#adult and yes a small young woman in a big city so i have to be careful and safe etc etc but. this is CRAZY. im going to do it and it

[pepprs]

no because this is fucking CRAZY for me. and connects exactly to the post i was going to make after i finished cleaning the kitchen which im making rn instead lol. it’s CRAZY how much having things to look forward to like traveling and seeing a musical like.. make me happy. how much listening to my favorite songs matters for my sense of self. how i still know the words no matter how long it’s been since i last heard them. it’s CRAZY. i have been swallowed by depression and stasis for so fucking long and have forgotten so much of myself and experience every day as scraping by and being miserable but even the smallest little joys have the power to bring me back. buying golden oreos at the campus food store. doodling a cat when i want to doodle a cat. taking a walk outside even when there’s work to do. it’s CRAZY!!!!!!!! i heal myself by indulging myself. maybe there is hope for me.

[igotanidea]

Rom-com, doubts and older brother complex : Dick Grayson x sister!reader

„Hey you, how was the movie?” Dick grinned with the brightest smile upon seeing his sister back from the cinema. Said sister however was far from being happy. “Y/N?”

“Yes? I mean, yes, sure, hi Dickie. It was fine, I guess.”

“Oh no.” he muttered

“What?”

“You got that face.”

“What face?!” involuntarily she glanced at the mirror just to check whether her older brother was serious or just trying to prank her.

“Please tell me you are not psychoanalyzing the movie.”

“Psycho…..? What? Me? Pfff, never.” She scoffed

“Mhm. Sure.”

“I’m sorry, what is your problem here, Grayson?” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance. “Honestly I came home hoping for some peace and quiet and I feel so attacked right now.”

“Are you doing this… what was it called….?” Dick scratched his head searching for the right word “watcher insert!”

“IT’S READER INSERT!”

“Well, it was a movie, so definitely watcher insert. And you practically admitted you do.”

“I DID NOT SAY A THING LIKE THAT!”

“You didn’t have to. Like I said, you got that face.” He shrugged, absolutely not convinced and unimpressed by her yelling.

“Ugh! You are insufferable!”

“Part of my charm, you know that. Now come on, come sit here and tell me what got you spinning, huh? As a big brother…..”

“Please, spare me the talk about oldest sibling and all the duties that come with it. I can handle my own shit.” She hesitantly perched on the armrest of the sofa, but Dick was not satisfied with that and grabbed her by the waist pulling next to him.

“Come on, sis, don’t be stubborn” he pinched her stomach getting a slap on the hand in exchange “that hurt.”

“Serves you well!”

“Ok, I’ll stop. Jokes aside. Get out of that head of yours and walk me through it ‘cause I don’t get it. You went to the movie theatre to have some fun ….unlike someone we know….. and came back stuck in thinking and, let me put it simply, melancholic. Not really a normal reaction after a young adult movie. It’s young adult, right?” he frowned

“You got that one right.” She sighed “I … I don’t really know. I mean, this movie was as cliché as possible and only confirm my belief that it’s not for me.”

“How come?”

“You know… nice girl, A-grade student, not knowing the bad side of life changes the surrounding, most likely moves out of the small town.  And in the city, she meets a guy, a well-known trouble-maker and more often than not, a womanizer. Of course, she swears she wants nothing to do with him but after an hour or so, couple of fights and few misunderstanding they end up together, most likely in a X-rated scene. And after another half hour, some family drama or demons from the past emerges, but all ends well and you get those fucking singing birds, shining sun, doves and all that shit. I’m so too old for that. And I think I’m starting to get bored with such films.”

“Are you?” he looked at her carefully, voice turning soft not to startle her.

“Yes.” She made a face at him

“Y/n. You say you hate it, but …”

“Don’t you dare say it!” she jumped on the couch and jabbed his chest “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“I won’t. I’ll leave that to you. Come on, say it out loud so we can process that. No one else is here.”

“I’m sorry, since when are you my therapist?”

“Since Bruce provided all his kids with trauma and forgot to equip them with the specialist to fix it. Say it.”

“I wish I have a cliché love story.” She looked down and hid face in hands because of the embarrassment. “But I’m not exactly a material for it.”

“Why not?” Dick asked, grabbing her hands and making him look at her ‘is it because you have four vigilante brothers? That can go well in a movie.” He grinned “I bet Bruce would love a cinematic work of art about himself. Can you imagine the movie “Batman?” Two and a half hours of him brooding on the screen and saving Gotham, all while looking like a sad, tormented cat” he laughed and waved his hands around

“I got this at the manor whenever I want. And when I don’t want as well. So hard pass on that movie, thanks. Jason would love it though. It would give him an opportunity to point out everything wrong with Bruce. And Tim…”

“Nice try, but stop getting off the track. Why do you think you can’t have a love story?”

“Cause I can’t define myself.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dick’s eyes widened in disbelief “you think you need to put a tag on yourself? My lovely, crazy, irrational, foolish sister…”

“Look Dick, I’m a mess, all right? I can do hundred different things, but cannot excel in one. I start so many projects I don’t finish. I am disorganized, got plenty ideas per minute and it’s extremely hard to keep up with me. I'm stubborn, hot-headed and always need to do things my own way. ”

“So?” he shrugged

“What do you mean by so?" Y/N frowned "I don’t have routine, and apparently I’m supposed to. I’m not the best version of myself, I hate motivational quotes and I’m not sophisticated or elegant or even close to it. Shit, I hate dresses and skirts, my make-up is limited to the most basic one and I don't feel like I'm woman enough.”

“Ok, stop right there.” He cut her off “that last one is bullshit and as for the rest, why in the world would you think that eliminates you?”

“I… It just does.”

“Why?” he insisted

“will you stop this interrogation! Let me remind you, you are not a cop anymore!”

“Old habits die hard.” He blew a raspberry.

“Be a brother Dick. Sock me for wasting your time or hug me, just don’t do this….”

“Do you need a hug?” he asked opening his arms

“Yes, please” she mumbled, diving into his arms and hiding face in his shirt, smelling that familar scent. “This feels nice.”

“Told ya! Oldest brother. Now, since we are taking the comforting approach to the problem… all the things you mentioned are those what makes you, you. All right, pumpkin?” he bopped her nose “you could adopt someone else’s lifestyle, but would you feel better then? Doing all those things that does not seem like they are yours?”

“No…” she muttered

“See? You just keep doing your thing, ok? Cause when you do something that makes you happy, even if it seems like you’re a mess, you’re just glowing and that is what makes you special, you know.”

“Example?”

“You were writing, last night, and you had that focus and spark in your eyes. Nothing but you and your ideas, put in words on the sheet. You were just beaming. That was you. You don’t need to put  a tag on yourself, believe me. It's not a competition or anything.“

"Really?" she pulled back and eyed him, raising one eyebrow "'cause you are absolutely not the one who would join The Bachelor, right?"

"That's irrelevant..." as much as he did not like it, her words made him blush a bit. (did she find that application form he hid under the bed?!)

"Let's agree to disagree" she grinned "I'll importune you for explanation on that matter later. And since we're on the subject, what about....?"

“Do you think me the role model on relationship advice?” he smirked, but a bit of sadness crept in “I made a lot of mistakes and speaking from experience, I can tell you just can’t hurry that. Just keep your mind open?”

"Did you just admit defeat in the romance matter, Dickie?" she mocked.

"Romance? Hell no! Just long-term relation..."

"Don't worry, big brother" she his his shoulder playfully "you keep my secret safe, I keep yours. But still, that’s the worst advice I ever got.”

“Maybe…” he tickled her tummy making poor girl squeal “think Damian would have better one?”

“He’s younger than me, sure as hell I’m not gonna ask him!”

“I’m serious, sis. Once you figure out who you are inside, even if it’s a bit complicated and come to terms with it, everything will fall in place.”

“Still the worst advice ever, but thank you for trying, Dickhead.”

“Doing my best for my little princess.”

“Ugh! Stop calling me that name!”

“You used to like it.”

“I was 7 years old!!”

“All right, fine, hold the fire” Dick raised his hands in surrender “Gosh, for someone who got so much fire inside, you suffer from too little self-value.”

“Four vigilante brothers can do that to a girl.”

“Y/N? I need you to promise me one thing.”

“Shoot.”

“When you get in a relationship you will let me act like big protective brother.”

“You may have to wait a while, but sure, it that’s your dream…”

“How about I play that role in a Nightiwng suit?”

“OVER MY DEAD BODY GRAYSON!”

[queenvhagar]

So I saw a video on TikTok about the night Rhaenyra and Criston ‘get together’ about how in canon, there was no consent for both sides but in canon, there was consent.

And the comments are making me feel quite conflicted because they’re saying that a child cannot rape an adult: Rhaenyra was an intoxicated child whose title was not taken seriously and didn’t have that type of power that the king had to dismiss him and therefore couldn’t give consent while Criston was a sober grown man twice her size, a trained knight fully armored sworn to celibacy that could’ve left but didn’t and even liked it in the end, and who even asked her to marry him after. Also that the creators said they both wanted each other and that it was a consensual seduction.

I’m mainly feeling conflicted because yes, a child can’t consent to sexual activity with an adult. But isn’t the concept of that distinct from the ability of a teenager to commit sexual assault? I’m confused about this because I haven’t seen the scene and they’re saying he didn’t leave when he could’ve and that he liked it in the end.

And were the consequences of him sleeping with Rhaenyra way heavier than the potential consequences he might of faced if he denied her?

Your thoughts?

In the show, Rhaenyra was of age when this happened, so she wasn't a child. She was young, but she was probably about 18 at this time with the time skips up to that point. An adult by our standards and certainly in-universe. Young, yes. But not a child. Criston on the other hand was likely in his early to mid 20s.

While her position as heir was not taken very seriously, her status as the daughter of the king was. Not only the king's daughter but the king's favorite child. The sway she holds with her father is immense, and her word would be taken more seriously than that of a simple knight. Add in the fact that Criston is not from an important family and he's Dornish, and it's clear who people would believe if there was a situation of her word vs his.

She had been drinking with Daemon, yes, but she was also sober enough to navigate through King's Landing, which she had never visited before, all the way to the Red Keep while alone in the middle of the night after Daemon left her. So she clearly has a decent level of mental capacity at this point if she can walk through a new city at night as a young woman all the way home and not have any problem at all.

The writers say it was consensual, but I question whether it really was considering the fact that Rhaenyra is the person responsible for hiring Criston Cole to Kingsguard and she holds direct authority over him. Despite him trying to go against her words and wishes, he ultimately does not have much of an option to say no without some major risks, as is the case with going against the wishes of the royal family you're sworn to obey.

Maybe a similar (imperfect) minor analogue to the event would be this: you're a person of color from a low-income family in a small town who, upon graduating from business school having worked your way through, just got the job offer of a lifetime and hired to a hugely successful, high-profile company in the big city thanks to the CEO's daughter, a senior manager in the company and part of an ultra wealthy, ultra powerful white family. She directly hired you for the position as she was the one who interviewed you. Despite the fact she is a few years younger than you, she has a lot of influence in the company thanks to her family and specifically her father, who gave her the job she has. Your job represents everything that you've struggled for and worked to achieve in your life. In your day to day tasks, you're working directly under the supervision of this woman, and she clearly has the authority in what decisions are made and what you do. You maintain a professional and respectful relationship for years, and sometimes she talks with you about her unhappiness with and frustrations about the work, feeling stifled by the burden of the family business she will one day take over (and assume all its wealth and power). Then, one evening, after she's had a couple of drinks, she calls you into her office. When you get there, she starts coming on to you. You politely decline and try to leave. She keeps taking it further, not letting you leave, and she starts to undress you despite you continuing to say no. Now, you have one option in which you forcibly leave the situation and risk that she is offended and tells her father a version of the story that will massively affect your career and possibly get you fired or worse. There's no guarantee that she wouldn't. She has the power to ruin your life, despite everything you've done for her and the company and all you've done to get to this point in your career. Or, you can let it happen and pick up the pieces afterward to try and smooth over the situation while still making sure you have security with your job.

Back to the show, Criston had similar choices when faced with Rhaenyra's advances: force his way out and risk trouble with his position or worse should Rhaenyra take offense at his disobedience and/or tell her father a different version of the event. Or he go along with her wishes, despite the risk it poses to his life if it is ever discovered what happened (which is an agonizing and slow death) and try to figure it out once it's over. He chooses what he thinks is the safest option at that moment, which is a choice he shouldn't have had to make in the first place.

I also want to add the context of why Rhaenyra wouldn't take no for an answer and why she decided to get with Criston. She just came from Daemon's lesson in the brothel in which he wanted to teach her about what he thinks is the true nature of the dragon: the blood of the dragon can take what it wants, who it wants, whenever it wants because they are inherently better than everyone else. That's what Daemon proceeds to do by kissing Rhaenyra in the brothel (and he's surprised when it's what she wants to, despite his years of obviously grooming her to be close to him, because his plan was to shock her and ruin her reputation enough to be able to marry her). When she's left by Daemon, she decides that her sworn knight is who she wants and she decides she wants him now, so that's what she makes happen, regardless of Criston saying no and trying to leave and regardless of the vows she knows that he's sworn as part of his position.

Criston looks uncomfortable and conflicted the next morning. On the boat, he tries to rationalize the whole event: he'd been by her side as her protector for years, and she wouldn't put his life in danger and wouldn't insist he break his vows without good reason, so she must actually care about him and that's why she wouldn't take no for an answer. Plus, she's done nothing but tell him how unhappy she is with her situation of being heir and not being taken seriously and desiring freedom. So, Criston talks to her about running away together. I think while it's possible he found some enjoyment while in the moment with her, that wasn't the main reason he proposed that she leave with him. Rather, he needed to try to make sense of what happened and attempt to right the wrong. But in this conversation it becomes clear to him that she views him as a plaything, as a body to have fun with and nothing else. That she just wanted him on a whim and doesn't really care how that impacts him or what happens to him now beyond him being available to her to use again. This kind of breaks his whole worldview a bit concerning knighthood and royalty and honor and loyalty and leads him to spiral until he is saved by Alicent, who is able to help him renew his sense of lost identity and purpose by allowing him to buy back into the mythologization of knighthood by swearing anew to protect a perceived virtuous, selfless queen who won't take his commitments and vows lightly.

In the book, the events are more ambiguous. Some say Rhaenyra tried to seduce Criston Cole and he turned her down. Some say Criston Cole tried to get with Rhaenyra and she turned him down. Either way, we know that Criston Cole was upset about whatever happened, and he went from being her "staunchest defender to bitterest foe." Alicent then made him her sworn shield. In the book, there is also a larger age gap between the two. Rhaenyra is 16, the age in Westeros when people are considered to be adults and the age she officially takes possession of Dragonstone. Criston is 31. In the books, he is not mentioned as being Dornish, just the son of a steward at Blackhaven, seat of House Dondarrion, under House Baratheon. There is still the imbalance of their relative power and influence in society, and she still holds authority over him, but the age gap being wider does muddy the waters a bit depending on the scenario that actually played out.

[hellhoundmaggie]

5 comfort characters

Finally getting to this @cymatile. the notification email has been burning a hole in my inbox for weeks now and I'm glad to finally get to it!

The Beast/Prince Adam (Beauty and the Beast 1991) As a bookish autistic little girl, I of course identified very strongly with Belle. As a city kid in a small town, I still do sometimes. But as an adult, I find myself drawn to the other half of the pairing. Belle is of course a lovely young lady, and I appreciate how she only respects the Beast when he first extends respect to her. But let us face it, she is too perfect a character to be truly compelling. Beast is quite the work in progress, though, and that's what makes him so fascinating. You thrill as you watch him angst and snarl and throw his weight around -- first to frighten and threaten others, then to protect the woman he loves. You are charmed as he discovers joy and companionship, then mourn with him as he gives it up to return Belle's freedom to her. And you're just a little disappointed when he changes into a generically-handsome man, even if it does mean he and Belle get to live happily ever after. Plus, as the meme says: "I'll get that bitch a library. Bitches love libraries."

Shane (Stardew Valley) Okay, I've read all the criticisms many times. He starts out mean to you for no reason. He's a total slob and a sad sack. He never actually quits drinking. He looks like Ben Shapiro. And I gotta tell you: I cannot fault this very good chicken man for any of it. This is another guy that I feel no choice but to root for because he struggles with so many flaws. I appreciate that the game doesn't let you "fix" them for him: you only give him the help he directly asks you for. He makes the most important changes himself, and the stuff he doesn't change isn't a dealbreaker for me. Plus Shane kind of looks like my IRL spouse so I gotta love him just for that, y'know? I can't forgive him for liking gridball, though. As a nerd, jocks are my natural enemy. Sorry, I don't have a choice!

Entrapta (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power) Not a lot of people know this, but ND Stevenson called me up while he was developing the She-Ra reboot and asked for my input. I asked him, "Are you going to have a woman character with autistic coding in the show?" "Yes, we're going to have one of those," he said. "And is she going to have a special interest that few other characters in the show understand or empathize with?" "Okay, yeah." "Is she going to despair of ever finding genuine human connection and try to find solace in technology before learning that yes, there are people who care about her and value her uniqueness?" "Ooh, that's a good idea. Sure." "And can you pair her up with an angsty boy?" "I can definitely do that. Thanks, Maggie!" And that's why Reboot Entrapta is the way she is. You're welcome, everyone. 4. Wayne (Scarlet Hollow) I already post a lot about this guy, so I won't say much this time. I like him because he lets me explore the idea of being the subject of extreme passion and devotion in a way that doesn't put me in actual danger. I would never seek out that kind of relationship in real life, but love beyond proportion, beyond reason, beyond sanity is compelling in fiction. Plus he makes for some fun memes. 5. Mr. Pages (Fallen London) I love this big ol' nerd: its creative vocabulary, its book hyperfixation, and how bad it is at hiding the fact that it's not human. As soon as they put out the balance patch for Mask of the Rose, I am going to figure out how to smooch it, and you cannot stop me.

tagging nobody! Do this if you feel like it.

[arts-and-chaos]

A Stranger's Offer

Description:

Roxanne Stone, a Magi woman, has never left her hometown of Kore. Feeling trapped and wanting to look for something better than what Kore could offer, she starts to seek a way out.

Oliver Tull comes from the big city of Dorath, having left after his sister's death to become a doctor in the small town of Kore.

As Oliver and Roxanne start dancing along the lines of romance, Oliver needs to go back to Dorath for a family affair. Promising to return, Oliver leaves for Dorath. In his absence, Roxanne is offered an opportunity to leave her small town for an adventure.

A mysterious old man looks to recruit adventures to locate and obtain the Three Objects of Power, Roxanne quickly volunteers and is joined by her lifelong best friend, Azmi, and Oliver's clinic clerk, Petra. When Oliver catches wind of the journey, he comes along for the ride for himself.

The first Object of Power is located, but with it comes some serious family secrets for Roxanne.

Part 1 - Harvest Party - Roxanne's POV

Length: 8157 words

Silk-like fabric ran over my skin as I swam my way through the kelly-green dress. I fussed with the mess of fabric until I found one sleeve, then the second, then the neckline. As soon as I could see again I smoothed the fabric against me and looked myself over in the mirror. I reminisced over why this was my favorite party dress: the vibrant satin shined as I moved, and the sleeves were gentle on my shoulders and came to just above my elbows. The V-shaped neckline rested at the top of my bust without exposing too much. The waistline of the dress sat nicely at my natural waist. As I looked at myself, I gathered handfuls of the skirt and turned too-and-fro in the mirror. The swish of the skirt was delightful, and I spun in a circle just to feel the skirt pull out at its length.

"Perfect," A giddy smile stretched across my face as I smoothed the fabric back into place.

Quickly, I finished the look. I gathered my nude dancing heels, brushed my hair and pulled it half back, and donned a rose quartz necklace. The look was simple, and simple is what I liked best for the Harvest Party.

I placed my hands on my stomach and focused on my breathing, I felt like I was fluttering. There weren't many social events in Kore and this was the biggest one, most of the town's young adults would be present to celebrate the large harvest the town had. Ol' Man Murphy cleans out his barn every year to let the young adults have a space and mingle with each other. The Count had large parties that he opened for all, but this party was different - it was for us specifically, without the pressure to impress the community.

A brisk knock sounded on my door and Darien popped into the room. He had his dark brown hair pushed back away from his face, he wore a simple purple dress shirt and light pants. The musk scent that wafted in after him made me suspicious – he never wore anything like it.

Darien looked at me and chuckled lightly to himself as he crossed his arms, "are you expecting to get whisked away tonight?"

"I suppose I could ask you the same question," I said as I waved my hand in front of my nose.

Darien tucked his nose into his collar and gave a quick sniff, "you're fine," I told him as I walked past him into the hall, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, I think so," he smoothed his shirt down as he walked more into the apartment himself, "Do you know if Jackson is going?"

We turned briefly to look at the door that was across from mine, I shrugged in response and went to knock on his door. "Jack?" I called.

The door swung open as soon as I knocked. I stepped back from the door and pulled my fist into my chest from the sudden surprise. Jackson had a wide smile and some of his blond locks fell into his face. He took a few strides towards the stairs leading to the shop. Once he was far enough from us, he did a causal spin with arms held wide. He was dressed in a light blue button-down shirt and similar light pants to Darien.

"I have gone every year I could go, I am not missing one just yet," Jackson chuckled and was ready to lead us out.

Together the three of us descended the steps and entered our family's shop. The shop was lit with a few floating orbs, mostly concentrated in a corner. I looked to see our mother kneeling on the floor reshelving some books. Her blonde hair pulled back in a messy top knot.

She heard us approaching the front door, and she looked up from her perch, "heading out?" she asked as she used her wrist to wipe at her face, her fingertips blackened with dust and dirt.

"Yes, ma'am," Jackson responded, he opened the door for us, the shop bell chiming in response.

"Well, have fun, and come home in one piece!" She waved and went back to her project.

Once I was fully in the night air, my skin started to pucker as the night was already brisk from the setting of the autumn sun. I clutched my hands around my arms and waited for my brothers to gather.

"Cold, Anne?" Darien asked as Jackson shut the door behind him, "You can still grab your coat."

"No, I will just end up leaving it," I shrugged, "plus I am sure I won't miss it as the night goes on."

"Anne, you don't need to be bringing anyone home just to warm up, that is quite rude honestly," Jackson said in a dry tone as he looked up the road.

I started walking, my brothers following suit, "I really don't think anyone that I bring home would complain too much," I said flipping my hair off my shoulder and then giving Jackson a cool glance.

"Right, right, says the spinster still living at home with her mother," Jackson teased back, this caused Darien and I to both start busting out laughing at his audacity.

Up the road, there were a few other well-dressed individuals walking to the farmlands. A few couples, a few women grouped together, and a few single men nervously trotted along.

As we walked, we passed by the medical clinic in town. Locking the door was a tall man dressed in a white shirt and black pants. His red curls glistened in the moonlight. When he turned, he was carefully tucking his keys in his pocket and looked up to see Jackson waving him down.

"Oi, Doc, are you coming out this year?" Jackson called out.

Oliver laughed a little and called in kind, "Yes I am! I think after three years, it's time." We stopped walking as Oliver walked to us, "Is it okay if I walk with you? I am afraid that I may get lost without some help."

Jackson looked over Darien and me, "Of course, Oliver, Magi are always happy to help a friend," Darien smiled, putting a hand in his pocket, and started walking again. Jackson and I fanned out a little to envelop Oliver in our group.

Oliver glanced down at me and I noticed one of his eyebrows raise in response. Oliver smiled a little and looked away. I felt a flush cross my cheeks from his smile, it was a soothing feeling, but I started to feel a flutter in me rise again. I cleared my throat with a small cough, the noise seemed to catch Oliver's attention as he turned to look at me briefly.

"Has it really been three years in Kore for you?" I asked as we walked.

"Yes! I can hardly believe it." Oliver said.

The road up ahead was getting denser with attendees, all the childless or unwed young adults of our little community. As we passed, men and women glanced our way. Some with friendly waves and hellos, others with cautious awe. Our family was the only family of Magi in Kore, there were two other individuals who were vastly different in personality but were both reclusive in nature. Our family was the only one that made regular appearances and participation in the community.

Oliver was from a bigger city and was most likely more exposed to more Magi, though I never had gotten much of a chance to ask him about it. When he first moved here, he did receive some suspicion of being a Magi himself since he was an herbalist and associated with our family frequently.

As we neared the barn, music could faintly be heard in the air. The fence posts had ribbons and lights leading the way. The people that were on the road with us were getting antsy, and some started skipping and trotting up the path. I looked at my brothers, Jackson had kept his pace steady and was looking around as he walked along. Darien was obviously scanning the crowd.

I wasn't sure who he was looking for, he usually kept his affections private. To see him excited to meet with someone was refreshing as he normally just worked around the shop. Darien scanned and scanned, with a slight downward pull in his smile as he kept going.

Suddenly, Darien shot his arm up and started waving at someone. Soon I could see a small-framed brunette jumping up and down in the crowd, two thin arms waving excitedly.

"I have to go, you two are on your own this year!" Darien said as he ran off to greet this girl in a purple dress who stepped away from her own group to wait for him.

I looked to Jackson, who had the same puzzled look on his face as Darien (who was the most responsible and even-keel of the three of us) took off to wrap his arm around an unnamed girl.

"We won't bother him," Jackson gave a stern warning.

I looked to Oliver who had raised an eyebrow at me, I then returned the same eyebrow raise to Jackson, "We won't bother him tonight" I rephrased.

"Correct," A mischievous look ran across Jackson's face, "tomorrow is fair game."

The three of us continued walking towards the barn. Oliver was taller than most of the crowd here, unfortunately for me I was a little on the shorter side of the population. Jackson wasn't much shorter than Oliver, so I depended on the two of them to help navigate through the crowd.

"So, is all of this about the harvest?" Oliver asked as he worked on picking a path through the crowd.

"Mostly, once the harvest is finished, the community comes together to celebrate a job well done, but it is also a night that men will shoot their shots with women, women will turn them down, people get drunk and others dance until their feet are blistered." Jackson jabbed a thumb at me, "They nicknamed this event 'the Ballroom of Romance' as it is many times over the night that people get together, or engaged, or something."

"There is nothing like this in Dorath," Oliver said in awe.

"Well, even with the Count's parties, this is nothing in comparison. Think: for the people by the people," Jackson fanned out his hands with every word of his last statement.

"Usually, the three of us stay somewhat together, you are welcome to stay with us if you want some familiar faces," I offered. I had been watching Oliver soak this all up, he was in utter amazement as we reached the barn.

Inside, the ceilings were high and the building was fairly large even for a barn. In the center, there was a large wooden dance floor with people moving in sync with the music. A band with fiddles, flutes, and lutes, all of it was filling the space with beautiful music. There were many people around talking and laughing, there was food and drink offered at the other end of the barn.

Across the way, I saw a familiar white fluff bobbing between people towards us. Jackson saw the friend coming towards us and looked at me, I met his gaze, and he flicked his eyes to Oliver and back to me. I furrowed my brow at him.

Are you here with Azmi this year? Jackson's voice entered my mind. It was a bit louder than I was expecting as it was like he was talking at his normal volume right into my ear.

No, I am not, I'm stag this year. I thought back at him. Jackson shifted his attention to Oliver.

"I am going to grab a drink, would you like to come with me, Oliver?" Jackson asked.

Oliver seemed startled by the shift in attention, but he collected quickly, "You know what, yes, I could use a drink after this week," Oliver laughed and followed Jackson to the refreshment table.

As they left, a burst of energy popped out of the crowd and swept me up in a hug. I had muscular arms around my waist and the room spun in my vision as I was swung around.

I let out a quick squeal as I heard a joyous voice, "Annie! I am so glad to see you here!" I was set down, and I was greeted with a large smile. The man in front of me had white curly hair and matching lashes, tan almond skin, and purple eyes melted as they looked at me. Azmi was back from his travels just in time for the Harvest Party.

Azmi was one of the two individual Magi in Kore, he lived closer to the forest than the town. He had been a permanent fixture in my life as my parents took him in as much as he would let them - he had no parents of his own but was much like a stray cat that loved his independence. Azmi always found comfort with my family, but as he grew older, he traveled often, for longer and longer periods of time. He never really mentioned what he traveled for, but he would either come back with interesting stories or fascinating gifts.

To see him here at the Harvest Party was a rare treat, as he never had rushed to come back for specific events.

"You're back!" I said as I gripped his shoulders. His smile was softened, and he gave me a peck on the forehead.

"I am glad I was able to make it because you look fantastic!" He said, "I almost didn't make it in time either, I had met some other Magi on the road and stayed with them for a while."

"You need to tell me all about it!" I begged, then the music changed to something lively, causing Azmi to grab my hand.

"I will later!" He led me to the dance floor.

Quickly, we found some space and assumed a position as we have many times before. Our palms met between us at shoulder height, Azmi's free hand behind his back, and mine held my skirt to exaggerate the swing as we orbited around each other. We switched to opposite hands around waists and rotated in the opposite direction. Azmi took my hand and spun me out, then back to him. Bringing me close enough that I could feel his chest rising with every breath.

In unison, all the dancing pairs matched our movements to the temp of the song. Flowing dresses, laughter and smiles, the crowd moved together in the folk dance. We never looked away from each other, sure in our movements.

In Azmi's face, I could see his excitement to be back. We had not seen each other for roughly three months this time, but it was as if there was never any distance. I never had my heart set on seeing him at this event, as he is like an ocean tide - he will go but he will always eventually come back.

The band brought the song to a close and all the dancers paused to applaud them. I turned to Azmi who was already watching me with a broad smile.

"I'm going to find Jackson," I told him, "We have Dr. Tull joining us tonight,"

Azmi's expression shifted from pure joy to a strained polite smile, "Dr. Tull? I never thought he could break away from his work long enough to have some fun," Azmi's voice was cool.

"Be nice, Azmi," I warned, "It is his first time out, we want to show him a good time."

Azmi didn't say another word but clasped his hands behind his back and walked with me off the floor. Nearby I saw Jackson and Oliver.

"Where is Darien?" Azmi questioned, his fluffy white hair bouncing as he swiftly looked over the room while we approached.

"Darien apparently had a secret date tonight," Jackson said, taking a sip of wine.

"Oh?" A sly grin snuck onto Azmi's face, "I think I need to find my old friend and let him know that I have returned with amazing stories of my most recent travels!" The bravado in his voice was thick, he then disappeared into the crowd.

The three of us watched him leave, weaving in and out of people. "You may as well have released a snake in a bird's nest," I told Jackson when I could no longer see Azmi.

Jackson didn't respond, but he took another sip from his glass. Oliver being the tallest, had the best vantage point of seeing Azmi hunt through the crowd for Darien.

After a long moment, Oliver stopped watching and turned to me. I just noticed that he had two glasses when he started to hand me one.

"Here, Rox," He gave me a glass that was half full of white wine. The scent was sweet, slightly tangy, and familiar.

I thanked Oliver and took a sip; the distinct flavor of snowberry wine was strong in my mouth and the tang radiated down my body as I swallowed.

"I didn't know you danced!" Oliver said.

"I don't get to often," I continued sipping the wine, "But I will when I get the chance!"

"Well, you are fantastic and a marvel to watch," Oliver's words were seamless, but he blushed at what he said just a second later.

"I mean... You really show grace... and enthusiasm... and you could obviously dance well and could easily find a place in a royal court if you wanted to and" Oliver was sputtering. Jackson just watched as Oliver's obvious horror of not being able to stop continued to grow, Oliver kept rambling making Jackson cough to hide his laughter. Oliver's complexion had started to turn bright red, enough to match his hair. His words had tumbled out of his mouth like eggs falling out of a basket.

"Oliver," I said sternly and he quickly stopped talking, I softened my expression "Thank you, it means a lot,"

When he had quieted I asked him a question in turn, "Do you dance at all yourself?"

"No, not much. I mean sometimes, on my travels I learned a thing or two but I feel I mostly have two left feet." Oliver responded quickly then took a long drink - draining his glass.

"I will be right back," Oliver said and nearly ran away. Once Oliver was out of earshot, Jackson turned to me.

"I think he likes you," Jackson teased, nudging me with his elbow.

I brushed Jackson away from me, "Or he could just be nervous about being out of his element," I snapped and took a drink from my glass. Out of nowhere, a young man I have seen around town a few times approached us.

"Um, Miss Roxanne, may I have this dance?" His voice was smooth and he offered his hand to me.

I agreed and handed off my glass to Jackson. He made a face when I handed off the glass, but I just waved in response as I was led back to the wooden dance floor.

Once again, all the dancers moved together. My current partner was nothing like Azmi. He had tugged me this way and that - showing that he was a lead dancer that didn't have complete trust in my ability to follow.

At the end, we clapped and parted ways again. I scanned for Jackson and saw that he had moved to talk with some peers of his. Oliver was out to the side, sitting on a hay bale that was laid out as makeshift seating. There were a few people having polite conversations with him, but his body language showed that he was not completely invested.

I walked to Oliver and as I approached, he perked up. "Did Jackson leave you to your own devices?" I questioned. Oliver politely stood up as I neared.

"Oh no, my former colleague called me over, apparently a few from Dorath made it out this way as well," Oliver said as a blond man with a bushy beard nodded at me.

"Former colleague from Dorath? That is quite the trip just for our little town," I reached out my hand to shake the colleague's, who gave a firm squeeze in return.

"Yes, well, I was traveling near and decided to make the trip," His voice sounded gravelly as he spoke, "The name is Doctor Arthur Muller. And you are quite divine on the dance floor, Miss...?"

