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ahundredtimesover · 2 months

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I Want You to Stay (07) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 15.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: One of my fave chapters! I hope you like this one! And just a heads up that intervals between posting days will be longer as the chapters get longer, too. And bc u know, life... HAHA but again, thank you so much for all the love for this like??? HOW. PLS you've all been so nice so thank you! 🥰 Also… JK in that SNTY suit.

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Mr. Ri loads the luggages in the trunk and you double check that all bags - which you helped pack yesterday - are complete. You enter the car right after and head to the airport where Jungkook will fly to Singapore for a few meetings and to attend Seokjin’s alcohol launch party.

It’s been over a month since the Arts Center event and so much has happened since then. Jungkook went to Jeju to meet an artist and then to Japan over a weekend to meet another two. He’s been on calls with a few more with plans to meet in their country of residence in the next months, and he’s gone around different local towns to meet with craftspeople for souvenirs and future exhibitions. He’s also touched base with various national and international Korean arts and culture organizations for promotion and joint projects. The event opened doors for a new network that he hoped for. There are now proposals for other collaborations and side engagements that’s doing a lot for the company’s brand and expansion.

To say that Jungkook and the team have been busy is an understatement. You went back to work after those few days of recovering with everyone overwhelmed by all the things they had to do but like you expected, you all managed and got things organized. There are still multiple things to handle all at once, but everyone’s just been on top of everything and showing how competent you all are as individuals and as a team.

Within that period, Jungkook has stopped by the team’s office and the pantry more times than those first months. He also managed to laugh at Do-hyun’s unfiltered remarks a few times and even slipped his own that got the team giggling. He’s seemed a lot more relaxed and so has the team. Lunch meetings have been regular given all the work you all have to do. Yohan and Chin-sun even say that they’ve gotten to know Jungkook a little better through their visits to the Arts Center. And while they do think he’s still a bit detached and catch him in his own world sometimes, he’s a lot more engaged and is actually way smarter than they’d initially thought.

Jungkook checks his phone and sighs, prompting you to turn to him.

“Seokjin says the party is an intimate event but there’s gonna be over two-fifty guests so I don’t know about that,” he shakes his head, showing you the restaurant bar where his friend will be launching his alcohol brand. “For some reason, he expects me and Tae to entertain guests on his behalf.”

This was another development you hadn’t expected. Since that morning when Jungkook sent you food when you were unwell, your relationship changed. It’s still professional but there’s more openness now, as if that prompted both of you to be comfortable around each other.

There’s more trust and honesty, too - he lets you make decisions, lets you handle the team when he’s away, and asks you for your unfiltered opinion. You feel like all the time you spend together has allowed you to learn how he sees and understands things; you even finish his sentences sometimes.

He’s also loosened up a bit and allows himself to laugh and smile more. They’re still rare occurrences but you never point them out, not wanting him to feel awkward and then stop. They often catch you off guard so you haven’t been able to fully appreciate them but at least he feels comfortable around you, enough to even talk about non-work stuff and things that fill his mind, like random questions or small concerns.

You’re unsure if he notices how uninhibited he’s become but you don’t point it out either. He still has his moments of living in his head, his faraway thoughts rendering him quiet and observant, and his perfectionist attitude means he’s still critical sometimes. But he doesn’t take anything out on you - not his frustrations nor his fears. He’d usually keep to himself and talk to you once he’s cooled down and you’d take that any day, so long as you keep your sanity and are able to do your tasks as instructed.

In return, you let yourself be the same. You’ve fully restored your confidence and that’s allowed you to show just how capable you are. You’ve been more vocal with your thoughts, too, and don’t take it personally when he doesn’t agree. You smile a lot more, joke with him even, and have been more generous with words of encouragement and affirmation. They come more naturally than you expected, and you appreciate that he doesn’t turn you away whenever it happens.

He’s actually okay to be around when he’s not being grumpy or difficult. You suppose that the situations he was put in - and how you responded with patience and understanding - allowed him to see that you’re truly on his side and that let him put his guard down a little. You’re past trying to please him for the sake of making your job bearable; there’s actual joy in it now, and while the search for who you are outside of all this continues to ring in your head, you think that sticking around for now isn’t so bad either.

“Perhaps Seokjin has seen how good you are with entertaining guests now and deems you worthy of being an extension of him,” you respond to Jungkook’s earlier musings. “And he wouldn’t be wrong. You’ve become really good at it.”

“You know, I think you oversell me sometimes,” he chuckles.

“Hmm, I think I don’t,” you counter. “If I may say so, Mr. Jeon, it's just that the bar was pretty low so the improvements are quite striking.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs, not taking offense.

“You can still do better at charming people. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from Seokjin and Taehyung,” you push.

“Those two flirt, they don’t charm,” he playfully rolls his eyes.

“Well, I completely disagree, sir. I mean, I’ve seen it firsthand. And I’m not one who’s easily charmed.”

“Fine, I’ll see what I can pick from them, then,” he concedes.

“Kidding aside, I think you’ll be fine, Mr. Jeon. Plus, it’s unrelated to work so there’s no need to impress anyone,” you state.

“True,” he hums. “But just thinking about these next few days is already making me tired. Tae rented a yacht for tonight. We have Seokjin’s launch tomorrow, and to celebrate, he’s throwing another party the day after.”

“Hmm, must be that you’re getting old,” you tease, earning you a hum in agreement. “But you’re used to that though, right? They always said that was your life back in Singapore.”

“It was. I had less responsibilities and people to manage but back then, everything seemed too much,” he shares. “I took the weekends seriously and really just did whatever I wanted. I haven’t done much of that these past weeks because I’ve been so tired and I feel like I’m under the microscope when I’m here. So yeah, I’ll probably just take advantage of being back there and just enjoy it.”

“As you should,” you say. “You’ve worked hard and you deserve to spend your weekend however you wish. Just, uh…”

“What?”

“Probably give Lucas a heads-up in case a half-naked woman greets him in the kitchen on Monday morning.”

The silence is deafening and you think you’ve crossed a line with this one. You turn towards him and he looks stunned at your unfiltered remark.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in apology. “That was too personal.”

“It’s okay,” he responds after a beat of silence. “I guess I deserve that. I mean, I never apologized for the morning when you experienced exactly that. And for when you found that underwear on the floor, which I forgot to clean up. So, uh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, too. I got over it,” you assure him. “And if anything, I’m pretty sure she left that on purpose so she’ll have a reason to come back.”

“That’s exactly it,” he groans. “She saw me again and wanted to go to my apartment so she could get it. I told her I threw it away.”

“How brutal,” you tease again.

“Not my finest moment but yeah, I’m sorry to put you in that position. Must’ve been tough seeing proof of all the washroom gossip.”

“You know about those?” You gasp.

“I’ve heard about them,” he sighs. “Mr. Ri’s got eyes and ears in the office.”

“It’s hard to defend so I just don’t try,” the older man shakes his head. “Not like you deny it anyway.”

“Not like I really care,” Jungkook shrugs. “But even then, I guess it wasn’t the best start for us,” he tells you.

“Perhaps not, but I’m not one to judge, Mr. Jeon. That’s all in the past now, and that feels like a lifetime ago.”

“It does,” he hums.

It’s during these casual exchanges when you get to see a bit more of Jungkook as the person that he is, beyond the perfectionist executive who still harbors fears and worries about his new role. He’s still a human being who finds ways to deal with the stresses of life, someone who needs time to step away from his burdensome responsibilities, someone who seeks intimacy and connection and finds ways to attain them in his own ways. The doubts and worries are still there, but the foundation has stabled a bit. Somehow you think that you’ve created a space safe enough for him to talk about them, to apologize, and to try to be better. You hope he gets to create that for himself, too, and if that’s what you’ll leave him with by the time you decide to step away from this job, you think you’d be satisfied.

Silence engulfs you both and like he often is after being vulnerable with you, he keeps to himself once again. You wait a while before running through his meetings for today and next week and inform him of what the team will be working on while he’s away. Jungkook responds with a few last-minute instructions, especially about the tasks he needs done in time for your team meeting on Monday. You’re both back to professional talk and you don’t really mind; there’s something about being honest and open that could be a bit disarming.

The car stops and Mr. Ri exits to retrieve the luggage from the trunk. Jungkook, in his navy blue suit, gathers his things and says goodbye. Before he can close the door, you call out his name.

“Yeah?” He asks, his one hand carrying his bag and the other, on the roof of the car as he bends to look at you.

“Happy birthday,” you say. “I know you think it’s just an ordinary day but I hope you celebrate well.”

“Thank you,” he says after a few seconds, basking in the softness of your smile for the short moment that he can.

Jungkook steps away then closes the door. He heads to the airport lounge before taking the 6-hour flight to Singapore, spending it on reviewing reports and design proposals. He goes straight to the office when he lands, settling down in his room where he responds to emails. He munches on some dumplings for lunch, thinking he’s missed the ones from the restaurant across the street, but then Lucas enters and sets down a bowl of seaweed soup.

“Ms. Cho asked me to get this for you, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook is caught off guard but manages to dismiss Lucas and tastes the dish. It’s nothing like his mother’s, but then again, he hasn’t had it in years. When Jungkook moved here, there were no celebrations apart from getting drunk at a club, which is also why he’d stopped thinking of his birthday as anything special. There were no traditional meals or well wishes or birthday cakes.

He’s here again. There’s that yacht party tonight but it won’t feel like a celebration. Somehow, with this bowl of soup, this does. You’re a thousand miles away but even then, he still feels your presence. Even then, he feels more cared for than he has these past several years combined.

Jungkook wakes up the next morning with a splitting headache. His neck feels a bit strained, given that he’d slept in an awkward position wearing his clothes from last night. He also barely remembers much. One minute he was drinking with a woman around his arm and the next he’s… here.

He shifts and lays flat on his back, groaning as last night’s happenings manifest in the soreness of his entire body. The yacht was fancy, as he’d expected from his best friends. There was overflowing food and drinks, the music was great, and the guests were honestly too many for his liking. There were familiar faces and new ones, but he mostly stuck around with those he knew. What he also remembers is not being able to taste his cake. He’s definitely calling Seokjin to complain.

Suddenly hit with the thought of not knowing how he’d gotten home last night - or with whom - Jungkook sits up and groans once more, the incoming call adding to the ringing sound in his head.

“Mr. Jeon,” Lucas answers on the other end. “How are you feeling today?”

“Terrible,” Jungkook says, now finding the strength to get off the bed. “Did you take me home?”

“Yes, sir. You wanted to leave so Mr. Ri and I took you to your penthouse,” Lucas answers. “Your valuables are on the table.”

Jungkook sighs, knowing it was one of those nights. Removing his clothes, he sees the fresh marks on his chest. Wanting to prepare himself before finding some stranger in the other room, he asks his assistant if he’d brought someone home with him.

“No, sir. It was just you. She, uh, she asked to come but you told her you were too tired so she stayed behind.”

“Oh, good,” Jungkook exhales in relief, not wanting to deal with any of that this morning, which is one reason why he always asks them to leave. “How long do I have until I have to get ready for tonight?”

“About five hours,” the younger man replies. “You have a scheduled dinner with your friends at 5:30 and then the event at 8. I’ll be there before that to help you get ready.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll just workout to deal with this hangover.”

“Medicines are in the cupboard, sir. Please just let me know if there’s anything more you need.”

“I will.”

Jungkook hangs up and presses on his temples as if that’ll do anything. He retrieves the medicine as advised and thinks of something else he needs - a cup of lemon ginger tea. Ever since you’d prepared one for him that one morning, he’s been having it after every night out. He calls the butler to have it prepared for him, given that he doesn’t have the energy to do so himself.

It arrives, and coupled with the aspirin, he’s starting to somehow feel better. He knows that heading to the gym will do the trick, as it always does, but it still makes him think that he shouldn’t have drank as much as he did last night.

For someone who’s not particularly fond of people, even Jungkook sometimes wonders why he goes out and parties as much as he does.

He wasn’t always like this though. His weekends used to be spent on food trips and travels, but after the breakup with Chaerin, those days became free, and he’d stay out late so he could sleep the rest of the next day. The women were to make up for the loneliness; the alcohol was to forget why he needed them in the first place. He hates loud and unnecessary sounds, but the music and the chatter started to become white noise for him; they’d become a companion to help deal with the noise in his own head, or the lack of it.

Years later, the remaining thoughts in his mind were just all about work, and he’d revert to the same habit for relief - the women became his thrill; the alcohol was so he wouldn’t remember them.

And it works. The ecstasy lasts only through the night. It’s fleeting as his desire for them is. He doesn’t recall names, just that they made him feel good and that they felt the same; they often try to hook up with him again after all, seeking him in the clubs they know he frequents. But he rarely entertains them; a second time leads to a third, and he can’t be assured that they won’t ask the same tiring questions he hates hearing - why doesn’t he have a girlfriend? Why doesn’t he want to commit to anyone? Does he see himself settling down and having a family? What’ll make him want that?

It’s happened a few times, during the rare instances that there’s a lull in between and they take advantage of his brief period of vulnerability to make him open up. He never does, and it’s not because he thinks it’s a weakness to do so, but he just never really let the moment linger to find out.

After a light meal, Jungkook heads to the gym and spends three hours expending his energy so he could get it back.

This is his other means of dealing with his stress. Working out makes him focus on something else and it helps in releasing all his anger and frustration. As he stares at his bare body in the mirror right after - the marks from last night still visible - he scoffs at himself.

He’s so stereotypical, it makes him sick. He’s allowed himself to let his life revolve around the shallow and fleeting sensations of pleasure to counter the permanence and inevitability of his job. This is his world and he made it this way. And while he drowns in the nothingness inside the walls that he created, he still thinks it’s better than being outside; somehow he thinks it’s lonelier and more burdensome out there. At least in here, he’s all he has to deal with; he’s all he can disappoint.

But there are still moments when he wonders what it could be like if he just dared to live differently. Like when he watches Seokjin animatedly explain the history and creation process of Korean traditional alcohol during the product launch that evening and how his passion is moving and infectious. Or when he observes how Taehyung freely moves around the club and makes connections with others as deep as his smile.

Jungkook thinks about all this as he glances at the woman next to him later that night, bare under the covers like he is, her body curled into a cocoon as she takes a break.

She’d caught his eye earlier because she wasn’t trying to get his attention like the others were. She spoke less and screamed more, let him do what he wanted but touched him softly as she pleased.

“You’re a good lover. Why do you waste yourself with something temporary like me?” She’d asked.

It left him speechless and he shrugged - a change from his usual dismissal - but there’s really nothing to say.

Why does he? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to.

But it’s at this moment that he tries to imagine what it would be like if it were the same face he saw next to him every morning, if it were the same hand he held everyday, if it were the same warm body he curled into every night. His mind wanders too far, into the depths of a place it can’t go to, beyond boundaries he can’t cross, and the sight is both terrifying and calming.

It’s safer where he is.

So when she wakes up from a short nap, she looks up at him, her soft eyes wishing for something she knows she shouldn’t.

“You should go,” he says, the softest he’s ever uttered the words.

“Okay,” she whispers in submission.

She gets up from the bed, finds her stray clothes on the floor, and puts them on. Jungkook follows her to the door, a first for him. Maybe it’s her gentleness, or the unspoken understanding between them, or maybe because she doesn’t ask for more even if she seems to want to.

But though he contemplates pulling her back to try to feel what that’s like - seeing her in the morning, holding her hand, curling into her embrace - he doesn’t. He knows even that desire would end; it’s fleeting just as everything around him is.

He holds open the door. She turns around with a smile.

“I hope someday you find someone you’ll ask to stay,” she says, surprising him again. “I’m sure they would.”

You walk around the store in awe of the luscious plants displayed on the shelves, your eyes as bright as the lights that shine over them. There are so many to choose from, and though you have an idea of what you want to have, it’s tough deciding which ones to get right now. The money tree is a must, so is the Chinese evergreen. But do you go for the orchid or the peace lily? Can you keep up with a spider plant? How many of the asparagus ferns should you get?

Your eyes flit from one plant to the next, eventually deciding on getting everything on your list then placing them on the cart for payment.

Jimin chuckles next to you. “Since when were you a plant mom?”

“Since she got that aloe vera from Yoongi and she was convinced that she has a green thumb after it didn’t die,” Soomin deadpans next to you as you frown at her sarcasm. “That’s also after my weekly reminders to water the plant because ‘no care’ doesn’t actually mean it’s going to survive on its own.”

“Oh, shush,” you scoff at her. “You told me I was doing a good job.”

“You’d send a photo every few days, hun,” she laughs. “What else was I supposed to say?”

“True. I needed the encouragement,” you shrug, paying for your haul. “But also, I’m a plant newbie. Yoongi said that I probably need some of them at home and in the office for positive energy and he’s not wrong. All the frustration from months ago just accumulated in my apartment and I need a change.”

“So… Is Yoongi a plant dad, too?” Soomin wonders.

“No. He just knows about a lot of things,” you reply. “Plus, he’s an architect and a designer. He knows a thing or two about plant decor.”

“Why isn’t he here with you, then?” She arches an eyebrow.

“Because I’m with both of you, duh,” you roll your eyes. “And before you say anything more, I don’t really like mixing my work friends with my personal friends. It’s different.”

“Well, I’m glad we could join you on this new phase of your life,” Jimin tries to be encouraging. “It’s like turning over a new leaf.”

You scold him over his terrible pun but laugh anyway, enjoying the comfort and playfulness that only your best friends could bring. They picked you up from work last Friday then you all headed to a club after dinner. You spent yesterday at a beach at their insistence then stayed in during the evening. It’s now Sunday and you’re dragging them around as you run errands before saying goodbye to them again, and it’s not a normal day without Soomin mentioning Yoongi. Perhaps it’s because of all the guys you’ve mentioned that have taken interest in you, he’s the only true green flag; he’s also the only one you didn’t entertain at all. You suppose that’s something she’ll not really get over.

The three of you head to a nearby cafe. Jimin excitedly talks about the latest menu item in their chain of restaurants while Soomin groans about the stuff she has to deal with as she manages her family-owned shipping company that’s the biggest in the port city of Busan. They turn to you and ask how the rest of your week is going to go, with slightly surprised looks when you don’t talk about work with as much disdain as you used to. There’s excitement, even, something that Soomin points out, and when you mention that Jungkook is on an overseas trip, she assumes that’s the reason why.

“Not really,” you clarify. “He arrives tomorrow evening, but the week’s packed - we’re visiting the Arts Center for inspection and then I’m doing an ocular with Chin-sun for the VP events we’re holding in the next few months. I mean, I won’t be buried in files nor will I be in meetings all week. So yeah, it’s not bad.”

“That’s good,” Jimin beams. “At least it’s nothing like how it used to be. Right?”

“It’s a lot better, I told you guys,” you say, reminding them of a similar talk you had the last time they were here, which was a week after you’d gotten sick. “Jungkook is… rational, less grumpy and impulsive; he also listens to me and trusts me. He’s even smiled a few times.”

“Wow, he really set the bar low for you, huh,” Jimin chuckles, earning him a nod.

“Does that also mean that he’s now completely bearable and no longer your type because he’s not an asshole anymore?” Soomin chimes in, being the blunt and bold one among the three of you.

“He never was my type in the first place,” you scowl. “Plus, he’s literally my boss, Soo. That’s like, not some flag, it’s a whole ass brick wall that shall not be crossed.”

“Right. That’s why Mr. Min didn’t make the cut,” she points out. “Told you you should’ve just quit your job so you could date him.”

“And I also told you that wasn’t the only reason why I didn’t want to,” you remind her. “Yoongi’s exactly the type of person I need in my life, and being more than friends is the surefire way of making sure that doesn’t happen. Like, why would I risk a good friendship for something that may not work out? Whether I break his heart or he breaks mine, it’s pain I can’t handle. There’s just no going back from there.”

“Right, that is your biggest fear,” Soomin replies softly, the sympathetic tone in her voice telling you that she does understand where you’re coming from. “I mean, it’s still possible that you wouldn’t hurt each other but I get it. It just sucks, I guess. The good ones often start as your friends.”

“I know. And I’d rather have them and be single than none at all,” you sigh.

The thought is simpler than it seems. You won’t deny that you’ve thought of how things would’ve been if you gave Yoongi a chance, but the fear of what you’d lose always trumped that type of possibility.

There’s a kind of pain you don’t want to experience, one of a broken heart caused by losing someone you’ve given your all to. It’s how you think you love, after all; you can’t give any less. But it’s also why you’ve never done it. No one’s inspired that kind of devotion for you.

Soomin has pointed out before that it’s probably also because you don’t open yourself up to the possibilities as you should. Maybe you’ve just been too focused on other things. But maybe you also just haven’t felt the kind of all-consuming desire for someone who would be worth it, one you’d want so much that you’d willingly face the fear of paralyzing heartbreak just to be with them.

You suppose that’s the difference. That’s the irony, too. You’re scared to love because you’re scared of the pain, so you keep your distance to keep yourself safe but it’s also why you haven’t found someone you’re willing to crawl out of your walls for.

There’s not much you feel passionate about in life. Maybe it’s love. But you’re too cautious to feel it, to look for it, so you don’t really know. Maybe it’s something else completely, and working in the environment that you do hinders you from discovering it. You’ve kept your distance from a lot of things over the past years and the thought that one day, you’ll be able to feel free from all the burden you carry because of a past you couldn’t control, makes you look forward to the day when you get to walk away from all those and hopefully, find whatever it is you’re looking for.

Jimin nudges you after you zone out, and you switch the subject and ask about the latest gossip in their hometown. You enjoy living vicariously through their social life back in Busan. They not only come out here to Seoul to see you but also to take a break from all the drama that they can’t really escape from, given the type of people in their circle of friends. You always thank the heavens you got lucky that at 10 years old and making a new life in a new city, you found Soomin and Jimin, perhaps the only other people aside from your mother who make you feel safe and protected, a feeling you don’t take for granted.

They indulge you and share some stories, but when Soomin goes through her social media feed to show you something, she gasps instead when she realizes that the men in her friend’s Instagram post include Jungkook.

“Did your boss just go there to party?” She asks, showing you the photo.

“Partly,” you reply. “His best friend hosted the launch of his alcohol line there but there are a couple more parties because it’s his birthday weekend. Your friends went?”

“Yeah, some of them are Kim Seokjin’s friends, apparently,” Soomin says. “Small world. But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Seoul and Busan socialites attract each other.”

“Why aren’t you there, then?” You chuckle.

“We’re choosy socialites,” Jimin clarifies. “Or like, pretentious. We just act like we are but we really aren’t, just to say that the Park and Cheon kids are interesting and sociable like the rest of them.”

“Who says they’re interesting and sociable?” Soomin states incredulously. “My eyes roll to the back of my head every time I’m in those shitty events. The lack of self-awareness of rich people repulses me. And I obviously don’t count us in.”

“And you shouldn’t,” you confirm. “I attract good people, I guess. I’m glad you’re not like them.”

“Well, what about Jungkook’s friends?” Jimin asks. “How are they like?”

“What I can say about the Kim brothers is that they’re nice people,” you say. “Very charming, ridiculously good-looking... And they sound like good friends, too. I can’t say much else. Their dating game is pretty strong though.”

“I’d assume. I mean, when you look like that, how could you not be?” Soomin states. “I mean, even Jungkook’s on point. That’s some hot girl he’s got.”

She shows you a couple of Instagram stories from her friends posting about the launch party. It turns out, there were a lot of Korea-based personalities who were invited. You spot Jungkook immediately, wearing the all-white ensemble that you packed for him the other day. His hair is a bit curled and the knitted top underneath the simple coat highlights his taut physique. There’s also that gorgeous woman around his arms, and if what you know about him is enough, you’d guess she’s probably one of those he seeks for a good time.

The sight of him loosening up a bit and enjoying himself is something you appreciate. He’s always stressed when he’s here and you’re glad he could spend a few days partying elsewhere without having to think about work, especially during the week of his birthday. You don’t know how much of this aspect of his life he enjoys, but he does seem a bit free yet still somehow detached. You suppose that’s something he’ll always be - a man trying to live his life while separating himself from the meaning of it. You’re unsure of how he does it but perhaps it’s not that different from how you are, too.

After lunch, Soomin and Jimin do a few more of your errands with you before dropping you home and then heading back to theirs. You spend the rest of the evening arranging your plants in your tiny apartment and feeling like more life is breathed into it with every one of them finding their home in a corner or on a shelf. Oddly enough, you feel a bit less lonely. That’s how you think you’ve been doing things, after all - finding substitutes for the kind of company you’re yearning for, for the kind of relationship you’re so afraid to have.

Jungkook wakes up that Monday morning feeling a lot better than he did the days before. For one, there’s no ringing in his head nor the feeling of dehydration. Bare under his soft covers, there also aren’t any fresh marks on his chest that signify the kind of night he usually has. In fact, he remembers most of it - he stayed by the bar and briefly chatted with the women who’d approached him.

Suzy was there last night, too, the only one he’s hooked up with more than once, and probably the only one he’s had proper conversations with, given that she’s a landscape designer. She’s been away on business trips and had just gone back, her bluntness about going back to his apartment that she’s too familiar with being met with a rejection that she didn't take personally.

“Has Seoul changed you?” She asked, her eyebrow arched in anticipation of his reply.

“Do you think a place would do that to me?” He laughed.

“No, but a person would,” she shrugged.

“None of that,” he shook his head. “There’s no one. I’m too busy, too tired.”

“But not too lonely?” she asked. “It’s the only reason why you would call me.”

There was no bitterness in her words but still, he asked. “And why did you always come, then?”

“To see if each time would be good enough for you to not make me leave.”

The conversation took a turn that he didn’t expect, the usual honesty in her words being too honest for him. He fumbled for something to say but she shook him off, claiming that she knew what she was getting into every time he took her home and that constantly hoping for something doesn’t guarantee that she’d get it one day.

He drank a couple of glasses of whiskey after she left but managed to call his butler for a sandwich and lemon ginger tea in time for his arrival at his penthouse. The meal did the trick, as he’d slept soundly after a warm bath without a splitting headache and regrets the next day.

It’s Monday, after all, and it’s back to work as usual. He has a few meetings to attend before flying back to Seoul, one of which is with the team. He gathers the energy to get off the bed for a half-hour exercise before getting ready. He eats the breakfast that the butler orders for him then heads to the office where he briefly meets with Lucas.

Settled on his desk, he proceeds to virtually meet with the team, who all promptly greet him from the conference room. He asks how their weekend was, with most of them looking surprised because he rarely asks them about it, but they answer anyway. That’s when he notices that you’re not around, prompting him to look for you.

“I’m here, Mr. Jeon,” you answer off camera before appearing on screen with a candle-lit cake in your hands.

He’s surprised when the team sings him a happy birthday, your eyes fixed on him as you mouth the words with a soft smile on your face. Do-hyun giggles at his silence, saying that he probably forgot it was his birthday or he maybe didn’t expect that they’d prepare something for him.

“We like you now, Mr. Jeon,” she teases, earning him a nudge from Chin-sun but she doesn’t seem to mind and neither does he.

It’s what makes him laugh, hoping that the pink on his cheeks aren’t visible on screen. He hadn’t expected this. He also knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he’d bet that you had everything to do with this.

“You’ve probably been too busy to celebrate but we haven’t forgotten. More like, Ms. Cho made sure we remembered,” Manager Lee chuckles. “We hope you enjoy this little something we prepared.”

“It’s an ice cream cake so it’ll just be in your refrigerator and you can have some when you return,” you say.

“Thank you,” he finally manages to say. “You didn’t have to but I appreciate it. I’m looking forward to having some when I get back. Ms. Cho should also buy another one big enough for the team to share.”

You nod in acknowledgment of his instruction before starting with the meeting. There’s a lot to talk about, given the Arts Center construction and activities, as well as the upcoming year-end events that they have to organize and coordinate. It goes on for over two hours and it ends with your gentle smile after he says goodbye.

The rest of the day feels too long for Jungkook, especially during the late afternoon flight and eventual ride home. He stares at the photo you sent of the cake, making sure he sees the greeting on it.

“Get home safely, Mr. Jeon,” you text him after he says thanks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With the reminders of the impermanence of things and people this weekend, Jungkook finds comfort in the stability that you provide. It’s in your smile, in your reminders and organization of his life, in your thoughtfulness and patience. It’s in the assurance that tomorrow is another day, one in which he gets to see you once again.

The cake is simple but sophisticated. The mint chocolate flavor is exactly how he likes it and in ice cream cake form, it’s really delicious. He’s glad he gets to have this all for himself, as the team was able to enjoy one yesterday as per his instruction, and you’d sent a group photo of everyone enjoying it to him, the small smile that formed on his face no longer surprising him.

For one, the comfort is there. He’s seen just how much better the team is working together because of it - they’re more open to giving him feedback and receiving his, any moment of frustration is easily mended with laughter, and his encouragement and affirmation have been motivating them as well. In the midst of it is you who makes sure that communication flows smoothly and that everything is on track, acting as the glue that keeps everyone together.

He sees firsthand just how good you are at handling things, and how despite all the stress, you manage to get him seaweed soup and a cake for his birthday. It’s more than just the details regarding work that you’re on top of; it’s also details about his life, and how he’s responding to it tells him that maybe, whatever change there is like what Suzy observed, a big part of it is because of you.

“I’m glad you like it, Mr. Jeon,” your voice cuts through his thoughts.

He looks up and sees you with a portfolio in hand, motioning towards the cake that’s now one fourth eaten.

“Ah, yeah,” he says, not denying it. “I feel like I haven’t had sweets in a while. Where did you buy this?”

“Oh, uh, I asked the baker who made desserts for the Arts Center event if she could make a customized ice cream cake,” you explain. “Fortunately she could. And thankfully it’s delicious. She enjoyed working with us so she gave us a discount.”

“You… had this made for me?”

He’d expected it to be store-bought, but learning you made the effort to reach out to someone reminds him once more of your thoughtfulness, of your care.

“Yes, I, uh, I just assumed you’d receive a few and I thought to give you something a little different.”

“It’s the only one I got actually,” he says, catching you off guard. Your face falls a little so he follows it up. “Like I told you, I don’t celebrate my birthday so I don’t let people know about it. And the ones who do also know that I don’t make a big deal out of it so they don’t really give me anything.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling a little sad.

You’re not one to have big celebrations but you do have a bit of it. For your 30th birthday at the start of the year, Jimin and Soomin threw you a little party in your humble home in Daegu where they performed some of your favorite songs and enacted your favorite drama scenes to make you happy. There was no need for anything fancy - just your loved ones and your mom’s and Min-woo’s amazing cooking.

But even before that milestone, your friends always made sure to at least get you seaweed soup and a birthday cake; they want you to remember that there are lives impacted because you were born. You can’t really say that Jungkook’s impacted your life the same way but you still value his existence; a small cake is just a little something to celebrate that. But the idea that his family and friends pass up on the cake - and perhaps the gifts, too - makes you think that there’s really not much in Jungkook’s life he feels he could share with others, that there’s not much he could give and receive in return.

“I hope I didn’t cross a line if it’s something you don’t like people knowing,” you continue. “I just thought… it would be nice to receive something from us.”

“It actually was,” he admits, his voice soft and low. Turning away, he says, “it’s been a while since I actually thought about my birthday as anything other than ordinary. It’s nice to be reminded sometimes. So thank you, Ms. Cho. For the soup, too. I appreciate it.”

Perhaps it’s his honesty that does it, but you can’t help the smile that forms on your face. If learning how to express gratitude is something you could teach him, you already feel accomplished.

It’s the next day when you find yourself back in Jungkook’s office, staring at the potted plant in your hands. You’ve gone from debating on whether to leave it on his desk or the coffee table, to even giving it at all. You won’t lie and say you didn’t know what you were thinking when you passed by the plant store after work last night to get this specifically for him. You did - you wanted him to feel that joy of receiving a gift, which you suppose doesn’t happen, especially for someone who can literally buy anything he wants.

But still, it doesn’t mean that your good intention will be received well. You’ve given Hoseok a small gift every year for his birthday, partly because he likes receiving them and also because it’s your way of saying thanks.

You want to give this to Jungkook as a form of gratitude, too. Despite how you both started, the amount of things you’ve learned from him and continue to have somehow made up for it, and you also know that he’s learning from you as well. He’s given you agency to make decisions. He’s also given you events and small projects to manage, making you realize it’s what you really enjoy doing. Seeing things come together the way you envisioned it is so satisfying. Perhaps without intending it, Jungkook’s showed you a way out, a path that you want to explore so much that you’re willing to let go of all that you know in this company for something new, for something that feels more like you.

Your thoughts have completely digressed and with the time you took debating and reflecting, you hadn’t heard his footsteps, and so you jerk a little when he calls out your name.

Turning around, you bow in greeting, remembering at the same time that you have something that you’re not 100% sure yet you want to give right now. But as always, he calls you out on it.

“Is that a snake plant?” He asks, walking towards his seat.

“Yes.”

“Is that the one on your desk?”

“Uh, no, actually,” you laugh dryly, knowing you can’t turn back from it now. “I… I meant to give it to you, sir. I just thought that, uh, the money tree on the shelf might be too lonely so I got you a desk plant. I heard it’s good for positive energy and to filter the air.”

“It is,” he hums. “Is that why you got yourself one?”

“I suppose. I figured it could help improve my mood. Yoongi suggested it before but I just kept pushing it back. I finally got some for my apartment last weekend,” you explain, just so he knows it didn’t come out of nowhere.

“And you think this will improve my mood?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “We’ll probably need a dozen of them here but we could start with one.”

He matches your soft laughter with his own, which you’re thankful for. He reaches out for the plant, nonchalant like you when your fingers brush against each other.

“Hopefully this will work,” he says as he places the small, white pot next to his desktop.

You leave him so he could prepare for a conference call while you’re set to meet with the marketing team. Jungkook gazes at the plant and notices the little note attached to the string around the stem.

