To Love A Monster Collab

I can't wait for some more 😍😍

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 1

Welp, I've been convinced. Please interact so I know if anyone actually reads this XD. Heimdall comes in about halfway through. He'll be more present in any upcoming parts.

Heimdall x fem!named reader, name is used as little as possible

Words: 9.8k.

Warnings: swearing, Heimdall being his bitchy self. Odin manipulating people, as usual.

‐-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blurb: To say your life changed in a matter of hours would be an understatement. 

The night before, you were alone in your room, a place that wasn’t even in this realm. But just twenty-four hours later, you were in Asgard, starting fresh, and on the back of a giant beast with probably the most pompous, condescending, and insufferable god that’s ever lived.

All this because Thor just so happened to crash through your roof. The norns are mocking you, surely… 

‐-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The clinking of glass jars was the only sound. Bottles moved from your table up onto a shelf, no longer needed now that your chore was complete. Another round of elixirs, for what exactly you weren’t sure, you never kept track anymore. They were always useful for the elves.

Useful. That was what they always said. That seems to be all you were nowadays.

You sighed, breaking the silence in your tiny room. This was one of the largest outposts the light elves had in Alfheim, one of the few strongholds they had when the Light temple was not within their control, as it was now. Regardless of that, this was your home – the only one you knew, at least.

The jars were abandoned after you took a few strides to arrive at your bookshelf, a finger wandering across the spines of books you've read a hundred times. Another sigh, after you found no interest in reading one of them yet again. Your eyes scanned the room, filled with nothing but a wooden chest next to your bed and a table with a few chairs by a window. How mundane it felt. You thought you'd be accustomed to it by now. Being a tool of war must have made you immune to the comfort of consistency.

You shook your head at the thought, reminding yourself not to be so pessimistic. The elves cared for you, gave you a home. A goddess left with nothing and no one, they could have left you. But they took you in, and you had to help them in return. You weren't an elf, their war was simply something you couldn't possibly understand, that was all.

That's what you had been telling yourself for at least a century now.

The thought was shoved away again as you decided to retrieve your lyre from your chest. Sweet melodies that were plucked from its strings were among the few things you never tired of.

Then there was a sound.

Sound was the wrong word. A boom, a crash, an explosion. Something like that came from the distance. Normal, considering the constant warring within the real and therefore far from drawing attention. But this time it felt different.

Almost like…thunder?

You squinted at the window, seeing a flash of blue rocket into the sky. You took a single step to investigate before it happened.

It burst through your roof, the cacophony of destruction so shocking that you flew back until your back hit the wall by your bed with a hand over your chest, desperately trying to calm your pounding heart. The early morning sun was just barely over the horizon, leaving little light to help you see just what was before you. The dust was settling, thinning enough that you could make out some monstrous object in the center, but ultimately you were stumped.

Until it moved.

You jumped again as the entity twitched and groaned, slowly sitting up.

Okay…this was a man then. He slowly and clumsily rose to his feet, standing so high that his head was poking into the massive hole he had just made. He wouldn't even fit in the room if the roof was still there.

Based on that alone – well, and the lingering sparks of lightning – you had an idea of exactly who this was.

You heard a curse from him as he rolled his shoulders, turning around to have a look at where he was. His dazed eyes landed on you. He froze.

Silence. Then…

"Hey."

How eloquent, you thought to yourself. A son of Odin literally smashes into your home and can barely offer a greeting in return. "Hello," you replied, your disbelief at, well, everything in front of you, overwhelmed by the fear of the god. You knew all the stories, knew how much mayhem and carnage the Aesir would bring when crossed. You were not keen on becoming one of those stories.

Thor glanced up at the roof, then back down at you, only about half his size. "Hope I uh…didn't scare ya too much." The slur in his speech was stronger than the smell of alcohol emanating from him, and that was an impressive feat. He snapped his fingers, leaving you wondering what he was asking from you. Until the whir of electrified metal sounded and the signature form of Mjolnir rammed through your wall and into his waiting hand.

"Eh…sorry, 'bout all that. Lost control of Mjolnir for a sec," he shrugged.

"I…understand?" Really, you didn't, not in the slightest. But what would anyone say to that?

From the newly installed skylight came the flap of bird's wings until a caw sounded. A raven with blue-tipped feathers landed on one of the chunks of roof that was just barely staying in place.

You felt your heart nearly stop. With Thor here, there was no secret who that raven represented.

And yet…it didn't even look at tou. It's eyes scanned your room but skipped right over you. Like you were invisible.

Another caw rose from its beak, aimed at Thor.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm gettin' there. Can't you see I'm busy." Thor gestured towards you with his hammer, drawing the bird's eyes to you. Only this time they stayed. Noticing you.

You had a feeling you knew why, but thought it strange regardless.

The raven stared at you, hints of green flickering across its black eyes. "Well," Thor grunted, turning towards your door. How you dreaded his departure. As terrible as his entrance was, you worried for the door that he definitely wouldn't fit through. "I got shit to do, so uh…see ya, I guess." A hand was carelessly waved at you before reaching for the door. To your surprise and palpable relief, he managed to squeeze through without doing more than disturbing the dirt that settled on the walls.

And that was it. Thor left. But the raven remained.

For a moment you considered saying somthing to it. But this raven was a messenger, and you weren't sure just how much material it had to deliver already.

"Muninn!" Thor shouted from outside. The bird looked at you just a second longer before taking off after Thor. With the roar of hundreds of bird's wings and the silence that followed, the ordeal was over.

Twelve hours. That was all it took.

You were sitting on your bed, preparing to rest for the night. A bit earlier than usual, but cleaning the destruction left behind by the god of thunder was more than enough work for one. Stone wasn't easy to move after all.

Three knocks, thunderous and heavy, nothing like the knock of any elf you knew. You were too tired to care exactly who needed you at the moment and simply went to answer it, intending to send them away as soon as possible. It could be Ymir for all you cared, now was not the time.

Or so you thought. Upon opening the door you found Thor, once again. Not alone this time. An old man stood in front of him, two ravens taking off from his shoulders and into your room.

Suddenly you wished it was Ymir at your door. At least he wouldn't have sucked the fatigue out of you as Odin did.

"Pardon the intrusion, miss. Mind if we come in?" You nodded silently, still processing the scene before you. Thor was close behind his father as he entered.

"Please, take a seat at–" You stopped mid gesture, realizing your table was no more than splinters now.

Oding chuckled, sounding friendly. "My son's handiwork, I'm sure. Part of the reason I'm here, actually." He reached in his pocket while Thor dug a bottle of mead from somewhere (you didn't want to know where) and started chugging it down. Odin held out his hand, prompting you to do the same.

Coins were dropped into your palm.

Absolutely bemused, you looked back at him.

"For the roof," Odin explained. "Thor breaks just about everything he finds, so I've made a habit of compensating his victims."

"Oh, um…thank you?" was all you said. That was it?

He pulled up a chair from against a wall, the only chair to survive Thor's fall, and sat down, requesting you to sit on your bed. Odin seemed to ignore his son completely then.

"Now, my dear, you have me curious." You cringed at the pet name he used but said nothing. "I don't pay too much attention to elves, but never did I find a goddess to be among them…where did you come from, exactly?"

His tone was light but the sting of something lying underneath his words shone through. He was clearly irked that he didn't know about you. "I've lived here my entire life, actually." You tried to sound as confident and collected as you could despite your heart feeling like it was about to spring from your chest.

"Really? From the look of you I'd say you're Aesir."

"I'm of Asgardian descent, on my mother's side."

A grey eyebrow rose. Not out of curiosity. Surprise. Like he knew something.

You didn't dare ask.

"Those though," he pointed halfheartedly at your arms, where tattoos marked your shoulders and extended to your elbows on both arms, but only your left had a thin line down your forearm that ended to your knuckles. Runes were drawn on your middle fingers, though you had no idea what any of these markings were for. "Those are Vanir."

The horror of the situation was settling in. Odin found a goddess with Vanir symbols on them hiding from him. Truly not the finest way to go out. You swallowed to moisten your dry throat. "I…I'm Vanir on my father's side. I've had them for as long as I can remember," you replied weakly.

You flinched when Odin laughed jovially. "Relax, my dear, I'm just asking questions, I don't mean to scare you." As reassuring as he sounded, you couldn't take his words to heart. Thor had no reason to be here after all, other than intimidation.

Said unnecessary god offered a reverberating belch at that moment, proving your point. His father shot him an annoyed look before returning his attention to you. "I take it you don't know your parents?"

He already knew. He seemed to know a lot about you despite admitting he didn't know you existed moments ago. Those twelve hours since Thor busted into your life, that was all he needed to find out. The concept was as terrifying as it was creepy.

"No," you said sadly, eyes falling for a second. "The light elves found me as a child and took me in."

Odin hummed, dissatisfied if you had to guess. "So you don't know of any spells they may have cast on you? Are there any spells you put on yourself?" You shook your head. The old god's voice grew just a bit darker. "Then why couldn't my ravens see you?"

A shiver ran down your spine, seeing how displeased he was at your lack of explanation thus far. You quickly elaborated, "I've always had a natural immunity to certain types of magic. I assume whatever magic your ravens have is among them. And perhaps…" you were grasping at straws, trying to answer the question you had asked yourself that morning. "Perhaps the immunity loses effect if someone your ravens can track interacts with me." Sure, that works.

More than you thought it would, seeing how Odin relaxed a bit and nodded. "That would make sense. They did notice you after Thor pointed you out, and they had trouble before you answered the door."

You had to bite your tongue to hold in the outburst the statement incited. He had been trying to spy on you up until now, experimenting. It wasn't something you appreciated in the slightest. "So what, you just stay here, make protection spells and staves and other crap for a bunch of elves?"

The quick swerve into the topic left you dumbfounded. You sputtered in shock, "W-well, yes. I owe them my life so it's only fitting that I help them."

Odin leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap, the old wood creaking at the motion. "Well, if you ask me…that's a waste." Again, you were baffled at the sudden statement.

"You see, I have a little project that I’m working on. Something that will benefit all the realms once it’s completed. And based on my findings, I think you’re perfect for it…" He trailed off, staring at you expectantly. It took a moment for you to realize what he wanted.

"Eivor."

“Eivor. That’s a beautiful name, very fitting for you.” The more he said the slower your surprise faded. It would seem that with all his questions answered he was much more…respectful, gentle. A part of you still recalled all the stories about him and how cruel he was, but in that moment you thought he wasn’t as bad as everyone said. Then again, he did crush your hope of finding change by admitting he wanted something from you.

Odin must have sensed your disappointment. He stood from his chair and paced as he continued. “Now, I know what that looks like. If I came all this way because I need you for something then I’m no better than the elves, letting someone with value waste away with simple tasks. But that’s not the case here.” He paused, turning back to look at you with kindness and some type of…intensity that you couldn’t describe. “I don’t want to just use you and throw you out, no. No, this is an invitation. To live among your kind in Asgard.

“Do you know what that means, my dear? Once you’re done with this tiny, tiny chore for me you’ll have a world of possibilities. You can move on to something better.”

Try as you might to remain cautious, the flicker of hope rose up within you. Something better, something other than elves coming to you when they wanted something, more than just waiting to be needed.

Again, Odin saw through your thoughtful silence. “Think about it. In Asgard, you’d be serving the realms, protecting people, promoting peace.” He wandered to your shelves of elixirs that the light elves were waiting for you to deliver. “No more useless trinkets, no more sitting around while they constantly war.” He turned his head to you while lazily lifting his arm to the shelf. A single finger extended and tapped one of the bottles, tipping it off the shelf and shattering on the floor.

Odin let you ruminate to the sound of the glass for a moment, then went back to the chair he abandoned earlier. He sat up straight, his posture displaying what a powerful god he was. Contrary to that, his next statement was soft, like he was comforting a scared child. “You said you owed the elves your life. Well, you’ve served them for more than a lifetime, haven’t you? Your debt is paid. Isn't it time you made your own choice?”

It was so much information to take in. It felt exhilarating, the thought of not only something new, but finding other beings that didn’t just pretend to care for you just to get what you could offer them.

Even so, you were still scared. Not just by the suspicion you felt, knowing this could easily not be what it seems. It was the…novelty of it all. Something you knew nothing about. Perhaps the security of the mundane wasn’t as bad as you had always thought.

And yet, the chance of finding your own purpose was too tempting to ignore.

“Forgive me for rushing you,” Odin began. “But I’m afraid I’ll need an answer now. I would give you time to think, but unless you don’t plan on moving a muscle while you do so, any raven I leave with you might lose track of you. And I can’t stay forever, I’m a busy god after all.”

The clock was ticking, and your one chance was here. You could finally be something you wanted to be. And perhaps get away from all the coercion and lies. Away from wondering how truthful the elves' declarations of gratitude were. Away from wondering if any of them loved you as you thought they did.

But many of them didn’t. And you knew it. You just didn’t want to accept it.

And you were tired of it.

Odin was right. You wouldn’t wait for your problems to go away. You would find the place you were supposed to be. A deep breath passed through your lungs, your steeled determination showing in your eyes. A determination that Odin smiled at.

“I’ll go,” You said, feeling the rush of excitement as you spoke.

In the background, Thor raised his now empty bottle of mead like he was celebrating, although you doubted he was sober enough to really be paying attention. Odin stood from his chair with a clap of his hands and a big smile adorning his face. There was something almost sinister about it, but you ignored it. Whatever was tipping you off couldn’t be worse than wasting this chance.

“Perfect! Then let’s get going!” Odin said, his ravens gliding back over to him. One, who you recognized as Muninn, morphed into tattoos on his right arm. The other, this one with red tipped feathers, stood on his shoulder, ready for orders.

You also got to your feet. “Wait! Can I have a moment to pack my things?”

A chuckle. “My dear, you don’t need anything here. I’ll provide a room, new clothes, and Asgard has an expansive public library that likely has all those books of yours.” Your eyes went to the wooden chest at the end of your bed.

You couldn’t leave those behind. Nothing had been as constant as their presence. “Could…could I bring just a few things?”

“If it’s something that can’t be replaced.”

You nodded and rushed to the chest, opening it and taking the instruments within, handling them with care. You’d had both your entire life. A simple bone flute, with carvings of patterns like the ones on your arms. It was old, scratched, and chipped in a few places, but the sound was still rich. The other was a lyre, a simple rectangular shape with no special decorations that also had its share of nicks, though the strings were new. You always replaced them when it was necessary. Both of them went into their respective thin leather bags, then you returned to Odin. He didn’t even look at them, like they meant nothing to him. Which, to be fair, they probably did.

“Ready, then?”

You nodded, watching Thor reach his father’s side while the raven, presumably Huginn if your memory served, took off, forming a cluster of ravens around the three of you. Just as the vortex closed and the last of your room faded, Thor leaned down and mumbled to you, “You made a good choice,” while fixing you with a sincere stare.

His serious tone caught you off guard. It made you wonder what would have happened if you refused Odin’s offer.

You didn’t want to think about it. It was too late now anyway.

The ravens cleared, and once they were gone you were in front of the Great Lodge. The sunset of Asgard greeted you, the sight of Gladsheim leaving you stunned at the size of the city. And the wall, of course.

"Welcome home!" Odin cheered with a smile. It fell quickly when he saw Thor, still idling next to you. "What are you still doing here? Go! Don't you have somewhere else to drink?"

Thor nodded, glancing at you, looking almost worried. He said nothing, planting a heavy hand on your shoulder as he walked past. He clearly was still too drunk to mind his strength because he nearly knocked you over with the gesture.

"Now I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but it is getting late, and I want you to have some time to settle in. I've arranged for you to have a tour of Asgard with Heimdall in the morning. He knows everything about everything in Asgard, he'll tell you all the things you want to know…and what you don't want to know, probably."

You chuckled, thinking he was joking. Since he didn't you assumed there was something there you were oblivious to.

Hopefully it wasn't something awful.

"For now," Odin continued, "I'll be off. Sif here will show you to your room." Just as the goddess's name was mentioned, a tall blonde woman came from behind you, making you nearly jump out of your skin. "Sif, I trust you'll make sure she finds her way?"

"Of course, All-Father." You could help but notice the smell of mead on her breath as well. Was being drunk just a thing in Asgard?

"Good. I'll be off then, I'll greet you in the morning, Eivor." You bid the old god goodnight and he disappeared with his ravens. Sif turned her attention to you and offered a friendly smile. “Well, I hope you’re ready to see your new home.” She waved a hand and two servants scuttled over. “They’ll put your things away, that way we can take our time getting to your cabin.”

You looked at your leather bags worriedly, afraid to let your precious instruments out of your sight. Ultimately you put your trust in Sif and gave them to the servants, muttering a thank you to them as you did. Both of them appeared shocked that you did so, or that you even acknowledged them. And you could see why, Sif didn’t even look at them as she started down the path in front of the lodge. You thanked them again and followed after her. But then a streak of read flew past you, nearly mowing you over as it passed.

Sif spun around at the sound of little feet tapping on the dirt, smiling when the red you saw came to her. A little girl, no older than five winters, holding a wooden sword. “Mama, I almost got you that time!”

Sif chuckled and ruffled the fiery hair on the girl’s head. “Almost, you’ll have to keep practicing if you want to catch me though.” She then looked up to you. “I hope you don’t mind if my daughter comes with us? She’s trouble without enough supervision.”

“Of course!” You knelt down to the girl’s height and asked, “And what’s your name, little one?”

“I’m Thrúd! And I’m not little!” She protested. “I’ll be big like my daddy and brothers.”

That’s right, this would be Thor’s daughter. That would explain why she seemed tall for someone so young. If you were honest with yourself you weren’t sure how to act with children. Warzones in Alfheim were not for the young and that was where you spent most of your time. Before you came up with something to say to the irate girl, Sif interjected. “Don’t be rude. And you aren’t big yet.” Thrúd pouted for a moment, a moment that ended when her mother was moving again. She took off, running ahead of her mother while you caught up.

You felt…shy, to say the least. These people were very different from the elves. With your habit of being sarcastic and occasionally sassy you were doing your best to bite your tongue while Sif engaged in small talk.

