#ah man i gotta tag the other universes

[sttoru]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 '𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒, CHAPTER I: you finish your last lecture of the day and head to get dinner before returning to your dormitories. you stumble upon an injured figure on your way home, laying in a dimly lit alley. despite the fear in your heart, you decide to reach out towards the unknown man in need of help.

wc. 3.7k

tags. assassin!toji x female reader. sfw; fluff-ish, angst. reader's best friend oc appearance (yona). mentions of murder, blood, knives, anxiety. general warnings for all parts of the series: size difference. age gap (reader early 20's, toji early 30's).

ten seconds. you shut down your laptop and close it. nine seconds. you put your laptop in your tote bag. eight seconds. you close your books and do the same. seven seconds. you put your coat on. six seconds. you check your phone for any messages.

five seconds. you’re thinking about what to eat once you arrive home. four seconds. you decide on a pack of noodles. three seconds. you realise that you’ve ran out of them. two seconds. you make up your mind to go to your local supermarket. one second. you stand up from your seat.

“..that’s all, students. have a nice day and i’ll see you at our next lecture.”

a sigh of relief escapes your lips. you’re finally freed from the shackles of your statistics class. not like you’ve paid much attention to what your professor had been yapping about anyway. it was too boring. the daydreaming you did about your potential future boyfriend and all the cheesy romantic stuff you’d do together was all the more important.

“earth to my best friend,” your friend’s voice snaps you back into reality. you look to your side and find yourself apologising for not hearing her the first time. yona chuckles and waves her hand dismissively.

“i asked if you had any plans after the lecture,” she continues whilst scrolling through her phone. you take a peek at her screen and notice that she’s already looking up available restaurants in the area.

you’re grateful that she’s looking out for you in her own way, but you’ve already made up your mind. a pack of your favorite ramen noodles will fill you for tonight. you’re low on cash this month anyway. a fancy restaurant would have you surviving on water for the rest of the week.

“ah, i actually do. gotta go grocery shopping ‘n stuff,” you pout apologetically before buttoning up your coat. yona nods in understanding, knowing the struggles of being a college student.

“aww, all right. we’ll go next time then,” she replies with a smile.

you walk out of the building with your friend by your side, chatting about how boring the lecture was. of course, you also learn all about the recent gossip around campus. yona is practically your plug for that.

“did you hear about that one girl that allowed her boyfriend to stay with her in her dorm room for a whole month and then got snitched on by her roommate?” yona snickers, not caring if anyone around you could hear the gossip.

you raise an eyebrow in surprise. your university has strict rules about guests staying over in the dormitories. they can spend a day or two, but you’d have to sign them in. plus the resident assistants usually check the rooms for any unusual activity every other week.

to hear someone had gotten away for a whole month is quite a surprise.

“he could’ve stayed for longer if it wasn’t for the roommate snitching,” yona continues and rolls her eyes. she takes a quick snack from her bag and bites into it.

you shake your head and shrug, making sure you don’t trip and fall down the stairs whilst you’re talking, “guess the roommate got enough of the random man in their room. i mean—they pay for that room as well. not like the girl is the only one living there.”

yona nods and turns a right. you follow, your eyes scanning the busy hallways. some students are rushing between the crowd to catch their train and others are making their way to their next two hour lecture. those poor souls.

“mhm. i wouldn’t wanna live with a man i don’t know either,” yona eventually adds after swallowing the last bite of her snack, “let alone for a whole month.”

she throws the wrapper in a nearby garbage can—which is overly full already. talk about a ‘hygienic’ school.

“right,” you shiver as the thought gets put into your head. a random man living with you. . . sounds like a nightmare. you’ve heard enough stories about how dirty they can be. in both the physical and mental aspects.

after some walking - and getting annoyed by random people who block your way due to how slow they’re moving - you reach the exit of the building. yona stretches her arms and grabs her phone before turning to you.

“anyway, see you later, hun!” she enthusiastically gives you a hug. you return the affectionate gesture with a gentle smile, rubbing her back. you exchange your last words before both going your own ways.

music plays in your ears as you walk down the street. the wind blows against your face. it’s a cold day. you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to rain in a bit.