Happy birthday, it reads.

This wasn’t just something to match the money tree that Hoseok left for him that he hasn’t been caring for much. This was a gift for him. You probably assume that if he doesn’t receive birthday cakes, he wouldn’t be receiving gifts, either. And you’d be right. His best friends just throw him parties. And once he left Seoul to obtain his MBA in Singapore and stayed to work in their Southeast Asian headquarters, the distance between him and his parents grew. They’d reach out but he didn’t bother much, so he’d stopped expecting anything. After he broke up with Chaerin, he stopped receiving anything at all. This is the first time he’s gotten something from someone after a long time.

It’s simple in its meaning and honest in its intention, and he doesn’t hold back the smile that forms on his face.

You watch the realization dawn on Jungkook from outside. You’d remembered the silly note you left right as you sat down and didn’t have time to take it back, which really wasn’t much, but you suppose it’s enough to tell him that the plant indeed is a gift. You don’t know if someone like him even receives them, or would even appreciate something so cheap and humble, but the gentle smile he has on tells you that he probably doesn’t get much, but that this is something he welcomes.

Your smile follows soon after but it feels different this time. There’s pride somehow that your little gift could elicit something so rare out of him. There’s also a bit of awe; this is the softest he’s ever looked, with that tinge of gratitude and yearning, a complete contrast to what you know of him, to how you’ve always seen him. It’s… it’s actually beautiful.

And this is when things start to get confusing, especially as your phone beeps with that SMS from him.

[From: The Boss] Thank you, ___.

It’s the non-work message. It’s the use of your name. This is personal for him and you acknowledge that it’s the same for you. Perhaps there’s a reason why you made the effort to get the gift last night, why it mattered to you that he received something to celebrate his birthday, and why seeing him appreciate it the way he does is making you giddy and satisfied at the same time.

Maybe it’s the care you’re starting to feel for him that’s beyond just wanting to make your job bearable. You’ll dissect what that truly means later on, but right now it’s just you, him, and the glass wall in between the both of you. There’s distance, there’s a boundary, but there’s a transparent barrier that allows you to see what’s on the other side, one which allows you to know who he is behind the man you’ve come to know. And you admit, he’s not so bad after all.

The construction of the Arts Center is going better than expected. Given some of the delays due to the wrong materials delivered and some permits that took a while to get, the workers were able to make up some ground, largely due to Jungkook’s supervision. When you both visited a few weeks ago, there were many things to work on, and he managed to identify the priorities and find ways to get the project back on track.

It was during those few days of constantly being on site that you saw how efficient and effective he really works. You admired his precision and attention to detail, how he instructed the team leads and project managers and laborers, how he put together the design of one of the rooms just as he’d envisioned it.

He was commanding and decisive, and you appreciated his thorough and simple explanations that allowed you to keep up with him. He’s said that he wants you to understand what’s happening so that you’re well-informed should you need to communicate to others on his behalf, and what initially intimidated you turned into something you became interested in. Since then, you’ve been watching design shows to help you further. The challenge was welcomed, and now you feel like everyday, you’re learning something new on the job.

His instructions from that time were followed, and you’re back today to inspect the rest of the spaces. Everything is so massive, and with one half of the wall of the performance hall already done, you can clearly see the upgrade. The details are impressive, and the way that the traditional designs merge with modern elements is a feature itself.

You’re immersed in the intricacies of the ceiling, walking towards the wall to get a closer look that you don’t immediately notice the workers walking past you with a massive slab of marble. The moment that you do, you step back too quickly, tripping on your heels, and just as you brace yourself to hit the ground, you instead feel your back against a firm chest, with hands on your elbows breaking your fall.

You sigh in relief, even leaning your head back because nothing could be more embarrassing than falling on your ass in front of many people, including your boss. That is, until the familiar scent of jasmine and bergamot wafts through your nose and you realize that what you just did is debatably more embarrassing than what could’ve happened.

The familiar clearing of the throat is what finally does it for you, and with wide eyes, you turn around and face him to apologize.

“I’m sorry, sir. I—”

“Was so much in awe that you didn’t notice the workers passing by,” he finishes, his slightly teasing smile calming you down.

“Ah, well of course. The details are too pretty,” you reason, stepping back only a little. You look at him shyly. “But thank you. I was about to fall.”

“I know. And I was about to lose it if my assistant got injured on the job.”

“True. It’s bad publicity, I guess,” you shrug. “And distractions could cause delays. And that’s bad, too.”

“Or you know, I simply just can’t have you injured, simple as that,” he says with a little frown on his face.

“Imagine if I didn’t see them? They could’ve dropped the marble and I would’ve completely lost it!”

“Why?” He arches an eyebrow.

“That slab is like, two months’ worth of salary, Mr. Jeon.”

“It’s actually more but that’s not the point,” he fully frowns now. “If you didn’t see them, then they could’ve hit you, and then you would be whining in pain right now. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, ___.”

His voice is firm and low, and you nod in acknowledgment because you also know he’s right. The workers’ vision was limited but yours wasn’t; you were just too distracted and if you hadn’t pulled early enough, that marble really could’ve done damage to you. And if it wasn’t for Jungkook catching your fall, then something bad still would’ve happened to you.

“But are you okay? You didn’t twist your ankle or anything?” He asks.

“No. Uh, the heel’s just a bit loose but I’m fine,” you reply, still trying to wrap your head around how he’d said your name - informally, in this setting, as he told you that you could’ve gotten hurt. Maybe you weren’t imagining the worried tone of his voice earlier.

“Okay,” he sighs. “You have to be careful next time.”

“I will, sir,” you reply.

You step aside and Jungkook sees you from his peripheral vision as he returns to assessing, staying put and only glancing at the ceiling unlike earlier. He’d seen you marvel at the design of the hall earlier, and while he was initially doing the same, seeing you wide-eyed and impressed caught his attention more.

Many times, he’s seen you look dejected, frustrated, angry. He’s seen your moments of focus and joy, too, but this is the first time he’s seen you be in awe. There was this softness on your face that was still filled with emotion, and he’d been drawn to you enough to see that you were about to fall. He’s glad he has quick reflexes and was able to get to you in time, the worry he felt at the thought of you getting hurt in any way was quite overwhelming for him. And while it’s partly because you’re his responsibility in this case, he also knows it’s more than that.

He gestures moving to another room and you follow him outside, and just as you try to stay close to him, Jungkook also makes sure you’re away from any kind of danger. He moves to your side when there are workers nearby with their heavy equipment and large materials. He shields you from the drilling. He glances at you as you both walk towards the other performance hall. And when you get there, you see the ceiling installation is ongoing, and Jungkook immediately calls for hard hats for the both of you.

He hands you one and you put it on, fumbling with the strap underneath your chin. You groan in frustration when you’re unable to lock it, and that’s when you see him move towards you.

“Let me,” he says.

You stop your movements and shyly nod in agreement, and he waits for you to let go before he fixes it himself.

It’s a little odd being on the other side, since it’s always you who fixes his tie or his coat. But you’re the one watching him now, with his furrowed brows and seriousness in securing this safety gear on you making you feel warm inside.

He steps back then looks at you, trying hard to control his laughter.

“Are you laughing at me, sir?” You pout.

“No. I don’t make fun of people,” he says, turning serious now, but you don’t miss the grin on his face.

It’s unfair that he looks good even with a hard hat on.

One of the project managers calls him and he goes around, with you staying close by. This performance hall is bigger and boasts of a more traditional design, which would hold the cultural performances that the Culture Minister is very excited about. You watch Jungkook inspect the space with thoroughness, checking each wall panel and each seat.

It’s amazing to you just how involved he is with this project even with the project managers handling things relatively well. He wants to be on top of everything, he’s said; it matters too much for him to not know what’s going on.

You see Yoongi enter the room and approach him. Once he sees you, he laughs as well.

“Do I look that bad?” You groan. “Mr. Jeon was laughing at me, too.”

“It’s a little big, and I guess I’m just not used to seeing you in one,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Why don’t you have one?”

“I don’t need it. I’m here all the time and nothing happens.”

“Well, I’ve been here a few times and I almost fell earlier,” you say, recalling the almost-embarrassment.

“I know, I saw it,” he chuckles.

“You were there?!” You gasp.

“No, I was totally in the other room that’s why I witnessed you almost get hit by the marble then trip on yourself,” he deadpans.

“I didn’t see you, that’s all,” you shrug.

“I was by the doors. I checked these spaces yesterday and I just wanted to be around in case Jungkook had new instructions,” he explains. “But I gotta say, you guys were kinda cute earlier.”

“Almost falling on my ass isn’t cute, Min Yoongi,” you scowl. “I could’ve either ruined the marble slab or hurt my bum. Either way, it would’ve been embarrassing.”

“I didn’t mean just you. I meant you guys,” he gestures towards Jungkook. “He caught you, didn’t he?”

“Yes… That was embarrassing, too,” you frown. “What’s cute about that?”

“He looked worried. It’s just not something I’ve seen him be towards other people, that’s all.”

“It’s because an injured employee on site isn’t good, okay? Plus, if I’m incapable, then no one’s gonna be around to make his life easier,” you reason.

Yoongi stares at you for a while before shaking his head. “Wow, you really are dense.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you cross your arms in frustration.

“Forget about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, deciding not to push it.

He’ll tell you another time that he’s glad you’re becoming more of yourself again, that the light has somehow come back, that there’s now comfort you exude around the man you’d once despised. Yoongi feels assured now that there’s someone else who seems to be looking out for you, and that it’s something you don’t seem to mind at all.

“Yah! You’re being all mysterious again!” You pout, something he chuckles about.

“Me? Mysterious? Come on. I’ve always been an open book,” he teases.

You’re just about to nag him again when you hear Jungkook clear his throat, and you turn towards him and ask if he’s already done inspecting.

“There are still a few things I want to run by my design lead before leaving,” Jungkook says. “Please move my meeting to 3PM.”

“That’s noted, sir. I’ll give Mr. Hong’s assistant a call.”

You excuse yourself and step outside, leaving both men alone.

“Angering my assistant, are you?” Jungkook asks Yoongi, the curious yet playful tone in his voice evident.

“Nah, just teasing. That a problem?” Yoongi answers back.

“No. It’s good she has someone she’s comfortable with at work.”

“Could be you, you know? That isn’t so bad,” Yoongi remarks, surprising him. “And it doesn’t cross whatever boundary you’re trying so hard to stay behind.”

“We’re not… on that level. I mean, I don’t know how to be someone other people are comfortable being around,” Jungkook admits.

“I don’t know about that. Seems like you’re already that for her,” Yoongi says. “I was just teasing her about how you guys looked cute earlier, when you broke her fall.”

“You were there?”

“Both of you really don’t notice other people when it’s just both of you, huh,” Yoongi laughs. “But yeah, I was. I saw her relief. And I saw you worry.”

Jungkook merely shrugs, not wanting to confirm. Even if he denies it, Yoongi will still believe what he wants to believe. But the older man knows you well just as much as he knows him.

“You care about her, don’t you?” Yoongi responds to the silence. “And I mean not in a superficial way, or a good boss caring for his employee type of way. Like, you worry when she’s sick or overworking, when she’s hurt or in danger. You want her to always be safe, to get rest. You like having her near. You wanna know that she’s happy.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Jungkook finally answers. “I can’t think of her that way.”

“I know. That’s why you were the way you were,” Yoongi says. “How else do you respond to things you can’t control than through anger and detachment? But just because you shouldn’t, it doesn’t change the fact that you do.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong,” Jungkook counters.

“Well, irrationally calling her out and being angry were wrong, too, and you did those because you weren’t being honest with yourself,” Yoongi argues. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, the least you can do is be true to yourself about how you feel. Because the more you deny, then the more you resist, and when you do that, you end up hurting her. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.”

“Then just… accept things - what you feel, what you both are, what you can or can’t be.”

Jungkook looks at his friend as if some epiphany had just transpired. It’s been difficult for him to make sense of what he feels around you. There’s always that air of familiarity, but the warmth and comfort are new. There’s the reality that you come from different worlds, but that you both somehow feel and experience and maybe desire the same things. There’s that sense of fear over change and of what he can’t control, yet you somehow provide the calm and stability that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

It’s all these contradictions that have been messing with him, and Yoongi’s right - because of all the times that Jungkook had wanted to create that distance, all it did was hurt you. That’s the last thing he wants, he realizes now. He’s seen you struggle, and even if that’s just a fraction of what you normally go through, it’s enough to tell him that he doesn’t want you to experience that again, especially not because of him. It’s too early to say the extent of his care towards you, and it’s not something he’s willing or ready to explore right now. But just as Jungkook’s about to comfort himself that it’s fine, and that he shouldn’t dwell on it anyway so as not to further nurture it, Yoongi speaks again.

“Just… just a heads up, though,” he adds. “The care that I felt, that’s how it started for me.”

“What started?”

“Me, liking her.”

It’s at that moment when you come back from your call, and you inform Jungkook that the meeting’s been moved and that he has a scheduled one with some of the directors on Monday.

“Alright,” he says, directing you and Yoongi towards the souvenir shop, temporarily disregarding what he was warned about.

“You two looked so serious. Everything okay?” You whisper to your friend.

“Yeah,” Yoongi hums, giving you the most genuine smile he could give.

There’s that sparkle and softness in your eyes that had captured him all those years ago. They dimmed throughout the years and they’ve just been sporadic, illuminating only during specific moments. He’d seen them again a lot more regularly, and even today, as you looked around the halls and admired the designs of the space.

Yoongi doesn’t know if a certain person is the reason for that. He knows you enough that you wouldn’t even notice it, so you definitely wouldn’t know what caused the change. But as your friend, he hopes one day you will, so that if you’re brave enough, too, you’d try to make sure that the light stays.

The inspection ends and you get back to the office at 4. You return to piles of documents you have to sift through and encode, and your original plan of leaving on time changes.

Jungkook spends over an hour talking with Yoongi and the construction lead about the Arts Center, and once that’s over, you see just how exhausted he is. He’s massaging his temples and sighing deeply, and you know that whatever just transpired, he’s going to be thinking about it all throughout the weekend, which he doesn’t really have time for. The gala that one of the Board members throws annually is tomorrow night, an event you’ll be attending with him as well.

You enter his room to remind him about it and to give some forms for his signature. He signs them off, and when you say you’ve got a few more requests that you’ll leave on his desk for Monday, he tells you to just wait until then.

“Go home, Ms. Cho,” he says. “It’s been a long week. And it won’t end until after tomorrow night.”

“What about you, Mr. Jeon?”

“I’ve got some stuff to sort through after inspection. I’ll probably leave in an hour or so.”

You frown, a mannerism of yours that he’s gotten used to seeing. It’s mixed with a pout that often makes him internally laugh because it seems unlike you. It also always means there’s something you want to say that you’re holding back.

“Should I not?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Hmm. Just thinking that it might be better for you to take a rest tonight, too,” you advise. “The gala could be quite draining and it would be good to save your energy for that.”

“I’ll think about it,” he hums.

“Then I’ll think about going home, too,” you answer back.

Jungkook chuckles, knowing you’re always going to counter him in some way. And he’s glad that you do.

“You may go. And get a good rest, too.”

You nod and bid him goodbye, exiting the room to start packing your things. It’s five minutes later when the door opens and you see him with his bag, ready to head home as well.

You smile at his tender doe-eyes as he admits through them that you were right - he doesn’t have a reason to stay behind, so he’ll call it a night and get as much rest as he can.

He pauses by the entryway, and you pick up that he’s waiting for you, perhaps to make sure that you’re indeed going home. You quicken your pace and walk next to him, steps in pace as you both go to the elevator and down to the lobby.

“Mr. Ri can bring you home after me,” Jungkook says. “It’s late already.”

“Not late enough,” you reply. “I’m okay, Mr. Jeon. It’s not necessary.”

He concedes, and you wait for the car to arrive and say goodbye to him again.

There’s a softness on his face as he lingers before he enters. A small smile forms, and it’s what you see until you fall asleep that night. It’s the same one that’s oddly been giving you comfort lately - it’s a little restrained but somehow it still looks vulnerable. Perhaps it represents how Jungkook’s been to you - there are some contradictions, but beyond all that, there’s care.

Mr. Ri happily greets you as you enter the car that late Saturday afternoon to head to Jungkook’s penthouse. He compliments your dress, saying it’s nice to see you in something formal that fits your style - it’s simple yet elegant, and you tell him that your mother wouldn’t stop gushing over you through the screen, nagging you to send full-body photos so she could appreciate you more.

Jimin and Soomin surprised you in the morning to help you fix up, insisting that they wanted to make sure you spoiled yourself for the event. If you wouldn’t, they would, so they treated you to the hair salon and had your nails done. They’re the ones who took so many photos like some formal dance, and Jimin commented that the only downside was that they were sending you off to pick up Jungkook.

Defending your boss the way you did surprised you a little; it surprised them a lot more. You’d said that he bought you the dress, that he’s been nothing but kind, and that whatever negative feelings you had towards him are all in the past. Your friends understood, deciding not to ruin your night and then letting you go so they could eat out and meet you back at your apartment once you’re done.

You chat with Mr. Ri about how things have been at work, your friends, and your family. You also talk about the gala and how it feels a little nerve-racking attending this time, given your experience with Jungkook.

It’s a grand event that the company’s executives attend, and guests are asked to refrain from going solo. For such requests, it’s not unusual for them to bring their assistants. You’re expected to attend anyway, and assistants usually partner up with each other and it always worked. You went with Hoseok last year because A-yeong had a work event, and while you expected that Jungkook wouldn’t care for such request and maintain that he’d go by himself, you also didn’t think that CEO Jeon would insist that his son take you as his date so he wouldn’t be alone.

The elder Jeon had reasoned that business discussions usually take place during the gala, and it would be good for you to be around and be familiar with the new people on the scene. Hoseok had said that they’re expected to stay through the whole thing, and it’s much better for his cousin to have a companion so he could survive the night. That was months ago when things were still a little shaky for you both. You still remember Jungkook’s displeased look when it seemed like he had no choice in the matter, especially since he probably thought that his father just wanted to make sure he’d act accordingly. It feels like a lifetime ago, really, as you think about his soft smile from last night.

You don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, why his gestures or mannerisms suddenly mean something to you, or why there’s excitement when you think about seeing him outside of work. You’re unsure why the curve of his lips when he grins or the deep huff that follows his laugh makes you a little giddy, or why his eyes lingering on you makes your heart beat a little faster than usual.

Just like right now, as they gaze at you while you seemingly do the same.

“You look, uh—” he starts, unable to find the accurate but appropriate term to describe how you look.

“Nice?” You finish, recalling the term he’d used when you tried this gown for the first time.

“Something like that,” he chuckles, earning him a giggle from you.

He playfully shakes his head, perhaps knowing that you’re used to him not making grand compliments or anything. But he does smile after, and there goes that blissful feeling again.

Maybe it’s because for the first time, you’re being appreciated. Maybe just like how it’s been recently, he likes being around you, prefers it, even. And given how you felt so unwanted during his first few weeks here, this is a blessing, as if in his appreciation of you, you’re liking yourself as well.

“Well, in my opinion, you look quite dashing, Mr. Jeon,” you say bravely. “Except your waistcoat seems to be uneven.”

“Exactly what I thought,” he sighs. “I can’t quite align it properly.”

And as you always do, you approach him, your hands immediately going towards his shoulders to flatten the vest, then his sides to pull it down. You adjust it a little bit more then fix his collar after, and suddenly this feels so natural - being close to him, taking in his scent, and smiling as he glances at you.

“Do you need help with your coat?” You ask once you finish.

He nods and you follow him to his walk-in closet where you take the last piece of clothing and assist him in wearing it. He adjusts the lapels while you assess if all wrinkles have been flattened. You watch him look at himself in the mirror and you can’t help but admire him as well. He exudes confidence, which you can say now is strikingly different from the Appointment Dinner where he still looked a bit unsure. But now, he commands respect. The deep black color of his striped three-piece ensemble with his slick hair parted in the middle makes him even more handsome, and you manage to hold in the gasp you were about to release as he faces you for a final look.

“All good?” He asks.

“All good,” you smile, turning around and walking back to the living room.

He follows, and he takes this time to bask in your beauty before he has to act like it doesn’t affect him again.

There’s a reason why he was rendered speechless the first time he saw you in this gown at the tailor shop, so much so that he had to step out to get some air. You look even more stunning now, with your classic but natural-looking makeup and your styled hair. You exude a certain kind of glow that sucks him in, that makes his heart race yet soothes him just the same.

It’s a little dangerous for him, given that he’ll be spending this entire evening with you as his date, looking the way you do while he has to act disinterested, as if his attraction isn’t slapping him in the face and his internal alarm bells aren’t ringing.

But he has to act professional. He has to stay behind the lines even if his mind is yelling all the words about your beauty that he has to ignore. So he gives himself this short moment where he gets to admire you, and when you make it to the elevator and become confined in a small space, he holds his breath as you smile at him shyly, hoping that he doesn’t give himself away.

He’ll get himself together, he orders to himself, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t scare you off.

You make it to the lobby and enter the car. The drive to the venue is quiet at the beginning. It’s technically not a work day so there’s no reason to discuss work. You and Jungkook may have started talking about non-work matters but it doesn’t mean you readily talk about actual personal things. They’re occasional, as it’s not something he seems to do much and you’re often guarded about yours. It took a while for you to open up to Yoongi and even then, there are many things he doesn’t know. You’re comfortable around him, there’s no denying that, but there are still parts of you that you don’t like to share with others, and you suppose that Jungkook is the same.

But still, you ask how his evening was and how his day went, expecting he’d give a basic answer.

“I just stayed home last night and watched soccer over drinks,” he says. “Then I did my workout and went for a swim this morning. I did a bit of work in the afternoon and then got ready.”

“Ah, no party last night and then recovering from it in the morning?” You tease, knowing that’s a usual occurrence for him. Lucas did mention about the Singapore trip and how he’d taken home a passed out Jungkook on the night of his birthday.

“Well, there was a party,” he responds. “There always is, but I passed up on it. I didn’t want to feel out of sorts tonight. There’ll be a lot of new faces and I don’t wanna mess up.”

“Oh, you won’t. You’ve been doing really well, Mr. Jeon. And that’s me being honest.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” He arches an eyebrow. “Would you tell me otherwise?”

“Well, the me of now, would. The me of a few months ago would want to but wouldn’t.”

Jungkook dwells on your answer. “Hmm. What changed, then?”

“I got used to you.”

He meets your gaze and somehow it feels too long. You don’t really know what prompted you to say it but you felt a little bold, a little too honest.

“In what sense?” he wonders, turning away now.

“I’d say I got used to the mood swings but then again, they haven’t been intense compared to those first few weeks,” you admit. “But surprisingly, it’s the calmness I’ve become accustomed to. And the seriousness and occasional zoning out, but also, the…”

Care, you want to say. Or the thoughtfulness.

“Consideration,” you say instead.

Jungkook’s throat dries up as he finds the words to say. He’s now afraid to look at you because he might give in and say something he’ll regret. He’s been praised before for his work and his designs, but he supposes that no one’s really complimented him for something he does for other people, specifically for you. Maybe that’s why he thinks he doesn’t deserve it; he’s unsure if he’s really considerate by nature or if he just is towards you. It’s why he brushes it off, insisting he just has his moments.

“But those moments could mean a lot to the one it’s shared with or directed to,” you counter. “Even if it was just once. Or even if it was so trivial that you probably forgot already. But the other person doesn’t. Or they would, but something about that moment stays.”

Jungkook thinks about the moments you’d shown him consideration. Or even care or thoughtfulness, but he wouldn’t word it that way to you. There are the big ones - when you showed your support of the Arts Center to his father, when you calmed him down during that first Board meeting, when you gave him the noodles when he was sick, when you stayed with him during his interview with the magazine publications.

When you stood up to him. When you didn’t quit after that first week.

There are also the small moments - the ginger and lemon tea on Monday mornings when he looks like he’d drank too much the night before, the biscuits you serve with his coffee, the affirming looks during team meetings, the comforting smiles from outside his office when he’s stressed.

There’s a lot of those you show him, and he realizes now that he remembers each one.

The silence returns soon after, as you both seem to prefer basking in the soft music that Mr. Ri plays.

It’s 15 minutes later when you arrive at the venue. You get out of the car and meet Jungkook by his door, surprised when he offers his arm that you take.

“This is how they do it, right?” He looks at you questioningly.

“Yes,” you chuckle. “It’s a little over-the-top but the hosts treat this like it’s some red carpet event and I just follow what the others do. Bitna says it’s the one time we could feel like proper ladies or something, whatever that means.”

“Hmm, makes sense. I guess I’ll be a proper gentleman, then. Whatever that means.”

You hold onto him lightly as you both make your way inside. You try to disregard the firmness of his arm and the way it feels under your touch, so you gently let go not long after and clutch onto your purse instead, not wanting to give off the idea that you’re anything more than each other’s dates. You greet the guests and establish your position to those who are unaware in an effort to show that this social event is a work function as well.

Jungkook talks about the Arts Center when he can, and you mentally take note of certain projects, sites, events, artists, and patrons that are mentioned, quickly typing them on your phone for future reference. He talks to you about them in between flutes of champagne and canapes that are some of the most delicious you’ve ever had.

Jungkook laughs as you down another brie and cranberry bruschetta.

“What? I like fancy food,” you pout.

“Yes, your normal people’s taste buds like fancy food,” he teases.

It’s a statement you make often and you smile that he now uses it against you.

Your moments of casual ignorance of what’s going on around you are ones you find yourself enjoying too much. You internally sigh every time a guest approaches him, and even more so when you find yourself with a few others and someone stands a little too close, or has his hand linger on your elbow, or whispers something in your ear as if you’re at a bar and the music is too loud, which it isn’t, so there’s really no reason for this son of some business tycoon to be asking you to head outside “to talk.”

“Don’t you have a date?” You ask after he insists.

“Yeah, some girl,” he shrugs. “She’s kinda boring. Lucky I found you.”

You awkwardly smile, knowing it’s not your place to reject him and make a scene. He looks to be the type who always gets his way and if he doesn’t this time, you’re afraid of how he might take it.

You don’t budge and call for another flute of champagne instead, finishing it in one gulp that has the man releasing a deep breath in front of you.

“So you’ve been working for the Jeon’s for 8 years, you say?” He speaks again.

You nod, looking around to avoid his eyes.

“That’s quite a long time, yeah? I’m sure I can get you a spot at my company,” he brags. “I mean, we sell luxury cars. That’s way more interesting than buildings and shit.”

“I don’t drive,” you say too quickly. “I mean, I don’t know how to.”

“Perfect. I can teach you then,” he smirks.

It’s the look that heightens your level of discomfort, and just as you’re about to make some excuse and run away, Jungkook calls your name that has you immediately turning towards him.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

He’s not too far away; he comes closer yet still maintains a bit of a distance.

“Hoseok’s asking for me but I want to speak to Mr. Saito before he leaves. Can you go to my cousin on my behalf?”

“Of course,” you say, excusing yourself and scurrying away from the scene, sighing in relief at the sight of a familiar pair of faces.

A-yeong gives you a hug and you return it, then you turn to Hoseok and ask what he needs Jungkook for.

“Nothing,” he says. “I didn’t call for him.”

“Oh, okay. Well, he said you did.”

“I haven’t spoken to him since we got here,” Hoseok replies. “You know how this gala goes. So many people to meet. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just… uh. Well, I just met Mr. Kwon’s son. And let’s just say, I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Oh, ___,” A-yeong sighs, knowing exactly what you mean. “Just stay with us. Or don’t leave Jungkook’s side.” Turning towards the man who’d just arrived, she adds, “stay close to her, okay?”

Jungkook looks at you, his eyes asking a question that you know the answer to but neither of you says anything.

“I will,” he nods.

Both of you stay where you are for a while before heading back to your seats for the sit-down dinner. You converse with those at your table, thankful that they’re all decent and entertaining. After that, Jungkook doesn’t leave your side. It almost seems like he’s your date rather than the other way around, but you appreciate his presence, especially when he calls your attention once you start looking uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I just… I just get a little uneasy when people I don’t know get too close.”

“I understand. I’m the same,” he says, prompting you to look at him. “But I just feel uncomfortable, not unsafe. There’s a difference. And it’s not okay if that’s how they make you feel.”

He knew without you saying the words. It takes you back to that night at the restaurant with Hajoon and how Jungkook had looked the most guilty he’d ever been when you said that his staring made you feel uncomfortable. You supposed then that it was mostly because he thought he was causing a rift between you and Hajoon but you realize now that it was more than that. For all that Jungkook is, you’ve come to see that there are things he can’t stand himself doing; deliberately making you feel unsafe is definitely one of them. Perhaps it’s why at this moment, you feel the exact opposite being around him.

And that’s how the rest of the night goes. He stays close but when he’s caught up in a conversation he can’t get out of, he gives you that look to remind you that it’s okay to step away, that you have the ability to remove yourself from a situation you don’t feel good being in. And you do, and the worry you used to have about being a mere assistant fades away. You never thought that one Jeon Jungkook would give you the permission to do that.

You’re seated on a chair some time later, the hours of walking in your high heels taking its toll on you. You wave to Hoseok and A-yeong, no longer having the energy to walk up to them for a proper goodbye. You sigh to yourself, feeling the tiredness slowly overtake you. It was still a good night, but it took a lot of energy from you, too.

“Hey,” you hear Jungkook call out.

You turn to him, still looking handsome as he stands nearby, his hands in his pockets as he mirrors your exhaustion.

“Ready to head home?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh.

You stand up, limping only a tiny bit, but you think Jungkook notices, as he offers his arm just like he did at the start of the night.

“This is what a proper gentleman does, right?” He asks.

“I suppose. Although I might say, Mr. Jeon, that’s what you were the entire time. So thank you.”

Jungkook nods in response, unsure how to receive your gratitude. He knows what you mean, as the first sign of your discomfort had him looking at you constantly. He was worried all night but he supposes there’s no reason to feel that way now, as your faint smile just signifies that you’re tired more than anything.

For the short moment it takes for you to walk closer to him, he basks in your beauty once more. The night will be over soon, and he’s glad he could give you some reprieve this time. He tries not to lose it when you tighten your grip on his arm for support though, but that’s something he can think about later on.

The walk to the car isn’t that long and you let go of him eventually. You head towards the other door then enter, the space in between reminding him of where you both belong - on either side of a line, one that he shouldn’t think of crossing.

You sink into your seat, fighting the urge to curl your body and take a nap, so you sit up straight and hold yourself together after once again feeling Jungkook’s arm under your touch. Most of the alcohol has left your system but perhaps not enough, as you boldly look at him and smile in appreciation. He returns it, perhaps knowing why you are.

You look out the window, appreciating Seoul’s night sky, until the vision starts getting unclear, as the rain falls steadily on the window. The tapping of the droplets on the glass is a sound you’ve come to appreciate, among other things that you used to be terrified of.

There’s just this calmness, as if the rain is greeting you, accompanying you in your thoughts. But the sound of the radio getting louder disrupts that a little bit, and in looking at Mr. Ri in question only to find him glancing at the rearview mirror to see the man next to you, do you realize why he’s doing so.

Jungkook’s demeanor has changed, a complete 180 to how he looked not long ago when he seemed satisfied, fulfilled, almost proud of himself for surviving the night. He’s now cross-legged and cross-armed, with his eyes closed and jaws clenched, as if he’s trying to hold himself together. Or trying his best to drown out the sound of the rain, the way Mr. Ri is trying to do for him.

Your face falls at the sight. You’ve seen Jungkook stressed and angry and disappointed; you’ve seen him anxious, too, but this is different. There’s a bit of fear in there, and with the way he flinches and how he’s clutching onto his arms, you know this comes from somewhere and this was caused by something. If it’s anything similar to what you know, then this was because of something painful.

You want to reach out to him but you know you shouldn’t. You helplessly look back on the road then glance at Jungkook every few seconds as the rain continues. It doesn’t seem like it will be a terrible downpour but it’s stronger than usual.

You try to remember instances in the past where he’d acted this way. A few come to mind, and you think now there’s a reason why he becomes uneasy when it starts to drizzle. That happened the other week while you were on a site visit with him for a small project, but you hadn’t thought much of it, given that he was on his fourth cup of coffee on the way there.

But right now, you wish there was something more you could do; anything is better than nothing. But you feel constrained - by the distance, by your position, by his boundaries that seem to always be there.

By some miracle, the rain weakens, and it’s stopped by the time you arrive at Jungkook’s apartment building. The car halts and with him still in the same position, you think he probably doesn’t realize he’s home.

“Mr. Jeon,” you say softly, gently tapping his arm to get his attention. “We’ve reached your place. And the rain has stopped. It’s… it’s okay to open your eyes now.”

It takes a few seconds but he takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, then looks around. It’s just droplets frozen in time on his window and he sighs in relief. Somehow the assurance that he’s okay means something to you this time; you hate to think of what burden he carries that he hides away.

He opens the door, and there’s a bit of disappointment you feel when he closes it and leaves without a goodbye. You suppose he just wants to get to his place immediately and rush to safety. But you don’t want to intrude, not if distance is what he needs, so you settle with just watching him walk away.

But then he turns around, and with that bit of boldness left in your body, you open the window and give him another smile. You wish he feels the tenderness in it; you wish somehow it’s enough to let him know that you understand, and that he’s not alone.

“Good night,” you manage to say, and he hears it despite the distance.

“Good night, ___. And thank you.”

It’s the use of your name. It’s the softness of his smile and the words of gratitude. It’s the way he lingers as the car starts to drive away and you’re left watching him even from afar.

It lets you know that he knows. And it’s the reason why you sleep soundly that night and why for the first time since you’ve met him, you can’t wait to see him again.