"Roxanne Stone," I introduced myself, "and thank you,"

"Always welcome, Miss Stone," There was a smile in his voice and eyes but it was hidden under his beard, "Perhaps I may be able to steal a dance myself?"

"Perhaps, though I was saving the next one for our good doctor," I smiled at Oliver and placed my hand on his arm. Oliver's face started to blush again and his smile was uneasy. He looked down his long Roman nose at the floor to avoid meeting my eyes.

"But of course, I would hate to steal away what the 'good doctor' has been waiting for," the man gave Oliver a slap on the shoulder, "before the night is through, I hope" Then he walked away from us.

"Rox, you could have just told him no," Oliver nervously chuckled.

"I know," I said as I took the cup out of his hand and set it down on the bale. I looped my arm through Oliver's and led him to the floor with a small amount of resistance.

"I was curious as to what that 'thing or two' you learned was," I told him as we started to find a place on the floor.

Oliver's mouth opened and promptly shut as I stopped us just shy of the center of the dance floor. He carefully looked at his fellow dancers and assumed the same position: one hand on my waist and the other holding my hand. I gently placed my free hand on his shoulder, without the dancing heels his shoulder was as far as I came up to him. Being this close to him, the foot-height difference felt very obvious. His hand was lightly trembling as he held mine, and the hand that was on my waist was barely there.

The dancers around us galloped around the perimeter of the floor, Oliver worked to keep pace as we dipped our torsos high and low. Soon, we stopped and he grabbed my hand so I could spin out. He tugged me back, I stopped with him behind me and my arms crossed over my chest. He bobbed to either side of me and I turned in kind to meet him, keeping time to the music. We turned out and rotated around each other, with clasped hands up. My free hand was at my skirt and his behind his back. I turned into him and he clasped me to his side and spun with me.

We continued to dance the rest of the song with more ease. He relaxed and let me move with confidence. It was clear he was a natural at this. As he moved more he let his guard down and watched me more.

I saw his nerves melt away as we danced, and his face was lit up with joy and confidence. The more I watched him, the more I studied his features. His eyes were the same color as cobblestones in the sunshine. His face was long with a well-defined jaw that tapered to an almost point. His nose was long, thin, and the bridge of his nose was slightly arched. His hair was short on the sides and back, with the length mostly on top, with his hair parted towards the right. The length of his hair naturally fell over his right eye. His sideburns ran long against the sides of his face. His skin was creamy in color, and the pale color exposed his emotions way too easily.

Never have I really looked at Oliver, he was gorgeous in his own right. I could feel his broad shoulders and muscular chest under my hand. I could feel his warmth, strength, and steadiness in his hands on me. This was the first time we really touched beyond handing the other something. There was electricity with how we moved together - at first we stumbled a little, but now we are gliding together more seamlessly than Azmi and I ever did.

The song ended and we applauded the band again. Oliver had a large smile spread across his face.

"It has been years since I danced like this," Oliver's smile was large enough he closed his eyes in pure joy. "Thank you, Roxanne,"

"No two left feet to be found," I said as nudged him, "but anytime at all, Oliver." I smiled in return. He looked down at my hand that was now on his arm and met my eyes.

"Perhaps I could steal you for one more," Oliver's expression was purposeful and courageous. Nothing like the blushing mess he had been just moments before. His gaze was hot as he stared me down. Now I felt my own cheeks alight with heat, and my heart fluttered. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I was wordless.

Everyone if you so wish I thought but couldn't bring myself to say.

I swallowed, "Yes, of course," I smiled at him. His eyes were intense and I couldn't pull away. When I agreed he softened and took my hand.

We danced swiftly to the next song, and neither of us worried about the other's movements. We smiled and laughed. I got to see the carefree side of the studious doctor. I grew to appreciate the feeling of him picking me up and swinging me as we danced. His hands were becoming familiar despite our height difference there was no struggle for us to match each other. Oliver was slowly becoming bolder with his movements, but the song had ended right when he was getting started.

"Do you want something to drink?" Oliver asked as we finished dancing to the current song. There was a certain ease to him now.

"Yes please," I said, Oliver then started to offer his elbow to me, but there was a hitch of hesitation. It seemed as if his nerves started to surface again. The scarlet started to return to his face and he looked ahead as he put his arm back to his side.

Assertively, I laced my arm through his as we walked off the floor. I looked up and could see the blush creep into his ears and he tucked his elbow closer to his body but not so much to signal me to let go. He stared straight ahead as we walked to the refreshments. Once we reached the table, he handed me a plain cup filled halfway with snowberry wine. He grabbed one for himself as well, then led us to a free bale of hay to sit at.

Once I was seated, I took a long sip of the wine. It was a little warmer now, but still very sweet. The flavor hit my tongue and I savored the tanginess. I took a deep breath and looked at Oliver.

He was stiff and awkward next to me. I noticed that one of the buttons on his shirt had been undone. His white skin showed as well as some subtle tufts of red chest hair to poke through. The skin was tight and hinted at his muscular structure. I sucked a breath in and averted my gaze.

I traced my finger over the rim of my cup, not knowing what to say to him. Still searching for words, I took another long sip.

"So..." I started as I removed the cup from my lips, "Why did you decide to come out this year?" I asked.

"Hmm?" Oliver hummed, "Oh, I heard so many people come through the clinic talking about it over the last three years, it just felt like it was time to go," Oliver gave a small chuckle before continuing. "When you were passing the Clinic, I was still trying to decide if I was going to go or not. So when Jackson invited me to join, it felt like a sign."

"Well, I am glad that you joined us," I said and I - awkwardly - placed my hand on his forearm. Oliver gave me a soft look, his hair had fallen a little, fiery red curls veiling his right eye, making his gaze a little more intense. I felt heat rising in me again, my ears tingling and I felt my palms starting to sweat. I removed my hand from him and finished my glass.

When I finished my drink, I felt warm and a little wobbly.

"There you are!" Azmi's voice called, I heard Oliver sigh a little as Azmi came to me, Oliver's hair swayed a little as he turned to watch Azmi almost skip up to us, with a purposeful expression.

"Pardon me, Dr. Tull, I am going to steal Anne for a dance," Azmi said as he grabbed my hand before I could say a word. Azmi pulled me up from my seat and led me away. I looked over my shoulder to cast a glance back to Oliver who I exchanged a puzzled look.

As Azmi and I passed through I locked eyes with Jackson. I nodded my head back to Oliver, hoping he understood.

The song that was played was slower and more intimate. As Azmi and I joined the floor, He wrapped his arm around the small of my back and held my hand firmly in a gentle grip. His purple eyes watched me intensely as I assumed my own posture with my arm around his shoulder. Azmi leaned in to whisper in my ear, drawing himself closer to me.

"I know who Darien is with," There was an uptick in his voice, hinting at a smile.

"Who is it," my question was rushed.

"Her name is Sarah, she is traveling from Sorsa to a different city up north with her parents. They are taking a week's rest here before resuming travel. She said they were seeking safe haven with a distant relative of sorts."

"Where is Sorsa?"

"It's a coastal city, very southeast of here," Azmi took a quick pause, "It's quite nice there, you would love it."

"I still need to travel with you eventually,"

"Yes! I haven't forgotten. I am just trying to find a great spot for your first excursion with me." Azmi's voice got low and his arm around me a little tighter.

"Rox," Azmi started as he turned us, something longing in his voice. As we turned though, I saw Darien on the floor with the girl that he ran off with.

"Is that her?" I asked, but Azmi didn't answer right away. He turned us so he could see what I was talking about.

"Yes," Azmi whispered back. I turned us around so I could really get a better look.

Darien had an expression I have never seen. He was gazing down at her, his hand posture was gentle and polite. He had an easy, lopsided smile and his green eyes never shifted from her.

Sarah had long mousy brown hair that was pulled back with a ribbon headband. Her dress was layered, purple on top but the top layer split down the middle to expose a flowing white skirt.

Before I could really study her face, Azmi turned us again. "Don't be suspicious," He whispered, turning his face more into my ear.

"What does her family do?"

"I believe she said her family farmed but their lands were destroyed which is why they are moving."

"How much longer is she here?"

"Maybe about two more days?"

"How did she meet D?"

"She apparently came into the shop one day, he was working the counter, and he gave her a protection charm."

"Really?" I hummed, this tidbit made me wrack my memory for when he was working the counter recently, as I may have crossed her path too. "How did you get this information?" I turned my face more into Azmi to playfully question him.

He laughed and pulled away from me a little to look at me, "I stole a dance because I knew D would be too nice to stop me," Azmi had a mischievous tone to his voice.

He knew that my brothers and I were sticklers for most polite conventions, particularly in public spaces. Our parents reminded us as we grew up that we could be looked at differently due to being Magi, it was important to put the best foot forward. Darien was the one that took it most to heart.

"This is why I keep you around," I winked at Azmi.

The band ended the song, and the crowd broke away from the dance floor as the band readied for the next set. I grabbed Azmi by the arm and walked through the crowd buzzing to find Jackson.

By this point, my head and eyes were feeling fuzzy between the wine and dancing. I was still coherent enough to enjoy myself. We found Jackson and Oliver by the refreshment table again, not far from where I left Oliver. I grabbed a third cup of wine and looked at the two. Oliver's eyes flicked to my arm in Azmi's, who gripped it a little tighter as we arrived. Oliver then avoided looking at either Azmi or myself. I felt very aware of Azmi by my side when I looked at Oliver, who became more focused on his drink or on Jackson.

I looked at Jackson myself, "Azmi found out who she is," I exclaimed.

Oliver's brow furrowed in confusion and then looked at me, but once our eyes met his eyebrow twitched and he looked away quickly.

"I would hope so with how he ran off," Jackson had a cocky smile to him now.

I detailed all the information Azmi had told me about her. The information wasn't much but it was a start. Jackson and Oliver listened intently, exchanging glances here and there and sipping on their drinks. As I talked and sipped wine myself, I felt a little fuzzier. Normally, I can hold my wine well, but this feels stronger than it has been in previous years.

"Sorsa? That's about a week's travel from here to begin with." Oliver thought aloud.

"Have you been?" I asked.

"Yes, twice, it is a lovely little town on a warm coast, it was also probably one of my favorites to travel to."

"Really? Do you travel often then?" I have not seen Oliver leave Kore over the last 3 years now that I think about it.

"I try to, the exposure is good for the mind," Oliver added with a brief smile.

"It certainly is," Azmi chimed in, being polite but unimpressed.

"Well, we will have to get more information from D tomorrow, thank you Azmi," Jack nodded.

"Just remember, my help isn't always free," Azmi said in a cool and playful tone. Jackson and Azmi exchanged brief looks - Jack must have said something to him as Azmi shifted his weight and loosed my arm from his side.

"Anne, I will talk with you later," Azmi squeezed my hand and kissed my temple before he walked off.

Oliver carefully watched him leave as he tapped his finger on his cup. Once Azmi was gone, he spoke again, "So, I take it that you and Azmi are very close?" Oliver's tone was careful.

"Yes," I smoothed my dress, my hands were sweating, I refilled my glass as we were standing next to the refreshment table. "We basically grew up together, he is my best friend." I studied Oliver's face, which looked slightly solemn under his half-smile.

"Azmi became a part of our family at a young age, but his love for travel was too big for Kore. He travels a lot too, I have asked to come with him a time or two, but he is very particular about how he travels."

My words about my relationship with Azmi kept tumbling one after another. I couldn't stop. Oliver's facial expression shifted from polite conversation to confusion, to interest as I kept talking.

Anne, pull it back. Jackson's voice was in my head again. I snapped my mouth shut and took a nervous sip of wine but the glass was already empty. How?

I contemplated refilling the glass, but Jackson's watchful look made me anxious. My heart was fluttering, I felt my nose warming, and my eyes were starting to work harder on focusing on my surroundings.

"Have you had a chance to travel?" Oliver asked me as I set the cup off to the side.

"I haven't been outside of Kore," I shook my head.

Oliver looked to Jackson, "Our mother travels frequently, I have gone with her a few times to help procure new items for the shop, but that was the most I have done myself."

"Well, travel is often better with the company," Oliver agreed, he seemed stiff when Azmi was here or when he was brought up in conversation. Now, he seems to be relaxing.

"You haven't really left Kore since you got here, have you, Oliver?" Jackson responded.

"No... I used to love to travel, but since I have been here I haven't found the time or reason to go." Oliver added, Jackson's eyes shot briefly to me then back to Oliver.

"Sounds like some...thing is keeping you tethered here," Oliver gave an uneasy grin and raised his eyebrows in response.

"Something like that," Oliver looked down his long nose again, "The clinic and herbery have been keeping me fairly busy."

"Whelp, I hope that is a good thing," Jackson put firmly patted Oliver's shoulder but something caught Jackson's attention off to the side.

"Well, if you two will excuse me, I think it is my turn to dance," Jackson then handed his cup off to me as I did to him before. I looked at it in confusion, but Jackson just waved at me as he left.

"Ass," I muttered and I heard Oliver sniffle back a laugh, I examined the glass and noticed that there was still about half of the wine there. I threw it back and set the cup on the table.

I felt hot, the air in the barn had warmed a lot from the bodies and the lights, and the wine was also very warming. I felt dizzy and I was losing focus. I knew I still had to walk home too. I took a deep breath and looked at Oliver who was looking around the barn again.

"I think I am going to take a step outside, I need to cool down a little," I said and ran my sweating palms down my skirt.

"I think I will step out with you, I could use some fresh air myself," Oliver said, my eyes then fixed on his shirt.

A second button was undone, his chest didn't have a lot of hair but the red strands contrasted against his pale skin. The shirt had opened some to hint at a well-defined chest. The urge to run my fingers over it, to feel the coarseness of his hair, to feel the taught muscle under my hand, washed over me. I was able to keep my hand to myself thankfully, by looping my arm through his again.

When I took the slightest step I stumbled into his side, "Damn heels," I mumbled and collected myself again.

"Darling, I don't think it is the heels," Oliver teased. He pinned my arm to his side and held his hand over mine as we walked out together. As we walked, not many noticed us, though there were many people, so many people, when did there become this many? They moved out of our way but were invested in their own affairs.

When we exited, the air was crisp and cold. I sucked in a deep breath and felt my body adjust to the cold. On the back of my neck, my hair raised, and my skin puckered with goosebumps. I pointed off to the side of the barn where there were fewer people and Oliver led the way.

Together, we crossed the grass and rounded the corner. My head was fuzzy, and my eyes felt heavy. On the way, I tripped once but Oliver was ready to steady me. Once on the other side of the barn, we both leaned against the wall. It was cool and solid; it was so nice.

My arm was still looped through Oliver's, he was incredibly warm in contrast to the cold air. I pulled closer to his side and a shudder jerked through me.

"Cold?" Oliver asked, and I kicked off my heels and rested my head at his shoulder.

"Yeah, a little," I shrugged, another shutter.

Oliver released my arm to wrap his around my shoulders. I felt a flash of warmth burst through my chest and stomach. I was tingling at the touch, and my breath caught in my throat.

"Better?" Oliver adjusted next to me, I looked to see that he was now looking at me. His eyes were searching for something, and his face was starting to turn red, but he didn't seem like he was too terribly nervous.

It was odd... when others were around, he was anxious when around me. When we were alone, he was confident and seemed like a different person. He was such a cool and collected person normally with a ready supply of sarcasm. I didn't see him much outside of a professional atmosphere, but there were a few times he joined our family for dinner, and he was always comfortable with us.

Tonight, seemed different, he kept switching between swagger and worry.

Right now, he watched me carefully, his intensity was back. His red hair fell against the right side of his face; his arm was gentle across my shoulders. I could see his heart pounding furiously in his neck, but the sound of mine was overwhelming. He had a half smile drawn across his lips, and his skin smelt salty with a lingering hint of the herbs that he sold at the clinic.

I took a chance, "Just a bit," I teased him. His grip around me got a little tighter and he turned to stand in front of me.

Yes. I gulped hard as his hands started to move. The arm around my shoulders dropped to my waist, and his other tilted my chin up. He slowly leaned down to me, his breath hitched and his lips hesitated at mine.

He left just a teasing space between us, I could feel his breath shake. My eyes moved to meet his. His gaze was soft, I could almost feel the upturn of his lips as he was stopped in front of me.

"My, your heart is pounding," Oliver teased, his fingers were close to my throat as they rested on my chin, there was no way that his trained hands wouldn't have been able to feel my pulse.

I could barely breathe, what is he waiting for?

I tilted my chin up just a fraction and that was all he needed. Next, his lips were on mine. He started out slow and gentle, but when he tried to pull away slightly - I followed. My fingers were wrapped up in his white shirt, he moved the hand that was under my chin to my back.

He moved from being gentle to hungry. He kissed me harder, and I returned the passion. His body was long against mine as he had engulfed me in his embrace.

I moved my hands to be around his shoulders, and as I adjusted - so did he. He quickly picked me up and pressed me against the wall. My knees straddled him, letting him mold to my body. I gripped his shirt in one hand, the other laced through his hair.

His hands were firmly on my legs, his thumbs pressing into my thighs. I pulled lightly at his hair, to which he released a soft moan and dug his fingers a little harder into me. Oliver pushed all of his weight into me, and I squeezed his waist with my thighs.

He was warm, and I could feel his firm muscles against me. I used my lips to open his and there wasn't even the slightest protest. We tentatively explored a bit further.

My mind was in a tizzy, was this real? He felt very real under my grip.

His hands held onto me, and his hair was soft and textured. Oliver parted from me briefly to catch a breath of air. He then moved his hungry searching from my lips to my neck. I felt my grasp on his hair get tighter, I was panting.

Something stopped in me though.

I pulled back on his hair gently, "Wait," I told him.

I felt Oliver's teeth against my neck in a grimace, but he pulled away from me. He searched my face as we were nose to nose with each other. The pressure of his weight against me was satisfying but I wanted more. I tilted my head back against the wall and breathed.

Once my breathing evened out, I returned to look at him - his eyes never left me. He was told to wait, and wait he did.

"I should probably go home," I told him, I felt him release a breath and nodded solemnly. He placed me down on the ground, but I stumbled over my abandoned heels.

"I can walk you back if you would like," Oliver offered as he helped me steady myself.

"Yes please," I responded as I used his arm to gain balance while I replaced my heels. I could feel my heart still pounding away.

"Let's go find your brothers before we leave," he said, and I nodded in agreement. I was starting to fade.

Oliver wasn't quick to break what was left of our embrace, but when he did move, he leaned away and looked off the way we came.

"Well, it looks like they actually found us," Oliver said, his tone serious. I questioned him as I followed his gaze.

There at the corner of the barn stood both Darien and Jackson. At this distance, I couldn't tell their expressions, but I could feel them.

Fuck.

I let my touch on Oliver drop and he moved away from me as well. I could see Darien turn to Jackson so he could say something. Both of them stood straight and watchful of us.

Oliver offered me his arm and since I was still teetering a little, I took it. Together we walked towards them, their expressions becoming clearer. One was perplexed, the other smug.

"Oliver is going to walk me home tonight," I told them, then they wordlessly parted for us to leave. I didn't meet either of their eyes as we walked past.

Just before we were out of earshot, the two called in unison "Tomorrow,"

Fuck.

Tomorrow will now be filled with more questions for me than Darien at this point. I sighed at the thought.

Together, Oliver and I walked back to town in silence. Our arms were still linked, but I dared not cast a glance his way. Instead, I chewed on my bottom lip in thought.

How much did they see? Why were they outside? Why did I let this happen? What does this mean?

The questions swirled in my head as we walked.

Eventually, we arrived back at the shop. Oliver let my arm go and took a step away from me. I finally looked at him, his expression was soft if not remorseful, but there was a kind smile. His hands were in his pockets and he was avoiding looking at me directly. His hair was still tasseled and his skin flushed.

Most of the night, he was some shade of scarlet. I chuckled at the sight of him and he got a look of concern in his eyes.

"What?" There was a quake of fear in his voice.

"You blush a lot is all," I kept my tone soft.

He returned my smile and bit his lip a little in thought. He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up a little bit more, and he started to turn away.

The thought of him walking off without a word made my heart heavy, but I held it in. I pursed my lips as I reached for the door. Still watching him, I started to turn it, but Oliver stopped in his tracks.

Oliver whipped back around. He took three strides to me and grasped my upper arms. He quickly pecked me, this time quick and gentle. He was so soft, it was as if he wasn't even there.

"I am sorry, I couldn't just leave like that," Oliver spoke against my lips. Then he gave me another peck. This time there was no question in it, he lingered a bit longer this time as well.

He parted from me and then stepped off the porch. "Have a good night, Rox," Oliver said as he started to leave again, there was a new glimmer in his eyes.

I took a deep breath, "Anne," I called after him. he turned around on his heel and looked at me. His eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Come again?" A toothy half-smile was flashed at me.

"It's Anne, if... if you want," I crossed my arms in front of my chest as I repeated myself. Oh, Gods. I couldn't watch him anymore as my face felt flushed and my body was tingling at what I just said.

"Well..." Oliver's tone was light, "Have a good night, Anne." This time, I left first - almost running inside.

Once I was in the shop, I pressed my back into the door. My hands were cool against my furiously blushing face.

I squeaked a curse to myself as I replayed the scene in my head.

What just happened?

[black-dragon1998]

Just something original i'm woring on.

Autor's note: So this is an original story I have been thinking about. just looking for some input if you guy's would be into that? Commenting is always appriciated.

Olivia Wood was looking at herself through the gym mirror. Mostly to keep her form but also to keep her thoughts of the conversation happening behind her. The group of girls behind her were talking about her. The way they were ogling her was apparent. Olivia hated it when attention was on her. When working, she could put on her uniform and deal with it that way, but in private, she was an introvert. No matter what her colleagues tried telling you. She also knew her demeanour and physique but didn't say she was a shy introvert.

After taking a big breath and pushing it out through her teeth, Olivia came out of her squatting position, lifting the barbell on her shoulders. She repeated this a dozen times until she was at her limit. The longer she went on, the more excited the girls seemed. Maybe it would be a good thing if she packed up after this. She had an early shift anyway tomorrow. After her last squad, Olivia lifted the barbell and put it back on the rack before cleaning it up. Nobody wanted somebody else grease on the equipment they were using. She also took off the additional weight she had put on the bar.

"Excuse me, but could I ask you a question?" While Olivia was cleaning up, one of the girls came up behind her. The blond looked to be in her early twenties. Olivia remembered when she was that young. Life looked so much easier. Olivia also had to look down, her taller 1,80m frame towering over the girl who couldn't be more than 1,60M.

The blond didn't hide her lustful gaze as she racked them over Olivia's body. Her muscles twitched as the 25-kilo weight suddenly became a lot heavier.

"can I help you?" Uncertainty laced Olivia's voice. Why had the girl come up to her?

"Maybe you can. I have been seeing you here for the last two weeks and just had to get your number. If not for workout tips, then maybe for dinner sometime." The girl made her voice sound extra low. The girl had also taken a step closer to Olivia. She was pushing her cleavage almost in Olivia's face. Cleavage that was virtually popping out of her too-small sports bra.

Olivia could feel her ears turn red. She had never been good at this. Most of the time, when people were flirting with her, it went right over her head, or she thought people were being friendly. So she liked it when women were upfront, but this was too much even for Olivia. She didn't even know the girl's name. Also, she was trying too hard. The girl tried to put too much emphasis on her body, like she needed validation that she looked good. Olivia thought she was beautiful, but she also liked a woman who was confident in her own body. Sexy without even trying.

With that, memories of a fiery redhead spook through Olivia's mind as she racked a hand through her black hair. She is surely messing up her undercut. Olivia needed to get out of this situation. With a quick 'sorry can't nice meeting you' Olivia practically bolted through the door.

Running seemed a little cowardice, but Olivia wasn't good at confrontations, and if the girl started to cry, she was sure she would say yes to soothe her feelings without thinking about her own. Irin always said she was a sucker for seeing a girl cry. Knowing she wasn't over her ex, she couldn't go out with this girl. That would be unfair.

For years, she thought she was over her, but since coming back to Blood Coast City four weeks ago, her mind had been plagued by memories of the voluptuous, snarky redhead that was her ex-girlfriend.

Five years ago, Irina had trusted Olivia with a big secret, and like the stupid idiot she was back then, she shattered that trust. Instead of talking things out like adults, Olivia ran. Even if Irina wasn't in a new relationship, Olivia was sure the woman didn't want to see her. So Olivia did what she did best; she ignored the problem, put her mind to her job, and reexplored the city she had left all those years ago. A city which had changed quite a bit since she had been gone, at least in her eyes.

[thesexydevils]

My only one (Drabble)

Pairing: Soft!Dark Steve Rogers x female reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, obsessive behaviour, soft!dark drabble

A/N: English is my fourth language, so sorry for any mistakes. My stories are mostly written for adults and have mature topics.

“911, what's your emergency?”

“Please send help, I can't find her. She is gone. Please, I need to find her.”

“Sir calm down and tell me what happened?”

“My fiancé and I were driving down the Long Mine Road, when suddenly we heard a loud bang and then I lost control over my car. And ... and when I regained consciousness she was not here. I looked nearby but she is gone. Her things are gone too.”

“Sir, I am sending someone, just stay with me on the line. Is this your number?"

“Sir, are you still there?”

“Yes, yes this is my number. Please find my Y/N."

“Sir, please stay calm and help is arriving soon. What is your name?”

“Eric Russo.”

*************************************

Few hours later the police were looking for a young woman with long dark hair, dark brown eyes and brown skin. One of the officers went to the house to do his inquiry. Almost every house was at least 10 minutes away by car.

So, after the third house officer O’Brian was sure, he would not get any clue of the missing woman.

Officer O’Brian stood in front of a decent house with big windows. It was more in the forest than the other houses he went to check.

He knocked twice on the door and announced himself. He looked back to his car when the door opened.

O’Brian was shocked as the man of the house stepped out towards him. “Captain America! What a surprise. I am officer O’Brian. What are you doing here, in the middle of nowhere?”

Steve smiled and stretched his big hand out to him, which he happily shook. “Steve, please. I just want some time for myself, away from the big city here in nature and this place is perfect for it. How can I help you, officer?”

O’Brian was at least 5 '11 but he was nowhere as tall as Steve. He was 4- 5 inches taller than the officer was and it made him feel small.

“Captain Sir, we are looking for a woman. A couple had an accident and the woman went missing, her fiancé and family are looking for her. She is probably hurt and is in need of medical assistance. We have the suspicion that she has been taken.” The officer pulled out a photo of the woman and passed it to Steven.

Steve’s eyes moved over her facial features. “Sorry officer, I haven’t seen this woman, but if you need any help searching for her, please let me know.” 

For a moment there was something in Steve’s eyes, it made the officer feel weird, but he ignored the feeling and went back to his car after taking his leave.

Steve followed his moves with a smile on his face and as soon as the car left his driveway, his smile changed into something sinister. He double locked the door and took the warm tray of food, which he prepared just before the officer knocked at his door.

He took the tray down to the basement.

A petite figure was restrained on the bed, with both her hands and legs tied. Steve put the tray on the bedside table and pulled the cloth out of her mouth. “Steve, please ... please let me ...”

He wiped her teary face with his handkerchief. “Don’t cry, my love. I know you are scared, and I am sorry for hurting you, but you just left me. How could you just leave me and move somewhere else without me?”

She looked at the person in front who should be protecting, not because he was Captain America but because he was her friend too. “Steve, what are you talking about? You know I am getting married and there is my new job, so I have to move. Steve, I have no idea, why are you doing this?”

He gave a short humorless laugh. One of his hands shot out and grabbed the back of her head and pulled her face. Their lips were just an inch apart. She could feel his hot breath on her lips. 

“Do you have any idea how much I love you? Y/N, the moment we met, you were the one for me. I have always loved you and when I tried to tell you, you were already with him.”

Steve joined his forehead with hers. “I love you so much that I can’t even imagine a second without you. Y/N, I really hoped you would see that he was not the one for you.”

He placed a soft kiss on her head. “Don’t worry, I will make you realize that no one can love you like I do.” 

Y/N shook her head in disbelief. “Steve, please! Why didn’t you tell me before? You can’t do this now when I am going to marry someone else. I love him, Steve. Please just let me go and we will forget this ever happened. You will find someone, who will love you like you do, but I am not the one.”

He moved a bit away and took the food tray and placed it between them. Steve took some pasta with the fork and brought it to her lips. 

“There is no one like you Y/N. You will understand and you will love me the way I do. It doesn’t matter how much time it takes, but in the end, you will love me. And I will spend the rest of our lives to prove to you that you are my only one.”

The determination in his voice made her cry harder, but it didn’t change the way he looked at her.

“I love you, Y/N and one day you will return my feelings too. One day you will say the three words too. I know you will.”

If you like it, leave comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!!!

[kimvvantae]

the misadventures list; 1 (m)

➜ the night shift can be very wild at times. you’ve witnessed so many strange, concerning and absurd situations happen inside the tiny convenience store that you could make a long list with everything that got you stunned - and the situation that takes the prize of being the weirdest of your list is the night a desperate millionaire, for the sake of saving his fortune, asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend.

pairing: playboy!jimin x (f) reader

genre: smut, comedy (?), fluff • fake dating au

warnings: explicit sexual content in future chapters. coarse language. me trying to be funny i guess

rating: 18+

word count: 6k

A/N: so excited to finally share this one with you guys!! i really needed to write something lighthearted after so much angst (even tho yall know me so there's definitely gonna be a lil bit of angst in the future). feedback is always much appreciated!

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

➜  Chapters: check out masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

Working in a 24h convenience store is quite the experience.

Despair leads humans to take drastic decisions. Living alone as a college student in a big city is in itself a situation of despair - especially if you have no family to help you out with the bills and not enough professional experience to get a decent job. So, when you saw the rent coming just around the corner and you had a spectacular amount of $15 in your bank account, you accepted the first job offer that appeared in front of you.

Yes. You accepted the night shift.

Does it mean that you barely sleep these days and you feel that your brain is going to actually melt? Yes. But at least the salary is a little higher than your last job and the store is two blocks away from your apartment.

Also, sometimes you end up witnessing interesting things.

The store is pretty empty most of the time - which means that you just sit behind the cashier counter for hours straight trying not to die of boredom. You can study a lot, which is good, but sometimes, when you already did everything you had to do - from organizing items on shelves back and forth to wiping the floor twice or feeding the dog that always passes by around 2AM -, you have no choice but sit there and question your life choices.

When customers do come, though, it's usually the same type of people. You have already memorized the pattern of customers: sad college students that come to buy dinner (usually noodles. Delicious, cheap and unhealthy. What else could a broke young adult want?), or drunk college students that come after leaving clubs to buy some snacks, or drunk and sad college students that don't have that many friends to go out with, so they buy beer, eat noodles and cry alone in their respective apartments/dorms. You somehow relate to all of them.

From time to time, some people out of the pattern show up, though. There was that homeless man that once came in to simply buy Oreo but you ended up discussing the consequences of the 2008 financial crisis for about forty minutes (a really smart man, that one). There was also that time when a woman walked in wearing nothing but lingerie and bunny ears; she bought some condensed milk, called you pretty and left (you never blushed so hard in your life). Or that time you had to chase a 12 year old down the street holding a baseball bat because he tried to steal a vodka bottle (fortunately, you didn't need to actually beat him up. The little devil threw the bottle and ran away while people stared at you like you were crazy). Oh, let's not forget that time a group of people with questionable fashion sense tried to lure you into becoming a part of their cult (something about aliens and illuminati. That time you got actually scared).

After three months of working here, you got convinced that this small convenience store is actually an anomaly in space-time. A place where dimensions merge. Universal rules don't apply here. One day a talking polar bear might just walk in to buy Coca-Cola and you'll be like oh, that's neat.

And tonight is one of those nights when the matrix seems to fail and a weird ass dude shows up.

It's true that you heard the front door open a few minutes ago; you simply lifted your head from behind the counter, trying to peek at them, but the person disappeared behind the shelves quickly. Because you were too focused on highlighting your textbook, you didn't really pay mind to whoever it was. After around ten minutes, you felt your body itching and your vision blurring after so much reading (tax law is one of your least favorite subjects) and decided to reorganize the items on the snacks section once again.

That's kind of how it went for around four minutes.

Then you notice that there is an actual person sitting on the floor behind the refrigerators.

You gasp.

The person turns his head to look at you.

The first thing you notice is the unusual silver hair. The second thing is the fact that he's holding two phones in his hands. The third thing is the Rolex on his right wrist.

The fourth thing is the smile he opens as he sees you - an actual smile, so big that his eyes almost completely close.

"Hi!" he says in a happy voice. As if it's completely normal of him to be sitting on the floor of a store, knees close to his chest, for almost twenty minutes.

You immediately step back, ready to run the fuck out if you need to, your heart still beating rapidly from the scare.

"May I help you, sir?" you ask, unable to not scowl at him.

He's still smiling. He shakes his head. His hair and earrings sway as he does. "No, thank you! I'm fine. Just… sitting here." he laughs. "Oh, I know what you're thinking. I'm definitely not a weirdo. I'm just…" one of the phones in his hand starts ringing. He clicks his tongue and frowns. "Wait a second."

He slams it on the floor.

Like. Literally fucking slams it.

And steps on it a couple of times with the back of his foot until you hear the noise of glass shattering. When the screen doesn't turn on anymore, he sighs in relief.

"Anyways, as I was saying… I'm not a weirdo." he smiles again. You step back. "It's just that I had a fight with my brother and all… you know how siblings are, right?"

You don't reply. He doesn't seem to notice how you look at him as if he's indeed the weirdest dude in the world - or he's simply too good at ignoring it.

