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violinsweetiemiss · 4 years

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Coffee Princess (Shownu X reader oneshot)

The tall sparkling glass building shines in the late afternoon sun where it sits in the midst of the bustling city that is Seoul. Outside, people walk up and down the sidewalk going about their daily lives, cars rushing past in the usual city traffic on the street next to them. In the midst of this rush of movement, a slender figure slips out the glass doors of a little coffee shop down the street from the tall glass building, a box of baked sweets in one hand and a carrier packed with coffee cups in the other.

“I’ll be right back!” You call over your shoulder at the other baristas, who only wave back cheerfully.

“Take your time!” They call, well aware of where you were going. You grin and tuck the furry hood of your coat around your head before hurrying down the street towards your destination. The chilly winter wind blows at your cheeks and makes your eyes water, but you still find yourself smiling, excited about seeing the person you were about to see. The guards in the lobby of the building wave you in, already used to seeing you appear periodically with snacks and coffee in tow. You quickly duck into one of the elevators waiting on the ground floor, tapping your feet lightly against the linoleum floor to warm up from your short trip outside. The elevator opens on the chosen floor with a light ding, and you hurry on to your destination. You walk to another pair of glass doors, identified by the bronze plaque set into the wall next to it.

Seoul Police, Violent Crimes Division.

A young man with a cheerful smile opens the door for you as you arrive, seeming to have been waiting for you.

“Noona!” He exclaims, a bright smile on his face. You find yourself smiling in response to the boy’s cheerful grin.

“Minhyuk-ah.” You say, “You’ve been waiting for me?” Minhyuk grins and nods eagerly.

“The entire division has been waiting for you!” He beams, “Your snacks are always the best after a long day of work.” He yelps as a hand hits him lightly on the head from behind.

“Yah, don’t make it sound like she’s only good for her snacks.” Jooheon chides, “That’s rude.” Minhyuk pouts and rubs the back of his head ruefully.

“Noona knows that’s not what I meant!” He grumbles. You laugh and hold out the box of baked goods you had brought.

“Here, this must be what you’re waiting for.” You say. Minhyuk’s eyes light up and he takes the box from your hands.

“Thank you noona!” He chirps and dashes off with the treats.

“Everyone!” You hear him call, “Noona brought us some treats!” Jooheon shakes his head and holds the door open for you as you walk into the large spacious office set aside for the division.

“You spoil him too much Noona.” He says. You laugh and shake your head.

“It’s nothing.” You respond, “I know you have all worked hard today. It’s just a small treat.” Ever since a year ago, every time the Violent Crimes Division returned from carrying out a mission, you would receive a call from a particular member of the division, and you would pack up some of the officers’ favorite baked goods and walk down the street to the tall imposing glass building. Given that you were the owner of the coffee shop, giving sweets for free to the hardworking officers of the Violent Crimes Division wasn’t really an issue.

You cast your gaze slowly around the bustling office space, looking for that one person in particular. However, he was nowhere to be found among the bustling police officers. You hear Jooheon chuckle softly behind you.

“Shownu hyung is in his office.” He says, pointing up the short flight of stairs to where a separate office sat, it’s blinds drawn. You grin and nod your thanks to Jooheon, your heart skipping a beat in excitement as you pick up one cup of coffee in particular from the carrier and hand the rest to Jooheon. You walk up the short flight of stairs and knock on the door softly, but hear no response. You turn to look at Jooheon quizzically, who shrugs and motions for you to go in. You hesitate for a moment before pushing open the door and stepping inside the pristine office. The office consisted of a large mahogany desk covered in folders and files next to a flat screen computer, each containing important information about each crime the division dealt with. A little bookshelf sat behind the desk, various trophies laid in a careful line on top. Sofas sat in a little rectangular shape on the left side of the room, lit up slightly by the sunlight streaming in from the windows. Your gaze travels around the room before landing on a tall figure sprawled out on one of the sofas

There he is.

You walk softly over to the desk and put down the drink in your hand before tiptoeing over to the sofa where the figure lay. A little smile turns up the corner of your lips as you look down at the sofa.

Son Hyunwoo, also known to his division as Shownu, was the head of the Violent Crimes Division, the youngest to ever take that position after a series of impressive achievements early on in his career. After rising to the leadership position, he had cracked down on the darkest corners of Seoul’s busy streets, greatly decreasing the crime rate and earning the praise of many.

Said accomplished man was also your boyfriend.

It had all started a little over a year ago, when you had first opened your little coffee shop down the street from the police department building. It had been a dream of yours to run your own coffee shop for a while, and you had finally found a place with the right layout and rent to fulfill it. Plus, with the police station nearby, there was a guaranteed stream of customers. Everything had gone more or less smoothly for a few months after opening, until one day you were outside taking a shipment of coffee beans when you found yourself in the middle of a standoff between a runaway criminal and the Violent Crimes Division. The criminal had been in the middle of transport from where he had been apprehended to headquarters when he had somehow managed to escape the car he was in and took off down the street.

And luckily for you, you were right in the middle of his path.

In seconds, the criminal had grabbed you and taken you hostage, holding a glinting silver knife to your neck as police officers surrounded you from both sides.

“Put down your weapons!” He had snarled, “Or else this woman will die!” You froze in place as the knife came dangerously close to your neck, your heart pounding in terror. The police drew their guns, but stood in place, uncertain of what to do. Then, a voice spoke.

“Taking a hostage? What an underhanded tactic.” Son Hyunwoo appeared from behind the group of police officers, his gaze calm and cool. Despite the situation you were in, you had felt your heart skip a beat, completely taken in by the young officer. Before the criminal could say anything else, Shownu had drawn a gun from his side and shot the criminal directly in the foot, right in the small part that your body was not shielding. As the man behind you stumbled, Shownu reached out and pulled you away from the criminal in one swift motion, kicking the man in the stomach and sending him tumbling to the sidewalk as he did so. In seconds, you found yourself in a pair of strong muscular arms, safely away from the chaos that ensued as the runaway criminal was surrounded and handcuffed again. Shownu’s touch was warm and comforting despite what had just happened, his voice calm and gentle as he helped you stand up.

“Are you alright?” He had asked. You nod and smile.

“Thank you for helping me.” You had responded.

“It’s what I should do.” He had replied gently. He was then called away by another police officer, but that was not the last you saw of the handsome young man. Before long, he seemed to realize you were the owner of the new coffee shop down the street from his workplace, and soon you began seeing him enter through the glass doors of your little shop every morning for an order of iced americano. It had started out with small little conversations while you made his coffee, how you were feeling after being held hostage briefly by a runaway criminal, little questions about how his work was going, how business was going for your shop.For his strength and unflinching bravery during work, Shownu was a surprisingly gentle and shy man outside of it, particularly when it came to talking with a woman.

But that duality was precisely one of the many things that made you feel increasingly attracted to him the more you saw him.

Shownu was soon a regular at your coffee shop, so regular that your employees began telling you when he arrived if you weren’t already at the front counter. He would smile warmly upon seeing you, and you would grin and turn to make coffee for him without needing him to open his mouth, sometimes adding a baked good with it as a treat. Within a few months, he was shyly asking you if you wanted to see a movie with him, his hands uncharacteristically clasped together nervously as he fumbled for the right words. Your cheeks had flushed hot at the invitation, knowing very well what it meant, but you had happily accepted. One movie date turned into another, followed by a first dinner together and many meals afterwards. The two of you went on walks through the nearby park together, chatting casually about anything that came to mind. You weren’t sure why, but you felt comfortable around this man, as if you could talk with him forever. He made you feel safe, and never pushed for more than what you felt comfortable with.

One thing was sure, however: slowly, but surely, Son Hyunwoo had found a place in your heart.

And so, when he had driven you home one day after having dinner together, took out a necklace he had bought at the nearby jewelry store and asked you to be his official girlfriend, you knew there was no other answer in your heart besides ‘yes.’

A full year had passed since then, and your relationship with Shownu had only grown stronger with every passing day.

You smile as you draw yourself out of the memories of the past year, and kneel down to look at the young man that had captured your heart. The young policeman was sprawled on the sofa fast asleep, one arm slung over his head. He was dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and black jeans, the top two buttons undone, revealing just a little of the well sculpted body underneath the white material. A black vest and a pair of black gloves lay where they had been tossed over the arm of the other sofa, likely where it had stayed since Shownu had thrown it there before he fell asleep. His lips were parted ever so slightly as he breathed steadily, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as he slept. A warm smile turns up the corner of your lips as you cup your face in one hand and trail one finger lightly over his handsome features.

“What did I do to deserve a boyfriend like this?” You muse softly to yourself, your heart fluttering just looking at Son Hyunwoo. A moment later, long fingers suddenly latch onto your wrist, and you squeak in surprise as you are yanked off your feet and onto the sofa, landing neatly on top of the figure that had surely been sleeping just a moment ago.

“You saved the world and back.” A familiar voice murmurs drowsily, sounding tired yet amused at the same time. You blink in surprise as Shownu’s eyes open slowly, his warm gaze meeting yours. Your face flushes hot as you realize you were caught staring and marveling over your boyfriend’s looks.

“I-I thought you were sleeping!” You stammer, turning your head away slightly. A soft chuckle reverberates in Shownu’s chest against your cheek.

“Silly girl.” He teases, “I was awake the moment you stepped into the room.” Your heart beats fast in your chest, your face flushing in embarrassment as you realize he’s right; he was the head of the police division dealing with some of the worst crimes in the city after all. Of course he wouldn’t be caught unaware, even while he had been sleeping.

“You should have said something!” You protest, giving him a half hearted smack on the chest. He laughs again, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other tilting your head back towards him. Your breath catches in your throat as he pulls you to him and gives you a soft kiss on the lips.

“I wanted to hear what praises you had for your perfect boyfriend.” He murmurs against your lips. You squeak in embarrassment and open your lips to protest but he cuts you off with another kiss, deeper and firmer this time. Blood roars in your ears as all protests fall away in the fog that comes over your brain. You hear Shownu laugh softly as he pulls away.

“Your face is as red as a tomato.” He teases, long slender fingers pinching your cheek playfully. You splutter and search for the right words to protest, but fail spectacularly in the midst of the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. In the end, you bury your face in his chest with a squeak.

“Oppa, you’re awful!” You protest with a light kick of your feet. Shownu had been a shy puppy when they had been getting to know each other, but there was an entirely different side to him that came out once they started dating. He laughs again, the sound music to your ears.

“Ah, I feel so refreshed now.” He teases, “I’ve been waiting to see my little energizer all day!”

“Is this how you’re supposed to treat a girlfriend you’ve wanted to see all day?” You grumble, your voice muffled from your current position. Shownu chuckles and ruffles your hair gently before kissing each of your fingers lightly, his other hand warm on your back.

“Is that better?” He asks, “I really did miss you, my princess.”

“Mm.” You mumble, your heart finally slowing down to a normal rate. Somehow, Shownu knew just which buttons to push to make you flustered, and which buttons to press to make you fall ever deeper in love with him. The two of you lie there on the sofa for a few minutes before Shownu turns his head towards the desk.

“I smell coffee.” He says, “Handmade by my princess.” You grin and nod.

“A hot chocolate mocha, perfect on a cold day for my hardworking Hyunwoo oppa.” You reply. He grins and carefully slips you off him before rising from the sofa and walking to the desk. You watch as he walks back with the drink and takes a sip.

“How is it?” You ask. Shownu grins.

“As sweet as my princess.” He replies. You blush again at the compliment, then giggle as you look up at Shownu.

“What?” He asks, confused. You giggle and point at his face.

“You have cream on your face.” You reply. Shownu pokes at his lips in confusion, and you laugh as you watch him struggle for a few moments before reaching up and planting a little kiss on the corner of his lip, licking away the remaining cream at the same time.

“Right here.” You reply. Shownu freezes for a moment, startled by your sudden movement. Then, he groans and covers his face with one hand, a deep sigh escaping his lips followed by a dry laugh. You tilt your head curiously, wondering what was so funny. Shownu sighs.

“I was planning on finishing these two reports on the criminals our team caught today,” He says,“But at this rate I’m not going to get a single word typed up on my computer.”

“Why not?” You ask curiously. Shownu chuckles and puts down his drink before wrapping one arm around your shoulders and planting a warm kiss on your forehead.

“I can’t possibly get any work done while you’re here.” He replies, “I just want to sit here and hold you in my arms.” You blush and give him a light push.

“In that case I will head back down to the coffee shop.” You respond, even though you didn’t want to leave quite so soon, “I have delivered my snacks already, and you have work to do.” Shownu’s grip tightens as you try to stand up and you can’t help but smile in amusement as he pouts.

“Do you have to go?” He asks. You laugh softly and give him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“My shop will be open until you’re finished with work for today.” You reply, “How does that sound?” Shownu’s eyes light up at your suggestion, and he lets go of you reluctantly.

“Alright.” He grumbles, “I’ll finish work quickly and come to find you.” You rise to your feet and head for the door, but the moment you turn the knob, the door is pushed shut again by a large hand. You turn and see Shownu standing behind you, one arm outstretched, his palm pressed firmly against the door that he had just shoved shut.

“Oppa?” You ask, puzzled, “Did you forget something?” Shownu doesn’t say anything for a long moment, a contemplative look on his face. Then, he turns you around and pulls you into his warm embrace, your head tucked against his shoulder.

“Just give me three seconds.” He murmurs as you squirm at the sudden hug. One finger taps lightly against your back, counting the seconds as promised. After three seconds, Shownu sighs and lets you go, one hand patting you gently on the head.

“Wait for me.” He said, “We’ll eat dinner together.” You nod and give him a light peck on the cheek before turning to open the door again. You hear him sigh and within seconds the door was slammed shut again. Shownu’s arms wrap tightly around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Perhaps...another ten minutes of energizing wouldn��t hurt?” He suggested. You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, tilting your head slightly at the yearning look on his face.

“What about your reports?” You ask. Shownu chuckles and tilts your head up with one long finger.

“It can wait for a little energizing.” He replies. He captures your lips with his, and you were more than happy to oblige.

Son Hyunwoo, I love you.

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tintind · 4 years

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TW: violence, politics, Belarus

We have been under occupation for three months now. It is difficult to call it anything else, although some people may find the comparison too exaggerated.

What is going on?

This art shows two poets and political activists of the last century. Aloisa Pashkevich (aka Tsetka) from Belarus and Lesya Ukrainka from Ukraine. It is not known whether they met in life, but they are contemporaries and both fought for the freedom of their peoples.

Fourteen years ago, protests raged in the capital, my mother participated in them. I was only five years old at the time, and I don't remember anything except the day when a policeman came to our house to find out where my mother was. I didn't know what was going on. Our opposition wanted to call the events of 2006 “the denim revolution”, but then Lukashenka remained in power. In twenty-six years, our President has changed the Constitution three times, and thanks to the falsification of the results of referendums, he has almost absolute power, like a monarch de l'Ancien Régime. In fact, according to psychiatrists, Lukashenka has a mosaic psychopathy. He is a pathological liar and an adherent of the ideas of communism. But not that communism, which is for a bright future, but one that eliminates and intimidates all dissenters.

Everyone in the government lies. The Ministry of health is lying about the covid-19 situation (they even lied about the flu for years). The Central election Committee is lying about the election results. The Ministry of internal Affairs is lying about the number of protesters. There are no independent institutes of sociology in our country.

The Constitution proclaims freedom of Assembly. At the same time, there is an article in administrative law "on violation of the procedure for holding mass events". It does not provide for punishment for mass riots, according to it you will be convicted for standing silently with a placard or flag. You will be arrested for 15 days for wearing "political color" clothing or for having a photo of you eating white-red-white marshmallows. This is not a joke. These are real stories. You will be arrested.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A friend of mine is under arrest right now. I was very afraid that I would harm him by writing a letter. All correspondence is read. Yes, it's illegal, but they don't even hide it.

Over the past three months, about 30,000 people have been convicted under article 23.34. This is like one small Belarusian city, for example, Dzerzhinsk. In the first days of the protest in August, forty people were held in cells for six.

From the ninth to the twelfth of August were the worst nights of my life.

We have passed the point of no return. Special forces shot an unarmed man.

During these three months, seven people were killed by the security forces. The last of them — a young man of 31 years old, saw unknown people in civilian clothes removing ribbons of national colors from the fence, and he came out to ask why they do it. He was beaten and taken in an unmarked car to the police station, where he was admitted to the hospital. He died without regaining consciousness. His last words in the chat were "I’m going out." He was sober, he didn't get into a fight first. He went out into the courtyard of his house.

Authorities call the criminals "concerned citizens" and claim that Roman--that was guy's name--was drunk and provoked them.

According to the authorities, a little more than a hundred police officers were injured by the actions of the protesters. What injuries do they have? They say someone's spine was broken. But doctors only know about a couple of wrist sprains from working too hard with a baton. While the protesters took off their shoes to stand on the bench and collected garbage behind them, the police smashed the glass doors of the cafe.

State TV channels talk about some protest coordinators who pay people 30 euros for each march, but the police arrest not these coordinators, but journalists who are just doing their job, telling about what is happening. It is illegal to be an independent journalist in Belarus. Even if you wear a vest that says "Press", you will be arrested. This happened to a friend of mine last weekend. She doesn't have a camera anymore.

Equipment is rarely returned, but there are a lot of broken smartphones in the stores of confiscated goods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After three terrible August nights, people are also being beaten again.

Verbal humiliation. Menaces. Beatings. Rapes.

Tortures.

Women are beaten on their stomachs to they "do not give birth to zmagar(protesters) scum". In August, a girl lost a child to torture in a pre-trial detention center. Recently, a pregnant woman was sentenced to 20 days in prison.

Beatings. Rapes.

Policemen break men’s arms, legs, break their heads, rape them.

People are forced to stand on the street for hours without moving. They are denied medical care, saying that they are malingerers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If they hear that you speak Belarusian (in Belarus!), they will mark you with a cross, which means that you can be beaten more than others. In August, marks were placed also on people without documents and those with "non-white" appearance. Our authorities decided to commit genocide. They don't fully understand it themselves, but violence against people who speak a certain language is a genocide.

Almost 500 cases of documented tortures were brought by the internal authorities in zero criminal cases.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mass repressions can be less violent there. Students are expelled from Belarusian universities for participating in protest actions. One of my close friends left for Lithuania because he was expelled despite his good academic performance. Private businesses are being shut down under the yoke of sanctions. They force representatives of the IT-sector to leave. Doctors are being fired.

Yes, that's right. In the midst of the pandemic, they fire doctors.

The country's borders are closed to entry. For some time, even Belarusian citizens were not allowed to go home (and authorities still threaten them to not let them in). The gouvernment demanded to reduce the number of employees of Polish and Lithuanian embassies in order to make it more difficult for Belarusians to obtain a Schengen visa.

Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a concentration camp. Especially when the city is blocked on weekends, the metro is closed and the Internet is turned off. You can’t walk where you want. You are in danger to be beaten for no reason. You can’t be safe in your own home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But we continue to protest. We continue to demand our voice be heard. We're going out.

And we will definitely win.

#belarus protests #жывебеларусь #хаха я тут живу #longread #mention of violence #mention of torture #belarus #election in belarus #lesya ukrainka #цётка #леся українка

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britishvamps · 4 years

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First Meeting

Ateez Mafia!au: You Meet For The First Time

Hongjoong:

In the mafia world, there were the big three. These were the top three Mafia groups with, undeniably, the most power and influence to the surrounding world, whether individuals knew it or not. The groups were EXO, Stray Kids and Ateez and seeing as you belonged to Ateez’s largest rival group SKZ, it wasn’t exactly all hugs and kisses. Though you were a fairly new individual to the SKZ family, you were no stranger to the life of crime, having being taught to shoot a gun from very young and fight by your father who was a Capo for his old mafia group, you had climbed up the ranks of the Stray Kids ladder pretty quickly. Which would have been shocking from the outside perspective of someone such as Hongjoong, however to those nearby, you were seen working the under the table dealings, assigning and assisting in assassinations, aiding in missions much below your pay grade which earned you the position you held. You had first met Hongjoong during a ‘truce’ meeting that had quickly turned sour when they found explosives rigged to the derelict building that they had assumed Chan was cause of. So, in the midst of the gunfight and retreat, Hongjoong had San and Wooyoung take you captive as a means to negotiations and quickly was he intrigued by you. Never had he seen a female seem so unbothered and able to surpass his flawless features, intense looks and honey-like voice. He seemed mesmerised by your unwavering loyalty to Stray Kids alongside despite knowing the danger, you kept running your mouth as if these people weren’t trained killers but longtime friends.

Seonghwa:

Though not a part of any known groups or gangs, you were one of the mafia syndicates best hitman, sorry woman. Though few had seen your face or known your identity and lived, the whispers of the infamous killer spread and reached many ears and you were a sought after hitwoman. And like all jobs, your had many perks but with your recent target being the one and only Park Seonghwa you knew that many of these perks would have been added to sweeten the deal with the matter of fact that you were to eliminate the right hand man of one of the most ruthless crime organisations to walk the earth Despite having passed glimpses of one another at during “charity parties”, as many of these gangs liked to call it, you never had the chance to have been formally introduced until you wound up in the club owned by Kang Yeosang, club owner business man on papers, but of course to the few, he was Ateez’s very own drug mixologist and soldier. So there you were, sat at the VIP section with your right hand ladies, staring up at the owner’s booth watching the moves of Park Seonghwa, Kang Yeosang and ladies man Kim Wooyoung before you were summoned up by a bartender who said the presence of you and your ladies was requested by the males. Stepping through the doors, you immediately met eyes with each of the males, eyes undoubtedly scanning over each ones features before stopping at your target, there he sat furthest away from the other two, pouring himself more scotch as he cockily raised his glass to the three of you as a sign of greeting meanwhile Yeosang and Wooyoung came over, rushing you to sit beside them whilst you slowly meandered over to the male clad in a neatly pressed suit, suit jacket discarded with the sleeves rolled up and perched yourself on his arm rest.

Yunho:

You met Yunho on the day of your 19th birthday. It was the simple cliche, your parents were best friends growing up and wanted their children to date and get married. But being a part of a crime syndicate so big made plans like that not so simple. As both your father and Yunho’s father were leaders of infamous gangs, it was a deal held before the births of the both of you that you would get married. So on the day of your 19th birthday, you were awoken to being showered with many gifts and before you knew it, you were being driven to a large mansion on the other side of Seoul. Upon questioning your parents, they both gave curt responses and lead you into a large dining room where there sat your, yet your unknown to you, husband to be and his parents. Shyly you watched as your parents greeted them with hugs and handshakes, before they sat down opposite them, beckoning you to sit in between them like Yunho was. There, sat in front of the both of you were marriage contracts. Thick, slabs of white paper sat in contrast to the deep black glass of the table, the neatly written words staring back at you as it read ‘Legalised document of the union of the Jung’s and the (Y/L/N)s’. Looking up in horror, you glanced around the table to see all blank faces, as you were the last one to know. Abruptly arising in anger, you practically flew out of the room dismissing the yells of your parents when you were suddenly stopped by a sharp, curt pull on the arm, turning to being face to face with the beautiful individual who was previously sat opposite you.

Yeosang:

As Yeosang was one of the only high ranking members of Ateez who had been placed in the eye of the public as a legitimate business man, he was constantly around his nightclub where new crime deal prospects constantly being whispered about by certain people. You were a new employee, and unlike the others, you knew nothing of Yeosang’s real job, of how deadly the handsome male really was, which was highly unusual that the position offered was even given to you, an outsider to the gang life. For one to be introduced to a high ranking member of Ateez meant that either you were one of them or a rival member, which rose suspicions in Yeosang as he saw you being shown around by the acting manager who had interviewed you because, unlike most, if not all, of the other workers, you didn’t owe Ateez any money nor were you secretly aiding in any of their under the table dealings. So the surprise in which Yeosang felt when he had walked in and discovered that one of his acting managers had employed you, he was curious about whether you were really as oblivious as you seemed. So he called you into his office before your first shift to give you the rundown of the place, as he put it, despite already been shown around. You had known the individual to be handsome due to his many appearances on TV, but seeing him up close, you were hit with shock at the subtle smirk he wore when you walked in and seemingly froze on the spot. Upon summoning you closer, he gave you a not so subtle glance over before straightening out his suit and offering you a drink.

San:

Like Yeosang, San was also one of the members who was given a business to run, whether legitimate or not, the line was blurred. You were a police officer. Despite being young, you rose through the ranks pretty quickly which is what landed you in front of the exotic dancers club for a mission. You were to go undercover and find any information on the largest rival gangs that seemed to frequent the club; Ateez and EXO. Although EXO had the higher advantage of having years more experience than Ateez in the mafia business, the smaller gang had rose to criminal fame very quickly, being in the circle of the top three most dangerous gangs in just over a year. Upon walking into the club, you were hit with the stench of cologne, cheap perfume, smoke and liquor. Your eyes setting upon the stages where two dark skinned and fair skinned girls where currently twirling around. Walking through the building, you turned heads and gained whispers as you were one of the few girls currently fully clothed. As you reached the office, you knocked before entering once a gruff voice summoned you in and there he was sat on the dark brown leather swivel chair, dressed in an all black 2017 Ludlow J. Crew suit and a deep red shirt with a matching tie, Choi San. The man was most certainly not done justice by his photos, seeming more ethereal yet smouldering in person. He wore a smile but this man was nothing without the reputation of his duality; from a simple, kind businessman to a stone-faced killer in seconds.