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roseykat · 4 months

Text

TITLE: Play Right

SUMMARY: The aftermath of the events that occurred at Hyunjin's apartment begins to unravel and sprout into things that are unsuspecting of Hyunjin and Jisung. While Jisung is under the disturbance of a text message he sent to Chan from your phone, he decides to turn to his friends to spill the beans.

TAGS: porn with plot, solo male masturbation, ruined orgasm, swearing, handjobs, soft moments, depictions of sexual intercourse, kissing, cum eating, orgasms, mainly m x m themes, alcohol is consumed (but nobody is drunk)

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

PART 1 + PART 2 - MASTERLIST

🏷️LIST: @chillichillicrabcrab23 @broken-glowsticks @ihatemen55 @boi-bi-ahaha @galamxy @weareapackofstrays @anglerfishiey @elizalabs3 @fr34k4c1dr41n @stayconnecteed @imnotjjini0325 @twinklix @meilix @livsposts @dawn-iscozy @princejisung @groovygroovyhyunjin @valibals @oiikaro @/itsthatbri @leftkittenface @/20minsat180degrees (if you want to be removed from the taglist going forward with this series, lmk!)

A/N: listened to Cigarettes out the window by TV Girl when I wrote most of this.

DISCLAIMER: before you read, this is a series so things are building up. There is a plot, so whilst this isn’t reader x member heavy based as the rest of the parts so far, that doesn’t mean to say that it won’t be in the future. Reader and Chan will get their time, don't worry, just want things to develop. This piece is more Jisung and Hyunjin focused iykwim x

“The weather forecast for the upcoming week is predicted to be hotter than usual-“

“Ngh- fuck, right there...”

“-with temperatures expected to rise above thirty degrees. Weather Watch is also alerting citizens-“

“S-So good, baby…Y/N…”

“-in the city to prepare for the possibility of yet another monsoon-“

“Gonna…cum, gonna cum so hard for you…just like that…”

“-other regions of the outer city should also expect showers and hot temperatures-“

“Fuck’s sake!”

With an angry groan and grumble, Hyunjin’s right hand stills over his slick, hard cock. His other hand yanks a pillow from his side and pelts it straight at his door to slam it right shut. Pathetic white strings of cum shot from his dark pink tip and land on his abdomen, some as far as his shirt that he had pulled up to his chest to avoid staining it.

It’s been impossible for him to jerk off while the six o’clock weather is playing in the background from his lounge. The talk of monsoons and hot weather threatens the disappearance of the mental images he has of you in his brain, used as vital motivation to get himself off - a recurring activity that has been happening for the past two weeks.

Summer doesn’t make it any better either. His body is sticky, sweat beading over his forehead from the disgusting, muggy heat that rivals the air con blowing throughout his apartment. Then the rain that lashes harshly at his windows is enough to drown out his own moans. It was a useless feat, just as useless as his own ruined orgasm that now put him in a bad mood. He had to satisfy his needs somehow.

Instead of turning to porn, Hyunjin had something even better; you. The vivid images of his cock plunging fluidly into your wet pussy. The erotic sounds he extracted out of you with each thrust, that is when you weren’t choking on Jisung’s dick. He just wishes he could’ve seen your face when he made you cum.

Hyunjin sighs and presses his head back into the pillow. Before he gets to think about jumping in the shower, his phone rings from the nightstand. He picks up the device to see a very flattering drunk photo of Changbin appear on his screen.

Hyunjin answers, “hey.”

“Hyunjin, what are you doing right now?” Changbin asks.

“Watching the news,” he sniffs, he might as well have been watching the news.

“Boring. Did you not see the group chat messages?”

“No, not yet. Why is something wrong?”

“No, nothings wrong. Minho booked a table for hot pot and barbecue tonight. Figured you weren’t doing anything important so we’re all meeting up in half an hour,” Changbin explains.

Barbecue and hot pot sounded nice. Surely it’ll be a method to dry out Hyunjin’s damp mood a little bit. That and a cold shower to freshen up.

“Okay, yeah sounds good. Can you text me the details then?”

As Hyunjin hung up and decided to start getting ready, it dawned on him that he hadn’t seen his friends in a couple of weeks, with a strong reference to you and Jisung. You had both been active in the group chat so he didn’t necessarily feel awkward about seeing the guy he had a threesome with. As for you, he really doesn’t know.

You’re sweeter and easy to be around. Something about that just turns the entire situation on its head. Not that Jisung isn’t sweet or easy to be around in Hyunjin’s opinion, with you it’s different. Although, as he’s been mulling over the past couple of weeks, he’s discovered a few things about himself and Jisung.

Dressing according to the weather, Hyunjin takes his umbrella with him on his way out in the hopes the rain won’t continue when he leaves the restaurant later on. After receiving the address from Changbin, thankfully just one subway stop away, Hyunjin heads off into the downfall and arrives fifteen minutes later.

He was wrong to assume that he wasn’t going to feel awkward around Jisung, and now as he spots him at the table, engaging in a riveting conversation with Jeongin, all he feels is awkwardness. He waves out to him from down the way, ushering him to come over, lulling Hyunjin out of his own mind for a minute.

“Hyunjin!” Jeongin called out cheerily, patting a spot beside him to come and sit.

“Already started drinking Innie?” Hyunjin slings his arm around his younger friend's shoulder.

“I couldn’t wait, sorry,” he responds and pours Hyunjin a shot of his soju. “Long day.”

“Did you eat before?”

“Not since lunch,” he replies.

Hyunjin shakes his head and warns, “Innie, you know it’s bad to drink on an empty stomach, right?”

Jeongin shrugs, “like I said, long day.”

Hyunjin picks up his shot glass, downing it in one go before setting the glass back down on the surface again. As he does, his eyes meet Jisung’s who stares intently at him from across the table. He shoots a cheeky wink at Hyunjin, forcing a deep red blush to emerge through his cheeks.

Hyunjin knew what that meant.

Suddenly his mind races back to that night at his apartment; making out with Jisung, remembering suddenly the thought of what sort of tricks that mouth of his possesses, watching you suck him dry. He wasn’t going to be forgetting it any time soon, not when it fuels his jack off sessions at home.

After the few lingering moments where the pair were still locking eyes, more of their friends started to show up. Seungmin was accompanied by his new girlfriend, glued to his hip who greeted everyone shyly. Hyunjin hadn’t actually properly met her, let alone talked to her yet, but she seemed nice. Once they had taken a seat on their cushions, Changbin rolled in with Felix and Minho in tow who was stuffing his keys into the pocket of his pants.

“You guys are here early,” he says with surprise.

“You were the one who organised it,” Jisung pointed out.

“That I did,” Minho nods, sitting down with everyone else.

Felix groans as he flops next to Changbin, “I’m hungry, it's not even funny.”

As everyone settled down, trays of fresh veggies, assortments of meat, and other items were brought to their table for them to cook. Minho decided to get started on grilling while Seungmin opted to bring the hot pot on the table to a boil. The smell of the food made Hyunjin almost forget why he was slightly nervous about going out in the first place.

He got back to talking with Jeongin, asking him how work has been treating him, what he’s been up to since they last saw each other, and even planned a time to hang out in the future.

“What about you, Jisung?” Jeongin asks with a mouthful of bossam. “Haven’t seen you in ages. Been up to anything interesting these days?”

Jisung finishes slurping up some of the rice noodles Felix had cooked for him from the hot pot, “here and there. Mainly just working now.”

“Ah,” Jeongin nods in understanding. “You always work so much. No wonder why it’s hard for you to hang out with us sometimes.”

That’s when it hits Jisung, causing him to pause and realise that something isn’t right. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realise it when it’s right there in plain sight.

“Where is Y/N and Chan?” He questions.

“Mm! Gonna…gonna cum all over your cock, wanna cum for you so bad,” you strain out. “Makes me feel so fucking good.”

Chan looks up at you, a deranged and desperate expression paints his face as you ride his dick, “don’t stop riding me then. Need to see that pretty pussy cum all over me.”

Minho flips over pieces of meat on the grill, “Chan is out of the city with his family at the moment. They flew in a few days ago.”

“You’re creaming so much around me baby,” Chan growls, nails digging painfully into the skin over your hips. “This pussy is all mine.”

“And Y/N’s still at work,” Minho continues, plating some of the veggies he had been charring on the side too.

Moans erupt from your chest, projecting out into Chan’s lounge, “C-Channie, so good, make me cum, please-“

Jisung nods. It’s not suspicious at all to him that neither of you are here. The two people to an unwanted jigsaw puzzle that he had been piecing together just so happened to be ‘missing.’ Of course, none of the other guys truly knew why. At least he doesn’t think.

Maybe you two really are in separate locations - not that he believes it. The one thing he knows for absolute sure to be the cold, hard truth, is that you and Chan are most definitely seeing each other casually - fucking behind everyone’s backs. Then again, so did he and Hyunjin in some sense.

Nonetheless, for the past couple of weeks, Jisung was storing that message he received on your phone from Chan in the back of his mind. It affirms a glimmer of a suspicion that Jisung held about Chan previously; that he was seeing someone.

“Well, that just confirms everything then,” Jisung mutters under his breath, concluding his answer there and then in his mind.

“Confirms what?” Minho questions, his hawk grade hearing picking up on his undertone.

“Nothing, just a theory that I have,” he says smartly. “I was just thinking about it and...”

“And what?” Minho presses.

“And whether I should be sharing it or not,” he replies, unsure of his own answer.

“Well you have to now since you brought it up,” Felix exclaims.

“It’s nothing,” Jisung brushes it off, making everyone at the table wonder what the hell he’s on about.

“Nah, it has to be something,” Seungmin shakes his head and begins wondering what it is. “If it wasn’t important, he’d just say it. But he’s not.”

Is it even Jisung’s place to tell everyone? No. Should he still do it? No. But that’s what friends do. They talk and speculate about who they think are the perfect matches in the group or who out of everyone would marry if they had no other option. Topics as such.

In this case, it’s whether you and Chan are sleeping together or not, which Jisung already has the answer to. Whether he decides to tell the truth would just be speculation to the others since they never saw what Jisung did. They can decide to believe it or not.

However, does he trust his friends with the truth and to not say anything? Without a shadow of a doubt. So with that sliver of comfort in his mind that makes him think he’s not doing the wrong thing, Jisung chooses to divulge.

“Y/N and Chan are fucking.”

Everyone’s heads at the table fixes onto Jisung. Not a single mouth moved out of surprise as the silence threads its way around. It makes him feel terribly awkward.

This is news to everyone, particularly to the person sitting opposite him; Hyunjin. Someone who, upon hearing what just came out of Jisung’s mouth, didn’t believe it for a second - did not want to believe it.

“You’re lying,” Seungmin accuses immediately from the other end of the table.

“That’s your theory?” Changbin questions. “That Chan and Y/N are together?”

“Not together, together,” Jisung makes haste to correct him. “I just have reason to believe that they’re seeing each other casually is all.”

“I don’t believe you,” Seungmin responds, letting his strong opinion be known. “What is that reason anyway?”

“I swear on everyone I know, I saw a text message proving it on her phone,” Jisung mentions before his blood starts running cold. He almost gave away more than he should’ve.

Without context of the night in question, none of them know. Not even Hyunjin, who was a third party to it all, didn’t exactly know. He can only guess if what Jisung is referring to is the dirty text message that was sent off of your phone to Chan during the game of truth or dad. Then again, it’s not a thought that he even remotely considers when his mind has been stuck on the fact that you and Chan are potentially hooking up.

“What the hell are you going through her phone for?” Felix asks defensively.

“Yeah, that’s not okay,” Jeongin adds.

“N-No! I wasn’t going through her phone, I just…saw them, by accident,” he responds out of desperation.

He doesn’t want to disclose that night to his friends. Sure they’re all mates and share everything with each other, but that’s just Jisung. Hyunjin keeps aspects of his life relatively private and Jisung is sure that you wouldn’t appreciate him going around telling everyone what happened. But at that thought, he starts second guessing himself and what he just did. If he thinks you wouldn’t be okay with him sharing information about that night, how is it any different from him saying the same thing about you and Chan?

It doesn’t take long for Jisung to feel regret and guilt for ever bringing it up.

“Even if they are, who cares? Good for them, and if they start going out - even better. Y/N’s a massive upgrade from that chick he was seeing before,” Minho explains.

“That’s probably why they’re messing around,” Felix theorises.

“I still don’t reckon they are,” Seungmin puts in his opinion again.

“Why?” Felix asks.

“I just don’t see it,” he shrugs. “Chan seems like the type of person who wouldn’t sleep around because he only wants to be with someone that he really, really likes.”

Those words do not sit well with Hyunjin.

“And Chan told you that himself, did he?” Minho snickers. “If that’s your reasoning, then it sounds like they’re already going out.”

Hyunjin and Jisung’s eyes immediately lock onto each other in horror.

“I don’t know if you heard the word ‘seems’ in my sentence, implying that I’m only guessing but okay,” Seungmin bites back, earning him a finger flick to his arm by Jeongin for talking back like that to their older friend.

“Ten bucks that they are,” Minho says on a different topic. “Ten bucks that they aren’t,” Seungmin counters.

“A-Are you saying that none of you believe me?” Jisung whines.

“We’re saying that we don’t have enough evidence – any of us, not just you since you bought up the topic,” Minho replies.

“What about tonight? Neither of them are here, where do you think they might be?” Jisung attempts to raise a good point, but Changbin spots the obvious loopholes.

“We already told you. Chan isn’t even in the city since he’s spending time with his family, and Y/N’s still at work,” he answers. “And we know that because Chan messaged the group chat to tell us that he wasn’t going to be coming to dinner and we know Y/N doesn’t finish until six thirty.”

“They could be lying,” Jeongin conspires.

“That’s only for tonight though. I know he’s been acting shady lately so I reckon he is,” Felix announces.

“Hyunjin?” Changbin pokes him in the arm, trying to prod an answer out of him.

He responds quietly but honestly, “I-I don’t think they are.”

“That settles it then,” Minho begins instigating once more. “Two of you bet that they aren’t and the rest of us bet that they are.”

“We are not betting on our friends right now,” Jisung tries to calm the masses.

“Mm! How about losers have to pay for a day of food when we go to Jeju?” Jeongin suggests.

The majority of the table begins to erupt in agreement, making it impossible for Jisung to rewrite something he just initiated. Everyone immediately starts talking details about what food they would request if they won the bet, then would eventually return to the topic of you and Chan.

Hyunjin didn’t really want to hear another word of it. Instead, he pours himself another shot of Jeongin’s soju in the hopes his thoughts about the situation start to melt. Until he gets to that stage, it’s easy for him to wallow in his feelings. A selfish part of him wants whatever connection there is between you and Chan to falter to the point of no return. Then the other half scolds his mind for wishing such a misfortune on his friend.

But nobody knew. Nobody knew that Hyunjin had feelings for you nor did he want anyone to know. He’d rather die than tell someone he likes them for fear that they won’t like him the way he does. It’s almost like he’s saving himself from the pain and hopes that it’ll pass. However, there was also ‘instigator number two’ sitting across from him who had been making regular appearances in his brain since that night. Hyunjin doesn’t know what it means, if it even means anything for that matter.

So by the end of the dinner, everyone had their bets placed.

The whole lot of them lingered outside the restaurant after some filling meals as some of the others waited for their rides back home. All aside from Felix and Jeongin who decided to go bar hopping for more drinks. Changbin and Seungmin were laughing away at something they were discussing while Minho was chatting to his friend's new girlfriend. Hyunjin on the other hand stood away from them, up against the wall of the building as he scrolls aimlessly on his phone.

“Hey,” says Jisung, emerging from the restaurant.

Hyunjin turns to his friend, realising it’s the first time they’ve directly spoken to each other in a while, “hi.”

“You know it feels like I haven’t seen you since-“

“That’s because you haven’t, Jisung,” he cuts him off sharply, having already foreseen what Jisung was about to say after the word ‘since.’

He smiles sheepishly, “right. So, what are your plans now?”

Hyunjin doesn’t think and shrugs, “gonna go home, paint, watch TV or something.”

“Cool. I’m coming with you.”

Hyunjin didn’t have any say in the matter. Jisung was going to follow him home like his own shadow whether he liked it or not. It dismissed Hyunjin from grovelling in his feelings and mind after hearing the situation between you and Chan. One half of his heart yearned to cry while the other wanted to punch Chan in the ribs. He doesn’t know. He’s conflicted. But they are aspects that remain undetected to Jisung as they sat next to each other quietly on the subway back to his home.

The pair walked under Hyunjin’s umbrella for a few hundred metres until they were under the shelter of the apartment complex. He doesn’t mind accommodating people at his place since he spends the majority of his time in voluntary solitude. It allows him to fully recuperate from social settings in order to go out again. This time, with less company, it’s still equally welcoming. So after Hyunjin unlocks his front door for both of them enter, take off their shoes, and store them neatly.

“Ah~” Jisung sighs with relief, stretching out his arms and stands right underneath a device mounted to the top of the wall. “Air con!”

“Don’t you have one? I thought you did,” Hyunjin mistakenly thought.

“It broke,” he mumbles, revelling in the cold artificial breeze. “Been waiting three weeks for it to be fixed.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything after that. He lets Jisung do whatever he wants while he heads into his room to change from his clothes to a black tank top and a pair of shorts. In his spare room that he’s been slowly transitioning to an art space, he goes in and collects some of his unfinished art, paints, and brushes. After, he returns to the lounge, he sets everything down on the coffee table and pulls up some floor cushions for him and Jisung to sit on.

“Oh, tangerines,” he suddenly remembers as his eyes clock onto the silver fruit bowl on his kitchen counter while Jisung takes his jacket off and hangs it up.

“Tangerines? In summer?” Jisung asks as he goes to sit down.

Hyunjin places the bowl of the fruit between him and his friend as he lowers down too, “why not? I got them fresh from the market the other day.”

“I can only eat them in the winter.”

“Alright then,” Hyunjin shrugs and starts peeling one for himself as Jisung reaches for the remote and turns on the TV.

For a while, they sit together. Hyunjin switches between picking up his paintbrush and pieces of fruit whereas Jisung’s eyes are glued to some hot drama playing across the screen. It’s nice to just be in the same room with someone and to not have a full on conversation that ends up being draining on their social batteries. Both of them are the perfect introverts for thriving in those types of environments. A peaceful comfort.

Time seems to pass in their space as Jisung nears the end of the episode and Hyunjin is rounding off one area of his painting. By that time, Hyunjin had eaten five tangerines then opted to bring some more. He offered to Jisung if he wanted something else to eat or drink, but the man was so hooked on this drama that he didn't even hear Hyunjin ask.

He found it…slightly…endearing. Just a bit. But then he went back to his work and all was forgotten until Jisung finally started speaking again.

“Hyunjin,” he starts in a low voice, still staring at the screen.

“Hmm?”

“Are we gonna talk about the other night?” Jisung mentions.

His hand freezes over his canvas, a small dollop of paint drips from the end of his brush and onto his work. Hyunjin wasn’t exactly expecting to hear that question, yet at the same time, he should’ve seen it coming.

“W-What about it?” He responds awkwardly.

Jisung leans back, both of his hands propping him up from behind as he looks up to the ceiling, “the fact that we kissed, well… made out mainly.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said, unsure of what to actually ask him here. “Do you…regret it?”

“No! No way!” Jisung exclaims rather quickly before he calms down. “No, I don’t. In fact…it was…actually really good.”

In the back of Hyunjin’s mind, he can almost predict what’s about to happen. Jisung wouldn’t have brought up the subject unless it was really affecting him - unless he was dying to get it off his chest. Otherwise he would’ve let it simmer down, but taking into account that it had been two weeks and he wants to unpack everything, there was clearly something irking him in a way that only Hyunjin seems to understand.

“You looked…good that night,” he adds then corrects himself. “You do look good.”

Hyunjin peers up from his work. What’s he supposed to say to that? Is he supposed to divulge the fact that he thinks the same of Jisung? He doesn’t even know entirely what he feels, having just accepted that he slept with his two friends and sort of went on with life.

“What did you follow me back to my apartment for?” Hyunjin gets straight to the point.

His friend sits back up and looks him dead in the eye, “let’s just say I didn’t follow you back to eat some fruit and watch TV.”

“Then what?” Hyunjin urges impatiently even though his and Jisung’s faces slowly draw towards each other.

Jisung’s eyes drop down to Hyunjin’s lips, and says in a quiet voice, “because I wanted to kiss you again.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know when, but it happened. One second he had his gaze set on Jisung’s soft expression and the next his eyes were closed, allowing his brain to focus on what’s physically happening. Their lips meet for the second time since the first, this time a little slower and tender.

As the TV plays in the background, all the two of them can hear is the sound of their mouths moving - breaking apart for a couple of moments even though their noses still touch, tilting their heads in different directions to see what’s the better angle.

The sweet, citrine aftertaste of tangerine lingers in Hyunjin’s mouth, a pleasure to savour when Jisung is able to explore it with his tongue. In Hyunjin’s left hand, the paintbrush slips from his grip, its tip smearing more paint onto his work. But there is a great distance between him and being bothered about it. He worries more about the reaction, that after minutes of kissing, stirs in his pants when Jisung’s hand finds its way onto his lap, barely caressing his thigh. His cock has started filling out.

He doesn’t notice it until slowly yet surely, Jisung’s hand inches closer to the ever growing, obvious bulge in his friend's shorts. The second he makes contact with Hyunjin’s clothed dick, a moan shoots through from his mouth and into Jisung’s. He pulls away for a second, staring at his lips.

“You really are a good kisser,” Jisung breathes.

“Jisung…” Hyunjin struggles, his forehead comes to rest against Jisung’s as he stares down at his hand. It palms slowly, agonisingly slow.

“You’re so hard for-“

He cups Jisung’s mouth before he can complete the rest of his sentence, “shut up, I know,” he cuts him off bitterly.

A chuckle reverberates through his hand as Jisung takes it away but decides to continue holding it, “let me help you then.”

It’s not difficult for him to read the room. He knows what Hyunjin wants and how obvious it is that he needs it. His cock silently screams for touch, to be relieved. So at the perfect moment, Jisung reaches into Hyunjin’s shorts and past his boxes.

A quiet hiss issues from his mouth when the entire length of his dick is free from restriction. His cock is beautiful. Jisung never managed to get a good look at it since it was either in your mouth or drilling your pussy from behind.

Jisung licks his way into Hyunjin’s mouth, his tongue dancing across his plush bottom lip before he breaks away for a moment. Excitement surges through him now that he finally gets to feel what he’s been wanting to since that night two weeks ago. He stares down at Hyunjin’s cock, pre-cum beads at the tip, some had already leaked down his length.

For Jisung to have him so aroused, so desperate for touch, proves the effect his friend has on him that he suspected was present. Hyunjin had an inkling of it when you all slept together, but nothing other than that. A pang of realisation maybe, that his friend was attractive and alluring in a sense, and it was obvious that Jisung felt the same.

He takes a soft hold of the top of Hyunjin’s cock, the pad of his index finger swiping over his tip and pulling away. He watches the thick string of glimmering pre-cum connect him and Hyunjin, forcing a wave of embarrassment to come crushing over him. It wasn’t embarrassing to Jisung. It was hot. So fucking hot.

Seeing the impact of his own actions on Hyunjin’s body gave him a sense of power so to speak. It made him want to see more as he started tugging gently at his dick. He trusted that Hyunjin’s pre-cum would act almost as a lube, and sure enough with more strokes, his cock was sticky with it. Nothing but slick sounds and tiny, barely there whimpers from Hyunjin’s mouth fill his lounge, drowning out the next episode of the drama that was still playing.

“Mm…it…mmm.”

“Don’t be shy Hyunjinnie,” Jisung prompts him to become more vocal, to express what he’s feeling however he wants. “We’re friends, since when have you ever been quiet around me?”

Hyunjin replies breathlessly, “friends…d-don’t get each other off.”

“Hey, you haven’t gotten me off yet,” Jisung reminds him.

Yet.

In his mind that starts to slip through his fingers like sand, Hyunjin was no longer able to tell if that was an empty possibility or a very real chance of it happening. For the time being, he chooses to focus on pleasure. The satisfaction of having something wrapped around his cock to relieve him, and the divine pressure that begins to store at the base of his cock from Jisung’s long strokes.

“Feel good?” He asks.

The question alone is enough to make Hyunjin lower his head and close his eyes, too shy to meet Jisung’s ardent gaze. Instead, he gives an affirming nod.

“Good,” Jisung mumbles quietly, then finds Hyunjin’s lips once more with his own to kiss him.

God he can’t stop kissing him.

The way they melt into each other is almost like they’ve done this a hundred times prior. Jisung tugs and strokes Hyunjin’s length so attentively, greedily drawing out every single reaction he can possibly get. The hushed moans that transmit from his mouth as Jisung’s tongue moves lazily to explore. Very abruptly however, Hyunjin breaks away from the kiss.

“G-Gonna make me cum,” he swallows hard.

Jisung’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his head just hearing that. To him, those words are not only a specific type of praise or reward, but it’s coupled with the way that Hyunjin sounds right in his ear. His tense, high pitched whimpers become more frequent and stressed as Jisung has been building him up to the height of his orgasm.

“Cum for me then,” Jisung whispers to him.

Suddenly, the air snags inside Hyunjin’s throat. His head drops and all the attention gravitates towards his cock, shivering as he starts to orgasm.

“Ngh - ‘sung…cumming,” he strains out, breathing deeply but staggered.

Jisung catches his seed in the cupped palm of his hand as he manages to stroke the tip of his length at the same time. He looked so beautiful when his mind and body writhe under his touch. Hyunjin’s moans complete the satisfaction Jisung feels to have unravelled his best friend like that. To see ribbons of his white warm cum in hand makes him struggle against the unhinged part of his brain that needs to taste it for himself. He can’t help it when the base of his palm reaches his mouth-

But it doesn’t stop Hyunjin’s face from twisting and screwing into an expression of revolt.

“Jisung,” he says with a tone of warning.

He hastily tucks himself back into his clothes, springs up from the coffee table and heads to the kitchen to grab a paper towel. After soaking it a little bit in some warm water from under the tap, he returns to Jisung and cleans his hand. Hyunjin didn’t want to make a note of the fact that most of Jisung’s palm was covered in cum and when he returned, it was almost like it was never there. Still, he did him the decency of helping clean him up.

“Maybe wash your hand too,” he suggests with a concerned look still clouding his face.

“Don’t look so offended, Hyunjin,” Jisung chuckles airly. “You taste good.”

“Shut up, please,” is all he can come back with, then looks up to not only see that cocky, arrogant grin of Jisung’s but to also notice that there’s still a trace of his cum smeared a little bit on his bottom lip. Hyunjin reaches towards his friend’s face, thumbing the excess away.

“Don’t waste anything,” Jisung scolds him.

“Alright,” he rolls his eyes, done with the mortifying humiliation and stands up again to return to the kitchen with the dirty paper towel to chuck it away.

“Wait, come back! Kiss me one more time and I swear I’ll stop embarrassing you!” he calls out to him.

Hyunjin stops listening to Jisung and all the whiny complaints he propels from the coffee table. Instead, something else suddenly occupies his attention. The one thing that threatens to unbalance his mood once more.

“Jisung,” Hyunjin says. “Is it true? About Y/N and Chan?”

“Huh?” He answers, “Oh, yeah. It is.”

Hyunjin’s gaze falls to the floor. That answers that then.

Jisung then continues, “I didn’t want to mention how I saw the message though. If I did, it might’ve put you and Y/N in the spotlight about that night we had when you probably didn’t want to. Plus, they’re like jackals. They would’ve torn you to shreds just to get an answer.”

Hyunjin nods, appreciative of his friend's move, “thanks. But should you have told them about Y/N and Chan anyway?”

Jisung did realise at one stage that he told their friends about you and Chan, but didn’t apply that same energy towards bringing up himself, you, and Hyunjin. There wasn’t that much of a difference when he looks at it now since he’s also messed around with you both, similar to the way Chan is currently messing around with you.

But Jisung knows for a fact that he didn’t bring it up because he wanted to save his own skin or divert any suspicion or attention away from himself. It was just so scandalous to find out that the two least suspecting people on his radar of who in the group would be fucking, is you and Chan.

“They said they weren’t going to say anything,” Jisung responds. “I trust them that much, not that I should be making a big deal about it, but I want to go see Chan. I know that they’re not, but I want to make sure that they aren’t actually dating, otherwise-“

“We’d have to tell him,” says Hyunjin.

“Exactly,” Jisung agrees. “Again, I don’t think that’s the case. Chan said so himself that he’s done with dating and relationships, and I trust that wholeheartedly too.”

Hyunjin gives a nod and decides to hold out onto hope. Hope that you’re not seeing him and that it’s just something that turns out to be a stupid rumour. In the meantime, he needs to figure out his feelings.

Too tired to make the commute back to his own place, Jisung ended up staying the night at Hyunjin’s. He could’ve well and truly slept on the couch but for what it was worth, he was invited to sleep in Hyunjin’s bed. It’s not like they’ve never slept next to each other. But for some reason, it means something a bit more. Something hazy that exists in a twilight zone that Hyunjin only hopes clears up so he can decipher what he feels towards Jisung.

The thought floats around in his mind before he drifts off, sleeping comfortably, only to wake up the next morning tangled in each other’s arms.

Neither of them were bothered about it.

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #han jisung smut #bang chan smut #felix smut #hyunjin smut #i.n smut #changbin smut #hyunjin x jisung

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cheralith · 2 months

Text

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part iii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, unedited/not beta read as of 2/24

word count ; 8.5k

notes ; we're so back. am i severely late to posting this? very. did i at least get it done after too many months? also yes. i also apologize in advance to those i tagged that are no longer interested in the series, as i merely tagged people that had commented regardless of time. lmk if you no longer want to be tagged in the last part, i promise i won't take offense at all!

parts ; one two three four (tba)

THREE YEARS AGO

“My name is (Y/N) (L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. O’Hara. Please let me assist you at any need possible.”

Miguel peered at you through his reading glasses, averting his attention from his laptop to fully examine the stranger that stood in his office. Dark hazelnut eyes scan the appearance of a young woman dressed in black slacks and an ironed white blouse standing stiffly next to his superiors that eyed him with more eagerness than he liked. He could already tell that you were a shy one, a person that wasn’t too accustomed to the outside world and its people; you stood with stiff posture; it was one that exemplified nerve rather than confidence from the way that you almost seem paralyzed in your place.

Caldworth, one of the superiors that stood by your side, placed a wrinkly and veiny hand on your shoulder and showed you off to him as if you were a painting up for bidding. “We choose a sharp one for you. (Y/N) here is rather attentive, so don’t be shy about letting her get to know you better, Miguel.”

Miguel stayed quiet, still skeptical about this sudden new arrangement for him that was brought up at the last minute. He lacked a certain sort of anticipation that would usually behold anyone else in his position—a new person entering their work life would usually be an exciting, rousing meeting seeing as how it would be a new addition to what the higher-ups would refer to as “family.” A loose term, Miguel often thought… very loose, even. To even have the courage to compare coworkers to something as intimate as family was something that didn’t sit well with Miguel. Blame it on the certain circumstances on his own familial life, but even anyone else that had their brain in the somewhat of the right spot would understand that mere coworkers were nothing compared to family.

At least in his case.

“I’ve greatly admired your work in the past,” you said almost robotically, “so I hope I can be of any help in your future accomplishments—no matter how big or small.”

Miguel cocked his head. He fought the urge to raise an eyebrow at what he began to concur was something scripted via his superiors. Something about your tone of voice seemed… flat; devoid of any actual enthusiasm.

Caldworth and his partner began to see themselves out, leaving him to babysit you. “Well, you two have at it! Maybe go out for a cup of coffee to familiarize yourselves, get to know each other better since you both are essentially going to be around each other all the time,” Caldworth stated, making Miguel twitch from the last part.

Just before they left, Caldworth offered the glint of his eye over his shoulder, the peek of a tight-lipped grin ever so slightly visible.

“And don’t forget, we’re all family here!” he cheered before the slam of a door shut you and Miguel in.

Immediately, Miugel noticed that your shoulders caved inward, indicating that you were finally able to breathe properly without the surveillance of people that were essentially in charge of your life. He eyed you again from the top of his glasses before he took them off and rested them in between his fingers, letting them dangle lazily.

“Did they tell you to say that?”

You jolted in your spot. Nerves seemingly reshocked with the same anxiety from before, you turned yourself to face your new boss again with a much more paled, yet evident expression—wide-eyed, pursed-lipped, gritted jaw—and swallowed thickly. Almost in a shameful manner, you silently nodded your head.

“W-was…” you started, “was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” Miguel murmured simply and closed his laptop. “Don’t listen to what they say, just make yourself as comfortable as possible. I’m sure neither of us want to be that comfortable with each other.”

Your lips pressed themselves into a tight line, hitching a sharp breath before it’s replaced with another stiff nod. There was no user’s manual of sorts that was given to you by your superiors. They merely told you to do exactly what Miguel needed, so if this is what he wanted—for you two to maintain distance—then so be it. If anything, it’s easier to breathe this way for both parties.

And it was like that for a rather long time; the both of you never came too close to the other person. It was strictly a professional workplace relationship, one that didn’t issue any room for intimacy because it wasn’t needed. There were no lunch or dinner get-togethers outside work hours, there was barely any small talk between you both, and you and he didn’t even bother getting each others’ personal numbers despite being consistently around the other like air—both parties thought the work phones were more than enough. There was no need for you to learn about his likes, his dislikes, his favorite foods, and Miguel couldn’t certainly be bothered with your own slices of life. To each their own, if you minded your business about him, he’d do the same to you.

It was a fair trade and a sufficient barter that satisfied you and him; there need not be any excess of the unnecessary.

That was, until a certain day that Miguel was held back during his usual hours to continue working on lab reports—work that didn’t allow him freedom from this hell of a company to see his own salvation.

