#like ''oh woe is me i am conflicted i care for him but i am betrothed to two others and i do love them so but god they left me in the dust i | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

huenjin · 3 years

Text

domestic disturbance.

summary — there's a murder in the richest neighborhood of seoul and there's no better detectives to find the killer besides you and bang chan. or, in which you and chan have to be a pretend couple to catch a killer.

pairing — bang chan x reader

genre — fluff, crime, smut | detectives!au, fwb!au, fake marriage!au

word count — 21k words.

warnings — mentions of crime, ie, blood, killings, (one line of) gruesome murder scene, language, along with a whodunnit plot, mentions of cheating (not the main leads), and smut | smut specifications under the cut

smut specs. — established fwb!au where they know each other's limits already, dirty talk, praise kink, grinding, marking and hickeys, choking/asphyxiation, nipple play, breast play, sex in multiple places (on the table, against the wall, on the bed), blowjob, face fucking, deepthroating, cunnilingus, clitoral stimulation, cervical stimulation, edging, overstimulation, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering, creampie, size kink. oh well!

note — this is part of the christmas collab i’m hosting with few other mutuals. i hated this fic and then fell in love madly with it, so yes, this is my baby. there is a plot and so it’s like 50% fluff, 30% crime and 20% smut, okay? i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i loved writing it! much love x

"Did I have to come in today?"

"Mayor Arsehole came in," you hear from the phone and you quickly hop off your bed, throwing the phone back on to the bed after putting it on speaker and rushing to the washroom to grab your toothbrush.

"What does he want now?"

You squeeze the end of the toothpaste carefully, pushing a good amount of toothpaste onto the bristles of the brush before shoving it into your mouth, brushing against the enamel of your teeth quickly and you rush back to your bed.

Chan, on the other end of the phone, plays with the pen on his table, clicking the piston on the top of the mechanical device. He watches the Mayor move his hands dramatically and the Captain trying to make the Mayor understand.

He gets back to you. Dropping the pen, he sits up straight, "Anyhow, come in quick. My gut tells me that they'll call us in, so make it quick. Wait—"

You rush back to the bathroom in a hurry, spitting into the sink and turning the tap on, quickly cleaning your mouth and your face, following a small skincare routine that fits your busy schedule.

"What?" You say after forever and Chan screams, "I knew it."

"Did you just wake up?"

"Yes," you respond, and pull your clothes up from your body and down by the side of the bed mindlessly.

"Holy shit," Chan laughs. "It's nine. Han's going to be so mad. He thinks you're in office already." You hear his chair reclining back and you roll your eyes. "Plus," his voice lowers and you stop in your tracks, hand midway to grab your faux leather jacket.

"What now?"

"I didn't even keep you occupied last night," Chan teases. "Imagine if I did."

"I'm hanging up, you bastard," you yell and Chan laughs, his laughter resonating through your small room and making you smile softly.

"Come quickly, little minx," and he hangs up. You hop back onto your bed, and pulling the pair of thigh high boots you always wear from underneath the wooden framing of the bed, you bury your feet into them and look at your phone.

Bang Christopher Chan is perhaps the only reason you are excited to go to work. That, and lying, murderous bastards.

Down at the station, twenty minutes later (still possibly the best record you've held so far), you rush into the office, heels clinking against the tiles and Chan's waiting for you by his cubicle, smirk prominent on his face and arms folded.

"The queen's here," he teases and you glare. Huffing as you pause right in front of him, you look over his shoulder to see the Mayor still talking to the Captain.

"I'm not late," you squeal, hitting the air in joy and Chan lets you have your moment before sitting back on his chair and breaking it.

"They called for us twice already," Chan tells you and you shudder at the impending doom. You can already feel Captain Han talking about cutting your paychecks for the month for tardiness. You sit on his table, one leg on the ground and the other dangling, heel slightly grazing Chan's black denims.

"What did you tell them?"

He picks up the pen and stares at you, clicking the pen. You narrow your eyes at him, staring at the pen and mumbling, "Stop that, Chan. I've told you it's annoying."

"I do it to annoy you. That's the whole point," he raises his eyebrows obviously and you click your tongue against him and move closer.

"Now," you press on. "What did you tell Ji?"

"Oh, that you have diarrhoea?"

"What the fuck?" And you bend forward, hitting the built man before you, your fists hammering down on his hard biceps and chest. "Why would you say that?"

Chan raises his hands in defense, trying to block as many of your hits as possible. He whines, laughing amusingly at your reaction. He holds your wrists quickly to halt your actions and tugging at them, pulling you closer, he raises an eyebrow, "What else am I supposed to say? That you didn't come in yet?"

You gulp, eyes widening in surprise at the sudden intimacy that you pull yourself away and sit straight, dangling your legs slightly. You tilt your head and look at him. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you say, "Valid point you make there, sir."

"When have I not made valid points?" Chan leans back on his chair, arms folded and he looks at you intently, his eyes staring into your soul and you raise your eyebrows.

"Wh—"

"The two of you," you hear the voice boom through the room. Chan and you turn your heads to look at Captain Han Jisung pop his head through the slightly opened door and calling the two of you. "In my room, now."

"Uh oh," Chan mumbles under his breath as he stands up. "Someone's in trouble."

"It's probably you," you glare at him. Hopping off his table, you stand firmly on your boots, tapping your feet slightly in confidence. Chan walks forward and you take longer strides to keep up with him.

"It could never be me. I'm the district's star detective."

"When hell turns cold, yeah."

You and Chan step into Captain Han Jisung's office. He sits behind the wooden desk and Deputy Mayor Seo Changbin stands next to him. The glass walls behind him show a clear view of the beautiful city of Seoul. You smile as you proceed to sit before the Captain, leg on top of the other. Chan sits next to you.

The pictures from a file are scattered all over his table, facing the two of you and your hand instinctively reaches out to grab one. It's a man's body — gruesome enough with the blood that covers it — impaled brutally on the sharp fence spikes.

Chan's eyebrows shoot up and he coughs in surprise. He looks at Jisung with disdain for a short minute before he says, "That is totally not helping with my holiday spirits, Han."

"Captain Han," Jisung reaffirms as he looks at Chan with a glare and gestures at how he should show him respect at least in front of the Deputy Mayor. You chuckle slightly under your breath before putting the picture back on the table.

"What exactly are we looking at, Captain?"

Jisung clears his throat and bends forward to explain, "That is Kim Jihoon. Or at least whatever is left of him. He was found like this today morning by his neighbour. Apparently he fell three stories from his balcony. Kim Jihoon is a data analyst in Samaun Tech—"

"And more importantly, a model resident in the UN Village community." Changbin is stern and his eyes pierce into both yours and Chan's soul as if it demands the two of you to solve the murder right this minute.

"UN Village?" Chan's eyes narrow and your head turns so quickly to look at him. Does he know of the area? "That's the new gated community down in the city, right?"

Changbin scoffs, smirk plastered on his face as he looks away. "Yes, Detective. It's one of the most luxurious communities in Seoul. I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about it."

"Hey—" You raise your voice to come to Chan's defense. However, the man is quick himself.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I have an idea what it is like. Just a bunch of rich old men sitting with their glasses of wine as they are locked away from the city's woes by their big high walls. I have watched enough Sky Castle."

You laugh, eyes wrinkling in mirth as you hear Chan take offense. You raise your hand up and your partner claps at it, laughing with you. Changbin scoffs again before turning to look at Jisung who clears his throat to stop the two of you from laughing and to bring your attention back.

"I've brought the two of you in here because you will be investigating the death of Jihoon."

"But—"

"It's Christmas in a few days!"

"We're not in office, Ji," you whine. "Felix and Soojin would be taking our shifts for that week. You gave us the permission after the last case. Don't you remember?"

"Is that how much you care about the citizens?" The mayor shoots at the two of you and for a minute, you cower in your seat, before Chan looks at you worriedly as you recoil.

"Hey, hey, hey," his eyebrows furrow together in anger at the Mayor and you worry if Chan's going to completely lash out. He never did like Changbin in the first place. That and now this and you know this could end bad. "We care enough about the citizens. But look at you. The Mayor comes down personally to hand in a case only when it's some rich community. What? Do you have an apartment there?"

"While you think this highly of me, I can't help but humble myself here," Changbin slams his fist down and Chan rises up. Uh oh! The Mayor edges forward as he continues, "I am very much concerned about the city as well."

"Please," Chan rolls his eyes. Jisung is about to pipe in and stop the conflict when Changbin continues proudly.

"I'll have you know that the UN Village is one of the most exciting residential areas to live in, in Seoul and is one of the most beneficial developments made in a decade here. If it is successful, I can drive almost millions to the city through estate taxes and commerce. And must I remind you of how that is the biggest point in my political agenda—"

"Your political agenda!" Chan is at his patience's end and your arm stretches out to grip at his shirt, to pull him back from fighting but your partner is so caught up in his anger that he doesn't feel you pull at him. "Must I remind you that you are still the Deputy Mayor!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Jisung slams his hands on the table and you let out an exasperated sigh as you sit up straight. "This is a murder and I won't have the two of you argue over here. Deputy Mayor Seo, if you are done conveying what you came here for, I will have to ask you to leave. I need to talk and assign work to my detectives."

"Absolutely," Changbin smiles widely — almost borderline fake — before walking away and reminding Jisung, "I hope you remember what I asked of you, Captain." He bangs the door shut and Jisung mumbles incoherent words under his breath. Needless to say, it was safe to presume they were words hoping good will for Deputy Mayor Seo Changbin.

"Now the two of you," Jisung points at both Chan and you. He gestures at the built man to sit down. "You will be taking this case up. I will not have a word against it."

"But—"

"Unless you want your sex tape to be released and the two of you want to be suspended for indecent public behaviour."

"What?" Both you and Chan tell at the same time, looking at each other in nothing but sheer confusion and shock at the same time. It was clear that you and him have not made a sex tape or publically — fuck. Unless it is that.

"I mean, I was definitely not interested in seeing my star detectives getting on with each other in the evidence room." Jisung raises his eyebrows.

"Are you blackmailing us, Han?" Chan's tongue prods at his inner cheek in frustration. Today was supposed to be a good day, so he wonders why things are going down the hill.

"I guess." He lifts an eyebrow at you and you click your tongue before leaning forward and taking the picture.

"Fine. I'm in."

"I don't mind getting a copy of the sex tape," Chan mumbles and you hit your partner with your elbow over his nonchalance. You are not going to get suspended. It was too much for your reputation.

"Good," Jisung smiles. You stare at the picture carefully, looking at how the sharp spikes of the fence pierces into the man's abdomen, pinning him to the fence. Chan is about to take the picture from your hand when you ask,

"This could be an accident."

Chan takes it and looks at it before nodding, "Yeah. You know how rich drunk people are. They might have partied too hard and stumbled and fallen off their balcony."

"I thought that," Jisung mumbles before searching through the pictures. He lifts one off the table and hands it to you. "Until I was informed that this is the second murder UN Village has witnessed in less than a month."

The photo Jisung hands you is of a woman. She lies face down, her stomach pierced through by the sharp spikes of the fence — a bloody contrast to the fresh greens in her yard.

"Why am I celebrating my holidays like this?" Chan groans, as he leans towards you, his arms touching yours. He looks at the pictures and then at you for a short while as he watches you observe the photo carefully. The gears in his head are turning and his emotions are an array of mess but he reminds himself to focus on the case in hand. That is exactly what you would have wanted him to do.

"She's Yoon Yerin, who lived just up the street from Kim Jihoon. She was found like this two weeks ago." Jisung points out.

"Can't still label murder, Han. As Y/N said, it could be just an accident. They could be drinking red wine and partying, screwing each other on balconies. Hell, I'm surprised that only two have died so far."

You suppress your amusement and look at Jisung who explains, "I thought the same as well, detectives. The possibility exists—"

"Heh," Chan lifts his lips slightly and nudges you, almost as if he is telling you that the two of you have lesser work to deal with.

"—but there is also a chance of an exceptional clever murderer behind all this. So please," he turns to look at both you and Chan with an extra intimidating glare, "Look at this case with an open mind."

"You've our word," you smile widely, keeping the photos back in the file.

"Thank you," the Captain looks comforted. "I cannot hear more from the Mayor, I swear to God. Now, you'll go into UN Village and investigate these deaths as soon as possible."

"And?"

"If there is a murderer, you must identify him as discreetly as possible and if these are just accidents, uhm," Jisung clears his throat, rubbing the back of his head, "We'll just put out a notice in talks of their safety, I guess."

Jisung stretches back in his chair, folding his arms and looking at the two of you proudly, "You guys are the best darn detectives we've got."

"Of course," Chan sneers. "Why else would you take our breaks away using some sex tape as some kind of blackmail? You're a nasty captain."

"He'll be forever salty about this, huh?" Jisung raises an eyebrow at you.

"Nah," you chuckle. "He's secretly overjoyed about being able to work during the holidays."

"As if!"

"We could just go now and investigate—"

"No, you cannot." Jisung sighs. "This is where I'm kind of helpless. The Deputy Mayor specifically mentioned how we are not allowed to poke around, cause chaos and make a scene."

"What? Why?" Chan slightly shifts in his chair, in agitation.

"It'll draw the media in like vultures."

"So?" You furrow your eyebrows. Why does this smell rotten?

"So, the two of you will go in under cover." Jisung smiles. "I doubt it would be an issue for the two of you."

"Undercover? Undercover as what?"

Twenty fours hours later, you are here.

A large group of suburbanites are gathered on a perfectly sculpted front lawn. They stand around the stainless steel barbeque rack and are talking. You gaze further, your back pressed against the big lorry that carries furniture to furnish the new house.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Chan sighs. He helps the man take out the sofas from the lorry. His biceps bulge and you smile, eyes lingering for a minute on the vein that is prominent over it.

"Please," you laugh, head thrown back. "When I said I wanted to get married, you were there in the list, yes," you tilt your head and snigger. "But you were definitely not my first candidate."

"Lies," Chan teases. "I was your only other candidate, work being the first."

"Don't make me throw this chair at you."

Chan laughs, taking the chair from your hand and walking back in to settle it down onto the floor. Your head shifts back to look at your new neighbours, two of them waving at you and making their way to you. Chan comes out of the house right then, watching the two walk towards you.

Chan bends down to the side to whisper to you, "Do we have to go speak to them? I—"

"Of course. We can't be rude to them."

Chan holds onto your arm, whining like a little child, "But why? I hate rich people."

"Because I'm your wife now," you scrunch your nose at the title. "Listen to me and go with the flow. Just remember that you're Bang Chan, leading specialist in maxillofacial surgeries, hoping to start over in this area of the city—"

"And you're my beautiful wife, my other half, Y/N," he lifts your hand after entangling them with his, your silver ring bright on display and he takes a step forward.

"Now let's go, honey!"

The other couple walks towards the two of you simultaneously, stopping midway upon reaching you. You tilt your head, shifting your gaze to a softer look as you look at the couple, before clutching onto Chan's hand a little tighter.

"Hi, I'm Y/N and this is my husband, Chan. We just moved right next door."

The tall man with a hair messy on top of his head smiles, although it seems very superficial. Yet again, Chan did mention how rich people could never smile sincerely. He tells you, stressing every alternate syllable, "It's so nice to have you here, Y/N, Chan. We are so glad you could shift right before our Annual Holiday Barbeque."

He stretches his arms out towards Chan. Your partner heaves a huge sigh in silently before holding his hand and giving it a firm shake. The other man continues, "I'm Park Rowoon, the president of the local homeowners' association and this beauty here is my wife, Jieun."

Jieun's face contorts into a huge, gleaming and completely insincere grin. She holds onto her husband's bicep, fingers digging into the flesh, "Well, isn't he a dear?" She laughs high pitched. "It's so nice to meet you." She rushes forward to hug you, her arms wrapping around your frame and giggling into your frame. You hug her back, albeit awkwardly, laughing slightly at the gesture.

On the other hand, Rowoon extends his arms out to take Chan's hand in for a shake. The hand holds his, and squeezes it hard enough to hurt as he raises an eyebrow at him. Chan jolts in surprise, trying to squeeze back as he grits his teeth.

You pull back from Jieun and notice the two males holding each other's hands so tightly that it has turned pale. Chan does not seem to back out and rather squeezes back further every single time Rowoon's grip on his tightens. That is, until the older male pulls his hand back and looks at Chan, after shaking his hand a little bit, flexing it.

"You okay, baby?" Jieun rushes to her husband's side, and wrapping her arms around his, she just out her lower lips and looks at him with a dazed and madly-in-love look, "Are you hurt?"

"Nah," he pulls at the dead skin of his lips. "Just the old carpal tunnel acting up. Age, right?" He laughs, locking a fixed gaze at Chan and you quickly rush to his side, locking your arms with his as you laugh.

"Definitely. Don't worry about it. You still look as young and charming as ever."

Rowoon laughs before asking you, "So you're shifting right next door, huh?"

"Yes!" You lift up your lips a lot more than when you usually smile. "Did you see our moving truck? It was quite immediate but I'm glad. This society is so good and just right enough to start a family together." Chan's eyes widen and he looks down at you, nostrils flaring in surprise as he chokes on air. You stand on your toes, kiss his cheek before settling down and smiling at the couple before you. "I desperately want to."

Family? With you? Fuck.

"Y-yes," Chan's breath hitches and he gets the word out. He'd be down to start a family with you but how could he even suggest a relationship when you just look at him like a friend? A friend who you can come to when you're needy and sexually frustrated.

"My husband's very observant. He saw your truck the other day itself!" Jieun exclaims proudly.

Chan's eyebrows shoot up as he stares at the man. He doesn't already like him and one more wrong step and he is ready to pin some crime down on him. Rowoon is flattered by his wife's comment.

"I do like to keep a close eye on the neighborhood. After all, vigilance is the first step in ensuring a beautiful and safe community. Talking about which, I couldbt help but notice that you have a bird feeder."

Rowoon stares hard at the wooden bird feeder behind the two of you. Chan and you turn to look at and he laughs. You look proudly at it. A heirloom – almost – of yours, Chan (and Jisung) agrees to let you bring it with you. (They agreed to it when you explained how your neighbors hated you and they would harm it the minute you left sight of it for a long time.) You look at Rowoon with eyes so bright as you begin to explain. Your partner, on the other hand, arms still locked with yours, looks at you with stars beneath his eyes and you are responsible for them. It's admiration. Sheer, peak admiration.

"It's an antique, you know. My grandfather carved it himself out of—"

"Yeah, great, that's lovely." Rowoon cuts you off and the smile disappears off your face, your eyes losing their shine. Chan clutches his fists in anger, head shooting back to face the stupid old man for making his wife mad — his partner sad. The old man continues, "The thing is wooden bird feeders are against the UN Village Homeowners' Charter."

"They are?" You look back at the wooden bird feeder. You bite on the lower lip to hide your disappointment, eyes squeezing shut to hold yourself alright.

"I'm afraid so." You turn your head back to look at him. Chan quickly unlinks his arms from yours and you look at him, worriedly. Was he going to start a fight? Please, God, no. You glance in worry till he interlocks his fingers with yours as he holds your hand tightly. The warmth seeps through you and your lips pucker unknowingly at how comforted you feel.

Rowoon continues explaining, "They tend to give off a country farmhouse vibes and aesthetic which is not exactly what we are going for."

"I'm sor—"

Chan clicks his tongue, preventing you from apologising. He pulls you towards him, a little bit closer than the two of you already were. Your partner glares at the man before huffing out loudly and saying, "You run a pretty tight community here, Rowoon, don't you think? Respect the rules or you're out." Rowoon stiffens upon hearing the words before Chan laughs, stretching his other arm out to pat his shoulder. "I'm kidding. Just kidding."

Jieun steps in right then to smoothen out the tension as she claps her hands together, laughing, "Aren't the two of you the cutest? Are you newly weds or?"

"Yes. I mean, it's been a year, but being married to her feels like falling in love all over again for every single day of my life." Chan locks his eyes with you and you gulp. The words hit deep, so deep that you know you shouldn't be fluttered, or flustered. This is Chan. He couldn't be serious.

"Ah, so cute," she squeals. Rowoon looks at his wife with a raised eyebrow before looking at the two of you again.

"Listen. I've to go check on the grill and grab something to eat. You should swing by later tonight and meet the rest of the members of the society. I'm sure they'll love you."

"Of course. We do want to finish a bit of the moving in and stuff today and maybe put up the Christmas decorations soon, but we'll be there. Guaranteed." Chan tugs at your hands to pull you back. You nodded and waved at Jieun.

"Bye!"

Chan quickly rushes you back into the house before finally letting out a huge sigh. He runs a hand through his hair before letting his back hit the door. You look at him and giggle lightly into your hand.

"Don't laugh," he glares. "I swear to God, if I have to spent more time talking to Rowoon—"

"You're doing so well, idiot," you laugh, throwing your head back. "We just need to dig in a little bit, talk a lot and confirm that these were accidents."

"Y/N, baby," You breathe slowly upon hearing the term. A sure endearment that Chan has always used but for to hear it roll out of his mouth in places this homely felt different, made you feel different. "If I have to spend more time with Rowoon, I will come up with another theory and it would probably be a suicidal one."

"Don't screw this up, yah!" You hit the back of his head. "The last thing I want is a suspension just because I was caught fucking you in the evidence room."

"Like you didn't enjoy it," Chan leans forward, nose brushing against yours almost. You can feel his breath fanning against your face and the temperature rising. Your hands are firm on his chest before you push him back, fanning yourself with your hand. You tie your hair up into a ponytail before pointing at the boxes by the side of the door.

"Get to work, husband. We don't have time to waste."

"The pepper next to the salt, Chan. Why would you put turmeric there?"

"You'd be one whiny arse motherfucker for a wife," he groans and angrily shuffles the bottles in their right order. "Why are we even arranging all this? Let's just wrap this up in like two days and go celebrate Christmas back at the station."

"I'm not going to take risks. It's Christmas. I celebrate every single Christmas," You mumble. "At least the bare minimum. And if this Christmas has me celebrating it with you, I will. I will give you the best Christmas ever."

"I don't celebrate Christmas, Y/N."

You place the cutlery in the shelves. You leave the kitchen after finishing every single arrangement of the same. Chan follows you into the main living room. You stop in your tracks when you hear Chan say the words and you turn, eyes shooting up.

"Why?"

"Mum left dad in winter. Didn't feel right to celebrate Christmas when she was at home. It's a bitter memory for her, you know?" You nod, eyes looking at him with understanding rather. He sits down, lifting his legs up and stretching it over the table. Your eyes widen and you narrow at his legs.

"Feet. Off. The. Table." You glare.

"Why?"

"Because it's disgusting." You groan. You sit down by his side once he puts his feet off the table, huffing at you. He turns to look at you and you respond finally.

"Do you, maybe, want to celebrate Christmas with me this year?"

Chan's a romanticist (though he wouldn't ever admit it). He believes in how destiny is meant to unite two people like one magnet for another, one jigsaw piece matching just another. He also believes that you are something special to him because his mind worries over you, his heart gravitates to you in a crowded room.

Felix told him that it's probably just sheer concern for his longest partner ever. That your heart tends to feel weird stuff for people that protect you, for people that take bullets for you.

But today, right now, when you tilt your head to the side, resting it on your arm as you wrinkle your eyes in mirth and ask him, his heart skips a beat. Maybe two. He is lost in his thoughts, emotions on an overload and he wonders if you would ever see him in a different light.

"Chan?"

He snaps out of it. He laughs, almost at himself, as he runs his hand through this hair. "Do I have an option? Han made sure our Christmas would be stuck here."

"I'm the best option you have, dude. That, or it was you and your can of beer and your football marathon."

"Maybe."

You still, your head lifting up to look at him. Chan looks at you like he has so much to say to you, so much stuff that conflicts within him but words he would never say out loud. You wish he could. Your head turns to the small Christmas tree inside the house — bare, empty and green. The one extra along with the big one outside every house in the UN Village.

"We could start by decorating that. Yeah."

You hop off the sofa and rush to take the decorative goods from the suitcase. All on command from Captain Han Jisung, courtesy of the very same man who bought so many of the decorations. Chan turns his body, arms folded on the head of the sofa as he watches you scramble in search of something.

You take the decorative items out from the suitcase, putting it by the side as you search for something. Chan walks towards you, squatting as he watches you look before he holds your wrist and halts your actions.

"What are you searching for? I could help you."

"It's this bluetooth speaker I thought I brought," you shake Chan's grip away before undoing the zip on the other side of the suitcase. "I really thought I brought it. Shit."

"Hey, hey," Chan sits on the floor as he watches you. "It's alright. You can put whatever you want to put on the speaker. It'll be loud enough for the two of us."

You turn to look at him, before falling back on your ass and sitting. You fold your arms around your knees close to your chest and you smile, "You don't mind me blasting Christmas Carols during tree decoration time, right?"

Chan laughs at your innocence. Something so soft, so pure about it, about how you loved Christmas so much. He wants to hold you close — oh so close — the need almost overcomes him but he holds back.

"I don't mind."

"Yay," you squeal, getting back on your feet and rushing to your phone on the table. "I have this collection of Christmas Carols that we primarily put every year–" Chan watches you scroll through your music library to find the collection and he knows you have when your whole face lights up like the goddamn star on this awfully green tree. "Tada, it starts with my favorite carol, Deck The Halls."