Mingi:

For Mingi, he prided himself on being a skilful sniper. He was the best in the business. Hired by many for assistance in assassinations that were needed to be taken care of swiftly and from a distance until he decided to stick to being Ateez’s personal long range sniper on missions where they needed eyes outside and at a distance, even with his extensive training in hand-to-hand combat, Mingi had grown to preference his sniper, a Remington 700 XCR. However, for today’s mission, Mingi would have to give up the sniper and use his trusty handgun and fighting skills as they ambushed a rival group who were severely messing with their drug trade business. Sneaking in with Hongjoong, San and Jongho, Mingi had gotten Yeosang to disable all alarms and cameras throughout the mansion so they could all enter undetected. When the first shot was fired, the house began buzzing with noise, orders and gunshots heard from almost every room except one. The main study, although unlocked seemed to have no activity in it until Mingi decided to take a look and in there he found a lone lady, sat in her desk clacking away at her laptop as if there wasn’t a shootout only 3 meters away from her. Looking up, she saw Mingi with his gun raised and she smiled, and there Mingi seemed bewitched as she seemed not to even blink as the male stood inches away from her with gun pointed to her head. A gold plaque with the words ‘Y/N Y/L/N’ caught his eye.

Wooyoung:

Wooyoung was known for being the flirt, the crazy and unpredictable one which worked in his favour when he needed information from certain clients, whether male or female, they all fell for his little charm. That little wink and the way his mouth contoured into an over confident smirk that he held perfectly on his face made him deadly in a way no gun or knife ever could. Walking into the club, you knew your target was a well sought out individual and that you’d have competition on who would be getting information first. Seeing as the male had no issue in being active with both males and females, you knew he’d be surrounded tonight as it was one of the only nights he left the comfort of his chateau and private parties for an event of this scale and much to your distaste, there he was with a grey haired male stood rather close to him, whispering in his ear as females danced around them. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you grabbed a shot from the bartender and downed it before slamming the glass down and pushing yourself off of the bar and strutting over to the two well dressed males. A slight sheen of sweat on your skin made you even more enticing as people seemed to clear a pathway or stop dancing to keep eyes on your swaying figure in red bottom Louboutin wrap heels and one shoulder diamante dress before you stopped in a seat beside the man and turned to give smile at the two of them. Wooyoung’s eyes raked down your body, not bothering to hide the fact that he was doing so before sending a wink over to you and going back to his drink as the male was no longer speaking but much rather gawking at the goddess like female sat next to him. Knowing this would be an easy assignment, you reached out your hand to greet both males.

Jongho:

You weren’t part of the mafia life. Far from it. A regular civilian with a regular job as a waitress living with your parents with regular jobs as a police officer and a doctor. However, your meeting with Jongho was far from regular or even normal. You had gone to bring lunch to your parents, first stopping at the hospital to drop off some food to your mother before rushing out and heading to the precinct to have lunch with your father, a very common occurrence. Upon gallivanting into the police station, you noticed a lot more chaos in the air than usual. Seeing people rushing around on phones, holding papers and large files, some walking in and out of your father’s office and a lot of shouting heard from multiple directions. Walking a little slower to avoid getting knocked to the floor, however, certain plans don’t work well as the minute you stepped out, you had bumped into a very hard chest and upon looking up, you saw a a very handsome beat up face smirking down at you before he was pushed out of your way into an interrogation room nearby. You finally reached your father’s office and walked in to find him on the phone with a very unpleased face, as he glanced up to glare at whoever walked in, his face softened to see you and he motioned you in. As he hung up the phone he gave you a soft smile but before you could sit, someone burst in with a rushed voice about Jongho of Ateez in room one. Realising that lunch was off the table, you walked out with your father and let him walk off in a different direction. However, as you were near enough down the road, your phone rang and the very enraged voice of your father rang through about how the witness would only speak to the ‘innocent looking cutie he bumped into’.

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years

Text

Not Joyce or Monet

PART THIRTY-NINE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: major discussions of parent death/death in general, smoking, drinking, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 6.3K

Summary: Jess publishes his second book and Ella receives a troubling call from Stars Hollow.

Flopping face-first down onto the bed, Ella breathed a sigh of relief. It would have felt strange not to have a little champagne at Jess’s book launch party. But, she was a lightweight. She was floating somewhere between tipsy, buzzed, and drunk. At least she was still capable of slipping off her shoes before making her way to the bedroom. She’d even managed to change into pajamas, brush her teeth, and wash her face. A far cry from the screwdriver incident at Liz’s baby shower. A heavy winter snow fell outside the windows and a touch of cold air seeped into the draughty apartment. Goosebumps rose lightly on her skin. In her state, they felt nice instead of uncomfortable. She was already dozing when Jess came in, having taken a quick shower. His hair was still damp as he climbed into bed next to her, the movement shaking her from her haze.

“Did you like your party?” she murmured, watching as he shut off the lamp and rolled over to face her.

His face was aglow with the bluish light of the snowy Saturday evening. “Mhm.”

She snickered a bit at his nonchalance. “I know you hate parties, but Chris insisted it was the best way to drum up business. And you do like surprises, Mr. Spontaneity. Matthew and I made it as lowkey as we could.”

“It wasn’t so bad, Eleanor. Really,” he said, shrugging. “You’re remembering that you whispered lines from Catch-22 in my ear all night, right?”

“I figured you’d need some Joseph Heller to make it through,” she explained, slightly sheepish.

Jess smiled. “Of course. And watching Chris and Leo get so drunk they do their acapella version of ‘Under Pressure’ could never be bad.”

“Leo does do a damn good Freddie Mercury,” Ella agreed, chuckling. “I didn’t realize the publishing agents would all go blackout level, too.”

“Oh, yeah. You should’ve seen what Chris did for the Subsect launch. It was like that scene where E.T. gets drunk. But if there were fifty aliens in the movie instead of just one,” Jess said flatly, begrudgingly.

“You must be a little drunk if you’re letting a cheesy eighties movie slip. Or have I finally converted you?” she teased, snuggling deeper into the pillow.

Jess smirked. “Not yet. Chris made me try his Manhattans to see if they ‘tasted too much like gasoline.’”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that they did,” Ella said.

“Someone give the lady a prize,” Jess shot back tiredly. “Good thing we walked there.”

“Yeah. And good thing I got to watch you catch a snowflake with your tongue on the way back.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed, cutie,” she said, forcing her laughter down. “I’ll be eating my words when you watch me fall on my ass while we’re ice-skating with April.”

She knew if he’d been entirely sober, he wouldn’t have gotten so caught up in his wonderment at the storm. But Ella had also seen him sticking out his tongue awaiting a snowflake in an old, yellowing photo album Liz had shown off during her baby shower. In it, Jess had been no more than three. Dressed in a raggedy winter jacket on some grimy corner of New York City. He and Liz were sticking their tongues out together. Seeing the photo had given Ella’s mouth a bittersweet taste. It was hard to imagine Jess ever feeling so relaxed around his mother. She saw the same rare awe from him on the walk home. Most of the time, he was so weighed down by the world he could barely come up for air. She thought she had never seen him look so young at heart before.

“Can’t wait,” Jess hummed, mocking. It was nearly time for April’s winter break, and Anna had somehow agreed to let her spend it with Luke, Lorelai, and Rory. Ella and Jess had opted to return to Stars Hollow for Christmas, after the bumps in the road on Thanksgiving. Two more days, and they’d be braving the icy roads on their way up to Connecticut. April had already called them to schedule a time for ice-skating. The proper, analytical way the little girl spoke never failed to amuse Ella.

“Me neither,” Ella quipped as her eyelids began to droop again. She could smell the minty scent of Jess’s shampoo.

As he watched her begin to drift off, he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. From what Matthew had said, Ella had essentially been put in charge of the party when Chris’s trademark irresponsibility made an appearance. Matthew had jury duty and couldn’t assume his usual role of organizer in the wake of Chris’s chaotic decision-making. What she’d managed to throw together, though, was one of the better parties Jess had ever been to. The publishers they knew usually sent younger employees to the underground press launches, and Chris had ended up making friends with most of the usual suspects at the launch for Jess’s first book. Ella had made sure the guest list only included familiar faces. If they just had to throw him a surprise party, which Chris demanded (normally, she wouldn’t have listened, but if it was a matter of getting his book better exposure, she was willing to risk it), she’d try to make it as comfortable for him as possible. Or, at the very least, bearable.

And she’d just gotten done with finals two days earlier. He could see how tired she was. Her nerves over the possibility of seeing her father during the winter holidays hadn’t helped her sleeping recently either. Though Jess wasn’t sure how it would actually pan out, she claimed she wanted an attempt at apologizing for what she’d said at Adam’s graduation. She was sick of family nonsense, she said. Maybe if she levelled the playing field, they could begin to understand each other again. Ella herself wasn’t sure exactly what had sparked her desire to try again with her family, but suspected it might have been Thanksgiving. Jess, simply put, was someone she admired. Seeing him trying to mend his relationships (even though he didn’t have to, even though it was difficult), made her feel just a little more confident. Maybe not everything turned out bad, after all.

Shutting his own eyes, Jess slipped his hand beneath Ella’s shirt, his fingertips ghosting over her back. She smiled softly at his touch, feather-light. A pleasant shiver rolled through her.

“Thank you for the party,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Well, thanks for writing my new favorite book,” she answered instantly, sleepy and sincere. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

. . .

There were still a couple hours left until lunchtime when Ella slipped through the door at Truncheon, but it wasn’t entirely uncommon for her to show up and work a little. Especially when she was on break from school and got antsy. Jess had debated giving her the easel he’d bought her for Christmas early, so she would have something new to focus on while he tied up the odds and ends at the book press. But, ultimately, he wanted to wait until the morning after they returned to Philadelphia. It would be far more surprising to wake up and find a Christmas present wrapped up in the living room on the morning of New Year’s Day than on the actual gift-giving holiday.

When he’d left for his last day of work prior to their trip to Connecticut, she’d still been half asleep. Her sketchbook was open on her bedside table, a pencil drawing of a child with hollow eyes having yet to be shaded. She’d been up late working on it the night before, on a roll. He hadn’t even shut the door to the apartment before she was out cold again. He’d been anxious to get back home, to pack and prepare for the trip. In his opinion, there was no use in only opening for a Monday and then closing for the holidays the rest of the week, but Matthew’s stickler spirit won out. Jess wasn’t going to be skipping around the store in merriment as the rest of the world took a vacation, but he also wasn’t moping around like Chris. He was in the midst of diffusing an argument between his two coworkers when Ella arrived.

He wanted to smile when he saw her, and almost did. But then he got a good look at her hazel eyes, and immediately he could tell something was wrong. It wasn’t that she was sleepy, though she looked a bit haggard in with her peacoat tied around her haphazardly and her hair wild, dotted with the snowflakes falling steadily outside. Instead, she looked almost unreachable. His Eleanor who was always so present and vivid and alive, even in the midst of drudgery. And she wasn’t daydreaming, either. She wasn’t off in her own thoughts, thinking of Emily Dickinson or James Joyce or Claude Monet. No; she was simply not there. Not really.

“Hey, honey. You’re early,” he began as she approached him, where he stood in between Matthew and Chris. The two of them didn’t even notice she’d come in until Jess addressed her, still too caught up in their argument over where to place the new books of free-form poetry.

Swallowing harshly, Ella gave a weak smile and raked her fingers through her hair. She walked up to them, wringing her hands together. Jess didn’t need to see her hands to know she had already bitten her nails down to the quick. At the interruption, Chris gave a frustrated huff and turned to Ella.

“Ella, please tell Matthew it makes zero sense to put the free-form poetry anywhere near the sonnets! They should be on opposite ends of the store, as far as I’m concerned,” he exclaimed in exasperation.

Matthew rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as his jaw clenched. “I’m glad you’re here, Ella. Please tell Chris that we don’t only sell poetry, and free-form or not, it has no business anywhere near science fiction!”

Furrowing her brows, distracted, Ella shook her head. “Um...I don’t know...but I….”

“What?” Jess asked as she gestured slightly with her hands. Her face was pale, and she almost seemed confused, at a loss for words. It didn’t happen to her often, to say the least.

Blowing out a breath, she tried again, jerking her thumb back over her shoulder. “Back at the apartment...I just got a call from my brother. My dad’s dead.”

Jess’s heart dropped into his stomach. “What?”

“Yeah,” Ella said, nodding. As she continued, she took a hair elastic from her wrist and began pulling her locks into a ponytail. “Adam said he was in a car accident this morning. Driving home from some bar in Maryland. If I had to guess, he was still a little drunk from last night. No one else got hurt, which is good. He hit a patch of black ice, and he was going too fast, and I guess he just went right off the road. Into a tree. And he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt.”

Her speech became more urgent with every word, as they heard it sink in for her in real time. But she was never frantic, only determined and stern. The spacey fog was fading from her demeanor, though it remained in her eyes. Only in her eyes. She didn’t give them time to respond, just kept thinking out loud.

“Noah’s already on a plane from Oregon, but I don’t think he’s gonna be any help. And Adam said Fiona’s freaking out, so I’m almost definitely going to have to make the arrangements. I know you guys have work and stuff, but we need to pack up and get there before the rest of the family does, or everything will probably just explode on principle. Fuck! This is just like him. To die a week before Christmas!”

“Whoa, hey, Eleanor, just slow down for a second, okay?” Jess began, taking a hesitant step towards her and grabbing her hand. He squeezed once, hard, hoping to calm her down at least a little.

“Jesus, Ella-” Chris began.

“I’m so sorry,” Matthew said.

Ella shook her head, her face stoic. “Don’t, okay? Don’t be sorry. No one needs to be sorry. He was a fucking drunk, and it finally caught up with him. I just need to get back to Stars Hollow to take care of this, and then maybe Christmas won’t be completely ruined. Sound good?”

“Elle, just hold on. You should sit down and-” Jess said, but she cut him off.

“No, Jess. Seriously, I’m fine. Let’s just go and get it over with, and then it’ll be done,” she said, her hand never leaving his though she didn’t squeeze back. Her tone was tight, clipped, but she didn’t sound angry. He recognized it from the night on the bridge when she’d told him about the days following her mother’s death. The way she held it all together, and blocked it all out. Numb and headstrong.

“Do you want us to come with?” Matthew asked, watching with uncertainty as Ella began to tug Jess towards the door, grabbing his bag for him and handing him his coat.

“What? Of course not,” Ella said, insistent, as though it were obvious. “All I need to do is steal Jess for a few days. You need to do whatever it is you’re gonna do with Mabel. And Chris needs to do whatever it is he’s gonna do with Leo, and you need to tell me about it when we get back. I can pretty much guarantee your stories will be more fun than mine.”

“Are you sure?” Chris chimed in, brow heavy with worry. Her iciness surprised him. He had never heard someone react to a parent’s death quite so flippantly before.

“Yes. Jesus, Chris, keep up,” she replied, in a way which would have spurred a playful argument on a normal day. Again, her nonchalance unnerved all three of them.

Jess interlocked their fingers again instantly once he had his bag and his coat, almost heading out the door already. She was moving too fast for him to process much of anything, only reacting. He hadn’t seen her in such a frenzy in a very long time. “Eleanor, wait. Stop.”

“I can’t stop, Jess. I told you, we’ve gotta get there before my uncle has time to hit on Fiona and before Noah has time to piss off Adam. It’s fine. I promise. I’m fine.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she pulled him out the front door instead. As they went, she shouted over her shoulder to Matthew and Chris: “Happy holidays! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

And then, she and Jess were gone. Chris and Matthew exchanged concerned, flabbergasted glances.

. . .

Flashback was the word that came to the forefront of her mind, as she stared up at the ceiling in the Gilmore living room. Luke and Lorelai were trying, and she appreciated it. They could both tell she didn’t want to talk about it, only wanted a bit of normalcy after the long day. And they’d obliged. After all, they’d had practice. Lorelai knew exactly what to do. She’d had Luke bring dinner home from the diner: turkey sandwiches and sodas. She’d suggested they watch a movie after dinner, something campy horror. Finally, they had settled on The Lost Boys. Ella knew how much Jess hated the movie, especially Kiefer Sutherland’s mullet, but he never complained once. A large part of her wished he would. She wanted it to be the way it was supposed to be. She wanted to have Christmas in Stars Hollow with the people who felt more like her family than her father did. Adam celebrating with one of his school friends in Boston, Fiona with her sister, Noah with his finacée in Oregon. But, of course, things never went as planned. Not in Ella’s experience at least.

At some point during the movie, she’d fallen asleep on the couch. No matter how much she wanted to stay awake until the end, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Dealing with Fiona’s blubbering and Adam’s silence and Noah’s anger had pretty well exhausted her. Not to mention the business setting up the funeral at the church. She’d spent nearly two hours with the pastor, but the service was only halfway planned. She wished Aunt Julie could arrive sooner, but the girls were in school until Tuesday. Erin had some big recital she was pitching a fit about missing. Ella couldn’t blame her. She wouldn’t want to be there if she didn’t have to be. No, they would arrive on Wednesday morning. Two hours before the funeral, set for noon. At some point before then, Ella would have to sort out the flower arrangements and the music and the programs. At least Luke was providing the food. She assumed he would before he even offered. And she would have to write the eulogy. But she wasn’t even thinking about it yet. Every time the idea of writing it entered her mind, she would start humming a Stevie Nicks song and pointedly ignore it.

It was all too familiar. The planning, the writing, the consoling. Since they’d arrived in Stars Hollow that afternoon, it had been a non stop barrage of tasks and tears. None of it was surprising. And it almost made her want to laugh. The minute she heard that her mother was dead, she had burst out laughing, a nervous reaction she couldn’t control. Granted, the laughter came from deep inside her, and probably resembled a pained shriek more than an actual giggle. But it was laughter nonetheless, and her father had recognized it as such. He’d yelled at her until his voice became hoarse. She knew it wouldn’t happen again. He was the dead one now, after all. But still, she didn’t let the anxious laughter escape. She didn’t let anything escape. After the punishment she’d received for letting go last time, she knew not to do it again. No one was there to smack her, to scream, but she just couldn’t bring herself to forget how it had felt. Like she couldn’t even grieve right. And the best way to grieve became to not grieve at all.

She laid with one hand on her stomach and the other behind her head, analyzing the popcorn ceiling. She’d awoken with the room dim and the TV shut off. A quilt which she hadn’t fallen asleep under was draped over her, and there were hushed whispers in the direction of the kitchen. She hadn’t planned to wake up until morning, but she hadn’t planned to fall asleep there either. They were supposed to be sleeping in the apartment above the diner for the vacation, while Rory and April took the spare beds in the Gilmore house. But neither girl had yet to arrive, and Lorelai insisted Ella and Jess stay over after dinner. It was no use driving over in the snow, even if Luke’s was only about a minute away. Ella couldn’t believe how similar it all was to before. Sleeping alone on the Gilmore couch as others worried over her a few feet away.

She listened, in spite of herself. It was too tempting not to eavesdrop when she’d already heard her name so many times. Luke was concerned about her forgetting to eat. Lorelai was concerned about her shutting everyone out and being overwhelmed by the funeral preparations. And both of them were concerned about her coming to blows with Fiona at some point in the next few days.

Sighing, Ella ran her tongue over her teeth and remembered she hadn’t brushed them. She debated not doing so, but decided to just bite the bullet. With everything else on her mind, she thought it best to eliminate all the outward elements which might impede her from getting back to sleep. She rolled over on her side, preparing to sit up, when she saw Jess. She thought he’d be in the kitchen, talking with Luke and Lorelai. Instead, he sat on the floor with his back against the sofa. His head was near hers, leaned back. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t snoring. She doubted he was fully asleep, but nonetheless attempted to get past him and rummage through the bag on the armchair to find her toothbrush. Her stealth proved lacking, however, when he began to stir as soon as she reached the bag.

“Hey,” he said quietly, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands and doing his best to seem lively. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replied, fishing her toothbrush out from the sea of clothes she’d thrown into the duffel before they sped away from the apartment in Philadelphia. “I just forgot to brush my teeth.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding and hoisting himself up. His neck was already sore from the position he’d dozed off in, unwilling to follow Luke and Lorelai into the kitchen with Ella asleep on the couch. “Me too. I’ll come with.”

She nodded back, grabbing his toothbrush as well. The whispers didn’t cease until they made their way into the kitchen, Luke and Lorelai looking up at their entrance. Ella debated using the upstairs bathroom, not disturbing the two of them. But she didn’t have the energy to climb the stairs, and it would be the first time she could get a good look at the new half-bathroom they added next to Rory’s room. The smell of the diner food lingered, and it made Ella’s chest feel just a touch less tight. Lorelai broke out into a small smile at the sight of the two of them.

“You need anything, sweetie?” she asked, speaking only to Ella.

Though she felt a bit uncomfortable under everyone’s gaze, Ella smiled back. There was a warmth in her stomach at Lorelai’s voice. She focused on that feeling, and only that feeling. “No, we’re fine. Just brushing our teeth. The dentist would be pissed at me if I broke the pattern after over twenty years.”

“That’s true. Always best to avoid the Sweeney Todd dentistry possibility,” Lorelai agreed, nodding. Then, she yawned theatrically and looked at Luke, who only rolled his eyes at the dramatics. “I think we’re gonna head upstairs. It’s past our bedtime.”

“Still got those four o’clock deliveries, huh?” Jess asked sullenly, eyeing Luke. Many a morning when he was a teenager, he’d been awoken at half past three by the sound of Luke’s alarm.

Luke sighed. “For the business that housed and fed you for two years? Yeah, I do.”

Ella snorted a laugh, and nudged Jess playfully in the ribs. “Like you’re not always up before the sun, even on Saturday.”

“Where do you think that started?” Jess shot back, pointing an accusatory finger at Luke. “He screwed with my internal clock for life!”

“I think that’s enough fuel for future therapy sessions for tonight,” Lorelai announced, rising from the table, Luke following.

“Agreed,” Luke grumbled.

As they exchanged goodnights, Lorelai gave Ella a kiss on the cheek. Immediately after, she scrunched up her nose and smudged the lipstick from Ella’s freckled skin with her thumb. To Ella’s shock, Lorelai also gave Jess a short hug before making for the stairs. Luke hugged Jess, too. The two of them still had trouble showing physical affection for each other, as they probably always would. Ella had to stifle a laugh at the awkwardness between them.

When Luke hugged Ella, though, she felt tears prick at her eyes for the first time all day. She recognized his familiar smell, the soft feeling of his flannel, his strong arms around her. Somewhere in her mind, it occurred to her that the way it felt for Luke to hug her was what she had always wanted it to feel like when her own father hugged her. And she knew for sure she would never get it from him. She could finally be certain there was nothing left to do to repair her relationship with him. There was no time left for Jake to make her feel as safe as Luke made her feel. As he never had, even in her childhood. But by the time she and Luke broke apart, she had gathered herself enough. She cleared her throat and blinked away the glassy sheen in her eyes.

Luke ruffled her hair as he stepped back from her. If he saw that she was upset, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Don’t worry, kid. We’ll get everything figured out tomorrow.”

“I know, boss,” she replied.

. . .

The cigarette smoke made her a bit nauseous, but it was also comforting in a way she was slightly ashamed of. The winter air was crisp and biting, and her cheeks were frosted roses. Embers glowed orange in the darkness as she took a long drag, burning her lungs. She was already regretting it, but she simply felt too tired to think out the actual consequences of what she was doing. She had tried. She really had. But falling asleep, with Jess snoring softly beneath her as they lay on the couch, was absolutely impossible. Fatigue was weighing down her bones, and there was a perpetual ache throbbing behind her eyes. But each time she got close to sleep, the thought of her father would flash across her mind, and she would be wide awake once more.

Once she gave up, she had managed to sneak outside unnoticed. The wind whispered past her, hollow and haunting. But maybe everything was feeling spookier because death was at the forefront of her mind. Then again, when wasn’t it? Though the shock had certainly hit her with full force when she heard the news, she couldn’t bring herself to be surprised. The other shoe had dropped. She knew it would, just when she let her guard down. The moment she forgot to worry, the universe had knocked her down again. She flicked her cigarette and watched the excess ash melt a small spot in the snow below the steps.

At the sound of the front door creaking open, she startled only a little. For a wild moment, she wanted to put her cigarette out and hide it behind her back, pretending to be innocent. Especially if it was Luke. But she had to remember she was a grown up. And the feeling disappeared entirely when she saw only a disheveled Jess wrapping himself up in his jacket as he came out onto the porch and sat down next to her.

“You’re gonna catch a cold out here,” he remarked, holding her peacoat out to her.

She took it with a trembling hand.

“Thank you,” she said solemnly, breathing out a long stream of smoke as she spoke. The coat was old and cheap, and did little to help a Connecticut winter, but she shrugged it on anyway.

He nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “Don’t mention it.”

They sat in silence, an owl hooting somewhere in the trees beyond the house. Ella didn’t put the cigarette out until it got so small it began to burn her fingers. After she’d discarded it, her breath still puffed out, along with Jess’s, in frigid white clouds. Flurries of snow fell in scattered sprays, but the night was mostly quiet and overcast. Jess crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

She spoke, as he knew she eventually would, after a few more minutes. Gesturing down to the crushed cigarette, her tired eyes met his. “Do you want one?”

“No, thanks,” he said, shaking his head. “Where’d you get those in the middle of the night in Stars Hollow, anyway?”

A thin smirk ghosted over her lips. “Snatched ‘em off Bootsy’s newsstand.”

“Really?” he asked, laughing slightly, with eyebrows raised.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so surprised, Mariano. I was sneaking out of my bedroom window long before you got here.”

“Touché.” His eyes lingered on her, hair glistening golden in the soft light and eyes still far off somewhere miles away. He hesitated before he continued. “Did you walk all the way to Bootsy’s without a coat?”

She shrugged, glancing down at the Doc Martens on her feet. “I’m fine. I had my good shoes on. Besides, it’s only like a minute away.”

“Alright.”

“Seriously, Jess. I’m fine,” she snapped after a moment.

“Okay. I get it,” he said instantly. “You’re fine. You’re not cold.”

Ella ran her hands through her hair. Her body shook as she yawned.