The Light elves were constantly drilling into each other how crucial winning their war was, how it was no laughing manner. Every elf should be treated as a respected soldier, every high ranking official like a king. There was an excess of formality and decorum, forcing you to reserve any laid back energy for the few private moments you had with the even fewer elves you trusted not to take it to heart. Out of habit you defaulted to this type of exchange, offering quick and succinct answers to everything she asked, offering little to any comments she made. It wasn’t long before you noticed that she seemed to get bored as a result. She paused the conversation for a minute, grasping for anything to make the interaction more interesting. That moment somehow acted as the cue for an Einherjar to fly from behind a building and trip onto the path in front of you, a moment when Thrúd was thankfully close to her mother. The man shouted something in an old language, another one leaping out with a club in his hand, missing completely. The two squared up again, only this time the one with the club was holding it upside down, the thin end making contact with the other’s thick armor. It was then that they both stumbled before engaging again. So being drunk apparently was a thing in Asgard.

You stared incredulously while Sif rolled her eyes. Thrúd, clearly confused, looked up at you and Sif. “Why would he use the stick like that?”

“I…think he’s a little confused,” you commented, attempting to avoid any accusations.

Sif, however, was not. “They were probably part of the drinking game that was going on this afternoon,” she huffed.

“What’s that mean? Is he dumb?”

“Well–” You didn’t get a chance to offer a neutral explanation. The Einherjar threw his club at the other from about a foot away from the other. It bounced off of his opponent’s armor and straight into his exposed gut, making him double over as the armored one laughed hysterically. In that moment, you decided being courteous wasn’t possible. “Yes, he is.”

To your surprise, Sif laughed. “That’s definitely not far off.” You stood, relieved that no one was bothered by your humor. Perhaps, you thought, because not everyone was a hardened footsoldier or a jaded general like you were so familiar with, they were more tolerant of not taking things so seriously.

You should relax.

And so you did. Once the two Einherjar were shooed away by Sif you tried to actually contribute to your interactions, mentioning Thor’s entrance. A troll squeezing through a mouse hole was how you described Thor stumbling through your front door. Sif had a good laugh at that one, taking no offense to poking fun at her husband. And how you used to use your flute to lull overworked guards to sleep so you could sneak out of your room to play in the sand of the barrens when you were a child. Sif was more at ease as well, despite Thrúd constantly circling her and waving her toy sword around carelessly. She told you about the time one of her sons toppled over an entire kennel for the servants' work dogs, scaring them all enough to send them yipping and howling into the middle of Odin observing the valkyries training new Einherjar. You seemed to have shenanigans in common, although yours were born from your rebelliousness, Sif’s from a family of boisterous gods.

You two had stopped in front of a moderately sized building while you exchanged a few more remarks, laughing once more before Thrúd started to constantly tap on her mother’s hip, complaining that she was bored. Sif shook her head at the girl, still smiling fondly. “You hear the girl, this is where I’ll leave you for the night.”

You stiffened, realizing the building you’d been loitering around was yours. “This is mine? All this for me?”

Sif smirked. “And why not?”

You shook your head. “It’s so much bigger than the tiny room I had in Alfheim.”

Sif hummed, her smirk growing just a tad. “Afraid you’ll get lost in there?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “I hope I'll make it out before I wither away into dust.”

Sif let out another guffaw, all while latching onto Thrud’s shoulder before the child wandered off. Once the girl was secured (for the time being), Sif put her hands on her hips, looking much more pleased than she had all night. “You know, I like you. You’re much more fun when you let go.”

Without you realizing it your face lit up. Not once had someone said they liked you just for being you, not since you were…you couldn’t even remember how young you were. “You really think so?”

“What reason would I have to lie?”

For once, you didn’t have an answer to that question, and you felt overjoyed. It was one you asked about the elves so much that it practically became your mantra. Now you really could believe that there weren’t strings attached to everything you did.

Finally, you could leave that part of you behind.

You swallowed all that emotion down, wanting to hop back into the mood that had been set. “So you can get me out of your hair and get a handle on Thrúd?”

Sif sighed, watching as Thrúdwas tossing her sword around for a servant she’d cornered a few doors down, swearing that she could do tricks with it. “There’s no handling her. She’s learned too much from her brothers already.”

When Thrud’s toy sword was getting hurled too high above her, Sif saw fit to bid you goodnight and get her calmed down enough to get to bed relatively soon. And once you entered your cabin you found that Odin had kept his word. Simple but sturdy furniture, thick furs on the bed, a closet with cloaks and dresses ready for you, even if some of them didn’t look like they would fit. Much to your relief, your instruments were placed on a table below the window, safe and sound, and exactly how you left them. There was even a full bookshelf, but you chose not to inspect its contents for now. The fatigue from the day had settled in now that you had a moment to breathe, and you were in dire need of some sleep.

To think Thor had literally dropped into your life this morning. It already felt like so long ago.

The next morning, you awoke to a bashful knock at your door. Upon answering it, you found it to be a seamstress, timidly requesting she get some measurements to tailor some of the clothes Odin had given you. You obliged and welcomed her inside, even asked if she needed a drink. It made you sad to see her so confused at your kindness, shining a light on how she, and likely many others, were treated by higher ranking Aesir. Once the measuring was underway, she began to unwind, as if she was feeling safer than she did outside. Upon her leaving, you expressed your gratitude, which made the seamstress smile with, as far as you could tell, relief. When she opened the door she nearly bumped into Sif. And just like that, the servant was back to curling into an invisible shell, apologizing profusely and scampering off.

You liked Sif, and you were already beginning to see her as a friend, but you hoped she was not the reason the servants always seemed so on edge. You would have to find that seamstress sometime, tell her you were open to being friends. You were all for forging bonds now, thanks to Sif, and why limit yourself to the elite?

Sif barely noticed the seamstress, choosing to greet you with a warm smile. “New wardrobe already?” She asked, noticing the freshly altered Asgardian dress you wore over simple leather pants.

“Odin certainly works fast,” you chuckled, joining her outside.

Sif’s smile fell a tiny bit. “All-Father certainly does," she replied, pointing out your mistake without saying it outright. You found it odd, considering the Aesir seemed much looser than the elves, except when it came to the gods here. “Aside from that, I’ll be dropping you off at the lodge for now, I’m just making sure you find your way there.”

Disappointment washed over you at the information. Sif had promised to introduce you to her sons sometime, and based on what you heard about them, they sounded like they would be…entertaining, to say the least. “Where will you be?”

“Tending to my regular duties, mostly handling affairs we have with the dwarves for today. You, however, will be getting a tour of Asgard, courtesy of the watchman himself. I’ll be handing you off to Heimdall, our resident mind reader.”

Your eyes widened at the casual remark. “He reads minds? That’s…terrifying.”

Sif laughed, making you think you were overreacting. “Well, he reads people more than minds, but he can find more details and pick up precise thoughts with eye contact. But I doubt it will matter much since he’s just giving you a tour.” They entered the courtyard of the lodge, Odin’s ravens dropping him there just as your feet met the mud in front of it. Sif leaned down and whispered to you, "And for that…I apologize in advance."

You raised a brow at her. "What?"

"Eivor!" Called Odin from the doors of the lodge. Sif gave you a rueful smile and left as Odin approached. "How was your first night in Gladsheim?"

"It's been…nice. Thank you, I've never lived in this much comfort." You didn't have the heart to admit most of it felt unnecessary to you. You secretly hoped you'd get used to it.

"One of the many perks of serving the greater good, my dear. Now, the city has a lot going on, and I'd hate for you to feel overwhelmed. That's where your tour guide comes in."

The doors to the Great Lodge behind him opened and a man stepped out. For the first time since you arrived, despite the gods you'd seen thus far, you felt starstruck. Not because you knew who he was, you hadn't the slightest. You couldn't help but notice that he was your type of handsome, his tall but lean frame a stark contrast to the bulky men you had seen already. Sharp facial features framed by ornate golden hair, but his eyes…a glowing purple like you'd never seen. Piercing, almost intimidating, but beautiful all the same. Those eyes met yours for a heartbeat before you looked back to Odin, embarrassed that you were caught ignoring him.

The man approached, stopping by Odin as he finished his last statement. You suddenly knew who this was.

"This is Heimdall." The fair god gave a slight bow to you, the smirk he wore showing just how confident – or cocky – he was. He looked directly at you when his head rose. Within a moment the smile melted, and he looked…confused.

"He will be taking good care of you while you get acclimated. Right, Heimdall?" Odin gave him a stern glare, almost like a warning.

"Of course, All-Father. When have I ever disappointed you?" His voice, though smooth and soothing to you, carried something that made you think he may be more on the cocky side than confident. His glowing eyes raced back to you after addressing Odin. His jaw clenched.

"Good. I'll leave you to it then. Have fun!" Odin gave you no chance to reply, he simply fluttered away in a whirlwind of feathers, as he seemed to so often. You're left alone with Heimdall. It was silent for a few seconds, like you two were sizing each other up. It gave you a chance to notice he was almost a full head taller than you…which you admittedly liked.

Heimdall was the first to speak. "So, you're the stray from Alfheim I've heard about, hm?"

You felt your brow twitch at being referred to as "stray." You chose not to react. This was a stranger, after all. He might not have meant anything by it. "...I guess you could say that."

His expression grew even more sour, painting a sneer on his lips. He looked…angry? He harrumphed, then brushed past you rudely. "Very well then, stray, let's get on with it."

He definitely meant something with that nickname. Unease stirred in your stomach, feeling that this wasn't about to go as well as you would have liked. A deep breath was what you needed, so you took it while you turned and followed him to the edge of the courtyard. He whistled, then waited for a barrage of thumps to reach them. A giant armored beast launched into view and raced down the path to you. You thought it would trample Heimdall with how fast it charged toward him, jumping back once it finally stopped just in front of him.

Heimdall laughed, patting the beast's neck while giving you a condescending smile. "Relax, stray, Gulltoppr won't hurt you…" he effortlessly climbed onto its back, settling comfortably on the golden saddle before adding, "...unless I command it." You thought you knew what a shit-eating grin looked like, but you saw that you never did until now. Heimdall jerked his head to the space behind him, signaling you to mount. The beast towered over you, and getting on its back would be a chore without help.

…which Heimdall clearly had no intention of offering. You waited a moment at Gulltoppr’s side to see if he would offer any sort of assistance, but all you got was an impatient frown.

You held back a sigh and leaped as high as you could, just barely grasping the saddle enough to pull yourself up. You were panting a bit once you finally sat with both legs on one side, all while Heimdall mocked you with fake pity.

This couldn't possibly get worse.

Of course, you were wrong.

He had something to say about everything. The first thing he pointed out to you was the very obvious Great Hall, as if you were too stupid to notice it was there. You let that one go, thinking he was just being thorough. But then you passed by a commercial area, where Asgard’s resident craftsmen carried out their business. “This is where the finest goods in the realms are made, by the hands of pureblood Asgardians, for pureblood Asgardians. So you shouldn’t soil it with your presence.” Your jaw dropped at that. By now you figured out he was naturally rude, but flat out prejudiced and spiteful had to be added to the list of his worst qualities.

No, you wouldn’t sink to his level, at least not so fast. You prided yourself on your patience, and you wouldn’t let this prick force you to abandon it. “I see…” You began, desperately trying to find something cordial to say. It was harder than finding a specific grain of sand at the bottom of the ocean. “I don’t want to be a nuisance, so I’ll stay away as best I can.” A complete lie, you had no intention of bending to his perceived rules. Heimdall looked at you over his shoulder, saying nothing. After a moment his jaw clenched tighter than before.

You came across the training grounds next. Armored men were clamoring about, nearly beating each other to death, it seemed to you. “Isn’t this a bit rough for training?” You asked after his introduction to the area.

A scoff was his reply. “Are you too daft to see? They’re Einherjar, they’re already dead. Why hold back anything?”

“Because dying again probably isn’t pleasant?”

Heimdall gave you a theatrical sigh. “Oh of course, what a loss it would be if they did something twice. Do you think it makes any sort of difference? Or should I start explaining every little thing to you?”

Gods, he was irritating. Did he have to be so dramatic about it? “I just mean–”

“What you mean doesn’t matter. It’s a stupid question.”

You balled your hands into fists, your fingernails digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. Oh, how you wanted to tell him how stupid he was for completely missing the point. But no, you were better than him. You were better than him, you swore. “I suppose it is,” you said curtly, having no desire to say any more.

Again, Heimdall glanced at you over his shoulder, brows knitting together in addition to his clenched teeth.

Then Gultoppr strolled past a much shabbier part of town, lacking the grandeur of the buildings near the Great Lodge. “These are the servant quarters. Do I need to explain this to you, or are you finally beginning to understand anything at all?”

An impatient sigh passed through you, this one you made sure he could hear. Though you doubted it made any difference to him. “No.” That was it, a single word was all you could manage to say politely at this point.

“No useless questions this time? Good, perhaps you will get the hang of things before the next century.”

You didn’t entertain him with a response, and he didn’t seem to be looking for one either. From there you both were silent, watching the cabins go by as Gultoppr meandered across things you’d already seen. As much as you hated hearing what Heimdall had to say, it was starting to feel awkward. And maybe this period was a good time to patch things over and hopefully –hopefully– get him to stop being such an ass. Clearly asking about Asgard was a mistake, as he had an unfortunate talent of finding a flaw in just about everything you said about it. His ego certainly seemed big enough for your chosen approach to work.

“While we’re passing through these familiar parts, why don’t you tell me about yourself, Heimdall?” You asked, forcing the irritation out of your voice to make your tone pleasant. Heimdall looked back at you for a second, this time with suspicion. Was he really so against talking about himself with how much of an elitist he was?

“What, pray tell, would make you ask?”

“Well, if we’re both serving the All-Father it’s likely we’ll come across each other again. There’s no harm in making our interactions more personal.”

Another glance at you, this one longer. “All you need to know is I am the scion of the Aesir, watchman of the gods, and herald of Ragnarok. It is my job to keep this realm safe from any harm whatsoever…whether it comes from the giants or a foolish stray from Alfheim.”

Of course he had to tack on an insult somewhere in there. You had to admit, however, that you did hear the pride in his voice when describing his role. It didn’t feel like it was born from the prestige of his position, but the joy of having it. It was almost enough to make you think there might be some parts of him that are bearable. Almost.

“It appears you love the realm very much.” You felt some of the anger recede as you made a genuine statement.

“Of course, it is the peak of perfection…At least it was, before you got here.”

The anger was back.

“Oh really?” You mocked, not thinking about what you said before you said it. “I’m sure just about everyone else in the realm would say the same about you.” As much as you wanted to be nice, the snark you threw right back at him felt so good.

Heimdall yanked on Gulltoppr’s reins, making the beast yelp in protest. He turned around as much as he could on the saddle and snarled, “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to already?” You recoiled, not expecting such a violent reaction. It hadn’t occurred to you until now that you had no idea exactly how much of a fighter Heimdall was, but based on this sudden threat he must have been enough of one to hurt you if he wanted to. And yet, it was not enough to scare you into caring. You shot back, “I think it’s you who's forgotten. What was it All-Father said? That I would be ‘taken care of?’ I don’t feel taken care of.” Your reply was as much of a threat as his, reminding him that you could drop him right out of Odin’s good graces if you wanted to, and considering how much more respectful he was to the older you guessed that would mean a lot to him.

All he did was glare harder. It was then that you noticed something. He didn’t seem to be angry. Well, he was, but not just angry. He looked…frustrated?

For a moment you felt like you had unknowingly been the problem and felt a tinge of guilt. Before you could ask him if you were in the wrong he turned away and instructed Gulltopr to move again. “If you think the All-Father would take your word over mine, then I assure you, I will revel in the look on your face when you realize you are nothing compared to me. A mongrel next to a dragon”

You didn’t care if you had done something wrong anymore. He deserved whatever it was that made him tense.

Finally, Gulltopr made it to something new, a large building not too far from the cabin Odin gave you. “Here is Asgard’s public library. All the finest pieces of literature have been collected and are available to read at your leisure. Can you even read, stray? I seriously doubt it.”

Don’t react, don’t react… you repeated to yourself. Just keep in mind that the library is there and you can read some new books for the first time since you were a child, that was all that mattered.

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings, stray? Don’t worry, I’m sure you have something that can be considered a redeeming quality.”

That’s it. Sif had said you were better when you let go. So you did.

Without warning, you reached across him and pulled on Gultoppr’s reins, the gradungr coming to a halt. Heimdall caught your arm as you pulled it back, looking like you had severely offended him. Before he opened his big mouth you slapped his arm away and leaped off Gulltoppr’s back. “What are you doing?” Heimdall demanded, drawing attention from other residents. Every single one cowered at his voice.

You turned around and gave a mocking curtsy to him. “I’m so sorry, but frankly, I’m sick of you.”

“We’re not done here,” he growled, turning Gulltoppr to face you. It did nothing to change your mind.

“Yes, we are. If that’s a problem, then you can figure out how to explain it to Odin.” You spun on your heel and started marching away.

“All-Father,” He emphasized, correcting you, “ordered you to get acquainted with the city. This defies a direct order!”

“That’s your problem!” You shouted back.

Your patience was gone and you were not going to waste your time humoring the jerk any longer. Not even the hammering of Gulltopr’s heavy footfalls racing towards you were frightening. You waited for the perfect moment to stop walking, until Gulltopr was just a few bounds away. You raised your hand, summoning a barrier of golden magic swirling above the ground, positioned just in front of Heimdall’s upper body. Gulltopr kept running full speed, and Heimdall was hurled directly into the barrier – the equivalent of sprinting face first into a stone wall. He let out a pained yell and was thrown off of Gulltoppr, who skidded to a halt as soon as he realized his master was no longer mounted.

You didn’t register the sound of the astonished gasps from passersby that witnessed the event. Heimdall fell directly onto his back, having the wind knocked out of him, but the pain did nothing to stop him from standing up immediately. This time you were the one to look over your shoulder at him, finding exactly what you expected: the most hateful, menacing glare he’d shown all day. You didn’t pay any mind to it at the time, but you did notice something else in his purple eyes that was new.

Fear. So subtle that you weren't sure if even he knew it was there.

“I said,” you hissed, “that’s your problem.” With a flick of your fingers the barrier you created disappeared in a flash of golden sparks and you flounced off without another word. Any onlookers quickly scurried out of sight.

You were appalled that you thought he was handsome earlier. Live and learn, as they say.

Heimdall’s fists shook with rage, his teeth ground together like he was trying to break them, his breaths quickened with fury. He opened his mouth to call after you, a hand reaching across his torso to unsheathe his sword but he never got the chance to. A raven's call from the top of a nearby roof stopped him in his tracks.

He knew exactly what that meant. Heimdall snarled to himself and nodded at the bird, commanding Gulltoppr to return to his enclosure alone, which the beast obeyed without question. As the black feathers surrounded him and the scenery faded, so did his anger, slowly replaced by the sickly sting of dread. It only doubled when the vortex dropped him off in front of the doors to Odin’s study, not inside the study. Odin had no patience with people who weren’t calm and rational. It was his way of silently commanding Heimdall to collect himself before entering. He felt like he had been stabbed in the gut knowing Odin was so displeased with him.

