#I went into it thinking ‘it’d be background noise’ and it’s stuck ever since

[mouse-fantoms]

⚠️WARNING⚠️ If you use Jatp’s 4th anniversary (:0) as an excuse to rewatch the performance clips YOU WILL SOB

[snowysosturn]

Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 26

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start to mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : MDNI, angst, tension, anxiety, mentions of memory loss, guilt, rejection

As Nick and I left his room, the air felt different. The tension I’d felt downstairs hadn’t left me, and I couldn’t help but feel like there was something more beneath the surface, especially with Matt. But I pushed it aside as we walked down the stairs, back toward Chris and Matt.

Before we reached the bottom, Nick turned to me, his voice soft, "Hey, if you feel comfortable, you can stay here tonight. I’ll sleep in Chris’s room, so you can have mine. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go back if you’re not ready."

I hesitated for a second but then nodded. "That sounds good, actually. Thanks, Nick."

When we stepped into the living room, Chris was sprawled across the couch, grinning from ear to ear. He waved a controller in the air. "Mario Kart is ready! I’m kicking your ass this time!"

Matt, however, sat next to him, more reserved, his posture stiff. I couldn’t help but be intrigued by him. Chris was an open book, easy to read and light hearted. But Matt..there was something closed off, something almost guarded. I could feel it, like a wall between us that I couldn’t understand.

"Here" Chris said, handing me a controller with a grin. "Let’s see if you’re still as good as you used to be."

I grabbed the controller off Chris, “Who knows this time, this brace on my wrist is definitely going to hinder me” I said laughing.

We started playing, and I immediately got into the zone, sprained wrist or not. I smoked them in every single one of the four circuits, each victory making me feel more and more in control, like I was regaining a piece of myself.

Nick, impressed but clearly not wanting to lose again, suggested we play teams. "How about Matt and Y/n team up? You two were unstoppable last time."

I waited for Matt to agree, thinking it’d be fun to see how we worked together. But instead, Matt shook his head, his voice cool and detached. "Nah, let’s switch it up."

The rejection hit me in a way I didn’t expect. A weird, dull ache settled in my chest. Why did it bother me so much? Maybe it was just the rejection itself, or maybe it was the way he’d been acting since I arrived. Distant. Cold.

Nick and Chris exchanged confused glances, both of them snapping their heads to look at Matt. Chris even raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "What? Why? You guys were like the dream team."

Matt shrugged, his expression unreadable. "I just feel like switching things up this time."

I tried to brush it off, but it lingered. Something about Matt’s reluctance, his distance. It felt personal, even though I couldn’t understand why. And the way Chris and Nick reacted, like they knew something I didn’t, only made it worse.

We played on, but the atmosphere felt different now. The game became background noise to the questions swirling in my mind. Why did Matt feel so far away, like he was avoiding me? And why did it matter so much to me?

Matt’s POV

From the moment I heard Y/n was in the house, my mind went into overdrive. I hadn’t expected to see her again so soon, definitely not like this, and the way she looked at me downstairs stung more than I’d ever admit.

Chris was being his usual self, carefree and oblivious, throwing the Mario Kart controllers around like we were kids again. I couldn’t get into it, though. My head was stuck on Y/n. She had this way of pulling everything out of me without even trying, and now, seeing her act like a stranger, like we hadn’t been through everything together, it messed with my head.

Nick and Y/n came back downstairs, and I could feel her eyes on me again. She seemed.. intrigued. Like she was trying to figure something out. Maybe she was piecing together memories, or maybe she just knew something wasn’t right between us. Either way, I couldn’t handle it. Not right now.

I sat there, watching Chris act like an idiot, shouting about how he was going to destroy everyone in the game. I didn’t have it in me to join his energy. But when the game started, I couldn’t help but notice how easily Y/n slipped into it. She was as good as I remember. Each time she crossed the finish line first, there was this spark in her, a glimpse of the girl I remembered. It killed me.

Then, Nick, trying to be the peacekeeper he always is, suggested teams. “How about Matt and Y/n team up? You two were unstoppable last time.”

The second he said it, something inside me froze. The thought of teaming up with her, of being close to her like we used to be, it felt like too much. I couldn’t do it. Not when I knew everything I’d done. Not when she didn’t even remember any of it.

“Nah” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. “Let’s switch it up.”

I could feel her eyes on me, but I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t. I knew that what I’d just said hurt her, and that only made it worse.

Nick and Chris both turned to stare at me like I’d grown another head. They knew how close Y/n and I used to be. Hell, they knew the full extent of it.

“What? Why?” Chris asked, sounding genuinely baffled. “You guys were like the dream team.”

I just shrugged, trying to brush it off like it didn’t matter. “I just feel like switching things up this time.”

But the truth was, I couldn’t handle it. Being near her, pretending like nothing had changed, knowing she didn’t remember all the nights we spent talking, the way I’d cared about her, how I’d let her down. I wasn’t strong enough to fake it.

The game carried on, but I was barely paying attention. I couldn’t focus, not when I knew she was sitting across the room, probably wondering why the hell I was acting like this. And part of me hated myself for it, for pushing her away when I should’ve been trying to make things right.

But I couldn’t face her. Not when the weight of everything I’d done, all the secrets and guilt, was still crushing me.

Y/n’s POV

I glanced around the room, sensing the tension after Matt rejected Nick's suggestion that we team up. I wasn’t sure why, but it stung a little. Maybe it was the rejection, or maybe it was the way he seemed to be avoiding me, like he wanted to keep his distance for reasons I couldn’t figure out. It didn’t make sense. He felt familiar in some strange way, but it was like there was this wall between us.

I shook it off, deciding not to dwell on it. Chris, on the other hand, was buzzing with energy, clearly eager to win. He kept fidgeting with the controller in his hand like he couldn’t wait to start.

"Alright, Chris" I said, breaking the tension and forcing a smile. “I guess it’s you and me, then. Let’s team up. I’ll make sure you finally get that win.”

His face lit up, a wide grin spreading across it. “Hell yeah! I knew you’d be my secret weapon.”

I laughed. Chris was so easy to be around, no secrets, no weird tension. Just a guy who really, really wanted to win a Mario Kart game. Unlike Matt, who was sitting there with this distant look in his eyes.

As we got ready to play, I could feel the room settle again, but I couldn’t help stealing a glance at Matt. He was leaning back on the couch, his controller resting loosely in his hands, but his eyes weren’t on the screen. They were somewhere else, like he was caught in his own thoughts.

I quickly turned back to the screen. Whatever was going on with him, I’d figure it out later. Right now, Chris needed my help, and I was determined to carry him to victory.

“Alright, Chris, just follow my lead” I said, teasing him a little. “I’ll make sure you don’t crash and burn.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad!” he protested, laughing. “Just make sure we win, okay?”

I smirked, gripping the controller as the countdown started on the screen. 

Chris and I were an okay team, I completely carried him, but at the end of the race, we crossed the finish line first. Chris leapt off the couch, cheering with a huge grin on his face, practically shaking the controller in excitement. "I can’t believe it! I actually won!"

I laughed, feeding off his energy. "Told you I’d get you that win!"

Chris was absolutely over the moon, and I felt a small surge of pride in making it happen for him. I glanced over at Matt, who was watching silently. Feeling playful, I teased, “See, Matt, that could’ve been you if you had teamed up with me instead.”

To my surprise, I got a laugh out of him. A real one. It was small, but it broke through the distant vibe he’d been giving off. I couldn’t help but smile, feeling like I was chipping away at whatever wall he had put up. There was something about him, something I couldn’t fully understand, but it made my heart race whenever I was around him.

Matt stood up and excused himself, saying he needed some air. He slipped out to the balcony that was connected to the living room. The balcony door stayed open, though, so we could still all talk, and I decided to follow him. I’d built up a bit of a sweat from being competitive, and the cool air felt like the perfect excuse to join him.

As I stepped out onto the balcony, the breeze hit me, refreshing against my skin. Matt didn’t say anything as I stood beside him, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. There was a strange pull between us, something I couldn’t quite name, but it kept me there, even in the silence.

Inside, Chris kept the conversation going, his voice bubbling with amusement. He brought up the odd, out of pocket things people had been saying on their streams lately, especially the weird usernames that Matt had ended up blocking. "Someone was begging Matt for backshots and their username was MattsLongJohn. Man, the stuff people say in chat."

Nick chimed in with a shocked laugh, while Chris, ever the entertainer, continued. “Oh, and Matt almost gave me a black eye with the Tapple board the other night. Dude’s dangerous when he’s competitive.”

The mood lightened, and we all laughed at the ridiculousness of it. But then, Chris turned to Matt, his tone casual, though he didn’t seem to realize the weight of his words. "Speeding car, ass or tits?"

Matt’s face fell instantly, like someone had punched the air out of him. "First of all, that's just not how you use that phrase" he said, his voice tense, his usual calm demeanor breaking. "Second of all, I'm not answering that."

The conversation froze for a moment, and I felt a sudden rush of heat flood my body, like every nerve in me was suddenly on high alert. Speeding car. The phrase rang in my ears, and without knowing why, it felt like something I should remember. Images of bright lights. Matt’s voice.  I felt dizzy, like my head was spinning but I also had a feeling of nervous butterflies in my stomach.

I needed water. I took a step back from the railing, turning toward the door, my pulse racing. “I’ll be right back” I muttered, trying to steady myself. My throat felt dry, and my hands trembled slightly as I headed back inside.

As I passed through the door, I could still hear Matt and Chris continuing their conversation, but everything felt muffled. The flashes of light, the sound of screeching tires, Matt’s voice, but also the sound of laughter, a feeling of nerves throughout my body - it all crashed into me at once. What was that? What are these feelings?

I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a glass, filling it with cold water from the fridge, I needed to stand somewhere a bit more private, I remember seeing a bathroom beside the room Chris and Matt were in earlier on, so I let myself into there.I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to calm the storm building in my chest. Something was wrong. Something I couldn’t remember.

Matt’s POV

As soon as Chris let those words slip, I felt my stomach drop. I glared at him, my fists clenching as anger surged through me. "Chris, what the fuck  is wrong with you?" I snapped, my voice lower than usual but laced with frustration. "You can’t just bring up something like that. Especially not in front of her."

Chris’s face fell instantly, his usual carefree grin disappearing as he realized he’d crossed a line. "I-I didn’t mean anything by it, Matt" he stammered, holding his hands up in defense. "I was just messing around."

"Messing around?" I repeated, my tone sharp. "You think that’s something to mess around with? You know what that word brings up." My voice faltered slightly at the end, and I forced myself to take a breath. The last thing I needed was to blow up in front of everyone. But I couldn’t help it. Bringing up the accident, or anything related to it, wasn’t just reckless, it was cruel, even if Chris didn’t mean it that way. Especially with Y/n being here.

Chris’s expression softened as realization hit him. He ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely apologetic. "Shit, Matt, I didn’t think about that. I wasn’t trying to bring up.. y'know, that. I’m sorry, man. It was just a dumb joke from stream. I didn’t mean it like that."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, trying to calm down. I knew Chris hadn’t meant any harm. He never did. But I was already on edge, especially being around Y/n. As much as I was trying to keep my distance, to protect her or maybe even protect myself, it didn’t mean I didn’t care about her anymore. I still did. I cared about her more than anything. It also didn’t mean I didn’t love her anymore either. I could never stop loving her, but it was easier this way. Easier to pretend that she didn’t care about me at all, even if it was slowly tearing me apart.

And what made it worse was the fact that she was stood right there, unaware of everything that had happened, the weight of what she didn’t know. And here Chris was, casually throwing it around like it didn’t mean anything. Like it wasn’t tied to the worst night of her life. How it was tied to what we were.

I glanced toward the bathroom door, noticing how long Y/n was taking. She had gone to get a drink, but it felt like an eternity had passed. My chest tightened with worry. What if Chris’s stupid comment had triggered something? What if she was starting to remember things, and I wasn’t there to help her through it?

Chris must’ve noticed me looking, because he followed my gaze, his brow furrowing. "You think she’s okay?" he asked quietly.

"I don’t know" I muttered, my voice low as I glanced back toward the closed door. "She’s been gone for a while."

I wasn’t sure if she was in the bathroom, the kitchen, or if she’d just needed a moment to herself. Either way, I felt uneasy. My mind raced with the possibility that she was piecing things together, flashes of memory coming back to her that she wasn’t ready for. The thought of her remembering the accident, without any warning or explanation, scared the hell out of me. I wasn’t ready for that conversation. Not yet.

"Maybe I should check on her" I said, more to myself than to Chris. I couldn’t help the protective instinct that kicked in, even though I’d been trying to keep my distance all night. I didn’t want her to go through this alone, not again.

Chris nodded. "Go. I didn’t mean to mess things up. I’ll stay out of it."

I took a deep breath and stood up, my eyes fixed on the direction Y/n had gone. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of fear and guilt twisting in my gut. As much as I wanted to stay distant, to avoid complicating things further, I couldn’t ignore the pull I felt toward her. And right now, all I wanted was to make sure she was okay.

Y/n’s POV

I stood in the bathroom for what felt like forever, staring at my reflection as if the answers were hidden somewhere in the lines on my forehead. My hands were gripping the edges of the sink so hard my knuckles turned white. I splashed more water on my face, letting the coldness shock me back into the present. It helped, but not enough. The weight in my chest hadn’t gone away. I knew I needed to calm down. There was no use spiraling right now, especially not in front of anyone. 

Looking at myself in the mirror, I forced a few deep breaths. Maybe I was just exhausted, maybe it was too much all at once. Meeting Chris and Matt, hearing Nick talk about how we all used to be close, it was a lot to process. It was like stepping into a life I wasn’t fully a part of anymore but still felt connected to.

With another breath, I finally decided it was time to go to bed. It would be better to sleep and let my mind rest. Maybe things would feel clearer in the morning.

I dried my face and opened the bathroom door, only to find Matt standing right outside. The hallway was dimly lit, casting a soft shadow over his face, but I could see the concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he said, his voice low and hesitant.

"Yeah" I nodded, trying to offer a reassuring smile. "I’m fine. Just.. tired. I think I’m going to head to bed."

He looked at me for a moment, like he was searching for something in my expression. Maybe he was trying to see if I was really okay, or maybe he was debating whether to say something else. But after a beat, he just nodded and stepped aside to let me pass.

"Alright. Get some rest," he said quietly, his voice holding something unspoken.

I walked past him, feeling the weight of his gaze on my back for a few more seconds before I turned the corner into the living room. Nick and Chris were still lounging on the couch, Chris fiddling with the Wii controllers while Nick scrolled on his phone. They looked up when I approached.

"Hey guys, I’m gonna head to bed" I said. "I’ll probably leave around 11 in the morning. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment."

Nick straightened up a little, giving me a curious look. "Oh, okay. Do you want to grab breakfast before? Matt and I can drop you off after, we’re picking up Nate from the airport around that time anyway."

I turned slightly, glancing back at Matt. He was still in the hallway, leaning against the doorframe, watching the conversation unfold. He caught my eyes and nodded.

"Yeah, that works" he said. "I can drop you off."

"Sounds good" I replied, offering them both a small, tired smile. "Thank you for tonight. Goodnight, guys."

"Night" Nick said, giving me a wave, while Chris mumbled something about winning Mario Kart under his breath.

I turned and started walking back up the stairs, feeling the day’s exhaustion setting in. The events of the night weighed on my mind - the way Matt had looked at me downstairs, Nick’s stories about the four of us hanging out, and Chris’s strange joke that sent shocks through me. It was a lot to process, and I felt this strange pull toward Matt, like there was something more there than I could understand.

I could feel it in the way he looked at me. There was a history, something deeper between us that no one had explained yet. Why wasn’t he trying to fix things if we’d been close? What was holding him back? And why did I feel like something important was missing from the story?

As I reached Nick’s room, I pushed the thoughts away, telling myself that tomorrow would bring more answers. For now, I just needed sleep. I slipped into the room, closed the door behind me, and fell onto the bed, letting my body relax into the sheets.

But even as my eyes closed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was right on the edge of something. Something big that I just couldn’t see yet.

a/n: we have 4 parts leftttttt (I think)

taglist : @muwapsturniolo @anitahunt @sturnfannn @jayde510 @chrissfavhoe @babyalliah-777 @v33angel l @urmom69lol @willowrites @ribread03 @2muchofaslvt @sturnsaver @sleepysturniolo @jcsturniolo11 @jessie-essie @hoeforchrizz @mynbbys @sturniolopanini @mattsturnxoxo @delicatechrry @t77te @sturnsyaper69 @hotdismylife @maggot3647 @ivysturnss @noplaceissafeanymore @mattssgf @yourfavsturniologirl @maethem0nth @sillyponygrl @mattyblover07 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @dominicfikeenthusiast @mattsfavbigtitties @ncm9696 @chrisstvrns @schlutt4matty @lvrsturniolo @chrissolos @ilusa @amelia-sturniolo3 @wonnieeluvvr @pussydestroyer100 @amexiass @mystinkylefttoe26 @lizzysmith110 @sturniololovebot @secret-sturniolo @freshythefishy @witchofthehour @stvrnlover @alizestvrnss @beachbabe000 @pinkdyit @pvssychicken @starkeyszn

[secndlife]

pairing: jeonghan x reader

genre: fluff, angst? second life!au

summary: when something as big as a proposal happens, you start to wonder about the what ifs of a different life. 

word count: 2.9k

warnings: none

song

“I’ll be back later, ok?” You said, voice soft as you placed gentle kisses by the sides of his neck. He felt good, skin smoother than the finest piece of silk against your lips. You’ve been together for years now and you knew you’d never get over how sweet he tasted. It was like honey. Better, even. He was like the most addictive of drugs. Your arms were wrapped around his waist while he focused on the screen in front of him, comfortably sitting by the kitchen stool.

He hummed at your gesture, goosebumps hitting his arms like a soft breeze. “Hmkay.” His hand went to the shiny, brand-new object placed at your finger, digits tracing its’ outline slowly before he intertwined your hands. “Off to tell him the news?” He felt you smiling against him.

“Yeah,” you mumbled against his neck, lips still pressed against the veins that he had there. “This is too big of a thing to tell him through the phone.” Your now fiancé nodded in agreement. You held him a bit tighter against your grip, chin now resting on his shoulder and eyes stuck at your hands. It was crazy how something as small and delicate as a ring could carry so much meaning, could feel so heavy. Not the bad heavy, though. Just a different one that you weren’t used to it yet. The one that makes your head spin and your heart beat faster. 

He caught you staring at the diamond and his mind went to places he didn’t want to allow. As always, his tongue moved faster, the question he’s been dying to ask ever since he proposed last night rolled out of his lips before he could stop it. “Are you happy?” It was barely a whisper, though, like a secret that he was keeping inside for longer than it seemed. He knew, with the bit of rationality he had inside himself, that you were happy. For you, there was no such thing as hiding your feelings, your heart always being bravely worn on your sleeve. And he would never forget the spark in your eyes when he opened the small box and got down on one knee. At darker times, however, he was still that insecure college boy that asked you out years ago. He just needed the validation. 

You first thought was to gently smack his chest and tell him to stop being silly. That this question was out of place and ask him why this lunatic, unreal thought had the nerve to materialize itself into words. But after knowing him so well, you figured that this wasn’t the best approach. Like you had a roadmap to his manners, you could take the hidden hint in his tone that he tried his best to disguise. So you just held him closer, allowing your body to engulf him with love in the form of a hug. “Yes. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” 

He let out a breath in relief, pressing your arms against his chest as a form of response to all the uncertainty that danced in his mind like ballerinas in new flats. As if the warmness of your skin could fight, almost instantaneously, the coldness that started to form around his heart. “Good.” He brought your hand to his lip now, placing a comfortable kiss against the ring, lips barely brushing at your knuckles. “I love you.”

You’ve been hearing the melodic way he said those three words for a long time now, your paths being laced together for longer than you could count on one hand. Still, every time he said it, it was like the first time you had ever heard it. Like the world had stopped spinning just for you. Like stars were falling out of the sky to be placed in your hands as a gift. Like you were there, at that moment, just to live through the greatness of being loved in the way he loved you. “I love you too.” 

“Good,” he said, once again. With a tap by the back of your hand, he tried sending you away. “Ok, go. We both know how he gets when someone’s late.” He giggled. Your heart felt warm at the sound. 

“Wanna come?” You offered. They were friends too. You were sure the youngest wouldn’t mind. “You haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Is that why you want me to go?” He teased. 

With a small laugh, you said, “yes.” You didn’t want to admit, but you’d kinda miss him. You wanted to be around him these days as much as you could. It started before the proposal. Seeing him confess his love once more, but this time with the twist of the promise of forever, under the star-filled summer sky, just made it all deeper. It was like this thirst for him would never end. Even a couple of minutes away seemed too long, too unbearable. It was like the air was being sucked out of your lungs. 

He hummed. “I can’t. I have to send some reports on the recordings to the company today, so I need to double-check everything.” You pouted. “Don’t make that face. You know I can’t resist it.”

You giggled, “Then don’t.”

“I think you need some time alone with him.” His tone was as calm as his heart.

You let out a whine and nodded, “Fine.” You squeezed his body closer to yours once more, trying to gather as much of him as you could for the time you’d spend out. 

“Tell him I miss him, though.”

“Sorry I’m late,” you said between breaths, placing your bag by one of the empty chairs.

He looked up and raised a brow at you, his black hair that was now a bit too long falling over his gaze. He was wearing a simple white shirt and some denim pants. You were used to his presence, something impossible not to be as he was your friend for as long as you could remember. But you’d never get accustomed to how heavenly he looked. The way his lips curled up whenever he smiled could make flowers bloom in dry land. The way his eyes slightly, almost imperceptibly, changed colors whenever he stared at the sun for too long could make anyone want to dive in the dark mysteries hidden behind them.  

“I should be used to this by now,” he said, with a teasing tone. “I don’t know why I still show up on time to any of our gatherings.”

You placed a loud, wet kiss by his rosy cheek before biting back at his comment. “Because you love to complain when I’m late.” You sat across from him and smiled. 

He giggled. “That does give me a reason to live.”

You shook your head, taking the menu from the center of the table. “You’re insufferable,” you scoffed. It felt relieving to be around him like this. Too good. Too comfortable. It was almost as if there were no pressure to be anything other than you with him. Freeing - that’s what it felt like to be around him. Your heart ached as if you haven’t seen him in forever. It hadn’t been that long though, but for sure both of your work schedules were clashing way too often for your liking these days. 

“And despite that, you still love me.” He took the menu as well, scanning among the sea of options. He was never good at making choices. Too many options for something as simple as a brunch made him tired. 

With eyes glued to the yellowish page before them, you said sincerely, a gentle smile resting against your lips., “I really do, don’t I?” You were a firmer believer that love had many faces and forms and fronts. You couldn’t quite describe the one you had for him. You just knew it was stronger than time. And stronger than life too. You knew, deep down, that this wasn’t your first encounter. The two of you had talked about it before in one drunken night at college. Or more like you talked and he listened. You said that life was magical and alluring to put the two of you together again in this lifetime. He didn’t question. He wouldn’t. He knew it too. In his head, he liked to think he’d always gravitate towards you, one way or another. This thought never really went away. It wouldn’t. 

He smiled at your words while trying to figure out what to order. He’d probably just have whatever you were having. That’s how it usually worked whenever you two went out for food. You’d lead, he’d follow. “What are we drinking?”

After thinking for a couple of seconds, you spoke up. “Maybe we could have mimosas? Or just plain champagne?” 

He looked up, “Really? Why do you want to drink fucking champagne?” You never drank that. Maybe five times in the course of 15 years, only on very special occasions like college graduation or getting dumped by your second boyfriend. You were a beer type of girl. Or mojito, if you were in a party mood. He tilted his head in amusement and confusion, “What happened?”

You placed your hands on your lap, not ready to let the ring show just yet. He was very observant, so maybe he had noticed it already and was just giving you the time to tell him yourself. Maybe it’d be good to have a drink first. Get some alcohol to pump the blood. You weren’t nervous. You knew he’d be thrilled with the news. You just needed to feel prepared. You’d change the topic for now. “How is she?” 

He shook his head while calling the waiter and ordering two glasses of champagne. “Why are you changing the subject?” He inquired after placing the order. 

“I’ll tell you in a bit,” you pleaded. Your fingers were still resting against your thighs. “Now answer, how is Sowon?”

He laughed once more. You loved his laugh. “She’s fine. She asked about you today.” Your lips curved up in a smile. “She’s busy. But she’s good, yeah.” You nodded. “How is he?”

“He misses you,” you said, voice delicate over the background noise. It was his turn to nod. “But he’s good too.”

“I’ll call him later.” He meant it. You knew he would. He was not the one to be distant. And he wasn’t. Before he could say something else, the waiter returned with the bubbly glasses and placed them ahead of the both of you. You thanked him and were left in nothing but the pleasant company of your best friend once more. “So?”

You decided to play along a bit more just to annoy him. “What?” He hated that. 

He rolled his eyes. “You’re really not telling me why we’re having champagne on a random Saturday mid summer?”

You took the clear, fancy glass in your left hand and took a long sip. Ok, ready. You let out a sigh and extended your right hand to him, the ring shining brighter under the natural night. He carefully looked at it, reaction not quite yet showing. “Wait.” His mouth was now shaped in a small ‘o’. He was putting the pieces together and his lips formed a magnificent smile. “Is this—”

“Yeah,” you said, voice a bit shaky. You were trying your best to hide the uneasiness running through your body. You knew he would approve, and that he would wish you nothing but the best. Still, he was such a meaningful person to you that the mere thought of him not being fond of such happening made you feel sick to your stomach. 

He was always good with words. He managed his way through them as a maestro leading an orchestra. Now, it felt like they were escaping him when he needed the most. He took your hand in his and squeezed it, hoping his gesture would say more than his poor brain was being able to voice it. “When did he propose?” There was no surprise in his question. He didn’t actually know, but it was somewhat expected, you guessed. 

You held his hand strong as if it was supposed to keep you in place, to keep you in peace. “Last night.”

He smiled widely again, “Are you happy?”

It was the second time you heard that question today. Only now, it had a totally different meaning. Earlier, you were asked “are you happy with me?”. Now, you were being asked if you’re happy, period. Simply, genuinely happy. That was all he would want for you. The answer was the same for both. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” 

His grip in your hand got tighter, the ring almost hurting his milky skin. “Then I’m happy too.” You felt a stubborn, natural urge to cry as those words made their way to your ears. He knew you well enough to know you didn’t like showing that side of you in public, so he spoke again, “Shall we toast?”

You swallowed the tears along with whatever stupid insecurity you had over this moment. You took your glass from the table and raised it, followed by him. “To me finally getting married?”

He laughed, “No. To you being happy.” 

You nodded, heart full of the same love you had for him ever since your first meeting. 

After eating more than you should and sharing a bit too many drinks, you were still by the restaurant having one last round of mimosas. After a sip, you spoke. “Yesterday when I called my mom, and he was in the shower, she asked me something funny which I didn’t really know how to respond to.”

“You, not knowing what to respond? That’s new,” he teased. You always had a remark about everything and everyone. “What did she ask?”

“Why we never dated,” you stated simply. 

The thought of being more than a friend to him crossed your mind a couple of years back. He was a flirty person and the two of you had shared a kiss, and even more, here and there. Still, it was never something with a lot more meaning. Not as far as you knew or thought or felt. Of course, he was interesting, intelligent and impressive. He kept you on your toes and you loved him dearly. But you didn’t know exactly why this never evolved to something more than best friends. And it was not due to lack of outside incentive. Everyone thought you’d date him before you actually got a real, long term boyfriend, to whom you were now engaged and that was one of his close friends. Some still kept that thought, even after both of you were dating. People talked when your current relationship started. They thought he got bitter. They thought he got jealous. You never saw it and if he did feel like that, he never showed it. On the contrary, he was always very supportive. So you thought long and hard on your mother’s question, you just couldn’t come to any real answer. Maybe he, the one who always knows what to say and how to say it and when to say it, would be able to put some clarity to such secrecy.

After a couple of seconds of comfortable silence, he finally spoke. “Do you believe in fate?”

You laughed. Seems like the drinking was starting to get to you. Your cheeks were flushed and you felt funny inside. “I don’t know.” You started to think about it and shared your conclusion. “I believe everything happens as it should.”

Once he was done contemplating, he started explaining. “I love you, so so much.” There was no undisclosed meaning behind his words. He loved you and that was clear for everyone to see. “And I know you love me too.” Everyone knew that too. You had never, not even for a second, hidden that. But love was a shapeshifter. “Still, I don’t think I’m your fate in this life. Seungcheol is.”

You blinked, processing his words. Your mind started to inevitably wonder to the what ifs, to the what might have beens if you were engaged to the one sitting across from you right now. Those thoughts went away as quickly as they came, much like falling stars. Wasn’t that what all possibilities were? Falling scenarios. They seem bright and ideal, but only because you don’t actually have them to see how they’d really be. Or just because you don’t see them often or long enough. And then they vanish and leave a bittersweet taste behind. You wouldn’t dwell on that. You were happy and you wouldn’t waste time thinking on the falling star of this relationship. He wouldn’t want you to do that and you wouldn’t want to do that either. And it wasn’t even a fallen star to begin with. It was exactly how it was supposed to be. It was like home. Still, something lingered. So you asked. You had to know. “Do you think you’ll ever be my fate, Jeonghan?”

He smiled your favorite smile. The one that gave you chills and that made your heart at ease. With a voice as soft as his features, as gentle as his soul, four little, magic and promising words, that would be more than enough for this time being, escaped his lips. “Maybe in another life.” 

a/n: this was supposed to be a piece of a collab with a very talented author, laura. unfortunately, the collab didn’t really happen, but i still wanted to share this piece after cross-checking with laura if she was ok with it. anyways. here’s to finally writing something for jeonghan that’s not absolutely hearbreaking. as always, thank you @yoongitalks​ for being my faithful beta. love you tons! feedback’s always, always appreciated, so feel free to drop some here. hope you’ll like it!

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

Soulmate - T.H

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Warnings: Fluffy!Tom, AU, Protective!Tom, Fluff for days, Smut (at the end), Cheeky!Tom

Wordcount: 6,825

Summary: Tom Hiddleston is widely known as Hollywood’s “bad boy.” You weren’t known in Hollywood. Tom, for most of his life, was a gentleman. But for some reason, within the last 2 years, he’d changed. He slept with all of his costars, who hoped to be the one to get him to settle down. You’d been waiting for your soulmate for so many years, in your mind, he was nice, funny, charismatic, nothing like the man you met the day your timer hit zero.

A/N: I wasn’t sure really when to end this, so I kinda just ended it. But I’m sure if people like it enough, there’ll be another part or two :) Let me know what you think! It seemed a bit long, but I hope you enjoyed. It was a bit of a slow burn imagine. 

24d / 6h / 51m / 10s

A little under a month before you were set to meet your soulmate, and your heart was skipping beats left and right. You did your best to keep your mind off of it, but it was so difficult, with your timer right in front of your face. You had gotten home from the grocery store, excited to make your breakfast. You turned on the TV as background noise, and heard some rambling about a new movie coming out. You rolled your eyes. Yes, you really enjoyed most movies, but unfortunately, some of the actors really got on your nerves. The snarky comments, massive egos, everything about them turned you off. It really did make sense why they always ended up together.

Yes, you knew that not all actors and actresses were that type, but the man they were gossiping about on TV? Definitely. Tom Hiddleston had started getting a reputation in showbizz about 2 years back, you remember. He started out as the nice guy, but for whatever reason, he turned into the jerk that slept with his female costars all the time. Sometimes you wondered if he even had a soulmate.

He was incredibly attractive, he had tattoos littered across his body, all of them being ones that he had gotten fairly recently. He wore leather a lot, with mostly blacks and neutrals in his closet. He just wasn’t at all your type on the inside. You, on the other hand, liked to keep things classy, with soft colors. You didn’t wear much leather, only once and a while. Some people felt that you were stuck up, but underneath that outside shell was a lot of hidden secrets. Your social media meme accounts, your goofy side, your somewhat strange sense of humor. Not many people knew that side of you, and you hoped that when you met your soulmate, he’d accept it. Hell, everyone had a weird side. Right?

22d / 3h / 45m / 8s

You had met up with your best friend and her boyfriend, Malik, for coffee. Malik was really good to Y/F/N. He was overall charming, handsome, hardworking, and intelligent. He was basically all you could ever want for Y/F/N. Although when you met him, you had to second guess yourself and your timer, because it felt so natural to be around him. But you’d never tell Y/F/N that. “So, how’re you doing, Y/N?” Y/F/N asked, taking a sip of her latte.

“I’m okay, I suppose. I’m really really nervous about this whole soulmate thing. You guys met nearly 5 years ago. What if he’s not right for me?” You sputtered out, rambling on a bit. You were really scared of the thought of meeting someone who really wasn’t right for you at all. You wanted something like Malik and Y/F/N, something genuine and compassionate. You looked at them hold hands and steal glances at each other. It was so natural for them. Their eyes lit up when they saw each other, and you’d hoped it’d be similar for you and your soulmate.

9d / 1h / 28m / 47s

You met up with your family roughly a week before your timer was set. Your mom wouldn’t stop talking about it. You almost thought that she was more interested than you were. But, you supposed that the thrill of her daughter finally being able to find her soulmate was exciting to her. Both of your brothers and your sister had each found their soulmates several years back. You were the only one without one. Even your cousins had found theirs without a problem.

Your dad wasn’t overly protective, thank goodness, he realized that everyone had a soulmate, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. Yes, it took him a little while to come to terms with his little girls finding their soulmates. But he got over it and realized that it was just a part of life. “Guys, Josh and I have an announcement.” She declared, standing up from the couch she sat on, Josh holding her hand next to her. “What is it, Kayla?” Your mother asked in excitement. “We’re pregnant.”

Smiles and joyous excitement circulated through the room. This was bound to make your mother the happiest woman in the world. The thought of becoming a grandmother was something she had dreamed of, she loved children. And since she was too old to have her own, Kayla being pregnant was an absolute dream. Her and Josh had gotten married about a year before, and met 4 years before that. They were slow and steady. Sometimes your mother thought that you’d be pregnant before Kayla. Yet here you were, sitting on the couch, yet to meet your soulmate.