‘gotta be fast’, you think. you are not carrying an umbrella with you, so you’d have to hurry back with your groceries. your legs pick up their pace and pass all traffic as fast as they can.

it takes you quite a while to get to your destination. that’s the drawback of living in such a packed city like tokyo. there is no way to move, especially in the evening, when everyone is returning home.

you reach a crosswalk and wait for the light to turn blue. whilst you’re waiting next to a bunch of people, your eyes wander across the scenery. from the huge billboards to your right to the multiple cars to your left.

your gaze stops at one specific billboard. it’s playing some of the latest news. a recent incident had taken place just a few kilometres north from your university. three people had been found cruelly murdered in their apartments.

the definite cause of their deaths is still unknown. there wasn’t any sign of a forced entry, even when reports say that all three victims had been killed in the same way.

they speculate that the person involved must have been quite skilled—someone who’s done this multiple times before. there are absolutely zero traces of them left neither. the only reason they’re able to conclude that it is indeed a homicide, are the similar wounds left on the victims’ bodies.

another comment from the investigation team shows that there might be a survivor who’s escaped the cold blooded killer. that person is now considered missing.

the police are still thoroughly investigating the matter; that’s all you get to know before the news reporter moves on to the next subject.

you look down at your shoes. such scary stuff does make you afraid. you’re living on your own after all. you’d be less scared if you had a roommate, but you currently don’t.

some call you lucky for that since it’s a rare occurrence, yet you still wish you had someone living with you. that would make walking back home at night less stressful.

the increase of footsteps around you makes you realise that the light turned blue—a sign for you to cross the street. you eventually reach the other side. you tilt your head back, anxiously staring at the sky.

‘please don’t, please don’t, please don’t,’ you chant in your head. like the weather is going to listen to your desperate pleas. you rush inside of the supermarket.

you’ve been here often enough to know which products are in what aisle. you scurry over to the ramen, grabbing two packs. you get a few snacks along the way. unhealthy crap, that’s what you’re surviving on.

you stand in line at the cashier. you tap your shoe and bite your lip, your gaze fixated on the sky outside. you beg god to give you just a few more minutes. a few more minutes of drought.

you check your phone and go through your recent notifications to kill time. you swipe left on almost all of them—none being time sensitive or urgent anyway.

you greet the cashier politely once it’s your turn and allow him to scan your products for you. you await for him to announce your total before handing him your debit card. your eyes flicker over to the television hanging right behind the cashier’s head.

that gruesome news again. twice in a row. you shiver and try not to think about it. your mind is already overthinking the entire thing; what if you’re next?

well, that should be the least of your worries. you grab the plastic bag and walk to the exit of the supermarket, taking a deep breath. what you actually should be worried about is getting home dry.

“just my luck,” you mutter under your breath. your prayers are left unanswered as the first few drops of rain fall on your head. you kiss your teeth in annoyance.

you can’t help but silently agree as a couple walks past you, complaining about the sudden change of weather. you watch as a few more people rush past you with their bags above their head.

looking at the bright side of things, you won’t be the only one who’s running home with a bag as a shield against the rain and wind.

you take a deep breath again and mentally prepare yourself for the quick journey you’re going to make. you look to the left and then the right. when the coast is clear, you dash into the direction of your dormitory.

the rain is not letting up. you rush past a few people, those carrying umbrellas walking the slowest of them all. ‘damn them’, you think, ‘they have it the easiest right now.’

you turn a corner and nearly bump into a woman. you politely apologise before continuing your little run home. damp droplets run down your forehead. the rain is already starting to block your vision.

you tightly hug your tote bag to your chest with one arm. the last thing you want is for your laptop to get water damage. you’ve wasted tons of money on that thing to help you get through college.

you look down at the plastic bag with your food. that’ll survive. at least you think it will.

you squint. the rain is only getting worse and thus your blurry vision will as well. you try blinking the water away, but end up making it worse for yourself.

great.

your shoes are going through it. the deep puddles you’ve run through leave the material moist and you can already feel the droplets seep into your socks.

greaaat.

you turn a left. this narrow street is one you hate to be near when it’s dark. it’s a fast shortcut, but also a scary one since it’s isolated from the bustling main streets.

you think back to the cruel news you’ve heard earlier. scary images flash through your mind. your heart races a thousand miles per hour. you once again make up a doom scenario that could possibly happen.

what if the killer on the run is going after you next?

it doesn’t make sense, logically, but everything is possible now that your anxiety has overtaken your rational thoughts. you have no connections to those victims and yet you think you’re next.

you are next.

you whimper out of fear. it feels like the walls of this narrow street are closing up on you the faster you run. you look over your shoulder, excepting someone to be there—following you.

no one is there. you turn your head again and run as fast as you can. if only you had someone with you. someone who’d console you and tell you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

that’s the worst thing about the entire situation: nobody seems to pass by this backstreet. the only things that could possibly give you any sense of comfort are the random boxes and trash laying around.

time seems to slow down once you see the end of the backstreet. there’d actually be people once you make it through. you gulp and give yourself the motivation to get over there without scaring yourself any further.