No. No, he would prove to the All-Father that he needed no such treatment. He was calm, level-headed, and ready to accept the criticism he knew was coming. Heimdall straightened his back and squared his shoulders, head held high, and pushed the door open with confidence. Odin was standing behind his desk, Huginn and Muninn were on their wooden perch while the god studied maps of Muspelheim and books that were scattered across the tabletop. He didn’t lift his head to address Heimdall.

Whatever confidence Heimdall had when he entered was steadily deteriorating the longer he was ignored, not daring to rush Odin. It was a few minutes before his superior finally grumbled, “You’re done early. All of Gladsheim so soon?”

The utter shame Heimdall was inundated with left him speechless. He never failed Odin. He made sure of that. Never did he disappoint the Aesir king with shortcomings of any kind. That was his job, his responsibility. One he held with pride. Knowing that he should feel none of that pride at that moment was eating him alive. Heimdall resisted clearing his throat, refusing to show how much he loathed the talk he was about to get. “The str–She was not interested.” That was it. That was all he could manage.

Odin finally looked up, and the sheer dissatisfaction and impatience nearly made Heimdall shake with guilt. “And why would that be?” Heimdall had no answer. Odin simply sighed in frustration, pacing around his desk as he spoke. Even Huginn and Muninn looked at Heimdall like they were deeply unimpressed. “One job, Heimdall. I gave you one thing to do, and you couldn’t do it!”

Heimdall visibly winced. Odin was exactly right, and in more ways than one. “I mean,” Odin continued, more exasperated. “It was so simple. Let her look around, and take enough time to figure out if she’s hiding anything, see if she’s not telling me something, anything. And look at this! Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes was all it took for you to fuck it up!” Normally these words would make Heimdall grin with pleasure, relishing in the complete incompetence and worthlessness of the receiver. But that was because he wasn’t the receiver. He was never the receiver. He was always better than them. Until now. Thanks to you.

“All-Father–”

“Don’t interrupt me!” Odin barked at him, Heimdall’s mouth instantly closing at the command. He had already committed the sin of failing Odin, he wouldn’t dare make it any worse. He wouldn’t stoop so low to make excuses. “You’ve made this so much harder, and for what? Because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut? Because you can’t stop being…yourself for a mere hour? You couldn’t just focus on reading because you couldn’t help but be you?”

Heimdall schooled his expression into one of an emotionless soldier as best he could, but that…that hurt. And he hated that he could feel the hurt showing. Not because the lecture hurt his feelings, no. His feelings were irrelevant. What hurt was hearing Odin himself say that Heimdall as a whole was the problem.

His entire life had been proving his worth, proving that he was more than a simple henchman, a lackey, an assistant. No, NO. He was worthy of his role as a valued confidant and loyal chancellor. He accepted orders willingly and carried them out to a T because he was capable of doing so without fail. But if Odin said that he himself was the flaw…then he had been wrong in believing he earned the All-Father’s certitude in his reliability. And worst of all, he knew that Odin’s harsh reprimand was justified completely. He had ruined his goal because he wasn’t willing to let the newcomer think she was one of them, that she belonged here in any way, even though that was what Odin wanted her to feel. He undermined Odin’s plans. He let himself be the obstacle in the way. He had to fix that.

Unfortunately, what he needed to say wouldn’t make that easy. “That is the problem.” His muttering was barely audible, just enough for Odin to hear it. He returned to his desk, resting his hands on it while he waited for Heimdall to clarify. “I…I can’t read her. When I look into her mind it’s like staring into a void…I see nothing.” He despised that his voice wavered and shook as he spoke, that he was showing how affected he was by Odin's disappointment. Heimdall waited for him to continue on his rant, to chastise him for his defeat as he deserved. That way, once Odin expressed the full extent of his resentment, he would understand exactly how to never beckon it again.

He would be perfect for the All-Father again. He would make sure of it.

To his dismay, Odin loosened up just a bit, turning his attention to his two treasured ravens and stroking their feathers. “I figured as much. She’s immune to my ravens as well. Your foresight having no effect is to be expected.” Odin paused, his hands dropping back down to his sides. “And?”

Heimdall blinked as he processed what Odin said. “What?”

“And? Yes, I knew she would be immune, but I still expected you to break through. My ravens can see her under the right conditions, which means she’s not invulnerable. All you have to do is find a way past her defenses. That’s why I assigned the tour to you, so you’d have enough time to experiment.

“Really, Heimdall, when I tell you to do something, I plan on it happening. But if you give up at the first problem you come across, then what good are you?” Odin posited, throwing his hands up.

The pit Heimdall felt his soul falling into swallowed him whole at last. He couldn’t lose his value to the All-Father. He CAN’T. “I haven’t given up!” Heimdall screeched, reeling his emotion back in to sound less frantic. “I will find a way, I swear to you. I was simply unaware that reading her would take more than others. I will find everything you need to learn from her.”

Odin calmed considerably, though his reaction was not enough for Heimdall to judge how convincing his declaration was, with his harsh gaze piercing through him. Heimdall hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. “See to it that you do,” Odin said, finally sitting down in his chair. “But I doubt you’ll do it quickly, thanks to this dereliction. So, to make sure you’ll be able to keep her around enough – without causing much more trouble – I’m putting you on babysitting duty.”

“For who?” If he had to atone by taking care of Sif’s little muskrat of a daughter he would surely lose his mind.

“She’s going to be finding some things for me throughout the realms. You’re going to go with her and keep her safe.”

Babysitting Thrúd didn’t sound that bad to Heimdall all of a sudden. “All-Father, with all due respect, I’m concerned that my absence will put Asgard at jeopardy.”

“The realm will survive if you’re gone every once in a while. Don’t try to get out of this because you don’t like her. Consider this punishment as well. I was going to send Thor with her to do the heavy lifting, but hopefully this will remind you how important it is to meet my expectations.”

Heimdall put a hand on his chest and bowed. “Of course, All-Father. I will not disappoint you again. You have my word.”

Odin nodded. “Dismissed.”

It had been a long, long time since Odin had excused his watchmen so coldly. He made no protest and promptly exited the study. As Heimdall stomped through the lodge and back outside, he felt his fists clenching, his back constricting, his arms locked up and ready to destroy the next thing his hands touched. Something anyone who passed him noticed and backed away from before they were in the line of fire.

And you came in and destroyed it. All because you thought you were special.

How dare you.

He had a perfect record. Always succeeding, always surpassing Odin’s expectations with flying colors. Never too slow, never too fast, always on time. There was not a single time in his life that he recalled falling short, showing that even the most miniscule parts of him were efficacious. Everything about him was laudable. He was worth keeping.

No, oh no no no. He wouldn’t allow that. And he would prove to Odin that he was not so useless that he should take one of Thor's lowly tasks, that he could easily do more than be a glorified bodyguard. He would find a way into your head before your little quest began. You had to be around Gladsheim somewhere, and he would find you and start prodding at your mind right away.

Well, after he found the Einherjar and sent some of them back to Valhalla to blow off some steam. He didn’t want to unleash it on you. Not yet, at least.

If this gets interactions I'll post on Ao3 and keep going. Thanks for stopping by! :)

Friend-Of-A-Friend ⸺ Chapter Two

author's note ⸺ Hello all! Tysm on all the love and support you've given me on just the teaser!! I have begun the series taglist as well (at end of fic) and if you'd like to be added, please comment so I can add you :) pairing ⸺ Suguru Geto x Reader content ⸺ platonic-bestie!gojo, corporate-worker!reader, slight tension, studying mentioned, modern au, reader uses female pronouns, this is an 18+ series - mdni divider credit: @/toastray ୨୧ art credit: @/juziluohai

previous chapter ୨୧ series masterlist ୨୧ simplygojo masterlist ୨୧ next chapter

Morning meetings were always the worst.

Your eyes flicked between the PowerPoint presentation on your laptop and the clock in the bottom corner of the screen. 10:17 AM. Barely past mid-morning, and already your inbox was overflowing, a steady stream of tasks waiting to be tackled. 

Your manager was droning on about Q2 projections, but you weren’t really listening—your mind was elsewhere.

More specifically, back to Geto’s message.

You had responded, the plans had been loosely set in motion, but ever since then… nothing. 

No follow-up text. No details. No confirmation. It wasn’t like you were expecting Geto to flood your notifications—he didn’t seem like the type—but still, there was an odd weight to the silence. Like something unsaid was hanging in the air, waiting.

Your phone, face down on your desk, was an itch you couldn’t scratch. Every so often, between emails and reports, you found yourself flipping it over, just to check. 

No new messages. No notifications. Just the same boring reality of your corporate grind.

You sighed, refocusing on your laptop screen. 

Work first, overanalyzing later.

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

By the time the workday finally dragged itself to a close, you were exhausted.

The kind of exhaustion that settled behind your eyes, heavy and dull. 

You trudged back to your apartment, shedding your coat as soon as you stepped through the door, kicking off your shoes like they were the final obstacle standing between you and sweet relief.

Your phone buzzed as you collapsed onto the couch. For a fleeting second, your stomach twisted in anticipation—only for it to immediately unravel when you saw the name on the screen.

Gojo.

You exhaled through your nose, a half-smile tugging at your lips as you answered.

“What, do y’have a sixth sense for when I get home?”

“Obviously,” Gojo said, his voice light with amusement. “I told you, I’m always watching.”

“Gross.”

“You’re gross.”

This was routine by now—Gojo calling you at random times throughout the week, sometimes to tell you about his day, sometimes just to be annoying. You never really minded.

“So,” he drawled, “how’s the thrilling life of a corporate drone? Please, tell me in excruciating detail about your latest battle with Excel.”

“Oh, you know, just living the dream,” you said, stretching your legs out. “Emails. Meetings. Staring at spreadsheets until my vision blurs.”

“Riveting.”

“You know it.”

He chuckled. “Well, you got a busy week ahead, or what?”

The question was casual, barely even a thought, but before you could think better of it, you answered honestly.

“Not really. Just work. Oh, uh—actually, I’m meeting up with Geto sometime this week.”

Silence.

“…Gojo?”

A sharp inhale on the other end. Then, suddenly—

“This guy’s working in the shadows.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“Oh my god.” His tone was deadly serious, but you could practically hear the grin behind it. “I had no idea…He’s been playing the long game. Years of silence, and now—bam. He’s got you exactly where he wants you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I knew it. I knew he was too smooth, too strategic—”

“Gojo, stop.”

“—waiting, biding his time, and then when I least expect it, he makes his move.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “This is why I don’t tell you things. There are no moves being made.”

Gojo laughed, full and delighted, like this was the funniest thing to happen all week. You could imagine him now—probably stretched out on his couch—taking up too much space, grinning like an idiot.

“In all seriousness, though,” he said, still sounding far too amused, “what’s up with that? Since when do you and Geto make plans?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around your phone. “I don’t know. He just texted me out of nowhere. Said he was 'working in my area now' and wanted to catch up.”

A pause. Barely a second, but you caught it.

Then—Gojo sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Oof. Wow.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Nah, nothing. It’s just—you ever watch a nature documentary?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“You know, like, those ones where the predator stalks its prey for ages before it finally pounces?”

“…Gojo.”

He let out a long, dramatic sigh. “It’s just crazy. I always thought Geto was a patient guy, but this? This is another level. He’s been lurking in the tall grass for years, and now that the timing is right? Bam. He strikes.”

You groaned. “Oh my god.”

“No, no, I respect it,” he continued, completely ignoring you. “It’s a slow-burn strategy. Like, why rush when you can let the tension marinate, y’know?”

“There’s no tension. Or—ew—marinating. Why are you like this? ”

“Mm.” He made a noncommittal noise. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Because I dunno,” he mused, “feels like a little tension. Maybe a tiny bit. A smidge. A sprinkle.”

“Gojo.”

“There was definitely a little spark back in university,” he said, far too casually.

You scoffed. “Huh? No, there wasn’t. We barely even spoke.”

Gojo let out an incredulous laugh. “Were we even in the same room? You two had vibes.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“I’m an eyewitness, actually,” he corrected, as if that made it any better. “And what I ‘eye-witnessed’ was undeniable tension.”

“You 'eye-witnessed' nothing.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “This is why I don’t tell you things.”

“I think it’s great, honestly,” he continued, undeterred. 

“You guys should totally bond. Maybe do one of those, I dunno, deep and meaningful heart-to-hearts. Oh! Maybe a romantic little dinner. Candlelight. Soft music. He reaches across the table to hold your hand—”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“No, wait! Wait, what are you wearing?”

You froze. “What the fuck?”

“For the meetup, duh.” He sounded way too amused. “Gotta dress for the occasion.”

You groaned so loudly it was nearly a scream, and Gojo lost it, laughing so hard you heard something clatter in the background.

“God, you make this too easy,” he wheezed.

“You’re the worst.”

You were going to regret telling him about this forever.

Before you could dwell on it too much, Gojo spoke again. “Well, I, for one, fully support this development. As long as you keep me updated.”

You snorted. “Yeah, because that’ll happen.”

“Hey! I have a right to know if my best friend is being seduced by my other best friend.”

“No one is being seduced—god are you even capable of shutting your mouth?”

“Just saying,” he said lightly, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “If you show up to our next reunion looking all starry-eyed, I’ll know exactly who to blame.”

You scoffed. “And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll know Suguru’s lost his touch.”

You groaned, pushing your face into a pillow as Gojo laughed through the speaker. He was ridiculous. 

You ended the call with an exasperated sigh, tossing your phone onto the other side of the couch like it had personally wronged you.

Silence settled over your apartment, but your mind was anything but quiet.

Gojo was just messing with you—he always did. But still, his words lingered, replaying in your head like a song you couldn’t shake.

“Feels like a little tension”—“There was definitely a little spark back in university”

Ridiculous.

There was no tension. Not back then. Not now.

…Right?

You scoffed aloud, as if that would somehow erase the warmth you felt spread across your cheeks.

Good thing Gojo hadn’t FaceTimed you—he’d never let you live it down.

The man had a sixth sense for embarrassment, and your flushed face would’ve been prime ammunition.

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

*2 Years Prior: Campus Library — 11:46pm*

The study room was too small for the three of you—Gojo made sure of that. He sprawled in his chair, long limbs kicked out beneath the table, tapping a pencil against his textbook like he was drumming a countdown to his own inevitable failure. 

The midterm was tomorrow, and judging by his groaning, he had barely started reviewing.

"I don't get why we even need to know this crap," Gojo whined, head rolling back against the chair. "I could fail this test and still be smarter than half the students here."

Across from him, Geto turned a page in his notebook, pen gliding smoothly over his notes. "Then fail," he murmured, voice steady, unbothered. "See how that works out for you."

Gojo huffed, but Geto wasn’t paying much attention to him anymore.

His gaze had flickered across the table a few times now, to you.

Your elbow rested against the desk, cheek propped in your palm, eyes flicking between your notes and the thick textbook at your side. The tip of your pen hovered between your lips, an unconscious habit that surfaced whenever you were deep in thought. A line appeared between your brows—concentration. Frustration.

Geto let his pen roll between his fingers, movements slow, measured. 

The numbers on your page hadn’t changed in minutes. His eyes traced the faint tap of your index finger repeatedly tapped your cheek, the subtle way your grip on the pen tightened and loosened, like your thoughts were trying to work themselves out through movement.

He tapped his own pen lightly against the table near your textbook, breaking your trance. "You’re stuck on that problem."

Your head lifted, blinking. "Huh?"

The side of his mouth curled, almost imperceptibly. "You’ve been staring at the same equation for five minutes."

A quiet pause. Then you huffed, setting your pen down and leaning back slightly in your chair. "It's impossible. I’ve tried solving it three different ways, and none of them work."

Geto exhaled, shifting his chair closer. The scrape of wood against tile was barely noticeable beneath Gojo's continued dramatics. "Here. Let me see."

His arm brushed against yours—barely, just enough for him to notice the warmth of your skin through your sleeve. You smelled like warm vanilla and old books, a mix of whatever candle you always burned in your dorm and the ever-present scent of study sessions in the library. 

After a moment, your brows lifted, expectant, seemingly waiting for an explanation.

His gaze flickered to your lips, still caught between your teeth, before dropping to the numbers scrawled across the paper. With a smooth movement, he picked up your pen, turning it between his fingers once before tapping against the right equation. 

“Here,” he murmured, the weight of his voice settling between you. “You skipped a step.”

Your breath hitched—so faint he almost missed it. Almost.

He kept his voice level as he pointed to the equation. "Your mistake is here. You're missing a step between these two lines."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Seriously? Ugh, that’s so stupid. I should’ve caught that."

"You're tired." He said it plainly, matter-of-fact. "That’s all."

Another pause. You tilted your head slightly, watching him  –  Like you wanted to say something.

Then Gojo launched a crumpled paper ball at Geto’s head.

"Hey! If you two are done whispering sweet nothings over math problems, can someone help me before I actually fail this test?"

Gojo’s paper ball bounced off Geto’s head and landed on the desk with an unceremonious plop.

Geto barely reacted, only sighing through his nose like he’d already resigned himself to Gojo’s antics long before this moment. He passed you the highlighter you had been reaching for, his fingers grazing yours—just barely, just long enough that it wasn’t entirely accidental.

You hesitated, lips parting slightly, but whatever thought had been forming was cut short when Gojo's loud voice interrupted you.

"*Phew,* Finally! I was starting to think you two were gonna start privatizing your study notes.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting in your seat. “Have you ever made your own notes? Ever? Once?”

Gojo scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t need to. You are both so lovely I don't need them.”

Shaking your head, you refocused on your notes, tapping your pencil against the paper before absently bringing it between your lips again. It was muscle memory at this point—something you did when you were getting deep in thought, when you were stuck.

Geto noticed immediately.

His gaze flickered down, almost involuntarily, catching on the slight indentation the pencil made against your lower lip. 

For just a second, his fingers stilled where they had been idly rolling his pen, the movement betraying the momentary shift in his focus.

He looked away, back at his own notes—but too late. You had caught the lapse, the flicker of hesitation, and the way his fingers flexed slightly against the spiral binding of his notebook before resuming their casual twirl.

But it appeared as if you hadn’t realized the reason behind his hesitation.

Geto cleared his throat, voice still effortlessly smooth but quieter now. “Fine. Let’s make sure you don’t completely bomb this.”

Gojo immediately perked up. “Thank god. I was losing hope, honestly.”