Chan's never understood the hype around carols but for you, he will try today. You increase the volume to the highest, and place the phone back on the table before rushing back to Chan and the suitcase. Your partner takes the fairy lights in his hand and lifting it up, he looks at you quizzically.

"How do you go about this?"

"There's no right or wrong way, Channie. Trust me. We are all swinging it and hoping that it turns out right," you reassure. You take the fairy lights from his hold and stand up. "I can show you what my family does." You walk to the tree, about a good amount of inches taller than you still.

The carol plays in the background like some beautiful serenade wrapping around the two of you. Chan stands a step behind you watching you carefully wrap the fairy lights right around the inside bark of the tree and plug it in to the extension box by the side. The white lights flickered bright and shine on your face that is close to the tree.

Chan stares. He can't pull away. You hold his breath, captivate his gaze and have him completely enthralled. Your eyes sparkle — hell, you sparkle more than those stupid fairy lights.

He is so charmed by you that he doesn't realise how you've been trying to catch his attention for a while.

"Chan?" And then you hit his arm, the whole police academy teaching style. "Focus, will you?"

"Fine," and he takes one of the christmas ornaments, hanging them up on one of the spikes. "Is this how it is?"

"You're doing so well, don't worry."

And with the carols in the background, the two of you slowly put the ornaments up, laughing occasionally at Chan wearing the ornaments by hanging them on his ears instead. Another set of fairy lights are draped perfectly over the tree. The stockings are hung by the side and everything is exactly as you remember Christmas decorations to be inside and you realise it's not much different from the Christmases you usually have.

The tree is there. The lights are there. The desserts will be coming. The memories are still made and your loved one is still here. Nothing is different.

"Help me hang the star up," you look at Chan. He tilts his head to the side and his eyes fix on the battery operated star in your hand.

"Did Jisung really give us all that?"

You nod, "Yeah. He told us to sell the story well. Apparently movies lie and that rich people are not all that dumb."

"You sure?" Chan sniggers. "That dude we met there seemed pretty dumb if he wouldn't even let you keep your bird feeder over some stupid aesthetics."

"Don't remind me," you groan. "Now, come here and hold me up." You stretch your arms slightly and Chan's trying his best not to giggle at how cute you looked in the minute.

His hand is warm against your sweater, heat seeping through as he lifts you up, grip strong on your waist. Your legs intuitively wrap around his torso to protect yourself and you stretch your arms out. You try placing the star above and Chan edges closer to the tree when he knows he's a bit far off. You finally place it successfully above and switch it on. It lights up pretty and your heart warms up at the joy of completing the tree decorations.

And then, Chan suddenly jolts you up in his hold. You fall forward, arms wrapping around his neck and face brough so close to his that you can see the sparkle underneath his eyes that glisten for you. You stiffen in his hold as he wraps his arms around you tighter and in the very next minute, Chan's lips have found yours.

It's soft and gentle as it moves against yours, taking your lower lip within seconds. In that kiss was the sweetness of passion and the reconfirmation of million memories spent together. It moves so gently against his plump ones that you know you're drowning in everything Bang Chan is and that it's creeping — he is creeping slowly into your veins and contaminating your being to a point where it would hurt to live without him.

Chan holds you tightly against him, holding your entire weight in his arms like you are his whole world. His hands squeeze your waist as if he is reminding himself that you are still here with him, sharing this holiday with him. And when Chan pulls back, you realise.

In his kiss, you are home.

"Why did you—" You barely manage to piece words together with the help of your clouded brain. "Uhm, why did you kiss me?"

Chan blushes. The apples of his cheeks heat up at the sudden question and it surprises him how he could still blush at you after all this while. He looks behind you, trying to stall away some time from answering until his eyes land on the creeping mistletoe with white buds around.

"Mistletoe!"

"What?"

"Behind you," Chan points, holding you up with one arm wrapped around your waist. "There!" You turn to look behind, one arm still around his neck while the other is by your side.

"Oh, it's a mistletoe." You blush and look down at how Chan holds you up. "You could put me down now, Chan."

"Oh yeah." And he slowly lowers you down onto the ground. His cheeks are still stained slightly before he rubs his fingers, fidgeting with it and finally exclaiming, "Ah look at the time. We've got to get ready for taht barbecue shit they are hosting." He turns you around and pushes you to the room the two of you are sharing. "Hurry!"

You laugh, head still dazed over the kiss. It goes back and repeats it over and over again till you feel the temperature in you shoot up and has you wanting emotionally so much more.

After all, this was the first time Chan has kissed you like that and it did not end with sex.

The smell hits your nose before anything else. The smell of fresh beef being roasted and the toxic smell of rich people partying. Although you cannot quite exactly explain how rich people smell if someone asked you. They just smell. . . rich.

Dammit. Now you'll associate this fine rich smell of first class beef with stupid rich people.

"At least it's good meat." You mumble.

"That's what she said," Chan laughs at his own joke. You open your mouth in disbelief, nudging him with your elbow. Across the lawn, by the pool side of Jieun's lawn, you see her and a couple of other ladies waving at you to come towards them.

"I'll have to go over there. Anyhow, get as much as information as you can, alright?" You turn to look at Chan before walking backwards. "I'll come over soon once it gets too nauseating for me, please."

"Sure," he waves at you and you turn around and walk as elegantly as possible to the posh ladies sitting there. Chan, on the other hand, decides to head to the group around Rowoon that almost look like a bunch of Mayor Arseholes to him.

You walk towards Jieun who is sitting a hot tub. The hot tub bubbles and you raise an eyebrow at the amount of wealth this family has amassed over the years. A table full of snacks rests under a nice canopy and a very intoxicated lady sways from the left to the right by the side of it.

"Sookyung-ah," Jieun waves at the inebriated female, "Meet the newest member of our little neighbourhood, Y/N."

Sookyung is loud. So loud that you wonder maybe Chan is right about rich people — that they drink, merry and party all day long. She waves her hands, eyes blinking a little too much as she welcomes you, "Nice to meet you! Have a drink!"

She shoves a big glass of brownish looking liquor that reeks of rum. You take a sip of it courteously. The liquid flows down your throat, the burning feeling distinct on your throat. Your eyes wrinkle in surprise, "That's strong, whoa."

"Of course, darling, it is," she smiles widely and it should have repulsed you. However, it is the only genuine smile you have found in this whole neighborhood so far. Sookyung continues, "How else are we supposed to get through the day?"

"Is this how it usually goes?" You laugh nervously. "Us girls sneak off to grab a drink while the boys beat the chests out at front?"

"Ooh," Sookyung gushes. "I think I'm going to like you a lot, darling."

Jieun takes a sip of her orange coloured cocktail as she circles her glass lightly, letting the liquid shake inside. You tilt your head backwards, staring up at the stars only to notice how it is a full moon tonight. A soft smile spreads across your lips as you think of the one person you associate with the moon; your partner.

Jieun leans forward after placing her drink back on the table. She nudges Sookyung and raises an eyebrow at you, "Sookyung-ah, did you see her husband?"

You blush at the term. This will take a while to get used to. "Was he the tall, broad shouldered guy in the suit?" She hums in approval and your eyebrows furrow downward in displeasure. "Talk about a prime cut of meat!"

"I know, right?" Jieun giggles. "I saw him and started to drool."

Your cheeks heat up ridiculously. You can feel your heart beating a lot quicker and it is a weird sense of pride that swells up within you over a man you can't even completely call yours now. You fidget with your fingers, black dress riding up your thigh as you shift in your seat nervously, "I guess Chan is a good looking man."

"Chan? Is that his name?" Sookyung laughs, "That's an understatement of the year. I would wish to strip him down, slather him up with butter and just eat him up." Your face couldn't help but morph into one of disgust at her words. At this point, you are borderline disturbed.

"That's, uhm, very vivid thoughts you have of my husband."

"Ah, dear," Sookyung leans forward and holds your hand, rubbing it in her grip. "We were joking. But you must tell us—"

Jieun breaks her and smiles so wide as she looks at Sookyung, grinning and then at you, "What is he like in the sheets?"

They laugh together and you look at the two of them. So this is what a rich bunch of ladies too. Gossip and talk unfiltered. You had only two options at this point, or maybe three — a) stay quiet and let them do the talking, b) tell them off for talking about Chan this inappropriately, c) talk with them and get more information under the guise of being one amongst them. You swear to the heavens that you would rather do option b, but for the sake of this crime, you decide to do what Captain Han Jisung would have told you to follow.

"He's a fucking tiger," and you laugh the fakest laugh you could ever pull out, albeit not because Chan wasn't good in between the sheets or anything (he was an almighty beast with his technique, yes) but because you never thought you'd live to see the day you'd use words like that, in any situation at all.

"Called it!"

"Tell us everything!"

You take a sip of your drink and cross your legs as you sit up straight, almost feigning arrogance, "I'm not one to kiss and tell but let's just say that Chan makes me very happy about," you grin and pause, trying to catch the ladies' attention on every single word of yours, "Twice a day or so."

"Twice a day?" Sookyung gasps.

"If he's just very much in the mood, I know I'm not going to walk for days together. Not that that is an issue. Chan is the sweetest and takes care of me," you flutter your eyelashes.

Jieun taps at her chest, huffing, "Be still my beating heart. Be still."

Sookyung sighs, stretching back on the reclining chair, "These days, Ilsung and I get it on like once a month or so and that's like for a minute. How disappointing."

"They are newly married, Sookyung," Jieun stilts her head in acknowledgement. "It's been a year of their marriage or so." She takes a bite of the cookie from the plate by the side and you smile as she looks at you.

"It seems like you're all pretty open in this neighborhood," you point out and twirl a strand of your hair that lets loose before your eyes.

"Oh we share everything," Jieun says and Sookyung scoffs, before picking up a cookie and her strong drink.

"Some more than others." She scowls so visibly that Jieun has to furrow her eyebrows at her and signal something with her gaze before Sookyung looks away to the right.

The backdoor of the house behind opens and you turn to look at a lanky woman walking in with a tray of cookies. It is the same one that you have on the table already and you look at her. The glow on her face is long gone, her eyes losing the sparkle and you wonder if she is going through something.

Sookyung frowns and mumbles under her breath, albeit a bit too loudly, "Great. This party suddenly took a sip into Depressionville now."

You lean back into Jieun and mumble, "Who's that?"

Jieun leans into you and is about to whisper when Sookyung runs her mouth free, "That's Somin. An absolute downer."

You bite your lip out of anxiety, surprised by how Sookyung really does run her mouth a bit too much — a lot enough to cancel her off your list of suspects almost. Jieun hisses at the other woman before telling you, "Her husband was Kim Jihoon and he died yesterday so," she clears her throat, "She's quite rattled, to say the least."

"Then shouldn't she be mourning at her husband's house or funeral home for a few days? The fact that she's already here seems so crass." Sookyung shakes her head, disappointed. You gulp and watch the woman, Somin, come closer and Sookyung, folding her arms tighter.

The minute Somin is in your periphery though, both Jieun and Sookyung smile so brightly and that's when you realise that nothing you see and nothing you hear could be trusted here. It's the world of the rich and everyone wants to come out on top.

"It was so nice of you to come out," Sookyung waves and calls her closer. Jieun nods and you see how she walks slowly towards them, a sad smile on her face and her tray held strongly.

Somin speaks softly, almost as if she should not, "I probably should have stayed inside." She holds out her tray as she stretches her arms outwards. On the tray are many round cookies with cracked lines on their surfaces, a bit too deep than normal. They look sad. Just as their maker does.

You wait for the other two women to do something and when they take a piece of cookie, you follow suit and take one. The distinct taste of cinnamon fills your mouth and you hum in approval even if the cookie wasn't the best out there, "Ah, these snickerdoodles taste good!"

"Thanks, but you don't have to flatter me," she looks at you with a face close to no expressions whatsoever, "Whoever you are."

"Somin, this is Y/N. She's new to our neighborhood," Jieun says and Sookyung adds, "And she clearly knows her cookies."

"Thanks," you hesitate. "I do bake from time to time." And taking another piece of the cookie, you tell them excitedly, "Did you know that Snickerdoodle is derived from the term Schneckennudein, which literally means snail noodle?"

The three other ladies stare at you, blinking at what you just said in utter disarray and you sigh.

"I meant," You take a bite of the cookie, "Great cookie!"

"Yeah, great cookies, but," Jieun starts and Somin looks at her, pressing her lips together.

"But?"

"I said that I would be the one to make the snickerdoodles, but it's alright. We can have twice as many and can give some to our husbands partying over there. No worries."

"Oh, okay, I'll have to go," and she scurries away quickly. She barely shuts the door as she rushes out of the place almost immediately, her hair flailing behind her. You watch the woman, analysing how no one in the party seemed bothered by it.

Jieun sighs, "She looks bad, doesn't she?"

"If you ask me," Sookyung speaks loudly once again and you already know she's going to run her mouth, "She's better off with Jihoon dead. You should have heard the way the two of them used to fight."

"Were Somin and Jihoon having marital troubles?" You ask.

"Definitely," Sookyung leans forward, "If by marital trouble you mean continuous screaming matches blasting across the entire neighbourhood, why then yes!"

"You're such a gossip, Soo! It was not that bad."

"Says you!" She stands up and walks towards the bar counter, smiling and turning back to look at both you and Jieun. "More rum?"

"Yes, please!"

"Hey—"

It's the greetings and then a hand that trails far too low on your back. It grazes the curve of your ass and you quickly jolt forward turning only to find a man in his mid thirties in a suit, standing eerily close to you.

You narrow at him before asking, "I was searching for my husband. Pretty tall, broad shouldered, dark brown hair, slightly curly. Have you seen him?"

"You're Chan's wife? Didn't know he had such a beautiful woman for a wife," the man edges forward and you take a step back, eyebrows furrowed at him and your hand trailing down to keep you ready to grip your gun. Until you remember that you're undercover and hitting this man with a gun would seem suspicious. Your best option was to deck him. The man takes another step forward and you take one backwards till your back hits the buffet table, "I'm Ilsung. Do you maybe want to go somewhere..."

"You have a wife and I have a husband," you spit out. You are mortified. So this is what Sookyung mentioned and the fact her very own husband is involved in illicit affairs — does everyone here have a mistress or is involved in adultery? Is that the rich people norm?

"So? Everyone here has an affair with someone's wife. Do you want to be mine? I can take care of you."

"I can very well take care of my wife, Ilsung. I don't think I'll need your help."

You hear the one voice you needed to hear in this very moment. You look over the older man's shoulder to find Chan, his hands shoved into the pockets of his formal pants. His top buttons are undone and the vest and suit fits him so well that you are glad you picked this one out for him. You shove the man away and walk to Chan, heels digging into the lawn as you strut confidently.

"I need the madam to say that," Illsung shoots and Chan's at his patience's end. He makes fists of his hands on either side of his and you hold onto his arms to calm him down only to look at the other man and narrowing your eyes, you scoff.

"I don't think I need to go have sex with someone like you when I get it well from him. That, and I guess, him being my husband should take more priority but not in this neighborhood where everyone breathes and lives on sex. So, no, thank you. I feel sad for Sookyung. She deserves someone better than a trash for a husband."

"Why, you bitch!" And he rushes forward with a clenched fist to hit you. Chan stops his blow, however, chuckling to himself.

"That's weak. Now, why don't you go take care of your wife while I treat mine like a princess? Yeah?"

And Chan walks away with his arms tight on your waist as he holds you close. Ilsung yells behind the two of you, his wife yelling at him to keep quiet. Chan, on the other hand, doesn't speak a word further, just walking you all the way to the house the two of you share, keeping you so close to him and glaring at the others to keep them away.

There are sighs and grunts, furrowed eyebrows and clenched fists as Chan argues with himself in his head all the way to the room the two of you share. He stands by the table, still lost in his thoughts and you almost pick up the book you're reading — one by Natsume Suseki — only to deck him with it, although you decide not to because he already seems ready to snap his control.

"Chan—"

Maybe your voice was the only trigger he needed to snap, to break away from his thoughts and to give them words out loud.

"You just stood there? Like some dumb doll when he touched you?" Chan glares at you and you frown, folding your arms over your chest and yelling back, "Excuse me, but I'm undercover as some doting wife to some stupid man."

"Did that matter then? Oh my god," he groans, throwing his head back. "I'm so mad and I know you're right. You are right but how dare he touch my wife when I was around. The fucking audacity—"

You hold the edges of the table with the base of your palm, pressing against it as you jump up and sit up on it to face him properly. You cup his face and making sure his eyes are fixed on yours, you smile softly.

"Don't smile right when I'm shit mad at everything, Y/N."

"Should I frown then?" You laugh out and push yourself back slightly to allow Chan to come closer and stand in between your thighs. "Let's think of this as some, uhm," you ponder, still holding Chan's face close to you, "Yes! Let's think of this as an occupational hazard."

"Occupational hazard," he scoffs. "Bullshit. He did that because he thinks women are weak. He's one of those arrogant pompous rich men that think that he can have his way with some good sacks of cash and power and that all women are weak and with that power comes his ability to subjugate them all to the age old tradition of treating them as sex dolls, an object for pleasure."

Chan's red and out of breath when he finally rants it all out and you bite your lower lip from laughing, dropping your hands from his face. Chan's cute. Oh god, he's so fucking cute and you know you shouldn't overstep boundaries but dear lord, if Bang Christopher Chan keeps this up, you will actually get down on your one knee, pop the ring and propose to him.

"Are you done?"

"No," he glares at you and leans forward, "Going to get back to work after this case and find some hell of a corruption case on him to put him behind the bars."

Your eyes wrinkle into thin crescents as you smile wide. You raise your eyebrows and suggest, "I've a better idea. Why don't you rather fuck me with all hat pent up frustration? It's a win win deal, if you think about it hard enough."

Chan leans forward, lips curving up into a confident grin, "Oh, I will. I intend to do both. Fuck this anger out on you and put him behind bars."

Chan's hands are big in comparison to your face. He cups your face, angles it and kisses you. His lips fit right into yours almost as if they were meant to be there for a lifetime to come. He kisses you and it's just as magical as always, laced with a touch of ardent need and passion. You needed him, you needed his warmth, his protection and everything he has to offer. His arms snake around your neck to grasp it and pull you in, deeper into him as he moves his lips against yours, softly at first till it turns into something so passionate that it would have your knees buckle, had you been standing. Chan is pressed against you, his white shirt, a size small as he likes it, clinging onto his body tightly (rid of the vest and suit in a moment of anger as soon as he walks into the house you share) and perfectly enough for you to hold his muscles.

You promised to yourself that you wouldn't fall in love, not after the shitshow of a marriage you saw in your parents. You promised that you'd keep your heart to self, that every individual in this world was brought forth as a single entity, so why in heavens did we go searching for others?

Chan makes you understand.

You understand now that promises are meant to be broken and as you gaze at Chan under his dim lights, his face so temptingly close to you, you are more than ready to break the promise you've made with yourself.

It has been written in the gazes already and as you lean forward, your fingertips tracing his jawline, Chan knows it because he meets you halfway, his hands creeping behind your back by your waist and tugging you closer, your bodies touching and your lips on his, soft and testing waters initially. He pulls you closer, his lips moving against yours, angling your face to delve deeper into you.

He has his lips against yours, nearly knocking you off all the wind in your lungs. You sigh into the kiss, find your hands in his hair, tugging at the roots and moving against his body, your legs stretching by either side of his body. His hand sprawls over your neck, his thumb caressing against your jugular before pressing into the neck, rubbing slow circles. He kisses the top of your lips, your hands tugging at his shirt.

In a swift motion, positions have changed and you're sitting on him whilst he props himself up on the table. He lifts you up slightly, pulling back and places you on top of his lap. Your rear falling into the depression between his thighs, rubbing against his groin slowly. He looks at you through hooded eyes, pushing your hair past and opens his mouth to speak before you voice out first.

He looks at you from below, your hair falling on his shoulder as you look at him, his head thrown behind as it rests on the sofa's ridge. And your lips find his again, tugging at his soft lip to let you through, to open up to you completely.

You moan into the kiss, your back arches and Chan's hand is still firm on it. He kisses your lower lip and your tongue brushes his lips in the impact, groaning at how he won't let you through a second ago and then, he lets you in. It's intimacy on a level you were slowly being prepared for. It's everything you remind yourself that you wouldn't break down into. Chan makes you feel special, with every praise, with every word he swears out to protect you. Chan reminds you of a feeling you had long forgotten.

Chan's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin. Your head is thrown back at the sensation, your hips gyrating over his growing length.

His hand moves from your shoulders to your arse to your back after he seeks your permission as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and good lord, you feel infinite and powerful.

His lips hover on yours. He smirks, the curve of his lips tugging upwards slightly and you think it's cute. You think Chan also makes you feel divine as he whispers into your skin like personalized love notes or small token of appreciation, "Fuck, you're hot. The most beautiful being I've ever seen," and that is all that is needed as you gyrate over your hips a little quicker. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again.

And you let him, just like you've already given him permission in your head to ravish you tonight, to take you to hell and back.

Chan cups your face with both his hand, holding you and watching your face shine in the dim gold setting of his room. Your cheeks glistened and your eyes sparkled but his eyes could not stray away from your lips — coral, swollen and so demanding. He pulls your face down, kissing your nose tip and then your philtrum before pressing his lips flat against yours.

His kiss is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, like a divine aphrodisiac. It makes you want to pull him in and suck the living hell out of him and yet it's lovely. It's precious and laid out well planned. His tongue licking your lower lips before entwining with your tongue as he pulls you closer into him, your hips lowering deeper into his covered length, panties sticking to the core from the sensations your body is responding to.

His fingers trail up your black dress, thumb grazing the skin slowly, bringing about goosebumps to the surface before they slowly move enough to rip your dress apart and expose you to him, in all semi-nude. You moan, before kissing him as you hold onto Chan tightly.

He makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to pull you down a lot forward and gladly welcome the movement of your tongue.

His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses, those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs.

His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bare bottom cheeks, caressing it over. You sigh contently. His hand trails upwards, touching, feeling you all over and you pull back, breathing rapidly as you look at Chan. The next second you are unbuttoning his first two buttons and prompting him to remove his shirt too. Your legs slide slightly dangling off his sofa before he pulls you towards him, his naked chest warm enough against yours as he pulls you back in to devour you.

"God, you're heavenly," Kiss. "So fucking heavenly." Kiss. "You're a fucking good girl." Kiss. "So good for me." Chan sucks a huge hickey into your neck — bright, dark and purple but it's how he worships and praises you that makes you want him more, your clothed core grinding on his enlarged bulge that is covered. The friction from the cotton of your panties and the cotton of his jeans slowly stimulates your core and you can't help yourself when your body is moving on its own accord on top of Chan, your hand moving your from falling back.

“Chan,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you for a minute. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing.

"Chan!"

His fingers move downward, grazing your skin by your stomach slowly, his eyes trained on yours as he watches you slowly break down. His fingers tease over your clothed mound. You bite your lip from groaning too loud but Chan's sudden tapping at your covered clit makes you yelp.

"Good girl. That's right. I want to hear your pretty moans," he kisses down on your neck, trailing and plastering wet kisses down your clavicle before sucking at the exposed skin of your breasts. "Moan loud for me, baby." He sucks at the skin by the crook of your neck, under your clavicles, above your breast and at the curves, leaving purple marks almost instantly thanks to your sensitive skin.

You can hear your heart beat quicker, racing against your chest and your thoughts drive you desperate. Pulling his face from your breasts, you kiss him, making the kiss deeper, licking his lip and grazing it with your teeth. You grind down on him trying to edge yourself desperately. You move forward to own every gulp and moan he releases and squirms in pleasure.

"I want you so much," you choke out. Chan's hand lets loose from your throat slightly and he looks at you with admiration, before gripping at the jugular, and caressing it lovingly, pressing wet kisses against it. You sound desperate, almost like you would lose your sanity if Chan doesn't make you his, this minute. "Please. Chan, please."

His hands trail downwards, thumb rubbing the skin on its way before he slips them under your panties, swiping his finger across your slit, feeling how wet you are. He groans out loud, mumbling, "What a doll. All wet and ready for me to devour. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Baby, wouldn't you?" He presses against your jugular with his other hand, tilting your head and gently choking you. Your eyes rim with tears in joy and you nod, "Yes, please."

His mouth moves over the skin at your breast, kissing it furiously. His tongue lapping at your nipple over your bra, slowly circling over the clothed material as he rubs his finger up and down your slit, occasionally rubbing against your clitoris. You press down and grind on him further, begging for more. Chan removes his hand from your neck and moves it up from your waist to your back and it lingers around the hook of your bra before snapping it open with a flick of his fingers. The bra slides off your shoulder and you throw it away, unbothered by where it lands.

Chan's mouth falls on your breasts, circling big with his tongue before slowly decreasing the radius of his turns and narrowing down on your nipples, sucking at them alternatively. You are moaning, holding at his shoulder and dragging your hips over his bulge in a slow, excruciating pace he has set with the drag of his fingers.

Your throat is dry from all this excessive want and you wet your lips, breathing coming out in hot puffs of air, rapid and shallow. The passion and want blinds you and Chan taps on your clitoris constantly with his thumb, using the other fingers to slowly tease your entrance over the panties but going back to sliding down your opening. You groan frustrated and grind down on his bulge trying to chase the feeling that is growing within you.