the shadows looming over you due to the lack of lightning in this alleyway creep you out. the entire atmosphere is eerie—like something or someone can jump out of those shadows and grab you by the ankles. drag you into the darkness and finish you off there.

you want to return to those vibrant lights you know so bad. you do.

your eyes are so intensely focused on the end of the streets to the point that you forget your surroundings. it’s already too late to realise that you’re tripping over something. you process that you’ve lost your balance when you’re already mid-fall.

your body lands on the wet ground with a loud thud. luckily enough, your hands touched the concrete first, softening the fall for your head. you grunt and groan; it still hurt.

your ears pick up on the sound of running water. your head lays right next to a broken pipe that’s leaking water onto the pavement. cold droplets fall in a rushed rhythm.

“ah, fuck.”

your eyes widen. the sound of a man behind you sends a shiver down your spine. is that why you tripped? did he make you trip?

‘i’m so done,’ you conclude quietly. it’s probably the killer you’ve heard about—the one who’s coming for you next. just like you had thought.

you shut your eyes tightly, awaiting the strike that would finish you. like the wounds that had finished the other victims. though, it never comes. the stabbing doesn’t happen.

the only thing you can pick up on is heavy breathing. low grunts, barely audible. the sound of cloth ripping. a man mumbling under his breath.

you sit up on your knees and look over your shoulder. slowly, little by little.

the revealed sight is like a dream. or a nightmare. you don’t know which it is. perhaps a mixture of both.

all you know is that this is the last thing you expected to see. the last thing you expected to experience today. you feel your heart drop and you freeze in place.

you’ve seen your own fair share of blood, but this is simply too much. it’s like time has stopped for you. like time has stopped inside of this backstreet.

the world outside of this alleyway continues moving. the people keep walking, chatting and living their lives. the rain keeps falling. as if nothing is occurring at the moment.

as if there is no bloodied man on the dirty ground, leaning against the wall, with crimson stained hands clutching his abdomen. his wet bangs cover his eyes which makes his identity even more mysterious.

you probably tripped over his leg that’s stretched out in front of him; also bloody. you feel bad for not noticing him earlier. your own selfish desires to get out of this alley caused you to overlook a person in need of urgent aid.

you don’t think twice before reaching out towards him. it’s like your body moves on its own command—not waiting for your brain to figure out what to do.

“oh my god,” you’re shaking badly, but your body crawls closer to the injured figure. you don’t think twice. something you have always taught yourself to do before diving into unfamiliar situations.

not right now, however. you don’t hesitate to check up on the stranger. if you didn’t see his chest moving with each shaky breath, you’d have concluded that he’s dead.

“s-sir?” you panic. what do you do? you’ve never landed in such a predicament before. you look to your left and then to your right. no one to help you nor the bloodied man.

he doesn’t reply to your voice. that further worsens your anxiety. your eyes wander down towards the man’s abdomen. the wound was deep and painful, that much you can tell from the way he’s holding tightly onto it.

a bullet wound? you’re not sure.

right—the piece of cloth he’s keeping against the wound. that’s what you do to try and stop the bleeding. the warm red liquid stains the man’s baggy pants. his black shirt is nearly ripped to shreds, the material hanging on by a thread. literally.

“uhm, uh,” you look around and spot your bag on the floor. in a puddle. you pray that your laptop has made it. you don’t recall having anything with you that could help treat wounds.

you gulp and hastily take off your scarf. you carefully kneel in front of the half-conscious man. his head is held low. you don’t know if he can even hear you.

you reach your hand out towards him, aiming for his own bloody hands that hold onto his abdomen. you cringe due to the sight, but try your best to be of assistance.

the man hisses the moment you touch the his hand. your fingers stop mid-air, not wanting to touch him if he didn’t want to.

what am i thinking?

now is not the time for that. he’s bleeding out and you have this urge to get him to safety as soon as possible. even if you’re internally panicking because of the huge responsibility that fate has suddenly assigned you.

“i’ll call an ambulance. please hold on,” you try to be reassuring, however your choked up voice betrays your true feelings. you change the old cloth with your scarf, pressing it tightly against his injury.

you fish out your phone from your pocket using your other hand. the rain makes it hard to do anything. your screen is wet, your vision blurry. you type in the first number of the emergency services.

suddenly, a bigger hand swats yours, causing your phone to go flying to the other side of the street. you watch with wide eyes as your cellphone comes to a stop right next to a big puddle of rain.

you whip your head to the direction of the injured figure in front of you. the man tries to lifts his head, slowly, so he could look you in the eye. your heart stammers in your chest.

