#I like thinking of Jean as outwardly bitter and avoidant

[queer-lovebot]

I’m not sure if you ship kevjean or not but how do you think Jean would react seeing someone flirt with Kevin

I’m a Kevjean enjoyer but I have yet to cross the threshold into making my own content! I feel like I don’t have Enough of Jean yet so I leave him to the professionals

That being said Jean feels like one of those “oh no it’s fine! It’s fine. There’s no problem it’s fine” kind of guys when it comes to Kevin. If he feels like Kevin is uncomfortable then he’ll politely interject, but if it’s mutual flirting? Guy who is jealous and bitter but Knows that’s His Problem and is trying to handle it. Jean will sit there and be nasty fit the rest of the night. He can’t help it. It’s not his fault and we’re shouldn’t blame him.

[mamabearcatfanfics]

Battle Couple

I've had this little idea for a while, and then decided I could bend it slightly to fit this year's @inukag-week's first battle couple prompt. Because not all battles we face have to be huge ones against a deadly foe. Sometimes the battles can simply be standing up for what's right.

Inuyasha dragged the beanie down tighter over his head, stomping towards the exit of the store. He hated this. This is why he bought things online and had them delivered. Because then he could avoid interactions like he’d just had with that racist arsehole. He glanced down at the text from Sesshoumaru again, wondering if there was some other way he could get this gift for Rin. It was the first time his half-brother had thrown a birthday party for his adopted daughter, and no doubt it would be a big deal.

Rin has expressed an interest in this item. Her birthday party is on Saturday at 10am. Do not be late.

And of course the toy Rin had asked for was sold out everywhere online. The tiny dolls with light up dresses and a matching crystal necklace were apparently ‘the’ toy at the moment. She specifically wanted the purple one, the ‘hope’ doll, because it was her favourite colour, and she already had the other dolls in the set. This was the last one she needed. And he hadn’t been able to find it anywhere. He was failing as an Uncle. The last store he’d been to, he’d practically seen a pair of mothers come to blows arguing over the last CrystalShines doll on the shelf.

He was close to the exit of the store when an intriguing scent wafted past his nose. It was another store employee, dressed in the dark polo shirt and black jeans, with one of those ear walkie talkies they all seemed to wear. She was giggling, talking to someone using the button on her mike, her other arm full of a variety of women’s clothing that she was putting back on the racks. Her arms were a blur as she began sorting them into different sizes, working quickly to make each rack neat and tidy.

He watched as she flitted about the store, talking to a customer, smiling and waving at a baby in a pram, folding jumpers and t-shirts. His eyes were drawn to her dark ponytail; the way it swung as she moved was almost hypnotic. Her glossy hair was black, but had a blue sheen to it under the harsh fluorescent lighting, and he had a sudden urge to reach out and touch it, stroke down the length of the swinging tail to see if it was as soft and silken as it looked.

Without even realising it, he followed her, almost bumping into her as she suddenly spun around to go in a different direction.

“Oh! Good evening sir, can I help you with anything?”

There was a pleasant smile on her face, and she was looking at him expectantly. His voice didn’t seem to want to work now he was actually standing close to her, so he turned around his phone, showing her the picture of the doll.

“This is what you’re looking for?”

“Yeah”, he said softly, his eyes focused on hers as she glanced up at him again. He’d never seen anyone with grey eyes before. It seemed they were lit from within like starlight, and now that he was closer to her, she smelt even better. He cleared his throat, trying to get a hold of himself. “My niece wants one of these for her birthday, and I’m having trouble finding one.”

“Okay”, she said, reaching for the button on her headset to talk to the other employees on the shop floor. “Let me just talk to my colleague in the toy department, and I’ll see if we’ve got that item in stock.”

❤

Kagome watched as the man in front of her visibly deflated.

“Don’worry about it then. Already talked to ‘im.”

And then she got it. Ryan was working the toy department tonight. Ryan the racist bigot who didn’t like interacting with any customers who weren’t white, male, good ol’ boys, exactly like him. Usually he worked out the back in the store room, unpacking shipments, but due to the flu going around and the shortage of staff, the evening shift manager had put him on the floor tonight. And he’d no doubt said something innaproppriate to this gorgeous man in front of her, who obviously had some sort of youkai heritage.

She’d had her own run-ins with Ryan. He’d said many cruel things to her over the past six months, since he’d found out what happened a few years ago, cruel enough to make her run to the safety of the women’s toilets to shed a few silent tears in private. He never bullied her in a place where others could overhear, he always cornered her in dark places where there was no one else around. He frightened her. Jak knew she was uncomfortable around him, and did his best to make sure they were never rostered on at the same time, so it had been a while since she’d had to deal with him.

She took in the golden eyes, fangs and the beanie yanked down hard over his long silver hair, but it was the resigned bitter look on his face that caught at her heart. She knew that feeling. Internally Kagome fumed, but outwardly she hoisted her brightest smile onto her face, wanting to make it up to him. She could fix this!

“Wait. I don’t know the toy department that well, but I’m sure I could help. Just give me a moment to put these things down.”

He followed her to a wheeled rack in the aisle where she hung all the clothing in her arms back up, and then turned to him, smiling brightly again.

“Let’s go to the toy department and see if we can’t find this doll for your niece. When’s her birthday?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Oh dear, that doesn’t give you much time to find one!”

“I’ve been lookin’ all week. Online stores have sold out.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll have one in stock. Let’s see, the doll aisle is around here somewhere.”

They walked together down the aisle, both scanning the shelves for the tiny dolls.

“They should be around here”, said Kagome, her finger running along the price labelling on the edge of the shelf, her eyes lighting up as she found the right tag, but sighing in disappointment as she found the shelf empty.

“Yeah”, sighed Inuyasha. “I asked the guy around here if he could find out if there were any more out the back or somethin’ and he, ah…”

“Don’t worry”, said Kagome, a determined look on her face, “I will personally go take a look in the store room for you. Just wait here for me sir.”

“Inuyasha.”

“Huh?”

He coughed a little, his head turning to the side to avoid her direct gaze. “My name, it’s Inuyasha.”

“Oh. Right. Just wait here for me Inuyasha, and I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks Kagome.”

She blinked in confusion as he said her name, wondering how he’d known it, then realised he had read her name tag.

For some reason him saying her name out loud made her stomach swoop, like she was on a roller coaster, even though her feet were firmly planted on the ground. As he gave her a shy smile, she felt her cheeks begin to heat, and she whirled around, making a beeline for the storage room, talking into the mike on her headset as she left.

“Hey Jak, it’s Kagome – just going out to the store room for a moment for a customer. I’ll get right back on those returns as soon as I’m done, okay?”

“Oooh, tell me it’s the hottie with the white hair that I pointed out to you!”

“Jak!”

“Oh it is! Take your time honey!”

“You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“And you love me for it. Make sure you get his name and number before he goes!”

“Jak!”

“For the customer form darlin’, what else did you think I meant?”

She could hear him still sniggering as she released the talk button on her mike, and she shook her head, grinning despite herself. He was her in-line manager and they got on really well, but rarely got to spend time together, as he was usually rostered on during the day, and her in the evenings so her day was free for lectures and study.

Kagome squeezed her way into the storeroom, scanning the aisles of stock yet to be placed out on the shelves. And then she saw it, the edge of a box with a picture of a tiny doll up on the highest shelf.

Dragging over the step ladder, she placed it under the shelf and climbed up, her petite size meaning she had to stand on the very top to have any chance of reaching the box. She just managed to reach the doll with the tips of her fingers, and nudged it. It tipped forward and fell, and with a gasp she managed to catch it with her outstretched hand, teetering on the top of the ladder, her other arm windmilling frantically to keep her balance.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her frantically beating heart after her almost fall, the box containing the doll clutched tightly against her. But she’d found one for him, a purple one, just like he’d wanted. She had no idea why that made her feel so incredibly happy, but it did.

Grinning widely as she emerged from the storeroom, she began walking directly to the toy department. She could see Inuyasha there, waiting for her. But she could also see Ryan, his arms crossed as he spoke to him, a sneer on his face. She quickened her pace. Previous experience had taught her that expression couldn’t mean anything good.

❤

Inuyasha stood his ground, hands clenched in tight fists by his sides. He had every right to be here – he was a customer, he hadn’t caused any commotion or damage. Kagome had asked him to wait here. But apparently that wasn’t good enough for this guy.

“I told you already, we’ve got none of what your looking for. Nothing for you. Are you deaf, or just stupid?” The volume of his voice wasn’t loud enough to draw anyone’s attention to them, but definitely loud enough to get on Inuyasha’s nerves.

Inuyasha closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his hands shaking slightly as he held back. He would not punch out this idiot – this was a department store, not a battle ground. Even though he deserved it because he was a racist bigoted shit.

“I already told you to leave youkai! Do I have to call security?”

Inuyasha breathed out slowly, trying to keep any trace of anger out of his voice, even though he wanted to let rip. He’d found out the hard way that security tended to not ask questions, just see his youkai traits and assume the worst.

“And I already told you, another employee was taking a look out the back for me. She told me to wait here for her.”

“Yeah, like I’d believe anything one of you would have to say. You’re all the same. What are hidin’ under that hat huh? Some kinda weird freakish thing I’d bet. ”

“Inuyasha!”

Inuyasha turned, his eyes lighting up as Kagome appeared. But she wasn’t wearing the wide smile she had when she left. She was stomping towards them, a box tucked tightly under her arm, the scowl on her face impressive. Thankfully that scowl was not directed at him.

He could smell the nervousness pouring off of her, but you never would have thought it looking at the way she faced off with her work colleague, stepping in front of him like she wanted to shield him from this man's ire with her much smaller body.

“Ryan, I’m handling this customer. And I’ve already found what he needed, so there’s no reason for you to be here. I think you’ve probably said enough.”

There was the barest trace of a tremble in her voice, and Inuyasha moved in closer behind her, wanting her to feel like he was there to support her. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but he didn’t like it.

Ryan rolled his eyes and then sneered at her, his voice low and vicious.

“Ha. Shoulda known it would be you Kagome. Such a helpful little kiss ass. Why don’t you turn that cute little tush of yours around and head back to the ladies department where you belong, unless you’re still that desperate for some demon tail.”

“What?”

Ryan grinned at the shocked expression on Kagome’s face, posturing like he’d somehow scored a point. “Bit ironic really, you working in the ladies department when you’re anything but. A human ain't good enough for Kagome, huh? Wasn’t it bad enough that the last guy you had got fired, now you’re after customers too? You really are a-“

“Don’t. Say. Another. Word.”

Both Kagome and Ryan flinched at the snarled words behind them.

“Kagome, call your manager”, said Inuyasha gruffly. “I wanna report this guy.”

“It’s my word against yours demon, and little Kagome’s not gonna say anything, are you Kagome, because you’re fuckin’ pathetic. There’s nothin’ you can report me for”, snorted Ryan.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’d probably pick being a racist arsehole, for starters”, said another voice cheerfully. "Then maybe we could add workplace harassment."

A tall man in a tailored suit stepped into view, his dark hair slicked back into a short ponytail. He was holding his phone up, obviously still recording the whole thing.

“Here I was, minding my own business in the Lego aisle while I looked for the perfect birthday gift for my little girls, and what should I hear? An employee bad mouthing a customer, when the customer had been nothing but polite and civil. Don’t worry about proof, I’m happy to be a witness. I was recording the whole thing. From the very first racist slur that left your lips.”

Kagome’s eyes were wide as she glanced from the ponytailed man back to Ryan, and Inuyasha could hear her heart beating frantically. He nodded at her approvingly as she took a deep breath, her hand steady on the button on her headset.

“Jak, it’s Kagome”, she said, her voice a little breathless, but firm. “Can you-“

Ryan lunged towards her.

“Don’t you dare, you fuckin’ bitch!”

Inuyasha ducked out from behind Kagome, his fist grabbing the back of Ryan’s shirt and lifting him into the air, Ryan’s legs kicking frantically as he tried to escape. Before Kagome could move out of the way, his steel capped boot caught her on the chin. She dropped like a stone, crumpling to the floor in a heap.

“Fuck, Kagome!”

Inuyasha swung Ryan out of the way and dropped him none too gently, all his focus on the small woman laying prone on the slightly grubby linoleum floor, still out for the count. He could hear a scuffle behind him as the man in the suit and a few other observers struggled to keep Ryan contained, but he no longer cared about him. He knelt down close to her, gently stroking the glossy dark hair back from her face.

“Kagome, can you hear me?”

Inuyasha shook Kagome’s shoulder gently, trying to rouse her, and her eyes fluttered open.

“Inuyasha?” she said groggily, her arm tightening around the box, a wobbly smile on her face. “I got your doll.”

❤

It took a while to sort everything out. An ambulance was called, and the police. The police took statements from Inuyasha, Kagome and the man in the suit, Miroku. Ryan was fired on the spot, and Jak was positively gleeful, despite the mountain of paperwork he’d have to fill out before he went home that evening. When the paramedic suggested that Kagome should go to the hospital to be checked for possible concussion, Inuyasha had immediately said he’d like to go with her, if that was alright with Kagome, and after a few polite remarks about it not being necessary, she’d gratefully accepted. Jak had positively pushed them into the ambulance together, waving them off with a bright smile. It was the most exciting evening shift he’d had in years.

❤

“You don’t have to stay you know. I’ll be fine, I’ll just get an Uber home.”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall, his arm resting on the edge of Kagome's hospital bed.

“For the tenth time woman, I don’t mind. I want to be here when the doctor examines you to make sure you’re okay. And then I wanna make sure you get home safe.” He sighed as he looked at the dark purpling bruise on Kagome’s chin. “I’m just sorry I didn’t throw that fucker down to the end of the aisle when I had the chance.”

“But it’s so late! It’s almost 2am, and you have the party to go to tomorrow. Today I mean.”

“Eh, that’s hours away. She won’t mind if I’m a little late, Rin’s a nice kid. And now I have the perfect present, thanks to you.”

Kagome was quiet for a while. The silence grew to feel uncomfortable, because Inuyasha could sense how tense Kagome suddenly was.

“Inuyasha… I want to explain. About what Ryan said to me.”

“Hmm?” He could smell nervousness again, billowing around her like a cloud, and he didn’t like it. “Doesn’t matter, none of my business.”

“But I want to”, she said, her voice taking on a stubborn edge.

“Fine, I’ll listen. But nothin’ you can say will change my good opinion of you. You stepped up for me back there Kagome, and that don’t happen for me much. I will always remember that.”

Kagome reached out her hand to lightly grasp the clawed one sitting next to her on the bed, and squeezed it.

“Thank you.”

He squeezed back.

“You’re welcome.”

“Anyway”, she sighed. “About what Ryan said. I started working at that department store when I was still in high school, as a weekend job. And there was this training manager, a kitsune. He’d come around every so often, and all the girls thought he was really good looking. He had a little green sports car; a lot of the other girls thought was really important. They all were flirting with him, and then he asked me out. I was so surprised. I mean, me! I’m nothing special! He was so stylish, and so charming. I really thought…” Kagome laughed but it had no humour in it, and Inuyasha squeezed her hand again. She shrugged, her shoulders coming up around her ears as her face turned away from him.

“I was so stupid! It turned out I was right about being nothing special, because he was going out with a couple of girls at every store that he visited.” She flinched a little at Inuyasha’s low growl of disapproval. “There were around ten of us. And because a couple of us were under aged, he was charged. Lost his job. Ryan found out about it a few months ago and thought-“

“Don’t say it”, said Inuyasha gruffly, squeezing her hand again. “Don’t matter what he thought. It’s in the past. And the Kagome I saw tonight was amazing.”

“No I wasn’t!” Kagome shook her head, then winced as her head throbbed, realising that was a bad idea. “I was so scared Inuyasha! I’ve never been able to stand up to him before. But I couldn’t stand the thought of him being mean to you!”

“Then you’re even braver than I thought.” Inuyasha entwined his fingers with hers, and cleared his throat. “Kagome, I know you don’t know me. But I think I’d like to get to know you. Could I call you? Maybe we could go out for coffee or somethin’? I mean you don’t gotta answer, and if you don’t wanna, I totally understand, I mean-“

“Yes.” Kagome giggled at the wide toothy grin on Inuyasha’s face. “Give me your phone and I’ll put my number in.”