“If it’s an urgent matter, Mr. O’Hara, I don’t mind taking on some of the workload,” you had said softly as you placed the last stack of packets on his desk that needed proper annotation. “I’m your assistant, after all. It’s my job to help you out.”

Miguel rubbed his forehead out of exhaustion and shook his head, “You’re my assistant from 9 to 5 only. I’m not gonna be like those shocking pricks and work you longer than needed,” he muttered and stretched out his neck, joints crackling. “Go clock out, (Y/N). I’m sure there’s someone waiting for you at home that needs attending to.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere had gone awkwardly quiet. The tension was only broken by the scritching of your shuffling feet before you coughed.

“Um, there’s no one in particular like that for me, unfortunately,” you whispered through a forced laugh that quickly dissolved. “So again, I don’t mind staying late…”

Miguel stiffened in his seat and mumbled an apology for his blatant inconsideration. Right… you were still rather young and didn’t seem the type to have a family yet. “No boyfriend? Or girlfriend… I’m not one to judge.”

“No, Mr. O’Hara.”

“No parents?”

“I moved out, so no.”

“Not even pets?”

“None.”

“... perhaps friends of sorts?”

“...”

Another sigh heaves itself from his aching lungs. What he’d do for a cigarette right now to kill this awkward tension. You were a rather shy person that isolated herself from most people, but Miguel didn’t think you’d detach yourself this much from the crowd.

You proposed your assistance once more, as third times always a charm. “Please let me assist you, Mr. O’Hara. I truly do not mind staying overtime if needed.”

Miguel, at first, thought you might be kissing his ass for a possible raise, but the thought quickly disappears when you genuinely appear concerned for his well-being given the fact he looked ultimately much more disgruntled than usual. Despite your timidity, you could be a stubborn one, so Miguel gave in before he tired himself even more with mild arguments that he was sure would drain whatever life he had left in him.

He inhales sharply and fiddles with his bag for a bit before he pulls out an array of keys, gently detaching a pair of them. One of them is his car key. The other—his house key.

“Take these,” he said and gestured them to you. “I’ve trusted you enough to drive my car on multiple occasions, so now I’m entrusting you to my daughter.”

Your eyes widened briefly, brows raising to new heights. Blinking in the alikeness of an owl, you repeated, “Your… your daughter?”

Miguel supposes this is what succumbs to him after not revealing even the most personal, yet basic parts of himself to a coworker. He hasn’t even revealed his birthday to you, let alone his family, so he can’t say he’s too surprised at your reaction.

“Yes, my daughter,” he repeats and starts scribbling on a post-it. “Her name is Gabriella, she just turned five and is in kindergarten. I’m gonna call up the daycare and tell them that you’ll be picking her up from school. After that, drop her off at the house and just… just kind of stay there until I come home. There should be leftovers in the fridge if she gets hungry. I’ll take a cab home… I dunno.”

Miguel sticks out the post-it note containing both the address of the daycare and his apartment number. With caution, you take and examine them closely with a mild surprise still on your face of the new information about your boss that you thought you should’ve learned a while ago. You begin to see yourself out of his office with an evident nervousness in your being before Miguel spontaneously gets up and grabs your wrist tightly, forcing you to look at him.

A chill goes down your spine when you see a menacing and unusual red glint in those pools of mahogany. His once-drained face is suddenly stony and rugged with his teeth bitten back to avoid any unnecessary threats. The physical contact makes your nerves go cold and paralyzes you into place to force you to stare into those eyes that you’re not sure aren’t even human, a sort of malicious crimson tint gleaming over brown hues.

“Do not… let anything happen to her,” he hisses under his breath, his tone jaggedly sharp, “Not a single scratch, yes?”

It takes a while for air to breathe itself back into your lungs, yet only a partial amount of it revives your body because all you can reply is a choked out,

“Yes.”

Miguel lets go of your wrist like it’s a heated iron rod, the burn of it stinging his hand with the aftertaste of your skin still damped on his palm. You quickly leave after that, leaving him to sigh and stare into nothing before clutching the picture frame of his daughter that sits on his desk—praying that you’ll live up to his expectations and arrive home to an unscathed Gabriella.

And throughout the duration of the three years you and Miguel have spent side by side, with each repeated question he’d contritely ask again and again, he did each and every single time you had to take care of her. The hours became longer, more strenuous, and created a blockage between Miguel and Gabriella that only you were able to bridge between. Gabriella—whose particular shyness reminded Miguel of a certain someone—eventually warmed up to you and began to treat you much more familiarly as time passed, growing accustomed to wrapping her body around your legs when she saw you during pick up and always asking what was for dinner that evening as if you’ve been there since her birth.

Gabriella grew very fond of you, Miguel noticed. There was some sort of mimicry in her actions at times that mirrored your own habits like how she’d tilt her head and purse her lips to the left when she was confused like you did or she’d randomly walk briskly in the same fashion you marched. She’d slip in a mention of your name during small discussions here and there, a praise never failing to tail her words.

“Miss. (Y/N) bought this headband for me! Isn’t it pretty?”

“Oh, Miss. (Y/N) taught me how to solve that problem yesterday.”

“Can you make cookies like how Miss. (Y/N) does? Yours taste weird.”

While you weren’t always present around the O’Haras, Gabriella made sure it seemed like you were.

There was a particular time that Miguel was helping her on some homework assigned over the weekend. The assignment had discussed different careers that children might be interested in the future and when Miguel had asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, Gabriella, who couldn’t have been more than six or seven around the time, replied all too simply,

“I want to be like Miss. (Y/N).”

Miguel was astonished. He had expected an answer like a professional soccer player due to her love of the sport or a scientist like her father, but to aspire to be someone that seemingly was just an occasional companion? To him, it didn’t make sense.

“Like, do you wanna work for Daddy when you’re older?” Miguel asked, attempting to clarify what she meant since she knew enough to understand you were associated with her father.

Gabriella shook her head and mindlessly continued to draw what seemed to be a portrait of you in… a pink dress? “Nuh uh. I wanna be a princess like her.”

Through furrowed brows, Miguel chuckled a little aimlessly. Of course she’d still believe fantasy and magical things—she was just seven after all. Initially, he wanted to merely correct his daughter, but was a little curious as to what sort of silly information you had been feeding her. “Miss. (Y/N) is a princess?”

“Yep, she told me herself!” Gabriella exclaimed, her hand fisting a yellow marker that scribbled on a crown on the drawing. “She said she used to be a princess, but she ran away ‘cause a giant, fire-breathing lizard tried to kidnap her!”

“I think it might’ve been a dragon, mijita,” Miguel corrected gently, trying to go along with the usual trope fairy tales portrayed.

“Nuh uh, it was a big and creepy lizard, she said!” she retaliated stubbornly.

“Well,” he started again, attempting to choose his words a little more carefully this time around. “How come you don’t wanna be like Ariel? Or Tiana? They’re princesses, too, right?”

She shrugged. “I like them. But they’re not Miss. (Y/N).”

Something unnatural began to seep into Miguel’s chest. He knew that Gabriella liked you quite so, but he didn’t expect for her to almost admire you in such a fashion that inspired her to be like you. In his eyes, you were nothing but the assistant that loyally stood by his side and abided by his every word—to him, it seemed like you were more of a butler or servant than a princess.

But in his daughter’s eyes…

“Why? What’s so special about (Y/N)?” Miguel inquired with a growing curiosity to try and see you in the same light as Gabriella.

She shook her head, displeased with the informality given to you by her father. “You gotta say Princess (Y/N). I don’t have to ‘cause she said it’s okay.”

He sighed, “Okay, fine. What’s so special about Princess (Y/N)?”

Gabriella set her marker down carefully and thought for a little while. Her eyes suddenly lit up with delight, an affirmative grin set on her lips.

“Well, she’s really pretty… like reallyyy pretty. I wanna be just as beautiful as her one day,” she praised, making Miguel’s brows rise at the sudden compliment. “She’s really nice, too. She never shouts at me like the teachers or coaches do… and she always lets me have extra dessert when I do a good job on my homework.”

Miguel fell silent. Perhaps it was more than mere admiration, but idolization for Gabriella. She viewed you in a way that Miguel hadn’t even thought of because he only viewed you as his coworker. But in Gabriella’s eyes, you were more than just her babysitter—you were literal royalty to her. He shouldn’t be one to complain though—he’d take his daughter following in your footsteps over some others that might lead her astray. You were… sufficient enough, he supposes, even if Gabriella didn’t think so.

“She’s super smart too—like you, Papá! Maybe even smarter,” she retorts, making Miguel twitch. “And I like her voice a lot. I really like it when she reads me a story because her voice is pretty. Sometimes she sings this song to me to help me sleep.”

“Oh?” Miguel questioned, “¿Y, qué canción es esa?”

“I keep forgetting the name and words of it…” Gabriella pouted after a moment of attempted concentration. “But it went somethin’ like…”

She began humming an off-tune melody that struck a dissonant, yet familiar chord within Miguel, but it was impossible for him to find why it was so eerily familiar to him. Was it perhaps from an old song? Or a film he’d seen before? It was a calming song, one that was perfectly suited for a child’s lullaby, but something about it seemed almost so customary to him.

“Ya gotta marry her,” his daughter said plainly and began to resume her artistry, ignoring the sudden startle she gave her father. “So that way, I can become a princess, too.”

Miguel helped himself to the nearby cup of water to soothe his choked throat after the scare she gave him. “Sweetheart, I’m not a prince, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” his daughter replied without missing a beat. “But you know what you are, though?”

Dare he say that Gabriella had grown akin to you the same way she had with her father. Something about her praise and regard for you seemed to mirror the way that reflected alike to her father, yet Miguel couldn’t tell if she had managed to draw a line between the images of you and him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if Gabriella could even define a difference in her adulation between you and him besides the fact one was her parent.

But when the thought of Gabriella potentially viewing you as sharing the same title as him—a parent—something seeds inside Miguel. He doesn’t know what it is or what it will grow into, but there’s one thing he knows for sure.

The seed of you in his life and hers is here to stay, whether he likes it or not.

Gabriella’s smile grew wide before she happily announced,

“You’re her knight in shining armor!"

PRESENT

If he squinted properly and took a closer look, perhaps Miguel could make himself hallucinate enough to try and visualize the golden chandelier above your head as your haloing tiara. It was the main light source nearly the entirety of the venue, but something about the way the light glistened around you made you seem almost holy, like you were a divinity gracing your presence on the wretchedness they called Earth.

Blame it on the wine, but Miguel couldn’t help but notice that you looked more celestial tonight; a unique sort of ethereal that he’s only seen in the finest of paintings. The banquet hall is covered in layers of silkened gold, only emphasizing your best features in the spotlights of reflecting amber.

You’re talking idly (per usual, unfortunately) with a coworker from Human Resources that he’s seen you often have mild conversations with on the weekly, a rare familiarity that he only knows he’s been graced with in full; so it’s truly no surprise that there’s a placid stir of envy growing within Miguel as you’ve decided to not give your semi-cold shoulder a break even tonight, even with the rarity of a compliment given by him. At least there’s been somewhat of an improvement—you’re actually holding miniscule conversations with him every now and then as you both chatter with the crowd as long as there’s a third party.

Yet he still hasn’t been granted mercy of having a proper one-on-one with you, yet.

But beggars can’t be choosers, so Miguel must make do with what he’s offered.

The coworker, finally, is called by one of his project managers and politely excuses himself, leaving you to Miguel’s devices at long last. Like a flower’s petals given little to no care, your smiling face wilts into the solemn countenance that Miguel has grown accustomed to seeing for the past week when you turn your gaze back towards the table, a sliver of Miguel caught in the corner of your eye. In time, he just barely catches a glimpse of your eyes flickering toward his figure before they return to stare at the nearly empty plate of food with a slight dismal.

A choice of what words to say jumble in his mouth. They toss and jump about while not giving him full comprehension of what they mean and Miguel grows frustrated at his lack of intelligibleness because it wasn’t every day that his resolve could be so cowardly in front of someone. Usually he was the one that made egos shrink, but upon your grace, his own could only grow so small.

You can tell there’s an awkward silence amongst you both despite the audible chatter throughout the banquet hall and the idle conversations among your tablemates, so you break it first but stiffly shuffling out your phone and dialing Gabriella’s babysitter for tonight—a blue moon occasion since neither you nor Miguel could be present. Gabriel is out of town and because there were only so many people in the world that Miguel could trust with his beloved, the elderly next-door-neighbor was the last resort.

“I should probably check up on how Mrs. Darcie is doing,” you splutter with a dry mouth. “I forgot to teach her how the TV remote works and I’m sure she must be bored out of her—”

Unconsciously, Miguel gently pries the phone out of your shaking hands, the connection between skin and skin electrifying his nerves more than he liked. He takes notice of the size difference between your hand and his own and eyes carefully at how easily your fingers would be able to slip into the gaps of his all too easily; like two connecting puzzle pieces.

He places it face down on the table to avoid further distractions. “I’m sure Mrs. Darcie is alright,” he attempts to soothe as he places his hand over your own, nearly caging it between his fingers. Miguel struggles with fighting the urge to squeeze it delicately—he doesn’t know if he’s earned that privilege, or if he ever did. “Gabi is most likely preparing for bed, we shouldn’t distract her.”

Eyes flickering toward your covered hand, the warmth that envelopes it from Miguel’s makes you swallow thickly.

“Ah,” you murmur and timidly pull back your hand to place back on your lap to Miguel’s disappointment. “Right… Never mind then.”

And suddenly, he’s back to square one. Silence plagues the air again between you and him, only this time, it’s thicker and grimier almost. Perhaps it was the oddity that was the physical contact that added to the musk of it; Miguel prays that you didn’t find it uncomfortable.

A fork is plucked between your fingers and you go to idly poke at your food to fidget with something other than your hands. “I hope she’s okay. Gabi, I mean. I-It feels a little odd leaving her with someone other than you.

Rays of hope and enthrallment embellish Miguel’s being from the fact that finally… finally you’re the one attempting a conversation with him after much too long. And not only that, you’re beginning with something bold, even if you don’t realize it. Despite the fact you’re rather unconscious of what you’re saying, something within Miguel perks up at the fact that you’re worried about Gabriella in the same sense… that he is.

That a parent is.

He fights the urge to physically shake his head to brush the thought off. Miguel hums, a semi-sorry attempt at being suede and casual. “Mrs. Darcie has had eight children in her lifetime, I’m sure that she’s definitely had her experience of taking care of kids,” he says seemingly nonchalantly. “Gabi, if anything, is lightwork to her.”

A soft delight pings in his chest again when you reply almost instantaneously, “She is indeed a good girl, very well-behaved.”

“She has her moments,” Miguel snorts, fondly remembering a few of younger Gabriella’s temper tantrums and outbursts of tears.

Something golden, something bright blossoms within him when he hears you let out a soft chuckle at his reply. It’s abrupt, but it’s short and sweet enough that he feels accomplished, enough for him to savor the taste of it. “All children do from time to time. But she’s definitely one of the better apples of the bunch.”

Miguel thinks you’re right; it wasn’t often that parents, new ones especially, were granted with the privilege of having obedient children, so he’s one of the lucky ones. Perhaps Gabriella being a good kid was the universe giving him mercy as a single parent, as society often thinks it takes two to tango when it comes to childcare most of the time.

But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Even if Miguel wasn’t aware of it, some of the responsibility was lifted off his shoulders when you entered the picture, as the duties of nurturing a young child were now in your favor the moment you had signed your work contract. For that, he harbors guilt from time to time when he thinks that you never exactly signed up to be a babysitter, let alone a parent figure to his kin that you were still unaware of.

And then it hits him.

It comes all of a sudden—his senses downpouring from the cloud of his daydreams and thoughts.

It’s not a good realization by far. If anything, it’s the very opposite, one that’s one the other end of the spectrum. It’s a deathly epiphany and one that he doesn’t like to acknowledge but is forced to.

Miguel stares blankly at the tablecloth, eyes droning into the satin folds of it as they mimicked the waves of a crashing ocean. A sort of paleness infects his face, the color of it draining slowly and he goes still when he feels his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

You’re quick to take notice of your boss’s current disposition, growing wary of his wide, blank eyes and gritted jaw, along with his knuckles growing white as they fist his slacks. A shallow breath is echoed from him; you furrow your brows.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you murmur, leaning toward his figure.

Miguel’s mind stirs. If Gabriella views you as a parent-figure, what exactly would you think of it? You’re not much younger than Miguel is, only falling behind a mere four or five years, but you’re still significantly young that you’ve got your whole life ahead of you that you’d need to experience by yourself. The remnants of youth are still planted onto you despite being well-adjusted to the adult world, so to put the responsibility of a child on your shoulders? Miguel feels contrition flood into him.

What if you didn’t even want children?

It’s a fact that you care for Gabriella, but do you harbor the same type of love for her that she has for you? Does she even understand what your role is in her life and that there’s a strict boundary between you and Miguel and Gabriella? He knows he can’t just shackle you onto a weighing responsibility, but when Gabriella is a part of this dilemma, the complication increases tenfold.

Your boss seems to be frozen in time, seeing as how not a muscle in his limbs nor his face were moving, but his eyes were wide open, almost glazed with fear. A feathery hand goes to place itself over his tightened fist before you ask again, “Mr. O’Hara, are you okay?”

The worst case scenario infects Miguel’s thoughts—you standing in the same shadow of his ex, exiting through the same door she had walked through just a few days after his daughter’s birth and breaking his entire being into little pathetic pieces.

This time, however? He wouldn’t be the only one with a shattered heart.

A thick swallow goes down your throat. You gently shake his hand with your own to attempt to break him out of his frigid state, a worry beginning to settle itself in your stomach. “Mr. O’Hara? Can you hear me?” you declare a little louder than the first two times.

Your voice makes him blink and he clears his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at the sudden loss of composure. “Yes, I-I’m fine…” he mutters as he tugs at the tight collar of his dress shirt.

You nod with visible skepticism. Miguel turns away from your gaze to avoid further questioning, since he knows you’ve been at his side long enough to know his behaviors. “Are you sure?”

He nods and stifles a sigh, nodding. The flurry of what had just occurred in his mind lingers almost painfully and it takes him a while to remember where he is and why. Right… the annual celebration gala… with you… to make up for the date that never happened.

His mind is a mess. It’s an incoherent tornado of everything and anything, with images of all kinds flashing throughout his mind—young Gabriella’s drawing of you and her as princesses that she insisted on framing, your face of disappointment that you gave him when he ditched out on the date, a flashback of his ex slamming his old apartment door on him as an infant Gabriella screamed and wailed in her crib, you hugging his daughter after her winning goal, Miguel’s frazzled self as he showed up too late to his daughter’s first Parents Day with a teary-eyed Gabriella, him finding you quietly reading a sleepy Gabi a bedtime story after a long shift at work, you making baked goods in the kitchen with her.. you tucking in her into bed… you suddenly with a suitcase in hand, a sobbing Gabriella in the back as Miguel begged you to stay before you slammed the door behind you and leaving them—

Miguel stands up abruptly, making you jump. The collar and tie around his neck suddenly seem too tight and his throat runs dry. The air grows hotter and his vision starts to blur.

“Mr. O’Hara,” you start as you also stand up, “Is everything alr—”

“I need some air,” Miguel barely chokes out before he leaves the banquet hall without another word. He can just barely hear you ask if there’s anything you could do before he turns a sharp right and leaves the entirety of the building altogether, choosing to remain in the back garden to breathe in fresh oxygen, a relieving chill to the air.

A hand goes to loosen his collar and tie and he can feel himself gain consciousness again. The sky is draped with an ink blue all over, speckles of the night stars scattering all around. The floral smell of many garden flowers fills his senses and Miguel grounds himself properly before he settles himself on a stone bench to balance in his mind.

He attempts to reason with himself.

Clearly, you don’t mind being with children, and obviously you don’t mind being with and taking care of Gabriella. She’s not simply a job to you that you’re forced to work with—you’ve said it yourself. Otherwise, you wouldn’t go to her games nor would you remember to bring her small gifts of her liking. You’ve done things for her out of your own initiative many times. Gabriella is your world, Miguel thinks, as much as your hers.

Now there’s the problem of you being with Miguel, if your feelings haven’t changed all too much. In all honesty, Miguel thinks if he’s with the right person, he’s sure to put in effort into stabilizing and nurturing a proper relationship. He hadn’t had the time to go around and look for love because of work and Gabriella, so serving as this sanctuary that came to him was basically a perfect fit into his life—don’t mind it took him three years to notice it. You’re worth putting that effort in.

Finally… there’s the possible chance that you reject Miguel’s proposal of being Gabriella’s secondary caretaker.

…

Miguel attempts to process it in a more… positive light. One that won’t send him spiraling.

But it’s nearly impossible.

How is it possible to settle a middle ground of happiness, or at the very least… satisfaction, between you and him and Gabriella? How do you imagine a happy ending to a dawning of Gabriella’s happiness? How can Miguel ever face you after asking such a thing?

His vision shakes again, another hurricane of impossible questions begins whirling in mind. The bile in his stomach churns uncomfortably and his hands grow clammy again. His feet feel like they’re sinking in the dirt. Somehow, even at a staggering height compared to most of his colleagues, Miguel feels small once more.

Would he be able to cope with such a—

A loud crash and multiple screams suddenly break Miguel out of his state and he whirls his head to see what was happening inside. The peek of something green slithers inside the massive hole in the glass ceiling indented in the building, and it doesn’t take Miguel long to know what’s happening.

He sprints back inside the building and into the banquet hall, the opposite way where everyone is headed and takes a swift peek inside to what was happening.

A horrifically large green lizard crawls on the floor, letting out an agonizing roar of sorts with its tail swishing about and knocking everything and everyone in its path over. Dr. Curtis Connors, the one foe Miguel had fought a few months ago and had just managed to escape his grasp, had come back for revenge in a newer, more improved, more terrifying form of his initial self-experiment. News of his identity had leaked out immediately the moment that he had defeated the mad doctor, and every work that was researched by him that was deemed irrelevant by Alchemax was unpublished and/or destroyed—that included raiding everything in his personal lab—an urgent executive order made by Tyler Stone himself.

Hungry for revenge for the destruction of his work, Miguel was certain he was back for revenge as back when he was still sane, the amount of research that Dr. Connors had put in was extensive and yielded long years in the making, spanning over nearly three decades of research that was wiped away in the matter of a single day thanks to Alchemax.

Miguel quickly turns a corner, hidden from the public eye, and commands his suit on before quickly re-entering the banquet hall. He swings up towards the domed ceiling and carefully analyzes the area.

There’s still a few people scattering from the room, shrieks echoing from the walls. His eyes go to search for where you are in desperation, praying you’re safe somewhere outside, but a flash of light pink catches the corner of his eye. He nearly snaps his neck when he finds you running in the opposite direction of where most people are headed—towards the garden.

“(Y/N)!” Miguel yells out without thinking and slaps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, you don’t hear him due to the commotion inside the area as you swim against the current of people. You fight the urge to fall down with every person that bumps into you amidst the chaos before you thankfully make it near the exit.

He lunges down from his spot on the ceiling, lassoing a few people that nearly get crushed under Lizard’s humongous tail and bringing them to safety properly on the way, making his way towards your figure. Rubble from the many columns begin to collapse on themselves; clouds of dust and debris fog the first floor of the hall with the wreckage already trapping some people inside.

A large chunk from the wall creaks and begins to teeter over the south exit, where you’re headed. A certain distraction diverts you from noticing the large cement framework around the exit that’s about to topple on you to Miguel’s horror. In the nick of time, he just barely manages to snatch you by the waist from a thrusted sprint just before the framework collapses with a thunderous boom.

You and Miguel cough from the dust it created. It takes a good second for you to process what your fate might’ve become, and it takes just another second for you to regain your consciousness. A good part of the exit is now blocked, but that doesn’t stop you from taking off your heels and attempting to climb over it.

Miguel barks out and grabs your arm that’s now scathed with slight scratches. “The hell are you doing?!” he exclaims worriedly.

You turn back with a teary and troubled look on your face, much to his shock. Abruptly, you turn back towards the exit and attempt to tug back your arm from his firm grasp. “M-my boss… he’s inside the garden,” you croak miserably out as you try to pull yourself over the fallen column. “I need t-to know if he’s safe…”

Lizard lets out another mighty howl and patters toward the stage, his tail once again swinging haughtily and ignoring anything in its path. Miguel shouts at you to duck and pulls you down along with him. You prop back up and without his arm on yours, you use it to your advantage and grunt yourself forward onto the column.

Miguel wraps a large hand over your ankle and weighs you down from moving any further. “Hey, you need to get out, now. You can’t be here, no one should be,” he urges.

The shake of your head concerns him—right, you’re too stubborn for your own good. “I’ll be fine. P-please, just leave me be.”

“Not when you’re about to get killed,” he declares and juts your ankle more towards him. The motion makes you fall into his chest and Miguel uses one hand to properly secure you to himself, the other launching and swinging a web to the north entrance.

You squirm and fight against him, pleading desperately for him to drop you and leave you alone. A frame of tears threatens to fall from your eyes from frustration and despair when you get put down. Miguel has to physically stop you from running back into the banquet hall once again—you put up a fight though. You thrash against him, clawing and weakly punching at his stronger arms, imploring for him to let you back inside.

“You don’t understand—” you gasp as the remnants of the people inside flood out. Looking over his shoulder, you gaze at the exit solemnly. “Please… I need to know if he’s alright—he h-has a young daughter back at home and if anything happens t-to him—just please let me go!” you wail.

He grabs you by the shoulders forcefully and settles you down, the stream of tears falling from your eyes running his throat dry once again. Miguel has never seen you cry, or even come close to crying. Not when Gabriella forced you to watch what she considered “one of the saddest movies in existence”, not when an entire glass beaker had toppled and its shards pierced your skin, not even when Miguel had first scolded you about your many mistakes on the very first document you turned into him.

Glassy eyes meet concerned, masked ones. Your lip trembled violently, the words all jumbled in your mouth about to spill. “Just let me check if he’s alright,” you just barely whisper.

He bores his gaze into yours as his composure does its best to upkeep him as best as possible. Miguel, from the inside of his mask, bites his lip and sighs. “I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

“What if you don’t?” you accuse with furrowed brows.

“I’ll bring him home safe and sound,” he says firmly. “You said he has a daughter, right? I won’t let her become an orphan. I swear on my life I won’t.”

Your gaze doesn’t falter, even when Miguel attempts to soothe you by chafing the chilled skin of your arms up and down in a calming manner. Unbeknownst to you, you and him share an image of Gabriella in your minds; it brings a sting of ache to your chests.

“How can I trust you?” you ask dryly.

“Because,” he goes to weave a string of webbing through the north entrance and takes you out into the safety of the outside. He settles you on the corner of two intersecting streets that sit nearby the building, with your tears still falling and hands trembling. A hand carefully holds your cheek and wipes away descending tears on your chalky face, Miguel ignoring the squeeze of his heart with each one that puddles on the sidewalk.

“... I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man leaves you on the sidewalk idly with the blurry figures of your co-workers and other people in the company whizzing by you with no concern for anyone else other than themselves. It takes a moment for you to understand what just happened and with whom, suddenly hit with the pang of realization that you had just met the Spider-Man: the well-known vigilante protecting Nueva York from all corners, beloved by the public. Excitement can’t seem to conjure itself within you, however, your gaze still lingering on the building that Miguel was possibly in.

A hesitant step takes you forward back to the building, but your phone vibrates abruptly from a notification from Mrs. Darcie. Word must’ve gotten out so quickly that it reached the O'Hara's neighborhood, as her text was asking if you and Miguel were alright. Your thumbs shake as you try and type up a response to let her know that you were at least alive, but you know that Gabriella wanted you both home.

The least you could do is make sure half of that concern was eased. You were counting on Spider-Man to do the rest.

With an arm reaching out for a taxi, you rush into one and tell the driver to step on the gas, promising to tip extra. You’d be willing to give all the money you had with you if it meant that you could be with Gabriella for tonight.

You’ve underestimated the nightly rush hour this Friday night had brought upon, because there’s a sea of cars that are equally as stuck as you are amidst the road. Tangible fingers go to grip your hair frustratingly, and asking the driver to go any further was basically useless. Each minute you wasted on the same road you had been on for what was nearing twenty minutes made you more anxious by the minute.

“I-isn’t there some sort of shortcut?” you ask the driver hoarsely. “I don’t care what roads you have to take, just please get off this one. I’m begging you. I have a child that’s waiting for me.”

His eyes give you a quick glance in the mirror, and empathy embeds itself in his equally tired eyes. He must be a father himself, you think, as he gives you an affirmative nod and swings off the road onto a much more bumpy and gravelly, but visibly less dense one.

It’s nearly an agonizing hour later off the road—it would’ve most likely reached around two or even three if you stayed on the main road—but you thankfully make it to the O’Hara’s residence. Your body moves on its own, flying out the elevator and speeding down the floor of the apartment. You burst open the door, visible sweat misted on your forehead and an ache to your limbs but all that is ignored when Mrs. Darcie greets you with relief, with a sleeping Gabriella settled soundly on the couch as her favorite TV show buzzes in the background.

She grasps you tightly by the arms. “My goodness, thank heavens you’re alright,” she murmurs quietly. “That must’ve been quite a scare… are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” you gasp out tiredly. “But how is she? Gabi, I mean… d-does she—”

Mrs. Darcie shakes her head. “She fell asleep a while ago, she doesn’t know. I just managed to get informed thanks to my son who works near the building. But where is Miguel?”

Dread floods your face once more, remembering why you left the banquet in the first place. Somehow, however, your phone vibrates and receives a text from the one and only. A loud sigh escapes your lips and you crumple to the floor as the feeling returns to your numb legs as Miguel’s texts ease your worries.

Hey I’m alive and alright. I saw you leave earlier, hope you’re safe. I’m omw home.

You fight the urge to burst into tears from the relief as Mrs. Darcie helps you back up. “I’m assuming that’s him,” she says gently as she encourages you to take off your heels. “What a waste of night and beautiful dress. Shame that blasted giant iguana or something had to ruin it.”

A broken laugh leaves you from her gentle humor. You glance down at the dress that the mysterious Lyla had given you tonight and sigh sadly at the many tears of the tulle and fabric. The dress looked expensive and you planned on wearing it again for formal events, but alas, fate has decided to toy with you.

“That’s alright,” you mutter as you help Mrs. Darcie gather her stuff back up so she can finally leave. “I have plenty of others to use in the meantime.”

The elderly woman leaves you inside their apartment after bidding you a goodnight to tend to Gabriella, who’s still sound asleep and oblivious to what was happening to the world and people around her. That’s a good thing, at least, you think to yourself as you tidy up the living room around her quietly. Ignorance is bliss, sometimes.

She’s still small enough that you’re able to carry her to her room even at her age and it reminds you a lot of when she was younger, when she’d pretend to be asleep so you could carry her yourself to go back to her room. Nowadays, she knows her bedtime and does it by herself, but assuming she had been waiting for you or Miguel to come home, sleep had snuck onto her as she waited and waited.

You put her down gently, hoping not to get any of the leftover debris on your soiled clothes onto her freshly-washed body. The action just barely stirs her awake, her eyes slitting open at the slightest bit. Your blurry figure just barely makes it to her senses and she grins sleepily.

A titter escapes her lips. “You look like a…” Gabriella starts, her words faltering due to a fading consciousness.

“Like a…?” you whisper softly, a hand stroking her hair gently.

“Like a…” you can tell she’s trying to find the words in her very limited vocabulary currently, her brain threatening to shut off at any second now. “Like a princess, I think?”

You raise your brows at her description as Gabriella immediately falls back asleep. You suppose you do look much more dressed up from usual, but your cheeks tingle a hint of warmth at the comparison of literal royalty. You blame it on the drowsiness.

Your own tiredness begins to crawl up your spine as you stay by Gabriella’s side in her darkened bedroom, her quiet breaths soothing you like a lullaby. With heavy eyelids threatening to shut close at any minute, you fight the urge to give into the Sandman, insistent on Miguel’s return.

Miguel…

His name rings aloud in your mind for a moment.

Miguel…

“I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

Spider-Man’s familiar voice suddenly jolts you awake. Your brows crunch together. How on earth did Spider-Man know Miguel’s name when you merely referred to him as your boss? Perhaps he saw Miguel in the garden beforehand? Maybe Miguel had an earlier oncoming with him from before and Spider-Man just knew him from that one incident? Or… he just happens to know the names of all the citizens of Nueva York because… that’s just how Spider-Man is?

Or, was Miguel actually Spid—you shake your head in the same second you think of such a stupid reasoning. That’s impossible…

… you know in your heart that it just is.

Any reason that you attempt to give, you think of it as either obnoxious or just simply impossible. Maybe you did let it slip that your boss’s name was Miguel… that just seems like the most plausible reason. After all, your adrenaline was at an all-time high and you could barely remember what had happened before the takeover, let alone the conversations you had.

Whatever it was, it was going to bring Miguel back home, and that’s what ultimately had mattered in the end. It probably wasn’t even your business to prod around.

At Gabriella’s visible sleeping state, you stand up and start to head towards the bathroom to fix yourself up, but the sound of the master bedroom’s window suddenly shuffling open makes your nerves electrify. Miguel’s bedroom sat just right next to Gabriella’s, and it was also the bedroom that was nearest to the complex’s fire escape, so a break-in at this time of night was highly plausible.

Grabbing one of the displayed metal baseball bats on the wall, you turn off Gabriella’s lights and lock the door behind, ensuring her safety first before yours. You’re careful to tiptoe around the more creaky parts of the floorboards, desperate to make yourself not seen by the intruder as you step closer and closer to Miguel’s bedroom. The door is just barely ajar, and the lights are on. A distinct shuffling, bed springs, and a masculine groan echo from the crack of the doorway and when all is silent from the other side of the door, you make your move and burst in, ready to swing at whoever threatens the O’Hara residence.