"Oh, so you're an only child, I guess? Well, lucky you." He laughs again. It also seems that he's talking to the voices in his head. "I'm actually hiding here for a while. So don't mind me! Really, I'm just gonna sit here for thirty more minutes until it's safe to go outside again."

And he smiles prettily once more.

You just stand there, staring at him like he's got a second head, for long seconds. His smile doesn't falter. His cheeks might be hurting at this point.

"Your brother isn't a gang leader or something, right?" is the first thing you ask. His eyes widen and he quickly waves his hands dismissively.

"No! Gosh, of course not," he laughs again. "He's just… kinda tall."

You stare at him for a few more moments.

Well, it's not as if he's committing a crime anyway. It also looks like he's being honest. So you just shrug.

(After seeing so many strange people during the night shift, very little things surprise you anymore).

Before you can say anything, though, you see him widening his eyes as he spots something behind you.

"Shit!" he exclaims before, once again, disappearing behind the refrigerator - he comes so close to the wall and hugs his legs so tightly against his chest that he might as well become a ball.

Confused, you look back to the glass front door - just in time to see a man walk in.

It honestly looks like one of those stupid drama scenes.

He's tall. Really tall. Wears a black long coat that looks very expensive, has pitch black hair styled to the side and a suit that also looks very expensive.

You can almost imagine the slow-mo camera, the pink filter and the romantic drama OST playing in your head.

To say that you're starstruck is an understatement.

The only thing that kind of kills the moment is his expression of pure fury.

The man looks around, tip-toeing to have a better view of the entire store (not that he needed to tip toe to have a better view). He walks to the cleaning products aisle with heavy steps, seemingly in search of someone.

Then, it hits you.

He's just… kinda tall.

If he turns the corner, he'll definitely see the weirdo sitting on the floor behind the fridge.

Maybe it's compassion. Maybe it's the fact that the man is indeed very tall and looks like he could break the other guy in two. Maybe it is God whispering in your ears, saying, my child, if you don't intervene, that poor weirdo will probably show up on the news as a murder victim.

You don't know what it is, but you end up quickly following him to the other corridor.

"Excuse me, may I help you?" you say, forcing a smile.

He stops and turns around - just before turning the corner and coming face-to-face with his prey.

"Oh." Gosh. He's even better from up close. "No, thank you. I'm just…" He tilts his head and caresses the back of his neck, stepping closer to you. "Actually, have you seen a stupid-looking guy with bleached hair walking around here?"

You have to swallow a laugh.

"No." You say, sounding apologetic. "I guess I would have remembered someone like that."

The man sighs, seeming slightly disappointed.

"Alright. Thank you anyway. Good night."

He walks away slowly.

The store goes back to silence for many seconds, the only audible sound being the buzz of the refrigerators.

Then, the bleach-haired weirdo shows up from behind the aisle. You've honestly never seen someone look so relieved in your life.

"Thank you so, so much!" he says excitedly, putting his hand over his chest. "Oh my God, I thought he was going to kill me. You saved my life. My heroine!"

Now that he's standing close to you under proper light, you can't help but disagree with his brother.

This man right here is anything but stupid-looking.

Albeit shorter than the other, you notice that he has… well… nice body proportions. His skin is so ridiculously clear that it reminds you of fine chinese porcelain (it makes you feel self aware of your own oily skin and you quietly regret not exfoliating your face those last few weeks). When he smiles, his eyes almost completely close, which makes him look somehow cute. However, the thing that most draws your attention is his lips. They're just so… plump. And healthy. You can notice the subtle gloss of lip balm.

His clothes are quite simple - white buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black pants -, but you see the little Prada written on his belt and yet again you see the huge golden Rolex on his wrist - like his brother, everything about him screams I am rich.

On top of that, he smells good.

You're conflicted.

You don't know if you're feeling attracted to him or if you're just plain jealous.

Quirking your eyebrow up, you cross your arms. "Well, I also felt that he was going to kill you. You must've done something really bad."

"Oh, no. My brother hates me for simply existing in the same space as him." He says it so light-heartedly that you don't know if he's serious or not. He lifts the shattered phone in his hand. "Also, I stole his phone, so… I think his reaction was fair this time."

Oh.

"I would have wanted to kill you, too." you blurt out in pure honesty.

He laughs again, covering his mouth with his fist and slightly throwing his head back. He's the type that laughs with his entire body. Does this man know how to fake laughter very well or does he genuinely think everything is funny?

"Don't bother! This is one of his phones. I just gained some time before he can call my parents." You can't help but frown. Did he seriously destroy his brother's phone just so he couldn't call his parents? "Anyway, I'm sure he left. I think I should, too."

"Yeah. Hm… Good night. And good luck with your psycho brother." You say awkwardly, starting to feel a little weirded out by him - because when he looks at people, he actually looks at them. Like. For real.

"Thank you. Good night!"

He opens the front door and only leaves after peeking his head outside to check if his brother isn’t sneakily waiting for him, waving at you cutely.

You stand there for some moments, putting your hands on your waist.

Well.

This is one more situation that will make you say "you won't guess what happened to me this time" to your friends; now, two handsome rich guys were playing mortal hide and seek during your shift. And you think it'll be just it - another strange story to your list about people you're never seeing again.

This time, though, you're wrong.

It's around the same time at night when, once again, your eye catches silver hair walking into the store.

You feel forced to put your textbook down this time.

He smiles and waves excitedly. Today, he wears a red turtleneck under a long black coat, black pants and leather black shoes that look very expensive. He takes off his sunglasses as he walks in (sunglasses at 1AM? Really?). "Hello!"

You stare at him, straight-faced, for long moments.

"May I help you?" You can't hide your suspiciousness.

"I just decided to drop by and say hello to my heroine!"

Oh no. He really is a weirdo.

"Okay." You're speaking and moving slowly as if you're facing a dangerous and angry dog. "Hello."

He nods, still smiling.

You watch as the silver-haired man puts his hands on the pockets of his coat, trying to fake a nonchalant act, and slowly walks around the store, humming quietly. He looks at every shelf and refrigerator but it's obvious that he's not searching for anything in particular.

It goes on for a few minutes.

It's painful to watch.

Finally, he comes to the cashier holding a can of Pringles and a Coke, making you get up from your chair. He pays for the items with a black card that feels heavy when you take it on your fingers.

"Do you want a plastic bag?" You ask, as usual.

He takes around two seconds to reply.

"No. I'm… I'm eating it here."

You stare at each other in silence.

"Are you hiding from your brother again?"

"Yes." His shoulders drop as he says this, finally letting go of his façade. "Can I just stay for some time? I know he won't search for me here again. I won't bother you, I promise!"

He sounds whiny. Like a little kid begging for more cookies.

This grown ass man is literally pouting at you.

You exhale heavily. "Alright. No problem, I guess." You still eye him suspiciously as he sighs and smiles, relieved. He does have a pretty smile. "Are you sure your brother isn't a gang leader?"

"No. He's just unbearable." He taps his fingers on the counter. "Do you… have a stool or something?"

You blink. "A stool?"

He tilts his head awkwardly. "Yes. I don't wanna sit on the floor again."

Oh. Sure.

There is actually a tiny stool hidden under the counter. You give it to him and he puts it on the other side of the cashier counter, happily sitting on it and opening the Pringles can.

You sit back, still moving slowly. This situation is awkward.

“Do you want some?” He offers you, his cheeks full and his eyes round. You shake your head.

“No, thank you.”

He just keeps eating in silence for a few moments, humming happily as he chews.

Your eyes slowly fall back over the textbook.

“Oh! I didn’t even tell you my name! That’s so rude,” he says out of sudden with - once again - a type of excitement similar to a child’s. You don’t know if it’s cute or creepy at this point. “I’m Jimin. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” He repeats your name under his breath, nodding.

Silence.

You lay your eyes on the textbook once more. Everything you hear is the quiet sound of him chewing his crunchy chips.

“What are you reading?”

When you lift your head again, he’s kinda closer than he was a second ago. His eyes are gleaming with curiosity, stretching his neck to try to see a glimpse of it.

Awkwardly, you close it to show him the cover. “Hm… I’m just studying.”

He scowls. “Tax law? God, that's awful. What’s your major, by the way?”

“Economics.”

He chuckles.

You cross your arms slowly, frowning. “What’s funny about it?”

“Nothing.” He licks his fingertips. “It’s just that… I think of old bald men with huge goggles when I hear the word accountant. I don’t imagine someone like you.”

“Is this a compliment?” You quirk one eyebrow up.

“Half and half. This kinda makes you boring.”

You stare at him in silence.

Is this dude you just met calling you boring?

“Well, I’m sorry if my attempt at having a better life sounds boring to you.”

“Don’t get me wrong!” He’s quick to say, waving his hands. “It’s just that… all the math… and sitting behind a desk your whole life, reading papers, analyzing numbers… it sounds terrible.” He scowls as if he has a lemon inside of his mouth.

“It doesn’t sound terrible to me.” You defend yourself. “I like when things are organized and working the way they should.”

He licks his lips. That was a little bit distracting.

“I have a different mindset.” He explains. “I’m a free spirit, you know? I don’t like feeling tied like that. The idea of being just a gear inside of a big company that gives two shits about you is suffocating.”

“Really? And what’s your profession?” Honestly, you don’t even think he went to college.

“International Relations.”

You snort. “And doesn’t it mean that you have to be a gear inside of a big company to work with something like that?”

“I know.” He nods vehemently, lifting his eyebrows. “And I hate it.”

“Why did you major it, then?”

“It wasn’t really my choice.” He taps his fingers over the counter. “My family wants me to be in their business, you know.”

You watch him in silence.

As curious as you are to know why the hell does this man keep hiding from his brother, you kind of feel that he’s even more eager to tell you what’s going on.

“That’s why you’re hiding?” You bet. Jimin clicks his tongue.

“Kinda. If they find me, they’ll definitely force me into a position.” He sighs tiredly. “They don’t understand that I’m not like my older brother! He wants to be CEO or whatever. Why don't they just let him carry the family business if he wants it so bad? I was never interested in the first place!” He pouts a lot as he talks. It's stupid - everything about this guy feels a little bit over the top; definitely not the type you'd normally be into -, but you have to control yourself not to stare at his lips all the time.

You shake your head incredulously and rest your back on the chair.

“Why do I feel that you’re judging me?” Jimin asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Because I am.” You say. “I would love to be forced into an important position in a big company. What’s your family’s business, by the way?”

“The Aurum Steel Company. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.” He says nonchalantly.

You gasp.

“Aurum Steel Company?! Are you kidding me?” You stare at him, jaw dropped. Sure, it was obvious since the beginning that Jimin was rich… but being the heir of one of the biggest steel companies in the world?! “You know what? I wouldn’t just love to be forced into a position. I would actually kill to be in any position.”

“It’s a freaking steel company! Do you know how boring it is?!” Jimin says as if you’re the crazy one.

“Oh my God. Rich people problems have never been so real.” You shake your head, staring at him wide-eyed. “That’s offensive, even”

“You’re saying this because you don’t know how those people live.” Jimin gesticulates a lot as he speaks. “Being honest, they don’t even have lives at all. They just work, work, work and work. I would honestly rather die.”

"So you don't like to work, basically."

"I never said that." he crosses his arms. "I don't wanna work with that."

"Then, what do you want to work with? Maybe you could convince your parents to leave you alone if you give them enough of an excuse."

He leans his elbow on the counter and rests his face on his palm, thoughtful. "I don't think they'll accept any excuse at all. You see, they kinda let me do whatever I wanted to do for the past few years. My dad was like, 'it's okay if you want to enjoy life for now, but some time you'll have to assume your responsibilities.'" He deepens his voice, mimicking his father's voice, which makes you want to laugh. "I've been living overseas and all. But… now that I turned 25, they decided to corner me from all sides. They said that if I didn't come back, they would block all of my bank accounts."

"And did they?"

"Yes." he nods. "But I came back, talked to the bank manager and they unblocked it."

"So that's why your parents and brother are mad at you?" you quirk your eyebrow up.

"Yes. They've been hunting me around the city. But I don't want to go see them." Jimin whimpers, dramatically pretending to cry. "Hyungsik found out in which hotel I was, so I had to escape. And that's why I'm here."

You stare at him in silence while he pouts at you.

"Wow. What a tragic life of yours." Jimin nods, closing his eyes. It’s hard to guess if he didn’t get the dripping sarcasm in your tone or if he simply ignored it.

"I know. I don't even have a place to sleep!"

You stare at the Coke he bought resting near his elbow. "Well, I think if you want to escape, you'll have to figure out a place to sleep and leave real soon."

He frowns. "Why? Are you kicking me out?"

"No. It's just that you used a credit card to buy those things. If they're really hunting you down, they must probably already know that you bought something here."

Jimin freezes.

His eyes widen.

"Shit!" he swears under his breath and gets up in a jump. "I'm so fucking stupid!"

"Do you want me to agree or…?"

"Don't." He takes the Pringles can and - believe it or not - manages to smile once again. "Thank you for letting me stay again, Y/N!"

He waves goodbye and runs out of the store.

Again, the only noise to fill your ears is the buzz of the refrigerators. You sigh and open the Coke he left behind, drinking a little bit.

Whiny millionaire man complains about having responsibilities and runs away.

One more goes to your list.

It’s not like you totally weren’t expecting it at this point.

Just like he simply entered the store and acted as if his presence was 100% normal - and even acted as if he had some sort of intimacy with you, spilling his whole life in the span of ten minutes -, he took a place in the back of your thoughts and stayed there throughout the day. The strange, dramatic, spoiled yet charming man.

After spending some years of your life in a private school as a scholarship holder, you unceremoniously learned to hate rich people. Most of your colleagues were spoiled, selfish and arrogant, with only a few exceptions. Sure, being rich doesn’t mean someone is inherently bad. But, as you noticed after years of watching teens cry because their parents won’t take them to Paris this vacation, growing up with so much money makes someone be so self-centered and so unaware of real life problems that it makes them unbearable. As Rousseau said: humans are born just fine, society (capitalism) fucks them up.

Yes, seeing Jimin whine about not wanting to work at his family’s billionaire company sure offended you somehow. Yet… there was something different about him. Some type of naivety and honesty that refrained you from hating his guts.

The fact that he’s stupidly handsome and has the prettiest lips you’ve ever seen in your life helps? Of course.

So… Yeah. You kind of were expecting him to show up again.

It made you feel stupid. What, do you think you’re in a cliche drama now?, you scolded yourself as you sat behind the counter, ready to start the long shift. Hot millionaire falls for poor hardworking girl?

You probably shouldn’t get your hopes high.

So, as you go about your nightly routine - wipe the floor, feed the dog, restock the refrigerators, throw expired food away, serve two customers in the span of three hours -, you sometimes peek at the front door, expecting to see silver hair walking in.

At around 2AM, he indeed shows up.

This time, you fully drop your textbook, a deep frown covering your features.

Jimin looks… different.

First of all - his hair is a mess. Not perfectly styled at all. He wears a pink oversized hoodie, blue patterned pajama pants that do not match in any way, socks and flip flops. No earrings, no rings, no watch on his wrist.

On top of that, it looks like he either discovered all of the world’s dirtiest secrets or was chased by Satan himself.

He’s pale. His eyes are widened by default.

You watch, frozen, as Jimin opens the first refrigerator he sees, takes a water bottle, walks on a bee line to the cashier, slams some money over the counter and sits on the stool.

He literally gulps the whole water bottle in, like, five seconds - then stares blankly at nothing.

You don’t move for a few moments.

“Are you okay?” you finally ask hesitantly. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“My parents want me to get married.” He blurts out.

You almost choke.

“What?!”

“They found a candidate.” He holds the empty pet bottle so tightly that it smashes. “My brother told me that they want to arrange everything as fast as they can.”

You simply stare at him, jaw-dropped, for more time than you can process.

“This can’t be serious.” You say, tilting your head slowly. “Maybe your brother was messing with you.”

“Hyungsik is not the type that messes around with people.” Jimin says, shaking his head.

“They can’t force you into marrying someone. What, are we in the XIX century?” You cross your arms. It sounds so fucking surreal.

“Their minds are stuck in the XIX century. And this type of thing is much more common than you think.” Jimin exhales and rests his head on his hands. “I’m so fucked up!”

“Well, you… you can not agree with them.” You weakly try to elaborate. “You can say no.”

For the first time, Jimin lifts his head and looks at you as if you just said the stupidest thing in the world.

“Yeah, I could say no and have my name erased from the testament. Actually, they’ll block all of my accounts for real the moment I say no.”

“But you have some savings of your own, right? I mean, your own money, right?”

Jimin goes silent.

It hits you… Jimin is so rich that he never even considered not having money. Why would someone with “endless” money save money?

“Wow. You really are fucked up.”

“I have a little money saved!” He tries to defend himself. “But I think what I have is enough to pay my apartment’s rent...”

“You could, I don’t know… be like 99% of the world’s population and find a job to sustain yourself.” You shrug.

He, once again, stares at you as if you just said something very stupid.

“Aw, come one. You’re making things harder.” You whine.

“They’re making things harder!” He grabs his own hair as if he wants to rip it out. “I either chain myself to a company I hate or to some random woman for the rest of my life!”

You, once again, fall silent as Jimin whimpers as if in physical pain. You can see his side of things - it’s easy to tell someone to live independently and find a job, but honestly, if you’re a stupidly rich person going through the risk of losing all of your fortune, would it really be an easy decision?

Hesitantly, you lean closer to him. Why are you even caring to give advice to a man you barely know anyway?

“Have you ever tried talking things out with them, Jimin?” You ask in a quieter voice. “Have you ever been honest to them?”

He crosses his arms over the counter and rests his chin on them. Although his hair looks like a bird nest, he still somehow manages to look cute. “They would never listen to me or accept me. They’re so… ugh.” He rolls his eyes. “They’ll never understand that I don’t want to work in an office for the rest of my life. They won’t understand that I would never marry someone because of business. I know many people that are in fake marriages like that and all of them have affairs. I’m sure my parents would say, it’s not even real! Why are you hesitating so much?, but, look, call me old-fashioned, but I kinda wanna marry someone someday because I like them, you know?” Once again, he ruffles his own hair. “And what if I want to marry a guy? My parents would try to fucking exorcise me! That’s how backwards they are!”

You gulp, starting to feel honestly sorry for him.

“Well… I don’t know what to say.” you shrug. He sighs, pouting, and looks at you.

“You don’t have to say anything, really. Just the fact that you’re listening to me already helps.”

You frown a little bit. “Why did you come here again, anyway?”

“Because any of my ‘friends’ would say I’m being dramatic and that a fake marriage isn’t a big deal.” He’s pouting so much that his voice comes out a bit muffled. “I had a feeling that someone normal like you wouldn’t think like that.”

You lift your eyebrows. “Someone normal. I don’t know if I should feel offended.”

“I just don’t know what to do!” He completely ignores your last sentence, ruffling his hair violently and tapping his feet on the floor like a kid throwing a tantrum. “If there was anything I could do to at least delay their plans!”

“You’re saying as if they’ll make a surprise wedding tomorrow.”

“That’s kinda it! Hyungsik said that they want to introduce me to this random girl at their wedding anniversary next week!”

“Wow.” You rest on the chair back once again, silently thanking the Heavens for not being in his shoes. “With all due respect, your parents really suck.”

“I know!” He growls painfully and rests his cheek on the counter. You think of a sad puppy as you watch him. “If I could at least convince them a little bit… make them believe that I’m a responsible adult…” at least he recognizes he isn’t. “If I did something that would make them give up introducing me to this girl, at least for now…”

Jimin mumbles his own pain quietly for a few seconds.

Then, you see the exact moment an idea crosses his mind.

He freezes.

His eyes widen.

Then, he looks at you.

Really looks at you.

Slowly, Jimin straightens his back.

“If I showed up to their wedding anniversary with someone… someone that looks like a decent, nice person, someone that put me on the right path… if I seemed to be so in love with this decent and nice person that they would feel embarrassed to introduce me to the girl…”

You feel the corners of your lips going down as you nod accordingly. “Do you think it would make them give up?”

“Yes. At least for some time.” He says quietly and slowly.

“It still sounds pretty fucked up, but if it’s the best solution you would have for now…” You shrug, nodding.

“Mh-hmm.” Jimin nods.

Silence.

He’s still staring at you.

You frown. “What?”

Jimin keeps silent.

You finally notice it.

The tiniest ghost of a smile in his lips. His eyes gleaming with mischief.

It hits you.

“No.” You shake your head vehemently. “No fucking way.”

“Aw, come on, Y/N!” He brings the stool closer to you, so much that now he sits right in front of you. “Do you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend?”

"No."

"Then why not?"

“Because- no!” You’re borderline hyperventilating. “It’s just absurd!”

“But you agreed that it’s a good idea!”

“Well, not with me included!” You cross your arms, as if protecting yourself from this crazy man. “Why me anyway?! I just don’t fit this role!”

“Why not?” He asks again, tilting his head. “You’re perfect for the role!”

“Well, first of all, I’m fucking broke. Do you think your parents would approve of you dating someone that owns anything but unpaid bills and a goldfish?!”

“Y/N, listen.” He puts his opened palms over the counter. His eyes are gleaming way too much. He’s excited. “My father has a heart of stone, but my mother… well, she also has a heart of stone, but let’s say that, hm, it’s eroded? Like, if you press really hard, she kinda gives in.” Okay. His metaphor was a little bit impressive. “She wouldn’t like to see me dating a poor girl, but if said poor girl is actually a dream girl that knocks some sense into her son’s reckless head, she would soften! My mom likes rom-coms, I know what I’m saying!”

“Dream girl?” You snort. “I’m anything but a dream girl.”

“I’m 100% sure that you’re on summer break and yet there you are, reading a freaking textbook about tax law. What’s more perfect than the image of a humble, hardworking person? Sure, at first mom will say you’re a gold digger, but after she gets to know you…”

“Oh my God- stop. Just stop. I’m not doing this.” You wave your hands. If you still had any doubts that Jimin is crazy, now you have none.

He tilts his head, quirking one eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t wanna do this because you’re the low self-esteem type? Come on, you’re pretty. Basic, but pretty.”

Your jaw automatically drops. If looks could kill, he would be dead.

“Did you just call me basic?!”

Jimin sends you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I can’t see an ounce of style in you. This ponytail is especially awful.”

“I fucking work in a convenience store! Of course I won’t get all dressed up!”

“Really?” You hate the way he quirks that damn eyebrow. “What about the split ends of your hair?”

You immediately feel yourself holding your own hair, as if hiding it from him. Your body heats up in anger. “Who are you to talk about my split ends?! Your hair is so dry that it looks like fucking hay. I can see the black roots from miles away!”

“Look, I’m having a pretty stressful week. It’s not like I had a lot of time to take care of myself.” Jimin crosses his arms defensively. “Besides, I’m going to the hair salon tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, yeah? You’re having a stressful week, I have a stressful life.” You pat your feet on the floor impatiently. “And no, I’m not ‘the low self-esteem’ type. I’m fucking pretty.”

“I know.”

There’s something about the way he agrees with you so quickly that makes your stomach drop for a second.

Just for a second.

“Anyway.” You clean your throat, adjusting your position on the chair. “You said yourself that you’re against fake relationships, didn’t you?”

“I said I’m against fake marriage. A life-long thing. We’ll pretend to be dating for a weekend.”

“And you think your parents will believe this theatrical act in a weekend?”

“I see them once a year. Sometimes twice. They don’t spend enough time with me to know me that well at all.” He presses his palms together and puts them in front of his face as if praying, looking at you with round, begging eyes. “Please, Y/N! All of my other girl friends are too well-known, no one would believe in me. It’s just three days! Besides, it’ll be fun, I promise! My parents booked a resort in Hawaii this year-”

You choke on thin air.

“Hawaii?!”

“I know, right? Last year it was in the Alps. Personally I prefer a tropical place much more-”

“Wait, wait.” You raise your hands, making him finally stop. “Are you seriously talking about a resort in Hawaii?!”

Jimin nods. He is serious. “See? A weekend in Hawaii! It’ll be great, right?”

“No.”

He throws his hands up and groans. “Sweet Jesus, what do I have to do to convince you?!”

“First- I don’t even have a passport.”

“I can get it in time for you. We still have a week.”

“Second- my job. If you don’t know how jobs work, you can’t simply tell your boss ‘hey, I’m spending three days in Hawaii’ out of sudden!”

“I can also-”

He stops as if choking on his own words.

Once again, you see his eyes gleaming - and you shiver as you realize that he had another (probably awful) idea.

Jimin leans his arm on the counter, a determined smirk on his lips.

“Yesterday you told me that you’d kill to have a position in my family’s company, isn’t it? Alright, then. If you go on this trip with me, I’ll give you a job in the company.”

Silence.

You think of your egg-sized apartment. You think of eating noodles constantly because it's what you can afford on a daily basis and the gastritis you’ll probably develop because of it. You think of the same old tennis shoes you wear everyday because you either buy your noodles or you save it to buy new ones. You think of working on this night shift that gave you an awful sleeping routine and purple bags around your eyes.

And, for the first time, you seriously consider doing this.

“Are you serious?” You ask with suspicion.

“Of course.” Seeing your sudden interest, he gets excited. “The company has a lot of those trainee programs. I’m sure I can put you in the financial department easily.”

“But… but if we’re going to pretend that we’re dating, won’t it be weird that your girlfriend will join the company as a trainee?”

“Do you know how many people work there? My family doesn’t even bother to know who works for them, except for the higher positions. You don’t have to work at the headquarters, either. They’ll never know.”

More tense silence.

You bounce your leg nervously, passing your hand on the back of your neck. I can’t believe I’m considering this. I don’t even know this guy at all. He might just be a freaking psychopath.

Jimin stares at you expectantly. Damn, this guy really likes to stare at people.

You should take your own morals in consideration. Are you seriously selling yourself to this spoiled manchild? Is it that easy to take things from you? Weren’t you the type to hate rich people and capitalism overall and-

Fuck it.

“A weekend, right?”

“Right.” He nods.

“Three days, right?”

“Right.”

“We impress your parents, convince them that you’re a changed guy, then you find me a job and leave me alone.”

“I’m not so sure about the leaving you alone part, but yeah, exactly.” You frown.

“And why wouldn’t you leave me alone?”

“Well, you might fall in love with me. Who knows?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, making him giggle.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Before you can fully comprehend the consequences of your actions, you sigh heavily and nod.

“Alright. I’m in.”

Jimin claps his hands excitedly, opening the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“You really are my heroine, Y/N!” He extends his arm over the counter. “We have a deal!”

You gulp and shake his hand firmly.

Your friends will definitely get shocked when you tell them the newest strange thing happening in your life:

You accept to fake date whiny millionaire man mentioned previously.

The list is increasing rapidly.

“You better do what you promised, otherwise I’m killing you.” You threaten very seriously.

Jimin laughs and - once again - quirks that damn eyebrow up.

“Of course. I wouldn’t let my girlfriend down.”

He fucking bites his bottom lip.

A heat creeps the back of your neck.

God.

You’re in trouble.

tags: @shrimpmsg @hesmyphenominiall @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @vantxx95 @sweettaeguk @moonchild1 @jikooksgirl19 @yesalexus

[robininthelabyrinth]

Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Jiang Yanli’s first engagement had been announced when she was three and a half years old – there had been a big party, festooned in color, exquisitely and meticulously planned out in advance, and she’d been obliged to stand on stage next to a baby in a cradle that had done nothing but cry and spit as all the adults around her congregated and congratulated each other on the excellent match.

She hadn’t enjoyed that at all.

Her second wedding announcement was simultaneously more casual and more noteworthy, and she enjoyed it tremendously. 

Madame Jin had sent several invitations to Jiang Yanli to come visit Lanling in advance of the hunt planned for Phoenix Mountain, speaking of how beautiful it was and how much she looked forward to seeing her good friend’s daughter – talking about she’d always regretted how Jiang Yanli had been obligated by circumstances to take shelter at the Unclean Realm rather than in Lanling City, although she’d been pleased to hear from her son that she was doing well – all the right sort of words. The words might have been more welcome if Jiang Yanli hadn’t known that Madame Jin was still intent on securing the marriage she had arranged.

If she hadn’t been engaged, she would have accepted the invitation, hoping to form an alliance for her sect through a close relationship with Madame Jin even if she didn’t have one with Jin Zixuan (no matter what Madame Jin hoped), but as she was, in fact, engaged to another – even if it hadn’t been formally announced – it would be inappropriate to go. So she instead played ignorant and responded graciously, protesting that she couldn’t possibly impose, that the rebuilding at the Lotus Pier needed her, but that she would of course be happy to attend the hunt alongside the rest of her sect.

She arrived at her brother’s side, smiling all the while.

Her second engagement was announced like this: Sect Leader Jin, using his newly legitimized son as his mouthpiece, had brought forward some ghastly ‘entertainment’ that involved shooting at helpless prisoners, tied up in chains. Jin Zixuan had complied, but Wei Wuxian had marched out and disrupted everything by showing off to a ridiculous extent – Nie Mingjue, who had been watching with a black face full of rage but unable to speak due to propriety, had started applauding very loudly and very enthusiastically – and Sect Leader Jin had ordered the prisoners taken away.

“Well, then,” he said, clapping as if he had impressed himself: as if they hadn’t just been subjected to a powerplay under the guise of hospitality, as if everyone would be over-awed by his might now that they had seen him abuse the helpless while they were all forced by the rules of etiquette to say nothing or else risk carrying the blame for trying to start another war. “Absent anything else, we should proceed to the hunt itself, where await you only the finest of prey and the sharpest competition among your peers.”

For the further display of the power of the Jin sect, he meant.

“Actually,” Nie Mingjue said, interjecting in a moment in which Sect Leader Jin had paused to take a breath so that it was technically not an interruption, “there is one thing. A request, in fact.”

Sect Leader Jin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he maintained his false smile. “Of course, Sect Leader Nie. What can I do for you?”

“I’m getting married,” Nie Mingjue said. “The bride is Young Mistress Jiang, of Yunmeng Jiang, and I would like –” He raised his voice to overcome the abrupt explosion of talk that had erupted. “– I would like to have her accompany my sect in today’s hunt. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your plans for a competition between the sects?”

There were those who said that Jiang Yanli’s chosen husband was bad at politics, and they might even be right. But it didn’t really matter in the end if he’d thought of the idea on a whim or if it’d been a prearranged plan by Nie Huaisang, who was cleverer than he liked to let on to people, Jiang Yanli’s future husband had still wiped away in a single sentence all memory of the farce they’d all just endured and of the hunt that was yet to come, ensuring that the only thing anyone would remember about today was the shocking news of the engagement of the leader of one Great Sect to the sister of another.

(And if everyone remembered that at the last celebration hosted by Sect Leader Jin, he had proposed to resurrect the marriage between Jiang Yanli and his own son, instead, forcing her to publicly demur on vague terms…well, that just made it all the more satisfying.)

Now it was Sect Leader Jin’s turn to scowl and glare, and Madame Jin’s expression looked no less thunderous, but in the end Jiang Yanli got to go with the Nie sect on the hunt.

“You know I’ll only slow you down,” she said to Nie Mingjue, who snorted.

“No more than Huaisang will,” he said, and if his face was stern and his voice gruff then she still thought she detected fondness and humor beneath it. “Besides, it’ll be a good opportunity to measure you.”

It turned out that he meant that more literally than she might have thought.

Jiang Yanli was promptly whisked away to the back of the Nie retinue by a small cadre of Nie disciples, men and women both. She was presented with a number of training sabers shaped out of wood and made to hold them in a variety of positions as they murmured things about stability and reach and balance as if they really, truly thought that she would actually use the saber they were preparing for her.

“This one,” Nie Jiahui, a steely older woman with silver in her hair and fierce eyes, eventually announced, and the practice saber Jiang Yanli had been waving around was taken away. She was then presented with one that was twice as heavy, for “practice”.

“Do you always practice with something heavier than the actual thing?” she asked, and Nie Jiahui nodded.

“Strengthens the shoulders,” she said, curt but not standoffish. “Have some candy.”

Jiang Yanli blinked, but smiled and accepted the offer. It was licorice, which she liked.

“Do you often carry candy with you on night-hunts?” she asked, listening to the sound of fighting from up ahead. Every so often, a disciple or two would trot by carrying the corpses of larger and larger creatures, slain in the fighting; it seemed that the Nie sect was not, in fact, being slowed down in the slightest by her presence.

Of course, she also wasn’t being tended to as if she were their chosen lady, either, as she might have otherwise expected – all pomp and flowery language, Nie Mingjue by her side at all times to show her around as if they were on a pleasure stroll – but in all honesty that would have been a little bewildering. It was very much not the Nie sect’s character, all practical and straightforward, and she found that she preferred it that way.

“It’s important to have something to replenish energy,” Nie Huaisang said, having dropped back to join them from the front. He looked tired and grumpy, but his saber appeared to have been put to some work; he immediately climbed up into the carriage that people were taking turns riding and started cleaning it. “And licorice candy clears the lungs.”

“Clears the lungs?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“It’s good for more than that,” Nie Jiahui said. “But that’s one of the uses, yes. Do you ever feel like your chest is too tight, especially when you move too much? Leading to coughing, shortness of breath, your lips turning blue?”

Jiang Yanli blinked. “Yes,” she said. “But that’s just because I was born with a weak body.”

Nie Jiahui scoffed and Nie Huaisang laughed. “Good luck with that,” he said cheerfully. “I was born with muscles that didn’t keep their tone: too flexible, incapable of gathering strength, requiring more energy to do less, making me twice as tired twice as fast – even sitting up straight can be a struggle in some extreme cases, though luckily not mine. And do you think that helped me one bit in getting out of saber training? It did not.”