Chan's lips are all over you as you bite into his shoulder occasionally. It hovers over your neck and then your breasts, giving it all the attention as he plays with your nipples as he rubs you at a pace that quickens slowly. Your mind is boggled and you can't get your thoughts clearly.

"Such pretty breasts," he groans into it, his tongue flicking at it from your underside. "Such perky breasts. So beautiful and all mine."

Soon enough with his praises and the way he worships your being, the promise of an orgasm begins to manifest and build within you as a strong tightness within your lower regions, creeping into your abdomen, ever growing with every passing second. Chan's steady rhythm is strong enough to carry it over the edge with the friction you get from all the material and his bulge and as your climax looms closely, your hips rock and gyrate slightly against him. He pinches and flicks your nipples as he helps you ride out the orgasm, your eyes tired and hooded. You kiss him softly on his lips.

"Will you remove your lingerie for me, pretty girl?"

The order shouldn't have turned you on this much but it does as you hop off his lap, your feet unsteady on the ground as you balance yourself after your first orgasm. Your fingers are on the edge of your panties and you're pulling it down completely in the next second. Chan watches you steadily, his eyes trailing on your figure and you feel attended to.

"Jesus Christ," he stands up, the bulge moving slightly and your mouth dries up as it opens, wanting so much more. He holds you by your waist, petting your hair, mumbling, "I love when you put your hair down. You look like a goddess. A goddess ready to let go of your divinity all for me."

He unbuckles his belt as you slowly touch yourself, your hand moving down your body. He watches you, your thumb and forefinger playing with your nipples, tugging and pinching them till they harden under your grip. He removes his formal pants and his boxers, pulling it down and away at your request. Chan's length and girth has your eyes widening, as always, your tongue licking over your lips and you gape.

It's painfully hard and the tip is red, leaking with precum down his cock. Chan holds you by your waist and lifts you up, your knees wrapping around him and your soaked core on top of his hardened girth, occasionally dragging past it. He kisses your breasts, licking over the nipple and the underside of the breast, grazing his teeth over it as he walks you to what you had thought would be the bed. However, he stops midway, looking at you for a second before your back hits the cold walls of the room in this house as he holds you securely. You see the bed by the side and you smile. You drop your legs and stand on your toes as you kiss him, your tongue running over his buccal cavity.

Chan's hand trails down, circling by your waist before his palm hovers over your mound. His thumb brushes past your clit teasingly and your hand wraps around his neck, kissing him and biting at his lower lip till you feel the metallic copper taste of blood filling your senses.

You moan as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing you fold. He rubs circles into your folds, slowly dragging them out into waves and your hand flies upwards and forward to hold on to him for a grip.

"Chan," you rasp out, and he hums, removing your hand so that he can kneel down, kissing your thigh and biting it slightly as his thumb rubs against your clit and the other swipe against the folds. Your hands grip on his roots, tugging at it mercilessly.

"Baby, do something," you cry. "Please, I need you." Your other hand tugs at his hair, trying to bring him closer in a desperate manner. "I'll be a good girl. Please, do something."

"Should I?" he teases, rubbing small circles around your clit in an excruciatingly slow manner and you think — know — that Chan is going to drive you to insanity and how he'd pull one off his book and blame it on his instincts.

"Please, please, please—"

The intrusion is sudden and you are overwhelmed. You gasp, the air raspy against your throat before falling. Your hand pulls at his hair harshly as he sucks on your clitoris, his breathing fanning over you. Your fingers drag down and dig into his skin, unbothered by the possibility of cutting through it.

He presses his thumb on your clit after removing his mouth, tapping it slowly, simultaneously and you think you're going delusional. "Chan, oh my fucking heavens."

He kisses your mound repeatedly, telling you, "Look at this sex. Wet and dripping. I'll give you what you want, baby. I'll give you what you want for being a good girl for me."

Chan adds another two fingers instantly and you feel overwhelmingly full, crying out at being widened so pleasurably. The walls stretching out and you catch him mumbling, "So fucking tight and all for me. Look at this brat being a good girl for me."

He curls them up into you and your back arches slightly at the tingles. You feel Chan slipping his fingers easily into you and the slick of your arousal dripping down your thighs, making a mess. He rubs your walls, his attention also on your enlarged button and your hips gyrate with him, thrusting and chasing after his fingers desperately. He finds your spot easily after being this around and pushes at it constantly. Your head hits against the wall hard and he looks upwards at you for a split second, worried, only resuming after you give him a signal that you are alright.

You feel the euphoric rush coming, creeping through from within and trying to embrace you as a whole and when it's very close to burst, Chan pulls his fingers away, licking them clean with a knowing smirk plastered on his face, for a second before thrusting them back in.

Chan pumps his fingers in and out of you as his thumb rubs furious circles into your clit. He bites at your thigh, kissing them soon after, leaving traces of bruises near to your vulva. Hot, purple and sticky. He sucks on the skin deliriously, licking the skin to soften before grazing his teeth to oversensitize you. You feel the build up and you squirm against Chan, your eyes watering.

"Chan, baby," it's a sob that leaves you. "Please." You were so devastatingly close after your last orgasm, the balls of heels leaving the surface as you try to pull back but Chan pulls you down as he sucks on your clitoris and pumps his fingers in you in a ridiculously breaking pace and when you are so close to breaking apart, Chan drags his fingers away, licking and sucking at them as you look down at him.

"What the fuck?" You swear, frustrated, tears spilling from your eyes.

"Good girls don't swear."

"I'll blow you off well," you try striking a deal with him. He looks up at you amused, strands of hair sticking to your face from the sweat and he still thinks you're the most beautiful woman he has laid his eyes. "I'll give you one hell of a blowjob. Just please." Your voice breaks as you look at Chan, who looks so delectable at the minute with your juices staining the side of his mouth and his lips shining in the light. "You won't regret—"

His mouth is back on your core and you groan, "Ungh!" He mumbles, his warm breath tingling your core as he speaks against it, "Good girls don't strike a deal either, darling."

"But your good girl does," you tease and Chan's mouth is back on your sex, licking and teasing it. He grabs you by the calves, his blunt nails digging into the vast skin.

Without another word, Chan dives right into it, tongue darting out to lick a long, thick stripe from your center to your clit, causing you to shiver. Your left hand finds its way back to his hair after grabbing at his shoulder intermittently. Chan simpers to himself, overwhelmed by how well your body reacts to him and just him, your legs shivering and buckling, about to fall if it weren't for Chan's hands holding you up and pressing you against the wall.

You feel the thickness of his tongue lapping up your seeping wetness, which in turn causes a rush of arousal to leak and drip down your ass. "You're making a mess, baby," he chuckles, the laughter hitting your clit and sending a shiver down your spine. Your fingers instinctively tighten around his hair and you pull him closer to your cunt, his nose nuzzling against your mound. He groans, hands gripping your thighs tightly, locking your legs in place.

Burying himself further, his tongue dips deep inside you, nose nuzzling and rubbing against your clit with every thrust. His eyes are piercing and fixated on the rise and fall of your chest as he looks up at you once in a while, seeing you tug at your lips, eyes closed and hand roaming around for support. He loves seeing you fucked out for him.

"Argh, it's fucking divine," Chan mumbles against your slit and the vibrations have your core clutching onto nothing. "This good cunt all wet and slickened for me, ready for me." You mewl, unable to stop yourself from wriggling within his hold, the grip on his hair tightening.

Your walls grasps around his tongue, pulling him further into you as he laps up every single drop of your arousal, passionate as if it were an aphrodisiac. One of his hands travels upwards to latch itself on your breast, rubbing the underside of your breast, fondling and gripping it hard.

“Chan,” you moaned softly, your voice trembling over the sensations that ride into you, toes curling. He responds to your calling, withdrawing from you slowly, by planting soft and gentle kisses to your inner thighs.

"You're doing great, love."

He sucks on your clit furiously and that was everything for you. You feel the same high building up at a pace quicker than you thought was possible. You feel it tightening, your core clutching onto his muscular organ as it tries indulging itself deeper, chasing after something it craves. His nose rubs against your neglected clit. He licks a stripe against it before sucking at it, teeth grazing at it sending tingle down your spine that has you hitting the bumpers with the heel of your feet. You are already sensitive from the last orgasm and all the teasing you had and with all this vigor and undivided attention Chan gives you, you feel it coming as he treats you like you're his only girl.

Your back arches more steeply, your mound hitting him in its influence, head hitting the wall lightly this time and your moans are louder, raspier and quicker. You are screaming out Chan's name as you see the stars under your eyelids.

He still licks slow stripes, taking in and devouring the rush of juice that squirts out of you. He lets you ride out the high and he lets you leave him breathless as his grip on your thighs do not ease away. Chan does not stop, even when you're a quaking, quivering mess, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes and it's almost bordering overstimulation. You can't think and you can't form proper sentences. He leaves you gasping for air, with something stuck in your throat preventing the passage of air and it's difficult to breathe in this rush and he makes it harder.

He looks at you teasingly and he lifts his hand as you bend forward to his kneeling self. He clutches on your neck, his fingers pressing against the side softly as he continues licking up your orgasm and blocking your air passage. You feel the stimulation rushing and concentrating and it's all too much for you. Tears stain your face and you're crying, "It's too much, Chan. Too much."

And he stops as soon as you say that. He presses soft kisses against your clitoris and he holds your hips tightly as he stands up. You've lost any energy in your legs you have and if it weren't for Chan, you'd crash.

He holds you by the hips and carries you, dropping you gently against the bed, your hair spreading and you kiss his shoulder. He caresses your face and tells you — it's a whisper almost — "I think I want to get to know you more. I think I—"

You bring his face lower to kiss him, preventing any other word to spill from his mouth that your head tells you to cancel. You are not sure yet. You hold his face down, devouring him as a whole, feeling his length slide your core draggingly and you groan into him.

You don't shy away from prying your hand down, teasing his cock as you rub your hand over the enlarged shaft slowly, teasing his enlarged red head, rubbing your arousal and the afters of your orgasm all over him, slowly stimulating him as you drag your hand down his length and back up again, letting go of his shaft only to cup his balls, trailing your fingertips around it. You let go and look at Chan.

"Lay back, please," you request and he pecks your nose as he pouts at you. God, he really really wants to call you his. Forever.

Chan lies back on the bed, his head resting between his pillows and yet he pulls his body up, supporting his weight on his arm. You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Chan, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Chan's hand falls on your hips naturally, helping you steady yourself.

Your hands rest on his chest, firm and broad and you gaze at Chan's cock for a while, it twitching with every unadulterated thought of his as he watches you on top of him, bare, exposed and unrestrained all for him. Your mouth is parched and your tongue pokes out through the seams of your lips, running across the expanse of your lower lip and wetting it.

"Fuck," he swears as his eyes move with your tongue, his chest rising and falling under your hold.

You reach forward to take him in your hand — the tip of his head looks so inviting that you couldn't stop yourself. Chan's hands roam up your arms, his thumb caressing the underside of your breasts before they play with them, his thumb and forefinger rubbing your nipple, watching it turn solid in his hold. He grips at your breast, fondling it and massaging it, stimulating you and bringing about a rush of confidence in you.

“You’re fucking large, fuck, fuck,” You yelp, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. You widen your mouth, stretching your facial muscles and Chan laughs.

When you look at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. At this moment, with you hovering over him, he can't seem to contain how excited he is, his length twitching in your hold. You begin moving your hands up and down his length at the same slow pace he had put through.

You lean forward, Chan's grip on your breasts tightening as he squeezes it. Your whines turn to louder moans of ecstasy. His one hand grabs your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail until he drops it and touches your face, "Ah, so beautiful. You're so perfect."

Chan watches you and is all too eager, his hand on your face trailing down to your shoulder, gripping on it as he continues caressing one of your breasts. The flat of your wet tongue sticks out to lick around the rim of his hot head. He fights back a groan, choking and sputtering, grip on your shoulder tightening as his blunt nails dig into your skin. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, hollowing it, which leads profanities spilling from his pretty mouth, even though it's a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath and you sigh at the thought your mouth wrapped around his pretty cock.

Chan inhales a sharp breath, swearing and uttering, "Your pretty mouth could take me so well, baby. So good." You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. Your tongue licks around the base, pulling up a fat stripe over the throbbing, prominent vein.

“Fuck, fuck,” Chan mumbles, shifting on the sheets, his hand gripping on one of the pillows. “Open wider, please, baby. You're doing so good. You're taking me so well."

You do as he has asked of you. Your jaw is already sore and the joints ache from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the bed in the slightest without your awareness; his hand trailing back to your hair and the other still on your breast making you feel good. His grip on your hair is strong as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth, your lips wet around his length.

You try your best for it to be pleasurable for him as your fingers tighten around his length before you start to twist your wrists — with a click of your gliding joint — and continue sucking. Chan is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.

Chan's eyes widens, the reaction from you exciting him as you feel him twitching in your mouth. He gasps, breath uneasy as his hand leaves your hair and trails behind towards your arse that sticks out as you try deepthroating Chan. He rubs your slit slowly and the unexpected contact pushes you forward, taking in Chan a lot more than you had planned, leaving him groaning into your shoulder.

He pulls out barely before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused on making you feel calm too. Chan moves back and watches you taking him so well and he knows it's a sight to behold — your pretty lips wrapping around his length, taking him so well as if your mouth was made for him, crafted to perfection. His fingers rub small circles into your vulva, tapping against the clit accidentally once or twice.

Another gag rumbles out of you as you fight the reflex. The vibrations against his member is felt and he grips on your arse, pulling you into him, your nose rubbing against his pubis. Your finger trails the underside of his shaft before rolling his balls between your fingers. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision as you oppose your gag reflex, taking him as deep as you can.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of his bedroom, followed by the deep moans and sighs spilling through Chan's lips as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway, your throat constricting and eliciting a groan from him. He also diverts your attention to rubbing you, now and again slapping your cheeks, eliciting moans from you against his girth.

You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you dig into the flesh of his thighs. Your mouth is stretched as wide as you can physically make it and tears roll down your cheek continuously, while you willingly take him completely in your mouth. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, enthralled to see the Adam’s apple in Chan's throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure.

Chan pulls your head back; his cock comes out from your mouth with a light pop followed by you gasping for air. Your eyes droop, your cheeks hollow and your jaws ache but everything counts to how hot you felt, to how hot the tension between you still is. His hand trails back to your hair, gripping on it and jerking your hair back so you’re forced to look at him.

"This is a fucking sight to behold. Look at you, darling," he groans.

Chan's thumb grazes your skin and he latches his lips onto yours in a sloppy, messy and wet manner and nothing else seems to matter other than your need for each other. You lean forward, tugging at his pinna as you bite down on it lightly, before mumbling, "I'm on top today."

Chan doesn't care because all he can focus on is how you said today, like this isn't just a one time thing. He gazes at you with such affection that has your heart racing telling you to let go of that stupid cages you keep around your concepts.

As your folds, dripping down with thick, sticky arousal coating Chan's cock with that and your saliva, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you throwing your head back, squeezing your eyes at how his length stretches you out, your walls wrapping around him tightly. He holds your waist, helping you down on his length.

You rock your hips into him, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick cock. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate, licking your lips. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord. Chan's right hand rises upwards, massaging your breast, flicking your nipple and sending a rush down your spine, arching your back. His cock hits you at an angle and a soft moan leaves your lips.

Chan takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Chan,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and Chan lifts himself up to kiss you.

As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Fuck, Chan, oh my god, ah!”

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock, gyrating around it and tightening your walls. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you, leave him trembling under your hold.

He groans, "Your cunt is so pretty. Look at it, baby. Look." He gapes down and you gasp, moaning quicker.

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the third time that night, all because of this man. Chan's finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge.

“Are you going to come, baby?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.

“Y-Yes, please, please,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, please, please, you feel so good, Chan.” You lean forward and the motion causes him to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours, tugging and pulling at it and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.

Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Chan, fuck. Oh fuck. I'm going to come soon. Oh my god." Your voice reaches a pitch higher.

“Then, come.”

Chan moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Baby, come all over my cock. You deserve that for being the good girl you are.”

Chan's other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find its place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke, gasping for air. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Chan's cock tightly, your hip gyrating around it for all the friction.

Your fucked out expression as you choke for air makes Chan plunge into you harder and you choke harder, his hips lifting up and thrusting into you.

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Chan's sides, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.

Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you. Thick strings coating your walls till it seeps from your vagina and drips down.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He kisses your forehead and your hair, pushing it from your face. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side, the semen slipping out. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him, nuzzling into the sides of your breast.

In his warmth, with his arms over your stomach as he snuggles closer to you, you feel your eyelids heavy and fluttering shut. His lips are close to your skin, feeling his steady breathing and listening to it calms you down, steading you and increasing your melatonin, slowly drifting away to a state of peace, all in Chan's arms.

You stir in the bed, your hand reaching out for Chan only to feel the messy bed sheets and blanket. You wake up, brought to your senses well enough and you look around to find Chan only to see the light in the balcony turned on.

Putting on his white shirt messily, you rush outside to find Chan sitting and staring at the black sky. You sit by his side, shuddering in the cold and he looks at you fondly, cracking a smile.

"You're up?" You nod, teeth biting at the cold breeze that passes by, until you realise what Chan is staring at. It's snowing. It is the first snow in a long while and it's beautiful, albeit being late. He smiles at the purple mark that he has graced upon your skin. Chan stretches his arms out, blanket still in his hold as he offers to hold you close in this cold weather, to share his body warmth. He mumbles softly into your ears, "You should sleep a little more. It's going to be a tough day tomorrow. Aren't you meeting Jieun?"

"Yeah," you smile, watching the surroundings. "First thing in the morning. She seems to know a lot about everyone in this neighborhood. That, and I want to know why they treat Somin," Chan looks lost and you realise you haven't discussed it yet with him. "Kim Jihoon's widow is treated like that."

"I'm firm on this theory."

"What theory?"

"That Rowoon is the one killing people — bad homeowners — off because we'll, they disrupt his neighborhood. That or, they got drunk and it is still an accident."

"But Somin?"

"What? Anyone can be a bad homeowner! She's probably his next target." Chan chuckles and pulls you in closer. He holds you still for a while before he says, "We'll talk about the case tomorrow before you go to Jieun's. And you should clean up the mess of notes on the dinner table."

"You're the nagging kind of husband!"

"No." He is quick to deny. "I just like my house at least a bare minimum clean, alright?" You laugh out loud, falling into his hold as you try to contain your joy. Something soft hits your knees, barely visible but it settles softly.

Snow. It's snow and you see the snowflakes along with it. You watch them tumble, those feathered crystals, their chaotic flight to form a blanket that could not be more uniform, more orderly. And it's beautiful. So beautiful that it eases you and has you snuggle further into his warmth. Enough to make you forget everything for a minute there in his arms.

"I like snowflakes," you say, your head resting on his chest. There is a certain intimacy in the hour, in his hold, in this weather and between the two of you. A certain intimacy to friends who only sleep and work with each other shouldn't have. Chan looks at you, waiting for you to continue.

You do like snowflakes. A lot. Each snowflake is like a sculpture made out of paper. Each has a unique identity reflecting a crucial passage in the chosen source material with an equal amount of complexity carved out of minimal space and in the end, it falls down before someone, lighting up someone and making them happy.

"It makes me happy. It doesn't have to fit in or match with anyone else and it still means the world to someone."

Chan smiles and you know it is clearly one of your most favorite things in the world, your solace. You find the happiness growing, much as a spring flower opens. It comes from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. Chan makes sure it is like that, that the world knows when he's happy but wouldn't, when he is sad. A person smiles with more than their mouth, and I heard it in his voice, in the choice of his words and the way he relaxed. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

Maybe he'll teach you not to hold in your feelings. Maybe he will let you fall in love. All over again.

And you kiss him. It's short and quick, as chaste as the love you feel for him in this minute, in his arms. He leans forward and kisses you back and maybe, you both were snowflakes, as weird as you are, as unique as you — and yet the two of you make each other happy as corny as it sounds.

"Uh," Chan pulls back and rubs the back of his head and then his nape. "I—"

"Oh, a mistletoe, look!" You point and Chan turns back, frowning to look at the tree by the side with some creepers that crawl on its branch — creepers that were not mistletoes. You smile brightly as you continue pointing and Chan looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

"That's not a mistletoe."

"It isn't? I thought it was. My bad!" You laugh, eyes sparkling in mirth and cheeks heating up in embarrassment over the obvious lie you said. You sit up straight and look up at the sky.

"It's a pretty night for whatever shit that went down today," Chan comments, staring at the moon. The moon is a warm milky glow in the sky, as if the sight of her could become a song in the eyes of anyone willing to raise their head upward. You were and you were going to seize the opportunity.

Chan's gaze is fixed on the big moon and your head thinks of him and the words from Natsume Suseki and every other anime you were forced to watch, thanks to Jeongin. In every black night, he was the spark that rekindled hope in you.

"Is there something on my face, Y/N?"

"No," You turn back, smiling, heart fluttering and your mind at ease. "Just," you hold your chest, feeling the beating of your heart louder than ever.

"The moon is beautiful."

It's small and fragile. Once, and then, twice, till it sounds again and again and again through the silent air of your house.

The knocking on your door is repeated and you turn to look at Chan who stirs in his sleep, thanks to the same sound. You shuffle in your bed, trying to go back to sleep, presuming it is an illusion and nothing more. However, Chan heard it too.

"Is someone…"

"I'll go check," you mumble, huffing and throwing the blanket to the side. Luckily, Chan's shirt covers you up to your thighs. You jump out of the bed and your partner decides that it is safe to follow you to the door instead.

You open the door and in comes rushing a little boy, aged not more than eight, with tear stains on his face. He runs forward hugging your frame in his reach as he cries out loudly. Chan looks at the scene before him in delusion and you relate.

Who in the world is this child?

"Is everything alright?"

The child continues crying into your frame, burying his face into your abdomen. Chan squats down to come face to face with the child. His hand carefully holds the child's back as he pats him slowly, letting him calm down for a while before he asks again.

"Where's your mum and dad?"

"Dad isn't home. M-mum is," the child hiccups, choking on his own sobs as tears roll down his face messily. "She's in the garage and there's blood around her head and—" He cries fiercely and you hold the boy close to you, heart heavy because you know the worst possible scenario. Death.

"Why don't you take us there, okay?" Chan smiles gently. The boy looks with teary eyes at him and Chan quickly lifts him up in his hold. "Come on. Let's go."

And the boy was right and his worst nightmare comes true. You cover the eyes of the child to prevent him from further seeing the horrendous sight before him.

Because before all of you was the body of Kim Jieun, sprawled in her own driveway, her head crushed to a pulp under her garage.

An overturned shelf, a couple of paint cans that look like they have been thrown and some blood splattered on the floor is all you and Chan find last night. That, and a woman's broken pastel nail extension.

You would have checked further had it not been for your undercover and that Chan had been getting endless calls from Mayor Arsehole. Changbin fumingly goes on about how he sent the two of you to put a stop to this but rather there's another case on his desk now. The man does not calm down even after Chan says that the two of you were definitely looking for a serial killer and that these deaths were not accidents. If anything, it upsets him further.

This morning however, the sun shines brighter.

Chan walks into the kitchen, looking for you, teasingly shouting out into the air, "Honey, what's for breakfast? Eggs? Bacon? Eggs and Bacon? Or maybe it's ri—"

Before him on your cluttered table of a case file, notes and photos of evidence lies a sad bowl of soggy cereal.

"Soggy cereal it is," he frowns.

"I made it though. It should count for something, right, husband?"

Chan grunts and sits down, spoon digging into the bowl of cereal as he takes his first bite soon enough. He glances over at the wall behind the breakfast table. You have mapped out the relationship between every single person in this neighborhood, affairs inclusive and Chan lifts his lips in pride.

"Someone has been a bit busy. When did you even sleep?"

"Didn't fall asleep. So I decided to work on this instead," and Chan realises you were not even kissing. Your eyes are grogging and your face is a lot gloomier even though you are smiling off the joy of mapping it all out.

"Did you crack the case?"

"As a psychological profiler, I can say," you frown. "I haven't. I just can't figure out the connection here. These murders were distinctly targeted, so, why? Why specifically these three people?"

Chan stirs the milk in his cereal before he looks at you and suggests, "Why don't you look for a common enemy?"

"Huh?"

"Y/N, babe," you blush at the nickname and try to zero in on the matter in hand. "I know you and I see way too many crimes on a daily basis because of our job and that makes you and I think that we are chasing after some blood sucking psychopath," Chan pauses and eats a big bite of cereal. He munches on it slowly, letting you grow anxious in waiting, "We may not be dealing with some headcase who likes to strangle old women with pantyhose. Maybe we are dealing with a good old fashioned murderer; you know, the kind that kills people because they pissed them off."

You look at the board, index finger against your cheek and your eyes widen. "You could be right!"

"Don't look so surprised also," Chan mumbles, finally finishing his cereal.

"It could work. Maybe what the victims have in common is their relationship with the killer." You continue to stare at the board. Chan cleans the plate in the sink on the other end, mumbling at you to keep calm and that you would crack the case with him soon enough. You sigh, "I don't have enough information to look for a common enemy." You tap on the first victim, Yoon Yerin. "Especially on her."

Chan folds his arm and stares at you. This look ok you is another one of Chan's favorites. You purse your lips, eyebrows furrowed together as you concentrate. Your eyes don't waver just like your heart in moments like this and Chan thinks he could fall even further for you, for your confidence.