2d / 4h / 56m / 9s

You had landed in Seattle mere hours before, excited for your weekend away with the girls. Cassidy had insisted upon it, even going as far to book the flights before asking anyone. You, Veronica, Cassidy, and Y/F/N were going to have so much fun on the coast. Crazily enough, with how everything was scheduled out, you were set to meet your soulmate either in the Seattle Airport or on the plane. Depending on how it all played out. The universe had a crazy way of flipping things around.

Cassidy had met her soulmate recently. You hadn’t met him yet, but apparently he wasn’t too excited to go a weekend without his girl. He’s a little clingy, she told you. Honestly, Cassidy’s comment about Rowan wouldn’t have bothered you if you had actually met your soulmate. But you had no idea what he’d be like. What if you didn’t like him? What if there was something about him, or multiple things, that you hated? You were scared of the thought. You enjoyed a weekend of shopping, going to the beach, and just having a good time with your girls. You had gone clubbing the night before your flight, which you had all known was a bad idea. But you went through with it anyways.

14h / 6m / 23s

You had to admit, the night was probably not a great idea for you all. But you needed some time to just unwind and forget. Forget that Kayla’s pregnant, that you still haven’t met “the one.” Forget about the stresses of not liking the one you’re supposed to be with for the rest of your life. You had enough to be buzzed, maybe a tad tipsy, but not enough to get you totally wasted. You didn’t want to be a complete mess when you met your soulmate. Maybe a slight one.

Veronica, Cassidy, and Y/F/N, however, were almost too drunk to function. You knew they were fun drunks, but you also knew that waking them up tomorrow morning would be a painstakingly slow process. You set an alarm for 8:30, hoping to catch a few more things before leaving Seattle.

5h / 34m / 2s

You were right. Waking the girls up was definitely more difficult than usual, but you knew that you should go and see a few more things, even check out a museum nearby. Veronica pulled her phone out after getting ready, scrolling whilst laying on the bed, when you suddenly heard her gasp. “Tom Hiddleston’s in Seattle. Right now.”

You giggled at her. She was so immature sometimes. You loved her, so so much, but sometimes you wished she was a bit more mature. “We should totally go meet him.” You rolled your eyes as she spoke. “I’d prefer to meet my soulmate.” You raised your eyebrows at her, a bit mad she had forgotten about such an event. She knew it was really important to you. “Shit, sorry Y/N.” She apologized. “Tom could be your soulmate. Seems like destiny.” She smiled, and you rolled your eyes at her for what seemed like the 12th time that day.

“I’d rather die.” You thought he was nice and charming. But that was before he started sleeping with all of his costars, treating them like shit. He had-what you thought were-completely meaningless tattoos, and he had such a bad boy look to him. You much preferred his preppy, British look his sported before this crisis of his. “Oof. Do you hate him or something?”

“No, I’m just not in love with the fact that he sleeps with anything that walks.” You frowned, looking back at Cassidy and Y/F/N, who were still lying in bed, silently listening to you and Veronica’s conversation. Though, they didn’t make it obvious. “We should go check out a museum or something.” You spoke, and all the other girls looked at you in confusion. Apparently they weren’t as into history as you are. Your heart ached, you knew you’d be meeting the possible love of your life. Most likely, anyway. For some, their “soulmate” didn’t work out. They’d try to be together, but it failed miserably, and they went their separate ways, in search for a new love. This happened very sparingly, and was pretty rare amongst humans. Usually, the gods were right. Most of the time. There was always headlines whenever it happened, but you had only seen 2 in your entire life. You hoped you weren’t the next.

4h / 21m /9s

You finally convinced Cassidy that meeting Tom Hiddleston wasn’t something you felt needed to happen today. That you were already too nervous from everything else, and you just wanted a little time to do something relaxing. “Fine, fine.” She spoke, raising her hands in defeat. “If I never get to meet him, it’s your fault, you know.” “I’m sure you’ll meet him.” In the end, you decided on going to a museum for a little, then to the mall to do a bit of light shopping.

2h / 10m / 54s

Now was time for your least favorite part. Leaving a place you had grown to love so much. You and the girls had bonded immensely over this trip, and you were sad to say goodbye to Seattle. You and the girls got through security fairly quickly, making sure you had time to relax and unwind, as well as charge up your devices before the flight. You stared down at your timer. 2 hours, 10 minutes, 26 seconds. It was nerve racking. Y/F/N noticed your slight panicked expression and rubbed your back. “It’ll be okay, Y/N.”

“I know, I know.” But in the back of your mind, you knew that you had no idea of who he was or how he’d treat you. What would happen if you hid in the bathroom? You knew something would make you come out. The universe had a weird way of doing things.

16m / 33s

“Hey guys. I’m gonna go freshen up.” You spoke, standing up from your spot. You grabbed your smaller bag, but left your suitcase by the others. They knew you well enough to know that you wanted to be alone at this time, and so they simply let you go alone.

“Alright hon, don’t take too long.” Y/F/N smiled, as you waved back at them, heading to the bathroom across the hall of the airport. You immediately went to the mirror, checking your outfit and adjusting where you saw fit. You saw a young girl smile at you when you complimented her Marvel t-shirt. It really was an excellently done set of films. You liked all of the actors and actresses- besides one. Smiling to yourself as you got closer to the mirror, reapplying a bit of mascara, as well as your liquid lipstick, which had worn off slightly since the morning. 

You tried to fix every flaw you believed you had in that airport mirror. You were very insecure when you were young, and although you had grown, your self esteem still wasn’t perfect. You still believed the words your middle school bullies told you, at least every once and a while. But you shook off the feeling, knowing that right now was not the time for your emotions to completely take control. That was the last thing you needed. 

You looked down at your timer. 5m, 2s. A light squeal came from your lips, which earned you a giggle from the woman beside you. “Timer close?” She asked, and you nodded. “Only 4 minutes left.” You grinned, and her smile got bigger. 

“My son’s timer is going to hit zero soon as well.” You realized she spoke in a British accent, and you smiled. You loved accents. Hers was so adorable, you couldn’t help but admire it. “Wow, small world.” You watched as she washed her hands, and you looked down at your timer once more.

“Good luck, love. I’m sure yours will be lovely. Tragic it’s not my Tom, though. You’re very pretty.” You smiled and thanked her, hoping the best for her son and his soon to be soulmate. “Thank you.” You watched as she exited the bathroom, and you waited for a moment before doing the same. 

23s

What you failed to notice, however, was the ‘Caution: Wet Floor’ sign that had recently been placed outside the bathroom. You didn’t expect it in the slightest, and tripped-almost gracefully-over it, managing to knock the sign over and fall. Straight into Thomas William Hiddleston’s arms. Your soulmate. Looking up at him, you gasped for a moment, before blinking several times, not believing your eyes. “S-sorry.” You apologized, pulling yourself up from his arms, as he looked at you in awe. Tom had been waiting to meet his soulmate since he was young, and he was a romantic at heart. He wrote poems and songs of longing, longing for his forever person, his soulmate. You. 

You adjusted your clothes once again, knowing they must be disheveled from the fall. You put the sign back up, trying to make it more noticeable for others this time. Shaking your head once more, you made your way up the small ramp, leading you to your friends. “Wait up!” Tom called, rushing after you. You walked as fast as you could, knowing that nothing would ever be the same. You wanted things to go back to how they were before. 

Unfortunately for you, Tom was 6′2″ and had long legs, making it easy for him to catch up to you within a few minutes. “I’m sorry Tom-I just can’t be with you. I know about you. I know what you’ve done with your co-stars. I don’t want to be apart of that messed up world.” Tears welled up in your eyes, knowing that you’d have to find someone else. Which would not be an easy task. “Please. Let me explain. I’m not that guy.” You looked up in his big blue eyes, sighing. It’s just a talk. Just a talk. Nothing more. “Fine.” You sighed, walking with him to the nearest Starbucks to sit down and have a talk. 

After ordering your coffees, (Tom was a true gentleman and refused to let you pay for yours) you sat down at a small table, so you could look across from him. You noticed the timer on your wrist was darkened, almost black. You had heard of this phenomenon. The closer to your soulmate, the darker the color of your timer. It’d turn black when you touched them. “I don’t think you properly introduced yourself, love.” Tom spoke, holding his hand out for you. You grasped it for the first time ever, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the sparks. 

“I’m Y/N. Y/N L/N.” You smiled. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He raised your hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss on your knuckles. Oh, he was good. “Thank you.” You smiled as he set your hand down, allowing you to take a sip of your coffee. 

“I know that the media portrays me as a- um-” He couldn’t seem to find the words. “Womanizer? Player? Fuckboy?” You spoke for him, and what little smile was on his face before fell a bit. “Yeah, that. I promise it’s all for publicity. They told me that I’d be more successful that way, but I regret it all. I wish I could just be myself again.” He spoke, sighing. 

“So, it’s all a stunt? You haven’t actually slept with the majority of your female co-stars?” You asked, your hand coming closer to his. “Never. I promise, I saved myself for my soulmate. I’ve been waiting for this day, my entire life.” He shrugged, showing a small, closed-mouth smile. “The tattoos?”

“There’s a select few that are real. The rest are temporary that they put on me, but I can choose to let them show.” He responded, and you nodded. “I do like leather though.” You giggled at his statement, remembering all the times that Cassidy was scrolling on Google, looking at pictures of him in his jacket. 

Suddenly, having a soulmate didn’t seem so bad. He was sweet, and a gentleman. Good looking, smart, and funny. Although you didn’t like how the media portrayed him, it wasn’t completely his fault. He was trying his best, and Y/F/N was a screen writer. She had told you a few times of how stars were manipulated to be shown a certain way. You just chose to believe that Tom was a complete ass, but you were glad that you were able to talk and get to know the real him. “So, what brings you to Seattle, Tom?”

“My mom. She’s always wanted to come here. It’s our last day. I wanted to spend mother’s day with her here.” You nodded, smiling. Then, in a quick moment, you remembered the woman you met in the bathroom. “What does she look like?” You asked, and he described the woman you had met to a tee. You smiled. “What, my love?” You melted at his pet name for you. 

“I think I met her in the restroom earlier. She told me that your timer was hitting zero soon.” He smiled. It would honestly be so relieving if you and his mom got along well. He knew that it was something he yearned for, he loved his mother very much and had hoped his soulmate would adore her too. “She’s very sweet.” Slowly getting off the topic of him, he asked what brought you to Seattle. “Weekend away with my friends. My friend Cassidy is actually a pretty big fan of yours, I’ll have to have you meet her soon.” He smiled. “But I take it you weren’t a big fan of me? With the stories and all?” 

“I was before you went into your ‘womanizer’ phase. I really enjoyed watching movies of yours but then I heard about you and your co-stars and I kinda lost the feeling, you know? I did really love your classy style back then.” You smiled, and he nodded, smiling a little bit at certain moments in your answer. “I understand. The media portrays me horribly now.” You nodded, taking his hand in your and giving it a peck like he had done moments before. 

“It’s okay. It’s your life Tom, you can take control if you so desire. I believe you are good, as well as so many other people.” 

“Thank you, love.” He smiled, blushing a little bit at your comment. As well as your lips hitting his knuckles. “Where’re you going?” Tom asked, almost in fear. “My hometown. It’s called Y/H/T.” 

“Can I come with you?” He asked, suddenly, but spontaneously. “Yeah. I’d love for you to meet my family.” You smiled, a small blush falling upon your cheeks. 

“We’re going to go and talk to my mom, if that’s alright. Maybe you and your friends could fly with us in the private jet?” He asked, and your eyes widened, clearly not as used to this superstar ‘treatment’ as he was. You nodded, trying to stay as calm as possible. “I know it’s a tad overwhelming, love.” He grabbed onto your hand, intertwining it in his. You couldn’t help but notice how utterly perfect it felt. His hand was much larger than yours. Your timer faded black, and you smiled at it. 

-

Although Cassidy fell asleep and you, Y/F/N, and Veronica had to drag her onto the private jet, you knew that she’d flip once she realized. Veronica and Y/F/N were relatively calm around Tom, although you kept getting butterflies in your stomach whenever he called you a pet name, or said something sweet to you. You and Tom’s mother got along marvelously, more than he could ever wish for. 

Cassidy was restless on the other side of the plane, laying down on the comfortable couch. She moved around a lot when she slept, and you wondered how long it’d been since she talked to Rowan. Apparently he had made a big deal about her going out and drinking, although you were positive nothing had happened last night. You were sober enough last night to know. She ended up in the hotel room, in the queen sized bed next to Veronica. You and Tom were talking about so many things, to the point where Veronica and Y/F/N were almost sick from it. But they knew you were both just so excited and livid from meeting each other. 

When Cassidy woke up, you could tell she was pretty much out of it. “Where am I?” Veronica immediately rushed to her side, and you were happy that Tom’s face wasn’t visible from where she was laying. “On the plane, Cas. We’re heading home at the moment.” 

“Doesn’t look like a regular o’l plane.” She murmured, sitting up. She gasped, looking over at you and at the back of Tom’s head. “Did I miss it?” She pouted, walking up to you two. She was finally able to see Tom’s face and she gasped once again. “Tom Hiddleston!” She squealed, immediately enveloping him in a hug. “Hello there love, nice to meet you.” He smiled, giving her a quick hug back. She released him in a moment, looking back and forth between the two of you. “Are you?” 

“Yep.” Tom smiled, grabbing your hand and pecking it. She swooned, blushing a tad. “Y/N, I’m sooooo happy for you!” She smiled, hugging you this time. “I told you he’s great!” She smiled, and Tom’s smile faltered for a moment, before returning. Remembering that he almost let his reputation come between him and his soulmate. He was so glad that you gave him a chance and let him talk to you. You were honestly all he hoped for and more. Shorter than him, which he found absolutely adorable. You piqued his interest and you were so glad that he had the opportunity to be soulmates with someone like you. Even when you were asleep on the plane, your aura calmed him as he watched you sleep. He was so enveloped in your and every part of your life. He was excited, yet nervous to meet the family of the one he loved. Even though maybe he wouldn’t tell you he loved you just yet; you had only known each other for a few hours. Not even a day. Yet he was enraptured all the same. “She’s beautiful, Tom.” His mom spoke from beside him, rubbing his back thoughtfully. “She is.” He replied, turning to her and giving her a charming smile.

“I met her in the airport bathroom earlier, you know. When she told me her timer was going off soon, I told her it was a shame she wasn’t going to be with my Tom. But things just had a beautiful way of working out. You’re both so lucky to have found each other.” Tom couldn’t help but think of how utterly nervous he was before meeting you. He could tell you were in a similar state, from how you reacted when you met him initially. His mom pecked his cheek, before the plane began descending into Y/H/T.

-

Waking up, you were flooded with messages from your mother. She knew that you had met someone who was going to be in your life forever. “Y/N, how are you?” “Who’s your soulmate?” “Is he nice?” “Is he handsome?”

“I’m bringing him home, mom. You, dad, and everyone can meet him a bit later. 6 pm?” You responded, and not a minute later she texted back with excitement. “Everyone’s coming over! I’ll make my famous lasagna.” She was clearly very excited. She only made her lasagna on special occasions, such as this. You smiled, not noticing that Tom was sitting on the other side of the plane, looking at you lovingly. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” He spoke, walking over to sit next to you. “Hi.” You spoke, setting your phone down. 

“What’s making my girl smile? Not that I’m complaining that you are.” He smiled sweetly, making you giggle. “Well, first of all, I’ve got the soulmate of my dreams,” you replied, smiling at him as he stared into your e/c eyes. “Second of all, my mom somehow got all of my siblings to come in for a lunch tomorrow. To meet said soulmate of my dreams.” You blushed, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. 

- 

The next afternoon came faster than you could’ve imagined. You slept at your parents’ house, not wanting Tom to arrive sooner than you to the family lunch. His hotel was a lot closer than your apartment. You got dressed in a simple sundress, a pair of brown boots, and a sweater-cardigan that covered up your arms, as they got cold pretty easily. You made sure to shave your legs and everything, you wanted to look nice on such an important day. You tapped your foot nervously, excited yet nervous for your soulmate’s first appearance in your family. Your mom was anxiously watching her lasagna, which she had gotten up at nearly 7 am to start. “I wish to know more about Tom.” She spoke, and you giggled in amusement. 

“I know, mom. Soon. He’ll be here soon.” You muttered, and but a second later, you received a message from one Tom Hiddleston. “Hey babe, be there soon. Missed you so much last night.” God he was the sweetest. You hadn’t the heart to leave him on read, so you typed a message back to him. “See you soon Tom!” You’d be lying if you said that you were scared of relationships, or at least partially. Yes, your family was happy and for the most part, their relationship problems always worked themselves out, no matter how difficult. But you always had a “what if” placed in your mind. What if you and your soulmate didn’t work out? What if he hated you, or the way you looked? 

The ringing of the doorbell shook you from your dreamlike state, thinking of possibilities for the future. The future always scared you. Even more so now. You hopped from your seat on the stool, hoping for the best. You answered the door before your mother got the chance to, and for that, you were grateful for. The last thing you needed was your clingy mother scaring away your soulmate before the get together even began. You opened the door, your eyes met with possibly the most handsome man your eyes had ever seen. 

“Hi, Tom.” You managed to sputter out, and he noticed your nervous energy for a moment, before shaking it off. “Hello, sweetheart.” Instead of simply following you to the kitchen, his towering figure gave you a hug. Your frame was small in comparison to his, and you felt a nibble on your ear. “Care to show me around, lovely?” 

You showed Tom the upstairs first, not wanting to interrupt any conversations happening throughout the kitchen, dining room, or living room. You lead him into your childhood bedroom, which appeared relatively the same as it was when you left it. The posters of Harry Potter, and some Marvel films littered the walls. You were a fan of Marvel, you liked the stories, you just weren’t fond of the actors in recent years. When you were younger you definitely loved every part of the franchise. 

“So, my pet, you were a fan of Marvel.” He spoke, a dominant tone coming out. “At one time, yes.” You replied, and he nodded. He hoped that Loki was your favorite, at least at one time. “I loved all of them,” you continued, as if reading his mind. “But I fell out of love with the characters, as well as the series, when the media started portraying all of the actors so horribly.” He nodded, agreeing with you. “They did portray us as complete assholes.” He spoke, as you nuzzled your face into his chest. “You’re so adorable. I’m incredibly lucky.” He spoke, and you giggled into his chest. “Don’t you mean you’re incredibly loki?” You joked as a smile appeared on his face. “You stop that. Right now.” You giggled again. 

“Y/N, honey, lunchtime!” You heard your mom from the bottom of the stairs. You began heading downstairs, Tom right on your tail. You suddenly felt his presence, but closer this time. His lips were so very close to your ear, and his front side placed oh-so-close to your back. “You have a fabulous ass, by the way.” He grabbed at it, and you squealed, nearly falling into the wall nearby. “And that, was adorable.” He pulled you into him, using a grip on your waist. You were unfamiliar with this level of intimacy. It was strange.

Walking downstairs with Tom following shortly behind, you entered the living room, seeing your siblings, their significant others, and your parents. Kayla was showing, just a little bit more than the last time you saw her. Her belly just barely bulged, but you could tell. Everyone turned to face you and Tom, the newest couple to the family. “Everyone, this is Tom, my soulmate.” You spoke easily, slightly scared of what they would think. You really liked Tom, and you hoped your family would to. 

“Oh my gosh, that’s Tom Hiddleston!” Your mom gasped. “So lovely to meet you, Tom.” She found her way over to you two, bringing her hand out to shake his. “Lovely to meet you as well, Mrs. Y/L/N.” “Oh please, call me Karen.” Tom smiled lightly. “My famous lasagna is for dinner, honey.” Your mom spoke. “Sounds lovely.” Tom smiled once more. You introduced Tom to your siblings and their significant others, as well. Your father helped your mother in the kitchen as they prepared a wonderful dinner. You and your siblings played a board game before dinner began. You and Tom made a pretty good team in Scattergories. “Alright kiddos, dinner’s ready!” 

Everyone headed towards the dining room, gathering at the dinner table. Tom sat next to you, and all of your siblings oohed and awed at the wonderful meal your parents had prepared. Your father helped with appetizers and dessert, and your mother prepared the main course. Everything looked wonderful. “Looks great,” Tom noted, praising your mother. 

-

After a wonderful meal, you felt Tom’s hand on your thigh as you continued in great conversations with your family. Everyone seemed to be getting along well, which you were glad for. However, the gentle yet sensual feeling of Tom’s ginormous hand upon your thigh was a large distraction in this situation. It was odd, you had never felt this way before. 

As Tom’s hand became closer and closer to your core, you became more and more heated. You glanced over at him, seeing the smirk upon his face. “Stop” you mouthed. His smirk became even more prominent, and his hand, at this point, had come to play with the band of your panties, his fingers twisting the skinny band of your pink lace thong. “Well, it’s getting late, I think Tom and I are gonna get going.” You spoke, standing up almost immediately afterwards. Because of this action, Tom was forced to let go of your panties. A glimmer of hope left his eyes, and you both waved goodbye to your family. 

The car ride home was interesting to say the least, however, it was comfortable. Your apartment was more towards the downtown region of your town, and it was really cozy. You liked it a fair amount, at least. Tom dropped you off, and you hopped out of the car, saying a "goodnight Tom" as you did. Heading towards the entrance of your apartment, you heard Tom's car engine stop. You squinted your eyes, slightly confused, but continued on. You heard a "Y/N!" from behind you, and you turned around. "Yes?" You asked Tom. "Don't you think we have a bit of unfinished business, darling?" You furrowed your brows, looking at him confused as he jogged to catch up with you.

“What’s going on?” You questioned, puzzled. "Can I come in with you?" He asked, and you nodded slightly. You should be able to spend time with your soulmate, right? Though, you were slightly uncomfortable with Tom inside your less than luxurious home, you knew you would have to get used to it eventually. You were just scared, you supposed.Tom followed you into your foyer, which consisted of a small hallway, scattered with a couple of your shoes, and a staircase leading upstairs. After you took your jacket and shoes off, you lead him up to your living room. You felt Tom's strong hands on your waist as you looked around your living space, deciding whether or not to be embarrassed. However, Tom seemed far more interested in your neck than anything else at the moment. You felt Tom’s lips sucking intently on your sweet spot. “Tom...” you moaned out, and you felt Tom’s mouth turn into a smirk. “God you’re so beautiful.” He spoke, “take me to your room, please.” He never let go of your waist as you led him towards your bedroom. 

You had never felt as intimate as you did right now. Though you were scared, Tom made you feel comfortable. Tom brought you upon your made bed, laying on top of you. Though you were smaller than him, he didn’t allow all of his weight to lay on you. “Tom” you spoke as he detached his lips from yours and nibbled on your ear. “Yes my love?” “I’m scared” you told him. He immediately got off of you, plopping beside you on the bed. “If you’re not ready for this, it’s okay. I just want to be with you as much as I can. Now that I have you I never want to let you go.” You smiled at his sweetness. “You are the absolute sweetest, Tom.” You kissed his cheek. You intertwined your hand with his as you felt your core heat up slightly. You were ready, you decided. He was your soulmate. There shouldn’t be a doubt in your mind. This time, you initiated, climbing on top of him and straddling his waist. 

His hands came to rest upon your thighs, slightly underneath your sundress. You felt his hardened length rest against your thigh, as you felt Tom’s hands pull the bottom of your sundress upwards, and you lifted your arms up, completely revealing yourself to him. Your matching pink bra and pantie set was certainly a sight for sore eyes. Tom’s eyes widened, which confirmed that fact. He then allowed you to help him pull his shirt off of his torso. This time it was your turn to awe at his wickedly muscular chest and abs, which you were very impressed with. “Like what you see?” You heard him ask, and you nodded. “I love it.” 

He flipped you back on to the bed, then continued undressing. This time it was his jeans, which were fitted amazingly upon his strong figure. “God Tom” you moaned out, and he let out a slight chuckle on your collarbone. You could see how prominent his bulge was now, and did not disappoint your inter fan girl. He detached your bra from your body with ease, and now the only thing left on either one of you was your underwear. Yours did much less to hide you, however, as the light pink lace thong left very little to the imagination. No wonder Tom had been completely all over them earlier that night. 

Tom brought his hands down to his own underwear, where his prominent bulge was located. He released his member, and you eyed it curiously. Obviously, from sex ed classes, you knew what one would look like, but you had never truly seen one. It was fairly large, probably 7 1/2 to 8 inches long. You had no idea how that thing would fit inside of you. Tom slowly slid off your panties, which were the last piece of clothing remaining on you. “Are you ready, my love?” You heard him whisper. Though you were pretty turned on, there was still uncertainty. Would it hurt? “I don’t know.” You murmured. “I’ll get you ready.” Lowering himself towards your labia, he held your knees right over his shoulders as his face came into contact with you. 

Jesus. It didn’t take much for Tom’s tongue to excite something within you. All of the sudden, you were incredibly heated, much more than before. You were immensely wet, your juices seeping on to Tom’s tongue. You didn’t think it was possible that you could be any more soaked. You were ready, you supposed. You were on the edge. Tom kissed you, giving you a taste of yourself on your tongue. “Taste good?” You nodded in response. “Okay, I’m gonna go slow, love.” You felt his tip on the brim of your hole, and he began slowly pressing inward. It hurt, but part of the pleasure hit you, just a little. “Ahh” you moaned out as Tom pressed about 2/3 of his length into you. It hurt, but as he began pulsing in and out, you felt the pleasure hit you more and more. It felt good, now. “You feel so good Y/N” you heard Tom whisper into your ear. You both reached your climaxes soon after that, it felt amazing. He peeled his sweaty body off of yours, laying beside you. “You’re so perfect.” Tom whispered into your ear, giving you a kiss on your cheek. You smiled in response. “I’m gonna pop into the shower real quick, Tom. I’m feeling a little sweaty due to, you know.” You spoke. You got out of bed, scampering over to your bathroom. “Love your ass!” Tom yelled from your bed. 

You got into the steaming shower, allowing yourself to lather your body with soap. However, soon you were joined by Tom, who wished to wash off as well. You hugged his soft skin as he joined you, lathering his body in soap. Tom began feeling you up with soap, and you silently protested and shook your head. “Tom. Stop it!” You gasped as he gave a squeeze to your breasts. “No funny business.” You told him, rejecting his advances. “You’re right, we have plenty of time.” He noted, and after that, you two were quick to get out of the shower. 

The rest of the night was relatively tame, with cuddles from Tom abundant as you laid in bed together. You felt completely protected by him as he spooned you and intertwined his legs with yours. Everything felt completely and utterly perfect. 

-

Waking up the next day, you wondered if it was all a dream. Tom’s warm figure was no longer next to you, however. You were slightly scared, but wandering down your stairs in your silk robe, you found Tom in your kitchen. He was cooking up a wonderful meal, eggs, bacon, toast. You were so happy to see him. “Good morning, Tom!” You spoke gleefully, running up to him. “Good morning sweetheart.” He told you as he flipped the eggs. He turned around afterwards, giving you a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You need any help with anything?” You asked, and Tom shook his head. “You just relax my dear. You can get yourself something to drink, how about that?” You immediately headed towards your coffee maker, turning it on so it would begin to brew. “Would you like any coffee, babe?” You asked, and he nodded gratefully. “That would be wonderful.” 

You poured you each a cup, then grabbed some cream and sugar. You put some in yours, but waited for Tom to serve himself. You liked the sweet taste, rather than plain bitter coffee. Tom settled for a little cream and sugar in his as well. You felt his arms settle around you in a hug, sipping on his coffee. Breakfast was wonderful. You could feel everything settling into place. You had a wonderful soulmate and a wonderful future together. You felt Tom give you a kiss on the top of your head, and butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Everything was perfect.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Riley + Sunglasses + Undercover (6)

masterlist.

Read it on AO3. 

*****

Mac fidgeted with the T.V. remote. Riley hadn’t returned yet. Bozer and Matty busied themselves with digging up intel on Petrov, and Desi sprawled across the couch. 

Which left Mac with nothing to do but think. 

Riley would be back any minute now, and Mac had no idea what to say to her. They needed to talk about the kiss. Dropping a “you’re my best friend and favorite coworker, but surprise, I’m in love with you” bomb on her in the middle of a mission seemed like a stupid idea, but ignoring what happened would make it even more awkward than it already was. Fuck. 

Mac snapped his head toward the door as the lock clicked. Riley slipped inside, opening the door just wide enough to squeeze through. Her hair was a windswept, tangled mess, but other than that, she appeared to be fine. Tension eased in his chest that Mac hadn’t realized was there before. 

She still wore his jacket. 

Riley went right to his side, although she remained a respectful distance away instead of standing shoulder-to-shoulder like usual. She looked almost...shy. Mac could see the hesitation in her eyes. He really fucked up. Now she wouldn’t even come near him. 

“Miss much?” she asked. 

“Nobody’s planning on killing us, yet.” 

“First time this week,” she retorted. Mac chuckled, earning a glare from Desi. 

Slowly, Mac closed the space between himself and Riley, so they could talk without being overheard. He gave her the opportunity to back away, but, to his surprise, she didn’t. “We need to talk,” he whispered. Riley paled. Shit, that was not the reaction he wanted. Not even close. 

“Mac, I...I understand.” Her eyes said it all. She looked disappointed. Embarrassed. Hurt. No no no no no no. Whatever she thought she understood, it was a far cry from what he was about to say. Did she really not know how he felt? He wanted to touch her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and show her all the things she didn’t understand. He wanted to tell her that his heart belonged to her, and he was committed to her for the long haul, although that may not be as long as they’d like since they both had a penchant for getting shot at. And then, after all that, he wanted to back her into a wall and tell her how sexy she looked in his jacket and learn exactly how to elicit those little noises again. 

He needed to stop thinking those things about her. Riley could read him like a book. 

Yet, she’d utterly failed to see what was right in front of her face. Maybe...maybe she misunderstood because he’d hid it so well. Too well, if the brokenness in her eyes was any indication. 

“Riles, no--” 

She shook her head. “Don’t ‘Riles’ me right now.” 

“Got him,” Bozer announced, leaving Mac with his jaw hung open. His unsaid words evaporated off his tongue. 

“Viktor Petrov,” Bozer read off the screen, “thirty four year old Bulgarian mob boss and rare art connoisseur.”

Riley moved to stand behind Bozer, reading over his shoulder. Mac studied her--feet shoulder-width apart, hands behind her back. He liked to think of it as her war-room stance. The woman could save the world while standing like that. “He’s on several intelligence agencies’ watch lists,” Riley said. “Looks like he’s never been arrested, but Petrov is a power player in the Eastern European black market.” 

Raising his eyebrows, Mac slid his gaze to Desi. “You sure do know how to pick ‘em.” 

“Don’t forget, I picked you too,” she shot back. Ouch. He probably deserved that. Bozer suddenly found the computer screen extra fascinating. 

“In her defense,” Riley said, “he is really hot.” The two women shared a conspiratorial glance. If they ever really became friends, all hell would break loose.  

Matty broke the ensuing awkward tension. “Get this. He’s part of a collective of shady powerful individuals that uses black market items, real or fake, to keep tabs on all the major power players of the world--major corporations, terrorist cells, and--wait for it--intelligence agencies.” 

“Like the CIA,” Riley muttered. 

“Exactly. Someone in the group puts an item on the market just to see who comes running,” Matty explained. 

“So he thought he was pulling a fast one on a wealthy American, but…” Bozer trailed off. 

Mac delivered the final blow. “We were made the moment he saw Desi.” 

*****

This mission seemed to be one cursed piece of bad news after the next, Bozer thought. 

Petrov was going to out them as spies to the whole European criminal underworld, thus preventing them from ever doing field work again on the whole continent. They’d never be safe with Petrov’s bounty on their heads. 

If that wasn’t enough trouble, there was something weird going on with Mac and Riley. Post-Codex, Mac almost exclusively called her “Riles.” But, ever since their weird little whisper session, Mac abandoned the nickname. Bozer had no idea why. 

As if it were trying to spite him, the computer made an error noise. Bozer sarcastically imitated the sound. He didn’t feel any better. 

*****

Desi hated playing bait. She’d much rather be the one waiting in the shadows, swooping in just in the nick of time to save whoever got stuck as bait. But, noooooooo. Here she was, leaning against a wall, trying to look bored and sexy at the same time. 

It had been Bozer’s idea to have her wear the last of Riley’s dresses. This one was a skimpy, silver-sequined dress that latched onto her body like a leech. The neckline plunged below her breasts, and if it was any shorter, it’d be a shirt. It fit her well enough, except for the top. Riley’s boobs were bigger than hers, and it had taken some creative safety-pinning on Riley’s part to make the dress fit. 

To top it all off, there wasn’t a chance in hell she could hide a gun under that thing. 

“Sitting around waiting to get kidnapped, again. Best. Day. Ever.” Desi didn’t shy from making quips over comms while she waited. No one indulged her. 

Petrov’s steady, confident footsteps were her only warning before he rounded the corner. He spotted her instantly, eyes glimmering like he was starving and she was a cheeseburger on a sparkling silver platter. 

“I should’ve known better than to leave you unsupervised.” His voice was a promise of a thousand mistakes to be made. “Hello, darling. Miss me?” 

“I did until you drugged me and tied me up.” 

“I seem to recall you like being tied up.” 

She smiled but laced her words with venom. “Not that kind. Besides, I’d much rather tie you up instead.” Desi practically heard the words behind his smirk. Whatever you say, darling. 

She fought back memories bubbling to the surface as he dragged his gaze up and down her body. “That is quite the dress.” She snorted. He knew her well enough to know she would never wear a dress this ridiculous of her own free will. “I see you’ve gotten more tattoos since we last...met,” he said, innuendo dripping off the last word. His eyes traced the new designs on her arms and thighs before turning inquisitive, as if imagining what new tattoos there were in places he couldn’t see. She thought about making a snarky comment but decided against it. 

Viktor finally met her eyes again, and Desi remembered what drew her to him in the first place. His striking blue eyes were nothing like Mac’s. While Mac’s were bright and curious, Viktor’s were dark, intense, and captivating. In another time and place, she could’ve lost herself counting the green flecks in them. 

“Who are you waiting for?” he asked, likely knowing the answer already. “I assume you didn’t get all dressed up for nothing.” 

“You, actually.” 

“Is that so?” He definitely knew. 

“Yes. I’m waiting for you to give me an apology.” 

He stepped closer. “The verbal kind? Or the other kind?” 

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Desi asked dryly. She had no intention of ever getting in bed with him again, but damn he was distracting. 

 “Why? Are you seducible?” Viktor grazed his fingers up her arms, sending a shiver down her spine. He growled, “What kind of apology do you want, Desiree?” 