“Early childhood intervention is best,” Nie Jiahui said. “But the next best is starting today. I’ll show you some low-impact exercises that you can start working on to strengthen your shoulders and stomach, as well as some balance movements to center yourself and improve your posture – that way, by the time your actual saber is ready, you’ll be able to take it through one of the basic routines.”

“I’m happy to learn whatever you have to teach,” Jiang Yanli said, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s dramatic cry of ‘And here I thought you’d be on my side!’ “I only regret troubling you.”

“Not at all,” Nie Jiahui said. “It’ll be good to have someone watching the Sect Leader’s back on night-hunts.”

Jiang Yanli felt a surge of terror and excitement in her belly. “He would trust me with that? You would trust me with that?”

“I did tell you that you’d need to keep up with him,” Nie Huaisang said mildly, and it was true, he had, only she’d assumed it was a bit more metaphorical. “You don’t have to fight or even walk too much, if it doesn’t suit you – my grandmother was lame in both her legs from a childhood illness, she rode everywhere, scariest woman I’ve ever met by far – but you do have to be there. Someone needs to be able to tell my brother to stop. Someone he’ll listen to.”

And wasn’t that something of a thrill to think of?

Jiang Yanli wasn’t someone anyone listened to – not her parents, not her brother, not her sect disciples. She’d always been the one who comforted them afterwards, who supported them; she made them food and tried to convince them to be kinder to each other, and sometimes they even tried for a while before getting into another tiff. They would kill for her if she so much as hinted at it, tear down the sky for her, but it was more in the nature of indulging her rather than actually allowing them to guide her.

Yet here was Chifeng-zun, a war hero and a sect leader, one of the most powerful men in the world, a man admired by men and sought after (even if only in their hearts) by women, and his family was telling her that he would listen to her.

“If you say so,” she demurred, but they insisted, and by the time the hunt was over Jiang Yanli was surprised to realize that she hadn’t needed to resort to sitting on the carriage more than twice the entire time.

“We’ll send Auntie Jiahui to the Lotus Pier after today’s hunt is done,” Nie Huaisang chattered cheerfully in her ear as they headed back towards Jinlin Tower. “She’ll work you through your paces, believe you me, and all the supplemental things, too – making sure you eat the right thing, take medicinal baths to improve your meridians, apply massages to loosen your joints…those parts are nice, actually. Take care of your body as you would your saber, take care of your saber as you would your wife! That’s how the saying goes. Trust me, you’ll be regretting the whole thing soon enough.”

Jiang Yanli didn’t think she would. “You seem very confident that A-Cheng will allow you to do as you please, even in the Lotus Pier.”

“I’ll tell him it concerns secret Nie sect marriage rituals,” Nie Jiahui interjected. “When two women are involved, men tend to run away when the words ‘marriage’ and ‘secret’ are combined.”

Sadly, she was probably right.

“Show me those exercises again,” she requested, and Nie Jiahui climbed up on to the carriage to show her the ones she could do even while sitting down.

Jiang Yanli might never have had the opportunity to strengthen herself before, and she was moderately certain that she wouldn’t have too much success now, as the various tricks Nie Jiahui had taught her were largely body refinement, barely reliant on qi, and her cultivation was still as low as ever.

But she was good at devoting herself to learning something when she wanted to, and as soon the hunt at Phoenix Mountain was over and they had shifted over to the various feasts and meetings that Lanling Jin had planned for the rest of the week, she began her efforts at self-improvement in earnest.

The weak body her mother had always despaired of might always be weak – Nie Jiahui had been quite blunt on that subject, making it clear that nothing she was suggesting was some sort of miracle pill, and furthermore that there was nothing wrong with being weak as long as she made an effort (Nie Huaisang had been the recipient of several pointed looks there) – but Jiang Yanli was determined to at least demonstrate that she was trying.

A gesture of good faith, perhaps. Some small show of initiative.

Nie Huaisang had said that Nie Mingjue appreciated her initiative.

“A-Xian,” she called one morning, only a few days later. “A-Xian, are you going out for a walk? Let me come with you.”

“You’ve gone on a lot of walks recently,” Wei Wuxian laughed, but allowed her to take his arm as they walked into the crowd. “Do you like Lanling City so much?”

“It’s the exercise I’m after,” she said, smiling at him. “The Nie sect is a martial sect, remember? I’ll be going on more night-hunts in the future, if all goes well, and I’ll need to keep up.”

“Oh, but surely they’ll bring a carriage..? I don’t know if you really need to go on night-hunts –”

“I want to! It’ll be nice. Don’t worry about me so much, A-Xian –”

Wei Wuxian was shaking his head, smiling, and he wasn’t looking where he was going; perhaps that was why he bumped into the young woman.

But then she looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and he froze.

“Wen Qing?”

[tommyspeakycap]

Can we get baby little Shelby find a bunny and ask Tommy and John to take it home. And get scolded by Polly when they at home? 💕💕

more pre war Tommy fluff ;) 

Bunny

“Tommy!”

The dark haired man’s heart flies into his throat, his mind immediately kicking into gear as he drops the coin he was about to flip. He was deciding whether or not to buy a horse with a new inflow of cash they had recently gotten. That horse is lost the second he hears the shriek that came from somewhere behind him. The heavy boots on his feet make easy work of crushing through powdery snow, but give a very little to prevent him from tripping and slipping; although the fear coursing through him and his extreme haste may well have contributed to his somewhat uncoordinated limbs.

In the maybe a minute that it takes form Tommy to get from where he was to where he had traced his little sister to, a million and one thoughts race through his mind. He fears every worst case scenario his mind can conjure up and immediately blames himself for bringing you out to the country to play in some fresh snow with John and Finn. The air was much clearer out here and so too was Tommy’s mind. He could think, be free of the city smoke and the harsh environment that appears to be tacked to his work in the family business. There was so much pressure on the raven haired bookmaker to uphold his own personal morals while also living a notoriously immoral life. He tried to keep his hands clean, prevent himself from muddying the line between pointless violence and the necessary survival and protection of his family.

So going with his 5 year old little sister out to the county was something not uncommon for him. And the snow had only given him more reason to. He regretted that now.

“What-” Tommy wheezed out, unable to speak for lack of his breath after attempting to run through the deep, deep snow. “What’s happened,” he coughs, “Are you alri-“

“Tommy!” The little girl whispers harshly, waving her hands at him disapprovingly, “Shhhhh, you’ll scare it away!” Tommy snaps his mouth shut, instead opting to take the five year olds outstretched hand and crouch down as she instructs him. On her other side is John; crouched down with one arm around Finn to keep him still. “What are we looking at?” Tommy asks quietly, his neck craned to try and spot whatever his other siblings had noticed. 

“It’s a bunny, Tom. Look.” (y/n) points with her little hand and Tommy follows the general direction in which her hand is showing him. In doing so, he squints and finds his gaze falling upon a small white rabbit sitting picking a blade of grass that it had pulled through the snow. “They want to take it home.” John states, grinning at Tommy something like a Cheshire Cat because he knows for a fact that man isn't able to say no to the puppy dogs eyes of (y/n) and Finn Shelby when they truly wanted something.

“Hm, I don't think so.” He mumbles, trying to keep his eyes off of the disappointed face of his younger siblings. “You know Aunt Polly’ll go mad.” The second he does turn his head to see his youngest siblings gazing up at him in the desperate way he knows always works, he regrets it. “Please Tommy, pleeeease?” (y/n) begs, clasping her cold little hands together and pulling her most convincing puppy eyes Tommy might've ever seen. “Yeah Tommy, please? Pretty pretty please?” Finn joins in, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement and anticipation at the idea of having the little bunny as a pet. 

“Yeah Tom,” John sniggers, stubbing out his cigarette on the snowy ground. The elder brother puts on a pout to mimic (y/n) and Finn, not serving to make things any easier for Tommy as the youngest two weren't able to pick up on John’s teasing nature and sarcastic reiteration of their words. They took it as encouragement while Tommy knew John would be going home to Martha and his own kids, thus wouldn't have to be on the reviewing end of Polly’s temper. Tommy rolls his eyes and inhales deeply, thinking briefly about how angry Polly would be compared to how much it would make you and Finn giggle to have a pet even if only for a while before Tommy would free it back into the wild and tell some lie about a magic bunny farm. The kids chanting brought his mind back. “Please, please, please!” 

“Alright,” Tommy cuts them off, “Alright. But we’re not chasing it around all afternoon.”

--

How on earth Tommy ended up holding his little sister as he stood in the doorway of the Shelby family home kicking the snow off his boots while said little sister had his big trench coat wrapped around her and her smaller jacket used as a blanket for their new bunny rabbit friend, he will never know. He genuinely felt like if he had been outside for one more minute he would have actually frozen stiff, however it was always his top priority that his littlest sibling was as safe as she could be; so it was suffice to say the idea of her getting frostbite and slash or hypothermia after she insisted on wrapping the little rabbit in her own coat was less than appealing to Tommy, so she could keep his warm winter jacket as long as she desired.

“Right Finn, straight into the living room and not a peep to Pol alright?” Finn nods vigorously in a show of his determination to follow his brothers order as he places the wrapped up bunny into the young boys arms. Finn tries to run as unsuspiciously as he can past Polly in the kitchen to go through to the living room where only Ada sat, reading a book by the fire underneath a blanket. 

“Tommy?” The little girls voice draws an “Mhm?” from him as he battles to get her stiff winter boots off of her tiny cold feet. “What're we going to name him?” She enquires, her voice as inquisitive as any other curious 5 year old is. Tommy hums in thought, tapping (y/n)’s other foot in the way that he does that tells her to put her foot down and lift the other one for Tommy to pull that boot off too. There was a distinct routine between the two that had been established in the last five years of her life with Tommy acting as her primary caregiver.

“I don't know, love. Whatever you want to call him. Just remember to stay quiet about it yeah?” He looks up to see his little sister nodding firmly, placing her finger over her lips just as Tommy had done so many times when secrecy or silence was needed. 

“Alrighty then.” Tommy says, lifting both the pairs of boots easily in one hand and putting them by the other shoes. He moves his hands to under the small girls armpits and hoists her gently back up onto his hip as to avoid her stepping small puddles of water that had collected from the snow on her boots and his by the door. “Shall we go see what your brothers gotten up to with that-” 

“Jesus fucking Christ Tommy.” 

Both siblings turn their heads quickly to face Polly when they hear her speaking with her stern scolding tone turned on. Polly immediately notes how Tommy looks slightly secretive, like he was ready to start either lying or making some form excuse for something for which her niece looked rather guilty. Deer in the headlights kind of expression. “Look, Pol...” Tommy begins, but is interrupted by his aunt firmly shaking her head and marching towards him. 

“I’ve told you a million times Thomas. She’s five. That means you do still need to put her bloody hat on when you take her out in the cold but you don’t need to fucking carry her everywhere.” She huffs, pressing both her palms against (y/n)’s cold rosy cheeks, “Shes bloody freezing.” Her scolding tone never fails to make Tommy feels as though he’s still a young boy who’s been caught misbehaving by his aunt. However now he’s an adult with responsibility for his little sister and somehow, he ends up on the receiving end of that tone far more than the littlest member of the family ever will. Polly peels Tommy’s coat away off the little girl in his arms so she could hang it up to hopefully dry some before he next needs it and (y/n) doesn't mind not wearing her brothers jacket anymore, however the words that Polly speaks about putting her back down only serves to make her cling a little tighter subconsciously. 

“She's only little, Pol.” Tommy defends, “And we had long day, haven’t we sweetheart?” Polly wants to scoff when (y/n) nods her head and offers up that angel smile that wins the hearts of her entire family, but the woman can’t help but smile back and shake her head. “Well,” she huffs slightly, her hand reaching back up to the little girl to to brush the snow off (y/n)’s hair, “I think the very least your brother could do if he was going to have you out in the freezing cold all day would be to put a bloody hat on you.” 

The little girl giggles, flicking her eyes to Tommy to inspect his reaction to their aunts words. 

“Remembered.” He notes flippantly with a grin and Polly knows fully well that it was not remembered because putting a hat on top of that little girls soft locks of hair was something he had never once remembered to do without a reminder since she was merely a little bald baby. 

“Course.” She responds teasingly, “Dinner’s out soon.”

Tommy nods his head before Polly walks away in the direction of the kitchen again, where Tommy had no doubt Arthur is now lingering to pick off the scraps of dinner before its put out on the table for everyone else. 

“That was a close one, Tom.” The little girl on his hip whispers quietly, her wide eyes causing Tommy to chuckle heartily as he takes them both through to the living room to see what Finn and now likely Ada were doing with this rabbit. “Yes,” Tommy agrees, walking into the living room “It very much was. Hello Ada.” Ada immediately rolls her eyes at the sound of Tommy’s voice. 

“Pol’s going to kill you, you know.” She states, standing and crossing her arms firmly over her chest as Tommy sets his youngest sister down on the floor to run over to where Finn sat with the bunny close to the heat the fire was giving off. “Probably.” Tommy nods.

Ada turns away to wrap her blanket around her only sister, the one she had wished and prayed for since she had been merely a little girl herself. Tommy vividly remembers the many occasions when Ada was not only his youngest sibling, but also his only sister and recalls how unhappy she had been about those facts. Finn being born eased only one of those issues, but Ada rested a while for the time that Finn was a baby before again pestering their mother about wanting a little sister again. 

She had been ecstatic when (y/n) was born, and she had been besotted with that sweet little girl ever since. 

“You always forget to put her hat on, Thomas.” Ada chastises, the reprimand drawing a chuckle from her brother who takes a seat down on the couch and crosses one leg on top of the other. “So I’ve heard.” Tommy mumbles under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear and stretch out her leg to kick his when she too sat back down on the couch.

“Twat.” She hisses. 

It was Tommy’s turn to role his eyes at his sisters flippant comment, paying no mind to her words thrown in a light tease that he knew she only ever half meant.

“That’s not very nice, Ada.” 

(y/n) doesn't do so much as turn around when she chides those words in dismay to Ada’s insult aimed at her Tom. There was no hiding how the little girl adored Tommy. “Exactly Ada,” Tommy grins widely, giving Ada the biggest shit eating look he can muster as he tried not to laugh, “And that’s why you're my favourite, aren't you my love?” The 5 year old simply nods her head in response to her brothers words before turning straight back to play with her new pet. 

“Well, she might be your favourite but you certainly won’t be Polly’s once she sees you’ve brought that home. She’ll go mad.” Ada nods her head in the direction of the fluffy white animal in their living room. Tommy shrugs his shoulders indifferently, “They're happy though, aren't they? and quiet. Worth it really.” 

Ada knew very well that Tommy was right, although it was likely that she wouldn't even think to much on that in his vicinity, just incase he even got the sensation that she was thinking he was in the right. They’ve got a big family and a lot of hard work had to go into making business run smoothly to provide for everyone. The younger kids can sometimes go amiss to the elder siblings on particularly busy days. Sometimes playing and talking to them gets overlooked or their clothes go on back to front because everyone forgot they sometimes still needed help with things like that. 

So giving them the simple pleasure of almost a normal childhood - not one living with the Shelby name and subsequently the future of the Peaky Blinders tacked to them - by letting them a pet that they can look after and love on for a few days at least was something Tommy was willing to grin and bare the wrath of Polly Gray for. 

He was a sucker for that little girl, so when she’s happy there are few things in the world Thomas Shelby wouldn't endure to keep it that way. 

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Make A Scene

AMHL – Masterlist

Dick immediately noticed when Y/N started getting quieter and quieter as they got closer and closer to the venue.

Bruce had hired a driver to pick them up from their apartment in Gotham. And the car had gone quiet now. 

Dick reached over to gently hold her hand.

“Nervous?” He asked.

Y/N shrugged, not really seeing the point in trying to lie to her boyfriend.

“This isn’t your first rodeo, ya know.”

She gave him a look. “You know that wasn’t the same.” Her eyes flickered to the driver. “I wasn’t exactly…myself. And I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

Also, tonight they didn’t have the security and comfort of being at Wayne Manor.

No, instead this particular event was being held at the ballroom of Gotham’s most extravagant five-star hotel. It was a party for Wayne Enterprises, not a personal charity or party of the Wayne family.

Bruce had kindly asked Dick and Y/N to attend when board members and business partners started asking if the whole family would be attending. Jason hadn’t answered anyone’s calls or texts about it. None of them expected him to show up. Tim had to attend since he worked for Wayne Enterprises. And Damian…Well, Damian was his father’s son and not yet an adult. He basically had to do whatever Bruce asked of him while he lived under his roof.

“I’m not gonna leave your side,” Dick promised.

He squeezed her hand to further emphasize it.

Their car pulled up to the carpet at the bottom of the stairs.

There had to be a hundred journalists and photographers, along with random civilians who had nothing better to do than to see Gotham’s elite get out of cars and walk into a hotel.

Dick took in a deep breath.

Thankfully the car’s windows were tinted and protected them from any onlookers.

“Ready?” He asked her.

She nodded.

Dick opened the door and ignored the screams and flashes as he carefully helped Y/N out of the car with his offered hand. He also shielded her from the photographers to give her a moment to get out and adjust herself before they could capture any photos of her.

“Mr. Grayson! Mr. Grayson! Who is your mystery girlfriend?” Someone yelled.

Sometimes Y/N forgot that Dick was somewhat of a celebrity in Gotham City through association.

It wasn’t like people were asking for selfies everywhere he went. Or that the paparazzi were following his every move.

But in Gotham, people took note of where Dick Grayson went and who he was with.

And everyone noticed he’d had the same woman on his arm for quite some time now.

Even though Y/N and Dick had been dating for over a year, the media still couldn’t figure out Y/N’s identity. 

What they didn’t realize was that she controlled every single piece of information about herself that lived on the internet.

They didn’t stand a chance. 

Dick smiled and waved at people who called his name. But his hand other hand never left Y/N’s as he helped her up the stairs.

“Who are you wearing?” A female journalist yelled at Y/N.

She ignored them and focused on getting up the stairs without tripping and face planting. Not that Dick would ever let that happen.

However, she knew her outfit was going to draw gazes.

Y/N had made a promise to herself that if she was going to be forced to attend events like this with Dick, then she was going make a statement. People were already going to be staring at her, so she figured she might as well give them something good to stare at.

Instead of wearing a typical cocktail and formal dress, Y/N wore a full men’s suit that was tailored to perfection, but with the bowtie undone. It was what the fashion magazines would describe as “androgynous” in the press tomorrow morning.

Y/N wanted to control her own narrative. And she’d rather be judged for her bold decisions than just her trying to blend in.

Bruce insisted on paying for all the boys’ date’s dresses – in this case, suit – if they happened to bring one. He always thought it was more of an incentive for them to attend these terrible events if he encouraged them to bring significant others. And the press always had a field day with it, which only helped throw people of their trail when it came to their secret lives as vigilantes.

Everyone kept screaming Dick’s name as they walked in, and Y/N wondered how he got so good at smiling through the chaos and ignoring them.

Once they were inside, Dick felt the tension leave Y/N’s body a bit.

“Alcohol?” He offered with a smirk.

“Yes, please.”

He nodded, knowing it was exactly what she needed.

Quickly, he grabbed two champagne flutes off a passing waiter.

They clinked glasses.

Then he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Thank you for being my date.”

Y/N smiled at his sincerity.

Dick sighed before he threw back the champagne, “The quicker we find Bruce and prove we were here, the sooner we can leave.”

“Try not to sound so excited,” she laughed darkly.

Suddenly felt a small human wrap around her thighs.

Y/N gasped in excitement, “Dami!”

Dick smiled as he looked down at his 10-year-old brother hugging his girlfriend.

“Dick gave me the drawing you made for us. It’s so beautiful. I’m trying to find the perfect frame for it,” she told the boy.

Damian beamed with pride at that.

Suddenly the boy started asking a million questions about Stoker, one of his kittens that he’d given to them to take care of when Bruce gave a limit to how many cats Damian was allowed to have in the manor.

Then, to Dick’s shock, he saw Jason slowly walk over to them with his hands in his pant pockets.

He was not at all dressed nice enough for the event. No suit jacket. No tie. His white button-up shirt wrinkled, messily tucked into his pants, and with two many buttons undone. The sloppiness of it all clearly wasn’t an issue with the women, seeing as all of them were ogling Jason.

“Todd,” Damian greeted coldly, pausing his conversation with Y/N, who whipped around at the name.

“Hey, you,” Y/N smiled as she went to greet him.

Jason gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek and a quick hug.

“I really didn’t think you were coming,” Dick told his brother.

“Well, I wasn’t. But I got a business engagement.”

Y/N and Dick shared a confused look.

“What do you mean?” Dick asked.

“I found my neighbor crying on her fire escape a few nights ago. Apparently… one of the finance bros of Wayne fucking Enterprises was everything but a gentleman to her.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in realization. “J, I already took care of that.”

“I know,” Jason nodded as his eyes scanned the room. He was clearly on a personal mission tonight. “You deleted the evidence. I am teaching him a lesson.”

Dick slowly put together what they were implying.

“Oh, please don’t make a scene, Jason.” Dick begged him.

Because he knew Bruce wouldn’t be dealing with the aftermath; it would be him.

“Don’t worry!” Jason laughed. "I’m gonna take him outside before I beat the shit out of him. No one here will even notice. It’ll be fine,” Jason assured him as he gave Dick a far too heavy slap on the back.

“Just tell Bruce and he’ll get him fired,” Dick tried to convince him to take the less violent route.

“Oh, we already did,” Y/N muttered.

Dick’s gaze shot to his girlfriend.

“He’s getting fired on Monday,” she clarified sheepishly.

“Since when do the two of you work together behind my back?” Dick accused them.

But he wasn’t actually mad about anything – maybe just a little bit bitter.

Jason opened his mouth.

“I swear to God, Jason, if you say ‘club business,’ I will lose it…” Dick warned.

Y/N tried to hide her smile.

“Got him,” Jason growled as he glared at someone on the other side of the room.

As soon as he left them, Dick gave Y/N his full attention.

“Seriously?” He accused.

“I’m sorry! He asked me for a favor and I was happy to do it once I realized what it was,” Y/N defended.

Dick pouted a little. Mostly because he hated being left out.

“Don’t worry, ya big baby. I’m still your ‘guy in the chair’ and no one else’s,” she teased before giving him a kiss, immediately wiping the lipstick off his lips.

“How come Jason gets to beat up people at events like this, but I’m expected to behave like a well-trained dog?” Damian mumbled.

Dick sighed and shook his head.

“Jason likes to think he’s a lone wolf who doesn’t have to play by the rules,” Y/N tried to comfort the boy.

To distract Damian from getting further into how unfair it was, Y/N asked him to show her more of his drawings.

This seemed to please Damian and he pulled his phone out, flipping through photos and showing Y/N his recent sketches.

With Y/N being entertained by his youngest brother, Dick decided to go to the bar and get the two of them a stronger drink and maybe get a kiddie cocktail for Damian. He’d pretend to be patronized and annoyed by it, but Dick knew better.

He patiently waited for the bartender’s attention. 

“So Gotham’s Golden Boy really has returned…” a husky voice uttered beside him at the bar.

Dick glanced over to see a beautiful woman close to his age eyeing him.

It was clear what she wanted. Dick used tactics like this on countless missions.

“So I have,” he answered.

He was polite, but distant.

Women hitting on him at events like this was nothing new. To Gotham, Dick Grayson was a Bruce Wayne 2.0 – younger, just as charming and handsome as his mentor and stand-in father figure. 

Dick knew how to play the game. But he never had any interest in casual relationships like Bruce did.

“Back for good?” The woman persisted.

“My girlfriend and I are just in town for a few weeks,” he answered before ordering his drinks with the bartender finally.

“Oh, brought up the girlfriend rather quickly,” she laughed.

Dick quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just…my friends and I had a bet going.”

Then she pointed to a group of three young women, who were giggling and smiling, not even trying to pretend like they weren’t watching them closely.

“Oh, yeah?” Dick asked, already tired of this conversation.

--

Jason had already rejoined Y/N and Damian.

Y/N looked down to see his knuckles red with irritation and bruised.

“Please tell me there’s not a corpse in the alley behind this hotel now…” Y/N sighed.

“No,” Jason answered coldly. “Though there fucking should be.”

“What did he do?” Damian asked curiously, clearly he hadn’t been listening to their earlier conversation that closely.

Y/N shifted her weight in discomfort, not sure how to handle the subject with the boy. Yes, Damian was far more mature than many grown men, but he was still just a kid. There were some things Y/N felt like they should at least try to protect him from still. 

“He got my neighbor too drunk to consent, filmed them having sex without her knowing it, and then showed it to a bunch of people at their work,” Jason answered bluntly.

Damian’s brow furrowed, clearly thinking long and hard about what his brother just told him.

After a moment, the boy perked up, “I know where we could hide the body so even father won’t find out.”

“Damian!” Y/N scolded.

But Jason was beaming.

Y/N looked around for Dick, hoping to find another sane person to stop the two boys from actually murdering anyone tonight.

But when she finally spotted him, she saw a woman standing far too close to Dick and pointing to a group of girls who flirtatiously waved and winked at both of them.

“Real cute,” Y/N muttered to herself.

“Vultures,” Damian growled as he followed her gaze.

“Jason, if I leave you alone with Damian, are you going to kill someone?” She asked without taking her eyes off her boyfriend.

“I don’t need to be watched,” Damian groaned.

“No, I need you to watch Jason to make sure he doesn’t change his mind about keeping that asshole alive.”

“Fine,” Damian whined.

Without any further confirmation, Y/N left them. 

She walked across the party on a mission, never taking her stare off of her boyfriend.

Dick did a double take when he noticed her heading towards him.

“Hey,” he greeted innocently.

Because he was innocent. All he’d done was be polite to a bunch of women who were after him for his name…and maybe his good looks.

“I was wondering where my drink was,” Y/N said with a surprising calmness and smile.

Then she turned to the woman. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N. You must be a friend of Dick’s.” 

She held her hand out.

No cattiness. No rudeness.

Y/N said it with the same kindness that drunk women having with other drunk women in bar bathrooms.

“Oh…I’m Irina,” the woman stuttered as she took Y/N’s offered hand, clearly confused by Y/N’s niceness.

Dick held out her drink.

Y/N took it, quickly clinked her glass with both Dick and Irina.

“Cheers,” she sang before tossing it back and chugging the drink that was meant to be slowly sipped.

Dick didn’t know what game his girlfriend was playing, but he was intrigued.

Once Y/N lightly placed her empty glass back on the bar, she turned to Dick and tilted her head to the side. “Could you show me to the bathrooms? I have no idea where they are.”

“Of course,” Dick answered without knowing where this was going.

“It was nice meeting you, Irina,” Y/N told the woman as she linked her fingers with Dick’s and guided him away.

—

Meanwhile, Jason watched the interaction as if he were watching an award-winning movie. Him and Damian were way too far to hear, but everyone in the bat family could read lips more than fluently.

Then Jason smirked as he watched Y/N drag Dick away.

“Boys,” Bruce greeted as he snuck up on the two of them. “What are we staring at?”

“Oh, you know,” Jason hummed with hilarity, “just watching Y/N assert her dominance.”

“Good for her,” Bruce grinned as he realized what was happening.

He moved his attention to his youngest boy. “Alfred is waiting outside with the car. You’re officially released from your duties.”

“Finally,” Damian groaned.

“Don’t you wanna say bye to Y/N?” Jason asked.

“They’re coming to the manor tomorrow afternoon,” Bruce answered for his son. Then he raised a brow at Jason. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Jason’s only response was a shrug.

Bruce tried to hide his disappointment and nodded before he guided Damian away and walked him outside, where Alfred was waiting.

10 minutes later, Jason saw Dick trailing behind Y/N as she walked back to the main area of the event.

Jason burst out laughing at the spectacle. 

Dick’s hair was an absolute mess. Half of his shirt was untucked. His jacket was draped over his forearm. His lips were swollen and pink. Y/N had left lipstick all over his neck and even a bit on the collar of his shirt.

Yet somehow not a single hair was out of place on Y/N and her makeup was still immaculate. Her outfit was just as sleek and clean as when she’d arrived. The only thing different was the proud smirk on her lips.

Clearly Y/N had just had her way with Dick.

But she wanted to make sure the whole party knew about it.

—

Y/N hadn’t said a word to Dick since she dragged him from that woman.

Her body did all the talking.

One second they were at the bathroom doors, the next Y/N had thrown him against the tiled wall after locking the bathroom door.

She gave no verbal explanation, just started kissing him and undoing his pants.

“Not that I’m complaining. Like, at all,” Dick laughed as they rejoined the party. “But wanna to tell me what that was all about?”

Y/N finally stopped walking and turned to face him with narrowed eyes. “I think you know, Richard.”

Y/N only ever used his full first name to provoke and tease him. And he hated that it worked every single time.

Dick glanced around to see that everyone in their vicinity was eyeing them. Well, they were mostly eyeing him and how it was clear he’d just been fucked in the bathroom.

He stepped close to her and lowered his voice, “Ohhh, I see how it is.” His eyes flickered down to her lips for a split second. “If a guy does that, he’s jealous and possessive. But if a woman does it, it’s sexy…”

Y/N proudly smiled like the cheshire cat. “Exactly.”

Something over his shoulder caught her attention. “Oh, I see Tim. I’m going to go say hi.”

Without hesitation, she brushed past him.

Dick let his head fall, put his hands on his hips, and laughed.

He’d pay her back later tonight. And by ‘pay her back,’ he would just tell her how incredibly hot her behavior had been and basically invite her to do it whenever she damn well pleased.

Dick felt a presence beside him, and he didn’t have to raise his head to know it was Bruce.

“Hey,” Dick greeted him nonchalantly.

“You have lipstick all over your neck,” Bruce told him as he took a sip of his drink and looked around the party. “And your zippers down.”

“Sure is,” Dick sighed.

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

OK. This was way too fun to write. 

Let me know what you think!!!

ALL BONUS CONTENT CAN BE FOUND: HERE

[emixion]

Story - Day 24 -  Maribat March 2021

man, i got SO stuck on this one, but i think it ended up being one of my favorites thus far. enjoy! @maribatmarch-2k21 ao3 link Marinette didn’t know a lot of things.

She knew her name, she knew she was born in 2003, that her favorite color was pink and that the year was currently 2088.

She also knew that her favorite day of the week was Thursday.

Thursday was when the green eyed man would come visit her and tell her stories.

Every week for the past two months he would come and tell her tales about a boy and a girl, two heroes that fell in love while they saved the world.

She was an aspiring designer with a heart of gold and he was a troubled trust-fund kid with a dark past.

He’d told her how they met, how her class took a trip to his city, how the bus left her at the hotel, how they bumped into each other in the street and how he escorted her to her destination.

How it was practically love at first sight.

The two teenagers fell for each other hard, all while they also met up as superheroes, but didn’t know it yet. Their hero names were Robin and Ladybug.

Marinette had chuckled, she found the animal names amusing.

Eventually, the two found out each other’s identities and their love. grew stronger. They became an unstoppable duo. He was even bestowed a power from the same source she gained hers from and together they protected the cities of Gotham and Paris.

His family was big and chaotic, hers was small and quiet, together they were filled with so much love.

The years went by, the two got older. They graduated, went to college together, found an apartment, started their careers, all while fulfilling their duties as heroes.

Villains came and left, some tougher than others. Limbs were broken, skin was cut, but despite everything, they made it out alive and together. They were even promoted to members of the team led by the boy’s father.

One day the boy went out and bought a ring for his sweetheart. He proposed to her the next week at a family dinner and she tearfully accepted, both of their families exploding in celebration.

The two married on a sunny June afternoon, surrounded by friends, family and teammates.

She became one of the biggest names in fashion and he took over his father’s business along with his siblings.

A few years later they found out that they were expecting.

They were ecstatic, happily making plans for their new arrival.

It was hard for the girl, she had to give up her hero duties for a while, but she had her husband there to keep her company.

She would make tiny clothes for their baby and he would speak to them in his wife’s belly.

A few months later they welcomed a daughter into their family.

They loved their baby girl so much, she was the light of the couple’s lives.

The little girl had so many aunts and uncles and grandparents that loved her, even a great-grandfather who saw her as the apple of his eye.

The two heroes kept up their duties, but now they had an even more important role as parents.

A few years passed, and the couple welcomed another little girl into their family.

The two sisters became best friends, bickering like all siblings do, but they loved each other nonetheless.

Their oldest was nearly six when they had their third and final child, a little boy this time.

Years went by and once the children were old enough, they were told who their parents were and what exactly they did.

The children were shocked, awed and confused by the news, but eventually adjusted and even became heroes themselves.

They possessed the same power as their mother and were trained by their grandfather, so they were a perfect blend of their parents.

The family was well known and beloved by both cities they inhabited, in and out of uniform. They used their wealth and good fortune to help as many people as they could, teaching their children the importance of good will and justice.

In a blink of an eye, the children grew up. They were soon full adults, older than their parents were when they met, making the couple feel awfully old. They were amazed at how fast time could fly.

Eventually, their children had children of their own, and the couple became grandparents. Their large family expanded even more, and those children became heroes one day as well.

As the girl grew older, she knew her time was running out.

The power she possessed, the power that her children and grandchildren shared, was given to them by magical jewelry. The jewelry was so special that it needed a guardian to protect it. That responsibility was given to the girl when she was young, before she even met her husband, and she was told that one day she would have to transfer that guardianship to someone else.

The jewelry would not be the only thing that left her when she passed guardianship.