"I'll probably swing by her place and see what I can find there. What's your plan?"

"Drop by at Rowoon's and find out where the fuck he was last night when his wife was murdered and his child was all alone." Chan stands by your side and you nod.

"Be home by 6:30?"

"Sure thing, honey," Chan laughs and he kisses your forehead, his lips lingering for a little while longer and you still, body heating up in his contact.

You nervously laugh, pushing him away slightly, "You're in character," You laugh again. "Method acting, right? that's good."

Chan looks away, avoiding contact with you and mumbling, "Yeah. Method acting."

He wonders how long he has to put up with this stupid method acting.

"Any luck?"

"Besides having Rowoon almost barf on my very nice dress shirt, no," you hear Chan speaking through the phone. You walk further down the neighborhood, lush green trees on either side. As much as you despised Changbin, you had to agree — the neighborhood is great. Just that it wasn't meant for people like you. People not rich.

"Do you want me to press a shirt for you?" You tease.

"Would my wife do that?"

"In your dreams," you roar in laughter. Chan chuckles on the other end of the line.

"Anyhow, Rowoon was out fucking one of his mistress last night. He's also pretty fucked up with the death and has not stopped drinking."

"He has an alibi?"

"Yeah," Chan sighs. "It's definitely not my homeowner's rage theory then."

You walk a little more till you stand in front of an unremarkable suburban house. You tell Chan on the other end, "I'm here. I'll get back to you soon. Bye," and hang up almost immediately. Quietly, you turn on your tape recorder and speak into it.

"184 Arbor Way. The house that belonged to Yoon Yerin, the first victim. Yerin lived alone which is uniquely for this predominantly family oriented neighborhood. That alone may have made her stand out and a target for suspicion."

You walk around the house, trying to look into it and around it, "The place is scrubbed clean. Whoever Yerin was, I'll have to find out from inside. The outside is scrubbed way too clean to get rid of any possible doubts."

You take a step back and look around to see if anyone was passing by, before you lay your hand around the door knob and try turning it. It's locked. You wonder if Rowoon had the key. Glancing around carefully, you slide a paperclip from your pocket into the keyhole and jiggle it once — twice, till the door opens.

You smile brightly, "Some skills are rooted, ha! Thank God, I dated that sketchy guy back in college."

You pull open the door. Inside, the house is spotlessly clean. Almost as if no one ever lived in it. Whoever cleaned the place did a thorough job, almost leaving it spotless. You walk around the house, looking into every corner and room there to find anything. However, you are left looking at nothing but bare floors, undecorated walls and sparkling clean surfaces enough to shine.

You turn to leave, sighing out an air of disappointment when a gold sparkle catches your eye in the light. You bend down and find a man's golden cufflink lying against the corner of the room. Taking a latex glove from your pocket, you pick it up and bag it in a plastic cover, hiding it in your jacket as you leave only to bump into Somin.

"Oh, Hey," you stammer.

"I don't mean to pry but did you just come out from Yoon Yerin's house?" She raises an eyebrow and you hesitate, fingers holding the plastic bag tightly in your pocket.

"No, no, I—" You sigh, looking down. Lying after being caught red handed is useless. "Yes. I'll admit that I did."

"What on earth were you doing there?" She asks and you realise that to anyone from outside, your actions seemed very suspicious — enough to blow off your whole cover.

"The thing is, Yerin, I was there because," you close your eyes and inhale a sharp breath of air, "I was there because I got curious."

"Of?"

"I just heard what happened to Yerin and I needed to come and see the house myself."

"What could you possibly look for?" Her eyes waver and she looks back at the house.

"Some signs maybe," you look back to follow her gaze, "Maybe a blood stain or something. I know this might come out as a bit weird but I have always been fascinated by macabre. I even listen to Stephanie Soo's true crime podcasts regularly."

She smiles fondly and nods, "I understand. To be very honest, I was fascinated by Yoon Yerin too when I heard of her death. I tried coming by to see what had happened. But now," she sobs. "Jihoon is dead and so is Jieun. They say that there is a serial killer on the loose."

"It's so sad that it happened in this neighborhood," you take a step forward, trying to walk away.

"I know, right? The whole point of living in a gated community is to keep the awful things out." Somin leans forward and puts her hand around your shoulders. "Look, you seem like a really nice person, Y/N, so I'm going to be honest with you. There is something bad happening here, something very very bad. Keep your head down till it's over. It's for the best."

Her tone is lower than ever and the advice sounds scarier than usual, something as if it were to warn you of an impending danger. You call Chan and he picks up quick.

"About pressing your shirt? I think I can do that. I have some pretty cufflinks to match them."

Later that night, you sit in your kitchen, the same board looming over you. You try to map out even more connections on your chart of suspects. The whole board is so covered with lines of strings that it almost looks like a spider web.

Behind you, the door swings open and Chan comes in, strides longer and quicker to take him to you as he screams, "Honey, I'm home."

You laugh, twirling in your rotating chair as you look at him and ask, "How long have you been wanting to do that?"

"Since we got this assignment. Of course, I mean," he tries putting a serious face, "It is sad that we were forced to do this by Han when he blackmailed us with that sex tape—"

"It's not a sex tape."

"The footings, but," Chan smiles widely, "It wasn't so bad to play house with you, Y/N."

"Likewise, Chan."

"Now, did you find anything?" Chan asks, resting his chin on your shoulder once you turn to face the board, his hand on your other and you freeze, surprised by the sudden contact, ironically. "This mapping just got messier."

"Yeah," you exhale and your shoulders slouch. Chan stands up straight as he tries to understand the board before him. "I tried mapping all the infidelities and affairs and this is what I got. A whole mess. It's all convoluted now."

Chan's eyes widen as he tries tracing the lines with his index finger before giving up. "Is everyone cheating on their spouses here?"

"Almost everyone."

Chan takes a step back, opens the fridge and pulling out a can of beer, he goes to sit on the sofa. You turn your chair around and watch him take a sip of it.

"Wow, you look as if you're right at home," you tease.

"There's space for two here," he pats the sofa by his side, and grins sheepishly.

You get up and take your own can of beer from the fridge, mumbling, "I can sure take a break," and walk towards him, plopping down by his side. The two of you clink your beer cans, the sound clattering through the walls.

"It's Christmas tomorrow, you know?"

You hum in agreement, "It's my first one outside home."

"I hope we can crack the case soon so that you can at least spend a few hours with your family on Christmas."

"Hey," you nudge his arm, "The thought of spending Christmas with you does not repulse me, okay?"

"I had not even said that," Chan gasps. He turns to look at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "So does that mean the thought does repulse you?"

"Don't twist my words," you laugh.

"Do you want to get married?"

You choke on your drink, eyes wide as you look at him. He pats your back as he tells you to breathe slowly. You finally ask, "The thought or with a specific person?"

"Both."

"Yes, and no," you mumble. "I do want to get married once but," you look at Chan for a minute as he drinks his beer. "I don't think I have my feelings sorted properly to have the privilege to think of thoughts like that."

Chan leans forward, eyes dazed and fixed on yours. Has he always been this beautiful, this captivating? Has he always made your heart beat so much quicker?

"Do you think you'll ever be ready to sort them out?"

You sputter and choke again. Chan smiles again; this time however, it looked sad. He stands up, placing the beer can down on the table before. "I should get some fresh air. Take a stroll in the neighborhood and make sure nothing is going around, yeah."

You turn away, face too scared to look at him in worries of your emotions being transparent. "Yeah, you should do that. I'll get back to the mapping."

"I'll, uhm, I'll be back in a few." Chan rubs the back of his neck before quickly stepping out of the house. You sigh, head fuzzy with the overload of emotions.

He doesn't know you were ready. He doesn't know you wanted more. He doesn't know how you confessed that night to him in the moonlight. He doesn't know of how you feel, because of you. You never told him directly, always twisting your words and actions. If anything, you had no one else besides yourself to blame.

"Chan," you whisper but it's too late. He's out.

A step too late to realise as always.

You snap out of your daze caused by the overload of emotions. Getting up, you slightly slap yourself and mumble, "Focus. Back to work now." You reach out into your pocket and take the cufflinks to file away. You turn it around in your hand when it flashes.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," you zero in on the object in your hand. "I've seen this cufflink before." You rush to the board, eyes scanning the pictures to see where you had seen it when it finally lands on the second picture pinned on the board.

You had seen it on the second victim — Kim Jihoon.

"Oh my god," you sigh, hand limp on both sides as you realise you know who it is. You know who the killer is and you know her motive.

"I know the killer. It's Somin, oh my—"

"Clever girl," you hear the feminine voice from behind you. You spin around quickly, hand on your chest as your eyes widen to find Somin standing by the door with a huge butcher knife in her hold.

"It was you!"

"That's right. Me." She takes a step forward. Instinctively, you glance back across the living room to where your gun hangs in a holster, draped over the coat rack.

Somin takes another step forward, speaking, "Sweet little Somin. Fragile, pitiful Somin. Somin who everyone always thinks they can pick on, lie to and laugh at — Ha!" He leaps forward and wildly waves her knife. She yells. "Well, who's laughing now? Who's laughing now?"

You dodge back, repeating to yourself to dawn the fact that it is true, that, "Jihoon was having an affair with Yerin."

"That ungrateful, cheating bastard couldn't wait to jump into that slut's bed. So I showed them both," she laughs. "I showed them both well."

"That I can understand," you edge closer to the coat stand to try and get your gun. "But why did you have to kill Jieun too?"

"Are you kidding me?" She yells. "That bitch stole my snickerdoodle recipe."

You huff out in disbelief, eyes narrowing at her and eyebrows furrowing, "Ah, I see. You're a full blown psychotic."

"I was going to stop after her, you know? But then you had to go and poke your nose around in the neighborhood. Stupid bitch."

Somin takes another step towards you and you know you are still far away from your gun. She is now almost at an arm's reach and you take a step backwards instinctively. She waves her knife again and you dodge it carefully.

"Who are you, huh? A cop?"

"An NIS profiler actually." She looks lost and you sigh. "A cop, yes."

"Well, Y/N," she glares. "Do you know what I hate the most? Liars." Somin lunges at you, jabbing the knife towards your throat. You dodge to the side, neatly weaving around the thrust. Somin stumbles past you, knocking over a giant carton of cereal, spilling it everywhere.

"Argh," and she swipes again. You dodge nimbly to the side again. Her knife cuts through the air with an audible hiss and the adrenaline pumps into your blood from the fear. The knife hits the fruit bowl and sends bright red apples scattering on the table, over your notes.

"Well, well, aren't you fast?"

"You've no fucking idea," you hiss, taking in as much air as you can. You back up and feel the counter behind you.

"Enough talk!"

You gulp, gripping the counter firmly. Somin dives towards you, slicing her knife at you. You reach back and grab a heavy toaster. You pull it around and holdi it out in front of you. It crackles loudly with a hot, electrical burst.

"Fuck." Somin jerks back, as if stung, the knife dropped from her grip. The knife clatters to the floor, it's tip blackened from char thanks to the electricity. Somin steps away, clenching and unclenching her hand.

"That fucking hurts, you bitch."

You drop the toaster and step back, putting your hands up defensively in front of your face. You propose, "Look, Somin, it's still not too late to surrender. We can still end this peacefully, alright?"

"You think I'm going to give up just because I lost my knife? I need to survive." Somin bounces up and down, assuming a combative stance. "I've been taking aerobic kickboxing for four years." She bounds towards you and shoots a lightning fast kick at your head. You guard your face and block her kick. She bounces back and aims to kick at your shins, hard. You jump, hopping back neatly avoiding her kick.

"Are you done?"

"No," Somin recovers quickly, spinning in a fast arc and throwing out a devastating, high roundhouse. You throw up your hands and block the kick. She staggers back, her balance off.

You seize the moment to spin around, swing low and lunge towards Somin, jamming the palm of your hand into her chin. You slide your one leg between hers and jerk back, kicking her feet out from under her and slam her down into the ground. The back of her head hits the cold tiles on the floor. You force yourself on top of her, pressing down on her chest with one knee and pant, "Four years of kickboxing, huh? Try seven years of krav maga."

She squirms under you, huffing, "Get off," and quickly lunging to get the toaster. Your eyes widen and you try to grab her hands. However, she's already about to throw the toaster when you hear the sound of metal clinking once and the toaster falling by your side.

"Nah, you're not going to hurt my wife," you turn to look at Chan, pointing the gun. He walks further ahead to the two of you. "Kim Somin, you are under arrest for the murder of Yoon Yerin, Kim Jihoon and Kim Jieun. You have the right—"

"They were all liars. All cheaters. It's not fair," she yells, struggling under your hold. You hold her wrists tighter and Chan slams the handcuffs on her.

"It's over, Somin. It's all over. The court will hear the rest, and the dead will have their peace."

"Did you reach home?"

Your phone is connected to the bluetooth speakers in your car and you hear Chan's voice in the small vehicle. You rotate the steering wheel as you turn to the right across the street. It's a comparatively quieter day, almost as if it's in stark contrast to the shit that went down last night.

"Not yet. I'm two minutes away."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," Chan laughs and you smile, your lips pressed together to prevent you from breaking into a big grin. "Don't miss your husband too much."

"Still in character, I see." You press on the gas to reach home a little quicker. "Are you spending it alone?"

"Nah," you hear voices in the background. "I'm spending it with Felix and Han."

"Don't miss me too much either then," you tease back and pull up at your place. You park the car in the garage and sit in the car as you speak to Chan. "And I'll meet you back in office in a few days—"

"Did you reach?"

"Oh, yes?"

"Then, check the backseat. It's my Christmas gift for you," Chan says. You unbuckle your seat belt and lift yourself up to turn back and search the backseat only to find a small box. You stretch your arms to grab it and finally sit back in your seat.

"Did you find it?" You hear Chan through the speakers again. You hum in response and open the gift.

It's a necklace. A beautiful thin silver chain with a snowflake pendant hanging and you gasp, heart beating way too quick. He remembers. He remembers. He remembers. If you were not already flushed by the gift, the note stuck on the underside of the cover of the box has your mind fuzzy, feelings all over.

The moon is beautiful.

"Chan?"

"Yeah? Did you not like the gift? I'm—"

"I'm coming over in ten minutes. Send Han and Felix away. All I want this Christmas is you. Just you."

4K notes · View notes

frombeyondtheblackhole · 3 years

Text

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 9.1

[TW: Blood, violence, severe injury, bone related gore and zombie/undead related body horror. Please take care of yourself and stay safe. Warnings bracket the worst of the potentially triggering content and a summary is provided if you feel the need to skip that part. Some violence and minor injuries are outside the brackets. If there is a specific TW that you would like me to include in the future feel free to let me know and I will do my best to add it.]

Quackity, Purpled and Charlie, spent over an hour searching through the woods and the land around Las Nevadas, well mostly just Quackity and Purpled while Charlie hovered around asking annoying questions. Neither The Zombie nor Foolish were anywhere to be found.

Quackity told Purpled and Charlie to Head back to Las Nevadas and look there while he did one more check around the perimeter for any clues as to what happened. Quackity took his time. Now that he was by himself he was able to think more clearly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned.

Quackity wasn’t exactly sure what he had witnessed. He’d never seen something exactly like it, one minute Foolish was standing in front of him and the next he was gone and this zombie lady was in his place. He might argue with the other Las Navadas recruits, and they might not have the best opinion of him, but one thing was certain, if anyone messed with them, especially on Las Navadas property, They were messing with him and he wasn’t about to let anyone push him around, not anymore, never again.

Quackity looked up as he rounded a sand dune, the walls of Tubbo’s “cookie” outpost looming up on the edge of Las Nevadas land. Quackity Scowled. One problem after another. The whole conflict about the walls hadn’t really been resolved, Tubbo was being stubborn, unreasonable. But that wasn’t a priority at the moment, he would deal with that latter, right now, he had bigger problems.

Quackity followed along the wall and stopped short on the road in front of the Las Nevadas toll tunnel. Ranboo and Tubbo stood on the road coming from the other direction.

They stared at each other, neither side moving. Then Quackity broke into a smile “Hey there, Fancy running into you two here. You seem to hang around here a lot, have either of you seen Foolish or a strange looking Zombie by chance?”

Ranboo fidgeted and looked away but he was always fidgeting and he was never one for eye contact so that wasn’t exactly a tell.

Tubbo on the other hand, Quackity had been in the same cabinet with him during Schlatt’s presidency, and in the cabinet during Tubbo’s presidency, he knew what the kid looked like when he lied.

“A Zombie you say? What makes you think we would have anything to do with that?” Tubbo shrugged.

Quackity didn’t drop the smile. “Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what I am talking about.”

“Honest big man, there are no Zombies here, that's why we built the walls.” Tubbo insisted.

Ok so the kid was getting better at lying. Quackity frowned but the smile returned a moment later. “That's all good. Just be careful, she did something to Foolish, he’s gone missing, I’m worried that if she is allowed to roam free and do whatever she wants then she might do what she did to Foolish to someone else. You understand. I would hate to hear that one of you two went missing.”

Tubbo and Ranboo looked at each other. They definitely knew something they weren’t telling him.

“Thanks for the warning big man, we’ll let you know if we see anything,” Tubbo smiled tightly before grabbing Ranboo’s arm and pulled him aside to whisper in his ear.

Called it. Quackity smiled, his sharp gold tooth glinting in the sunlight. He turned on his heel and headed back down the tunnel towards Las Nevadas.

---

Cleo looked down at the dark water lapping against the stone pier where she sat, her legs dangling over the edge. The air smelled of salt, cold stung her lungs. She wasn’t shivering despite the fact that a crop top and shorts was chronically under dressed for the weather. She didn’t really notice.

Her heel bounced against the wall of the peer as she stared out to sea. Snowchester was secluded, nice and peaceful, but it also felt vacant. There were houses but no one lived in them. Not that that was anything all too strange, Hermits built empty houses all the time, but these felt different. The empty houses the Hermits built were intended just for show, or to conceal functional builds. These houses once housed people, and now were abandoned.

Cleo looked up at the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow and the clunk of boots against the wood at the beginning of the peer. Tubbo and Ranboo stood looking back at her. Tubbo had his hands in the front pockets of his coat and Ranboo stared at her over Tubboo’s shoulder. He never seemed to blink, it was a bit unnerving.

Cleo pursed her lips “Um, thanks for letting me stay here kids, but-”

“You can’t stay here anymore,” Tubbo blurted out.

Cleo blinked.

Ranboo flinched “Sorry about all this, it’s just…”

“Don’t worry about it kid,” Cleo said, getting to her feet, “I was going to leave anyway,” She shrugged.

“Oh really,” Ranboo sighed.

Tubbo frowned “Why? What changed?”

Cleo chuckled hollowly, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Tubbo pursed his lips but didn’t push the issue.

Cleo walked past the two of them and started up the path.

“Wait,” Ranboo called

Cleo stopped.

“Where are you going to stay now?” Ranboo asked. Tubbo just glared at her.

Cleo shrugged and smiled a bit to cheerily “I’m sure I’ll find a nice cave somewhere, after all I am a Hermit,”

“Um,” Ranboo looked off to the side, tapping his fingers together. “If you need it there’s a hotel in the Greater Dream SMP. It’s big and red, hard to miss.”

Cleo chuckled, “I’ll be alright, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Tubbo was still glaring at her. She turned to leave again.

“Just know that if you try and mess with us we can and will defend ourselves,” Tubbo said.

Cleo didn’t turn around “Oh, I know,” She smirked as she walked away. This Tubbo kid had guts, she could respect that.

---

Quackity taped his fingers against his arm impatiently as he waited in the ditch on the Greater DSMP side of the speed tunnel to Snowchester. After talking to Tubbo and Ranboo he had watched from a distance and followed them here.

The splash of oars cutting through the water reached Quackity’s ears as a boat made its way towards his hiding spot. Quackity took a steadying breath, stealing himself as he listened carefully. The boat scraped against the shore and there was a crunch of sand as someone got out of the boat. Only one person.

Quackity stood up and moved into view. The Zombie jumped, summoning her sword as she spun around to face him, teeth bared.

Quackity held up his empty hands and took several steps back. “Woe, woe woe. Hold on. I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“You think?” She scoffed. She didn’t attack but she still had her guard up.

“Just tell me what you did to my friend and maybe we can resolve this peacefully,” He smiled tightly.

“I didn’t do anything! And even if I did, why would I tell you? You already tried to kill me once?” She said. Then her expression changed, as if just remembering something. She lowered her sword and straightened. “What do you know about perma-death?” She asked calmly.

Quackity sucked in his breath and took a step back. Was this a threat or a legitimate question? He looked at the determination in her eyes… It was both.

He fought the urge to summon his axe.

“Do you really think you can kill a Zombie? I’m already dead. The rules don’t apply to me!” She strode forward and pointed her sword at him. Quackity staggered back looking up at her standing over him on the edge of the pit framed by the crystal clear sky behind her.

Was she bluffing?

Fuck.

She spun on her heel and ran the other direction, across the field.

The trance was broken.

[TW: Blood, violence, body horror. Skip to the next bolded text to avoid the worst of it]

“Shit, Get back here!” Quackity scrambled up the bank, summoning his crossbow and letting loose the bolt. It struck her in the leg, but she didn’t even seem to slow down. Had she even felt it? An ender pearl replaced the crossbow and a moment later he felt a sudden rush as he flew through the air, switching to his axe mid-flight. He crashed into her back, embedding his axe between her shoulder blades.

Quackity pulled his axe out of her back and staggered backwards. She wasn’t dead. She hadn’t despawned yet. Maybe she had been telling the truth about being unable to die. Oh wait, she was moving.

She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees coughing up dark sickened blood. She staggered to her feet and turned around to face him again, fire and determination in her eyes.

How was she still standing? That last hit had to have broken several ribs. Quackity glanced at the exposed ribs poking out from under her crop top, edged with decayed flesh. Those had been that way before. Maybe broken bones didn’t matter?

[TW End: Summery: Quackity chases after Cleo, she tanks a bunch of damage but is able to keep fighting despite severe injuries]

Why were his knees shaking? She hadn’t even scratched him this time, and she wasn’t as good at combat as Dream or Techno. Yet she refused to die?

He clenched his teeth and scowled, “I’ll give you one more chance. Tell me what you did with Foolish?” He demanded. Now he was bluffing.

“I. Don’t. Know!” She yelled as she lunged at him, summoning her sword mid swing as she brought it down on him.

He didn’t have time to block. Instead he moved back and swung the axe up. The blunt side of the head struck her in the chin as he felt her sword cut into his shoulder and graze his chest.

She staggered back and switched her sword out for a gapple.

Oh no you don’t. Quackity raised his axe about to lung when he felt someone jump on him from behind. Arms wrapping around his neck in a choke hold. The axe returned to his inventory as he grabbed at the arms around his neck. They were invisible, his attacker was invisible.

“Cleo, Run!” the invisible man shouted.

She froze, the gapple halfway to her mouth “Etho?”

“I said run!”

She turned on her heel and started running, only pausing for a moment to eat the gapple and keep going.

Quackity clawed at the arm around his neck. This Etho guy was invisible. That ment he wasn’t wearing armor. Quackity summoned a sword in reverse grip and stabbed behind him. He heard Etho hiss as the sword grazed him. His grip loosened and Quackity was able to wrestle free. Summoning another pearl he threw it, getting away and landing near some trees. He staggered against one of the trees, coughing and rubbing his neck. He gritted his teeth, his face twisting into and ugly snarl. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She got away. And she had an accomplice.

They made him look like an idiot. He quickly rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He had promised never to let himself feel helpless again. Never to let other people control him. Yet he had let himself get pushed around by some random Zombie and one guy with an invis pot. Fuck this. He needed to do something about this. He couldn’t let this stand.

#hermitcraft dsmp swap au #dsmp #dream smp #hermitcraft #dsmp au #hc x dsmp au #dream smp au #hermitcraft au #quackity #tubbo #ranboo #zombie cleo #etho

90 notes · View notes

jeonqqin · 4 years

Text

man up. [m] | pt. 1

h. jisung x reader | netflix teen rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: language, eventual smut, minho is a little bitch

A/N: I pulled little tropes from pretty much every Netflix teen rom-com so if you see those little allusions then that’s why,, also I hope you all don’t mind that I made this into a series!

▸ request

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

Your eyes blurred over the words that were held out in front of you, every page harder to remember than the last.

It was your fault you were in the library studying during lunch period. You were the one that decided to procrastinate after all. But you also had no idea what was going to be on the exam in your statistics class. How could you start studying when you had no idea what you were meant to be studying? At least, that was your genius excuse for not touching your statistics book all week.

Resting your head on your hand, your eyes briefly wandered off of your book and directly up into a pair of pretty brown ones. They were already looking at you; gaze intense and flirty. It had you quickly looking back down at your book on instinct, this time without the intention of actually reading anything.

No way.

The boy sitting directly across from you was cute—no doubt about that. It was hard to disregard just how pretty he was with his classic big brown eyes and flat brown hair. At least, you couldn’t ignore him when he was clearly looking at you. Peeking up to make sure you weren’t seeing things, you caught his gaze again. And as his lip quirked up, you knew it wasn’t just a coincidence—he was deliberately looking at you. A childish giddiness flooded your stomach at the realization.