The bat is suddenly grabbed from your hands from a familiar neon orange webbing and thrusted to the side of the room, where it thunks against the wall and falls limply. You gasp aloud and with nothing to defend yourself with, you look up with fear in your eyes that suddenly turn to shock from the sight in front of you.

There, standing in the same blue and red vinyl suit you had crossed paths with earlier, without its mask completing the look… and thus, exposing the face of the man you had been waiting for to come back home to you.

a/n ; second to last part to this mini-series and once again, i apologize for this nearly six-month delay, last semester was rough for uni. almost made this into two parts, but i felt like they just belonged together and i quite like the blend of them together.

thanks for the patience for those who stuck around and have waited far too long for this, you deserve this! i'm glad to see you all again <3 thank you endlessly for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and appreciated (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @raeisthebae @mvchmp @um-well @nintendh-e @eddieslooneymoonie @deputy-videogamer @xochyw @honeybeeznuts @aspens-cove @btszn @scaleniusrm @goldenpoison @the-pan-liquid (if you'd like to be either added or removed from the taglist, please lmk! i know it's been awhile, so hi again haha)

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader #fem!y/n

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povlnfour · 5 months

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ PADDOCK TO PADDOCK FINAL PART

series masterlist | prev part

lando norris x f!horse rider!reader

authors note: for the purpose of this i need you to imagine lando flew straight back to monaco the monday after vegas and didn’t need to fly to abu dhabi till thursday night… thank u

lando.jpg just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by oscarpiastri, daniel.jpg3 and 105,411 others

lando.jpg early birthday celebrations🇧🇷

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user3 CARLANDOOOO

user5 them going to brazil early just to hang out is so :(

user1 day 3 of the y/n drought and i just cried over a photo of her by a pool

user4 okay but who’s the third wheel….

user10 definitely y/n

landonorris it’s me they’ve rallied against me

carlossainz55 just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by 508,199 people

carlossainz55 gracias são paulo, now onto the race☀️

👤 tagged yourusername

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user7 oh so lando wasn’t kidding about him being a third wheel😭

user15 CARLOS AND Y/N DRINKING TOGETHER AHAHAHA AM I SENSING A NEW DUO

user2 can’t wait for people to start rumours about them now xo

user5 carlando holiday with added y/n,,,, my dream🥹

user4 i know y/n’s phone is full of such cute carlando photos this break couldn’t have come at a worse time

y/nupdates just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris and 15,406 others

y/nupdates y/n at the paddock with lily today for the quali of the brazil grand prix!! someone said lando gave her the stitch plushie when they arrived and she’s not let it go🥹

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user1 she looks sO HAPPY

user14 lando getting to see her every day and still stalking her fanpages is so adorable to me

user4 he’s just like all of us fr

user8 i’m so sad she can’t be with him on his birthday :( you know she’d give us the cutest lan content

mclaren just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, fernando_alo and 291,222 others

mclaren not much to see here. just lando norris things👀🧡

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user4 LANDOOOO

user14 cause he had his good luck charm there😌

mclaren 👀 we’re going to miss her

user5 future wdc coming

user8 THE WAY HE KISSED Y/N WHEN HE GOT P2😭

texts with lando ੈ✩‧₊˚

birthday texts with lando ੈ✩‧₊˚

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by alex_albon and 346,441 others

landonorris thanks for all the birthday wishes🤙🏻 had lots of fun with cake, golf and very fitting gifts which my girlfriend enjoyed🕶️

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user2 THE GLASSES😭😭😭

user4 IN TEARS

user5 more carlando and y/nlando content😭😭😭😭 we are THRIVING this week

user12 you’re so cute🥹

alex_albon tell y/n she’s so welcome for the laughs

landonorris she also loved the cardboard cutout of you

y/nupdates just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris and 17,208 others

y/nupdates best of luck to both @/yourusername and @/landonorris who compete today in respective competitions🩷 neither had a particularly positive saturday so we’re hoping they can bounce back stronger than ever!

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user7 good luck guys🥹

user8 masterclasses incoming

user13 y/n looked so nervous yesterday i hope she’s okay

user1 i think she had watched the quali before her own qualifying because her interview she said she had been distracted all morning😭

landonorris 🧡

liked by y/nupdates

texts with lando ੈ✩‧₊˚

y/nupdates just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 22,376 others

y/nupdates SHE’S ONLY GONE AND DONE IT😭 in her final competition before the winter rest, @/yourusername surprised everyone after a rough saturday and took gold with TWO ALL CLEARS🥹🩷 so proud of our girl!!! now she gets to enjoy her rest

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user3 CRYING IM SO PROUD

user12 SHE DID SO WELL

user1 devastated over lando but SO HAPPY FOR Y/N

landonorris that’s my girl🧡

user4 HI KING HOPE UR OKAY

lilymhe THATS MY OLYMPIAN😎 BRING ON PARIS 2024

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, alex_albon and 304,551 others

landonorris not how we wanted it to go but thank you for all your messages of support🧡 maybe not the best day for me but it certainly was for my girl, proud as hell

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user4 THE PHOTO ON THE STRETCHER YOURE SO UNSERIOUS

carlossainz55 glad you’re okay mate❤️

user5 glad you’re okay lando :( so proud of you no matter what <3

user1 him including y/n on the post🥹 they’re so in love

yourusername you’ll be back🧡

landonorris my superstar

user2 Y/N COMING BACK ONLINE JUST TO COMMENT OH I LOVE THEM

texts with charles and lily ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚

lilymhe just posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚

landonorris just posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 331,608 others

yourusername happy belated birthday my love @/landonorris. no one deserves to be celebrated more than you, and i hope i get to do this for a long time in the future. biggest thanks to my co conspirators @/charles_leclerc and @/lilymhe for making this happen. the rumours and the drama were all worth it

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landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 491,267 others

landonorris and with that, the 2023 season comes to a close. it’s been a busy one, not the most perfect end race wise, but one i will always remember because of you — my true prize🧡 so excited to see what you can do going forward. paris 2024 is going to be yours

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—————

a/n: ANDDDD that’s it :’) semi anti climactic i know but i just enjoyed writing this and wanted it to have a simple soppy ending so

considering doing a mini epilogue to show their lives as it carries on? lmk if that’s something you’d like to see eek

back to one shots i go eeeek

- giselle xx

taglist: @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee

#lando norris #f1 #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris au #mclaren #lando norris blurb #lando norris scenario #lando norris smau

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lazyjellyfish300 · 4 months

Text

~Lazy Jellyfish Writings~

Welcome

REMINDER: UNDER 18 DNI AS MOST OF MY WORK IS NSFW. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME. PLEASE DON'T PLAGIARISE/TRANSLATE MY WORK. REBLOGS/RECOMMENDING MY WORK IS MUCH APPRECIATED. REPOSTING IS OKAY AS LONG AS YOU CREDIT ME PROPERLY. 😄 IF YOU GET INSPIRED BY SOMETHING OF MINE PRETTY PLEASE TAG ME IN IT BECAUSE I'D LOVE TO SEE IT.

🪼🖤

Hello! I'm Jellyfish! (Jelly or JJ are also welcomed)♎🇹🇴 I like to write for fun and started this blog in Nov 2023 thanks to my Miguel O'Hara fixation.

I love to gush/talk about him and I mainly write for him at the moment and for the unforeseeable future 🤧. I'm happy to become moots and love to support fellow writers. 🖤 I don't take requests at this time due to personal nerves about meeting expectations and also due to time constraints, I'm sorry!

Miguel O'Hara(Reader x Miguel)

Most of my reader POVS are fem or AFAB, sorry. Since I am a cis female that is the pov I feel I can write the most accurately. I try to exclude reader's appearance as much as possible except clothing. I describe curvy body parts. You might have superficial things like tattoos or piercings once in a while but that's it. I try to do gender neutral every once in a while where I can.) My rating system is my humble opinion & might not be totally correct, read at your own risk.

🌶️-suggestive 🌶️🌶️-moderate smut

🌶️🌶️🌶️-very smutty 💖-fluff 💔-angst 🔥-slow burn/smut doesn't happen right away

-DD series🌶️🌶️🌶️🔥💔💖 (ongoing-9 chapters/11-links for the chapters will be in each post, Miguel is your Uber Driver with a twist on the og Miguel O'Hara comic) DD series art I have commissioned from the artist @ejpuki on insta

-As you slept 🌶️💔💖(Twilight AU with Miguel Cullen. He visits you while you sleep, TW: STALKERISH)

-Have I found You?- 💔💖Twilight AU Miguel Cullen, inspired by ending prom scene of the first Twilight movie

-In Between the Bookshelves-💖🔥🌶️🌶️🌶️ Librarian!Miguel AU, a trip to the library has a spicy conclusion

-In a Vial around your pretty little neck 🌶️🌶️💖(you & Miguel wear vials of each other's blood)

-The Stuffed Rabbit- 🌶️💖you go to Build-A-Bear and plan a Valentine's Day surprise for Miguel(same universe as in a vial around your pretty little neck)

-With New Eyes, Every Time-🌶️💖 with Miguel about your date to the aquarium, inspired by one of my moots.

-Books and Puzzles -🌶️💖 Bookstore, coffee and puzzle building date with Miguel

-Miguel Parenting Headcanons🌶️💖 (two parts which are linked in the post)

-Mom and Dad are Fighting on Christmas🌶️🌶️💔💖 (Jerry Maguire inspired, angsty piece with Miguel) also a Valentines spinoff: Mom and Dad are Fighting on Valentine's Day 🌶️🌶️💔💖

-Blurred Lines -🌶️🌶️💔💖, (2 parts)you become his fwb reluctantly in hopes he'll eventually fall in love with you too, but it's not that simple.

-Relationship Weight🌶️🌶️💖soft Miguel reassuring insecure reader

-Bedtime Giggles- 💖short fluffy blurb with Mig

-Breakfast for dinner 💖🌶️-short fluffy blurb with Mig

-An Easter Proposal(s)-💖🌶️ 3 short separate stories about getting engaged to Miguel on Easter, based off 3 different rings to choose from.

-Fortune Cookies💖-fluffy blurb with Mig sharing takeout & fortune cookies

-I'm Here -💖🌶️fluffy blurb with Mig, helping you with your back pain, inspired by another Tumblr user.

-A Day Off At Miguel's💖 -longer fluffy blurb where your boyfriend cheats & Miguel's there to cheer you up.

-Gentleman 💖🌶️💔 -mini series where you're a broke college student intern at Alchemax and Miguel becomes your sugar daddy

-Long Distance 🌶️🌶️🌶️-naughty dialogue on the phone with him

-Silent - 🌶️🌶️💖 smutty short blurb exploring Miguel's quiet side in the bedroom

-Love Across Dimensions💖💔-fluffy angsty headcanon outline of your relationship. A spinoff from Long Distance. Along with smutty pt 2.🌶️🌶️🌶️💖💔

-Still and All -angsty, heavier piece(lots of TW in description). You have a lifelong STI and you need to tell Miguel when you start dating him. 🌶️🌶️💔💖🔥

-The Woman He Didn't Choose -mini series ongoing 5 chapters/?-angsty Bachelor AU where you made the final two but he chose the other woman. 🌶️🌶️💔🔥

-Traitor- angsty blurb about your breakup with Miguel inspired by some break up songs🌶️🌶️💔

-Just A Little Carried Away -NSFW Mig blurb 🌶️🌶️🌶️

-Mirror-NSFW Husband!Miguel short blurb 💖🌶️🌶️🌶️

-Hand holding during sex-short NSFW Miguel thought🌶️🌶️🌶️💖

-Tell Me-hopeless romantic NSFW Miguel blurb where you tell him how much you love him during intimacy 🌶️🌶️🌶️💖

-In Your Name-NSFW Villain! Miguel drabble🌶️🌶️🌶️💖

-Apology-drabble, rainy, middle of the night makeup sex 🌶️🌶️🌶️💖

-One Cabin-🌶️🌶️💖(3 blurbs linked in the post) with Miguel playing on the one bed trope. Instead what if you had to share a cabin with him on a mission?

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Peter B. Parker x Reader

-DBF!Peter B. Parker comes to dinner -your dad's new friend from work comes over for dinner one evening with a spicy conclusion.🌶️🌶️🌶️💖

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Ben Reilly

Dating Headcanons-reader x Ben 🌶️💖

Traitor epilogue- Spider-Woman Reader x Ben 🌶️💖💔 this fic is technically a pairing with Miguel, however the epilogue has a happy ending with Ben after your breakup. 🫶🏽

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Carlisle Cullen

Random Headcanons 🌶️💖

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Gallery (art I've commissioned from artists to accompany my fics/just for fun)

Art by the amazing ejpuki on Instagram based on Part 1 of my Miguel series DD in which he meets you as your Uber Driver after a drunken night out, and your relationship grows based on the og Miguel O'Hara comic with a twist. Please check out ejpuki on insta and support 🖤

Art by the amazing ejpuki on Instagram based on Part 3 of my Miguel series DD in which he meets you as your Uber Driver after a drunken night out, and your relationship grows based on the og Miguel O'Hara comic with a twist. Please check out ejpuki on insta and support 🖤

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daisynik7 · 11 months

Text

Give You Blue

Chapter 2: First Impressions

Pairing: Eren x f!reader, Reiner x f!reader (past relationship)

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

cw: explicit sexual content/smut (flashback), language, angst

Word Count: ~3.6k

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Give You Blue Masterlist | ao3 | Give You Blue Taglist

Summary: You move into your new dorm with your friend and roommate, Annie, where you update her on your current relationship status. That night, you meet Eren Jaeger, your new Resident Assistant. Author’s Notes: Thanks so much for all the love so far on Chapter 1! Very excited for you all to see where this series goes. Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated, so thank you so much for the support! If you want to be tagged in any future chapters, please let me know in the comments or interact with the Give You Blue Taglist post. Appreciate y’all!

The bedroom window is cracked open, the chirping of crickets loud and oddly comforting. There’s the distant bark of a dog down the block, and the drone of a car, the distinct sound of wheels spinning slowly on gravel. The TV is on, a random show playing on low volume, enough to fill the space with ambient noise. Altogether, it’s the familiar symphony of summer nights spent with Reiner. Sure, it’s mundane and insignificant. But it’s yours.

It's past midnight, the two of you in bed, snuggled together. Reiner kisses you, slow and deep, tongue slipping past your lips to graze against teeth. His hand slides from your back, then underneath the waistband of your pajamas, feeling your ass through your underwear. The laugh track from the sitcom in the background drowns the moan that escapes you as his fingers work their way beneath your panties, rubbing your clit.

“Reiner,” you whine, shifting beside him to spread your legs apart. He chuckles softly, kissing your cheek before making his way to your ear, whispering, “Let me take care of you, baby.”

It’s the summer before university starts, one month left of vacation before the two of you are college students. It seems like only yesterday you were kids, chasing each other on the playground in your own little game of tag. Even now, eighteen and officially adults, the two of you follow where the other goes, attending Stohess University together. Some things never change.

His finger dips between your folds, gathering slick from your arousal, circling your throbbing clit. You squirm from his touch, your grip on his hair tightening from the stimulation. “Let me eat you out.”

You swallow hard, nervous by his offer. “No, it’s okay. I…I haven’t shaved,” you admit, embarrassed.

He laughs quietly, tugging at your chin to face him, nuzzling his nose against yours. “You think I care? Come on, Coco.”

You smile, pressing your lips to his. “Fine.”

He positions himself between your legs, pulling off your shorts and underwear simultaneously. Without hesitation, his lips latch onto your bud, licking and pushing his tongue against it. You grab his pillow, scented like him, covering your mouth to muffle your cries. You orgasm within minutes, knees wobbly from the pleasure, wet and loud smooches as he kisses along the inside of your thighs, suckling at your skin. Soon after, he’s on top of you, cock hard in his fist, stroking his shaft. He guides himself inside you, your pussy adjusting to his size until he bottoms out. You wrap yourself around him, legs coiled at his waist, arms draped over his shoulders. He kisses you on the lips before he starts thrusting. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”

He makes love to you gently, his hips rutting into you at a steady pace, hands caressing your skin delicately. You whimper beneath him, your second climax approaching, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, his luscious words charming you into a daze.

I love you.

We were made for each other.

It’ll be like this for the rest of our lives.

You wake up in the dark, facing the blank wall. It takes you a moment to realize where you are: inside your dorm room, alone in your bed. Sighing, you reach behind for your phone, face-down on your nightstand. Clicking the lock button to illuminate the screen, you squint your eyes while they adjust to the light, checking the time: 9:54 PM. It’s been hours of you lying dormant, in and out of sleep, ignoring the grumble of hunger in your belly, the stiffness in your limbs. You unpacked haphazardly after Reiner left and immediately retreated under the covers, body curled in the fetal position, mind racing with memories of the past. Now, it even haunts your dreams; you can’t escape it. It’s all you think about, asleep or awake. Scenes of your life together playing like a movie in fast-forward, pausing on all the empty promises. A glaring reminder that he lied. In his defense, you’re certain he meant it at the time. But being angry at him is easier than the actual convoluted feelings you’re experiencing. You want so badly to be mad at him, to hate him. After everything you’ve been through, it’s impossible. That’s the fucked-up part: you’ll always love him.

You unlock your phone, checking for any notifications, disappointed when you don’t see one from Reiner. Part of you hopes he would text you to check in with how you’re doing. After all, he said you are still his best friend. Does he really mean that? The last message he sent was from a few days ago, before he picked you up from your house. Heading over now. See you soon! He helped pack your belongings in his car, smiling and carefree, excited for the new semester. Everything was normal, and now, with a blink of an eye, it’s not.

You force yourself to close out of his message, convinced that you would stare at it the rest of the night if you let yourself. Below are your texts with Annie, your roommate and long-time friend. She texted you earlier this week, informing you of her arrival tomorrow morning. You’re unsure how she’ll react when you break the news to her. She’s always been wary of Reiner, despite knowing him just as long as you have. Another classmate from the same kindergarten class, though she never trusted him. While they are cordial with each other, you know deep down she harbors some sort of ill feeling towards him. The reason remains a mystery. If you were to guess, it could be that she never felt comfortable with you being so attached to him. “You rely on him too much.” She’s told you this multiple times, always waving it off with a laugh and a, “I know.” As if it were endearing to be so dependent on one other person.

And it wasn’t one-sided; Reiner relied on you too, especially during the lowest points of his life. When he was twelve, he attempted to reconnect with his estranged father. The asshole didn’t even want to look at him, immediately refusing the idea of reuniting. And when his mom chose to ignore the issue than face it, the only person he had left was you. From then on, you were everything to him. He held you on the highest pedestal, so naturally, you did the same with him.

We rely on each other so much; we’ll never be able to explore the real world. He said that to you earlier this morning. This whole time, you thought what you and Reiner had was the real world. All along, you were in your own little bubble, shielding each other from harm, concealing what else the universe can offer. You were happy this way, and you thought he was too. Or maybe you didn’t know any better.

You stare up, still in darkness, barely making out the popcorn ceiling of your bedroom, contemplating. You’re beginning to understand the reasons behind Reiner’s decision. Still, heartbreak hurts, and you wished he had talked to you about it before completely blindsiding you. Would it have stung less? Who knows. No matter how it could have happened, this is pain you have to suffer through. And this time, you don’t have him to help you endure it.

~~~

The next morning, you wake up from the walls rattling as Annie drags two giant suitcases aggressively through the doorway.

You turn to face her, still in the same state you were in last night. Empty stomach, body even stiffer from inactivity, eyes swollen. And Annie, being as observant as she is, doesn’t let this go unnoticed.

“What the hell happened to you?” She smirks, amused by your awful appearance, most likely thinking you had a rough night’s sleep. Nothing serious. You’re used to her blunt personality; you’ve always respected it. However, right now, it’s all a little too much.

You can’t hold back your tears, admitting, “Reiner broke up with me.”

It’s an instant switch in demeanor. She drops her bags to the floor, rushing to you, sitting at the edge. Her brows are knit with concern, mouth partly open in shock. “What?”

You briefly explain what happened, giving her all the most important bits. She listens to you without interrupting, expression unchanging. When you’re finished, she takes a deep breath and mutters, “I’m going to kill him.”

She stands up so abruptly that you’re actually convinced that she will, so you grab her by the wrist to stop her. “Annie, don’t.”

“Why shouldn’t I? He deserves it. How can he do this to you?” She crosses her arms over her chest, pacing the small space between your two beds.

“You’re the one who said we rely on each other too much!”

“I know, but still. This is vile, even for him. He could have handled it better. He’s an asshole for doing it the way he did.” You stay silent, unsure how else to respond. You don’t want to defend him; it’s not your job to do that anymore.

She lets you off the hook for a while, leaving the room to fetch the rest of her belongings. You remain in bed, watching her slip in and out of the room, appreciating the fact that you are no longer alone. With her side of the room unpacked, she focuses her attention back to you, hands on her hips like she means business. “You’re going to get through this, okay? Baby steps. First, you need to shower and brush your teeth.”

“How’d you know – ”

“Your breath stinks and you look awful.”

This is when you’re more than thankful for Annie’s straightforward tendency. For the first time in what seems like forever, you let out a genuine laugh. “You’re right.”

“Then, we’ll get lunch. The old man got me on the platinum meal plan again, so we can feast all semester long. See? Baby steps.”

You give her a small grin, nodding, bones cracking as you sit up to hop off the bed. When you stand, your legs almost give way; Annie catches you, offering stability. After a well-needed shower and an extra-long brush of your teeth, you throw on an outfit, ready for daylight.

On your way to the campus cafeteria and all throughout lunch, Annie distracts you with a detailed recap of her summer vacation. Normally, she doesn’t talk this much, more of a listener than a chatter herself, but you know she’s trying anything to help you in your current misery. That means keeping your mind off Reiner and learning more about the Leonhart’s trip to Spain and the Bahamas.

With food and nutrients back in your belly, you’re already feeling better. This moment is fleeting, however, when you make your way back to the dorms. Walking in the opposite direction is Bertolt Hoover. You think there’s a chance he doesn’t notice, since he’s chatting with the girl beside him. Unfortunately, he does. When he spots you and Annie, he waves, facing his friend to say something. She parts ways with him, leaving him alone with the two of you. “Hey.”

You force a smile, while Annie glares at him. “Hi, Bertolt.”

Clearing his throat nervously, he stutters, “How are you?”

He knows, he has to. Bertolt is Reiner’s best friend, outside of you, and surely, he’s aware of it. You shrug, words not sufficient enough to explain what you’re feeling. He understands, nodding awkwardly. “I’m sorry. About you and Reiner.”

“Did you already know he wanted to break up with her?” Annie blurts out, unable to help herself.

He sputters, clearly uncomfortable. “I…I mean…He may have mentioned it, yeah.”

She scoffs. “Wow. Unbelievable.”

“What was I supposed to do, Annie?!” he asks, defensively. “Rat him out?”

“You could at least given her a warning. Or encouraged him to talk to her before dropping a fucking colossal bomb.”

“You know how he is. Reiner isn’t good at dealing with this kind of stuff. He confuses himself about what he really wants.”

“There was definitely a better way to handle it, I’m sure you can agree with that, Bertie.”

They argue with each other for a while longer, Annie’s petty nickname for him triggering another angry response. You look down at your feet, wondering what Reiner told Bertolt that he didn’t have the guts to tell you.

Heated discussion fizzling out, Bertolt utters your name softly, catching your attention. “Look, I know this is all still fresh. But I wanted to check on you. You’re still my friend. I hope you know that.”

It’s practically the same statement Reiner said yesterday morning. You’re still my best friend, Coco. I hope you know that. A throwaway sentiment that’s supposed to make it all okay. As if it justifies it. You could let it pass, be on your way without discussing it further. But you don’t. Instead, you say, “A friend would have warned me, or at least tried to. I got blindsided, Bertolt. And it fucking hurts.”

He’s silent, unable to think of a good response. There’s nothing else he can say to make the situation any better. “Well, I’ll let Reiner know that I saw you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“He’s worried about you. You haven’t texted him, so he doesn’t know how you’re doing.”

This sets you off. “He broke up with me and expects me to reach out to him? What the fuck is that kind of logic?”

“I know, I know. I’m just relaying what was mentioned to me, okay?”

Blowing up at Bertolt won’t solve anything. With a deep exhale, you calmly state, “If he wants to talk to me, then he’s more than welcome to. But I’m not going to reach out to him. He wanted this breakup. I’m trying my best to move on.”

~~~

Annie stays with you in the room as you crawl back under the covers, enough excitement for the day. You spend the afternoon watching sad movie clips on your phone, torturing yourself with even more pain. Around 5:00 PM, there’s a knock on the door. You remain still, facing the wall, uninterested in who’s there. Your roommate answers, chatting with whoever it is for a few minutes before they leave. She calls out your name, checking if you’re awake. You crane your neck to meet her eyes, listening.

“That was Eren, our new RA. He’s inviting us into the common room at 8 for some cupcakes. He wants to formally introduce himself and meet everyone.”

“Okay.”

“You’re going.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because I said so. You could use a cupcake.”

You don’t have the energy to argue with her, so you agree, focusing back on your phone to watch the rest of your video. You do love cupcakes. And it wouldn’t hurt to see who else is in the building.

Annie steps out to eat dinner with her other friend Hitch, who’s living in the Mu Phi sorority house this year. When she returns, she hands you a box of food she ordered to-go, coaxing you into eating at least a couple of bites. By the time 8 o’clock rolls around, Annie pulls you out of bed, dragging you down the hall into the common room, where there are already people gathered. You recognize some faces, classmates and neighbors from your previous residence, waving at them with a tight smile. Praying that no one asks you about Reiner. You were the couple that everyone knew about; high school sweethearts, childhood friends, destined to be together forever. It makes you sick thinking about it, your relationship put on a spotlight like that. Out there in public for everyone to speculate now that it’s over.

A well-built brunette, clad in a hoodie and jeans, rushes into the room, two boxes stacked on top of each other in his hands. He sets it down on the table, smiling as he looks around the room. “Hi everyone. I’m Eren Jaeger, your RA for this year. Sorry I’m a little late; my brother just dropped these off for me, so I got a bit delayed. Anyways, thanks for joining me tonight. I promise this won’t take long. I know some of us have class tomorrow, so I’ll make this as short as possible.”

He asks everyone in the room to share their name, major, and a fun fact about themselves, starting with himself. “Like I said, I’m Eren Jaeger. I’m a pre-med biology major. And I have a massive sweet tooth.” He flashes a warm smile, then turns to the next person on his left, going clockwise. Each time someone shares, he has a polite follow-up comment. “Wow, that’s a tough major!” or “You’ll have to teach me how to hacky-sack one day!” When it gets to you, you introduce yourself, mention your major, and, without really thinking outside the box, you share, “I was born and raised in Marley.”

It's the most boring fact you can think of, but even at this, Eren manages to find something nice to add to it. “My dad and brother are originally from Marley, so I have that connection with it. Very cool.”

His enthusiasm for the most mundane things is endearing. He doesn’t look like the type to be this earnest; hair tied in a messy man-bun, baggy black sweatshirt with some obscure band name across the front, tour dates listed on the back. Jeans ripped at the knees, classic black high tops on his feet. He even has a chain around his neck with an old-fashioned key dangling from it. You’re not quite sure what you make of him yet, but upon the first impression, he seems nice.

After everyone has had a chance to go, Eren announces, “Feel free to stick around and mingle for a bit. And please help yourself to these cupcakes. They’re all the way from Marley, and they’re amazing.”

This piques your interest. You nudge Annie, whispering, “Do you recognize where those are from?”

She leans closer to inspect the box, eyes widening at the familiar labeling. “Oh. They’re from Liberio’s Bakery.”

Upon hearing the name, your heart sinks, memories flooding your mind. This is yours and Reiner’s favorite bakery, the one you grew up with. Cakes made special for milestone birthday parties, like the triple layered chocolate volcano for Reiner’s tenth, complete with fire red buttercream frosting to mimic lava. Cookies as big as his head, soft and gooey in the middle, crispy on the edges, exactly the way he liked it. Or his favorite, red-velvet cupcakes, spelling out, “Prom?” in your senior year of high school, when you decided to ask him first before he asked you.

You stand, rigid in place, throat tight, tears welling in your eyes. At the worst timing possible, Eren, oblivious to what’s happening by no fault of his own, walks over to you, a cupcake in his palm, smiling. “Would you like one?”

Unable to hold it in any longer, you burst into tears, burying your face in your hands.

Eren, rightfully freaked out, panics, quickly glancing at Annie for guidance. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing you did, Eren, don’t worry,” she begins to explain. “She’s just…she’s going through a breakup right now. And Liberio’s is her and her ex’s favorite bakery, so…yeah.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Oh man. If I had known, I wouldn’t have asked Zeke to bring them. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It really is a great bakery.”

“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting you’re from Marley too. Damn, what are the chances? The one place I pick to surprise you all with, it causes one of my residents to cry. Am I a shitty RA or what?” he chuckles.

“I blame your brother, he’s the one who introduced you to it.”

“Yeah, if anything, let’s blame Zeke.”

They share a laugh as you sputter into your hands, wiping snot and tears away with your sleeves. “I’m going to grab some tissues for her from the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” Annie announces, leaving you alone with Eren.

He clears his throat, uttering your name before he apologizes again. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s-hic-not-hic-your-hic-fault,” you assure him, through choked sobs.

“Still, I feel terrible. I don’t know what you’re going through, but I know that breakups always suck.”

You nod, trying to collect yourself so you can apologize for putting him in this situation. Before you can, he says, “If you ever need anything, I’m just down the hall. Seriously. Don’t hesitate to knock on my door.” He offers you a gentle smile. It’s words that are often said in passing, but the way he looks at you, it feels genuine. Like he truly means it.

“Thank you,” you respond, taken aback by his kindness.

Annie reappears with a bunch of tissues in her hands, handing them to you to wipe your face dry. “Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine now,” you answer, avoiding Eren’s gaze, still mortified about the whole situation. You ignore the wandering eyes from the other resident’s, saving further humiliation for another day.

“Anyways, I’ll leave you two alone. Again, sorry about this. Let me know if you need anything. Like I said, I’m down the hall.” He turns on his heel to walk away, then backtracks, facing you again. “Here.” He thrusts his palm forward, presenting you the treat. “Cupcakes are always sweet, even after a breakup. You owe it to yourself to still enjoy the things you like. No one should ever change that for you.”

You take it into your hands, touched by his parting words and generosity. Back in the room, after careful contemplation, you decide to go for it. You peel back the liner and bring the cupcake to your lips, taking a bite.

Eren’s right; it’s still just as sweet.

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 10 months

Text

Comet Donati [Chapter 1: History]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+) and drugs, alcohol, smoking, astronomy, mental health struggles, Missouri.

Selected Chapter Quote: “You’re gonna love Aemond. He’s so fucked up. He’s like Disney World for therapists.”

Word count: 4.1k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

* * * I’m going to tag like a bazillion people since this is the first chapter of a new fic, but I WILL NOT TAG YOU AGAIN unless you ask me to. I hope you are all doing well, wherever you are in the world. 🥰😘 * * *

@borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @teenagecriminalmastermind @quartzs-posts @tclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @chainsawsangel @itsabby15 @padfooteyes @arcielee @travelingmypassion @what-is-originality @burningcoffeetimetravel @randomdragonfires @aemcndtargaryen @jvpit3rs @sarcastic-halfling-princess @flowerpotmage @ladylannisterxo @thelittleswanao3 @libroparaiso @tinykryptonitewerewolf @girlwith-thepearlearring @minttea07 @trifoliumviridi @deltamoon666 @mariahossain @darkenchantress @doingfondue @atherverybest @namelesslosers @skythighs @moonlightfoxx @partypoison00 @bellameshipper @coffedraven @greenowlfactif @catalina-howard @babyblue711 @marvelescvpe @heimtathurs @ammo23

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters! 💜

“You are a professional,” you tell your reflection threateningly, like it owes you money. Your hair is painstakingly tidy, your makeup neat, subdued, businesslike. You are wearing a black blazer, a white blouse, and Cookie Monster pajama pants. You are in your one-bedroom apartment in Kansas City, Missouri: grey, thunderous, humid as hell, June raindrops on the windows. “You have a master’s degree and hundreds of clinical hours and you are not afraid of clients. Not at all! Not even a little bit!”

You check your phone. 2:55 p.m.

“Oh God,” you whine to the checkered tiles of the bathroom floor, to the floral wallpaper. You clutch the cold porcelain of the sink: rose-pink, 1950s, diners and Thunderbirds, housewives and Valium. “Oh my God. Oh my God. I can’t do this. Oh my God.”

But there is no escape! You hurry, sweating profusely, to your laptop. You start the Zoom meeting and wait for your client to arrive, chewing your thumbnail until it bleeds, a scarlet semicircle of dull warm pain, a crescent moon like spilled merlot. You glance at your notepad again. David Mills, 25, married, anxiety upon relocating to a new city and beginning employment there.

Wait.

You confirm with a quick Google search in a new tab. David Mills was the protagonist in Se7en.

You sit back in your swivel chair, eyes narrowed with suspicion. The blue-white luminance of the screen glows on your face like moonlight. Your client is either a coincidence or a liar.

So what? People lie. People lie about therapy especially. So he wants some anonymity. Big deal.

“Strange,” you murmur to yourself.

You have no further opportunity to mull it over. A gratingly cheerful ding announces your client’s arrival in the Zoom meeting waiting room. No avatar, name still listed as David Mills.

“Okay. Okay. It’s fine. Here we go.”

