of his shirt. As you pull away, your fingertips brush against his neck.

“I guess you would, captain.”

He gives you that dazzling, all-American smile before glancing at the bar. Nat looks up at the same time, locking eyes with Steve. He turns back to you abruptly, slamming his hand on the wall by your head in feigned nonchalance.

“Real subtle, Rogers,” you tell him. Tony rolls his eyes at the sight of you pinned beneath the captain’s body.

Steve drops his head, and you feel his hair graze your forehead. You’re glad he’s too engrossed in his embarrassment to notice that his proximity has made you dizzy.

“Shit,” he murmurs, stepping away. “Sorry.”

“Romanoff!” you call with a smirk. “Get the swear jar!”

⋆⋆⋆

“Can we talk about the mall again?” you question. So what if your words are slurring together a little, who cares?

Nat tucks her chin, willing you to continue with expectant eyes.

“So you mean to tell me…,” you begin slowly.

“Yes.”

“You look like that…And Steve looks like that…”

“Sure.”

“And your solution to avoid attention was to…”

“Kiss.”

“Kiss, right.”

You and Nat share a look before devolving into a fit of laughter.

“And it–”

“–worked!” Nat finishes. She takes a swig of her beer. “I’m good at what I do, agent. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Your eyes drop to the floor. You fiddle with the rim of your glass, before telling your friend:

“Tell me it meant nothing.”

Nat looks at Bruce, who has tucked himself between Dr. Cho and Clint. He looks on as Rhodey shares a familiar story, smiling and chuckling at all the right parts. He feels her eyes on him, and he gives her a smile that feels like home.

Her eyes move to Steve next, America’s hero for the better part of a century. He’s unmistakable. He commands attention, and he deserves it, too. He stands tall, knowing the world is always watching.

Finally, her gaze lands on you. You’re incredibly capable, magnificently skilled, and you would deny it all in a second. Her most humble friend, who declines the most notorious assignments to bask in the solace of the less glamorous work instead.

She reaches over the bar to place her hand atop yours. With all due respect, fuck Lillian with the lip piercing, and fuck Kristen from Accounting. Steve’s perfect match is right in front of her.

⋆⋆⋆

You feel your airways functioning again as the weight of the couch is lifted off of you. You swallow lungfuls of air, and the sudden intake causes you to choke and cough. Warmth radiates from strong hands on either sides of your head.

“Hey,” Steve croons. “Hey, I’m here.”

“Actually, I wedged myself between the couch and the floor,” you groan through the sharp pain in your ribs, “in hopes that Thor would rescue me from the big metal man.”

Your poorly-timed joke catches Steve off guard, and he finds himself laughing as he searches you for any hidden injuries.

“Yeah, you definitely have a concussion.”

⋆⋆⋆

You watch as the unfamiliar number blinks on your phone, but something compels you to answer. Steve’s face appears on your screen, an apologetic smile painting his face. The last you heard, the Avengers were following a lead on Ultron before going dark.

“Steve! Are you okay?”

He peers around him. You can make out a sunny window, rustic decor…is that a child’s toy?

“I can’t stay for long,” he says. “But–yes. We’ll…figure it out.”

He sees the concern on your face, and he knows what you’re about to say:

“What can I do?”

“Lay low,” he says, almost immediately, recalling how Ultron nearly ended your life with Stark’s god-awful furniture. “Keep yourself safe.”

You rub your temples. It’s as if you’re being dragged back to SHIELD’s dissolution, hurtled into a life of mystery and solitude that you hadn’t asked for.

You see a wave of red as Nat pushes her head in between Steve and the camera.

“At least five bad language words since we got here, agent,” she says. You laugh, already picturing the look Steve is giving her behind her curtain of curls. “Wish you were here.”

“Me too.”

Steve watches her walk off, and then waits a few moments longer.

“I saw her,” he tells you, his face dropping all signs of amusement.

You shake your head, trying to piece together what Steve wants to tell you.

“She said the war was over, that we could go home,” he continues. “Then I was back, here. On the ground. Alone.”

“You’re not alone, Steve,” you insist.

But he doesn’t quite hear you.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve scoots into the booth, unbuttoning his black suit jacket. You take the seat right beside him. He lets out a subdued sniff and asks you how the convention went.