“Wait. Maybe you should see what all’a me looks like before you say yes.”

Inuyasha tugged off his beanie, revealing the pointed white dog ears on top of his head. “If you wanna change your mind, I-“

“They’re so cute!” squeaked Kagome. “Please give me your phone!”

❤

Kagome woke up the next morning very late, so late that it was no longer morning at all.

It had been 3am by the time Inuyasha had dropped her home with a bag of painkillers and the Doctor’s instructions for treating her mild concussion. He’d helped her into bed, placed her medicine and a glass of water next to the bed for her, kissed her softly on the cheek and whispered goodnight, closing the door behind him.

She rubbed her cheek gently at the memory of that small kiss, a smile on her face. She still had a headache, so she took two of the tablets, then reached for her phone on the bedside table where it had been charging.

There were two messages.

The birthday girl loves her present! Attached was a picture of a smiling Inuyasha kneeling with his arm around a little girl in a checked orange party dress and sparkly sandals, her dark hair up in pig tails. A wide excited grin split her face, revealing the gap of a missing front tooth. The doll was clutched tightly in her hand, and she was wearing the necklace that came with it.

I told Rin how brave you were, and she wanted you to have some birthday cake. Can I bring some over when you wake up? 🍰

Kagome smiled almost as wide as Rin, despite her headache.

I’d love you to ❤

[angelguk]

→ fine line — a namjoon scenario

member: kim namjoon (rm)

word count: 6.7k

genre: smut + enemies to friends w benefits honestly + everyone is aware if it but them + jimin is annoying + it’s christmas and ppl r horny

warnings: namjoon is big :) / fingering / oral sex (f recieving) / uhh almost fucking in a bathroom / alcohol consumption / dommish namjoon / v long for absolutely no reason

soundtrack: situationship, snoh aalegra

It's an understatement to say that you hate Kim Namjoon. At this point it's not in even hate, it's unadulterated abhorrence. Every time he saunters into a room, the silage of his musky cologne lingering after him, you have to repress the intense need to gag. If you had it your way, you would never be around him. But because he has somehow developed a close relationship with your best-friend Taehyung, he'd gradually wormed his way into your life. It had started slow, causal lunches that he suddenly appeared at, birthday parties he was suddenly invited too and then it was dropping by Taehyung's to find him perched on your friend's floor, fresh from work, reeking of soju and his necktie loosened from its secure knot as if he lived there. 

At first, you paid no attention to him, assuming that he would get the hint that you were not interested in being his friend despite his closeness to Taehyung. Yet, for some reason unbeknown to you, the self-proclaimed genius with a law degree under his belt never took the hit. It's as if he enjoyed getting under your skin, relished the irritation that would warm your checks and set your mouth into a hard line whenever he poked at you with his snarky comments and insincere smiles. It made you want to punch him in throat sometimes. But even you didn't know where this animosity spawned from. You couldn't explain it even to Taehyung when he'd tentatively asked why you didn't click with his closest colleague. You'd blanked at the question actually. It was hard to put it into words, the feelings you held against Namjoon. It wasn't like he was outwardly a terrible person. He had a charming nature about him, was easy to approach and an amiable smile that drew people towards him. It didn't help that he was also tall and large and wore fitted shirts the spread tightly over his wide chest. It made your own feel like it's caving in on itself sometimes. But that's not an observation you would like to dissect, not now. Not ever. And especially when Namjoon's sprawled on the living room couch, legs spread and his thick thighs on display, bulging through the taut fabric of his jeans. He's idly scrolling through his phone, face illuminated by the soft amber light filling the room, a hand ruffling the dusty blonde mane on his head.

The sight itself makes you halt under the doorway, the drinks Jimin had handed to you stagnant in your hands. Something lurches dangerously in your gut when he settles further into the chair, tucking a cushion under his arm. He looks snug, something about that makes you blink very hard.

Yes, you hate Kim Namjoon.

"Stop eye-fucking him," Jimin murmurs as he glides past. You splutter violently, eyebrows kissing your hairline when you lock gaze with him. You don't miss the mischievous glint in his brown eyes.

"I wasn't," You hiss in return, feet suddenly working again.

Jimin gives you a look. It says a lot of things but the general gist is that he knows you're lying out of your ass. "Sure," He drawls, dumping the mugs he's carrying onto the coffee table. "I believe that."

You make sure to kick his knee once you've placed down your own mugs, ignoring the perplexed glance Namjoon throws at the both of you.

"Eggnog?" He says instead of inquiring about your odd behaviour. He peers at the cups like you're offering him poison.

"Yes," Jimin retorts, a bright grin on his face when he notices the scowl gracing your face. "Post dinner shenanigans must ensue immediately. Where's everyone else? We've got Christmas games to play."

"Pretty sure Hoseok and Seoyeon are fucking upstairs, Taehyung's somewhere outside with Jeongguk and Iseul and I think Minhee's in the bathroom."

Jimin makes a face at Namjoon's remark about Hoseok. "Right after dinner? Honestly?"

You give him a sharp glance when Namjoon snorts at his snide. He's acting like he hasn't devoured a whole ice sundae before sucking some dude off in a public restroom. Maybe he can read it in your gaze because he elbows you rather roughly. "Go get the rest of the drinks or I'll leave you with him," Jimin mutters, head turned to avoid Namjoon discerning his comment. You roll your eyes but walk away, glad for the brief break from Namjoon before Jimin insists that everyone convene and you have to pretend to tolerate him for the whole night. The alcohol would certainly help but being in a closed space with Namjoon for longer than thirty minutes made you want to bang your head against a wall. It would be nice if you could just wipe him off your life, but he stuck there like an immovable stain, immune to all your efforts to erase his existence.

Regardless, Namjoon must have been right about Hoseok, because he comes down with his face flushed peach, Seoyeon clinging to his side with a dopey grin spread across her pretty lips. They stay glued together for the rest of evening, not even glancing up with Taehyung, Jeongguk and Iseul saunter in, coated in snow and noses red from the bitter cold raging outside. They don't even notice when Minhee finally emerges from the bathroom. It's only when Jimin forces them apart do they acknowledge anyone else's presence. But at that point you're on your second mug of eggnog, dutifully ignoring Namjoon with your body pressed snugly against Jeongguk's.

That's how your evening pans out, belly gradually filling with the endless stream of eggnog Jimin supplies out of the kitchen, a grin steadily creeping onto your lips with every ridiculous game that sprouts from his head. It's undeniable that he's the life of the party, dragging a loud laugh from your mouth when his charade battle against Iseul, Jeongguk and Minhee turns ugly. At some point, Taehyung stumbles into an argument with Namjoon over whether Home Alone or Elf was the superior Christmas movie which has you cracking up despite the constant stream of Namjoon's rumbling voice filling the air. And then Seoyeon forces everyone to start singing Christmas carols, belting loud and completely out of key but too drunk to care. It's a merry moment, where the hostility you hold against Namjoon briefly falls to the back burner of your brain. Even his jokes make you giggle, something that you're not aware of until Jimin gives you a pointed look, his eyebrow cocked. And then you're forced to stifle your laughter whenever he says something remotely funny which is annoying because underneath the pretty haze of your drunkenness everything is funny. Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

It's only when your stomach starts swimming dangerously do you take your leave, wobbling towards the bathroom where you perch yourself on the toilet seat. You rest your head between your knees, fingers despairingly clutching the hem of your dress as you contemplate how you got to this point, the bathroom tiles whirling underneath you. You can hear them through the door, Seoyeon's jubilant squeals (probably a result of something Hoseok did) and the loud baritone of Namjoon's seeping through the wood. There's a carol playing that you can't recall the name of, but you hum it until your queasiness subsides. Maybe, if you hadn't stuffed yourself with an obscene amount of bread pudding during dinner you would be feeling fine. It sits heavy in your gut, threatening to spew itself across the pristine bathroom floor. It gradually ebbs away and when you lift your head, the world isn't moving flying fast anymore.

You take a moment to collect yourself, a silly grin on your face when you finally stagger up to the mirror. It's still evident you're drunk, there's no way to hide it but your pat your face anyway attempting to sober up and breathing slowly. It works, albeit to a minuscule degree.

You don't expect to bump into him when you exit the bathroom, balance still uneven. He's exiting the living room, feet drifting in the direction of the bathroom you'd just popped out from. It's the astonishment that makes you stumble, your feet fumbling over themselves when Namjoon's broad chest collides into yours. The small sound that leaves you mouth makes your cheeks hit up, a dangerous uptick in your heartbeat when his wide palms suddenly clamp down on your shoulders, pulling your closer until your pressed flush against him. You regain your balance so fast that you head spins when you shove him away, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You don't expect to find the concern colouring his honey eyes.

"Are you okay?" He murmurs, hands instinctively coming up to steady you once more.

You lean into it without thinking before immediately taking a sharp step back, a tiny laugh tumbling from your lips. "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

He eyes the bathroom door behind you. "You were there for a while. You sure you're alright?"

"I'm peachy, Namjoon. Perfectly fine. A little drunk, but fine." Although the fact that he noticed your absence makes your heart clench dangerously in your chest, the look he gives you isn't appreciated in the slightest.

"A little bit drunk? You sure about that?" You read the incredulity in his tone easily enough and the hostility you feel towards him rears it's ugly head immediately.

"Yes," You hiss, trying to slip away but Namjoon's blocking the entrance with his wide shoulders. He stays stagnant, eyes flickering over your face as he attempts to decipher whats ruminating in your head. You're fortunate he's not a mind-reader because you're having a lot of thoughts about the way his navy sweater fits over his chest right now. But for a split second, when he cocks an eyebrow, you think that he's found a way into your thoughts, skin heating up at the mere idea of Namjoon being able to read the things running through your brain right now. But then he opens his mouth, the beginning of a coy smirk tugging at this plump pink lips, and that notion wilts immediately.

"You should learn how to handle your liquor." The comment makes you bristle. Maybe if you just bulldozed him over Namjoon would shut-up and leave you alone.

"And you should learn how to mind your business," You retort, shooting him a hard glare that Namjoon responds to with a sickeningly broad smile.

"I was concerned, can't having you throwing up over everything in the bathroom can we?"

"It's none of your concern if I was, Namjoon. And I'm fully capable of cleaning up my own mess - if I even threw up. You've never even seen me throw up."

He shrugs, irritatingly nonchalant while you bubble with ire. "I've heard stories."

When you find Taehyung and Jeongguk, you'll kill them. Slowly. Painfully slowly.

"Could you just fucking move? I really don't have the energy to entertain you right now." You're on the verge of just roughly pushing him aside, but your palm itches at the prospect of touching his chest, hand involuntarily curling into a fist. Namjoon stays immobile before you, a tiny grin on his lips that you are aching to wipe off.

There's another venomous comment about to tumble from your lips, but the ringing voice of Jimin cuts through it, loud and clear.

"Mistletoe!" At first, you don't get it, staring at his smug face confused. But then you tilt your head, finding the accusing plant dangling above your head. You don't miss the gleeful laugh that bursts from Jeongguk's mouth when he catches Jimin's comment and before long, everyone is looking at the two of you, expectant.

You'd rather shoot yourself in the foot.

But Jimin is relentless, slithering towards you with tumblers of whiskey in his hand, a devious smile gracing his lips. "Come on, you know the rules. Kiss already!"

"Jimin, don't you dare," You seethe. Namjoon doesn't miss that, percipient gaze flickering between the two of you.

"What do you mean?" He's feigning ignorance and you're considering smacking his head. "And what are two waiting for? Kiss!"

Jeongguk jumps in a beat later, immediately followed by rest of your friend group. The chant is accompanied by Taehyung loudly banging the coffee table to the rhythm of the word 'kiss'.

You glance at Namjoon not expecting him to be staring at you so intently.

"So?" He cocks his head.

"No," You firmly retort.

"They aren't going to let us live," He reasons, which is true because your friends are behaving like animals right now over a simple kiss.

"I don't care," You softly murmur.

"Well, okay. But they'd forget about it if we just kissed." You pause, quickly thinking it over as your gaze falters over Jimin and Jeongguk chanting the words like it's their only lifeline. There's no way they would forget it but it would make the rest of the night a lot easier.

"Fine," You mutter. "No tongue. I'll kill you if you use tongue."

"A peck isn't a kiss," Namjoon laughs, already leaning into your space. You hate how your eyes catch on his, locking on his gaze so quick that you reel from it. "But are you sure you didn't throw up?"

"Namjoo-" Your words are swallowed by his mouth, lips swiftly moulding against yours. The sudden touch coaxes a low moan out of your mouth, one that immediately sets your cheeks ablaze. But Namjoon eats it up, a wide palm rising to cup your chin. He tilts your head ever so slightly, following the directive act with a tentative swipe of his tongue against your lips. They part involuntarily, the feeling of Namjoon's mouth softly moving against your own sending a sudden shock straight to your core. He tastes faintly of eggnog, sweet against your lips. Maybe you lean forward, maybe your eyes flutter when his nose bumps against yours. Maybe everything falls away and you can only hear the pounding thump of your heart in your chest as your blood roars violently. It's slow and fast simultaneously. Like time is dragging itself out and running from your fingertips all at once. When his mouth finally parts from yours, the sound in the room comes crashing down on you. Jimin's whooping in the background, his voice barely drowned by the ruckus everyone else is making. But you can't tear your gaze away from Namjoon to throw them a chiding look. You're too entrapped in the warm honey of his eyes to tear yourself away. You can't decipher wants running his head but you're acutely aware of his fingertips still pressed against your chin. And of how violently your lips buzz, warm with the imprint of his mouth.

But then as quickly as it started it's over. Namjoon's suddenly so far away, gaze turned away from you, glancing at Jimin with a bright smile on his face. You despise how your focus zeros in on his pink lips, heartbeat bruising your ribs.

"Jimin," He chides, the baritone of his voice sending a spark through your system. "Take this stupid plant down." There's a gentle chastisement with that comment, but Jimin laughs it off, a sound that makes you finally turn to glance at your friends. Namjoon brushes past you a second later, like you didn't exist. As if his mouth wasn't on yours a moment ago. Maybe your heart sinks to your stomach but that odd feeling of disappointment vanishes when Jimin slings his free arm around your neck, nudging a shot glass into your stationary hands.

"You should thank me," He slyly mumbles into your ear. You focus on the slamming of the bathroom door behind you instead. You snatch up the shot glass a moment that, head full of emotions you're not sure you can work through at the moment. It feels like you've driven into the middle of thick fog, nothing around you clear, not even the odd ache you feel inside your chest.

Jimin gets a sharp elbow to the ribs when he laughs at your perplexed face, your feelings obviously painted on your features. "Shut up," You hiss, trying to escape from his strong grasp. "I can't believe you did that. Take that fucking plant down."

"Nope, I won't," He retorts, securing his grip and you as he tugs you into the living room. The broad grin on his face is plastered on everyone else too, much to your chagrin. It's hard to ignore their side-eyes and sneaky comments. Even after the familiar burn from the shots Jimin keeps handing to you ebb away, you're left folded into yourself in the corner of the couch, gaze hazy. There's too much sitting on your mind that the alcohol fails to wash away. Maybe that's what sets it all in motion, the restlessness you feel. And perhaps, it's also the fact that your mouth is still tingling. You fingers itch to brush them but you can see Taehyung glancing at you from your peripheral vision. Instead they sit pretty on your lap, head too preoccupied to engage with the shenanigans the rest of your friends are participating in. But you're thoughts spiral quickly, and maybe the drinks hit you too hard because you're profoundly aware of Namjoon's missing presence. The fact that he's not emerged from the bathroom has you frowning, and then your thoughts violently spiral.

Why did he kiss? He could have just walked away the moment Jimin started making noise. Why did he do that? He didn't have to do any of it.

You're up on your feet before your brain can convene with your heart. There's the faint sound of Minhee murmuring your name but you're too worked up to listen, moving towards the bathroom with uncharacteristic speed. It's bold to knock on the bathroom door when you know someone' s in there. For all you know Namjoon could be in the middle of taking a shit but you don't care, knuckles rapping sharply against the word.