You shake the tremors out of your hands and admit him. He pops onto the screen like a bloom of ironweed, like fireworks on the Fourth of July. It’s nighttime wherever he is. The background is dark and indistinct, shadowy; lamplight cascades across his face, topaz and fool’s gold. You are startled to realize that you already know him. And his name is definitely not David Mills.

“…Aegon?!”

He grins, sly and cocky but never cruel. “Hey.”

“Aegon Targaryen??!!”

“That’s me!” he concurs brightly. “What’s up, Stargirl?”

And instantly, you are transported back to almost exactly one year ago: a rooftop bar downtown, neon signs coiled in shades of violet and rhodonite and sapphire, night wind, constellations, ice clinking in misty glasses, locks of his hair skating between your fingers, the sting of his teeth on your throat, the Weeknd. “Hey,” you say softly. And then again, with more enthusiasm: “Hey! I saw you on Good Morning America last week!”

“Yeah? Was I good?”

“Jace was good. You were slightly offkey.”

“Aw shit. I usually am.”

“That’s okay. You’re the hot loser, right? That’s your character?”

“That’s me, baby. That’s why it works so well.”

It’s impossible: time has passed, thousands of miles have opened up between you, and yet it’s like he’s right here in the room, he never arrived, he never left, he’s always been here for life to grow up around like the framework of a house, a trellis, a skeleton. “How did you find me?”

“I couldn’t remember your name, but I figured you must have finished school by now. So I Googled therapists in Kansas City. Do you know how many there are?”

“500,” you guess.

“712,” Aegon says. “At least, that’s how many I scrolled through before I found your photo.”

“Wow.” You’re smiling; you can’t take your eyes off him. A lot of girls have that problem. That’s why he’s worth $100 million. “Couldn’t remember my name, huh? I guess I didn’t make much of an impression.”

He chuckles, a little bashfully, sweeping his blond hair off his face. “No. No, you definitely made an impression.”

So did he. In the downstairs bathroom of the bar, tucked beneath a staircase, stark white florescent lights and red walls, lip biting and ripped seams on your dress. He’d finished in approximately thirty seconds—which, oddly, felt more like a compliment than anything else—and then promptly snapped off the condom, dropped to his knees, and went down on you until you came not once but twice, a rarity for you. But that wasn’t the best part. Afterwards you’d gone back up to the roof together, sat in a quiet corner booth until the bar closed, talked about anything and everything with your bodies folded unconsciously into each other, origami, blended watercolors, whispers and murmurs, your palm on his thigh, his fingertips ghosting the underside of your wrist.

“So,” Aegon says through the laptop screen. “Are you, like, kind of unemployed currently?”

“No,” you reply, palpably defensive. Embarrassing! “I’m clearly working right now. You literally made a virtual appointment with me. I’m just…getting my practice off the ground.”

“Yeah but you seem lowkey unemployed.”

“You are so fucking rude.” But you’re laughing.

“I’m just saying, you had a lot of appointment times available. A lot.”

“I’m recruiting clients!” you exclaim. “I’m not like you. I can’t simulate sex with microphone stands to sell tickets.”

“That was one time!”

You smirk at him, eyebrows raised.

“That was…four times. That I recall.”

“I’m a professional. A serious, grown-up, certified professional.”

“You’re a glorified hobo, admit it.”

“You’re a dollar store Harry Styles.”

“Fuck,” he sighs, clutching his chest. “Okay you win.”

“Why did you do this? Why did you track me down in order to make some fraudulent therapy appointment?”

Now Aegon is something you’ve never seen from him before. He’s nervous. “I, uh…I need your help.”

“Really?”

“Well, not me specifically,” he amends. “We need your help. Comet does.”

Comet. What he means—what screaming fans all over the world mean when they drop this name in Reddit threads or Twitter hashtags or Tumblr gifsets—is the boy band Comet Donati. Three albums, five members: Aegon, Jace, Luke, Cregan, Daeron. The lineup has changed recently. Everyone knows why. “Help with what?”

“I mean…I’m sure you heard about what happened.”

“Yeah,” you say, somber now. Six months ago a piece of rigging collapsed during soundcheck at the Nippon Budokan in Tokyo. It hit Aemond, costing him six inches of flesh on the left side of his face, his sight in one eye, and his position as the undisputed, archetypal fearless leader of Comet. The celebrity gossip sites had reported that he was taking time off to recover, and then that his younger brother Daeron would be filling in for him at a few shows, and then suddenly Daeron was the fifth member of the band, and everyone was so charmed by his distinctly buoyant, sunshine-and-rainbows quality that Aemond faded from the discourse almost entirely, a ghost, a phantom, an antiquated word like telegraph or courtship or laudanum.

“So things are different now,” Aegon continues. “Things are…not always easy. And I think it might be a good idea to have you around.”

“Look, I’m not…like…” How can you put this? It’s something you have difficulty admitting out loud. “I’m not a real therapist, you know? You’re right, Aegon. I’m basically unemployed. I’m fresh out of my master’s program, I don’t have anywhere near the kind of experience that someone would need to adequately help Comet. So, maybe I could recommend some people to you, but other than that I don’t think I can—”

“It has to be you,” Aegon says.

You shake your head, gazing through the screen at him, through the space and the time. “Why?”

“When Comet performed in Kansas City…when we met at the bar that night…” He is hushed, meditative. “I don’t really remember what we talked about. But I remember exactly how you made me feel.” He smiles, the sort of smile you didn’t know he had in him: soft, pure, nostalgic, without edges. “I think Aemond could use some of that.”

The walls fall down around you, this apartment, this city, this life. “Where are you right now?”

“Capri.”

“Where?”

“Capri,” he says again, amused. “But we’ll be in Rome tomorrow. You can meet us there.”

“In Rome,” you repeat, like it’s Mars or one of Jupiter’s moons.

“Catch the next flight out. The band can reimburse you. We’ll get you a contract of some sort. Nothing too long-term, so you won’t be locked in or anything. A few months. Then we can reassess.”

“Okay, but…I don’t feel comfortable serving as an official therapist to you or anyone else in Comet, Aegon. The circumstances are less than orthodox. And not just because of the…um…bar bathroom situation.”

“Fine, whatever.” He’s high on the victory; the details don’t matter so much.

“Okay,” you say. And then again, giggling wildly at the ludicrousness of it all: “Okay! I guess I’ll see you in Rome tomorrow!”

“Cool. Let me give you my WhatsApp.” You exchange information, and then he grins at you, crafty and radiant through the screen. “You’re gonna love Aemond. He’s so fucked up. He’s like Disney World for therapists.”

“We’ll see,” you reply distractedly, already opening Expedia in a new tab.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Midwest, the East Coast, the Atlantic Ocean, the Mediterranean Sea, Southern Europe, green to blue and then green again as the plane descends into the Leonardo da Vinci Airport of Rome. You roll your single carry-on bag through the corridors, peering out the windows at cloudless cerulean skies and towering stone pines. Aegon meets you at the bottom of an escalator. He’s wearing cargo shorts, a neon green tank top, and matching Crocs. He’s slightly chubbier than you remember, just as beautiful, just as chaotically charismatic, the sun made flesh. He’s standing with a man you don’t recognize.

“Benvenuta, bella!” Aegon proclaims, nearly tackling you with a hug before taking your bag. He smells like beer, sunscreen, Axe body spray, summer air that unfurls warm and golden in the lungs.

“Oh, thank God,” the other man—possibly Italian, definitely gorgeous—exhales with great relief. “Aegon said he needed to meet someone at the airport and I was 90% sure that you would be a drug dealer. But you do not look like a drug dealer. You’re not a…are you a…?”

“No, I’m definitely not a drug dealer.”

“Okay. Great. Hello.” He extends a hand, tan and muscley. “I’m Criston, I’m the tour manager. It is my job to keep everyone alive and uninjured.”

“Four out of five isn’t bad,” Aegon says. And then, when Criston is clearly distressed by it: “Uh, anyway, there’s an Escalade waiting outside.”

The SUV is massive and black with tinted windows. As you follow Aegon into the backseat, several paparazzi appear on the sidewalk and begin snapping photos, calling out to you and expelling rapid-fire white flashes like lightning. Aegon ignores them. You’ve been travelling all day, and the sun is setting now in Rome. The sky is the color of embers, autumn leaves, Saturn. Criston climbs into the passenger seat and gives instructions to the driver. The Escalade wheels out of Arrivals, paparazzi sprinting down the sidewalk after it to take a few final pictures.

“So,” Aegon says, smiling. He pops open the mini fridge and hands you an ice-cold can of San Pellegrino. “Do you have a boyfriend back in Kansas? Or, maybe, boyfriends?”

“Missouri,” you correct him automatically. “And no. None worth mentioning.” A guy you’ve had lunch with twice, a guy you made out with at an Olive Garden, a guy you hooked up with back at UChicago who you’re still texting, guys who flit in and out of your mind like birds through the sky, impermanent, inconsequential.

“You still on the pill?”

“Yes.” You’re not offended. Aegon is teasing, and so are you. It occurs to you that talking to Aegon is a bit like talking to yourself; there are no awkward lulls, and he rarely says anything that shocks you. “But that’s not why I came to Rome.”

“That’s fine. That’s not why I invited you.”

As the Escalade zooms by iconic landmarks—the Spanish Steps, the Pantheon, the Piazza del Popolo—you ask Aegon about them. He has no idea; he makes things up instead.

“That’s the duck waterpark,” he says as you pass a fountain that’s over 1,000 years old. Then he points to a naked statue of an extremely buff Mercury. “That’s me before I started eating carbs again.” His only snippet of accurate trivia comes as you drive by the twilight-lit Colosseum. “Holy shit, that’s where Taylor Swift made out with Tom Hiddleston!”

“Surely more important things have happened there at some point in the past two millennia.”

“I doubt it,” Aegon replies, frowning out the Escalade window, taciturn. “I wish I got to make out with Taylor Swift in the Colosseum.”

Comet Donati is staying at the Anantara Palazzo Naiadi Rome Hotel, which closely resembles a palace. When the Escalade stops at the front doors, you drag your luggage out onto the cobblestones.

“No no no,” Criston says, grabbing the rolling suitcase from you. He gives it to a white-gloved butler along with a room number and then escorts you and Aegon to the top floor. It’s not until the three of you are in the elevator that you realize you are still wearing your highly unsophisticated travel-day attire: yoga pants, flip flops, a tie-dye hoodie with Louis Tomlinson’s face on it that you purchased from Etsy last winter. Aegon catches you scrutinizing your reflection in the mirrors that line the inside of the elevator.

“Traitor,” he says with a grin, massaging your shoulders. His eyes lock with yours in the mirror. His touch is—just as it was a year ago at that bar in Kansas City when you were home from school on break and he was a transient visitor, fleeting like a rainstorm—familiar somehow, pleasant and comforting but not profound, welcome without being necessary.

“Don’t hate him ‘cause you ain’t him. When was the last time you wrote a #1 hit single?”

“Never,” Aegon readily admits. “Although I got into the Top 5 in Norway once.” No, everyone knows that Aemond was Comet’s Louis Tomlinson: their best songwriter, their relatively unproblematic and grounded team captain, their protector, their compass. And now he has no official place in the band at all.

When the elevator doors open, Criston leads you and Aegon down the hallway to a bustling suite. Inside there are white leather couches and gold-colored lounge chairs, a bar, a staircase that leads up to the loft bedroom, people wandering in and out of air that is hazy with whispers and cigarette smoke. There are men in suits, women in short tight dresses, leather and velvet and sequins. You are woefully underdressed. Fortunately, so is Aegon. He is greeted with a dizzying array of cheers, waves, and toasts. Someone shoves an emerald green bottle of Peroni into his grasp. Kesha’s Your Love Is My Drug is vibrating through the speakers mounted on the wall: “What you’ve got, boy, is hard to find, I think about it all the time…”

“Hey, hey, listen up!” Aegon shouts, stepping on top of an ottoman, and the chatter lowers in volume like a radio being turned down.

You scan the smokey room until you’ve located all five current Comet Donati members: Aegon the disaster playboy, Luke the sensitive and kindhearted one, Daeron the energetic ray of sunshine, Jace the heir apparent in the power vacuum created by Aemond’s departure, Cregan the brooding, mysterious, sexy Northern Englishman. You know them, and yet you don’t. You know the characters they play, their reputations, their public personas…but that doesn’t mean you know them. Aegon is the only man you spoke to at the rooftop bar that night in Kansas City a year ago. So far, the mythical version of him seems quite consistent with reality.

Cregan is slumped at one end of the couch by the window and knocking back shots of what appears to be straight vodka. In the night sky beyond the glass, you can see stars and the illuminated Rome skyline: modern skyscrapers, ancient rubble. At the other end of the couch is Aemond. He’s smoking, drinking something iced and bloody pink, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, all in black like he’s trying to disappear. His left eye, the blind one, is an ethereal cloudy blue that reminds you of renderings you’ve seen of Neptune, Uranus, exoplanets, the Earth from space. He glances up at you and holds your gaze for just a few seconds too long. Then he looks away, bewildered, taking a drag off his cigarette.

Aegon introduces you to the room as you stand beside the ottoman, awkward and ashamed in your Louis Tomlinson hoodie. “She’s a friend,” Aegon says. “And she’s also a therapist.”

“Good, you need one!” Jace shouts through cupped hands, and there are tipsy titters and guffaws.

“Not for me,” Aegon snaps. “For you deranged bitches.”

As Aegon descends from the ottoman—klutzily, stumbling, clutching onto Criston like a baby lemur to its mother—Luke approaches to present himself. He has a mess of dark curly hair that falls over his face and large, honest eyes. There’s a black spiral notebook and a white gel pen in his left hand. He offers you his right. “Hi! I’m Luke Velaryon.”

“Yeah, I know. I spend a lot of time on Comet’s Spotify page.”

He groans. “I look so bad in that header photo.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s the nose. I have a pug nose. The label has been trying to convince me to get it fixed for years.” He turns to a girl who is practically hiding behind him: arrestingly beautiful in a fragile sort of way, gentle like a doe. “Maybe you can help Rhaena talk to people.”

“I have social anxiety,” she explains apologetically. Her voice is very quiet yet lyrical. There are weights tied to her confession, years of shame and despair. Luke throws an arm across her shoulders and hugs her to him, touching his forehead briefly to hers.

“That’s okay.” You give Rhaena a reassuring smile. “It’s super common, and there are a lot of strategies you can try that might make it more manageable.”

“It wasn’t a big deal at first, you know?” Rhaena says. It comes out in a rush like water through a cracked dam. Luke looks astonished but pleased. You have been known to have this effect upon people, a compulsive sort of disclosure that drains, empties, unburdens. Aegon is watching from several feet away, beaming between swigs of Peroni. “Luke and I met before he got famous and we could just hang out around the neighborhood. Ice cream, public parks, Pret a Manger, riding the Tube together. But now…now he’s always meeting new people and there are all these events I’m supposed to go to with him, and I can’t sleep properly for days leading up to each one, and half the time I end up hiding in the bathroom or being too nauseous to eat anything, and…”

Jace is at the bar and slurping a vesper: shoulder-length curls, flashy blazer with nothing underneath it, a contemplative appraisal of you. There’s a stunning girl sitting beside him that he’s not listening to.

As you are explaining the potential benefits of exposure therapy to Rhaena and Luke, Daeron bursts through the crowd to greet you. He’s their Niall Horan: warm, uncomplicated, disarmingly friendly, beachy blond hair, a golden retriever on two legs. He hugs you—spiritedly, like Aegon did—and then compliments your flip flops.

“So you’re our new therapist?” Daeron says eagerly, like this is something he knows they’ve needed.

“Well, I’m a therapist, but I’m not really your therapist. Because I can’t hang out with you guys all the time and also be your therapist. It’s unethical. But Aegon thought I might have some good ideas, I guess. In a strictly unofficial capacity.”

“Okay! Cool! And you and Aegon are…friends?”

“Um…yeah. Sort of.”

“Remember that show in Kansas City last summer?” Aegon tells Daeron. He’s supernaturally gifted at making everything sound blissfully casual, like there couldn’t possibly be more to the story. “I met her at the bar we went to afterwards.”

“Totally,” Daeron says. “Great city. Awesome barbeque.”

Criston asks him: “So, uh, how’s your mom doing?”

Daeron is puzzled. “Fine…?”

“Criston, please stop asking about my mom,” Aegon says. “It’s getting weird. It’s been weird. It was weird four years ago and it’s weird now. She has a husband.”

“Yeah, but is that…you know…is that still going well?”

“Yes, Criston.”

“Fantastic,” Criston mutters, pouring himself a Scotch. He uses the glass to gesture to you. “So what the hell am I supposed to bill her as? Aegon’s friend?”

“She’s a…” Aegon considers this, waving his Peroni around in the air. “Human resources mental health consultant.”

“She’s a what?”

“She helps resolve both intra and interpersonal conflict.”

“That sounds imaginary.”

“Well then you figure something out!” Aegon says, exasperated. “Isn’t this what you get paid for? To make problems go away? To keep us happy? To stop us from killing each other? You figure it out.” He saunters off to grace the drunken masses with his presence. Criston sighs and goes to stand by the wall with a herd of stone-faced businessmen in suits, record label guys, guys who only know how to see the world in terms of contract clauses and account balances.

Rhaena goes to stand by Jace’s companion, who—as you conjure up vague recollections of celebrity gossip sites—is named something like Bella or Bailey. Daeron is commandeered by a gaggle of adoring Italian women. Luke is showing Aemond something in his notebook: black pages, sparkly white ink. Aemond is nodding and giving critique, not that saccharine, generic, brainless kind of praise but authentic encouragement: try to think of a more specific word here, move that line up to the first verse, I love the use of this metaphor. Aemond’s voice dredges up memories you didn’t know you had of him on talk shows, in YouTube compilations, in songs you’ve been streaming on Spotify for years. Smoke drifts from his lips. Ice jangles in his organ-pink cocktail. And again, he looks up at you, inhaling poison as Luke makes his opal-ink edits.

“What’s that drink called?” you ask the bartender, and he squints across the room to where Aemond is seated on the snow-colored leather couch to discern it.

“A Bramble,” he says. “It’s named after blackberry bushes.”

“Can I get one?”

“Sure.”

You procure your drink and when Luke leaves the couch, you whizz past him like a meteor as you walk towards it.

“Hey,” Cregan flings impassively, not knowing why you’re here, not caring either.

“Hey,” you return.

And then you sit down next to Aemond, deliberately on his blind side. He glances over at you, his brow crinkling with confusion. Because—surely, undoubtedly—no one ever speaks about his injury, but it’s veined through everything they do, it’s a perpetual undercurrent that steers his life and yet cannot be voiced without breaching those vigilantly constructed levees of propriety. It’s the elephant in every room. It’s a ghost rattling doorknobs and tapping on windows. And sometimes the only way to free yourself of something is to throw the cage door wide open and set it loose.

“I accidentally wore your competitor’s merch,” you say. “I didn’t want you to have a good view.”

Aemond laughs, and the strangest thing happens: everyone in the room turns to look. On their faces are expressions of shock, bafflement, relief, wonder. Aemond shifts so he’s facing you, one elbow propped on the back of the couch. He sips the Bramble in his right hand, puffs on the cigarette in his left. And there it is, what people like to call a spark, but it’s something deeper than that: organic chemistry, neurotransmitter plumes, wells of marrow that sing to each other from beneath the darkness.

You nod to his cigarette, Benson & Hedges according to the shimmery gold pack that lays open on the glass coffee table. “You think that makes you cool?”

“I know it does,” he says. His gaze flicks down to your Louis Tomlinson hoodie…or what’s under it, perhaps. “Wouldn’t work on you though. Too far gone.”

You hold out your hand. After a few seconds, Aemond passes you his cigarette. You—very stoically, very nonchalantly—take a single drag and then erupt into a coughing fit, eyes watering, lungs gasping, surrendering the cigarette emphatically. Humiliating! Irredeemable!

“Told you,” Aemond notes. But he’s rubbing your back with a hand that is large and strong and yet careful. You smile at him. Aemond smiles too.

Criston pulls one of the suit guys aside and says: “Get her on the payroll.”

#aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x you #aegon targaryen ii #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x you #aegon x y/n #hotd fanfic #hotd

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lilacnini · 22 days

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POLAROID MEMORIES EVENT — an enhypen collab by @lilacnini & @nishions .

# ABOUT — as the embrace of spring envelops the earth, it beckons forth a season adorned with love and beauty. with a quarter of the year tenderly tucked away, memories, like delicate petals, unfurl, weaving together moments shared with cherished ones. The memories of dates, laughter echoing through time, and the gentle caress of affection intertwine to form warmth and nostalgia. Spring, with its soft whispers of renewal, unfurls a new chapter, inviting us to wander through the gardens of cherished memories once more.

# NOTE — new collab with @nishions, or liz!! im so excited to see everyone's works and ideas into this beautiful collab project! i hope everyone enjoys it <3

GUIDELINES —

ONE. STATUS —all entries are full

TWO. to participate, please send an ask to either liz (@nishions) or nini (@lilacnini) with your chosen member and the two keywords that are hidden in the rules. there will be two slots available for each member (excluding me and liz's pieces) please like & reblog this post to help boost this. first keyword is nostalgia

THREE. your work must have synopsis, genre, warnings, and word count before the main content. works with over 500 words must have a read more cut. use the tag "# ⋆.˚nin-liz event" in the first five tags for both me and liz to find it. you may either tag me or liz in your work as an alternative method.

FOUR. the written piece may be a oneshot, timestamp, long fic, and etc. (if writing any timestamp, it must be 400+ word count) and must be member x reader or member x oc. no drabbles, thoughts, series, or smaus!

FIVE. theme of this event is memories of being together. this can be in any form like angst or fluff. it can be any moment as well, but note to keep it sfw. second keyword is love.

SIX. please submit your work by 11 MAY 2024! drop outs are 30 APR 2024

SEVEN. plagiarism is strictly prohibited & will not be tolerated.

EIGHT. strictly no smut. suggestive or mature themes (death, violence, substance use, etc.) are not permitted. no racism, ableism, homophobia or similar prejudices. you will be removed from the collab.

NINE. please don’t be afraid to reach out to either of us if you have any questions or concerns! have fun writing !!

SLOTS & FICS — ENTRIES IN RED MEANS THEY'RE FULL

HEESEUNG · @lilacnini @enhasver

JAY · (2 person claimed but not finished)

JAKE · (2 person claimed, but not finished)

SUNGHOON · (2 ppl claimed, but not finished)

SUNOO · @stariikis (1 person claimed but not finished)

JUNGWON · @wonifullove

RIKI · @nishions @ms-no1kpopstan

O1. PAINTING DAY - LHS (@lilacnini)

you have many favorite moments with heeseung but your favorite is especially when you paint your boyfriend's nails for fun

O2. LUCKY GIRL - KSN (@stariikis

sure, you're already well known as enhypen member kim sunoo's girlfriend, but that doesn't hinder the thrill of tossing a coin and landing on heads when sunoo chooses you, in the midst of the crowd.

O3. PRIZE - LHS ( @enhasver)

you have lots of memories with your boyfriend heeseung, but one of the most cherished memories that you hold dear with your boyfriend heeseung is the day when you both visited the amusement park.

O4. STRANGERS - NRK ( @ms-no1kpopstan)

you break up with your ex and soon meet a stranger who comforts you throughout the night. but that stranger would be your "future" boyfriend, riki.

O5. THE BOY I LOVE BEFORE - YJW ( @wonifullove)

you discover the gifts your ex once gifted you on every date

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djarins-cyare · 9 months

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✭ Series Masterlist ✭

Languishing in a dull and lonely existence on the forest moon of Endor after travelling there to help salvage Death Star wreckage, a nearly fatal encounter with a mysterious bounty hunter out in the forest heralds an opportunity to utilise long-forgotten skills and develop something more profound than you ever thought possible.

Second person POV, present tense. Set post-season 2, diverges from Canon events before TBoBF and season 3. This is a novel-length, exceptionally slow burn with an original plot, worldbuilding, and fully-developed characterisation. SWU concepts and lore are accurately researched.

WORDS: 404,920

PAIRING: Din Djarin x Female Reader/You

RATING: Explicit (18+)

CHARACTERS: Din Djarin, Reader/You/Female OC, Original Non-Human Character(s), Original Human Characters, Greef Karga, Cara Dune, Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Peli Motto

TAGS: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Romance, Love, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Smut, Sex, Sexual Content, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Relationships, Healthy Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Dark Past, Additional Warnings In Author's Notes, Bounty Hunter Din Djarin, Soft Din Djarin, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Smart Din Djarin, Soft Dominant Din Djarin, Ewok Species, Mandalorian Culture, Mando'a Language, New Razor Crest, Thoroughly Researched, Worldbuilding, No use of y/n.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This took me almost a year to write and four months to edit/proof. Each chapter is prefaced with specific tags and (where necessary) warnings, plus word counts. End notes contain translations and comments… this baby is thoroughly researched, so I’m sharing context where appropriate. I’ve also added definitions of in-universe terms so people less familiar with the franchise won’t be left wondering what the hell certain words or references mean. This is a slow burn (adult themes), and although the explicit content only occurs in the latter half, when it does, it warrants the ‘E’ rating. Basically, the first half is a love story, and the second half gets spicy. I hope you enjoy it!

READ THE COMPLETE STORY ON AO3:

(Chapters containing explicit content marked †)

Chapter 1: The Obstacle

Chapter 2: The Interrogation

Chapter 3: The Covenant

Chapter 4: The Snare

Chapter 5: The Strike

Chapter 6: The Groundwork

Chapter 7: The Genesis

Chapter 8: The Progression

Chapter 9: The Hide

Chapter 10: The Beast

Chapter 11: The Adjustment

Chapter 12: The Storm

Chapter 13: The Broadside

Chapter 14: The Intercourse

Chapter 15: The Village

Chapter 16: The Confession

Chapter 17: The Reprieve

Chapter 18: The Fortification

Chapter 19: The Ambush

Chapter 20: The Meridian

Chapter 21: The Homestretch

Chapter 22: The Union †

Chapter 23: The Overture

Chapter 24: The Crescendo

Chapter 25: The Harmony †

Chapter 26: The Cadence †

Chapter 27: The Ride †

Chapter 28: The Veneration †

Chapter 29: The Spree †

Chapter 30: The Tribute †

Chapter 31: The Courage

Chapter 32: The Feast

Chapter 33: The Exhibition †

Chapter 34: The Reward

Chapter 35: The Binding †

Chapter 36: The Synergy †

Chapter 37: The Match †

Chapter 38: The Flag †

Chapter 39: The Foundling †

Chapter 40: The Future †

✨Additional Media✨

@burntheedges has written a spectacular little drabble detailing what Din was up to during the paragraph break near the end of chapter 1 (*SPOILERS* you don’t find this out until chapter 27).

@djarin-desires has created some awesome AI images of a few scenes using Midjourney.

I spent a stupid amount of money on the Hot Toys official Din Djarin action figure, simply so I could photograph him in poses from my fic 🤷🏼‍♀️ This is just a taster of what’s to come, but here he is offering to help Reader climb onto the speeder in chapter 8.

🧡💚 Thank you for reading! 💚🧡

Dividers by @samspenandsword

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lialacleaf · 5 months

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Simon Riley x Reader: Baking Headcannons Pt. 4

The Finale

Thank you all for your support of the Baking Headcannons! Despite this being the finale, I will be posting one shots for this series to my Patreon account in the near future!

Little feet pitter-patter across the floor of your home, and you watch from the couch as a small head of blonde hair pops up, a little hand swiping a lemon shortbread cookie off the plate settled on the counter.

Your home is often full of sweets and baked goods, and you're certain your husband gains a pound or two when he comes home from deployment. It's not like he's not going to work it off later anyway.

"Momma, why do you like making shortbread cookies so much?" Your daughter has always loved your cookies just as much as your husband does, and you smile at the memory of your first attempt at making them.

Simon always knew when you'd pulled his mother's cookbook out, and you could only describe the way he slunk into the kitchen as a lost puppy following his nose home by the smell of his favorite treats.

"What is it with you and the shortbread?" you asked one evening, licking lemon batter off the spoon once you'd stuck the cookies in the oven.

The look he gives you is so close to a smile it hurts. "Mum used to make em' for my birthday," he'd say, and you'd swallow thickly, bumping his shoulder playfully with your own.

Six months later you'd perfected the recipe for his birthday, just like his Mum would have done for Simon if she were still there.

After that, shortbread cookies had become a tradition. They were the first thing you and Simon baked when you moved in together and were featured on the dessert table at your wedding.

You still felt your face grow red at the memory of your mother profusely thanking Simon for teaching you how to cook, as she no longer had to fear for the safety of her kitchen during the holidays.

Blueberry shortbread had announced the arrival of your firstborn son to the team, and Johnny had beamed as he proclaimed himself an uncle, crumbs collecting at the corner of his mouth.

It didn't escape your notice that Simon wished Tommy was there to share a beloved family treat to celebrate the news, and the absence of an uncle, aunt, and cousin would be forever mourned. He hung an old family photo in the nursery, a promise that while they were gone, they would never be forgotten in the Riley household.

The first thing you baked with your son was his father's favorite shortbread cookies, and Simon had caught the two of you licking the mixing bowl with pure adoration.

"It's a very special family recipe," you explain to your daughter, lifting her into your lap as Simon simply smiles at her from beside you, your son already curled up against his father's side as he doses off with a full stomac of sweets.

"Do I get Grandma's cookbook if I get married before Tomas?" your daughter asks, and Simon chuckles.

"If the lad can't cook I suppose you'll need it," Simon offers with a grin directed your way, and you swat his leg playfully.

"If you get Grandma's book first, you'll have to give it to Tommy's wife someday, welcome her into the family," you warn, and your daughter's features pinch in disbelief.

"No one wants to marry Tomas," she says in disgust, and you can't help but laugh at the way she whispers her brother's name, as if not to wake him so that he might defend his charm.

"Funny, they said the same thing about your father," you snickered, and Simon rolled his eyes.

"Mhm. And yet I was the one winning you over with my skills in the kitchen."

You smile as your daughter giggles, nestling between you and Simon contently.

You have everything you could ever need. Everything you could ever want. You've given Simon more than he ever thought he would have in his lifetime, and it all started with a cookbook.

I hope you guys liked the ending! This was originally supposed to be one part but then it just kept going...

tags: @i-feel-violated @oranoyaora @beautifulcollectivewolf @notsosweetcheeks @vinithechocolatevampire @prttylilkittn @babygirl-riley @animarix @emily-roberts @bibbyreads @originaldeerhottub

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley

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pink-onyx-au · 8 months

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[Jump to the Episode Master List]

Nap time! Thank you everyone for your continued support and interaction! I adore it and it adds so much more to the AU than you could know. This is a heads up on some minor down-time for the blog while I rest up and prepare the next episode.

Notes and asks are still open and encouraged during this time! Bored and want to chat? Send me a message!

To see some WIP, storyboard previews, doodles, shitposts, and other projects I’m working on, along with a healthy amount of 3am memes, head over to my trash fire blog, Ceephor’s Shit Show. The "pink onyx au" tag will filter everything for you, along with showing you fabulous fan art made by others that I just love to pieces.

Speculation and theories are encouraged! The comic is designed as close to the show’s logic as I could muster, which means many secrets are staring right at you, provided you know what to look for! Just be kind to one another.

Comic FAQ:

What is this? Pink Onyx AU is a Steven Universe AU focused on interactions between Steven and Jasper and is intended to be read after you have finished Steven Universe Future, as it contains many many spoilers for the series. If you have watched it already, great! Welcome! The goal is to bring you a Jasper redemption arc that we couldn’t get due to time and cooperate restraints on the Crewniverse. I hope you enjoy!

I do not own these characters or their likenesses except for the single fluffy thembo fusion I created for the story. This is just a fan comic.

Comic is PG-13 for some angsty themes, minor blood, violence, and gem-cussing.

When do you post? Typically when you see this post pinned, I’m on a bit of a break, but when Nyx wakes up (this post goes away) the comic is due to be released 1 page at a time at 7am EST most days. I try for a daily release. Sometimes I skip a day if I’m behind. Episode release dates are always announced ahead of time by a few weeks.

Is this a romantic ship AU between Jasper and Steven? Nope, more like an aunt and her nephew trying to figure it all out. No romance between these two here.

Is your Tapas updated at the same time? Nope, tumblr comes first, and the tumblr will always have bonus content which Tapas will not. The Tapas for this updates after the tumblr version is completed. Usually same day or within a day.

Curious about the characters? Check below the cut for more a detailed FAQ about the inner workings of the story. Love you all! See you soon! 🧡💕❤️

FAQ’s about the characters generated via interactive asks:

What kind of fusion is Pink Onyx? Are they good or bad? Pink Onyx is a fusion of a protagonist and an antagonist, so their alliance is yet unknown, but they have Steven’s good heart and Jasper’s loyal nature. They also have Steven and Jasper’s flaws, so they can be volatile and emotionally explosive at times, too.

What are Pink Onyx’s pronouns? Onyx likes they/them, but also answers to he/him and she/her, especially when Steven or Jasper is dominant over one another. They also seem to take on a fluid role and prefer a she/her when in a caretaker status. They dislike it/its.

What does Pink Onyx sound like? Personally, I hear them as a youthful, masculine tone. Like Steven if a little older. But I also enjoy when people say they hear them as a gruff, Amazonian-type feminine. I enjoy and endorse both.

Do Jasper and Steven enjoy being fused to one another? For now, it is a struggle, but they enjoy what the other brings to the fusion even if they won’t say it.

Does Pink Onyx need to eat and do human things? If so, do they enjoy it? They don’t need to do them, but they do feel the discomfort without them. Things like breathing, eating, and sleeping are optional for Onyx, but they will become quite irritable if not allowed to do them. They greatly enjoy sleeping and trying new foods.