“sir, you’re bleeding out, you need to—“

“i don’t need anythin’.”

you don’t dare to move nor let out a single breath. you can feel the tip of a sharp blade rest under your chin—nearly penetrating the flesh. one wrong move and you will lose your life.

the man had moved too fast for you to even process. you don’t know how you even ended like this. with a bloody knife to your throat and an unknown man’s face right up against yours.

“leave,” the stranger demands. you know he’s not to be messed with, even in his weakened state, “i don’t need y’r help.”

his voice sounds rough. deep and raspy. it shakes you to your core—makes you listen to what he has to say. it’s hypnotising. a gust of wind blows over the both of you.

his bangs move and your gaze finally meets his. the background noises fade for a split second. your entire focus is on those beautiful emerald orbs staring into your own eyes. they’re gorgeous.

they're gorgeous; even if they lack that sparkle of life. his eyes tell stories—the rough journeys this man probably had to endure throughout the years. you’ve never seen such a sight. it tugs at your heartstring and urges you to help him.

you don’t know where these feelings came from, but amidst your anxiety, there’s an underlying desire to take care of him.

you shake your head, showing your unexpected defiance. you’re playing with fire. you know that all too well and yet you don’t care.

“no. i won’t leave,” your breath hitches. you notice the dangerous glint in the man’s eyes. he looks like he’s going to lose consciousness any second now. though his grip on the knife tells another story, “i won’t leave you alone. not like this.”

the injured stranger grunts in annoyance, but also in pain. your persistence makes him want to shove you to the side. to leave this place already and find a way out on his own. he doesn’t want your help.

he may actually need it, but he does not want to accept it.

despite those thoughts, he’s too weak. way too weak. he doesn’t like being weak. feeling weak is not his thing. vulnerability doesn’t suit him.

“you have a fuckin’ death wish,” the man scoffs. he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto consciousness, but that is the last thing he cares about. he wants you gone. out of sight.

you stay in place. even through his chilling death threats. you can feel the blade start to invade the first layer of your skin. it hurts already. normally, you would’ve run. you want to. your mind tells you to get the hell out, but your heart and body yells at you to stay.

“i’ll give ya three seconds,” the stranger continues. he’s close. so close that you can feel his hot breath against your freezing cheeks. it’s intimidating, however not enough to scare you away.

the tighter your grip on the scarf against his abdomen, the tighter his grip on the handle of the knife. time will tell who’ll win this battle.

“three.”

the countdown starts. you swallow your own spit. the rain has you completely drenched. you catch a glimpse of the puddle underneath you both. the colour of it a light red as the man’s blood flows and mixes with the clear water.

“two.”

his voice is quieter than before. he’s losing his strength, but is stubborn enough to firmly keep the knife below your chin. you’re sure that your own blood is already trickling down the shiny metal.

the man’s lips part to announce the last number. your last chance. your final opportunity to escape and act like you have never seen him. you can go back to your normal life—continue living in your own world. the one you are familiar with.

one without this unknown man. this man with an aura of a cold hearted killer.

you fingers curl tightly against the scarf pressed against his wound. you refuse to let up. even if it means your own death. your eyes close—cold damp droplets roll down your cheeks. you don’t know if they’re your tears or if it’s just the pouring rain.

you hear a low, frustrated groan. he sounds so close yet so far from you. you can feel the man’s arm move to adjust his grip. probably to try and flawlessly puncture your jaw.

if only you accepted to eat out with your friend. if only you turned around and went back to your dorm the moment you knew it was going to rain. if only you didn’t take this shortcut today.

if only your fates hadn’t clashed.

“one.”

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

[jhoneybees]

Special gift

Hello Hello! I'm back dollies :) Here's a cute little fic! It's been a while since I've posted a fic so I do apologise😬 and with the desire part 2 I am writing it! but I'm gonna be shelving that for a bit because I'm not in that thirsty mood at the moment lol I've been craving some sweet fluffy Elvis! Enjoy!

Tags: @elvisalltheway101 my doll!

Characters: Highschool 50s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: I'd say nothing but if you spot something, please comment!

_____________________________________________

Gosh. His eyes, the waves of deep blue rippling into that icy blue around those dark pupils, increasing and decreasing in size. You really could get lost in them, you have to be careful though, you wouldn't want to fall in love…would you?

Well for your case, yes. You're in love, you're madly in love with a pretty boy. With how he skillfully combs back his hair into a duck tail and how his bottom lip juts out just a bit when he's deep in concentration, you're just melting at just the thought of him, of Elvis Presley.