“You wanna go back to bed?” he asked.

“No,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“Are you sure?”

“Jesus, Jess! Stop trying to take care of me! Stop asking me questions! Just let me fucking sit here!” Ella exclaimed, huffing in frustration.

Jess recoiled slightly, and he nodded at her again. He ran a hand over his mouth and swallowed down the million other questions which were rising in his throat. The ones she’d refused to ask on the drive up, and the ones she apparently still wanted to avoid. “Sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, mostly at herself. “No, I’m...I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I couldn’t fall asleep.”

“We don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to. We could watch one of Lorelai’s cassettes in there,” Jess suggested, fighting hard to keep his tone light, bracing for whatever reaction she was going to have.

“I love that she still has cassettes,” Ella said wistfully, though not smiling. Her voice was low and raspy as she stared out ahead of her into the darkness and the lightly falling snow.

He nodded a little. “I know you do.”

Ella’s hands were itching to hold another cigarette, but she fought the urge. The pack which sat on the porch steps next to her would almost certainly be crumpled up and thrown in the trash the moment she reentered the house. Along with the lighter. But it was nice to have them there. If she wanted. They sat wordlessly, listening to the rustle of the wind in the evergreen trees. Jess didn’t make a sound. He was just far away enough not to touch her, almost in silent askance of whether she wanted space. She did. And she didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to talk almost as much as she didn’t want to write the eulogy. She wanted to be able to push down the sorrow and the rage until they just dissolved and she was as happy as she had been just a day earlier. Yesterday, she may have even been hopeful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt hopeful about her family. But, now, she had to stop herself from reaching for a cigarette yet again. And she felt herself wanting a drink. A drink stronger than champagne at a book launch. And then the words started flowing before she could overthink them, before she could lock them away in her heart forever.

She swallowed thickly, looking down into her lap at her nail-bitten hands. “This is just like it was the last time.”

“Oh yeah?” he whispered, shifting a bit closer to her.

“Yeah,” she echoed, so quiet he almost couldn’t hear. She sniffed. “I mean, last time my dad was the devastated one instead of Fiona. But Adam still got pissed at Noah, and Noah only got more pissed because Adam was mad at him.”

Noah had only made it to town an hour before Ella left to go back to the Gilmore residence for the night, but he and Adam were at each other’s throats pretty much as soon as they saw each other. Upset that his Christmas vacation was being disrupted, Noah had insisted on staying at a motel instead of at the little blue house in which they had grown up. Adam wasn’t happy about it, accusing Noah of acting as though he was too good for them. In turn, Noah asked Adam why he wasn’t mad at Ella for staying with Lorelai. Adam had shot back immediately, saying Noah had abandoned the entire family the minute he could, while Ella stayed behind. At that point, Ella knew there was no way to diffuse the situation. She’d only offered to walk back with Noah to the motel, leaving Adam to sleep in his old room. Luckily, Fiona’s sister was already in town for the holiday. So, it didn’t wholly fall to any of the three of them to console her.

Jess and Luke had both offered to go over to the house with her after helping with the arrangements, but she’d insisted on meeting her brothers there alone. The surreality of the moment didn’t dawn on her until she saw Adam’s teary eyes and Noah’s flushed face. It was like she had stepped into the past. She’d come back to the Gilmore house to find Jess sitting in the living room, halfway through the Russian novel he’d brought with. In the face of his questions, she’d only given him the liner notes and then fallen mostly silent for the rest of the evening.

“And Lorelai and Luke won’t let me brush my teeth without asking me if I need anything,” Ella continued, with a scoff in her words. “And, I love them. I do. And I’m so fucking grateful that it hurts. But, I’m fine. I’m totally fucking fine.”

“So I’ve heard,” he quipped.

“You’re hilarious.”

“I’ve heard that, too,” he said.

She laughed breathily, lifting her head to look up at the sky. “Shut up.”

“Will do.”

Then, after a moment: “I just wish...I wish it wasn’t like this. I mean, he was a shitty dad. But he was still my dad.”

He watched as she chose her words, carefully. Her voice had more emotion than he’d heard all day. Bringing his arm around her shoulders, he hoped to lessen the trembling of her hands just a little. She leaned into him, letting herself feel his warmth but fighting the wateriness in her voice. Of all the things she didn’t want to do, crying was at the top of the list.

“And now...I don’t have parents. I don’t even have a dad who hates me and never calls,” she continued.

“He didn’t hate you,” Jess interjected.

She shook her head. “Yeah, he did, Jess. He fucking hated me. Because I looked like my mom and I didn’t like Fiona and I wouldn’t quit talking back at the dinner table. But it doesn’t bother me. I hated him most of the time, too.”

He hummed in response, listening.

Her face crumpled for only a moment. But, again, she regained her composure. A couple silent tears threatened to slip over. “But at least I had someone to hate, y’know? Now, it’s just...no one.”

She took in a shaky breath, and Jess began to rub circles over her back. He recognized that her shivering was no longer due to the cold but from the sobs she wouldn’t let loose. Ella’s stomach did a flip, as she clenched her hands into fists. But she just couldn’t hold it in any longer. She let a single wimper pass her lips. And then, the levee broke. She put her head in her hands and finally began to weep, cries from deep within her escaping at last.

“I just...I don’t have p-parents anymore,” she spoke through sobs, trying to get her voice under control but failing miserably. “I’m not anyone’s daughter anymore. I don’t belong to anyone anymore.”

Jess shut his eyes for a moment, feeling a crack in his heart as he heard her anguish. But a part of him was relieved she was finally letting it out. He knew not all of her tears were for her father, but for her mother as well. He’d never seen her cry so hard before, so hard she couldn’t catch her breath and she was beginning to feel sick to her stomach. She stopped being able to talk after a while, only crying, folding in on herself.

“I...I don’t...belong to anyone anymore,” she repeated.

Gnawing on his bottom lip again, Jess smoothed an affectionate hand over her hair. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Though he couldn’t see her face, Ella felt her cheeks heat up at his seeing her sob so openly. Jess spoke in a clear, strong tone.

“Listen, Eleanor, I know it feels like you’re alone without them, but that’s not true, okay?” he said.

She let out a tearful scoff.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m serious,” Jess continued, placing a hand on her damp cheek and turning her face gently so she would look at him.

She wanted to avoid his eyes, embarrassed, but simply couldn’t bring herself to look anywhere else. The sight of him almost made her physically relax.

An earnest crease stood out between his eyebrows when he spoke again. “You belong to me, and I belong to you. That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it?”

She stared at him for a moment, stunned at his words, as tears kept rolling steadily down her cheeks. But then, her lip began to quiver and she closed her eyes. Jess was worried she was about to get angry again. But instead, she slumped weakly against him. He could feel her tears begin to wet the neckline of his t-shirt as she rested her head on his chest. Breathing out long and slow, Jess wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t know whether his words had helped, but he was doubtful. No amount of talking was going to make her feel any better. He couldn’t crack a joke or start a playful argument or do a magic trick. He could only be there. He simply sat and held her against the wind.

#gilmore girls #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls oc #jess mariano #jess mariano x oc #jess mariano oc fanfiction #jess mariano au #jess mariano x original character #oc fanfiction #luke danes #lorelai gilmore

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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How Fear Street Part 1 Tricks the Scream Generation

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This article contains spoilers for Fear Street Part 1: 1994 and Scream.

An instantly iconic moment in genre cinema arrived during the opening scene of horror classic Scream back in 1996 when Drew Barrymore, one of the most in-demand young actresses at the time, met her unfortunate, gruesome fate at the end of the Ghostface killer’s knife. No one expected it. What kind of filmmaker would have the stones to murder their biggest star before the story even really began? The legendary Wes Craven, that’s who. And horror movies would never be the same again.

The ’90s-set Fear Street Part 1: 1994 may hope to appeal to fans of Scream and other horror bangers, but much like Scream it aches to subvert any dated expectations—and succeeds in a multitude of ways. The R. L. Stine book series adaptation lands on Netflix this month after a rocky road to the screen. Directed by Leigh Janiak, who helmed a couple of episodes of Scream: The TV Series after her debut horror movie Honeymoon snagged a ton of positive reviews, Fear Street: 1994 and its two sequels were originally developed at 20th Century Studios before the pandemic shuttered theatrical releases for a while.

Fear Street Part 1’s opening scene will likely seem predictable to Scream fans at first. Instead of Barrymore’s high schooler Casey, we are presented with Maya Hawke’s Heather. The actress is at the top of the film’s cast in plenty of listings, having previously broken out in the third season of Netflix’s flagship horror series Stranger Things as the ice cream scoop-slinging Robin Buckley, and having since appeared in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.

Heather is closing a book store she works at in the mall when she hears odd noises and senses that she is being watched from the darkness when Fear Street Part 1: 1994 gets underway. We’re hit with a jump scare and a couple of Scream-y fake-out nods, including a ringing phone, before Heather realizes that it’s just her pal Ryan messing around, and they agree to meet up before they leave for the night. But the stalking continues after Ryan departs, and suddenly the chase is on as a masked killer not too dissimilar from Scream’s Ghostface hunts her down.

He stabs her and she falls on her back, helpless as he gets ready to end her life. Just as Casey does in Scream, Heather weakly raises her arm and pulls the Halloween mask off the killer to answer one final question before she expires. But unlike Scream, which cuts away at that very moment to preserve the mystery of the killer’s identity, Fear Street Part 1: 1994 shows us the killer’s face. It’s still Ryan! He’s shot dead a second later, seemingly ending the story before it really starts.

Just like that, we’re unsettled and don’t know what to expect next. Fear Street Part 1: 1994’s opening homage to Scream makes it clear almost immediately that the film is not content with playing in the same sandbox of horror tropes as its predecessors and inspirations. And it won’t be the last time that the movie refuses to stay in its lane.

After the shock of Hawke’s death, we get a swiftly edited—and very ’90s-esque—opening credits montage that lays most of the Fear Street trilogy’s lore out for us. The gaggle of teens we’re about to meet live in Shadyside, which happens to be the no-good sibling of its idealistic neighboring town, Sunnyvale. Shadyside makes for a wild slasher hellmouth, with a long history of slayings creating a sort of fever dream you might have after playing too much Dead by Daylight.

Horrifying murder sprees are the norm in Shadyside. The 1970s boasted their own Friday the 13th-style slasher at the local summer camp, and the 1600s gave birth to the legend of a Blair Witch adjacent curse. What monstrosity is waiting in the shadows for the young stars of Fear Street Part 1? Pretty much all of them, as we quickly find out when the movie taps into another major horror influence: Cabin in the Woods.

Drew Goddard’s 2012 gamechanger poses the question “what if there were a huge selection of boogeymen available to prey on some unsuspecting teens?” but Fear Street Part 1 sets out to prove that its own protagonists would do a far better job of things than the Cabin crowd by quickly pitting them against their own Shadyside horde.

Which is not to say that Fear Street Part 1 doesn’t embrace 1990s movie tropes elsewhere. There are the relentless needle drops of the first act, which cover everything from “Machinehead” to “Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover” to “Sour Times,” with a pace that gives you aural whiplash. There’s the candlelit vigil that turns nasty when some predictable toxic masculinity kicks in. There are visual homages to movies like I Know What You Did Last Summer. And some of the characters initially feel so two-dimensional that it’s easy to sink into the comfortable slasher movie mindset of cheering on their inevitable deaths.

But all this starts to fade away at around the 25-minute mark when Part 1 pulls its central characters into Shadyside’s supernatural web.

Deena, whose journey anchors the film, is a resourceful born leader who is ready to confront death at every turn. Her brother Josh is an early keyboard conspiracy theorist, on hand with some neat exposition whenever the film calls for it. Simon is a horny, goofy, drug dealing tagalong who has also been employee of the month—every month—and is often wonderfully sensitive. The film isn’t even halfway over before this gang have figured out what the score is and are plotting how they’re going to fight back as each of them refuses to fit into genre stereotypes.

But again, the film avoids rehashing a vintage scenario by dispensing with Cabin in the Woods’ more nihilistic and meta vibes. There’s no Control Room here; no one betting on the outcome. Fear Street would rather concentrate on the importance of teamwork and mutual respect in the midst of its endless cycle of violence—a tactic that feels like a fresh, essential strategy for a modern horror movie. Part 1 often wears its influences on its sleeve proudly, but it never seems particularly interested in copying them.

Then there’s that ending. In what is surely a first for the horror movie genre, two sequels are about to quickly follow that will push us deeper into Shadyside history. We are in the streaming age where studios are willing to risk a lot of cash on making a big debut splash, and the Fear Street Trilogy is surging into an unknown landscape by delivering three ambitious movies in three weeks. When the credits roll on Part 1, it could be easy to fall into the trap of knowing what to expect from a sequel posing as a prequel, but Part 1 has already succeeded in convincing us that we should set aside our expectations of what the trilogy ultimately hopes to bring to the horror genre.

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shewritesscenarios · 4 years

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Forbidden Memory

Pairing : Reader x Jongin

Genre: Angst

Word count: 1700~

—

Sitting at the back of Kai’s Harley, Soobin’s arms tighten around Kai’s waist with her head planted on his right shoulder as she looks farther away into the scenery of the brilliant red and orange sunset reflected on the waves of the wide ocean view. Setting her lids to a close, she straightens her head to parallel Kai’s as she slowly comes back to sight, being greeted with the sight of his eyes that gave her the world, his lips that brought butterflies to her stomach, and his scent that completely hypnotizes her. All before reality hits with the fact that this paradise will very soon come to an end. It was the sad truth for the both of them, that their love may never be approved by their families. Soobin is the eldest child of the Lee Empire. From the second she was born, her fate was to be the heir of LeeTech. Everything was set for her, from schools that she would attend all the way to the partner she would build her family with. Kai, on the other hand, is the youngest and only son to his family. Being the youngest and only son, his parents were lenient with the things he chose to do and the person he chose to become. He has it all on himself, except for one thing; his partner and lover.

Growing up, Kai looked up to his dad. Mr. Kim had started from being a mere employee at SK Motors and worked his way up to being the director of SK Motors. During his dad’s promotion dinner with the owner of SK Motors, he was introduced to their daughter, Jennie Kim. Ever since then, the 16-year-old Jennie set her eyes on the 18-year-old Kai whom she dreams to make her prince. It was after that night when Kai’s dad would start praising Jennie whenever he was around. At the age of 20, he was called by his parents and told that he was expected to wed Jennie when the time comes. He didn’t think it was fair at all because he didn’t feel the same way, so he rebelled. He turned himself into a reckless and immature young man in everybody’s eyes, which continued for years until one day a phone call arrived while he was at his hideout alone admiring the night sky. “Kai… come to MyungDam hospital…” his sister greeted him, evident in her voice that the reason behind that request was not something he’d ever want to hear. “Why?” he asked hesitantly, attempting to sound carefree in the midst of his fear. “Dad has been diagnosed with lung cancer.” His ears and heart went numb.

Nothing was ever the same again. Ever since then, Kai had always tried to stay by his dad’s side, trying to redeem himself for all the things that he’s done. One night, his dad held onto his hand while laying down on the hospital bed. At the sound of his weakening voice, it took everything he had to try to stop the sadness from showing and the tears from running. “Kai… my one and only son…Dad wants to make a wish. Will you help me achieve it?” Kai stays quiet trying to calm himself down by looking away from his dad’s eyes. “I wish that you would forgive me for the things that I have pressured you to do. Dad just wants you to find your own happiness. Forget who you marry, who you become. I believe in you, that you will make the right decisions for yourself and the family. You already bring so much joy into our family and that’s all we want from you. Please also help dad take care of your mom and your sisters, okay? Please let them know not to be too sad.” His dad finished with a tear running down the sides of his face.

At the age of 24, Kai’s dad was pronounced dead. Kai had stuck many of his dad’s life lessons and teachings in his head, but he felt guilty for not being able to accomplish the one and only thing his dad wanted him to do. So he promised himself that he would try his best to make himself fall in love with Jennie Kim. However, nothing ever goes smoothly in life, especially when he met Soobin , his ride or die. The two simply met during a meet up with their respective friend groups. But things started to go better and hotter until they decided to become a hidden item due to the circumstances set upon them.

For the past 2 years, the pair have gone on several secret dates. Soobin would sneak out of her home right before the dark hours of night, only to be greeted with the man in leather jacket waiting on his Harley. It became a routinely rebellious hangout that happened every week and today was no different. Getting off the Harley, Soobin felt entranced at the sight of the dimly lit structure standing in front of her. She’d always go to parties and events at the most exclusive destinations and often times, she would get sick of them and needed a break. And the sight right here, with the love of her life now standing in front of her with his hands up and above as if showing off the place, was the perfect break she could ever ask for. In fact, perfect would be an understatement.

A smile now plastered her face and Kai would swear that the look on Soobin’s face gave him the world. He ran straight up to her with his arms sneaking their way around her petite waist, spinning her around like a child. Setting her down, their bodies kept in contact, but their eyes were inches apart, their lips were centimeters apart, and their souls were completely full of the each other’s presence. Kai kissed the lips that were of an ant’s distance, which only caused a surge of fireworks throughout his body. Soobin pulled away with cheeks red as beet, as she turned around, detaching herself from him, before running away in embarrassment. Kai ran around trying to catch her as he joked around in laughter. Soobin grew tired of roaming around in laughter and before she knew it, Kai pulled her in with her back against his as if in fear of losing her. He spun her around and carried her to sit on top of the railing with his hands as the barrier for her back. The two went for another peck on the lips before going in.

After settling down in the room after goofing around, the two jumped to the bed. Soobin scooched to Kai’s arm that was waiting to be occupied. Her fingers traced the tattoos that were peeking behind his shirt. She trailed down her finger beyond his shirt in attempt to draw out the full picture, only seeming to be a tickle for Kai. With their laughter turning dimmer and dimmer, with now only their calming breaths filling in the empty space, Soobin confessed, “I wish this could go on for forever”.

“You’re not the only one.” Kai answered with his face tilting to look at her with a shy smile.

Then, came the silence that was no other than the consequence of their love.

“You know, being with you, here in this ‘in the middle of nowhere’ place… I feel different” She ended, moving her head to meet his sparkling eyes.

“Different how? Different bad? Different goo-“

“Different, ‘you make me feel amazing’ different” She said, eyes now meeting his. “Know that you will forever be a part of me, no matter what” She ended, tilting her head down shying away.

“A part of you? Why not be a part and beside you?” Kai questioned, confusion evident in his voice.

“You have a duty that you owe.” She reminded.

“Why is that a problem? I can achieve both my duty to my family and to myself at the same time.” His voice argues.

Rising to a sit, Soobin moved farther from Kai and off the bed. “Kai, you can’t possibly pursue me and have Jennie too. I know how much your duty to your father means to you and so do I to my family. We can never get our own happily ever after.”

“What do you mean ‘have Jennie? Look I still stick by my principles and duties but satisfying my family’s duty doesn’t mean I have to be by her side forever. We’re good friends and that’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. And about our families… with time, it’ll all work out. I know it. I believe in us, Soobin .” his words turning to whispers, moving off to close his distance with her.

Soobin knew better than anyone that her and Kai would never be able to be. She had her duty to her family, but there was a bigger part of her that wanted to just drop everything and run away with him.

Shaking her head, Soobin cuts her gaze with him and rushes away and farther. “No. No Kai! It doesn’t work like that. She and you have been connected longer than I have with you and we both know that she likes, if not, love you. I’m not going to be the one sitting here as your hidden partner with her going around you all day. And I won’t make you one either. I, too, have a duty to my own family, generations worth of hard work and success I have to continue… besides, my parents invited the son of BC Industries to come over this weekend.” She claimed, eyes away with a voice now stern and fierce but with a heart that pierced and teared.

One second and the silence saturated the space between them. Soobin finally takes a turn to him with quiet tears running down her face. She moved closer to the man in front of her and placed her right hand over his left cheek as if framing it in attempt to remember his face that she has been loving with all her might. However, it only only caused both of their sights to flood in sadness and despair, leading them both to heavy tears.

“… So will you be with him? Won’t you fight for us?” Kai interrogates weakly, evident that he could break down any moment. “Forget about me. Please…” she pleaded, now with heavy tears exposing her sadness.

“We should go…” Soobin said snapping herself out of the moment as she turns around and grabs her belonging. She proceeded to open the door about to leave the room only to feel a sudden rush of the wind, of his figure to be exactly behind her. "I'm sorry I'm the reason behind your tears" he apologized in a whisper to her Soobin that sent a rush down through her body. His teardrop fell onto her clothed shoulder and she could feel her heart being crushed into a million pieces, but she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them up with her chin up before walking out.

A week has gone by and Soobin never heard from Kai ever since that night but it felt like a year has gone by. She would count the stars out the window in the midst of her room’s darkness and wonder about Kai’s whereabouts. “Is he happy? Is he lonely? Is he having a good time with Jennie? Has he forgotten about me?” she wondered inside her head, leaving her heart to break into million pieces.

“Soobin-ah, you got a package! A big box!” Soobin’s mom informed from the living room. “Coming!” replied Soobin before she sighs as if exhaling her crowded head.

Rushing downstairs, she was greeted with a big green box with a pastel pink ribbon around it. “Do you know who sent it?” Her mom asking in curiosity but also worry with her prior knowledge of her daughter being involved with Kai.

Soobin reaches out to hold the cover of the box and lifted it open to be greeted with the most beautiful blue roses that were aligned perfectly full. She knew who sent it, why he sent it, but she hated it because this has just made her fall deeper into love with Kim Jongin. She felt an envelope on the back of the cover and proceeded to detach it. She took the folded piece of paper and read the note stuck onto it, “When you smile, I shine together with you. When you cry, I break together with you. I’m sorry I’ve let you down. Give me a chance to let you know that I love you, only you. <3” In that moment, Soobin didn’t care whether her family said no, or if her head insisted it. She knew at that very second that she would fight for what made her truly happy.

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purelyfiction · 3 years

Text

Title: The Return of A Royal

Summary: After finding a bounty hunter in the midst of Mon Calamari, Cara, Din and Grogu jet off with the new accomplice to complete a favor, in exchange for information about a Jedi.

Word Count: 2,263

TW: Sexual Tension but that’s about it. Canon violence and weaponry

Chapter 2: A Rough Start

Exiting the cantina with another body tagging along felt strangely familiar. Many times the Mandalorian would find fellow hunters to split payment on a job and easily bring the bounty in with no issues. So, with Cara and the new face, it would be a little crowded on the Crest but they would manage. Din not being one for small talk, lead the four of them back to the ship, leaving Cara and the other woman to speak. "You got a name? Or are we just not gonna go there?" Cara asks rather bluntly, Din's head dipping slightly to hear the woman's reply.

"I go by Eliaden. You can call me Elia if you want." She offers in response. Din finds her phrasing odd, but doesn't judge. It was possible that this wasn't her primary language and she did her best to translate as rapidly as she could.

"Cara Dune. And of course you're familiar with The Mandalorian." The larger woman speaks as the group enter the ship.

"Razor Crest. Nice. You get her second hand?" Elia pipes up as Din shuts the back hatch, only after settling Grogu in his small hammock for a nap.

"Yes. Sturdy piece of machinery." He doesn't give much to her and Elia makes a face. The New Republic employee sees her reaction and gives her arm a tap.

"Don't let him bother you, he's not a chatterbot. I think in my acquaintance with him he's not said more than one hundred words." The three of them each take their turn climbing to the cockpit and settling in. Elia seemingly takes in the controls of the ship, a small smile on her face. Cara watches her uneasily, tilting her head. "You're into this kind of thing aren't you?"

Elia shrugs, watching as Din made haste with the buttons and levers easily. "I had a lot of time on my hands growing up, I spent a lot of time reading. I studied a lot about ships, machinery, general repairs, the likes. I mainly do a large portion of my own repairs on my ship. It's just some rusty freighter I got from some guy who cleary was picking up parts from Jawas. I call 'er Gypsy." She speaks pretty rapidly before Din cuts in.

"I need a location." Elia looks to him, rather quiet, emotion falling from her face. She stands and reaches over the silver that reflected off of the Mandalorian, quickly putting in coordinates before sitting back down. "Off you go." Her response is curt and she stays quiet from there on out.

The journey to their next destination was rather stiff, no soundwaves moving between anyone. Cara had gone down to the cargo bay to clean and condition Din's collection of weapons, while Elia stayed put. She simply sat looking at nowhere important, before Din started the ship into its landing sequence. He's turning to leave to check on the Child, noticing her far off gaze. He sighs and she seems to look to him when he does so. "I didn't mean to be harsh. Earlier."

"Well it wasn't exactly a meadow of sunshine and flowers, Mando." She snarls before looking to a screen flashing behind him. The helmeted man's head rolls, almost as if he was trying to crack his neck.

"Cara was right I don't speak much. So -"

"Mando, you -"

A breath of annoyance leaves him before he speaks again. "No, don't start. You need to learn that I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to get the kid -"

"Waadar Ke'sush'! The screen!" The brunette shoots up, pushing past him to settle in the ship's captain chair, kicking into action as the ship's warnings begin to take hold, ringing through the cabin and the cargo bay. Cara's head pokes up from the lower level as the ship begins to shake.

"What the hell did you do?" As the ship rattles towards the atmosphere of the planet they were arriving to Elia is quick to level the ship as the landing sequence fails, the other passengers grabbing onto whatever they possibly could. In a flash, the Razor Crest finds its way from the midst of space to the docking port of the planet. It's no gentle ride, but Elia manages to keep the contraption from turning to rubble. Once they're stopped, she looks to the Mandalorian on the floor.

"Gar cuyir very olarom." With that, Elia was making her way to the cargo bay, leaving Din in a pile of surprise.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Elia paid for the port fee and started leading her companions to their destination. As they walk, Din slowly strolls behind her as they maneuver through a crowded marketplace. "Where did you learn Mando'a." It's firm, no inflection in any portion of his words.