Her memories, too, would leave her, not only of the power she once had, but her whole life.

She was scared, she was sad, but at the end of the day she always knew the day would come.

Guardianship was transferred to her granddaughter’s partner, a bright young woman who reminded her of her friends at that age. She took the honor gracefully and became the new guardian of the powerful jewelry.

The girl, now an old woman, lost all of her memories of her life.

But, she was never alone. She still had a big family that loved her. Even if she’d lost people over the years, she would never be truly alone.

“Is that the end of the story?” Marinette asked the green eyed man, her face sad. It was such a tragic story.

The man simply shook his head and smiled. “No, the story isn’t over yet. It’s still being written.” he told her. “Because no matter what, even if her memories stay gone forever, her husband will always be there to tell her their story.”

Marinette stared at him a moment, then her eyes lit up in recognition. “…Damian..?” She asked softly.

“Yes, Angel.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her head. “I’m here.”

“Don’t go..” She quietly begged, leaning into his touch.

“Never.” He promised. And he meant it.Even if it never stuck, he would tell her the same story a million times if he had to.

It was their story, after all.

[darlcng]

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍  𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆  .

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthere  is  no  place  like  𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆  !

[  CLOSED  !  ]  𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍  𝐁𝐋𝐃𝐆  is  located  in  soho  ,  new  york  city  and  is  a  small  six  -  story  building  with  a  fair  rental  price  ,  focused  on  young  adults  .  ms  .  fairmon  ,  the  owner  of  the  building  and  the  landlady  ,  is  a  wealthy  woman  who  inherited  the  building  from  her  parents  ,  a  couple  that  was  once  big  in  the  real  estate  industry  in  nyc  .  as  ms  .  fairmon  has  no  interest  in  earning  more  money  yes  she  is  already  rich  enough  ,  she  decided  to  put  the  units  for  rent  with  a  friendly  ,  very  attractive  price  ,  in  order  to  help  struggling  tenants  .  

the  group  is  an  appless  ,  small  discord  roleplay  revolving  around  the  tenants  of  the  fairmon  building  and  their  lives  .

i’ve  been  wanting  a  small  and  chill  place  to  develop  my  muses  for  a  while  now  ,  so  i  decided  to  go  ahead  and  try  to  make  my  own  one  .  if  you  have  any  questions  ,  concerns  or  suggestions  ,  my  inbox  is  open  !  if  you  want  to  send  your  app  ,  please  use  my  submit  box  .  thank  you  !

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲  :  an  appless  ,  small  discord  roleplay  with  chill  activity  ,  focused  on  the  lives  of  the  tenants  of  fairmon  building  .  it  is  a  safe  environment  &  diversity  is  highly  encouraged  .  we  focus  on  literacy  ,  but  one  -  liners  and  text  threads  are  completely  fine  .  there  will  be  a  board  (  aka  a  confessional  thingy  )  where  tenants  can  speak  their  minds  anonymously  .  and  ,  of course  ,  there  will  be  a  groupchat  with  all  tenants  .  template  cred  goes  to  cibby  (  @ gunshzt  )  .

#  𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒  .

one  .  basic  roleplaying  etiquette  .  muns  must  be  above  the  age  of  eighteen  and  muses  /  faceclaims  must  be  over  the  age  of  twenty  .  no  godmodding  ,  bubble  rping  ,  ooc  drama  or  discrimination  will  be  tolerated  here  .  since  this  is  a  small  group  ,  everyone  should  be  welcoming  and  treat  members  respectfully  .  should  you  have  any  problems  with  a  particular  mun  ,  please  message  me  privately  .  you  don’t  have  to  be  my  mutual  to  join  ,  but  that’d  be  nice  !

two  .  this  is  a  group  focused  on  character  development  so  some  sort  of  literacy  is  a  must  .  while  you  don’t  have  to  write  five  -  paragraph  replies  ,  paras  are  encouraged  !  

three  .  interest  checks  will  be  held  weekly  to  make  sure  everyone  is  still  interested  in  the  group  .  you  have  twenty  -  four  hours  to  react  ,  otherwise  you’ll  be  removed  .  if  you  need  a  hiatus  ,  please  let  me  know  and  we  won’t  remove  you  from  the  group  !

four  .  banned  faceclaims  are  those  deceased  ,  who  do  not  wish  to  be  roleplayed  ,  anyone  below  the  age  of  twenty  ,  and  it  includes  :  tiktokers  ,  youtubers  ,  kardashians  /  jenners  ,  biebers  ,  kj  apa  ,  cole  sprouse  ,  camila  cabello  ,  ariana  grande  ,  ansel  elgort  ,  ester  exposito  ,  nicola  peltz  .

five  .  you  may  apply  for  two  muses  at  first  and  you  can  apply  for  a  third  and  a  forth  ones  after  a  week  of  consistent  activity  .  additionally  ,  if  you  have  four  muses  ,  at  least  one  must  be  of  color  ,  body  diverse  or  trans  .

six  .  please  keep  in  mind  that  when  applying  to  a  specific  apartment  ,  your  muse  might  have  a  roommate  .  if  you  don’t  have  a  preference  for  a  certain  apartment  number  ,  please  put  [  N  /  A  ]  on  the  apartment  number  part  of  the  app  and  your  muse  will  be  paired  randomly  .  we’ll  have  a  limit  of  four  apartments  with  no  roommates  ,  so  please  specify  if  you  don’t  wish  to  be  paired  up  and  prefer  your  muse  to  live  alone  .

#  𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍  .

(  faceclaim  ,  age  ,  pronouns  )  fairmon  building  welcomes  you  to  your  new  home  ,  [  FIRST  AND  LAST  NAME  ]  !  here  are  the  keys  to  [  APARTMENT  NUMBER  ]  and  we  hope  you  have  a  good  time  here  .  we’ve  heard  that  you’re  a  [  AGE  ]  years  old  [  OCCUPATION  ]  from  [  HOMETOWN  ]  ,  is  that  right  ?  you  look  very  [  POSITIVE  TRAIT  ]  ,  but  also  a  little  [  NEGATIVE  TRAIT  ]  ,  and  your  last  landlord  told  us  that  [  RUMOR  /  SECRET  ]  .  i  wonder  if  that’s  true  !  anyway  ,  go  ahead  and  make  yourself  comfortable  !  (  ooc  name  /  alias  ,  age  ,  pronouns  ,  timezone  ,  url  ,  triggers  *  ,  links  *  )

*  triggers  and  additional  links  to  pinterest  boards  ,  bios  ,  etc  are  optional  .  any  additional  information  will  help  me  have  a  better  feeling  of  your  muse  and  might  help  me  understand  if  they’re  fit  for  the  group  .

#  𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍  (  23  /  48  MUSE SPOTS  &  14 /  16  MUN  SPOTS  )  .

faceclaims  :  alisha  boe ,  anthony  ramos  ,  anya  taylor  -  joy  ,  arón  piper  ,  evan  mock  ,  florence  pugh  ,  henry  golding  ,  hugh  laughton  scott   , jeon  somi  ,  logan  lerman  ,   lorenzo  zurzolo  ,  madelyn  cline  ,   madison  bailey  ,  manu  rios  ,  minatozaki  sana  ,  nico  hiraga  ,  richard  madden  ,  vinetrria  ,  yara  shahidi  .

apartments  :  101  ,  102 ,  201  ,  202  ,  204  ,  301  ,  303  ,  401  ,  402  ,  404  ,  501  ,  502  ,  601  ,  602  &  604  .

#  𝐀𝐏𝐏  𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓  (  02  )  .

faceclaims  :  park  chaeyoung  &  christina  nadin  .

apartments  :  103  &  404  .

available  apartments  :  101  ,  102  ,  204  ,  301  ,  303  ,  401  ,  404  ,  502  ,  601  ,  602  &  604  all  have  one  spot  available  &  103  ,  104  ,  203  ,  302  ,  304  ,  403  ,  503  ,  504  &  603  are  empty  . 

[agerefandom]

The Doctor’s Office

Fandom: Twilight

Characters: cg!Carlisle Cullen, regressor!reader (gender-neutral), brief appearances of OCs

Words: 3,600

Summary: You’ve always had trouble with doctor appointments. The stress proves to be too much, and you regress at the doctor’s office. Luckily, Dr. Cullen seems to be sympathetic and caring.

Warnings: Lots of medical anxiety and imagery, needles/shots, anxiety regression, unplanned public regression, panic attacks.

You’ve never liked going to the doctor. The medical smell of the office, the paper on the weird squishy bench, the impersonal poking and prodding of the annual check-up. When you were a child, you would cry all the way there.

Now you’re an adult, and you have to drive yourself. Your hands are tense on the wheel and you can feel the anxiety pounding at your ribs. You wish you’d outgrown your fear of doctor’s appointments, but there are still some things that get the panicked toddler in your head screaming.

You take one hand off the steering wheel, reaching blindly towards the passenger seat while keeping your eyes on the road ahead. The rough texture of your backpack meets your fingers, and you relax. You’ve brought a little comfort bag: your favourite stuffie, a snack for afterwards, and your headphones in the front pocket. You have music, you have a fidget toy in your pocket, and you are going to survive this.

You pull into the little parking lot, feeling very brave. This is Forks, and the doctor’s office is small like everything else. It’s your first time here, which doesn’t help your nerves: you’re new in town, and while you could drive to Seattle and go to one of the larger offices, the longer drive would just make it easier for you to chicken out on the way.

Your coworkers had recommended Dr. Cullen, and you’d taken their advice. It took a little longer to get an appointment because Dr. Cullen works three days a week in Seattle, but you were happy for the appointment to be as far away as possible.

Unfortunately, the future always became the present, and now you’re just sitting in the car and delaying the inevitable.

With a sigh, you grab your comfort bag and make for the front door. The smell hits you as soon as you get inside: clean and sharp with disinfectant.

You clutch the straps of your backpack and approach the front desk, trying for a smile when the secretary looks up. She’s a kind looking woman who matches the voice you’d heard on the phone. Looks like she probably has photos of her kids in her wallet. “Hello dear, do you have an appointment?”

“I do. With Dr. Cullen, at 2 o’clock?” You give your name and health card when required, receiving a stack of paperwork in return. 

The woman gives you a pen and a smile, then gestures to the empty sitting area. “Go take a seat, fill out your forms, and I’ll let Carlisle know you’ve arrived.” She bustles off down the hall, leaving you in a silent room.

You immediately put on your headphones, blocking out the quiet with your favourite playlist to calm down. There are clipboards on the tables, and you snag one to fill out the paperwork. Most of this is familiar by now, but there are plenty of account numbers you have to look up on your phone. Eventually, the stack is finished, and you glance up to see the secretary returned while you were busy with papers and music. She’s tapping away at the computer, and you approach her timidly with your paperwork.

She jumps a little when she sees you standing in front of her, but quickly smiles and accepts the stack of paperwork. “Thank you very much!” She points at the hallway to her right. “You can go on to the room at the end of the hall, with the door open. Carlisle will be with you in just a few minutes.”

“Thanks.” You collect your bag from the seating area, half-tempted to hug it to your chest and get some comfort from the stuffie hidden inside, but instead you swing it onto your back and trudge down the hallway, one hand finding the fidget cube in your pocket and playing with the switches to distract you from your rising anxiety.

The room is empty: you put your bag carefully on the ground and hop up onto the examination table. The crinkle of the wax paper fills you with dread: you bring the cube out of your pocket and keep yourself busy with it, turning it over and over in your hands.

The silence stretches, but you don’t want to put your headphones on and miss the doctor coming in. The clicking of the buttons on your fidget cube are too loud in the room. Every time you shift, the paper crinkles underneath you. You try not to look at the diagrams on the wall, the medical instruments and cotton balls beside the computer on the desk.

“Ah, my two o’clock!” an unfamiliar voice says from the door. You glance up, startled by the lack of footsteps to announce the new person.

The person standing in the doorway is presumably Dr. Cullen, and you understand why your coworkers had been giggling about him now. The man looks like a fashion model, not a doctor for a little town like Forks. He smiles, and it’s like you can hear the little ‘ding’ sound effect as his teeth shine at you.

“That’s me,” you manage.

He retrieves a clipboard from under his arm and reads out your name, glancing up to check that it’s correct. You nod, and he walks forward to offer his hand.

“Dr. Carlisle Cullen,” he says. His handshake is perfect, cool and firm around your hand, which you’re suddenly aware is a little bit sweaty. “It’s good to meet you.”

“You too.” He’s even more striking up close, you can’t even pick the features that stand out because they’re all perfect. His eyes are a hypnotizing colour, almost golden. You avert your gaze, self-conscious in the presence of his perfectly pressed white coat and flawless hair.

“So, I see you haven’t had a general check-up in a few years,” Doctor Cullen says, finally retreating and flipping a page over on his clipboard. You immediately clasp your hands on your lap, resisting the urge to kick your legs back and forth. “New to Forks?”

“Yes, just moved.” You scored a nice apartment: living prices are good out here, with the significant commute to most cities. You have a few more boxes to unpack, but you’re not fussed about finishing. “It’s a nice town.”

“One of my favourite places I’ve lived.” Dr. Cullen sounds genuinely fond of the town, not just making small-talk as he boots up the computer and puts your file on the desk. “Have you been to the diner on Maple Street yet?”

“I haven’t.” You don’t like going out alone, and you haven’t really made any friends yet. There are a few coworkers that you want to talk to more, but you’re not at the level where you can ask them out for coffee yet. “It’s good?”

“The best,” Dr. Cullen assures you.

“Have you… lived many places?” You watch his fingers move across the keyboard, somehow entranced. Even his nails are perfect, each one buffed to a shine. He must get manicures.

“I’m a big fan of travel,” the doctor admits. “I’ve visited almost every country in the world.”

“Wow.” Doctors make a lot of money, you remember. No way someone could travel that much without being rich. He doesn’t look that old, either, maybe thirty? Young for a doctor, anyways. “And Forks is your favourite? Really?” It’s a nice town, with the forests stretching around it, but it’s not exactly the height of culture.

“I was fond of Italy.” Dr. Cullen seems to have contented himself with the computer, and turns back to you. “St. Petersburg is lovely as well, but Forks feels like home to me.” He takes a pair of gloves from the box on the desk, and you watch him slip them on. You’d been busy with the conversation, enough that you’d almost forgotten that you were here for a check-up, but the sight of those latex gloves reminds you.

The small talk falls away, and Dr. Cullen asks you all the usual questions: any problems, how are you feeling, are you taking any medication. You answer them carefully, and he nods and takes the occasional note. When you mention trouble sleeping, he asks if that’s something you want to look into. You shake your head: it’s probably linked to your anxiety, and it’s never bad enough to affect you in the long-term. He doesn’t ask, just accepts the head shake and moves on smoothly.

The physical exam is as nerve-wracking as ever, gloved fingers pressing on your shoulder, keeping you still as he listens to your heart, to your breathing. He must be able to hear your heart racing with anxiety, but he doesn’t comment, moving through the procedures with professional swiftness.

“All seems well,” he declares at last. “You are behind on your vaccinations, however. I’d recommend a flu shot and the updated HBV vaccine, at least. There are a few more that can wait for next year, but flu season in Forks usually takes out the whole town.”

“Uh…” Oh, please no. Shots are not something you’re good at. “Okay, yeah.”

“They’re both covered by your current insurance,” Dr. Cullen adds, clearly sensing your apprehension.

“Cool.” You manage to nod, a jerky movement. “Sorry. I’m just bad at shots.”

“No worries.” Dr. Cullen smiles, and you find yourself feeling oddly reassured by the sincerity of his response. “I promise they’ll be quick. Count to ten, and they’ll both be done.”

“Promise?”

It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, the nervous question of a child who has been lied to too many times.

“Pinky promise,” Carlisle assures you without batting an eye. “Just give me a moment to get ready.” He steps to the desk and starts moving things around. You look away, not wanting to see the needles as he prepares them.

“So, where did you move from?” the doctor asks conversationally. You answer automatically, your mind still running to catch up with the idea that you’re going to willingly get a flu shot. You’ve never gotten one before, why did you let him talk you into this? 

He asks about your move to Forks, and you tell him that it was fine. You tell him about the hiking trails that wind through the forest just behind your apartment building, and he asks how often you go walking.

Soon enough, the two of you are chatting about your favourite parks in the US, and it almost takes you by surprise when he rolls a table over to you. There’s a tray on it, with two needles that you quickly look away from.

It’s too late, though, you’ve already seen them. You don’t want to think about it. You almost wish your parents still came to your doctor’s appointments, at least you would have a hand to hold.

“Deep breaths,” Carlisle tells you, his voice soothing. “Remember, just count to ten and they’ll both be done.”

“Okay.” You close your eyes, and try to ignore the wet cotton-ball rubbing against your arm. “One… two…” The sharp sting makes you draw in your breath sharply, the fingers of your free arm clutching at the lip of the table you’re sitting on. “Three. Four. Five…” Pain again, this time drawing tears to your eyes. “Six… seven…”

“All done.” There’s light pressure on your shoulder, careful wiping. “Only seven seconds, there we are.” You open your eyes and see Carlisle pressing a cotton ball to your shoulder, his expression calm and focused. “No more pain,” he assures you.

But the tears are spilling down your cheeks, and the toddler inside your chest is furious that you allowed that to happen, and you can’t stand up to that anger. You need your stuffies. You need to be home with a blanket. You need a snack and a good cry and a bottle of warm milk.

“M’sorry,” you manage. He’ll notice the tears at some point. “M’bad at pain. Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry.” Carlisle lifts the cotton ball from your arm, and you can see the blood soaked into it. You hear yourself give an involuntary squeak, shutting your eyes again. “You’re alright,” Carlisle soothes. “I’ll get you a band-aid and something to drink.”

“Okay.” You sniffle and wipe the tears from your face, wincing at the ache in your left arm. “Sorry.”

“All fine. More common than you’d expect. Do you want a boring band-aid or a Disney princess? I’m afraid we’re all out of Spider-Man.”

You giggle a little at the question: it’s a silly thing to ask an adult. “Princess,” you say. Why not.

“There we are.” You feel his gloves on your arm again, applying the bandage with gentle professionalism. “All covered up.”

“T’nk you,” you say, and resist the urge to put your thumb in your mouth. Can’t do that at a doctor’s office. Too many germs.

“My penance for causing you pain,” says Carlisle in a very serious voice, which makes you laugh again. You didn’t know this doctor was so funny. “Now, would you like apple juice or orange juice?”

“A’ple!” You’d prefer a bottle of milk, but a sippy cup of juice is good too. You rub your eyes free of tears and open them again, just in time to see Carlisle stepping back in from the hallway carrying a box of juice. Did he go and get it in the second you were rubbing your eyes?

You blink away the mystery and make grabby hands at the juicebox, remembering a second too late that he’s your doctor and not your caregiver, and you can’t just make grabby hands at the things you want.

“Sorry!” You drop your hands to your sides, a wave of embarrassment pushing back your regression for a moment. You’re too tired to be fully an adult, the pain keeping you uncomfortably between two headspaces for a moment. “Sorry.”

“Still no need to be sorry. Hydration is important.” Carlisle puts the straw in for you and passes you the juice-box, which you sip eagerly. The sweet juice makes your head feel less stuffy from crying, and it helps with the pain too. Obviously, this is magic doctor juice. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

You shake your head, but your eyes fall on your backpack across the room. It would be so nice to hug your stuffie right now. It would be soft and big in your arms and you would feel so comfy, even if you’re still sitting on the horrible crinkly paper.

“Do you want something from your backpack?” Carlisle asks, following your eyes. “I can bring it to you.”

You hesitate. Some of your online friends said they brought stuffies to their doctor appointments. Would it be weird? Would he refuse to see you again? He’s so nice and he got you juice and you don’t want him to be mean to you.

You’re so busy worrying that you don’t notice that you’ve already raised a hand towards the backpack until Carlisle is obligingly putting it beside you. By then, the decision is already reached: you pull out your stuffie and cradle it in your arms, hiding your face in the fuzz.

“What a wonderful idea,” Carlisle’s voice comes from above you, still all kind and soothing. “Bringing a companion to the doctor’s office to tell you how brave you’ve been.”

“Mm-hmm.” Now that your friend is in your arms, you worry so much less. And Carlisle is still being nice, so it must not bother him.

“Alright.” Carlisle’s voice sounds serious: you glance up to see him standing in front of you, one hand outstretched. He’s not wearing gloves anymore.

You hesitantly put your hand in his, expecting him to pull you to your feet and maybe even usher you out the door, but instead he just holds your hand gently, leaning down to be at eye-level with you. “I have another appointment in five minutes, but I don’t want you driving right now. Doctor’s orders,” he adds with a smile. “You stay in here for as long as you need, and I’ll check in after my next appointment. You can go onto the big chair, if you like, but don’t touch anything on the desk or the walls.” You nod mutely. He’s leaving you here alone?

Although, you suppose you’re not here alone now that your stuffie is here.

“If you feel good enough to leave before I get back, that’s okay, but make sure to tell Steph at the front desk on your way out so I don’t worry. Otherwise, I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“Okay, Doctor,” you mumble into your stuffie.

“Call me Carlisle,” he smiles, and he looks back at you twice as he leaves the room.

Alone in the office, you shift uncomfortably, some of your anxiety coming back. But he said that you could go in the big rolling chair, so you skip off the doctor’s table and into the office chair in front of the computer. It’s huge and squishy and it rolls a bit when you sit down.

That’s where you stay, rolling yourself around and chatting to your stuffie, eventually pulling out your phone to play some music with your headphones. You know that you have to go sometime, but every time you think about going outside, you feel yourself start to panic. You’ll be seen! You’ll have to pretend to be big! You can’t do that. So you spin in the chair and hum along to favourite songs, and eventually inspect your arm to see what band-aid Carlisle gave you. It’s Princess Jasmine, which makes you happy.

All too soon, there’s a knock on the door, and Carlisle steps back in.

“Hello,” he greets you warmly.

“Hi.” His presence jolts you out of your regression, and the panic rises fast. You just regressed in a public space, and no matter how nice this doctor was about it, you were definitely acting weird. He forbade you from driving, for god’s sake. He probably thought you were high or something, maybe he even called the police…

“Oh, deep breaths. It’s alright.” Carlisle takes two steps forward and drops to his knees in front of your chair. The gesture catches you off-guard, almost startling you out of your gathering panic attack. “No one is angry. You aren’t in trouble.”

“Promise?” you manage, an echo of your earlier plea.

“Pinky promise.” This time, Carlisle holds up one hand, his pinky extended. You hook your finger into his, and he squeezes gently. “There we go.”

“I’m so sorry.” The panic and regression have both receded, leaving you exhausted and slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t expect that to happen. I get anxious at medical appointments, but that was worse than usual.”

“You’re in a new town, and I imagine you’re still exhausted from moving. It was very brave of you to come,” Carlisle tells you, and you can’t detect an ounce of sarcasm or judgement in his voice. “And you’re always welcome to bring a friend.” He hovers a hand over the stuffed animal beside you, just shy of touching it. You tug it a little closer, defensive, and he obediently withdraws.

“Thank you.” You want to hide your face in the stuffie again, but you’re not regressed anymore, and you do need to get home. If only to climb into bed and try to forget any of this happened. “I should, um.”

“Of course, I imagine you have things to do.” Carlisle gets to his feet, dusts off his knees where he had been kneeling on the floor. “I am truly sorry this appointment was so hard on you, but I’m happy that you came.”

You don’t have a response to that, so you focus on repacking your bag and swinging it over the shoulder that isn’t aching. Just as you’re turning for the door, Carlisle speaks again.

“I have five adopted children.” You stop and look over your shoulder at him, confused by the statement. “Most of them come from traumatic backgrounds,” Carlisle adds, resting his hand on the back of the chair you just vacated. “Age regression isn’t unfamiliar to me, as a response to emotional distress or physical pain. Many people experience it.” Oh god, he knows. You can feel your ears heating up from embarrassment. “It’s also an experience that can make people feel isolated, or ashamed. If you wanted to meet one of my daughters, I’ve found community can be beneficial. Of course, I don’t want to put pressure on you, but I thought it could be a positive experience. For both of you.”

He’s a good doctor and a good dad? That’s too much for one person, surely.

“I’ll. Um. I’ll think about it,” you manage. Carlisle smiles and nods, looking satisfied with that answer.

“Drive safe,” he tells you. “And put some ice on your arm tomorrow if it bothers you.”

“Thanks.” And you flee the building, barely managing a friendly nod to the secretary as you push the door open and emerge into the cloudy day. If there’s one thing Forks isn’t known for, it’s the good weather.

You dump your backpack into the passenger seat and take a second to just breathe. Okay. That was a lot. You really do feel like hiding in your room for the next century, but… Carlisle was really nice about it all. And apparently, he’s a caregiver to a regressor in his house? Or even more than one? You’ve never met a regressor in person before, despite being relatively active in the online community. It could be… interesting?

You drive back to your apartment, your eyes on the road and your mind on the offer that Carlisle made.

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ eddie ate dynamite﹫johnny suh

fangs - matt champion PLAYLIST

pairing : johnny x reader (f), feat. ten as johnny’s best friend and roommate and jaehyun as your college friend. 

genre : fluff, another case of smut with too much plot, pianist!johnny, guitarist!reader, college!au, neighbour!au, strangers to friends to lovers, warnings : ten being a cockblock, it’s overall really cute. heavy making out, grinding, marking, slight choking, slight thigh riding, mutual masturbation, slight panty kink and menhandling, oral, penetration. word count : +22k synopsis : where you never really tried to make friends with your neighbours. after all, most of them – if not all – are families that would not have much time to talk to a college student. you don’t mind, you’d rather spend some time with your guitar. but your new young neighbour doesn’t seem as anti-social as you are, it’s eleven past meridiem when someone airdrops a tab sheet on your computer, you play it. a/n : i got this idea while i was showering just after i ordered my electric guitar, i also felt like shit so figured writing about my ult would cheer me up.

Calm and clean streets, pretty cherry trees dotted in red, small park filled with multicolor flowers, you remember the day you moved in your neighborhood like it was yesterday. You don’t say it much, but you love everything about your district. Yes, it might be mostly – if not totally – filled with small families and couples in their thirties, and they usually don’t have much to tell you, you still love the tranquility.

No college students being obnoxiously loud, no parties every week, no gatherings of wannabe frats.

You have to say, you got lucky. The small – but convenient and comfortable – apartment you’re ranting is what you could call a “perle rare”, a gem.

After searching and searching for anything that could fit a college student and it’s budget, you found this very building, freshly built. Only fifteen minutes away from the city center, exactly seventeen minutes away from your university, you couldn’t really believe your eyes, you even thought it was a scam at first. A more than decently sized apartment at the second to last floor, elevators, almost soundproof walls, balcony, big windows facing south, you couldn’t ask for more.

Even better, the owner was a family friend, a deal that made everyone happy was quickly made and, a few days after your twenty-first birthday, you moved in.

It was a bit more than a year ago and you have to say, you quickly made yourself at home, you didn’t mind leaving alone either. Besides, you had friends over a few times a month, and your family didn’t hesitate to visit without any notice.

Ah, and, a few days after moving in, you found this very cute and cosy coffee shop down the street. Oh, how you got addicted to their éclair au chocolat and their croissant. You’re a regular there, now, and the short brunette girl at the register still makes fun of you for your pronunciation. They also make a pretty good iced vanilla coffee, one you’re drinking this very moment, hands turning cold over the transparent plastic.

“Y/N, hey ! I have something for you !”, a voice you quickly grew familiar to sings the moment your badge opens the front door to your building. Sun Sangkyu, building H7’s concierge, doesn’t even wait for the glass door to close behind you to stand up from his chair, searching for the said “something”.

He’s a balding man, you’d say he’s around sixty-something years old. He agreed to work at the desk for good money despite his age, you remember him saying he loves it, it distracts him for the day while his wife volunteers with kids in a less wealthy area. Sangkyu wears big glasses that often fall down the bridge of his nose, eyes half moons whenever he smiles with his little diastema.

“Ah-a, I know what it is !”, you match his tone almost perfectly, a smile stretching your lips. Walking a bit closer to the men’s cubicle, one he customized so much it contrasts with the minimalist style of the entrance.

Red banner for the Chinese New Year, you’re surprised he did not take it down sooner. Next to it, he has multiple drawings from the kids in the building, pictures of him, his wife and kids.

“There it is. Such a tiny box, what did you order ?”, he asks, and the middle aged men doesn’t hesitate to shake the box a little, bringing it to his ear. He’s a bit too curious for his own good, but you don’t mind, it’s funny.

“Guitar picks.”, you tell him with a laugh once he lets the cardboard box fall into your waiting hands.

At that, he frowns.

Small pout on his thin lips, his dark brown eyes shift to the left as he tried and search in his memory.

“But…What about the ones you brought last winter ?”, he asks carefully, almost like he’s scared of not recalling things well. But, after all, you were the only guitarist in the building.

“I…lost them…”, you answer after a few seconds of silence, like a child admitting they misplaced something to their father.

“Ya…”, his instinct kick in with the noise escaping his face, slightly rolling his eyes, drawing out the last letter. “Anyways, I have something else for you.”, he looks at something on the floor, probably where he left his leather bag.

“But, I didn’t or-.”

“My wife made some yesterday !”, he cuts you abruptly, wide toothy smile as he slides a paper bag. And, oh, you already know what they hold by the smell alone. Baozi, steamed stuffed buns Sangkyu’s wife can make like a real master, your mouth salivates with the thought alone.

“Oh, bless her.”, a sigh tumbles from your lips, clenching the small bag against your chest. As you open your mouth to thank him, the slight buzz of the door opening catches your attention. You notice a rather tall men pushing the door with his back, strong arms holding boxes.

“Thank you very much, Sangkyu. Have a nice day !” You conclude with a smile, nodding as the oldest returns the gesture, face already towards the unknown men.

You don’t pay much attention, quickly walking towards the elevator with your two precious items in hand. Your index taps the code and your floor number like a mechanism and, just before the metallic doors close, you catch the unknown men sighing, “One more box and we’re done, Mister Suh !” Ehm, the apartment on the second floor probably found a new owner, you think at first, the thought brushed away in a second.

The ride to your floor is a quick one, your full attention on the small box in your hand, one you’re trying to open as best as you can. But you quickly find hard to rip the thick duct tape with your left hand occupied with the wrapped food.

“Oh, fuck !”

What was meant to happen, happened. As the feminine yet weirdly robotic voice announces your floor with a “Floor number nine, floor number nine.”, you drop the small box. The cardboard hits the floor with a small sound, laying lifeless a few centimeters away from your shoes. Great, that will teach you. Leaning down, you pick the box up with a sigh, straightening your back as the grey metallic doors open in front of you, left wrist twisting to let your digits wrap around your keys. And it’s your turn to frown. Eyebrows furrowed, you take a step forward, taking your body out of the elevator before the doors close and head down again.

Boxes, boxes everywhere. Your door’s on the left, body naturally facing your apartment but your eyes can not help but look at the overwhelming amount of…stuff laying there. Probably a dozen cardboard boxes in the hallway, the door’s open to the empty apartment if it’s not for all the wrapped furniture in the entrance. Uh, so it’s not the second floor. You have to say, you’re a bit surprised. When you moved in, you remember this very apartment being owned by a middle-aged woman, the fake blonde told you about the three other places she owned and ranted all year around. Be it to travelers, students, young adults. Someone ranted it for two months at best, before moving out, you don’t even remember their faces, to be honest. You never asked why it was always empty, you just figured the area was more appealing to families that would rather buy their own place rather than rant it for god knows how much.

Well, seems like you have a new neighbor. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll introduce yourself later, once they’ll be done with moving in. Let’s be real, you’re not Bree Van de Kamp from Desperate Housewives but, you were well raised. Ah, and, you should probably tell them about your habit of playing the guitar a bit too late at night, you think as you finally take your attention off the open apartment and go for your own. Everything might be pretty well isolated, you don’t want to risk starting beef with people you barely know leaving right next to you.

Plus, who knows, maybe they’re nice.

Knife stabs the duct tape, the brown layer easily ripping under the sharp object. Comfortably sat on your bed, you quickly tear the cardboard with your hands, leaving the packaging on the floor of your bedroom, neatly leaving the small bag of picks you ordered on your white sheet.

It’s around ten and a half post meridiem when you finally get around opening your order. College life is one you knew would be busy, but seventeen years old you never knew you’d spend hours on an essay’s introduction. But thank god, you finished a good chunk of your assignment, showered, ate and now, it’s time for a bit of relaxation.

It’s sort of a ritual for you, a way to reward yourself after a productive day. You take a long shower or a good bath – it depends on the bath bombs you have in stock –, you eat a good, hot meal and get to your room for some alone time with none other than your beloved guitar.

The sun’s already set, the streets’ lights filling your bedroom. And, that’s when you notice the dim light coming from the room right on front of you. The layout of every apartment being identical, you know it’s another bedroom, few meters away from your own. It’s a bad habit you developed after your old neighbor left, you’d pull your curtains to the side and eventually took them out, they clashed with your room’s aesthetic anyways. After all, if no one was leaving there, you would let your window wide open for a bit more light.

You figure you should maybe go and find where you stacked them and get ready to struggle for an hour before eventually, putting them up again. But for now, you don’t mind, if your new neighbor actually pulls his curtains to look outside, all they will be able to see’s your light purple colored walls, paintings and pictures, your overly packed schedule stuck right on top of your desk.

You don’t let your mind wonder too much, after quickly opening the thin packaging, you let the small plastic picks fall on your bed. Medium sized, you choose the color you like the best, abstract design in red, black and white. Now that you think about it, you really don’t know where the six other ones disappeared, you even used to keep the last one in your phone case.