“I know the world needs you to be big and strong,” you tell him, “but I don’t.”

You open your arms, and he chuckles before resting his head on your shoulder. You envelop him in a hug, rubbing his back.

“Never ask me about those boring fucking conventions again,” you murmur, feeling his tears fall onto the shoulder of your blouse. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Steve.”

Steve fishes around his pocket and brings out his compass. At the press of a button, it opens, revealing a photograph of Peggy. She looked breathtaking, with her strong jawline, perfect curls, and fierce gaze. Steve hesitates, then passes the device to you. You move your arm from Steve to hold the memento with both hands. You run your finger over the photo’s fading edges.

“And she liked you?” you jest to cover the emotions that are running through you. Why are tears prickling your eyes?

“Once,” Steve responds with a chuckle as you pass him back his most prized possession, “a long time ago.”

He sits up, stiffening. Before you can question the change of demeanor, he confesses, “I…can’t sign the Accords.”

You give him a faint smile, as if it hasn’t been the topic of discussion at the Madrid convention. You were more than happy to meet him in London, especially if it meant getting away from chatty politicians with pesky questions.

“I know, Steve,” you say, holding his face in your hands. You run your thumb down his cheek, erasing a drying line of tears. You ignore how the air leaves your lungs as Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he leans into your touch. “I know.”

⋆⋆⋆

“You’re too good to be down here, agent.”

Sharon pauses her scribbling to punctuate her sentence with a smile.

“You know this is where I like it,” you tell her from the other side of the bulletproof panel. Sharon slides the sign-out sheet back to you. You stifle a laugh as you read that Go Fuck Yourself has signed out two quantities of kiss my ass. Right before you buzz her into weapons lockup, she stops you.

“Wait,” she says abruptly, startling you. “Are you sure?”

Since the day you took him to the boxing gym, you have become Steve’s safe place. In times of need, on the run with Nat or holed up in Clint’s home, he desperately wished you were there. Never mind the comforting touch or the distracting joke, just your presence beside him was enough to turn the weight of the world into a bag of feathers.

Now, Steve has called in a favor. Get the shield and the wings to Sharon, and she’ll cover the rest. No big deal, just betray the federal entity you work for and be indefinitely on the lam. Run, and don’t take any chances.

“Never been more sure in my life.”

You press the button harder than you need to, and the door swings open. Sharon steps through, taking in the towering rows of weapons.

“Whoa,” she says. The massive basement room was the perfect place to house all of the CIA’s most dangerous arms, including Captain America’s shield and the Falcon’s wings.

You lead Sharon through shelves of alien technology and massive guns.

“Might’ve been less sure if I had a metal hand punching me into the wall, though,” you say, looking back at her as she tries to rub out the pain in her back.

She snorts and shakes her head. “I’m glad you were far away from that mess,” she says earnestly.

“Didn’t really have a choice. When we went into lockdown, I was shut in.”

You shudder as you remember the weapons rooms’ light cutting out suddenly, plunging you into darkness. An agent had announced a code red over the walkie, and you sprinted towards the door–just in time to watch the metal gates slam down. You had pounded on the metal, desperate to escape. Your gut told you what–or rather, who–played a role in the Code Red.

You grunt as you pull on the box. It falls to the floor with less grace than you hoped, and Sharon tugs it open. She lights up at the sight of the vibranium shield, her smile wide and her eyes bright. She catches your eye and immediately drops her smile.

With a shake of her head, she apologizes and says, “Um…thank you.”

⋆⋆⋆

“West entrance, thirty seconds,” Nat tells you. You hear her tapping on her keyboard, and the doors in front of you hiss open. You creep quietly into the darkness of the Raft corridor, with Steve following closely behind.

Steve presses his fingers to his ear. “We’re in.”

“Wait for my signal,” Nat murmurs. “You have three minutes to take down the guards, then about five minutes after that before their backup arrives.”

“Eight minutes?” you say incredulously. “Steve, she thinks we’re amateurs.”

Nat snickers from the comforts of the Quinjet. “Just know, if you get caught, I’ll sleep soundly knowing I left both of your asses behind.”

You feign a horrified gasp. “Steve! Cover your ears!”

You don’t have to see him to know Steve is currently tilting his head in disbelief.

Nat cuts off any retort he might have had: “And now.”