"Self taught. Remember the studying I mentioned?" She's quick and Cara gives him a glance, waiting til she's out of earshot to grab Din by the arm, making him look to her.

"What did you do." Her head tilts to look at him, like a disgruntled mother almost. Din turns his head away and mutters.

"I just tried to talk to her. Then the landing protocol failed. I didn't do anything." He pulls his arm away, hearing Grogu from his side making plenty of noises. When he looks back to Elia, she's standing with a grin on her face looking the tallest of them.

"You're falling behind, you two."

The woman leads them to what looks to be a residential building and she's quick to wrap her knuckles on the door. When no response comes from it, Din reaches over her and knocks on the door firmer and much louder. When it finally opens, a scraggly man dressed very minimally comes to the door, goggles on his forehead, toothpick between sharp teeth. He has a smirk when he registers Elia's features.

"Em. What a surprise." Cara's chin rises when he speaks.

"Em?" Elia's voice burns in the air and Cara suddenly knows what this is about. "Try again, greaseball." She gives a slight nod, taking a step back where Din finds himself pushing past the man into the residence. "You owe me. Big time." She stands with her arms crossed in the foyer of the room, Cara on her left, Din on his right.

"The only thing owed here, is an apology from you." The other speaks and the shorter woman groans.

"Gander, I don't have all day. You know what you owe me. If you just give me the payment, we'll leave. Otherwise, this is gonna end differently." Din can see the male give her a scowl before moving to a box on a table across the room. He unlocks it before pulling the blocks from the container with ease before slowly approaching her and handing them over. The Mandalorian can see the emblem clear as day in her hands, a small smile on her face. "Good choice. Have a nice life." She gives a squint before heading out the door, Cara looking to Din in confusion before the two follow her out. The owner of the residence gets to the door, cursing something in a different language, a clear curse, before a very clear word is pronounced.

Mari.

"Elia." Cara calls out to her through the market as she slinks her way through the crowd. She's moving quickly - far too quickly. Din can see what's happening and pulls the satchel from his side, offering it to Cara before he's quick on his feet. Elia turns behind her and sees the body of metal moving towards her and rapidly tucks the metal chunks in her pockets before starting at a running pace. The two begin in a race through the market, displays occasionally being knocked over and yelling insinuating at the actions. Elia slips into an alleyway, starting to navigate the maze like neighborhoods. Din was one step ahead of her, using the scanner in the helmet on his head to follow her footsteps.

Elia had thought she was clear, sat behind a wall, catching her breath. Din rounds the corner, an attempt to grab at her arm, circumnavigated by a block from Elia. The two begin in a hand in hand combat, each throwing their best efforts in. A kick, a duck, a dodge under legs, ending in Din grabbing the woman by the waist and pinning her to the wall she'd been hiding against. Both of them panting, it was then they realized how close together they were. Din finally gets a word out, spoken between sharp breaths.

"Who's Mari." He snaps and Elia's back straightens. Her cheek is against the building and she can feel the material scratching at soft skin.

"I don't know, his ex?" She scoffs before Din moves one of her arms behind her back, pressing a little harder into her, metal forearm armor most definitely leaving bruises.

"I'm not playing games. You either tell me and we can figure this out or I can drag you in bindings back to the ship and introduce you to the carbonite sheet with your name on it. Your choice." He watches as the two of them sit in the empty alleyway, the light of day beginning to fall, leaving a slight glow of orange over everything.

"Fine. Let me go first." She grumbles, Mando letting out a slight chuckle.

"Try again, sweet girl." Elia can feel her skin tingle at the words, eyes widening a little. She stays quiet for a few moments causing Din to grow impatient. He lets his hips press to her, securing her to wall further as he takes a hold of both arms, holding them above her head. He leans in a little, breath heavy.

"If you want to test me, you're welcome to. But I guarantee you'll regret it." It's lower than normal, husky and dark almost. Elia has to take a labored breath, her lungs feeling tight since most of her was encased between a sheet of beskar and a hardened wall.

"She's my sister." The young woman's voice is almost a rasp now as Din pulls himself away from her, hand over his blaster - just in case she gets an idea of running again.

"Explain. Now." Its a command and now, Elia isn't risking pushing him any further.

"He sent that to every bounty hunter in the Guild." She begins, referring to the hologram message Din had received. "I know because I got one. He's been looking for her for years. He had my mom and I evacuated before they closed in. He claimed he couldn't lose us too. As for why Gander called me that? He's her ex. She left quite a bit of things at his house. I knew he had the material, and I knew that if I got it, I'd be able to get a hefty amount of credits for it. He's just a junkie, he's not a bounty hunter. " She confesses before reaching into the pocket of her clothing, pulling out the four bars of beskar and handing them to him.

"I'm not taking those." He scoffs, shaking his head as he takes a step back. "If you lied about the bounty hunter, do you know where that Jedi is?" Din is doubtful, as the woman in front of him as certainly lost most of his trust now.

"That, I didn't lie about. I know she's been planet hopping. She's been trying to find the kid." Elia looks to him with a softened face. "Listen, I know you have no reason to trust me on this, but I promise. I can help you get to her. I know her last coordinates." Din shakes his head turning away and starting down the alleyway again, Elia finding herself confused. She starts to follow him, needing to take larger steps as he practically gallops away. "Where are you going?"

"To my ship. You're a joke." He scoffs, still walking towards the market in the direction they had previously ran through. Elia slowly stops walking, watching as he continues walking further from her.

"His name is Grogu." She speaks. The Mandalorian stops. He'd not once said his name in front of the bounty hunter, neither had Cara. And only four of them knew his name. Well it seemed as though, five did. He turns on his heels, jaw clenched. He's beyond frustrated. The whole day had been wasted because of this deviation and now Elia was milling it.

"How do you know that." Din pushes his tongue to the root of his mouth as he waits for a response, looking at the woman. He can see the scrape on her cheek from the plaster from earlier. He'd not thought he'd been pressing that hard - guess not.

"She told me. The Jedi. I may have spoken to her before she left Mon Cala. She told me that she was looking for him and that she was struggling to locate him." Elia takes a closer step to the Mandalorian and looks at him with a calm gaze. "He told her he was safe. That he was protected and that she would find him when she needed to." She laughs a little shaking her head. "But I don't blame you if you don't believe me." Din wants to punch something right about now. This woman had been so innocent at the cantina. A simple favor was all she asked. Now here she was, going on about conversations with the Jedi he'd been searching for. With hesitation he gives a wave.

"Get your ass back to the ship."

#the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian smut #mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin smut #din djarin #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfic

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veiledpeaches · 4 years

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chance encounters | part i: what secrets we keep

Summary: Between pages of meddling friends and societal expectations, all she actually wants is to find a happily ever after with Doyoung, even if it feels like that is no longer possible.

part i x part ii x part iii x part iv x part v x part vi

word count: 3k

thank you @seasonblues, you’re an inspiration to me.

She has just clocked into the office when she spots Doyoung at his desk, typing away furiously at his screen. This morning he has the blinds around his office up, such that anyone entering the office can see the faint glow of the computer screen reflected on Doyoung’s countenance. She guesses that he would be leaving the office earlier today, since he’s dressed a bit more casually, electing for his fringe to fall loosely onto the tip of his eyebrows instead of its usual comma hairstyle, his pressed white button-down free of its tie. His lips are moving, presumably mouthing the words presented on his screen while his eyebrows are slightly furrowed in thought.

As she gets to her desk, she lets her leather satchel, plump with files, fall onto her chair before walking towards the Managing Editor’s office.

“Haewon!” Doyoung’s face lights up as he meets her gaze, a childish and toothy grin forming on his face as he takes the cup of coffee from her. “I have excellent news for you.”

“Morning boss,” she laughs, “aren’t you leaving tomorrow? I thought you were on leave today.”

Doyoung hums dismissively, taking a sip of his coffee. “They like it, the Evergreen winner. They liked his work.”

The Evergreen Writers’ Competition was a local youth creative writing competition that was also a popular event that publishers looked into to discover aspiring and potential young writers. Haewon had been promoting the recent winner’s work to Doyoung relentlessly for the past few weeks. Even though Doyoung had been generally unconvinced of the commercial potential of the novel, he had submitted her proposal of it to Headquarters for their consideration under Haewon’s ceaseless endorsement.

“They’re publishing it?” Haewon presses her hands together with glee, “They liked it?”

“They liked it so much they want me to bring both the original and revised manuscript when I leave tomorrow. Oh, I’ll need the cover artwork too. They’re planning on translating and pushing it out to the American audience.” Doyoung smiles knowingly.

“I told you it was good!”

There is a hint of a smile at Doyoung’s lips, “I have to admit I couldn’t put it down the whole time, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. But-” he pauses, “you need to admit the writing isn’t spectacular. The emotions are too raw, and his diction is unrefined-”

“These are things we can change with copyediting boss,” Haewon emphasizes, “with proofreading. We can make it better. But the world building is immaculate. It’s an incredible piece of work for a seventeen-year-old.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes, a smirk peeking from his lips. “Are you sure this has nothing to do with the way he looks?”

“Boss!” Haewon is scandalized, “he’s seventeen!”

“When I googled about him, I knew at once why Marketing said he would be good for press,” he laughs. “He looks more like he should be scoring on a game or scoring dates than scoring at a budding writers’ competition.”

While Doyoung has maintained a more professional relationship with her through the three years she has worked as his assistant, there are moments like these where Doyoung’s cheeky side slips through the cracks, reminding her of why she was so drawn to him from the very start. How effortless his humor is, how playful he actually is. The small crinkles that form at the corner of his eyes when his face breaks into a laugh. How wide his eyes get and how dramatic his gestures become when he’s talking about things he loves outside of work, like a drama he’d just started on, or the current political climate. The way he bends over her desk to explain to her about target readership in different export markets. And more than that. How much he loves reading, and his job, even on days he can’t agree with the directors. How he throws a disdainful expression at her when he overhears colleagues making sexist comments. How he tells her he’s trying to become a better listener, whether people need that or not. How convinced he is of his rightness and proud he is of his work, but not in the least satisfied with it. How attentive he is to every detail, whether it’s about Accounting’s expenditure records or about how her eyes remain a bit watery for the rest of the day after she receives a call from her mother.

Haewon rolls her eyes, but her smile is unwavering. “I’ll go prepare the documents you need now, boss.”

He nods and turns to his phone in his hand, and she’s about to turn and exit his office, when he speaks again, this time gentler, “oh by the way, Inhee told me you haven’t RSVP’d yet.”

He looks up from his phone, and then back at it again, his smile uneasy – a classic Doyoung gesture when he needed to ask about something he didn’t really want to. As if he needed to check his guest list again. “Would you be busy that day? I don’t recall you telling me you had to be out of town.”

She’s about to speak, when a breathless Lee Donghyuck appears out of the blue, rushing to Doyoung and sighing emphatically about this month’s sales numbers. She smiles and nods, exiting his office with a promise of talking later.

It’s just after lunch and well into Haewon’s food coma when her desk phone rings, startling her from a well-deserved but secret post-lunch doze.

“Dam-il Publishing, this is Haewon speaking.”

“Haewon!” The excited whisper is characteristic only of Nakamoto Yuta, whose wide-eyed gaze Haewon meets as she averts her eyes towards the Designers side of the office. “It’s me, it’s me!”

“Oh Yuta, that reminds me, I’ll need the proposed artwork for Cho Young Jun’s novel.”

“Cho Young Jun? The bald guy?”

“No! The prodigy! The Evergreen winner! I need it by today, Doyoung’s flying to New York tomorrow-”

“Oh, I’ve completed that weeks ago, I’ll email it over later whatever – listen, I heard what Doyoung asked you about just now. About the wedding.”

Haewon flinches, then realizes what Yuta would probably be thinking, and a small sigh of relief leaves her. “You mean Donghyuck told you.”

“I heard, Donghyuck told me – what does it matter… Is it because of the program? Did you get in?”

General nosiness aside, Yuta’s actually one of the few colleagues (other than Doyoung) whose company Haewon really enjoys. Which is why Haewon had told him about an application she made months ago, to pursue a master’s program in Literary Arts at Brown University. Needless to say, she had earned Yuta’s immediate and fervent support, knowing that studying English Literature instead of Creative Writing for her bachelor’s had been a cop-out on Haewon’s part and a regret she had drunkenly let slip to him at an informal company gathering.

She’d always wanted to study Creative Writing, and while she didn’t exactly need that master’s degree to become a writer per se, she really hopes to further her studies in fiction writing.

“No Yuta, I haven’t received news yet.”

“Shouldn’t you know by now?” Yuta has always been straightforward, “besides, why’re you keeping it a secret? You should just tell Doyoung; you’re so close, he’ll be happy for you. You shouldn’t have to feel guilty about taking your shot.”

The reality is, the situation is a lot more complicated than Yuta’s understanding. There’s the thing with leaving the company in the midst of this busy period when Doyoung needs his assistant, but there’s also the other thing, the bigger issue at stake. That Haewon is in love with Doyoung and might not necessarily want to see him walk down the aisle with a woman who isn’t her.

“It’s not that simple – besides, he’s been swamped ever since the acquisition.”

Dam-il Publishing Co. was a small local publishing company with a focus in Korean language fiction novels, until its recent acquisition by the large multinational New York-based Bertsman Publishing House. Despite the acquisition, Bertsman had allowed Dam-il to retain its name, knowing that it is an emerging trusted brand among aspiring and established writers, and a known publishing company in many Korean households. However, the acquisition had also brought Bertsman employees into the office, and the number of people were far too many for Doyoung to handle at the start.

Doyoung is also, generally, a less trusting person when it comes to work ethics. While he greatly appreciates his Dam-il subordinates and their efficiency, he has less to say about their Bertsman counterparts – in Yuta’s words, Doyoung finds them “fucking lazy”. Haewon has always been his key go-to person to check on their progress in their projects, and he relies on her effortlessly and wholeheartedly.

Doyoung is… something else. According to their mutual friend Johnny, Doyoung had majored in Finance in college, done inexplicably well and had received an offer from one of the big four financial consulting companies even before graduation. However, as Doyoung had told him upon graduation, that wasn’t the life he was after. He loved books and wanted to make a career out of it, so he started working for Dam-il as an Acquisitions Editor’s assistant right after graduation against the heed of his professors and university friends. He was, to say the least, smart and a fast learner, quickly making his way up the company ladder and was handed the highest rank of Managing Editor in just nine years (a fact that somehow only made Doyoung more attractive to Haewon).

Thanks to his work ethic and Dam-il’s excellent sales numbers, he’s now the Bertsman CEO Fulworth’s most trusted Managing Editor – something Johnny loves teasing him about.

Yuta sighs into the phone, lifting her from her stupor against the quiet backdrop of a whirring air-conditioner and a bubbling coffee machine.

“Well nevertheless, you need to tell him soon, Haewon – especially if you can’t go to his wedding.”

Johnny is sitting in front of their living room window by the time Haewon reaches home. She’s completely exhausted, her cranberry lipstick visible only on the outer reaches of her mouth and her eyeliner leaving small charcoal patches beneath her lower lashes. It’s ten in the evening on a Friday night, but surprisingly Johnny is at home sipping red wine, his eyes relaxed and shut. His other hand gestures wildly and somewhat pretentiously like an overexcited conductor to what Haewon recognizes as the last line of Frank Sinatra’s I’ve Got The World On A String.

“You’re home early,” Haewon comments.

Johnny swings around in his chair. “Haewonnie, I feel like I’ve gotten old,” he pouts dramatically, even though, Haewon thinks, his bright, enthusiastic puppy-like expression definitely begs to differ.

“Mark asked me after work if I wanted to hit a bar downtown with the kids tonight – but I actually feel drained. I had to say no.” The slightly annoying and yet endearing pout hasn’t left his face.

Just as Doyoung is Fulworth’s golden boy, Mark Lee is Johnny’s – constantly trailing after him at his company. Despite being almost thirty-two years old and the head of his department, Johnny loves hanging out with the young employees and interns, determined to keep his youthfulness in check.

Haewon grew up in the same neighborhood as Johnny back in Chicago, where Johnny was popular among the Asian kids as the kind older brother to them, fending off bullies on their behalf and bringing them to bookstores and ice-skating rings and bowling alleys. When he turned fifteen, Johnny moved back to South Korea to attend high school – a decision that surprised everyone in the neighborhood. But Johnny has always done what Johnny wants and exceled in every situation, so his parents agreed. While Haewon did not consider herself particularly close to Johnny when they were younger, Johnny has always been generous with his concern for others. When he found out from his mother that she was planning a move to Korea three years ago, he reached out to her and offered to share his apartment with her.

(“The rent is too expensive anyway,” Johnny had insisted, but Haewon knew even then that he could definitely afford it given his salary.)

Johnny is… pretty much Haewon’s lifesaver. Even before she came to Korea, Johnny had everything arranged for her. Understanding that she had majored in English Literature and loved books, he hooked her up with a publishing job at Dam-il under Doyoung, a deed Haewon has always been insanely grateful for. And while she had been shy and quiet upon her arrival to Korea, his cheerful demeanor, along with his puppy-like enthusiasm and child-like laughter had been more than enough to draw Haewon out of her shell. Even though she had been depressed and lost in life, Johnny had been by her side, cheering her up and restoring her usual happy glow.

Unsurprisingly, Johnny is the director of the product design department for a leading technology conglomerate. Unlike Doyoung, Johnny actually enjoys the ‘hustler’ lifestyle of ‘work hard, play hard’.

They met in college where they were both in the Business faculty. Despite being inherently different, the two became close quickly, bonding over a shared distaste for unnecessary societal expectations and parochial attitudes stereotypical of elitists in their country. While growing up abroad made Johnny more open-minded and gentler with the people he met, Doyoung’s open-mindedness is the culmination of years of observing people and their idiosyncrasies. The tough experiences of witnessing school bullying and students’ imploding from academic stress fueled a quiet and righteous, vaguely Robin Hood-like, anger towards societal insularity, that is now characteristic of Kim Doyoung.

“You’re not old – besides, who wants to go to a bar when you can drink in the comfort of your own home?”

“I want to! Haewon-ah, you’re acting too old for your age-”

Her phone rings, interrupting Johnny’s nagging monologue. She glances at the caller ID before picking up quickly.

“Hey boss, what’s up?” In the background, she can hear Johnny making a chant out of the words ‘is it Doyoung?’, leaning out of his seat to peer over eagerly. She nods, and a huge grin spreads over his face.

“So sorry to disturb you this late, but it’s kind of an emergency- is that Johnny?”

It takes a moment for Haewon to realize, but Johnny has since progressed from his ‘is it Doyoung’ song to a strange jingle that sounds like ‘my friend Kim Doyoung, my brother Kim Doyoung, my love Kim Doyoung’ to the tune of a lullaby. “Yeah it is, he’s lying spread-eagled on the ground now and crying out your name in despair-”

Doyoung laughs, breathlessly and colorfully, sounding like a musical instrument of his own and making Haewon smile as she walks into her room and away from Johnny’s antics.

“Say hi to him for me. Okay so,” his voice turns serious, “do you have Cho Young Jun’s file?”

“Yeah I have it with me right now, it’s in my bag.”

“Oh thank God,” Doyoung heaves a sigh of relief, “sorry, I might need you to bring it to the airport tomorrow. I need his personal particulars and the signed hard copy of his indemnity form.”

“No apologies needed boss – but, so urgently?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung sounds frustrated, and Haewon can almost picture him running his fingers through his hair, a gesture not in the least unattractive to her. “Well he’s still considered a minor, so royalties will probably go directly to his guardian for safekeeping. And… They want him to do press.”

“Okay, so I’ll reach out to our usual media and PR agencies – what does that have to do with-”

“No…” Doyoung sighs, “American press; talk shows, interviews – things like that.”

“He’s seventeen.” Haewon raises an eyebrow, “he’s totally unprepared for that kind of thing. Plus, his English isn’t fluent, last time I checked.”

Johnny has since entered her room and conjured the most dramatically shocked expression Haewon has ever seen, as if Doyoung had informed her that Cho Young Jun would be going into prostitution instead of doing press. She glares at him as she listens to Doyoung’s instructions, ending the call with a, “okay sure, I’ll bring them for you tomorrow. Good night boss.”

Johnny smirks as she finishes the call, “ooh boss. Kinky. Me likey.”

Johnny is the only person privy to Haewon’s admittedly rather long term ‘crush’ on Doyoung, catching on rather quickly since they met and letting her down gently with “he’s attached, Haewonnie”. In fact, it’s been three years since Johnny has shared that piece of information with her, but Haewon is unfortunately still hopelessly in love with Doyoung.

Ever the best friend, while Johnny has told her that he’s worried about her pertaining to this, he manages to make the situation more light-hearted effortlessly. In fact, he sometimes cracks jokes at her expense to her privately and not unkindly, while knowing when to offer her a shoulder to cry on.

“You’ve heard me call him boss a thousand times,” she rolls her eyes, pushing him out of her room to rest for the night, “also, you’re driving me to the airport tomorrow.”

Johnny drums his fingers against the steering wheel, his cheeks puffing up as he waits for Haewon’s text to get to his car at the pick-up point. They had left the house at eight in the morning to catch Doyoung at the airport just in time before his flight, and Johnny really needs to catch up on sleep once they get home. He is absentmindedly humming to Alicia Keys’ If I Ain’t Got You on the radio, when Haewon clumsily gets into his car.

“Johnny-” At once, he realizes she’s ashen pale, her lips quivering.

“What’s wrong, Haewon? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“John, I just… I just saw…”

“What?” He starts the car and begins the route home when Haewon’s next words make him pull up at the side of the road in shock.

“Inhee’s cheating on Doyoung…”

w/n: this fic will be updated regularly until its resolution, look out for an update every Thursday at 9pm KST.

talk to me!! here

#nct imagines #doyoung imagines #johnny imagines #doyoung scenarios #johnny scenarios #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #nct scenarios #nct #doyoung #johnny #nct fanfiction #doyoung fanfiction #johnny fanfiction #nct au #chance encounters #my work

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dreamlover31 · 3 years

Text

Love Will Find a Way: Chapter 32

While stretched out on the examination table, Alexa twirled the small sterling silver band that was wrapped around her finger, tiny diamonds surrounded its outer core with three medium sized ones as its centerpiece.

She smiled softly as they sparkled via the lighting in the room, meanwhile, the events of the other day, when Rafael proposed marriage, still resonated within; slowly, her train of thought deepened. Alexa envisioned a small gathering with only close friends, especially Olivia, who had become like a sister to her ever since the day they met, and of course Rafael’s mother Lucia, who overtime became more of a mother to Alexa than her own.

The wardrobe for the affair would be traditional on the part of the groom, however, the form of Alexa’s dress would consist of something simple but elegant with a touch of class, as she continued to lay out the details of the upcoming wedding; the faint sound of a door being opened broke her concentration. The focus quickly shifted to the young woman clad in a lab coat holding up a clipboard.

“Hello, so how are we doing today?”

“Well I’m about to push a human bowling ball through my pelvis and I can’t see my feet anymore, so all in all I’m doing alright”

The doctor chuckled as she walked towards the table, “Well I’ve got your test results and overall you and the baby are doing exceptionally well, blood pressure is a little high but it’s nothing serious”

“Well that’s good”

She took a moment to look around the room and found that Alexa was shy of one person, “Will your husband be joining us today?”

Alexa’s face softened, “He’s not my husband…yet, but he said he’d try to make it…he’s in the middle of a very important case…”

Suddenly, the door creaked open at that very moment, Alexa and the doctor looked forward to the person that appeared through the doorway, her face lit up when it was revealed to be Rafael.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I tried to be here as fast as I could,” he joined Alexa at the opposite end of the table where he placed a small peck on her forehead, she reached for his hand, to which he was more than happy to interlock with.

“It’s ok, the doctor was going over my test results. She says the baby’s doing fine but that my blood pressure was a little high”

“Is that something we need to worry about?”

The doctor chimed in, “No, it’s pretty common among pregnancies, she just needs to maintain a healthy diet and avoid any kind of stress” Rafael nodded as he held Alexa’s hand, the young woman stepped towards the sonogram machine where she informed them that she was going to check the development of the baby.

During its initial setup, the ultrasound gel was dispensed onto Alexa’s stomach, once the machine was up and ready, the ultrasound wand was pressed on top of her rounded figure. As the wand spread out the conductive gel, Alexa and Rafael watched the monitor, within a few minutes, an image formed…one of their fully developed, yet to be born daughter.

The grip on Alexa’s hand tightened as they continued to gaze upon their beautiful child, after the doctor made a few notations on the clipboard, she concluded that per her analysis that little Nadia was due any day now. Before, she exited the room, the young woman handed Alexa a paper towel to wipe the gel from her belly then passed pictures of their daughter. When they were alone, she straightened her blouse and let out a small breath, just then; Rafael’s warm hand began rubbing against her back…with that, their eyes linked.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, I can’t believe that any day now…we’ll be bringing a new life into this world”

“I know,” he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss upon her lips.

They checked out at the reception desk, Alexa was scheduled to be induced a few days after her due date, the couple walked out the front door and headed towards the parking lot. Halfway towards the SUV a man’s voice called out:

“Mr. Barba”

Alexa and Rafael turned around to find an older gentleman, from the look of things, appeared to be the same age as Rafael if not older; he wore a navy-blue suit with a trench coat draped over it. He stepped towards them, but while his face expressed friendliness, something about him sent shivers up Alexa’s spine. She looked upon Rafael, whose joyous expression faltered into one that masked the feeling of dread and aggravation that ran deep beneath his veins, it was then her attention shifted back to the mysterious stranger in their midst.

“Excuse me, but do we know you?”

“Barba…aren’t you going to introduce me to your fiancé?”