Neither of you responded.

Geto twirled his pen between his fingers again—slow, thoughtful. His eyes drifted back to you, studying, considering. Then—his voice, quiet yet deliberate—

“You do that a lot y'know”

Your brows knitted slightly. “Do what?”

“The pencil,” he said, tilting his chin toward you. “You chew on it when you’re focused.”

You blinked, seeming caught off guard. 

Gojo snorted. “Wow, Suguru. Riveting observation.”

But Geto wasn’t paying attention to him. His eyes didn’t even flinch—He was still watching you, something unreadable flickering behind his dark eyes, like he was committing the detail to memory.

“Didn’t realize you paid that much attention,” you muttered, sounding unaffected by his gaze.

“Yeah?” His lips curved, the ghost of a smirk. “Guess I just notice things.”

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

Back in the present, you exhaled sharply, shaking off Gojo’s previous teasing as you always did after your phone calls.

Your phone sat beside you, its dark screen reflecting your face—lips pressed together, brows drawn, eyes still distant, lingering somewhere between then and now.

You scoffed under your breath. A little spark? Yeah, okay.

If Gojo had been trying to get under your skin, he’d succeeded. But not in the way he probably thought.

You thought about it some more—what he had said on the phone—there had been no spark—not the way he meant, anyway. 

It was just... familiarity. That quiet, unspoken understanding that came with years of late-night study sessions, shared snacks from vending machines, and the kind of silence that never felt uncomfortable. Geto’s attentiveness and willingness to help was just who he is, it did not mean anything more than that.

If there had ever been anything more, wouldn’t you have noticed?

Your gaze dropped to the phone resting in your lap, thumb grazing the edge of the screen before you realized you had already picked it up. With a quiet sigh, you leaned back against the couch, unlocking it without a second thought.

The message thread with Geto blinked up at you.

His last message was still there. Still waiting. Still unanswered.

"Geto: I know a place. I’ll send you the details later this week."

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating for only a second.

Then, finally—

You: So, when’s this catch-up happening?

The message sent before you could overthink it.

With a yawn, you pushed yourself off the couch, stretching your arms overhead before trudging toward your bedroom. The day had been long, and the weight of it was finally settling over you, making your limbs heavy.

Flicking off the light, you slid under the covers, the warmth of your blankets pulling you in almost instantly. You sank into the mattress, letting out a slow breath as your eyes fluttered shut.

Sleep came quickly, tugging at the edges of your consciousness.

Then—just as you were about to slip under completely—

Your phone buzzed against the nightstand.

Your eyes cracked open, pulse skipping despite yourself.

For a moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t reach for it.

But eventually, you did.

a/n — I hope you guys like this. as always lmk your thoughts <3 taglist ⸺ @killak9mi; @nikilig; @pinkhoneydrop; @armfloaties; @sat-hoe-ru; @you-transfix-me; @kaqua; @rriwyu; @erenspersonalwh0re; @dishs0pe **please note: if your name is striked out, that means I was unable to tag you, please check your settings if you'd like to be tagged**

Dog Bakugou & Kirishima X Reader

I don't really think I'm allowed to call this a headcannon anymore because of how long it had gotten. It resembles an actual story more but because most of the lines aren't exactly true sentences and everything is described in light to medium detail I'm just going to call it a very VERY long headcannon. I apologize for how long this got but the ideas just kept flowing into my head. I wasn't able to edit this as this took me hours to write already I just didn't want to do it, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes I may have made. But with that said I really do hope you enjoy my story-thing.

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

• Bakugou and Kirishima were turned into dogs because of someone's quirk

• On accident though

• It happened when they ran into a lady who was being chased by a dog

• And since her quirk forces whomever she touches to turn into whatever animal she was thinking of the time caused them to turn into dog

• Bakugou is a Pomeranian and Kirishima is a Dutch Shepard

• You being the animal lover you are you volunteered to take care of them

• The quirk user said they'd be stuck like that for probably at least a week as her quirk can stay in affect for a very long time and she was terrified

• The poor lady had a phobia for dogs

• You had gotten permission from the principle to keep them in your dorm to keep them from getting in trouble

• The first couple days were awkward as boundaries were established

• Kirishima settled in fairly quickly but Bakugou obviously didn't want to be there

• DOG HAIR EVERYWHERE

• You didn't exactly know what exactly to feed them since you were sure they didn't exactly want to be fed dog food

• You ended up googling what dogs could eat

• You ended up feeding them meat and whatever vegetable was healthy for a dog

• You had to walk them every morning, before you enter to school and before you went to bed

• After you came back from school you would take them out into the Commons area or sat outside, letting them do as they pleased while you studied

• You had to keep all your notes and make your notes very detailed so when they did turn back they could look at them and understand

• You gave them a lot of affection

• As you still are a big animal person you couldn't help yourself

• Lots of doggy kisses and hugs

• Kirishima didn't mind much and would definitely be up for doggy cuddles and hugs

• He would place his head on your lap, which most times you don't mind but when he lays down on your text book it gets kinda obnoxious

• Bakugou starts biting when you try to give him doggy kisses

• Secretly he likes the attention, especially the hugs

• He'll get jealous when you give a lot of attention to Kirishima but he'd never admit it

• He'd just attack Kirishima to get him away from you

• Lemme tell you, just because he's smol doesn't mean he's not ferocious

• Their quirks are still activated but they're a lot lower of a level

• So expect to get blasted at first from an angry Pomeranian when you try to give love and to get a couple scratches as Kirishima gets use to the new body

• Of course they sleep in the bed with you

• They were still humans at one point and you didn't want to male them sleep on the hard, cold floor

• Kirishima would sleep very close to you, sometimes with his head laying on your chest

• He's a big cuddlerer and of course

• Bakugou would sleep as far away from you and Kiri as he could get

• But in the mornings you'd find him snuggled up to your side and if your laying on your back you'd find him on sleeping on your chest

• You'd smile and softly pet the two until its time to wake up

• Most of the time Bakugou wakes up from the petting, growling and nipping at you, but not moving away from your hand

• There was a time while walking them and a wild German shepard started charging at you from across the street

• How quickly they were able to take it down surprised you

• Before you could react Bakugou launched over the dog and blasted it's back, making it fall on its stomach in what you could only assume was shock

• Before it could get up Kirishima pinned it down in his unbreakable form

• Lemme say it was pretty scary look for a dog and I think the German shepard agreed

• It didn't try to fight, not like it could move Kirishima anyways

• Bakugou stood closely beside you growling and explosions coming from his front paws, damaging the ground

• Who would've thought a small pomeranian could be intimidating

• Both somehow able to shread or completely burn their leash

• You stood in shock for a couple moments before you called animal patrol

• When animal patrol came they were confused on what was happening, animals with quirks? What has thus world come to?

• They started panicking and pulled put their tranquilizer guns, yelling at you to step away from the dogs

• Your face filled with fear and you also started panicking

• You yelled at the people saying that they weren't the problem, and it was a long story

• ... Let's just say you were very late for class as you had to explain the whole story to them to get them to back down

• The fact that the two didn't back down from them either, especially Bakugou, just made things worse

• Aizawa understood though

• Well you thought he did, he could've just not have cared of the reason why, just that you were finally here

• Cause we all know he secretly cares for all of his students, even if he'd never admit it

• Todoroki and Momo were nice enough to lend you their notes for the class you missed

• Not that you asked for Momo's notes but you were grateful none the less

• When you got back to your dorm the boys were sitting by the door and when you opened the door they were immediately at your legs

• Kirishima was sniffing you as if checking to see if you were okay

• Bakugou was just sitting in front of you staring at you intensely

• When you tilted your head and gave him a huh he seemed to lose interest

• He, somehow, scoffed and walked away

• You walked in and looked for their leashes so you could take them for a walk only to remember that they destroyed them earlier that morning

• Groaning, you decided that you had to trust them not to run off

• Though you didn't feel like you could watch both of them at once as they tend to do whatever they want, especially Bakugou

• So you decided that you ask your close friend Todoroki to help watch them

• Granted you knew that Bakugou probably wouldn't enjoy it but you figured if he was to busy thinking of ways to destroy Todoroki he'd be to detracted and stay out of trouble

• So off you went

• Todoroki agreed to help you since he knows how prone you are to bad luck and will most likely end up losing on of the dogs and end up having a panic attack, even when you knew that the two know how to get back to the dorm and you'd stay close to campus for the walk

• Though you ended up enjoying the walk yourself, you had a nice conversation with Todoroki even if he didn't say much, you were use to it, you don't think that Bakugou enjoyed it that much, but Kirishima didn't seem to mind much

• You went back to the dorms and you noticed that Bakugou looked like he was bruting

• And holy crap was it cute

• You picked him up and hugged him, calling him a cutie and saying how adorable he was

• He might have, okay to totally, bit you because of that but it wasn't extremely hard and wasn't unexpected so it didn't affect you that much

• But you did out him down

• After giving him a doggy kiss of course

• You played around with Kirishima for a while

• Also giving him doggy kisses, just a lot more cause he seemed to enjoy them

• You decide it was time to eat and fed then

• You studied for a little while before taking them out for their night walk, this time bringing along Ashido since she wanted to go

• Afterwards you snuggles with the dogs, mostly Kirishima but at least Bakugou was now sleeping closer to you having warmed up to you and the situation

• It has been around 3 weeks since they turned into dogs and you still couldn't tell if they were going to turn back soon or not

• You got that answer when you woke up to a heavy weight on your chest

• You had looked to see what it was and saw a half naked human Bakugou, well mostly human as he still has ears and a tail, laying on your chest in only a pair of boxers

• He'd probably moved there as in his tiny dog form not expecting to transform back into his human-ish form

• You had to push him off so you could breath which woke him up

• And he was not happy

• His yelling woke up Kirishima, who had also turned into a half naked human with dog ears and tail, who was sleeping at your side

• Neither if them realized they turned back until they made eye contact and realized the other had turned

• Kirishima panicked at first while Bakugou kinda celebrated by yelling 'hell yeah'

• They both went back to their rooms to get cleaned and change while you went to go find Mr. Aizawa to tell him they had turned back, kinda

• They both came down to the Commons area a while later

• Both of them looked awkward which was probably because of the tail with the pants

• When the rest of the class saw them they literally started letting them, which they did do when they were dogs but it looked kinda weird now

• Kirishima didn't seem to mind much but Bakugou was PISSED

• Oh he couldn't wait til training so he could kick the crap out of them for this

• Went it came to to start leaving for school you left the dorms, both of them following behind you

• At first they didn't think anything of it but then they realized they were following you like dogs after they saw you looking at them with a raised eyebrow

• Kirishima got flustered and apologized while Bakugou just 'tch'ed and walked ahead of you, though he still stayed relatively close

• You thought you saw a vague glance of blush in his cheeks when he passed by

• They did still follow you around all day though

• You got so many weird looks

• I mean they would have gotten weird looks because of the ears and tail but because they were following you around it made it look like you had two dogs by your side and you were their master

• While that technically was the case before, it doesn't matter right now

• They even followed you to your room after school

• You gave them the weirdest look when they were still behind you went you tried to enter your room

• They scattered to their own room pretty quickly

• A couple hours latter though you hear a knock on your door that interrupts you from cleaning the dog hair that was LITERALLY EVERYWHERE and went to go answer it

• Kirishima was at the door asking you to help him with the notes from class you took for them

• You agreed and helped him study

• You were studying for about an hour before your door swung open and Bakugou walked in, no knocking or anything, just waltzes right in

• He freezes for a second when he sees you and Kirishima at the desk together

• He growls quietly before walking over to your bed and laying down

• You ask what he need and he just grunts, not even looking in your direction and pulls out his phone and starts doing whatever in it

• You sit there confused for a second before deciding to ignore him for the time being

• You continue to help Kirishima with his work

• You made really good progress with Kirishima before you decided to head to bed

• Only to notice Bakugou was still on your bed, his eyes lazily drooping, focusing in and out if whatever he was looking at

• You stand over your bedside staring at him until he finally acknowledges you

• You ask him why he's still here and tells him that he should go to his room if he's so tired

• You gives no response, only stating at you before suddenly grabbing you and pulling you onto your bed

• You give a light screech at this

• You end up on your back with Bakugou laying his head on your chest

• You ask what he was doing and he only tells you to shut up and that this was your fault

• You were going to ask what he was talking about when you noticed Kirishima staring at you from your desk

• He was giving you puppy eyes, whether they were intentional or not you didn't know

• You sigh and realize that he want to join and sleep with you like he's been doing for the last couple weeks (stop it you impure children, I didn't mean it like that)

• You swing your free arm out towards him, telling him is was okay to join on the bed

• His eyes might up and his ears perk up and his tail wags

• Which was cute AF

• You stop him right before he reaches you

• He gives you sad and confused eyes, he ears and tail dropping

• Your heartbreaks at this and you tell him that it's okay and that you just want him to turn off the lights

• He starts beaming again and quickly turns off the lights and joins you on the bed

• He snuggles to your side just like he did when he was a dog

• Sleeping like this became a regular occurrence for a little while

• But it slowly stopped becoming a thing, especially when the tail and ears finally disappeared and the clingy dog nature left their body

• You still hung out a lot though

• Your room had become a normal hangout spot for you three and they would still sometimes follow your around

• The latter mostly being Kirishima as Bakugou was would be in front of you two

• Expect your privacy and free time to be almost gone cause either of them, or both, will just show up outside your door at random time, of barge in depending on which of the two we're talking about

• You three almost always study together nowadays and they started to train with you whenever you decided to

• They gave great tips tbh

• The protectiveness over you as their caretaker when they were dogs changed into protectiveness over you as a friend

• (Or maybe something more, idk I haven't thought if I want a part two yet)

• So whenever your in any sort of trouble they'd either be close by or show up very quickly after a call or text

Bonus:

• YOU STILL FIND DOG HAIR IN RANDOM PLACES AROUND YOUR ROOM

• It's like the hair will forever haunt that room

• But you don't regret it

• Cause having to deal with dog hair was worth it to have had the two bestest dogs in the world with you

• And you'd do it again

SEXUAL HEALING

pairing: Changbin x Afab Reader

tags: friends to lovers, 18+, mdni, protected sex, oral (f receiving), mild angst, spanking, rough sex, post break up, doggy

word count: 4k

summary: you had a crush on your coworker Changbin who was also your friend's boyfriend for the longest time, but you had quickly accepted that he was never going to be yours, that was until she broke his heart and ran off with another man, ghosting even you. Instead of letting Changbin wallow and lose himself, you take it upon yourself to make sure he forgets.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

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

  “Changbin, this is pathetic. It’s been 3 months. You need to stop this shit!” you scold irritably, arms crossed over your chest as you scowl at the mess of a man on the couch in front of you.

  “Would you leave me alone?” he snapped, glaring right back at you.

  “No,” you said harshly. “Just look at you. Its 2:00pm on a Wednesday afternoon and you’re moping and sitting on your couch wearing a t-shirt and boxers. You need to pull yourself together.”

He stared at you. “Would you get out of my apartment?”

  “I said no.”

If you were going to be honest, he had a good reason to be mildly depressed and a little touchy. But you always thought guys bounced back quicker from breakups than girls, and the fact that Changbin was still moping around 3 months after his girlfriend left him was more than a little concerning to you.

Changbin rolled his eyes and groaned, slinking lower in his couch. “I don’t know why you keep coming around here, it’s not like it’s made much of a difference.”

  “No difference? Please. A week ago, we were having this conversation when you were wearing nothing but boxers. I consider this a big improvement.” You crossed the room so you were standing over him.

  “Now put on some pants and come down to the cafe. It’s time to start living your damn life again. Chan says you can come back to work any time, and we’ve been short staffed all week.”

Not to mention you missed working with him. He was the only person you’d ever worked with that could always make you laugh and feel better about your generally shitty life. Not that you’d ever let him know that.

  “I don’t want to go back to the cafe,” Changbin grumbled. “What if she…” he trailed off, letting out a noise of pure frustration.

   “Nobody’s seen Hanna since she ran off with that weirdo,” you muttered, a little sore.

Hanna had been your best friend after you met working at Chan’s café for the last several months before she disappeared, she was a companion to gossip with while you cleaned the back room or locked up the cafe. When she’d started dating Changbin; the guy who got a job with you a few months earlier whom you’d always had a bit of a crush on, you’d been forced to live vicariously through her, hanging on to every story she had to tell about him.

Admittedly, some of those stories had made you more than a little sexually frustrated.

  “She could come back.”

  “She isn’t coming back, Binnie!” you burst out furiously, sick of everything. Sick of wanting him every freaking minute you spend with him. Sick of hearing him pining for a girl who had never been all that worth his time. “She’s gone! We are never going to see her again and you’re going to have to damn well live with that, and come to terms with the fact that sometimes shitty things happen and there isn’t anything we can do about them!”

Your outburst had the desired effect. He was standing up, something like anger flashing in his eyes. Good. You’d take anything over that pathetic kicked puppy act he’d been pulling for the last few months.

  “Don’t pretend like you know anything about what happened!” he spat, glaring down at you. “You have no idea what it’s been like—”

  “You think I don’t know what it’s like to be kicked to the curb?!” you demanded furiously. Damn. You hadn’t intended to actually get mad, but you were now. You were shaking, so pissed off.

How dare he say you knew nothing about how hard it had been for him?! “You think I don’t know what it’s like to give my heart to someone and have them stomp all over it?! What it feels like to be… to be abandoned, and abused?!”

That shut him up. You knew it would. Hell, it had been him who’d practically beat your abusive ex-boyfriend to a bloody broken mess when you’d come in to work with a black eye and a limp. Changbin had been the one to take you home with him that night and made sure you were okay, listening to you tell him how your parents had kicked you out at sixteen and the only reason you hadn’t left the man who enjoyed beating you for fun when he was drunk was because otherwise, you’d have been out on the streets. He had told you about how he grew up too, how he’d been abandoned by his family. But he had shrugged it off as though it were nothing even when you could tell it was something, and the next day he had helped you find an apartment you could afford in his building.

How could you not have developed feelings for him after that?

And even worse, how could he now have the audacity to throw that in your face?

Changbin looked slightly mortified with himself. “I… I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Fuck what you meant!” you shouted, getting mad at yourself when you felt tears welling up in your eyes and start to spill over your cheeks. It had been a long time since you were so frustrated to the point you had started crying.

You knew you could have just minded your business about his break up and his decline after, but you just couldn’t. it hurt you to see the man you fell for lose himself over someone who didn’t deserve him, you couldn’t stand by and watch.