"Yes?" You don't expect the asperity in his voice, your gaze faltering on his cold one. He's staring at you hard, a slither of his face peeking through the ajar door.

"Oh." The argument you've conjured up in your mind promptly evaporates, tongue sticking onto the roof of your mouth.

"Yes?" Namjoon tries again, his jaw ticking.

"Are you alright in there? You've been in here for a while," You suddenly blurt out. The reiteration rubs him the wrong way, evident by the way his jaw sets, a glint in his eyes that you've never seen before.

"Peachy," He hisses. You flush, recalling your words with your lip caught between your teeth.

"Sorry, I have something to ask you." The admission has the both of you staring at each other in silence, Namjoon clearly trying to read the implication behind those words.

"And it can't wait?" He asks. You shake your head because it truly can't. You won't have the courage to confront him about without the familiar buzz running through your system. It'll probably just sit in the back of your mind, worn from how often you think about that moment.

"Really?" He cocks an eyebrow, but the door opens ever so slightly.

"Really? Are you doing anything in there?"

"Just thinking. You wanna talk in here?"

You nod again, swallowing down the sudden hesitation you feel creeping up your throat. "Yes," It comes out soft. "Let's talk in there."

Namjoon cocks his head, but then the door is pushed open.

The tiles spin underneath your footsteps and your gaze quickly flickers around the bathroom, searching for what you're not sure. The toilet seat is down like Namjoon had been sitting onto it, contemplating similar to how you were earlier. He chooses to perch himself on the bathroom sink though, leaving you to lean against the opposing wall, eyes lingering on the way his thighs spread out for a second too long.

There's a silence in this space, which Namjoon waits for you to fill. All of a sudden the courage you feel evaporates, replaced by a hesitation that makes you bite your lip, shoulders folding in on themselves. But then he coughs, a noise you know is fake by the way he looks at you. He's impatience. It would be better to just say it, rip the question from your throat. You focus on the light above his head as you say it, too nervous to look directly at his waiting gaze.

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Because I wanted to shut you up."

You blanch, leaning hard against the tiled wall. It's cold against your burning skin, cutting through the heat of your embarrassment. "What? You kissed me because you wanted to shut me up?"

Namjoon shrugs like this isn't a pivotal moment in your nonexistent relationship. "Yes. Why are you asking?" He shifts on the counter, long legs spreading out.

"Why? You can't be going around kissing people because you just want to!"

He laughs, a low sound that makes your heart do a funny thing in your chest. "I don't go around kissing people. I just kissed you. And I know you don't like me. You keep running your mouth whenever I'm around, I just wanted to make you shut up for once. So I kissed you. Where's the fault in that? Blame Jimin's mistletoe, love. Or stop acting like I can't hear everything you say about me."

"I don't run my mouth about you," You splutter. He cocks an eyebrow in disbelief, hands settling on the thick muscle of his thighs that your eyes don't linger at. "And it's not that I don't like you. I just don't..."

"You don't what? Don't like me? It's alright you can say it, love. I don't care."

The glare you give him is venomous. "Maybe if you weren't such a cocky bastard I would like you. And stop calling me love."

His back straightens at that, eyebrows raised in challenge. "You think I'm cocky? You know you're friends with Kim Taehyung, right?"

"I'm fully aware, thank you for the useless observation, Namjoon," You snap back. "But I can tolerate him, you on the other hand..."

"Me on the other hand what?" Namjoon is suddenly upright, meandering towards you like a lion slinking up its prey. Your back hurts from the press of the tiles through the flimsy fabric of your dress. "Say it, love. Why can't you stand me?"

"Look Namjoon, some people just don't get along. That's us and that's fine. I'm required to like you because Taehyung does," You snap back.

He quirks an eyebrow, suddenly rising from the counter. You despise how broad he is, but when he sets closer your throat clamps up. "You're deflecting the question, you know that. You haven't answered why you don't like me. And for someone who doesn't like me you have a lot of questions about my intentions. Shouldn't you be yelling at me instead? Not asking why I kissed you. Or did you want there to be a reason other than convenience as to why I kissed you? Is that what you wanted?"

Your heart beats to the tempo of fleeing bird wings flapping in the wind. He's too close now, invading your space with a curious look in his brown eyes that have you folding into yourself. To see for you're liking. But Namjoon doesn't seem to care, staring at you like he read through your blatant lies with ease.

"You keep asking why I kissed you, I have a question for you now. Why do you care why I kissed you? Did you want me to kiss you?" Namjoon's broad chest is right against yours. Your heart is thumping hard against your rib-cage, threatening to shatter the bones with the force it's slamming into them with. You can't meet his steady gaze, cheeks burning from the sudden scrupulous examination of your character. It makes your skin spark like you've brushed by the touch of a thousand stars. The sparks are violent running through your body to settle deep inside your core. There's a heat collecting between your thighs, that turns into a full-fledged furnace with Namjoon's fingertips settle on your chin, tilting your head upwards. The remembrance of the action makes your heart swoops to your gut.

"Did you like it when I kissed you?" There's a field full of butterflies occupying your stomach, flapping around until you're heady with there presence.

"I-I." He smiles at your stutter, taking a sure step forward that results in his body pressed flush against yours.

"Answer the question."

"I'd like it if you got out of my space," You retort instead. Which is a blatant lie. You're positively vibrating from his close presence, skin a live-wire that exploded with every minute moment of contact. Namjoon must read through that false statement because he doesn't budge. Perhaps the small shiver that bolts through your system gives it away.

"Do you really want that?" He hums. You shiver again and Namjoon's lips spread into a glittering smile. The fingertips on your jaw are suddenly firm, ticking your head upwards until your eyes are glued on his. "Would you like it if I kissed you again?"

Your breath is caught in your throat, heart-thumping frenetically inside your chest. The air simmers with static, the humming your blood drowning every opposing thought sprouting in your mind. It's the way that he's looking at you that has you leaning forward on instinct. Dark honey eyes that streel you in, capturing you in the warmth of his gaze. You don't know when your eyes flutter closed. That happens naturally, like the feeling of Namjoon's wide palm gently cupping your chin. The moment your noses bump against each-other, mouths searching, your body bursts, like a burning star, suddenly falling in exhaustion. He still tastes like eggnog, a sweat cream coating his mouth. Your lips part fast, eager to feel him on your tongue. The choked groan that slips from your mouth falls into his easily. There's a buzzing on your lips with every bruising graze of his mouth there. Time falls away as it did before, every fibre of your hazy being focusing on the sure press of Namjoon on your mouth. It's both hard and soft at the same time, light brushes of his lips on you followed by firm kisses that leave you reeling, desperately wanting more. You're not sure when you began clutching the front of his sweater but you're clinging onto him now like he's you're the only lifeline, keeping you afloat from drowning in this vast sea of emotion.

When you finally part, breaths melting into each-other, Namjoon's staring at you with those wide brown eyes that make you lean forward again, your nose brushing against his. He sighs softly, involuntarily pressing another kiss on your lips. Your heart swoops int your gut when he does that, the drunken haze you're lost in turning you giddy.

"Happy now?" You murmur out, noting the way Namjoon's gaze flickers to your lips. "Since you've shut me up."

"You're still talking," He responds. His hand falls from your face, suddenly palming the span of your thighs. "What me to shut you up again?"

You nod quickly, attributing your compliance to how drunk you are. Perhaps the warmth emitting from his hands grasping the back of your thighs contributes to that as well, but know is not the time to analyse the reason behind your behaviour.

When he kisses you again, you dissolve, putty in his hands as his mouth works you open. There's deep groan floating from the back of his throat when you trail your hands down his front, fingertips admiring the broad expanse of his chest. It elicits a sharp spark in your gut, one that has your legs automatically falling open so that Namjoon can mould his body against yours. It doesn't take much to notice how hard he is, bulge nudging against your stomach. The sheer size of it has you moaning into his mouth, hands dropping south with need.

But Namjoon halts you, mouth red from your lips when he draws away. His heart thumping underneath your fingertips as he peppers a myriad of kisses along the hollow of your neck. You cave under them, sighing with every warm print of Namjoon's mouth across your blazing skin. The sound must affect him because you can feel him twitch in his pants, a minute motion that drenches your under in moments. And the Namjoon is pulling you from the wall, twisting you around as he backs you up against the skin, your bodies still clinging to each other desperately.

The counter is cold underneath your bare thighs but that's swiftly replaced by his warm palms clasping as your skin. He knocks your legs apart swiftly, lining your burning core with his crotch in a manner that has the both of gasping as your mouths meet once more, tongues eagerly melting into one. There's a quick roll against your hips that leaves you breathless, his cock nudging right against your clothed core. You shouldn't be this wet, but you can feel it leaking through your panties, underwear coated with your arousal as his hips rock into you.

He shifts away, swearing softly under his breath, you follow him, the sudden space between your legs feeling unbearable. There's a glint in his eyes when he picks up on your neediness, the grip on your thighs squeezing hard.

"Patience, love."

You huff cheeks hot from your embarrassment. "I said don't call me-"

He's on his knees so fast that you reel from it, the sudden nudge of his nose right against your core making your words stick in your throat. There's a gruff laugh at your sudden silence floating from his lips that vibrates against your core, your gaze stagnant on the image of his head between your thighs.

"Sorry," he murmurs, breath tickling your skin. There's a tremor echoing through your body that you refuse to acknowledge when he tilts his head upwards, pretty brown eyes coy. "Can I do this?"

"Yes, yes you can." Even if you wanted to deny it there's too strong of an ache in your core for you to refuse Namjoon. Not when he's on his knees for you, placing light kisses along your inner thigh that leave you clutching the counter edge hard, walls clenching on nothing.

He hums, pleased with the urgency lingering in your voice. But in actuality, he wouldn't have to know what do to do if you said now. His dick hurts from how hard it is right now, pressing violently through the fabric of his jeans. That's why he'd be hiding in the bathroom in the first place, attempting to get rid of the tent in his pants that he popped from kissing you. Kissing you, under a damn mistletoe. It's like his body regressed to being a horny hormonal teenager again. Maybe it was because of the dress you're wearing, stupidly short for the cold weather raging outside but you'd justified the choice of your outfit when Jimin had prodded by insisted that the cabin was obliviously warmer. And that had left Namjoon to try and not gawk at the outline of your body whenever you moved in front of him. It slides up your thighs and he knows you hadn't noticed that because you would have yanked it down. Instead, you'd left him to ruminate how nice it would be to leave that dress on the floor where it belonged, while you were under him.

Even though he reason his behaviour by insisting he would like to keep you quiet, that's not true. The sound of your voice does things to him, even when you're complaining about him all the damn time. He's aware of your stance on him, although he's not quite sure where it spurred from. But he couldn't care less. The countless arguments you'd shared made his day sometimes. You're so adamant, even over the slightest things. It would be infuriating if he didn't admire our passion. Or found the way your cheeks flushed when you were angry cute. Sometimes he started them on purpose, just to see your face heat up when he played the devil's advocate. It was fun, teasing you. But sometimes his mind would wander, eyes lingering on your lips and the sharp cut words that flew from them. Would you be so adamant with his cock deep inside your cunt? What sounds would you make if he fucked you senseless into the sheets?

But those had just been fantasies, locked away in the crevices of his mind. But today had been different. Very different.

When he'd kissed you and you'd just folded over, melted against his mouth like you needed him. Wanted him. It'd set off something in his brain. He'd never popped a boner so quick in his life.

Even now, when he swipes a tentative lick across your clothed cunt, it takes him by surprise how your legs shudder around his head, your wetness damp on the fabric.

"Fuck, you're wet." He can't help but comment on it, gaze captured by the sheen coating your thighs.

"Great observation, genius," You retort with an irritated huff. And just like that Namjoon can feel it creeping back, the defiance you carry like a second skin. He likes it, how sharp you can be, but underneath that he knows how compliant you can be too. And he wants to see that side right, wants you squirming underneath him, the only thing falling from your lips his name.

You panties come off so quickly that you're left speechless, stunned when Namjoon doesn't hesitate to part your fold with his tongue, lapping at your wetness like a starved man. It's quick but deliberate, the steady swipes of his tongue along your core, nose pressed against the apex of your cunt as he spreads you apart. It leaves you grasping at his hair, fingernails scraping against his skull as his tongue fucks you open, steadily toying with your dripping hole in a manner that has your thighs seizing up. It's not your fault when he latches his lips around your clit, licking with purpose, that you keen. A sound that has never come out of your mouth, ever. But it fills the bathroom, bouncing off the walls as your brain short-circuits on the feeling of Namjoon unravelling you with his mouth, his wide palms squeezing at your thighs with every jolt of your hips against his mouth

"Namjoon! Fffuck, could you - fuck!" There's too much going on but your brain can only take in the sound of Namjoon lapping at your core. It's obscene, the sound of his mouth on your cunt. There's slick coating your thighs with every press of Namjoon's lips against your folds. You don't know why you're this wet. It's odd, even for you. Yet, there's a pit in your gut when he glances up, mouth shiny with your arousal and his eyes dark.

"Yes?" Another kiss against your cunt, tongue dipping into your eager hole a moment later. You clench desperately around nothing, a sudden heat burning beneath your skin.

"Fingers," You murmur, throat clogged with moans you're holding back. "You can use your fingers."

He smiles against your cunt, drawing away to look at you. "You want my fingers, love? Want your pretty pussy stuffed with something?"

The 'something' catches your attention because you'd loved for him to flip you over and fuck your senseless right now. But that would change things, your entire dynamic would be shattered. Which it already has been, the cracks from this situation running deep. There's no way you can look at Namjoon again without imagining his mouth covered in your wetness. But having him fuck you, that would be something else entirely. So you settle for his fingers, nodding quickly when he grins at you, even though your aching to feel him stretch you out with his dick. You know it would hurt, he felt massive against your core. But it would be nice, to be stuffed full, fucked hard until you could feel him between your legs tomorrow.

That's not to say Namjoon doesn't have large fingers. He's big all over, a bulky broad man with wide hands that settle on the inside of your thigh, fingertips tracing your eager hole slowly.

It takes him by surprise, the little gasp you let out when he finally slides inside, finger covered in your slick. But then his mind registers how tight and warm you are around him, squeezing so desperately that his mind blanks. His dick jumps in his pants, already imagining how good you'd feel around his cock, wet walls clinging onto him desperately. You swear when he adds a second finger a moment later, a slight sting around your entrance that ebbs away. His fingers are bigger than yours. Much bigger. And they fuck you open with a vigour that has you groaning into the heavy air, legs spread for his vantage. When his mouth returns to your clit, licking with intent, you squeal. The noise has him groaning against your cunt, fingers curved inside you as he searches for that spot inside you, tongue lapping up your wetness. He gets want he wants a moment later, your walls clenching around his fingers hard as a shudder travels through your body, thighs trembling around his head.

"Namjoon! There, there, there. Fuck, pleassee!" You can feel it already, the fire in your gut blazing dangerously as his fingers slam into you. He sighs against you, pressing kisses along your thighs that have you shuddering underneath him again. You're close, the coil in your core threatening to snap with every sure press of his fingers inside you.

"I've got you," He murmurs into your skin. "Cum on my fingers, love. I know you want to."

And you do, desperately so, from the way your walls cling onto his fingers. When his tongue returns to your clit, soft little licks that make you jolt against his mouth you nearly do, the heat in your gut spreading fast along every nerve.

But then there's a sharp rapping on the door.

Namjoon doesn't pull away, but his mouth drops from your clit, the fire in your core dying down instantly. His fingers stay lodged in your cunt, covered with your arousal as the both of you stare at the door, mortified.

"Um." It's Taehyung, that little bitch. "Could the both of you keep it down?" And then there's barely stifled laughter filtering through the wood. You recognise Jeongguk's laugh right away, ringing loud among the giggles of your friends. You hate them. The whole lot of them. Drunken idiots.

When you glance at Namjoon you immediately think the moment is dead. He draws away from your cunt, fingers coated in your wetness and his tan cheeks tinged rouge. But then he slips them his mouth as he rises, leaning into your space, his hard bulge pressed into your open thighs. You watch him clean them off, his eyes locked on yours like your friends aren't falling over themselves outside the bathroom door. The heat in your gut sparks again, quick with the way it consumes you.