Desi put on a show of thinking through her options. “Both.” 

“Greedy. Your room or mine?” 

“Mine.” She had him now. Desi pushed off the wall and looped her pinky finger around his. He dutifully walked behind her, like a dog called to heel. She led him to the elevator and the trap waiting above. Okay, Riley, she thought. Your turn. 

Desi stopped at the room next door to the suite the team was using as home base and made sure Viktor was paying close attention as she slid the room key from her bra. His eyes glazed a bit, still a sucker for little things like that. Desi opened the door and waved him through. “After you.” She gave him a wicked smile, the first genuine one of their encounter. 

Not suspecting a thing--What an idiot, Desi thought--Viktor Petrov strolled into the room and found himself face to face with a scarily cold and calculating Riley, who, as far as he knew, was American businesswoman and heiress Danika Jackson. He quickly hid his surprise beneath a mask of neutrality. Lounging in a chair, Riley looked infinitely, gloriously bored. 

“I see you’ve met my bodyguard,” Riley said cooly. 

Viktor didn’t miss a beat. “Bodyguard, you say? Seems like a boring job for someone of your--” he glanced at Desi “--background.” Desi kept her face blank. He was Riley’s problem now. 

Riley began, “Mr. Petrov, as a successful businessman, I’m sure you already know that eventually, people like us outgrow the people around us. So, we must continually surround ourselves with the very best.” Riley looked him dead in the eye, cold and unfeeling. “There’s no point in carrying dead weight to the top.” She gestured to Desi. “She is far from dead weight. Besides, the private sector pays better.” Viktor didn’t notice, but Desi saw how Riley pressed her heels firmer into the floor, steeling herself for the conversation ahead. The little movement was the only sign of the Riley she knew beneath the icy exterior. 

Viktor looked a little uneasy, but he definitely wasn’t scared of the woman before him. But, by the time Riley was done with him, he would be. Riley’s eyes ignited, recognizing the challenge. 

“Now, about your little locket chip scam.” 

*****

Mac and Bozer didn’t know where this cold, calculating, and slightly insane Riley came from. They rarely got glimpses of the business side to Artemis37, but here she was, in the flesh. Mac watched the scene unfold on the computer screen, equally in awe and terrified of her. 

A woman to be feared. 

She made Matty the Hun look like a kitten. If she could see this, Matty would be proud of her. 

There was no sign of their Riley behind that cold stare. Her fingers drummed the arm of her chair. To his credit, Petrov didn’t cower. In fact, he was starting to look a little too comfortable, which was about to be a problem. 

Perhaps he needed a...demonstration. Something to make him squirm a little. 

Mac’s idea was a terrible one, and Riley would probably shoot him for it later, but it was still an idea, and Mac was pretty sure it would work. Even if he damned himself in the process. 

He just hoped she’d sincerely meant it when she said the surprise closet kiss was okay. 

“Stay here,” he said, walking to the door. 

Bozer made a face. “Okay?” Mac didn’t say anything else as the door clicked behind him. 

If Petrov was half as smart as Desi made him out to be, then he’d be monitoring footsteps in the hallway. He’d immediately know it was a set-up if Mac walked straight next door to the room Riley and Desi had Petrov cornered in. Mac forced himself to walk past the room--past Riley--to the stairwell on the opposite end of the hall, taking his time descending to three floors below. He could hear Riley’s half of the conversation over comms, but Petrov wasn’t close enough to either woman for their comms to pick up his voice. 

Mac fixated on the cold arrogance in Riley’s tone as he strode for the elevator. There wasn’t a shred of the woman he’d come to know and love in it, like she’d turned her emotions off as easily as flicking a light switch. He shivered. 

The elevator took its sweet time arriving, and in the meantime, Riley had some choice words about Pierre. The doors opened, revealing a middle-aged couple already inside. They scowled when they noticed he pressed the button for just three floors above. Mac flashed them an innocent smile. 

Mac stepped out of the elevator onto his floor, bracing himself for what he was about to do. He took heavier steps than normal, ensuring Petrov wouldn’t recognize the same pattern from before. Riley confided, once, that as a kid she would learn the pattern of people’s footsteps so she was never caught unaware. By footsteps alone, she knew who was walking down the hall--her mom, Elwood, even Jack. The variations in their gaits, she’d said, said a lot about their current state. For example, her dad’s steps normally were unhurried, but when Elwood’s walk turned heavy and prowling, it was her first warning to find somewhere to hide. And cover her ears. 

Mac’s heart snapped when Riley confessed she still did it, mostly out of habit. He swore right then and there that his kids--and hers, for that matter--would never need to learn that skill, for any reason. 

Mac swiped his key card and walked right in, ignoring Desi standing by the door in her disco ball dress. Petrov stood in the middle of the room, a healthy distance away from both women, with his hands in his pockets. He had the casual posture of a man who was used to being the most powerful person in a room. The man exuded wealth, from his perfectly tailored suit to his immaculate leather shoes. 

And then Mac saw Riley. 

The video feed he’d been watching didn’t do her justice. She lounged in an antique chair like it was her throne, the hotel suite her court. Her navy blue gown pooled at her feet, and her black acrylic nails gave the illusion of claws or talons drumming the armrests, not human fingers. 

Mac dragged his gaze higher. 

Her hair tumbled down her bare shoulders, no longer wild and windswept. No, this Riley was a far cry from the woman who’d cackled while speeding down foreign streets in a stolen Lamborghini convertible. This Riley was polished, cold, and looked like she was debating skinning Petrov alive. 

Her dark eyes, usually so full of laughter and compassion, held the vast, black emptiness of the space between stars. They were black holes, consuming everything in their path. 

She was otherworldly, predatory, and very, very sexy. 

Mac started to banish the thought from his brain, but he reconsidered. He was here to play the role of scandalous boyfriend, after all. 

He let every more-than-friendly thought he’d ever had about Riley turn his expression ravenous. Musings and memories of her flashed in his mind. The way her laugh warmed him from the inside out. The way she sat too close and furrowed her brow while she thoroughly beat him at any and every video game. The way her ass looked in one of the bazillion pairs of skin-tight jeans she owned. 

He didn’t care if she saw the truth in his eyes. Didn’t care if she read his feelings like a book. 

Some part of him wanted her to see the truth of it all, glimmering just underneath the fake-boyfriend façade. 

Mac wanted her to see how he never wanted to be with anyone else when shit hit the fan. How their middle-of-the-night fridge meetings were the only thing holding him together sometimes. How he was brimming with pride every time she improvised, whether in the field or at home. How one of her smiles made all coherent thoughts vanish from his head. How he’d wanted to ravish her the moment she dragged him into that damn closet. How--

Petrov cleared his throat. 

Mac blinked slowly and slid his gaze to the mob boss, feigning surprise. “Oh! I didn’t realize you had company. My apologies.” Riley’s eyes glittered like she knew just how not-sorry Mac was. 

He changed his mind. They weren’t just pools of darkness between stars. Those eyes contained the whole fucking universe. Black holes, galaxies, supernovas, and everything in between. 

He stalked toward her, trying to convey his plan with just his eyes. For a brief second, understanding flashed in her eyes before a cruel smile curled her lips--practically the first time all night they were on the same page. Mac revealed his relief for only a split second. He mouthed, Can I kiss you? Riley tilted her jaw, baring her neck to him. She didn’t need to utter a single word for him to understand. Make Petrov squirm, but don’t ruin my lipstick this time. 

It killed Mac to do this to her twice, but he didn’t have a better plan. He hadn’t touched her at all since the closet, as if that would ever make up for what he did. Now here he was, silently begging her to re-enact the closet scene. He didn’t know what that made him. A douchebag, most likely. 

Playing like this was like dangling their real feelings over a blazing inferno, hoping they didn’t do any irreversible damage. At least this time, Mac had Riley’s consent. If she said no, he would’ve found some other way to get under Petrov’s skin. 

Bracing his hands on Riley’s forearms, Mac pressed featherlight kisses to her neck. His thumb brushed a thin scar he didn’t know she had. Lingering traces of her perfume filled his nose, his lungs. He trailed his lips across her skin, searching for her pulse. Upon finding it, he pressed his lips firmly against her neck, reveling in the sensation of her blood roaring beneath his mouth. 

His blood roared alongside hers. This is just a game, he reminded himself. A power play to disarm Petrov. He nipped her skin, then soothed the small hurt with his tongue. Her breath hitched. Mac’s self-control hung by a thread. Riley was intoxicating, and getting drunk on her and losing his head would only land them in even more trouble. 

He pulled back. “I’m going to take a shower. Feel free to join me when you’re done here.” Mac winked. 

“If you want me against a wall, Damon, I’d much rather it be somewhere you can fuck me hard enough to make the paintings fall off.” 

Riley wore a mask of quiet, glittering amusement, but it was all Mac could do not to combust on the spot. He couldn’t believe she said that. He’d started this little game, and she always played to win, but...shit. 

This woman was going to bring him to his fucking knees. 

With as much bravado as he could muster, he replied, “We can do both.” Mac pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand before walking into the bathroom, closing the door, and taking the coldest shower of his life. 

*****

Petrov squirmed like a worm on a hook while he was forced to watch her and Mac’s little show. The way Mac had practically fucked her with his eyes made Riley want to squirm too. But, like, good squirming. Maybe even the kind that ended with her head thrown back and sheets clenched between her fingers. 

But, Danika Jackson didn’t squirm. Her heart didn’t feel like it was about to explode. She didn’t have to memorize every press of her man’s lips against her neck, because for her, this moment was real and would happen again. She needed to be Danika, who was calm and cunning, not Riley, whose heart was breaking, because this was just a game, and Mac meant none of it. 

That quick kiss on her hand nearly undid her. Petrov, thankfully, had been too busy staring at the floor to catch the cracks in her façade. She focused back on Petrov, pretending her heart wasn’t pounding and her brain wasn’t short circuiting. 

Riley stared at him, putting on a show of contemplating throwing him out right then and there so she could join Mac in the shower. It wasn’t hard. She was definitely thinking about it. 

Finally, she got back to the matter at hand. “As I was saying, I don’t appreciate you kidnapping my employee or trying to pull a fast one on someone clearly smarter than you.” She paused. “Why.” It was a command, not a question. 

Petrov glanced at Desi. “What has she told you about me?” He almost sounded nervous. A bit of Riley’s terror eased, but only a bit. You’ve got this, she reminded herself. 

“Everything. I know about the career that makes you happy, the career that pays the bills, and I know about your little black market spy collective, although I was surprised to learn your products aren’t as high quality as advertised.” Riley sneered. This was a gamble, she knew, showing her hand like this. She really hoped it paid off. 

Petrov snapped his head to Desi, looking vaguely horrified. “You knew about that?” Desi gave him a not-so-innocent shrug. 

Before he could say anything else, Riley continued. “Why is your collective watching me and my company, Mr. Petrov?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to another, clearly debating something in his head. “I wasn’t actually watching you at all,” he conceded. “I believe there is a mole in my operation, a spy.” 

Riley arched an eyebrow. “Interesting.” Behind him, Desi narrowed her eyes. 

“I made sure knowledge of the sale fell on select ears and waited to see which agency made an appearance. And sure enough, none other than my favorite spy shows up.” He smirked at Desi. 

“Ex-spy,” Riley corrected. “Although, I have been known to use her skills when I need information, or something done under the radar, if you catch my drift.” She knew what he was doing. Petrov made a calculated risk in revealing his potential mole problem. One slip-up on her part and he could easily connect the dots between his CIA mole and them. The best she could do now was convince him that she--and Desi--were just as shady and well-connected as him. “I assume you are responsible for the building being on lockdown?” 

“Can’t have my customers running away without paying, now can I?” She’d caught him off guard before, but he was back on his game now. Dammit. 

“Here’s the deal. You will call off your dogs and let us and everyone else leave the hotel, and in exchange I will return your locket and won’t expose you as a fraud.” He scoffed. “I am a woman of my word, Mr. Petrov.” 

“And if I don’t agree?” 

Her response was out of her mouth before Riley even knew what she was saying. “Then I will use my recording of this conversation to clone your voice and command your men to stand down myself before throwing your useless body out the window and taking bets on which direction your blood will spray when you splatter on the pavement.” Riley stared him down, swallowing her horror at her gruesome threat. She was pretty sure she was going to puke the second he was out of the room. 

“Very well,” he agreed, taken aback. Petrov cast a nervous glance in Desi’s direction. There was no pity in her smoldering eyes. None. 

Riley pulled the locket out of her bra and dangled it from her hand, waiting. Petrov took the hint and quickly made a phone call. “I have the locket. Stand down.” Satisfied, Riley handed him the locket in dismissal. 

She wasn’t going to say anything more, but the entitled way he raked his gaze up Desi’s body on his way out the door had Riley opening her mouth one more time, just to piss him off. “Good luck with your mole problem, Viktor.” 

The door shut, and seconds later a nod from Desi confirmed he’d walked down the hall and was out of earshot. 

Walking in on Mac be damned, Riley sprinted into the bathroom and hurled her guts into the toilet. 

[heartofether]

Bonus Episode #3 - Leave a Message TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

VAL

Hey there! Val here with a couple of special announcements before our third bonus episode. First off, our season two release date has been set and will soon be announced. Before then, however, we have an abundance of teasers and bonus content coming your way. Be sure to follow us on Twitter and Tumblr to keep up with all of our new releases.

Second, do you want to talk to other Heart of Ether fans, either about the show or whatever else your heart desires? We now have an official Discord server! We have automatic roles, specialized channels, daily quotes and question of the day, and in the future, we may use it to host special events. The invite link is on our socials and our Carrd, and we would love it if you joined us!

Last but certainly not least: we all like tea, right? What about podcast-themed tea? That’s right, you can now buy The Heart of Ether-themed tea with the help of Adagio Teas! (not sponsored, just using the service) A portion of the proceeds will go to The Trevor Project, which helps provide crisis intervention and suicide prevention for LGBTQ+ youth. The link to browse our tea collection will be in the description of this episode, or on our socials if you want to look there.

Right, I’m done with my rambling. Here’s another bonus fluff episode—and this time I at least 90% mean it! Talk to you soon!

AUTOMATED VOICE

Please state your message.

[THEME MUSIC PLAYS.]

[THE DIALOGUE THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE EPISODE IS SLIGHTLY MUFFLED, AS IF THEY ARE SPEAKING OVER THE PHONE.]

ROSE

Hi! This is Rosemary Quinn. Unfortunately, I’m not able to return your call right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Have a lovely day!

[PHONE BEEP.]

IRENE

Hey, it’s Irene. I just wanted to check and see when you’d be coming over? Text me and let me know if you have an estimate.

Oh, and my dad is going to the store, so I know you mentioned wanting to make brownies? Did you mean, like, from scratch or is just a box mix fine? ‘Cause I’m good with whatever. Just text me what you need, and I’ll ask him to pick it up. See you later! Bye!

[PHONE BEEP.]

IRENE

Hey. It’s Irene. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Thanks.

[PHONE BEEP.]

ROSE

Hi, Irene! I’m sorry to call, but you said you were having some issues with your texts, so I thought this would be a safer bet. Are you available after school today? If you don’t mind, I could really use some help with the chemistry homework. You seemed to at least kind of understand it, or maybe you were just pretending like the rest of us were. [SHE GIGGLES.]

I also just am not super fond of Mr. Morrison. Nobody is. I mean, I try to be nice to him, nicer than most other students, and I think he likes me for that. It doesn’t mean he’s actually willing to be helpful, though. I think he sees me as some sort of air-headed bimbo, which is both misogynistic and presumptuous. Olivia told me he might be retiring, though, so fingers crossed?

Anyways, would we be able to meet up and work on it together? I’ll buy you a coffee for your time. Just let me know! Oh, and no need to call me back, we’ll see each other at school most likely. I just thought I’d call and ask before I forgot. I’ll talk to you later, bye!

[TWO PHONE BEEPS.]

IRENE

Hey, are you still at the school? I try to have school spirit—sometimes—but events really aren’t my thing. Maddy seemed to be into it, though, so I figured you might still be hanging out with her.

Anyways, if you decide you’re done with it, I was thinking about going to Sonic and it’d be great if you tagged along? It’s not the same when I go by myself. I’ll pay, obviously, since I’m the one inviting you. Call me back if you’re interested, and we can work something out. Alright, bye.

[TWO PHONE BEEPS.]

[THERE IS THE SOUND OF DISTANT CONVERSATION AS ROSE TALKS]

ROSE

Hi there, Maddy just wanted me to tell you that when you get here, make sure you go through the back door so you don’t disturb her grandparents. They’re not in a great mood tonight. You’ll have to hop the fence, but if you need help, I can go down there. I’m excited to see you! Bye!

[TWO PHONE BEEPS.]

[THERE IS A SLIGHT BREEZE HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND.]

IRENE

Hey there, I just wanted to apologize for leaving in such a rush. It was just a lot, and I didn’t really, well. I honestly didn’t feel super welcome there? That’s not your fault, though. It was everyone else.

It just—I don’t want to sound rude, but it doesn’t feel like our “group” actually cares about me a lot? I mean, maybe it’s because of my interests, or because I don’t dress or act like stereotypical straight girls do. I’ve known them all since freshman year, but honestly? You’re the only one I’ve ever really clicked with.

They like you, though. Everyone does. I don’t mean that in a snarky or jealous way. Just in the way that…well, you’re Rosemary Quinn. Everyone wants to be your friend, I guess. You just have that aura.

[A BEAT, THEN, EMBARRASSED] God, I’m sorry, that’s such a weird thing to say. I’m really not good at this whole friends thing, huh? I’m surprised you’ve stuck around for this long. I called you to apologize—now for multiple things it appears—but also to tell you that if you’re looking for me, I went to the park. It’s like a five-minute walk from Maddy’s house, and I have my board with me, so that helped.

I’m sure you’re not looking for me. You’re probably having fun at Maddy’s birthday party. You texted me to ask if I was okay, though, so I guess that’s why I called. You always do. You’re the one person who’s consistently cared, who’s always checked in on me when my social anxiety kicks in and I decide to leave early. Is that how you are with everyone, or…?

Jeez, I’m sorry, I’m rambling. Just, sorry for running off, I’m at the park sitting on the swings if you need me. Bye.

[TWO PHONE BEEPS.]

IRENE

[SOMEWHAT DESPERATE] Hey, it’s Irene. Please call me back. I— [SHE HUFFS.] I really think we need to talk.

[TWO PHONE BEEPS.]

IRENE

[DEFEATED] This is my third time trying to call you. At this point, I’m pretty certain you’re actually ignoring me.

I’m not mad, Rose. I promise I’m not. It was—it was nice! I liked it. Really liked it, actually, um. But you ran off to go home before we could really talk about it, and now it really feels like you. Well. Like you didn’t mean to, and now you regret it.

[SHE GROANS.] I’m not saying that to guilt trip you. I mean, maybe I’ve got it completely wrong. Maybe you’re scared that I didn’t like it, which isn’t true. Which would mean that we’re just walking in circles around each other, worried about what the other thinks. It would be funny if I wasn’t so worried about you.

[A BEAT, THEN] Do you wanna know the truth, Rose? I’ll tell you.

[SOFTER] Do you remember when we were building snowmen back in December, outside of the school? You made one named—god, I don’t remember. Was it Queen of the Valley? Some sort of royalty. You always come up with such extravagant names for things, it’s…

Anyways, you said what would make it perfect is if it had a crown to wear. By some absolutely absurd coincidence, I had a paper crown in my locker. I had learned to make them during study hall when I got bored. The school was still open, so I ran back inside through the empty hallways to go grab it.

When I came back outside, you grinned, your cheeks rosy and your hair still a mess from the wind that had only just died down. You took the crown from me, and you looked me in the eyes, giggling. You said, “I could kiss you right now.” Then you ran to give her majesty the crown.

And I didn’t say it. Of course I didn’t. I was too scared of that feeling I felt. I felt so warm, even with a blizzard on the horizon, and that terrified me. I wanted you to kiss me, though. I wished so badly that you had, it physically ached.

I gazed at you there, as you placed the paper crown upon the Queen’s head, Maddy rolling her eyes, but still smiling. In the moment, though, I hardly processed she was even there. I didn’t even process the groundskeeper glaring at us, or the cars driving past as teachers left for the day. As I stared at you, it was like you were the only thing I had ever known, and all I remember thinking was, “This is what will destroy me. This will be my downfall.”

[A PAUSE, THEN, HOPEFUL] But maybe it doesn’t have to be. Because you did kiss me, in the end. I’m glad you did.

Call me back, please?

[TWO PHONE BEEPS.]

[THERE IS BACKGROUND NOISE HEARD AS ROSE STANDS OUTSIDE OF HER HOUSE.]

ROSE

[SINKING INTO DISAPPOINTMENT] Hi, Irene! Just, um…just making sure we’re still going to the dance together. I’m outside my house waiting. My mom’s starting to get pretty upset with me for not being gone already, and just uh…standing here like an idiot. Won’t let me come back inside, though, because she thinks that if I’m not out here, you’ll—actually, I won’t try to understand her reasoning. I haven’t been able to for the past sixteen years.

But, um…please let me know? I’ll be waiting. Goodbye.

[TWO PHONE BEEPS.]

[IRENE IS HEARD DESPERATELY TRYING TO GET HER SHOES ON AND GET OUT THE DOOR.]

IRENE

Rose, I am so, so, so sorry I’m late. I promise, I’m on my way, I’m literally—

[HER DAD CALLS OUT, MUFFLED BY THE DOOR, AND SHE CALLS BACK]

IRENE

Yeah, I’m coming!

[THEN, AS SHE'S HEARD RACING ACROSS THE CARPET] I don’t wear makeup very often and I kept messing up my eyeliner and by the time I looked at the clock—I’m sorry. I have no idea how I’m supposed to make this up to you, but I’ll be there as fast as I can, okay?

[MUTTERING, CURSING HERSELF AS SHE PACKS HER BAG] First dance I get with you and it’s the only one I’m late to. Of course it is.

[SHE'S HEARD WALKING OUT OF HER ROOM, THE DOOR OPENING.]

IRENE

Okay, I’m going outside now. I love you. See you soon.

[PHONE BEEP.]

[THIS TAKES PLACE SECONDS AFTER THE LAST ONE.]

IRENE

[SLOWLY] So. I just told you I love you. I didn't mean to, but if you feel that way, too, then great. If not, then just pretend it was a slip of the tongue and we can spend the rest of the night pretending it never happened! Yeah. Um. Yeah. See you soon.

[TWO PHONE BEEPS.]

[THERE IS AMBIANCE OF THE CAFE AND PASSERBYS AS ROSE TALKS.]

ROSE

Hi, I’m outside of the cafe now! I haven’t ordered yet, so we can go in together.

[A BEAT, THEN, SOFTER] I brought something for you. Early this morning, when dawn was just barely teasing the sky, I couldn’t fall back asleep. I have no idea why I woke up in the first place. Maybe my muscles knew something I didn’t. I decided to slip out through my bedroom window, though.

If my mom noticed, she hasn’t told me yet. She knew I was going out today, but I’m sure I’ll still come home to her sitting on the couch intently, giving me that look she always does. I don’t care. She can do whatever she wants.

I got on my bike and I rode out to the park—not the one we usually go to. This one is in the opposite direction. It’s much vaster, less playset and more nature. There were flowers that had just started blooming. I picked some with the gentlest hand I could manage. I wish I had thought to bring scissors, but I hope the flowers will forgive me for my carelessness.

I thought long and hard before picking each one, making sure the colors matched just right, that the sweet scent they produced was in perfect harmony. I tied them with a ribbon I had around my wrist, and sealed it with a kiss, just for you. It took me all morning.

[A BEAT, THEN, SHE GIGGLES] Oh, wait, I think I just saw you pull in. Okay, I’ll talk to you in a second—

[TWO PHONE BEEPS.]

IRENE

Hey. Just wanted to make sure you got home safe. I love you. Call me back when you hear this, okay?

[TWO PHONE BEEPS.]

ROSE

[LAUGHING] God, I must have just missed you. Yes, I got home safe. Thank you for checking, dear. Sir Griffin the Third says hello!

[TO SIR GRIFFIN THE THIRD] Hey, look, it’s Irene. Say hello!

[IRENE SHIFTS. SIR GRIFFIN THE THIRD IS HEARD PURRING. HE GIVES A SMALL MEOW.]

ROSE

[GIGGLING] I’ll talk to you later, I love you!

[TWO PHONE BEEPS.]

IRENE

[HER VOICE CRACKING] Hey, I just saw your texts about your mom. Are you okay? Do you need me to come pick you up? You’re more than welcome to spend the night at my place. My dad said you can stay as long as you need, so don’t worry about that, okay?

I wish I could do more to help. I wish I could make her stop. Have you told your aunts about some of the stuff she’s done? They sound like good people, from what you’ve told me. I know they live far away, but still, they might be able to do something.

Right, um, just let me know if you need me to come get you. I love you. Bye.

[PHONE BEEP.]

[THERE IS RUSTLING AS ROSE LOOKS THROUGH HER BAG.]

ROSE

Hi, I’m sorry to bother you. I just wanted to check, did I lose my bracelet at your house? I can’t find it anywhere. It’s the one you gave me, and I really, really don’t want to lose it. It’s like a good charm for me. Please text me if you find it. If not, it’s okay. It might just be somewhere I haven’t checked yet. Thank you, honey. I love you. Goodbye.

[TWO PHONE BEEPS.]

[THERE IS THE SOUND OF HER CAR ENGINE, ALONG WITH SOFT GUITAR PLAYING OVER THE SPEAKER.]

IRENE

Hey, I’m parked outside! It’s okay if you’re not done yet, I can wait. I know you like to take your time getting ready for dances, and it definitely pays off. You’re gonna look beautiful regardless, though, so just come out when you’re ready. Love you!

[TWO PHONE BEEPS.]

ROSE

[TIRED] Hi. I’m sorry to call you so late. To be frank, I didn’t expect you to pick up at all, but I know you’ll hear this in the morning. I hope you’re sleeping well, by the way. I— [SHE YAWNS.] I can’t sleep. That’s not unusual, but I’ve just been thinking a lot.

Do you remember when you fell in the creek? It was late autumn, and even though I pulled you out just seconds after, your teeth were already clattering. I wanted to cry, you looked so miserable, but you acted like it was hardly a big deal.

That one coffee shop was the closest warm building, so I had to take you there. One of the baristas brought out some towels for you, and even gave you a free hot coffee. I should visit them again one day, if they still work there. Maybe bring them a thank-you gift.

Anyways, I gave you my jacket, which you almost refused because you didn’t want me to be cold, but I honestly didn’t even notice it. Once we were almost certain you weren’t going to catch frostbite, we went back to your car and drove back to your house.

On the way there, while we were at a stoplight, you looked at me and said, “I’m just happy it wasn’t you.”

I laughed and said, “Well, it feels like I was in there with you. I got chills just looking at you.”

You said, “Is that how relationships work? We feel each other’s pain?”

And I said, “What happens when one of us dies, then? Will the other die, too?”

And you said, “I hope so. I can’t imagine life without you.”

“But what if you could just live your life for me?” I said. “If one of us dies early, the other should have to live double the life to make up for it.”

You hummed, and then said something I’ll never forget: “I may continue living, but that doesn’t mean I’ll like it. Life is so wonderful when you’re in the world.”

And I should have told you, then, that whatever wonder I bring is only because of you. Every time you smile, or say something stupid, or brush your hair out of your face, there’s a bit more color in the world. I think our colors bleed together, then. You are a universe in my hands and I love you more than both of our lifetimes could ever contain.

And I didn’t have the words to describe it all until right this moment. I couldn’t afford to forget.

So, I love you. In this life and the next. Goodnight, dear.

[TWO PHONE BEEPS.]

[IRENE'S DAD IS HEARD TALKING ON THE PHONE IN ANOTHER ROOM. ON THE MIC, IRENE IS HEARD QUIETLY CRYING. THERE ARE FOOTSTEPS OUT IN THE HALL. THE DOOR OPENS.]

DETECTIVE

[DISTANT] Ms. Gray, could I please speak to you?

[A PAUSE AS IRENE SOBS.]

IRENE

[QUIET, SHAKILY] Please pick up.

[PHONE BEEP.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today's quote is: “Foul smell of the things that we do to escape There is no glamour in this. No rock and roll. This is just endings. This is just grief.”

Kate Tempest in Hold Your Own, 2014.

[OUTRO MUSIC AND CREDITS PLAY.]

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Heart to Heart

Missing scene from the latest chapter of The Nanny Affair. My MC comforts Sofia after being publicly embarrassed by her father. I hated that scene, and I hate that Sofia is such a one dimensional character. 

Background MC (Luna Stafford) x Sam Dalton, but only if you tilt your head and squint.

Tags: @choices-lurker @paulfwesley @zodiacsign1 @thatysn @ermidc @badchoicesposts @senseofduties @canknot @drakewalker04

~v~

Luna can’t enjoy the fact that she’s drinking her salary in fancy champagne, enjoying a rooftop dinner with some of the richest people in the tri-state area. Any other day, this would be a dream come true, but in reality, she’s stuck in a nightmare.

For the past two hours, they’ve been forced to listen to Paolo make snide remarks on everything under the sun from her nannying skills to Sofia’s business acumen. Luna is not a fan of Paolo Russo. He seems like a miserable, stuffy old man whose only joy in life comes from whining and looking down on other people.

She casts a quick glance at Sam. The always poised and out together man looks as bored as she feels. His elbows are on the table, a finger lazily tracing the rim of his champagne flute. Gone are the manners and the fine dining etiquette that’s been drilled into him since infancy.

He looks up, sneaking a glance at her. An easy grin adorns his features as they lock eyes, and she quickly looks away, heat blooming on the apples of her cheeks. It’s rare that Sam is so unapologetic in his flirting with her, especially in the presence of his kids. 

The sound of a knife hitting the stem of a champagne flute is all it takes to pull Luna out of her thoughts. Paolo is standing at the head of the table, waiting on everyone to watch him with rapt attention.

He clears his throat obnoxiously, “Ahem. Thank you all for coming to congratulate my beautiful daughter and her future husband on their upcoming nuptials.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Luna sees Sofia sit up a bit straighter, eagerly awaiting the praise she’s sure her father is going to heap onto her.

“Sofia has been run ragged at Russo Industries for far too long,” Paolo continues. “Now she can finally fulfill her purpose to become a wife and mother. After all, a woman in a position of power in the business world is like an unstable explosive, especially around that time of the month.” The older man turns toward Sam, hoping to get a co-sign on his speech. “Right, Sam?”

Luna clenches her fist tightly underneath the table. She can’t believe the unmitigated fall that his man has. “Did he really just say that?”

Sam turns to her with a mournful expression. “Unfortunately.”

Luna isn’t the only one at the table embarrassed by Paolo’s speech. Sam’s mother Vivian leans over to her husband, whispering harshly. “Mason honey, I thought you talked to him about this.”

“I tried, but you know how it goes with Paolo.”

Luna balks at the scene unfolding in front of her. So they all just let Paolo get away with talking like this? It’s just talk, that they all chalk up to Paolo just being Paolo?

Paolo, the arrogant man, is far too caught up in his own spiel to notice that they’re all openly horrified. He just keeps going. “...A family disarms the bomb! That’s why it’s called a biological clock.”

Luna wants to scream. She wants to hit something. She wants to do anything else but listen to this man continue on with his horribly misinformed and misogynistic speech.

“Finally we’re getting to the good stuff.”

“I predict a Sofia meltdown in three...two…”

The countdown doesn’t have to finish as Sofia all but slams her champagne flute down on the table. The noise startles Luna and she flinches slightly.

“I’ve heard this speech before. I don’t need to hear it again.”

Sofia scrambles, attempting to gather her belongings. Luna notices that her hands are slightly trembling and her eyes are glossy, tears threatening to spill.

Before she can stop herself, she’s opening her mouth, “Actually Paolo, men and women have the same brains. Neurologists have been searching for differences for years, but nothing ever turns up. And this society makes girls lesser than men, which is a gross assumption that’s pushed by men like you.”

The admonishment causes a faint blush to appear at Paolo’s neck. “And what does that have to do with my daughter’s role at Russo Industries?”

Luna shrugs. “Even I can tell she would make a great CEO. In fact, I bet you’ve already seen gains under her management.”

“My daughter’s abilities aren’t in question. It’s a matter of right and wrong. Women belong at home. It’s why you became a nanny, right?”

“Paolo, you are way out of line,” Sam says, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically gruff tone. “I won’t have you speaking to Luna like that.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Luna sees Sofia rush off, heading back into the country club, not sticking around for any more of the conversation.

“It’s fine, Sam,” Luna says. The last thing she wants to do is cause a confrontation. It’d raise too many questions. Why is Sam so quick to defend the nanny and not his own fiancée? “This conversation is done anyway.”

Pushing her seat back, Luna throws her napkin on the table and gets up, leaving behind an awkwardly silent dinner party.

Sofia is a very fast walker, but Luna manages to keep a decent pace behind her, her platinum blonde hair making her an easy target to follow. The older woman heads to the restroom, angrily pushing open the door. Luna weaves through patrons of the club and various waiters carrying trays until she reaches the bathroom as well.

Luna is instantly swept up in just how fancy this restroom is. The lighting is dim, it smells like eucalyptus and mint, there’s soft music playing, and she’s pretty sure the faucets are made of real gold.

It isn’t until she hears a sniffle coming from one of the stalls that she is reminded of the reason she entered the restroom in the first place. Taking a peek under the stall, she sees Sofia’s signature Louboutin heels.

“Sofia, I know you’re in there.”

“Go away,” Sofia orders. Her tone doesn’t have its usual bite or chill. Luna frowns at how small she sounds. “I don’t need you here to coddle me.”

“I can’t do that. My conscience won’t let me leave a sad woman crying in the restroom alone.”

“I’m not crying!”

“Sure you’re not. But my point remains, I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

A minute ticks by and Luna is met with silence. Sofia is just as stubborn as she anticipated, maybe even more so.

She leans against the marble countertop, careful to not lean against any wet spots. “If anyone knows how you feel, it would be me.”

More silence.

“I’m a black woman in STEM,” Luna continues, not waiting for a response. “I don’t know what it’s like in the business world, but if I got a dime for every time a man, and sometimes other women, told me to not pursue chemistry, I’d probably be able to afford your shoes.”

“Really?”