What does Jasper think about having human organs when fused? She’s pretty grossed out by the idea of organic matter going into her mouth and coming out of other places. The heart beating and lungs breathing she can feel for the first time, and it is highly strange for her to experience.

What is Pink Onyx’s favorite food? They adore anything watermelon flavored and Cookie-cat ice cream products

Does Pink Onyx have any special fusion powers? They do, and as they learn about themselves, more powers seem to come out. Each of their base component appears to be enhanced in a unique way. They have Pink Diamond at their core, so the destructive potential is also there.

Why is Steven hiding Pink Onyx from others? This AU occurs directly after the events of "I Am My Monster", so Steven is very emotionally, and mentally, raw. He fears judgement for running back to Jasper, who in the past, was part of so much trauma he already endured.

Pink Onyx seems to know nothing about human culture and gem culture despite being a fusion. What’s going on? Jasper and Steven agreed to fuse, but they have yet to open up to one another about much else. The fusion exists because they agree to do so, but Jasper won’t open up about her emotions, and Steven is so sensitive yet that he is not sharing because he knows Jasper won’t want to hear it. This causes Onyx to be unable to access both of their memories easily, but they can bring it out with enough effort.

#pink onyx au #steven universe au #steven universe #steven universe future #c423art #ceephorart #pink onyx #fusion #jasper #steven #Nyx nap #faq

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versadies · 1 year

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN || EVERMORE

SYPNOSIS (of chapter). in which a certain ragnvindr struggles with his fate and the complications in his life.

SYPNOSIS (of series). breaking up with your first love was heartbreaking, but not as heartbreaking as getting invited to his wedding after years of not seeing him. that is, until things seem to be easier when you encounter a certain guest, who could end up being more than just a blooming friend to you.

CHARACTERS. kamisato ayato, diluc ragnvindr, and thoma (w/ gn!reader)

CONTENT. angst/comfort(?), grammar errors (?), mentions of violence, sh1nsuke 🤥🤥, minor character death, car accident, mentions of threats, mentions of jeanluc, terribly written crime case (lost my brain after exams, sorry lads), diluc and kaeya are in good terms, spoilers to diluc’s canon story, possibly terribly written chapter overall (lost it after chap 13, sorry lads)

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @kazu-topia @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @nejibot @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @lychme @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @elychee @astrxlis @denkineptune @franini i @sophisticatedleslie @thedivinepriestress @smashsubs @httpmitsuya @bl6o6dy @cottonkendi (please visit this post if you’d like to be tagged !)

WORD COUNT. 14.6k words

LINKS. EVERMORE MASTERLIST \ MAIN MASTERLIST \ EVERMORE SURVEY

POST-SCRIPT. once again i have finally finished this godforsaken chapter after many weeks of my disappearance — ill try to finish chapter 15 before new year’s or so :,)) please take note to not expect too much from this chapter but it’ll help clear up the truth about diluc and his thoughts (but it wont clear your disappointment towards chapter 13)

PREVIOUS || NEXT || VERSADIES’ VERSION (PROCEED TO THIS LINK FOR FLUFF LOVERS)

A few things Diluc has lost were the bright hopes and future he once had when he was but a teen who's ready to fulfill as many achievements and dreams as he can.

He could still remember how happy he was with the life he had back then, how he dedicated himself to being faithful with his duties as a detective in the Favonius, Mondstadt’s police department, and used to follow his father around, listening to every word he says as he learns the ways of running the business.

He remembers all the lessons Crepus taught. He remembers his first time making a drink with the ingredients his father provided on a long table. He remembers his first time serving drinks to customers in Angel’s Share. He remembers his first time attending a business event with his father.

He remembers his past too much. A price to pay for dwelling too much in the past.

That Diluc is long gone. All that remains is his shell that’s swallowed by guilt, pain, and helplessness.

He does not live for himself, but lives for his family’s business to continue thriving and succeed like what his father wanted him to do. He lives to fulfill his father's wishes written on an old piece of paper. He lives to make sure his land is safe from the corrupted and from harm.

He lives to deal with the burdens that he gained from his birthday. A special, cruel gift from fate.

Wine is something he didn’t like much, which is ironic for someone who specializes in making them. His father actually planned to let him try some of their famous wines that people loved once he’s allowed to, until something happened.

Wine.. reminds him too much of what happened.

Diluc didn’t expect to lose his father so early, especially since his father is a healthy man who still had a life ahead of him and a son to guide. He thought his father would live long until he died of old age, a peaceful way of meeting death’s doorstep.

If only it weren’t for that treacherous car accident…

If only that drunk driver didn’t drink at all with a darn wine.

For one moment, Diluc was sitting right across from his father in their private van. They were just talking about what Adelaide would cook for dinner, they were just discussing about the client they were talking with earlier, they were just talking about what his father was supposed to say–

Then before he knew it, everything was turned upside down. Literally.

He has a hard time breathing, his vision is blurry as he feels lightheaded from being upside down.

Father…

Diluc tries to get his vision clear and come to his senses. He could hear people screaming somewhere, there’s something that tastes like metallic in his mouth, everything’s hot, he feels like he’s about to puke– but where is his father?

“Fa…Father…” He calls out. Everything aches so bad, what just happened to him?

Once Diluc finally sees more, he realizes the car he’s in is upside down. Is this… a car accident?

The young heir looks ahead when he hears a groan, and his eyes widens at the sight of his father being in the same situation as him – except, his state is way worse than his.

As for the driver… He doesn’t know where on Earth he is.

“Fa-Father!” He calls out, his fingers shakily try to unclasp the seatbelt before falling down to the ground that’s filled with the shattered windows from the van. “Father, are you alright?”

Diluc tries to ignore the pain all over his body as he crawls towards his father and helps him get out of the van. “Hold on, father. I’ll get you out of here!” He says as he reaches out towards his father’s seatbelt to unclasp it.

“Di..luc? Is that you my.. Son?” Crepus asks weakly, letting out a cough as he falls down from his seat. “I’m glad you’re,” He lets out another cough, “alright…”

“Don’t worry about me, father.” Diluc reassures him, helping him crawl out of the van through the broken window nearby. The only thing in his head is that he needs to get his father to the hospital immediately.

As soon as Diluc and Crepus finally manage to get out of the van, the younger man immediately tries to look for his phone in hopes of calling for the ambulance. Thankfully, his phone is still in his pocket and working despite its destroyed state, and he instantly dials the emergency contact.

“H-Hello? We need help, we’re somewhere by…” As he explains the situation to the operator, the young teen didn’t manage to notice how slow his father’s chest is moving up and down nor did he notice the blood on his hands from covering his mouth when coughing.

When Diluc finally looks at where his father is, his eyes are full of hope that they’re going to be okay.

“Father, help is on their way. We’re going to be okay” He says, hoping his father will be alright and be proud of him for what he has done.

Crepus remains silent.

“...Father?” He quietly calls, his heart sinking when he notices how his father’s chest is stilled. “Father, are you… a-alive?”

Diluc slowly leaned down with his ear on top of his father’s chest, his eyes widening in fear when he couldn’t hear any heartbeat at all, as though he’s….

No, let’s not jump into conclusions.. He’s probably asleep..

The heir gently shakes his father in hopes it’d wake him up, only for his shoulders to sink when his father is still motionless. “Father…?”

It took the ambulance to arrive for Diluc to stop trying to wake up his father, the paramedics carried him away as another inspected the young heir’s body for any injuries to take care of.

Whatever the paramedic told Diluc, he did not pay any attention to it. Not when he’s watching the two paramedics looking at each other with hesitant looks on their faces after putting all of their efforts in trying to bring back Crepus, who remains motionless.

The light in Diluc’s eyes fades away when he realizes what just happened.

He thought this was just a horrible nightmare. He thought he’d wake up to the familiar sight of his room and continue living in his life with his father who’s alive. It wasn’t until he realized he’s in the hospital room when his hopes shattered in realization that his father was dead and gone.

“Breaking News! The infamous wine tycoon, Crepus Ragnvindr, has unfortunately passed away due to a car accident. His son, Diluc Ragnvindr, has fortunately survived from the accident. We do not have any updates on the young heir’s condition, but we can only hope that he is well and we give him our condolences for his father’s passing.”

Diluc finds himself staring at the TV helplessly as he continues to stay on his hospital bed. After the paramedics took him and his father to a nearby hospital, he was hospitalized in a VIP room after getting his wounds treated.

Why did this happen?

He looks down at his bandaged-hands, only for him to remember seeing his father’s blood on his hands.

Why not me?

He suddenly hears a knock, to be followed by someone entering the room.

“And here I thought you’d never wake up.” Kaeya spoke as he closed the door behind him, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “How are you?”

Diluc stays silent, still staring at his hands.

“...Why am I still alive?”

The red head didn’t bother to look at his sworn brother, who was extremely taken back by his question.

“...Why shouldn’t you be?” Kaeya responds, his tone is more serious. “What happened last night is out of your control–”

“I could’ve done something.” He interrupts, he now looks at the blue-haired man with an unfamiliar expression that wasn’t seen before from the usual brightful man.

It’s as if said brightful man has died with his father.

The blue-haired man dared not to say another word, causing the other to continue speaking. “I could’ve… I could’ve dragged him myself until I found a hospital. Or… Or maybe I could’ve noticed the signs more and performed CPR – but I was busy talking to the operator I couldn’t… I could’ve done something instead of watching him die.”

Diluc clenches his fists at the memory of the car accident. If only he watched his father more carefully, if only he insisted that they went to another place, if only–

If only he was the one who died instead of his father.

He can’t imagine running Angel’s Share on his own nor can’t he imagine being able to keep his family’s business together at this age. He thought his father would guide him all the way – he thought he wouldn’t be alone.

He doesn’t even know if he’s ready to become the next head of the Ragnvindr family.

“Whatever you could’ve done, there’s no point in that anymore when it already happened.” Kaeya says, grabbing a chair nearby and placing it beside Diluc’s bed before sitting down on it. “Father wouldn’t want to see you like this. He’d want you to carry yourself and take care of the family business with what he had taught you–”

“He isn’t here and he’ll never be.” He snaps. “I can’t just move on and act as if his death doesn’t phase me. I lost someone special to me.”

“He’s someone special to me too.” Kaeya retorts. “You’re not alone, Diluc. You have me, Adelinde, Elzer, and everyone else in the mansion who are willing to help you and be there for you. I’m not saying you should move on and act as if his death doesn’t phase you, but you should stop thinking of what could’ve been and think of what could be now.”

Diluc looks away from his sworn-brother, knowing he’s right.

It’s true… It’s better for him to think of what he can do now instead of the past.

“Did you find out who was behind the car accident?” Diluc questioned.

The blue-haired man fell silent.

“What would you do if I said yes?” Kaeya asks, leaning back against his chair.

Diluc took a long while to answer, something that made Kaeya guess his answer already. The young heir – well, the young CEO rather – is not one to sit idly by and let justice handle itself, it’s precisely why he’s such an efficient officer who never lets one case go ignored or incompleted.

So when he finally answered, Kaeya did not believe it one bit.

“Nothing.”

Liar. I bet you’ll suddenly disappear from this room the next day. Kaeya thought. Yet then again, regardless of what he’ll say to Diluc, he knows he’ll only get himself out later on to find more answers.

“I better not receive any calls from the hospital about you disappearing,” He said, letting out a defeated sigh. “There was a driver who crashed into your van. He’s currently imprisoned and will face charges as well as imprisonment.”

Diluc was about to open his mouth for another question when Kaeya lifted up his hand to stop him. “I’m not some person of interest being interrogated. Save your questions for later, focus on your health first.” He clarifies. “I can’t disclose too much about the incident to you since Chief Varka instructed me to, but I can reassure you we have everything under control, brother.”

The red-haired looks at him with an unexplainable expression on his face.

“...Fine.”

And so, Diluc trusted Kaeya, knowing fully well all the words his sworn brother told him were all a lie.

Eventually, he found out that the police suspected it was a drunk driver who drove into the car. However, thanks to the security cameras around that area being disabled due to technical problems that have been ongoing for the past weeks before, it took a while to find out who was exactly the drunk driver that managed to get away from the scene of the crime before the authorities arrived.

What made it more strange was how the person who was driving the van is not the same driver who usually brings Diluc and Crepus around the place. The driver was left behind in the building he and his father visited, meaning that this whole time, the two men were unknowingly in the same car with an unknown person who has unexplained motives.

Diluc could only guess the motives weren’t pleasant given the aftermath.

Unfortunately, the police weren’t able to find the unknown driver and are still looking for him, making all the things worse for Diluc, who feels like his lifespan is draining away the more he stays in the hospital doing nothing but wait and ponder.

Countless time that’s spent inside the hospital room made the red-haired feel suffocated. His patience is getting thin each time he receives no useful information whatsoever about the damn cause of the car accident that drove his father to death, his overwhelming guilt for being the only one to survive is getting bigger each day after spending too much in his thoughts, and his loneliness began to devour him inside out as the sounds of the TV news were just white noise to him.

He hates that he’s doing nothing.

It would’ve been better if he didn’t feel anything, but at this moment, he’s feeling everything.

Eventually, Kaeya and the others manage to find out who was involved in the incident – an FPD officer in his mid-20s who was trying to move on from a heartbreak, only to end up drinking more than he intended and got into a car accident.

He’s relieved that they finally found who was partially the cause of it, but that doesn't mean he feels like he can rest peacefully.

Not when the other driver is still missing.

It took a few more days until there’s finally more news about what FPD (Favonius Police Department) would do to the drunk driver, but it wasn’t what Diluc was hoping for.

“What…?” He asks for Kaeya to repeat what he had just said from the phone. It felt unreal to hear it – he would’ve thought his brother is joking with him again if it weren’t for the remorseful tone in his voice.

Surely… Surely Favonius did not go mad while he was gone, did they?

“I’m sorry you have to hear this, brother.” Kaeya said. “I couldn’t believe it either. When I came back from the hospital, Amber suddenly informed me that Officer Pallad was released with no charges at all.”

Had Diluc not controlled his strength, his phone would’ve been crushed and destroyed from anger.

“Why?”

“...Lieutenant Eroch informed me it was because there was not enough evidence to prove that he’s the one who was involved with the incident. Don’t worry, my team and I are already looking for more evidences–”

“I’ve waited long enough.” Diluc interrupts before ending the phone call, his eyes darted towards his coat that’s hanging near the door.

It wouldn’t hurt to have a chat with Lieutenant Eroch, would it?

“My deepest condolences for your loss, Detective Ragnvindr.” Eroch said, sitting on his chair as Diluc stood across from him. “Alberich informed me that you were still hospitalized, but it appears he isn’t aware that you’re discharged today. How are you?”

“I’ve been feeling better.” He answers, not bothering to give him a polite smile as he usually does with everyone back then. “May I ask something regarding the case of the car accident?”

Eroch hums. “Getting to the topic, huh? Alright, you may.”

“...Why did you release Officer Pallad?”

It took a few moments before the lieutenant let out a sigh, as though he suspected the young detective to ask such a question. “I may have realized that our officers could possibly have arrested the wrong man after the testimony of Officer Pallad during our interrogation. I cannot let our image as the protectors of our city be tarnished for such a possible mistake, especially since he’s a part of the department.”

“But the evidence is all there, is it not?” Diluc clarifies, not caring about the fact that he could get in trouble for questioning a higher up’s motives. “Alberich found that Officer Pallad was in Angel’s Share before he drove through the route that led to the car accident. He’s the only one whose vehicle has a huge dent at the fr–”

“It’s not enough for us to officially conclude it’s him who crashed into your van.” Eroch interrupts.

“Then what will it take for you and the others to consider him being–”

“Never. Unless you have a clear footage of Officer Pallad’s vehicle crashing into yours.”

Diluc tries not to feel hopeless. “...What about the person who was driving the van? Did your team at least find something about them?”

Eroch shakes his head. “Unfortunately we have not. But that’s none of our concerns at the moment, not when there are other important cases we have to look into.”

The red-haired man feels his hands clenched into fists. “None of your concerns? You’re looking for the two people who killed my father–”

“Tell me, Detective Ragnvindr. Are you here to waste my time telling me to do something I can’t do in a blink of an eye? Or are you here to give me something worth my time?”

The other man stays silent, his mind filled with more questions instead of the answers he wanted.

Why?

It didn’t help that the lieutenant looked less guilty and more bored, something that made Diluc start considering if the police department truly serves to protect the people of Mondstadt.

Eroch lets out another sigh before standing up. “I assure you detective that we’ll quickly let you know if we found something about the culprits, but now is not the time unfortunately. It’s best that you should keep this a secret from the public. We wouldn’t want our reputation to be tarnished because of a reckless officer drinking. If we won’t be able to find the culprits, then we have no choice but to consider–“

Eroch stopped talking when he hears something on his table, causing him to glance down and realize it’s a badge,

The badge that belongs to Diluc.

“Forget it.” The detective said in a cold tone before turning around to take his leave.

The lieutenant didn’t bother convincing Diluc to change his mind, and simply watched as the ex-detective left his office with all hope and faith lost in him.

All that remains is the determination in bringing down what brought his father to his death.

When Kaeya found out, he did not find the power to persuade his brother to come back and work for FPD, not when Diluc isn’t the type to retire from his career as a detective so quickly. Instead, he wished him well and made sure to let him know that he will do his best to help his dear brother out in finding out the culprits of the accident, something that the red-haired appreciated.

The news that Diluc has retired from being a detective spread like wildfire the day after. It didn’t matter what the public thinks, all that mattered for Diluc is that his father gets a proper and quiet funeral that he deserves.

The funeral… It’s hard to talk about it.

The ceremony left an empty part in the poor young man’s heart. Had it not been for Kaeya and those who work in the mansion, he would’ve felt alone. There wasn’t an overwhelming number of people who came to his funeral, but just the right amount of people for others to know how much Crepus was cared for and loved by a lot of people. Some were his close acquaintances in the business world, some were his old pals, some were his dear friends, and some were employees from both the mansion and from Angel’s Share who have been loyal for a long time.

Diluc tried to hold it together and not break down in front of everyone, wanting people to know that he can handle Angel’s Share without his father’s guidance anymore. It still feels unreal that he won’t see his father for the rest of his life now.

I promise father, Diluc thought in his mind as he placed a flower on top of Crepus’s coffin. I promise I will find out who caused your death and will make sure justice will come.

Of course, just because he stopped working in FPD, it doesn’t mean he’ll stop helping and protecting everyone in his nation.

Diluc plans to disappear sometime after his father’s burial, wanting to find out who crashed into the van and who was driving the van that he and Crepus were in. The least he can do is to bring justice to those who are responsible for his father’s undeserving death.

Before that, he must hear his father’s wills as well as a paper that’s written by his father that Adelaide managed to find when she was fixing the passed CEO’s bedroom.

His wills are simple. The mansion, the company, the establishment will now be in the hands of Diluc as he is the rightful heir. Kaeya got some valuable items of Crepus that’ll be of use to his life and his job in Favonius. The rest of the items will then be handed over to both charity and to Alice, Diluc’s godmother.

As for the paper…

It was a letter for both Diluc and Kaeya that the passed CEO managed to write in case he died. Not only did it contain advice and going through the memory lane, it also contained secret feelings and unsaid words that the man didn’t get to say.

One of them in particular is how an arranged marriage is offered for Diluc.

“As you know, arranged marriages are not uncommon in the business world, but I was surprised to see such an offer from the Gunnhildr family themselves. Nevertheless, I did not accept it nor did I reject it – simply because I assume you might consider it since the person they arranged you with is Jean Gunnhildr. Remember her? She was the one who had a pet turtle like you.

I also think you might be too busy with your work to even think about your love life, and it’d make me sad if a man like you ends up being alone for the rest of your life. So this arranged marriage is your best option if you want to spend the rest of your life with someone as kind, as capable, and as loved as Miss Jean. And do not worry, I know what you’re thinking, Miss Jean agreed willingly on this arranged marriage.

So I told them perhaps in time my son will send a response. And to my surprise, they’re very willing to wait for it no matter how long it takes. You may feel free to reject their offer as soon as you finish reading this letter your old man wrote for you and Kaeya, there’s nothing wrong with that. Though, it’ll make your old man incredibly happy if you decide to accept their offer (the rest of the letter is blank, making it evident that Crepus hasn’t finished it completely for unknown reasons). (1)”

Diluc didn’t know what to think when he read it.

Arranged marriage…? He never imagined he'd be in such a situation. He’s heard how it’s extremely beneficial for both parties, especially when it comes to businesses. Then again, that reason is simply not enough for him to accept nor consider the arranged marriage.

However… If it makes his father happy…

No, he has better things to do than that.

Now that the wills have been revealed, Diluc and Kaeya have no choice but to come visit Alice – who’s currently in Liyue for her next book about the region – to transfer some items for her.

“My deepest condolences for your loss.” She said, watching as Diluc sat down on his seat across from hers as someone filled his drink with tea. Unfortunately, Kaeya had a call from work and won’t be able to come inside the room to talk to the woman. “It saddens me that your father has to go so soon. How have you and Kaeya been?”

“Thank you… We’re doing well, Aunt Alice.” Diluc responds.

The woman smiles lightly. “That’s good to hear.. I’m sorry to hear that you haven’t found those who are responsible for the… accident. But you must know, revenge won’t do much for your grievance towards your father.”

The red-haired man tries not to look surprised, but stays silent, causing Alice to continue.

“I know it’s difficult to lose someone who guides you in your life. Partings are the most painful things, but they also encourage us to grow. A bird that has lost the roof over its head will fly further than others of its kind.”

She then lets out a chuckle. “But of course.. I know you wouldn’t be persuaded by my words, so I wish you still have your sense of good and justice on your journey to look for them. It’s not an easy task I bet, but I’m sure you’ll be able to catch them with your capabilities.”

The woman’s eyes gazed towards a bulletin board on one of the walls before looking back at the young man. “Should you be able to find the culprits, then you can try to go out and see the world afterwards. That’s the best course of action I can envision for you. Only by feeling, observing, and listening can your heart be healed. Everything that was your father now finds new life with you, that which you will experience in this world may have been things that your father experienced once upon a time.”

When Diluc looks at the older woman’s eyes, it screams nothing but good things for him and Kaeya.

Something he never thought he needed until now.

“...Thank you for your words.”

“Anything for you. I hope that the wind will bring you all manner of wondrous things in your many journeys to come, Diluc. Should you need a person to talk to or consult with, I’m always willing to lend an ear. I hope you won’t mind if I treat you as if you were my own child.”

–

It only took two days for Diluc and Kaeya to deal with the rest of the items that once belonged to Crepus while catching up with Alice before they decided to take their leave. Not only did they both have to go back for their jobs, but Diluc also had to go back to start his search in finding the culprits of the accident.

Before the two young men could leave the estate Alice lives in, the woman stops them for a moment.

“One last thing before you two go.” The woman then pulls out two items: a pocket watch and an earring with a blue jewel in it. “These belong to your father who left these with me back then. I think it’s best if you have these instead.”

Diluc hesitantly grabs the pocket watch while Kaeya grabs the earring, letting out a comment about “what a perfect timing this is, I was thinking of a good accessory to buy as a souvenir from Liyue.” causing Alice to laugh.

“Thank you, Aunt Alice. We wish you well on your journey as well as your work.” Diluc said politely.

Alice waves them off. “Have a safe trip, boys. Do tell my darling Klee that I said hi when you get back, alright?”

And so, the two men left.

As they’re on their way to the airport, Diluc stares down at the pocket watch Alice gave him, his mind filled with what’s to come for him once he comes back.

He can’t turn back now, not when the two drivers could potentially hurt someone else.

“You’re planning something, aren’t you?” Kaeya asks suddenly, causing the red-haired man to look up at his sworn brother.

“...What’s it to you?”

The blue-haired man lets out a chuckle. “Oh Diluc, I thought you’ve learned by now that I wouldn’t let you do things on your own, have you?”

He lets out a sigh in response. “I don’t need your help. This should be something I must do on my own–”

“You’re finding the two culprits who are responsible for our father's death, so I too want to take them both down with you because they deserve to go to jail for their crimes. Besides, you’re no longer a detective in FPD, the least thing I can do is to hand out some information that’s given to us, particularly the one that involves the mysterious driver that managed to get his hands on your van.”

His eyes slightly widened from hearing that. “...There’s info on the driver now?”

Kaeya hums. “It’s not much, but it’s worth reading it since I’m sure it’ll help you with your investigation. Feel free to ask more about the case, it’ll definitely take some work off my shoulders if you somehow find that driver. I’ll take care of the aftermath once you do”

Diluc stays quiet for a moment.

“..Fine, you can hand it over to me anytime. Just.. make sure to keep an eye on Eroch and his men.” He says.

The blue-haired crosses his arms. “Who said I don’t? That lieutenant has been suspicious since day one. I’m relieved Deputy Chief Jean is quite determined to investigate him and see if there’s anything suspicious.”

Jean…

“You mean Gunnhildr?” Diluc asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. She recently transferred to the department thanks to Chief Varka. I caught her skimming around the lieutenant's office while he was gone.” Kaeya then smiles. “You should try talking with her. Isn’t she an old friend of yours?”

“We weren’t close.”

“Still. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see someone who’s just like her in the department – besides the retirement – and is familiar with her personally.”

The red-haired man thinks about it for a while. If it makes Father happy…

“I’ll.. Think about it sometime.”

“Perfect.”

By the time the two men are on their way through the airport, Diluc finds himself immersed in his thoughts about his plan in going around Mondstadt to look for the culprits who are responsible for his father’s death. He was so distracted that he didn’t pay attention to how there are paparazzis lingering around nor did he realize that he was about to bump into someone until it’s too late.

“Sorry.” He mutters to the person he bumped into before continuing his way towards his plane. He failed to notice how a certain item managed to slip out from the pocket of his black and long coat.

Until he hears someone calling him.

“Sir!” The stranger called, causing Diluc to stop his tracks for a moment and turn around to see if the stranger was calling him, only to spot someone walking towards him with a familiar object that he stared at moments ago.

“You dropped this,” you said, showing him the pocket watch, “sorry again for bumping into you, by the way.”

Diluc’s eyes slightly widened, a bit stunned by your kind act. Had it been anyone else, they probably would’ve kept it with them..

He slowly grabs the watch from you. “Thank you.”

You give him a smile and nod in response. “It’s no problem”

Without another word, you immediately ran off from Diluc, as if you didn’t just get the chance to meet Mondstadt’s two most famous men.

“My, I’m surprised they didn’t know about us two, Diluc.” Kaeya spoke in amusement, watching you go away. “You’re lucky they gave you that pocket watch. I’m not sure what would happen to you if you lost your father's watch after he just died.”

Diluc’s expression quickly changes to a glare, looking at Kaeya’s direction. “Watch your mouth before I make sure you’re not going to my private plane on our way back to Mondstadt.”

The other laughed. “I’m rich too, Diluc.”

The red-haired man then turns around. “We should go before we start wasting our time. The sooner we get to Mondstadt, the better.”

“Whatever you say, brother.”

–

Diluc didn’t hesitate to start his search immediately when he arrived in Mondstadt.

Unfortunately, after Pallad was released from the department cell, the vehicle that had a dent was immediately returned to him, so there’s a chance that it’s gone by now.

Despite being accused of reckless driving and a culprit of a car accident, Pallad still had the audacity to come back to Angel’s Share – not that the CEO is complaining, this definitely made things easier for him.

It’s already an alarming sight to see the officer using a new vehicle.

For the rest of the night, the young CEO listens attentively to Pallad’s conversations with other customers who are familiar with him. There wasn’t any useful information until someone finally asked the officer about his car. Apparently, he got himself a new car because his other one is too old and not functioning well, making him give it up in a car graveyard.

That was all the information he needed.

It took a while when Diluc finally found the graveyard that Pallad owns with the help of some of his connections (one of them being Kaeya, who told him the details of what the car looks like). It wasn’t hard to find the car Pallad used since he only gave it up recently, but it was hard to hold himself back after seeing the officer’s car that clearly has a huge dent despite seeing it for the second time.

He will never forgive that drunkard for killing his father.

Diluc was at the very least relieved when he spotted a dash cam inside the car. The officer must’ve been confident enough to not consider deleting footage of his dash cam, thinking it’ll be destroyed thanks to the graveyard. Unfortunately though, the dash cam was broken from possibly the accident, so it took a while to restore the footage until the ex detective got his hands on the piece of evidence that Eroch will surely not reject.

After the repair, Diluc sent it to Kaeya, who would pass it to Chief Varka and drag Pallad back to prison at last.

All that’s left was the unknown driver.

If it weren’t for Kaeya’s help in giving him information, Diluc wouldn’t know where to start. The only information the Favonious Department found about the culprit is they’re a part of an organization called the Fatui, based on a blurry CCTV that contains footage of someone in a Fatui uniform infiltrating the parking lot where the Ragnvindr’s van is and was never seen coming out.

The Fatui… Just hearing that name made Diluc feel angry.

They’re not an unfamiliar name in the business world. They’re known for being dangerous, powerful, threatening, and not to be underestimated. A woman who owns the company, Tsaritsa, is the most powerful person in all of Snezhnaya. People in the cold region respect her and look up to her for her contributions to the country, particularly the advanced technology that she invented. Those who aren't from Snezhnaya look at her in the opposite way.

Crepus and Diluc are those people.

He’s heard of what they do to those who have wronged the company as well as the things they can do to those who associate with them. It’s a miracle that the Ragnvindr hasn’t interacted with them at all (as far as the young CEO knows at least..), and as the new CEO, he knew he had to keep it that way.

Now that he thinks about it, just what did Crepus do if Fatui is responsible for his death?

Diluc isn’t sure if he wants to know the answer.

But he knows he has to. He has to understand why this happened to his father and where the driver ran off to, even though he’s fully aware that he won’t be able to grasp the full truth of the story.

He then considers Alice’s advice: to travel around Teyvat. The Fatui is everywhere in the world, so he plans to go through every single one of them in each nation until he reaches Snezhnaya, where he’ll try to confront those who hold the higher ground of the Fatui and hopefully learn the truth.

He hands over the Dawn Winery business to Adelaide, Elzer, and Kaeya and informs them that they can always reach him through messages. He trusts them all that his family business won’t sink and will remain as strong as ever, so he isn’t worried that he’ll be contacted to come back to Mondstadt to fix a situation.

“How long will you be away?” Kaeya asks as he watches his brother pack his items in his luggage. “I’m not sure how to tell everyone about your leave, what should I answer if they ask when you’ll come back?”

“Tell them I’ll be back in due time.” He answers, focusing on thinking about what else to bring for his travels. “I can’t… guarantee when I’ll come back. This won’t be an easy trip for me.”

“Of course not, not when you’re taking on the Fatui.” The blue-haired said, his smile begins to fade. “Just… make sure not to die while you’re at it. I can’t attend another funeral again.”

“No promises.”

The two of them then fell silent. The only noise around the room is Diluc placing his necessities in his luggage.

“...Could you at least talk to Miss Jean once before you leave?” Kaeya asks.

Diluc lets out a sigh. “You’re seriously never going to live that down, are you?”

His brother lets out a chuckle. “Of course not. I’m quite curious to see why father didn’t try to reject the Gunnhildr family instantly. Besides, I’m sure Miss Jean would handle your company perfectly on her own should you leave again, you should see her capabilities as a leader and detective–”

“Fine, I’ll consider having a chat with her if that’ll keep your mouth shut.” He said with a huff.

Kaeya smirks. “Good. You can thank me by giving me a free drink in your establishment if you end up getting something out of that hangout.”

“In your dreams.”

–

With the help of Kaeya, Diluc was able to contact Jean and see if she’s willing to spend some time with him, only for her to instantly agree and invite him to a private restaurant where they won’t be disturbed.

“It’s an honor to be able to meet you, Mr. Ragnvindr.” Jean said with a polite smile as she and Diluc sat down on their seats across from one another, the server pouring water on their glasses before handing out two menus and taking his leave. “I hope you didn’t have a hard time finding this place, did you?”

The red-haired man shakes his head. “No worries, I didn’t have any difficulties. How’s your… day?”

“I’m relieved you didn’t have any hard time, and my day has been a breeze, thank you.” She then lifts up her cup towards her lips. “If I may ask, what brings you to spend time with me today?” She asks before taking a sip of her drink.

He lets out a sigh when he remembers his brother. “Ah… You should thank Kaeya for that. He’s been nagging me to come and talk to one of my colleagues before I take my leave.”

Jean’s eyes widened. “Oh, you’re leaving?”

He nodded in response. “I’m planning to… travel to some places. I won’t be back for a long time, so I’m sure a lot of things will change by the time I return.” He explained.

“I see… I understand, you need something to get your mind off of everything.” She says with a sad smile. “I hope you get something out of your trip, and may the wind lead you to the closure you needed.”

He processes her words. “...Thank you.”

Something flashes through Diluc’s eyes, and the atmosphere turns serious. “I hope you don’t mind, but I would like to discuss something regarding… something about a certain PD.” He adds.

Jean stays silent for a moment, also turning serious.

“...Is this related to the reason why you’ve asked for a chat with me?” She asks.

She’s not wrong, there’s actually more to this special hangout for Diluc that isn’t about the possible arranged marriage and indulgence. He remembered Kaeya telling him how she recently transferred to the department and had her eye on Lieutenant Eroch for reasons unknown. There’s no doubt that there’s something amiss in the police department, and it’s related to the lieutenant who shrugged off the case of his accident.

Could he be the one behind his father’s death perhaps?

Diluc feels a little guilty, feeling like he’s just using the woman for information. “Yes. I understand if you’re not willing to talk about it.”

Jean shakes her head reassuringly. “No it’s alright. I have a feeling I know where this is going now.”

She then looks around cautiously before whispering, “we are talking about Lieutenant Eroch, right?”

He nodded. “Correct. I heard that you’ve been skimming around his office.”