"You taste good," He hums, pressing his mouth onto yours again. You don't miss the way his dick twitches when you sigh into it, mind erasing the presence of your friends when his tongue slips into your mouth. There's an emptiness inside you that you vehemently despise, an ache to be filled that overwhelms you. If you don't cum on Namjoon's dick you'll be irritated for the rest of the night. You know it.

Perhaps he reads your mind through the kiss because when he draws away his eyes are dark with want.

"We could go upstairs?" He suggests, fingertips grazing the naked skin of your thighs.

"Yeah," You agree, the desperation to fucked driving your resolution. "We could go upstairs. Will you fuck me if we go upstairs?"

He cocks an eyebrow, smile coy. "Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?" But he's pressing closer into you, eliminating what meagre space was left between your bodies promptly.

"What do you think, genius?"

When he kisses you again, you doubt that you'll even make it upstairs.

[strictomiles]

@argxntcm​ submitted:  And, like most relationships, there came testing times. And oh, they had plenty – enough to write a book about. But outweighing them was their love for each other, stronger than any other bond and more important to Prompto than he could’ve ever dreamed. He was usually the one to struggle, PTSD as well as recurring nightmares that Gladio would endure nightly, and deal with the aftermath daily. But yet he was still here, holding his hand, kissing his forehead and reminding him just how special he was. So when in fact, his partner was the one who was feeling empty and lost – unable to place himself, Prompto knew he had to do something. It wasn’t a matter of spending the most money, or buying the most gifts. To get him to agree to leave the house was a positive start, regardless. But it was the effort he would make, and how he would remind him that anything Gladio faced, they faced together. No longer a single person’s problem, they faced everything together head on. 

Picking Gladio up from their shared apartment, the sharpshooter awaited his partner in the car, shades on, looking ‘smart-casual’ having planned in advance. He took spare clothes with him when he visited Noctis that day, as well as showering and making an all round effort. And though he was graced with the beauty, that was the man walking towards him; on the daily, his heart would still beat ever faster. He never would tire of that butterfly feeling, realizing this man was his. Only his. 

Once greeted with soft, tender kisses, the blond speed’s off to the first part — a fancy meal, to be assumed. It was simply just a ploy to get him comfortable. Who could say no to a well cooked meal? He makes it known that he wishes to give him as much affection as possible with caring, sweet nature laced within. Only did he let go of his hand when it came to eating their ordered three course, and even then did he ensure he was as close to the taller male as possible. It was romantic to say the least, and seeing a genuine smile from his partner would warm his heart. He was truly happy when Gladio was at his happiest. 

But this was only half of what was to come. Upon finishing and exiting, the blond drives in the complete opposite direction of home. Though he didn’t glance, focusing on the road, and silently hoping he was raising a brow; he was certain Gladio didn’t know where he was taking him. On a drive just the other week, eager for scenery shots for his future gallery; he had stumbled across a private parking spot, a top a hill, surrounded by overgrown flowers and simple nature. It led to a clearing that the car could just about fit through. And as he comes to a stop, he looks to his partner knowing full well he would appreciate the view just as much. They could see *everything* from here and with everything illuminated by street lights and house lights, it added much more to the serene environment. No noise but them and the wind that was beginning to pick up slowly. “ Whatcha think? “ He asks as he exits the car, gesturing for the other to go on ahead as he recovered something from the trunk. 

He would hide a gift behind his back, just incase he might look back. But, thankfully Prompto would know he may be lost in his own thoughts to do just that. “ I thought… this might be nice…” He speaks soft, revealing a sky lantern. On it, decorated with symbols, images and words to symbolize his family. All of them. “ A lot’s been weighing you down, babe… and it’s hard… I know you’re going through… well, a hell of a fucking lot… And I wanna be there for you however I can be… but sometimes words just don’t cut it… Figured this might be like a physical weight off your shoulders. “ He says, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

And as it flies off into the sky, the blond takes Gladio’s hand, never looking away from it. He’d never done something like that before, it was rather nice.. And he could only hope Gladio felt the same. It may not heal and be the end of all that he was burdened with, but he prayed it would help. A few moments of silence shared between them. “ I love you, Gladio..” He starts. “ And ya gotta know now, we’re in this together… kay? You don’t have to suffer alone, not anymore. You’ve got me… I know I’m an overdramatic pain in the ass, but i also know you wouldn’t change me. You wouldn’t change this. And, I just want you to know how special you are…. “ He releases his hand and jogs back to the car, calling to him as he does so. “ I was gonna wait until you got back from Altissia… but… I feel like now’s a good time as any… “ He recovered a pouch from the glove box, it was small, intricate and in a way - almost too fancy looking - “ Don’t panic !” He starts with a laugh, last thing he wanted was Gladio to freak out over something – not right now, he’d never forgive himself if he were the cause of that. 

He reveals a silver ring, the shape of a feather, close to one that stretched from his tattoo. engraved inside only for his partner to know of. ‘ you are my sunshine’. The blond was often referred to that of a similar nature, hoping Gladio would understand the reciprocated sentiment. “ It’s a promise ring ! “ Quick to add. Though they had mentioned marriage, he would allow Gladio to do that when he was well and ready. “ It’s my promise to you…” He speaks soft as cerulean meet with his own eyes, instinctively placing it on his finger.  “ No matter what, I’m yours.. And your mine. And nothin’ is ever gonna change that. I wanna be here for you in whatever way you need me. It’s me and you against the world if it has t’ be… “ He adds with a soft chuckle. “ I hope… I hope this is … all okay for you…. .” He hoped he did enough, he hoped he was enough.

It was no question that Gladio had been in a more bitter mood than usual. Biting at anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way, getting into more scraps and looking for hunts to kill time and avoid talking about what was going on in his heart and his head. It was easier that way. But, eventually even the strongest metals cracked and wore down. Prompto was persistent when it came to figuring out was muddling his boyfriend’s soul. Until now, It would have been likely that only Ignis would know just why this time of year weighed so hard on him until he no longer felt like himself. The anniversary of his mother’s passing ate him up inside on a normal year, let alone this one when he’d so freshly lost his father. It would more than ruin a normal person but, as Shield of the King he felt as if he had to push what bothered him aside.

Prompto had really come into his life like a hurricane, shaking away some of those high walls he’d created to block out the outside world like this and he was endlessly grateful, even if they still did butt heads. But, that was just life and learning to love.

He didn’t look as nice as his partner did as he’d been on the couch pushing through the end of the book he’d currently been reading, tucked under a blanket where he could continue to hide from reality. A very low effort had been made to be passable. His hoodie swapped for a leather jacket and sweats swapped for a pair of jeans while his hair was still drawn up in a messy bun. It made him feel a little out of place in the nicer than expected restaurant but, it didn’t stop him from enjoying the night. In fact, it was the first time he’d truly smiled all week and his amber eyes lit up with Prompto’s jokes and banter. He felt normal. Like finally, there was a chance that all the pain that settled on his shoulders could be lifted.

While Gladio didn’t outwardly question it, he knew Prompto was driving the wrong direction to go home when dinner was finished. But, he was content rolling with whatever the blond had planned. Under the night’s sky was where he felt most at peace on most days, it was all part of his penchant for camping and roughing it in the great outdoors. He figured that was just what it was. A moment to get some fresh air nearly outside the city walls. A much needed moment away. Leaning against the hood of the car, everything felt simpler. Being cooped up hadn’t helped as much as his declining mental state had made him feel it would. “It’s a great little spot.” came a soft reply, “Hard to believe this is still Insomnia, y’know?”

Had he been the crying sort, he would have upon sight of the lantern. It was something Gladio instinctively just knew of. The meaning was there, all of it settling deep past his bones where he felt as if he’d been made of ice. Instead, his hand came to rub the bridge of his nose before giving Prompto a quick kiss on the lips in return. You didn’t have to do this for me. Was the unspoken thought on the tip of his tongue, not falling from his lips as he knew what the answer would have been right back. “It really does feel... better.” Who knew acknowledging the pain in your heart could relieve it? “I don’t think i’ll ever be able t’ repay you for this but, I just wanna say... Thank you. Not just for myself but, on behalf of my parents too.” His mother may have a place to rest but, his father? That was still a whole mess. A mess that felt a little better. Like he could almost finally say goodbye.

“I love you too.” The silence finally broken, as the man of few words watched Prompto move about slightly more antsy than usual. “You know all’a those things, i’d do for you too. So make sure you don’t forget it either.” When Prompto ran off back to the car, a brow rose in turn. A chat beneath the stars was more than he’d anticipated already, now what else could he have planned?

His body stiffened as the box came into view. Had it not been for Prompto telling him not to panic he would have. No doubt about it, turned tail and ran without once waiting to see what was inside. Upon seeing the beauty within, he was glad he did stick around. The ring was beautiful, like nothing he’d ever seen before and surprisingly fit perfectly. Tonight was overwhelming but, not in the way he’d been feeling before. This was an overwhelming feeling of a warm heart and a happier soul. When the ring was secured upon his finger, Gladio’s hands found Prompto’s to take them in a tight hold. A warm squeeze. 

“You’re insane, and too much.” A smile crossed his face as he leaned in to rub their noses together. “But, in the best sorta way. I dunno what I did to deserve such a’ effort when i’ve been in such a shitty mood lately but, i’m real glad you did. You’ve really changed my whole day, my whole week... hell. My whole life. Thank you for everything.”

[chenziee]

Incredible (part 2)

For @jeankasa-events JeanKasa canon weekend. Sorry for the delay ^^;; Part 3 post 105 angst coming... soon XD

Contains manga spoilers.

[part 1 here // part 3] [read on AO3]

Eren had run off.

The stupid, suicidal idiot just up an disappeared on them, just as they were finalizing their plans in Marley, making all the work they did up to that point go to waste. All the plans, all the preparation. For nothing.

And then he sends them a damn letter to tell them of his own grand plan, basically leaving them no choice but to go along with it. Fucking great. Jean knew there was a reason he hated the fucker since day one.

Looking around the small room in the run down, abandoned house a bit away from the Marley docks that they were using as a make-shift headquarters, Jean took in all of their faces. Commander Hanji was explaining the last details of their mission, pointing out places here and there on the map of Liberio Zeke Jaeger’s subordinates provided them with. Studying her body language, she looked very focused but Jean couldn’t help but notice the tension in her body and the deep frown now a semi-permanent part of her face.

A moment later, Armin took over from Hanji to talk about his airship escape plan with as little emotion to his voice as was possible, his explanations sharp and sure, leaving no place for argument, even though Jean felt there were many points to his risky plan to possibly argue against. Still, nobody dared to say anything, trusting their head strategist completely after all these years, and Jean couldn’t help but think back to the time when they were just 15 years old, young and naive, and Armin was just a weak, innocent, uncertain baby of a genius. Saying “please” and “thank you” and “I’m sorry but” every time he said something. Even in Shiganshina, when it was positively a life-or-death situation and a question of time, he was all polite and uncertain.

Now... now Armin was very much like Commander Erwin in some aspects. Still lacked the charisma and was prone to panic when things didn’t go as planned, but he believed in himself and his intelligence. Jean was actually very proud of him but... the blond still looked incredibly sad over what their fight had come to. He had changed a whole deal but Jean supposed he was still Armin down there, under the self-confidence and efficient, if slightly reckless strategies.

Sasha caught his eyes next. She looked like she was falling asleep. Jean couldn’t blame her, she was the one who had to get up the earliest of them all, having the last watch duty of the night. Still, she was obviously fighting very hard to keep her eyes open and stay focused.

Connie was trying to help her stay awake, nudging her every now and then, or squeezing her hand under the table. They thought they were sneaky but literally everyone in the Corps knew they’ve been dating for years. Jean was happy for them. They were happy together and really, everyone in the Corps deserved their own little piece of happiness.

Which brought him to look at Captain Levi. The man looked as stoic as ever but knowing him for so long, working with him closely both as a member of his squad and as a fellow squad leader... Jean could see he looked stressed. More so than usual.

Jean supposed it was to be expected. Not many people knew but he and Eren... there was definitely something there. Jean didn’t know what exactly but it was something more than a simple superior and subordinate relationship. Probably even something deeper than friendship. And Jean could see Eren’s disappearance – disappearance without a single word of explanation no less – hit Captain Levi hard. Maybe hardest of them all. That wasn’t to say he didn’t hide it well but in some moments, it was all too obvious. His frown was deeper, his expressions switching between angry and sad all the time. Jean even accidentally walked in on him punching a wall once.

That wasn’t something Levi did, usually. He wasn’t one for outwardly lashing out, and Jean... just walked right back the way he came, hoping the Captain didn’t see him. Pretended he didn’t se him punching a solid, stone wall. Pretended he didn’t see the pained expression on his face and pretended he didn’t hear the low, broken, barely audible growl of “Fuck you, Eren.”

The Captain might have been the one who was hit hardest but he wasn’t the only one suffering.

Armin might have had gone through a falling out with Eren, but they were still childhood friends who went through a damn lot together. Things might have been strained between them for a while now, but they still had that connection and Armin obviously felt bitter and betrayed.

And then...

Then there was Mikasa.

Mikasa, who was sitting directly opposite of Jean and listening carefully to what the Commander and Armin – and even Jelena with her few quips – had to say, her eyes not steering away at all.

She didn’t have her scarf.

Stopped wearing it all the time quite a while ago, only wrapping it around her neck when she was feeling vulnerable. She looked void of emotion, pure focus on her face and in her posture. But Jean knew. He knew it was a defence mechanism; to retreat back into herself and not show any emotions.

Jean knew she was hurting. Her bond with Eren had been strained for years, strained ever since Eren and Armin had their falling out that resulted in Mikasa awkwardly hanging between the two of them, refusing to take a side, and wishing for things to go back to the way they were. But she still cared deeply for her brother.

Cared deeper than anyone could probably ever imagine and the pain she was going through because of Eren was comparable, if a bit different, to Captain Levi’s.

Jean just wished he knew what to say. Knew what to do to take the pain away.

“....nd Jean will be the on-field commander during this operation.”

Jean jumped at the sound of his name, realizing he had zoned out during a meeting once again.

“Sorry?” he asked, not processing what was said.

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Mikasa shooting him a look, although what the look meant was a mystery to the young man.

Hanji looked at him for a long moment, calculating, probably not sure if he was being dumb or just wasn’t paying attention. “I said,” she said with a grin that was nothing like those she used to throw around constantly only four years ago. It looked strained and cold, and Jean wished, not for the first time, that they could go back to the times before they found the truth. Before Shiganshina. “That you will be the acting commander during this operation.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

“Yes, sir,” Jean said, voice sure and unwavering. Even though his thoughts were anything but.

And that was it.

Leaving the meeting minutes later, Jean headed straight to the corner of the house he had claimed as his own. The building was small, nowhere near the size of the old castles the Survey Corps were used to, forcing them all to share space and rooms. But there was one place where barely anyone ever went.

The attic was dirty, mouldy, it was full of water when it rained thanks to the holes in the roof. It was a place unfit for storing things or living in, even unfit for lookouts since the sole window in there was too tiny and the endless ocean was the only thing visible from it. And so it was left empty, a situation Jean often took advantage of when he wanted some peace and quiet.

Like he did now.

Not that he didn’t appreciate the trust the Commander and the others had in him, he long since grew accustomed to the Squad Leader title and even he could honestly admit he was doing a damn good job at it. But still, being the acting commander was an entirely different story and Jean needed some time to adjust to it.

The sound of someone walking up the old, creaky steps brought a small smile to Jean’s face. There was only one other person to ever come up here, and coincidentally, it was the one person he didn’t mind sharing the place with.

Tearing his eyes away from the constantly moving water outside, he glanced over his shoulder to watch as Mikasa slipped inside before closing the door quietly behind herself. His soft smile widened a little when Mikasa eyes fell on him.

“Hey,” Jean whispered quietly. Somehow, looking at Mikasa still left him feeling a bit breathless. Even after literal years had passed since their first kiss, since their first date, since their first night together. It had been years and yet, Jean was still as head over heels as he was then.