  “You’ve been wallowing in all this self-pity, and I know it’s hard, okay?! I know it’s hard to forget when bad shit happens, and I know it’s hard to move on, but you just have to fucking do it!”

  “I… shit. I didn’t think you were gonna start crying,” Changbin says lamely, reaching out a hand to try wiping your cheeks but you shrugged away from it.

  “You know what, I don’t give a fuck anymore,” you muttered, wiping at your eyes and turning towards the door. “You can mope around your apartment forever. Ignore the fact that there are other girls out there who’d love to be with you. Don’t go back to work anymore while you still have the chance to go back, in fact you should stop paying your rent and get kicked out. I don’t care anymore.”

That was a big ass lie. You did care. You cared so much your heart hurt, but if you were going to leave Changbin alone like he wanted, you were going to make damn sure that you were angry when you left, it would make things easier that way.

You stormed to the door and yanked it open, but just as you were about to step through, his hand reached out from behind you and firmly shut it again. You spun around, preparing to scream at Changbin again, but all coherent thoughts left you as soon as he crushed his lips against yours, grabbing your wrists and pinning you to the door.

His mouth was hot and fervent, without hesitation you felt his tongue in your mouth, exploring every part of it. He nipped at your bottom lip, just a little too hard, catching it and pulling sweetly between his teeth before his mouth was on your neck as he sucked and bit at the sensitive flesh of your collarbone.

You let out a long, shuddery moan. “Binnie…”

He broke away, his hands finding their way under your shirt to squeeze your waist. “You think I haven’t known this whole time?” he growled lowly in your ear. “You’ve never been exactly subtle about the way you feel about me y/n.”

He pressed his hips into yours, and you could feel that he was half-hard already. He still had you pinned against the door rendering you powerless to stop him, as if you even wanted to.

You wanted more. More of his hot breath on your neck, more of his desperate hands exploring your body, more rough kisses to your skin.

  “If you knew then why didn’t you say something?” you asked on a breathy exhale, arching your face up towards his.

  “I just didn’t want to hurt you or myself, and I wasn’t certain until your little outburst”

  “I- hey!” You yelped as he grabbed the back of your thighs just below your ass and lifted you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips as he moved across the room towards his bedroom door.

Well, I guess there wasn’t really any other place for this to head, you thought briefly as he crossed over into his room and threw you down on the bed. You barely had time to recover before Changbin was on top of you again, his lips captured yours again in a hot kiss, his tongue delving deep into your mouth as his hands found the hem of your shirt and slid under the fabric, up the soft skin of your belly until he reached your bra. He dragged it down just enough for your breasts to spring free and began to knead them, squeezing and rolling them around in his large palm, sucking at your neck again as his thumbs skimmed across your nipples.

You let out a high-pitched whine, and heard him chuckle. “You like that?” he breathed, intentionally flicking them both like the menace he was.

You jolted, and the response was met with a low hum of amusement before he was fisting the fabric of your shirt in his hands, pulling it up to expose your breasts but not all the way off. He directed all of his attention to your stiff, erect nipples, tweaking and pinching them until your back arched so far off the bed it was almost concerning. He grasped at the base of your spine, holding you there as his mouth closed down on one breast, and though you tried to hold it back a whimper still escaped.

You were not sure if it was a reward or punishment when he nipped at you, teeth dragging gently across your nipple before he sucked on it so intensely you squealed. Your other breast was still being worshipped by his free hand, tweaking and squeezing until your entire body was trembling and you were squirming under him. He shoved you back into the bed and switched breasts, taking the other in his mouth while directing the attention of his fingers to the one he just left.

  “Changbin,” you gasped when he pulled away to yank up at your shirt, you raised your hands to make undressing you easier. When he tossed it aside and wrapped his arms around you, he expertly undid the clasps of your bra in one impressive snap before pulling it off your arms until it joined your shirt on the floor. You in turn reached for the bottom of his shirt, but his hands grabbed your wrists, effectively halting your intentions.

  “Nope,” he whispered into your ear, and his hot, damp breath made you shudder. “Not yet. First I’m gonna give you exactly what you deserve.”

  “Come on,” you whined, but he grinned and crushed his lips against yours again, hands moving down to your waist. He brought his head lower, kissing the dip between your breasts, running his tongue down your belly and stopping when he reached the top of your jeans.

  “Hm. These gotta go,” he muttered, giving you a doggish grin as he worked at your zipper and pulled your jeans down. You lifted your hips to help him along, and he dragged them off completely, tossing them along with your other articles of clothing on the floor. He seemed desperate.

He brought his hand up between your legs, feeling your heat through your thongs and his grin grew wider. “A bit excited, are we?” he purred, pressing against you and kissing your neck.

You wished he’d let you take off his shirt. You wanted to feel his bare chest against yours, but he was quite adamant about undressing you while he remained clothed, and though you wondered what the punishment might be if you attempted again, you were a little distracted by the way he was tugging at your earlobe with his teeth, his hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh of your neck. His fingers were now tugging at the waistband of your thongs, struggling to slide them off.

He wasn’t waiting for your permission, you realized. Everything was coming off now whether you were ready or not, and you weren’t entirely sure you were. You had never been completely naked while your partner remained fully clothed. But Changbin was clearly in charge here, and he wasn’t going to compromise or reason. He was driving this, and he would do what he wanted.

So, you raised your hips again, making it easier on you both as he slid your thongs down and off completely. And just like that, you were totally naked before Seo Changbin. You certainly hadn’t expected this when you woke up this morning or when you barged into his apartment to bother him for the umpteenth time.

When Changbin sat up, you thought he was finally letting up and he would let you take his clothes off him, but as you tried shifting up to a seating position as well, he grabbed your shoulders and pushed you back into the mattress.

  “Stay put,” he growled, gripping one of your ankles and laying a kiss to the inside of it.

You let out a tiny moan as his hands traveled up, kneading the soft flesh of your calves and thighs, before forcing your legs open to spread wide for him, you were about to say something before suddenly feeling his fingers grazing your wetness, you threw your head back mewling like a feline, and as one slipped inside your satiny walls, all coherent thoughts fled your mind because fuck that felt amazing.

You heard the sound of his low chuckling before he buried his finger to the knuckle and curled it.

  “Oh my God…” You whimpered.

Keeping his finger playing around in your cunt, he lowered himself over you and kissed your cheek, trailing his pointed nose alone your jaw. “You’re so tight,” he breathed huskily, slowly adding a second finger making you moan even louder. Changbin ran his tongue from your jawline to the sensitive spot just behind your earlobe and whispered. “Makes it so hard to control myself.”

  “God, Binnie,” you gasped as he leisurely thrust his fingers in and out of you.

  “Tell me what you want?” he asked lowly, smirking. Your legs were shaking, your knees sweating, you were right on the edge, and you knew what he wanted from you. He wanted you to beg. Even as much as you hated begging, his sweet torture was becoming too much to handle.

  “I need to come,” you squeaked as his fingers thrust in again, deeper this time. Faster. “Please… oh, god…”

He complied, curling his fingers up ever so slightly and rubbing that spot inside of you that made the stars explode behind your eyes and your hips thrust forward into Changbin’s like he’d shot electricity through your body. It felt like you were falling, falling and falling off a cliff into a sea of pleasure, your breaths becoming short and shallow as you finally came undone.

As you clung onto your high for a few moments before reality began to take root again, Changbin pulled his fingers out and grabbed your breasts again, squeezing them more gently this time. “Good girl,” he purred, pinching your nipples.

  “Fuck,” you breathed, your chest heaving. That was the most powerful orgasm you could ever remember having.

  “You better not be checking out after one little orgasm,” Changbin smirked, as he leaned in to kiss you again. When he pulled away the gleam in his eyes was hungry. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You groaned, but only half-heartedly. “Can I take your shirt off now?” you pleaded, reaching for it again. His hands grabbed your wrists again, but this time they weren’t gripping so tight.

He looked teasingly contemplative. “Well… you did cum like a good girl, so I suppose you’ve earned yourself a treat,” he decided, releasing your wrists, and you eagerly tugged his shirt up over his head and off him, tossing it aside and placing your palms on his chest, fingers curling around his pecs.

You wanted to keep exploring, but he shifted away before pushing you back to the bed again.

  “That’s enough,” he breathed, hands going to your calves. You didn’t even have time to wonder what his intentions were before he lifted your legs so the backs of your knees are on his shoulders, and you could feel his hot breath over your core, agonizingly wonderful and you just want more—

When his lips met your wet cunt, your back arched so far off the mattress it shocked even you. He made a low sound of amusement and grabbed your hips, lowering them back as far as they could go with your legs on his shoulders, holding you in place as his tongue begins to explore.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, grasping at anything to anchor yourself because it felt so good that you had to be on the verge of floating away. You tried to buck your hips but he was too strong, and instead your legs began to tremble so violently.

You couldn’t form coherent words, and as Changbin’s tongue slipped inside, probing and digging into you, you let out a howl of pleasure. You couldn’t believe one of his neighbors hadn’t come pounding on the door with a noise complaint yet, but you couldn’t help yourself. It just felt far too damn good, and there was no way you could stay silent. You wondered how much louder you were going to get when he actually fucked you.

Your second orgasm was more powerful than the first, you’d never heard yourself make the kind of noise that ripped from your throat as you sky-rocketed to the highest point of pleasure you could have imagined – surely it couldn’t get better than this. The noise was guttural and breathy at the same time, somewhere between a moan and a scream, and as soon as it escaped, Changbin’s mouth was on yours again, effectively silencing you as you rode the waves of pleasure from your climax.

Changbin released your legs and sat back, watching as you recovered, looking a bit winded himself.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, grimacing. Your eyes traveled down to his boxers, and you could tell he was fully hard with half a glance.

  “Want some help with that?” you whispered, reaching for the waistband of his boxers, but he stopped you.

  “Turn over,” he commanded firmly, and you hesitated.

  “Why?” you breathed out shakily, a little frightened all of a sudden. Turning over meant you wouldn’t be able to see what he was doing anymore.

You let out a yelp as he grabbed your hips and flipped you over himself, pressing his chest to your back.

  “Don’t make me ask twice,” he growled in your ear, and you shuddered as his weight disappeared from your back. “Ass up,” he ordered.

Now you were scared. He wasn’t going to fuck you there, was he? You’d never taken anything up there before. You were not sure you could.

Apparently, the time you took to think was too long for Changbin, and you feel a light smack on your left ass cheek. You jolted. Did he just spank you?! Fuck, you’d never had that done to you before. And even more alarming was that it really turned you on.

He swatted at you again, a little harder this time. Just with enough force to make this one sting. “Up,” he repeated firmly. “On your hands and knees.”

If you hesitated again, it might have earned you another smack, and while you definitely wanted to explore that new fetish later, you were just too desperate to have him filling you up, stretching you to your limit that you finally obeyed, lifting yourself up so you’re poised on your hands and knees, waiting. You heard the soft rustle of fabric and knew he was pulling off his boxers, and then came the crinkle of foil and the sound of latex and you knew he was putting the condom on, the anticipation was driving you crazy.

Finally, you felt his hands, firmly grasping your hips, holding you steady as he lined himself up. You felt his tip at your entrance and you bit down on your lip because God, you had waited so long for this, and then in a single hard thrust, he slid in making you scream and bunch the sheets in your fingers, lowering your head to bite one of your knuckles. He remained still for a few seconds and you could hear his heavy, shuddery breaths as he basked in the sensation of just being inside of you.

And then he started to move. It was slow at first, easing in and out of you, but his pace quickened rapidly, especially when you started moaning his name. One of his hands moved from your hips to trace the ridge of your spine all the way up to your neck and then back down. You bucked your hips backwards into his, meeting every thrust, trying to help him go deeper to stimulate that sweet spot in you that you wanted him to reach so much. Occasionally he barely brushed against it and you let out a loud desperate moan.

  “God you’re so big Binnie… so full…” you cried, not really caring if his neighbor heard you.

He growled in his throat and pressed down in the center of your back, forcing your chest to the mattress. You bucked your hips up again, raising your ass higher in the air. He kept fucking you relentlessly hitting that oversensitive, aching spot repeatedly and everything was suddenly trembling limbs; you trying to reach behind you to push against his punishing waist and him pushing you away and fucking you even deeper as intense waves of pleasure, not once did he even slow down.

  “I’m so fucking close, shit!!” he growled.

He kept fucking you and it felt like you’re climaxing again and again and again with every thrust, you were pretty sure you were screaming his name but you couldn’t be absolutely certain with all the blood roaring in your ears, you could feel rather than hear his guttural moan by the deep vibration in his chest as he came and collapsed against you as he pulled out before rolling over onto his back, his chest heaving and his breathing shallow.

  “Jesus – fucking – Christ,” he groaned.

You flopped to your stomach, in a bit of a daze after that intense session of fucking. “You can say that again.”

  “Why did I ever waste my time with Hanna?” he muttered, and the question seemed so ridiculous to you that you giggled. He turned his head to look at you. “What?”

  “Glad to know a good fuck was the only thing you needed to get over her,” you grinned at him, rolling over onto your side so you can see him better.

  “Huh. Guess you were right. Just needed to move on,” Changbin flashed you the cheekiest smirk you’d ever seen and you nudged him with your hip.

  “I’ll blow you next time. Make you really forget everything,” you told him, and he groaned, rolling over and burying his face in his sheets.

  “Fuck me.” He groaned into the bed, realizing how truly fucked he was.

  “Oh, I intend to,” you teased, and he laughed and grabbed your waist, pulling you into him and kissing you.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled against your mouth, and you grinned and kiss him back, wondering how something finally went right. Maybe you were finally getting what you deserved after a lifetime of crap.

There definitely would be more of these healing sessions. Of that you had no doubt.

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

Authors note: Hi guys! so, this Changbin fic had been sitting in my drafts for a few months now, I just touched it up and uploaded. I hope you like it!!

feel free to reblog and drop a like! also welcome to my new followers ;)

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥

Pairing: ex!FBIagent!Chan x FBIagent!afab!reader, reluctant allies to friends, fake relationship

Synopsis: he died. Everyone believed he did. But you found out. And whether you like it or not, keeping you alive is now his job.

Chapter Synopsis: on escaping from the Russians, chan takes it upon himself to help you with the info you need. In exchange you learn more about him in the strangest ways.

Warnings: slow burn, violence, weapons, gore? a bit yeah, sarcastic Chan, ft. Jisung and Lix, mentions of Minho, time skips because why not?

A/n: Also, I think at one point I had a problem with the times of day...but I tried my best to make it sync. If you have extra eyes for errors, no you don't. So not proofread.

previously...

The motel lobby was dimly lit, the old fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. Chan stepped up to the reception desk, his fingers drumming lightly against the wooden counter as the night clerk barely looked up from his phone.

"One room. Just for the night," Chan said, voice low and firm.

The clerk gave him a once-over, his gaze flicking to Y/N, who stood just behind him. She could feel the man sizing them up, probably making his own assumptions about the situation. Chan didn’t seem to care. He pulled out a few crumpled bills from his pocket, slid them across the counter, and within seconds, a key was pushed toward him in return.

"Room 207," the clerk mumbled before going back to his phone.

Chan didn’t wait. He grabbed the key, gave a subtle nod in Y/N’s direction, and started walking. She followed him down the hall, her mind racing as she took in her surroundings. The hallway smelled of stale air and cheap cleaning supplies, the faded carpet muffling their footsteps. When they reached the room, Chan unlocked the door and pushed it open, flicking on the light. The room was exactly what was expected—two twin beds, a small wooden table with a single chair, a flickering TV mounted on the wall, and an old, beige telephone sitting on the nightstand. It wasn’t the worst place she had ever stayed, but it definitely wasn’t home.

Chan tossed the key onto the nightstand and shrugged off his jacket, throwing it onto the nearest bed. "You hungry?" he asked, turning toward her.

She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."

Without another word, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through a local takeout menu. Within minutes, he placed an order for two burgers and fries from a fast-food joint a few blocks away. Once the order was placed, he tossed his phone onto the table and leaned against it, arms crossed. The silence stretched between them until she finally spoke.

"Why didn’t you come back?"

His jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t look away. "Come back where?"

"The agency." She sat on the edge of one of the beds, watching him closely. "You found out what they were doing. You could’ve confronted them. Exposed them."

A humorless chuckle left his lips. "And then what? Be silenced before I could say a damn thing? You think I didn’t consider it? I saw what happened to the others who tried. People who were supposed to be on my side turned against me. The minute I started asking the wrong questions, I became a loose end."

She frowned, thinking back to the files she had uncovered. It was all there—the fabricated reports, the missing agents, the unexplained deaths. "But you were one of their best. Why would they—"

"Because loyalty only matters until you become a threat." His voice was sharp now, edged with something darker. "I stopped being useful to them the second I figured out the truth. So they made sure I wouldn’t be a problem anymore."

She let his words sink in, the weight of them pressing against her chest. But she still had questions—questions he wasn’t answering.

"Do you regret it? You know… disappearing?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he reached for the plastic bag of takeout that had just been delivered outside their door. "Eat." He tossed her a burger and fries before settling onto the other bed with his own meal.

She took a bite, but her mind was still turning.

"What about your family?" she asked carefully. "Did you ever—"

His whole body stiffened, his reaction instant, his grip tightening around the burger in his hand. His jaw flexed, his eyes darkening as he stared at the food like it had suddenly lost all appeal. He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at her. Instead, he set his meal down, stood up, and walked toward the bathroom. "I’m taking a shower," he muttered before shutting the door behind him. The sound of rushing water filled the silence, but Y/N barely noticed.

You had hit a nerve. And you realized then just how much of Christopher Bang was still buried beneath the hardened shell of the man sitting across from you.

The bathroom door creaked open, and steam billowed into the room as Chan stepped out, his bare chest glistening slightly from the residual dampness. A white towel hung low on his hips, clinging to his sharp V-line as he ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back. His movements were unbothered, casual like walking around half-naked in a cheap motel room with a near-stranger was nothing new to him.

Y/N swallowed, forcing herself to keep her eyes on his face as he made his way toward his duffel bag. He crouched down, flipping it open, but after rummaging for a few seconds, he stilled.

Then he sighed.

"Shit." He ran a hand down his face. "Forgot to pack extra clothes."

She watched as he stood up and, with no hesitation, reached for the black trousers he had worn earlier, slipping them back on. The fabric clung to his still-damp skin, and for a second, she thought about how uncomfortable that must feel.

"Sorry… for earlier." Her voice was quieter now, hesitant. "I shouldn’t have asked about your family." Chan glanced at her, then let out a small breath through his nose—a sound that wasn’t quite a sigh, but close. "It’s fine."