You and Steve move in unison. He takes a boot to the door, and you spare no time to fire a hailstorm of bullets into the room. Your attack disarms several guards and destroys the audiovisual equipment. Steve tosses his shield around the room, and it bounces off the remaining guards, knocking them to their feet.

You place your foot on a guard’s chest, nodding at Steve.

“I’ll keep them here.”

The captain disappears into the cell block. You can hear the distant sounds of Steve breaking through jail bars, followed by triumphant cheers and joyous reunions.

Your earpiece crackles; Nat is switching you both to a different channel.

“Now’s as good a time as any,” she tells you.

You stare past the doorway, not quite sure how to respond. She continues: “We don’t know when we’ll see each other again. We’re fugitives now.”

A few minutes later, Steve reappears, a proud smile on his face.

“They’re headed to the jet,” he says. “We did it.”

You force a smile back at him as he leads you out of the room. His arm extends to your waist and you hold your breath; but, he continues reaching until he can close the door behind you and break off the doorknob. As he pulls away, you capture your hand in his. You love the way he laces his fingers between yours, almost reflexively.

“Steve…”

We don’t know when we’ll see each other again.

His eyebrows scrunch in concern. Were you injured? Did a guard send out an emergency signal? But your expression tells a different story; his cool blue eyes could bore holes into your skull. You can only stammer, so Steve speaks instead.

“Wherever you go,” he says, unlacing his hands to instead place it on your cheek, “I can always be there. You just say the word.”

You close your eyes. You won’t know when you’ll see him again, and you lean into his touch, pressing his hand harder into your cheek.

“Two minutes,” Nat’s voice, barely audible, comes over your earpieces.

Steve pulls you into a hug.

“Check in. Stay close. Don’t take any chances,” he whispers.

How could you? The biggest chance you could’ve taken just slipped through your fingers.

⋆⋆⋆

“Oh my god! Thor?!”

Steve practically scoffs, scratching at his beard.

“I’m good, thanks,” he says. “How are you?”

“As good as I could be,” you say. You look around the feeble apartment, a micro-studio with a bed and a kitchenette. You landed in Shanghai after abandoning post, figuring one of the most populous cities in the world would be the perfect place to go into hiding.

Steve doesn’t seem to like that answer.

“I’m so sorry.”

“That a grown woman made a decision?” you scoff. “Sure, I forgive you, then.”

You raise a chuckle from him, and he feels that familiar sensation of relief and comfort at the sound of your voice. Steve made you a vagabond, but you held on tight to your favorite title of smartass.

“How about you?” you say. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he says, pushing long strands of hair away from his face.

“You with Sam? Nat?”

“Nearby.”

“Bucky?”

“With a friend.”

You blow through your lips.

“Sharon?” You say your friend’s name as if it were a throwaway line.

Steve squints at you through the screen, and you shift uncomfortably on your mattress. Your eyes dart everywhere–anywhere but your phone–while you wait for his response.

“No,” he answers. “No idea where she is.”

You purse your lips. You weren’t sure what you wanted to hear, and you feel an odd mixture of happy and sad all at once.

“Are you just checking in?” Steve wonders. “Or–?”

“Yeah,” you quickly answer. “Checking in.”

Silence settles for a few moments, before Steve tells you: “I wish you were here.”

You give him a measly “me too” and a sad smile.

“Soon?” you offer, though it’s the emptiest promise you’ve ever given.

“Soon,” is his response, the biggest lie he’s ever told.

⋆⋆⋆

You promptly withdraw your pocket pistol, peering around the corner. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the CIA found you, but, damn, you just got to Cape Town. With your finger on the trigger, you step out of your hiding spot…

…and are greeted by familiar blue eyes.

“You said stay close, right?” Steve says with a smile.

You call for him breathlessly. Your body suddenly feels like jello and your knees threaten to buckle underneath you. Your gun nearly slips from your grasp as you run forward, right into Steve’s welcoming arms. He locks you in a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. You feel your feet leave the ground as Steve lifts you, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to burst into tears.

With only the occasional video call being your only form of communication, you’ve nearly forgotten what Steve looks like from the shoulders down. When he puts you down, you hold him at arm’s length and stare, as if you’re trying to commit him to memory.