He smiled at you; charming and sweet.

“Do you know anything about political science?”

It took you a second to process what he asked, but you eventually shook your head with a smile. “D’you know anything about the statistics exam next Wednesday?”

He shrugged playfully. “Not a clue.”

“Well, it looks like we’re in the same boat then.”

“Utterly screwed by the school system?”

Snorting loudly, you instantly received an unhappy glare from the librarian and a followed up hush. An apology was on the tip of your tongue, but with the newfound fear of making another noise, you opted to send her a timid wave. Neither you nor the cute stranger moved until she returned to her book. But then he was slinking over and taking the seat beside you.

You could’ve squealed—imagine being such a teenage girl that you were so ecstatic to sit next to a cute guy. You were practically bouncing in your seat.

“At least I know that there’s someone else who can understand my worries,” he whispered, turning in his chair to face you completely.

You scoffed, eyeing the librarian for a moment before blinking back at the boy in front of you.

“Yeah right. You could ask the entire student body and they would all reply in one collective groan.”

“You’re not wrong there.” He hummed. “Thanks for not making me feel like a complete loser for procrastinating.”

“Oh, you’re still a loser for procrastinating,” you said, attempting to hold back your smile as he looked at you with a raised brow. “You’re just not the only one now.”

He made a playful noise of anguish, nodding his head with a silent laugh. “Ouch. That hurts coming from a mystery girl.”

You shrugged coyly, letting him take that as your answer before you leaned back against your palm.

“Maybe,” he paused for a moment, glancing around to the occupied librarian and continuing, “After classes, we could go out for coffee. Y’know—to get better acquainted. Unless you wanted me to keep calling you ‘mystery girl’.”

You pretended to weigh your options in your head, eyes flicking up towards the ceiling and an uncontrollable smile slipping onto your lips.

You were getting asked out. And every possible thing was going right; he was cute, he was witty, there was a connection, there were no interruptions—

“Are you free at six?”

Your mouth opened to reply a quick “yes”, but suddenly there were a set of hands landing firmly on your shoulders and you could feel the familiar brush of soft hair against your cheek.

“No sir, she is not free.”

The subtly stern voice of your brother replied, and the color of the stranger's face in front of you went pale as his eyes darted between you and the intruder beside you. “But thanks for asking.”

“Sorry, Minho—man, I didn’t know she was your girlfriend. I swear.” Came the panicked reply.

You winced, expression going sour as the apologies flew out of the boy’s mouth at a rapid pace.

“Sister.” Minho corrected, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on his face that read disaster.

And then after a few more unsettling glares and passive-aggressive comments from your older brother, the guy was gone, his head lowered to his chest. You had seen worse. There had been many more that happened to end in bruises and a visit from campus security, so a little humiliation wasn’t so terrible.

But fucking hell—there goes another one.

“You need to stop doing that,” you said, swiping all your books into your bag as your brother watched the poor soul leave the library with satisfaction.

Minho scoffed. “What? Weeding out the losers that run at a little sign of conflict?” He tisked patronizingly. “Do you really want to be in a relationship with someone who pisses themselves because your brother was being a little protective? I’m not going to be here forever, and who will be the one to watch out for you then? Certainly not Mr. Are-You-Free-At-Six.”

A heavy sigh left your lips. You had heard his speech before and you had been infuriated. But after years of the same response and lecture, you grew numb to the feeling of anger towards your brother.

“Who said I even needed protecting?”

“Me. I’m your big brother, I know what’s best for you.” He replied curtly, grabbing your bag from your shoulder and slinging it over his own.

You scowled, following him as he charmingly waved at the librarian on your way out. She chuckled under her breath and fluttered her fingers towards Minho, absolutely no intention of even glancing at you. Minho was a very likable person. He had always been able to use his endless pool of charisma to get on anyone’s good side, and that had opened up many opportunities for him.

Unfortunately, your brother had many sides to him, and one of them had manifested from his obsessive need to keep you away from any and all possible danger in life. That part of him was what had every guy running for the hills.

You were a freshman in college, and every relationship you had was ruined, courtesy of your older brother.

The two of you merged into the crowded halls filled with unrushed university students, several people greeting Minho with friendly gestures that you couldn’t keep up with. It was as if no one even saw you—you supposed that was also Minho’s fault.

“I have class now,” you huffed, tugging your bag from his shoulder and nearly making him stumble into a wall. “Okay? Am I allowed to continue my education, oh great brother of mine?”

Minho made a mocking face in your direction. “Haha. Very funny, young lady. Now don’t go seducing any more good-for-nothing’s while I’m gone. Got it?”

“I’m going to kill you one of these days.”

Minho snorted, spinning on his heel towards the direction of his own class.

“And I’ll be waiting with open arms, little sister!”

“Eat shit, Minho!”

With a visible bounce in his step he disappeared behind the corner, supposedly heading to his next class, but you knew it was just a matter of time before he would get sidetracked and distracted along the way. He was always excited to see you around campus, seeing you—his baby sister—just made his day better.

Generally, you found yourself smiling after a good interaction with your brother, but then he would go and pull the ‘protective brother’ card and suddenly you had the urge to rip his throat out. Minho knew you were growing up and pretty soon his intrusions wouldn’t be seen as just a nuisance, and they would turn into more of an invasion of your personal life. But you could see how much that realization hurt him, so you held back.

You settled into your seat as one of the first people in the lecture hall, watching as your professor rubbed his eyes and set up the slides for the class.

On your second day of class, your professor had snapped at one of the students for being late for his lecture, and it scared the shit out of you. The next day he apologized and used the excuse of being hungover and hungry, and it opened your eyes to the fact that you weren’t in high school anymore. You were surrounded by adults—careless and irresponsible adults, granted, but they were old enough to understand your professor’s woes.

Still, you would never find yourself arriving late, just in case you caught him on one of his bad days.

“Y/n,”

The cheery voice startled you out of your stupor.

“Good morning, my darling.”

Your eyes rolled back, though a smile still grew on your face. A fleeting thought ran through your head, you shouldn’t have been surprised, he did it every morning. You offered him a sparing glance as he stepped up to your seat, falling back into the uncomfortable chair beside you.

“Hi, Jisung,” you chuckled as his arm swung around your shoulders.

You decided to ignore the way the cut of his sleeves allowed you to get a glimpse of the muscle that was starting to form.

Han Jisung was your brother’s best friend, an annoying loud-mouth who was in too many of your classes for it to be a coincidence. He had been by Minho’s side for most of his life, and therefore, most of yours. And he flirted with you for as long as you could remember.

Just as the majority of the students started to flood the hall, Jisung pulled an apple out of his bag, holding it out for you to take.

“I noticed that you hadn’t gone to lunch with Felix today, and I figured since you’re looking berry cute today—” He grabbed your hand, placing the fruit into your palm. “Sorry. I didn't have any lines for apples.”

And the pickup lines—the many, many pickup lines.

“Really? Nothing?” You asked.

His head shook, eyes coy.

You aided him, shaking the apple in front of his face, “You’re the apple of my eye?”

“Ah…” He nodded in realization, seemingly bummed for not thinking of that one before. But then suddenly a smirk flickered over his features and he was pinching your cheek, “I knew you were in love with me.”

You turned away from his grabbing hand, fighting back the urge to roll your eyes. His talent was finding a way to flirt with you, and at times you had wondered how he was so good at it.

Practice made perfect, you guessed.

You smiled. “Uh-huh.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was in love with you—

“Hyunae told me to start eating more fruit, so she threw the apple into my bag when I wasn’t looking.”

—but Han Jisung had a girlfriend, and she was so much more than you could ever be.

Not that you cared at all.

“So you two are doing well?” You asked, feigning interest as you reached into your bag and pulled out your laptop. Maybe if you were stealthy enough you would be able to sneak in some studying while your professor went on about how traffic signs affected climate change—or whatever it was that he was talking about that week.

No wonder why you had no idea what you were doing.

Jisung hummed, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah. She’s still bossy, but that’s just Hyunae.”

“I heard she got into quite the discussion with Hyunjin this morning.”

You were swinging pretty low, but you weren’t the biggest fan of Hyunae to begin with, so there was a small part of you that enjoyed picking at the scabs she left behind.

Okay, there was a pretty big part of you.

“Don’t remind me,” he grunted. “One day their fights will end with murder. And it’ll be me who is found dead.”

“Next time they get into an argument just slip away and let campus security deal with the mess. Let the bitches be bitches.”

Your suggestion was in the form of a joke, but really, you meant every word.

Hyunae easily rivaled Hyunjin’s bitchiness, and in your group of friends, that statement had weight to it. Not just anyone could argue with Hyunjin and step away unscathed, but she managed to do so just about every day. You would’ve been impressed had she ever shown you any kindness, but she hated you from day one. You were only returning the favor by rooting for Hyunjin until he somehow figured out how to kill someone with his words.

He had come close before, so you kept your fingers crossed.

“Well that bitch is a goddess in bed,” Jisung snickered, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. “And frankly it’s hot when someone’s bossy during sex—”

“Are we talking about Hyunae or Hyunjin now?”

Jisung laughed sarcastically, throwing a sneer your way. “Bravo. You want a medal for the joke of the year?”

“Nah, I have plenty of better jokes that imply that you like boys.” You absentmindedly glanced back towards your professor as he began the lecture, his voice as uninterested as your gaze. “Though I have yet to make one about your secret relationship with my brother.”

Jisung nodded with fake enthusiasm and said, “That’s nice but I’m not listening to you anymore.”

“The girls on campus would pay big bucks for that sex tape.”

“Shut up before I throw up on you.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you didn’t like me.” You pouted half-assed, typing notes that you would never use solely because their only purpose was to make it seem like you cared. Though by the look of it, the professor probably gave less of a shit than you anyway.

Jisung’s teasing and inappropriate comments hardly bothered you anymore, especially since you knew how to counter them with your own.

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” he mused, though you both knew the reason why he was taking the class was because he needed the credits and the teacher didn’t care if you botched all of your tests as long as the final was double-spaced and had your name at the top.

“Because I’m your favorite.” You whispered, lifting your pointer finger to your lips. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell Minho.”

“As if. Get your head out of your ass.”

“Duly noted.”

You loved Jisung.

You loved him in the same way you loved your brother; you didn’t want to love him, but for whatever twisted reason, the universe made it so. Too bad you didn’t think of Jisung as a brother—the game of life was cruel that way. It sucked that he was such a good… everything. Han Jisung was a good friend, a good boyfriend, and annoyingly one of the best people you had ever met.

Not that you would ever admit that to him and risk his head inflating to the size of Felix’s stuffed animal collection.

Dammit, you really didn’t want to love that moron.

Maybe you could get away with being in like with him instead.

“Y/n!”

Your head swiveled, just barely catching a flash of ridiculous purple hair before a hold on your wrist was stopping you mid-stride.

“Owie,” was what came out of your mouth, your gaze set into a glare at your aggressor.

Though, Felix wasn’t fazed by your scowl. He was too excited—or pissed, it was hard to tell—about whatever he wanted to tell you. But knowing him, his news probably had something to do with the meme he posted on Twitter that morning—you did see it, and no, you weren’t very impressed. You expected better than the overused picture of the woman yelling at that cat at the dinner table. Caption be damned, that meme wasn’t even good anymore.

Felix was followed by his shorter but considerably stronger lackey. Without even looking at him you already knew Changbin’s biceps were popping under the black shirt he wore, the whole aesthetic making him look way more intimidating than he was.

“Where were you?” Felix asked, smacking your arm hard enough to gain your attention. “You didn’t meet us for lunch.”

“Maybe because I don’t appreciate your abuse.”

“Haha. Seriously,” he griped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why’d you ditch me?”

You had been friends with Felix for who knows how long, but you would never get used to how needy the boy was. You and your brother sure grabbed a couple of good ones.

“I had to study.” You admitted with a huff, though you already knew your excuse wouldn’t be enough for Felix.

“Okay, one—you never do that.” He countered before flashing you a look. “And two—liar.”

You set your gaze on Changbin for some support, but the boy simply avoided your eyes as his way of saying “you’re on your own here”.

You turned back to Felix with a groan. Changbin never helped you ever, the bastard.

“Lix I have a dumb test in statistics next week and for whatever reason, all I can remember right now is that the SREB3 gene in zebrafish can cure cancer or something.”

“That has nothing to do with statistics—”

“And is also very wrong. Are you even paying attention in biology?” Changbin asked, his face scrunched up in a mix of confusion and disgust.

You motioned to Changbin to prove your point. “Hence the reason why I was in the library.”

Felix suddenly tilted his head back and did that thing where he looked like he was trying to convince himself that living was worth it.

He sighed. “Okay, I’m calling Seungmin—”

At his words, you all but shrieked, a hand swatting Felix’s shoulder instinctively.

Seungmin was a friend of Hyunjin’s, which indirectly made him a friend of yours. But the relationship between the two of you could only be classified as rocky considering he felt the need to tell you just how much he wanted to, and you quote, “throw a rock at your head”. Ironically enough, the feeling was mutual.

But you would never say that to his face because that would most likely lead him to complete the task.

“You promised to never do that to me again!” You cried, throwing yourself against Felix’s boney shoulder.

This time was Felix’s turn to look at Changbin and search for help, but he was met with the same passive reaction as you had received. Honestly, you didn’t know why anyone tried anymore.

“He’s not that bad, Y/n.”

You gaped, disbelieving of your friend’s words. “You can’t be serious. He’s the devil! He preys on the weak, and then spits out their bones, Felix.”

“He tutored you once and you got a ninety-eight on your exam.”

“After hours of torture and anguish.”

Felix gave you an unsympathetic look before plucking his phone from Changbin’s back pocket, “I’m calling him.”

With a glare, you folded your arms over your chest. “Remember this moment the next time you ask me to revise your Tinder bio.”

“Joke’s on you. Changbin gives better advice and he doesn’t laugh at me.”

You snorted despite yourself.

But before Felix could lift the phone to his ear, Changbin’s began to ring obnoxiously in his pocket, and you were ready to bow and praise whichever deity in the sky that decided to bless you with such luck.

And like a child, you stuck out your tongue.

“What’s up?” Changbin hummed, turning away from the two of you. “Did you get all of your stuff in the apartment yet…?”

Changbin and Minho were roommates and had been since Changbin was a freshman. The two worked well together in the sense that they were both loud as hell and could (and hopefully never will) sleep through a stampede of elephants in their living room.

Felix slipped his phone into his pocket, unabashedly listening to the conversation just as you were.

“They must’ve finally found someone interested in moving in.”

They had always talked about renting with someone else, but along with being the worst people to live with, the duo was picky as hell. Pigs would fly and snowballs would be living in hell the moment they let someone else move in with them.

“Okay, but is Minho going to let you turn the office into a recording room?”

You froze, a remark on the tip of your tongue.

Changbin was talking on the phone about recording—an activity that you knew for a fact that only two people in your life had ever taken part in—and moving into Minho and Changbin’s shared apartment.

Now, you weren’t the brightest crayon in the box but connecting all the dots wasn’t too difficult.

“Are you crazy?”

Not only was the idea of Jisung moving into Minho’s apartment a terrible one, but it would also compromise the only place you could relax in peace. Your dorm was hell (for reasons you didn’t want to relive) and you weren’t allowed anywhere near the boys' dorm. You were currently on the RA’s shit-list ever since the misunderstanding that went down last semester—

Bad timing for a room check one night when you, Felix, and Hyunjin were in a compromising position.

If Jisung moved in with Minho, you would then be spending more time with him, and all the hard work you spent on keeping your distance would’ve been for nothing. You’d probably see his monster of a girlfriend around regularly as well, and you didn’t want to witness any of that in your lifetime.

Time to welcome the snowballs to hell, because that was where you were headed.

Hoisting your bag over your shoulder, you positioned yourself to run.

“Lix, I’m sorry but I have to go beat some sense into my brother! Maybe we can talk to Seungmin on a day when I feel like dying from blunt force trauma.”

You didn’t bother to wait for the yelling as you took off through the quad.

The wind slapped you in the face the moment you were away from the cover of the university buildings, and you were suddenly second-guessing the escapade. Though, you simply chalked your reluctance up to laziness and continued forward. Minho’s apartment wasn’t far from the university, and after his little stunt in the library, you were looking forward to kicking his ass in the privacy of his home.

You pulled your spare key from your bag as you finally approached the complex, eager to get away from the nipping wind. Because fuck you for wearing a t-shirt in forty-degree weather.

Pushing the door open, you threw your bag inside recklessly, “Minho, you flat-faced asshole. You tell me right now that Jisung isn’t your new—”

But you screeched to a stop as your eyes locked onto someone who definitely wasn’t Minho.

“Roommate.”

You swallowed.

A man with perfectly styled black hair and no sleeves on his shirt sat on your brother's couch, a pair of thick headphones covering his ears and a laptop resting on his thick thighs. His eyes darted up to meet your gaze as the door closed behind you, and a single brow raised as you stood in front him in a stupor.

“Hello,” he pulled his headphones down to hang around his neck, cocking his head in amusement. “I am neither Minho nor Jisung, and I really hope I’m not a flat-faced asshole. Can I help you?”

You floundered for a second, mouth open. “I mean—I was looking for my brother. Changbin was on the phone with their new roommate, and I just assumed…”

“You thought that Jisung was his new roommate?” He snickered, carefully placing his labeled laptop onto the couch and lifting to his feet.

You were tempted to hang your head in shame and leave with your confidence shattered. But his attractive gaze was enough to convince you to stay put.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Well,” the stranger’s expression softened, his hand reaching forward. “I’m Chan. Your brother’s new roommate.”

You gave his hand a quick glance before taking it.

“I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

New roommate: not as terrible as you expected it to be.

The more you looked at him, the more you wanted to tell him how beautiful he was. Though you would have to be delusional to actually admit that out loud to a complete stranger, it was surprisingly tempting.

And… you were still holding his hand.

“Oh, uh—sorry.”

Releasing his grip, you laughed awkwardly, feeling the heat rise up your face and engulf your ears.

Damn your brother and his affinity for making friends with every gorgeous person that crossed his path. He was going to kill you eventually, between his protectiveness that shattered your social life and all his model-like friends that continued to claw their way into your heart.

A pleasant beat of silence passed between the two of you while you both took a second to consider each other. Chan wasn’t your conventionally beautiful person like Hyunjin, nor was he completely rough around the edges like Changbin. His hair was a bit wild, possibly due to the lack of product, but it was combed through and hung around his eyes nicely. A stark contrast from the gelled and styled boy you had been infatuated with.

Your eyes fell onto the coffee table between you, neck growing warm as you realized your thoughts had drifted back to Jisung, even with such an attractive stranger standing right in front of you.

You shut your eyes, stilling yourself as you took in a deep breath.

“So…” you drawled, avoiding his amused gaze. “Recording, huh?”

That settled it, you were an idiot.

Chan snorted out loud, finding your innocent question cute.

“I’m a producer.” Chan supplied, shifting closer to you in order to lean against the couch. “I haven’t been able to record my own songs for a while though. That’s why I’ve been trying to convince Minho to let me turn his office into a recording room. I have all the soundproof padding and everything, all I need is to guilt-trip him into letting me put it up.”

You nodded in understanding, glancing over towards the not so office that Minho was currently using as a storage room.

If anyone was ever surprised by the number of bundles he had in his room, they would drop dead at the sight of what was behind that door.

It was bundle hell.

Your voice rang out, “That would probably take you all day on your own. It’s pretty disastrous in there.”

“Is there an implication there?” He snarked, mock question in his voice.

“I help you clean, and you show me what you have on that little laptop of yours.”

Chan hummed, his eyes tracing over you and then over to his precious laptop resting off to the side. He had always been cautious about showing people his music, there were too many outcomes that he didn’t like thinking about. But you were looking at him with this excited little grin and he was finding it hard to say no.

You were dangerous.

“I can get behind that deal,” Chan concluded.

“Great,” you chirped without a second of hesitation. “Let’s go.”

But Chan’s strong grip stopped you as you attempted to pass and you couldn’t help but focus your eyes on the veins that ran up his bare arms.

His eyebrow raised, amused. “We’re just going to barge in there and start cleaning?”

“Would you rather wait for the bundles to gain consciousness and invite us in?”

Chan couldn’t help but bark a laugh at your sarcasm. “Of course not. I just wanted to ask for Minho’s permission first—”

You paused him with the raise of your hand, “There’s one thing you will learn about my brother; he never says yes.”

Sensing a seriousness behind your tone, Chan nodded, suddenly open to all of your suggestions.

“Lead the way then.” Chan encouraged, gesturing forward and releasing your arm.

“My pleasure.”

But just as you were about to reach for the handle of the spare room, you remembered something—

The fact that you were a (stupid and unemployed) college student currently paying for a failing test grade in her statistics class.

You cursed under your breath, pausing in your stride long enough to prompt Chan’s questioning gaze, and damn it, it was adorable the way he cocked his head to the side.

“Something wrong?” He asked.

Your face twisted in thought, “Probably…”

“And…?”

You cleared your throat, finally pulling your eyes away from the chipping white paint of the door.

“Do you perhaps know anything about statistics?”

2K notes · View notes

caiuscassiuss · 3 years

Text

oppa! | ot7 (prologue)

Description: Being raised by a caring yet distant father, a close, tight-knit family is the one thing you have craved in your short life. After your adventurer father remarries a rich woman, you’re stuck with seven new brothers. Seven very hot, very different men.

This is not what you meant by family.

(Based on the anime and game Brother’s Conflict, but with a twist.)

Prologue

Genre: Fluff | romance | later angst and smut. PG

WC: 2k

Warnings: For this chapter, none other than cursing.

(After some readers wanted me to post Oppa! on Tumblr, I have delivered! I really hope y’all like this haha)

[ The prologue delivers hints on who each brother will be. These hints will be bolded. Some will be very apparent, some will not. ]

Rubbing your head, your eyes glazed over the notes you took from yesterday’s lecture in preparation for today. Were you on drugs when you wrote these? It looked like chicken scratch. Was that drool in the corner?

Your ears perked up at the strains of loud music coming out of your friend’s Airpods. Hyerim, your closest friend at University, seemed oblivious as she bopped her head to the hard beat. Several classmates around the lecture hall noticed too, yet weren’t as accommodating as you and sent judgemental looks towards Hyerim.

“Hyerim,” you whispered, aware that class was starting in a few minutes. She didn’t respond, still nodding along to the music.

Pursing your lips, you plucked the small pod out of her ear. “Hyerim, your music—”

She gasped, eyes lighting up in excitement. “You liked it? Okay, so I was listening to this random rapper on SoundCloud—”

“Your music's too loud —” you hissed.

“—but the real feature is the producer, who made this beat. His name is Yoongi—” Hyerim continued on obviously, caught up in her own world.

“—that’s lovely, but can you turn your music down—” you pestered, looking around worriedly.

“—but his producer name is Gloss and he’s so talented and hot and his voice —”

Seeing the majority of the seats in the hall being filled up, you clamped your palm over her lips. She let out a whimper, finely shaped brows frowning at you.

“Have you not noticed the five separate glares you are currently getting at this moment?” you said between gritted teeth, enunciating each constant hard. You stared down each person around you who was giving Hyerim looks and, embarrassed, they averted their eyes and busied themselves with something.

“Oh wait, what?” Hyerim exclaimed. Closing a fist over her AirPod, the music continued and her eyes widened as she realized how high she had turned up the volume.

Hyerim turned to the person on her other side. “I am so sorry,” she said apologetically, the random student smiling awkwardly in acceptance.

Rolling your eyes with an unbidden smile poking at the edge of your lips, you turned back to the disaster of your notes. How were you supposed to understand this lecture when you barely wrapped your head around the last one? However, you honed in on your Calculus woes to ignore how your phone burned in your pocket and the latest text you got from your father...

So focused on your lamentation, you didn’t notice the boy behind you clear his throat. Nor did you notice the second or third time he did, each one getting progressively louder. As you attempted to retrace the argument on your paper, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Excuse me?”

Whipping your head around, you craned your neck upwards to see where the tap had come from. To your surprise, you saw a very cute-looking boy, bangs pulled into a top knot, smiling apologetically at you from behind you.

“Hi! Yeah, do you need anything?” you smiled.

A blush rose on his chiseled cheekbones and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m super sorry to bother you about this, but I dropped my charger right next to your chair. I- uh, would you mind—?”

“Of course! No worries, it happens,” you comforted, bending down to get the coiled white wire from where your bag sat. “Here you go.”

He got up from his seat to hunch over the lecture hall desk to meet you in the middle. You eyed the large difference between each of your hands’ as you handed back the charger, as well as how huge his shoulders seemed up close.

“T-Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” you replied, turning around to open your laptop.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hyerim’s mouth partially open in disbelief.

“You need something?” you prodded.

“I—” she took a glance at the boy behind you, as if confirming something— “I’ll tell you later.”

Shrugging, you zeroed in at the lecturer at the front of the hall.

“Alright, so what was that about?”

Your Calculus lecture had just ended, and the two of you were in the mob of students leaving the lecture halls to get to lunch.

Hyerim looked surreptitiously around, black bangs swishing around her face. She leaned in like she was about to share the juiciest piece of gossip, and you unconsciously did so too.

“Did you know who that is?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

You felt your forehead crease and you gave her a look. “No, I did not.”

“Really?!” Hyerim pitched her voice high in disbelief.