Rafael turned towards Alexa and calmly explained: “Alexa, this is Robert Davalos…my boss”

Davalos extended his hand only to be met with a sense of distrust disguised by a small nod on the part of Alexa, the older man grinned as his hand slipped into his trench coat’s right pocket, then the focus was redirected back to Rafael.

“I noticed you leaving the doctor’s office, is everything alright with the little one?”

“She’s fine, thank you” Rafael responded curtly.

He raised up his hands and said, “Now there’s no need to get all defensive, I’m just expressing genuine concern over a fellow employee’s loved ones…nothing wrong with that is there?”

“Why are you here,” Alexa steadily grew uneasy at the way the situation was escalating.

“I was hoping that the father of your child and I could have a little chat”

“I’m sorry…but we have a busy day ahead of us, now if you’ll excuse us…” the two of them turned on their heels to walk away until…

“You know I was quite impressed with the way you handled your most recent case”

The comment seemed to stop Rafael dead in his tracks.

“Even after I asked you nicely to walk away…you stood your ground. I mean that really struck a chord with me, reminded me a lot of when I was an up and coming DA…I aspired to make a difference in the world and had a big ego to boot. Until one day I realized that to get ahead, you have to play the game…and I’m afraid it’s a lesson that you might have to learn the hard way”

After that last sentence, Alexa whirled around and gave him a look that shot daggers through his eyes.

“Are you threatening him?!”

As soon as she began to charge forward, Rafael put his hand up on her chest to prevent her from inflicting any kind of bodily harm on either party, the response towards this display of aggression was a snicker from the amused older gentlemen.

“Careful now, wouldn’t want to go into labor early, now would we?”

“Alexa, go wait in the car”

“Why, I’m not afraid of him”

“Alexa, just please do as I say”

She refused to let this man intimidate her, but ultimately decided to heed Rafael’s insistence and climbed into the SUV, Rafael shifted Davalos’ direction back to him without wanting to land a punch at the smug little grin he was showing.

“My, my, she’s quite the little spitfire, isn’t she?”

“I’m going to say this once…you leave me and my family alone, do we understand each other”

“Mr. Barba…I don’t think you’re in any kind of position to make threats, especially when you have more important matters to attend to. It was a pleasure meeting Alexa, hopefully I’ll receive an invite to the wedding…until then, enjoy the rest of your day Mr. Barba and be safe out there”

He winked then walked away and disappeared among the vast rows of cars in his wake, while in the SUV, Rafael turned on the engine and pulled out of the parking space. During the ride, back to the brownstone, silence enveloped the vehicle, but when they made entry; Rafael made haste towards the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of scotch and a small glass.

He poured the amber liquid and brought it over to the living room along with the bottle, then placed it on the coffee table, Alexa trailed behind and sat across from him on the couch; Rafael picked up the glass and gulped it down in one shot then poured himself another drink. He doused the second and third one in quick succession, as he was about to go for a fourth, Alexa set her hand on the side of the bottle and slid it from his grasp.

“That’s enough”

Rafael sighed as he slumped backward, she looked at him saddened, it pained her to see him shaken up especially by a man with delusions of grandeur and drunk on power. Her hand reached over and palmed his knee, from the corner of his eye, he met her sympathetic stare at his haggard appearance.

“Don’t let that asswipe get to you”

Rafael faced Alexa, and with a serious look, he grabbed a hold of both of her hands and declared, “You know that I would never let anything happen to you, right?”

“I know”

Alexa rested her head on Rafael’s chest, his arm wrapped protectively on top of her stomach, she held onto him just as tightly. His lips peppered her forehead with soft kisses, however, on the surface, he put on a brave face but Davalos’ words replayed over and over internally, for the first time in his life; Rafael felt a twinge of fear at the pit of his stomach.

Suddenly, it was as if she could read his thoughts, Alexa tilted her head upwards to where their eyes met then the tips of her fingers grazed along his cheek as a sign of comfort.

“Nothing’s going to happen…not when I’m here…safe in your arms”

“I love you…you and Nadia are my whole world, if anything were to happen to either of you…I don’t know what I would do”

“Listen to me, that prick doesn’t know who he’s messing with…you are the strongest, bravest man I’ve ever known. Plus, you have one of the elite squads of the NYPD at your side…trust me, we’ll rest easy”

Rafael felt more at ease from the sound of her words, his face was reanimated with new life as he smiled, their lips became one filled with unsurpassed bliss and warmth. Alexa lowered her head back on to his chest, the beating of his heart lulled her into a deep sleep, not long after; Rafael’s lids began to weigh and within a matter of seconds, his mind drifted off to a restful slumber.

Tagging: @madpanda75 @laceybellerain @southern-magnolia @tropes-and-tales @madamsnape921 @teamsladsandgents @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @glimmerglittergirl

#rafael barba #raul esparza #love will find a way

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steveusesfaberge · 5 years

Text

Tips & Company Policy

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Request: So my request is — the reader is dating Steve, and they both work with robin at scoops and they’re in this competition on who can get the most tips & then reader flirts with a male customer & bb Steve gets jealous and protective ya know however you wanna spin it lol happy ending tho ❤️❤️

Summary: He’s loved her, ever since he could remember...Steve just had never had the courage to speak up. That is, until now - Robin being the ultimate wing-woman he never asked for...a friendly competition...a good-looking customer...and no regards to their company policies.

Type/Style: Imagine, female pronouns

Warning(s): Fluffff, fluff, flufffffff, a dork named Harrington, a bit of a jealous boi, and a cheeky ass Robin <3 Cursing, cause...yeahhh...

Word Count: +7.4K

a/n: This was such a cuteeeeeee idea! I’m so happy I had the pleasure of writing it! <3 It made me happy and prepared me for what I have planned next...

Next up is a Billy fic...and hold your horses, kids...this one is gonna be a doozy...angst, tears, and fluff sprinkled throughout...a miniseries that I plan to have a sweet ending.

I’m trying to decide on what t do with my next Steve fic...either a request, or something new (possibly a miniseries for Harrington too).

I apologize if I haven’t gotten to your requests, in order for me to actually write - I need inspiration and time...I’ve lacked in the first recently, for those in particular, and I’m sorry! I promise I’ll get to them though! <3

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“Ouch. I’m pretty sure that’ll leave a mark.” Steve groaned in frustration, as Robin mocked him from the glass-slide window. He turned around, employee issued-hat in hand...chocolate blast smeared across his face. Just another day at Scoops Ahoy for Steve Harrington...

“Har, har,” He fussed while giving her a nasty look. Buckley only smirked while adding another tally to the You Suck side of that infamous whiteboard of hers.

Robin capped her marker. “You know, if you stopped being a dingus, you’d notice that you don’t have to work so hard for your money,” the dirty-blonde told while giving him the you’re an idiot - why am I even telling you this? You should know this already look.

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he pulled a clean rag from under the counter and wiped his face off. Proceeding to wipe down the countertop while he’s at it... “What? Whaddya mean by that?” Harrington questioned while lifting a hand to rub his nose, the stain from the counter (and his face) now gone.

He’d been talking to a customer and as he was serving her, he...accidentally...might’ve given a backhanded comment - of course, unintentional - but he managed to irk her anyway (So, I was just thinking, maybe you and me could get together some time - y-you know, like back at your place. O-Or mine..-- Well, I mean - I’d take you out first, like before we did anyth- like I wouldn’t just screw you and leave...unless you wanted me to). Yeah...not his best run. Thus, the flavor of the day made friend’s with his cheekbones.

“I mean,” Robin started while rolling her eyes and crossing her arms,” You - good sir - are wasting your time on--,” she trailed off, pulling a hand up to gesture to the sea of people passing by the parlor.

Steve touched his face, pulling at his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger. “Mhm, mhm, mhm...yeah, yeah, get to the point.”

Robin could only gawk at him; as if he were truly the dumbest person she’d ever met (and he was). She scoffed in disbelief. “Steve-- I mean, why do you try with all these others girls, when the one that’s - as they say,” she paused for emphasis, her eyes wide and her speech slow as if talking to a child.

“The perfect girl - is right under your fucking nose, Harrington.” With that, she grabbed his shoulders and whipped him to turn around. Steve was in the midst of telling her off and rolling his eyes when he spotted her...

She had her hair let down, allowing a flow of honey and lavender to waff off her figure (Steve knew because he’d asked her...I mean...of course he did - his hair didn’t get this good all by itself...). Her y/c/e eyes were far from lackluster - shining with untold stories and secrets that Harrington would lamely listen to all night if she gave him the chance...

She held herself with such, grace - such poise - and yet, still held that charm that he loved. Y/N waved at him, her y/c/s skin almost glowing, casting a halo in his eyes...was he seeing things? Robin could see the way the light captured her perfectly in every aspect too...right?

She was shorter than him, though he didn’t mind...Steve liked that he could glance down without her knowledge throughout their days - sneaking a glimpse of a pearly smile, adorable pout, or simple bliss from solely being alive and in her presence.

“Hey, Stevers - you holdin’ down the fort okay?” Y/N asked while cocking an eyebrow teasingly. He could only sputter an answer - nodding foolishly after harshly swallowing his embarrassment down.

He watched as she and Robin exchanged some...complex...handshake (it had nothing on his and Dustin’s, pfft). “Okay? - Okay? - Y/N/N, this dingus chased off more customers than yesterday,” Buckley snorted while cackling like the wicked, wicked witch of the west (she was doing this on purpose and they both knew it....).

Y/N gave a sigh, correcting her hat to sit on her head a bit higher, walking by Steve and patting his shoulder. “Lay it on me, did you tell someone they looked pregnant? Drop their cone? Get their order wrong?” She offered, tapping her nails along the countertop.

“Mmm, bad enough. He told the girl he was basically looking for s--,” “Not. Important!” Harrington cut in with his words drowning out Robin’s - a voice crack and all...Great...just peachy...

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head while her eyes found the edge of her freckled friend’s familiar tally-chart. “You know Steve, if you’re that desperate to get back in the game, I could always hook you up,” the y/c/h haired girl told while flipping her scooper in the air and catching it; not even flinching (a trick that Harrington himself actually taught her - explaining that it’s all in the wrists -see?).

Steve gave an awkward, half-hearted laugh. Waving her off and using the excuse to attend to the next customers as his ticket out of that conversation. In the middle of Steve trying to avoid his own humiliation - he’d missed the way her lips twitched as he denied her offer...as if she’d wanted no to be his answer...

Why was Steve embarrassed about that though? - Well...it’s kinda embarrassing to tell someone that they didn’t want to be set up with their friends...because...even through all the corny jokes, horrendous pick-up lines, and random talks at work (and while babysitting, and while just...well...hanging out...) - he still couldn’t work the nerve to ask her out. After all this time...

He’d known Y/N since, what? - Diapers? Yeah...something like that. Either way, Steve was sure of one thing - he was in love with Y/N Y/L/N and there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling. In fact, he found that he kept falling...every....single...day.

He remembered growing up and the idea of even kissing a girl was just the invitation of catching cooties and dying. Steve could remember thinking that he’d never want to even be close enough to a female to...to see that her smile was slightly crooked - only because she always had this sweet little way of grinning, to begin with. He never wanted to be close enough to a girl to realize that their eyes swam more than just one color; no one shade could define the pigment contained in those orbs...

Steve had never imagined he’d want to be close enough to a girl as to remember the way she smelled. Honey and jasmine? No...sometimes it was pine and what he could only describe, as a summer’s night. Yeah...young Steve would be floored to see him now...

Then, they hit middle school; nothing changed...not too much. Steve was still skeptical about this whole girl thing, but he was slowly giving it a chance. Y/N was still his best friend - she still came over and they’d ride their bikes down to the park and sit on the swings...just talking about their day. Or sometimes, they’d just stay inside - binge as many VHSes as they could (Y/N always liked to add her two-cent. Ugh, see this is why they ended up dying! -- What? I would’ve totally taken the red one! -- She’s crazy! -- He’s so smart! -- I thought the mom would be more upset...-- Does that guy even care? -- What color is that? -- Is that misspelled? Steve, Steve! Look!).

Nothing changed...no...well, besides Harrington slowly finding himself looking a second too long at her; smiling a bit too hard at her; listening a little too much to her. He thought it was puberty doing this to him, so he pushed it aside...Then, high school...

Steve remembers it as the first day of November. They had a few months of high school under their belt and were already easing into it all. Turns out, Harrington was what they called...a chick magnet...he started young, what can he say? Though, being fifteen and only barely figuring out where his classroom was...he didn’t care. There wasn’t a reason to care about his looks just yet...he was still trying to figure out which styles were cooler (Senior boys out-ranked him by far, so he had to stand by).

The first day of November...he was walking Y/N home; as he always did (before he got his BMW and his license). She didn’t live too far from him - just down the street, taking two right, then going straight until you passed a big yellow house...stopping at the quaint grey one. He didn’t mind the walk, it was actually kinda nice just to be able to express every thought and emotion that he’d hidden throughout his day. Especially to someone who cared so much about what he had to say.

She’d been wearing his jacket - it was a bit chilly and he didn’t want to be a dick and not give her his coat (his mother would kill him if he treated Y/N wrong). And then - I fell, right? Like in the middle of friggin class...and everyone - and I mean everyone - even Daniel Corvin and he’s like...basically ‘too cool for school’ if you know what I mean. Gosh, I just...I just wish you’d been there. She had been recounting an incident in physical science, telling Steve in great detail how she’d spilled two beakers of - God knows what - on Sally McDonald and Tracie Nelson.

Then - then, Steve - I tried to help them, you know-- like get the stain out...Steve...that stain would not...come out...I thought Tracie was going to bite my head off! Steve had only laughed, getting a shove from the girl in the process. Sorry, sorry - it’s just... If I were there, Y/N - I’d have laughed at you and probably do something dumber. She had smiled at him, and somehow, someway...it was that moment...that moment on the first day of November...walking home from school on a Tuesday...had he felt it.

The sky was a cloudy grey and it had everything bathed in a drab stillness. The wind being the only evidence of time moving as it lifted Y/N’s hair to fly out behind her. Her hands were buried in the pockets of a jacket not belonging to her, too big to fit properly, yet Steve found it to fit her perfectly. Harrington had been carrying her backpack for her (gentlemanly as always) and he’d almost dropped both their bags in the process of watching her...watching her idly kick the fallen leaves as she retold the story.

It was so simple. There was nothing special about that day, he hadn’t won a basketball game (being MVP), nor had he passed some big exam, or even find out he was secretly the heir to some ancient throne...no...nothing that day could explain how he’d acted - nothing causing him to burst with happiness and emotion, the only answer? Steve simply being there with her.

He was in love...

It carried throughout his high school days. He found that despite how many baskets he shot, girls he tempted, and papers he passed...she was still...there. The feelings...still there. Y/N would sit front row, cheering louder than anyone else at his games (even committing to the away-games, claiming she’d never miss him play for the world). Y/N was always there for him when he had girl troubles (either helping him through it, or talking him out of it) - always smiling, and always supportive. Y/N would help him study - they had this tradition of Monday nights being preserved for the two of them. They’d get their week together, planning, discussing, and deciding what was best and when to do it...she was always there.

And she still was.

Standing only a few feet away; a dingy little white hat on her head as she patiently assisted some young boy with what ice cream size he wanted. Shooting Steve a wink or a goofy face whenever she had the pleasure of doing so. She was still there...after all those years...after everything, they’d gone through...and yeah, almost dying two times was enough to drive any girl - hell, anyone - away. Yet, there she was. Still there.

“Sailor boy, you wanna move or what?” Y/N asked, pursing her lips, placing a hand on the counter as she tried slipping by him to reach the mint-chocolate-chip the boy had requested. “Oh, yeah...sure,” he mumbled while shuffling to the right. “Dork,” Y/N huffed with a soft laugh, nudging him with her hip.

He looked up to hear Robin - not so casually - cough. “Ahem - ahem - Stev...a...ahhheeem....you....you suck.” It was a jab at their private conversation...one they’d had a few weeks ago when Robin, the dirty little sleuth she was...had figured out about his (long-term) feeling for Y/N Y/L/N.

What? -- You’re saying, after eighteen years...you haven’t even...tried...to ask her out, Harrington? -- It..it never c-came up! -- Mhm, sure...wow, and here I thought The Hair actually was some big shot. -- I was! - I-I am! I’m just...I don’t...want to ruin...what we have... -- Yeah, said every sad-ending love story ever.

He flipped her off after making sure no one would notice and jerked his hands up in a waggling motion, sticking his tongue out and shaking his head at her. “Wow - yeah, real mature, dingus.” Robin clapped slowly, applauding his act generously.

“Shut the hell up,” he grumbled while running his hands down his face, clawing at his cheeks dramatically popping his eyes wide.

He turned around as Y/N started talking. “You know - as much as this uniform blows - I do say, the tips aren’t bad.” She held up an extra dollar and gave a shrug.

“That’s more than Steve could ever manage,” Robin piped up while leaning out the glass window. Harrington glared at her and only faked a smile. “Please - I can make way more t-than...than that!” He exclaimed, snatching the dollar from Y/N.

“Hey--- hey! Dickhead! That’s mine! I didn’t just amuse a child for twenty-two minutes for your sorry ass to take it!” She whined while fighting a smile as Steve held it over his head, holding it to the light as if trying to figure out its authenticity.

“Mhmm, yes...yes...the serial number looks right...”

“Steeeeevvveee! S-Stop that!” Y/N giggled while jumping up, inadvertently pushing his back to the counter as he only denied her petition, snapping the bill straight a few times.

“Wait a second....is that picture drawn on?” He uttered while gasping loudly, using one arm to hold Y/N away from him as she collapsed into him, complaining and slapping his bicep mildly.

Of course, it was hard to be mad at him...even after eighteen-years, Y/N still could never find it in her to be truly cross with him (annoyed? Sure...but furious...? Not even once). Steve had this incredible gift where - anything he did was always so...good-natured, innocent, and in his own way absurd...Y/N was never given the chance to be mad.

She’d admit, the whole King Steve thing back in his late Junior year and finishing Senior year was a bit much (little did she know he’d done it to try and gain even an ounce of her attention...being dense himself and not understanding he already had it).

Y/N hadn’t rolled her eyes, or sighed more in her life than when he was in his uphold the name and keep the reputation title...don’t even mention when Hargrove came to town - oooooh, how Harrington made her blood boil -- and yet, Steve would just flash a smile and then trip over air he hadn’t noticed; falling on her bedroom floor, or in the kitchen, or living room...or anywhere possible for Steve to screw it up with his dorkiness -- and she’d still be admiring the way his brown eyes glistened with youth and blamelessness.

It was inexplainable...how she felt for Harrington - really the most difficult thing to concede. He was charming, he was sweet, he was amusing, he was Steve. And she’d been ever so lucky as to see that in him starting from a young age. Y/N couldn’t remember why it had happened...but it had...and she couldn't explain it, not for her life.

It had been late April, Steve’s birthday just around the corner...he had been turning sixteen and he’d found his proper place in their school’s social monarchy already working his way to the top (from his looks to his at-school devious persona...he fit right in). Y/N had always thought he was a bit of a show-boat, but Steve only discerned it as finally figuring out who he was (which was total BS because looking at him now - an eighteen-year-old dork who didn’t have a clue on what to do with the rest of his life...oh, boy had young Stevie been wrong).

His parents had never really been around, which Y/N blamed for his yearn for attention as a young teen. They loved him, of course, they did! -- They just worked a lot, didn’t have a lot of time...and Steve was...well...a lot...of alone. Y/N didn’t accuse him of wanting to seek the approval of his peers. She always told him if that’s what he wanted; she’d make sure he didn’t sink his own (show-boat) ship.

Tommy H. and Carol had been the ones to suggest a big party. They alleged it was his sweet-sixteen and there’d not be another one. Ugh. Y/N had never approved of the pair - Tommy was always rude and had this animalistic manner to everything he did, and Carol was a two-faced backstabber who gossiped more than the bored, middle-aged mothers’ of Hawkins.

Steve hadn’t been too keen on the idea himself - he’d told Y/N in confidence a few nights prior to the birthday bash...(he’d been laying on her bed, throwing and catching one of the stuffed animals she had resting on her mattress - one he’d gotten her to be exact). Why don’t you just tell them that? Steve had only shrugged, squeezing the plushy with a sigh. It’s not that simple, honey. Telling that to Tommy and Carol...is like telling a brick wall to stop talking... -- Steve, how the hell does that work? -- Exactly! It doesn’t!).

Y/N remembered going to that party and finding Steve being jostled around in the midst of it all. An artificial smile that only she knew to be fake in the first place. It didn’t reach his eyes, and his gaze was ducked to the floor...if Tommy H. and Carol had been real friends - they’d have seen how half-assed everything was on Harrington’s behalf.

His pool had been crowded with strangers and Y/N remembered the kitchen and living room not being much different. She’d managed to snag Harrington from the chaos and when he asked her where she was taking him, Y/N had only told Steve to shut up and buckle up.

They drove only a few minutes in soft silence down the road to her house - where he was shocked to see an already made pillow-fort built from her living room; a pile of their favorite/his favorite movies, more junk food than Steve could possibly consume, a mountain of pillows, and a collection of cozy blankets.

W-What’s all-- she’d cut him off, giving Steve a hug from behind and grinning madly. Happy birthday, dork. He’d only smiled, leaning into Y/N’s touch, hands placed over hers; savoring the moment.

That moment...had been when she realized it. He’d been half-asleep, the clock reading a quarter to four in the morning and they’d blown through every movie, picked through every snack, and cuddled with every blanket. Steve’s hair was a hot mess (the long night had drawn out the stray strands and frizzies, and yet he still pulled off the hot part better than anyone else), his eyes held dark-circles under them and he couldn’t keep his head up - a constant battle between slumping and sitting straight.

Steve had been wearing an old red Henley shirt that he’d left at her house; long-sleeved and washed clean for him in case of an emergency like so. He was as shameless as ever, even at sixteen, and had sported his stripped boxers - preferring them to his jeans (not that she’d actually complain...who would?).

Yes - Steve Harrington - the mess on her couch; his head finally falling, finding its spot on Y/N’s shoulder without him knowing...yes...that Steve Harrington was the one she’d fallen in love with in that exact moment.

It felt like a rollercoaster...building up years of friendship and trust, to finally reach the peak - seeing over the edge and only fearing the worst outcome as they began plummeting to the ground...finally reaching that point of no return where the feeling of shock and emotion could only be accepted that this was her reality...the one she’d be stuck with for eternity...her stomach doing worse than flips...

If only Y/N had known...if only she had known that more than a year before Harrington’s sweet-sixteen; a boy walking in the fall with his best friend had too, fallen in love...maybe things would’ve turned out differently. Just maybe...

Steve had finally given the tip back to the shorter girl, ruffling her hat-covered head while Y/N swatted his hand away. They’d all gone back to their actual jobs...Robin coming to do some scooping with Y/N while Steve worked in the back, every now and then switching it up...someone getting tired of taking orders, scooping, or looking through inventory and paper forums.

It wasn’t until Robin opened her mouth that their peaceful unity was broken. Damn theater kids...

“Here’s a tip for you, Steve,” she began while refilling the waffle-cones. “You learn to not be a total dingus when talking to potential customers, and you’ll rack some extra cash!” Rubbing her fingers together, Robin had invisible greens rain down on him.

Y/N could only stifle her laugh, turning head to nod in acknowledgment of another ice cream order. Steve frowned, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, some tip,” he grumbled,” I’ll give you a tip, Robin...”

Y/N clicked her tongue, turning to face the pair, Steve hanging out the window as she glanced between them. “Stevie, it’s wrong to be jealous of my talents...I mean...not everyone can be as amazing as me,” she sighed while twirling the tip she’d received before his face (what was that? The fourth one?).

“Spare me, hun - I could do so much better if I tried,” he huffed,” Problem is - I’m just trying to be nice to you, don’t wanna just...steal all your tips, darling.”

A shared staring-contest later...and it was official...a contest.

It was simple - whoever could collect the most tips of the two by the end of their shift today, would be proclaimed the “better asset to the company” (that’s how Robin explained it anyway, even forbearing a small portion of her whiteboard to keep count for them).

Luckily for them, it was an early Saturday afternoon, and the middle of summer in Hawkins, Indiana...everyone was at the Starcourt Mall if they weren’t at the pool (Y/N had heard Billy getting a job there made quite the impact).

“Ahoy! How can I help you?”

“You look like you want something sweet - how about a cone of cherry drizzle, sweetheart?”

“No, no! Take your time, dear!”

“I insist -- it’s on the house!”

“You’re literally...the best customer I’ve had! No joke!”

“I won’t lie to you - that’s my favorite flavor too.”

Sprinkling compliments here, a kind smile there, and a charming air all around - and they had themselves a competition. Somehow - Steve had found his nerve, Y/N suspected it was whatever Robin had said to him in the backroom (she’d said You know what - let me borrow him for a quick sec, mhmm, yeah...hold on, Y/N/N). Had it been a pep-talk? Maybe some solid advice...or a shot of courage. Either way - Harrington had suddenly found his cool...

It irritated Y/N to no ends, as every time she’d get a tip - he’d one-up her and get twice the amount she had. “All thanks to this,” he’d bragged, gesturing to himself while sticking his tongue out, leaning in too-close for her heart to handle. She had only scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “You mean to say, that ridiculous outfit is doing you some good, Harrington?” Earning Y/N a thump on her forehead, and Steve a slap to his chest.

Steve was in the lead right now; having received nineteen dollars...alone...in tips. Y/N was only a few dollars behind and she knew that if she really upped the ante, she could push ahead - or at least tie the snarky boy.

“You're up, Y/N,” Robin announced while spinning the black dry-erase between her fingers. They’d taken turns - after choosing a number between one-through-ten...Steve had been closer, and he’d gotten the chance to go first (but that had been rounds ago..).