Mikasa smiled back, carefully walking over to him while expertly avoiding the places where the floorboards were broken – or threatening to break. Only when she stood right next to Jean where he was leaning onto the window sill, did she return a soft “Hey” of her own.

Finally, when he had enough of just taking in Mikasa’s beautiful face, Jean spoke up again, “What are you doing up here? Didn’t you have to talk with the Captain?”

Mikasa shook her head, leaning her back against the wall. “We finished already. There wasn’t much to talk about, our roles are pretty straightforward. Also, you’ve been here a while.”

Jean chuckled, the sound quiet and humourless. “I guess I have.”

They fell into comfortable silence for a moment, Jean returning his gaze back to the sea outside while Mikasa faced the other way, studying the wall on the other side of the attic.

“Are you worried about the mission?” Mikasa questioned softly after long minutes of their shared peace.

Jean snorted at that. “Who isn’t?” he asked back, resting his chin in his hand as he turned to the side to look at her.

Mikasa was already facing him then and their eyes locked. There was a small worried frown on her face as she opened her mouth to retort. “You know what I mean, Jean. Are you worried about being in charge?”

Jean was about to reply then, but paused. Deep down, was he really worried?

Mikasa watched in silence as the young man mulled over his answer, waiting for him to gather his thoughts.

It only too a minute for Jean to finally sigh, dropping his eyes a bit to now looking somewhere around Mikasa’s shoulder, a small, bitter smile on his lips. “Not really, I guess. I can do it. I know I can.”

Mikasa didn’t say anything, staying quiet, only listening intently to what Jean had to say.

Taking her lack of response for what it really was, a patient cue to take his time, he took a deep breath and continued, “It’s just a lot of responsibility and, well. I guess I still can’t believe you people have so much faith in me.”

Mikasa smiled then, reaching out to thread her fingers through Jean’s hair. “You said it yourself, Jean. You can do it. And we all know you can.”

Jean closed his eyes momentarily, leaning into her light touch and enjoying every second of it. He opened them again only when her hand dropped from his hair to stroke at his cheek and Jean peered at her, searching her expression. She looked... warm in that moment. Like she took her life energy from touching him intimately like this and Jean felt his heartbeat quicken. She was beautiful.

So beautiful and strong and amazing.

Pushing himself away from the window to face her properly, Jean took a step closer to where she was standing. He was so much taller than her now. Standing so close to each other only drove that fact home and Jean couldn’t say he was complaining. Grabbing her free hand, and lacing their fingers together, Jean looked down at her, gazing deep into those impossibly dark eyes that used to seem so distant, like they didn’t even see him years ago when they were still in training. Now they felt like home and he could stare into them for days and never get tired of it.

Mikasa squeezed his hand right back, her other hand falling from his cheek to bury itself in the hair on the nape of Jean’s neck. Her expression turned into something determined and sure then, her eyes flickering a bit before she took a small breath to speak up again. Her words were a barely audible, only coming out in a soft murmur, but there was confidence and certainty in them. “I’m really proud of you, Jean.”

Jean blinked a few times, obviously taken aback. As he slowly processed her words, he felt heat rushing to his face as a small laugh bubbled out of his chest.

Mikasa cocked her head to the side, confusion over his reaction evident, but Jean only shook his head and leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips, his free arm wrapping around her waist as Mikasa’s other hand twisted in his hair, both of them pulling the other even closer.

Mikasa really was incredible, Jean thought.

She would always be incredible and it would probably never cease to amaze Jean.

She was incredible and fuck, Jean loved her more than anything.

Their fingers were still intertwined when they came back down for dinner twenty minutes later.

[part 1 here // part 3]

[moodring89]

Wedding Crasher CH. 03

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: Romance / Smut Rated: M / NC17 Tags: Wedding!AU, Badboy!AU, Violence, Debauchery Summary: It was always a little bit tragic for Hoseok whenever he got caught, which wasn’t often. He had enough experience with crashing weddings to be considered a veteran. One easy lie after another, from the church to the reception hall. Previous chapters: 01, 02

If you're having trouble reading my story with the tumblr themes, read here.