You gave her a dry look.

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Sometimes, I swear you’re in your own world, Y/N.”

Incredulous, you opened your mouth to argue but she waved a hand in front of you.

“That was Jeon Jungkook, Y/N! How do you not know him?”

“Oh yeah,” you snapped your fingers. “He’s that Streamer dude, right? He games and shit.”

Hyerim nodded slowly.

However, you frowned. “I heard he was intimidating and cold and stuff. Are you sure that was him? Charger boy was super nice.”

“That’s the point! It was Jung Jungkook and I have never seen him acting this soft. What did you do, ma’am? Snap him? Flash him?”

“Who do you think I am?” you sputtered. “All I was doing was thinking about how much I hated Calculus, not— not seducing someone!”

Your friend gave you a suspicious look, but decided to let go of the topic. Shaking your head, you walked past the gates of Yonsei university and into the city proper on the lookout for your favorite food place. The beeping of horns, buzzing chatter, and the small of smog filled the air as you zig-zagged between side streets to avoid busy roads.

“Excuse me,” you muttered as you pushed your way through a mob of women all entranced by something above you. Since they were not moving, you huffed and decided to see what was worth all the hype.

It was a huge, flashing LED billboard that was the central focus of the square. On it, a very sensuous looking man with blond hair and a velvet, tight-fitting suit doing some very slick moves in a dark concert hall.

Happy Birthday Jimin! It read in bright white font.

“Wah, oppa is so handsome!” a woman, who must’ve been 5 years older than the man on the screen squealed behind her white medical mask. “I’m so glad our ad turned out well.”

Her friends agreed and ooh and aahed along with her. You turned around to see if Hyerim was following you but she stood, entranced, with the mob of women on the sidewalk.

“You can thirst over him later, preferably when I am well fed,” you snapped irritably, pulling at the pink flowy material of her blouse.

She pouted but acquiesced, taking your hand as you dragged her though the intersection. All you were focused on were some good dumplings, after the mental aerobotics Calculus had forced on you and the emotional stress your father was putting you through. As you turned the corner, you breathed a sigh of relief as you saw no line.

Nestled between a large office building and a parking deck, this tiny Japanese restaurant was a favorite among Uni students for its cheap prices and good food. You usually had to arrive here early to beat the line of students and office workers that gathered here for their dinner breaks.

The cute sign that said Umaido flashed brightly above your head as you entered the restaurant. To the side of the main sigh, a smaller print reading “by the RM Group” glowed, subdued.

Waving over a pimply teen, you ordered two servings of gyoza and waited for Hyerim. She ordered a very conservative meal of sushi and some salad, and you both watched the waiter retreat. Something glossy caught the attention of your eye, and you saw some magazines on the shelf next to your head. The main one in the middle, which looked like a new age artsy publication with a cult following, was simply titled with a white V at the bottom corner.

Like a robot that was powered off, you collapsed in your seat and put your head in your hands. You really did not want to look at your phone.

“Was Calculus really that bad?” Hyerim winced in sympathy, neatly patting your head.

“It isn’t Calc,” you mumbled. “It’s Dad.”

Her expression turned down even more. “What happened?”

Lifting your head from your arms, you propped your chin on your palm and looked out the window. “You know, you’d expect for someone to give you important news in person or at least over a phone call, right?”

“Yeah?” Hyerim asked, lips pursed in confusion.

“Like, if you got remarried or something , you would at least tell your loved ones in person or at least over the phone, right ?”

“... Shit, Y/N.”

Fumbling for your phone in your bag, you ignored the notifications and pulled up your latest conversation. “Look what he texted me this morning!”

Hyerim took your phone and scrolled through it with a manicured fingernail.

Dad : I wish I could call you, but I’m somewhere with limited service.

Dad : I just wanted to let you know I got remarried to this amazing woman, Kim Seoyeon, a few days ago. We met and just clicked, something I haven’t felt since your mom.

Dad : She has seven sons, all of them are grown up. I’m worried about you living on your own, so I’d like you to move in with them. Details coming soon. Love you.

Hyerim was speechless, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I’m sorry, what?”

“My dad has gotten spontaneously remarried to some random woman and now wants me to move in with her sons. Like, geez, it’s not like life changing news was delivered to me in less than a hundred words!” you hissed, voice getting higher and tinged with a bit of hysteria.

“Your dad sucks,” Hyerim pronounced, taking a pointed sip of her iced water. “Seriously.”

“Hey, my dad is not that bad,” you defended. “It’s just… he’s a bit distant. Absent-minded. But he’s cared for me in the best way he could.”

“You and I have very different definitions of what constitutes good parenting, Y/N. This man left you largely on your own since you were five, and now he gets worried about you living on your own? Something's not right,” Hyerim retorted.

Ignoring her in favor of the food that arrived, you practically inhaled twelve of the fried gyoza. Rolling her eyes at your typical running-away behavior, she primly dipped a piece of sashimi in soy sauce and took a dainty bite.

“So? What’s the plan? Are you going to stage a rebellion and stay in your apartment, or go stay with some random men?”

Your response was cut off as cheers broke out from the corner of the restaurant, where a large group of men and women were huddled together.

“Cheers to our National win!” a man announced, his face already a bit flushed. “To Neuron!”

“To Neuron!” the group cheered loudly, and lifted up their shot glasses in celebration.

“To our leader, J-Hope!” the same man pronounced brightly, some sake sloshing over the tip of his cup.

“Hoseok!” the group whooped louder, more rounds going around.

As their cheers quieted down, you turned back to Hyerim. “I don’t know. I think I’ll decide when I meet them. They could either all be idiots or they could be chill. I really hope for the latter.”

“Good plan, good plan.”

An awkward silence permeated the booth since both of you were at a loss to say something.

“Onto lighter things, “ Hyerim forced out brightly, clapping her hands. “Let me tell you about my younger brother’s really hot doctor. His name is Dr. Kim and he’s tall and…”

As Hyerim continued to babble on about the tall, handsome pediatric doctor, you felt a buzz in your pocket.

Dad: Their address is 111 Hannam-dong, Yongsan-su

Dad: They’re ready for you.

Can you guess who each stepbrother is and what they do? Comment below!!

Arc 1: Stepbrother Introductions will be released on February 15th at 8pm ET. It’s about ~15k words of getting to know these boys. Please look out for it!

#btswriterscollective #btsgoldnet #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #hoseok x reader #bts fluff #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #stepbrother au #bts imagine #bts poly au

336 notes · View notes

wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

Text

Love or Duty by GleefullyCaptainSwan - Chapter 6/8

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 6: A Few Stolen Moments

Emma woke with an excitement she had never felt before. Sure, she was excited to go home, she would get to see her parents again, but more than anything, she would be traveling with Killian. She hadn’t stopped thinking of him since he left her room the evening before. She knew it was wrong, she couldn’t act on her feelings, but she enjoyed having them all the same.

Liam would be departing for Locksley this morning, leaving her alone with Killian, and of course, Ruby, obviously she would not get to spend the entire trip alone, but something stirred in her chest every time she thought of having him across from her in the carriage.

Nothing would change her situation; she was to marry Prince Liam. But there was nothing that said she was bound to him right now.

The moment she met him at the carriage, her body almost hummed in response to his touch. It was nothing scandalous, a simple hand at her back as he helped her into the carriage, but the reaction was immediate.

“M’lady.” He sang as she entered the carriage.

“Thank you.” She said with a smile, meant only for him.

What was she doing? Overnight she had turned into some brazen whore who could only think of tearing the brother of her future husband’s clothes from his body to find out exactly what kind of desires he could take care of for her.

She had never behaved so abhorrently before, she had always been a good girl, abiding by her father’s wishes, never laying with a man alone, barely even letting the first boy she liked to kiss her. She intended to save herself for the man she fell in love with, the man she would marry. Only now, those may be two different men.

She sat on her bench, watching the man in front of her as her tongue traced across her lips, her thighs squeezed tightly together. To her annoyance, he was not making eye contact with her, staring instead at the book in front of him as he wrote frantically on the pages, frustrating her every sense that he wouldn’t instead drink her in, allowing her to know his thoughts.

Had he changed his mind overnight, realizing the situation they were in and abandoning his quest to have her in his arms? Had he abandoned desire for responsibility?

For a moment he looked up, his blue eyes capturing hers for a single second, the skip in her heart causing her to sigh out loud. “Is everything alright?” Ruby asked beside her.

“It’s a bit warm in here, don’t you think?” She asked fanning herself as she watched Killian settle further back in his seat.

“Not warmer than usual, are you sure you aren’t coming down ill?” Ruby asked with concern. “Does she look pale to you?” She asked Killian who gave her nary a glance before responding.

“She looks fine to me.”

Frustration filled her stomach, a sense of dread consuming her thoughts. She would not see him for a fortnight, and he had spent the entire trip writing a monologue. When the carriage came to a stop in front of the welcoming sight of the Misthaven walls, Emma tried to feel elated to be home, but instead she only felt rejected and alone.

Killian jumped from the carriage, escorting Ruby down the stairs before turning his attention toward her. He reached out and took her hand, his eyes finally meeting hers. “It was a pleasure to escort you home, M’Lady.” He bent his head, pressing his lips to her hand, looking up and locking eyes with hers.

“I shall leave our guide, Sir William Scarlet with you, until my brother’s return.” The man approached them from the front of the carriage. “He will ensure you are safe until Liam is able to visit.”

Emma stared at the man in confusion, they had not mentioned leaving anyone with them.

He bent his head, his eyes remaining on hers before leaning toward her ear. “Not a single moment.” He whispered, pressing something into her hand as it lay by her side. She glanced down to see paper folded in her palm. She returning her gaze to his before he shut the carriage door and began his journey to Lockley.

Emma pressed the paper against her side, turning toward the castle to greet her approaching parents.

“Emma, thank God you are home, we got word of the attack on your journey to Jonesboro and were worried sick.” Her mother wrapped her arms around her.

“I’m alright mother, they took good care of me.”

“We have food prepared, are you hungry?” Her father asked, examining her from all angles.

“Mostly tired from the journey, I’d like to retire if that’s alright.”

“Of course, we can catch up in the morning.” Her mother said softly, and Emma sprang toward her room, her heart pounding as she closed the heavy wooden door behind her. She hurried to her night table, lighting the candle that sat on top of it and opening the pages Killian had given her. Her eyes grazed over the delicate scroll of his handwriting, eager to read the words.

My Dearest Emma,

I have not stopped thinking of you since I held you in my arms last night. Every part of me craves to be with you, to devour you. Not as a conquest, but as the owner of my heart.

I can barely sit across from you in this carriage without wanting to take you in my arms, to kiss you with every ounce of desire I have in my being. I do not trust myself to look at you for even a second without alerting Ruby to my affections.

I do not know how my heart can be without you for even one day much less the many nights and sun rises I must brave without your face. I know you belong to my brother, but if you’ll have me, if even for a few stolen moments, I am yours.

I am leaving my trusted friend, Will Scarlet behind with you, he knows where to find me in case you wish to write back. If you don’t, I will understand.

Just know that I am thinking of you, always.

Yours,

Killian

Emma could not contain her emotions as she read the letter over and over again, carrying it to her bed as she fell back into the expanse of the fabric and pillows.

The owner of his heart, she thought.

It was undeniable, she was falling for Killian Jones. There was no stopping the desire of wanting him, and she was irrevocably destined to break his own heart once she married his brother, but there was no denying him until that day happened.

She tore through her drawers to find a piece of parchment at the bottom of her things, she didn’t know what she wanted to say, only that she needed to tell him she felt the same way.

Killian, my love,

I assumed that your silence on the ride home meant that you had changed your mind, my heart soared with joy when reading your letter to know that you felt as I do.

I must marry Liam, our Kingdom’s futures depend on it, but I cannot deny the feelings I have for you or the way you make my body sing when you are near. I have wanted no other man until you. A fact that seems almost cruel considering our current situation.

I have never been with another, I have remained pure for my future husband, but how can I give myself to him when all I want is you? In every way imaginable, I am yours.

I fear I will go crazy waiting for you to return knowing that it will be with the man I am to marry. I wish for so many reasons that our situation were different, but alas I am cursed with obeying my father’s wishes for the sake of our people.

If all we have are stolen moments, then I wait for you like a thief in the night.

Yours eternally,

Emma

Emma folded the letter, burning the wax to seal it closed.

“Are you writing to the Prince?”

Emma jumped in her seat as Ruby approached her. “Yes, that is the purpose of Will, so that we are able to converse during this time apart.” She said, knowing that she was lying. But she never did say which Prince she was writing to. A simple misdirect.

“Well, I think that’s sweet, have you changed your mind about the wedding? Perhaps this isn’t as dire of a situation as you feared?”

“I think that this letter explains exactly how I feel, conflicted, excited, full of woe, and yet perhaps something else.”

“What?”

“Perhaps the beginning of love.” She smiled brightly.

“Oh Emma, I’m so happy for you.”

Emma sighed, knowing that the happiness her friend had for her was misplaced but genuine.

She sought out Will Scarlett the following morning.

“I don’t know how this works.” She said nervously as she approached him.

“Oi, either you have something for me, or you don’t. If you do, I’ll return it to him with great haste, if not, I shall remain at your side until he returns.” He paused and then smirked. “Broken heart an’ all.” He laughed.

She smiled, handing the letter to him. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for a broken heart, now would I?”

“I have a feeling you’ll be breaking his heart anyway. But he seems intent on letting you do it so ‘ere we are.” He took the letter from her hand, placing it into his pocket. “I shall return soon. I’m a fast rider and Locksley is not far from here.”

“Then I eagerly await your return.” She said with a grin.

And thus began their routine, as Emma waited for Will to return every other day, a letter in hand which she read immediately upon her return to the safety of her room.

My Dearest Emma,

I was beyond overjoyed to receive your reply. You have no idea how much I agonized over how you would react to my letter. Knowing how you feel makes my heart soar.

Though I do take pause at your admission. I cannot bear to think that you will give yourself to Liam. Not when you belong to me. My brother has been afforded so many things that I have wanted, but you are unmatched in my want and desire.

I count the days until I can return to you, to see your beautiful face, my body aches to touch you, to feel you beneath my skin. Without you, the sunlight pales, the scent of flowers dim, but my need for you grows as the swell of the ocean crashes against the shore.

I crave you, Emma, like a man in the desert craves water. I need you, like I need air to breathe, I want you, like nothing I have wanted more in my life.

Yours,

Killian

When she received the letter from William she nearly cried in anticipation until she was able to read it after dinner. She cried tears of joy and longing, as well as sadness from the situation. She had waited so long for a man to say the words that Killian had written and yet she was destined to another.

Life was truly unfair.

~*~

Killian worked hard to repair the damage Regina’s minions had done to the town of Locksley. The village had been razed to the ground, nary a cottage surviving that was livable. At night he read the letters from Emma. Wanting the time to speed up so that he could be nearer to her.

He tried to speak to Liam about Emma, wanting to know how his brother felt toward the woman who held his heart without rousing suspicion.

“Why are you asking me all these questions little brother?”

“You do know that I’m only two years younger than you? That does not make me little, just younger.” He corrected. “And I am still older than your bride to be.”

“If I did not know any better, I would say you are jealous.” He teased and Killian felt his mouth go dry.

“I’m…I’m not…” he tried to cover his tracks, to deny his feelings for his brothers betrothed.

“I know that you wish that you could be King, but one day you will find your place in all of this.”

Killian breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course.” It was William approaching on the road to the South that caught his attention. “I do live to serve.” He said with a bow, excusing himself to meet with the man dismounting his horse.

“What news do you bring?” He asked excitedly as the man pulled the letter from his bag.

“She misses you and cannot wait for your return.” He said, his words causing his heart to soar. “Are you not concerned that this will not turn out well for you?” He asked.

“I do not care; she is all I think about.” He said absentmindedly, staring at the letter in his hands.

“I shall feed the horse and return before dawn.” He excused himself, walking the horse toward the well.

Killian rushed to the cottage where he was staying, tearing the seal on the parchment, and sniffing the paper before he opened it to read.

Killian, my love,

I feel that I shall be burned at the stake if anyone could hear my thoughts. You occupy every space of every moment of my day. I need to see you, I feel like the moment I lay eyes on you, I will know the truth of my heart.

I do not want to give myself to Liam, for every part of my body and soul belong to you. I await your return with a renewed excitement. While I do not know what my future holds, I know how much I want to share this moment with you, even if it is wrong.

My ears long for your voice, to hear the words I have wished you to speak since we parted. Even if they break my heart.

Yours eternally,

Emma

Killian raced to find Will as he watered his horse. “Do you have something for me?” He asked as he approached.

“No, I’ll deliver my sentiments in person. Let her know that we return in two days’ time.”

“Aye. I will relay your message, but my hope is that you protect your heart.”

“I cannot protect something I do not possess, for it is in her hands.”

“Oi, you really are in love with your brother’s wife.” He joked and Killian knew it to be true. He had never loved a woman the way he did Emma.

“She’s not his wife yet.” He reminded.

“She will be soon. Your father sent word that the wedding it to take place once Liam returns to bring Emma home.”

Killian’s heart sank, he knew things were moving quickly but suddenly the excitement of returning home brought with him the realization that it would be short lived. Soon she would be his sister-in-law, and he would have to decide whether to commit treason or live his life without her.

He didn’t know how to surrender her to Liam, not when he had already surrendered his heart to her himself.

~*~

Emma sat stoically at the end of the table as her father and mother talked about the wedding plans while they ate their food. Based on the length of time it took William to arrive and announce that Liam would be returning she was sure that they would be arriving any day now.

As if they had read her mind, her father was summoned to the gates to welcome the arrival of Prince Liam. Emma paced nervously in the dining hall, awaiting the two of them to enter the room. Her mother watched her from the table.

“Emma, I’ve never seen you like this before, are you quite alright dear?”

She turned anxiously toward her mother, “I suppose I am slightly nervous, mother.” Her mother stood and smiled.

“So, you do like the Prince?” She asked with hope in her eyes.

“The Prince is very kind and noble, I expect that he will be an honorable husband. Living in Jonesboro will be very exciting.” Emma felt the guilt at the back of her mind as she spoke, indecent thoughts of torrid trysts with Killian swam through her thoughts. Emma knew the truth though, she knew the moment she married Liam, any thought of Killian would need to be banished from her mind. Living near him when she couldn’t have him in the way her heart ached to possess, would be misery.

“I’m so happy, Emma. You will see, you and Liam will be able to form a friendship and perhaps it will grow into something more. I know it is not what you wished for yourself, but I hope you can find a way to embrace it as a possibility.”

Emma smiled half-heartedly; her lips turned up partially. “Of course, mother.”

The heavy doors breached open, and Emma’s heart stopped when the men appeared. Her father and Liam had entered first, talking excitedly about his journey, but Emma could only see Killian, entering anxiously from the back, his eyes darting around the room until they found hers.

Emma could barely contain herself being this close to him without being able to speak freely. Liam explained that they had assisted Robin Locksley with rebuilding much of the town, those that could return safely had left Jonesboro to return to the small village, helping to restore order to their peaceful town. Jonesboro had left guards behind to help protect the village, but Regina’s forces had been seen amassing in the forest.

The wedding would need to take place urgently in order for the Kingdom’s to bring their people together to show a strength of force that was strong enough to deter the soldiers from advancing further.

It was decided that Emma and her family would travel to Jonesboro in the morning to prepare for the wedding. Henry had groaned when learning that he would need to travel with the family, her brother had never been one to enjoy the formality of being royal. He had no interest in following in his father’s footsteps, no interest in succeeding to the throne. Henry was only 12, he wanted nothing more than to be a child. He was creative, passive, and Emma knew that he would eventually have to lose all of that to rule.

Emma could feel Killian’s eyes on hers the moment the King arranged the travel. Things were progressing faster than either of them anticipated.

His desperate pleas through silent glances were driving her mad. She needed to speak to him urgently, if only to hear his voice, feel his arms around her, making her forget that she was about to give it all away, to lose everything she had sought and finally found.

“I’m happy to see that you have healed.” Killian said softly, bowing to take her hand in his, placing a kiss to the top of her hand. “You look well.”

Emma could feel her heart racing, trying not to appear overzealous in her response to the Prince as her brother looked on. “Thank you, I have found that even riding no longer hurts.” She said with a smile. “I go riding most evenings, as the sun begins to set.” She added softly. “In case anyone is interested in finding me tonight.” She bowed her head and stepped away from him, urging herself not to look back over her shoulder as she approached her betrothed.

“I am feeling most tired this evening. I shall get some rest before the journey tomorrow.” She announced. “Goodnight.”

Liam smiled. “You will need your sleep if you are to rise before the sun, M’Lady. Though I doubt we will be able to rouse Killian before the sun is high in the east so there may be no need to rush.”

“I shall do my best.” She grinned and tried to slow her steps as she raced toward her room. “I am taking my leave now, Ruby. I will see you in the morning.” She announced to her maid as she entered the room.

“You do not require my assistance tonight?”

“I’m sure you need to pack, I can assist myself, I assure you.” She said with a smile, removing her gown.

“Then I will see you in the morning.” She retreated from the room, closing the door behind her.

Emma changed quickly into her darkest riding frock, pulling the cape over her head as she slipped quietly from her room, peering in both directions through the halls. She crept down the stairs, exiting into the kitchen.

“Oi, you shouldn’t sneak up on a man like that.”

Emma jumped, holding her hand to her mouth as she looked at the man standing at the table, his mouth full of food. “William.”

“Aye, you bloody scared me, Princess. What are you doing out at this hour, sneaking about the castle?”

She rushed toward him. “I do not know what you speak of, I am merely here to collect some grapes in order to drift off to sleep with a full stomach.” She reached for a handful of grapes, stuffing them into her mouth and walking backwards toward the outer door. “You never saw me.”

“Saw who, M’Lady?” He shrugged, sinking his teeth into the sandwich he had built.

Emma escaped down the path toward the stables, closing the wooden door behind her as she saddled her horse, mounting the steed, and speeding off into the woods.

When she got to the clearing she dismounted and paced nervously beside her horse. Moments later she heard the hoofs of an approaching rider, peering into the shadows until Killian came into view. He was off his horse and in her arms in a few sweeping steps.

His lips bruised hers, soft yet firm as he wrapped her in his embrace. The kiss was desperate yet full of emotion, pouring all the feeling into the moment that they had been writing about for weeks. When they finally parted, her hair wild from the grasp of his fingers, she panted against his chest. “I thought we would have more time.” She cried.

“We have all the time in the world, love.” He spoke into her hair.

“Do not speak of things you know not to be true. I’m to be married in a few days’ time.”

“How can you marry him when your heart belongs to another?”

“Killian, affairs of the heart matter not in the face of annihilation.”

He pulled back, staring down into her eyes. “Do you love me?”

“Please do not ask me that.” She protested.

“Run away with me. Run away with me and we can be together.”

Emma pushed him away from her. “How can you ask me that?” She yelled. “How could you do that to your people? Without this union, they will surely die.”

“I cannot bear to be parted from you. To have you near me in the castle with every passing day as you lie in my brother’s bed. I will not survive that torment.” He said with a growl. “I would rather die than imagine you in another’s arms for even a single second.”

“Do not say such vial things.” She sprung froward, placing her hands on his cheeks. “Without you there, I will be in misery. Knowing that you will be with me, regardless of our situation, is the only reason I have even an ounce of courage to go through with this.” She placed her lips on his cheek. “Do not abandon me.”

“You do love me?” He questioned.

“With every beat of my heart and each breath of air that I take. I love you without remorse, as if the sun would surely not rise if I could not admit it even into the depth of my soul. I will love you until I cease to exist, Killian Jones.”

“Emma.” He panted, pulling her against him, his lips crashing against hers in a fury she had not experienced in her lifetime. “I love you.” He breathed against her neck, the heat of his mouth causing her skin to pebble and her knees to weaken beneath her.

“Then take me and I will always be yours.” She moaned against his ear, feeling his hesitation as he stilled his movements.

“You belong to my brother, I could not…”

“I belong to you, Killian Jones. Always.”

Without pause, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the center of the meadow, he placed her on her feet, removing his cloak and laying it out on the ground below them. He glanced nervously toward her, stepping closer as his hand gently brushed against her jaw. “I do love you Emma Nolan. Know that I will always be by your side, I will never abandon you.”

She felt the tears sting her eyes as he kissed her forehead, his fingers toying with the string of her cloak as he pushed the garment to the ground beside them. She was lost in a sea of blue eyes that beheld a man that she trusted more than anyone in the world. She felt the nervous jitters in her stomach, the anticipation of what was to come, knowing that she wouldn’t change this night for any in all the realms.

Without taking his eyes off her, he pulled the cloth over her head, the cool breeze dancing on her bare skin. His jaw was set firm, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, glancing at her in the moonlight as she pushed her pants toward the grass below them, standing naked in front of him.

Before meeting Killian Jones, she had never stood naked in front of a man in her entire life. She had only known him a short while and she had already presented to him twice now. The first he had stared at her hungrily from his place in the lake, but tonight, she felt as if he was memorizing her body, an appreciation of her that made her feel as if he thought she hung the very moon in the sky above them.

She had seen him naked before, the night in the lake she had been so stunned by his sudden action that she barely had time to register that he was suddenly naked and entering the water. But now, as he removed his clothing, standing bare in front of her, she found herself admiring the man in front of her. His body taut, the hair that grew along his chest that she followed lower, below the hip line until she found herself gulping at the sheer size of him.