She shot a look at Steve who only smiled and stretched a limb to boop her nose. She rolled her eyes, pretending to bite at him, the air taking a rather severe snap. Turning to face the customer; she missed Harrington’s flush and slack-jaw (also missing how Robin hit his face to get Steve out of the trance).

“Ahoy, cutie! Would you like to set sail on the ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your Captain - I’m Y/N...nice to serve you today.” She offered a sweet simper and held her hands behind her back as she bounced on her heels.

The boy before her, had dark hair (hair that had Harrington judged silently...it wasn’t bad...he was just criticizing how the guy managed to get volume like that - did he use Faberge too?!), and green eyes. He was rather tall, taller than Steve to give an image - Y/N suspected six-foot-two...

Broad shoulders and a kind smile to his sharp features. Y/N had to admit - this guy was...not bad looking. Easy on the eyes, at least he gave off that much. He had a blue button-up on and jeans to match, a blue and white windbreaker complimenting him nicely.

He returned her smile and Y/N felt a slight blush find her cheeks.

“Nice to have you serve me too,” he chuckled,” I’m Shawn, though cutie works just as well.” He offered Y/N his hand to shake and she took it, a short giggle bubbling from her lips as he addressed her as Captain.

“Uh-oh,” Robin teased while watching the scene unfold before her. Harrington had absently begun to grip the counter to the point of his knuckles bleeding white. “Is that...jealousy I smell?” Buckley whisper-shouted while her hands came up to pinch her face together - her lips a perfect ‘o’.

Steve ignored her, chewing on his lip as he listened to the flirting this...Shawn...character was displaying. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much - maybe because Y/N should only be laughing with him like that, smiling at him like that, and talking to him like that...this dude didn’t even know her last name...(and God, Shawn made it sound like he wanted Y/N to take his last name...).

“The special today is chocolate blast, so...if you’re interested in that - I can assure it’ll be worth your money.” Y/N explained while rotating her scooper, weaving it between her fingers. Shawn gave a nod, and then said,” You know what - surprise me, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. “Sweetheart?” Steve mumbled while being quietly laughed at by Robin. Steve’s eyes furrowed and he restrained himself from waltzing over and doing something not so company-policy employed.

“Well in that case,” Y/N hummed while glancing at the array of flavors,” I’ll give you a house favorite!” Harrington was one-hundred percent aware of how enchanting Y/N was without even trying...a dangerous skill indeed. Though he wasn’t the only one aware...

He watched the y/c/e eyed girl walk over to their glass-case freezer, leaning down to scoop a large clump of chocolate peanut butter truffle...he couldn’t tell if he were honored to have his favorite ice cream being the choice of surprise (because on one hand, Y/N chose it precisely for Harrington’s reaction, and then, on the other hand, that Steve was sure Y/N didn’t even know existed - she was giving his favorite flavor away to some random dude...).

“Looks delicious,” Shawn complimented, and Steve swears there wasn’t any reason for their hands to touch through the exchange of cone to hand.

Y/N could only nod, turning to the register as she began ringing him up. “Mhm! It’s really good!--,” “Is it your favorite?” the boy interrupted smoothly, leaning his elbows on the counter.

“Haha, no - it’s actually his,” Y/N told while scratching at her neck. The reference to Steve had him hold three fingers up in a weak attempt at hello.

Shawn eyed Harrington, sizing him up before looking back to Y/N (who did this Shawn-guy think he was?!). “Interesting choice.”

As expected, he left (an unnecessarily) large tip...not only pushing Y/N in the lead, but also pushing Steve over the edge.

The opposing man decided to stick around, even after his cone was finished...he sat at a nearby table and was bothering them as they worked (that’s how Steve perceived it anyway...).

Y/N kept getting sidetracked; thus, her score lagging behind Harrington after a few more shoppers... It looked as if she cared on some level - but Steve wasn’t an idiot and he could see how this (not him) alright-looking guy had her attention for the time being.

Normally, he’d ben enthralled to see he’d be winning their contest. He and Y/N had always had these playful kinds of competitions growing up, this wasn’t any different...except it was...because insert this random flirty dude and bam....it throws off everything.

Steve didn’t like the way Shawn would make a specific comment and Y/N would giggle, or shake her head in amusement. Steve didn’t like how Shawn would watch her as she worked - as if trying to remember a hidden pattern. Steve hated how Y/N seemed...okay with this...it drove him absolutely mad.

After roughly fifteen more minutes of Harrington trying to contain his little green gremlin - he gave up. He could only be so nice for so long...after all, he was only just a man.

“Screw this,” he murmured while throwing his hat to the side. Pushing his seat out and walking to the side door (he and Robin had been sitting in the back room while they waited, taking the time to fill a few inventory forums).

Robin raised a brow, peeping out the window to see what exactly had his tailfeather’s ruffled like a sorrowful peacock. She smirked, sputtering her reply.

“Pffft -- y-you really gonna do this? Like...like...first of all, your hat - Harrington, that’s against company policy.” Steve shrugged her off, pressing his back to the door and shoving it the rest of the way open.

“I don’t care,” he hissed. Robin only pursed her lips, arms crossing over her chest. “Mhm...well, customer satisfaction is also part of our company policy...and as far as I can tell,” she urged while her eyes flickered back to the boy talking with Y/N,” He’s looking pretty satisfied.”

Steve grit his teeth, offering a scoff before fulling exiting the room. “Screw company policy.”

“And so I sai--,” “Ahoy! -- I’m Steve,” he greeted loudly, butting into Shawn’s story. Y/N was behind the countertop, replacing an empty tub of plain chocolate with a fresh one when Steve swooped in to do it for her.

He plopped the bucket down and then leaned his arms on the counter, eyes digging into the boy sat at the table-for-two closest to the register. Steve rubbed his cheek and cleared his throat. “Steve - Steve Harrington. Nice to meet you.”

“Uh, Shawn, Shawn Gilson,” the stranger replied,” Nice to meet you t--,”

“So, uh, I dunno if you’re aware, Shawn, but - Scoops’ has this, uh,” Steve interjected while snapping his fingers, shaking his head,” This...thing - where customers who spend...too long here, are considered to be loitering.” He shrugged.

“I don’t mean to be that guy - but you should probably go,” Steve continued with a soft click of his tongue, giving a soft suck of breath as an oh, darn.

Before Shawn could answer properly, Steve was hopped over the countertop, helping the taller boy to stand up. “Yeah, I know -- it’s such a bummer,” he spoke over Shawn’s slow and mumbled objections.

“But - it is company policy...and you know--,” Harington continued, giving a final shove to the man; accidentally putting all his body weight into it,”--I’d hate to break company policy.” He winked, waving the guy off,” I uh, took an oath or something.” Hands on his hips, Steve smiled charmingly as he saw Shawn off; spinning on his heels once he believed the rival brunette a fair distance away.

“Well, that’s one way to take care of it,” Robin commented while smirking, her chin rested in the palm of her hand as she stood next to Y/N.

Y/N, throughout the entire interaction - had been astounded, confused, and then slightly flushed as Robin’s commentary had enlightened her to a few things.

“I know, right? I didn’t t-think that guy would ever leave,” Harrington scoffed, while trying to play it off, running a hand through his hair (a nervous tick Steve had that Y/N always found to be adorable).

Robin rolled her eyes, dropping her head to the countertop. Y/N giggled and walked over to Steve, meeting him halfway - now all three employees standing behind the showcases.

“Why’d you do that, Harrington? He was nice,” she noted while crossing her arms, eyeing him suspiciously. Hoping he couldn’t hear the accelerated pounding of her heart or see the shake in her legs as he placed a hand on the surface of the worktop - awfully close to Y/N from what she could judge.

Steve’s jaw was slack as his tongue skimmed his teeth. He shook his head, eyes flickering from the girl before him, to the ground. “Him? - No, no - he was testing it with me, I don’t know about...nice.” In other words, I didn’t like him and where he stands isn’t clear, but my opinion isn’t positive.

“But he was sweet! -- And I’ll agree, kinda cute.” Thus, Steve’s mind blanked completely. Robin was trying to keep herself together, mumbling a low justification of needing to sign something in the back, and leaving them to their own devices.

“What? Are you crazy? - He was staring at your ass every second you weren’t looking,” he droned,” That’s not the kind of guy you want hanging around, hun,” Steve stated, his expression finding one of bitterness and annoyance.

Y/N couldn’t get another word in, Steve going on a heated rant about how unfit this flirty visitor was for her. He’d been winded afterward, having used a wild amount of hand movements and lecturing quite fast - all in one breath. He finished with slapping his palm to the granite counter, driving back his hair as Steve recollected what he’d just said and what had happened...Shit.

“Tell me, Harrington,” Y/N started while looking up to her tall best friend. “What kind of guy would you want hanging around me?”

He choked on his own spit and took a few heartbeats to figure out what to say without breaking every piece of friendship and relation they already had.

“Well,” Steve sighed, wiping his hands on his ugly uniform, they were clammy and his fingers trembled. “You...you deserve someone who...who knows you. I dunno.”

Steve licked his lips and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and deciding to just...say it...after five...heartwrenching years of waiting; craving; pining...This probably wasn’t the first time he’d acted so irrationally...just the first time there’d been a girl named Robin to expose him...

“You deserve a guy who won’t give up on you...even after years of doubting himself. Someone who will be there when you’re upset, and never leave when you’re at your lowest point, Y/N/N. A guy who wants nothing more than to make you smile, because...Gosh, do you have such a pretty smile...He’d be satisfied with just seeing you happy - you know? - even if that means he’s not.”

“Someone who loves that...that you always air-dry your hair because it’s easier than doing anything else, even if that guy insists on proper hair care. Darling...you...you deserve someone who cherishes you in every way possible, savoring the way your laugh sounds after you recite some dumb joke, or die a little when you kick ass in the arcade.”

“Someone who knows that you hate reading books with bent pages, and when you walk, you sometimes skip every other step - almost like a hop. Y/N...you deserve someone who has never wanted anything from you...just...just for you to look at them like they look at you.” He lamented.

“And - I know...it’s stupid - but...you deserve someone who won’t just flirt with you because he can. Someone who’ll flirt with you even when you’re with him because he knows you think those stupid pickup-lines and cheesy jokes are endearing.” His voice cracked and he couldn’t help but bite his lip apprehensively.

“I...I...I just think...maybe you’re just...looking in the wrong places,” Steve mumbled. Head hanging low. What the hell was he saying? What the actual hell was he thinking?

“Because...I...I don’t wanna sound like a narcissist...but...I always kinda thought...the kind of guy you’d...you’d end up with--,” he paused his eyes searching Y/N’s for the strength to finish.

“Was me.” He breathed.

Steve exhaled shortly, and restated,” I always thought you’d end up with me, Y/N.”

She’d been quiet throughout his speech. Earlier, while Harrington had been escorting Shawn out...Robin had spoken to her.

You know, he’s in love with you, right? -- W-What? -- Y/N...don’t be serious right now. -- Robin - I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! -- You...you seriously have no idea? Like, seriously, Y/N? -- Robin, I-I don’t know.

All Steve does, is talk about you. Think about you. Want to be with you...he told me he’s loved you since he was fifteen, Y/L/N! -- Why...didn’t he say anything?

Fear is a very powerful sentiment, Y/N. He was scared you wouldn’t return his feelings. -- He...he never acted differently towards me though.

Are you crazy? He practically knows you better than you know you. He didn’t need to act differently because he was just always himself around you. And you see that? See him over there? That, that my friend, is jealousy. Probably one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs there is.

The dirty-blonde had then asked her a question that Y/N had tried to overcome, bury deep within her...to forget about and hopefully never think of again...it...it never had worked.

Do you love him too?

Y/N hadn’t been given the opportunity to clarify, Steve strutting back to them in that oddly proud and embarrassed manner of his. Y/N teased him like she would any other time he acted like a dork...but, asking such a simple question to try and prove Robin right or wrong - had turned the conversation sober faster than her head could keep up with.

Her lungs hurt; had she been breathing throughout the minutes passing? She couldn’t remember - dumbly taking a few gasps, her eyes wide and her hands shaking pulled to her chest. Y/N bit her lip and when she saw the anxiety and panic in Steve’s eyes...she melted.

“I-It took you long enough, Harrington,” she stammered, throwing her arms around his neck, her hat falling off in the process. He tensed at her touch until reality hit and he felt all the air escape his chest - finally sinking into her like he needed her to stand.

Y/N was basking in the moment; relishing the scent of his cologne (the classic Calvin Klein Eternity), the smell of a light floral blended with a woody amber clashed with Steve’s natural musk perfectly. It was comforting. It was absolutely intoxicating.

She hid her face in his shoulder while she felt the tickle of his breath in the crook of her neck. “I...I kinda always thought I’d end up with you too.”

Steve was silent at that, but slowly, slowly; he erupted into laughter. Laughing at himself for having been so scared all these years! After all that damn time...she’d felt the same way! Waiting probably just as long as him! Patiently waiting for Steve’s cowardly self to man up! After all this damn time...she had loved him too.

Robin was slow clapping, using a fake, posh accent to congratulate them. “Bravo, bravo! Steve finally grew a pair!” Y/N was laughing, the vibration of Harrington’s own excitement leaking into her reaction.

The freckled girl gasped, slapping her hands on the counter as she leaned out the shutters. “Dingus - you know what this means...right?” Steve’s face was blank, his arms tightly wound around Y/N still as he tried to figure out what Robin was referring to.

When it hit him, he gave this strangled noise of accomplishment. Harrington picked Y/N off her feet and swung her around a bit, clumsily knocking a few paper bowls to the ground (not that it wasn’t unusual for him to do something so senseless).

“I-It means I rock!” He gushed while placing Y/N to sit on the countertop, jumping around like a child. Just another reason Y/N had fallen in love with him...he never seemed to grow up fully, but she was okay with that...things never got old with Steve.

Robin nodded somberly, pulling the notorious chart back out and drawing on that one, single line that Harrington had been anticipating...

“Yes!” He shouted, not caring eyes from outside the shop were staring. “I finally did it! Fuck! In your face, Robin!” He leered with a bright smile. Buckley rolled her eyes.

“Mhm, don’t get ahead of yourself, dingus. You haven’t actually asked her out... I can take this victory away, you know?” Robin threatened while hovering a hand over the lone tally-mark.

The brunette whipped around, his hair tousled from his jumpiness. He stepped to Y/N quickly who had only been laughing at his interaction with Robin; taking her by surprise when he stood between her legs, hand cupping her face. Steve’s free arm snaked around her waist. His smile looked like it hurt, but Steve didn’t seem to mind.

“So...,” he started, enjoy the display of pink on Y/N’s beautiful features. His mind wandered back to their earlier competition and he bit his lip, trying to contain the satisfaction. “I won our little challenge...,” he drawled while pressing his forehead to hers.

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes. She pinched his cheek and poked his side. “After all...that...you ruin the moment with this? Cocky much?”

“No, no, let me finish,” he chuckled, his brown eyes glistening with affection and adoration. “I have about twenty-five extra dollars to spend,” he explained,” Whaddya say to me treating you to a date? I mean...how else can I cheer you up? You must be so sad about losing to the likes of me.”

Y/N grinned. “Oh, but of course -- I don’t think I’ll ever recover from a loss like that...sighhhh...the only cure is...dinner and a movie?” Y/N expressed dramatically leaning back from his chest, a hand pulled to her forehead.

Steve pouted. “Wait...you just asked me on the date...I...I was supposed to ask you!” Y/N shrugged,” Does it matter?”

“Yes! It does matter! You can’t take this from me!” He cried while shaking his head and jutting his lip out.

Y/N snorted, shaking her head at how utterly adorable Steve was. “Fine...I take it back. No dinner and a movie.”

Silence followed.

“This was supposed to be more romantic, you know, but you fucking ruined it,” Harrington accused while laughing, his serious expression breaking.

Y/N scoffed, striking his chest. “Listen, Sailor Boy - if you weren’t such a moron yo--,” and then he kissed her.

It was soft, it as sweet, it was better than anything she’d ever imagined. Her arms circled his neck and his hand pulled Y/N’s face to his as close as humanly possible--

“We run a business, guys,” Robin reminded while gagging and flicking Steve in the forehead as she walked around the counter, trying to awkwardly apologize to a couple that neither Y/N nor Harrington noticed.

Steve helped her slide off the countertop, mumbling a hello to the customers. He looked to Y/N and smothered his amusement at her red face.

While Robin was serving the pair, Steve tried to be useful and helped Y/N fix their topping containers. “So,” he started, clearing his throat and closing the lid of rainbow sprinkles. “Let me try again.”

Y/N hummed, egging him on.

“Y/N - the girl of my dreams, the person I’ve had a crush on for five terrible years...Will you go on a date with me?” Steve asked, turning to face her with a soft smile. “Please?” He added quickly.

Y/N popped a chocolate-chip in her mouth, a small smirk playing on her pink lips. “I would love to go on a date with you, Steve. After all, you did say please.”

Steve didn’t regret breaking company policy...no...not at all.

a/n footer: I thought this request was sooo cute! <3 I hope it’s to your liking @billyhargrovescigarette :) I loveddddd writing it!

Tagged List: @novaddictx @mairalynn416 @wefracturedmotivation @truthdaze @xxcxrolinexx @savingprivatecass @emmalbg @timeladygallifrey @the-first-breath-of-autumn-air @billyhargrovescigarette @krystalane @truthdaze @neverlandsoundsgood @friendlyneighbourhoodmercenary @imarockstar145 @foryoubarnes @winchestergirl907 @anniethepanda @gwenebear @lavenderluvs @werdenkt @just-ladyme @un-deroos

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #joe keery

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 4 years

Text

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 24 – 3rd Elder’s Bizarre Experience

Practice makes perfect.

Frankenstein would have thrown that in 3rd Elder’s face upon seeing the latter at work shopping for groceries, comparing products by price, details, and manufacturers before he paid the cashier.

Now the ex-elder was more than practiced; however, he was not perfect.

Partially because for the first time ever, he got to put himself against a self-checkout machine.

‘What should I do...?’

The white-haired man gulped. He could swear he did exactly what his preceding customers did, but the machine just would not let him pass on to the checkout stage.

It has been quite long since he has moved into Frankenstein’s island. With the owner of the island stuck in his lab for the majority of his time spent awake, 3rd Elder has been entrusted with getting supplies whenever needed.

Unlike before, he had plenty of time, now that he lost the title as the elder of the Union.

There were a lot of options available for him once he crosses the sea, but today he opted to visit Korea.

Among many rules Frankenstein required his consent on upon entering the island was the rule of shopping: do not consecutively visit the country or the market he has visited, lest the Union finds out what he is doing.

Which is why he was beyond bewildered to find a self-checkout machine – a modern artifact he has never seen in his previous visits.

He managed to memorize what the other customers would do, and he mimicked them accordingly, scanning each product on the small transparent surface. However, the machine simply whipped up a noise that was far from pleasant to the ears, refusing to let him actually check out.

To top it off, it was a weekend with thousands of people, and the employees were nowhere to be seen.

The 3rd Elder was sweating over his entire body, feeling how the eyes boring into his body were growing sharper and hotter, until a help arrived from someone not at all expected.

“Hey, mister!”

Yelled a little girl, making the 3rd Elder start and stare down at her.

Barely taller than his waist, a girl stuck her head out to look up into his eyes, revealing a set of teeth missing an incisor above.

“You need to put them here! Or else you can’t pay!”

She pointed towards an empty spot on the machine, her finger extremely short of a threat despite her apparent attempt at a threat.

Upon turning his eyes, 3rd Elder spotted a sign, so big and fat and obvious that he could not even fathom how in the world he missed it: Please put all your products here before check-out.

“Okay? Now be good and follow the sign!”

Her hands very proudly on her waist, the girl trotted to her mother, who was just packing her groceries at the machine right next to his.

Check-out completed so ridiculously fast, 3rd Elder’s eyes chased the girl, now far away and smaller than a dot, a feat for which he needed an effort, with the market teeming with children.

In fact, the market was teeming with more than children.

Girls and boys about to write college application essays in a year or two.

Young men and women preparing themselves for the bigger world outside lectures.

Middle-aged couples and elders.

The 3rd Elder could see a variety of age groups, which was rare considering how at the Union, whether they were agents or researchers, most employees and personnel were in their twenties and thirties, in forties at most.

Which was probably why 3rd Elder was deep into reflection – also a rare occasion – probably thanks to the fact that he has been staying away from Union.

‘If I were not part of the Union, would I be in these people’s shoes by now? Worrying about studies and job, dinner for the day, and living for tomorrow? Ordinary as hell?’

Just because the people here are not physically fighting for their lives would not mean their lives are far from fierce.

He could not feel any of the innate-slash-natural possession any Union-affiliated being would beget: razor-sharp, touch-me-if-you-dare atmosphere based on daily struggle for survival, betting on one’s own life as well as those of others, or otherworldly presence fashioned from experiments, combats, and training beyond human understanding.

And the point was that this place was full of men and women around the same age as the people of Union, which led to another reflection for the 3rd Elder.

‘My trusted, faithful followers at the Union must have had lives like these before meeting me. So if it weren’t for the Union, if it weren’t for our encounters, if it weren’t for me... Maybe they would have been happy in the ordinary world, without throwing away their lives in vain.’

Never before had he regarded his followers’ sacrifices for the sake of Union’s progress as “vain.”

But now, simply and offensively put, Union is done for.

These days he was seriously haunted by a question perhaps a bit belated: just for what had his followers thrown their lives away?

“Haa......”

He could not help sighing in the middle of the street as he exited the building, with no one’s attention on him. The passersby merely gawked at him for a second or two out of pure reflex to his sudden halt.

Which was rather odd to him as well.

Every soul at the Union would bow to him as soon as his cloak flapped in the air, but nobody was treating him with awe and distant respect, and he knew it was not simply because he was missing his elder’s cloak.

In addition to the fact that as of now he looked like a highly ordinary man, everyone was busy with themselves.

“Honey! You forgot to put socks on our baby!”

“Hey, do you mind if I copy your homework? Oh, come on! Just for one day! Be a pal and save my ass, will ya?!”

“So what’s the last item on the list, darling?”

Man or woman, young or old, everyone was occupied with their lives.

And 3rd Elder found this situation rather difficult to comprehend, for as far as he was concerned, the public’s interest on nobles has skyrocketed ever since Crombell played his mind game on the world.

Nevertheless, contrary to his knowledge, the people he was witnessing could not be less interested in nobles, Lukedonia, or non-human entities.

Not that these people would represent the entire public in the world, but at least they were too busy devoting themselves to their everyday lives.

And in their presence, 3rd Elder could feel everything he has gone through fading into tiny dust, as Union, as an elder, as a modified human.

He believed everything he had ever committed was for the sake of mankind; however, his belief was melting away as he was standing in midst of plain life so very far from body modification, wrestle against werewolves and nobles, or struggle for power to stand at the apex of the world.

Everyone was busy bustling, rustling, and being busy.

He could see how each face bore personal challenges and ordeals of life, but he could also see such things could not hinder them from fully dedicating themselves to their lives.

‘And they look happy.’

He could feel his mind growing dreamily numb in the middle of a crowd boasting the perfume of ordinariness as they weaved minute knots and ties of their ordinary lives.

And he could feel guilt.

This was not his first time ever feeling guilty, but recently his guilt has grown more dominant as his question grew.

‘What if my goal – the Union’s goal to make mankind flourish was but nothing?’

The 3rd Elder broke free from his reveries, mortified by his own thought.

And then things took a sudden flip, like a set of dominoes stroked in a flash of light.

Pow!

A boom of cacophony made everyone within 100-meters radius eject themselves from their spots, and 3rd Elder joined the others to find the source of the noise.

He could find a car entering the parking lot dangerously shaking to the side, leaving angry skid marks on the road with one of its tires burst.

There was a good chance its driver forgot the very basic rule of driving: never speed in the parking lot. Which was why everyone could feel threat for their lives just by watching the said car.

“Aack!”

“Everybody, run!”

People were making themselves scarce, looking for a safe place; meanwhile, the car with a flat tire was rushing towards a child and her mom.

And the 3rd Elder recognized the child – his little lifesaver at the self-checkout machine.

‘No...!’

Without wasting even a split second, he focused his gaze on the mother and the girl, and his eye long sealed away blinked with life.

I am about to push a pair of eggs onto the floor, and I must save them without breaking them.

Telling himself to be extra-careful, he pushed the girl and her mother to a nearby bush with his power. And he could not hesitate to find out if they were safe, for he had to stop the car as well.

Screech!

Glaring into the car that was stampede-rolling into his direction, 3rd Elder concentrated his power on the mold of metal, as if pushing the thing into a stop.

To his relief, his effort was reciprocated in a good way.

“Someone call 911!”

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

“Are they out of their goddamn mind? This is a parking lot, for Christ’s sake!”

The voices told him the girl and her mother were safe, except for a few scratches they could not avoid.

The driver looked unscathed as well, apart from the fact that his driving record would not remain so.

‘Thank god... Oh, THANK GOD.’

The 3rd Elder had never been more grateful in his life, his shoulders and chest heaving and slouching in a huge sigh.

Once he saw things settling down, he finally took his leave.

But he could not fancy where he was headed; his legs were uncontrolled, his mind disconnected from his body.

This was the very first time he used his power for the purpose of protection, with no return on his side.

It was a bizarre experience, but it did not feel so bad.

However, such small delight did not last long.

‘What the...?’

He did not classify himself as a combatant elder.

Of course, as an elder with a one-digit number on his title, his battle competence was by no means to be underestimated. Nonetheless, his specialty was coordination of things from behind the scenes.

But that did not stop him from shaping his so-called battle instincts, as one of the top fighters in Union.

And his instinct just signaled him he had someone trailing him.