“Steve,” you say his name again, still reeling from the fact that he’s here, he’s really here. You shake your head vigorously. “You can’t be here–it’s too dangerous–”

“It’s okay,” he assures you. “I couldn’t go without you.”

“Go where?”

⋆⋆⋆

You squeeze your eyes shut as the aircraft passes through the translucent panels. When you open your eyes, the panels are behind you. The warrior piloting the plane smiles at your shock.

Steve watches you the whole time, captured by the sense of wonder painted on your face. He reaches over to squeeze your shoulder.

“Welcome to Wakanda.”

A small welcoming committee smiles brightly as you and Steve step off of the aircraft. Steve goes straight to a man with a bun, while the other two approach you.

“Greetings, agent,” the king greets you. “I am–”

“King T’Challa,” you say, meeting his handshake with fervency. “Your highness, it’s an honor.”

“The honor is all mine,” T’Challa responds with a smile. He gestures to the younger woman beside him. “And this is Princess Shuri, my sister.”

“Princess,” you greet. You reach your hand out, but quickly shift into a fist bump as Shuri reaches out a closed fist.

“Agent,” she responds with a grin. “I hope you will find your stay enjoyable.”

“Are you kidding me?” you say, then realizing you’re speaking much too casually for royalty. “I mean–the plane ride was easily the most luxurious experience of my life. I’m not sure how you’ll get me to leave.” Shuri’s grin spreads wider.

“I apologize, but we must be going,” T’Challa says. “But you have everything that you need, I assure you.”

You peer over at Steve, who grips the brunette’s shoulder as he laughs.

“And if you don’t,” Shuri calls as she and her brother take their leave, “you can ask any of the bald, mean-looking women.”

“Shuri!”

“They’re the Dora Milaje,” the man beside Steve explains as they approach you, “Wakanda’s elite warriors.”

Steve chest swells with pride as he introduces, “This is Bucky. My best friend.”

Bucky’s shakes your hand. He doesn’t wait for you to introduce yourself, instead saying your name to you.

“Heard a lot,” Bucky says with a smile. You glance at Steve, surprised that you’ve been a topic of discussion for the two.

“All good things,” Steve says, grinning at his best friend.

“Oh, great things,” Bucky adds assuredly as you feel your ears burning.

⋆⋆⋆

Ayo, one of the warriors, spares a few moments to meet you and Steve. She stands solemnly as you sit on the grass, your palms rested behind you.

“Bucky is, um…?” You’re not quite sure how to ask if the man is still capable of snapping your neck without an ounce of regret.

“We are working on it,” she says, keeping her eyes forward. You follow her gaze, watching as a group of children do and redo the best friends’ hair. Steve’s hair is first in a high ponytail, then two low buns. He catches your eye and waves, a wide grin on his face. You wave back as he and Bucky laugh at each other’s hairstyles.

Ayo follows Steve’s gaze back to you.

“We had arranged two bedrooms…”

You sit up straight with wide eyes.

“Th- And that’s totally fine.”

“It is no issue.”

Ayo walks away as Steve chases some of the children, feigning fatigue as they run away giggling.

“It’s a good look for him,” Bucky comments. Bucky is eyeing the three ponytails on top of his best friend’s head, but you’re taking in the sight of Steve consoling a child who has fallen. He gestures elaborately, as if casting a magic spell on the scrape. The child laughs and runs away, instantly remedied.

“It is,” you murmur.

You feel Bucky’s eyes on you, and you clear your throat. “Was–Was he like this before, too?”

Bucky cheeks puff as he releases an exaggerated exhale. “Hell no.”

“No?”

“Worse, so much worse. Insufferable, really.”

Steve jogs up to you. “They call you White Wolf, Buck? Do we all get nicknames?”

“Maybe,” Bucky says with a shrug. “You could be…”

“White Man,” you offer, earning a disbelieving look from Steve and a hearty laugh from Bucky.

“Or,” Bucky says, “I can tell them that Peggy called you–”

Steve shoves his friend, earning another laugh from the brunette.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve leans his forearm against the window. Below, the city lights dance, bright glimmers against an otherwise dark night.

“It’s good for him here,” he tells you with a smile on his lips.

“Wakanda looks good on you, too,” you say. The bed shifts as you stand up, joining Steve at the window. Wakanda is absolutely beautiful, and you understand why the country is hidden away from the rest of the world. “Maybe you should stay here.”