He's everything you're looking for in a man, a future husband you hope and dream. He’s kind, caring, funny, generous, courteous, and humble. It goes on and on and on and you wouldn’t be panting by the endless list at all because you'll be too busy listing off every praise in the universe. Your mind is just filled with everything Elvis, in every single nook and cranny.

_____________________________________________

Closing the locker door with a tinny slam, your eyes drift to the boy of your dreams. Just standing there with nobody accompanying him, you take the chance to admire him, admiring how his ever growing chest hairs peek out from behind his white short sleeved button up, his lean biceps fill out those sleeves so nicely and his simple black slacks just had to make you hitch a breath, they compliment his long legs so well.

You really do dream of approaching Elvis someday, to finally confess your love that you've been bottling up ever since the first day you saw him but you're shy, so shy that you'd be a shaking leaf just asking a teacher for directions to the art classroom and not only that, you're scared of rejection, you know everyone else is too but it still doesn't change your mind to have the courage to walk up to Elvis Presley and blurt out the three words.

As you sigh and grip your books closer to your chest in longing, his eyes pierce into yours. You didn't know he could stop time because the brief moment of the both of you staring feels like the bustling crowds around you just freeze.

Trying to take an even deep breath, you swallow thickly as he strides towards you. Your wrists ache at the growing pressure against the edges of the books but you don't care because all you're thinking is if your knees are about to collapse at the blessing of seeing Elvis' shy but also charming grin.

“You're Y/n, right?” he asks.

You nod quietly and he breathes out a shy chuckle, stuffing his hand into his pocket, he nods back and you're guessing, out of nervous habit, he scratches the back of his neck.

“I-I’m Elvis…and uh- This m-m-might sound crazy but uh- I've seen you around these places and thought you're real pretty” he states.

He thought you're pretty? No. Real pretty? Oh your dreams must be having a real good time, you can't bring yourself to believe that, he couldn't possibly think that, he's got so many other girls who are far prettier than you that he could choose from, right?

“And uh- ah can't keep my head f’om shuttin’ up to ask ya if ya..uh.. w-w-wanted to go on a date with me?” his eyebrows raise just the slightest bit.

A date?! You? He’s asking you on a date? You swear, you're hearing wedding bells in your head and not the ones from the church a few blocks down that you'd willingly get married in if he asked you to or you're preferred choice, wanted to.

This can't be real, right?

“Y-you don't gotta say yes if ya don't wanna but just thought ah’d better take someone like you out before I regret myself”

He stammers with his head lowering towards his chest and rubbing the back of his neck with a small crooked smile.

Your overly religious parents would scold you for using his name in vain but…

Oh God

Gulping again for- you think, the 20th time. You clutch your books even tighter than before, fully aware that it would definitely leave red marks on your skin. Trying your best to not appear overly shy, you grip at that ounce of courage and give Elvis a small smile.

You've been dreaming of this.

“I-I’d love to”

_____________________________________________

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, OH. MY. GOSH.

You're going on a date with Elvis Presley…

You're going on a date with Elvis Presley!

As you close your bedroom door and plop your books down on your desk, you gasp softly in your hands in absolute shock. How did you land on such luck? Or whatever it is. Turning yourself around, you sit at the end of bed and dig your face deeper into your hands.

Trying to process your thoughts but of course, all you could ‘process’ is the image of Elvis, the guy that walked up to you. The boy who asked you on a date!

“Ah!!” You squeal, slamming yourself back on the bed, kicking your feet in the air with so much excitement.

Your hands dragging down your face don't do anything to your big smile, you're just amazed, in awe, so in love.

Then a thought comes into your head. What are you gonna give to Elvis as a token of appreciation?

Others might not think of anything like that but to you, it feels necessary. Elvis is taking time out of his day to take you out so why wouldn't you give him something for such a kind gesture?

_____________________________________________

“Thank you…”

You smile as Elvis helps you out of the car, your small hands held by his large ones, you feel calluses on his fingertips from what you know and saw, playing his guitar during lunch breaks and occasionally at the local park on weekends. Their firmness slightly nudges at the back of your hand, the warmth just engulfing your hand cosily. You couldn't be more satisfied at just the slightest touch from him.

Then as he leads you down the wide dirt and grassy track, you grip your knuckles together.

He didn't tell you where you were both going in Riverside Park for this date and as much as you adore and love Elvis, you're a little concerned but as you two near the riverbank and Elvis turns to you with a sweet boyish smile on his face. Your concerns wash away instantly.

“M’sorry this date ain't shiny and lavish…” he chuckles nervously.

“No, this is lovely, Elvis” you say softly, returning a smile.