Digits wrap around the slender neck of your electric guitar, picking it up from the stand it rested on for a few days now, instrument easily finding its place on your lap. Ah, how you love the feeling of the smooth material under your fingertips, left hand on the body to keep it from falling as you lean forward. The Jack cable you left laying there a few days ago moved a bit, hiding under your bed but you’re quick to grab it, plugging it where it belongs. A flick of the wrist, you turn on your amplifier, turning a few settings. Now that you have neighbors, maybe you should turn the volume a bit down. Until now, you could play as loudly as you wanted thank to the building’s isolation and a few other…reasons. The men living right above you was a bit older than Sangkyu, and he had a few hearing problems, plus he didn’t mind the music at all even if he heard it a bit, when your window was opened. The women leaving right under you is in her mid-thirties, a nurse that had a working schedule you cannot wrap your head around. One thing you know, she’s never there from nine post meridiem to some ungodly hour in the morning.

You’ll talk to your new neighbors tomorrow anyways, brushing the thought off as you place the strap on your shoulder.

“Eddie ate dynamite.”, you mumble under your breath, pick plucking at the three top strings. In tune, great. “Good bye Eddie.”, the three last strings are slightly out of tune, but your quickly arrange that with a few twists. Right hand flat on the six strings, you stand up from your bed, walking to your desk with a few steps. You had left a tab sheet open on your devise before going for your bath, screen lighting up as you open it. It’s a song you practiced once a few weeks back before forgetting about it. Bold, black letters, “Fangs – Matt Champion”.

Eyes scanning the numbers, your fingers quickly find the strings without you needing to even look at your guitar’s neck. Your body follows quickly, shoulders and head moving at the rhythm, it’s a chill tune you can warm your fingers up to. It’s a moment you adore, when your entire building’s silent, fresh breeze of the early summer sneaking into your room, multicolor lights flashing in your bedroom (tiktok made you buy them). Tones and sounds of stings being pulled fill your room, it’s no hard for you to remember the notes at the end, eyes closing as you finish the song.

A good song to start on, you think before opening your eyes and…?

“What’s that ?”, you ask out loud, eyes squinting at the window that opened itself on your screen. Apparently, someone’s trying to airdrop something. It’s probably a mistake, you think at first. A weird mistake, for sure, your laptop clearly had your name on it. Your index finger’s about to decline the request before you take a look at the actual picture sent. Is that…A tab sheet ? Your eyebrows furrow a bit more. Clearly, this was not a mistake. Eye travel to the window, could it be ? Your neighbor’s room is now lit up, but you can’t make anything up in it, unconsciously waiting for a head to pop-up. But hélas, no movement comes from the other side. It could come from anyone, but you doubt

“The Less I know The Better – Tame Impala”.

Ah, you’re not a stranger to the song, you have it in multiple playlists, but you never took the time to look at the tabs. At least the person has some good taste. It’s a weird situation for sure, is this…a request ?

Unconsciously, your fingertips press on the right strings. Eh, might as well try it, right ? Tune familiar, you go through the intro easily, though maybe you should’ve taken something to loop the sound. Irises focused on your screen, you try your best not to mess up, eyes sometimes traveling from your computer to the neck of your guitar. Brown polished wood glow under the purple light, it softly transitions to blue, green, and you stop after the chorus.

Maybe you’ll keep the sheet.

Cold morning breeze, sounds of a city waking up. Birds singing a bit too loudly, a few cars driving by, chatter from families and young adults all around, voices muted by how high you’re apartment is.

You follow along, body turning in your bed, though maybe in a less graceful way, softly shaking the sleep out.

You changed your sheet right before going to sleep, after playing a few other songs, flowery fragrance comforting, nose deep into the soft fabric. You almost think about not leaving your bed but hélas, you have some classes to attend today.

At least, they’re starting a bit late. Sleepy eyes shift to your clock, the very one that woke you up, nine ante meridiem, you have an hour to get ready, that should be enough.

Another bad habit, your hand grabs your phone as you roll over to your side, cheek squished on your pillow, one eye closed. Maybe you should not do that, apparently the second eye's vision can and will go down if you do this too much. You have an appointment soon anyways, working on your computer all day long got your eyes dry.

Checking mails, social media, texts, you tour your phone before finally stepping out of bed.

Music theory class, multiple hours of it. But, at least, it didn’t end late at all, today was your only free day. But again, depends on what is your vision of freedom, you'll probably end up at the bakery slash coffee shop down the street to study a bit more.

Arms stretching above your head, your lips part in a yawn you quickly hide behind your hand. Fuck, you probably slept on your arm, shoulder aching under your fingertips massaging the muscle.

Walking around your bed, you take a few steps, dragging your feet on your floor towards your window. You needed a bit of fresh air before anything else.

The weather's pretty good today, you note as you fully step in front of your window, skin gratefully taking in the sunlight, a few white clouds here and there in the sky but nothing to complain about. The sun seems to already be heating the air up, maybe you can go for a light coat today, or a thick top alone.

Naturally, your eyes fall straight forward, to the very window you were looking at the night before.

Curtains pulled to the side, your curiosity gets poked, maybe you can have a quick look at the room, right ?

It looks empty anyways, you think at first, but it seems the universe wants to annoy you a bit today. Just as you're about to detail the room opposite to yours, a figure walks in.

His shadow is the first thing you see, stretching on the beige painted walls of the room before he eventually steps in front of his window as well.

Fortunately for your dignity, the men has his back turned but how... Broad do they look, even from a distance.

You have no idea why, but you're stuck there, one side of your brain telling you to leave before you get caught and inevitably get label as the creepy neighbor while the other whispers that you might want to see the strangers' face.

Shoulder blades move against the tanned skin, hands quickly run in his honey colored locks, pushing them back, it seems your neighbor's getting ready too.

That's when you realize your hand's still gripping your window's handle, right hand falling to your side, you really should go and get ready too but... You wonder, is he the one that sent you the tab sheet yesterday ? Wouldn't you want to put a face a the music taste ?

As you're about to take a step back, the men turns slightly, applying what you can only assume is cream to his face, digits running down his jawline as he angles his head as desired. And oh, the one second long glimpse you get at his profile is enough to make your lips part.

Shiny locks falling in front of his eyes, straight nose, full lips, sharp jawline, a curse almost falls down from your lips. You'd think anyone would find the guy attractive from the small peak you just got but... Isn't this a bit... Weird ? You suddenly feel like a whole voyeur, your eyes detaching from the stranger as your morals kick in.

He doesn't look like a father, or maybe he's very young father ? But again, you didn't see anything for a baby yesterday, nor did you hear one crying yesterday night...

Maybe he moved in here with his significant other, even though young couple usually go for the other side of the city.

Or maybe, he's a college student like you are, does he have a roommate ?

Pupils traveling up again to the window, you're about to get on your toes for a better look. Maybe you should say introduce yourself tonight, rather than guessing and throwing hypothesis out there. And maybe, just maybe, you want to get a better look at his face.

He turns around, you duck to the side.

It’s around six after meridiem when you finally, finally get up from the sit you occupied for several hours now. Maybe you should’ve taken a break between two massive paragraphs to write, you think as your arms stretch up above your head. Thank god, the beloved coffee you decided to drop your bag in had some comfortable light beige chairs, cushion as still cloud-like, exactly like you found them the first day you entered the shop.

You wonder how they keep them so clean, someone must’ve dropped their dark coffee or chocolate on the unforgiving fabric at least once, you surely fear being one of these clients.

“You done ?”, familiar voice hums, and you just nod at the question, eyes falling on the black clock right behind the counter.

“Yeah, I can’t think anymore.”, you tell your friend, hand grabbing the second cup of coffee you brough, shaking it lightly to estimate the amount of liquid left. Jaehyun, maybe your closest friend in your university, pouts at that. Dirty blonde hair fall in front of his eyes as he grounds, before he lets his forward press against his computer’s touchpad. The poor guy had been struggling for an hour now, the rhythm of his fingers tapping on his keyboard gradually loosing speed. You have to say, you were in the same situation, writing and rewriting the same sentences again, brain refusing to cooperate after already vomiting out a few large paragraphs. But, unlike your friend, you decided to stop there for the day, you still had a full week to finish it anyways.  

“I can’t do this anymore.”, the Korean grounds again, dramatic nature kicking in as his head snaps back, rolling backwards, the men cannot go a day without faking death.

“Save it, we still have a week to do it.”, you sigh out, but you don’t hide the smile growing on your face at his antics. Though, you don’t wait for his answer, saving your own file before closing your laptop.

“Six days. Six.”, he corrects, like a day changes anything anyways. See, Jaehyun needs to turn his paper in a single day before yours, since he had chosen to attend the very class twenty-four hours before you. Rolling your eyes, you know the men cannot read your facial expressions, bag turned as you drop all your belongings into your bag.

“You gonna stay ?”, you simply ask, there’s no need for you to point out the slight difference in days. Jaehyun nods fingers running on his touch pad as he zooms out his Word Documents, eyes scanning over his six pages for any underlined errors. “Well, good luck. I didn’t finish this, want it ?”, you ask, eyebrows slightly raised as you push the still fresh iced coffee towards your friend, who doesn’t need more, lips wrapping around the straw.

“Text me when you’re home.”, Jaehyun mumbles, mouth filled with tiny ice pieces, pieces he quickly swallows. “Don’t work too late, text me too.”, you finish it like you too usually do, quickly waving before you walk out of view.

“Are you done, Y/N ?”, another familiar voice calls you out, one you know pretty well by now. See, the coffee shop is getting more and more exposure as days go by, but it does not meet the owner and workers will forget about the regulars, like you. “For the day, yeah. Still have a few things to write but I should be done tomorrow or the day after.” You smile at the brunette, Hana, coffee “Flâner”’s cashier. As said, she’s a brunette with the longest locks you’ve ever seen. Or maybe she has black hair, you think it depends on the lighting. Anyways, she’s been there since the opening, working 4 days a week, greeting costumers with a smile and a light French accent whenever she spoke, thought you remember her saying she was born somewhere else.

“Ah, I hope you’ll have a good grade !”, she says cheerfully, black irises leaving your form as she places some cakes into their signature black box. “Is…Jaehyun staying ?”, the smallest asks, even behind the counter, you can’t help but notice her small, petite figure. It’s like she doesn’t dare to look at you, and a small smile stretches your lips. Oh…She doesn’t hide her crush very well. You wonder, is Jaehyun staying late for another reason as well ?

“Ah, yeah. He’s proofreading what he wrote today.”, you explain, fainting obliviousness.

“Oh, alright !”, she responds with a smile, eyes flickering from your figure to the your friend’s. You’re about to leave, let them somewhat alone if you forget about the three other costumers drinking their tea, when your eyes fall the small cakes she’s arranging behind the glass. And god, how they look tasty. You guess they’re make of a chocolate mousse, a shortbread at the bottom, your mouth salivates. As said, you’re not the Bree Van de Kamp of your building but, if you’re going to greet your new neighbors today, shouldn’t you bring something ? And no, you’re definitely not doing this because of what happened this morning, no way.

“What are these ?”, you ask, taking a step closer.

“Un royal !”, she answers in French, your eyes squint as you try to say it back. How the fuck does she do that -r sound.

“Can I have two of them ? And a croissant, please.”, you order, hand already fishing for your phone. God, this shop will make you go bankrupt, they will also make you addicted to their food, if you’re not already.

“Sure, ma’am !”, the young girl answers, before she grabs yet another black box. Fingers push the cardboard until it takes the shape desired, iron tool dropping the cakes into it. You’ve done this so many times, it’s ironic. Right hand grabs the box, left hand turning your phone screen towards the young girl so she can scan the code.

“Thank you, good bye !”

“See you soon, Y/N !”

The glass door is pushed with a shoulder, smile stretching your painted lips when you give another look inside the shop, catching Jaehyun walking up to the counter. “Buying three coffees isn’t a way to flirt, Jaehyun.”, you laugh to yourself before leaving.

It looks like the sun is about to set, sunlight a lot less aggressive compared to the beginning of the afternoon. Cakes in hand, the walk to your building is a short one, though you come across the Hwang family from the fourth floor going to the park, greeting the mother with a smile, waving lightly at the twins she’s holding hands with. Ah, you really do love this area, you think as you walk along the park’s barrier, catching a few giggles and screams from young kids. And, from the sound of it, they started opening the water in the fountains.

“Cakes again !”, Sangkyu might be on the older side, he still has some sharp eyes, you note. The door closes behind you with a small noise, the lock activating itself. “Yes, cakes again.”, you say, shooting him a fake-ly offended glare, left hand to your chest. “But these aren’t for me, they’re for the new neighbor.”, you point out, walk slowing down in front of the men’s cubicle.

“Ah ! Mister Suh and…”, his face contours as he tries his best to recollect the second name. Oh, maybe it was a couple, good thing you got two cakes, even though you got one for yourself… “Right ! His roommate, Mister Leechayapornkul !”, his features light up with a smile as he correctly – you assume – recollects the second name. Ah, a roommate, you think, interesting. “Oh, I didn’t know they were two. I’m going to introduce myself now.”, you tell him with a smile.

“Ah, by the way, have you heard ? Miss and Mister Jeon want to organize something for the building’s anniversary, I’ll keep you up to date !”

On that, you leave the old men with a smile, quickly strolling to the elevator. The metal cubicle stops at the third floor, a young girl you don’t really know polite greets you before pushing the fifth button floor, she’s probably friends with the kids on that floor.

“Floor number nine, floor number nine.”, the metal doors open on your small hallway, and for the first time, you walk towards the right door. Deep, dark green color like yours, your shoes barely make a noise on the light beige carpet as they lead you to your neighbors’ place. You stay there for a second, mind questioning the dumbest things, should you wait a bit ? How many times should you knock…? Raising your fist up, the first joints of pointer and middle finger tap a few times on the dark wood. One, two, three. You wait.

Though, everything seems silent, if it’s not for the small noise of the elevator going up and down. Are they…Not there ? A small pout on your lips, you shift on your feet, both hands grabbing onto the black box. The apartment was silent, you guessed your new neighbors were not there, your luck.

From : Jaehyun, 8:37 pm. : “im home !!” : “ended up proofreading and wrote the second to last part” The well familiar name flashes on your phone, alongside a picture you took when you visited his family on the country side. Jaehyun’s rather tall body’s folded as he tries to ride on a small tricycle, legs so long his knees are above the handlebars. Quickly, your thumbs tap on the small keyboard as you walk toward your room.

After entering your bedroom, you decided to eat a bit earlier, taking a shower before going back to your guitar. The shower was a cold one, if the sun had already set, the air was dense, heavy. Moments after stepping out of your shower, a thin layer of sweat managed to gather around your hairline. It’s like the weather suddenly switched to the middle of summer, and you definitely were not ready for it.

To : Jaehyun, 8:38 pm. : “is it because of the third coffee you bought :D ?”

To : Jaehyun, 8:40 pm. : “…i do not know what youre talking about .” To : Jaehyun, 8:40 pm. : “when are you gonna ask her ?”

You send the message before locking your phone, throwing the devise on your bed. You’re quick to set up your guitar, since you left you amp’ plugged in yesterday. Right index flicks the switch up, before you plug the Jack cable in. However, as you’re about to flop on your bed again, you notice the screen of your phone lightening up as your college friend calls you.

“How did you know ?”, it the first think he asks, tone whiny, the second you accept the call and press the speaker button. “It is very much obvious, Jaehyun.”, you laugh out, left hand finding its place around the neck of your black and white guitar as you bring it on your lap.

“Do you she’s int-.”, Jaehyun starts as you play out a few random chords, thumb stroking the six strings ever so softly. “Yes.”, you cut him before he even manages to finish his sentence. “She’s into you. I thought you knew.”

“I, uh, I wasn’t sure.”, he mumbles, and you hear his fork pick whatever his eating. After hanging out around the male for some years now, you figured your good friend was a bit clueless when it came to his looks and charms. Yes, Jaehyun knows that’s he’s handsome, you don’t miss the opportunity to remind him whenever he gets dressed up or send you a selfie, as a good and supportive friend.

But, Jaehyun doesn’t really weight the affect he has on girls, guys, and everyone in between. You remember when this guy in your Music Therapy class, and another girl, you don’t really remember what hear studies were about, but she was in your distant group circle and they both had a big – massive – you’d say, crush on your friend. You remember both of them throwing some light hints at first, thought the girl went a bit harder after as the first eventually dropped it. Jaehyun, him, was completely oblivious until you told him one night, when he was staying over after a night out. “Ask her out already !”, you sign out, left hand over your guitar’s string, blocking any sound.

“I will soon, okay ! Give me some time, I’m…Thinking about the right way to do it.”, your friend starts, drinking something in between his words. “Anyways, moving on ! How’s your neighbor ?”

You sigh at the question, opening your laptop as you search in your files for something to play, you really should organize your things a bit better, you think to yourself.

“They weren’t there.”, you breath out, eyes unconsciously flickering to the window. From this angle, you can’t really see much, apart from the vague shapes behind the curtains, yellowish light on before you even came in your room.

“They ? Oh…Is it a couple ?”, Jaehyun asks, tone slightly disappointed. See, this morning, you obviously told your friend about the airdrop…Thing. Obviously, you had texted him before going to sleep but decided to keep much of the details for a real life conversation. After a hushed story-time, eyes travelling to your teacher every now and then to make sure he was not looking at you, you told him about what happened this morning.

Of course, it immediately poked the blonde’s curiosity, who would not be. As said, you and Jaehyun had been friends for some years now. When you two met, he was in a relationship that ended a few months after, you being there for him had strengthen the bond, he had been single ever since and you, had been single all the way. Sure, you had a few crushes, two or three people shooting there shot but, the crushes were always short-lived, nothing serious.

So, when Jaehyun heard that you found someone attractive after months of radio silence of the channel of your earth, someone who lives next to you at that, your friend jumped on the occasion, already hoping for something to happen before you even got to introduce yourself to the guy.

“I don’t know, Sangkyu said they’re two roommates.”, you inform, trying to recall the two names the oldest men told you hours before.

“…Are you sure you don’t want me to stalk ?”, Jaehyun proposes for the second time today. As soon as you finished your small story this morning, the Korean asked if you wanted him to do some stalking, promising and selling his apparently, amazing, skills in the domain.

“Jaehyun, no. I didn’t even introduce myself.”, you breathe out, half-desperate, half laughing at his antics. “Alright, alright. Go see them soon, alright ?”, there’s a small silence, you simply hum at his question. “Play me something while I do the dishes.”, your friend yawns and you oblige pretty quickly, after finally finding a song to practice to. Maybe you need a little more practice on the song, one by Frank Ocean in the “channel ORANGE” album he put out in 2012, if you recall correctly. On the other line, the sound of water running and dishes being done drowns the voice of your friend slightly singing to the song, one you two have on the collective Spotify playlist you have. Your attention stays on your screen, just in case you forget a chord and, as you’re starting the second chorus, something comes between your eyes and the sheet. Your hand comes flat on your guitar strings, stopping the music at once. You already know what it is.

Jaehyun does not stop the water, but his voice does comes closer, microphone muted every now and then as you hear him struggle. “Why did you- Oh, fuck, nooo. There’s sop everywhere.” You laugh breathlessly at his whines, eyes quickly looking at the black screen of your phone, like you’d be able to see your friend. Though, you hear him wipe his screen, cloth going over his microphone again.

“There ! Why did you stop ?”, he asks, bringing his mouth a bit too close to his phone. Staying silent for a second, your finger tap on yet another Airdrop. “He sent another one.”, you simply say, a bit quietly, as if your neighbor will be able to hear you. Pupils look over at the window, you almost want to get up and walk to your window but…

Jaehyun gasps softly over the phone, “Play it, play it.”, he says as you’re scanning the sheet sent. And oh, he’s that type. It’s crazy how two songs alone help you draw a quick sketch of your neighbor’s personality, or his music taste at the very least. Unlike yesterday, you don’t hesitate and open the file sent, though you have to say you already know the chords.

“Jae’. He sent The Neighbourhood’s Daddy Issues.”, you squick into the phone after grabbing into with your right hand. Jaehyun knows well, you still love the band but had an unhealthy obsession a few years back, not to mention your massive crush on Zach Abels.

“Oh. Ooh. He’s like that.”, Jaehyun notes as well, before he presses you again to play it. Urged by your friend, you lean forward to adjust the reverb on your guitar. “That’s…Kinda hot, though.”, your friend whispers out and you, yourself, can’t comprehend the sound that comes from your lips, something between a laugh and a choked gasp.

“Jae’…What ?”

“No, but, I mean…Daddy Issues, that’s hot.”, he tries to explain himself, you quickly shut him up by running your fingers over the six strings. You don’t really need to look at the tabs, from memory, your fingers find their rightful place.

“3D, 5D, 3G, 5D, 5B, 5G.”, you say as you play the notes, humming the rest as you play the intro.

“C minor, G minor, B flat major.”, and from then, you remember the song pretty easily. Between two chords, you turn the volume on your guitar up, just to make sure your neighbor’s hearing you play.

“That’s flirting.”, concludes Jaehyun once you’re done with the song, you know him well enough to know his mouth a bit agape.

“It is not.”, you tell him, though you’re not sure yourself what this is.

“You have to talk to him like, right now.”, he urges so loudly you have to turn the volume on your phone down.

“Now ? No ! I’m in my pyjamas, and I don-.”, you start, and it’s your friend’s turn to cut you off. “’kay, okay ! Go talk to him tomorrow, please ?”

“I will, don’t worry.”, you start, but before you can continue, you’re phrase’s cut again but this time, it’s by…A piano.

Your mouth parts for a second, a single syllable falling from your lips before you close your mouth. The tune’s familiar, but you never heard in played on a piano. Your head slowly raises, eyes fixated on your window.

“Can you hear this ?”, you quietly ask Jaehyun, who answers with a soft “Yeah”, sounding as dumbfounded as you do. Slowly, you get up from your bed, leaving your guitar on your bed, that’s when you realize how hot it is. The fabric of your shirt sticks to your skin, hands lacing into your hair as your push them up in a makeshift ponytail to let your neck get some air.

It's after a few notes that you finally put your finger on it. The Weeknd's last album, “After Hour”. “Repeat after me.”, you tell Jaehyun, I single “Oh” coming from his lips as he recolls the song.So he's a musician as well, you conclude easily. You never heard anyone play this very song on the piano, you wonder if it's his own arrangement.

On the other end of the line, the blonde's silent, carefully listening to the soft piano tunes as you do the same. Few steps take you to your window again, just like you did this morning. This time, curtains are pulled to the side, enough for you to  see the same broad shoulders under a black hoodie, back straight as his head hangs down towards the keyboard.

From your spot, you can't really see his fingers, but you do see his hands quickly running over the black and whites, pressing confidently. Seeing a pianist's always mesmerising, eyes stuck on the figure, you try your best to get a better view but, what can you do from your room ?

When the song ends, unlike this morning, you don't hide behind your wall. Your neighbor doesn't move, stretching his arms above his head, fingers laced together, a curse falls down your lips.

“Y/N. Send him a sheet.”

It's around five in the afternoon when you find yourself in front of your neighbor's door, holding a black box of cakes, for the second time this week. Your classes had ended two hours earlier today and maybe, maybe you should use that time to work on your assignment but since last night, you don't think you can go another day without introducing yourself to the building's new people. Plus, you have enough time, you tell yourself.

It's ironic, isn't it ? You weren't the type to go out of your way to speak to your neighbors, most didn't have a lot in common with you but now. Now, this nameless, a bit too handsome young guy moves in and you're bringing some patisseries in front of his door.

Music brings people together, you've always thought, you've always known and this, this is a pretty good example. You're pretty sure you wouldn't have went out of your way like this if the guy didn't send you a tab sheet, if he didn't play last night.

Like yesterday, you bring your first up, knocking a bit more confidently this time, thought you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

You barely have the time to let your hand fall down to your side when a deep, voice a bit far away let's out. “Coming !”

Of course, broad shoulder guy had to have a deep voice to go along side.

“Oh, hi.”, your soul almost jumps out of your body when the deep green door abruptly opens to reveal none other than your - handsome - neighbor.

“Hi...! Uh, I'm your next door neighbor, the name's Y/N.”, you let out, maybe you should thank your past self for practicing this very line right before stepping out of your apartment.

Your right hand's stretched out in front of your for him to shake, but your attention's on something else. Deep brown eyes stare down at you, they almost make you feel small. Or maybe they're a honey brown, you wonder as the plane blocking the sun finally moves away to reflect into his eyes.

Yes, definitely honey brown eyes, the same eyes that turn a crescent shape, just like before a full. moon.

He smiles at you with the same full lips you saw from your window, hands wrapping around your own.

“Ah, yes. Johnny, nice to meet you !”, he says, hand slowly shaking your own. Finally, a name on the face. You quickly notice the slight simple in the middle of his cheek before he lets go of your hand.

“Oh, I bought some cakes from the coffee shop down the street.”, you tell Johnny, both hands one the black box.

At this, his lips turn from a smile to an - o shape, eyes round. Maybe you guessed right at the moon phase.

“You didn't have to !”, your neighbor blurs out, hands at his sides for a few seconds before they eventually accept the gift when you slightly push the box towards him. Your eyes fall to his hands for a quick second and yes, definitely some pianist hands.

“It's just a small welcome gift ! I wanted to drop them yesterday but, I think you weren't there.”, you explain, a lot, lot more relaxed, though turning your attention away from the men's hands. This isn't the moment nor the place.

“Ah yeah, me and Ten we're out for the first grocery shopping trip.”, he explains, right shoulder leaning against his door frame. You get a quick glimpse at the apartment itself, though you don't look at it too long, everything looks already set up. You remember taking a week to get everything as home-like, but you guess having a second pair of arms help.

“Ten ?”, you ask, right hand wrapping around your left upper arm. Probably the one Sangkyu was talking about the other day.

“Yeah, he's my roommate.”, Johnny answers, letting a silence settle between the two of you. “Do you want to come in ? I won't be able to eat two cakes by myself.”, the men proposes after a few seconds, pupils landing on the black box. He probably saw the two cakes thank to the transparent part of the cardboard box, at the top.

Come in ? And... Eat with him ? Suddenly, your palms grow sweaty, slightly shifting one foot to another. “Oh, but. Your roommate.”, you mumble out.

Sure, at first, you bought two cakes, one for him and one for you. Though you thought you'd eat them by yourselves, when Sangkyu told you about the second person living there, you figured you'd keep the two cakes for your two neighbors.

“He's at his parents’ house to get some things, he won't be there until the day after tomorrow.”, the brunette tells you with a smile. His body moves a bit more, enough to let you enter. “Come on, I need someone to help me eat all of this.”

How can you say no to this ?

“Wait, it ends like that ? There’s no way he does that.”, laughs Johnny, a full laugh that shakes his chest, right under his plain white t-shirt. Short sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, his body leans back, black jeans covered legs spread on his one person sofa.

“I swear he does, watch the second season !”, you interject quickly, straw mixing the iced tea in your long glass, ice cubes clashing against each other before eventually melting away.

“Yeah, I guess I will…! I never thought he’d kill her.”, you neighbor says, and he seems genuinely choked, bushy eyebrows raised.

After taking a step in his apartment, the pianist led you to the biggest sofa, where he left you for a few minutes. People say boys are bad at decorating their place, but you have to say Johnny and Ten’s apartment was already looking pretty good. Beige walls, a few black and white pictures were hung up right above the dark sofa. Wide windows on your left, your apartment has the opposite view. While you have a view towards the city center, street lights fascinating at night, Johnny has an amazing view on the park.

Large television right in front of you, you quickly notice de PlayStation 4 and switch neatly placed under it. On your right, just like your apartment, the small open kitchen, counter the only thing separating the two rooms. The honey-eyed seemed to have found his marks easily, navigating in the kitchen quickly. After taking out two plates and two small spoons, he placed the two cakes, refusing your help every time you offered it.

“Iced tea ?”, he had asked, taking out two long glasses when you agreed. Red hibiscus iced tea was poured and handed, before he sat in front of you. You do not remember well how the conversation around the series “You” started, but you recall seeing his Netflix profile on the tv screen.

“So, you live alone ?”, he asked after some seconds of silence, pillow lips wrapping around his metal straw.

“Yeah, I’ve been there for a year, I’d say.”, you start out, spoon digging into the chocolate mousse. “You’ll see, it’s lovely here.”, you tell Johnny with a smile he mirrors.

“I’m sure it is, everyone’s really nice. Especially Sangkyu.”, you laugh at that, the old men really has the power to give one memorable first impression.

“Ah, Sangkyun-.”, you laugh, “He’s something.”, you point out, yourself taking a sip of the iced tea. “Really good memory too, he made fun of me for buying two sets of guitar picks in a few months span.”

“Oh, right, the guitarist.”, Johnny smiles, placing his empty plate on his table. Pink tongue pokes out to wet his lips, your eyes shamefully follow the movement before forcing yourself to find his honey eyes again.   There it was, you didn’t know when nor how to bring the subject up, but you were thankful it happened naturally. For two people, two strangers, the conversation was going pretty well.

“Exactly ! By the way, sorry if the music’s too loud.”, you add quickly, yourself reaching towards the table to leave your empty glass. You’ll have to ask for the receipt. Johnny’s reaction is almost comical, his head shaking from left to right. “No, no ! It’s not too loud, not at all. T-That’s why I sent you a sheet, I liked it.”, he blurs he words out quickly, cute, you think.

Crossing one leg over the other, your eyes shift to the left for a quick second at the small compliment. “Thank you. You’re a good pianist.”, you return with a smile, spoon scraping the last bit of biscuit.

“Thank you very much, it means a lot. Have you been playing for long ?”, he asks, glass a quarter full left on the table. His right arm comes behind his sofa’s backrest, getting more comfortable.

“Since I was…eleven. Got an acoustic for my birthday and ended up selling it for an electric a year and a half later. What about you ?”, you explain, remembering the light brown instrument your parents got for you, you also remember it being way, way too big.

“Ah, yeah, I’ve always liked the sound of an electric guitar better. I was seven, or eight. My mother wanted me to learn and I ended up really liking it.”, he explains, fingers tapping on the sofa’s fabric.

Music brings people together, you tell yourself a second time when Johnny tells you about how her mother loves the sound of a piano, how she’d always stop next to her when he played. A kind of art that helps you learn more about a person, when he tells you his favorite songs to play and you tell him yours.

“But you do have a real pianist’s hands !”, you argue back when Johnny down plays one of your compliments, to which the brunette looks down. Crescent shaped eyes fall on his ring clapped fingers, a small smile on his lips he struggles to hide. “You noticed ?”, he asks, and you try to convince yourself his voice did not get lower.

“Well, yeah. A music student always looks at people’s hands.”, nice save, Y/N.

You learn the young men kept music as a hobby and currently studies international commerce et economics, Ten is a long, long time friend pursuing performing arts. You learn your neighbor’s not only a good looking men, brown locks falling in front of his, nose crunching up every time he finds something funny, rosy lips tugging up to reveal a row of white pearls. He’s also extremely well mannered. Soft spoken, polite, his chuckles put you in a comfort zone, the way he almost doesn’t let you help him clean the two plates a bit too cute. You find his presence entertaining.

Maybe it’s because you just met him, things to learn about him awaiting, but you don’t see the hours running by, nor does he.

It’s around ten post meridiem when Johnny insists to walk you to your door, handwritten receipt of his hibiscus iced tea in hand.

“Do you want me to st-”, Jaehyun asks over the phone for the third time in a week, or maybe for the fourth time, you lost count. Your devise rests right next to your laptop, which is propped on your desk.

“No, Jae'. I don't want you to stalk him.”, you breathe out into your microphone, fingertips tapping on your touchpad at a random rhythm. A paragraph, the conclusion, and you should be done on your essay.

“Too late. Got him !”, he almost chants out and, at that, there's a silence. Clear sign of your disappointment and your blonde friend's concentration. “Oh, wow. He's a photographer too ?”, he asks as if you can see his screen.

You hate it, you hate how your curiosity gets picked by the simple sentence. Needless to say, Jaehyun was filled in by every bit of information you got once Johnny walked you to your door, at least he waited two days before searching for your new neighbor's Instagram. Or at least you think.

“Oh wow. OH. Woah.”, your friend gasps into his microphone, your index taps aggressively on your keyboard, deleting the last sentence you wrote. He’s obviously doing it on purpose, pushing your bottoms. The blonde knows how curious you are, he’s just trying to see how long you can keep it together.

“Uh, Ja-. Show me, what did you find ?”, not very long, obviously.

“Ah, see ! Wait, I'll send you some screenshots. He's hot.”

He is, you want to answer, but would rather shut your mouth for now or you’ll never hear the end of it. Eyes finally leaving the screen of your laptop, they travel to another, finger unlocking your phone.

Your text messages with your friend enlighten your features, bubble appearing at the bottom.

“Finding him was extremely easy.”, Jaehyun points out, before a few screenshots are sent at the same time.

And indeed, you see how easy it must've been for your blonde boy. User johnnyjsuh.

He must've been pretty popular in his old schools, you think after looking at his followers.

Pictures of him in the same white shirt you saw him in days prior, pictures of him with an argentic camera, selfies, mirror selfies, outfit pictures. His feed is almost as good as Jaehyun's. And that says something.

Unlike Jaehyun, you don't have to be careful, worried you'll accidentally like one of his pictures. Shamelessly zooming on the screenshots your university friend sent you, you unconsciously pull your bottom him between your teeth.

He's cute. Too handsome it should be illegal.