She wasn’t sure if she believed him, but she didn’t push. Instead, he nodded toward the bathroom. "Go freshen up. Get some rest. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow." She shifted slightly, still sitting cross-legged on the bed. "You’re not gonna finish your food?"

"Not hungry." He gestured lazily toward the leftover takeout on the table. "Help yourself if you want."

She considered it for a moment but ultimately shook her head. "I’m good."

With that, she stood and grabbed her own bag, heading into the bathroom. The hot water did little to ease the tension in her muscles, but she welcomed it anyway, letting it wash away the grime of the past few hours. It wasn’t until she stepped out and reached for her bag that she realized, she hadn’t packed extra clothes either.

Her stomach sank slightly. She hadn’t planned for any of this. Sighing, she pulled her trousers back on, then hesitated before deciding to just stay in her bra instead of her now slightly damp shirt. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than wearing something uncomfortable to bed.

When she stepped back into the room, the lights were dimmed, casting a softer glow over the space. Chan was already lying on one of the beds, one arm resting behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, his other hand loosely draped over his stomach. His breaths were even, steady but she could tell he wasn’t asleep. She slipped under the covers of the other bed, turning onto her side so she was facing him.

Her eyes traced his features, the way his lips were slightly parted, the sharp angles of his jawline softened by the dim light. His hair was still damp, strands falling over his forehead.

She thought about everything that had happened that night.

About the gunfire. The way he had protected her. The way he carried the weight of his past like an unspoken burden. She wanted to ask him more. Wanted to understand him. But instead, she just watched. And before she even realized it, sleep started to pull her under.

You stirred at the sound of rustling, the soft shuffle of fabric and the faint clinking of metal. Your brows furrowed as you blinked your eyes open, adjusting to the dim morning light filtering through the dusty motel curtains. Chan was already up fully dressed in the same black trousers and shirt from yesterday, though now slightly less wrinkled. He stood near the rickety wooden table, stuffing a few things into his duffel bag with quick, practiced movements.

"You didn’t wake me up?" your voice was rough with sleep as you pushed herself up on your elbows. Chan barely spared her a glance. "Oh, my bad," he deadpanned, zipping up the bag. "Next time I’ll throw a bucket of ice water on you for the full wake-up experience."

You rolled her eyes. "Asshole."

He slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and turned to face her. "Get up. We’re going to Prague." You froze mid-stretch, staring at him in disbelief. "The fuck for?" Chan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose like you were giving him a headache before the day had even properly started. "I have an informant there."

You groaned, flopping back onto the bed for a second before dragging a hand down your face. "Of course you do." He eyed you, crossing his arms. "You also need a new passport. I’ve got someone we’re meeting before we head to the airport."

"Great," you muttered, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. "At least let me shower first."

"No time."

"What do you mean, no time?" you asked incredulously.

"I mean we have to leave now, or I’m leaving you behind," he said flatly, walking towards the door. With an annoyed sigh, you quickly pulled on the same clothes from the night before, stuffing your things into your bag before following him out.

The lobby was empty as usual except for the bored-looking receptionist scrolling through his phone. Chan dropped the room key onto the desk without a word, and they stepped outside, the morning air crisp against their skin.

The car was parked where they left it, and as soon as they got in, Chan started the engine. He didn’t waste time with small talk, navigating through the quiet streets like he knew them by heart. After a while, you glanced out the window and frowned. "Where are we going now?"

"Getting new clothes," he replied, taking a sharp turn onto a side street.

A few minutes later, he pulled into a small clothing store, nothing fancy just practical. Inside, Chan moved quickly, grabbing things off racks with little hesitation hoodies, flannels, caps, t-shirts. He stuck mostly to dark colors, predominantly black. You watched as he barely even looked at anything outside that color scheme.

"You know," you noted, picking up a gray hoodie, "I think you might be allergic to color."

"Black is practical," he said, unfazed, handing a few items to the cashier.

"Black is suspicious," you corrected. "You look like an action movie cliché."

"Says the girl who almost got me killed last night," he shot back with a smirk, swiping his card.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the bag of clothes, following him back to the car. As soon as you both were inside, she sighed. "I’m hungry." Chan gave her a look, deadpan. "Are you always hungry?" The answer to that was a straight yes but you just ignored him.

Luckily, he stopped at a gas station a few minutes later. While Chan focused on filling the tank, you made a beeline for the convenience store inside, grabbing whatever looked remotely edible; chips, bottled water, granola bars. When you got back to the car, Chan was already in the driver’s seat, drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.

"Took you long enough," he muttered as she climbed in. You tossed a snack at him, and he caught it with one hand, raising a brow. "What’s this?"

"Breakfast." Chan glanced at the granola bar, then at you. Then, with a small smirk, he shrugged and tore it open. "At least you’re useful for something." You shot him a glare as you unwrapped your own snack.

With that, he started the car again, merging back onto the road.

The bar was dimly lit, the scent of cheap alcohol and cigarette smoke lingering in the air. It wasn’t crowded just a few people scattered around, either drinking in silence or murmuring in low voices. A faint blues song played from the jukebox in the corner, barely noticeable over the quiet hum of conversation.

Chan led you to the back, past the bar counter where a middle-aged bartender barely spared them a glance. There, tucked into a booth, sat a man with light brown hair, sharp eyes, and a playful smirk that only deepened when he saw them approach.

"Well, well, well," the man drawled, leaning back in his seat. "Christopher fucking Bang. Thought you were a ghost." Chan slid into the seat across from him with ease, looking unimpressed. "Yes, that was the idea, Felix." You hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside Chan, watching as Felix’s gaze flickered to her. His smirk widened. "And who’s this? Don’t tell me you’ve finally made a friend."

"She’s the reason my ghost has lost its aura," Chan said dryly, tossing his duffel bag onto the seat beside him. Felix chuckled. "Poor you. And here I thought you liked your lone wolf act." Then he extended a hand towards you. "Felix. And you are?"

You shook his hand, still thrown off by how casual this felt. "Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. If you’ve managed to survive Chris’s bad mood for this long, you must be decent."

"Still debating that," Chan muttered, and you elbowed him. Felix laughed and gestured to the table. "So, what brings you to my fine establishment of illegal transactions?" Chan got straight to the point. "We need two passports for Prague."

Felix raised a brow, tapping a finger against the rim of his glass. "Prague, huh? Interesting choice. Who are we running from?"

"Nosy as ever," Chan remarked. "Hey, I like to know if I’m making passports for people who’ll get me killed," Felix said, then nodded toward Y/N. "That include her too?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Chan sighed.

"Oh, come on," You scoffed. "I’m literally helping you."

"And you’re doing a fantastic job at getting me into more trouble," Chan shot back.

Felix chuckled. "Same old Chris. Alright, let’s get to work."

He pulled out a laptop and a small suitcase filled with equipment—scanners, blank passport books, laminating sheets. The moment he unzipped it, you realized just how skilled he must be. Everything was neatly arranged, every tool looking well-used but carefully maintained.

"What names do you want?" Felix asked as he booted up his laptop. "Ryan," Chan said immediately.

Felix scoffed. "Real original."

"It works."

"Sure, it does. And for you, Y/N?"

She thought for a moment. "Andi." Felix nodded, already typing. "Andi and Ryan. Got it. What nationalities?"

"Keep mine Australian," Chan said.

"Make mine British," You added.

Felix hummed as he worked, fingers flying across the keyboard. "And here I thought you two would at least try to be creative. Guess not."

"We don’t have time for creativity," Chan muttered.

"We never do," Felix sighed, pulling out two blank passport books. "Alright, give me a bit. This’ll take an hour, maybe less. You two want a drink while you wait?"

"No," Chan said immediately. "I could use one," you said at the same time.

Felix grinned. "See? I like her." Chan just shook his head, leaning back in his seat while Felix got to work, the hum of the printer soon filling the air as new identities took form.

As he stood he walked over to the bar, poured you a drink with practiced ease, sliding the glass over to her while he took a sip of his own. The liquor burned going down, but it wasn’t unpleasant. you glanced over at Chan, who was leaning back in his seat, arms crossed, eyes closed completely unbothered by the fact that they began talking about him right in front of him.

"You know, should be careful with the questions you ask," Felix said, swirling the liquid in his glass.

You exhaled. "I may have overstepped yesterday."

"Already? Sheesh. By the looks of it you did a really good job too," Felix said with a slight smirk, but then his expression softened. "Chris… He’s a good guy, you know? Just misread as a bad one. People like us, we don’t get the benefit of the doubt." You watched as Felix’s gaze flickered to Chan for a moment before he turned his attention back to you. "He’s done things, sure. But never without a reason. Just… don’t push too hard."

You nodded slowly, understanding the warning underneath his words. "He still should’ve come back instead of running."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Felix set his glass down. "You ever think that some fights aren’t worth it anymore?"

Before you could answer, the machine beeped, snapping both of their attention back to the task at hand. Felix grinned, standing up and stretching. "And that’s our cue. Looks like you two are officially new people."

Chan opened his eyes and sat up as Felix grabbed the newly made passports, flipping through them with a nod of approval before sliding them across the table. "Ryan and Andi. Welcome to your new lives."

Felix clapped Chan on the back as they stood near the entrance of the bar. "Be careful, mate," he muttered under his breath, just low enough for only Chan to hear.

Chan didn’t react immediately, just gave a slow nod before gripping Felix’s shoulder for a brief second an unspoken acknowledgment. "Appreciate it."

With that, he turned and led you out of the bar, the door swinging shut behind them as they stepped into the afternoon. The air was hotter now, the city’s hum buzzing into the background as they made their way back to the car. The drive to the airport was mostly silent, save for the occasional sound of Chan drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. His focus was set ahead, his jaw clenched slightly as you stole glances at him from the passenger seat.

"So, what’s the plan?" you finally asked, breaking the silence.

"We get to Prague, meet with my informant, and get the intel we need," Chan said flatly, eyes still on the road. "It’s a simple in-and-out. No unnecessary risks. We keep a low profile, and we don’t start anything we can’t finish." you tilted her head, studying his expression. "And what exactly are we looking for?"

"Proof." His fingers tightened on the wheel. "Proof that the agency isn’t what it claims to be. That I didn’t just vanish for no reason." You nodded slowly, absorbing his words. "I genuinely want to help with this." Chan exhaled sharply through his nose, a short, humorless laugh. "Then do as you’re told and don’t fuck things up." His words came out sharp, blunt.

Your brows furrowed. "You’re still pissed about yesterday, aren’t you?"

"No," he said quickly. Too quickly.

She rolled her eyes. "Sure. I totally believe that."

Chan didn’t respond. He just kept driving.

They arrived at the airport parking lot a little into the evening. They would have arrived earlier, save for the fact that you had become hungry again. The lot was half-full, the bright glow of overhead lights casting long shadows across the pavement. Chan pulled into a spot near the entrance, killing the engine before leaning back in his seat. "Grab what you need," he muttered as he reached for his duffel bag in the backseat. He shrugged on a black flannel over his t-shirt, pulling a cap down low over his face. A precaution.

You adjusted your own bag before stepping out of the car, slinging the strap over your shoulder. You glanced over at him. "You really think someone’s still tracking you after all this time?"

"It’s not about thinking," Chan muttered, adjusting the cap slightly. "It’s about knowing.” You didn’t argue.

They made their way into the airport, weaving through the late-night travelers and half-empty check-in lines. As they approached the counter, Chan handed over his fake passport with ease, his movements practiced, unbothered. You did the same, watching as both your boarding passes were printed and their bags weighed. Everything was going smoothly until you noticed Chan tense slightly beside you.

His posture didn’t change, but you could feel the shift in his demeanor. His eyes flickered toward the far side of the terminal. A man. Dressed casually in jeans and a hoodie. Dark sunglasses despite it being well into the night. Standing near one of the pillars, his posture too relaxed, his gaze locked onto Chan. He stared back, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged.

Then the man turned and walked away. Not rushed. Not panicked. Just slow, deliberate steps.

You followed Chan’s gaze but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "What is it?" you asked, shifting slightly. Chan’s expression didn’t change. "Nothing," he muttered, turning back as he grabbed his boarding pass. You obviously didn’t buy it, but before you could press further, the attendant gestured you forward. Both of you moved toward the security checkpoint, blending into the steady stream of travelers.

As you stepped into the lounge to wait for your boarding call, Chan’s eyes subtly scanned the area, his mind already running through possibilities. Someone had recognized him. And that meant trouble was closer than he thought.

---

The overhead lights in the plane flickered as passengers shuffled to their seats, the hum of quiet conversations filling the cabin. Chan and Y/N settled into their row, a middle and window seat on the right side of the aircraft. Chan sat by the aisle, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp as they scanned the boarding passengers.

The man entered.

He came in through the opposite aisle, stepping past rows of seated travelers with practiced ease. Y/N wouldn’t have noticed him if it weren’t for the way Chan suddenly tensed. His body didn’t move, but his gaze locked onto the stranger’s as he passed. The man didn’t break eye contact. Not until he reached his seat, a few rows ahead.

Chan let out a slow breath. "We’re being followed."

Y/N turned her head slightly, careful not to make it obvious. "Are you sure?" she whispered.

Chan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he shifted in his seat, reaching into the back of his jeans and pulling out a compact, matte-black pistol. He kept it low, just below the armrest, so no one around them would notice. Y/N’s eyes widened. "How the hell did you get a gun on a flight?" she hissed under her breath, her voice barely audible over the boarding announcements.

Chan smirked slightly, his fingers resting lightly on the weapon. "Had help."

"Help?"

"People owe me favors," he said simply, tucking the gun beneath his jacket before anyone could see. "Now act normal." Y/N swallowed, shifting in her seat as the final boarding call rang through the speakers. The plane doors sealed shut, the hum of the engines growing louder as the aircraft prepared for takeoff. The man didn’t turn around again. He didn’t need to.

Chan knew better than to believe in coincidences. The cabin lights dimmed slightly as the flight settled into its long journey. Passengers were lost in their own worlds; some sleeping, some watching in-flight entertainment, some mindlessly scrolling through their phones.

With time, Y/N had made herself comfortable, pulling out the tray table in front of her. A half-eaten airline meal sat beside a small cup of juice, and she was fully engrossed in a movie playing on the tiny screen in front of her. Chan wasn’t watching anything. Not the movie, not the meal service. His attention kept flickering to her how relaxed she looked despite everything, how she absentmindedly chewed on a straw while focusing on the screen. He envied how easily she adapted.

Then, without a word, he unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up.

Y/N immediately turned to him, raising a brow. "Where are you going?"

"Relax," he muttered, voice low so only she could hear. "I’ll be back."

She frowned slightly but didn’t press further as he slipped into the aisle, making his way towards the rear of the plane. As he passed by the galley, a flight attendant—a woman with sharp eyes and neatly pinned-back hair—brushed past him subtly, slipping something into his palm with practiced ease, just the way she had slipped the gun into his hands earlier.

A silencer. Chan didn’t react, didn’t even acknowledge the exchange. He simply continued walking until he reached the lavatory, pushing the door open and stepping inside without a second glance. The door remained unlocked. He moved quickly, screwing the silencer onto the barrel of his gun with steady hands. Then, he leaned against the wall, letting the steady hum of the engines drown out his thoughts. Now, he waited. Because he knew the man had been watching him too as he stood up.

But the wait didn’t take long, the moment the man stepped inside, Chan’s grip tightened around the gun. The tiny lavatory instantly felt smaller, the tension suffocating. The man turned, locking the door behind him with a click. His eyes, concealed behind dark shades, flickered to the gun in Chan’s hands.

Chan didn’t waste time. "Who sent you?" he demanded, keeping his voice low but firm. The man didn’t answer. Instead, his fingers twitched, his stance shifting just slightly. It was enough of a tell. Chan moved first, but the man was faster. With a sharp pivot, the attacker lunged forward, his palm striking the inside of Chan’s wrist. The sudden impact sent the silenced gun skidding across the cramped lavatory sink, landing with a dull clatter.

Chan’s jaw clenched. "You shouldn’t have done that."

The next second, the fight erupted.

The man threw a punch aimed at Chan’s ribs, but Chan twisted, dodging at the last second. He countered, driving his elbow into the man's throat. It wasn’t enough to collapse his windpipe, but it sent him staggering against the sink, gasping for air. Before Chan could press the attack, the man recovered quickly, yanking open the flimsy overhead compartment and smashing it into Chan’s face. He barely had time to shield himself before the man grabbed his head and slammed it into the mirror above the sink. The glass spiderwebbed upon impact, fragments cracking away and slicing into Chan’s forehead.

A warm trickle of blood dripped down his temple. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, then grinned through the sting. "That all you got?" The man sneered but didn’t waste breath on words. Instead, he lunged again.

Chan sidestepped, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting it violently. A muffled pop sounded as the joint dislocated. The man barely had time to register the pain before Chan drove his knee into his stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs.

The man’s sunglasses flew off, revealing dark, bloodshot eyes that burned with hatred. "Who sent you?" Chan demanded again, this time grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him against the wall. Still, no answer. Instead, the man snapped his head forward in a brutal headbutt. Pain exploded across Chan’s nose, stars dancing in his vision. He barely had time to react before the man reached for a concealed blade in his boot.

Shit.

Chan instinctively twisted his torso, the knife slicing through the air where his ribcage had been a second ago. No more playing nice. With swift precision, Chan caught the man's wrist and smashed it against the metal sink. Bone cracked, the blade clattering to the floor. The man hissed but didn’t get a chance to retaliate before Chan grabbed the back of his head and slammed it against the already-broken mirror. Glass shattered. Blood sprayed. The man groaned, slumping slightly, but Chan didn’t let up. He spun the guy around and pressed his arm against his windpipe, locking him in a tight chokehold.

"Last chance." Chan’s voice was dark, deadly, each word laced with unspoken violence. "Who sent you?" The man gagged, his fingers clawing at Chan’s arm. His face was turning purple, veins popping along his forehead.

Nothing.

No name. No last words.

Just a silent, defiant glare before his body went limp.

Chan held the choke for a few more seconds, ensuring the bastard was unconscious before finally letting go. The man crumpled to the ground, blood dripping from his forehead, nose, and shattered lips.

Chan exhaled, flexing his fingers. His hands were covered in blood—some his, some the guy’s. Mostly the guy’s. His reflection in the broken mirror was splattered with red, a fresh gash on his forehead still bleeding down the side of his face.