You wouldn’t have this date any other way, it’s everything you’ve been dreaming of. Getting to sit beside the river with him, being in each other’s company, it’s perfect to you.

You have seen him with other girls at school before and when you saw how much of a gentleman he was to them just makes your heart stab itself with an arrow and you thought you know every kind gesture he does but he’s full of surprises because when he started taking off his jacket and laying it down on the grass, he had the audacity to melt your heart for the 100th time in the span of just 2 weeks.

“Don’t wanna get your pretty skirt dirty”

Of course with that little grin that you have memorised every detail from.

He is just…everything.

The conversation just flows so effortlessly and after some time it begins to fizzle out and you both sit in pleasant silence, you look out at the slow moving, crisp water and when you don’t expect it you both breathe in the fresh air at the same time. Whipping your heads around and bursting into a fit of giggles.

You want to spend your life with him.

Your mind runs with thoughts of how lovely this simple date is and when you turn to look at Elvis’ face, you accidentally let out a tiny gasp which you hope Elvis didn’t hear but of course he did. Turning to look at you with a slow growing smile and piercing blue eyes that ping through into your heart. You wouldn’t be surprised if he started laughing at your poor little heart thumping a thousand miles per hour.

Panting so much that its cheeks would flush a brighter red than it already is.

“Enjoyin’ yer time?” he asks with raised eyebrows, creating those cute little wrinkles on his forehead.

You nod with a small smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice how your cheeks grow a bit pink, almost like the same colour as his socks that are slightly exposed under his brown slacks.

He looks back at the water and you do the same. After a little while, you remember the thing you made for him. Quietly moving your arm, you dig in your skirt pocket and pull out a beaded bracelet with a colour scheme that you hope Elvis would like. Baby blue and gold. Finishing off with a white bead in the middle with a little gold encrusted heart on it.

“Um..Elvis?”

Your heart sighs at how he softly hums in response, turning to look at you with slow wandering eyes.

“Yeah?”

Holding in your breath, you close your eyes for a brief moment. You really do hope he’ll like it, you did work very hard on this little bracelet but if you had to be honest, you wouldn’t complain if he just throws it into the water and yells at you because it’s not much, It’s really not much compared to him using the fuel in his daddy’s car to drive you here and take time out of his precious day but you still like to hope.

Holding the small token in your hands, you lower your chin towards your chest. Gulping nervously at the non existent saliva in your desert-dry mouth.

“I-It’s not much but uh… I made you this a-as a thank you gift for- bringing me here a-and taking time o-out of your day- uhmp-” you stutter and with a bit of bravery and courage, you thrust your hands out more towards his chest.

Your heart almost jumps at the unexpected chuckle and your hands begin to tremble as you feel his fingertips brush your palm, picking up the homemade gift with a crooked grin on his handsome face. Your hands fall onto your lap, your brain shivering in delight. He’s so delicate and gentle at how he’s holding the bracelet and you just melt at how he takes the time to admire every single little bead that you know damn well costed you $1.50 for a small pack and the small gold encrusted heart being your only special bead that you didn’t want to use for anything that isn’t special, yes it’s not actual gold but you just thought a while ago that there could be a possible chance of a real special moment that this little bead would fit perfectly in which this moment is just that.

“Aw Y/n…that’s real sweet of ya, thank you” he drawls, still looking at the bracelet in hand. Shaking his head with a bigger grin, you quietly watch as he shimmies his hand through the bracelet, starting to doubt if it’s even going to fit, but it snaps in place and moulds around his wrist perfectly and as he looks up at you, you swear you felt your nerves in your body shut down for a split second.

Then your breath hitches as his hand softly and gently picks up your hand. This can’t be happening. Watching his hand lift yours up to his lips, his baby blues peering up at you, he places a delicate kiss on the back.

“...I love you”

[starsoftheeye]

TMagP 17 Reaction

Pre-Episode

I've discovered that acting disinterested literally makes the episodes show up earlier on my youtube account, so I've gotta play mindgames on this app every thursday to get to see the episodes less than half an hour after they release lol

Pre-Statement

Ah Celia is back on her bullshit

Wait did she just nearly get ran over???