“Maybe we should,” he suggests, “but clearly their space is limited.”

You and Steve peer back at the singular bed that occupies the room.

“I told Ayo–”

“And I told Bucky–”

“It’s no big deal, right?”

“Right,” Steve says, mirroring your doubtful tone.

You both gingerly approach, like two idiots who have never seen a bed before. He cautiously approaches one side while you approach the other, slipping in and leaving as much space between you as possible. Steve scoots closer ever so slightly, but grabs a pillow, fluffing it and placing it between you two.

You and Steve spend a few minutes staring at the ceiling until your eyes form warped images in the darkness. Eventually, he sighs. You turn to ask him what’s wrong, but instead see him take the pillow and toss it across the room.

“Fuck it,” he murmurs, pulling you into his muscled chest.

“Language,” you mutter. But your eyelids already feel droopy as sleep pulls you under. Tonight, sleep smells like sandalwood and feels like heaven. Tonight, your dreams are blonde wisps and bright eyes that threaten to pull you into the ocean deep.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve is just broad shoulders and sullen disposition from your spot in the darkness.

“...Tony Stark, also known as the hero Iron Man, has been reported missing…”

“Get your things, Steve,” you say, stepping out from the shadows.

You’re the only thing that can pull Steve away from his racing thoughts. He forces his eyes off the screen, away from the image of a grinning Tony.

“Where are we going?” he says as you reach out to tug on his shoulder, a silent urge to gather his things. His hand finds a home over yours, holding it in place.

“Edinburgh.”

⋆⋆⋆

You start the search again, maybe the fifteenth time in the past five minutes.

The bar slowly fills up, reaching one hundred percent…

No results found.

“Nothing, Steve,” you tell him, your voice hoarse. Thanos might as well have vanished.

The captain is still for a moment before his hand comes down on the console table. After the glass breaks and the books clatter, you can only hear Steve’s deep breaths as he tries to calm himself. He takes long strides towards the door.

No results found.

“Steve–don’t take any chances. We’ll find him,” you say pleadingly. “He knows we’ll find him.”

As Steve mourned Bucky back in 1944, he wished he had something to bury. A final home for his best friend. A meeting place for him to visit. Something, anything to remember him by. Now he has his ashes, and he realizes how stupid he was to think it would bring him any relief.

No results found.

“Then he should be here to tell me himself.”

You flinch as the door slams shut behind him.

⋆⋆⋆

You pull a brown plaid shirt from Steve’s closet. You hold it up to his frame.

“I should’ve told you this eleven years ago,” you say as you pull the shirt off its hanger, “but you should really size up.”

He chuckles as he takes the shirt from you, slipping it through his arms. You begin to button the shirt as Steve looks on through the mirror. These days, he’s not quite sure who it is looking back at him.

“I don’t know what to tell them,” he says. If he wasn’t so numb, he might feel anxious. His stomach may have flipped at the thought of the support group sitting in a melancholic circle, staring at him, waiting for his words of wisdom.

You give him a sad smile, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He captures your hands in his before you can pull away.

“Tell them what you told me,” you say, and your hands slowly slip from his grasp. “About Peggy.” You give one final tug on his shirt before sending him on his way.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve looks anxious at your weekly dinner. He pushes around the contents of his plate without taking a single bite. You watch him, waiting for him to speak. When nothing ever comes, you ask him yourself. He drops his fork, finally stopping his nervous assault on his sliced carrots. He can’t stop thinking of Scott Lang, waving at him from the security cameras.

“What have you heard about…time travel?”

⋆⋆⋆

“Buck, can I…talk to you?”

Steve’s hesitant question causes you to put down the bandage. You’re not quite sure why Steve called you to the compound at this hour, and you’re even more unsure of why he was nowhere to be found while you made yourself comfortable in the kitchen. You feel lucky enough that Bucky made his way down, looking for something to sterilize his wounds. Usually, you would kill time talking to Nat, but–

“Sure,” Bucky answers. He gives you an unreadable look as he disappears with Steve into his room. You keep yourself busy, cleaning up the used medical supplies, until the super soldiers reappear. You see Bucky’s jaw clench ever so slightly; otherwise, he is nearly expressionless. He approaches you, nodding towards Steve. You slip off of the kitchen counter stool and Steve places his hand on your lower back, leading you into his room.