Before she could allow the panic to set in, the knowledge of what was about to happen, he gathered her into his arms, lowering her down to the ground as he held the back of her head with his hand. His blunted arm holding himself off the ground. Looking into his eyes she knew she wanted nothing more than to experience this with him, to share this bond that no other man could ever take from them.

When his lips touched hers, his hand slipping to her breast, all other rational thought extinguished and all she could feel was the desire that had built between them. She clung to him, her hand shaking, her body shivering as he entered her for the first time, the shock of pain causing her to cry out. His attack on her neck stilled, his eyes anxiously seeking hers. “Are you alright, love. Does it hurt?”

She shook her head, unable to put into words how she was feeling. “Please,” was the only word that would leave her mouth as she urged him forward, pulling his mouth to hers in order to put out the fire between her legs. As he began to move above her, the pain subsiding and replaced with a sense of wonder and enlightenment, she cried out, their bodies drenched in sweat, his mouth on hers, moving together in a rhythm that increased steadily with each moan and silent plea. When her head fell backward against the grass, an unfamiliar feeling building in her stomach, she saw stars explode behind her eye lids, the throaty moan in her ear causing her body to clinch around him as he bruised her hips until his body stilled above her. He slumped against her as they lay in the tall grass, breathless panting the only sound she could hear around her until she felt his hand in her hair, his lips press softly against her forehead.

“You are my forever.” He whispered, pushing the strands from her face. “I will not lie with another woman for as long as I shall live.”

She stared at him. “Killian, no. I cannot ask that of you.”

“You did not ask.” He said with a small smile.

She sat up, staring down at him, her fingers playing mindlessly with the hairs on his chest. “This is not fair.” She said as a tear slipped from her eye.

“Aye, that it is not, but this is our duty, remember.” He said sadly, reaching up to wipe the offending drop from her cheek.

“It is our duty.” She repeated sadly, lying next to him, and closing her eyes, wishing more than anything to never wake up from this dream.

#love or duty #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan

23 notes · View notes

caithyra · 3 years

Text

I’m suuuure he’s shocked /s

GRRM: “Oh woes! I have created a perfect and supporting family for my main characters and I need conflict to make it interesting! What could possibly ruin a good family?”

GRRM: “Ah! A girly girl, of course!” *Creates Sansa.* “And a traitorous bitch at that who would chose to support and protect her child over her birth family who do not rely on her for protection! Surely all shall realize what a bad person she is! It’s not like her own mother would be condemned for abandoning a child that’s not even her own!” *Creates first outline.* “But wait! She shall be prepubescent at the start of the story...” *Starts creating the actual story.* “I shall introduce her through the resentful tomboy’s perspective! And I shall have grown men slobbering over this prepubescent girly girl because we all know that’s ~*historically accurate*~! Oh, people do not like her? I am shocked! Shocked!”

Like, it says a lot about a narrative that when the author wants to create conflict and shake up a healthy family dynamic in a supremely patriarchal world, that he introduces a prepubescent, feminine sister who is unfavored by her father compared to her tomboy sister (even Sansa’s betrothal is a sham even if it would have made her future queen-in-waiting. If everything went as Ned planned, her virtue would have been ruined on the Trident and after he breaks the betrothal with Joff by accusing him of being a bastard, Sansa’s play-acting at love and having been alone with Joff would have ruined her for good, future prospects and the best she would get is either a disinherited second son who no one else wants to marry or a jumped up house who wants some blue blood like the Freys, Baelishes or Westerlings-Spicers that no one important likes.

Arya, by being younger, and more like Lyanna, would have gotten the queenhood and crown prince by Robert’s second wife after Cersei is disposed of, since Robert really wants to marry his child to Ned’s children, so no one better tell me that Ned ever put Sansa ahead of Arya the same he puts Arya ahead of Sansa. He freaking hides behind his prepubescent daughter’s skirts while investigating what he believes are ruthless murderers who had no qualms killing the most powerful men in the realm in a hyper-patriarchy! And it is the other daughter he warns about dangers and gives lessons in fighting! Like what was Ned thinking would happen with Sansa? Did he even care? Did he think he could just sweep it under rugs and forget it? She will need to marry within recent memory of her scandalous conduct since she’ll be twenty in less than a decade! And marriageable age in Westeros is 16! And yet the fandom goes “Poor Ned to have that traitorous bitch for a daughter~” “She should have listened to Ned who never spoke to her and explained himself or the world wouldn’t be ending~” “I don’t hate Sansa but she was sooo stupid for not blindly obeying her loving father who punishes her for her sister’s sins and never explains himself~” is it any wonder my patience with Ned Stark’s parental fuck ups ran out? Congrats, fandom, you made me hate him by excusing his fuck ups and blaming them on his daughter all the time!).

GRRM tries to make it gray, but he knows full well what kind of audience he writes to when he writes the relationships between Cat and Jon, and Arya and Sansa and should have compensated.

Hell, he should have made Joff a good person, prince and promising future king that most girls would like to marry, only to show that’s not what Ned cares about (after all, unless Ned wants Sansa to be abused like half the fandom, he had no idea that Joff was bad when he betrothed them), he cares about birth and truth and “High As Honor” over practical things like “Winter is Coming and Staying for Ten Freezing Years and Does Not Care Who Sits On the Throne So Lets Not Start a Civil War with One of the Most Powerful Families in the Realm, hm?”.

I mean, no one likes Drizzt Do’Urden’s sisters/mother/the matriarchy as a whole, do they? The Dark Elf Trilogy predates ASoIaF by six years, and should have shown a competent writer exactly what the state of womanhood in the Fantasy genre was like. And if you’re going “well, the matriarchy is evil!” I would like to point out that people hate Cattie-brie who is not part of that matriarchy. Yeah. There’s a reason why Menzoberranzan could be written that way and published and become popular, and it was not that Fantasy readers love and support and makes the effort to identify with and understand female characters (nor does most authors, come to think of it... see female friendships in ASoIaF that are without any sexual, incest, or abusive~ Like Arianne and Tyene being as close as sisters in the Later Books Which Are Not Early Installment Weirdness... Oh wait...).

Heck, in the Belgariad, another series predating both of them, things were more subtle but hardly better for female characters; Polgara is a mother figure who gets to have a moment of being imperfect, but to anyone reading the story, it is clear that Garion is the true victim in the circumstances and conspiracies Polgara’s family has woven around him, and that his anger is the immediate reaction of finding out the truth (he just found out how/why he was orphaned and now has the world on his shoulders! And the characters bag on him for not being understanding of the 1000s of years old woman who lied to him and now is sulking. It is blatantly obvious to the readers that it is not the male character in the wrong). The less said about Ce´Nedra (half hyper-sexual dryad, spoiled princess who wants bigger breasts, et cetera) the better. Heck, the less said about the lovable oaf of the hero group committing marital rape on his estranged wife to cure her of being a bitch and turn her loving the better.

The Narnia books predates even that, and Sansa’s direct parallel is Susan, and, yeah... “A silly and vain young woman” with “Plenty of time to mend” sounds very familiar when you hear how people blame Sansa and wants to force her into abusive marriages with repulsive men to mend her.

Not to mention that in Lord of the Rings and related works women are either paragons of virtue, evil, unnamed or are chastised for being ambitious, with a few, notable exceptions allowed to make “wrong” choices, and, well, just see the Elwing discourse in fandom and how her murderers who kidnapped and kept her children (Elrond and Elros, yes, that Elrond for those not familiar with Tolkien’s Legendarium and only watched the movies) as hostages are their ~*real parents*~ after committing a third almost-genocide against her people.

Yeah, no. GRRM doesn’t get to pretend he’s shocked and/or confused by his readers’ reception to Sansa (and Cat). He does not live, read nor write in a vacuum. This shit has been part of Fantasy fandom since long before ASoIaF was an errant idea in his head.

65 notes · View notes

lokidrabbles · 4 years

Text

Bitter-sweetness (Loki x Reader)

Loki comes to visit the reader after they send out a drunk text

A/N: Another part of my Loki x Reader Winter Series! This is also an AU after Ragnarok where the Asgardians have settled on Earth. As always, Gender Neutral Reader! Warnings: Language, Alcohol Use, Angst, Implied smut

You considered yourself to be a responsible person to a certain degree. In fact, you prided in your ability to make rational decisions about your day to day adult musings. Yet here you were, alone in your home, a whole bottle of red wine downed, complete inhibited from making sure you didn’t make a terrible decision.

This was your first holiday away from home. Living in the big apple had its perk, especially since you managed to land a job working at Stark Industries but living alone, while your closest relative lived three states away was not as glamorous as the shows made it out to be. You swore you would be able to handle it, after all, this had been quite a successful year for you career wise. And yet, the horrible emptiness expanded the moment you finished speaking with your sibling over the phone.

Reality hit. You were here alone, and that was just scratching the surface of it all. You had gotten along well with your co-workers and the supers you would run into often but it wasn’t the same. There was no way you would budge and plea for them to spend this ‘merry’ time with you, humiliating. And so, while not the healthiest of coping skills, you drowned your depression away with a little lady known as Lambrusco.

Being a lightweight, the red wine quickly put you in an inebriated state, fixated on feeling sorry for yourself and the impeccable loneliness. You cried, you laughed, and you sang depressing melodies in effort to bring your spirits up, but to no avail. You eventually ended up surfing on social media through your phone, twisting your mouth at the cloy pictures of families and friends celebrating together in their homes. What a bunch of bullshit. You resisted the temptation to instant message your old friends, knowing it would just be filled with a myriad of cuss words.

Your mind then wandered on texting your co-workers, clinging onto a childish hope of maybe one of them coming to your rescue and joining you in drinks and sobs. You flipped through your contact list and came across your most recently added. It was a 5 digit number, but that wasn’t weird for you. Tony would often have these weirdly set up numbers for some of the team members to maintain contact without having calls traced by ill intending foes, and you ended up with some of them through exchanges and other occasions. You weren’t really sure how it worked, but it was kind of like a trading card game you had with your co-workers. Obtain Thor’s number, Caps’ number, Dr. Banner’s number, Romanov’s number. It was stupid but it passed the time.

You squinted your eyes, attempting to decipher which Avenger’s number this was. However with the room spinning and your happy-go-lucky state, you didn’t bother to figure out who it was, and you began to text the unknown number with the best of your ability.

Helloo,,,,this is (y/n) and....comeover I have fun stuff to do...:) :) :)

Perfect. And with much gusto, you tapped on that send button, throwing your phone casually on the side of your couch. It wasn’t like you really expected anyone to answer or to come over, and it wasn’t like you really cared at the moment. Without any hesitation, you reached for the wine bottled and took a last swig, with only drops remaining of the sweet warm nectar. You felt the relief in your throat and closed your eyes, slowly drifting into a quick nap, completely disheveled on your couch.

Not ten minutes would pass before you heard a loud and obnoxious pounding on your door. The loud rapping sent you flying off your couch and in a frenzy. You cleared your throat and scurried over to your front door.

“I’m going, I’m going!” You yelled, not having a moment to sort out what was actually happening. But the room continued to spin, and you figured you were still heavily drunk.

You undid your locks and open the door wide open, only to be greeted by the cold winter wind and the last person you had expected at the moment.

“What in the seven realms are you trying to prove here?” It was Loki, standing tall and menacing over you. He held a small cellular phone between his thumb and index finger, showing you the drunk text you had sent him.

It was Loki’s number. You had completely forgotten that your coworker had given you the number after laughing about Tony giving Loki a method of communication and how Loki was entirely clueless on how to use the device or what it’s purpose even was. Your coworker had a know in with the security manager who programmed Loki’s phone and got his contact number through suggestive means. Again, part of the stupid little game, and you had mindlessly added the number onto your contacts.

Fuck. You guessed he had figured out how to use it.

“Ah, shit.” You sputtered casually. “I didn’t think anyone would have come!”

He raised an eyebrow, looking at you incredulously. “You’re wobbling.”

Wobbling. Loki’s accent was distracting enough most of the time. But hearing him say a silly world like wobbling sent you in a laughing spree. It was uncontrollable laughter, where the more you stared at him the funnier it would become. It was apparent that Loki didn’t find this funny in the slightest.

“Wobbling, pfft. Woooosh.” You retorted, making fluttering movements with your fingers.

“Wait.” He began, his mind beginning to calculate and process. And finally it hit him. “You’re drunk. Are you foolish or just this stupid?”

“Both maybe.”

Loki groaned, shoving you inside your living room and closing the door behind him. Immediately he began to smell the heavy scent of alcohol coming from you, as well as quickly taking notice of the empty wine bottle and wine juices leaked on your coffee table. Also you wouldn’t stop laughing, continuing to giggle until you fell backwards onto you couch.

Loki narrowed his eyes at you. “Having a good time here? I see you’ve laid waste to that wine bottle.”

“Oh yeah.” You responded proudly, throwing your arms up in the air. “Nothing else to do here, but to see just how much I can drink till I stop making sense. Which is...now!”

“Really now?” He responded sardonically. “You look like an absolute mess.”

“Screw you.” You dejected at him knowing full well that wouldn’t offend him in the slightest. “Why are you even here if you’re just gonna be like this.”

“Would you rather I leave then?” His arms were crossed over his chest now, long legs and feet firmly planted on the ground. He looked very intimidating, but perhaps because of your state, he also looked extremely masculine and handsome. You never noticed how broad his shoulders actually were, or how defined his jawline was. You imagined being held in those strong arms and hummed pleasantly.

“No, I like you being here.” You said in a sing song manner, swinging your head back and forth.

“Are you sure that’s not the alcohol talking for you? I wouldn’t imagine you meant to send that message directly to me.”

Loki took a seat across from you on the couch, continuing to shoot you looks of improvement, but concern as well. You continued to fixate on his looks despite this, suddenly wanting to see how his skin would feel on your hands.

“It wasn’t really meant for anyone. But I actually feel a lot better knowing it was you.” Even through your mashed up words, this was actually true. If it was Tony or a coworker or, lord forbid, anyone of the Avengers receiving this and coming over to lecture you about your substance use, your humiliation would have no bounds. There was still a sense of a professional relationship to maintain with them and if those boundaries were broken, maybe that would mean your job as well.

However, the moment you saw Loki standing at your door, you worry had instantly vanished. It was funny, but Loki was the only person who you could be yourself with. There wasn’t any authoritative nature to him, and you felt you didn’t need to prove anything while he was in your vicinity. He was just as lost as you were during this year in dealing with Stark Industries and the team. Also you both had bonded a bit with having a natural disdain for large crowds and ‘stupid’ people in general. You weren’t proud to be shit talking about others, but it made some work days bearable for you.

“Perhaps this is the moment where I as why you’ve drunk an entire bottle of red wine on your own. Even I can tell your natural tolerance isn’t very good.” Loki said, motioning for you to begin describing whatever had tormented you for this evening.

You sputtered again. “It’s stupid. I didn’t even mean to drink the whole thing. It just happened. Stupid bottle.” You really didn’t want to talk about, fearing how much control you would lose. You couldn’t put Loki in an awkward position, with you bawling over the fact that you miss your family or that you feel completely alone in such a large city. You knew Loki’s situation, you knew how much conflict he had experienced during the past year, what with settling down on Earth after Asgard was destroyed. Your human woes paled in comparison to what both him and Thor had encountered, why minimize that?

“Are you not comfortable with discussing this with me?” He asked, his voice firm. There was no malice in it but some sense of ease.

You shook your head. “I am sooo comfortable with you. I’m just not really comfortable with myself.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that.” He continued, but you remained quiet mostly because you began to feel sick. “But I do know, even in Asgard, we drank for both our victories and for our losses.”

You pondered on this for a bit and then sniggered. “I suppose a loss for myself. Because lord knows no one wants to be around me.” Here we go. You were beginning to be dramatic once more, drowning in your melancholy. “But noooo I have a lot of friends and people who like me right? Because that’s what everyone expects right? For me to be content with everything?”

Loki remained quiet but not for a loss at words, but simply because he knew listening would be the best way to tackle this situation. His body language changed and he turned his body to face you, full attention and focus. But of course, you were far too deep in your downward spiral to have noticed.

“I’m supposed to be this independent, responsible adult who knows what they want or want to do.” You continued, your voice beginning to break. “But I still feel lost. And stupid. And wobbly.” You sniggered again, not being able to hold back to stupidity of the word.

Loki rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why humans always enjoy over complicating their own personal matters when the solution is staring them right at the face.”

You stopped giggling and furrowed your brows. “How am I over complicating things? I feel like shit because it’s been a whole year of me living in this city and I haven’t made one single valuable connection with anyone. Don’t be telling me that is an easy thing to solve.”

It was as if you had completely forgotten you were still tipsy.

“You do realize you could have just contacted me.” His words seemed to have echoed across your living room, sending a strong pang of guilt into your chest.

“What are you talking about?” You words meshed with one another, unable to articulate your frustration.

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “I really do have to hold your hand for everything don’t I? As long as I am here in this forsaken city working for that piece of human garbage that is Stark, you don’t have to spend your evenings alone.”

You blink in total bewilderment, not really buying into his intentions or his words. “Don’t do that. Don’t just do that because you feel sorry for my pathetic ass.”

“Are you daft?” Loki responded with an elevated voice. “What indication of pity have I presented for you? What you need to realize is you have absolutely no reason to have this display of misery if companionship is what you seek.”

Your eyes widened as your focused in on the details of his face. Even though he had become quite angered by your stubbornness, he continued to be beautiful and ridiculously attractive to you. A strand of his dark locks fell over his face, making him even more desirable than you could have imagined. His piercing blue-green eyes were just as captivating as the last time you saw them. What would you have sacrificed for the opportunity to absolutely melt into him? To take in his scent or his heat. Maybe to even dig your face into the crook of his neck, providing you with much security.

Evidently your body began to move on its own as you leaned forwards to him, plopping yourself ungainly between his arms and his chest. Loki instinctively pulled backwards only causing you to fall further onto him until you were completely laid down upon his chest. He kept his arms slightly above you, unsure whether you’d be fine with him placing them on your back or on your waist. You sighed contently, nuzzling your face and fists into his chest. He was very warm, and you could hear the thumping of a heart deep within him.

“This...is not the best position to be in.” He said, a minute after laying there awkwardly with you.

“Heeey Loki.” You began, some mischief in your tone. “Let’s do it.”

You swore you heard him gulp heavily. “No. Especially with your inebriated state.”

You chuckled, your best attempt at being sly. “I’m sorry I didn’t think about you at first. I guess it didn’t cross my mind that you’d want to do anything with me.”

You finally felt his hands gently rest on your back, fully trusting of your total comfort with him.

“I’m going to reveal something to you but I don’t want you to tell anyone else. This is solely for your ears.” He began, piquing at you interest.

You plopped your head upwards to have a better look at him. “Oh?”

“I don’t come to New York solely for Stark. In fact, he’s become quite disdainful of me as you know. I go out of my way to come here because of you.”

An uncontrollable smile formed over your face. But again, that could have been the alcohol.

“You’re a foolish human. But...you are my foolish human. And you don’t need to be alone as long as I am here. I know how much this time of the year means for you, and I wouldn’t want to see you like this again.”

Before he could continue, you lifted your upper body to plant a much desired kiss on Loki’s lips. You didn’t care if you still reeked of cheap wine or if it was an impulse of your needs, but you deeply desired to still feel him skin on yours. You became even more eager once you felt him return your kiss, aggressively and longingly. His lips were so soft and tasteful and you pleaded mentally for him to explore your tongue with his. You pulled back briefly, your eyes watery and full of drunken bliss.

“I love you so much.” You said without much thought or meaning. You knew you didn’t fully convey those emotions yet, but the timing felt right.

He stared at you with his mouth slightly agape, his eyes also full of bliss and desire. “Don’t say that just yet. But I do too.”

The remainder of the evening was spent quietly as Loki adjusted himself to a much more comfortable position where he could fully encircle his arms around your frame. You melted into him, greedily closing your eyes and drifting away into a peaceful slumber inside his hold. You continued to be lulled by the thumping on his chest, your own matching his in full connection.

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x (y/n)#loki #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki imagines #loki fanfiction #loki drabble #loki drabbles #Loki Laufeyson #loki friggason #loki (mcu)

161 notes · View notes

officialleotolstoy · 3 years

Text

Oh Dolokhov Brainrot We’re Really In It Now, aka Dolokhov playlist annotations!

A note on the cover photo: I don’t really like this one but I got tired of looking at men on Pinterest so I gave up. The window symbolizes the rum window and the smoking symbolizes uhhhhh habitual bad life choices idk

Drinking game take a shot every time I say “it’s about the vibes”

Wrecking Ball - Mother Mother

“I break it just because I can”

This is THEE ‘I am going to cause problems on purpose’ song and that is like his entire narrative purpose!! Argue with me about this one I dare you

The Good, The Bad, and the Dirty - Panic! At The Disco

“If you wanna start a fight you better throw the first punch, make it a good one”

Partially its just vibes, I won’t lie. But also the consistent spoiling for a fight is very in character

Shoot to Thrill - AC/DC

“I’m like evil, I get under your skin”

It’s got I Am Morally Repulsive But Also I’ll Steal Your Girl energy which really hits all of Dolokhov’s character traits. And of course the added bonus of gun imagery.

Mr. Brightside - The Killers

“It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this”

I added it strictly for vibes, but then I realized the quoted lyric is very much him @ the Kuragins if you take the reading that he refuses to admit he actually like them but grows genuinely fond of them over time even though he initially got to know them with a lot of ulterior motives.

Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen

“Mama, I just killed a man”

The amount of songs that are on these playlists just for what are essentially your mom jokes since Dolokhov loves his mom so much is a little pathetic. But I’m not wrong! I can’t really put it into words but something about this song has Dolokhov energy.

Feel It Still - Portugal the Man

“Give in to that easy living, goodbye to your hopes and dreams”

A good deal of what I find interesting about Dolokhov is the internal conflict he has of knowing he’s become rather wicked and problematic but also not really trying very hard to change and almost enjoying it so a lot of the songs on here are about that, including this one. The “I’m a rebel just for kicks now” also very much screams Causing Problems On Purpose.

The Bidding - Tally Hall

“I like to take advantage of the bourgeoisie”

His whole role in volume one and two is to take advantage of the bourgeoisie! This song also oozes confidence and a sense of superiority that comes from being better than the sellouts in high society, Dolokhov’s not like other girls uwu (he really is, but I don’t think he would admit that).

Say Amen (Saturday Night) - Panic! At The Disco

“I could be better but baby it’s Saturday night”

Embracing his own wickedness! The idea that he knows he could be better than he is but he doesn’t want to take that opportunity...yeah vibes

Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) - Fall Out Boy

“I became such a strange shape from trying to fit in”

This is the epitome of the “woe is me I need to be purified” phase he goes through when he’s into Sonya. Also “I’ll stop wearing black when they make a darker color” reminds me of Comet Dolokhov’s stupid eyeliner <3

Some Nights - fun.

“So what is this? I sold my soul for this?”

There’s a long stretch of this playlist that just boils down to “Woe is me I need to be purified” crisis hours, because Dolokhov’s oscillation between embracing his own cruelty and trying to be a good person is super interesting to me. This song captures the idea that he’s still having fun and there’s some good there, but he’s also aware that he’s losing himself a bit

Roaring 20s - Panic! At The Disco

“I don’t even know me”

“Woe is me i need to be purified” crisis AGAIN. This song gets more to the annoyance with society as a whole and feeling kind of lost in it

Send Them Off! - Bastille

“Help me exorcise my mind”

“Please purify me 16 year old girl! I’m 27 this isnt creepy at all ahahahha”. I do despise Sonyakhov but this has the vibes of a man feeling his own evil and wanting a woman to fix it. Not a great look.

Easy Days (Demo) - Bastille

“I don’t wanna fall back again, back into the easy days”

Near the end of the “woe is me I need to be purified” phase when he’s kind of drifting back to his old ways and he’s like wait no- wait- and then he does anyway because he’s horrible. I also really like the acknowledgment that his horribleness is easy and pleasant for him, and he has to fight against that (and he loses that fight HDJAJJD).

Undisclosed Desires - Muse

“You trick your lovers that you’re wicked and divine”

This is a Dolokhov/Nikolai song I do not take constructive criticism. Undisclosed desires...not being straight...lots to think about! It feels almost like a corruption arc? Nikolai isn’t corrupted nor does their...fling (?) last very long but Nikolai is obviously enamored with Dolokhov despite him being The Worst so I think this fits. I don’t have enough songs for a Nikolai/Dolokhov playlist so I just add those songs to both of their individual playlists

Thnks fr th Mmrs - Fall Out Boy

“Thanks for the memories even though they weren’t so great”

Also mostly a Nikolai/Dolokhov song. This man has never ended a relationship on good terms, huh. Also. Sighs heavily. “He tastes like you only sweeter” never fails to make me laugh when I think about it in the context of Dolokhov post-duel being like oh?? You’re just a stupid WOMAN Hélène your brother and/or Nikolai is hotter than you :/ which is not exactly what I think happened but it makes me laugh to consider. Dolokhov ur bitterrrrr

Dangerous - Royal Deluxe

“I’ll be the last man standing here, I’m not going anywhere”

I feel like this has the vibes of his cruelty, especially in that bit after the Kuragins have died when he and Petya infiltrate the French army.