Luna smiles to herself. Sofia actually responded to her! She’s making progress! “Really. I was told to focus on nursing or a social science, like sociology or anthropology by multiple teachers, classmates and counselors. Not saying there’s anything wrong with those fields, I think they’re great, but that wasn’t the path for me. I’ve always loved chemistry. I’ve had the periodic table memorized since I was in 3rd grade. Thankfully I have parents that support my passion, because everyone isn’t so lucky.”

Sofia scoffs. “Got that right. I got my BA from Yale, I graduated summa cum laude and I went to Wharton for grad school, but let my dad tell it, I simply wasted 6 years and half a million dollars in tuition costs. Those degrees mean nothing to him because he’s the stereotypical, conservative and traditional Italian man. I’m not the correct sex or gender for him. In a perfect world, I’d be the perfect song but instead, I’m his fussy daughter. I’m not supposed to do anything other than get pregnant and cook, and how dare I want anything else out of life.”

“I say this with the utmost respect, but your father is a sexist jerk,” Luna deadpans. “You can yell at me for saying it, but I don’t regret it. And I’m shocked Russo Industries is still standing because I can only imagine the HR complaints and harassment lawsuits against your father over the years.”

“There’s no need to apologize because it’s the truth. My father doesn’t respect me. He doesn’t respect women at all. My mother was never allowed to have an opinion, and mine isn’t all that valued either.”

“I thought taking the initiative and getting engaged to Sam would make him respect me,” Sofia adds. “I wanted to do this in order to prove to him that I’m worthy. I thought he’d see that I’m a go-getter, and I’m ambitious, and I want the Russo family to thrive, but he doesn’t care about the business aspect of the merger like I do. He’s just glad I found a rich husband.”

Another bout of silence falls between the two women, but this time it’s not as awkward as before. it’s almost peaceful. Luna still hears the occasional sniffle, but she doesn’t call any attention to it. Crying is too vulnerable for Sofia to be open about.

“Besides, I don’t know if things will even pan out the way I want them to,” Sofia says. “The boys aren’t that fond of me, and Sam is just so...cold. I’m trying to make this a decent transition, and I’m trying to find out where I fit in that family dynamic, but it’s not working. He didn’t want me around for his birthday, he doesn’t respect my opinion on how to raise Mickey and Mason. More times than not, it feels like he’s counting down the minutes until he has to be in my presence anymore.” The stall door opens up and Sofia steps out. Her eyes are bloodshot and her nose is red and raw. Luna averts her gaze quickly, not wanting to draw too much attention to it.

“I don’t even know if this is worth it anymore. I’m exhausted, and I’m trying to sustain a relationship all by myself. Sam can barely sustain a conversation with me, and my dad isn’t impressed, so what’s the point? What am I doing this all for?”

Luna frowns. Sofia has always seemed so...bold and intimidating, like nothing ever rattled her. But looking underneath the perfectly put together surface, Sofia is just a woman trying to fight and claw for every inch of success, despite the lack of a support system.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Luna says. “I think you’re smart, and I think you’d make an excellent CEO of Russo Industries. And I don’t think you need Sam at your side to do so.”

That shocks Sofia. Her eyebrows shoot up past her hairline at the compliment. “You really think so? You have that much faith in me?”

Luna doesn’t know if she’s giving Sofia this advice because she truly believes in it, or if a selfish part of her wants the other woman to leave Sam alone, so they can finally be together. Her stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought, full of guilt. Does this count as manipulation?

She swallows thickly, pushing down whatever guilt is trying to bubble to the surface and nods. “I do. You don’t need a man to be successful and fulfilled. You don’t need your dad’s approval. And you don’t need to feed into the bullshit cycle of misogyny that your dad perpetuates.”

Sofia walks over to the sink and turns the faucet. After she splashes cool water on her face, she turns back to Luna. “Thank you, I guess. No one has ever talked to my dad the way you did, especially not in defense of me. And thank you for coming in here.”

“You’re welcome. Even the rich and powerful Sofia Russos of the world need 5 minutes to vent and cry.”

“Never mention to anyone that you’ve seen me like this,” Sofia orders sharply. No one, especially people in New York high society, can know that the ice queen herself shows emotion. 

“What happens in the ladies’ room, stays in the ladies’ room. Scout’s honor.”

“Good.” Sofia sighs and straightens herself up. Luna watches the cool facade slip back into place as Sofia fixes her makeup and runs a brush through her hair. Sofia is back to being the poised, elegant woman everyone knows.

Once she’s done, she straightens out her clothes and heads to the door. Hesitating, Sofia lingers by the door. She turns back to Luna, her eyes softer than the younger woman has ever seen them. “You know what? Maybe I misjudged you. You aren’t as bad as I originally thought.”

A soft smile tugs on the corner of Luna’s mouth. “That’s high praise coming from you. I’ll take it.”

Without another word, Sofia sweeps out of the restroom, leaving Luna all alone, the sound of her heels clicking against the floors now an echo. With the presence of the other woman no longer stifling her, Luna lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding in.

She didn’t know what to expect coming in here to comfort Sofia, but now everything feels much more complicated.

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 6

“I’ve never ridden a horse before,” she tells Eileen, and the girl glances over at her. Makado thinks she can detect a little more life behind those dark, sullen eyes, and she offers up a faint smile.

“Yeah?” Eileen asks, and Makado nods, gives her a little shrug.

“Yes,” she says. “I guess - I guess in a way I was always too nervous to.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve seen horses,” Makado says. “They’re enormous. What if the horse you’re going to ride doesn’t like you? It could bite you, or kick you, or -“

Eileen is laughing. Well, maybe not laughing, but it’s definitely a giggle. Definitely a smile, at least. Makado will take it. “No, I’m serious,” she grins. “Horses freak me out! They’re so huge, and -“

“But they’re so gentle,” Eileen says. “The horse I liked to ride back at my grandfather’s place, his name is Dragster, and -“

Makado is laughing too hard for her to continue. “Dragster?” she manages to choke out. “The horse’s name was Dragster?”

“Hey, it’s a good name for a horse!”

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it. Tell me about Dragster, then. Would he like me?”

“Of course he would,” Eileen says. “He likes everybody.”

Makado makes a wry face. “I don’t know, there’s something about me that just rubs horses the wrong way.”

“I thought you said you’d never even seen a horse.”

“I imagine there’s something about me that would rub a horse the wrong way.”

“Have you ever even, like, been close to a horse, or -“

“Okay,” Makado confesses. “Maybe I haven’t. But even so -“

“Can you two quit it with all the horses?” Fitzroy groans. “Ever since Eileen woke up it’s been horses, horses, horses -“

Eileen gives him a scathing glower and Makado rolls her eyes at him. “Yes,” she agrees. “Because you’ve been such a great conversationalist.”

“Whatever,” Fitzroy grumbles. He mutters something under his breath and Makado feels a little spike of anger prick at her, but before she can say anything Eileen reaches over and kicks Fitzroy in the ankle. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For getting us into this in the first place, you shit,” she tells him. “If you hadn’t decided it’d be a fun idea to pick on - “

Makado feels incredibly weary all of a sudden. She lets the bickering fade into the background and instead reaches down, flips her radio to transmit.

“Peter?” Makado asks. She frowns and then pulls out her radio, checks the battery level and the connection. The battery’s fine but the connection screen shows her direct link with Peter was cut. She curses and then switches over to the general channel. “Makado to Peter,” she says. Fitzroy and Tyler look over, then away again.

“Makado to Peter,” she repeats. “Come in please, our link got severed.”

She takes her finger off the call button and waits. With a repeater down, reception will be spotty but at short distances like this Peter should still be able to hear her.

The seconds stretch like taffy. All that she can hear on the radio is squirrelly bursts of static, nothing like a voice or a call.

She can feel the kids’ eyes on her; the static isn’t exactly quiet or innocuous. She counts to ten, slowly in her head, and then at the end of the count clicks the radio off and slips it back into its holster, and then rises from her chair and runs through a quick full-body stretch. “Alright, Mak,” she mutters to herself, eyes flicking over at the kids, voice barely audible. “Hey, guys,” she says, forcing herself to sound bright and cheery. Just like a tour group, she tells herself.

They all look exhausted, Eileen most of all. She’s stopped clutching her wrist so tightly but Makado can see it in her eyes, she just wants to be home in bed and treating this like it was a bad dream.

Makado’s been worried about her. She wasn’t talking much, even when Fitzroy tried to engage her, and even though Makado had gone and sat next to her and Eileen had seemed like she’d been receptive, leaning over on Makado’s shoulder and falling asleep almost immediately while Makado had spoken quietly into the radio to Peter, she’d woken up soon after and gone and sat by herself, staring into space. Makado felt a twinge of dormant maternal instinct somewhere deep in her psyche, looking at the tall, lanky girl. She hadn’t had to take care of her little sister for years, but old habits die hard. She’d rolled her eyes at herself inwardly and then  went over and sat next to her and pestered her and got her to tell her all sorts of things, like how summer school was going (awful), how her mom was making her get a job at the movie theatre for pocket money (yuck) and how her lame-ass dad was taking them all camping in August before school started again (groan).

Makado had felt a little like she were sitting with someone dying of frostbite, trying to keep them from falling asleep, but Eileen had seemed to warm up after a while. She was a horse girl, clearly, and after Makado had found out what her favorite animal was there was a wealth of conversation to dig into.

Makado groans to herself and clears her throat.

“There’s been a change of plans,” she tells them. “I’m going to have to go out and help Peter with something and I’m going to need you all to stay here and sit tight.”

“You’re leaving?” Tyler asks. He looks so young and so scared. They’d been doing alright there in the shelter for a while, now that things had slowed down and the convulsions wracking the Pit had diminished, but Makado knew that that situation could change at the drop of a hat. No point telling them that, though.

“Yes,” she says, “but only for maybe ten, twenty minutes. I’ll be back as soon as I can, I’m not abandoning you. Promise.”

Fitzroy nods; Eileen doesn’t look like she cares one way or another. “What if something gets in?” Tyler asks.

“Nothing’s going to get in,” Makado assures them. “Look,” she says, pointing to the door to the elevator enclosure. “That’s solid. No window, sealed along the cracks. Nothing will be able to see you or smell you from outside.”

“What about the elevator shaft?”

“Those doors take a lot of strength to pry open,” she assures him. “And anything that’s going to be able to wriggle its way past the elevator stuck in the shaft up there is not going to be physically able to open them. It won’t be big or strong enough.”

Fitzroy gives her a blasé look. “Are you just telling us that to make us feel better?”

“No,” she says, giving him a dangerous look. “I’m serious. That elevator door isn’t going to budge. This exit door, take a chair and prop it under the handle once I’m gone if it’ll make you feel better. I’ll knock shave and a haircut when I get back, that way you’ll know it’s me.”

They all look at her with complete incomprehension in her eyes. “No?” she asks. “Shave and a haircut?”

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eileen murmurs. Makado makes a face at her.

“Thanks for making me feel old, guys.” She raps it out on the wall. “That. If someone knocks that on the door, let them in.”

“Oh.”

“See. You know what it is, you just didn’t know the name of it. Fitzroy, can I talk to you?”

“Yeah,” he says. Makado rolls her eyes.

“Over here, please.”

Acting like it’s a tremendous burden, Fitzroy gets up and saunters over to her. She leans in close to him. “Look,” she says. “We got off on the wrong foot. I was never going to charge you with anything, I told Peter to take you guys up to the surface and kick you out. We’re on the same side here. Okay?”

Fitzroy stares at her. He has acne scars on his temple and he smells like bodyspray slowly being consumed by several hours’ worth of sweat. His eyes, though, Makado notices, are wide and blue and concerned looking. He has honest eyes. She finds it somehow surprising. “Was that pool really acid?” he asks her softly.

“Yes. The bulb that ranger station is – was in -  that’s essentially a stomach. All that was acid. If Tyler had fallen in he probably would have died or at least been severely hurt.”

“And you aren’t going to charge us for that?”

“Fitzroy. Roy? Do you have a name you prefer?”

“I usually go by my middle name Robert.”

“Robert, you’re a kid. Kids do dumb shit. I’m not going to ruin your life over something where nobody got hurt.”

“But –“

“I’m not the bad guy,” she tells him. “I think after today you’ll probably have learned your lesson.”

“Okay,” he breathes. He looks like he feels a little better.

“I want you to take this,” she says, pulling out her emergency transponder.

“What is it?”

“It’s a rescue beacon, essentially. You break that seal there and then this will come off and there’ll be a button. If you press that, this thing will start screaming for help and somebody will get down here and help you. If me or Peter aren’t back within…let’s say forty-five minutes or so, turn that on.”

“Why not sooner? Or right now?”

Makado thinks about it for a moment. “Because everybody is very busy helping people who need it. Right now, we might be stuck down here, but I promise, I am going to get all of us out of here. Let them help other people first.”

“Okay,” he repeats. He puts his hand around the beacon and puts it into the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“Remember, twist it to break the seal and then press the button.”

“Easy,” he agrees.

“Yeah.” She squeezes his shoulder lightly. “You’re doing great. This will be over soon.”

“Really?”

“If everything works out, yeah. Now I really need to go. Remember to prop a chair against the door when I leave, alright?”

“Okay.”

And then Makado is running a hand through her curly brown hair, gathering it into a tight ponytail. She slips her helmet on and is out the door without giving the kids any time to doubt.

 * * *

 Even though Peter’s conscious mind is frozen, his instincts kick into overdrive as that giant hand descends on him. He snaps his leg out without even thinking about it and digs the cleats into the tender, vulnerable flesh at the heel of the copepod’s palm, and it makes a loud, angry chittering noise, its multifaceted mouthparts working furiously. Peter tries to pull his leg back in time but he can’t move quickly enough before its fingers snap shut around his ankle and it lifts him bodily from the ground and he dangles there, wiggling back and forth. The thing’s grip is tight and uncomfortable and he can feel his ankle bulge in its socket as its fingers squeeze, shifting lightly to get a better grip on him. Its other hand comes up and grabs at him but he twists and it plucks at thin air, then pulls back.

Makado’s voice has gone quiet; not even the faint hiss of static that undercut their conversations earlier is audible. The earpiece is still screwed tightly into his ear so that can’t be the problem, but the familiar weight of the radio in its side holster is no longer present. It must have fallen out when the copepod picked him up.

Peter has never seen a live abyssal copepod in person. He’s heard stories, of course – any ranger who’s worked the Flesh Pit has – but the copepods have an aura of myth around them despite being demonstrable, understandable creatures.

Nobody knows why they have hands. Even the scientists can’t figure it out; extraordinary evolutionary pressure, one of them had told Peter one time, when they’d ended up sitting at the same table in the cafeteria. The depths and challenges of the Pit forcing them to scrabble for any sort of generational advantage they could find. The older rangers and the miners, the ones who worked in the deepest areas of the Pit, where the copepods could usually be found, whispered of stranger explanations, though, but these were usually so outlandish that Peter found them easy to dismiss.

An entire three-day period of ranger training and orientation was dedicated to abyssal copepods. Everything else in the Pit could be put down with gunfire. True, some things like an amorphous shame or a shamble could take quite a bit of punishment, but if you shoot at a copepod there’s no guarantee it’ll do anything. Peter remembers watching the bits of video they’d played that first day, footage of copepod attacks on mining and exploratory trips deep into the Pit. He’d found it hard to believe the footage was real. The copepods had moved so quickly and had been so coordinated, popping up on one side of the dig site and causing a commotion as a distraction while three of them swept in from behind and snatched up four people, one of the copepods, the largest, carrying off two miners at once. The rangers there on the security detail had opened up on the copepods with the automatics they’d had but it had done nothing, the copepods had simply covered their vulnerable faces with their hands and let the bullets sink into their thick flesh or bounce off of their hardened, nacreous exoskeletons without any noticeable effect.

Earl, the grizzled ranger leading the class, had paused the video there and ushered them all outside, and they’d all walked down in a tight little group to the very middle of the Lower Visitor Center, right in the atrium, where, suspended from wires and perfectly preserved, was the only fully intact specimen of abyssal copepod that had ever been recovered from the depths of the Pit.

The thing had, Earl told them, crawled up the gullet, digging its hands into the flesh of the pit wall, leaving a trail of bloody pockmarks behind it like footprints. And then it had levered itself onto a ledge, a bony outcrop near the surface, where the sun had been shining, and it had laid there and died.

“Why?” someone asked, and Earl shrugged.

“We don’t know much about these things, about why they do the things they do. So I can’t tell you why exactly,” he drawled, “but I can tell you what I think. I think it knew it was fading. And it wanted to see the sun.”

The copepod plucks at him again with its free hand and again Peter twists out of the way. It keeps snatching its hand back after it misses, a telltale indicator that this copepod has run into rangers before. Maybe a miner with a taser, a ranger with an ESD gun, some experience in the past that let it know that humans can hurt it.

Electrical discharges tend to be the best way to deal with copepods. An ordinary taser, the kind the police use, won’t do more than tickle it, but every ranger station carries a rack of overpowered high-voltage tasers that would fry a human to a crisp but will knock out a copepod. Peter’s never had to use one, never fired one except for that day in training when they had to qual on them in order to pass. He’d hit five out of seven shots and that had been good enough. Hit a copepod with one of those, Earl had said, and that’ll put it on its ass long enough for you to take your knife and shove it right there, tapping the diagram of the copepod’s head between its eyes. “Its brain isn’t there, but a primary nerve is. Hit it just there, right in the center, dig the knife around in there, and you’ll paralyze it for the rest of its life, which will probably be about half an hour. Then just walk away.”

He made it sound extremely simple. Peter thought it was kind of sad, thinking about one of the enormous copepods, trapped there in its own body, unable to move, waiting for something to come by and eat it, or maybe for it to suffocate, unable to make its lungs breathe.

Peter reaches upwards to his hips and unsnaps his holster. The service pistol practically flings itself out and Peter fumbles with it for one heart-stopping moment before he gets a good grip on it. If he’d dropped it…

The copepod is drawing its arm back again for another swipe at him. Peter points the pistol at it, taking a moment to line up a shot at its head. The head is just as armored as the rest of its body, but the eyes aren’t, although that shot, hanging upside down in the thing’s grasp, would be one in a million.

The copepod’s eyes shift as he points the pistol at it and then it drops him. He lands heavily but scrambles to his feet as quick as he can. He sees the copepod cringe back, covering its head with one of its hands, the other blindly groping for him. He dodges a swipe and then turns tail and runs, his cleats digging into the floor of the trail and popping free with wet sucking sounds. It takes the copepod a moment to realize he’s booked it but once it does it screeches, sounding like a bucket of nails fed into a wood chipper, and takes off after him, pulling itself forwards on its powerful forearms, its frilled steering vanes beating uselessly against the fleshy ground.

 * * *

 Makado strides down the corridor boldly, one hand on the butt of her service pistol. She’s already sealed her helmet, just in case. No matter how hard she tries she can’t seem to get rid of the bubbling knot of trepidation, tensing in her stomach as she makes her way closer to the Organ Trail. A triocanth is one thing, nasty enough but easy to deal with, but an abyssal? Peter must have been mistaken.

But no, whispers a little voice in the back of her head. Wishful thinking isn’t going to save you.

She’s checked her pockets a dozen times on the way down but she doesn’t have anything that could properly deal with an abyssal copepod. The things are massive, cunning, angry tubes of pure rage, and if you were going to try to take one down without cheating and zapping it with an electro gun you’d have to use one of the big forty-mills they keep in the LVC for emergencies. Makado’s seen the plans, seen the contingencies, even though her clearance wasn’t high enough. She’d laughed at the time. ‘Organized assault by more than fifteen abyssal copepods?’ Give me a break.

Now, though, with the lights flickering and the floor throbbing to a sickly beat, she isn’t so sure.

Alright, Mak. Think. How are you going to take out an abyssal?

She still has no ideas five minutes later when she reaches the point in the corridor where Peter must have ran into that triocanth. There’s a great gout of bacterial fluid there on the grated floor, still wet and dripping, and huge spots of rust where it melted into the steel. She curls her lip; even though the closed-system suit prevents her from smelling it, she knows exactly what it would smell like, sulfurous rotten-egg stench mixed with a horribly biological rot-like odor, like week-old vomit.

There in the fleshy wall, she notices, is the slit that Peter must have seen the copepod reach from; it’s large, but it wouldn’t be large enough to let the copepod come all the way into the corridor without a great deal of squeezing and stretching. That must have been why all it did was reach out and grab the bacterium, she realizes.

For about the third time since she started her journey, she tries to call Peter again on the radio, but with even less hope of a response. Clearly something’s happened; she hopes it wasn’t the abyssal making off with him, but she forces herself to be realistic.

She reaches out to touch the rough-pink edge of the slit in the wall and notices her hand is shaking slightly. She makes a fist and then punches the side of the wall, hard as she can. Her  knuckles leave four little divots in the flesh that fade quickly.

“Alright,” she says out loud. “I’m going to go and I’m going to fuck up that abyssal cope –“

Her words catch in her throat as what she thought was a weirdly-shaped skin tag opens a set of six multifaceted eyes and looks at her. “Uh,” she starts, reaching down to her hip for her pistol, but the triocanth bursts out of the wall, propelled by its well-muscled, springlike tail, trailing slime and venterial lymph like a comet, and has wrapped its tentacles around her neck and constricted her arms to her sides with the rest of its wriggling body before she can even think.

 * * *

 The copepod roars behind him again and Peter ducks; another chunk of flesh with five puckered divots punched into it sails past him and slaps wetly into the wall of the corridor. Peter twists around. “Will you stop throwing shit at me?” he asks the copepod, which responds by digging its hands in again and lunging forward another seven or eight feet, but the sizable lead Peter’s amassed still puts him far ahead of the thing on the trail, close to the exit up to the Campground and the lower gastrointestinal zone. The thing pauses there and once again Peter reflects on the lumbering bulk of it, the banded plates and armor, the hands twitching with what he interprets as repressed rage. It’s getting tired, he guesses; at the start Peter was lucky to have gotten away from it before it was able to snatch him up again and disarm him but the thing was wary of his pistol, even though it wouldn’t really have been able to hurt it. He hasn’t shot at it yet, not wanting to have to, not wanting to reveal that the gun he holds loosely at his side isn’t an electrical stunner but just a puny .45 that wouldn’t hurt the thing if he didn’t nail it square in the face.

The copepod makes a fist and slams it on the floor repeatedly before it flexes and lurches itself another few feet forward. It’s such a human gesture that Peter pauses for a moment and watches it, watches the way its eyes glitter, locked on Peter’s, watches the way its sides heave with the vast gulping breaths it’s taking. He shakes his head eventually. “Fuck you,” he tells it, and then turns and jogs upwards, into the light.

 * * *

“Goddam,” Makado keeps muttering, trying to flex her arms and break the triocanth’s hold on her but it’s no use, the thing is basically all muscle, it’s much stronger than her. It seems to have figured out by now that it can’t bite through her faceplate, after a few minutes of slobbering over her and leaving scratch marks on the reinforced glass of the visor, its three serrated teeth flexing with the effort, and now instead has settled for trying to crush her. She’d only just managed to slip one of her hands up around her neck before its whiplike tentacles had laced over it, but the extra space her arm gave her was enough to let her continue to breathe.

The triocanth’s dull eyes, arranged in two tripled sets on either side of its face, regard her. “Goddam,” Makado repeats. She opens her holster and starts to take out her pistol but the thing’s tail won’t let her move far enough to get it all the way out. She makes a face, straining against the triocanth, and it shifts minutely, enough to let the pistol free.

The triocanth reels back and then strikes her in the face, leaving a smear of venom on her visor, as well as a hairline crack that she eyes with trepidation. She can feel her hands shaking as she angles the pistol up, rotating her wrist carefully. She can’t tell where it’s pointed, if it’ll hit the triocanth if she pulls the trigger. She thinks it will but she also doesn’t want to shoot herself.

It pulls back and batters itself into her helmet again and the glass shatters; Makado shuts her eyes just in time but she still feels several shards dig into the skin on her cheeks and her chin. She pulls the trigger.

 * * *

 When Peter hears the gunshots his head snaps up, away from the map readout on his wrist. “Mak,” he breathes. He’d slowed a little when he’d reached the well-lit corridors above the organ trail, following the map and taking a shortcut back to the elevator enclosure.

There are three different trails she could be down; he picks one at random and sprints down it, careening off the walls when he overbalances, when his cleats stick in the metal grates and don’t come up as quickly as they ought. He’s tired and out of breath but he makes it down to the end of the corridor and turns the corner and finds Makado, limp and prone, the triocanth still wrapped around her, its head inclined downwards and covering her face. “No,” he finds himself saying without any conscious bidding on his part. “No, no no no no no,” he says, pulling his pistol out of its holster and training it on the triocanth. He reaches down gingerly and takes ahold of the recessed groove on the rear part of its exoskeleton, expecting it to whip around and go after him, but the triocanth just lays still. Peter frowns.

“Pete?” Makado asks, and Peter almost falls to his knees he’s so relieved.

“Holy shit, Mak,” he says, putting his gun away and rolling the triocanth off her. He looks at her, laying there, smoke still rising from the barrel of her gun, shards of glass still dug into her face, and she smiles at him and it is truly the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“I came to get you,” she says breathlessly, sitting up, glass pouring from the inside of her helmet. She pops the quick release and it comes apart in two halves. She lets it clatter onto the floor. “I came to get you,” she repeats, “when your radio went dead.”

“I came to get you,” he tells her, “when I heard the gunshots. I thought you’d died, laying there, I…”

He trails off. Makado is bleeding from a cut on her chin and he watches as she picks a tiny shard of glass from her cheek, lets it tinkle to the floor and then through the grate and down onto the flesh below. He holds his wrist screen out to show her. “Look,” he says. “I have a map. I know the best way –“

Makado doesn’t look at the screen even once. When he leans in closer to show her, she leans into him, and then she reaches up and puts her hand in his short-cropped hair and then she kisses him, and her lips are warm and soft and her teeth nip at his lips lightly and her tongue darts into his mouth for only a moment, running along his teeth and gums before it’s gone, and the kiss feels like it lasts forever but it’s over in only a moment and when she pulls away from him Makado is smiling so hard her cheeks are starting to hurt and Peter is looking at her like he loves her and he opens his mouth to say something stupid so Makado leans in and kisses him again and this time he puts his arm around her and she still smells like peaches and her shoulders are soft and trembling slightly and he can feel her chest heaving as they press together and he can feel her breasts against him and he’s having trouble thinking.

And then there is a sliding, scraping noise behind them and Makado opens her eyes and speaks the words ‘holy shit’ directly into Peter’s mouth, and then she is scrambling away, tugging on Peter’s arm, for at the end of the hallway the copepod has just pulled itself into view and is sitting there, staring at them malevolently, tucking its arms in and trying to squeeze its bulk into the hallway proper.

“You weren’t kidding,” Makado breathes. Peter is only just now regaining proper brain functions and he keeps looking at Makado like he’d still like to keep kissing her even in spite of the copepod and Makado can’t help but smile at him and reach over and squeeze his hand very tight for just a moment. “We’ll do more of that later,” she promises.

The copepod reaches up and knots its fingers into the metal grille covering the ceiling and pulls itself another few feet into the hallway. Peter whips out his pistol and aims it at the copepod and again it sees and cowers back, covering its face. Makado whistles. “This one’s smart, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t shot it yet,” Peter says. “I don’t think it knows this is just a pistol.”

“I have an idea,” Makado says. The copepod rocks itself side to side a little. If it gets a couple feet forward it’ll have moved the largest bulging section of its exoskeleton into the hallway and it’ll be able to pull itself along freely, but for the moment it’s still stuck. Makado leans down and picks up the dead triocanth, grunting under its weight. “Help me with this fucking thing,” she says, and Peter takes it by the tail, trying to still keep the gun trained on the copepod, which is now peeking through its fingers at them, and between the two of them, Makado leading the way, they stagger closer to the copepod. After a moment it puts its hand down and watches them carefully, its arms retracting with their telltale pneumatic hissing noise, putting its hands on the inside of the corridor. “On three,” Makado says, “we toss this thing at the copepod.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

She counts to three, heaving the dead weight of the triocanth back and forth between them to build up momentum, and then they toss it. It sails through the air and lands just in front of the copepod, which looks at them and then at the triocanth. “Now back off,” Makado says to Peter from the corner of her mouth.

They take a few steps backwards; the copepod reaches out and prods the triocanth gently. A few more steps; the copepod takes the triocanth in both hands and, with a ripping noise like fabric tearing, twists off the triocanth’s head and starts to eat it.

Makado and Peter turn and break into a jog. “I can’t believe that worked,” Peter tells Makado.

“Me neither,” she says. “Be glad it did. You know how to get up?”

“Yes,” he nods. One of the old evacuation shafts, the ones they put in when they were concerned about acid overflow. We can climb up and seal it after us and that’ll put us into Bronchial.”

“Lead the way.”

It takes them ten minutes or so to make it back to the elevator enclosure. Makado raps shave and a haircut on the door and Fitzroy takes the chair down and opens the door and practically falls over with relief when he sees Makado and Peter. “Did you get worried?” Makado asks.

“Yeah,” he says. “There were these noises –“

“We can talk about it later,” Peter says. “Guys, we have to go right now.”

It takes a little bit to get Eileen moving; she’d fallen asleep again and it took a little effort to wake her, but they get the three teenagers up and ready to go, and then shuffle off down the hallway, Peter and Makado in the front, referring to the map as they go. It takes them down about half a mile of halls, including a few detours due to failed stents and, in one case, a truly enormous cloistropod protruding from the wall and making a low subsonic buzz that set Peter’s teeth on edge, but they make it to the access shaft. Makado swipes her card and it unlocks, and then they have to spin the wheel and unseal the door, which takes what feels like an agonizing amount of time.

The door opens with a foreboding hiss, and Makado clicks on her flashlight and peers up the shaft. “Alright kids,” she says, her voice echoing in the tight space, “who’s ready for a climb? There’ll –“

Before she can get any further, though, the Pit bucks beneath them and roars so loudly that they all clap their hands to their ears. Fitzroy falls to the ground and Eileen screams but although Peter sees her mouth move he can’t hear her. The shuddering intensifies and again he reaches out as best he can, his face screwed up against the noise, and gathers Fitzroy and Tyler to him and takes them down to the ground while Makado does the same with Eileen, and they all huddle there for the short eternity it feels it takes for the Pit to settle. Eventually it does, and the roar peters out into a low grumbling moan that trails on and on. Peter rises to his feet finally, bringing Tyler and Fitzroy up with him. “Jesus Christ,” he says.

Makado looks shaken. “What the hell is going on?” she asks, and then stops. She looks at Peter and he looks at Makado.

The grumbling in the background hasn’t stopped; in fact, it’s only intensified.

Makado turns. At the end of the hallway, far, far down, a torrent of sickly-looking liquid bursts around the corner and shoots towards them, and buffeted along with it, looking almost smug, is the copepod, its arms tucked against its sides, its frilled rudder-like legs churning the stomach acid as it jets forwards, riding the tide.

“Go!” Makado yells, and Peter pushes Tyler and Fitzroy ahead of him and they clamber up the ladder like the devil were chasing them. Peter goes up next, turning halfway, and sees Makado pulling Eileen into the shaft.

Just as Peter reaches the top and Tyler and Fitzroy pull him up, he hears a scream from below and he turns and stares downwards; the acid is slowly rising at the bottom of the shaft and Eileen has lagged behind. For a moment he thinks the acid has reached her, and then he sees the hand extending out of the acid, clenched around her leg, a pale, translucent hand three times the size of a human’s, and he realizes what he’s about to see. “Don’t watch,” he tells Tyler and Fitzroy, but they don’t move.

“Eileen!” Makado screams. “Hold on! I’ve got you!”

But Makado doesn’t have her. She can feel Eileen’s grip slipping even on the puckered surface of her non-slip gloves. Makado, greatly daring, wedges her feet between the rungs of the ladder and, twisting around, reaches down to grab ahold of Eileen’s other hand.

Eileen is crying, the tears are running down her cheeks, leaving streaks of mascara in their wake, but she stays silent, her eyes locked on Makado’s, even though Makado can see the copepod twist its arm and break the girl’s ankle like it were a matchstick. A shudder runs through her and her hand flies open and Makado watches her fall into the copepod’s grip even as the acid rises higher in the access shaft. She can see it reacting with a bubbling hiss as it hits the sebaceous residue left on the copepod’s exoskeleton, the waxy layer of secretions that allow the giant arthropod to slither through tight veins and arteries at high speeds, but only a small part of her mind recognizes this; the rest of her is too busy watching Eileen, up until the point that she hits the acid and the copepod catches her with its other hand and then it’s drawn her below the surface, tucking her up under its armpit like a parcel. It seems to glance up at Makado as she screams Eileen’s name again, and then it wriggles its body like an overgrown lobster and darts off into the rising effluvial muck below and is gone.

It is only because Peter reaches down and takes ahold of her around the waist that he prevents Makado from jumping down into the acid to try and chase down the copepod and make it give Eileen back to her, ignoring the fact that the acid would already be burning its way through her like wildfire, sloughing off her skin like shucking an ear of corn, ignoring the fact that the copepod had probably already started to eat her.

It takes the combined effort of Peter and Fitzroy to drag Makado up to safety, and it’s only when the three-inch-thick safety shutter seals off access to the Lower Gastrointestinal Zone that she stops screaming Eileen’s name and the tears come, and with her shoulders shaking and her hands trembling, she lets the tears fall on the acid-proof steel until she can cry no more.

Continue with Part 7

Back to Table of Contents

[this-is-what-makes-us-fandoms]

Is That My Shirt || Big Time Rush ||

Requested: Hey! Saw your prompt list and wanted to request 3,4,16 and 21 (doesn't need to be in this order) for Carlos Garcia from Big Time Rush, thank you have a good day!! 

3. “Make me.” 4. “Is that my shirt?” 16. “Just shut up and kiss me.” 21. “You knocked on my door at 1 in the morning, to cuddle?”

Pairing: Carlos Garcia x Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 1.4K

A/N: Finally got this done! It’s not the best but I hope you enjoy it. But I did have fun writing it, I really like the writing prompts. It was based off this prompt thingy, so if any of you want to request, go right ahead.

You were deep in sleep when you heard a loud banging coming from your front door. You groaned as it brought you out of your beautiful dream and sat up in bed. You rubbed your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up somewhat before climbing out of bed. You trudged out of your room and made your way to the door, opening it to see a sleepy Carlos.

“Carlos? It's one in the morning, what are you doing up?” You asked.