“You must’ve heard it from Mr. Alberich then.” She says with a light chuckle. “He’s the only one outside of the operation who knows, your brother has my deepest gratitude – if anything, I would’ve been easily caught by Lieutenant Eroch and make the situation worse if your brother tells him.”

“What’s your purpose there?” He asks.

Jean taps her fingers on the table, careful of what to say. “Let’s just say the lieutenant has been way too suspicious lately. Too suspicious that it caught the attention of a certain chief.”

“And the certain chief requested you to personally investigate it?”

She hums, looking down at her drink. “I suppose it’s for the better since we’re not sure who’s on our side, hence why I was transferred to the Lion of the South Department (2).”

“You came from the Falcon of the West Department, correct?”

“Yes. I was actually supposed to come to the Lion of the South Department in a year, but it seems Chief Varka has other plans.”

Diluc chuckles. “He’s one unpredictable man, indeed.”

Jean then looks up at the man. “Is there.. Something you want me to do?”

He crosses his arms. “There is. I take it that you haven’t found anything from his office?”

She shakes her head with a sigh, only for Diluc to continue his words. “Then you should look on the rooftop.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, now curious. “May I ask why?”

“The lieutenant’s always up there if he’s not in the conference room and office.” Diluc says. “I’m sure a man like him wouldn’t go to the rooftop for view-watching or some peace and quiet. You should check if there’s something that’s hidden in sight.”

Jean nodded slowly. “I see… Thank you for this, Mr. Ragnvindr.”

“Please, you may call me Diluc.” He says. “I’m sure this won’t be the last time we’ll interact and talk like this.”

It’s safe to say he’s right, this wasn’t the last time he’ll be interacting with Jean.

He��ll admit, she’s good to cooperate with. Not only did she take note of his advice, she also made sure to give a piece of her mind in return.

Had the arranged marriage been a business partnership instead, he would’ve taken it.

Then again, what difference does it make?

As soon as their hangout came to an end, both parties were satisfied with the information they gained. They both agreed to keep in touch with one another through texts so Jean could update him about Eroch (and hopefully something about the Fatui should the Favonius find out about something), thus exchanging each other’s numbers before taking their leave.

Afterwards, he began his journey to travel around Teyvat in search of the truth.

He supposedly wanted to stay in Mondstadt to investigate them, but knowing the possibility that they could be watching him given that he didn’t die from the accident, he instead decided to make it his last resort.

Of course, he kept in touch with Kaeya, Adelinde, and Jean. Who all informed him of updates regarding Mondstadt, the wine establishment, and the FPD. There were many good news to hear, such as how Kaeya became even more famous after a particular case where he found many children who were missing, how Angel’s Share is still the most sought-after establishment–

The one news that made him relieved is how Lieutenant Eroch has finally been arrested for many countless crimes committed, but unfortunately, none of the crimes were involved with the car accident.

He also learned how Chief Varka and a couple of officers were sent to a classified mission, which resulted with Jean becoming the current Chief of Police while he was gone. Meanwhile, Kaeya also became the lieutenant of the FPD, claiming he’s now “oh-so busy after my dearest brother left me here to rot with these never ending cases.”

In a blink of an eye, four years have passed.

There was never a moment when his determination wavered, his passion is as strong as an eternal flame that never goes out. He never fails to remember why he’s doing this and why he must finish this journey, reminding himself by remembering all the memories he shared with his father.

Sometimes, he goes back to that time when Crepus died. Trying to remember if there was a single detail he must’ve missed that could help him make more progress with his investigation, only to bring back the pain, helplessness, and guilt he tried to suppress.

He took down most – if not all – that involved the Fatui’s dirty work, brought down those who are as evil as they can be and exposed them in public, and even fought them with either his own hands or with a weapon should the situation resolve in.. an inappropriate manner.

Because of this, he’s now considered a threat who shouldn’t be underestimated.

Throughout his trip, he once helped a few people who have the same motives as him, such as a woman from Liyue’s government – the Qixing – whose against one of the members of the board of directors in the Fatui, a young CEO in Inazuma who disapproves the Fatui, a man who holds an important position in Teyvat’s most prestige academy and also has something against the Fatui for reasons he didn’t disclose, and many more.

However, the most notable person he came to work with is someone who introduced him to a secretive network. If it weren’t for them, he would’ve been killed in Snezhnaya by the Fatui.

Despite how far he has come, Diluc never encountered Tsaritsa – besides some of the board of the directors, who all have anything but good intentions towards him. This doesn’t mean his journey all came to fruitless of course, not when he learned so much from traveling around the world and encountering other people.

He looked past his progress from his journey, and after a lot of thoughts, he decided to join the underground intelligence network, where he put all his dedication in it just as he did in the FPD. Not only did he rise up into the upper ranks of the network, he also gained even more useful information about the Fatui, such as how Officer Pallad’s involvement with the accident has nothing to do with the Fatui, causing the driver to run away from the incident since the van is destroyed.

He also finds out from the network that the Fatui can’t touch certain people such as the Tianquan, the Chief of Police, certain families, and even certain CEOs of companies who are too valuable in their nations. He also gained new comrades – most of whose pasts are left behind and go on with the future like the wind.

Perhaps he too, should stop looking back with the past and not think about all of what could’ve been anymore.

By the time his journey had ended, he had a conclusion.

The driver is still unknown, but he knew the order came from either the board of the directors, the chairman, or the CEO herself based on certain documents from each branch that mentioned the Ragnvindr name. The possible explanation is that Fatui wanted to burn down the biggest supplier and the company who has unmatched wines in Mondstadt, whose nation revolves around wine and freedom, to give themselves the opportunity to have such title.

Not to mention how everything will turn out worse should he face the Tsaritsa with ill intentions. Given how the Tsaritsa is one of the most – if not the most – important figures in Snezhnaya, only Celestia can tell what will happen to Diluc.

He also realized that when he comes back to Mondstadt, he is still just as unsafe as he was during his stay in Snezhnaya.

He started thinking: what if he loses everyone he cares for? What if his brother gets taken? What if his dedicated and loyal employees get hurt? What if he somehow falls in love with someone, and they get hurt because of him?

This led Diluc to believe that it’s for the best that he tries not to get too close with anyone anymore – let alone fall in love. Hence why he isn’t usually found with people around him, besides those who work for him or want to work with him in the business world of course.

If he wants to be safe as well as protect those who he cares for, he must protect Mondstadt and be associated with someone who can’t be touched by Fatui.

When he finally returned to Mondstadt, everyone was too busy talking about the latest mystery of the nation, aka the person responsible for the crime rates suddenly going down and for dragging criminals to the FPD’s doorstep before the sun rises. No one suspected it was the CEO of Angel’s Share – not when he just came back from his journey (in reality he actually arrived back a bit early but went undercover for a couple of days before announcing his comeback).

By day, Diluc stays in his office doing his work by signing and approving documents, inventing new beverages, and sometimes serving in Angel’s Share if the days are quite slow. By night, he strolls around the city when everyone’s asleep, looking out for anyone who’s in possible danger as well as anyone who’s possibly a threat. He makes sure no one was followed or stalked, no shops being stolen, and no houses being invaded – it honestly reminded him of his old days as a detective back then.

A few days after his arrival, he received an invitation to visit the Gunnhildr estate.

He saw no reason to reject such an invitation, but it was rather a bit strange how the head of the family’s keen on meeting him.

Deep down, he thinks he knows the reason why.

Right now, he finds himself sitting across Frederica Gunnhildr in her study, anticipating for what’s to come. He hasn’t been in the Gunnhildr estate ever since his father was still alive. He always spends time outside playing with Jean back when they were kids, so this is his first time being in Frederica’s study as the head of the Ragnvindr family.

“Thank you for deciding to visit my estate, Mr. Ragnvindr.” Frederica says with a smile. “I hope your journey has been beneficial to you, how was it?”

“It’s alright. My journey’s as unforgettable as the memories I had from it.” He responds. “Congratulations on your daughter’s promotion. You must be proud of her for being in quite an influential position in the FPD.”

The elder woman laughs in flattery. “Oh my, thank you. You’re right on that, I am proud of my darling Jean. She’s been working hard in the FPD for as long as I can remember – she reminds me of my passed mother.”

She then sighs. “Oh but it is a shame she has no lover. I worry that she’ll be too focused on her work to the point where she won't fall in love with anyone at that rate.”

“I’m sure your daughter will be able to think about it in some time. Her career is full of responsibility after all, so it’s not too surprising that she’s not so focused on something else than protecting Mondstadt.”

Frederica hums in agreement. “That’s true… What about you, Mr. Ragnvindr?”

Diluc looks at the woman in confusion. “Pardon…?”

“Are you in love with someone perhaps? Surely a handsome man such as you would reach people’s interests. There’s bound to be someone who catches your eye.” She clarifies with a small laugh.

He shakes his head in response. “There’s none, and I like to keep it that way. It’s the least of my priorities since I just returned to Mondstadt and my family’s business requires my full attention.”

“Business, huh?” She mumbled. “..What do you think about arranged marriages then? It’s quite beneficial to both parties depending on their contract and agreement.”

Ah, his suspicions were right.

Despite the fact that Diluc has no interest in such a topic, he can’t help but see an opportunity in this.

The Fatui’s bound to make their move soon, and he fears they might do something to him and everyone around him. However, being with Jean means he can’t be touched by the organization due to how they can’t exactly touch a person who’s associated with someone as powerful as a chief in a police department in fear of being considered as a threat to a nation itself. Not to mention how he can also get benefits of gaining access to the FPD’s files if Jean allows it since she now has the power to get anything in the police department as a chief.

He then remembers the letter Crepus wrote. “It’ll make your old man incredibly happy if you decide to accept their offer.”

…

“...I haven’t thought much about it.” He answers slowly.

“Would you consider marrying my daughter through arranged marriage then?”

“...”

Frederica covers her mouth as if she didn’t mean to ask such a question. “Ah, I might’ve been too straightforward.” She says apologetically. “It’s just.. Your father – may he rest in peace – and I have talked about it back then, and he says–”

“I’m aware of that.” Diluc is quick to clarify. “I’m grateful he let me be the one to decide such a matter as it is my life we’re talking about. Did your daughter agree to this…?”

The woman nodded in response. “I suppose this arrangement is one of the reasons why she hadn’t thought about love as she still has a proposal to wait for. Of course, just as your father must’ve told you, it’s alright if you reject this marriage since this is just an option for you both.”

The red-haired man slowly nodded in understanding.

He doesn’t see any bad reasons as to why he shouldn’t accept their offer, but neither did he see any bad reasons in accepting their offer. Jean’s capable of protecting herself and not getting targeted by the Fatui as she’s important to both FPD and Varka, and she’s willing to be in the marriage for business reasons just like him.

Not to mention how there’s no certainty that they’ll fall in love with one another, which is something Diluc’s grateful for as he never sees the woman that way.

And if accepting the marriage is what makes his father happy…

“...Then… I suppose I can consider such an offer.”

Frederica’s smile grew wider. “Perfect.”

And so, Diluc finds himself being a fiance.

When Jean heard the news that he accepted the marriage offer, she was quite surprised, but nevertheless was happy that she’s able to make her family even more proud by being able to marry a man as influential and powerful as Diluc.

Thankfully, the two of them were on the same page about not wanting to have any strings attached between them besides being friends, as they completely see each other as nothing but such. They’ve also come to terms with their conditions about what marriage can bring to them and their businesses which all bring benefits to one another.

For the past year since then, it was evident that they’ve grown closer with each other – but in a way that friends do with one another rather than lovers. The two of them eventually got comfortable with the other’s presence in their life as they continue collaborating for various reasons. Sometimes, they’d joke with one another. Sometimes, they’d reminisce about memories. Sometimes they’d read books with each other in the same room, though at a fair distance. Sometimes, they’d wonder what it’s like to be out of the burdens of their lives. Sometimes, they’d share some peaceful silence between one another.

Those times never really changed their uninterested feelings towards each other, because to Diluc, this marriage is simply more of a promise of eternal alliance and friendship rather than a promise of a romantic future, and Jean wholeheartedly feels the same.

To Diluc’s relief, there were no actions from the Fatui towards him – unless you consider the few Snezhnayan merchants who’d come to the wine tycoon in hopes for a partnership with their business – thanks to the news about how Diluc and Jean are frequently seen with each other, but not one person outside the two families were none the wiser about the upcoming marriage that’ll be announced soon.

It’s understandable for them to not talk about the possibility of being in love with someone else during their marriage, none of them could imagine experiencing that from how busy they are with their work.

Fate really is humorous.

Fast forward, Diluc was recently invited to attend the Grand Goth Hotel for the wedding between Hiiragi Chisato and Kamisato Ayato, and unfortunately he had to go alone since Jean’s too busy with her work and will visit once she’s done, so he thought he’ll just be all alone, something he grew used to and didn’t mind thanks to his four years of exploring around Teyvat.

Then he met you.

When he bumped into you due to him being distracted by his call with Kaeya. He realized his mistake for not apologizing quickly, but when he turned around to look at where you are, you’re far from his reach.

He thought that was the end of it, until he saw you again in the souvenir shop hours later. He felt like you looked familiar when he first saw you in the shop, and perhaps you must be feeling the same way as well from how you’ve been staring at him like a hawk. However, when it’s revealed that you’re only staring at him because you remembered him bumping into you, he felt… taken back. That’s the reason why you’ve been staring at him?

He was even more taken back when you were quick to tell him how he was so rude for not apologizing to you. He’ll admit, it’s sort of a refreshing sight to see someone who isn’t so timid or nervous around him and isn’t afraid to scold someone for their errors no matter who they are. Nevertheless, he didn’t hesitate to apologize for his behavior – and when he found out you’re also a guest in the wedding, he was even willing to pay for your wedding gift if you allow him to share, something you reluctantly agreed on after checking its price. In a way, this is his payment for what you’ve done for him back at the airport (though, he wasn’t aware that you’re the same person that gave him his father’s watch at that time).

The next time you meet was in Good Hunter’s, whereas he overhears your conversation with who seems to be your group of friends. He didn’t bother listening to it, until he heard his name being mentioned.

When you explained how you don’t like him because of how rude he is, he felt taken back once again. Were you really that hurt from him bumping into you? Well, his shoulders are broad and must’ve hit you quite harshly if he wasn’t careful at that time, so he can’t blame you for thinking he’s rude for that.

But then again, he thought buying those champagne flutes for you was enough…

Turns out, it is enough.

It was strange how he keeps seeing you these days, especially this particular day. Almost everywhere he goes, you’re also there. It was quite an interesting situation, he thinks.

However, he knows that he shouldn’t get close to you. He swore to never be close with anyone anymore (with the exception of his loved ones) and you cannot be an exception. That’s why he has to make sure he can’t meet you again, for you and his sake.

Yet despite his oath, he still finds himself getting involved with you – especially during one of those encounters when he sees you in a rather uncomfortable situation.

He recognizes the two men talking to you as being the members of the Kamisato family. He would’ve mind his business if it weren’t for how you seem to be in need of help,

And Diluc is not someone who ignores such a situation.

So he comes over to where you are, acting as if he was looking for you despite a part of him telling him to not go and help you. Fortunately, you caught on to what he was trying to do and played along to his lie, something that the other two men fell for and decided to leave you two alone.

He’s not one to pry into someone’s life, but he wonders what the Kamisato has done to make you so distraught and sad. Instead of asking, he simply kept his mouth shut and offered you his handkerchief, and you reluctantly grabbed it from him.

The gesture made him finally realize why you’re so familiar to him.

The incident was years ago, but he’ll never forget you giving him back something precious to him. He really can’t imagine what would’ve happened if he lost one of the things that belonged to his father. He isn’t sure if you remembered it, but it didn’t matter, because he finally repaid his gratitude to you.

After comforting you, he eventually found out that you indeed had forgiven him already, causing him to feel a bit embarrassed that he’s been thinking that you still haven’t forgiven him.

As soon as you enter your hotel room after what happened, Diluc realizes that somehow, this wedding no longer seems to be as lonely as he anticipated it to be.

You became a familiar sight for Diluc from then on as much as he didn’t want to.

The next time you meet is in the bachelor party, whereas the two of you started to get to know each other more. You’re pleasant and smooth to talk with, and there was never a moment where the two of you felt off with your conversation despite some differences with opinions and ideas – at least, that’s what he feels – and bonded a lot on how you two have a lot in common.

You’re not afraid to speak your thoughts and even laughed at some words he said that were unintentionally a joke. Even though you now know of his achievements and reputation, you still treated him the same, which is something that made him feel pleasant. Even more so when you praised him for being such “a cool multitasker” as you watch him make drinks and serve them throughout your conversation with each other.

He can’t help but be reminded of his father, and yet for some reason, he didn’t feel remorse from that.

He’d never thought he’d click with someone, let alone having a conversation that could last forever, like he did with you. Interacting with you feels like he doesn’t have to be so uptight and has to keep up with the formalities – especially after convincing him that he doesn’t have to do so – and he’s free to say his thoughts.

When you decide to stop your conversation for a moment and excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, Diluc tries not to show the disappointment in his eyes and words. It’s strange to him, why is he so disappointed? You’ll come back anyway just like you said.

As he waits and waits, he earns himself a new company.

Kamisato Ayato is… One secretive and mysterious man. It’s not something Diluc is suspicious of, really. If anything, the two of them have a few things in common, such as their shared determination in protecting the people they care for, their shared hatred towards the Fatui, their share experiences of being the CEO at such a young age –

As well as the shared fact that their marriages are arranged.

Diluc isn’t so surprised with the fact that the other is aware of his situation, but he was surprised that he sent him a warning about being careful with how he spends time with you, who is still in the bathroom doing only Celestia knows what.

His warning alone made the bartender wake up from his daze, and he faced the reality he had always hated.

You can’t be involved with someone like him, a man whose hands have been dirtied and committed things that he dares not to explain.

Once you’re entangled with him, you’ll simply be yet another person he has to protect from the Fatui and the burdens of only simply being his friend. Although he’s soon to be a part of the Gunnhildr family, he knows that won’t completely make the Fatui leave him alone. Spending time with you will only make things hard for you.

Not to mention how people would react if they see you spending time with Diluc, and only Celestia can tell how drastic the rumors can be once this spreads around, so Ayato is indeed right, he should leave you alone.

He does not acknowledge how such thought aches his chest deeply.

Still, he knows that ignoring you wouldn’t do anything but cause problems, so he tells himself that it’s up to you if you still want to spend time with him.

And it seems you do, especially the next day after that.

The CEO was surprised to see you entering Angel’s Share, especially since the wedding is today. What surprised him more was when he realized just how much he missed you – or talking to you rather.

What a strange feeling…

As he continues doing his job, he can’t help but observe you from afar; a habit that he does at times during his shifts here whenever an unfamiliar customer visits the establishment but unlike everyone he observes, he doesn’t observe you out of suspicion that you have something up your sleeve. You looked like you’re enjoying your time with your few friends, something that made him quite happy to see (even though one of your friends is someone who’s rather a hassle in his establishment when he feels like it).

He feels all the more pleasant when you decide to chat with him for a bit as though you’re old time friends, not realizing that he may or may not have slipped up a few words that he didn’t really mean, making you assume that he’s just there for the wedding to serve his finest drinks.

It’s only a matter of time until Diluc realizes what he was doing, especially when he finds himself looking at your way unintentionally. You just look so out of place in Angel’s Share in such a good way that his eyes are drawn to you, like how a moth can’t help but be captivated by a shining light.

It comforted him to see you being relaxed in his establishment – be it because he’s happy to see his customers satisfied or because you’re happy – and he wanted to let it stay that way, especially when he has a few guesses on why you were saddened whenever the groom of the wedding is around.

When he catches on to the fact that you’re also staring at him, he can’t help but feel conscious about himself, thinking about how he mixes his drinks, how he positions himself by the bar, or how he talks to his fellow customers politely, he wonders what you think about what he’s doing even if it’s the simplest of gestures.

…Is this really something friends think of about each other?

By the time it’s time for you and your two friends to leave in order to get ready for the wedding, Diluc couldn’t help but feel disappointed, wanting to say more to you but couldn’t.

However, when you take one more look at him while he’s staring at you as well, and give him an acknowledged nod with that smile of yours; he knows the two of you will eventually talk again and catch up once more.

For some reason, he’s looking forward to the wedding more than ever.

By the time he makes it to the wedding, he was a bit surprised to see that the ceremony hasn’t commenced yet. His surprise instantly disappears when his eyes land on you, who looks as though you’re looking for someone. Could it be him, he hopes?

Thankfully, luck was on Diluc’s side. Seeing how there’s one more seat that’s empty beside yours, he slowly makes his way over to you to sit on that empty chair. When he sits down, you instantly look at him and your eyes brighten.

Him noticing you being excited from simply seeing him made the wine tycoon feel.. Something. Important? Valued? He isn’t sure anymore, he’s at a loss for words when it comes to you.

Truly, this must be something friends have sometimes.

As he watches the wedding ceremony commence, he can’t help but feel as if someone’s watching him from behind. This caused him to cautiously turn around for a bit, only to find the father of the bride glaring at his direction, but not at him it seems.

He then realizes that the father of the bride was glaring at you.

Diluc couldn’t help but feel protective, internally taking note to watch the current CEO of the Chisato company should he plan to do something to you.

When the wedding went on to the reception, it seems luck is still on Diluc’s side. When he arrives at his assigned table by looking for his name displayed on the seats, he spots your name on the seat that’s next to his once again.

It made him feel relieved, knowing that he won’t be sitting next to those who would most likely talk to him in hopes of gaining opportunity to have the CEO’s attention and support in their businesses and whatnot.

When you find out as well, you’re pleasantly surprised, but nevertheless happy with the arrangement. If anything, it gives you a chance to continue your previous conversation with your friend!

Throughout the party, the two of you bonded more and are closer than ever. Diluc really couldn’t recall when’s the last time he had a conversation like this. It really feels as if he could never get tired of talking with you and won’t run out of topics to talk about.

His highlights of your conversation are the times when you laugh at his words, when you listen to him with an awe look on your face, and when you talk so passionately about the things you love.

Diluc particularly admires how you talk about your beloved nation, Inazuma. You talk as if Inazuma is your child, and you’re a parent who’s proud of it. Not only did you tell him the things that you love about it, but also showed him just how much you missed your home with the longing look on your face. Considering how long you haven’t visited the nation ever since you went to Liyue, he can understand the feeling.

Someday, he’d like to go there with you… Maybe then you’ll be happier than you are now, and he wants to see that in his own eyes.

After you explained all there is to know about Inazuma, Dilic then shares his own words about his nation in return. He talks about the things that he thinks you might like about his land, only to find that you love everything about Mondstadt and explain how much you love the place, telling him how you’ve always wanted to go to Mondstadt because of its carefree nature and kind people. It was something that Diluc isn’t surprised by – he’s used to many foreigners he had talked to telling him about how wonderful Mondstadt is – and yet, he feels his heart warming hearing such compliments about his home from you.

While he was explaining though, he can’t help but notice how you’re somewhat.. distracted, as if your thoughts drifted off to something, causing him to feel a bit concerned. Are you bored from his explanation? Did he say something wrong? Or.. Is it because of Ayato?

When he asked you if you’re alright, you only responded that you’re distracted by the sight of the garden that surrounds the open-air room. He wasn’t convinced obviously, but seeing how you don’t want to admit the real reason, he knows not to push you for it and respect your privacy.

However, asking you somehow got him to spend time with you in the hotel’s garden.

Diluc could see why the garden is one of the hotel’s best spots for guests. It’s as magical and peaceful as what most people described.

And yet, he can’t help but think that this place is all the more magical and special when you’re here with him.

“It’s so beautiful..!” You comment in pure awe. If you at least glance at where Diluc is, you would’ve realized that he isn’t staring at the view of the garden that is indeed beautiful.

“Indeed.” He quietly agrees, his gaze never left you.

…

Diluc feels his shoulders sinking a bit. Friends don’t think of each other this way, don’t they?

…

As the two of you stroll around the garden, Diluc covers topics regarding the flowers that surround the two of you and about other things, all the while you listen with great eagerness.

It was only when he started talking about his first drink when he realized something.

How long has it been since he talked to someone about his father? Let alone his past?

Was he really that comfortable talking to you to the point where he’s willing to share the things he never thought he’d talk about with someone?

He was sincerely taken back that he didn’t watch his step and accidentally stumbled from a bump on the pathway.

…How embarrassing.

His thoughts from before instantly fade away, replaced by how embarrassed he is from the situation he put himself in. It was impressive how you managed to pull him back from falling, had it not been for your strength, he would’ve been even more embarrassed from falling down to the ground completely.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only embarrassing incident that occurred between the two of you. One thing led to one another, and suddenly he finds you hugging his arm out of fear from the sudden appearance of your plus one.

Diluc felt like he was frozen the moment he felt your touch on him. He didn’t know what to do really, especially when you’re holding onto him as if your life depends on it. It was only by the time you let him go when he felt like he could breathe, watching you walk away first to get back to the venue.

Despite letting him go, he still feels the ghost of your touch.

–

It seems the night is still young for you and Diluc.

After the reception, the two of you proceeded to explore around Mondstadt City together to hang out more. But this particular night brought the man to something more than just a hangout.

The more the both of you continue to spend time together, the more Diluc feels more confused, maybe even worried, about his thoughts and feelings towards you. He doesn’t know who you are to him if not a friend. If you’re indeed just a friend, then why does he feel like it’s more than just? If not a friend, then what?

Deep inside, a small part of him already knows the answer to his worries and thoughts.

So when he sees you talking with someone who interrupted your hangout with him, an unpleasant feeling creeps up on him, especially when it turns out that the stranger is someone you’re familiar with.

He hasn’t felt jealous for a long time until now.

Just the thought of you being with someone else made him feel unpleasant, and he isn’t sure what to do with it. He could only watch as you happily chatted with Heizou, his mind clouded with conflicts and realizations.

Diluc realizes that his feelings towards you are something serious. This isn’t a mere admiration and fondness that will go away in a blink of an eye, but the kind of admiration and fondness that made him want more.

What hurts is that he knows he can’t have that. Not when his life is too complicated to have the happiness he wants to have more with you, not when his life is as dangerous as it can be to have the peacefulness he wants to share with you, and certainly not when he’s entangled himself with an eternal marriage with his partner who he considers as his friend to have you as his.

Yes, Diluc finally admitted it. He wants you to be more than his friend. He wants you to be more than just someone who he sees on a daily basis, but someone who he sees when he wakes up to another day, someone who he sees when he’s all dressed up with gifts for yet another memorable date night, someone who understands him more than he understands himself, someone who he kisses goodnight before sleeping away next to each other, someone who he will cherish with all his heart without hesitation,

Someone who he loves just as soulmates do.

But he knows that it’s far out of his reach.

What hurts more is how the two of you won’t be able to see each other soon, and none of you are sure when you’ll be able to.

…It’s for the best, he thinks.

The morning after, he received a phone call from Jean.

“How was the wedding?” She asks.

“It was… not bad.” He replies. “I made friends with someone.”

“Really? Wow, that’s great! I hope I’ll be able to meet your friend when I get there, they must be one great person.”

His eyebrows raised up in surprise. “You’ll visit here today?”

“Yeah, I’ll be able to come to the hotel today to congratulate the couple. I hope you don’t mind introducing me to your friend while I’m at it.”

Diluc isn’t sure what to feel about Jean’s eagerness to meet you, but regardless, he agrees to her request. “…Of course. You two would get along well.”

“I sure hope so! And if you want to, we can also invite your friend to our wedding! I’m sure there’s room for one more guest.”

“…We’ll see. Let’s meet up by the lobby when you arrive.”

“Alright, I’ll let you know when I arrive. See you there, Diluc.”

And just like that, the call ended.

Diluc puts his phone down with a sigh. What is he going to do?

Nothing it seems.

Though, he can’t help but notice how a few Fatui members have been around the hotel lately. Usually he ignores them if it weren’t for how.. often he sees them today. Is it perhaps related to a certain higher up who wants to buy the hotel?

Or.. is it related to a scheme he has yet to know about?

He thinks about it deeply to the point where he even spaced out a bit while talking to you in the garden as you wait for your friend.

He eventually finds out what the Fatui were up to when he decided to contact one of his associates in the underground network.

“The people you’ve been seeing are under the security branch of the Fatui, so it’s evident that someone must’ve hired them for something they’re planning to do that needs to be under wraps. We’ll let you know if we happen to find out who’s their employer and whether or not you should intervene.” His informant tells him through the phone as Diluc continues to stand around the lobby waiting for Jean, eyeing on the Fatui guards carefully from afar.

He didn’t have to wait for long on who’s the employer of the Fatui guards.

As soon as he kept his phone away after the phone call, he noticed the father of the bride walking around the lobby with a couple of the Fatui following him. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of the guards walking in a certain formation as though they’re surrounding someone–

Only for his heart to drop when he sees you among said guards.

What are they doing with you?

He then remembers how Shinsuke was glaring at you at the wedding ceremony back then, causing him to conclude that it must’ve been related to whatever’s going on with you and Ayato.

He didn’t hesitate to start following them in hopes of getting you out of there safely, only to lose sight of you when a lot of people suddenly entered the lobby.

He quietly curses at himself in irritation as he tries to walk through the busy crowd, hoping that he’ll still be able to see you once he’s out of there.

When he still doesn't see you, he feels like he’s about to burn this place down.

Please be alright, he thinks as he runs around the lobby like a madman, looking at every hallway to see a glimpse of you or your captors who seem to have more than just ill intentions towards you. It feels like he’s back in the incident where his father died as he feels the same thing that his younger self felt. Helplessness and fear of losing his loved one.

Fortunately, it was only a matter of time when he spotted the familiar Fatui guards standing in front of a door, holding what appears to be the very same bag that he saw you carrying at the garden earlier.

He didn’t hesitate to go towards where they were, causing the guards to notice him at last and be alerted.

“Sir, you’re not allowe–”

“I don’t care.”

As minutes passed, not one single person among the busy crowds in the lobby noticed the unconscious guards around the secluded hallway, with a tall man standing in the middle of the aftermath of his anger.

As soon as Diluc finishes dealing with the Fatui guards, he immediately grabs your bag before reaching out to the closed room to open it.

His heart drops at the sight of Shinsuke’s raised hand towards you.

Hold yourself, he orders to himself in his thoughts, not wanting to throw hands towards the man who was planning to hurt you.

He puts on his calm facade. “Was I interrupting something?”

It wasn’t hard to get Shinsuke out of the room and get you to safety, by the time he did, his heart breaks at the sight of you being all shaken up from whatever the older man did to you before he could arrive.

This is an example of what will happen if they’re with me, Diluc thought as he tries to comfort you. He knows that even though your situation right now has nothing to do with him, you’ll get more situations like this if you’re with him, making him realize that even if he’s not an engaged man, he knows he still can’t have you. Not when it’s a risk to even be with him.

He just wishes you to be safe and happy, but it hurts that it’s not something you’ll get from him.

That’s why when you tell him to go with Jean instead of letting him escort you back to your room, he knows not to insist and do what you want him to (but not before bidding you goodbye).

He feels selfish for wanting to do the opposite and go with you.

But he knows his place.

As he heads towards Jean, he takes one more glance at your direction. He internally wants to reach his hand out towards you, begging you to look back so he could excuse himself and go to you.

But you didn’t.

And so, hesitantly and defeatedly, he lets you go.

Hours later, he stares at the ceiling while lying down on his bed, with Jean busily doing her paperworks on her bed that’s next to his. He wonders what could’ve been if his life wasn’t so complicated and dangerous. He wonders what could’ve been if it were you who he gets to call his spouse instead of the one who he considers as his business partner and good friend. He wonders what could’ve been if he wasn’t such a coward.

He wonders if you think of him the way he thinks of you.

You realize that suppressing your feelings is not the way of moving on.

Love hurts. Thinking of the past hurts. You realize that Diluc is just someone who helped you with your confrontation towards the past you so wanted to forget because of the pain it brings, but he’s not the one who can completely help you heal.

By the end of the day, it’s you alone who can heal yourself.

It breaks your heart to know that Diluc, your dear friend who helped you in ways you’re so grateful for, isn’t the one you can have as your lover. But you know it’s best this way – after all, you still have to take time focusing on yourself first now that you took a big step from your burdens. All you can do is accept that he’s just going to be your friend in this lifetime and cherish that.

After all that has happened today as well as a good long hour of crying and letting everything out, you find yourself lying down on your bed as you scroll through your photo gallery, finally looking back at the memories that you shared with Ayato, with your friends, and with yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve looked at them that you almost forgot some of the moments that made you happy.

Happy.. When will you ever be as happy as you were back then?

It took a while until you finally decided to call it a night, turning off your phone and placing it on the nightstand next to your bed before trying to sleep.

You hope you’ll be able to at least face Diluc and spend time with him one last time. The last thing you want is to experience the same thing you did with Ayato and ruin what you have with Diluc before you leave to go back home. But perhaps that’s why the past is so important, isn’t it? It helps you prevent yourself from making the same mistake.

Home..

You let out a sigh to yourself, quietly wondering when you’ll be able to go back to your homeland that you oh so missed.

Maybe it won’t hurt to ask Ei for a transfer someday.

DAN’S NOTES

(the rest of the letter is blank, making it evident that Crepus hasn’t finished it completely for unknown reasons).

this information won’t be revealed in the series whatsoever but if crepus didn’t die from the accident, he wouldve decided to remove what he said to diluc and rewrite his statement in the letter to make it clear that it’s alright for diluc to completely reject the marriage offer since the only thing crepus will be happy about is if his son lives happily with someone and not be alone for the rest of his life.

hence why I was transferred to the Lion of the South Department

in the favonius police department, there are 4 departments situated all around mondstadt: the lion of the south (basically the main department), the falcon of the west, the wolf of the north, and the dragon of the east.

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