Scurrying around a dozen corners to find a place with no eyes or ears, 3rd Elder at last turned around once he made it to an empty alley, before he immediately stiffened.

“You...?!”

(next chapter)

This is personally one of my favorite chapters for this fic. Years ago, I once read an interview featuring authors of Noblesse, and they said they wanted to show how precious is the ordinary life we are born with. I don’t remember anything else from the interview, but that comment remains vivid in my head. So through this chapter I wanted to shed some light on the ordinary life in 3rd Elder’s point of view. Of course, it was a challenge writing this chapter, but it was definitely worth it. XD

#korean webcomic #korean webtoon #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #wolfsbane

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sweetbunnykook · 5 years

Text

Only You (7)

Word Count: 11,126 // angst (mention of physical abuse, mention of child abuse/neglect, mention of forced pregnancy, mention of physical harm, weapons), smut (unsafe sex practice, blowjob, rimjob, fingering, cumplay), a hint of fluff

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.

A/N: Thank you so so so so much for waiting so long omg the universe was set on sabotaging my fanfiction career but I prevailed. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I’m looking forward to the responses - 🐰

Playlist: The Very Gentle Lovers

‘I don’t love you anymore, Jungkook’

‘What?’ He looks up from his camera.

‘I said I don’t love you,’ you repeated, brushing your locks away with the back of your hand while you turn towards Seokjin, standing next to the television. ‘I’ve…I’ve been with Jin all along. He makes me feel complete, he makes me feel like a woman.’

He stands, the pencil falling from his fingers, looking between you and the man that didn’t belong in your apartment he called his safe haven.

‘N-noona what do you…mean? I-I’ve been good, haven’t I? I did everything you told me to. I-I,’ He panics, his breath catching in his throat as his hands begin to shake, sweat pooling in his palms.

You shake your head. ‘I’m sorry, Kookie.’ You lean forward and cup him softly on the cheek with one hand. He melts into your touch like butter, but before he can ask if you’ll change your mind, you’re moving away.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this, but you’re just too immature for me-’

‘I’ll do anything!’

‘-and I just think it’s best that I move in with Jin. He takes care of me,’ you smile at the broken hearted boy.

‘Noona please,’ he begs but his feet are glued to the ground.

He watches helplessly as you slide your hands in the crook of Jin’s arms with intimate familiarity. You roll your eyes at the tears streaking down his eyes as he begins to shrink, smaller and smaller, until he’s about the same height as your knees.

His cries turn into wails, the pitch of his voice rising and rising. There’s an iron man figurine in his hand and his other little fist flies up to his face to wipe his tears away.

‘Mama, don’t leave me!’ Jungkook wails. ‘Mama I’ll be good! I won’t be bad a-anymore! I won’t ask to play anymore!’

The door slams shut.

‘Mama!’

Jungkook startles awake, his fists taught on the bedsheets beneath him.

Pupils dilated. Hands shaking. Heavy breaths. Heavy heartbeats.

It’s been a while since he’s had a dream as painfully vivid as this one. Ever since he’d moved in with you and found the pleasure of holding you close every night, his nightmares lessened. It was a rather strange phenomenon but one thing he was sure about: you are his only remedy. He knows for sure now that calling Taehyung was the right decision. The man had told him to sleep on the idea first before confirming because this plan he’d brewed up over a single car ride could change your life – his life – forever. There’s no going back afterwards. The thought makes him queasy but ignites a flame deep in his core as well, because he knows no matter what Seokjin might pull, he’ll be four steps ahead. The prick must’ve thought he wouldn’t act so quick but no, oh no no no, he doesn’t wait around for things to get worse when it comes to you. You’re a woman after all. Your heart is fragile and innocent; it must be protected away from the claws of men that won’t love you the way he does.

It was distressful to bear witness to the filth you’ve been interacting with at your office behind his back. It was his woman that willingly went to Kim Seokjin for coffee. Jungkook couldn’t deny that you’re just as guilty as that prick, but he’s willing to forgive you as your doe eyes told him all he needed to know about your obliviousness.

Seokjin must’ve been nudging his way through your heart every morning you arrive at that suffocating building, preying upon your kindness, your willingness to stimulate a conversation with just about anyone out of curiosity. This eagerness of yours had scared him ever he’d first laid eyes on you. You really have no idea that men melt at any attention you give them.

Jungkook also notices well enough that the rest of the employees walked into the office right on the clock, apathetic about punctuality in contrast. They’re not as responsible as you are, as pure, as lovely. He knows for sure that your useless need to arrive to your job at least ten minutes early gave Seokjin the extra ten minutes to fantasize about you.

His fists shook just thinking about you sharing a cup of coffee with a man that obviously wanted to pull you away from your precious boyfriend who was waiting so diligently at home, alone, frightened.

“Stupid fucking homewreckers…” he mutters underneath his breath, like a mantra.

He runs his fingers through his hair, digging his nails into his scalp as he leans into your side of the bed, inhaling the scent of your perfume and swallowing his pain down to let it settle in his stomach like disease. He curls into a ball, repeating the three words over and over again, head hurting, another voice mingling with his: his mother’s.

Liar!

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut.

Lies! Lies! Lies!

He presses an elbow onto the mattress and propped himself up, looking around the bedroom once more. Birds chirped gingerly outside the window and the freshly laundered curtains swayed gently with the salty wind. How come the room seems so peaceful and silent while he was rotting away on the inside, losing every bet he casted, finding no water in the midst of a desert? You are what made this bedroom feel like home. Your smiles, your touches, your eyes on him and him only. He longed for your warmth to come in this time when he needed you the most.

Jungkook slides his hand towards his neck and pops the first button before tugging the cotton over his head. He relishes in the warmth the golden sunlight offered on his firm skin; a cheap substitute compared to your touch. He looked around the room once more in daze, then softly tossed the shirt on top of the vanity where your perfume collection lay. His eyes caught your dresser and he was immediately stomping over to the heavy cherrywood furniture, his arms pulling the very bottom drawer towards him.

Your underwear lay neatly layered across the interior, color-coded from the lightest shade to the deepest. Jungkook knew your intimates very well for he took upon the responsibility of handwashing the delicates and removing any blood stains during your menstrual cycles. He organized the collection as well and familiarized himself with each color and design, noting which fabric you preferred and which kind of strap dug into your back.

His fingers grazed over the cups; one pearl set, two vanilla sets, one lilac, two beige, two peachy, one pale pink (his favorite), and three black. Off to the side of the well-made sets were the plain white cotton underwear and sport bras you wore on a near daily basis. He counted the pairs, totaling exactly twelve. One of the designer sets is missing and it dawned on him that you wore the subdued golden set he’d seen in Namjoon’s villa when he’d risked sneaking into your room. He couldn’t recount the amount of times he’d traced the gentle embroidery with the tips of his fingers, admired it on your body as the cups hugged your breasts just right.

His spine prickles with sweat when it dawns on him that you wore it to office today. Underneath those modest clothes you wore something extremely special – expensive too – for work. But it simply didn’t make sense to him. You walk around your office all day, scrambling for this and that, on the phone with a client, in a meeting, organizing files after checking basic calculations. It’s not the type of place you’d wear lingerie to unless …

Unless you wanted attention, you wanted someone to notice, someone that’s not your boyfriend, someone new, someone handsome.

Kim Seokjin

Shit, shit, shit!

The evidence was damning. Jungkook couldn’t deny it any longer; you slipped through his fingers just like that. Just some time ago you were feeding him sugared words with how you’ll only love him, want him, take him. Now that the routine is back, you’re looking for someone new!

It was rich of you to avoid his advances in your office when you were strutting for Seokjin. He knows that look on your face when you’re needy; your lips pouty, pupils dilated, cheeks pink, hair slightly tousled like you slipped out of bed. He reveled in the fact that after your little promiscuous phase, he was the only man that had the pleasure of seeing that face. It didn’t sit well that Jin has probably witnessed it at some point these past few days and he felt like an idiot for slacking off his grip on you. He can tell that you haven’t slept with Jin as you couldn’t lie your way out of a paper bag when he interrogates, but it could easily become reality any day.

Jungkook knew one hundred percent for sure that he must follow through the plan he made with Taehyung. He must!

Tears brim in his eyes and he quickly blink it away, but to no avail, they start flooding. Like a child, Jungkook sits in front of the drawer, rubbing his wet eyes with his fists, small whimpers and sobs shaking his nail-marked back. Just when he thought he can be happy with you something always goes wrong. Even when you hurt him, make him sick, turn his insides sour, he doesn’t have the heart to blame you for wanting another man.

It’s alright, Jungkook tells himself, because he’ll be better for you.

It can be anything. Maybe you hated the breakfast he made two mornings ago (because he noticed the way you grimaced at the dried cranberries). Maybe you hated the detergent he used (because it accidentally left a small gray stain in the lining of your favorite blazer). Maybe you hated that he forgot to water the plants regularly and the leaves became limp. He’ll have to set a few alarms to make sure he can avoid making any mistakes. It wasn’t that long since he’d broken Kim Namjoon’s nose (which was well-deserved, in his opinion) so he’s treading on thin ice.

Jungkook slides the drawer back into its rightful compartment and clears his throat, rubbing his face with the heel of his palm before moving into your closet. It was one of his pride and joys; the ability to touch what you will be wearing for the day. The closet had two walls with built-in stainless-steel poles on both walls. The left, yours, the right, his. Compared to his side – consisting mostly of white shirts and various types of jeans – your side was much more colorful and a bit of a mess too. He shook his head, the shadow of a smile gracing his lips. No matter how much he cleans it ends in a mess; such a clumsy girlfriend you are.

Jungkook pushes the coats to one side to reveal the wooden box behind. He scrapes the wood along the matte cabinet below, pushing the black lacquered lid aside with the flick of his thumb along the metal lip. It was a poor organization system but he assumes the box holds enough sentimental value for its beauty to outweigh the inconvenience. After all, he’s seen photographs of your grandmother with the same box in her wrinkled hands – no doubt a precious family heirloom.

Thankfully, he found the papers he needed in the third plastic file (thank goodness you at least portioned the stack) and flipped through the white sheets.

Your recent blood test is perfect, although your iron levels could be a little higher, and the ear infection from last year seems to be the only stumble you’ve had in a while. You had a regular check up with Dr. Kwon two months ago and you are as fit as an average woman can be. You aren’t due for another check up at the gynecologist until December, which gives him a great time to go ahead with his plan. It was a miracle that birth control pills worked better for you than an IUD because Taehyung had explained that there’s no getting around an inserted copper. Who knew that those lovely tablets you take on the daily would be the gateway to heaven?

Taehyung had clarified he’ll need two weeks at most to replicate the pills down to its exact color, taste, and size. Placebo pills aren’t exactly difficult to make but making a batch of fifty would take considerable time and patience amidst a busy schedule. Surpassing security was another issue but Jungkook wasn’t too worried about it when Jimin can pull a few strings with the guys at the dock. If everything goes well, you’ll never be able to leave his side again.

There was only a twenty percent chance of a woman conceiving after an intercourse and Jungkook was running out of time. He’s got competition and Jungkook doesn’t take any challenges lightly, especially one that concerns his place in your life.

If he wants to get you pregnant, he’ll need to be on his best behavior, and most importantly, get the timing right.

He folds the paper at its seams before sliding it into the plastic file. He then places it back into the box before clasping the lid shut. He’s got a considerable amount of research to do to make sure you have the greatest chance of falling pregnant; he can vaguely remember the article of a study finding that women who eat yams during unprotected sex can increase the chance of giving birth to twins but-

A click yanks Jungkook away from his thoughts to the box in his hands. The bottom inch of the box slides to the left in the complete opposite direction of the lid, and it is with great wonder that he discovers there’s a small switch underneath the box hidden from view that had unlatched when he dragged the box towards him.

The first detail that caught his eye was the luxurious red velvet lining that coated all sides of the hidden compartment. He can tell it’s been well-loved by its lack of stains or rips despite having survived an entire generation. The second shocker? The pearl and diamond necklaces, bracelets, rings, and earrings that lay on top of the fabric. He can immediately tell this was something you couldn’t afford on your own. It was impossible that you purchased this with your father’s inheritance money as you had told him before you were saving the money for emergencies or when you want to settle down somewhere for good.

It must be your grandmother’s jewelry.

He bit his trembling bottom lip and uncoiled the heavy diamond necklace from the collection, watching the diamonds glimmer under the bright closet light. God how he wished his bank account didn’t stay so barren every month. Each gem was at least two carats and there was about eighty lining the length of the necklace from one end to the next. He could sink to the bottom of the ocean from its pure weight.

Before he can entertain himself with the thought of seeing you in this necklace with nothing else, like in Titanic, his absolute favorite romantic movie, he caught the initials on the small clasp where the two ends meet.

KNJ

Jungkook squeezed the necklace in his fist so hard the world’s strongest material would have surrendered had he not given into his broken heart. He holds his shaking shoulders, digging the diamonds into his naked biceps, and cried, and cried, and cried.

Your feet ached in your loafers. Having to deal with Jungkook’s jealousy so early in the morning, then getting your head chewed off by your boss in front of your coworkers, and then suffering through the embarrassment of having Seokjin buy you lunch because you lost your debit card had steam blowing out both ears by the time you pulled in the driveway of your apartment complex. The bite mark on your shoulder still hasn’t healed and you are trying your hardest to not let the day’s bitterness get to you by complaining to your boyfriend about it. The mark was oddly romantic but after he threw a nasty glare at your best friend of two decades, you finally understand Jungkook does a lot of unnecessary things out of jealousy under the pretense of romance.

Is he really as kind as you think he is or is he kind because he wants you to be docile and forgiving after every slip up?

You shake your head. You’re tired, you’re hungry, and most of all, you want to cuddle with your cozy boyfriend after a long day. The day is just getting to your head, that’s all.

Just as you lock your car and make your way to the elevator, rain begins to pour, small droplets thundering on the lunchbox in your hand, and then falling all at once. Your feet stomped against the concrete as you break into a job towards the elevator, watching the old man that lived down the hall drying himself inside.

“Please hold!” You call out but the old man only turns to look at you, making no attempt to keep the doors open and so you watch pathetically as the silver doors close and the elevator makes its way up to the same floor you live in.

As if your day couldn’t get worse, the lift is transparent enough for the old prick to watch you get more and more soaked as he makes his way up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You mutter under your breath as you curse not only at the old man but the way the elevator was built to be out in the open. They really couldn’t afford to put a little roof in front of the doors? The security guard in the booth next to the elevator didn’t even stir when lighting flashes, followed by an earth-shattering thunder. The building owner had the money to hire a useless guard but not enough to buy a twenty-dollar picnic umbrella from a thrift shop.

Amazing.

By the time you reach the front door of your apartment, you’re completely soaked from head to toe. You place the lunch box on top of the shoe cabinet and slip out of your loafers, wiping your feet on the door mat. Then you remove your cashmere top and skirt, shivering at the coolness of your apartment. You wring your hair on the door mat – a disgusting habit – in hopes of not bringing any moisture into the house more than you need to.

Grabbing Jungkook’s dry coat from the rack drilled next to the doorsteps, you wrap the warm material around you and make your way into the kitchen, throwing the wet clothes onto the kitchen counter.

“Jungkookie?” You look into the kitchen, expecting him to pop out from behind the polished cabinets with two glasses of wine.

You turn your head from side to side, brows furrowed in confusion as you noticed him crouching near the balcony doors.

“Kookie?” You asked again and only upon stepping closer did you notice the familiar box on the floor next to his feet, your necklaces wrapped around his fingers like snakes.

Faster than lighting you dive for his hand, the rush of madness fueling your veins to the point that you thought about shoving him towards the balcony where rain continued to pour just to hurt him. Jungkook watches you with bloodshot eyes, teeth gritted and fists tight as he pulls the jewelry out of reach.

“Those are mine!” You shouted, reaching for the diamonds as he keeps one free hand on your shoulder, pushing you away.

“You lied to me,” he snarls, his voice quiet yet you can feel his raw anger vibrate in your bones. His voice was unusually low and heavy, a complete one-eighty from the whiny boyfriend you’re used to.

“You had no right going through my stuff, Jungkook,” you glare, angry tears falling onto his lap, “this is my privacy!”

“You fucking lied to me,” he sobs, his voice rising. “I wanted to surprise you and clean your closet so you didn’t have to be stressed in the morning, noona,” he squeezes your shoulder as you reach for the jewelry again. “And I-I dropped your box by accident, I swear it was an accident. I was so afraid you were going to be mad at me-”

You growl, your eyes fixated on the jewelry.

“-but then I see that you’ve been LYING TO ME THIS WHOLE TIME!” He roars and stands, dragging you up by the shoulders with him. “You’ve been hiding EVERYTHING!”

“I didn’t lie,” you seethed, the day’s exhaustion melting off of you, “these are my jewelry, my gifts.”

He scoffs, lips pulling in a sneer. “You’re really keep pretending, noona?”

You’re not sure what aspect of his question peeled your eyes away from his jewel clad fist. It could’ve been the hurt in his voice or the fact that you were both soaked and angry. It could also have been the height difference, the way you notice you’re never going to be able to reach for his fist as he is taller, stronger, bigger.

It wasn’t until you feel the sting on your palm that you realized you’d slapped him across the face, silencing the room until all you can hear is his soft little hiccups. You’ve never laid your hands on another person until Jungkook came along. Hell, you threw an entire tantrum in grade school when riding a horse because you didn’t want to spank its behind to make it run. You’re not sure where this cruelty come from or how it manifested into a disease that grew in your hands. The last time you hit Jungkook, he was doing everything he can to protect you.

You only realize now that he was trying to do the same. In his own way, through his own insecurities, he was trying to rid Kim Namjoon’s fingerprints from your history. It wasn’t his fault that he’s blinded by rage because at the end of the day, it’s because he cares.

He loves you, and you take advantage of it.

No wonder Namjoon left you.

You’re selfish.

You’re blind.

You’re poison.

You dare to raise your eyes back up to his face from your hands and immediately sink into the blackness of his eyes. Regret immediately claims you like an eager death.

“J-Jungkook, I-I’m-” you can’t speak, can’t think, can’t respond.

Jungkook’s tears steadily fall while his lips are pulled taught. If you can touch his heart, you’re sure it’s pounding against his ribcage.

“…It’s never enough for you is it?” He asks in a voice that you’ve never heard before. “No matter how long I wait for you to come around, no matter how I’ll kill for you, how I’ll give you anything – anything – you ask for…you’re never going to love me as much as you love him, huh? You’d rather love a cheater than someone who will do any-fucking-thing you ask like a servant.” He grits his teeth. “Then go. Go back to that prick and don’t come looking when want my company but not me.”

Jungkook throws the necklace into the box laying haphazardly next to the open balcony door and turns, walking towards the shared bedroom to, you assume, fetch his clothes.

You shake your head desperately, your mouth unable to move on its own. “Kookie I’m-”

Before you can wrap your head around his words you’re running to him, wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You were exhausted beyond belief, angry beyond belief, desperate beyond belief to keep the only light in your life that you keep dimming and dimming over again like you’re determined to sabotage your happiness. You don’t deserve him yet you’re selfish enough to reel him back him, choosing every weapon of choice: begging, kissing, touching, crying.

“Jungkook I’m sorry, oh my god, I’m sorry,” you cry, tightening your arms around his naked chest as you shake, cheek pressed up against his cold skin. “I’m sorry I h-hit you I’m sor-ry th-that I was upset, I didn’t mean to I swear Kookie please believe me, I love you, I love you so much, I’m sorry,” you whimper, holding still even when he attempts to shrug you off of him. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re not enough you are more than enough, you’re everything I can ever ask for, I love you, god I love you and I’m sorry Kookie please, I’m sorry.”

You’re not sure if you’ll survive if he leaves. Everyone in your life leaves eventually; Namjoon, Yori, your parents, your friends, everyone. Jungkook is your pillar and your giver; a giver of dreams and affection. Your boyfriend with a heart of gold that is as fragile as glass yet it beats everyday for you. You’re a fucking fool to break someone so kind just because you’re having a bad day.

Jungkook has had his own share of bad days yet he comes home with a smile just for you. His meals were cooked full of love, his caresses on your scalp full of care and concern. How could you think about hitting someone as precious as him over a few diamonds and pearls? Are you really so vain that you’re willing to step over the person who loves you the most just to hold onto expensive memories? He’s worth more than everything in that little box of yours.

“Baby,” you sniffle, “I love you…I don’t care what you want to do with it…throw it away, toss it over the balcony…I don’t care.” You close your eyes, breathing in the scent of rain dripping down his broad back. “I just want you.” You worship his skin through a kiss.

Jungkook keeps his lips pulled taught, eyes narrowed on the doorknob to the master bedroom. He’s going to end it once it for all, this maddening habit of yours of hanging onto other men. Seokjin is a fucking prick that wants to get into your pants. Namjoon is a filthy rich brat that bought your heart years before. He’s had enough of it.

He’ll make sure today will be the last day you’ll hit him over a man. Today will be the last day you’ll think of him as more than just a lovesick puppy that wags his tail for your entertainment.

He’ll show you that he’s a man.

“You better keep your word this time,” he turns and you take a small step back, knees trembling when he cocks his head to one side and glares are you through his inky wet bangs. “Because you don’t want to know what will happen if I find anything, and I mean anything, noona, that belongs to him in our apartment. Do you hear me?” He demands, making you nod shakily as you back away after every step he takes towards you until the bottom of your shoulder blades brush against the kitchen counter. “I’ll drain that pig over a bucket if you put him over me ever again, do you know that?”

You nod again, hanging onto every word.

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes or no?”

“Y-yes!” You put your hands on his chest. “There’s really nothing left, Kookie-ah, I promise, I-”

He hushes you with his lips, tilting your head to one side to deepen the kiss. His tongue, slippery and wet, snakes over yours with the intent to harm, the muscle pulling your mouth painfully close to his that your lips would surely bruise the next morning. It doesn’t matter. You’re willing to take what you can get because you’ve come so close to losing everything tonight.

All because of one bad workday.

You wrap your arms around his neck while he scoops you up in his arms, helping you wrap your legs around his waist so your pulsing heat can rest against his taught stomach. He undoes the small knot you secured the coat with and push the heavy fabric away from your shoulders, watching you shimmy your way out.

Cute.

He used to pepper your face with kisses, giggling when you brush your nose over his jaw and tongue his ear to tickle him as he laughs. Not tonight; tonight, he’ll make you work for it, let you walk around in his shoes.

You cup his chiseled face in your hands, admiring how angelic he looks even when his furrowed brows remain as a residue of his rage. Your cookie, your heart, your bunny. You brush your thumbs over his cheeks, admiring the very small scar on his left cheekbone that told the public that no, he’s not a walking sculpture but a human being who might as well be Rodin’s ideal muse. He’s ethereal from afar and alien up close. The way his eyes held so much power, like the edges of a supernova black hole distorting your reality until all you can focus on is the darkness that lulls you inside its abyss.

“I waited for you my whole life,” he whispers and you almost didn’t hear over the rain rattling the open balcony doors. He leans his inflamed cheek into your palm. “I don’t want to be punished for it.”

Jungkook closes his eyes when you lean into him to rest your forehead against his. He heaves a sigh, exhausted too you imagine, and nudges his face closer until his lips brush yours. Even when he wants you to work for his affection, he couldn’t help it but steal a kiss. Your rejection from this morning still damaged his pride.

“I’m the one who deserves to be hurt, not you.” You snake your hands down his chest to his belt and then back up towards his heart. “I’m n-not,” you swallow, “I’m not usually like this, I’ve just had a bad day.” You cast your eyes away. “I’m sorry I l-lied to you about throwing everything that belonged to him away. The necklaces were given to me after I was engaged and I just…I don’t know why I kept it still even though I’ll never wear it but I just…”

You sigh, your watery eyes holding his steel gaze. “I love you. I-I don’t want to lose you Jungkookie,” your lips tremble and you tighten your hold around his neck. “Please don’t leave me…I know I’ve hurt you but please don’t leave, I don’t know what I’ll do,” you tuck your face under his jaw, “if you leave me.”

Jungkook presses his cheek against your wet hair and inhales softly through his nose. He knows you don’t realize how easy it is for him to play on your fears. Your fear of people – of men you love – leaving you, your fear of losing control, doing something you don’t mean. Your perfectionist nature was so easy to work with that he almost wants to toy with you a little more. For a brief moment he enjoys having the upper hand in the relationship. Sometimes it’s exhausting to always be the one that feared for an ugly fight that can lead to the end. It feels healthier to show this side of him a little more so you understand your privilege; after all, it’s not everyday that you’ll find a man who’ll give you a baby just to keep you close.

“There’s nothing I won’t do for you,” you snivel softly in his ear, “I love you so much.”

Jungkook tightens his hold around your waist and drags his feet towards the bedroom door. You hold still, fingers weaving through the ends of his hair.

“Can you please say it back?” You begged pathetically, unable to take his silence any longer. You missed your sweet whiny, clingy, giggly boyfriend, the boyfriend that couldn’t go a single day without telling you how much he loves you.

Your heart pounds in your chest when you realize he’s still upset.

His strong hands unravel around your hips and he pulls you away, setting your body on the soft, messy mattress. You wipe the moisture from your eyes with the back of your hand and watch him straddle your thighs between his knees, placing the lightest amount of pressure to keep you down. You were still waiting to hear the three magical words but they don’t come.

You messed up this time.

Jungkook pulls the straps of your brassiere down your shoulders, letting you bend at the elbows to bring the embroidered material down to your navel. He reaches behind the curve of your waist and unlatches the bra, throwing it to the side with one hand while the other reaches behind him and tug your panties down your bottom with a harsh tug. You lift your hips against him and let him roll your panties down your thighs, over your knees, and down your ankles. You’ve been in this position many times, but you’ve never felt as naked as you do now.