He wiped his nose, tasting copper, before bending down and retrieving his silenced gun. Then, as if nothing had happened, he straightened his flannel shirt, turned toward the unconscious body, and sighed.

"Should’ve just answered the damn question."

Chan crouched over the unconscious man, his breath steadying as he quickly searched the guy’s pockets. His fingers skimmed past a pack of cigarettes, a crumpled napkin, and finally, a folded photograph.

He pulled it out. His own face stared back at him.

Chan’s stomach tightened, but he shoved down the unease, slipping the photo into his own pocket. He continued searching until he found the man’s cellphone. He didn’t recognize the model, but that didn’t matter. Information was information. He pocketed it and stood up. Turning to the mirror, he sighed. Blood trickled from the gash on his forehead, staining the edge of his brow. His knuckles were raw, the bruises already beginning to form. He looked like hell.

He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, hissing at the sting when it hit the fresh cut. The metallic scent of blood mixed with cheap airplane soap as he washed away the evidence of the fight. Then, making it look believable, he flushed the toilet.

He unlocked the door, stepping out casually before pulling it shut behind him. As he made his way back to his seat, he rolled his shoulders, shaking off the remaining tension.

Y/N’s eyes widened the second she saw him.

"Chan, what the fuck happened?"

He slid into his seat, resting an arm on the armrest as if he hadn’t just nearly killed a man in the lavatory. "We were being followed," he muttered, his voice low enough that only she could hear. Her concern deepened. "Followed? By who?" He sighed, tilting his head back slightly. "No idea."

Y/N frowned, scanning his bruised knuckles and the drying cut on his face. "So, what—? You just fought him? On a fucking airplane?" Chan smirked, resting his cheek against his fist. "Kept it quiet."

"Yeah, real subtle, bleeding all over the place," she muttered. He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Trust me, the other guy looks worse." Y/N’s gaze flickered with unease. "Did you...?"

"He's alive. But I doubt he’ll be up anytime soon."

LIES.

She exhaled, shaking her head. "Shit... What did you find on him?"

Chan pulled the folded photograph from his pocket and handed it to her. She opened it, her expression shifting from curiosity to unease the moment she recognized his face staring back.

"That’s you."

"Yeah. Seems like someone really wants me dead."

Y/N swallowed, gripping the picture tightly. "And you have no idea who sent him?" Chan leaned back, his fingers tapping against the armrest. "Not yet." But he would find out. And when he did, they’d regret ever sending someone after him.

As the plane touched down in Prague, Chan kept his posture relaxed, but his eyes remained sharp, scanning every passenger as they disembarked. Y/N could tell he was still on high alert from the incident mid-flight. She, too, found herself glancing around, paranoia creeping in despite her best efforts to stay calm. The moment they stepped into the terminal, Chan’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out, checking the message. A smirk tugged at his lips.

"Our ride’s here."

Y/N barely had time to process his words before a familiar voice called out.

"Look who finally decided to show up." She turned to see a young man leaning casually against a pillar, arms crossed over his chest. He had messy brown hair, a confident smirk, and eyes that danced with amusement. Dressed in a dark hoodie and ripped jeans, he looked nothing like what she expected from an "informant."

Chan rolled his eyes. "Cut the dramatics, Jisung."

Jisung pushed off the pillar and walked up to them. "Come on, hyung, I was starting to think you got yourself killed before making it here." His eyes flickered to Y/N, and his smirk widened. "And who’s this?" Chan sighed. "Jisung, meet Andi. Andi, this is Jisung—one of the few people I actually trust."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You trust people?" Jisung barked out a laugh. "Right? That’s what I said." Chan groaned. "Both of you, shut up and get in the car." Jisung led them through the bustling terminal and out to the parking lot, where a sleek black SUV was waiting. "I pulled some strings to get you a safe house. Should be secure for now."

As they climbed into the car, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that things were only going to get more complicated from here.

---

The safe house was tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, an unassuming apartment building that looked like it hadn’t been lived in for years. Jisung led them inside, locking the multiple bolts behind them before gesturing toward the dimly lit living room. "Make yourselves at home," he said, flopping onto the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

Y/N and Chan exchanged a glance before setting their bags down. The space was minimalist barely any furniture except for a couch, a TV, and a cluttered desk stacked with papers and electronic equipment. The faint hum of a computer running in the background filled the silence. After giving them a few minutes to unwind, Jisung reappeared with a bag of snacks, tossing a granola bar at Y/N. She caught it, arching an eyebrow. "Not exactly a five-star meal, but it’s what I got," he shrugged before tossing a bag of chips toward Chan.

Chan caught it mid-air but didn’t open it. Instead, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His expression turned serious. "The data, Jisung."

Jisung sighed dramatically, rummaging through his hoodie pocket before pulling out a flash drive. "Yeah, yeah, Mr. No Fun. I got some of what you asked for, but—"

Chan’s jaw tightened. "But?"

Jisung plugged the drive into the TV. The screen flickered, and multiple files popped up—profiles, reports, security footage, transaction logs, and classified documents, some of which were heavily redacted. "Here’s what I managed to pull," Jisung began, clicking through the files. "I got dirt on Reynolds, his known aliases, offshore accounts, deals that he’s made with some pretty bad people. There’s a list of buyers who’ve worked with him, footage of his men moving shipments. But…"

Chan’s fingers drummed against his knee. "Spit it out, Ji."

Jisung turned to face them, his expression more serious than usual. "There’s a key piece of evidence I couldn’t get. It’s too heavily guarded, even for me. Whatever it is, they know it’s important, and they’ve locked it down tight." Y/N frowned. "What kind of information are we talking about?" Jisung exhaled. "A hard drive. It contains direct links between Reynolds and the black-market trades—evidence that could get him convicted. But it’s not something I can hack into remotely. It has to be taken physically."

Chan leaned back, rubbing his chin. "And where is it?"

Jisung smirked. "That’s where things get interesting. There’s a high-profile event happening this weekend in Prague. A charity gala except the only charity involved is rich assholes patting themselves on the back while laundering money."

Y/N crossed her arms. "And let me guess, someone attending has the hard drive?"

Jisung nodded. "Bingo. His name is Viktor Ivanov. On paper, he’s a respected businessman, philanthropist, all that bullshit. But in reality? He’s got his hands in everything from illegal arms, human trafficking,to black market trades. And he’s worked with Reynolds before. If anyone has the missing piece of evidence, it’s him."

Chan’s gaze darkened. "So, we go in, retrieve the hard drive, and get out."

Jisung chuckled. "Easier said than done. Security’s gonna be tight armed guards, facial recognition, the works. This isn’t some back-alley operation. We’ll have to blend in, go undercover."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Undercover? Like… black-tie event undercover?"

Jisung grinned. "Oh yeah. Time to break out the fancy clothes, sweetheart. You and Chan are gonna have to play the part of a wealthy couple."

Chan let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Great."

Y/N smirked at his reaction. "Not a fan of suits, Ryan?"

Chan shot her a look. "Just focus on the mission, Andi." Jisung clapped his hands together. "Alright, lovebirds. We’ve got a lot of work to do before the gala. Hope you’re ready, ‘cause once we’re in, there’s no turning back."

---

The safe house was quiet at night, save for the faint hum of computers and the distant sound of cars passing outside. The air was thick with an eerie calm, a stark contrast to the chaotic lives they were leading. Y/N padded down the stairs in her socks, her initial plan being to grab a drink and head back to bed. But as she entered the dimly lit living room, she paused, noticing Jisung sitting by the window, his back to her.

Multiple monitors flickered in front of him, casting an artificial glow over his face. The TV beside him slowly transitioned through lines of data, profiles, security footage, encrypted messages. He had his legs pulled up onto the chair, one hand lazily clicking through files while the other tapped absentmindedly on the desk. "You don’t sleep?" Yn asked, leaning against the kitchen counter as she opened a bottle of water.

Jisung turned slightly but didn’t seem surprised by her presence. "Not when there’s work to do," he replied, eyes still glued to the screens. "Hyung doesn’t say it, but I know he’s stressed. Figured I’d help him sort out some of the security details before the weekend."

Y/N took a sip of her drink, watching the data flash across the TV. "That’s… actually really nice of you." Jisung let out a small chuckle. "I know, I’m an angel." He stretched his arms, his fingers cracking from hours of typing. "Oh, and I ordered what you guys are gonna wear for the gala. Should be here by tomorrow."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You already know my size?"

Jisung smirked. "Please, I’ve been in this line of work long enough to tell at a glance."

Yn rolled her eyes but smiled, walking over to where he sat. As she glanced at the multiple screens, curiosity gnawed at her. "Hey, Jisung… can I ask you something?"

He hummed, still typing away. "Sure. What’s up?"

"Were you also ex-FBI like Chan?"

Jisung snorted. "Me? Hell no. I wouldn’t last a day under all those strict-ass rules." He leaned back in his chair, finally turning to look at her. "I was just a hacker. A really, really good one. But that also meant I ended up working for some of the worst people."

Yn’s brows furrowed. "Then… how did you meet Chan?"

Jisung’s smirk faded slightly, and for a moment, he was quiet. The only sound in the room was the quiet whirring of the hard drive. Then, he sighed.

"Chan was supposed to kill me."

Y/N blinked. "What?"

Jisung nodded, his gaze distant now, as if remembering something far away. "Back then, I was working as an informant for a guy Chan had been hunting. I didn’t know what I was getting into. I was just good with tech, and they paid well. But when Chan found out I was feeding them intel, he was sent to put a bullet in my head."

Y/N swallowed, watching as Jisung tapped his fingers against the desk. "I was on my knees," Jisung continued, his voice quieter now. "Gun pressed to my skull, and I was sure I was gonna die. But then, just as he was about to pull the trigger… my phone rang."

Y/N felt her heart tighten. "Who was calling?"

Jisung smiled faintly. "Minho. H-He was my boyfriend."

A heavy silence settled between them. Jisung took a deep breath before continuing. "Chan hesitated. He’s got this thing… he hates killing people who have someone waiting for them. Innocent people. I guess in his mind, if you have a loved one, you can’t be all bad." He scoffed. "So, he lowered the gun. And that should’ve been the end of it."

Y/N’s throat felt dry. "But it wasn’t."

Jisung shook his head. "No. Because after that, he found out the agency had lied to him. They told him I had no loved ones, no attachments. That I was just another loose end to tie up. But when he realized they’d fed him false intel, he snapped."

"So, what did he do?" Yn asked.

Jisung let out a dry chuckle. "Oh, he kept me. Bound me, made me work for him until the mission ended. Made sure I couldn’t run, couldn’t betray him. But instead of torturing me, he made me dig. He forced me to look into the agency. And that’s how I found it—the betrayal."

Y/N felt her chest tighten. "You’re the one who helped him uncover it."

Jisung nodded. "Yeah. I was the one who pulled up the records. The fake mission reports. The buried files. The orders that didn’t make sense. And when we pieced it all together… that’s when Chan knew he had to get out." Y/N stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. She had known Chan had gone through betrayal, but hearing it from Jisung, someone who had been tangled in the mess firsthand made it all the more real.

"So, after all that… he let you go?" she asked softly.

Jisung grinned, though there was something tired behind it. "Yeah. But instead of running, I stuck around. Guess I figured if someone like Chan, who was trained to be a weapon, could turn against the people who made him… then maybe I could, too."

Y/N exhaled, shaking her head slightly. "That’s… that’s insane." Jisung laughed, spinning his chair around. "Yeah. But life’s more fun that way, don’t you think?"

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Instead, she glanced toward the hallway where Chan had gone to sleep. Everything about him made a little more sense now.

She turned back to Jisung. "Thanks for telling me."

Jisung gave her a small salute. "Don’t mention it. And hey, try not to get killed at the gala, yeah? I worked really hard picking out that dress for you."

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head as she stood. "Goodnight, Jisung."

"Night, Andi."

As she walked back upstairs, her mind replayed everything Jisung had said, the pieces of Chan’s past coming together like a puzzle she wasn’t sure she was ready to see completed.

---

The smell of food lingered in the air, warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the tension of the past few days. The scent of eggs, toasted bread, and something slightly savory maybe sausage or bacon drifted through the quiet safe house. Sunlight filtered weakly through the dusty curtains, casting soft shadows across the living room. You groggily sat up in bed, stretching before slipping out into the open space that served as both a kitchen and living area. The sight that greeted her was unexpected. Jisung was sprawled out on the couch, one arm dangling over the side, his mouth slightly open as he slept. His laptop was still open on the coffee table, its screen dimmed but faintly glowing with lines of code and security details he had probably been working on until he passed out. A blanket was lazily draped over him probably Chan’s doing.

Speaking of Chan…

You turned your gaze to the kitchen, where the man himself stood, finishing up breakfast. He was dressed casually, black sweatpants and a loose t-shirt but there was a methodical precision in how he moved, from the way he flipped the eggs to how he plated the food with practiced ease. The muscles in his forearms flexed as he set a dish down, and you had to remind herself not to stare too long.

He must’ve sensed your presence because he glanced over his shoulder. "You're up." His voice was slightly rough, as if he hadn’t spoken much yet this morning. "You good?"

You nodded sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. "Yeah… What time is it?"

"Late enough for breakfast." He turned back to the counter, grabbing a plate, and you assumed it was for you. Your stomach grumbled softly at the sight of warm food, and you took a step forward—

Only to watch as Chan walked straight past you. She blinked, caught off guard, as he headed to the couch, crouching down beside Jisung. With careful ease, he nudged the younger man's shoulder. "Wake up, Ji. Eat."

Jisung groaned, shifting slightly but refusing to open his eyes. Chan huffed, setting the plate down on the coffee table before nudging him again, this time a little firmer. "Don’t make me force-feed you."

Jisung cracked an eye open, barely awake. "Mmm, five more minutes…"

Chan’s response was unimpressed. "You said that three hours ago." Jisung groaned dramatically, but the smell of food seemed to win him over. With sluggish movements, he pushed himself upright, rubbing his face as he blindly reached for the plate. "You're a saint, hyung… a scary saint, but still."

You scoffed quietly to herself, shaking your head as you moved to the counter. You grabbed a plate and served yourself, but as you sat down at the small dining table, your eyes flicked toward the couch.

Chan’s actions weren’t anything grand, nothing overly affectionate, but there was a certain care in the way he handled Jisung. The way he made sure he ate first. The way he woke him up with just enough force to be effective, but not enough to startle him. Even the way he placed the plate within easy reach like this was second nature. Jisung, despite his usual joking and laid-back nature, didn’t argue. He simply ate, barely keeping his eyes open as he muttered a soft "Thanks, hyung."

Chan grunted in response before returning to the kitchen.

You quickly focused on your food, trying to shake off the strange feeling settling in your chest.

After a few moments of quiet eating, Chan finally spoke again. "Hey, Andi. The drive—can you get it for me?"

You looked up, still chewing, before nodding. You wiped your hands on a napkin and pushed back your chair, heading toward your bag where you had stashed the device. Retrieving it, you walked back and held it out. Chan took it without a second glance and without even checking it first passed it straight to Jisung.

Jisung, now slightly more awake, caught it lazily and smirked. "Damn, no trust issues at all, huh?"

Chan shot him a look. "Just work."

You watched as Jisung plugged the drive into his laptop, the screen flickering to life. Whatever information was on there, it was important. But as Chan leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his gaze sharp and calculating, she couldn't help but wonder,

Just how much trust had been built between these two for things to flow this naturally?

Jisung sat slouched on the couch, still recovering from sleep as he shoveled food into his mouth with one hand while lazily scrolling through the files on his laptop with the other. His eyes flickered across the screen, scanning the reports and documents, occasionally squinting as if processing something particularly interesting.

Chan sat nearby, sipping his coffee in silence, while Yn leaned against the counter, observing the exchange. The safe house was quiet aside from the faint clacking of Jisung’s keyboard and the occasional rustle of cutlery against plates. Then, Jisung’s phone rang.

His head snapped up, eyes darting to the device on the coffee table. The second he saw the caller ID, a light pink hue dusted his cheeks.

You, ever the observer, caught the reaction immediately. Jisung coughed into his fist before scrambling to grab his phone, swiping to answer with a voice softer than either of them had ever heard from him.

"Yeobo?"

You’s eyebrows shot up. Chan blinked.

Jisung barely noticed their reactions, completely immersed in the voice on the other end. His entire demeanor softened, the playful smugness slipping away to reveal something more vulnerable more genuine. His fingers absentmindedly traced the edges of his laptop, his lips quirking up into a fond, almost dreamy smile.

"No, no, I’m fine. I just woke up, actually… Yeah, I know, but hyung made me eat, so don’t worry." He paused, listening intently. His expression wavered between shy and utterly smitten.

You smirked as you watched him, your curiosity piqued. Who could possibly turn Jisung the fast-talking, cocky informant into this lovesick mess? Chan, on the other hand, seemed unfazed, though a barely perceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Jisung hummed in response to something the caller said, his free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. His ears were definitely turning red.

"Mhm… No, I’m safe, I promise. I would tell you if anything happened."

There was a pause. Then Jisung chuckled, low and warm, his entire body relaxing into the couch. His voice dropped into something softer, more intimate.

"You always worry too much, Min. But I like that about you."

You nearly choked on your coffee.

Chan raised an eyebrow but said nothing, merely tilting his head as if evaluating how long this little lovesick performance would last. Jisung, oblivious to their reactions, sighed contently before mumbling, "난 널 너무 사랑해, 여보." I love you so much, honey.

He paused, biting his lip before grinning like a fool. "Mm, yeah, me too. I’ll call you later, okay? Take care of yourself. Bye, baby." He hung up with a dopey smile still lingering on his face.

A beat of silence passed before you, unable to help yourself, leaned forward with a knowing smirk. "So, he drives you that lovesick, huh?" Jisung scoffed, but the blush on his face gave him away. "Tch. I don’t know what you’re talking about."

You gave him an unimpressed look. "Jisung, you just called him ‘yeobo’ in the first two seconds of answering the call. And if I’m correct that translates to sweetheart." Chan finally spoke, his voice laced with mild amusement. "How do you know about Minho?"

Jisung, still stuck in his post-call haze, simply shrugged before mumbling, "I told her." Chan's expression shifted slightly, something calculating flickering in his eyes. He leaned back, arms crossed, studying both of them before exhaling through his nose. "Huh."

You turned to him. "What?"

Chan shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Just didn't think Ji would spill his tragic backstory so easily."

Jisung rolled his eyes. "It’s not tragic, it’s romantic." You snorted. "Yeah, because getting nearly executed was so romantic." Jisung pointed at you. "Exactly. Life-or-death romance is the best kind." Chan sighed, rubbing his temples. "You two are going to give me a headache."