“That's a lot but, yeah.”, Jaehyun giggles, you learn you don't have much of a filter between your mind and mouth. “Follow him !”

“Are you crazy ?”, you almost scream out, eyes wide at the suggestion. “He'll know we searched him up.”

Basic social media rules, you can't follow the guy when you don't even have his number, nor talked to him more than twice at this point, if him talking to you in the elevator counts.

“Alright, alright. Don't scream in my ears like that, I have earphones.”, he complains, not leaving you a second before continuing. “Y/N, don't be a coward, airdrop something.”

“I-.”, you start out, attention drown back to your computer. With one tap of your finger, you manage to hide your word document, piano sheet open behind it. You’ve searched a few sheets the day prior, downloading one before going to sleep that night, just in case.

After all, he sent you two tabs, why wouldn't you send him something ?

Tap, tap, you open the airdrop settings. You really should, hm ?

“Alright. I'm doing it.”, you finally say, more to yourself but your friend softly cheers on anyways.

“Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish.”, from the songs he sent you, it's a fair guess your neighbor is familiar with this one too, you’d doubt he doesn’t know who Billie Eilish is.

“Johnny's IPhone”, it's a click away. One you reach, tapping on the touch pad again. Sent. There.

“Now we wait.”, you announce, leaning back .

“Tell me if anything happens, I have a call to take.”

On that, simple goodbyes are said, you promise Jaehyun you’d tell me if anything happens, he hangs up after saying good bye a second time.

Minutes go by, you don't really know how many, maybe five where you debate going back to your essay, finger frantically tapping on the Word Document icon. Before a few notes are heard.

Piano notes, fingers pressed down on white and black keys. It has the power to make you smile, lips tugging upwards, there’s obviously not a doubt who’s playing at this very moment. Even the way he plays feels confident, he's sure of himself, he knows what he's doing.

Attention for your school work long gone, your pupils naturally find your window again.

It's slightly open, the music would come in easier if it was fully pushed, you think to yourself.

Do you even have to hide anymore ? You guess not. He knows, you know, it's just music you want to enjoy, you convince yourself even though your palms are slightly warm, heart fluttering in your chest.

Leaving your phone on your desk, you quickly walk to your window, right hand in the handle pushes it towards yourself. Warm breeze enters your bedroom, in a soft gush that sends your baby hairs floating away from your face, framing your features.

The sun's just starting to set, purple hue tiger stripes on the blue sky but your eyes are on another shade of purple.

Johnny's wearing a light lilac hoodie, brown locks the only thing you can see, he hasn't moved his piano, his back facing you again.

Forearms against the window frame, you lean forward, humming at the summer sent floating in the air.

A bit too quickly, your neighbor ends the song, hands lingering on the keyboard. Finally, his right hand grabs the very phone he propped up on his piano to see the sheet you sent him, sliding it in his back pocket.

He stands up, fingers toying with a button on his instrument, probably turning some things off.

He turns around, you don't duck to the side.

The men's visibly taken back, his turn stopping mid-way, lips slightly parting for a second. Honey brown eyes find yours before his pupils travel down at your body behind your glass window. He genuinely smiles after a few seconds, eyes half crescents, full lips tugging upwards, you can almost hear his giggle.

“Hi.”, voice soft, Johnny says once he opened his own window a bit more, forearms on his frame, mirroring your own posture.

“Hey, that was very good.”, you tell him, head tilting to your left.

“Ah, thank you. I messed up somewhere in the beginning, though.”, one hand scratches the back of his neck like an embarrassed teenager, before his elbow rests on the frame, hand holding his jaw.

“Ah shoot, I'll send something easier next time.”, you tease, to which he laughs lightly, the sound airy.

“Would be easier to send it by text, wouldn't it ?”, Johnny asks, one eyebrow raised and you have to say, you took a second to understand. But when the brunette hands you his phone, pricy devise between two apartments on the ninth floor, your eyes grow wide.

Your number, he wants your number.

Probably just because you two are neighbors, you have a bunch of your neighbors’ phone number too...

And also probably because sending sheet via airdrop isn't the most convenient thing in the world. Don’t over think it, Y/N. Don’t overthink it.

Two hands grab his phone, just in case, and you struggle to remember your phone number all of a sudden.

You have to retract in your room, too scared you're going to drop the devise with your slightly trembling hands before eventually typing in your name and phone number. You don’t get why you’re so nervous, maybe it’s because Johnny didn’t stop looking at you, slightly giggling at your antics.

“Oh, by the way. I'm sorry if sending that tab sheet the first time was too much. I just couldn't resist.”, Johnny blurs out once he gets his phone back, sliding it back into his pocket. It’s his turn to look slightly nervous, hand rubbing at his shoulder.

“Ah, no, not at all ! It was fun, plus I think we might share the same music taste.”, you reassure him with a smile.

“Really ? You should send me your playlists.”, your neighbor says with an enthusiastic tone, eyes lightening up.

If Jaehyun was there, he'd tell you this was blatant flirting. Maybe you'd agree. At that very moment, you thank your past self for having a pretty organized Spotify accounts, you're one of these people with matching playlists accounts and vague names, a playlist for each feeling almost.

“Yeah, sure ! I'll send you my Spotify user !”, you immediately tell him, as keen as he is.

“Nice, and I c-.", his sentence is abruptly cut by a surprised noise falling from his lips, brown eyes looking up at the sky. He sticks out his right hand, palm up.

Rain starts pouring down.

Saturday, laundry day. It’s not a moment you particularly cherish but at least, you do not have to walk meters or kilometers to wash your clothes. Half thorn basket on your left hip, your right hand mindlessly scrolls through Johnny’s playlist, small smile on your features.

See, after the rain started pouring down, you two decided to return to your rooms in unanimity. Now that he had your number, communication was a lot, lot easier. As promised, you sent him your Spotify profile, where he followed you and you did the same.

User youngho’s listening to “The Weekend – SZA” from “late summer nights and city lights” playlist.

Your playlist.

User citylight’s listening to “Angelina – WIINSTON” from “yellow” playlist. His playlist.

Blatant flirting, Jaehyun would say.

Johnny has his playlist organized by colors, a simple theme you quite like. You have to say, you like all of them but, you had to follow his “purple”, “blue” and “yellow” playlist, where your neighbor managed to capture the color’s feeling. However, after a few days, the “red” playlist sat untouched. You didn’t dare. For having a similar playlist Johnny was actually shamelessly listening to, you knew exactly what the “red” playlist held.  

To : Johnny, 1:25 pm. : “how does angelina only has 40k view on youtube !!”

You quickly type on your keyboard, right after saving the said song to your likes. Finding new artist and finding new song’s always fun, especially when Johnny’s as invested as you are. He’d send you his thoughts on some songs, and you quickly learned the brunette was musically more intelligent than some people in your course.

From : Johnny, 1:27 pm. : “I honestly don’t know….” : “It’s such a catchy song too like”

Double text. Fuck, Jaehyun really got into your brain, didn’t he ? The notification bar slides down for a few seconds, enough for you to read his texts. At the same time, the metallic doors of your elevator open up to the lobby. Leaving your devise in your basket of dirty clothes, you figure you’d answer in a few minutes, once you’re done with your laundry.

“Good afternoon, Sangkyu !”, you call out the the older men before he manages to see you. It’s a fun thing you like to do, catching him off guard whenever you can. Turning his face towards you, the bold men vigorously waves.

“Y/N ! Hello !”

You don’t stop by his cubicle, rather turn to your left right before. There’s built the building’s laundry unit, you thank the architect every week for this. You do pay a little for it every month but again, it’s better than having to walk for minutes with a basket of heavy fabric. Four small machines and four bigger, it’s enough for everyone in the building. It’s also where some announcements are tapped, probably because people usually sit around the laundry room waiting for their clothes.

You’re probably going to watch an episode of Chambers while your clothes watch, you think to yourself as you open the door. It seems the universe has some other plans for you.

By now, it’s almost comical how easily you recognize Johnny’s back. Brown t-shirt on his broad shoulders, his head bob to a rhythm you can’t hear. He’s dropping his wet clothes in the machine to dry them, face turning towards the noise as you close the heavy door behind you.

“Oh, Y/N, hey !”, his smile is heard through his voice, right hand taking his earphones one. Johnny places his Airpods in their case, one you quickly notice is Marvel themed.

“Hey, Johnny.”, you wave with a hand, taking your earphones off as well.

“I was just listening to your playlist.”, the brunette says, shaking his earphones in his hand. You laugh at that, leaving your basket on the table. You assume the second basket there is Johnny’s. “Same !”

There’s a comfortable silence, the brunette pushes a few buttons on the machine and his clothes are sent for a cycle. You, yourself, drop your clothes in the washing machine after setting your phone on the brown table. You’re about to turn around and sit down, but you’re abruptly blocked by a tall figure, accidently bumping into Johnny’s chest.

“Oh, sorry.”, he breathes out, you hear him place another basket on his machine, right hand on your shoulder as if his chest did anything more than surprise you. “No worries…How many clothes do you have ?”, you ask with a laugh, not meaning to sound rude. But your neighbor’s dumping a second whole basket into the machine right next to you.

“Ah, Ten. He needs an entire outfit every day. Sometimes he even changes in the middle of the day.”, the machine quietly starts after the blue liquid is poured, Johnny leans against it. You’ve never seen your neighbor so up close, how is his face so symmetrical ? Slender eyes curling inwards, short little lashes batting a few times.

“Y/N ?”, fuck. His lips sure were moving and you didn’t register anything at all, you probably look dumb.

“I’m sorry, wh- what did you say ?”, clearing your throat, your eyes travel down to the machine, looking at the settings like you forgot to turn something on.

“I found your guitar picks. I mean, I assumed they’re yours.”, he says again, but he doesn’t hide the wide smile on his lips. You probably look dumb, really dumb. Right hand fishes into his back open, before he presents what indeed is one of your guitar picks, the light blue one. He holds it between his thumb and index, you notice he does so the right way, maybe he plays guitar.

“Oh, yeah. That’s definitely mine. Where did you find it…?”, you half ask, already knowing the possible answer. His palm opens to reveal not one, but two other picks of different colors.

“Washing machine.”, he says simply.

You learn Johnny uses a detergent that smells like vanilla and some flower blossom you can not distinguish, but the smell sure is comforting. It floats in the air as he folds his clothes next to you while doing a very detailed report on The Weeknd’s new album.

“But he’s right, though. “Repeat after me” is just a song where he brainwashes her but it’s so good.”, you tell Johnny while you take care of your wet clothes.

“His storytelling skills just keep getting better.”, he approves while popping a candy in his mouth. “Want some ?”

“Oh yeah, thanks !”, dropping the small chocolate in your hand, both your attentions are caught by the sound of the door opening. A lady in her mid-thirties enters the room, dyed red hair stopping at her shoulders.

“Miss Jeon, hi !”, you great the lady with a smile, one she easily returns. For the entire year you’ve been there, you don’t think you ever saw her without one tugging her lips.

“Hey, kids !”

Ah, yes. Miss Jeon also insists on calling everyone slightly younger than her “kid”. You don’t mind, though. You notice the rolled up paper in her right hand as she takes the hairband out.

“Doing laundry, eh ?”, she starts out, “Ah, it’s a great thing you two are here. Me and my husband are organizing a little gathering for the building’s anniversary.”

Right, Sangkyu told you about it, you remember. You hear Johnny hum behind you, to what Miss Jeon continues.

“It’ll be Saturday in two weeks ! Johnny, you and your roommate could come and get to know everyone a bit better, yeah ? Though I see you’ve already made friends with our Y/N.” Oh no, there she goes. You love the Jeons, but they’re so, so talkative, and they never know when to stop. They’re like parents taking your old embarrassing pictures out when your friends are over. Your eyes grow wide, a slightly embarrassed chuckle coming out of your lips.

The lady struggles to unwrap the paper, to which Johnny leaves the shirt he was folding to help her out.

“Ah, thank you. You know, Y/N isn’t really that talkative, but I think it’s because we didn’t share a lot in common, and we’re not as young and handsome as you.”

God. Stuck on your chair, wide eyes look at the scene as your neighbor chuckles. “Oh, really ?”, he urges her to continue to your misbelief,  but you quickly understands he’s doing it on purpose, crescent eyes sparkling with amusement as he looks over at you, the young and handsome bit wasn’t necessary but it sure did boost his ego.

Miss Jeon finally unfolds the paper, a big announcement on the anniversary gathering she’s holding. In the park, with the date and hour, you guess you should find an appropriate dress for the event and something to eat to bring.

“Anyways, it’s great having new faces ! You’ll come, right ?”, sticking he paper to the wall, the lady claps her hands, a little joyful jump when Johnny nods.

“Yeah. We’ll go together, yeah ?”

You learn Johnny isn’t only a good looking guy, he’s also a really good friend.

The friendship grows easily, after Miss Jeon left, he helps you out with your clothes while already planning what to bring for the gathering. The brunette tells you he’s better at cooking salty dishes than sugary cakes. You agree on that, it’s one of the many reasons why you buy anything sugary at the coffee shop down the street. Nonetheless, you and your new neighbor decide to challenge yourselves, you propose some French crepes and Johnny agrees on using his kitchen for it, with the help of Ten who’ll surely be here. Surely, the kids living in the buildings would love them and, they aren’t that hard to make.

You two walked to your apartment floor, basket in hand, though Johnny’s ability to carry two at the same time is rather impressive. One on top of the other, you try to be as discreet as possible when your eyes travel down to his arms, flexing, to his ring clapped fingers, gripping at the handles. He doesn’t walk you to your door but, is it really necessary ?

It’s funny how the universe seems so willing to put him on your path.

Every now and then, you catch a glimpse of the men through your window, walking in his room, mindlessly walking back and forth when he’s thinking about a composition, pen taking on his full bottom lip. He seems really concentrated whenever he tries to write something, eyebrows furrowed, whispering quietly to himself. He catches you carelessly dancing to songs late at night under your lights, moving like nobody’s watching, hands in the air as the singer’s angelic voice seems to control your body, silently giggling when you catch his eyes and abruptly stop.

He seems to vaguely have the same schedule as you do, you see him getting ready some days of the weeks, applying cream on his face like the first time you ever caught a glimpse at his sharp features at a distance. And you bump into him in the elevator every other day, both so exhausted with your classes, heavy backpack carelessly throws over your shoulders, so tired you two would rather smile and stay silent in the metal cubicle. You see him with his roommate a few times too, the first time happens to be right in front of their door, both of them carrying two bags of groceries.

Finally, you’re introduced to Ten, a much smaller and a bit thinner guy, though you quickly find out his personality might be as big as Johnny himself. His bright smile and laugh are both extremely contagious, and you also notice for yourself how much he cares about his appearance. Just like Johnny told you when you first saw him in the laundry unit, he wears different outfits like he’s going for a runway every day. Sharp eyes covered under his jet black hair, you can’t help but notice the multiple piercings on his ears.

Funny enough, you catch your new friend at the “Flâner” coffee shop, getting the exact same cake you brought him and some dark coffee, he tells you he got addicted to everything they do but regret not having enough time to sit down and study here.

On top of that, he never stops texting you, you never stop texting him. Conversation flows easily to the point where you sometimes have to pause to type out a response while you’re on the phone with Jaehyun.

Ah, your dear friend Jaehyun. Your blonde friend follows the events like a drama, though you tell him multiple times that “Nothing will happen, we’re just neighbors.”

Are you, though ? You don’t know if neighbors send each other sheet, you and Johnny never stopped, it became easier with his number. You don’t know if neighbors talk to each other by the windows, for so long it leaves marks on both your arms at the end of the night, red dent on your skin. You don’t know if normal neighbors talk to each other that much.

You and Johnny tip toe on the lines between neighbors and friends, the line between friends and…a little more ? The line snaps right before the building’s anniversary.

Thursday, one in the afternoon when the metal doors of your elevator open to your hallway. The sun’s shining, birds singing, your teacher’s car broke down, leaving you with a free day. Truly, the universe was on your side, you thought when you got the text from your classmate. After texting Jaehyun who told you he already went to the mall at your opposite, you decided to use that time to buy some curtains and take a day off your studies. A well deserved day off, you might add.

After searching again and again, you thought it’d be better to get new ones. You remember the old ones got dirty anyways. Plus, it’s not like you want to hide yourself from Johnny, he has some and you figure you should too for some privacy every now and then. A pack of clear curtains in your hands and some cushions in a bag for your living room, you step out of the metal cubicle, only to be greeted by a Johnny standing right in front of your door. Attention caught by the sound, your friend turns around, half expecting to see you and, he looks slightly flustered ? Short eyelashes bat a few times, rosy cheeks as he opens his month just to close it right after.

“Hey, Johnny ?”, you start, completely clueless at first, you don’t notice the white fabric he has in his hand. “Do you need something ?”, you ask, setting down all the new things you bought down, alongside your bag as you fish for your keys inside.

“I-uh…”, he starts. Why is his voice so shaky ? Eyebrows slightly raised, a knee down, you look up at your friend with a curious look. At that, the brunette looks away. Honey eyes diverge to his right as he shifts his body from left to right.

“Johnny ?”, keys in hand, you rise to your feet, slightly turning away to open your door, struggling a little at the last lock.

“We uh, got some clothes mixed up.”, he tells you, pink hue on his cheeks. You take a few seconds to understand, before recalling the meeting in the laundry unit.

“Oh ! I didn’t even notice anything missing.”, you tell him with a laugh, before your smile wavers to a more…stunned expression. The white fabric he’s holding in a hand, you only need a second look to distinguish the lace waistline you know too well. Your panties. He’s holding your panties. God, you didn’t even notice ? You wear these often, you don’t have that much panties. “Oh.”, you say again, with a much different tone. Heat washes over your body, a much deeper shade of pink coloring your cheeks.

Lips dry, you extend your hand down, almost timid to hold your own piece of clothing.

Johnny stays quiet, handing you the white underwear, hand hiding in his pocket right after.

“Erhm, thank you.”, you mumble out, hiding the fabric behind the pack of clear curtains, like he did not have the time to look at it before.

“I’m sorry, I found them in my shirts this morning and I first thought about just leaving them at your door but it would’ve been even more awkward.”, he laughs slightly, hand rubbing at the back of his nape again. You laugh lightly at that, it sure would’ve been even weirder to find your panties in a box in front of your door. Creepier too.

“Would’ve been very Joe-like.”, you tell him with a smile, the atmosphere immediately a lot less tense. You’re thankful for it, it’s clear Johnny didn’t want things to be…weird either. He laughs a little, cheeks high, before noticing your new purchase, especially your curtains.

“Oh, redecorating a bit ?”, his arms cross in front of him, biceps building up, stretching the sleeves of his shirt. “Ah, a little. I just needed new curtains, I forgot where I stored the old ones.”, you tell him, shoulder leaning again your door. “Putting them on was a nightmare.”, you sigh a little, head resting on your door as well. When you first moved in, you had to put the curtains all alone and only remember the ache in your neck and arms.

“…Was it ?”, he asks with a sly smile, eyebrows lightly furrowed like he’s questioning your experience.

“Some of us aren’t blessing with your height, Johnny.”, you tell him with a fakely annoyed glare, “I almost fell down and broke my back.”. You dramatize with a pout on your lip, to which Johnny only smirks lightly.

“Need some help ?”, Johnny finally, head tilting to the side. “I don’t want you breaking your back.” Yet, Johnny thinks.

“Ah, please !”, no need for him to propose a second time, you’d take anyone to help you with these demons any day, let alone someone like Johnny. One hand turns your door handle, proceeding to push it with your body. “Welcome to my humble home.”

Johnny lightly chuckles at your antics, curious eyes scanning over your apartment. It’s always weird to see an apartment so similar to yours yet so different, he hums at the sent of the light incense you blow out right before leaving. Sliding your shoes off, your friend follows quickly after, though he takes them with one hand to neatly store them right next to your door.

“It’s really pretty.”, he hums behind you as you walk towards your living room, letting the back full of cushions on your table. Smiling brightly as his compliment, you have to say you were pretty proud of your decorating skills. You took multiple months to pile everything you wanted up and, after a year, all your plants grew green and luscious.

“Thank you very much !”, hands gathering your hair, you quickly attach them with a hairband you always have on your wrist. “Do you want something to drink ?”

“Hm, maybe later ! Let’s start with these nightmare curtains first.”

“Alright, let me just get the stool.”, and on that, you take a second to remember exactly where you stored it before quickly jogging to the small closet near your entrance door. You don’t remember the last time you used it, you take a few seconds to take the cold iron object out of its hiding place, one foot stuck in a random box you still have there. You finally pull the object with a sharp tug and not without a small sound of struggle. Johnny is quick to grab into the heavy object and lets you take care of the pack you just bought. For the few seconds you take to move from your living room to your bedroom, you pray you didn’t leave anything too embarrassing there, you really didn’t think you’d have Johnny over today. But thankfully, when you open your bedroom door, the only think you left on your bed’s your pyjamas or rather, shirt you sleep in you didn’t fold the morning.

“So that’s the room.”, Johnny notices softly, the very room he seems fragments of from his own. Curious eyes look over your desk and the multiple things you sticked right above it, before they travel to the side he definitely never saw from his window. Denty fingers gaze at your guitar’s neck like he’s afraid of touching it without your permission, though it’s definitely clear you don not mind.

“It is ! Is it weird seeing it entirely ?”,  you joke a bit around as you sit the pack down on your desk. Scissors you leave on your desk are used to cleanly open the transparent protection as Johnny opens the stool and places it where he desires. “Really weird, I’m used to…this.”, he jokes too, thumbs and pointers digits forming a frame in front of his eyes. “And that’s what you see. My room looks so empty from here.”, Johnny notes, leaning a little in front of your window.

“It looks like you only have a bed and a piano in there.”, you tease him.

“I don’t ! I spent two entire days decorating it ! I’ll show you next time.”, he promises and somehow, it has the power to make your lips part a little, heat slightly burning your cheeks. The brunette doesn’t notice though, and immediately starts helping you out with your curtains.

Or rather, you help him. Johnny does most of the work on your curtains and you won’t complain. The men takes things into his hands, stepping onto the stool. Where you needed to climb the four steps, Johnny barely needs to climb two, body barely needing the extra height. His hands work quickly to detach the metal bar on each side, fingers twisting at the sides. When the black bar is finally off, he hands it to you so you can work on the hoops and slide the curtains in, which you do quickly.

As easily as he took it out, Johnny slides the metal bar back in before screwing each side in. From this angle, his jaw looks even more sharp, eyes focused never leave his work. He looks even more intimidating, especially when his eyes look down at you and you have to dodge eye contact. “Much easier like that.”, you say, almost dumbfounded at how easily he just did…that. Johnny laughs with the breathy giggle you’re starting to get used to. “See, only took a few minutes at best.”, Johnny says while stepping off the stool, hand lightly touching the curtains.

“Wait, let me throw this away.”, you mumble out, picking the packaging in your hands. Again, Johnny isn’t slow to follow, telling you he’ll help you with your stool. The young men follows you quickly, easily finding the small closet you store anything and everything in once you point it with your index. From your small kitchen, the sound of the stool being pushed inside and the door closing is followed by Johnny’s joyful “Done !”.

“What do you want to drink ?”, you finally ask when the brunette sits down right in front of your kitchen counter. Elbows on the cold grey material, he stares for way too long at the two choices you offer him. Tropical juice in your right hand, still unopened bottle of some bubbly beverage in the other, your friend acts like it’s a life or death decision. “C’mon ooon.”, you laugh out, arms getting tired at the way you’re holding the heavy bottles.

Finally, the brunette points your right hand with an index.

“Oh, you’re a slytherin ?”, he asks when you open your cupboard. Glasses on the bottom and mugs at the top, you look up at the same exact mug he noticed. Right in the middle, the grey and green logo is a clear statement on your Hogwarts house.

“Yes, a very proud slytherin.”, you tell him while setting the two tall glasses on the counter, pouring equal amounts of juice into them. “Let me guess, Gryffindor ?”, you ask, arching an eyebrow.

“I actually never took the test.”, Johnny says, to which you dramatically gasp. “And I never watched the movies. One of my friend’s just a really proud slytherin as well, I bought so many slytherin themed gifts that I just can recognize the logo right away.”

Double gasp, you set your glass down, eyes growing wide as you’re trying to judge if he’s actually joking or not. You found he definitely isn’t, but he does find your reaction quite funny. His laughs resonates into his glass, liquid half drowned.

“Are you for real ?”, you ask him just to make sure, and your neighbor just nods.

“A hundred percent, I just never really had the chance to watch it.”, poking his tongue out, pink muscle collects the drop of juice threatening to fall down.

“In 2020 ?”, you’re dumbfounded, you never thought someone could actually go so long without watching it. “You have to watch it.”

“I will. One day. Maybe.”, Johnny teases, eyes falsely rolling back.

“Now.”, you tell him, a certain sense of urgency in your voice. “I won’t let you get out of my house uneducated, young sir.”, you tell him before looking through another cupboard, hand pushing some unopened chips bag and opened for too long biscuits. Finally, your hand find the flat package you were looking for, proudly taking out for Johnny to say right after checking for the expiration date. “I have popcorn.”

How can Johnny refuse ? How can he, who he has to say, already has a soft spot for you, say no to such a proposition ? Not when your clutching the said uncooked popcorn bag against your chest, slight pout he’d probably kiss away on your lips. Wait, what. Johnny understands he’s utterly fucked once he agrees after a very short time thinking, he’s fucked because he knows the more time he spends with you, the more he’s probably going to fall. You, on the other hand, only understand what you did once Johnny comfortably takes place on your coach. You’re unaware of it, but you have the same exact soft spot, the same small butterflies whenever music is heard from the other’s bedroom, the same tiny smile creeping up whenever one sends a song recommendation, the same tingly feeling in the middle of your chest whenever one catches a glimpse of the other.

Another thing the two of you have in common, you two have some impressive actor abilities, if Johnny acts cool and unbothered, totally not lowkey stressed and watched over by adrenaline at this very moment, you can do the exact same.

Has his thighs always been so…Muscular ? Firm ? Your eyes quickly move away when you catch the train of your thoughts, looking into your bowl like it’s most interesting thing ever as you pour down the hot popcorn. Picking one up, you pop in into your mouth, unconsciously trying to distract your thoughts. This brand’s popcorn really good, right amount of caramel on each piece, you wonder what hickeys look like on Johnny’s caramel skin.

Fuck, bravo. Way to go. It’s his jeans, you blame it on his jeans and how they seem to perfectly hug his legs as he spreads them on your coach, one arm right behind it as he scrolls on his phone with the other.

If the brunette’s thumb is scrolling ever so slowly on his twitter timeline, his mind isn’t really able to read the small tweets at this very moment, not when you set the bowl full of popcorn down on the table before dropping on your knees in front of your tv. Why does he have to see everything in such a way, Johnny quickly blinks and tries to get his attention back on his phone but what can he do when you’re right in the background, in the peripherical vision.

He sees you looking for the movie in the pile of CDs and games you have, before finally finding the very first Harry Potter, a triumphant “Ah-ha !”, coming out of your lips.

“You’ll love it.”, you tell Johnny once you place the CD in the CD player, something you haven’t done in actual months, seating down right next to him. You’re some what grateful you only own one single sofa that’s enough for two people and a bowl full of popcorn right in between.

“Wait, is that how Cedric dies ?”, Johnny’s mouth hangs open at the young actor laying seemingly lifeless on the grass after a fatal spell, a gag sound coming out of your friend’s lips when Voldemort’s bare feet comes in contact with the Hufflepuf’s face. “I hate this shot.”, you tell him, slightly disgusted at the scene, before you yawn loudly against your hand. The glass you refilled many time is now empty, you leave it right next to the empty pizza box Johnny insisted on buying.

It’s midnight, you can barely process the hour it is, not how long you stayed by Johnny’s side to the point where you’re curled up next to him under the blanket you two are sharing. At the end of the first movie, you were happy to see a pretty speechless and invested Johnny, it was still pretty early, around four and a half in the afternoon and you both agreed to watch the second. At the end of the second, he offered to buy pizza and something to drink while you popped the third movie. Let’s just say Johnny got a bit excited when you said the four movie was your favorite and midnight being still a bit early for two students, you agreed on watching a last one.

“So, what do you think ?”, you ask once the credits starts rolling, lazy smile stretching your features. Your tall friend flops off the coach, letting his body slowly fall on the ground to grab his phone charging. “This one’s definitely the best, I mean, the whole Marauders thing ? Love it.”, he tells you, head resting on the sofa you’re still on. “I wanna know what my house is now.”, he mumbles while unlocking his phone, searching the right quizz.

“Wait, wait. Let me read the questions !”, you tell him, hand stretching to get his phone, and the brunette gives it to you without hesitation. You, who took the exact same official test four times, are familiar with questions and ask them one by one. Day or night, forest or beach side, Johnny thinks about his answers before. Familiar animation before the sorting hat reveals his pick, you hide the phone with a hand. “Guess.”, you tell him after looking at the result, results you would’ve easily guessed.

“Gryffindor ?”, he asks with a slight bit of doubt in his voice.

“Gryffindor !”, you tell him with a dramatic shout, mimic the sorting hat’s. His head rolls back with a grown, eyes screwed shut even though he has a smile stretching his full lips.

“Ah-! I lowkey wanted to be a Slytherin.”, he tells you, big puppy like eyes looking at you from below.

“Oh, really ?”, you ask, slightly surprised. You had to say Johnny was more of a Gryffindor than a Slytherin.

“Yeah, I wanted us to match.”

Full lips out in a pout, it’s your turn to think about kissing it away.

You understand you’re fucked when Johnny helps you out in cleaning your living room, washing your glasses while you dry your plates and bowl. He understands he’s fucked again when you hum a song he’s familiar with but can’t put his finger on the name. You both are fucked when he slides right behind you to set your glasses in your cupboard, chest brushing against your back. It feels strangely domestic, comfortable and…Normal ? A soft “Be careful”, comes out of his mouth and his breath moves a few pieces of your hair, arms stretching up to carefully place the glasses he just washed. It’s your turn to walk him to his door, where you two understand Ten’s already fast asleep, loud snores coming out of one of the rooms.

How strange it is, people say time alters in airports, empty trains stations and others. Time alters in front of Johnny’s door. He leans against his door frame like the first time you two met, lazy eyes looking down at you as you stretch a bit more.

“It was fun.”, he tells you quietly, tired smile stretching your lips. You return it, sighing as your muscle wake up.

“Yeah, glad I got you into Harry Potter.”, you tease him a bit, “Might have to buy you some Gryffindor themed things.”

“Ten’s gonna lose it when he learns he wasn’t the one to get me to watch it.”, you frown at that, head tilting to the side.

“Wait, he tried ?”

“Yeah, but he never sold it like you did.”, he hums and for a moment, it seems his mind isn’t really where his words are. Honey eyes drop for a quick second to your lips, but he regains his thoughts as quickly.

“Oh, he’s gonna kill me, isn’t he ?”, you joke a bit, though you’re surprised you managed to get Johnny into the saga quickly when he told you before that him and Ten knew each other for years. The brunette’s laugh is breathy, controlled so he doesn’t wake up his roommate who’ll probably kill him right before killing you. “If he finds out, totally. We don’t have to tell him, though.”, and, did his voice just drop even lower ? You didn’t think it was possible, the man’s voice is already deep but right now, in the dead of the night, it almost seems sultry.

“Oh wow, having our secrets already ?”, you breath out, biting a laugh down on your bottom lip. It does it for Johnny, his attention was already on them right before but, his slightly clouded mind could not really help himself. He doesn’t take his eyes away, not even when your mouth slightly parts at the realization. Only then do you wonder if it is mutual, your breath alters for a second, just when the taller let’s a simple “Yeah” tumble from his lips.

He leans down, or at least, you think he does. A millimeter, maybe you dreamt it, maybe he was going to hug you, a millisecond, a third voice gets heard from the deeps of the apartment.

“Johnny ? Turn the fucking light off.”

“Y/N-ah, Y/N !”, Sangkyu sings the moment you step foot in your building with your grocery bag. You guess quickly it’s because of tomorrow’s gathering, the old men always loved a reason to party, with moderation obviously.

“Hi ! You seem particularly happy today.”, you tell him, stopping in front of his cubicle, you notice he added another drawing to his wall, probably the kids on the first floor.

“I am ! We finished making the cakes a few hours ago and they are de-li-cious.”, his eyes disappear as he smiles brightly, you decided you love this man with all your being.

“Ah, I can’t wait to taste them !”, you hum, switch your bag from your left hand to your right. Even without knowing what him and his wife did, you can at least guess without a doubt that it is going to be as delicious as he says it is.

“Just a day ! What are you making ?”

“French crêpes !”, you tell him while lifting your bag, proud smile at your pronunciation, you just went and bought some milk and flour for it right after leaving your university, Johnny told you he had everything else.

“Ah, yes, with our new neighbors, hm ?”, he starts, smile turning vicious and oh, you know where he’s going. You wonder if Jaehyun and him are working hand in hand. Let’s just say Jaehyun did not drop the subject, not when he learned you accidently ignored his texts the other night because of a movie night with the brunette. Not when you told him you think Johnny almost kissed you. Or hugged you.

“Yes.”, you tell him simply, not going any further. You hope he will drop the subject, but you know he probably won’t.

“We hear you two playing, but you should both play something together.”, Sangkyu tells you, not taking the hint or maybe, he decided to ignore it. But he is not wrong, you two should play something together. You have to say, you didn’t know your playing was so loud but if no one ever complained, it was a good thing, right ?

“We should.”, you tell him with a smile, ready to go towards the elevator, his voice stops you a second time.