“What do you want me to do?” You ask with wide, oblivious eyes, wanting to do just about anything to please him. Jungkook merely shakes his head.

“This isn’t for you.”

It hurt more than you thought hearing those words fall from his sweet, pink lips.

He presses his nose against your jugular and nibble on the skin, teeth sharp and painful against the epidermis. You suck in a breath and bite your tongue as he moves to do the same to the opposite side of the neck, meanwhile peeling your legs open to settle his core against your wet center. Your hands stay still on his hard shoulders, moving along with his ministrations to keep yourself grounded to his touch.

A breathy moan brushes past his ears when he latches his teeth onto your left nipple, tonguing the bud into the swollen tissue before wrapping his mouth around the areola. You squirm underneath his body, body warming, ears rushing with blood. His wet jeans rub against your inner thighs to remind you that he’s been near the balcony for god knows how long. He must’ve been so cold, so heartbroken, so betrayed, while you were at work rolling your eyes to Jin poking fun at his jealousy.

Jungkook pulls back to eye the bite mark on your shoulder and the nudge his way towards the opposite breast, practicing the same caresses with the tip of his tongue. You can tell he’s purposely making every flick of tongue as painful as possible for you. You don’t argue because you know you’ll never learn from this mistake if he doesn’t drill it into you.

“You belong to me, noona.”

You exhale and look down at his hands moving towards his belt, tugging the leather apart and pulling the silver button open along with the zipper beneath. It was with great relief that you realize your baby boy is back, even if it’s for the briefest moment, his voice desperate and whiny, just the way you liked it.

You watch the veins on his forearm protrude as he grasps his hardness at the base and smears his dripping precum over the surface. He watches you with half-lidded eyes, breaths shallow as he jacks off to the image of you spread so shamelessly for him, bent knees pulled apart while you pet your swollen nipples with one hand, the other laying limp next to your head in surrender.

“Every part of you is mine,” he whimpers, cheeks flushed, his wet bangs rocking back and forth with every tug of his cock. “You only get to wear what I buy you.”

You nod in agreement. “Yes…”

The loveliest groan escapes his lips when he pushes his weeping tip against your clit, rocking his hips slowly to watch his slick drip onto your thick and curly pubic hair. His eyes follow along your taught stomach up to your navel where, once the time is right, he’ll see it stretch slowly when his child grows inside you. He can already imagine how needy you will be as an expecting mother, how he’ll have the pleasure to palm your aching breasts filled with milk. He thought it was impossible to be as hard as he is already, but the pulsing in his cock hammers blood through the tip and a small spurt of cum falls onto your clit.

He doesn’t give enough time for you to prepare for his length as he rams the head of his cock into your slit, and fucks your body up to the edge of the bed where he holds the side of the mattress and crashes his soaked hips down to your center. You choke on a moan and a scream, fingers grasping his fists as you lift your hips in a bow to accommodate all of him.

“Yes, baby,” you cry, “use me all you want. I’m yours!”

Sweat sticks to his temples and you struggle to wipe away the perspiration when he’s ramming into you so hard your vision blackens. From the tips of your fingers to the ends of the toes, your body vibrates with uncontrollable fire. The head of his cock strikes into your silken walls with the intent to rip you apart from the inside. He’s dripping steadily in you, lacquering your walls with white opalescent cum that feels as scorching hot as his skin.

“Fuck…fuck,” he grips the edge of the mattress harder, pulling his hips back until the tip of his cock rests in your cavern, and then slamming himself inside all over again. Your fluids squelch as he enters, dripping over the zipper of his jeans. “It feels so good, noona, you make me feel so good,” he rests his forehead against your bitten shoulder, his hips moving on its own like a piston. Not even a line of coke will feel as good as your pussy does clamping down on his throbbing erection. He swears he can feel your cervix trembling against him.

“I’ll always make you feel good,” you promise, cupping his face while he continues to pout at how little threshold he has for pleasure. You can tell when he’s about to lose control by the way he clenches his eyes shut and the veins on his neck stands for attention. He empties inside with a growl, grinding his hips completely down onto your sex to keep his cum from dripping out. He stays still only for a few seconds to catch his breath.

You couldn’t capture his lips when he pulls away to sit back on his heels and watch the base of his cock pulse slowly until he softens. He pins your knees up to your chest and pulls out before clamping his mouth over your pussy gleaming with his fluids. He gathers the cum between your folds, across your labia and underneath your clit onto the tip of his tongue. Then, spreading your folds apart with his thumb and index finger, he spits onto your hole, his tongue pushing the fluids in further while you squirm and curl your toes into the sheets.

“Jungkook,” you moan in embarrassment, your hand darting up to your face to cover your red cheeks.

As if you couldn’t feel more naked, he chuckles. “You taste the best when you’re shy, noona.”

You catch your breath while watching him tug his soaked jeans down his thighs, the stubborn material slipping off only when he rips the material an inch down its center. Scared that he might still be upset, you pull your body onto your elbows, then onto your knees. It was only when you can sense his forgiveness in the air that you trail your fingers up his arms and towards his shoulders.

“Can you make me cum too?” You tempt him, arching your back while you place his palm onto your heavy breast.

He nods gingerly, captivated by your pink nose and cheeks. You’re so beautiful when you cry; Jungkook has to fight back asking you to call him a good boy. He has the woman of his dreams wanting him to touch her, he couldn’t ask for any other luxury.

“Only if you say please.”

You shake your head, suppressing a smile when he sticks his tongue through his cheek at the rejection. Riling him up when he’s pissed is not the best thing to do, but the temptation was hard to resist. Taking back your status as his lover, caretaker, and owner, you push him gently back onto the mattress and throw one leg over his chest, wiggling your bottom while you palm his inner thighs and dig your nails into his hard muscle.

“Please, baby?”

Jungkook traces his thumb down your ass and circles your clit ever so slowly. You wiggle your hips again and sink your mouth down onto his semi-hard cock without warning, making him jump out of his skin and snap his back away as you chase after him. You use your own slick leftover on his solid length to lube your middle finger and rim his tight hole.

“G-god, noona!” He throws his head back into the mattress with a thump, sweat prickling its way down his abdomen, down his happy trail, and into the crook of his thighs.

There’s my baby boy.

You roll your tongue over the tip and keep your teeth tucked as you swallow him. With his curved erection, it was difficult to swallow without triggering your gag reflex but damn it you just wanted to please your boyfriend. Clamping down on the inside of his thighs with your nails to keep him spread, you pull back and spit down his length, regaining a sense of clarity when his tongue curves into your folds once more. If it wasn’t for Jungkook hooking his thick arms around your thighs to keep you locked in place, you would’ve fallen onto his face.

When your knees buckle he pull away, prolonging your orgasm with just the right amount of pressure in your womb to keep you aching.

You grip him hard in a fist and move up and down, pulling his foreskin taught. Your tongue dips between the gap of his balls and circles his tight, blushing hole. His choked whimper tells you all you need to know about where your tongue needed to press. Just when Jungkook tilts his head to the side to see your hair fall over your shoulders, he feels your nail curl slowly into his weeping slit. You look behind when you feel his gaze.

“Does this feel good, baby?” You inquire with the most innocent expression you can muster. He would have came immediately if he wasn’t so enamored with your perfect pussy so close to his tongue.

“D-Don’t, uh, tease me.”

You giggle, watching his eyes glaze over when you pump him harder, the small squelches from his cum making your insides clench with glee.

“Let me watch you cum first,” you whisper and keep pumping whilst grinding your hips down onto his fingers.

Jungkook gathers as much strength as he can and slips his middle and ring finger inside you, unraveling only when he feels his fluids resting on your milky walls. His breath hitches in his throat and every muscle in his body tenses, spurts of his milk catching in your hair, on your lips, and jaw.

You could look at his face forever; his rosy lips parted, the same shade as his cheeks, overwhelmed tears panting his thick lashes, his eyebrows furrowed, his bangs glossy and wavy around his face. Jungkook was an addiction.

Just the sight of him alone makes your wet sleeve tighten around his fingers. You follow his high, reaching down to circle your clit slowly as you grind down on his fingers.

Jungkook’s eyes widen upon realization and he curls his fingers inside, helping you reach that place between reality and an illusion. The warmth, the lightness, the nirvana that an orgasm from a lover brings you – irreplaceable.

“Kookie…” you sigh, your bones melting on the spot under his loving stare.

You lay your cheek on his thigh, catching your breath first, before crawling towards him to nestle your face in his shoulder.

“I love you more,” he tells you at last, bringing you back to earth.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and brings him down to your chest. He pulls your body close with one hand on your waist and wraps his mouth around your breasts, suckling softly, moaning his forgiveness into your skin.

Your breathing steadies as you listen to the rain and the soft nibbling of his teeth around your bud. You’re not sure when you succumbed to the exhaustion that nestled deep in your psyche, but by the time Jungkook finish showering your breasts with the love and attention they deserve, you lay limp in his arms.

It would be so easy, Jungkook thought, watching your naked chest rise and fall as he thumbs the faint trail of veins on your neck, to dig his knife into your throat and drain you. It was captivating to watch as he dragged his fingertips across the stretch of muscles underneath, a smile playing on his lips as he watched you struggle to keep yourself awake. If you opened your eyes, you can still see your glistening juices painted on his bottom lip, his pink tongue darting out to take the remaining sweetness back into his mouth as if he couldn’t bear the thought of wasting a drop of your honey. Your skin was smooth to the touch, only scars from hormonal acne during your youth remaining on the back of your arms and back. A musky scent of sex and cologne drifts around you like the humid summer air of Seoul.

Jungkook snakes his hand up your chest and feels your heart beating under his palm. He then slumps down on the cotton pillow next to you, heaving a sigh of satisfaction, lifting the sheets up to cover your weakened body.

Jungkook lifted his hand up to your pink cheeks and swiped the stray tears that stained down your temples. He leans forward and slides his tongue along your lips, groaning when your lips move sluggishly against him in an attempt to please him, even in your sleep. It made him feel powerful, wanted, needed.

Once again, you’re his to keep.

As long as you’re a prisoner to his heart, he’ll be your servant and your loving boyfriend who will always serve you like a goddess. He’ll remain pious, as long as you remain his woman only. Through fights, through sex, through tears, through laughter, he’ll etch away every memory you held of other men until the only thing you’ll see is his rabbit smile.

“Welcome home, noona.”

“I really don’t understand why we couldn’t do this later.” The plump woman groaned, walking down the carpeted hallway next to a man that was at least half a foot taller. She wore a black wrap dress with a matching black coat, her hands deep in her pockets. Her cheeks were soft and round, the lovebird blush on the cheekbones giving her a youthful color that had her lover soppy on the inside. She looked rather normal and plain compared to her modelesque partner who stood out like a sore thumb with his lab coat and turtleneck. It would have been a sweet date if they weren’t on the way to blackmail two men.

Her eyes dart from one side to another, beady pupils following the sound of the air conditioner. Now where was room again? Hong Kong really is a maze.

“Meerkat Manor will come again next Tuesday.”

“Oh that’s rich, Tae” she roll her eyes, “as if you’re not working six days a week, every week of the year. This was the only time we could watch it together without you passing out every other episode.”

He stays quiet, absorbing every detail of the hallway from the tacky mock-chandelier light fixtures to the royal purple doorknobs. The building reeked of cheap prostitutes and boxed wine.

Jungkook really has him flying to such an unsavory place just to stop a man in South Korea from developing a crush on this precious ‘noona’ of his. God, the things he does for his little brother. First, the pregnancy, and now Kim Seokjin’s men. He’ll dream of retirement when he’s dead.

“Keep your tone light and remember to use these if you need to.” He tapped the side of her thigh where his scalpels are strapped. “Play it safe.”

Taehyung has always had a sharp sense of direction, which always irked his lover for reasons unknown. In a job like this, no one can risk not knowing. It’s the survival of the fittest.

The door to Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi’s apartment was two doors down from where they were standing. There’s very little room for failure.

Taehyung unstrapped the pistol from the back of his dress pants and loaded the gun, keeping it pointed down and away from his lover. He stood a foot away, back glued to the wall as she knocked once, and then twice, on the wood.

“Excuse me,” she yelped in Cantonese, giving another hard knock. “Is there a Jung and Min here?”

The lock unlatches after a few seconds and a man whose voice can only be described as tired and smoky, responded.

“We don’t have any money,” he said in broken Cantonese. “Um…uh, room service…uh…no need, okay?”

The woman tilted her head at him and smiled, noticing that he is, in fact, armed by the way his cheap blazer couldn’t hide the bulky leather gun-strap underneath. She shrugged off her coat and hiked one side of her dress upwards, inquiring if there are…other services, he might need.

Yoongi, looking back and forth from his boyfriend making eggs in the kitchen to the woman standing with one side of her dress hiked, scratches his ears in frustration.

“Um…the service,” he started in Cantonese and groaned, reminding himself to scour for a new apartment in a better town. He was already late to a meeting with the district police.

It was only when he took a step forward to kick the woman out for good that he saw a figure in the corner of his eyes. He was only able to take one glimpse at the man – the aristocratic nose, the blank expression, the black neatly-combed hair – to realize something didn’t feel right.

That was when the woman grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his face onto her bare knee, a resounding crack giving her the confidence she needed to slip her scalpel out and hold it against his jugular.

“Move, and I’ll slit your throat.”

Taehyung quickly tugged the sides of Yoongi’s blazer upwards and stuffed both pistols in his back pocket, keeping his lover in charge as he walks into the apartment with an ease of a husband coming back from work.

“Hello, officer Jung.”

Yoongi can vaguely hear the sound of a pan dropping from in the kitchen, and it was with great relief that the woman holding him at knife-point kicked him back into the apartment. He held his broken nose with both hands and rolled inside, kneeling at the doorstep as he stayed glued to the floor. The carpet was doing a great job of sucking up his fluids. His eyes, however, remains on the gun pointed towards his boyfriend, dressed in a simple pair of pajamas and an apron, who began to walk towards the armed man.

“What do you want?” Hoseok asked, keeping his hands in the air. “Did Li send you?”

Taehyung shook his head. “I have no ties with your associates.”

“T-Then what’s this-?” Hoseok asked again, eyes widening when he realized Yoongi’s nose is crushed. His partner splutters blood over the house slippers he kept next to the entrance to the bathroom.

“I need you to stop working with Kim Seokjin.”

Yoongi feels the scalpel press against his skin harder, a bead of blood falling onto his shaky hands.

“Jin?”

Taehyung nodded. “Yes.”

Hoseok focused on the man’s face, then Yoongi, then the knife pressed against Yoongi’s neck.

He nods eagerly, agreeing on the spot. “I-I will, just let Yoongi go, I promise I will.”

Taehyung pulls back the hammer with his thumb, causing Yoongi to struggle as he trembles on the floor. Hoseok’s eyes begin to water but he keeps his gaze focused on Taehyung’s uneven eyelids. This wasn’t the time to show any weaknesses.

“This means there will be no contact with you and Kim Seokjin whatsoever. No emails, phone calls, or letters. You will not send him information about anyone, dead or alive.”

“You’ll have my word.” Hoseok nods.

“And one more thing,” Taehyung walks over to the laptop settled next to the bed on the nightstand, tapping it once before moving the gun back to position. “I want you to email Seokjin with my exact words before you cut all ties.”

Taehyung pushes the barrel against Hoseok’s shoulder and rests his index finger on the trigger.

“Tell him…if he minds his own business,” the barrel pushes harder, “he’ll have two working arms.”

Bang

“Did you hear something?”

He glances nervously at the open bedroom door. You sit up on the bed, shivering when the air conditioning rattles awake and rain continues to pound against the bedroom windows. Jungkook groans while he shuts off the storm alert on his cellphone.

“It’s just the wind, Kookie, come back to bed.”

He rolls towards you and places his head on your lap, his lips pushed against the small pouch of fat on your lower belly. It was obvious neither of you are getting a full night sleep. Sex didn’t nearly solve as many problems as they wish it had. Not to mention, guilt hung around your neck like a stone every time you catch a glimpse of his slightly swollen cheek.

Jungkook had been awake for most of the night, his heart refusing to calm because he’s utterly, completely, absolutely happy. He notices that you couldn’t sleep much tonight either, a sign that he’s gotten under your skin, but he continues to worship your body every time your breathing evens and you curl against his side. He kisses every inch – from the space between your fingers to the crook of your legs. He palms your shapely body with the heel of his hand, massaging his way down your waist and stretchmarked hips.

He prays that when the time comes, you’ll bless him with a child that would hammer the last nail to this cage he built for you to stay in. He can just imagine your belly stretching farther and farther as the months pass. He wonders if you’ll taste just as sweet on his tongue, or maybe, you’ll be even sweeter? It was thrilling to prepare for this new future. He’s not sure what to expect as you are his first and only love. You might be scared at first, you might even break his heart a little when you panic, but it’s nothing the relationship can’t withstand. You are a responsible woman and he’s the love of your life; isn’t that all you need in a relationship? Just love?

A child will be a proof of that. The baby will be just as intelligent and educated as you but also as caring and protective like him; a perfect split between two loving parents. It would be a little difficult for a few years to take care of a baby and he would have to deal with receiving only half your attention. However, he knows it’ll be worth the exhaustion in the long run.

He’ll finally have the family of his dreams.

But first, he needs to settle the foundation to begin your journey towards motherhood. A little dose of empathy here and there, a little bit of his story sprinkled in between, a little bit more terror, more vulnerability on his part. He’ll have to expose a few unpleasant things so you’ll understand that he does have a justifiable reason for the pouty, clingy mess that he is.

“I just-” Jungkook hesitates, sitting up on the edge of the bed, but you sense his nervousness immediately and pull him closer.

“What is it?” You swallow. Please don’t be mad at me, Jungkook. Please.

“Storms scare me,” he confesses. “I hate loud noises…but you always make me feel safe here though. You’re going to protect me, aren’t you?” His attempt to lighten the mood was pathetic to say the least, but you don’t mind. You couldn’t take the silence when you startle awake every hour, finding Jungkook awake every time, staring at the mirror cabinet in the bathroom. Each time you succumb to subconscious, you couldn’t help but worry that maybe he’s thinking about leaving you in the morning. Maybe he thinks keeping you isn’t worth it.

Your lips pull into an uncertain smile and the corner of his sleepy eyes crinkle at the sight. “I’d do anything for my baby.”

“Tch,” he lightly slaps your arm away.

You sensed that he was shy about his fears and drops the subject in hopes of not embarrassing him any further. However, you needed to address the elephant in the room and Jungkook couldn’t meet your eyes knowing that you’re on the verge of tears yet again.

While you were bathing in fear, he was so happy inside he could die.

“Kookie…” you turn to him again, your eyes roaming over his long, thick lashes. “I’m sorry for everything.”

He catches his bottom lip under his rabbit teeth and cast his eyes towards the floor. Taking the sheets with him, he covers your bare body and takes your fingers in his hands, bringing it up to his lips. You watch him linger on your ring finger – where Namjoon’s ring once adorned – and flash you a knowing smile, swallowing the pain down.

“I…” he sighs, not sure how to approach the subject. It was rare to see such vulnerability on your part that he couldn’t help but take advantage of your kindness. Just a little though, just enough for you to keep that guilt alive no matter where you go and who you talk to.

“I wish you didn’t have to hit me, noona.” He swallows once more, knowing this is the only chance he’ll have to tell you the truth. He wants to sew that guilt deep inside your heart so you’ll never dare to hurt him again. “I know you were angry…and I know I’m just as unreasonable when I’m angry…but I don’t want to end up like my parents.”

You place a comforting hand on his back despite the heavy pressure weighing your heart down to your stomach. Jungkook throws a cautious glance at your face and continues when he sees he has your full support.

He focuses his eyes first on the alarm clock flashing four with bold red numbers, then gathers the courage to meet your eyes.

“My mom…um….my mom used to hit dad and I for most of my childhood,” he confesses, voice small and shaky yet you can sense the strength it took for him to say it out loud. It doesn’t make it any less easier for you to swallow the guilt. You’ve been physical with someone who’d suffered unimaginable trauma at a young age and in both times that you’ve hit him, his thoughts were all about you. If someone offered to break every bone in your body at the moment, you’d take the deal.

“He wasn’t the best either b-but um…” he takes your free hand in his, shakily brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. He squirms in discomfort, licking his lips every now and then while he tries to find his words. “I-I promised myself I won’t end up like him.”

You pull his head in your chest, letting him rest his weight. He sniffles then, shuddering when you wipe away the stray tears that glistened in the glow that the streetlights outside offered. He can feel that warmth again – your love – that’s created all for him. This is where he belongs, this is where he’s meant to be.

“I’m so sorry, baby, oh my god…I’m sorry.” You coo, wrapping your arms around him at last. His shoulders are too wide for your arms, but you take what you can get. You need to learn that you’re not the only person with boundaries, with a history of trauma, in this relationship. Your sweet boyfriend had been suffering silently behind your back too.

“I’ll never, ever, lay my hands on you like that, Kookie. I mean it. I-” you blink back yours tears, knowing the texts from his mom in your memory never settled comfortably, “I’ll never hurt you again. God J-Jungkook, I can’t imagine-”

He nods, nuzzling his cheeks closer to your heart. “It’s okay, noona, you didn’t know-”

“No!” You shake your head. “It’s not okay. It’s n-not okay for me to do that. I’m supposed to take care of you yet I…I’ve done nothing but hurt you. Oh baby,” you brush his bangs back and place a tender kiss on his hairline. He wraps his arms around you in return, rubbing his cheeks into your naked breast.

“I’m not lying when I said I’ve waited my whole life for you.” He exhales, letting you comb his hair gently through your fingers. “You’ve given me everything I’ve always dreamed of. It still feels like…like a prank sometimes. When are you going to disappear…when are you going to fall for someone else…I get scared when I think of things like that.”

“Why would I leave you, Kookie?” You hold him tighter.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know…I think I’m just scared it’ll eventually happen because I-I know I have issues and I’m not that educated and I’m-“

“Stop!” You grab his face, holding both his cheeks in your hands. “Don’t say things like that about yourself! Understand?”

He holds your wrists. “Noona-”

“I mean it. I don’t care about your job or your past. I. Don’t. Care! I love you and only you. No matter how blind I am to it sometimes,” You peck him softly on his chin, “you’re mine to take care of and mine to love. There’s no other man that has my heart.”

Jungkook’s fists shakes. Endure it a little longer, don’t let her see how happy you are. Endure it!

He nods eagerly. “Do you promise?”

“Of course, baby, of course I promise.”

His eyes glow. “Truly? You won’t hit me, won’t leave me, won’t look at another man?”

You roll his earlobes in between your fingers and capture his lips, sealing the promise. “Never…I’m all yours. I want to care for you and be yours, always.”

Like music to his ears.

He sighs in relief. “Oh, noona…”

He wanted to relive this moment forever and hear those words repeat over and over again in his head. He wanted to call Taehyung and tell him that he finally found his family. After all those years of walking home from school with bruises, starving on the streets, sleeping in a bedroom that smelled of urine, he reaches paradise. If he thought he’d reached heaven on the day he swore to kill for you, he doesn’t know how to describe his frame of mind now.

“Can I…can I ask you for a favor?”

You straddle his lap, wanting every inch of your body to be encased in his heat. “Anything, baby.”

“Can I call you mommy?” He pouts, encircling his arms around your waist. “It helps, you know? W-with, um…with some of these thoughts I have…”

The small bout of silence instantly turns his stomach sour. Did he go too far? Was this not the time to play out the fantasies he had in his head? Before he had the chance to curse himself for ruining the moment, you squirm into his lap. An invitation.

“It’s okay baby,” you reassure him, seeing the stars in his eyes glow even more. He’s ecstatic, in awe even, and if his rapid heartbeat didn’t tell you his adorable expression sure did. “You’re my baby boy.”

He crashes his lips onto your swollen ones and press you down onto the bed. His fingers tangle in your hair first then with your fingers before he pushes your arms above your head, his eagerness resulting in a clumsy effort to find his place between your legs. You giggle and play your part, whispering sweet praises while he tells you how much he loves you, how you’re meant for him, how you’re his soulmate, a lover, a friend, a confidant, a mother.

“Mom-my,” he whimpers, voice cracking. He chants, over and over again, unable to get enough of your caresses and praises. “You make me feel so good, mommy, you’re so beautiful, all mine…mommy…mommy…mommy…”

You feel the sting of his penetration when he impatiently enters, just needing to be inside you and feel your pulse. He’s never looked so surreal above you, face coated with sweat and tears, cheeks as rosy as the first plum blossom in spring. He’s a walking sculpture carved from the loveliest marble. Your needy baby boy, your Jungkookie, your boyfriend with a heart made of glass.

It wasn’t until much later in the morning, when the sun has risen and the rain ceased, that you spend your own time worshipping him. Your heart aches at the thought of someone, especially the parents that were supposed to love and support him, laying their hands on someone so pure and sweet. You think back to the times you asked for his baby pictures or his past and finding him uncomfortably shifting his gaze away or avoiding the subject altogether. It must have been painful for him to endure your interrogations and your passive aggressive behavior; you finally realize now that he wasn’t annoyed with you but was afraid of your judgement. It must’ve been a habit for him to think of the worst-case scenario. He didn’t grow up in a safe place.

Actually, he didn’t grow up with a home at all.

A shack somewhere in Busan with no running water or electricity or a school that was close enough for a child to walk safely to. Just by watching the polite way he spoke to people at his gallery and admiring his ethereally handsome appearance, no one could guess he was a victim of neglect and abuse.

It wasn’t until he brings you to the balcony, where the morning wind blows through his deep chocolate hair and the smell of orange blossoms whisk around your body, that he settles you onto his lap and brings your fingers over the small scar on his cheekbones.

“I think you should know where this came from, noona…”

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