His room in the compound is nearly bare, save for what Tony has furnished himself. Not even the record player that he proudly found years ago, the only possession in his former SHIELD apartment.

You sit at the edge of Steve’s bed while he moves his armchair and plants himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, leans forward, and stares earnestly into your eyes.

“Steve?” You can’t ignore the feeling churning in your gut.

“You have been so good to me,” he begins. The inner parts of his eyebrows raise up in sincerity. “And I just want to say thank you.”

“You’re…welcome,” you say, a quip getting lost in your confusion.

“Tomorrow, I return the infinity stones.”

You nod. You knew that. He knew you knew that.

“And…I’m not coming back.”

You let out a wry chuckle. “Don’t worry,” you say, finding your voice suddenly hoarse. “You know Dr. Banner will make sure–”

“The last stone I have to return is in 1949,” he explains. Are you shaking your head at him? Is your entire body quaking? You’re not quite sure. “And I’m going to stay.”

I love you, Steve.

I love you so goddamn much.

I’ve loved you from that moment you sat in Fury’s stupid, flimsy chair.

I’ve loved you since you looked at me like I was your entire world, all because I took you to the worst gym in New York.

I’ve loved you in every moment, in every iteration, in every semblance of you.

And Steve Rogers, I know you love me, too.

You want to reach for Steve’s hand, but you’re frozen, and your clammy hands stay rooted in your lap. You give him a smile that you hope looks genuine.

“You had a date.”

⋆⋆⋆

You leave Steve behind in his room, insisting he didn’t need to walk you out. Insisting you didn’t need to spend the night, or ask any more questions.

Bucky leans against the kitchen counter, unmoving. You move to stand beside him.

“He can’t,” you whisper as you approach. Your fists are clenched so tightly that you’re nearly drawing blood.

“He made his choice,” Bucky responds. He matches your hushed volume, but his collected tone contrasts your panicked timbre.

“He can’t,” you say again. Maybe he didn’t hear you correctly.

“It’s his life,” Bucky tells you, in the same even voice.

“He can’t.” Your knees can’t hold you anymore. You’re falling, and Bucky catches your wrists in an effort to keep you from slumping to the ground.

You fight against his grip. You find the sides of your fists beating against his chest. Bucky falls with you. His cold eyes stare ahead, into the darkness beyond the compound. Your tears are hot, pouring onto your face like streams of lava.

He can’t

⋆⋆⋆

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

You watch the best friends pull each other into an embrace. Bucky’s smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

Steve turns to you, and your bitter frown turns into a painted smile. His muscled arms pull you into a hug next.

“Check in,” he says.

“Stay close,” you respond, closing your eyes and breathing him in. Your eyes squeeze shut as you pull him into a tighter embrace. When you release, Steve flicks away a stray tear from your face.

“Don’t take any chances.” He lingers a moment too long with his hands pressed against your jawline, his eyes searching for something unknown in your expression. Eventually, all too soon, he steps into Dr. Banner’s machine. At the press of a button, he’s gone.

Bruce counts down, preparing his machine for Steve’s return, one that you know won’t ever happen. Eventually, beside you, he and Sam break into a frenzied argument, but somehow they sound so far away.

“Sam.”

Bucky’s sharp voice draws the attention of the three of you. You follow Bucky’s gaze to an elderly man sitting on a bench. You can only see the back of his head, but you gasp.

Your feet are carrying towards the man, right alongside Sam and Bucky.

You can feel Sam’s perplexed gaze shift from you to Bucky.

“Go ahead,” Bucky urges.

You feel like you’re watching from miles away as Sam slowly approaches the captain. Every heartbeat feels like your heart is sinking further down into your stomach, and you force yourself to walk away. As soon as your back is turned, the tears flow freely. You stifle your sobs, disappearing behind a tree, out of sight from the other four heroes.

Bucky keeps his smile as he watches the astonished Sam receive the shield, just as he and Steve discussed. He sees the journey ahead for Sam, the man with a future yet to forge.

He glances back, seeing only a portion of you behind a tree trunk, heaving with the weight of your burdened cries. His heart aches for you, a lifetime of possibilities turned into memories of the past. The light at the end of the tunnel was simply a mirage for the woman left behind.

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