“Can we cuddle?” He asked sheepishly.

“You knocked on my door at 1 in the morning...to cuddle?” You questioned in disbelief. He nodded and gave you a small smile, you rolled your eyes and opened the door wider. “Get in here.”

You let him slip in, catching the wide smile he had on his face. It made one of your own appear as the two of you headed to your couch. You grabbed the remote and turned on the tv wanting some ambient noise in the background. You went over to Carlos, crawling into his warm embrace, his arms wrapping tightly around you. He buried his head into the crook of his neck, placing a light kiss on it making you giggle lightly at the ticklish feeling.

It didn’t take a genius to know that Carlos was feeling upset, and since it was the middle of the night, he probably had a bad dream. It was probably the same reoccurring dream where you leave him without a reason. It’s the same one he’s been having the past couple of days, all because the two of you hadn’t had time to spend together. With him busy recording his new album and you working on your new movie, spending time together was proving to be harder than expected.

“Same dream?” You asked.

He mumbled out a response and just snuggled deeper into you, making you sigh lightly. “You know, I’d never do that, right?”

“I know,” He said.

“Good, because I love you way too much to ever leave,” You told him.

“I know, I love you too,” He replied.

“Can we sleep now, it's one in the morning,” You asked.

You felt him nod against your neck, probably already falling back to sleep. You sighed softly and smiled gently, feeling yourself nodding off as well.

You felt a hand on your head, gently playing with your hair and waking you up. You gently opened your eyes adjusting to the light that shone through your window. You felt something warm against you, strong arms wrapped protectively around you. You looked up and saw Carlos looking down at you, a soft, gentle smile on his face. It made your heart do a flip and you leaned up to kiss him.

“Morning,” He said once you pulled away.

“Good morning,” You replied. “Sleep well?”

“Much better now that I’m with you,” He told you.

“Oh good! And I do believe we both have the day off today.”

“Yeah, and I intend to spend it cuddling all day with you.”

You laughed lightly at his comment and shook your head. “Sure, but after breakfast.”

You broke away from his embrace and got up, earning a whine from him. You playfully rolled your eyes as you walked towards the bathroom. First things first, brush your teeth and wash your face then you can make breakfast. You finished up quickly before making your way to your kitchen, Carlos was still laying on the couch.

“So? Pancakes for breakfast?” You asked, watching him perk up. “Okay, pancakes it is, but you have to help.”

Immediately he jumped off the couch and joined you in the kitchen. You were already starting on the batter when he joined you, watching you mix the ingredients together. He noticed something about you, what you were wearing more specifically.

“Hey... Is that my shirt?” He asked.

You looked down, you were indeed wearing one of Carlos’s shirts. “And if it is?”

“Wait, that’s my favorite shirt. How’d you get that?”

“I may or may not have stolen it the last time I was over.”

“Oh yeah? Well I want it back.”

“You want it back? And how, my dear Carlos, will you be getting this shirt back?”

“Uh, I’m gonna ask politely and you’re gonna give it back.”

“Oh am I? Nah, don’t think so, I’ve grown quite used to this shirt. In fact, it's one of my favorites. So, if you want me to give it back, make me.”

There was an evil glint in his eyes that instantly made you regret your words. Before you could react, his hands were at your sides, fingers running up and down your side. You shrieked loudly and tried to break away but you were stuck between him and the counter. Your loud shrieks and laughter filled the air as he continued his attack.

“St-Stop!” You shouted, trying to push him off but failing.

“Are you gonna give me my shirt back?” He asked, not stopping in the slightest.

You shook your head, finding it difficult to say the words out loud. There was a good reason why you didn’t want to give up the shirt. You knew it was Carlos’s favorite because of how often he wore it, so it was the one that smelled the most like him. You took it for that very reason, because it smelled like him and therefore, you’d always have a part of him with you.

Especially since the two of you had such hectic work schedules, there were days when you would go days without seeing each other. On those days you’d put on his shirt and pretend he was there with you. It made it easier when you were really missing him, although you’d prefer the real deal. But this worked as a second-best option.

“Okay, okay! You win!” You squealed out.

“Are you gonna give it back?” He asked.

“Yes! Yes!” You yelled out.

His fingers stopped but still stayed planted on your side, Carlos wore a huge grin on his face. You rolled your eyes at him and huffed, trying to catch your breath. You shot him a soft glare but it did nothing to wipe his grin off, instead it grew.

“That was mean,” You pouted, crossing your arms.

“Sorry bubba, but you brought it on yourself. Why are you so reluctant to give up my shirt? I have better ones you can wear,” He replied.

“Because... it smells like you,” You muttered.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” He said.

“I said it smells like you so when I wear it, it feels like you’re here and I don’t get so lonely. Especially as of late, with you working on your new album and me my new movie. Its gotten really lonely so I wear it and pretend you’re here,” You explained, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Bubba, you could’ve told me. I would’ve tried harder to see you, or given you more shirts.”

“I know but you’re working so hard on your album I didn’t want to bother. And with my movie, it feels like I hardly ever have time for anything. So I thought if I just wait it out, I’ll be fine. Turns out, being without you is a lot harder than I thought it’d be.”

"I know exactly what you mean, but at least we have each other today. And our album is just about wrapping so I’ll be able to see you more.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right. You can have your shirt back then.”

You uncrossed your arms and wrapped them around Carlos’s torso, resting your head on his chest. “Nah you can keep it; it looks better on you anyway.” He said, making you laugh.

“Okay, thanks,” You replied.

“Although I will say this. You look good in my shirt but I think it’ll look better on the floor,” You looked up at him, catching that suggestive smile he was giving you.

You laughed again and shook your head. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

[afternoonteawithme]

Messy Crayon Wishes

(Read it on AO3)

As Levi started up the path towards the creaky old two-story home that held Eren’s daycare, he was glad to see the kid didn’t seem to be showing any signs of distress. Sitting on the porch swing beside his favorite teacher, he looked animated as ever, with his mittened hands waving through the air while he chattered away at Petra.

When her patiently amused gaze shifted up to meet Levi’s, Eren’s head whipped around.

“Levi!” Eren’s face lit up. Scooting forward, he slid off the bench and started running.

The brat hadn’t bothered to put his shoes on again.  

With the ease of long experience, Levi moved quickly to catch the kid before he threw himself off the porch.

Lifting Eren up onto his hip, Levi glanced up at Petra as she stood on the top step, her arms wrapped around herself against the cold.

“Are we all set?”

She nodded. “Yes, Mikasa called and let us know you’d be the one coming for him.” As Eren’s adoptive sister’s biological cousin, Levi wasn’t legally related to him, so even though everyone at the daycare knew their situation they all had to observe the formalities.

“Good.” He looked down at the kid. “You ready?”

Eren threw his hands up in the air as he beamed up at Levi. “Let’s go!”

Levi raised a brow. “Uh-huh. What about your boots?”

Eren’s mouth formed an ‘o’ of surprise as he stuck out a foot and stared at his bright blue sock.

“Oops.” He looked back up, and as the surprise slid away, the look that replaced it told Levi exactly what he was planning on saying next. “Shi-“

Levi’s finger under his chin cut him off.

The brat grinned up at him. “Shoot!”

“Right.” Shaking his head, Levi leaned forward to set Eren back down on the porch. “Go put on your boots.”

“Okay.” The kid scampered back inside, and Levi looked up at Petra.

She had a hand over her mouth, but he could still see the smile on her face.

“He’d better not be doing that all the time.”

She shook her head. “No. Only when you’re around.” She laughed. “But I think he might have overheard Zoe today when they dropped a jar of paint. I saw him mouthing something to himself afterwards, so I’m pretty sure he was memorizing some new words to try out.”

“Great.” Levi huffed out a breath. “I’ll avoid taking him anyplace with too many people for a while.”

“Sorry.”

Levi shook his head. “He’ll forget it all soon enough.” In any case, both he and Mikasa slipped enough that he was surprised the kid didn’t swear more. “And thank you for keeping him so late this afternoon, Mikasa told me you were supposed to shut early today.”

“It’s okay. He’s a fun kid.”

“He is that.”

“Um, by the way. About tonight.” Petra tightened her arms around herself. “I guess you won’t be able to make it, after all?”

Levi blinked. “Why not? I told Mikasa I’d already promised to do something this evening so I could only look after him for a little while. You said you needed help at your new place, right?”

Her eyes searched his face for a moment, before shifting to the side. “Well actually, I have a thing tonight. So I can’t.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah. A thing. With my parents. Christmas Eve and all.” She laughed, though it sounded a little odd. “I’d forgotten all about it.”

“I thought your parents were driving back into town tomorrow afternoon?”

Her eyes flashed back to his, and she looked surprised, for some reason. She huffed out a laugh. This one didn’t sound quite so forced. “I got it mixed up.”

She sighed, and glanced back at the still closed front door before moving down to the bottom step, only a foot away from Levi. “Eren was acting a little strange this morning, so I called his house to find out if he’d had one of his fevers, and Mr. Yeager-” She cut herself off as Eren came stomping back out with boots on.

“Ready!”

“Got everything?”  Levi leaned down to pick him up and settle him back on his hip.

“Yep.”

Levi looked up at Petra. She’d backed up a step and was shifting uncomfortably. “Mr. Yeager sounded…unwell.” Glancing down at Eren, she bit her lip. “And a little upset. So when he didn’t show to pick up Eren when he was supposed to I… and Mikasa told me she’s on the long shift today. I just was thinking it’d be better if Eren had another place to stay tonight.”

“Got it.” Levi felt the small arms tighten around his neck, and a wave of familiar anger ran through his gut. Petra was saying – as delicately as possible – that the bastard had sounded drunk, and violent with it. She had no way of knowing that Eren was well aware of all the euphemisms for his father’s particular illness. “Then it’s lucky your parents are in town this evening, after all. Let me know If you still need help with the heavy lifting. Or I can come over one afternoon and get it done while you’re at work, if that’s easier.”

“Sure, Levi.” She smiled softly, even as she retreated backwards, up another stair. “See you around.”

 --

 “You idiot. That had nothing to do with ‘heavy lifting’. She’s been trying to seduce you.”

“That’s impossible, Mikasa.” Levi glanced in the rearview mirror. Eren was staring out the window, his lips moving and his feet bopping along to whatever music was coming out of the headphones Levi had jammed over his head before they’d set out. “She just needed help moving some stuff, that’s all.”

Mikasa snorted, the sound clear and disdainful as it poured out of Levi’s phone on the dash of his car. “It’s Christmas Eve, moron. She pretended her parents were out of town. She moved into her new place months ago and now all of a sudden she has all these still packed boxes she needs help moving? Petra? I don’t think so.”

“It’s not like that. She said she just needed some help with the last few boxes, and then she wanted someone to test the dinner she was making for her parents for tomorrow, since she’d never made it before.”

“Yeah, and then she’d probably pull out a bottle of wine and be all like ‘Oh you’ve helped me so much, let me treat you to a glass as a thank you.’” Mikasa’s voice lilted in a bad imitation of Petra. “And then she’d say ‘why don’t we just finish this bottle?’, and then she’d strip herself naked and drag you off to bed for a fun night of Christmas sex.”

Levi shot a glance back at Eren, relieved to find him still staring out the window. The distraction wouldn’t last, he knew, but at least he wouldn’t have to explain that particular word just yet. “Petra isn’t interested in me like that.”  

“Uh-huh. This is the woman who ‘tripped’ over nothing and landed in your lap at last month’s reading night at the library?”

“That was an accident.”

“Right. And that time you went over to fix her leaky pipe that turned out to be nothing, did she or did she not call you into her bedroom to help her zip up her dress, said dress being almost completely nonexistent and her wearing nothing but skimpy undies underneath?”

“It wasn’t underwear, it was some sort of lace slip thing. And the zipper really was stuck.” Levi ignored the sound Mikasa made as he continued, “I think I’d know if she was trying for me.”

“Yeah, sure. For a smart guy you’re a real idiot when it comes to shi- to stuff like that.”

“You’re not exactly great at reading signals, either.”

“And that’s just one of the many reasons both of us are single on Christmas Eve.” Mikasa sighed, and Levi heard a burst of noise in the background. She’d be in the nurse’s breakroom, he knew, taking what escape she could from the madness that was a hospital during the holidays. “The poor girl has been trying to get in your pants for forever, and you just keep blowing her off. She’ll start taking it personally soon.”

Levi thought of the look on Petra’s face, just before he’d walked away. He shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. “Maybe.”  

“Still, she’s a good person. Giving up her hot date so you can be with Eren. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.” Mikasa paused, sighed again. “It’s flu season, so not only are all the wards full, but we’re shorthanded too.”

“Its fine. I don’t have any shifts for a couple days, and no classes until after New Years.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Will your dad cause trouble if we keep Eren away from home for a bit?”  

“Not my dad. Grisha.” Mikasa corrected absently, as she always did. She was quiet for a long moment, and Levi heard the noise amp up as a door opened in the background again. “Is the nosy one occupied?”

“Now you ask? If he starts asking me what Christmas sex is, I’m telling him to ask you.” But Levi glanced in rearview mirror to double check. “Yeah, for now.”

“I went by the house, when Dad didn’t pick up Eren, just to make sure he hadn’t keeled over. No such luck, but he’d trashed the tree, ripped all the decorations off the walls all over the house. Took the cupcakes some nice neighbor dropped off and smashed them on the kitchen floor. I asked him what I was supposed to tell Eren. He said he didn’t give a fuc- a fudge, it’s his house, his tree, his kid, he pays the dam- darned bills. Blah blah blah.”

As always, she didn’t seem to notice she’d called her adoptive father ‘Dad’. And, as always, Levi didn’t mention it. “Being his usual wonderful drunk self, then.”

“Yeah. I told him to go fudge himself, and that Eren was staying at a friend’s house for a few days. Didn’t mention you by name, of course, since he hates your guts.”

“Break someone’s nose once and they never let it go. Did he trash Eren’s presents too?”

“No, I kept those hidden in the trunk of my car, since the nosy one gets more nosy by the day. I’ll bring them over after my shift finishes. Supposed to be nine, so way things are going I figure I’ll see you maybe by eleven.”

“Ok. Tomorrow it is, then.”

“Hah-hah. Man, I hope not.”

Even as Levi hung up, he saw something bright and orange out of the corner of his eye. Almost as soon as he realized what it was he was pulling the car into a tight u-turn and parking at the side of the road. He opened the back door to find Eren scowling up at him, the headphones in his hands.

“Why’d we stop?” He stretched in the carseat, looking around the outside of the car warily. “This isn’t your house.”

“It’s a surprise.” Levi eyed Eren’s bare feet. He’d managed to pull his shoes off again, and this time his socks had disappeared too. “But you have to wear your boots to find out.”

Eren puffed out his cheeks, eying Levi suspiciously. “Do I really have to?”

Levi nodded. “But if you don’t want to know what the surprise is, you can just stay like this and we’ll go home.” He moved back, as if to close the door again.

Eren let out a long-suffering sigh. “It better be a good surprise.”

“Promise.”

Socks, boots, coat, scarf, hat, and favorite backpack finally back on, they walked hand in hand down the street and into a small Christmas tree lot, surrounded by orange plastic fencing laced through with strings of lights, glowing dimly in the winter sunlight.

Eren glanced around the almost empty enclosure, clearly not understanding why they were there.

Levi squeezed his hand. “Okay, Eren. Let’s pick one.”

“Pick one?”

“Right. Pick a tree. This will be our tree. Yours, Mikasa’s, and mine.”

Eren’s tiny hand squeezed Levi’s fingers as he stared up at him, his wide eyes fastening onto Levi’s face. “Ours?”

“Yeah.”

“Only ours?”

“Right. We’ll put it up and decorate it so Mikasa can see when she comes over.”

Eren hesitated, and moved in a little closer to Levi’s leg before asking, in a much quieter, softer voice, “Is Dad coming over, too?”

The look on his face almost broke Levi’s heart. “Not this time, kid. It’ll just be the three of us.”

“Alright.” Eren nodded slowly, and then smiled up at Levi. “Then we have to pick out the very, very best tree, okay?”

“It’s a deal.”

 --

 One huge tree and one relatively inexpensive trip to the store later – it was already Christmas Eve, after all, and almost everything tree related was on sale – they finally had the thing up in Levi’s apartment. It was so big that the top branches bent over against the ceiling.

Dancing with excitement, Eren darted around the tree, directing Levi as they hung the baubles they’d picked up.

“Here?”

“No, higher!”

“Are you sure? We have a lot of empty space in the middle now.”

“It needs to go high up.”

“Okay then.” Since Eren could only reach about halfway up, and since he’d insisted Levi hang all his decorations near the top, there was a good two feet almost entirely empty of decorations in the middle.

But hey, at least the kid was happy.  

“When will Mikasa be here?” Eren asked, for possibly the millionth time.

“Your sister is coming late tonight, after you go to bed. You’ll see her in the morning.”

“But what time after I go to bed?”

“What does it matter? You’ll be asleep.”

Eren stopped dancing around long enough to scowl up at Levi. “Just answer the question, will you?”

Levi felt his lip twitch, and quickly turned his face away so Eren wouldn’t see his smile. It was always best not to encourage the brat. “She said work might keep her late, so she wasn’t sure.”

“She’ll be here before midnight, right?”  

“She’ll try.”  

“Okay.” Eren nodded to himself, evidently satisfied, and stood on tiptoe to hang a sparkly bauble on the lower half of the tree.

 --

 Long after Eren had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the tree, Levi poured boiling water into two mugs as Mikasa hitched herself up onto the counter beside him.

He shot her a look. “That’s for food. You’re not food. Get off.”

“Don’t be so fussy. You’ll hose it down before you cook anything on it, anyway.”

“That doesn’t mean I want your ass on there in the meantime.” But the shadows under Mikasa’s eyes were deep enough that Levi let it go, mostly. He pulled out a bottle of bleach wipes and pointedly set it next to her hip. “Wipe it off when you get down. Thoroughly.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’re such a clean freak.”

“And you’re such a heathen.” Levi lifted the tea bag from her cup, strained it.

“And proud of it.” Mikasa rested her head back against the cabinet behind her and smiled ruefully at Levi. “Who would believe we’re actually related?”

“It’s a mystery.” Handing Mikasa one of the mugs, Levi took his own, leaning back against the oven as he studied her. She really did look tired. And there was something else in her eyes. Something sad.

It made him want to break something.

He’d tracked her down mainly out of curiosity, but it had taken less than an hour of her prickly company for him to realize he actually liked her. It hadn’t taken him much longer than that to realize she wasn’t happy. Over the years she’d become his family, and since he’d do anything for his family, he’d rearranged his life to try and make hers a little better.

And then her baby brother had wrapped his sticky little fingers around Levi’s heart, and the family had grown by one more.

“It must have been a bad scene, when you went back home today.”

“No worse than usual. I just thought- Dad hadn’t been this drunk in a while. I was starting to think maybe something had changed.”

“It won’t be that simple.”

“I know it.” She stared down at the steam rising out of her cup. “I just- I had to leave for work early this morning. Mr. Arlert called me and said Eren was waiting outside the house, by the street, when he came by with Armin to pick him up for the daycare carpool. He wondered why we’d let him outside on his own. He said Eren was a little quiet, nothing too alarming, but just- quiet.”

She lifted her gaze back up to meet Levi’s, and he saw there was guilt mixed in, too. “I think Dad must have done at least some of the house trashing while Eren was home. And from the garbage he spewed out when I was there, he maybe said something to him too.”  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just not sure we’re doing the right thing.”

“This isn’t forever. When we have the resources saved up, you’ll file for custody.”

“And in the meantime?”

“Eren’ll be okay for now. He’s got us.”

“He does. He always will” Her chin jutted up, and Levi was relieved to see heat start to replace the complicated mix of emotions in her eyes.

“See? It’s just a matter of time.”

She blinked, and then cocked her head at him. “You’re pretty smart for such a stupid guy, aren’t you?”

Levi paused, mug halfway to his lips. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You and Petra, huh?”  

“There is no me and Petra.”

She lifted the cup he’d handed her, took her first delicate sip. “She wants there to be.”

“So you say.”

“Come on, Levi, I was mostly kidding about the stupid. Even if you are signal-blind, you have to have figured it out, now that I said something, right?”

Scowling down into his tea, Levi shrugged. “Maybe. So what? It wouldn’t work, anyway.”

“Not with that attitude it won’t.”

“I’m not interested in a relationship right now.”

“Why?”

“It’d just get complicated. There’s too much going on.”

Mikasa studied Levi for a long minute, and then shifted her eyes away as she took another sip from her cup. “Bet you wish you’d never tracked me down now, huh?”

Levi stretched a leg out, kicked at Mikasa’s foot. “Knock it off, Mikasa. I don’t regret finding you, or Eren, and I never will.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “That’s so sappy. I think I’m gonna vomit.”

“Not in here you won’t.”

She laughed, and he knew she’d gotten over the worst of the sadness. “We’ll keep him here as long as possible. Dad’ll sober up, remember he’s supposed to be a father. I’ll have to bring him home.”

“And then when your dad gets drunk again we’ll-”  

“Not my dad.” She interrupted him.

“Sorry. Grisha. When he gets drunk again we’ll-”

“Which hopefully won’t be for a while.”

“When it does,” Levi continued on, “We’ll step in. Bring him back here for a while.” He considered for a long second, remembering that afternoon. “I think by next year I’ll have to find an apartment with taller ceilings for the tree he’ll insist on. I had a hard time talking him into this one.”

Mikasa grinned at him. “He’s a great kid.”

“Levi?” Eren’s voice made them both turn towards the door of the kitchen. Scrubbing at his eyes, hair stuck up all over his head, Eren wandered in. His eyes landed on his sister and he brightened. “Mikasa!”  

“Hey kid.” She slid off the counter and moved to scrub at his hair, turning it into even more of a mess.

He ducked away, grabbing her hand and tugging urgently at it until she crouched in front of him. He side-eyed Levi as he whispered loudly into her ear, “Did you bring it?”

“Bring what?”

“The thing. You know.”

Clearly playing with him, she tapped a finger on her lips and looked up at the ceiling. “What thing would that be?”

“Mikasa.”

She grinned at him. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“I am, but, Mikasa.” He was almost dancing in place from impatience.

She kissed his cheek with a loud smooch, making him giggle, then turned him to face the living room. “It’s in my purse, by the door. Don’t look in the other bag, oh nosy one.”

With another giggle, Eren ran out of the room.

Mikasa shot Levi a look as she stood. “I bet you’re gonna cry.”

“I am not.”

She picked her tea back up, took a slow sip. “Bet.”

Eren dashed back in and handed Levi a brown envelope.

Slowly, Levi ripped it open. There was a sheet of paper inside, folded in half. When he opened it, he found a hand drawn message, written in messy crayon over neat pencil lines.

To Levi. Happy Birthday. I like you a lot. Thanks for being my family. Eren

Levi ran the pad of his finger over the waxy crayon, and felt something burning the back of his eyes.

“Mikasa helped me write it, but I picked the words.” Bouncing on his toes, Eren watched Levi’s face. “I had to wake up tonight because I had to tell you happy birthday as soon as I could, and give you your card.”

“Thanks kid.” Levi folded the paper delicately, treating it like the treasure it was. “It’s the best birthday card, ever.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” When Levi crouched down and wrapped Eren in a hug, he looked up at Mikasa.

And wasn’t even mad when she mouthed ‘told you so’ at him.

[everlasting-deluge]

When We Were Young | 01

↠pairing: park jimin ⇆ reader (female) ⇆ kim namjoon

↠genre: angst, romance, song fic, Ex-lover!Jimin, Ex-lovers!AU, Childhood Love!AU, (kinda) Sugar Daddy!Namjoon

↠warnings: mention of disturbing subjects (Ex. suicide attempt, depression, anxiety), profanity

↠words: 5k

↠A/N: I’ve got the inspiration for this work from the song When We Were Young by Adele. This is the first chapter of the serie. I focused on character’s inner world rather than the outside one. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this work too, so don’t be afraid to send me some feedbacks.

➸  Nothing could prepare you for this fateful and haphazard encounter with him. He was there, right in front of you, looking at you with the same yearning that had been in your eyes for years now. Were you ready to face him? Were you ready to know the cause of those sleepless nights and your wet pillows?

❈ | Moodboard | Masterlist |

One, two, three, four… Ten.

Ten seconds of eye contact was what you needed for recalling the owner of those eyes, those beautiful soft dark brown eyes. They once looked at you with love and care, promised you the world, made you feel safe and complete; now, however, you could only see panic bolting in them.

He was confused, his eyes had widened only for a split-second was clearly hinting that; but his stiffened posture caused by him trying to restrain his emotions made you think something else was in the equation, another factor that needed to be added.

It didn’t really take you long to find that missing element, just following where his eyes were drifting away to. It was simple but also crushing; like, the elephant in the room suddenly decided that it was fed up with only sitting there. So instead, it started to jump on your newly healed heart with its tons of weight. The haphazard stitches became undone, and the blood leaked out from the wounds.

If your heart was like how it used to be, then there should have been no problem with carrying the weight. It had carried all that love for years. That cursed burden called love which brought you nothing but, supposedly, “never-ending” storms that ended with a grave silence.

Jimin was sitting at the table on the rightmost row, which your table was a part of as well; like you, the night view of the city on their right was presented by the huge windows kissing the ceiling from all the way down to the floor.You two could see each other’s faces clearly—against your own liking.

The beautiful lady sitting across from him was the reason behind the hesitation buried in his actions— you were assumming her beauty from behind; she had this perfect posture and a milk-white skin exposed by her back-revealing dark red velvet dress. You could hardly detect her voice speaking to Jimin among muffled background noises of the restaurant. Her voice was like her dress: velvety.

She then giggled, probably expecting him to react the same way, but Jimin was too absorbed by your presence to notice her request. Your whole being was covering his senses like a delicate lace curtain. He could rip you off only with his bare hands and come back to the real world, getting out of your mesmerizing shade, but he didn’t want to; the tulle brushing his face was leaving a funny tingle on his skin. He enjoyed seeing the world brokenly behind the little gaps between embroidery patterns. And everything else looked white, innocent-like. In that whiteness, he forgot what he’d done to you, what he’d done to you two’s “we”. His mind wandered among odds. Could he use “we” with you ever again? He’d considered the possibility for thousands of times before, but he had never dared to want more than he deserved. He could not be greedy; he had no right to be so. But if he had had the courage, he would have searched you everywhere; and when he had found you, he would have never let you go ever again. He did once, and it had almost cost him his life. Almost…

You saw him flinch as he trailed his gaze down, piercing his eyes away from yours. His girlfriend must have held his hand on the table. He smiled softly to her but softness didn’t reach to his eyes; the panic was still evident in them. The lady didn’t notice though, or she pretended to not to. In anyway, you could see that she had this huge impact on him. It was strong enough to not let him show his emotions towards you. This didn’t bother you, however; not like how it did in the past at least.

“____, are you okay?”

You wondered how you looked like through the eyes of the person sitting on the chair right in front of you. Rude, uninterested? A kid who had a focus-span less than ten minutes? You tried to read his expression, but it gave you nothing more than plain concern.

You hated it.

“Yes, I’m okay Namjoon. It was a tough day at the office, ’s all. Thank you for your concern.”

You smiled at him and returned to cutting the delicious-looking steak on your plate—which, maybe, had costed a full shopping cart of food that could serve you for a month. You weren’t paying, so you kept your mouth shut and tried to enjoy what’s given to you. You appreciated it, really. If it weren’t for him, you would never come to this kind of luxurious place, or eat costly meals in tight and revealing dresses combined with a pair of killer high heels. It simply was not in you; you weren’t suitable for these kinds of things. They were too much for your lifestyle shaped by the incomes of you and your parents’—which won’t fill a nutshell compared to Namjoon’s current earnings.

You told Namjoon what you’d felt about how he preferred to live his life. You didn’t want him to quit it altogether, of course not; but you asked him to tone it down a little and respect your boundaries when he was with you. He said that he would do anything for you; he said only you mattered to him, but you knew him better than that. The reflection of you in his eyes was someone else. And she was a complete stranger to you.

She was someone who enjoyed parties, getting social and talkative; she was fond of getting dressed up and minding her manners. The present you in front of him was just an empty shell he can fill up with his desires and standards. You were just a potential to him and nothing more, only waiting for someone to actualize you. Whenever you showed your distress about the whole thing and refused to do as you were told he would say,

“You are beautiful ____, but your own eyes are helpless when it comes to seeing your true beauty under this… Well, neglected layer. You can be so much more, love; you have the potential to be so. We just have to find the real you hidden inside and when we do, I assure you, you’ll feel better. Let me help you, ____.”

Yesterday, you two had planned tonight’s dinner date. While you two had been planning, you’d emphasized that you wanted it to be simple and casual. You’d asked him to come over to your place and prepare dinner with you; you’d thought it would help deepen your bond, plus it would be cute to mess around a little in the kitchen. You just wanted to see him in his “casual” habitat. It’d been two months since you two start dating, but you knew nothing about him other than general personal informations, his family being an acquaintance of your family and him having enough money to spend like there’s no tomorrow. 

Namjoon had promised you a calm and sweet dinner, only you two in a romantic atmosphere.

While you were dreaming about how this date would have been like if he’d just stuck to the plan and had kept his promise, like a cuckoo clock warning you about the passing time, the waitress startled you when she asked if you needed anything else. This made you look up from your glass half filled with red wine and see the painful reality. You two were not alone, neither casual, and were far away from your definition of a sweet romantic dinner. And the privacy… You’d rather not think about that.

“No, thank you. We’re fine.”

The waitress smiled and with a small nod she left you two to your own miserable night.

You fixed your gaze on Namjoon after looking around and thinking how you ended up in there. He was wearing a black suit and his hair was styled nicely, granting him a sharp-look along with the glasses he wore. Everything on him was screaming money and power, everything on him was matched with his aura; he owned it all. Nothing looked out of place, unlike you. You were stiff, unnatural. People would immediately understand that you were not a part of this world; you were unsuited, not born for this. Yet, Namjoon has claimed that he saw something in you that no one ever did, including yourself. He believed that you belonged to where he was standing, the world of elites; he believed that you belonged to him. But you have never been his or someone else’s and you were never going to be. You belonged to you, and you were sick of pretending like someone else. You’ve never wanted to be better. You were enjoying the life plenty with this version of you.

You’ve missed wearing baggy and comfortable clothes when you went out; staying at home, settling on your little counter beside the window (which had an amazing view at this time of the year) and reading your favorite book on there while drinking your calming tea.

Ah, you’ve missed the autumn in Busan; you’ve missed riding your bike to the beach and watching the sun set bit by bit until it submerged into the sea completely, as lines and colors mixed all together and formed the starry sky along with the moon. You’ve missed the autumn in Busan with him. You’ve missed Park Jimin.

And now, he was right there, a few meters away. You’ve always dreamed; what if you saw him again, what if you had a chance to talk. What would you say?

I’ve missed you,

I still love you.

Come back to me…

Just the possibilities themselves were enough to make you nauseous. Whenever the thought corossed your mind, something warm would emanate your heart at the spot; welcoming and familiar… Then his face would appear in your head. Untouched and eternal… As if the cruel time made him an exception and let him pass without giving his youth as an exchange.

The Jimin in your head was young and full of love. He was smiling ear to ear. In contrast with his widening smile, his eyes were getting smaller. You’d loved to see him smile; you would feel instant relief when he showed his pearl-white teeth to the world and blessed the living.

You’ve always thought you would feel the same way when you meet him again, the emotions from the past would flourish and wind your heart with their arms like a poison ivy.

The first taste from the poison would always feel pleasant and heavenly; but when it found its way through your veins and swam in your every cell, it would kill you gradually. Even though feeling the slow-coming end, you would still try to cherish every little piece it’s given to you. Even after all that pain and darkness, you would still feel grateful for all those memories he made with you. But the worst part would always be the time when you realize that you still carved it. Because once you tasted it, it just felt… right. As if it should have been there from the start, as if it was your part you’ve been missing all this time.

The emotions were there still, along with the poison itself; but you weren’t.

The fog in your head was thicker now, concealing the last remaining pieces of who you used to be. The shared laughters, glances, words… Everything was now swallowed by The Fog of Remedy. You’ve done this to yourself, you needed to forget if you wanted to heal. And this was what you’d wanted from the start: to forget.

You’d never thought at some point of your life you would want to get rid of those meaningful memories… to get rid of him. You’d wished not to do so. You’d wished to keep them with you so that the Jimin in those scenes can stay young and hidden. A Jimin had never gotten the touch of Time; a Jimin never gave up on you and what you two once had… You’d felt like that was the only connection you had with him: The old rusty memories smelled like fresh daisies, just like the time when you two went to the forest for your second anniversary.

But people can change, just like how emotions do. Now, the pain in your heart wasn’t the result of those never ending nights you’d kept thinking about where you did the wrong, where you shot the last bullet. Now, it resulted from your overwhelmed state caused by none other than Park Jimin sitting a few meters away: You were glad for seeing him once again; you were angry at him still looking like how he stayed in your thoughts, young and ethereal; you were sad for thinking how you two ended up like this at the very end; two strangers once shared a single heart.

‘Jimin, you bast–’

You irked with the sudden coldness on your hand. Getting your head up from your gold engraved plate, you looked at the culprit of the goosebumps on your arms.

Namjoon was holdings your hand as if it was made of glass. The hold was gentle, and when you’d gotten used to its temperature, it felt warm. He had the same gentleness in his face, too. When you met with his eyes, however; his gaze intensified, making you feel vulnerable and small. He was a man who got the power of money always beside him, but he himself, too, possessed a great strength that made people feel weak under those sharp eyes.

You’d used to compare his eyes with Jimin’s. They differed greatly from one another but also somehow found a way to shine as if they belonged to the same person.

Namjoon’s eyes were a lot more defined than Jimin’s. They were heavy with the given responsibilities at such young age. Namjoon tasted success earlier than most did; but like any other thing in this world, it came with a price. Probably, he’d not had the chance to do most people did at around his age: like not thinking about the fact that actions he took constantly monitored by people who waited eagerly for his demise, or enjoying a single freaking normal dinner date with his girlfriend, etcetera, etcetera…

But even so, sometimes his eyes had this familiar shine in them. You had seen it when you two met for the first time and you had seen it before in Jimin’s eyes too. Namjoon had smiled at you when you two exchanged your names, and that was the moment you had decided to leave the past behind and try to move on. Maybe that familiarity in his pupils had urged you to take a step forward, or maybe you’d been fooled by it just to see that familiar shine was a delusion of your longing for Jimin.