I feel bad for laughing at her but her only reaction being "Oh for gods sake" is super funny to me how long has she been doing this

oh hi sam

oh god she missed their date :[

something tells me a habit is going to be made of this, especially considering she literally cannot help it

"it really wasn't" yeah no wonder you nearly became roadkill

theyre so cute i love them

ooh shes mad

Statement

"catalyst" huh, have we heard that before or is this the first time

pfft not the interviewer getting read to shreds

wild theory before i keep going, based on the title "saved copy" and the "identity crisis", "existential horror", "temporal distortion" and "captivity" tags, im going to assume that this person going to therapys having the details of their life copied somewhere for something to replicate and replace them, and the doctors gonna attempt to get rid of them but obviously it didnt work. either that or the guy outside the office does something

as someone whos never done meditation before this is not encouraging me to start

ah office spaces, the worst of cosmic horror

wait did they get teleported or something

tbf if my taxi driver started driving completely the wrong way i'd assume the worst and start "exchanging words" too

oh my god was i right

wait is this copy based on their therapy, a version of themselves with no problems whatsoever? and is this gonna be a "there can only be one" type scenario?

oh wait no i forgot siblings exist

wait nvm them having the same name is weird

"dates and times" so this is where the temporal distortion comes in ig

yup

i'm sticking with the "rich-darrien is a copy trying to assimilate into og-darriens life" theory for now

yeah because thats not normal darrien, even if youre related no-one looks completely identical apart from glasses, teeth colour and a lack of a beer-gut

do they both think the other is the copy, or does sharron just not know?

oh god what is he hiding

does he beat up a real person every time hes upset

of course it was his father that makes sense

oh my god the sound design

oh my god he's the one who assimilated thats so cool

good for sharron i hope shes doing okay

off-topic but i love the way the voices get more real as the statement goes on then go back to their more robotic tone at the end

Post-Statement

as a celia fan i am eating well this week jeez

celia my dear what do you mean by that "not exactly the same though, it is?" girlie what have you done what are you hidinggg

alice!

who was playing the music in the background there?

as someones whos computing department in school consists of keyboard with never-before-discovered types of bacteria wedged between the keys thats valid

alice dyer i love you so much

ah the dyhard is dyharding

ah yes the mutual "i'm traumatised and i know you are too but i don't like you enough to give details on mine or ask about yours so we'll just sit and suffer in silence til the ice somehow breaks" dynamic

also colin mention woohoo i love the scottish man

the computer start up noise and power down noise at the beginning and end of every episode kind of makes me think that someone is watching all of this (maybe us, or more likely someone in-universe)

anyway that was fun, i'm doing this late but this was a nice way to spend my first proper off-day since finishing all my exams

[coolsosha]

50 SHADES OF ASMO??? INTO THE ASMOVERSE??? 100 AND 1 ASMO?

Dunno about u, but I think thats veeery cool when artists make smol changes to the character they draw. And thats very interesting to see how different people see the same character! ♡

Sooo Sosha drew some sketches with 5 different Asmodeus designs.

IF U ARE ONE OF THOSE UNLUCKY PEOPLE WHO I TAGGED IN HERE, DON'T WORRY, YOU ARE ALLOWED TO IGNORE THIS POST♡

Time is priceless and there is no need to spend it on some random person's post only because they tagged you in it.

-Sosha. 2023.

First one we have... Original one!

Pretty simple cuuus, ya already know how he looks like.

-classic

-boring

-awful hair colour. no wonder why he has different hair colour on different arts.

Second one is... @soshaaaa aka me.

I actually drew this in the end, but i thought that "Well, if i will be harassing other ppl's Asmos, i need to harass my own Asmo first!"

-Eyes. ah, these eyes.

-"You draw nude man because you are horny, i draw nude man because im lazy to think of a new outfit"(×1)

-Why this one have so many "@Sosha"? because im angry when i have empty space on canvas

click to see more..

THIRD ONE ISSS @hiort

NOOO, FIRST DESIGN THAT IS MADE BY NOT-SOSHA?? (Aw, Sosha don't want to interrupt anyone, but I need to give credit for design so Sosha had to tag you, srry.)

-I found only 2 images of this one, but i just HAD TO draw it! I mean, look at this barbiegirl!

-I loove long haired Asmo. Also blonde looks pretty good on him!

-I made this first, so its less full than other ones. But i still think it came out cool!

FORTHTH ONE ISSSSS @noecoded

(srry for tag)

-I saw this Asmo some time ago, even before i went to tumblr, and when i found original artist I KNEW THAT I HAD TO DRAW THIS ASMO SOMEDAY.

-"You draw nude man because you are horny, i draw nude man because im lazy to think of a new outfit"(×2)

-I decided to use orig.artist shading style so it would look more familiar (and because i like it)

-darker skin and bright pink hair look sooo good!