“Do you like him ?”, he suddenly asks. God, he really is acting like a father who also wants to be a friend. You suddenly stop right in your track, hand turning towards the oldest.

“Who ?”, you ask dumbly, but Sangkyu isn’t one to take your fake attitude.

“Johnny.”, he tells you straight forward and a bit too loudly, arms leaning against his counter with a too happy smile.

“Sangkyun…”, you whine, quiet in case anyone walks in.

“Y/N-ah…!”, he mocks the tone of your voice and you whine even more.

“Come on, you can tell me.”, you says, you know he won’t ever let you go and even if he does, he’ll draw his own flowed conclusions, better tell him already.

“Maybe, yes.”, you tell the oldest before walking a bit too quickly towards your elevator, index jamming into the up button.

“I knew it !” and, when you hide yourself in the metal cubicle, you see your old friend making a few happy dance moves with his arms, you wonder if you’re seeing Jaehyun in the future.

“Alright, how’s this ?”, you ask Jaehyun after stepping right in front of your phone. You’re actually video chatting with your blonde friend, but you can barely see half of his face, he decided to hold his phone so close you could only see from his hairline to the bridge of his nose.

“Turn around.”, he says, breath overloading his device’s microphone. You do so anyways, showing him the outfit you decided to wear for tonight. Obviously, it was just a small gathering between neighbors, you didn’t have to go all in with a cocktail dress but, a nice and pretty one was expected. Following your friend’s order, you turn to show off a black, thin strapped, body hugging dress you got a year ago and yet, never wore.

“Is that your mom’s jacket ?”, Jaehyun asks, chewing on what you think is a handful of chips. You hum at the question, you’re indeed wearing the oversized jean jacket you mother used to wear when she was in college. “The dress looks hot, when did you buy it ?”

“Eh, last year ? Around the middle of the summer.”, you tell your friend, stepping out of your phone’s camera to search for your earrings. “Wait, you never wore it, right ?” “Nope.”, from a distance, you can hear Jaehyun mumbling something about you having too many clothes. Maybe he’s right, but you brush the remark anyways, taking your rings.

“How’s my makeup ?”, you ask, kneeling in front of your phone, you step closer to let the blonde have a closer look at your eyes makeup. “You know I don’t know shit about makeup !”, he complains, finally letting you see his face as he moves his phone. “Jaehyun, does it look good ?”, you ask him, acting annoyed at his antics.

“Yes, you look good.”, he says, voice somewhat a high pitched tone as he snaps a picture once you stand up again. “If lover boy doesn’t kiss you tonight.” Small smile stretches your lips at the compliment, you decide to brush the second sentence off, applying some lipstick before checking your watch.

“And you’re telling me he acted like nothing happened ?”, Jaehyun asks, sound of the chips bag covering his voice. You sigh at that, eyes rolling a little, you think no matter how many times you’ll tell him, he’ll keep asking. “He did. I mean, his roommate was there so, he couldn’t really…Y’know ?”

A quick glance at the bag you’re supposed to bring down to the gathering starting in fifteen minutes, it holds the dozens of crêpes you, Johnny and Ten made a bit earlier. Just like it was planned before hand, you showed up after class to their apartment, Ten was the one who opened the door. Apparently, Johnny was a bit late, his teacher’s lecture went on for a bit longer than anticipated and when he showed up, he immediately helped with the batter. The brunette greeted you like he usually would and acted like nothing happened the night before, though you don’t blame him, not when his roommate was between the two of you half of the time. You had to bring your own pan after realizing how many crêpes you’d actually make and, after about two hours, you left to get ready. Let’s just say Jaehyun was not happy with the lack of exciting events. You weren’t either, but you still somehow hoped something would happen tonight, somewhere deep in your thoughts. However, you didn’t want to think too much about it, tonight was a gathering to celebrate and have fun, you didn’t want to overthink what happened the night prior.

“Anyways, I have to go.”, you finally tell you friend, who simply tells you to enjoy yourself and text him after before hanging up.

Heavy bag of crêpes in your hand, you slide out of your apartment after spraying some perfume on your neck. Locking your door, your neighbors are quick to follow as you agreed to go together and, fuck.

He looks hot, Johnny looks hot. There’s a slight second where you stay silent and take in his figure, legs hugged by a tight pair of black jeans, cotton white blouse slightly open on his caramel chest, the golden hour isn’t even here and yet, the slight bit of sun hitting his skin makes him glow. You know, you know he caught you staring and yet he stays silent, slight smirk tugging a side of his full lips.

“Y/N, Ma’am !”, Ten’s voice drags you out of you reverie. The men takes a step closer, you notice the very pricy Yves Saint Laurent grey and white top he’s wearing. “You look fucking good ! Right ?”, it seemed the men only needed a few hours to get familiar with you, but you don’t complain and smile at the compliment.

“You do, you look amazing.”, if Ten managed to make you smile brightly at his antics, Johnny’s low voice only makes you blush and your eyes waver a bit, not knowing where to look, almost unable to keep eye contact with the tallest. “Thank you. I-, hm, you too.”

Great.

“Thank you. Let’s get going, I don’t want to be late.”, thankfully, he doesn’t say more, hand grabbing onto his own bag where you assume he has the chocolate and strawberry spread.

“Wait, what about me ?”, his roommate asks, acting so offended you wonder if he isn’t actually hurt by the lack of compliment you and his roommate showed. The smallest frowns, angry glare at Johnny who doesn’t even notice him as he went towards the elevator to call for the metal box.

“This shirt looks amazing on you, very pricy too.”, you tell your neighbor with a laugh, stepping right behind the tallest, waiting.

“And I already told you it looked good.”, he says, right before stepping in the elevator.

“Thank you, Y/N.”, the black haired says your name a bit louder, but you don’t pay too much attention either.

Poor thing, if you and Johnny aren’t aware yet of the tension, Ten sure is, and he hates every bit of it when he understands, stuck in an elevator where he’s the third wheel. By the way, has your elevator always been so small ? Your back leans against one wall as Johnny does the same right in front of you, honey eyes traveling from your eyes to your uncovered collarbones. The brunettes tries, he really tries to stop his eyes from traveling down but they do eventually, swallowing built up saliva when his pupils travel down your hips, to your naked legs.

Ten’s almost about to say something, just to break the thick silence before the doors opening saves the young men, he decides he definitely is not going to stay with the two of you tonight.

You, on the other side, seem to finally be able to breathe once you step out the elevator, Johnny’s attention did not go unnoticed. Try and act normal, probably the only thing going on your mind and Johnny’s.

“Hey, look who it is !”, Miss Jeon’s voice is heard before you can even see her. You’re familiar with the park the gathering is taking place in, but it sure looks amazing in the late afternoon. At this time of the year, the grass’ green, flowers bloomed, small fruits are starting to turn red under the summer sunlight. Even better, the water fountains are on, the one right in the middle is large, tall, multicolor lights when the moon shines. Finally, when you and your two friends turn the corner to enter the park, you’re physically greeted by Miss Jeon who’s wearing a really pretty pen skirt, hair flowing in the soft summer wind. “Miss Jeon !”, you greet her with a smile which isn’t enough for the lady who pulls you into a hug. One hand grabs yours and the tallest makes you swirl around, a high pitched “Wow ! Look at you !”, coming out of her lips.

“You look amazing, darling. You two, too.”, as always, the lady is extremely cheerful. You notice hers and other neighbors’ kids already playing around in the park, loud screams every now and then. A bit closer to the fountain, multicolor light are hanging from the threes, you can faintly distinguish a song playing. Large tables are set there, alongside chairs were parents and others are all talking together, setting whatever they bought.

“Go set everything there, we’ll start eating soon.”, Miss Jeon instructs, and you follow her orders as she stays in front of the park to greet anyone coming.

Everything is quickly set up where all the deserts are, neighbors come until you they flood the park, you almost think everyone’s here. “I did not expect so many people.”, Johnny tells you, taking a plastic cup to get himself some juice right before giving you a cup.

“Me neither.”, you tell him, eyes glazing over the last people walking in. Almost everyone responded to the call, a pretty heart warming sigh. Some of your neighbors you never actually talked to are here, mostly because they’re from other buildings from the same project.

“I see Ten is already making friends.”, you continue, eyes catching your friend talking to another neighbor, one you think is in his early thirties, you’ve talked to him once, maybe.

“Ten is a social butterfly.”, Johnny laughs into his cup, before eventually taking a step forward toward the black haired. If his roommate was going to socialize, he might as well too.

“I think it is overrated.”, ah yes, now you remember why you did not much to this guy. James is a foreign, blonde, man bun type of guy who finds everything overrated, it’s almost impossible to talk about your hobbies and interests with him without being ripped apart. He probably isn’t that mean just, not that good at social interaction. You see Ten’s expression turning from excited to somewhat confused, to what you intervene.

“What is ?”, you ask, and you don’t really like when the blonde acts like he did not notice you and Johnny walking.

“Oh, Y/N, hi. Long time no see.”, he says, not paying any attention to Johnny. You greet him anyways, slightly taken back by his attitude. “And you are ?”

“Johnny.”, the men behind you says, stretching a hand out to shake his.

“Oh, strong grip.”, slight contortion of the blond’s face, he quickly retracts his hand when Johnny lets go.

“Anyways, when are you letting me see you play ?”, James ask and oh, how you have to search in your memory to understand what the fuck he’s talking about. The blonde wants to learn how to play the guitar, that was, maybe eight months ago.

“Oh eh. One day, maybe.”, you awkwardly laugh.

“We hear you play every night, don’t say you don’t have time for me !”, he tries and laugh off the sentence. Ten shifts, poor thing seems taken back but thankfully, Johnny’s quick to react. As you’re about to respond, his hand slides on your waist, “I’m pretty busy with uni’, but I can send you some great guitarists’ videos.”, you choke out, mind slightly bugging at the brunette’s touch.

“She’ll let you know when she has time for you.”, the tallest does not hesitate and, it visibly annoys the blonde. A sharp “Okay .”, tumbles from his lips before he leaves towards the salty foods.

“He’s weird.”, Ten finally says, Johnny doesn’t take his hand away.

It takes hours for Johnny to address it again.

The midnight breeze always feels special, soft, fresh, it licks the thin layer of sweat the bolt sun created on your skin. Your jacket’s off your shoulders, loosely hanging on the crook of your elbows, seating on the cold marble of the fountain.

Soft sound of the water running behind you, all the kids have been sent to sleep, alongside their parents and other hard working adults needing of sleep, just the low sound of some jazz music you’re unfamiliar with and some chatter as the background noise.

You shoes kick off some small rocks and sand, eyes looking up at the multicolor lights still hanging on the trees. You laugh off one of Johnny’s joke, before he gets serious again, his left hand lightly touching the fountain’s water.

“By the way, sorry about earlier. I didn’t ask if I could touch you like that.”

You have to think for a slight second to understand what he’s talking about, hand grabbing onto the bowl of ice cream you set aside for yourself. Your spoon digs into the chocolate cream, taking a fair amount of whipped cream.

“Oh ! Oh, no. Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind.”, I liked it, you would’ve said if you were a little bit more brave. Spoon in your mouth, you eagerly gulp down the frozen desert, Johnny only softly smiles.

“Is he always like that ?”, he asks, body turning a bit more to face you. He’s close, really close, but it became normal. It became normal for him to have your naked thigh against his, you shamelessly look down at it for god knows how many times tonight. It became normal for you to almost be able to feel his breath die on your skin.

“I don’t know, tonight was the second time I ever talked to him.”, you tell him, tongue quickly cleaning the tiny drop of ice cream forming at the corner of your lips. Johnny stays silent for a second, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips, before its feels like he shakes his thoughts away. His gaze stays fixated on your eyes so confidently it’s even worst than him looking at your lips, you shift under his pupils, crossing a leg over the other.

“He seems really pushy.”, Johnny breathes out, and he finds the exact same octave he was speaking to you in just last night, right in front of his apartment. It’s clear he only is replying for politeness.

“You have hm, some ice cream, here.”, the brunette hums, again ripping you out of your reverie. Left hand covers your mouth, index and middle finger brushing at the corner but it seems you are not picking the right side.

“Wait, no-.”, he laughs for a quick second, crescent eyes before they shift to something else. His thumb quickly wipes the other side of your lips, and you freeze. You lock dead in your position, eyes slightly larger as he helps you clean up with a soft yet deep “There you go.”

For hours now, Johnny had been the only thing on your mind. From the moment he stepped out of his apartment, the moment his eyes seemed to devour every bit of your body, the moment he left is hand lingering on the small of your waist. To the moment he sat down to eat, legs, strong thighs spread, the moment he talked to the smallest kids from the second building, the moment he lead you behind the fountain with a hand in the small of your back.

But, when Johnny lets his lips capture the tip of his thumb, cleaning the bit of ice cream, you think you might never be able to think about anything else but him, but Johnny.

You have to look away, desperately trying to gather your thoughts, something you can’t do when the brunette’s looking at you with such innocent eyes.

“You okay ?”, he asks like he didn’t do anything, like he did not just do that.

“Yeah, I-.”, you have to leave you plastic bowl somewhere behind you, brain fuming to find something else to say.

“You’re blushing. You had the same look yesterday.”, he notes, and…He knows ? He knew before you did, that’s what his slight smirk tells you. “It’s a shame Ten had to ruin it, but I like this setting better.”, Johnny hums, but he never takes his eyes away.

“Could’ve kissed me anyways.”, you dare to say. Your mouth goes dry, for some reason, biting down on your bottom lip. The brunette comes a little closer, and just like last time, you can't help but get lost in his irises, notice the way his eyes curl at their inner corner, now how his pupils slowly eclipses the soft brown of his eyes.

Tongue poking at the inside of his cheek, his lines a bit closer again, hand sliding under your chin. You stop breathing for a second, eyelids involuntarily growing heavy.

“Did I miss my shot ?”, you can almost feel him mouth the words.

“Maybe, but I can give you another one.”, you manage to tease, face tilting to the side before he even does anything. If he doesn't do it himself, you'll break the distance, but he holds you in the palm of his hand, so hypnotise under his spell you can only anticipate his next move.

“Good, would've hated myself for missing it.”, he says and, as you hoped, the brunette finally lets his lips crash against yours. It's soft, a kiss to taste the water, though he himself taste the chocolate you just ate.

Pillows lips slowly starts moving against yours, you easily follow his rhythm, sighing when his hand moves from your chin to your neck, deepening the exchange.

Your hand easily finds his hair, finally letter your fingers grasp onto the soft locks. It's a soft grip, yet Johnny sighs softly against your lips, sound turning into a slight groan once you bite down on his bottom lip.

That does it for him, the kiss quickly turns needy, desperate, he touches where he can, second hand lightly running up your thigh.

Arms wrap behind his neck to keep him close, body leaning backwards, Johnny has to plant a hand on the marble behind you, second hand wrapping behind your waist.

The brunette doesn't hesitate a second more, like he's afraid of letting go of the moment, afraid you're gonna slip away between his fingers like the clear water of the fountain. Pick tongue laps at your bottom lip, you part them without a moment of hesitation. It's eager, rushed, the taste of the desert you just ate still lingers on your tongue while you get the fruity drink he was sipping on moments before.

Finally, when you have to let go for some air, breathing altered by the exchange, Johnny doesn't let go. Long kisses are planted at the corner of your lips, he takes his time until he travels down to your jaw where you stop him.

And, before he can ask you anything, you quickly grab his hand in yours, “Let's go inside.”

He follows quickly behind, leaving everything behind, you take the second gate of the park. Shorter, you also don't have to walk in front of all your remaining neighbors like this, lips swollen, eyes blown.

You don't think you've ever walked so fast to your apartment, you don't think you've ever been so happy to see Sangkyu's spot vacant.

The silence is heavy, breath still uneven when you push the button of the elevator and the doors open immediately.

If you didn't know the men behind you was as desperate as you were, you definitely understand once he pushed you inside the small cubicle.

He blindly pushes the button to your shared floor, right hand wrapping around your throat to swiftly push you against the cold wall. If he doesn't tighten his grip, you sure wish he did, but you have other things to care about at the moment. The hand previously around your neck plants itself right next to your hand and this time, he has to lean down to capture your lips another time.

Completely pinning your body to the cold metal, he uses his hips against yours, a gasp escaping your lips he uses to slip his tongue between your lips again. And, you let a breathy moan come out of your lips when he pushes his hips flush against your, hard on pressing against your body. Even with the two layers, you can feel him.

You never felt so hot inside this elevator, it moves without stopping at any floor, no music as the silence is filled by your soft breaths and the sound of his mouth against yours.

Beat washes over you, if your panties weren't ruined already, they sure are now. Now that the brunette rolls his hips, slowly, tentatively slow, just to make you feel every inch. Your mind's clouded, body reacting by itself when it archs away from the wall.

He lets his forearm rest against the metal wall, about to travel down to your neck, hips grinding against yours.

When he's about to bite down on the skin of yours neck, teeth grazing over the flesh, the doors open to your floor.

It's Johnny's turn to grab onto your hand, pulling you out of the elevator but he never stays too long away from your body.

Full lips pepper kisses on your face, before he breathes out against your skin.

“Your apartment, yeah ?”

Obviously, you want to tell him, naturally walking towards your door.

“Unless you want your roommate to walk in on us.”, you let a breathy giggle out, facing your door.

Fuck, now out of all times, you can not find your keys. Maybe it's because your shaky hands can barely search your pockets. Hard to blame yourself when the brunette stands behind you, hard cock pressed against you, arms tightly wrapped around your stomach, face buried in your neck.

“Baby, they're here.”, the tallest hums, voice so low it vibrates against your skin. His right hands pats one of your front pockets. A simple “Oh.” tumbles from your lips at that, mind hardly registering the way he still his moving against your body, nickname rolling out of his tongue too easily.

Finally, you manage to force your key into your door, quickly twisting the metal piece before you push the door open.

This time, you don't know if you pull Johnny in your apartment or if he pushes you in, the door is loudly shut before the men tries to take your near your coach, as you drop your jacket off somewhere.

“Johnny.”, you try to whine, but it comes out as a breathy moan as the men soflty sucks on the skin between your neck and shoulder, a pale purple petal blooming. His name coming from your lips sounds oh so delicious, Johnny decides he loves the way it sounds, determined to hear it again and again, louder and louder. “Let me at least close the door.”

When he lets you do so, not whitout a pout on his lips, they find yours again in a desperate kiss, hands grabbing the back of your thighs.

“This dress looks so fucking good on you.”, he growls once you let him pick you up, black fabric riding up your thighs.

“Got dressed up for you.”, you confess, your own lips traveling down his neck when the brunette sits down on your coach. He chuckles lowly, head rolling back, humming at the small attentions you're giving him. “Hm, saw you putting your makeup on and knew you'd look ravishing.”, he says.

Large hands on your hips, Johnny easily pushes your hips down on his thigh.

“Wow, I'll make sure to pull my curtains next time.”, you tease, blooming flowers on his collarbones.

“Give me a fucking show next time.”, he growls out, hand ghosting over your neck before his thumb traces your bottom lip again.

You almost freeze, mere thought of following his oder the next time you catch him in front of his window a little bit too appealing. Having him so close yet, too far to feel his touch, you already felt it for days.

“Come on, ride my thigh.”, you moan out.

Forceful hands help you find a rhythm, one you easily follow once your thoughts get over your dizzy mind. You mouth hands open, hands grabbing onto his arms at the sudden gesture. Johnny only smirks, an eyebrow arching up.

If he didn't before, he sure does look like a god at this very moment. Blown out pupil look directly into your eyes, honey color you know so well eclipsed. Swollen, red lips, a hue painted over his cheeks, small love bites trialing down. Soft brown hair messy by your hands.

“What ? You think I didn't see you glaring ?”, there's a slight mocking tone in his voice, slight embarrassment washing over you but your body follows his voice anyways. Strong thigh under your core, you can barely gather words to reply, it's even harder when he flexs his muscles under you.

Your hips rocks back and forth, delicious pressure against your nub but you need more, more than just his thigh. He has everything to offer and if you don't get it now, you might go crazy.

And so, you tell him. “Johnny, need more.”, your voice sure sounded a lot less weak but the men obliges.

“Impatient little thing.”, he gestures towards your room, and when think you might not be able to walk all the way there without him pushing you against another wall, you surprisingly do.

When you turn around and crawl up your bed, Johnny's quick to follow, hands gripping onto the fabric covering his back before he pulls it over his head.

Defined abs under his caramel skin, strong arms holding himself up, you need a moment to take everything in, hands running down his chest when he hover over your body.

“Take it off.”, he demands, voice almost strict. Leg over his hip, you barely use any force to change positions.

You sit on his lap a second time, supporting yourself on your knees to take off your dress. The brunette uses his elbows, mouth parting when you pull the fabric over your hips. He barely needs any support to sit up, hands grasping the black dress to help you take the fabric off entirely.

The brunette mumbles praises into your skin, lips ghosting over your neck, hands touching wherever they can. Desperate, he maps your body, learning every curve, every inch.

“So beautiful.”, he mumbles out, before his right hand traces the line of your panties.

They're soaked, wet patch on his black jeans and he doesn't fail to notice.

“Already so wet, hm ? Fuck, can I ?”, he doesn't hesitate once you give him your verbal permission, a finger running over your folds over the light fabric.

What a simple touch can do to you, you don't doubt the men doing it also has a huge part in it, but you shiver under the slight attention.

Biting down on his bottom lip, ring clapped hand dips into your panties, where his index and middle finger gather your juices, humming contently.

You're about to complain again, ask him to do something already but he beats you at it, both fingers effortlessly sliding between your lower lips.

“Fuck, ah— Johnny.”, hands gripping his shoulders, your eyes screw shut once he finds a slow and torturing pace, moving in and out as his thumb brushes over your bud.

It's sensual, burning, one hand travels down his chest until you're met with his jeans, quickly working on them once he nods.

You curse his tight jeans for a moment before he helps you push the fabric just enough, alongside his grey briefs.

And fuck, he's big. You knew when he grinded against your inner thigh, but the way his cock slaps against his stomach, head red and hungry, has your mouth parting, core clenching against his fingers.

“Shit, yeah. Good girl, right there.”, Johnny loses himself in praises, head rushing with thoughts he groans out once your hand wraps around his length.

It's probably the honest thing you've ever seen, Johnny's head rolls back, it hits the wall of your bedroom, Adam's appel bobbing up and down. The pace of his fingers matches the rhythm of your hand around his cock, eyes slightly opening just to watch your slender fingers around him and the way you take his.

“You're so fucking tight, god.”, a third finger goes alongside and you have to pose, jaw hanging open and the brunette can not resist.

His mouth finds yours again, kisses deep, messy, hurried. It's like his starving, he growl against your mouth when your thumb runs over his slit and your hips move against his fingers.

“Fuck, wanna taste you.”, he flips you over too easily, a gasp coming out of your lips when you back harshly hits your bed.

Strong hands gripping at your panties, your hear the sharp snap of the elastic breaking under his soaked fingers.

“Johnny !”, it's between a whine and a moan, how can him ruining your panties be so fucking hot.

“Will get you new ones if you want.”, you can barely recognise his voice, his fingers slide the fabric down and he looks up at you, eyes hungry, lips red.

“You have no fucking idea how hard I was when I found your panties.”, he confesses and, before you can reply, his mouth dives in. Tongue flat against your core, your legs instinctively close around his head, but his hands are quick to pin your thighs to the mattress while yours find his hair, messing it even more.

“Yeah ? Fuck, you're so good, your tongue feels so good.”

Johnny only hums, tongue running up and down until he wraps his lips around your button of nerves. The brunette's eating you out like a starved men, shamelessly, the wet sounds filling the room.

When he takes a break to breathe, he pops his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them.

“Taste so good.”, every word he says fires your body up even more, his mouth doesn't even need to speak for it to affect you, but you need him.

He dives a second time, fingers joining this time. Pace a lot less slow, his lips wrap around your bud a second time, focusing on the small button while his fingers quickly move.

In, out, in, out. Long fingers quickly build up the tension in your stomach, cold rings contrasting with his hot breath.

You only need a little bit more, when his fingers curl the right way, his groans vibrate at the right moment. Your fingers tighten around his locks as you come undone, loudly, unapologetically.

Wet lips, glossy eyes, Johnny looks at your figure as you arch your back away from your bed, moaning into the air.

It takes almost minutes for you to come down but, when you do, Johnny's about to dive a third time. Your hand stops his head.

“Want you inside, want to feel you.”, you tell him once you pulled him towards you face again. A quick kiss is planted on your lips where you can taste yourself, before he hides his face again in your neck, breathing heavily.

“Do you have a condom ?”, he asks, blown out eyes looking into your own.

You nod quickly, pointing at your bed table. You hear the brunette thanking the gods, he didn't want to have and walk all the way to his own appartement to get one. Leaning towards the said bed table, he pulls the small door open and find the box there.

Taking a little foil package between his lips, Johnny quickly closes the small door before hovering over you again.

Pearly teeth are used to open the packaging, he doesn't wait a second to roll the material out on his hard shaft, sighing slightly.

“So tiny, can you even take me ?”, it seems the brunette asks himself, hand jerking himself off.

You answer him anyways, “I can, please.”.

Soft smile on his lips, the brunette uses his hand to align himself with your drenched core.

The tallest thought about this very moment for hours the night before, but nothing prepared him for the tightenes, your wet, hot core wrapping around his head.

You both moan in almost unison, Johnny has to hold himself from slamming in. You, on the other hand, have a hard time wrapping your head around how he's stretching you out so nicely.

A mixture of pleasure and slight pain you're quickly addicted to. A hand claws at his back, the tallest moves inch, by inch, by inch.

“So fucking tight. When's the last time someone fucked you properly ?”, his sudden change in behaviour gives you whiplash, you can only whine at his question and mumble something about not knowing when, exactly.

“Please, fuck me.”, if you have to beg, you will but thankfully, Johnny doesn't have much patience tonight. Once he's fully in, he doesn't hesitate to pull out just to ram in. Your body rides up, head thrown back, moan silent.

“Gonna fuck you nice and deep. Stretch you, yeah ?”

You can only nod eagerly, Johnny laughs breathlessly. His forearm supports his body right next to you head, necklace hanging over your body, right hand tightly holding your hip.

He barely gives you the time to adjust, hips snapping at a steady pace.

Headboard sharply knocking against your wall, your thankful your neighbors aren't here. Still sensitive, your moans turn breathless, barely audible. Forehead against your own, Johnny doesn't hide his moans, your name, any profanities coming to his mind.

“Fuck, turn around for me, baby.”, breathless, chest irregularly moving up and down, he helps you do so after moving out.

Flipping you on your stomach, the brunette curses at himself a second time. His body flush against yours, he supports himself next to your head again, second hand affectionaly running in your hair.

He takes you from behind, cock easily sliding in this time. Moans hidden in your pillow, Johnny doesn't take that, using the hand locked in your locks to turn your head.

“Don't hide your moans, wanna hear you.”

Just like he wanted after stepping into your apartment, the tallest has you whining his name, loudly, until you're numbed, fucked dumb until his name's the only thing you know.

A snap of his hips reaches deeper, it's there you feel the tension threatening to break.

It's like he can read you, he does it again, breathy laugh coming out of his lips.

“Come around me, let go. Let go for me.”, it's all you need, you easily follow his order, core tightening around his shaft.

“God, your pussy’s gripping me.”, his hips alter, lips finding yours again. “Gonna make me come so hard.”

Fucked out, yet you managed to raise your hips, core clenching around him. That does it, loud growl resonates in the room, mixed in with your name.

“Are you okay ?”, Johnny asks, voice soft after he pulls out, throwing the condom in your bin.

You hum, too tired to answer, you smile nonetheless when he takes you into his arm, arm pushing your hair to the side.

“This isn't how I wanted things to go.”, he hums, picking a fallen eyelash from your cheek.

“Oh, really ?”, you ask, tired, his hand running up and down your spine putting you to sleep.

“Wanted to take you out on a date first.”, he admits. “But how do you want me to resist when you were calling me like a siren singing at a lone traveler.”

© NEOVISIONED l NO REPOSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ALLOWED.

[eyeballjazz]

gosh I LOVE whenever you talk about the crews (midnight or problem sleuth) because your ideas are always so unique and detailed but in a realistic way? like they're all very specific but also mundane so it all feels so natural and REAL, it's always so fun! Plus your writing is very pleasant so seeing that "read more" under your replies always makes me go FUCK YES

You said you had fun with the last ask so here's me asking you to share more headcanons you have! Could be domestic, silly, sad, whatever, I'm just giving you an excuse to talk about them whever you feel like it!

#1 and first of all THANK YOU SO MUCH! I’ve delayed replying to this not only because I wanted to cook up a good answer but because your words are so sweet and I wanted to spend longer just reading and rereading them. Thank you thank you thank you!

I got a few little ones and then some big ones for ya:

Problem Sleuth and Hysterical Dame both are from Brooklyn and have harsh Brooklyn accents, though Dame’s is much more pronounced. She sounds like a slightly less congested Fran Drescher. Sleuth, additionally, loves the Beastie Boys and thinks he could’ve been one if he’d had half a chance at it.

Droog loves Sting. That’s it, that’s the headcanon.

Droog is native Italian, from part of Tuscany that is just 1 kilometer from the official bounds for the Chianti region. The fact that he’s not actually, truly, from Chianti haunts him and makes me laugh a great deal.

Now for a big one:

What war did they all serve in?

This one I’ve gone back and forth on. While I love studying war I’m not any kind of expert nor do I have any relation to military culture. But, because I write Intermission stuff as period pieces (the adults all live in a pseudo 40s and 70s mash up, all the kids live in the early oughts and that’s why none of the StabDads knows how to work a computer despite all their kids being online constantly) the setting of mid-20th century America requires there to be some war that people are living during/living through the aftermath of. I have a whole thing about the 20th century being one long war but anyway.

There was a large scale global conflict that Team Sleuth and the Crew all experienced. The Crew saw more intense, violent conflict while much of Team Sleuth saw less direct action and often sunnier outcomes.

Hearts, Slick and Droog were all infantry men whose issues with authority prevented any of them from moving up the ranks. Clubs was a technician and occasional mechanic, he learned everything he knows about bombs between his years as a soldier and a few jobs working in plastic factories back home.

Hearts was a cook as well as a renowned fighter in his unit. Slick came in and went out buck private despite some award winning violence in the field. Droog was considered for a promotion to officer because of his neat habits and efficient performance but later denied when his more anti-social and unstable qualities showed through.

For both Slick and Droog The War is much more like WW1. They met and became friends/fell in love in the trenches and saw the intensity of suffering and combat on an almost daily basis. For Hearts and Clubs The War is a little more like Korean, they were stationed far from home and were effectively playing cat and mouse with the enemy. Clubs experienced and learned from chemical warfare, while Hearts saw much more guerrilla warfare.

On the Sleuth side, Ace Dick is the only person to have served in as intense a fashion as the Crew. He enlisted young and made the rank of sergeant before retiring to become a detective. Of all of them his time was the most like WW2, in the European theater. Though he maintains his rank in retirement, Ace has relaxed out of the rigidness that made him a good officer. His hard disposition however has not degraded even one iota.

Problem Sleuth had a gay li’l stint in the Navy where he mostly ferried trade vessels along the coast. The action he did see was at the distance of sea battles, so while it was intense it was not as close and personal as the Crew or Ace.

Hysterical Dame did not serve but instead worked as a riveter and community organizer back home to get more women into the workforce as well as to provide for the families of soldiers who had been lost. That picture of Rosy the Riveter eating a sandwich with her piston driver in her lap? That was Dame, just with much more buoyant and gorgeous hair.

Nervous Broad was a nurse and was stationed abroad for most of The War. She saw a lot of very bad and only very occasionally some good. While she was in the medical corps she met Pickle Inspector, who was a contentious objector and refused to serve when drafted. Because of this, he was dumped into the medical corps at the front lines and like Broad saw some very awful things. They both don’t like to talk about what they saw more intensely than the others.

Post war they all assume the roles we’re already familiar with, most of them using the combat training they already received to do their work as detectives and/or mobsters. Broad, Dame and Pickle Inspector all learned to handle firearms (and in a Pickle Inspector’s case a whole sniper rifle) post-war. As a treat.

And, while I really don’t come to fandom spaces for sad things (the world itself is hexing enough) I do have a sad headcanon for Hearts:

His parents had an awful marriage and his father was often abusive to both him and his mother. She, in turn, eventually did away with him but not before long years of hard times for herself and her son. Once Hearts was big enough to help with the manual labor of running their small farm she took his father out during a particularly bad fight. It was a brutal night that would have seen one or the other of his parents gone from the world, but his mother won out in the end and she and Hearts lived better and better once his father was out of the picture. Hearts, to this day, sends money to his mother and believes she is the strongest woman on the face of the Earth. And he’s probably right. She still lives up in the hills of Georgia with her gun.

Momma Boxcars loves Tavros and insists that he and the other kids come spend part of their summer with her out on the farm.

Like Hearts’s mom, Droog’s parents also love their grandbabies. They immigrated to America after Droog put together enough money to bring them over from Italy and keep them living in style in the city. They were not good parents to him, in fact they have a very fraught and often vicious relationship, but they are wonderful to their grandkids and often tell Droog how much more they love Karkat and Arabia than they ever loved him. Again, I find Droog’s pain and inconvenience hilarious, and he’s fine despite all this. He actually thinks of them as ideal parents, being as he is an ideal sort of person by his own metrics.

Again, thank you for your lovely words and for the excuse to gab away about all these clowns, this was so fun!!!