You had let go of the strings and let the destiny do her job; no more playing the blind, playing “the victim”. This had led you to accept your parents invitation to meet with their close friends—who were wealthy and had a handsome and also successful son at your age, according to your parents. Now here you were, sitting across from him with a title always came before your birth-given name:

Namjoon’s girlfriend.

Namjoon’s hand was still on yours. You briefly smiled at him, which led him to do the same. After making sure you were okay again, he lifted his hand and returned to his meal. You were going to do the same– No; you had to do the same, but something was urging you to look at Jimin’s eyes. You wanted to look at them, The Present Jimin’s eyes to see if they were how you remembered, longed them to be. You wanted to be sure they shimmered the same way they did years ago. So you obeyed to the little voice and lifted your head up, but inside you were praying that he was minding his own business so you two didn’t lock eyes. You closed your eyes for a second; after exhaling, you lifted your head to look straight ahead.

Jimin saw your closed eyes and got worried a little. You were not okay, possibly his fault. He wasn’t expecting you to look at him directly; but you did, and he forgot how to breathe. You were still beautiful, as if the time had stopped just for you. Your eyes, lips, nose… Every inch of you drowned him in nostalgia. He remembered how he’d looked at you and you’d looked back at him like you two were the only beings in the universe. He remembered how he used to kiss you starting from your forehead to your chin. If the mood was right, he would slowly nibble at your little sensitive spot just under the right ear, and from there to your neck. Soon after, he would keep going down to ravish your whole body.

He tried to recall how your lips felt like on his skin. You would kiss him gently when you had to wake him up from his slumber, and he would groan to protest. He would smile into the kiss, make you giggle to. He loved your laugh and every sound you’d make whenever you opened your pretty little mouth. From your most heartfelt laughters to your sexiest moans, he remembered them all like yesterday. He missed them; he missed you.

And your eyes… Your eyes that held the galaxy in them. They had never left him, always looking with lust in his most private dreams. The eyes used to brighten his darkest nights… He focused on your eyes solely with a hope to see the beautiful Milky Way in them, but what he’d seen broke his heart. The galaxy was gone along with the warmth always melted him on the spot. The stars were now replaced by meteors wandering aimlessly in the void. Your eyes were looking lost; they were focused on his eyes but somehow it felt like they were trying to see something behind them, something placed way deeper. Jimin could see pieces of hope scattered in your eyes, barely shining but still there. Seeing this, he once again remembered the grave sin he’d committed. He should have never left you. He did this to you, and he never hated himself more than this very moment.

Jimin’s strong gaze made you uncomfortable, but you refused to look away. You needed validation, a proof that the man you were looking in the eye was your Jimin. You tried harder, looked deeper; but, the feeling never came. You couldn’t see him; he was not there anymore. He was someone else, like how you were. Life has been harsh for you both, forcing you to change. You’d done your best to hold on, you were sure he did the same, too. Because that’s how life is like, adapt or die.

Suddenly, Namjoon’s loud voice tore your thoughts, as keen as a fine knife.

“____, tell me what is wrong?! Just don’t avoid my questions anymore, please. I need to know why you’re crying.”

‘Crying…? What?’

You touched your cheeks; they were indeed wet. It was hilarious how you didn’t notice your own tears pouring down. They were visiting the corner of your lips and then reaching your chin. Out of curiosity, you licked the liquid. It was salty, of course; but you tasted something else, too. It tasted like disappointment. Then you realized that the liquid escaped from your eyes, was actually the poison itself; it was pouring out of you, not finding any more cell or joint to fill up. It was spilling out of your eyes. You used to wonder how it would look like in real life, an image of tar was always in your mind; but this transparent form of it had never once crossed your mind. It was looking exactly like tears, taking you aback.

You were sure, however; you knew that it was the poison. You were feeling the fullness inside of you, organs crushing in the fluid surrounding them. Especially your heart was finding it hard to work properly, your lungs were almost giving up. You were full and now it was spilling. One drop fell down to the red tablecloth—like any of the other thing in the restaurant, you guess it was an expensive piece. Looking at the wet spot on the soft fabric, you came back to your senses and without giving it a chance to spoil your makeup any further; you grabbed the nearest napkin and pressed it to your cheeks and eyes, careful not to ruin your mascara.

“I’m sorry Namjoon. I’m as surprised as you are. I don’t know what happened to me. It’s just… I think I got overwhelmed for a second there. I’m sorry. I’ll be okay once I go to the restroom, excuse me please.”

As you were making your leave, he grasped your wrist and didn’t let you stand up. You gasped. He sighed and spoke,

“You have nothing to apologize for, I should be the one to do so. I’m sorry for rising my voice; it was stupid of me. I was just- I was just worried. From the moment we came here, your mind has been somewhere else. You barely said anything and just got lost in your thoughts. You sure you okay? If you want to, we can leave now. Just say the word, I’m here.”

After finishing what he’d thought to say from the moment he had realized something was off, Namjoon closed the gap between you two over the table. He stretched his right arm towards the torn napkin piece stuck to your left cheek, wet from your tears. His fingers gently brushed your skin as he picked up the piece. You couldn’t help but notice the unnecessary contact he displayed. You were not uncomfortable because of his touch, no, but because of your heart speeding up despite the ivy surrounding it. And this was causing an intolerable pain deep in your chest. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t supposed to feel something.

You held your breath until he took his seat once again, thinking t it would help you calm down. It was your first time seeing him this compassionate. You muttered a thanks and then left your table, heading to where the restrooms were.

The restrooms were placed at inner left corner. Men and women both were using the same entrance and then separating their ways. You stopped at the common entrance for a second and looked back, seeing Namjoon checking his phone. Then you felt someone else’s gaze over you; sliding your eyes a little to left, you saw Jimin looking back at you. He, however, didn’t give you enough time to interpret his expression; facing the lady sitting in front of him and saying something. You saw his lips moving but couldn’t determine the words. Leaving him like that, you continued to walk further, finding the door for ladies and entering.

As expected, the restroom was also high quality. Looking at the crystal chandelier swinging from the ceiling, you once again found yourself doubting what the fuck were you doing there. This was simply going overboard. Deciding on finishing as quickly as you could manage, you stood in front of the big mirror placed above the sinks. It was embellished with gold leaves around the corners; the taps were also gold.

You swore under your breath and turned on the hot water. When the temperature was right, you placed your hands under it. That felt refreshing. At that moment you noticed your shaking hands. You squeezed them slightly to stop them. With the water, it looked like it worked; they were not shaking anymore. You wanted to splash some water to your face but the damn makeup was holding you back; since you had left the table in a hurry, you forgot to bring your purse with you.

A sign made its way throughout your mouth as you turned off the running water. Looking at the mirror, you thanked Namjoon for buying you a quality mascara, or else it would be ruined by now after all that crying. Actually, you thanked Namjoon for a lot of things: The dress you were in, this classy restaurant he brought you and paid for all those expensive chef’s specials… But most importantly, you thanked him for helping you gain your life energy back—though at some point he didn’t know where to stop. He was one of your coping mechanisms; you relayed on him to make you forget. He was the one who helped you create The Fog of Remedy; maybe he was the fog itself. You didn’t know for sure. However, denying his impact on your life would be something only a fool would do. You were not a fool, certainly not, and this simple fact was the cause of why you hated yourself.

He was a good person; generous, kind, thoughtful (sometimes way too much thoughtful). He knew what you’d been going through at the time when you two first met. He’d been aware that someone else had your heart with them. Even though he was far, far away, his clutches hadn’t been letting go off you. But he still had accepted to see you, be with you. You told him numerous times that you wouldn’t ever love him like you did for Jimin, that he would never be The One despite how much effort he put in it. And all he’d said was he knew all the consequences and was still accepting you no matter what. He was the one who has suggested to date; he was the one who had chosen you; but still you could shake off the feeling of you taking advantage of him. He was giving you so much, but all you were doing was crying over a man who left you five years ago. You were feeling bad for not returning his love back to Namjoon; it was getting swallowed by the black hole within you, that dark abyss of self-hatred.

Namjoon truly was a good man; he deserved more than this, more than you.

You were still looking at the mirror, lost in thoughts and the memories embedded in your eyes. The sudden opening of the door made you jump, testing your reflexes. They were still working, good.

The woman who had entered the room looked at you, as surprised as you are. She then closed the distance between you two in a second and whilst doing so she spoke, concern was leaking out of her mouth:

“Oh mine, did I scare you, honey? You look like you saw a ghost. I know I’m old but I don’t plan to die anytime soon.”

She laughed, her voice echoing among tiles on the walls. Seeing your panicking face, you not knowing how to answer back; she continued softly to save you from the burden.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t control my strength. It happens sometimes when you come to this age.”

As she kept coming closer, you found it easier to examine her features. She was an elderly woman, probably in her mid-fifties or even older than that—you’d learned to not to judge a book by its cover, especially in this world. Her gray tinted hair was made into a decent bun; her eyes were as clear as still water despite her age, emphasized with a subdued make up. Her untouched wrinkles were looking like holding so many memories, like they had so many stories to share.

You loved how she looked so naturally stunning. Her dioptase and diamond necklace and earrings were completing the pine green dress she wore. Everything was in place, everything was complimentary. She was doubtlessly from the world of elites; she owned it all as if she was born for this—just like Namjoon.

“I’m okay, really. I was just lost in thoughts, that’s why I reacted so absurdly. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Her eyes directed at you were as if they were looking into your soul, but not hastily. They had this motherly tenderness in them, the kind that would make you want to cry on her shoulders for hours as she pats your back rhythmically. Her gaze felt more like she was checking you out if you were okay as you claimed to be. But then they narrowed, had she found something?

“You don’t look okay, young lady. And I’m sure that’s not just because of that little incident we had. Now tell me, are you okay?”

Tonight for once, you wanted to be honest. You wanted to be true to yourself, so you looked straight into eyes of the beautiful woman standing in front of you; smiling sadly,

“No… No, I- I’m not okay.”

You fought to stop the building tears, but it was a futile attempt. They ran, and you chased.

You always hated being a burden to people around you. Even when the time Jimin had left, you’d lived everything inside, suffering silently. The storms must not reach the others, just you. But now, you were crying… in front of a complete stranger. Not knowing her name, her age, her job… But this vagueness calmed your heart, freed your emotions. You were vulnerable, and that was okay, for the first time in your life.

You saw here blurry form hesitating over whether to hug you or to let you be, at the end she put her hand on your arm and rub it comfortingly. It did wonders, and you thanked her.

“I’m sorry. It might not look like it, but actually I’m not the type to burst into tears in front of people. The things happened today finally started kick in, I guess. I’m sorry again, and thankful as well.”

She smiled sympathetically, showing her adorable dimples. It warmed your heart.

“It looks like a personal matter, so I won’t meddle any further than this. But I do want to give you an advice, if you can accept this old lady’s habit came with age.”

You nodded slowly, giving her the cue she needed to continue.

“To me, it looks like you have too much weight. You might think you need them all, but believe me, you don’t. Once you sit down and think you’ll see it too-the unnecessary weight you’ve carried all this time. You need to throw them down to rise. You’ll soar like a bird.”

“Your sky might be still dark; but when you pass the clouds, the moon and the stars shall brighten up your darkest nights. So trust me, just let go. Because if you continue to carry the weight, it will drag you down further; and when you pass the line, the naked branches of trees sharpened like knives will be there, waiting for you.”

The lady was frowning now, exposing the deep wrinkles around her eyes and between her eyebrows. You looked at her with round eyes. You wanted to deny, to once again start play the blind; but she was right. She was right ‘till the fucking end. And you were frightened, confused. Noticing the face you were making, she grabbed your shoulders and gave them a fine squeeze. Her action made you return to reality. You had to make a choice, and you had to do it as soon as possible. The weights were not only dragging you down, but the people around you too. For their sake, for your own sake. You had to cut their ropes immediately, free yourself from that burden.

You thought about the first thing had appeared in your mind while listening to her. The seeds of the idea were already had been sown from the beginning, but not until now you realized their roots caging your heart in. It sounded wrong, stupid; but you’d decided. You were going to do it no matter what the consequences will be. It was your life, your call. And broken hearts were inevitable. You had collected the shreds before, you could do it once again; nothing was new.

You smiled, her glassy eyes shining under the soft yellow light of the crystal chandelier

“Thank you so much for your advice, ma’am. I’ll keep it in my heart.”

“In your heart…? Aren’t you a peculiar one.”

She chuckled softly.

“I think I have to return now, someone’s waiting for me. Thank you once again and have a nice evening.”

You smiled.

“You too, young lady.”

You left the restroom after that, saying goodbye to the woman and the chandelier. You were now at the common corridor, the mind full of thoughts. You were looking down while walking, not noticing the person standing on your way. You bumped into them, fortunately you were not hurrying to return your table—not really looking forward to it, either. Your head hit their chest; it hurt more than you would anticipate. You didn’t look up yet, but their muscles were something; they didn’t feel that buff, more like an athletic body.

The person you bumped held your upper arms with their two hands, forcing you to look up. And you did, but you regretted. You’d blinked a few times to adjust the blinding white light coming from the back, you were looking like an idiot, probably. Who could blame you, though? The fucking quality fluorescents were to blame, not your eyes fell victim.

He moved his head to left—The person was a man, you’d figured it out that much—blocking the light burning your eyes. The more your eyes focused, the more strongly you wished to vanish. Your brain was screaming at you to run as far as you can, leave the country, burn your phone, get a new ID, start a life away from all of this. However, it was too late, he had his claws on you now; there was no escape.

You saw his moving lips but his voice wasn’t reaching you. You tried to focus with all your might on what he’d been saying . You caught a few things, but your brain refused to put a meaning into them. Jimin was looking at you worriedly now, you felt his fingers going deeper on your flesh. The pain worked, you once again started to hear, the voices of people speaking, forks and knives grazing the porcelain… But you had to focus on him, so you faced him properly this time; only one word spilling out of your mouth:

“Park Jimin… “

His eyes widened for a split-second; then they melted with affection, softened and sparkly. He was dazzling.

His red plump lips opened slightly—the redness was caused by him chewing them out of stress, no doubt. He spoke, his silky voice caressing your ears and leaving red blossoms behind.

“Hello, ____”

↠A/N pt.2: Hellooooo!!!! I’M BACCK!!! I’m sorry, this took me ages to post but I’m satisfied with the outcome and I hope you are too. This is my longest post so far and it’s only the first chapter. I’m planinig to make this serie two chapters long. I’ve already started to write the second chap. My uni’s starting so I’m not really sure how long will it take me to post it, but I’ll try to finish it asap. Thank you so much for reading. Have a nice day!!! 💜

And if you like it please like or reblog so that I can see!!!

[lgcyunhyeong]

hey there!! this is my first time in lgc and i’m super excited to be here! i’ve been eyeing this place for a while and i’m glad i finally mustered up the nerve to join. this is cho yunhyeong, 21, works part time at his local gs25. he’s been a trainee for little over a year and is hoping to eventually debut in a band! he plays the bass and sings a little bit, and he also wants to get into songwriting and composition eventually. he’s generally kind of a weird kid--super spacey, often distracted, your local space nerd--but he’s a good egg in spite of that. compared to some of the other trainees, he’s pretty aimless and chill, but he does genuinely love music and performing, so...!

you can find some more info about him on his about and background pages but they’re kind of messy so i’ll drop some quick facts about yunhyeong under the cut, along with some connection/plot ideas to hopefully kickstart things! if you’d like to plot, please hit like on this post and i’ll hop into your ims! i also have a discord if you prefer to plot there - just ask me for my username ♡

quick facts:

born and brought up in seoul - very local, most comfortable in his neighbourhood, the most exciting vacation he ever took was to busan (and it was #lit). his parents own the best hot pot restaurant in seoul, and yeah he’s biased but that doesn’t mean it’s not true! 

has an older brother currently in law school and their relationship is best described as ‘i tolerate you’. they’re complete opposites - his brother is super driven and loud and outgoing while yunhyeong is not so they’ve never really clicked beyond the fact that they are siblings and therefore are obligated to love each other

was the quiet kid growing up, had a very chill and subdued personality. didn’t really speak unless spoken too, didn’t play much with others. most of the time he kept to himself and focused on his hyperfixations - first, it was dinosaurs, and then space! and he’s been stuck with space ever since

his mom put him in music lessons when he was younger in hopes that a relatable hobby might help him make friends?? also that it’d work as a conversation starter but it didn’t because yunhyeong remained as weird and solitary as ever! he did fall in love with music as a result though

in high school he decided to branch out and make friends by starting a band - new age sexy aliens or NASA for short. his recruitment process was like: whoever shows up to join is part of the band! it worked out for the best since he and the band members got really close

they started off playing covers but then branched out into their own original music (yunhyeong helped write some of their lyrics). most of their songs used heavy space imagery and they were really pretty but also low key about aliens

yunhyeong loves aliens

nasa had a pretty dedicated fanbase both online and in their school! did well, were thriving, living their best lives and playing hella gigs, and then their lead singer got scouted by an entertainment company. it was the beginning of the end for them; the rest of the members went their own ways as well and the band officially disbanded in 2018 rip

yunhyeong started to busk on/off since he wasn’t attending university and didn’t really know what the heck else he wanted to do with his life outside of the band, and that’s where he got scouted by legacy! joined the company because like... well... why would he not...

wants to debut in a band if he can... and focus on songwriting and music composition as a secondary career path. he isn’t like... super motivated though? has always had issues with setting goals and being ambitious... he’s more like, eh, i’m just gonna go where life takes me! 

personality wise, he’s still a pretty quiet kid unless you get him talking about one of his interests, in which case he will never shut up EVER. he gets distracted easily and will sometimes zone out when you’re talking to him but has a good memory of like, the most random shit you wouldn’t expect him to recall

easygoing as hell, rarely gets riled up over anything. on the flip side, he doesn’t really come across as sincere (even though he almost always is!) in his emotions because people are like... hm... just feels fake. tries to stay as positive as he can and doesn’t dwell on stuff that might upset him. sometimes people think he’s shallow! but he has #deepthoughts. he just doesn’t share them

unmotivated when it comes to most things! has no goals, no ambition, doesn’t care much for academia or being forced to like, conform to things. his mom calls him a free spirit but she’s probably just making excuses for him. it’s more like he’s stuck in some sort of limbo?? scared of growing up but scared of being left behind. it’s complicated

he’s really a sweet guy though. a little odd - he’s not the best at showing affection and sometimes he can be really... strange? offbeat? you never know what the fuck is going on in his head. but he’s a Human Being Just Like You (sadly) and simply trying his best to live every day

connection/plot ideas:

he didn’t really have many friends growing up, but still - childhood friends! maybe you were the exception. maybe you didn’t mind that he was awkward and quiet and a little weird! maybe you tripped and fell on the playground and he gave you a star-patterned purple band aid and you decided you would die for him. who knows! 

friends in general who understand him and look @ him with fond exasperation... must be able to tolerate his antics. liking aliens is a bonus. jk, but he’s a sweet guy who loves his friends! please be kind to him

fans of his former band, nasa (or antis?). he was the bassist and a sub vocal and didn’t stand out too much compared to some of the other guys, but he always did the intros and he’ll happily talk about nasa all day! discuss the symbolism of their songs with him

exes? i genuinely cannot think of a single reason why anyone would want to date him but i feel like he’s had at least (1) relationship before... maybe you took a chance and after you started dating you were like, god, i’m running away

crushes, whether one-sided on his part or your part or reciprocated but you don’t know it yet?? he’s holding out for his alien bae but maybe you don’t know that and just think he’s like, this quiet mysterious pretty boy. maybe he thinks you’re cool for a human! 

fellow trainees who can play instruments... yunhyeong needs someone to #jam with because playing the bass alone is kind of lonely (and since he’d like to eventually get on the band track, making some connections would be cool) 

fellow trainees in general, especially ones in his training group!! he’s not as hungry for debut or as ambitious as some which means he’s a) non-threatening and b) chill to hang with. you could be into that or it could absolutely infuriate you since he doesn’t seem to be taking things seriously! maybe you think he doesn’t deserve to be here

met online on an alien enthusiast forum and you talk almost every single day about various theories and moves and all that kind of stuff but you’ve never met irl! and yunhyeong really wants to meet you in person! 

idk bully him 

you’re buying a bunch of weird shit from the convenience store where yunhyeong works at like 2 am and he has so many questions and won’t let you pay and leave until you answer them

alternatively, you find him sleeping on the job and you want to wake him up but the moment you touch his arm, he makes this high pitched screeching noise and you fall over and take an entire shelf of candy down with you

you invite yunhyeong out for drinks but he took one sip of soju and he’s a mess... you didn’t sign up to take care of a giant drunken baby but guess what! you will be! if he tries to kiss you, dodge him

you always bum free meals from yunhyeong’s parents’ restaurant because his parents think you’re his best friend. tbh you actually don’t really like him but he doesn’t realize it so he never bothers correcting his parents either!

you didn’t realize yunhyeong was allergic to cats and dogs and you brought your cat/dog near him and oh my god he is having the UGLIEST allergic reaction

yunhyeong can’t swim. you push him into a pool as a joke. chaos ensues

you play various video games together and yunhyeong is really good but he’s more interested in stardew valley than in league of legends and you keep pestering him to play with you dammit i need you on my team

you slipped a love letter under his door for one of his roommates but yunhyeong thought it was for him and now he keeps (kindly) rejecting you whenever you see him and you don’t even know how to react

Oh No We Are Trapped In This Room And The Power Went Out And I Am Scared Of The Dark Please Hold My Hand For Science

yunhyeong loves smoothies and one day you catch him trying to blend a slice of pepperoni pizza into a smoothie because he is, and i quote, “tired of chewing”

IDK ALL THESE IDEAS ARE BAD BUT PLEASE PLOT WITH ME ANYWAY

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (18)

A/N: im unsure of what to say for this one, in all honesty! im just so excited for the ball im Vibrating about it — and writing the damsel is. always an experience. :^) 

WARNINGS: Remus mention, suggested murder, disassociation (?), self-deprication, self-hatred, suicidal thoughts (small mentions!), being held captive/kidnapping, wound mention — i think that's all, but let me know if there're any others!!!

Words: 3290

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for the longterm warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing!

*taglist was moved down purely bc i aesthetically dont like it up here lmao (also i wish it WORK ED— *

enjoy !!! <3 <3 <3 

If this Roman was anything, he was too quiet. 

“Damsel, I wanna get us all out,” Virgil hissed, arm slung around the bars to his and the Child’s cell as he tried again to coax a reaction out of the terrified figment, “But I need your help with that.”

The Child was pacing quietly, his feet shuffling around the background noise to Virgil’s voice. The Damsel hadn’t spoken again since he introduced himself and, judging by how Virgil could see his single wide, petrified eye watching him, he wasn’t planning on speaking any more. His hand was grasping his mouth so tight that Virgil could almost believe it was Deceit’s doing, if he wasn’t certain Deceit weren’t here.

Plus, it’d been, like, hours. He was getting tired, his side stung, and he really just wanted to go home. His gut was telling him that the others were going to get him out, but that voice was getting more quiet as time passed. 

Virgil was mostly anxious about what the hell was taking so long! They knew where the castle was. Maybe they got caught by some guards?

The Thief was in bad shape last he saw. He might even be dead. 

A part of Roman coulda been dead, and Virgil wouldn’t even know, because he was locked in a cell far apart from the others and he had no way to get out and no way to contact them and see if they were okay. And he was locked in here with bits and pieces of Roman that seemed discarded. His own anxieties and insecurities. 

He knew Roman wasn’t confident about some things, but damn.

….Maybe he should take a nap or something. He was exhausted. 

Fat chance he’d be able to rest in this kinda atmosphere. Virgil really needed a back massage and a hot bath after this quest. It was grinding on the last of his brain cells like…..like….like a grindstone? 

Wow, even his internal monologue couldn’t come up with anything. He was useless.

“Hey, hey,” two small hands rested on his head, gently hugging his head, “No, you aren’t. You’re Virgil and you’re great.”

He must have said that aloud, then. Virgil sighed, closing his eyes and reaching around to pat the Child’s leg. “I’m sorry,” he tried to wave it off, downplay what he’d been thinking, but the Child wasn’t letting go. 

So Virgil did. He went back to having an arm slung out the slits between the bars, watching the Damsel as he shifted his sitting position, hugging his knees. He began to hum quietly, to the tune of a song that Virgil could recognize was Disney but didn’t quite know the name of. And then he started singing.

“Come on, you poor unfortunate soul~” the Damsel’s voice was barely above a whisper, soft and missable as it had been earlier, “Go ahead, make your choice. I’m a very busy Side and I haven’t got all day~”

A sudden thought struck him, and he sat upright. The Damsel had reacted to the Child wanting water. Maybe…. “Child, hey,” Virgil said, “Have you ever met the Damsel?”

“Yeppers!” the Child said, a smile in his voice, “We hung out at the beginning of all this!”

“So you’re friends?” Virgil asked.

“It won’t cost much~”

The Child shrugged. “I dunno. I hope we are! We’re friends, right, Damsel?”

He sunk down behind Virgil, wrapping around his back like a koala and resting his face in such a way that he could watch the Damsel as well. No response, though.

That WAS still his name, right?

“Just your voice!”

“You wanna go by Damsel, right?” the Child asked, brow furrowed.

His singing stopped. 

“Yes,” the Damsel said, voice soft and croaky, “Please.”

“Why’d you pick that name?” the Child asked.

They could see him make a small gesture, as though to say ‘isn’t it obvious?’, but the Child shook his head. The Damsel wasn’t always like this. 

He giggled to himself quietly. “It’s a fitting name. I’m no prince, no thief, artist, playwright, I’m not anything. Just in distress. Useless,” he rested his head against the side wall, “Damsel.”

Virgil frowned. “Roman’s not useless. He’s….” c’mon, think, but nothing TOO sappy, “We need him.”

Yeah, that was good. 

They could vaguely see the Damsel shake his head. “Fine, helpless. I’m locked in a cage. I’ve BEEN locked in a cage for days.”

He looked up again, at the sky. 

“Thanks, Virgil,” his eye flicked over, “But….too bad your big-big admission is dwarfed by your gargantuan failures.”

Virgil’s nose scrunched up, recoiling. 

A pit of dread opened in his stomach as he realized Roman was still holding onto that, Virgil had said it a long while ago. Sure, a part of him was exasperated, shouted STILL? But it made sense, didn’t it, for the ego to internalize those sorts of critiques.

He felt the Child let go of him, and Virgil leaned forward against the bars. 

“Roman, I didn’t—”

“Sorry,” the Damsel cut him off, voice growing more clear, more stern, “I cannot contr-contribute an ounce of constructive input.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You’re the one who says to not encourage me,” the Damsel leaned forward, growling, “All of you think it. Roman, the dramatic one. The insecure one. The stupid one. We WON’T be stupid after this!”

Virgil leaned back. This was illuminating. And a situation he was not equip to handle in the slightest. 

He looked to the side briefly, where the Child sat. His legs were crossed and he was watching the other cell with a focused...worry. He was worried about the Damsel. 

Virgil turned back at the sound of scraping. The Damsel had stood up. He shuffled to his bed and fell face first onto it, groaning quietly. Painfully. He was pitiful, sure, and he was part of Roman. Virgil couldn’t just ignore that. 

He had to work with him, not against him. He didn’t know how or why the Damsel was still holding onto Virgil’s past words, but he did know that whatever was feeding the insecurities (and he shuddered to think it was himself or any of the others, even Remus) was wrong. And that, like it or not, the Damsel was a part of Roman. A sad part but a part nonetheless. He just had to convince him that they l-word-ed Roman. 

He shifted again, sitting cross legged now. “You’re not stupid,” he said, “You can be dumb, but so can all of us. And you’re valued.”

The Damsel scoffed and rolled onto his side, into the fetal position. 

“Roman, look at me,” the Damsel full on flinched, curling tighter. 

“Don’t call me that. I’m not good enough to be.”

Virgil bit his lip. These identity crises sure were confusing. “But you’re Roman, too. You’re important enough to be a whole part.”

“I know I am, but-but that’s what’s wrong,” the Damsel looked aside. “I shouldn’t be...here. Alive.”

The Child scooted up to sit beside Virgil. “No! I was telling you that earlier!” he stage whispered at the Damsel, full of naive optimism, “You’re important! You’re an important part of Roman!” 

“Stop,” the Damsel croaked. 

They were finally breaking through, Virgil thought. 

Footsteps in the distance shattered that hopeful thought. Virgil waved his hand, indicating for silence, and the two Romans immediately fell quiet. The Damsel sat upright on his bed, then hugged his pillow tight to his chest.

Oh. 

The footsteps got louder, heels clacking on the stone floor. The Child tugged on Virgil’s cloak and mouthed ‘Dragon.’

They could hear him talking to no one in particular. Probably the guards, but the guards weren’t sentient, so probably himself. That was pretty Roman of him, right? 

He wasn’t Roman, though. The Child knew. He smiled at the Damsel, who ignored him, and looked out between the bars again, head just barely fitting. Yep, there was the Dragon, walking towards them. 

“Helloooooooo!” the Dragon’s voice echoed along the hall, “Are my favorite three stooges awake?”

The Damsel rolled his single visible eye so vehemently that Virgil almost laughed. Good to see that the Dragon’s theatrics were looked down upon by all of them.

He sauntered into view, standing between the two cells with his hands behind his back. The Dragon huffed out his nose, smoke expelling from the movement as he winked at Virgil, then barred his teeth at the Child. Neither flinched. 

He raised an eyebrow and turned to the Damsel, who flinched upon eye contact. Gotcha. The Dragon stepped closer to the bars, leaning against them as he focused on the Damsel.

“Awh, why the long face, Captain Incapacitated,” the Dragon dragged his fingers along the crossbar, grinning wider when the Damsel flinched. 

“Leave him alone,” Virgil hissed.

The Dragon turned back to him, still leaning on the other wall’s bars, and stuck his tongue out at Virgil. It had a pointed tip, much more like a dragon’s than a human’s. He withdrew, looking at Virgil and the Child sitting on the ground, and leaned his head against a bar. His emo nightmare was certainly a dream. 

“I wish I could let you out for the ball tonight,” the Dragon sighed, a small smile on his face, “Wouldn’t it be lovely to dance?”

Virgil scowled. Dancing with the Dragon was the last thing he wanted to do, thanks. But another word caught his attention. “Ball?”

“Oh, yes!” the Dragon clapped happily as he spoke, “Why else would we need the Child here?”

The Child frowned and mouthed the word ‘we’ to himself as the Damsel met Virgil’s eyes for a second. ‘We.’

“He’s bait,” the Damsel mumbled, looking down at the Dragon’s cape.

“Genius, isn’t it! I mean, look at that worthless, pudgy, snot-nosed face! Any of the others would die protecting him,” the Dragon laughed.

The Damsel turned away.

“We,” the Child squeaked out. 

“We indeed,” the Dragon looped his arm through the bars and hugged the Damsel around the neck, ignoring how he flinched and shook, “The Damned-sel here has been so lovely, helping me plan everything.”

No. No way. Virgil and the Child watched the Damsel, who ducked his head and focused intently on the Dragon’s cape, swaying as he spoke. He was explaining his elaborate evil plan. 

But, honestly, the Child was furious. He’d trusted the Damsel. Maybe he was right. Maybe he WAS just the Damsel now. He was a no-good sad distressed Damsel who should stay in this little cage and rot and then turn into fertilizer for some flowers! 

“Oh, it’s going to be fantastic! Every inhabitant of the Imagination was invited! It’s our annual Creativity ball, you know the one,” the Dragon waved his hand dismissively at the Child, who frowned, “The other Sides were all invited too! Oh, they’re going to look so dashing — the Playwright and the Artist will probably end up dressing them, and they’re going to look magnificent, delectable!”

He clapped in happiness. “And then I’ll get to dance with them! And kiss them! And then, since the others will be here, too, I’ll get them all in once place….to slaughter!” 

The Dragon laughed, a high pitched cackle with his hands over his chest. 

Everyone else just watched. 

Virgil was actually growing angry. The Damsel was working with this clown? And he thought the other Sides would like HIM? Maybe he was wrong, Roman was an idiot.

“....You’re such a stereotype, Maleficent,” the Damsel said, stepping away from the bars again, only for the Dragon to grab his arm. 

He wagged his finger at the Damsel and pulled him a little closer, gesturing to the other cell. His mouth was half open when the Child cut him off.

“How’re you going to get everyone?” he asked, loud.

“I, uh, what?” the Dragon turned to the Child, blinking in confusion, “I don’t know, I haven’t thought that far.”

He looked at the Damsel, who seemed equally as confused, but who managed to regain his composure faster. 

The Damsel turned away from all of them, head bobbing back and forth slightly as he considered. 

“Well,” he said with a sigh, “They are going to come. They will probably try to search for us.”

Was….was he scheming? Just right in front of them. Virgil could feel his anger festering, subsiding into resentment. Of course. The Dragon couldn’t have concocted thorough plans on his own. Of course. 

To be honest, though, he’d thought his partner was Remus. Not….

“They won’t know their way around the castle, but it’s not hard to assume they’ve gotta go down. They’ll find us,” the Damsel glanced at Virgil and the Child, who were both watching him with equally betrayed glares, “You-You could...I dunno. Something. Then.”

The Dragon grinned. “Wonderful! I’ll start setting something up in the dungeons — we can talk more about the specifics when you’re getting your dress fitted.”

They all now turned to the Dragon with confusion. The Damsel spluttered a little, pointing to himself with his shaky right hand, and asked “MY dress?”

“Of COURSE your dress, you’re coming to the ball tonight!” the Dragon kissed his cheek, ignoring how the Damsel jerked away, “We can’t have a ball without a prince, and you’re close enough!”

The Damsel was paling so much, one would have thought his wounds had reopened. He looked at Virgil and the Child with a confused frown, then back at the Dragon. “Why? That’s...That wasn’t in the plan.”

“Oh, I know, but I thought the plan could use a little editing. Remus suggested—”

Ah, there it was. Speak of the devil.

The Damsel cast the Dragon a look of despair and disappointment. At least the dislike of Remus ran pretty thoroughly through him.

“You’re still listening Remus?” the Damsel’s voice grew, “We’re still taking pointers from the Duke of Trashville? From Oscar the gross? You’re ridiculous.”