‘Couldn’t keep it locked away, couldn’t take it to the grave.’ Hoseok had spent a majority of his Saturday on FB, looking through the boring, predictable lives of Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin. It was almost laughable how well they suited each other, like a friggin’ rom-com drama adapted from a webtoon. Hoseok had read this story, time and time again. He’d personally witnessed it, having attended his fair share of weddings as an active habitualist, but what he really enjoyed though, was the lie, in which one person stared directly into the eyes of another, and promised to be there in sickness and in health, ‘til death… It was all a masquerade, an artfully constructed ball made up of finesse, excellent gourmet, and women. Sad, lonely women – friends and family watching the vows of love entangle two souls together. Or was it more like it entrapped them? Either way, the sanctity of marriage wasn’t off limits to the keen prowess of Jung Hoseok. He lived to watch others parish. He wanted their hearts to burn hot and angry with betrayal. He abhorred their happiness, because he craved it for himself, but he’d never had a taste of true love. He wouldn’t know its flavor, even if he swallowed it whole. Love was an image that never stayed still long enough for Hoseok to take a picture – never in focus, completely unrecognizable. When Sunday arrived the next day, he knew exactly what he was going to wear – the crisp black button up with the red heart-shaped patterns. It was an unusual, yet ironic choice given the fact that he was outwardly celebrating love, even when he did not believe in it. He slipped into a black silhouette fitted jacket and matching slacks. Breaking out his red leather shoes, he dug into his accessories next, going with his gold bullet back cufflinks and a L.U.C mechanical watch that sat heavily upon his wrist. Jimin’s bedroom door cracked open, the shark slippers Hoseok bought for him last Christmas scuffing across the tiles of the kitchen floor. The boy had just woken up, eyes still shut with sleep as he searched the fridge for his jug of water. He slapped the milk a few times. “That’s the milk,” Hoseok said, leaning over the counter with his bowl of cereal. “A bit more to your left. No, your other left…” Jimin grabbed the jug and stood there taking a long, generous sip. In doing so, the length of his precious dongsaeng’s neck was exposed, revealing Jeongguk’s heavy claim. “We didn’t really get the chance to talk about Friday,” Hoseok said, before rinsing out his bowl, and setting it aside. He leaned back against the surface behind him, taking a closer look at his friend, going over his body like he was taking inventory, accounting for things that might be misplaced – observations of what could be hurt or broken by the impromptu tryst. Jimin had to think for a moment, squinting through the haze of sleepiness, “Friday?” “That tall, dark, and handsome boy you left me all alone at the club for,” Hoseok reminded him, still somewhat bitter over the whole ordeal. Yoongi had to come and get him, again. He had to share another awkward conversation with his hyung, again – feeling like a scolded child by the time the blonde was finished with him. “Oh, Jeongguk? He left about an hour ago and I went back to sleep.” Hoseok stilled, wondering how the fuck he hadn’t heard him. To be fair, he’d been locked in his room, staring holes into his computer screen, memorizing family members like they were his own. If they’d fucked at all, Hoseok had zoned it out completely. “Isn’t he going to be late?” Hoseok asked, as he glanced down at his watch. The kid was ballsy. He wasn’t looking forward to dealing with him on a daily basis, which might end up being a thing. He put in the information for an Uber, before noticing that Jimin was still staring at him. Jimin started, “Hyung…” The elder grinned from ear to ear, because Jimin could be eighty years old with a walker, and still be the cutest person on the planet. “What, Minie? Do you want to kiss hyung goodbye?”       “I really like Jeongguk. So, if you could please not ruin it for me tonight…” The fact that Jimin had to ask him to refrain from doing such a thing should say a lot. The guilt of it coiled cold and unwanted within the pit of Hoseok’s stomach. He gave a slow nod, the excitement he felt moments prior dulled. “Of course I won’t.” Hoseok would never intentionally hurt his friends, but that didn’t mean that it never happened. Sometimes it was unavoidable. At least, that was the lie he told himself.   It was thirty minutes and three wrong turns later that Hoseok was standing outside the venue. One he’d never been to before, which was surprising given his track record. Both the ceremony and reception would take place inside the wedding hall. This should have made the planning lot easier and cost efficient, like with most Korean weddings. So, really, Hoseok didn’t know what the fuck you were on about in regards to Saturday being exceptionally busy. Hoseok wondered if there was a small piece of him that felt tempted to seek you out tonight. If that was perhaps the real reason as to why he even considered attending a same sex wedding in the first place, because if he didn’t find someone better, you’d still be a viable option. Nothing too serious. It wasn’t like he’d palmed his dick to thoughts of you on Yoongi’s shitty, uncomfortable floor that evening – except that he did, thus soiling his briefs like he was a fucking teenager. The great thing about most wedding halls was that you didn’t need an invitation or to RSVP. Slipping in was easy and Hoseok enjoyed a good seat. He placed himself amongst the immediate family, testing the waters, gauging how well he could fit in with them. A small taste, a façade of recognition, Namjoon’s father was a gentle person. Hoseok took the man’s hand into his own and gave it a firm shake. It was a happy day. All cheesy lines would work on anyone right about now. Hoseok smiled so big that his eyes disappeared into twin crescents, spewing out the first Hallmark he could think of, “They say love conquers all.” Namjoon’s mother was similarly too overjoyed to question Hoseok’s presence, all too willing to accept his hug when he gave it. He went in for another taste, seeing how much he was able to get away with. “It’s sad that grandma couldn’t make it today. This is the best opportunity to bring our family together.” Her eyes were clouded with unshed tears, as she took Hoseok’s hands into her own, running her thumbs over the top of his knuckles. “Oh, I know. She was really upset, too. If you want, you should stop by and see her. She’d love it.” It was settled then, Hoseok was from Namjoon’s side of the family. He’d been gunning for it during his research, knowing that it would be easier. Aside from that, Seokjin’s family looked like a bunch of refined, chaebol bastards. That entire section of family was stiff as fuck and the complete opposite of Seokjin himself. Namjoon must’ve been determined or a goddamned saint to have made it this far into the relationship without being swayed to quietly move the fuck on with a payout. Hoseok could tell by the tension that there was probably an argument or several in order to make this blessed day come to fruition. The ceremony started a few moments later with the photographers. Yes, plural. Photographers were ready and waiting for each groom to enter. Soon it was a deafening choir of flashing cameras and celebratory clapping, until the ceremony was ready to officially begin. Hoseok enjoyed tuning it all out, reserving every bit of inward amusement for the vows. This gave him ample time to look over the guests, catching a glimpse of Jeongguk – the silent as the grave creepin’ motherfucker. Next to him was Taehyung, the guy with the set of paws, as well as Yoongi’s rapt attention. Hoseok dragged himself the short distance to the bathroom, tossing his briefs into the garbage. They were beyond salvageable and he wasn’t interested in the work. He proceeded to clean the dried cum from off his skin with one of Yoongi’s decorative hand towels. He then rinsed his mouth out with wash and was smart enough to avoid the mirror this time. Swinging open the door, he was startled to find Yoongi standing there. “The fuck, hyung…” The elder extended his hand out with a pair of clean boxers, “Here.” “So, you heard me? Great. Were you able to get off, too?” Hoseok asked, as he wordlessly dropped his jeans in front of the blonde, sliding the boxers up over his legs.   Yoongi’s steely eyes bore into Hoseok’s, disinterested, “Do you remember the guy who took care of you last night?” Hoseok snickered, a sharp, bitter sound to anyone who knew him. “It wasn’t that deep, alright? The kid carried me to your car. Why?” “That ‘kid’ had enough sense to call me when you were in trouble and yeah, he had to carry your heavy ass. You’re like, 80 percent muscle, you ungrateful little shit. Why are you so…? Forget it.” Yoongi didn’t know how to properly place his anger or why he felt the need to defend Taehyung so fiercely against his oldest friend. Hoseok laughed with mirth at the elder’s strong reaction, “Well, Jimin is probably being fucked by his friend right now. Would you like me to go and ask him for Taehyung’s number for you?” He stepped closer then, using his height to set Yoongi back a couple steps. Despite being impervious to most bullshit, he really was no match for Hoseok, which was something the younger was all too aware of, especially cruel and spiteful in his delivery, “Anything to help you get over me, hyung.” “Don’t…” Yoongi closed his eyes, able to feel the warmth of Hoseok’s breath against his skin, the very heat radiating from off his body. “Don’t ask. I was just curious.” “How curious,” Hoseok said, wondering if the bitter taste in his mouth was the fact that he was losing Yoongi, even though he’d never be able to return his feelings.   Yes, Hoseok was hideous inside and out. You were beside Taehyung, seeming to stand out in a large sea of black formal and boring, opaque cream attire. You were dressed in a deep red floor length gown with an open back, showing off a smooth expanse of skin that followed down to the last knot of your spine. It was an elegant number in comparison to what you’d worn to the club. The thought of matching had Hoseok feeling oddly satisfied. Red was such a bold color, but then again he was bold. It was possible that you were something else entirely, an enigma, as all women started off, until they were deemed as less. There were girls on Seokjin’s side of the family he’d love to play around with. Spoiled princesses were his favorite type, possible heiresses to fortunes were smart investments and yet... He was more focused on you, which was a rather annoying anomaly. You were stealing his attention from other potential, no more than a fucking eyesore. He was too hyperaware of Taehyung’s hand lingering on the small of your back. He held you against him just as a smile lit up your face, staring up at him – your lips were saying something, and Hoseok found himself wanting to be let in on it, almost resenting the intrigue that had manifested over such a small thing. The ceremony came to an abrupt end, the vows as good as muted with Hoseok being so utterly distracted. Rose petals were tossed at the couple as they walked by. He watched as you turned with the motion, making sure to sprinkle your handfuls onto Namjoon’s shoulders. Taehyung gave you more petals from his stash and Hoseok wanted to slap the basket from his hands. As difficult as it was, he held it in, trying to be less obvious about his staring problem. Food was being served in a large room. It was the second stage of the wedding, leaving the reception as the third, and final stage of this shit show. This part was always a bit more personal, lights no longer dimmed with the tables stretched far, and able to fit so many. Hoseok decided it was a safe bet to casually make himself known to you, despite his original plan to remain inconspicuous. He walked towards the buffet and started filling up his plate. There were several people separating you from him in line. Slowly, they started to dwindle. Hoseok was patiently waiting for you, wondering what the hell the holdup was, and why you were being so indecisive. Several minutes of pretending like picking out food was difficult, Hoseok was at the tray of food that you were currently stopped at. He watched as you meticulously scooped out the meat, but didn’t bother with the vegetables. “Poor vegetables,” Hoseok tsked, using tongs on a serving of japchae. “Being left behind like that, unable to provide proper nutrients.” You turned on your heel, mouth already parted around a smart retort, when you grew completely still. The last person you were expecting to see was the guy from the Bizarre. Hoseok. You’d remembered everything the following day after the club, somewhat embarrassed and ashamed of yourself, having thought that your behavior had come off as desperate. And perhaps on some level, you were. You vividly recalled being easy for him, that you would have done anything he wanted, if only he’d wanted. “Oh, wow…” you stammered, trying to recover. The real struggle was figuring out what to do with your hands. Put down the plate? Pull him into a hug? That might be a little forward. The both of you were sober and standing under bright lights now. “So, you weren’t kidding when you said you had a wedding to attend.” Hoseok’s quirked his lips, dimples prominent and on full display, “What would be the point of lying about it?” Except everything. “Although, I had no idea that Namjoon was your friend.” You nodded a few too many times, still surprised by his presence. “Well, yeah, he’s like, one of my best friends. How do you know him?” Hoseok mentally scrolled through his index of Namjoon’s relatives. Some for reference, others for excuses. Distant relatives, family who’d responded to the FB post to regretfully inform the grooms that they couldn’t make it. The redhead smiled once it clicked perfectly into place. “We’re cousins, actually. Last time I saw Namjoon we were in diapers. My mom – well, Aunt Soo, couldn’t make it though.” Jeongguk was the first to come and check on you, your crew of overprotective friends once again coming to your rescue. The younger pouted visibly, “You’re taking forever, noona, and I’d like to eat sometime this century.” He blinked his large doe eyes at Hoseok, just now noticing him standing there. “No shit. Hey.” “Hi,” Hoseok practically bit out, finding it difficult to adjust to Jimin’s new boy toy. It took every ounce of self-control to remember that the entire evening was an act, one that he had to skillfully play through in order to get the bonus ending. He smoothed out his expression with that in mind, smiling tartly, “Jimin told me that you left this morning. I was like, wow, this guy is really fucking quiet. Creeper quiet, B&E quiet. Hide grandma’s good silverware quiet…” Jeongguk flashed him a confident smirk. “Your opinion is important to Jimin hyung and I didn’t want you to judge me too quickly.” “What’s there to judge?” Hoseok asked, dropping his eyes down at his plate, a partial lie slipping through a little less convincingly than all the others. “I’m glad that Jimin is happy.” Just not with you. Not with some guy that Hoseok could easily resonate with, their darkness matching in pitches – an asshole recognizing another asshole. “Come sit with us,” you offered, looking up at Jeongguk for confirmation that it was indeed a good idea. He seemed just as eager to have Hoseok join. “Yeah, hyung…” The ‘hyung’ a bit awkward from out of Jeongguk’s mouth, since it was the first time he’d used it. All for the sake of mannerisms.   The table consisted of the groom’s closest friends, Taehyung seated amongst them. Hoseok purposefully sat across from him, wanting to see firsthand what Yoongi saw in the boy, since he hadn’t the faintest idea apart from the visual appeal.   “Oh,” Taehyung breathed, somewhat stunned to see Hoseok sitting there in front of him. Seokjin, who was seated next to him, looked just as surprised, if not annoyed. Hoseok shot both men a wink, a coy smile gracing his lips. The last time he and the groom saw one another, it had been less than favorable. He figured there was still time to mend their relationship with some cringey aegyo bullshit. Hoseok could be cute and over the top when he wanted to be. “Small world,” Seokjin said with a huff of disbelief – like he’d spent years finally getting rid of Hoseok, but there he was again. “I’m sorry if this comes off as rude, but why…?” You squeezed in on the opposite side of Taehyung, head leaned against his shoulder. “He’s Namjoon’s cousin,” you said, a little excited about the discovery. Here you’d thought you’d never see Hoseok again, just to find out that he was tied to your best friend’s family. You didn’t believe in fate, but this came pretty close. “Aunt Soo’s son.” “Really?” Seokjin asked, immediately dropping the iciness in his tone. Gently nudging his new husband, he inquired, “What was your Aunt Soo’s son’s name again?” Hoseok’s laugh was infectiously loud, a disruption. It was enough to startle you from your spoonful of jjiggae. He was expecting this much, answering with ease like a well studied test, “It’s Bumkun, but I don’t really like to go by that name. It’s sort of impractical in my line of work.” Jeongguk peered over at him, genuinely curious. “What is it that you do exactly?” Namjoon frowned after a seconds worth of digesting the information. He raised a hand up to pause the conversation, “Wait, wait, wait a damn minute. You’re Bumkun?” “Technically,” Hoseok started, trying to bite back his amusement. Technically – he was Bumkun tonight. It was an unfortunate name and Hoseok would really hate for you to end up calling him by it, or anyone else for that matter. “…I’m happy that I was able to make it today. I haven’t seen you…” “In a long time,” Namjoon said, finishing the sentence. He reached his hand out for a bro’s embrace. “Man, how’s your mom?” Fuck, who knows? Hoseok took his hand, holding onto him. “You know, so-so. Still working on the farm.” “See? We gotta move her up here. The country air is good for her, sure, but she’d do better financially if she lived by the ocean,” Namjoon said and you could tell that he was about to list off all the reasons as to why fishing was a wealthier business, and thus more imperative. It would result in a long tangent that had the potential of lasting for hours. Desperate to change the topic, you turned to Hoseok, “You still didn’t answer Guk’s question. What is it that you do, Bummie?” For whatever reason, you thought that teasing Hoseok would be a good idea. You knew you’d thought wrong, when Hoseok narrowed his eyes at you then. It wasn’t unlike drowning in a dark abyss, falling without any hope of ever reaching the end. The intensity within that single glance alone was enough to send a violent chill down your spine. “Hoseok,” you said, rectifying your mistake. “Wait,” Namjoon paused, using his grip on the redhead to lean in over the table, undeterred by the fact that Hoseok was still burning you through. “Aunt Soo said that you couldn’t make it, because you weren’t granted military leave.” Hoseok grew still – now, he’d played tons of roles in order to secure his past lies. Luckily for him, he’d watched Descendants of the Sun a grand total of four times from start to finish. It wasn’t quite the same thing and he had zero past experience to speak of, considering the fact that he’d personally seen to the sabotage of his own future enlistment. Fuck it. Why not give it a whirl? Taehyung raised one of his thick eyebrows, “This guy?” It was absurd thinking that someone fresh from the military could also be the irresponsible bastard from just the night before. “At the last second, I was permitted to leave,” Hoseok said, starting to shovel in some of his food, before it got cold. Maybe he should have felt a little insulted by Taehyung’s obvious bout of disbelief, but eh – he didn’t blame him. It wasn’t like he’d left the best impression on any of them anyway, including you. Jeongguk nodded, seeming to understand the situation a bit better, “You’ve been in the service this whole time? Jimin hadn’t mentioned that to me.” ‘Who are you? His fucking keeper?’ Hoseok wanted to snap, but alas, he had to swallow it with a glass filled high with soju. Instead, he replied, “Jimin is soft.” Then it started to dawn on him that one too many people were involved for his farce to carry on seamlessly. Eventually, he would be found out. If not today with Namjoon and his questioning, then later when Jimin would gracelessly choke on the mention of his new military career. It was only a matter of time. “And he’s also not the type to discuss my business with perfect strangers.” Mm, perfect strangers… He wondered how much Jeongguk enjoyed that wedge he placed between them. Could he feel it, the very tangible, arguably unnecessary hate coming from Hoseok? Well, he fucking hoped so. The rest of the table talk revolved around Hoseok’s time in the service, coming up with the most absurd stories; that time when he was exposed to gas as a part of training, the asshole instructors, and the slow climb from trainee to becoming a private – the battalion that had become his home. Every now and then, Hoseok would lift his eyes to meet yours, catching you watching him, but he didn’t react how one usually does when confronted head-on. He didn’t bother with smiling or flashing you his dimples. No brows were raised in question, no basking in your embarrassment. He simply held you there, taking you in with such slow deliberateness, that you felt the dull familiar ache of arousal at the pit of your stomach. He didn’t even have to touch you in order to rile you up. A rush of excitement started to settle in when the room cleared out. Hoseok was trailing after you towards the reception hall, bringing his bottle of soju along with him, which was odd since there was an open bar waiting for him in the other room. Every time you looked over your shoulder to see if he was still there, you found him staring directly at you, coming closer with sure steps, until you made a point to stop. He mimicked the action, paused. For a long moment, that’s all that it was, leaving an insufferable space between you and him. Your world turned monochromatic, black and white for the exception of his too red hair, and smart ensemble. You just noticed how your own attire matched him in color and noise – you’d been inspired, for whatever reason not to be typical. As a result, you looked like you were his, and that wasn’t such a bad thought, being Hoseok’s… Taehyung was the one to pull you from your reverie. He took you by the wrist, intending to lead you towards the table that seated Namjoon and Seokjin, when he gave the redhead a backwards glance, “Hoseok, you’ll fit at the table with us, too.” He would fit, too? This really wasn’t how Hoseok saw his night progressing. Lingering in one place for too long wouldn’t be good for him and yet there you were, so wonderfully transparent and receptive to him. His little hook, line, and sinker. He knew that he could have you with minimum effort on his part. In many aspects, he felt that he already did, just not where it mattered. Not yet. Unable to deny the level of expectancy that Taehyung was putting out, Hoseok had no other choice, but to join you at the table, where Seokjin was trying to land one of his dad jokes. Unable to laugh, even with his boundless sense of humor, all Hoseok could do was cringe. They were that fucking awful. Namjoon seemed to be enamored by the elder, resting his cheek against his palm, like he was falling in love all over again, listening to another joke. Hoseok was almost relieved when the wedding toasts came early, since it put an end to Seokjin’s tirade. They were given by an awkward assortment of people. Namjoon’s family was weird, but the good kind of weird. His sister was the first one to go, a sweet little thing that Hoseok wasn’t allowed to go near due to his borrowed identity. The only person to speak for Seokjin was a friend and Jeongguk seemed eager to have that responsibility, casting pointed looks. Hoseok could tell that the kid wasn’t used to these types of things, mumbling throughout his speech, but finishing strong. The chaebol bastards almost seemed beside themselves with guilt. Almost.   He really didn’t want or need a reason to like Jeongguk. You were the last person to give your toast and from the endeared looks of all your friends, it was probably the right choice. “I’d like to point out that I called this…” You gestured between Seokjin and Namjoon. “I was the one to say it, five years ago on the night that these two first met. We were fresh from our graduation ceremony. I told Changsub, wherever he is…” Changsub held up his wine flute, so that you could find him. You pointed at him, the two of you subtly hyping one another, “And I said, ‘Namjoon is going to fall in love tonight’ and I’d hoped that it would be some romantic, Lion King type o’ stuff…” Hoseok was about to dispute this, because Lion King was fucking tragic, you monster. Instead, he lowered his gaze at you, fighting against the smirk that was already tugging at the corners of his lips. Captivated by your energy, he was interested in seeing where you were going with this.       “Seokjin, the moment you opened your mouth, I knew that you were Namjoon’s equal. You were talking way, way too much, and way too fast.” Everyone seemed to share a laugh at that, knowing from experience. “Your intelligence matched Joonie’s so well and that isn’t something I’ve ever recognized in any other person. You do it in a cool way, not in the nerdy way like he does it. You’re nicer about making people feel dumb.” You waited until the loud guffaws (mainly Namjoon’s) had quieted down, before you continued on a serious note, “No, but like, Namjoon does this thing, where he closes his eyes when he laughs. He does it all the time, to the point where people accuse him of being disingenuous, but that’s not true. Seokjin, you cracked a joke that night. Do you remember what it was?” You could tell that he didn’t, so you gave it to him, “What do you call a fake noodle?” Seokjin squinted, finding it difficult to remember the answer. You were still amazed that you could, that you did, and that your useless brain managed to hold onto a copy. “An impasta…” Namjoon said, before dying against his chair. How ironically fitting given his current predicament, Hoseok mused. “Seokjin told this joke and for the first time in a long while, Namjoon didn’t close his eyes when he laughed, and I knew. I knew it then. He doesn’t close his eyes when it comes to you. Thank you for coming into his life,” you said, trying to calm the shaking in your voice. “You’re two of the greatest men that I know and I love you guys. Please spend the rest of your lives happy.” How sweet. Hoseok clapped his hands together in a slow yet sharp succession, like the snapping of teeth. The entire room lit up for you, aside from Seokjin’s family, of course. They were too busy finding bigger sticks to shove up their rich, pampered asses. He fell deeper into his observation of you, dropping his cheerful expression for something more glacial and calculative. Tonight, you were a beacon, drawing him in close, despite the distance he’d specifically placed in order to separate you both. There were other women there, obviously – some of them prettier than the summer lilies back in Gwangju, but Hoseok was having a difficult time being super-fucking-ficial at the moment. He chose to avoid the dance floor, which was a pity, but he needed to strategize on how he was going to get laid tonight without interacting with any other living person.   You scooted your chair out when Taehyung offered you his arm, claiming that you were overdue for a twirl. Namjoon and Seokjin had already shared their first dance and were well into their third by then. You’d been holding off, expecting Hoseok to ask you, but it was starting to become obvious that it wasn’t going to happen. You were grateful that the song was slow, Taehyung’s large hands finding your waist, and bringing you against the firm line of his body. You were never one to resist your friends, weak for them – the affection welcomed, soothing your silent cry for it. You dug your fingers into his shoulders, hoping that you were well hidden from Hoseok’s scrutiny. “You okay?” Taehyung asked, the deep timbre of his voice laced with genuine concern. The question almost threw you off a little.   You raised your head toward him, but were unable to look at him. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You held him closer to you, trying your best not to sound so sad. “I was just thinking about how the wedding turned out really nice.” He grew silent, dark brown eyes searching you for what had felt like a long eternity. You wondered what the hell you’d end up giving away to him in the process. Taehyung’s stare differed from most, because he stole – literally stole whatever he needed from you, and if he knew you well to top it off, then you were as good as screwed. “You were happy seeing Hoseok again,” he stated, accusingly. The slow, rhythmic sway of your bodies had come to a stop. “You really like him? He looks bougie and practically reeks of the typical fuck boy aesthetic. It’s a bad combo.” Taehyung’s friendship was much like Jeongguk’s, both possessive and suffocating. You could handle it in small doses, but it was twice as overwhelming when Taehyung took your face into his palms, and forced you to finally look at him. “Even if you choose not to answer me, I can see it very clearly. I know you.” You briefly shut your eyes at that last bit, allowing Taehyung’s word to pick you apart. You placed your hands atop his own for stability, listening intently as he continued, “I haven’t told you this, but one of Hoseok’s friends picked him up the other night. He’s from Daegu. A bit short, but you know how I find that sort of thing cute, especially when they’re bound to top me…” You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. “So?” “So, I wouldn’t mind it if you and Hoseok got along together,” Taehyung finished, dropping his hands from your face to recapture your hands, remembering to move you along with the music. “Even if it is a recipe for disaster.”   “Wow! What a relief to know that I have your permission,” you said, sarcastically.   He took wider steps, taking in the way you smiled at the rush of movements. “Besides, I’m sure that Guk had the same thought already. The more the merrier when it comes to further entwining himself with Jimin.” You’d nearly forgotten all about Jeongguk’s interesting evening. A good friend would have checked in with him, maybe seen how it went. Well, most likely, considering the fact that he’d been in good spirits all night, shedding himself of the perpetual cloud that seemed to loom overhead wherever he followed. Jeongguk was practically glowing, giving you the impression that he’d had his fill, and then some. Taehyung skimmed his fingers down the length of your spine, “Let’s test Hoseok and see how long it takes for him to snap, hm?” Each time Taehyung looked over at the redhead sitting alone at the table, his eyes had been trained on you, contempt easily discernible. “There’s no point. He’s not even interested,” you argued, feeling somewhat irritable about it. Taehyung grew serious, “You wanna bet?” You snorted, because really – really, nothing was going to happen. Then the younger was giving you his bedroom eyes. Taehyung was attractive. One of the most gorgeous men you’d ever seen. Your mouth went dry when he spoke to you in a voice like velvet, “I always thought you were pretty, noona. Too pretty for your own good.” He emphasized his statement with the soft brush of his knuckles against your cheek, putting on a full performance that had laughter bubbling up inside your chest. He hissed through his teeth, scolding you, “Be serious or else this won’t work.” You pressed your hand on his chest, trying to prevent him from coming in any closer. The space between your lips and his own was already compromised, your breaths mingling. You whispered to him, “What should I be doing?” “Closer, noona,” Taehyung murmured, softly. You were both already so close – close enough to taste the alcohol on his breath. His eyes flickered to something past your shoulder, “You should see the look on his face right now. He looks like he was set on fire. So, if I die tonight, know that you were the one responsible.” Taehyung was trying his best to cheer you up, the least you could do was play along, childish antics or not. There would be no harm in doing this much. A little closer, he’d said? You fisted the front of his shirt, using it as leverage to pull him down the rest of the way. Taehyung’s mouth curled into a boxy smirk right before he captured your lips into a kiss that appeared hungry and consuming to anyone peering in from the outside. Meanwhile, your mind was wandering to other things, like what it would be like if Hoseok’s veins did house fire. If his every touch would scorch you all the way through, right down to the very marrow – if he’d set you ablaze as opposed to the frigid cold that you had succumbed to a long time ago. Your grip on Taehyung’s button up faltered. It was back to the frost that awaited you, off to that place where you felt nothing. When Taehyung parted from you, it was with a harsh breath. You were quick to compose yourself, eager to see the lie for yourself – the lie in which Hoseok cared, and that whatever you did mattered to him. You turned in the direction of the table to find Hoseok’s chair abandoned, catching a glimpse of him walking out of the hall. “You better go get that,” Taehyung said, smug in the fact that he’d been correct. “Be sure to thank me later.” There was no way in hell that Hoseok’s reaction was due to the kiss you shared with Taehyung. No – you weren’t convinced, however if that was the case, then you were obligated to chase after him, right? Although, why would he care? You’d only met him twice and you hardly knew each other. All you had was a very palpable tension, which really wasn’t enough to establish anything.           You stepped out into the main lobby, calling out to him, “Hoseok, wait.” The sound of your voice seemed more desperate, as it echoed back. He paused in his steps, affording you enough time to catch up. You stood so that you were in front of him, obstructing his path – unprepared for the weight of his stare then, dark and accusatory. Maybe Taehyung was right? Hoseok looked furious, but surely it wasn’t because of you.   “Where are you going?” you asked, wanting to confirm his reason for leaving.   His response was immediate, “Go back inside.” You shook your head at him, “The whole point of me dramatically following after you is so that I can stop you from leaving.” The muscle in his jaw ticked in annoyance, teeth clenched. “And I’m leaving, so that I can prevent myself from making a scene.” Probably not the best moment to be flippant with your responses, but, “I think you’ve already accomplished that with your suit.” He laughed, humorlessly, “Yeah, you have five seconds to head back in by your friends.” “Or else you’ll do what?” you asked, trying to ignore the thrill of being threatened by him. You were never one for following orders.   “God, look at you…” he said, tucking his hands into the pocket of his slacks as he stepped closer. You made no plans to move away from him. He tilted his head at you with bitter intrigue. “Too stubborn to heed my warnings? Come now. You’re a smart girl. You should go with your instincts and run while you still can.” You rolled your eyes at him, thoroughly done, “This is how you’ve chosen to spare me? Well, you can save that self-deprecating bullshit for someone else.” He grew still at the iciness in your tone, mentally bracing himself for the next sentence out of your mouth. “Did you think that I wanted the heroics, to be saved, to be courted?” You patted your hand against his chest, right over his heart, “As if I would ever dream of scaring you off with the threat of commitment, Hoseok.” He narrowed his eyes at you, carefully. “Do you enjoy getting hurt?” “No, quite the opposite, actually. I just want to feel good again.” He searched your eyes, before quickly grabbing you by the hand that was still on his chest, using his grip to pull you deeper inside the lobby. There was a semi secluded area covered with framed artwork and large roman pillars. You’d found yourself hidden behind the one furthest in the back where the lighting was most scarce. If Hoseok was being honest with himself, girls like you frightened the shit out of him. It wasn’t difficult to spot the potential of forever in another person, especially upon first meeting them. Everyone tried to sell the best version of themselves, before ever allowing their flaws to shine through. You kept proving to be real and unfiltered, and it was that reason alone that made Hoseok want to take his own advice – to stay the hell away from you. He even opted to leave the reception, too overcome with jealousy that he had no right to be feeling. He pressed your body against the cool surface of the pillar, while long, ring adorned fingers slid around the front of your throat. He took in the anticipatory tremble of your lips – your breaths too short, before he inhaled you into his lungs. Parting his mouth against yours, it was all light contact and stolen air. Hoseok was so slow in his approach with you, because he knew that his resolve was about ready to break, and that he’d forget to savor your act of submission. It was unusual for Hoseok not to be drunk during occasions such as these, yet there he was, hardly even buzzed from his bottle of soju. Fuck – he wanted to hate you so badly. It would be easier on the both of you that way. He tightened his grip around your throat, determined to swallow each pitiful gasp and whimper you made just for him, enticed by it. But then he wondered if you’d ever made the same sound for Taehyung. How many of your friends weren’t able to keep their fucking hands to themselves? You moved your jaw in languid rhythm against his own, moaning softly when he teased his tongue past your lips. The empty space made even the smallest of noises too loud and amplified. You tried your damndest to be quiet, until Hoseok was suddenly a force. The back of your head met the stone surface with a dull thud when he’d surged forward. The incessant press of his hips kept your body pinned between the pillar and his body. It felt like you were drowning, a startled gasp echoing when he pulled at your lips with the slow drag of his teeth. Your hands went to the top of his arms, seeking purchase, “Hoseok…” He gripped your face and turned your head to the side, fingers roughly digging into the line of your jaw to keep you still for him. Tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear, he left you exposed to the tickling warmth of his breath, “I gave you so many chances to leave, but you didn’t listen…” His mouth caressed your skin for each syllable, as he spoke evenly, “Should I fuck you right here? What if your friends were to overhear their little princess begging for my cock?” “Shut up,” you warned, growing silent from just the thought of it. You felt his teeth when he grinned into the side of your neck, thoroughly pleased with himself for striking a nerve. The air in the room grew thick with tension and for awhile, you could even hear your own pulse. He’d actually shut up. You were about to question it, when he took your earlobe into his mouth, suckling loudly. The diamond studded earring you wore kept catching on his teeth. Each touch felt inescapable, as he started to mouth at the side of your neck, working his tongue in wet circles over your skin, purposefully sucking down hard enough to leave bruises. Your hand covered his own, trying to pry his fingers from your face, but it was useless. “Stop marking me,” you gasped, inwardly seething when he nipped at you in response. The heat in your lower stomach had long since pooled over – your thighs rubbing together tightly. You could feel the mess of already being soaked through, your walls clenching around nothing each time he swiped his tongue across your skin. You quivered, body betraying you, “You’re the worst...” “Awe, but you already knew that about me,” he said, mock-pitying you as he pulled back far enough to inspect his work and felt satisfied with all the pretty red splotches covering the delicate line of your neck. He’d love to see Taehyung’s face the second he eyed them up. Hell, even Seokjin’s reaction, being the overprotective bastard that he was… “True and as much as I appreciate all the foreplay, we have to be quick.” Your absence wouldn’t go unnoticed and you both knew it. You dropped your hand to his belt buckle and had it undone with admirable speed. Hoseok hardly had time to be impressed, when he smoothed his hands down your sides, hiking your dress up on his way back to your waist. He then reached into his pocket for his wallet and removed the condom packet, tearing it open with his teeth like he’d done countless times before. You leaned against the pillar, allowing him to guide your leg around his hip. You could smell yourself, thick and heady, as the cool air swept over the arousal coating your inner thighs. “You’re so fucking wet for me,” he murmured, voice torn as he stroked his fingers over the red lace of your panties, lightly grazing your swollen clit with his thumb. He gauged your reaction, watching as you sucked in your bottom lip to hold in all your sounds. “Such a good girl you are…” he cooed his appraisal, taking in an audible breath and there wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that Hoseok could smell you, too – his eyes darkening, pupils dilated into two stones of black. It felt like you were in trouble. Unzipping his slacks, Hoseok rolled the condom between his fingers. He was ready to have you – to sink into you slowly, to stretch you open, until – Jimin flashed at the forefront of his mind, the little prick, reminding him not to ruin the evening. You’d made it clear that you didn’t want anything more than this moment. This was textbook. Hoseok had his share of women and men, left behind a long, miserable trail of broken hearts, and failed expectations. You were just another number, one more fuck, and it didn’t matter that you already felt perfect to him. You were open and soft for him, which kinda pissed him off.     He seized you by the throat again, desperate almost, when his lips parted over yours – delving his tongue in deeply, filling you up. You breathed through your nose, bringing your hands to the side of his face, skimming his cheekbones with your fingertips. He rolled his hips against your own, the hard outline of his cock pressing into you firmly. You could kiss him forever, if time allowed it, but it didn’t and it felt like he was stalling. You went to tug at his briefs, when he caught your wrist midway – applying enough force for it to be considered painful. Hoseok released you slowly, your leg slipping from his body in the process. You watched as he took a couple steps backwards. Unable to look at you, he focused on tucking his shirt back into his slacks, before he adjusted his belt. Long, slender fingers brushed his blood red hair back into place. Despite how calmly he collected himself, Hoseok was about ready to fucking lose it. Any words or questions you currently had for him felt trapped, like they wouldn’t properly formulate past your lips. Your lungs burned, chest heaving for air that seemed to come in too slow. You were too stunned in the wake of what had seemed like obvious rejection and it made you feel sick to your stomach. You pushed your dress down over your legs with shaking fingers. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to say anything for himself. You returned the sentiment, as you wordlessly rounded the pillar. Hoseok hadn’t bothered with stopping you, too busy searching his pockets for his phone so that he could get the fuck out of there. He must’ve left it on the table in the reception hall. Oh, well for a smooth getaway. He gave you enough time to leave and space that you didn’t require, but would have in abundance from him anyway, before he headed back inside the hall. He dodged Namjoon’s family as though they were the plague, laughing obnoxiously whenever they approached him. He walked briskly towards the table where his phone was waiting for him. There really was no need for him to stick around, avoiding making any eye-contact. He could always step outside to set up an Uber. You returned from the bathroom, having calmed yourself down some, ready to face the party. Taehyung patted the seat between him and Namjoon. You joined them, allowing Taehyung to pull you against him. You only had a few moments of peace, before the younger would notice that something was wrong. You felt numb, as Hoseok was getting ready to take off.   It would be rude to leave without saying goodbye – cousins and all. Hoseok extended his hand to Namjoon, congratulating him one last time. After this, he’d make sure not to fuck around with these people. They made him feel weird, confusing things.   “Man, you’re going already?” Namjoon asked him, disappointment evident in his voice. “We were about to cut the cake. It’s bad luck if every person doesn’t have a piece.” Seokjin corrected him. “That’s only with birthdays.” Taehyung was doing his job of overanalyzing you. He’d assumed that things were going well when you didn’t immediately return after following Hoseok out. He’d even held Jeongguk off from finding you, hushing Seokjin’s curiosity just to buy you some alone time. Maybe he was wrong for doing so, sensing the tension between you and the redhead, and determined the outcome for himself. Namjoon’s family or not, Hoseok was walking on thin ice. “The ride back to base is going to be long and exhausting,” Hoseok said, back to smiling too wide and absurdly, as though it would somehow help to better conceal the blatant lie. “You don’t wanna know what happens when we don’t meet curfew.” Namjoon nodded, understandingly. “Alright. Well, it was nice seeing you. Tell Aunt Soo about moving up here. I’d help her get settled in.” Hoseok was about ready to respond, when he heard Seokjin’s, ‘Who the hell is that?’ He followed the groom’s eyes towards a young guy dressed in army fatigues who was currently hugging onto Namjoon’s mother. He waved his arm in a spastic manner at Namjoon, eager to rush on over once he was freed from the embrace. Fucking Bumkun. The redhead tried pulling away, but Namjoon was still holding onto his hand. It seemed like he was unwilling to let him go now more than ever, making it seem possible that the groom had doubted Hoseok since the very beginning, which was a terrifying thought. He tried once more to remove himself, but Namjoon wasn’t budging. Truth was that Hoseok didn’t want this to happen in front of you, not after the piece of shit move he’d just pulled. He also didn’t want it to go down right in front of your friends. He’d have to continue seeing Jeongguk after this fuck up, serving as an unpleasant reminder of the lives he’d meddled in.   The guy held out both hands, expectantly, “Namjoon!” Contemplative, the groom decided to give it a try. He had a feeling, “Bumkun?” The guy’s face lit up, “Yeah, man! Hey, I know I’m late, but I made it.” Hoseok’s head fell back with a groan, “Fuck.” Seokjin’s eyes were about the size of saucers, as he stood up from his chair. He pointed a finger at Hoseok, “Who the hell is this, then?” Jeongguk snorted, unhelpfully, “Not Bumkun?” “Taehyung…” Hoseok heard you say in warning, your voice tight and raw with emotion. Ah, yes. Taehyung. It was a moment later that Hoseok found himself being ripped from out of Namjoon’s grasp and was roughly turned to face the younger. Taehyung was a big guy. Hoseok couldn’t help but wonder what the outcome of a real fight would have been if he hadn’t chose to stand there, waiting patiently for the violence. “Taehyung, don’t…” you tried, as you shot up from your seat in a desperate attempt to put a stop to it. Whether you were trying to protect him or the mood of the party, Hoseok couldn’t tell. A part of him hoped it was the latter, for your sake. Sadly it was too late for all your good intentions, when Taehyung wound his arm back, and let his fist fly forward, bone meeting bone with a sickening crack. Hoseok fell to the hardwood floor, palms flat against its surface where he caught himself. The last thing he recalled before slipping into total darkness was the warm, comforting touch of your small fingers. You were cradling his head in your lap, murmuring his name.   He tried telling you he didn’t deserve you. He fucking tried. Seeing red still, Taehyung had to excuse himself, before he went on a goddamned rampage. He scooped up Hoseok’s phone on his way out. The summer air did little for his temperament, since he was already so hot with anger. It was rare that the younger was ever this livid, but once it happened, it was nearly impossible to set him back to normal right away.   Taehyung pressed on the familiar name in Hoseok’s contacts and clicked Call. After a few rings, the background noise of a fan indicated that someone had answered. “It’s too early for you to be calling your hyung like this, ‘Seok-ah,” rasped Yoongi, who was nice and snug under his many layers of blankets. Taehyung shut his eyes and swallowed thickly against the familiar gravel in the blonde’s voice, “I guess I couldn’t help myself.” “Mm, guess not,” Yoongi said, sitting himself up in bed at the sound of Taehyung’s baritone. “You don’t have to keep stealing Hoseok’s phone just to talk to me, you know. You could always just give me your number.” Taehyung sighed deep from within his chest, trying to let go of some of his anger – failing. “You’re right. Sexting would get awkward if it had to be done using your piece of shit friend’s piece of shit phone.” The profanities tended to flow freely whenever Taehyung was this upset. “Did you fucking know that he was going to come here and crash my friend’s wedding today?” Yoongi paused, feeling his blood run cold when the realization dawned on him. “No, I didn’t know, and even if I did, there would be no reasoning with him. So, where is he now?” “Knocked the fuck out is where he is and I’m not sorry,” Taehyung said, as he uncurled his swollen fist, his knuckles already bruising. He’d wanted to break Hoseok with one punch. “I’m calling you, because I’d like it if you would come and get him.” Yoongi already knew why it had to be him, but he couldn’t pass up on the opportunity. “Jimin would be a better choice in this situation, being Hoseok’s roommate and all. Why does it have to be me?” “Are you really playing with me right now?” Taehyung asked, somewhat incredulous, too riled up to care about the consequence of his answers. “You know it’s because I want to see you again and I know…I know that you want to see me, too. I’ll text you the address.” Yoongi heard the call end and dropped his arm back down to the sheets. He was tired of Hoseok’s shit, but for once something interesting could blossom from it. The thought of Taehyung, so beautiful and strong, punching his best friend into the next realm was oddly erotic. He could hardly contain his smile, laughing into the quiet of his dark room. ‘Oh, Hoseok. You fucking idiot.’