You grinned, nudging Jisung. "Well, at least now I know what kind of mess you turn into when Minho calls."

Jisung groaned, throwing himself back onto the couch. "I will never live this down, will I?"

You and Chan shared a look before replying in unison.

"Nope."

Are you loving this? I am!!

Taglist: purple means I can't tag you.

@whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @alisonyus @rockstarkkami @morkleesgirl @yoongiismylove2018 @imeverycliche @katchowbbie @pixie-felix @maisyyyyyy @katyxstay @day138 @necrozica @nebugalaxy @strsforjsb @iknowyouknowminho @pessimisticloather @imagine-all-the-imagines @jc27s @igotajuicyass @jitrulyslayyed @sh0dor1 @idiotmaterial @leeknow-minho2 @btskzfav @glenda2107-blog @jeonginnieswifey @makeawitchoutofme @nikki143777 @sharnnnnnn @akindaflora @chungdol @lillymochilover @lixies-favorite-cookie @idol-dream-catcher @heartsbystars @depressedarlling @hhwangsmoon @boyfiechan (thank you for the mention bubs 💗)

Check out my pinned if you want to be added to the taglist!

~kc 💗

Tangled Lines | 1 | - Seungmin

Seungmin x Lee Know's sister

What started as a simple favor, dropping off a bag, spirals into a whirlwind of unexpected feelings and unspoken tension.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

It was supposed to be a quick errand. Lee Know had left his bag at home, and you were on your way to Seoul for a short trip anyway. You’d planned to drop it off at his dorm – no big deal. You didn’t expect much, certainly not a run-in with anyone other than your brother.

You followed the directions Lee Know had sent you and pulled up to the apartment complex. He'd mentioned his dorm several times, but this was the first time you’d ever actually been here. As you walked up to the door, you hesitated for a moment, unsure.

You rang the doorbell and waited. After a few moments, the door swung open, and there stood a guy you didn’t recognize.

He was tall-ish, dressed casually, with messy dark hair and an easy smile. And though you didn’t know exactly who he was, you couldn’t help but notice how cute he looked, his eyes lighting up with surprise and curiosity when he saw you standing there with a bag in hand.

“Hi…?” You hesitated, unsure if you had the right place. “Uh, I’m looking for Lee Minho? I’m his sister – he left something at home and I’m supposed to drop it off.”

The guy blinked in confusion for a split second, then his expression softened into something warmer. “Ah, so you’re his sister. He didn’t really mention that he has one. I’m Seungmin, by the way. Hyung isn’t home right now, but you’re welcome to wait.”

You were still standing at the door, processing everything. This was definitely not Lee Know. You had imagined this whole interaction would be simple: drop off the bag, say a quick hello, and head out. But there was something about Seungmin’s easy going demeanor that made you hesitate.

“Oh,” you said, realizing you were probably standing there awkwardly. You tried to adjust the bag in your hand, giving him a nervous smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can just leave it here—”

“No, no,” Seungmin cut you off, holding up his hands in a gesture of reassurance. “It’s fine. Come on in. He would probably kill me if I didn’t let you inside. Lee Know’s stuff is everywhere, though – warning in advance.” He gave a sheepish grin, clearly used to the chaos.

“Okay, thanks,” you said, stepping inside.

As soon as you entered, you realized that he was right – Lee Know’s ‘stuff’ was indeed scattered everywhere. Shoes piled near the door, jackets on the couch, random snacks, and clutter in every corner. It felt so… lived-in. Real. It was kind of charming, in a messy, chaotic way.

“So, do you guys always live like this?” you asked, half teasing, half amused by the clutter.

Seungmin chuckled. “You should see Felix’s side. This is nothing compared to his mess.” He led you into the living room, where he motioned to the couch. “Make yourself at home. I’ll grab some water for you while you wait.”

As Seungmin disappeared into the kitchen, you sat down on the couch, looking around. You hadn’t expected to spend time here, but the laid-back atmosphere made it feel oddly comfortable. You noticed a few framed photos of the group on the wall – some from concerts, others just candid shots of the guys laughing together.

Seungmin returned with a glass of water and handed it to you. He sat down on the arm of the couch, casually resting one foot on the seat. He didn’t seem rushed, nor did he act weird about the fact that you were here in Lee Know’s absence.

“So, I take it you and Lee Know are pretty close?” Seungmin asked, taking a sip from his own glass of water.

“Yeah, we’re close,” you said with a smile. “He’s my older brother, so, of course, he’s annoying. But that’s what older brothers are for, right?”

Seungmin nodded, his lips curving into a grin. “I know exactly what you mean.”

You laughed, the easy back-and-forth making you feel more comfortable. And, truth be told, you found yourself glancing at him more than you had planned. He was cute, undeniably so, with his expressive eyes and the way he seemed so effortlessly relaxed even in the middle of a stranger walking into his home.

You casually brought up something about how Lee Know was always messing around with his bandmates, and Seungmin smiled at the comment, sharing a story of their last rehearsal and how Lee Know had pulled a prank on Hyunjin. It felt so easy, like you were just chatting with a friend you’d known forever.

A few minutes later, you heard the door open, and you looked up to see Lee Know walking in with Felix and I.N trailing behind him. He froze when he saw you sitting there with Seungmin, a strange look flashing across his face.

“Uh,” Lee Know said, his voice tinged with surprise and something else you couldn’t quite place. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought your bag,” you said casually, holding it up for him. “You left it at home. Seungmin was nice enough to let me wait for you.”

Lee Know shot a quick glance at Seungmin, who was now grinning, clearly enjoying the moment. “So you two are already chatting it up?”

“Yeah,” Seungmin replied smoothly. “We were just getting to know each other. Your sister’s cool.”

Seungmin didn’t just mean it as a compliment; there was a teasing note to his voice, and you could tell he was just enjoying the moment with Lee Know. But there was something in the way he spoke, as though he was daring Lee Know to be annoyed. You could tell it was playful – he wasn’t quite serious, and he didn’t think anything more would come from it. After all, he didn’t even want to start anything that might cause trouble. But for now, he wanted to tease Lee Know, especially since it was so easy to get a rise out of him like that.

You stood up, handing Lee Know the bag. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

You could tell by the way Seungmin looked at you that he wasn’t just teasing you; there was something more genuine behind the conversation. But of course, you’d never let your brother know that.

-----

Felix, ever the social butterfly, had exchanged numbers with you long before, and somewhere in the process of joking group chats and shared chaos, Seungmin had slid into your messages.

The texts started off simple.

A casual “thanks for the water” message after your first visit turned into occasional updates about Lee Know: "Your brother’s sulking because Changbin ate his snacks again" or "Did he always hoard laundry like this?" 

You didn’t think much of it at first. After all, Seungmin was easy to talk to. He had a quick wit that matched your sarcasm, and his humor always made you laugh harder than you’d admit. But the conversations had shifted somewhere along the way – becoming more personal, more frequent.

It wasn’t just updates about Lee Know anymore.

Seungmin: “Did you see that new ramen place on your side of town?” You: “I’ve heard it’s good. Why, thinking of coming all the way here?” Seungmin: “Maybe I just needed an excuse.”

It was subtle, these shifts. A lingering tone of something that felt like flirting but stayed safely within the lines of plausible deniability. But you caught yourself smiling at his messages more than you should.

The problem was, you liked him.

Not in a passing way or a harmless crush you could laugh off later. No, Seungmin’s steady humor and surprising kindness were becoming harder to ignore. He wasn’t just cute; he was the kind of guy who listened, who noticed little things, who made you feel at ease even when you were overthinking everything.

But every time you thought about it – about what it might mean – you hit a wall.

Your brother’s voice played in your head whenever you thought about crossing that invisible line. What would he think if he knew? Worse, what if it messed things up in the group? You didn’t want to be the reason Seungmin hesitated during practice or avoided Lee Know’s eye.

And Seungmin? Well, he had his own internal battle.

The teasing texts and playful banter were easy – familiar ground that didn’t require him to confront how he was starting to feel about you. But when you sent him a photo of the ramen you’d finally tried, captioned with "Guess you missed out", he stared at his screen longer than he should have.

It wasn’t the photo or the food. It was your smile, that small, effortless curve of your lips that had been stuck in his mind since the day you showed up at the dorm.

"Get it together, Seungmin," he muttered under his breath.

Lee Know was his friend, his brother in everything but blood. And falling for you wasn’t just breaking an unspoken rule; it felt like betraying that bond.

One night, after a long day of rehearsals, Seungmin found himself scrolling through your chat history. His finger hovered over the keyboard, debating whether or not to reply to your latest message. You’d sent him a photo of one of your cats – curled up in a pile of freshly folded laundry.

He smiled despite the unease feelings, typing back before he could second-guess it:

“Looks like you’re more of a cat person too. Must run in the family.” You replied instantly “I love my cats, but I don’t mind dogs either. Don’t tell Lee Know though – he’d probably disown me for even saying that.” and the conversation spiraled into a late-night exchange about pets, chaotic siblings, and everything in between. It was easy. Too easy.

And then you said something that made his heart stop.

“I always feel like I can tell you anything. Weird, right?”

He stared at the words, feeling a tug in his chest that he couldn’t ignore anymore. He wanted to feel proud of that – of being someone you trusted. But all he could think about was how wrong it felt to be the person catching feelings for you.

He set his phone down, rubbing a hand over his face. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You’d noticed the shift in his texts lately – the hesitation, the shorter replies. You felt a pang of guilt. Maybe he was pulling back, realizing that this… whatever it was between you… shouldn’t be happening.

And you couldn’t blame him. You’d thought about pulling back yourself.

But instead, late one evening, you found yourself typing out a message you weren’t sure you’d send.

You: “I feel like we’ve both been avoiding something. And I get it – I do. But… I can’t keep pretending I don’t care about you. And I don’t want to mess things up for you or my brother, so if this needs to stop, just tell me, okay?”

You stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity before pressing send.

Seungmin: “I care about you too. Probably more than I should. But I don’t want this to hurt anyone – least of all you.”

The relief of his words hit you immediately, but so did the weight of his hesitation.

You: “So what do we do?”

Seungmin hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard before he finally typed:

Seungmin: “We take it slow. We’re honest – with each other, with Lee Know, when the time’s right. And if this starts feeling wrong, we stop. No questions asked.”

-----

Seungmin sat in the practice room long after everyone else had left. He fiddled with his phone, the screen dark, but his thoughts racing. He had made a decision, one he couldn’t back out of now.

He unlocked his phone, scrolling to your name in his messages.

Seungmin: “I’m going to talk to him.”

The three dots indicating your reply appeared almost instantly.

You: “Are you crazy?”

Seungmin could almost hear your voice in the text – half incredulous, half offended.

You: “I mean, I get it. He deserves to know, and I respect that. But seriously… you’re telling him this?”

Seungmin: “I don’t want to go behind his back. It’s not just about this – it’s about the group, too. This has to be on the table.”

You: “Fine. But don’t expect me to save you if he kills you.”

He smiled faintly at the reply but couldn’t shake the nerves coiled in his chest.

When Lee Know walked into the practice room, his phone still in his hands, he paused, eyebrows furrowed. “What are you still doing here?”

Seungmin stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Waiting for you.”

Lee Know gave him a wary glance, closing the door behind him. “What’s this about?”

“Hyung,” Seungmin started, his tone unusually serious, “can we talk for a minute? Like, for real?”

Lee Know’s expression shifted slightly at the earnestness in Seungmin’s voice. “Okay… What’s up?”

Seungmin sat back down on the couch, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s about your sister.”

Lee Know’s posture straightened immediately, his eyes narrowing. “What about her?”

Seungmin hesitated for a moment before forcing himself to meet Lee Know’s gaze. “Since she dropped off your bag… we’ve been talking. Just texting, mostly. Nothing serious has happened, and I swear it hasn’t crossed any lines. But… I like her.”

The room went uncomfortably quiet. Lee Know blinked slowly, his face unreadable.

“You like her?” he repeated, his tone flat.

Seungmin nodded. “Yeah. And I wanted to tell you before anything else happened because…” He exhaled, his voice softening. “Because I respect you, hyung. You’re like a brother to me, and I don’t want to screw that up by hiding something like this from you.”

Lee Know stared at him for a long moment, his expression somewhere between disbelief and scrutiny.

Finally, he sighed, crossing his arms. “I don’t even know where to start. First of all, you? Of all people?”

Seungmin let out a dry laugh. “What, am I not good enough?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Lee Know shot back, rolling his eyes. “It’s just… unexpected.”

“Trust me, it’s unexpected for me too,” Seungmin admitted.

Lee Know rubbed his temples. “You’re not messing around, are you? This isn’t some prank or… I don’t know, something stupid?”

“It’s not a joke,” Seungmin said firmly. “I mean it. And honestly…” He hesitated, then added, “Maybe it won’t even go anywhere. I don’t know. It’s early, and nothing has really happened yet. But I’d rather be upfront about it than hide it.”

Lee Know studied him for another long moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “Look, I’m not thrilled about this. She’s my sister, Seungmin. And you’re…” He gestured vaguely. “You’re you.”

Lee Know leaned forward, his voice dropping as he let out a soft groan. “But I get it. She’s great. And I can't exactly tell her who to see.”

Seungmin’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, relief flickering across his face.

“That said,” Lee Know continued, his tone sharpening again, “if you screw this up – even a little – I will make your life miserable. And I don’t mean in a fun, teasing way. Got it?”

Seungmin nodded seriously. “Understood.”

Lee Know leaned back, shaking his head. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t,” Seungmin said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Good. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

Seungmin stood up. “Thanks, hyung.”

As Seungmin left the practice room, Lee Know called after him, “And don’t expect me to go easy on you during dance practice!”

-----

Later that night, Seungmin texted you.

Seungmin: “Mission accomplished. I’m alive, and your brother didn’t kill me.”

You: “I’m surprised. I half-expected him to throw you out a window.”

Seungmin: “He might have, but I reminded him how irreplaceable I am. Also, he threatened me, so we’re all good now.”

You laughed at the text, shaking your head.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Lee Know.

Lee Know: “Seriously? The dog? I’m telling Songie, Dongie, and Dori that you don’t love them anymore.”

pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 | pt.5 | masterlist

Fell Sans X Reader: Never Leave on a Bad Note

Warning: short angsty headcannon

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

• Pappy and Fell have gotten into a fight

• This is normal but this ones seems to be worse than the others

• Sans stormed off to his room and didn't come out until the afternoon of the next day

• You thought it would be better to let sans cool off

• Sans and pappy get into another fight and sans ended up leaving the house

• He didn't return till the next day

• You tried to confront him about it but he ignored you

• No matter what you did for him, he ignored you

• When you confronted him about this he yelled at you

• Saying you were being nothing but a nuisance

• After that he left the house again, leaving you there shocked

• When sans returned you weren't there

• He thought you were out doing something so he thought nothing of it

• He thought something of it when you didn't return home the next day

• He asked pappy were you went

• He said you left after he yelled at you

• Sans decided to go out and look for you

• He couldn't find you do he went to alphys for help

• Alphys told him you went to Asgore

• That you wanted to break the barrier

• This scared Sans and he telported to the judgement hall

• From there he ran into the throne room

• There was a big door open and it was glowing

• It was the barrier

• When Sans enter through the door he finds you and Asgore

• Well more like Asgore trying to extract your soul so he could combine it with the others

• Sans shouted your name, you turned your head

• You smiled at him, with a tear streaked face

• Your body fell to the ground

• Sans ran up to you, your body was becoming cold, your soul was leaving your body

• Sans asked why, why you did it, all while crying

• You explained how you didn't want to be a nuisance anymore but you wanted your death to have some value

• Sans said you weren't a nuisance, he was just mad

• You smiled at him once more

• Bring your head up you press your lips to his teeth

• Your body falls limp

• That day the barrier was broken

• The monsters were set free

✭SKZ cute icons✭

.

.

.

˜”*°•please like/reblog if you save/use•°*”˜

Stray Kids Masterlist

Bang Chan

Interview with Officer Bahng

Sunkissed

Perfect Fit

Login Confessions

You’re Losing Me (Angst)

Adrenaline High

Check Under My Hood

Always Come For You (Requested)

Love at Lunch Time

Airborne

His Little Star (Angst)

New Year New Me

His Clumsy Klutz

Lucky Number 13

Lee Know

Drunken Teasings

Mouth to Mouth

Unsure Attraction

Recipe of a Confession

Dandelions

The Great Cat-Napper

Red Light, Green Light

Parade Shenanigans

Love Postage

Entwined With You

Interrupting Festivities

Nearly Missed

Polar Opposites

New Cat Mama

Changbin

Traffic Control

Pool Games

Guarding Your Heart

Confession to Quench Your Thirst

Brave Girl (Angst)

Wrong Number

Silent Protector

Love Stuck on You

Do You Want To Build A Snowman?

Created Happiness (Angst)

Courage at Midnight

Taking Care of Him

Your Advocate

Rooftop Conversations

Hyunjin

Photographic Evidence

Underwater Love

Scent of Attraction

Masterpiece of a Confession

Play Pretend

The Chase

Little Bit of Time

Love Letters

Catching Snowflakes On Our Tongues

No Longer Playing Pretend

New Year’s Resolution

All In The Details

Love Guru

Off Key

Han Jisung

Connections

Moves to Quick

Launch Party

Tickled Confessions

Eyes On Me

Sway

Nitro Boost

Love Behind the Lyrics

Baby It’s Cold Outside

Inyeon

Plan Crasher

His Reassurance

Monsters Under The Bed

Lee Felix

Status Report

Just a Glimpse

Data Breach

Gameplay Confessions

Greedy (Angst)

Card Up His Sleeve

Checkered Flag

Love Creases

Angels In The Snow

Twilight Zone (Angst)

New Beginnings in the New Year

Worry Wart

Too Early For This

Seungmin

Monthly Exam

Protective

Gathering Courage

Confessions Under Fluorescents

Spoil Me

Took A Louisville Slugger

Last Proposal

Little Book of Love

All’s Fair

Spoiled Rotten

New Year Conditions

Sweet Serenade

Backseat Driver

Coffee Snobs

Jeongin

Undercover Mission

Paired Up

Tease Me

Boardgame Confessions

Song Bird (Angst)

Highest Bid

Take Another Lap

Let Me Count The Ways

Icing You Out

False Hope (Angst)

Wishing You Good Fortune

Always In The Nick of Time

Dyed Colors

Master list!

Here you will find all my stories! I put a read more because it’s pretty long! Enjoy!

Keep reading