“Hey, hey, you did agree that THIS,” the Dragon pointed to himself, then to the Damsel, then to the Child, before continuing, “Was a decent idea. Besides, I prefer his creations. He’s so much better at it than us.”

Record scratch? Virgil shot the Dragon a glare infused with as much confusion as it could be, because what the heck? “Uh, no, of course he’s not? What’re you even thinking?”

“Well,” Virgil whipped around to the Damsel, who had deflated faster than a mutilated balloon, “He-he’s still….he’s good at making ideas.”

“So are YOU!” Virgil wrung his hands, then grabbed the bars to his cell, gripping them tight enough to whiten his own knuckles. 

When they’d first entered the Imagination, Virgil forgot that it was, to some extent, also inhabited by the Duke. Where even was that wild card?

“Where is he?” he asked, “You’ve gotta have him close if he’s got input on this.”

The Dragon waved his hand flippantly, then inspected his nails. His hands were gloved, sure, but if Deceit could do it then so could he. “Oh, he’s just upstairs! I don’t let him out much, having his energy just roaming around would be too much of a wild card for our little game.”

The Damsel raised a hand, eye flicking back to the Dragon every so often. “Locked up. Chained, right? Or at least trying to?”

Trying to? Virgil and the Child shared a confused look before turning back to the other pair. “Trying to?” the Child asked. 

“Well,” the Dragon shrugged, “He keeps eating the chains.”

Virgil was confused, but the Child just nodded with a soft “ah,” as though that were to be expected. Which, granted, now that Virgil thought about the Duke, a train of thought he actively avoided boarding, the more he realized that yeah that’s some shit Remus would pull.

“I just visit him every so often, and that keeps him put,” the Dragon shrugged, then clapped, “He does like an audience, as do we! And now we need an audience with you, Kingdom Heart-ache. The show’s about to start!”

The Damsel raised a hand, terror streaking across his face in a moment. 

It was hard to not feel bad for the guy. Sure, he might be working with the Dragon, just to an extent, but it seemed out of necessity. Out of some kinda backwards self-validation of deep insecurities. 

Virgil was super not equip to deal with that, but he also knew he couldn’t just leave the Damsel alone. 

“I’m not going,” the Damsel said, hands balling at his sides, “I….”

His eyes widened. Slowly, he became more….transparent? Virgil squinted. The Dragon too glowed a little, the both of them turning see-through and glowing red and gold. 

He turned to the Child and saw him frozen as well, small hands holding the bars to their cell, body glowing. 

What the hell was this? Why did all the Romans keep freezing up like this, was something happening in the Imagination? His throat clenched in fear. 

Oh my God, was Remus hurting them? Virgil swore quietly. Was THOMAS hurting them? Was he trying to summon Roman too forcefully? What was going on?

They didn’t look in pain, but Virgil didn’t know what happened when a Side disappeared, maybe THAT’S what happened! And he didn’t know what happened when Roman split up like this — maybe THAT happened?

They all solidified again, and the Damsel shot back into his cell, hoarsely screaming incoherently loud enough for Virgil to jump. 

The Dragon laughed, a light glowing in his eyes, and the Child sank against the ground, giggling into his hands, happy as a clam.

The Damsel curled up in the corner and hugged himself, body trembling.  

Quite the reactions. Virgil stepped closer to the bars again, hands holding the cross bar. “What just happened?” he asked. 

The Dragon turned to him, glowing embers in his eyes alight with joy. 

He didn’t answer. Rather, he turned to the Damsel’s cell and snapped off the lock, striding in with one large step. He bent down and grabbed the Damsel’s wrist, then arm, then threw him over his shoulder like a sack. The Damsel stiffened, trembling still, and Virgil had no idea what had excited the Child and the Dragon but left the Damsel a petrified mess. He didn’t even argue as the Dragon trotted out of his cell still holding him. He didn’t look up when Virgil called his name. 

The two left down the hall, the Dragon whistling a tune as his cape swept along his back. 

What the hell. Virgil sank down to his knees, watching the empty end of the hall. “What was that?” he asked, turning slowly to the Child. 

Who was still beaming. He sat next to Virgil and leaned closer, hugging him tight. “Patton kissed, uh, um, Bard!” he said, “Patton said he loves us!” 

Oh. Virgil hugged the Child. Patton...was in love with Roman. Okay. So that was why he was a little out of it while they were in here, that’s fine. He didn’t even feel the theoretical pain that should be coming from the wound in his side. He was a little….numb.

Patton and Roman. That was fine! 

It was fine. 

Virgil ignored the yearning that yanked at his heart, didn’t dwell on the tears that pricked the edges of his eyes. That was fine. 

“We’re gonna be Roman again,” the Child said against Virgil’s arm, “I know it.”

For the first time in this entire escapade, Virgil found that a part of him didn’t want that. A small, miniscule part, wanted one of the different figments of Roman to trapeze into the cell and sweep him off his feet. Wanted to be able to love Roman.

He wished he weren’t so afraid of it.

TAGS!

chivalry au: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake (i think you asked me to tag @devil-towne too?? im gonna fight tumblr’s tagging system) @k9cat @patromlogil @theobsessor1 @ninja-wizard101 @fandomsofrandom

general: @jemthebookworm @okay-finne

[bittermarrow]

Imagine Slashers With an Angel S/O: (part 2) Michael Myers

Sorry that it took me forever to finish this! This is also more of a tiny fic than Jason’s was since it got so lengthy and has a more in-depth meeting scene. (I’ll be doing Bubba’s next!)

Warnings: Nsfw at the end, but nothing graphic.

Words: 3900+ (This is embarrassingly long T-T )

Michael

Michael knows what angels are, the family he spent six years with was religious enough for him to know. Did he really care about all that stuff? No. The point is he knows or at least he assumes that's what you are when he finds you, well, in all reality you found him. It was very hard to find someone who doesn't want to be found, and you made a conscious effort to avoid any and all human contact. You didn’t like humans very much, or talking to them so you kept a low profile.

You lived in a small house you rented from the old man that had originally found you when you fell, he was nice enough- and religious enough to offer you a place to live. He and his daughter were trying to move, and apparently, no one wanted the house, so if anything he was more grateful of you taking it off his hands than you were receiving it. With the promise of protection of his family and all that God stuff, it was a bit shady for you but you were desperate.

You’re stuck living on Earth now, your wings saw no real use indoors, and since you never left you never flew. Your misuse of them is leading you down a path of some pretty bad wing cramping, so you'd have to get a good couple of flights in soon. It's not like anyone was roaming out and about anymore, Haddonfield had gotten itself quite the gruesome reputation after all.

You had heard about all the murders that went on around this time of year, you may be an outsider, but you did own a TV.

There was a barely recognizable, blurry photo of the killer’s masked face plastered all over the news station you kept on literally all day. The background noise makes you feel less alone, you may purposely isolate yourself, but that doesn't mean you don't get lonely.

It was the quiet life that most people would die for, but it really isn't all that it appears to be. You can see the appeal, but sometimes you really wished you had friends.

And then you found him, Michael Myers, The Boogeyman of Haddonfield, The infamous escapee of Smith’s Grove, being chased by cops and jumping your fence.

Why in the hell you had shouted, “Hey!” and beckoned him into your home was beyond you. It really was pitiful how lonely you must be to let in a mentally deranged psycho killer into your home.

After a long stare, he inevitably entered, seeking shelter from the police rather than the heavy downpour, and was now dripping all over the hardwood floors of your kitchen. You looked up at the towering man, only slightly beginning to regret letting him in. Why had you let him in? Maybe it was some sick form of sympathy, or maybe you just finally lost the rest of your fucking marbles, because no mentally stable person with any sort of intelligence or common sense should ever attempt to house a sociopathic serial killer.

But you did.

And there was no going back now.

The stove light caught and reflected against the cold metal in his hand, and as he stared you swallowed the dread and turned on your heel, disappearing into the hallway. The feathered drapes of white and black that dragged behind you as you padded across the creaking floors did not go unnoticed by the motionless stranger’s watchful eyes.

When you returned he had moved further into the kitchen observing his surroundings, you passed him and set a folded up blanket, a towel, and a pillow on one of the cushions of your couch. When you turned around he was inches away from you, you didn’t even hear him move. You held his soulless stare for a minute, and then walked around him and back into the hall to retire for the night. He watched you leave, with a loose grip around the handle of the stained steel blade. Maybe God really wouldn’t let him die after all…

.   .   .

When you woke the next morning, you crept out of the hallway and as you went to prepare your morning coffee you threw a sideways glance over to the couch. It was empty, no sign of the monster that you’d sheltered last night. But the bunched up blanket half-hanging off the cushion, and the slightly damp towel hanging over the back of the sofa told you he had no doubt been there all night. As you poured your coffee you noticed an empty slot in your rarely used knife block, puzzled, you looked around for it and saw an unfamiliar knife stained with dried blood laying on your counter.

It was not in bad enough shape to be considered useless, so the only other explanation for him leaving it was that he would be coming back for it. And for a moment -just a fleeting breath of a second, you felt the heavy gloom that had kept your mood dark for years, lifted at the thought of someone else's company. For once you didn’t mind rotting here than hot tubbing with Hades down below after you'd been banished, like you were certain you would have, had you not escaped in time.

You decided to keep the back door unlocked, just in case he did come back.

.   .   .

You turned out to be right when night fell and you heard the loud screech of tires skidding across asphalt, the screaming of sirens and flashing blue and red lights shining through your windows, illuminating the darkness of the room as you sat in front of the television. Your feathers stood up on end at the sound of your back door creaking open and slamming shut, and then light footsteps across your kitchen floors.

From the couch you watched Michael return the borrowed blade into its rightful spot in your knife block, swiping the familiar knife off of the marble countertop, which had been cleaned of gore. He stopped in the entryway of the living room his head tilting to the side as he caught your eyes.

You searched his eyes, but you found nothing but cold blankness in them, was he really human? Creating space for him to sit down if he chose to, your eyes transfixed themselves back onto the TV, and your fingers pulled the blanket around your shoulders a bit tighter.

You had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to be stared at, it'd been so long...

To your surprise, you felt the couch cushion shift with someone else's weight and a quick glance to your left confirmed that he had sunk down beside you— on the opposite end of the sofa, of course, keeping some space between you. You could feel his eyes on you, specifically on your wings when they shifted with a soft rustle against the back of the couch, and while you couldn’t blame him for his interest, it was still uncomfortable.

You decide to bravely turn your head and meet his eyes straight on, and you notice his dark, shaded eyes widen a fraction. But as soon as the change appeared it was gone just as quickly, his blank stare boring into your soul through the eye-holes of that dirty white-faced mask.

Seeing his face obscured by the rubber skin only strengthened the urge to look away, this guy really had the fear factor working for him. What's scarier than a psychotic murderer? One you don't know the face of. It sounds like such an unfulfilling death… not even being able to remember the face of your killer in whatever afterlife existed.

“Your name is Michael, right?” You rasp blatantly, your voice scratchy from misuse as it leaves your throat. You don’t expect him to reply, and he doesn’t. But his head tilts, much like an owl’s would, and you knew his name and bits and pieces from the news but wanted to see how he’d react— if at all to you asking. “Thought so.”

Michael continues to glare at you as if there was a specific detail about you that he didn't like.

“Do you talk? or are you just going to stare menacingly until I leave?” You manage to croak, intending to sound humorous but it came out more bitter than you'd meant.

He didn't acknowledge your attempt at a joke in the slightest, his eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

“Ah, you must be quite the strong silent type, the ladies must love you.” You let out a short chuckle, too tired to really care if you were annoying him, which you most likely were.

You turned your attention back to the flashing colors on the TV, the headlines of the news reporting several murders that no doubt had been committed by the man you so casually had let into your home. You were testing your luck with this, it was like letting in a stray cat, you never know if it’s rabid or if it's too wild to be a house pet. Best case scenario, it's going to have a few fleas and can be fixed with some TLC. Whatever the worst case scenario was you didn’t want to think about it.

You think of mentioning your own name, although you doubt he truly cares, you decide to tell him anyways.

“I’m, Y/N, by the way.” While you're unsure if he's tuning you out or not you continue, trying to shake your nerves.

“You can stay here if you want.” You can feel Michael’s eyes, but don’t bother to look back, instead, you answer whatever questions he may or may not have been silently asking. “Don’t bother to ask why. I don’t really know either.”

And that's true, you don't know why you're offering for him to stay, especially considering he that he still had a knife in hand and could easily bury it into your skull if he so chose to, at any moment your life could be cut short. And based on his size and whatever motivation he has to slaughter people, he would be able to overpower you easily.

A sickening shiver of pleasure envelopes your body at the thought, and you feel extremely weirded out by your body’s reaction to it. What the hell is wrong with you? You hide your inner conflict and clear your throat, speaking a lot less uneasily this time around.

“I don’t care what you do, but if you decide to stay I leave leftovers in the fridge and the bathroom’s down the hall, the first door on your right.”

You feel silly adding in all those details. like you knew he’d stay. Your cheeks inevitably go a bit pink at how lame you must sound. Why should you care if he starves or can’t find the bathroom? You convince yourself that it’s that sick kind of pity from the night prior, and decide to go with that, it makes the most sense to you. You sigh and get up from the couch letting the blanket slip back onto the couch and walking to fetch another pillow from your linen closet.

When you re-emerge from the hallway Michael is laying down with the blanket draped over himself, the small thing not nearly big enough to cover his feet and you are shocked to find it… oddly… —nevermind. You hold out the pillow to him and he slowly grabs it, not bothering to linger you briskly turn on your heel to leave when a hand catches your left wing. It’s enough to make you jump and let out a short shriek, you try to push out of his grasp, but it’s a futile attempt. He's much stronger than you are. Panic starts to set in as you consider your options, knowing escape isn't one of them. You look down at him, not sure if you're scared or just uncomfortable with being touched to the point of beginning to tremble.

“Let go- that hurts.”

He does, and you return to your room. You don’t know why he stopped you, but you’re not about to ask, you absentmindedly feel around the spot where his cold hand had been. Did he just want to touch you?- No, that was stupid, you were being stupid. You slip under the covers and shut out the world for another night of meaningless dreams.

So they are real. Michael had first thought you were one of those adults who were ‘never too old’ to dress up for Halloween, and when you had irritatingly not taken your ‘costume’ off after the holiday had passed he had begun to question if it really was fake. A childish thought, but when you flinched he had no doubt in his mind that those wings were attached to your back.

He stares at the plain white ceiling and lays flat on the couch, he thinks about your actions from the last night and just now. He's never had someone willingly let him into their house before, better yet invite him in. Surely with all the TV you seem to watch you know who he is, then… why? Your behavior towards him is shockingly indifferent. Like he isn't a cold-blooded murder machine with little to no sentiment or empathy, it's almost insulting.

He doesn't have to try to be intimidating, his sheer height alone is already effective enough without the extra nightmare fuel. He feeds on making people suffer, seeing their blood stain his hands and watching their faces turn blue with death. Why weren't you afraid of him? You should be, and you were for a moment when he'd reached for you.

But still, you had let him stay.

You are interesting to him, an angelic kind of figure, yet somehow darker. Your lack of fear of him must have something to do with your inhuman-ness, and while he doesn't really understand your apparent interest in him, he cannot say he hates it.

For now, you are simply a convenience to him, a place to crash and a roof over his head that isn't full of doctors and other mentally disturbed patients with petrified nurses is too good of to pass up. You're offering a good deal that he's not opposed to, at least that's how he sees it. He'll keep you alive until his urges force him to kill you, which could very well be soon if you get annoying.

.   .   .

It’s been months and Michael hasn’t grabbed you like that again, and you don’t bring it up, doing so would probably only earn you silence. You’ve grown used to having him around at night, and sometimes during the day, he decides to pop up. You can only assume what he does when he’s gone, and although the idea of letting him murder innocent people isn’t something that sits well on your conscience you’ve learned to live with it. Learned to live with him.

He’s grown on you somehow, it’s strange how easily you coexist together now. 90% of the time he is distant and seemingly uninterested in anything you say. But you spend an awful lot of time together, sometimes you can get him to play board games with you. He is unfairly good at them too, and you have the presence of mind to tell he likes playing them, he was always more relaxed. You have taken an initiative to talk to him. Even when you know he won’t talk back you still enjoy your conversations, no matter how one-sided they may be.

You don't know it, but he thoroughly enjoys listening to you speak, he has taken a liking to your voice. It's calming, and it's different, he was in constant silence for years at Smith’s Grove the only noises being moans of pain, meaningless chatter among staff and… Loomis. He listens a lot more than you give him credit for, and although he is often unresponsive overall, he likes that you continue to talk to him.

He doesn't want to admit it, even to himself, but he really has grown attached to you. He couldn't think of harming you now, even as unpredictable as his urges are, and when he does get them he goes out. It's better for him to separate himself from you when he’s overwhelmed by the voices in his head, telling him to hurt, to kill, to make others suffer. You're safer with him gone when he's like that, and he realizes this.

But it becomes harder to leave your side as a year goes by, he stays for days at a time now, sometimes your mere presence is enough to keep his murderous impulses at bay. Michael hasn't had someone that cared for him in his life in a very long time, and while he insists that he doesn't need to be loved he’s already making exceptions for you.

Only you can touch him, only you can soothe him, only you get to see the weaker side of Michael that is still hurting. He even let you teach him how to sign so he could communicate with you without having to talk, which you knew he didn't like doing.

He doesn’t realize how dependent you are on him, he's more thoughtful than he gives himself credit for. He notices everything, so he knows when you are upset or angry or simply having a bad day. Whether or not he is in the right place in his mind to attempt to comfort you is unpredictable, but he is trying.

He isn't the best at showing you that he cares but you know he does, he just struggles with expressing himself after all he's been through. But a particular quality about angels is they can sense discontentment in people who they are close enough to, so inevitably you begin to learn how to notice when he needs to be comforted. Michael won't initiate cuddling or let you hold him for long, but it helps him feel safe. He feels protected when he's in your arms and that can frustrate him, too many overwhelming emotions at once can lead to him pushing you away.

Don't worry, he'll always come back to you. He just needs time.

.   .   .

You can hardly call your relationship platonic anymore, you don't think you've been ‘just friends’ since the first time you felt his chapped lips crushing against yours one night. Not the mask’s lips, his lips. You can't recall what had originally encouraged him to kiss you or why his mask was off, but you were glad it happened.

In the beginning, he only let you press small kisses to the rubber lips if his mask, and for after awhile you were convinced he just he hadn't liked it and refrained from kissing him anymore. Suffice is to say, he noticed and became confused when you stopped doing it, he never told you to stop.

Michael began initiating affection more after that, but the mask stayed on for a while even after being together so long.

One of Mikey’s very favorite things about you were your wings, he has a bit of an odd fascination with them. He touches them quite a lot. You could be in his lap or his head in yours, or simply walking by and you’d feel him reach out to give them a good pet. You can't say you minded even if you did find it odd, you embraced any and all affection that Michael had to offer. This is because there were only a few times where he's loose enough to touch you without you asking him to.

He's moved from the couch into your bed to sleep since your first few encounters, and you'd found he slept much easier when he was close to you. Something about being around you comforted him and kept the night terrors at bay, there were often times where he would hallucinate or wake up from nightmares.

The first time it happened he jolted awake and reached out to grab you as if in fear that you were gone. You were half-asleep and he was shaking, so you rolled over onto your stomach so you could snake an arm around his shoulder and draped a wing over his front to keep him still.

“It’s just a bad dream, Mikey, go back to sleep.” Michael relaxed slightly under your touch, both of his arms had locked themselves tightly around you in his scramble to find you. Sensing he was still tense and not liking how tightly he was squeezing you, you mumbled something to him.

“You're safe… “

And that's when he realized how much he needed you, and that thought alone scared him more than his nightmare had.

.   .   .

From then on your wings have changed from a fascination to a comfort. when you do cuddle it's best to keep at least one of your feathered limbs wrapped around him. He feels secure when he's being held by you, and the more security he finds in you the longer he will allow you to hold him.

He keeps knives stashed everywhere in your house in case of emergencies, behind pictures, inside vases, between the couch cushions… hell, you'd poured yourself a bowl of cereal once and a knife fell out of the box into your mini wheats. No one fucked with your cereal. You had definitely scolded him for that, you didn't mind so much that he kept blades around the house, but in your cereal box? That's too far.

Heaven forbid someone walks into your house uninvited or with the intention to harm you, the thought of someone hurting you is enough to deny him into a boiling murderous rage. The few times your home has been invaded you've had the worst of gorey messes to clean, how the fuck did he get blood on the ceiling?

It’s not just the mess he made of your house that bothered you the most, it was the mess he would make of himself mentally afterward. When Michael thinks you have been put in danger he brings clinginess to a whole new level, he will follow you around the house for days. He even sits outside the bathroom door!

The truth is, he’s afraid to leave you alone, and it's that paranoia, that fear of losing you that makes him cling. You won't change his mind so don't bother trying to get alone time, the only thing you can do is wait it out until he can trust himself again.

NSFW

Intimacy with Michael is something that doesn't take long to develop, you've gotta realize that this man spent most of his life in a Sanitarium, so he has a lot of pent up sexual frustration.

But since sex is something Michael knows only so much about you are going to have to be his teacher. You will also have to remind him constantly to be patient in the beginning. He's eager and while that's good and all… have you seen how big he is? Like, he's definitely proportional down south so if you don't remind him to go slow he'll end up hurting you.

It doesn't take him long to learn though, he'll rarely need to be reminded of where to touch you. He’s pretty intuitive and prefers to learn things on his own, so just let him explore if you have the patience. One sensitive place he found on his own was your wings. The absolutely obscene noise you made when he had first reached down to get a good handful of feathers told him all he needed to know. Just make sure you don’t try to drag things out for too long, if there’s anything at all that Michael lacks the patience for, it’s intimacy.

[lashtoncurls]

Quarter after three(CH)

Summary: Calum can’t hide that he’s in love with best friend anymore.

Words: 2468

Warnings: cursing, smut

A/N: 3:15 by Bazzi inspired this. I love best friends to lovers, idk 🤷🏻‍♀️

Calum’s leg shook anxiously as they finished up interviews and PR stuff for day, but he couldn’t get his mind off of her. Every time they’ve been in Chicago, he had been tempted to go visit. They were two hours from the university she attended, and it was driving Calum crazy that he literally could get in a car and drive to her. He had been missing her like crazy even though it had been more than a year since their last encounter. Megan, his ex girlfriend, had gotten upset at their closeness and all the traveling made it impossible for him to visit.

“Hey, I’m gonna go somewhere.” He grabbed a bag and put some clothes on it before grabbing his wallet and making way out of the bus.

“Bro, we have to catch a fight at 8 tomorrow morning.” Luke stood in front him, trying to block his way out.

“Let him go, you ass.” Ashton laughed and punched his shoulder lightly “He just wants a private place to fuck Meg in peace.”

“I’m not going to see her. Bye.” Calum groaned and laughed at their crude jokes before he perished through them and towards his Uber.

The drive down seemed to last longer than two hours, his head rolling with thoughts of what she’d say about his impromptu visit. Would she be living in the same dorm? Is she dating anybody? He laughed at his silliness and rubbed his face while the driver signaled they were there. Calum got off the car and walked towards her building, smiling when he caught the sign that read ‘Knock or I’ll beat your ass, even if you live here’

Three knocks and a shaky breath later, the door opened to a beautiful girl with her hair in a bun and a long loose t-shirt that went to the tops of her thighs. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Calum and her cheeks blushed a deep red as she tried to pull the shirt lower.

“Hi.” He spoke softly as his eyes trailed her body.

“Hi.” Her response came seconds later as she watched him. It’d only been a year, but she could tell he’d grown in the way the jacket strained on his biceps and his big hands grasped the bag in them. The color in his hair made him look so much attractive than she’d thought before. But she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

“Uh, come in.” She stepped aside and walked him through the flat, opening the door to her room and letting him in. Her roommate called from the kitchen and she excused herself. Calum nodded and sat on the bed before he got up and looked at the picture frames on the nightstand and the wall. A couple of them were of just them two from her time in LA, and the others were from the times she’d visited the band on tour. Calum smiled at what he knew was the last picture they’d taken together. Luke and Ashton had caught them watching movies and cuddling together; he was throwing popcorn at her mouth as they sat with their legs crossed in front of each other. He sighed as he recalled that being the night she told them she was transferring and the night Megan told him to stay away from her. At first, Calum laughed it off and told her that she was just being jealous and there was nothing to worry about; but having her stayed away with no phone calls made him realize that he actually felt something deeper for her. It might’ve been too late, he thought. But he had driven two hours just to see her.

“I forget you’re the king of impromptu visits, Hood.” She walked in and locked the door, pulling Calum out of his thoughts. She sat on the bed and rubbed her feet as she the tv on for background noise.

“Yeah, I guess.” He chuckled lightly and rubbed the back of neck, a nervous gesture she knew far too well.

“Listen-“

“I’m sorry I-“ They spoke at the same time and laughed, Calum taking a seat next to her.

“Is Megan here?” The question came out before she could think it through.

“No, we’re not really a thing anymore.” Calum shrugged and played with the rings on his fingers.

“Well I guess I can’t expect you to be okay with not getting laid.” The dry laugh she gave him made him cringe “All the paparazzi pics still picture you two together and she hangs around the group.”

“She’s friends with Sierra and Crystal. Can’t really stay away.” She nodded as they sat in silence and he shrugged.

“Why are you here Calum?” Her hand tucked a loose strand of her behind her ear as he bit his lower lip and admired the beautiful girl in front him. She was in nothing but a long t-shirt and no makeup, yet she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on. He placed a hand on her cheek as she leaned into the warmth of his calloused hands and sighed, her eyes closing.

“Because it drove me fucking insane that I hadn’t seen in you in a year and I couldn't stand the fact that I’d lost my best friend over a dumb girl who couldn’t understand our friendship and our past. And most importantly because I can’t hide my feelings for you anymore.” Before he could change his mind, Calum closed the space between them and leaned in for a kiss. The butterflies in his stomach began to flutter as her lips pressed against his in a soft yet passionate kiss. Her hands found themselves against his cheeks before he pulled back, caressing her jaw as she opened her eyes.

“I can’t do this again, Cal.” Her fingers traced her lips where they tingled from his and even though those words came out of her mouth, all she wanted to do was press her lips to his again and stay like that for as long she had him.

“I can’t stay away from you, angel.” The nickname slipped from his lips with ease as he caresses her jaw and neck once more “I’ve had to hold back from driving or flying all the way here just to see you. Home isn’t the same. And no matter what, no LA girl could compare to you. You’re fucking money without even trying. I mean, look at you. Nothing but a t-shirt on but you still blow my mind.” She noticed the way his cheeks flushed as he spoke and she smiled before attaching their lips again, this time moving them so she was straddling his lap.

“Why did we think that staying friends would work?” She whispered against his lips as her hands pinched his cheeks.

“We’ve always been best friends before anything, but fifteen year old me wasn’t sure that he’d want to fuck only one girl for the rest of his life.” Calum shrugged as his hands gripped her waist on top of him.

“I hate your dirty mouth, hood.”

“We both very well know you don’t.” Calum flipped them over and almost caused them to fall over from the small bed. She erupted in a fit of giggles as he kissed all over face before looking right in her eyes and biting her lower lip. They kissed like they hadn’t in a long time, and Calum now regretted all the times he made her cry and all the girls he’d brought over in front of her. They had made a pact that they’d always be friends, but somehow his love for her never went away and he craved what felt like home in a world where things were constantly changing. She kept him grounded and reminded him of who he was when he began to get lost in his thoughts while traveling constantly.

“Earth to Hood.” Her small hands found themselves underneath his shirt and he groaned as she lightly ran her nails on his back “Watcha ya thinking about?”

“Just how you’ve always been my home, and now I know why this year had been so hard without you in it.” He hid his face in the crook of her neck and began to leave wet, open mouthed kisses as she smiled before a low moan left her lips. Calum’s hands began to wander up the shirt, noticing how she wore nothing but panties and a sports bra. His fingers travelled from her thigh to her stomach and underneath the band of the bra. He looked up at her in search of a sign to stop, but instead she helped him remove the shirt and laid underneath him as he removed the leather jacket and hoodie he wore. After sharing a few more kisses and clothes being removed, She laid underneath him with her legs on either side of him and his hands were massaging her boobs before kissing lightly down her chest and stomach, to the hem of her panties.

“These have to come off now.” He whispered and lifted her legs to help her remove the lace fabric. With a few kisses to her thigh, he moved his head to her core and began to lick at her folds as he placed her thighs on his shoulders.

“Oh fuck, I forgot the things you could do with your tongue.” She tried to move above him, but one of Calum’s hands held her against the bed by her lower stomach. He chuckled and held his tongue flat on her clit, the vibrations sending a new wave of pleasure through her body.

“Want my fingers too, babygirl?” She looked down at him and nodded before he got up and stuck his index and middle fingers in her mouth, watching the way her eyes stayed on him as she licked and sucked on them. After that, Calum went back to work on her clit as he started with one finger; her head falling back on the pillow as she arched her back when his finger reached her g-spot. He pulled his finger out and inserted both that time, her hips bucking up to help her reach her high as Calum sucked and licked on her clit.

“Shit, Calum.” She moaned as her hands held on to his while her legs shook slightly as Calum fingered her through her orgasm. He moved up from between her legs and kissed her lips as he hovered above her. The clicking of a belt surprised him as she undid it and took his hard dick in her hands as she pushed his pants down and guided him to her core.

“I want to feel you.” He groaned at her words when he felt the tip of his dick rubbing her clot before lining up st her entrance and pushing in slightly. They both moaned at the pleasure of being like this again after so much time. Calum thrust in and out slowly while he kissed her lips and neck and she scratched his back when he hit a particular spot.

“I’m gonna come.” Calum pulled out and her hands wrapped around his dick as she helped him get to his high, spilling all over her stomach as he whispered her name and laid beside her while kissing her cheek and holding her hand.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up.” She whispered after they had caught their breath and she have Calum a kiss on the cheek as she walked off to her bathroom and left him alone to his thoughts.

He wanted to know how she felt about what had just happened. It wasn’t him being lonely while on tour, or him wanting a rebound. He truly loved her and he wanted her to know. Maybe having sex on the first time they had seen each other in so long hadn’t been his best idea, but it was the best he’d ever had.

When she returned in nothing but a towel and picked up his shirt from the pile of clothes on her floor, his mouth fell open at the way she looked in his clothes with damp hair and swollen lips.

“I’ll leave all my shirts if you’ll look this damn good in all of them.” He smiled and pulled her body towards his as she cuddled next to him and turned the volume of the television up. She returned the smile as they began to talk about how the tour had been so far and all the promo they’d been doing. He confessed that a lot of his songwriting had to do with his pent up feelings for her and she kissed him hard at this confession.

After a while they laid there and he noticed the clock on her nightstand read 3AM, a sigh leaving his lips as he closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the moment before he had to leave again. He took in her smile and the curve of her lips; the color on her eyes and the way her hair curled when it dried. He tried to remember the burn her warm lips caused on his skin and the way her nails had racked down his back.

“You have to leave soon, don’t you?” She asked, he hands still in his on his chest.

“Plane leaves at 8 back to LA.” She nodded on his chest before she looked up and placed her chin on his warm chest “If it was up to me, I’d fly you out there with a one way ticket.” He smirked and she laughed lightly.

“No shiny diamond ring? It is valentines day after all.” They both laughed as she pinched her cheek and they talked some more. It was now almost 4AM and time for him to call an Uber for the ride to the airport, but he wanted nothing more than just lay there with her as she traced the shapes of his chest tattoo.

“Me leaving doesn’t mean this will end. Seeing you smile and happy like this makes me want to stay here, but we both know I can’t.” She smiled and nodded, but her eyes did have a hint of sadness “I will fly out here as much as I want and i promise to fly you out as much too. I meant it when I said that girls back home are nothing compared to you. And after tonight, I want no one else but you.” They kissed and laid in silence until he really had to leave. They shared kisses and light touches, his fingers itching to remember the way her soft skin felt against him.

Calum’s flight back was him in his feels about the night he’d spent with her cuddled in her small college dorm and how he wanted nothing but to be back there with her.

Tags: @slimthicccal @angelbbycal @heaven-high-water @roselukes @dweebluke @calumhampton @irwinkitten @lukesflaredpants @uncrownedqueeen @calthesensation @toofadedtofight @snapbackcake @myloverboyash

[krystalkoya]

Ad Hoc| 02

Summary: Landing your dream job as an advertising exec at Kim Entertainment straight out of college was nothing like you imagined. Mostly due to the fact that your college rival, Jung Hoseok, sits ten feet away from you and never misses an opportunity to make your life a living hell. When a position opens up at the firm to be chief of advertising, you jump at the opportunity, but not without having to go up against Hoseok who is also vying for the position. In a dirty game of deception and betrayal, the last thing you expect to come out of it is love.

pairing: coworker!hoseok x reader

genre: enemies to lovers (the superior trope!), future angst, future smut (18+), humour

rating: nc17

word count: 8k

chapter warnings: none 

. . .

Chapter Summary: Things were looking up... but that never lasts long, now does it? 

Series Masterpost

. . .

_______ 

The sound of a pot clashing to the floor reverberates through your tiny apartment, the sound traveling and no doubt giving your neighbors yet another reason to complain. You turned your music up loud one time and the next thing you know your getting a noise complaint from your landlord. Nevermind coming to you to address the problem, no they went straight to that rotten woman upstairs.  

You sigh. “I still don’t understand why I’m the one cooking and your supposed to be the world-renowned chef.”

“World-renowned chef-to-be, ___. I’m still in culinary school. And what, do you expect me to cook you meals every time we’re together? A chef deserves to be catered to too you know.” You roll your eyes at him, though it’s fruitless because he can’t see you from his sprawled out position on your couch.

“Fine, but if I hear even one complaint about how my noodles aren’t ‘al dente’ or whatever the fuck, I’m never cooking for you again.”

Seokjin mulls it over for a second. “That’s fair I guess. We can’t all be culinary experts. Most of your  talents lie elsewhere anyway.” He says, tone condescending and you’d almost be offended, but you know that’s just Jin.

You've known him for years. Too long really. You're not even sure how you put up with him for so long, but deep down you know it’s because you care for him deeply. He was a couple years older than you but ever since he moved in to the house next door to yours when you were in nine your bond stuck stronger than Elmer's glue.