TBC

[aceholmes]

Attraction (or lack thereof)

something I cooked up on ao3 a few days ago, in light of pride month 2k17. here’s some ace/demiaro picard for you guys

Over the years, there had been things Jean-Luc Picard had grown to understand. Attraction, however, was not one of them.

He’d always been remembered as the charming ladies’ man at the Academy and after, but the truth had been rather different. Romance was an idealistic way of life to him. Girls flattered him with the mention of his poetic heart. As rowdy as he was in his younger days, he also seemed to take a liking to literature, which earned him the female attention he was known for. Occasionally, he’d meet a girl who enjoyed the writings he published in the Academy student tabloid, and he’d take a liking to her. Then he would take the initiative to invite her to dinner. At the dinner, they’d talk and drink. As the liquor flowed and the conversation rolled off their tongues like sweet sherry, someone would initiate a romantic gesture or two, and it wouldn’t be him. He’d receive soft, tender kisses on the cheek, but it was rare for him to give them. It was always at this point in the date, where he’d feel that something in him wasn’t quite clicking, and the flutterings of his heart and the lightheadedness of a crush would magically disappear. For as much as he tried, he couldn’t quite find the magnetic pull that drew him to the lovely lady sitting before him in the first place. But he’d usually lie about it to avoid disappointment.