Another One Bites The Dust - Queen

“There are plenty of ways you can hurt a man”

He will hurt you and kill you so violently :) It’s about the vibes.

White Wedding Pt. 1 - Billy Idol

“It’s a nice day to start again”

In the exact inverse to his “woe is me I need to be purified” phase, he’s like ok yes i will pick up bad habits again and enjoy them because frick you! I read once that this song is about a relapse into drugs, but I’m making it analogous to his relapse into Terrible Person Behavior after Sonya’s rejection. Also the repetition of the phrase little sister does something for my brain idk, after we know he loves his mom and sister it just fits.

Highway to Hell - AC/DC

“I’m on the highway to hell and I’m goin down”

Like White Wedding, it screams acceptance of his problematicness. He knows he’s cruel and evil and he revels in it. This is the phase we see him in most I think.

Back in Black - AC/DC

“It’s been too long, I’m glad to be back”

I think this plays every time he gets reinstated to an army position he lost by being reckless earlier. Just kidding sort of but listen to this song and tell me it doesn’t have Dolokhov vibes. If you do, you’re wrong <3

Poet - Bastille

“I have written you down now, you will live forever”

This is just here cause he ghostwrote Anatole’s love letters and I think it’s funny. It’s MY playlist and I get to choose the barely relevant Bastille songs

St. Jude - Florence + The Machine

“Maybe I’ve always been more comfortable in chaos”

This one’s more scattered lyrics than an overall vibe. “Each side is a loser so who cares who fired the gun” has duel energy also.

Hey Look Ma, I Made It - Panic! At The Disco

Confession: I hate this song. However, it’s about the about the MOM R U PROUD OF ME vibes (she is. Should she be? Probably not).

Rich Kids - Bea Miller

“It’s never enough for the stuck up types”

The not coming from wealth and having to almost scam your way into being part of the aristocratic scene is very Dolokhov. Also in my mind the rich kid he’s roasting is specifically Nikolai.

Money, Money, Money - ABBA

“It’s a rich man’s world”

I’m not SAYING the wealthy man they talk about is Anatole but - [i am shot]. Scheming and clawing your way up to wealth is Dolokhovcore.

This Is Gospel - Panic! At The Disco

I literally have no justification for this other than that i think modern AU Dolokhov would vibe with it. Look at the amount of eyeliner he wears in Comet and tell me he didn’t have an emo band phase. You can’t.

Trouble’s Coming - Royal Blood

This is not about the words at all, it’s more about the vibes. It just sounds Dolokhovish to me, don’t ask me to explain.

Sleep Alone - Two Door Cinema Club

“They’re just ghosts and they can’t hurt him if he can’t see them”

This gives me post-Kuragins’ death vibes, and I can’t pin down exactly why? I think it’s the idea of being very alone and closed off.

Golden Days - Panic! At The Disco

I can’t put a specific lyric to it but it’s the vibes of looking back on your hedonistic youths with nostalgia and rose-colored glasses. Post-Kuragins’ death vibes again.

Go Get Your Gun - The Dear Hunter

“One foot in the grave, the other one’s kickin’ its way right down to hell”

All we see of him after the Kuragins’ death is just him being particularly cruel and reckless, almost careless. This feels like it encapsulates that energy.

The Fallen - Franz Ferdinand

“They say you’re a troubled boy just because you like to destroy”

I’m aware that a good portion of this song is about a Christ figure but I’m going to respectfully ask you to ignore that bit and just focus on all the Sketchy Things the guy does instead. Thank you. He does in fact like to destroy things! Señor Cause Problems On Purpose back at it again at krispy kreme, huh.

#war and peace #fedya dolokhov #my post #w&p playlists #i counted i said the word vibes 13 times #so sorry

13 notes · View notes

aoifeanamadan · 3 years

Text

After School Special

Fandom: Minecraft YouTube rpf (mcyt)

Word count: 4386

Relationship: DreamNotFound (DreamxGeorgeNotFound)

Summary:

The sky is blue, the sun is hot and Dream hates George.

Everyone knew Dream hated him, really hated him, all smug and sarcastic and closed off. Where Dream was friendly, loud and outgoing, George was quiet and pretentious. It was like he thought he was above everyone else.

Needless to say, neither of them were over the moon when they found out they had to spend two months working together in weekend detention.

Support this work on AO3 :)

Chapter Two: Montague versus Capulet

Change is hard. It’s a universal truth. But for Dream, change was foreign. It just didn’t happen. He did the same thing every day. Get up, sunrise, shower, breakfast, get in Sapnap’s truck. The days were all the same, they pushed into each other.

It was as if his life was made up of concrete blocks, one for every day. He was stacking them, and the more weight he added, the less space between the blocks. They were pressed so closely together, the weight of a lifetime keeping them tight, there was no room for opportunities to worm themselves in.

That wasn’t to say it was bad. He liked his life. It was fine. He had friends, hobbies, he did great in school. He was captain of the state champion soccer team. Girls liked him. It was all perfectly fine.

His new weekend arrangements threw a spanner into his routine. Instead of watching Netflix from his couch in his pyjamas, he was sitting at the breakfast table across from his dad. His father’s attempted conversation was a sorry replacement for Netflix’s D-List cartoons.

His dad was him lecturing about something, but it was as if Dream had cotton in his ears. His father’s throwaway words about consequence and responsibility were muted. He was saying something about the image Dream had to project as soccer captain when a ding came from Dream’s phone. It was Sapnap.

Sapnap

(9:37 am) hey im outside lets go

Once Dream read the text he was on his feet, toast in his mouth and jacket in his hand, rushing muffled goodbyes to his father. He heard the vague well wishes as he left.

Sapnap was a good friend, but one of his best traits was knowing when to be the enemy. The second Dream got in the car, he was complaining. About his dad, George, these stupid weekend classes. His lamenting was cut short. Before he could fully develop any of his woes, Sapnap was interrupting.

“Dream shut up,” he whined. It caught Dream off guard, stopping him in the middle of his first anti-George rant of the day. He looked at Sapnap, wounded. Sapnap just rolled his eyes. Dream gave up on the hurt puppy charade. He had only been on the first part of the speech, George’s entitlement. He didn’t even get to parts two, three or four (George’s pretentiousness, George’s fakeness and George’s sense of superiority, respectively). Each part was ten minutes long.

“Dude?” He didn’t like the distant hurt that he could hear in his voice. Sapnap softened.

“Sorry, it’s just like, this is your fault Dream.” This was not how Dream had expected the drive to hell to go. “You started the fight, and it’s not like George wants to do this either.” He knew Sapnap might have been right, but Dream soured at the thought of Sapnap and George’s friendship. Them discussing how Dream had ruined his weekend plans for the next two months, George trying to steal his best friend.

He pushed down the feeling of betrayal, it wasn’t fair to Sapnap. He could reserve that feeling exclusively for George.

“Yeah, maybe.” Dream hummed, noncommittal. He glanced out the window, the school was in sight. It was towering over him, looming and gothic. Dream was suddenly overcome, every part of him was saying don’t go in. He pushed the thoughts down and refocused on Sapnap.

“You might even enjoy it, George is really funny!” Dream could tell he was trying to spin this into a positive, but the thought of having to spend two hours a week with George for two months made him feel hopeless. He imagined it, the hours he’d have to listen to George try to boss him around, trying to make him feel stupid. George would try to one-up him every chance he got, that was just who he was. He could never just let Dream win.

Before Dream could reply, the car was parked. He looked at Sapnap, who didn’t seem quite as sombre as Dream did. To Dream, it felt like a solemn occasion. To Sapnap, it felt like dropping his friend off while he was on his way to do the weekly food shop.

“I don’t want to go in.”

Sapnap, ever sensitive, just laughed. He shoved Dream’s shoulders towards the door in a gentle but firm attempt to get him out of the car.

“Go on Dream, I have to get shit for dinner.”

Dream was walking and into the school before he had the chance to talk himself out of it. He wasn’t worried about the work. How hard could it be to recite some Shakespeare, or whatever it was they did in weekend English. He was worried about who he’d have to work with. He didn’t know anyone taking the class other than George.

When he entered the classroom, he was sure he was in the wrong room. At first, he thought there was no one in there. That was before he noticed the woman in the corner, facing the walls. Dream felt like he was interrupting something. He knocked on the door, which was already open. It was more of a polite way to say ‘Excuse me miss, you’re not possessed, right?’. She whipped around at the sound of Dream’s knuckled on the heavy wood. He was fairly sure she was not possessed.

As she stepped quickly towards him, he noticed her jumper. Plastered across the front there was the face of a multi-coloured pug. Her hair was wild around her, swamping her face, and her glasses made her eyes look like orbs too big for her face.

“Hello dear, sit down please, sit down. Welcome! You must be George?”

Dream rushed to correct her, rather than be mistaken for George of all people, but she had already moved on.

“I am Ms Dahlman, so so happy to have you here in English. What an opportunity! God, you’re so lucky. In my youth, we didn’t have these weekend class options. God, so lucky you all are. I am just so happy to have you here!” She was talking a mile a minute. Dream felt paralysed under her gaze, waiting for her to take a breath so he could interject.

She continued for four minutes, telling him how lucky he was to have this opportunity. He didn’t have the heart to tell her it wasn’t his choice. He did however want to clear up that he was definitely not George.

Before he got his chance, there was another knock at the door. George’s voice came from the doorway, slow and soft. It was a stark contrast to Ms Dahlman.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find the room. I’ve never had weekend classes before.” George was standing, messy-haired and disinterested. Dream thought he looked arrogant. It was just like George to be late, he had no regard for other people’s time. Something shameful in Dream couldn’t wait to tell Sapnap, to prove he was ten times the friend George could be. But he wasn’t sure if good punctuality was quite enough to convince him.

“It’s fine, just come in.” Ms Dahlman sounded pained at the interruption, but she soldiered through. “You can sit down here next to George.”

George, the real George, quirked his eyebrow.

“That’s funny, my name is George too.” Dream wanted to wipe his smug smirk right off his face. Ms Dahlman however, seemed overjoyed with the development.

“Oh! Two George’s! Heavens above, who would’ve ever thought? I knew your name couldn’t be Dream, but that was all it said on the attendance form they gave me! I said to them, I said ‘Dream? Well that can’t be a real name, can it?’ but they told me it was the preferred name, so it was what I was to use. George is much more sensible.” Dream felt his cheeks burning, but he didn’t want to get aggressive. He tried to push the feelings down.

Looking at George, who seemed barely able to contain his laughter, made that a lot harder. Dream nodded at Ms Dahlman, to be polite, but she didn’t notice. She just continued speaking, something Dream was starting to note as a consistent course of action for her.

“As I was saying, the grade you get in this class will be added to your overall GPA for the subject. Normally, it’s used to bring up the average but obviously,” she gestured to the empty class “people just don’t care about English the way they used to.”

Only then did it strike Dream, him and George were the only two taking the class. Unless someone was running 8 minutes late for the first class, no one else was coming. Dream wanted to sink into his chair and never get up again.

Before he could figure out how to melt himself down, Ms Dahlman was explaining their first assignment.

“Now, for the first two months boys you will be writing a speech!” She paused, for dramatic effect. It didn’t work. Dream and George were looking at her with the same badly disguised disinterest. She continued, consistent as ever. “Now I heard about your, how to put this, communicational issues .” She grimaced at the mention of Dream and George’s earlier conflict. “So!” She punctuated herself with a short clap. “The speech will be titled ‘What my partner has taught me.’ It’s going to be a great opportunity for you two to learn how to cooperate!”

Dream did not want the opportunity to cooperate with George. He was stuck up, rude, inconsiderate. He acted as if he was better than everyone else, scoffing and looking down at them. Dream had plenty of friends, he didn’t want or need George.

Ms Dahlman, unsurprisingly, was not finished speaking. And so she continued, taking Dream out of his pessimistic thoughts.

“Now, I can see no reason to keep you here.” Dream and George looked at each other instinctually, then up at her smiling face, waiting for an explanation. “I’ll be giving you sheets that I’ll need to be signed by your parents to prove every week that you’re putting the time in together, as well as a guide to writing the speech. But, really boys, I can’t imagine why you would have to stay in the school.”

Ms Dahlman seemed to be about fifty, possibly older. Dream had no idea how she had navigated the world so far. It seemed she never even paused her monologues to breathe.

She gave the sheets to both Dream and George, and then she just left. She walked out the door and into her car without a glance back. The boys were left stunned in her wake.

Dream looked at George. George looked at Dream. Neither said anything, neither knew what to say.

Before Dream could start the inevitable conversation, George had taken out his phone. Self-obsessed as ever. Dream commented, emboldened by his evident social superiority,

“Well, that’s a bit rude-” Before he could finish, George had interrupted.

“Can you drive?” George hadn’t even spared him a glance. So rude . Dream couldn’t say he was surprised. Dream rolled his eyes. George didn’t seem to notice.

“No. What does that have to do with anything?” Dream didn’t try to stop the animosity from seeping into his voice. George didn’t seem to notice.

“Well I can’t drive either, I got the bus here. And we can’t just stay in here, it smells bad.” Dream didn’t want to admit it, but George was right. It did smell bad.

Dream started to speak. At the same time, George looked up from his phone. They both spoke at the same time, the same idea.

“I’m texting Sapnap.”

“Maybe Sapnap can-”

Dream laughed nervously. George didn’t laugh back. Sapnap was collecting them within ten minutes, a bag of shopping in the back.

Before long, they were sitting together on Sapnap’s couch, alone. Sapnap had left the room to make some food for them. Dream would’ve been happy to sit in silence until Sapnap came back with the snacks, but George wasn’t on the same wavelength.

“So, um, how are you?” George’s voice trailed off as he spoke. It felt like he wanted to be there even less than Dream.

“Good. Fine.” Dream was curt. He hadn’t expected George to make conversation, and he wasn’t going to try and encourage it. George could go back to texting on his phone forever for all Dream cared.

“Good.” George was returning his energy. His friendly conversationalist charade hadn’t lasted very long. Dream tried to settle back into the silence between them.

It didn’t stay like that for long. By the time Sapnap was back, he was entering to hear George yelling.

“Seven billion people in the world and I get stuck doing this with you! Either I’m cursed or God likes playing house.” He was standing on one side of the couch, Dream on the other. Anytime Dream moved, George moved the opposite way.

“Fuck you, George!”

Sapnap just wanted to get everyone some snacks.

He made them recount the argument, word for word, starting with George tapping his fingers ‘too loud’ on the arm of the couch.

Before long, Sapnap was telling them both off. He couldn’t say he was shocked that he had to explain that George telling Dream “I can say with utmost certainty, that you are definitely, A Bitch.” was not working cooperatively.

Dream was just as bad. But he did at least look remorseful while recounting his shout of “Every time you open your mouth I want to push you over the edge of a cliff and I mean that with all my heart.”

In the end, Sapnap made them sit in silence at opposite ends of the couch. Dream tried to feel guilty, he really did, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret squabbling with George, or chasing him around the couch. He was just so awful . Someone needed to knock him down a peg. And it’s not like he couldn’t take it, he was coming back just as hard as Dream. Maybe even harder.

Dream didn’t feel guilty for fighting with George, but he did feel guilty for getting Sapnap tangled up in the middle of it all. Dream could tell he hated the tension he and George had created.

Dream glanced towards George, checking to see if he looked as guilty as Dream felt, only to be met with George’s eyes staring at him. Weirdo. George nodded his head towards Sapnap, then between him and Dream. Dream didn’t want to admit it, but he understood.

George was saying ‘Look what we did.’ He was saying ‘Come on, we’ve to fix this.’

As much as it hurt him, Dream knew George was right. He looked up at him. George was mouthing something. Dream looked at his lips.

He was saying ‘Fuck you.’

Dream couldn’t hold in his laugh, isolated and muffled. Luckily, it was covered up by George’s exaggerated apology.

“Dream, I’m sorry for annoying you on purpose, and then for saying mean things to you.” Dream nearly had to physically restrain himself from jumping up and down, yelling ‘I told you so!’ He had known George was annoying him on purpose. Instead, he announced his apology as a reply.

“That’s okay George. I am sorry for chasing you around the couch and also for saying mean things to you.” He stopped himself from adding the ‘I am also sorry that you are a little bitch.’ He was too mature.

Instead of a relieved laugh, Sapnap’s brow furrowed. Dream could almost hear his mind moving at a mile a minute. George must have noticed it too. They both left it, but Sapnap wasn’t saying anything. And Dream had never considered patience his strongest virtue.

“Just say it Sapnap.” Dream and George were both looking at him expectantly.

“Huh?” Sapnap looked shocked that they had noticed his internal conflict.

“He’s right, whatever you’re thinking. Just say it. I can practically hear you thinking.” George agreed with Dream. It was a day full of firsts.

“Do you guys actually hate each other? Like, there’s no reason to. Or, do you just enjoy the feeling of having someone to hate? I don’t get it.”

Dream didn’t know what to say. They had never talked about it so openly, him and George. It was an unspoken truth, so obvious it didn’t need to be acknowledged.

Montague versus Capulet, Taylor versus Katie, Dream versus George.

George and Dream just stared at each other, frozen. Sapnap moved on before either of them answered.

“You know what, nevermind. It doesn’t even matter.”

The silence made Dream feel guilty, looking at Sapnap made him feel worse. He was holding himself with annoyance, rare but visible. Before Dream could try and apologise, George was changing the subject. If he was someone else, Dream would've been thankful. But he was not anyone else, so Dream thought it was rude.

“So, where is everyone? The house is empty.” George was right. Both of Sapnap’s parents were out, a rare occurrence. The house was quiet, and the noise was obviously missing. There was no smell of cooking, no top of the pops radio. Dream hardened at the thought of George realising there was something wrong in Sapnap’s house before he could. He wasn’t surprised, it was just like George to make sure he mentioned it before Dream got a chance.

Dream scoffed. George didn’t notice, and if he did he didn’t turn around.

“Oh,” Sapnap’s eyes widened, shocked at the observation. Dream made a mental note to pay more attention to how Sapnap was doing. “My dad, he’s- he’s out of town.” Sapnap didn’t say anything else about it. Instead, he did his best to help George and Dream.

They tried to work, they really did, but it was hard. The main task was to listen and learn from each other, but Dream would have rather died than learn anything from George, and the sentiment was clearly reciprocated. It had gotten to the point where neither of them were even saying anything, just looking at Sapnap waiting for instruction.

Sapnap, bless him, he tried his best. But one thing Dream and George could agree on was that it was easy to say no to Sapnap’s ideas.

“Why don’t you bond over your childhoods or something?” Sapnap threw out his fifth idea in ten minutes. Dream and George glanced to each other before replying.

“That’s dumb.”

“Ew, no Sapnap.”

Sapnap rolled his eyes

“Okay, fine. Whatever, you guys have fun.” He took his laptop from the coffee table and put in his headphones, ignoring Dream and George’s shouts of protest.

“No, Sapnap come on! Give us another idea!” Dream whined. Sapnap shook his head, trying to hide a smile.

“Sorry guys, but I do actually have my own work to do.”

Without Sapnap, things went off track quickly. George and Dream were sitting on opposite sides of Sapnap. George was cross-legged on the floor, messing with a piece of paper. Dream was draped across the armchair, head tilting back up to the ceiling. He was tossing up and down a soccer ball.

George and Dream were thinking out loud, having long abandoned brainstorming for their speeches. It was easy to ignore it when they had an infinite two months stretching out in front of them.

“Why did you fight so hard for it to be weekends?” Dream threw the question out into the air, hardly thinking about George’s reply.

“Well, I have shit to do after school.” Dream could not imagine a single thing that George might have to do after school. “Plus, I knew you have soccer training after school. I figured the team couldn’t function without their captain.” George said it sarcastically, but he couldn’t mask the truth in the statement. George knew when Dream had soccer, even if it was probably just because of Sapnap. And he had accommodated him when negotiating their punishment.

George had done something nice for Dream, without even telling him. He had just done it, quiet and personal.

Dream didn’t know how to digest this new information.

He was so preoccupied with the idea of George being in any way considerate, he didn’t notice him picking up a new sheet of paper, tearing off a corner and rolling it up into a ball. Before Dream could glance in his direction, the paper ball had hit him on the nose.

“Hey!” Dream’s head snapped towards George. He had the audacity to smile.

“Oops,” George deadpanned. Dream was whining for Sapnap within the second.

“It wasn’t an accident! It wasn’t and you know it! Sapnap, Sapnap! Tell him!” Sapnap just rolled his eyes. Dream glared at George.

“Try that again. Try it, I dare you.” Dream tried his best to sound tough. He was big, he was intimidating. He was the captain of the state champion soccer team. George couldn’t do shit to him.

George threw another piece of paper.

“Sapnap! He did that on purpose!” Dream whined. He didn’t realise how similar to an eight-year-old he sounded until the words had already left his mouth. Sapnap didn’t even look up from his laptop. He felt the blood rushing to his cheeks.

Dream picked back up his soccer ball from his chest, a plan forming. Before he could even raise his hand, George was talking.

“Throw it, throw it and see what happens to you.” Dream gaped at George, he hadn’t even been looking at him. How did he know the soccer ball was coming? Just then, George did look. His eyes shot up from the paper crane he was making to meet Dream’s.

George’s eyes pierced him, frosty and chilling. Dream didn’t think he had ever looked into someone’s eyes the way he was doing just then. He felt like he could read George’s mind. It was saying ‘ Don’t you fucking dare’. Dream put back down the soccer ball slowly. The second George looked away, he threw it.

As the hours went by, George’s mask of indifference, his icy remarks and snarky comments, they faded away. A different George was filling his place. Still snarky, still acting as if he was just a little bit better than Dream, but different. He was excitable, quicker to smile.

George wasn’t as bad as Dream thought he was. Sure, he was a little bit rude. And he was definitely pretentious. He wasn’t as arrogant as Dream had thought he would be. And, even if it pained him to say it, he was funny.

All these things combined, he wasn’t the worst person to spend time with. No one noticed that the two mandatory hours had passed. They just stayed on Sapnap’s sitting room floor together, talking. George wasn’t a bad listener.

Dream was telling the story of his awful Monday morning, the first day of senior year. He was a good storyteller, he prided himself on that. Even Sapnap had taken off his headphones to listen. He had just gotten to the part of the story where he had to sit next to Weird Sarah. The smile George had been wearing was slipping slowly as he told him the woeful tail of having to sit next to her. George interrupted for the first time in hours.

“Hey, don’t be mean.” George was looking serious, an expression he hadn’t worn in hours. Dream didn’t understand why.

“Sarah’s actually a childhood friend. She’s really nice when you get to know her.”

Dream understood why. He felt like an idiot.

“Oh, shit, shit. Sorry, I didn’t realise. Shit. I’m sorry.” He tried his best to sound sincere, a stained sort of guilt overcoming him. George’s face didn’t change.

“No, it’s okay. It’s fine. I just forgot who you were for a second there.”

Dream felt like shit. Sarah hadn’t even done anything to him. But something in his mind was whispering to him. It wasn’t his fault if George was friends with her. Maybe they were both weird. This was classic George, trying to make him feel bad no matter what he did. Dream tried to push it away, but it was there. Lying underneath his brain, polluting his thoughts.

George, the George that Dream had come to know in that evening at Sapnap’s house, was suddenly gone. He stayed another half-hour, but it wasn’t the same. They focused on the work, writing about speech structures and other things Dream couldn’t have cared less about. And then George was gone, collected from the footpath outside Sapnap’s quiet house by his mother.

Dream and Sapnap were left alone in his sitting room. Dream wanted to sink into the floor and never get up again.

“Well That wasn’t, that wasn’t as bad as I expected.” Sapnap tried his best, but he didn’t even sound convincing to himself.

“It was bad.” Dream groaned, getting down to lie on the carpeted floor.

“Well, don’t undersell it. It wasn’t all bad.” Sapnap prodded him gently in the side with his foot. Dream squirmed.

“It was all bad.” Mixed with the embarrassment, there was a bitter kind of regret. Dream had ruined something good, something new. Before he could sink too far down his hole of sorrow, Sapnap was there.

“You should text him, to like apologise or something.” Sapnap had stood up to clean the sitting room, bring their plates into the kitchen. The conversation was over. Dream heaved himself off the floor, despite the weight of his self-pity.

“Yeah, okay. Okay. Yeah.”

It was later that night when Dream got the chance to text George. It was easier to send difficult texts from the safety of his blanket.

Dream

(10:14 pm) hey, its dream. Im sorry for talking shit about sarah.

(10:15 pm) It was mean and wasnt fair i feel really bad about it

Dream hadn’t realised just how much he actually wanted George’s forgiveness until he saw the three dots next to George’s name.

Gogy<3

(10:16 pm) its cool. dont do it again though it was a dick move

Dream

(10:16 pm) yeah i know :(

Gogy<3

(10:17 pm) also for future reference i never read texts. Message me on sc if you need me its georgenotfound

At 10:18 pm, George got a notification.

Dreamwastaken has added you as a friend.

#dreamnotfound #mcyt #mcyt fic #enemies to lovers #highschool au #dreamxgeorge #dream/george #sapnap #georgenotfound #dream smp #minecraft youtube #minecraft #enemies to friends to lovers #no beta but i used grammerly hehe

23 notes · View notes