Believe it or not, he'd actually been much more reserved as a child, yet there was still a lightheartedness to him that made him easy to get along with. You hate to admit it, he loves to boast about it, but his corny jokes won you over, the dad jokes he cracks even to this day being as annoying as they were endearing. When he'd hit his teenage years though, that's when he truly blossomed. He had always been charming but around adolescence is when he'd truly come into himself. Yet he hadn't dropped you for prettier, more popular friends as is the cliche. You chock it up to the fact that Jin was a leader not a follower. It's why your friendship had lasted so long into your mid-twenties. You also take that as the reason why he refused to let his own dreams be crushed in favor of pleasing someone else, even blood.

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. "Thanks, I guess? Only you could find a way to compliment me and insult me in the same sentence," you say.

You look up just in time to see Jin shoot you a thumbs up over the back of the couch in acknowledgement.

"Speaking of culinary school, when are you gonna tell your dad about it?" you query, looking over at his horizontal form splayed across your couch.

Seokjin sighs and rolls over onto his side, propping his head onto his hand to peer at you.

"I told you, when the right time comes. I need to be completely, absolutely, 100% sure he's going to be okay with me using the money he gave me for a business degree on culinary school instead. And if that doesn't happen in my lifetime... I'm okay with that."

You laugh, looking up from your poorly diced parsley leaves to say, " He's gonna find out eventually. Especially when you don't end up taking over the company for him when he's ready to retire. My advice? Bite the bullet, yank the bandaid off or whatever they say, but tell him now. What lie did you even tell him about college anyway?" You ask, gesturing wildly with the knife in your hand, and Seokjin recoils fearfully despite being ten feet away from you.

"Told him I took a year sabbatical." He sighs.

"And he was okay with that?!"

"More okay with it than if I told him I dropped out and used the money for a cooking degree."

You nod in understanding but then realize he can't see you. "Makes sense."

Jin rolls back over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling in thought. There's a pause before he says, "Trust me, I'd like to postpone that conversation for as long as possible. Thank you...for the advice I mean, but don't worry about it. I'll tell him... eventually."  He waves his hand dismissively but you sense the uncertainty in his voice.

You don't press any further however, choosing instead to lighten up the conversation, for his sake at least. "Okay, if you say so. I couldn't imagine you as my boss anyway. Don't want to really."

He just at the opportunity of a much lighter conversation, tacking on a statement of his own. "And as much as I like to boss you around, I don't think I'd enjoy being the CEO of an ad company. Not my thing. Too business-y, doesn't allow enough room for flair. My talents would be wasted. It'd be a shame really."

You nod in agreement at each other, only to break contact when your hand slips and the knife knicks your index finger. You curse, bringing your hand up to inspect the cut as you faintly hear Jin's voice in the background.

"Don't get any blood on my food."  

"Keep talking and it won't just be my blood," you mutter lowly. Thankfully, it was just a little knick. No blood made an appearance today and perhaps it was because your knives weren't sharp enough to inflict any serious damage. Bad for cutting actual food but good for a klutz like you. You hurry up and wash your finger off anyway, grabbing a bandaid from your kitchen first aid drawer to plaster on the wound.

As your nursing yourself back to health you hear the noise of a phone ringing in the distance. It can't be yours because you were sure it was abandoned at the bottom of your purse in your room somewhere. Too far away for you to hear it this close.

Seokjin reaches over to grab his phone off the coffee table, swiping right to accept the call.

It's not even on speaker yet you hear the resounding "Seokjinnieee!!" blare through the phone. Dear god, yet another thing your neighbors can complain about.

Seokjin reels back from the phone, only returning once the voice on the other line subsides.

"Hello, Jimin."

By now, Jin has put the phone on speaker, the three of you comfortable enough with each other to talk freely.

"Well, I was actually trying to get to ___  and I figured she was with you..." comes Jimin's voice. You knew you weren't crazy when you thought that Seokjin was over at your apartment too much lately. At this point he should just move in.

"She has a phone you know. Call her." And he hangs up.

You look at him incredulously. At this point dinner is never gonna get done with all your stopping to regard your companion in disbelief.

"Why?" you exclaim.

Seokjin mirrors your expression as if you were in the wrong here.

"What? He called me asking for you. I'm not gonna sit here and be the middleman. It's belittling."

You barely have a chance to respond before you hear the phone chime again.

This time Jimin is facetiming.

Jin taps accept hastily. "Yes Jimin?"

From your place behind the couch you can see the blank look on Jimin's face as he comes into frame.

"I going to explain that ___ never answers her phone before you so rudely hung up on me."

You snatch the phone out of Jin's hands ignoring his protests as you escape back into the kitchen.

"Ignore him Jimin, he’s just cranky right now. What d'you need?" you say cheerily.

Jin rolls himself off the couch, finally getting up to join you in the kitchen. He takes a seat in one of the barstools in front of you, his hand propped up under his head on the counter.

"Nothing really. I just wanted to know if you had any ideas for your project yet?"

Jin's demeanor changes, suddenly sitting up straighter in his seat to listen in on your conversation.

"Project? What project? ___, why haven't you told me anything about this project?" he questions excitedly.

You roll your eyes. "It didn't come up," you say curtly.

"And no, I haven't come up with anything yet." You sigh, turning back to Jimin. "It's eating me up. I need an idea but I don't want to rush into anything, you know? It has to be perfect. This is a huge opportunity. I don't wanna mess this up."

Ever since Minho made the announcement on Friday of the new job offer opening up, you had been spending quite a bit of your weekend agonizing over what you should do for your big assignment. You had been fearful Hoseok had already started working on his the moment he got back to his desk that day, but you were just being dramatic. He was probably having just as much trouble as you were coming up with an idea. Right?

"Alright, somebody tell me a what's going on here. This sounds exciting and you know I hate being left out of the loop." Seokjin complains from his seat on the other side of you.

Jimin's soft chuckles fill the room, followed by the sound of his voice. "___ here is applying for the new Chief of Advertising position here at your daddy's company." A smirk pulls at your lips when you see Jin visibly wince at Jimin's words.

Jimin, not being able to see the other man, treks on, "But get this, they're requiring a 'personal project' as part of the application process and guess who else is gunning for the position?"

Jin squints his eyes at you, appraising your sour expression. "Ah," Seokjin claps his hands in excitement, having a true aha! moment right here in your kitchen.

"College boyfriend! What was his name again? Hoseol?"

You try your best to talk over Jimin's giggles. "Not my boyfriend, number one. And two, it's Hoseok, but I could care less what you call him."

"Ok, boyfriend, maybe not. But that doesn't detract from the fact that you still wanted to jump his bones all throughout col-"

You slap a hand over Jin's mouth, effectively shutting him up for the moment. "Could you shut up? We have a very impressionable Jimin on the line and I don't want him to be corrupted by your lies."

"Oh. please continue. I'm okay with being lied to. Anything is better than the scraps ___ feeds me," he calls.

Seokjin manages to pry your hand off his lips and all too soon he's opening that large mouth of his to speak again.

"What? It's true. And I don't see what the problem is, he likes you, or at least, he did at one point."

"The problem is he stands in the way of becoming C.A.O," apparently Minho's acronym had caught on. "I'll excuse Jimin cause I didn't know him in college but Seokjin, I knew you. Come on, you know what happened between me and Hoseok back then." you whisper lowly.

"I don't know! Tell me!" There's Jimin again.

Your eyes are pleading with Seokjin not to reveal too much, and sure he's a blunt guy, but he's not an asshole (entirely). So he sighs, appeasing your silent wishes.

"Nothing. Sure, they were friends – very briefly. And ___ may or may not have had a crush on him," he ignores the glare you throw his way but you let up once you realize that this is him going easy on you.

"But they had a falling out and never spoke to each other again. Until they both ended up at the same company after uni. How crazy is that? You must of done terrible something in a past life to make the universe treat you like this. This is insane, it's like you're life is a movie... or a badly written YA novel."

You had thought the same thing when you turned up on your first day at Kim Entertainment to see that you would be working with none other than Jung Hoseok. He had been hired about a month prior to you in the same department. Truth be told, after that fateful day in uni where you swore you would never speak to him again, you hadn't thought about him much since. You had thought similar majors in college would have resulted in you running into each other in classes, but when you started seeing less and less of him you realized your schedules hadn't aligned at all. He did morning classes, you preferred evening ones. Apparently, mismatched schedules seemed to be the only bone the universe had thrown you.

You turn back to your phone when you see that Jimin is pouting in his reclined position on his sofa. "You guys never tell me anything. Am I even your friend?"

"Nice try Jimin, but put the puppy-dog face away. Of course your our friend. But some things deserve to remain in the past. This especially."

You changed the subject quickly. "Let's talk about what I should do for my advertisement." Jimin sobers up quickly, his sour expression replaced with enthusiasm at the chance to gossip. "Good. I suggest you come up with something quick. Word in the office is Sally, Brenda, and Nayeon have already started on theirs. Hoseok too." He adds quietly. Probably not wanting to alarn you but too late, you’re alarmed.

"What? It's been two days!"  

"Yeah, well some people are productive like that. Can you blame ‘em? This job is a dream compared to your silly little title of "ad crew member" no offense."

You shrug. "Eh, none taken. Thanks for filling me in I guess."

"No problem. Let me know if you come up with something! This is the most excitement the office has had in a while."

"See you Monday, Chim."

You both say your goodbyes and once you hang up you drop Jin's phone on the counter and lean against it. You don't even realize Seokjin had gotten up to turn the boiling water off and strain the noodles behind you.

"It'll be fine, you're great at this, trust me. Just relax and create something meaningful to you." It's times like this where you really admire Seokjin's easy approach to life. When you're stressing and agonizing over every little detail he can come in and say two words that'll automatically calm you down.  

You sigh, taking several deep breaths to compose yourself before you try speaking again. "You're right. It'll come to me eventually. I just have to calm down and think."

Jin nods at your understanding, then says,"Go sit down, I'll finish up."

You look at him wondering if its a joke or not. "Seriously, go sit. I'll call you when it's ready." Thank god, cause you had no idea where you were going with this meal. At your pace, he was going to get a plate full of spaghetti and diced parsley and you'd be tolerating zero complaints.

Its when Jin sits a delicious looking plate of chicken alfredo in front of you that you realize how hungry you are, thoughts still wrapped up in work.

However, Jin must be fed up with feeling like he's talking to the equivalent of a brick wall, if his next words are any indication. "Alright, talk." he says sternly.

"What?" you splutter out around a mouthful of creamy white sauce and linguini.

"It's obvious you're not gonna rest until you come up with a project idea. So talk about it. Run some ideas by me, I might not know much about advertising but I'm still CEO's son. I could help you."

As if a dam has burst inside you, you start rambling.

"I don't get it? It's like, all this time I have been swamped with creative ideas for what I could do for previous projects, but now that it matters the most, I can't come up with anything."

Jin hums in understanding, swallowing a piece of chicken, before he speaks.

"You feel more pressured than before, it's understandable. Can't you just pull from past ideas that never got to see the light of day? Revamp them a little and develop your pitches into the vision you always saw for it?"

You're quiet for a moment, halting all action including chewing because Seokjin might've been onto something.

You ask to clarify. "You mean revisit one of my old ideas for a client?"

Seokjin shrugs. "Yeah. I don't see any problem with it. It's not like you can plagiarize yourself. I mean you can – did that one to many times in college – but not in this context. Just revisit one of your old ideas and show everyone what could've been. You're really creative, and smart, and your messages have meaning. You can do this."

You're quiet yet again, simply taking in Seokjin and his words, but he's not looking at you, suddenly very interested in the linguini swimming in white sauce on his plate. But, regardless he's all to aware of your eyes on him anyway.

"Thank god you're good at this at least. Once you get this job I'm gonna have to start charging you for my services. At least you'll finally be making enough to afford it." He comments.

The smile is sliding off your face because... ah, there's the Seokjin you know and love.

"You know, I was feeling like hugging you just a second ago but 'hugging' is quickly turning into 'smacking' and I'm not sure which I'd enjoy more. I take that back – the latter, definitely the latter."

Despite his inability to remain serious for all of five minutes, Seokjin's words reassure you enough that your back to yourself, finishing up your meal now content that you had a plan of approach for deciding on a project idea.

.

.

.

When you wake up the next morning you feel refreshed, ready to tackle the day's issues head-on. You weren't a morning person but today you went about your morning routine with a pep in your step, a dumb ghost of a smile on your lips. You had attributed it to the fact that you had finally, finally decided on your project idea. It had come to you sometime between last night and early morning, when you had been mulling over your past pitches that were never developed all the way through to the end.

When you stepped into work that day nothing could put a damper on your mood because you were a woman on a mission. Not even the first sighting of Hoseok for the day trampled your spirits, like it usually did. That familiar feeling of disgust didn't immediately coil in your gut when you passed by him in the break room, making his routine cup of black coffee.

You expected a snarky comment from the man when you passed him by, but he was more likely shocked by your sunny disposition as opposed to the scowl that usually graced your features whenever graced by his presence.

Oh well. You walk past him without saying a word. You walk past your desk and Jimin's desk, which alerts the younger man's attention to you. You continue to stalk forwards however, your sights set on a destination near the back of the office.

When you get there you slam your hands down on the desk in front of you, a little more forcefully than needed but it felt right at the time. You feel bad, however, when the man in front of you jumps at your actions.

"Sorry," you cringe remorsefully. "But now that I have your attention, can I talk to you for a second?"

You manage to lure Jungkook into the conference room with you. He was slightly startled by your initial outburst but once you assured him of your intentions he followed you in here, slightly wary but still intrigued.

"So Jungkook," you begin, "I'm sure you've heard of the new position in the ad department that's opened up." At his nod of confirmation you press on,

"Well, I'm applying and I have very specific plans... plans that involve you."

Jungkook was a relatively new hire in the graphic design department of your office. He was young, the youngest there, but don't let his age fool you. He was one of, if not the most talented in that department and you were glad he was here. You've seen his work – he had an abundance of talent at photoshop, video editing, and even drawing. If you were going to get this job you needed Jungkook and you'd settle for no one else.

But for all his talent, he was still just a kid in your eyes (if you said that to him you had no doubt he'd protest vehemently). Granted, he was only a couple years younger than you but by the way his large doe eyes regarded you with an emotion you think could be fear, you decide to dial it back a bit.

"Relax," you say placating him. "I'm not gonna, like, murder you or anything." You laugh and Jungkook visibly relaxes at that.

"Oh. Well, good." he nods. "What do you need me for then?"

You smile before explaining your plans for the talented graphic designer. "Well, as you know I have to submit an advertisement of my own and I want you to help me with all the design details. Jungkook, I've told you this before but you're talented... like super-fucking talented. I can't think of anyone else I want to help me with this."

Jungkook blushes at your words, a hand coming up to rub at his neck awkwardly. "Ah- t-thanks ___. Sure, I'd be glad to help. What is it that you're doing exactly?"

You run over the idea that had come to you sometime last night.

A couple months ago your team had taken on a client who wanted to promote their makeup line. They hadn't made a name for themselves yet, a small brand looking for some much needed promotion. You saw potential there, but the team you had been assigned to work with on this particular client had a much different vision from yours. Whereas you saw a product that could reach a wide audience, your much older, (and whiter) male colleagues had a much more... narrowed perspective.

The resulting social media campaign depicted the makeup line as a product specifically catered to the fairer skinned female demographic. You and the small number of people in your camp had a similar vision so it was unsurprising that you were all disappointed with the final product. The client, not knowing any better, had accepted what they thought was the informed opinion of her promotion team.

Although you make fun, you thank god for Minho because the last manager had no idea what he was doing.

He assembled a team of a handful of minorities and an abundance of narrow minded men together on an task to market makeup. Makeup. For you, this had confirmed that fact that your old manager either a) didn't give a fuck or b) was truly that dense. You had sensed it was a combination of the two, given the way the older males in the office and your manager all seemed to be buddy-buddy.

Either way he was incompetent at his job and you were glad he was gone.

Revamping this project and molding it to fit your vision was almost like a second chance. Since you last checked, the brand was doing well for itself but you had no doubt it could be bigger. If it was marketed better it could've reached a wider audience, one that wasn't limited to the fairer-skinned female demographic, or females in general. If there was one thing you learned through personal experiences, and in college was that representation matters – people tended to support things that they saw a  reflection of themselves in – and this was your concern in almost every endeavor you took on at work.

You fill Jungkook in on all the details because he hadn't been hired yet when this occurred. He listened, fascinated not only with the story, but also with the way passion seemed to ooze from you with every word. It was obvious to Jungkook that you cared about your work, and he could understand that because he felt the same way about his. Jungkook had already agreed to help you, but by the end of your spiel he was even more sold, vowing to do you justice by giving whatever you needed from him his all.

Your smiling in gratitude, thanking him prematurely for his help and you're just about to run through more of the details with him when you hear a rap on the open door of the conference room.

"Knock, knock. Oh, hey," You peel your eyes away from Jungkook to the man in the doorway and you immediately recoil.

"Jimin, out." You seethe because you know that look. It's the look he's been giving Jungkook for the past two months since he's been here.

"What?" he exclaims, inviting himself further into the room, to your dismay.

"We're all friends here. What'cha discussing?"

He's talking to you, but not really because his eyes are glued to the younger man beside you. Jesus christ, it's like watching a hunter stalk its prey. Don't worry Kook, I'm gonna get you out of here.

"Nothing that concerns you. Now if you don't mind Jungkook and I have work to do. He's helping me with my project."

Jimin's ears perk up and he finally tears his eyes from Jungkook for the first time since he got here. "Oh? So you decided on what you want to do? Good, cause I was starting to worry, Seokjin told me you were stressing the other night."

"Yeah, well, no need to worry. I've got it. I'll tell you the details over lunch but right now Jungkook and I really have to-"

"So, Jungkookie... I don't know if ___ mentioned this but I'm applying too. I could use some help on my project. How about we discuss it over dinner sometime, there's this really nice Italian restaurant nearby and-"

"Oh my god, Jimin leave!" you yell covering your ears. At this point you're not entirely sure who's more uncomfortable, you or Jungkook, but one look at Jungkook tells you it's him because he's red all over, ears tinged an adorable pink as his eyes dance around the room, landing anywhere but at the horndog of a man you call your friend.  

Eventually though, Jimin does leave the two of you to work, but not before making you both more uncomfortable (if that was possible) by winking at Jungkook and innocently waving you goodbye, as if he hadn't just barged in and done what he had done.

The next day had started off just as good as the last. You stepped into work much like yesterday, only this time you were antsy, finally ready to get down to business. When you step away from your desk to take a much needed break you immediately make your way to Jungkook's sector of the office. You're literally jumping out of your skin at the thought of discussing your latest ideas with him but when you reach his desk, he's not there. Weird.

More often than not, Jungkook was at his desk, headphones on, intently editing a video clip or a photo or something of the sort. Point being he was a hard worker, so much so that you had to physically pry him away from his desk one time to get him to go to lunch with you. Maybe he was in the break room? You think, already making your way there but once you arrive you're met with Barbara in all her morning glory, face upturned in a frown as she fiddles with the Keurig that she can't seem to figure out how to operate. You back away slowly, ready to give up on locating the man as you make your way back to your desk.

You're just settling into your seat when you pick up on something, hushed whispers coming from one of the cubicles nearby and you peak your head up in curiosity. You follow the sound, the voices sounding more and more familiar as you get closer and you stop short when you realize the voices are coming from Hoseok's cubicle. You peak your head inside and no surprise, there's Hoseok but the real surprise is that Jungkook's there with him, sitting on a chair Hoseok must've pulled from one of the empty cubicles.

"What are you doing?" you query suspiciously, startling both men with your sudden appearance.

Hoseok shoots Jungkook a look as if apologizing for your interruption before turning to you exasperatedly.

"Talking. Do you mind?"

"No not really. About what?" you ask, not liking this in the slightest.

"None of your business?" Hoseok says as if its common knowledge. "Please, you're bothering me and my companion, so if you'll excuse us-"

You cut him off, turning to Jungkook instead because you know he'll give you the answers you're looking for.

"Jungkook," you ask sweetly, "What were you guys talking about?"

Jungkook looks hesitant, as if he's not sure what he says is going to get him in trouble or not. He probably should be scared. Contrary to popular belief, you didn't think anything good could come out of talking to Jung Hoseok.

"Uh, well," he stammers, "Hoseok wanted to know if I could help him with his project for the new job."

"And?" you press.

"I said yes?" At the exasperated toss of your head, Jungkook elaborates. "I'm still going to help you! I'll help both of you!" Jungkook swears he can see steam coming out of your ears now, so he tries again. "He offered to pay me!" he says as if that justifies why he was helping the enemy.

You shoot Hoseok a look because of course, of course he would go that route.

You were so blinded by happiness that things were finally starting to go your way that you that you forgot how far Hoseok would go to one-up you.

Hoseok refuses to dignify your glare with words, his only response is folding his arms across his body and staring you back just as intensely. A challenge. You end up keeling first this time, rubbing your hands down your face tiredly.

"Jungkook, he's my competition." you say in effort to explain your frustration at this sudden turn of events.

"I know that. I still want to help you," he apologizes, eyes soft. Then he turns to Hoseok, "I'll help you too."

Almost at the same time both you and Hoseok are blowing up at him.

"It's me or him!"

"Anyone else but her please!"

Jungkook looks like a lost puppy, looking between the two of you hesitantly before he's finally rising, throwing his hands up in defeat.

"You know what, I take it back! Have fun navigating photoshop yourselves, I'm done!"

He's storming off and you can only stare because you managed to make the calmest man in the office pissed off at you.

"You just had to ask Jungkook didn't you? There's plenty other graphic designers in the office but it just had to be Jungkook didn't it?" you say bitterly.

"They're not like him. His style really suits my vision. Besides, why should you get the best designer in the office all to yourself?" Hoseok counters.

You shake your head at him tiredly but then another voice is piping up to share his (unwanted) opinion.

"He's not a tool guys. He's a person, with feelings. And you're his friends, at least, that's what he thought. Maybe he was wrong." Jimin is poking his head over Hoseok's cubicle to give his two cents on the situation and though you didn't want to hear it, you definitely needed to.

He was right. Jungkook, as sweet as always, just wanted to do something nice for you, and all you did was treat him like a resource to use at your own expense. That's not how it had been at first, but once you found out Hoseok was also soliciting Jungkook's help, that's what it turned into.

You stand there disgusted with yourself and one look up at Hoseok's expression tells you he feels the same way about himself. Who knew he had a remorseful bone in his body after all. Just none of them were reserved for you apparently.

You sigh, you seriously needed to apologize and quick.

.

.

. You give Jungkook ample amount of time to cool off, waiting until your lunch break to beg your forgiveness.

"Hey," you appear at the entryway of his cubicle, food from the Vietnamese place he loves so much in your hands. It wasn't exactly in the area, but the drive was worth it considering how you treated him this morning.

"I brought you lunch." you say meekly, gesturing to the bag of food in your hand. He's not looking at you though, headphones on and typing away at his computer. But he does pause long enough to let you know that he's listening. You sigh, pulling up a chair next to his and setting the food down on a clear area of his desk.

"Look, Jungkook, I'm sorry. You were nice enough to help me and I took you for granted. You can help Hoseok if you want, I don't care." It was a lie you did care, but Jungkook could make his own decisions, you didn't own him. "Just know that I'm really sorry, and you don't have to help me if you don't want to." You're met with more silence.

"Pleaaase," you pout. "I just want my friend back."

The click, click, clicking of Jungkook's pen as he taps it against the table is eating at you.

You're starting to think you should just trudge back to your cubicle defeatedly, but then he's speaking.

"Did you order pho?"

You smile, thanking the heavens you had the last minute idea to pick up food to accompany your apology. After all, a shortcut to Jungkook’s heart was through his stomach.

"Of course," you say, digging in the bag to take out two orders of pho, one for you and one for him.

You two have just settled in, digging into the food messily before Jungkook's speaking again.

"I'm still going to help you ya' know."

"Really? Thank you so mu-"

He cuts you off. "But I'm also helping Hoseok."

The smile disappears from your face for a split second but you plaster it back on again. "Right. No problem. You're good but my project will just have to be better than his, no problem." You say understanding.

"See that's the spirit. You guys are my friends and I want to help you. But I'm also doing this for me. It'll be a good way for me to expand my portfolio. Plus, corporate is gonna see this right? Please, when they see the finished product they'll be all over me."

You look at him surprised but snap out of it quickly. Jungkook was smart, of course he took this as an opportunity to showcase his talents.

"Smart," you nod in approval. "I raised you well, of course there was something in it for you." He nods along with you.

"But one question though," you furrow your brow in contemplation.  "If Hoseok's your friend," you shudder and in the corner of your eye you spot Jungkook trying to contain his laughter, "Why is he paying you?"

Jungkook slurps up the last of the broth, giving a satisfied sigh before he regards you.

"He offered before I could tell him he didn't have to and besides..." he lowers his voice as if about to tell you some huge secret, "I like you a little better anyway, he doesn't buy me food nearly as much as you do..." he looks around before adding "but don't tell him that." .

.

.

"Can you make it any more obvious that you're spying on me?"

Hoseok backtracks, stopping at the entrance of your cubicle. "Who me?" He asks and he has the audacity to look dumb, glancing around before pointing a finger at himself in question.

You wheel around in your office chair to face him. "Yes, you. I don't have enough fingers to count how many times you walked past my desk today. Is there something you need?"

"Don't be so self-absorbed. Sure I walked past once or twice but its strategy. If you were smart, you'd keep tabs on your competition too."

"Oh, so you think I'm competition now? What happened to that confidence Chief?" you say mockingly.

Your satisfied by the flash of annoyance that crosses his face.

"Still here, don't you worry." he glances behind you. "And judging by that word file you have up I have nothing to worry about. I'll leave you to it. Looks like you have a lot of work to do."

You turn around in horror. The screen you had left up displaying what you had typed up so far for your project outline. You're wheeling around again to tell him off, you had a plan, it just wasn't typed up yet, but he was already gone, probably out to wreck havoc on some other innocent soul.

A few hours later Minho is calling a meeting in the conference room, a much needed distraction from the work you were supposed to be doing and the (personal) work you were actually doing.

You take a seat in your usual spot next to Jisoo.

"Any idea what this meeting's about?" you whisper.

"No idea," she sighs, "don't get me wrong, I'll take this guy any day over that  last idiot in a suit they put in charge of this branch but his meetings are becoming more and more unpredictable. I feel like he's calling them just to get his daily dose of social interaction these days." You snicker. Jisoo could be frank but you didn't mind. She was one of the few people that kept you sane in this office and you were thankful for it.

"Alright guys, thanks for coming on such short notice." Minho calls meekly from the front of the room to get everyone's attention. It takes a minute for everyone to quiet down, but Minho, like always waits patiently for the crowd to settle.

Once it’s quiet he begins, "As some of you may know we took on a new client last week. A high profile client. Their willing to pay big money for us to promote their new swimsuit line. We can't risk upsetting them. I want us to be the Vacanti family's first choice when they want to advertise their products again. And they'll need an ad company, trust me, they've got a number of business ventures to keep them busy for a lifetime."

"Rich kids. If my daddy had that much money I'd start my own business too." Jisoo mutters under her breath to you.

She was referring to the Vacanti family, probably bitter over the fact that the youngest daughter had the enough money and influence to start her own swimsuit line. It was already successful, but if you knew anything about the Vacanti family it was that they were greedy. So far that greed has served them well. They probably wanted help promoting their product so it could not only be successful domestically, but globally as well.

They were exactly the type of clients Jisoo hated working with, too demanding and ignorant to let you do your job, preferring to have things their own way. It was why she opted out of this assignment, but you on the other hand had expressed interest that you'd be willing to take on the client. You liked a challenge, finding yourself bored with the mundaneness of a routine.

Apparently so did other people in the office.

"Jihyun, Susana, ___, and Hoseok. I want you four on this assignment. You all have the some of the highest client retention rates in the office and conveniently some of the only few who didn't opt out," Minho says, squinting as his list of coworkers.

"Um-" you start.

"Wait a minute-"

Both you and Hoseok are in agreement about one thing, you presume. Neither of you wanted to work with the other.

"Yes, ___, Hoseok, is there a problem?" Minho inquiries, genuine concern marring his features.

There's a pause in the room, everyone's attention zeroed in on you and Hoseok. But then, there's a shift in Hoseok's demeanor, a complete one-eighty from the anger that was radiating off him just a moment ago.

"No, not at all. When do we start?"

You're just staring at Hoseok, mouth agape because what the hell just happened? You expected him to be livid and he was for a fraction of a second. You had been sure he would be demanding that either you or him be reassigned to a new team just a second ago.

Sure you and Hoseok had worked together before, but on a lot larger teams, with more people that could act as a barrier between you and Hoseok. There were arguments here and there but generally you two didn't have to speak to each other unless absolutely necessary. In a group of four it was inevitable that you'd have to interact with one other.

You don't understand Hoseok's sudden mood swing and you're about to go ahead and express your displeasure but then it clicks.

He was such a fucking kiss-up. This new angle? It was all part of his ploy to stay in good graces with the boss, just in case he had any influence in who would get the promotion. Insubordination wouldn't look good on a job application, now would it?

You take a moment to examine Hoseok again. He's trying his best to look curious, interested, a friendly smile on his face the perfect cherry on top. But the smile is strained and you see right through his facade. Underneath that mask he's just as frustrated as you are with the new assignments. But that's okay. Two could play at this game. You clamp your mouth shut, settling back into your seat again contentedly.

Minho looks to you. “__? Everything okay?”

“Perfectly fine, just clearing my throat,” you smile.

Jisoo shoots you a look. You're behavior is out of character, but she doesn’t comment on it.

Now that Minho has settled that you two are content, he turns back to Hoseok, contemplating his earlier question.

"I guess I want you guys starting as soon as possible if you can. Sofia Vacanti is expected to drop by this week to go over the details but I'd like you all to get together and brainstorm if possible.” Susana shoots Minho a thumbs up and Jihyun blurts out a "no problem" in response. You and Hoseok follow suit, smiling and nodding like an uncomfortable set of penguins. .

.

.

4:03pm

Just 57 more minutes of this and then you were free. Was this what eternal damnation felt like? If so, you'd be hightailing it to the nearest church tomorrow to repent for every sin you ever committed in all your 26 years of living.

Okay, you were exaggerating. These last few minutes weren't that bad if you were being honest, considering that for a change Hoseok was silent. Must have been just as upset as you, so much so that he was shocked into silence.

You chance a glance over at him, his expression was neutral, elbows up on the table and hands clasped in front of him.  

Susana brilliantly suggested that you Jihyun, and Hoseok hang back after everyone left the conference room to run over the Vacanti assignment.

Promotion of a swimsuit line was easy enough, you'd all done clothing before, numerous times. No, the main problem here would be getting over the obstacle that was Sofia Vacanti, but that bridge could be crossed once you got to it.

Susana's cheery tone was usually tolerable to you but today you were just not in the mood. To your credit, you tried hard to keep the scowl off your face.

"So anyone have any ideas they want to share? The type of medium they want to use? We'd have to run it all by Sofia of course, but it can't hurt to get some ideas out there!"

Good god did she eat pixie sticks and jolly ranchers for breakfast? How was someone this happy all the time? You really weren't mad at her, but in fairness, you couldn't help but be mad at the world right now.

When it’s apparent that neither you nor Hoseok are going to speak at the moment, Jihyun jumps in.

“We could do a commercial. Commercials are always good." He says helpfully.

"A commercial, nice thinking Jihyun!" Susana high-fives him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

She writes it down on her blank sheet of paper and asks, "Any other ideas?"

Silence. "Alright, commercial it is. Good job coming to a consensus everyone, we're off to a great start." She says circling the word on the page.

"Although," she contemplates for a moment, "a social media campaign seems like a good route to go, especially for a client like Sofia. So I'll put that on the list too, just in case."

Thankfully, the meeting goes by smoothly, with Susana doing fifty percent of the talking, Jihyun about forty and you and Hoseok share the remaining ten.

The meeting is just about coming to a close when you all can't go any further, needing to wait on the approval of the client for the go-ahead. You're closing up your notebook that you scrawled two notes of chicken scratch in when Susana gives her closing remarks.

"So there's not much else we can do for now. But I think it'd be smart to split up the work a bit. Jihyun and I can work on overall cinematography and casting and Hoseok and ___, why don't you guys draft up a script?"

That stops you in your tracks because not only did you have to work with Hoseok but now you had to work with him with him?

"How about no?" Hoseok murmurs, beating you to it.

"Huh? Why not?" Susana, sweet girl, is lost, confusion marring her pretty features as she looks between the two of you.

"I just figured that since you two are the most creative when it comes to this that you'd have no problem drafting up a script in no time. Listen,  if you're worried about not coming up with something good me and Jihyun are will be here to give you feedback. Minho said this was an important client so I thought if we strategically used our talents, it could work to our benefit." Susana was rambling, not trying to come off as pushy but also not realizing the real reason you and Hoseok didn't want to work together.

At that moment you drop your broody bitch act, taking pity on the poor girl who was just trying to do her job.

"It's not a problem for me. We can work on the script together. Like adults, right Hoseok?" you ask and pointedly turn to him, challenging him yet again. You're almost sure that was the last straw, if the annoyance that flashes in his eyes is any indication. But he surprises you for the second time that day, tearing his gaze away from you and muttering a dissatisfied “fine" under his breath.

Despite not wanting to work with him either, you find satisfaction in the fact that you managed to piss him off yet again. And he couldn't do anything about it. Not with witnesses present, at least.

"Great! This is great! Alright, meeting adjourned guys. Good work today."

Susana says upbeat, her pep returned to her almost instantly.

You're shoving your too-large notebook into your too-small tote bag aggressively, ready to go home and call it a day. You hear Hoseok shift next to you and when you look up you realize it is just the two of you left in the conference room.

You're concerned now because... Hoseok’s free to kill you now – your witnesses were gone.

But he doesn't kill you, only looks like he wants to when he says, "I don't know what you think you're doing but stop. I don't want you jeopardizing my position at this company, or the one I'm going to have in a couple of months." He says patronizingly.

Your smile is sweet, but your tone is anything but, "Don't be so self-absorbed Hoseok," you echo his words from earlier, "the world doesn't revolve around you."

Hoseok is clenching his jaw tight with anger, shocked you managed to somehow use his words against him. For a moment you think he's going to argue back, but then he's simply shaking his head in defeat, pushing past you and out the door.

When he's  gone you finally let the stifled smile you'd been holding in take over your features.

Oh, this was going to be equal parts amusing as it was infuriating.