So the liquor flowed and desires emerged to the surface, but he couldn’t recover that attraction that had somehow slipped away from him. Not even after nights of satisfying said desires, usually at his quarters, which left him in the morning with the same bitter afterthought - what the hell was so great about sex anyway?

These encounters would not appear in his journals, despite his great frustration over something he was sure didn’t happen so typically to everyone. It happened so often, like clockwork, that he didn’t feel that those encounters were any more noteworthy than what he had for breakfast that day. Shying away from conversations about his love life, he found himself lying to his closest friends as he was ashamed of the fact that he had found his date aesthetically attractive, but couldn’t bring himself to just – they’d label him as frigid, broken, or maybe something worse. Even thinking about it was challenging. It was difficult to consider something that didn’t exist, especially if he had nothing to compare it to in the first place.

He drifted away from people he’d been friends with for years – it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but it was natural that he’d be left out of their lives after they’ve moved on with life, fallen in love and gotten married. Attending many of their weddings with a heavy heart, he wished that he’d one day be able to feel the same love for another person. The feelings of envy intensified, and he slipped into the backgrounds of his friends’ lives.

Sometimes, his former Academy classmates would point out the irony, that even though he was quite the charmer in his younger days, he had ended up an eternal bachelor.

He almost had a chance with the young cadet Beverly Howard, years after he left the Academy. He remembered those years fondly, when they spent a lot of time together. He spent a lot of that time feeling excited. Excitement because he was always hanging on a thread, wondering when he would see her again; excitement because every shared moment gave him such spirited joy; excitement because it was hard to put her out of his mind, even just for a sliver of a second. They were friends to begin with, but he had the intense, deep longing of being closer than friends. To be honest, he wasn’t very certain if it was just the usual infatuation at first, but as the days grew into months, he found that the feelings grew deeper. Beverly, and the blissful life he wanted for the both of them, was a constant fantasy for him. He wanted her in his arms. He wanted her in his most intimate thoughts. But most of all, he wanted her in a very special place of his life, one he had been looking to fill for a long time.

But then she got married to a very lucky Jack Crusher, and he was alone again.

So he busied himself with his work, in order to avoid the feelings of guilt and shame, for he was still deeply emotionally attached to Beverly. Eventually, he considered himself married to the stars, and eternally devoted to his ship. There was the odd romantic encounter here and there, but he was disappointed to find the cold emptiness again.

Twenty years passed, and now Beverly was back in his life, but again the situation was complicated.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Beverly snaps him out of his haze of discussion buzzing around in his mind. Jean-Luc sits back in his chair, bringing up their shared mental experience, but that’s not the most important thing on his mind.

He’s still thinking about the conversation they had by the fire. Those feelings, now that he had gotten them off his chest – were they real at all to begin with? Or was it just an illusion of his yearning mind? Outwardly, he seems to be dozing off with a blank stare, but internally his mind was plans his confession. He could have gone his whole life without saying it, but with the only woman he ever loved it was different.

“I-” he starts, but his breath catches in his throat and he doesn’t know how to continue. “Never mind,” he grumbles, ignoring the unprofessional manner he’s carrying himself.

Beverly leans forward in concern. “Out with it, Jean-Luc,” she chides, in good will, “I know you’re hiding something. You can’t keep everything bottled up forever.”

He clasps his hands, attempting to put his words in the most careful way possible. “It’s come to mind that, you’re possibly the first and only woman I’ve ever loved, and I’m not using this expression in a sentimental way, it’s just that...” He trails off, hanging on the edge of his seat for her response.

She chuckles, and the sound of her laughter sends electricity racing up and down his spine, and reaches into his heart. He can’t help but crack a smile, but Beverly continues.

“I don’t see how that’s such a thing you need to keep bottled up.”

He pauses, then reaches out for her hand. She takes his hand, and it fits perfectly. Locking in like an ever-so-perfect puzzle piece, and he wants to cherish this moment forever. He’s holding her hand delicately, like the caress of a butterfly’s wings or the soft shimmering of moonlight on water, afraid to break it. He’s also afraid of breaking the feeling that washes over him, the feeling of finding relief in love. His breath hitches in his throat as he moves to sit beside her on the sofa. He’s been waiting for this moment for decades, and if the feelings were to suddenly go away again he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

“To my knowledge, I have never felt this kind of attraction to any other person. Every time I try to start a romantic encounter, I end up coming away from it with an absence of attraction.” He begins, starting to retreat back into himself again. His mind urges him on, but he still finds it hard to be honest.

“And?” Beverly prompts.

“I’ve lied to almost everyone I’ve encountered in the past, for the sake of saving my face. I didn’t want anyone to think I was-”

“Broken?” Beverly cuts in.

“Yes,” Jean-Luc nods, “broken.” He pauses, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s as if you read my mind.”

“I don’t need a psi-wave transmitter to know what you’re thinking. I know you just fine.” Beverly brings up her free hand to cup the side of his face, and he finds himself leaning in.

He raises his other hand to his cheek, bringing her hand from her face. He grips both of her hands, trying not to seem too nervous. “Beverly, I kept this from everyone for all my life because-”

“There’s nothing broken about you.” Beverly assures, “You’re just, fine!” She moves, resting her head on his shoulder. Pulling her in, Jean-Luc rests his cheek on the top of his head, and sighs deeply as he enjoys her quiet presence.

“Honestly, when I first met you, I didn’t know whether those feelings were real or not. I thought I was just imagining I had feelings for you because I wanted to be in love with someone so badly,” He confesses, “but I think I have my confirmation. Beverly, I-”

“Love you,” Beverly finishes.

Jean-Luc gives a small laugh of relief. “Would you stop ending my sentences for me?”

Beverly leans further into him. “You secretly loved it, didn’t you? When our thoughts lay bare before each other.”

“I suppose I did. It was intimidating, though, to have access to your deepest thoughts.” Jean-Luc expresses. He feels Beverly’s hair brush against his cheek, and she pulls away. They spend a second gazing at each other, immersed in each other.

They remain silent for another moment.

“It’s about professionalism again, isn’t it?” Jean-Luc asks.

Beverly nods, in a subdued manner. “It isn’t right. Our feelings could compromise something far more crucial. I think it’s best that we-”

Jean-Luc reaches out for Beverly’s hand as she rises from the sofa. “Stay with me.”

Beverly considers the situation for a brief moment. “I can’t.” Her voice wavers.

“We know we’ve both wanted this for so long, Beverly. If not now, when?” His voice quickens in urgency, and the softening look on her face tells him he’s getting to her.

“We might not even be alive tomorrow,” She adds, in a spot of grave humour. “That makes it all the more important that we live our lives to the fullest.” She finishes her drink, and rejoins Jean-Luc on the sofa.

“I’m still not very sure about this, but I’m willing as ever to give it a try.” Beverly says, snuggling into him.

He gives her a peck on the cheek, brushing a lock of blazing red hair off her forehead. “Thank you.”

The night draws them closer together, and by morning they are as inseparable as magnets.

[storysnapshot]

Fridays at the Local

I was a relatively average guy. Did well enough in school, did ok at university, landed a job as an accountant in the city. Proposed at 24, married at 25, now going through a divorce with my wife at the age of 40. No kids. I guess that makes the divorce easier.

For most of the working week I commute into the city, do the daily grind, and return home. On Fridays, I go to my local to celebrate the end of the working week, and catch up with some old friends.

In many ways, everyone’s oldest friends.

I walked into the pub, beneath the sign that loudly proclaimed the name of the establishment to the unseeing eyes of the masses. Most people walked right by the place. I took a stool at the bar, nodded at the man behind it, and was promptly poured a pint of lager. I took a sip, and felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Well, fancy seeing you here,” said the woman at my shoulder, blonde hair loosely spilling down her shoulders and onto her shimmering cocktail dress.

“No, it was surely meant to be!” A gentleman in a full suit ensemble appeared behind her, both smiling at me.

“Coincidence. Fate.” I greeted each one in turn.

Coincidence gave a big grin; “Hello, John. How’s your week been?”

I rattled off some meaningless nonsense about some issues I had with a work colleague. Fate and Coincidence listened intently, enraptured by the normal lives of normal people.

“And how are things with Susan?” Fate asked, casually.

I was shocked; “How do you know about that?”

Fate gestured to a table across the room, where a small lady with unremarkable features and thin rimmed glasses looked up and gave a slightly embarrassed wave. During this time her fingers never left her phone, constantly scrolling and typing.

Rumour. Of course.

“You didn’t really think you could keep it a secret from us, did you?” Fate seemed amused. He gestured at the bartender for another round, and escorted me to a table.

“Really, though, how are things?” He asked.

“It’s OK. I’m OK.” I responded.

As I said this I caught the eyes of a woman dressed all in white, who made eye contact with me and raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. She didn’t say anything, but I knew that she knew the truth. After all, that’s who she was.

A few more patrons had noticed my presence and come over to greet me. A sickly looking gentleman made an offer in a nasally voice - “I could make her have a very unpleasant few weeks, if you’d like…”

“Now, Pestilence, I don’t think that’s what John wants, is it dear?” The rather rotund form of Virtue smiled sympathetically at me.

“No, no, thank Pestilence. Best let her live her life.” I took a long sip of my drink. “I just hope the settlement goes smoothly.”

“I’m by your side, don’t you worry.” A waitress fetched the other drinks from the bar. “I will prevail.”

“Thanks, Justice.” She gave a half-smile and walked towards a very thin man tucking into a very large meal, and took another order from him. By the grease-stains on his shirt, he’d been eating there for quite some time.

“Fear not, my boy!” An elderly man, dressed to the nines in a golden suit with a cane to match strode over to me. “In your line of work, you’ll be perfectly fine! A promotion soon, from what Rumour hears.”

“Wealth, I appreciate the sentiment, but ‘money doesn’t buy happiness’ and all that.” I said outwardly, but reflected on the promotion news with a little bit of excitement.

Wealth clearly didn’t listen to a word I was saying and was busy ordering the most expensive cocktail on the menu.

“Thanks, guys, though. This does make me feel better.” I said to the room at large, and was met by murmured ‘No problem’ and ‘We’re here for you, buddy’-esq responses.

The door to the pub was suddenly thrown open, and in walked a girl. Young, probably only just old enough to drink, wearing a short pink skirt and fashionable top. I gave a start - it was unusual to get people in here that dressed anything approaching normally. More pressingly, I didn’t recognise her.

She surveyed the room, lips pursed together for a moment before spinning around and bringing a handheld camera out of her pocket. She began to talk - loudly and clearly - to the camera.

“What is up, guys?!” Her shrill voice rebounded off of the walls. “It’s your girl Fame here, ready to tackle a new challenge! I heard that this is where all the suuuuuper old and ancient guys hang out, so I thought I’d check it out with a few buddies of mine! Maybe we’ll see some familiar famous faces!”

Every sentence was ended with exclamation, and I relaxed slightly. She definitely wasn’t human - real people didn’t speak like that. The other patrons seemed a mixture of curious and a little tense.

“Hey, that looks like Time! Hey, Time, what do you have to say to all your long-term fans!?” She thrust the camera into the face of a very old man who was snoozing in the corner, beneath the grandfather clock, before she came in. He spluttered something incoherent as she began anew.

“Cool! Way to show us young-uns how to stay in the business! Ooh, let’s see who this is. Vanity?”

Vanity took to the camera instantly, and kept this new girl - Fame, wasn’t it? - distracted for a bit. While all that was happening, a few more faces had appeared at the doorway - again, all quite young. Presumably these were Fame’s friends.

The first was a skinny ginger kid, who surveyed the room with cold, dispassionate eyes. His glasses had a microchip in them, and was displaying a screen to him, while he tapped away at a phone in his off hand.

The second was a wilder looking girl, multicoloured streaks ran through her hair and she was dressed in a relatively revealing outfit. She hazily looked around the room and staggered to the bar, drunkenly slurring out requests for jager bombs.

The third was another guy - torn jeans and a plain white T-shirt covered in a denim jacket - unremarkable except for the tattoos of all colours, shapes, and sizes that ran their way up both of his arms across his dark skin.

At their entrance, Fame squealed and tore her camera away from Vanity. Vanity looked a little put out.

“Hey guys, look who turned up! Tech, a few words?”

The skinny ginger merely replied “Your camera’s out of date.”

“Haha, thanks Tech! Sesh, you?”

The drunken girl downed the last of her jager bombs, stared blearily at the camera and said nothing.

“Right on! Equality, what about you!?”

The third lad looked awkward, and said “Fame, don’t you think you should be a little quieter? This looks like a nice place and-”

“Sure thing!” Fame replied, making no difference in volume whatsoever. She began doing circuits of the pub, talking to well-known faces and interviewing them all.

“Sesh? Who’s THAT?” Virtue asked me.

I racked my brains, then remembered something.

“I think it’s a young people thing,” I said with a note of bitterness. “I heard some of the interns at work talking about it. Its going out to a club and getting fully wasted and not really stopping. One of the interns had been on a ‘four-day bender’ whatever that means.”

Virtue huffed up. “Well. No wonder I haven’t heard of her. Equality looks like a good kid though. He seems friendly enough.”

Looking at the kid in question, I realised his jacket was covered in pins from various activist groups. Sort of a freedom-fighter, I guessed.

Before I was quite aware what was going on, Fame was at my table.

“And here we have VIRTUE!” She squealed. “Oh, so many people said you and I wouldn’t get along, but I’m sure we’ll be great friends!” Virtue glanced at me, and got up and left.

“Well, we’ll work on that! Later!” Fame seemed nonplussed. “And who are you, stranger!?” She asked me. “How come I’ve never seen you before!?” She seemed fascinated by this concept.

“Oh, I’m not like one of you.” I replied. “My name is John, and I-”

“You’re HUMAN!?” She cried out, loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the room.

“Yes, but-”

“You’re not supposed to be here! This isn’t a place for mortals! Who let you in?! What is this outrage!?” She began ranting, and I found myself unable to get a word in edgeways.

The kid with the enhanced glasses strode over to me. Tech, I remembered him being introduced as.

“You really aren’t supposed to be here.” He said, smugly and matter-of-factly. He brought up a file on his phone and passed it to me. “See?”

It was some sort of terms and conditions document. Highlighted was section 3 subsection 4 - ‘Under no circumstances are mortals permitted in establishments reserved for anthropomorphic personifications - those establishments with a license 42b (see appendix 7). Consequences permit the immediate termination of the mortal.’

“The implication is clear, but we are willing to be merciful.” Tech spoke, calming Fame down into a simmering rage as Sesh wandered angrily over from the bar. Equality reluctantly came behind.

“Leave now, and never return, and you won’t be killed!” Fame threatened, with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

“Come on, guys, he’s clearly cool with the rest of them,” Equality tried to speak up on my behalf, but Tech shut him down.

“The rules are clear. He leaves, or he dies.”

The tension in the room became palpable. Everyone knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I was accepted. The new kids stared at me, I tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone and not letting my fear show.

“Well, mortal? What’s it to be?” Sesh slurred at me.

I rose from the table, ready to say my piece and leave, but I was stopped. An icy cold sensation ran through my shoulder into my body. Sweat beaded on my forehead and my heart began thudding in my ears. The lights in the pub dimmed and became black as a great spectre appeared behind me.

“HE. STAYS.” The voice like tombstones spoke of a certainty that could not be argued with.

The new kids gave a series of frightened yelps, and left the pub in a hurry, tripping over themselves to get out. Only Equality stayed, shaking gently in his shoes, clearing his throat, ready to make a stand.

Just like that the presence was gone, my vitals returned to normal, and Equality gave a deep sigh of relief. The rest of the patrons looked shocked, directly at me. Equality sat beside me, for I has sunk back to my chair, and said; “Right, let's try that again. I’m Equality, nice to meet you. You are?”

I was many things at that moment - scared, confused, relieved, but most pressingly, alive. Also unable to speak, which didn’t allow me to articulate a good response.

Slowly the hustle and bustle returned to normal levels, and the night proceeded as so many had done before, and so many would continue to do.