-"Oh nooo, they made her EMOOO (deadass music)"

AND FIFTHTHTH ONE ISS @shootingstarrfish

(srry srry tag srry tag)

-U gotta say "Sosha, but this design is not very different" and i will say "SHUT UP IT GIVES EMU OTORI ENERGY AND I LOVE IT"

-He looks so silly and happy, I COULDN'T SKIP THIS ONE, OKAY????

-This one looks like mostly memes, i admit. I'm guilty. But i like it tho-

-Stealed lighting because IT LOOKS COOL

ULTIMATE MEME SKETCH!

IMAGINE BEING ASMO AND ENJOYING YOUR LIFE, THEN SUDDENLY 4 ANOTHER ASMOS FROM ANOTHER UNIVERSES APPEAR AND START TO DESTROY DEVILDOM TOGETHER???

...yeah, i definitely was high while i was drawing this.

Why they all pink? because i picked colours from their backgrounds, and when i was colouring backgrounds, i used mostly pink.

ALSO ASMO SCREENS FOR ALL YOU ASMO SIMPS AS USUAL♡♡♡

ANYWAY, END OF POST

[thisismysecondrodeo]

School Daze - Chapter 2

AN: Whoops my fingers slipped and this is now a multichapter series (at least 3 chapters if I had to guess lol). I will eventually post this on ao3 as well once it's complete!

Rating: General (series becomes Explicit)

Tags: Michelle Lasso, Henry Lasso, Second Chance Romance, Alternate Universe - College/University, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Time Skips, Ted and Beard have the purest friendship, Ted Lasso Deserves Love, Getting Together

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Fic Masterlist

-

“You said your friend Beard told you to ask me out in college? Was that the guy you used to leave theater with?”

You were sitting at Ted’s kitchen table, wearing a barbeque t-shirt he had probably purchased around the time the two of you first met, sipping at a mug of coffee. The man in question was standing in front of the stove, cooking eggs for the two of you, in flannel pants and no shirt. Looking at his broad shoulders and the smattering of freckles on his back only reminded you of last night, and you had to avert your eyes to stay focused. It wasn’t like you to sleep with someone so soon after meeting them, but he somehow felt like an old friend and a complete stranger at the same time. It was exciting and novel, and if you thought about it too hard you might freak out a little bit but you’d save that for after breakfast. 

“Mmhmm, sure was.” 

“Whatever happened to him,” you questioned, as Ted slid eggs and buttered toast onto a plate and sat it in front of you, before taking the seat diagonal to you so your knees brushed under the table. 

Ted chuckled, leaning back to look at the clock over the stove, “Oh, he’ll be here in…about 30 minutes, actually.” You sputtered on your coffee, not expecting that the frail friend from theater would be in Richmond with Ted. “We coached together at Wichita State and then when I got the invite to come out here, I was pleased as punch he was willin’ to go on this adventure with me.” 

“That’s sweet that y’all are so close,” you said with a smile. “I wonder if he still remembers me?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t bet against it because that’s a bet you’d lose,” Ted chuckled. “Beard’s got a mind like a vault.” 

The two of you ate in comfortable quiet, sneaking glances and blushing between bites. 

“I don’t usually—”

“So how long are you—” 

You accidentally spoke in unison, both of you encouraging the other to go first until you finally acquiesced. “I was trying to say, I don’t usually…move so quickly. But it was such a pleasure running into you and, uh, well, you don’t feel like a stranger. What I’m trying to say is, I know Beard will be here in 30 minutes, but I’d like to see you again. If you’re interested.” 

Ted looked down at his plate, a tendril of brown hair falling over his eye and a blush creeping up from his chest to the tips of his ears. “Well, I was tryin’ to ask how long you’d be in town, because I would really, really would like to see you again. Make up for old times, so to speak.” 

“I’d like that a lot,” you locked eyes with Ted and the two of you got a little lost, but the rattle of his phone on the countertop pulled you back to the present. “Ah, you gotta go to work. My hotel has a great restaurant if you want to get dinner tonight? I have one more week here.”

Ted stood up and cleared the plates, checking the message on his phone, “Beard’s running a few minutes late, buys us some time. Dinner sounds just lovely and I will be there faster than you can say 'Jack Robinson.' Now, could I interest you in a shower and a change of clothes?” 

You laughed, pushing away from the table and following Ted into the bedroom you were much more acquainted with now. “Oh, if we share a shower we’re going to need more than a few minutes,” you teased, tugging playfully at the drawstrings on his lounge pants and watching his pupils expand. 

The two of you managed to make it out of the door on time, your clothes from the day before tucked into one of Ted’s farmer’s market tote bags, and your coat covering up Ted’s borrowed clothing. Beard stood at the bottom of the stairs, a cup of coffee in each hand, an arched brow the only sign that he was at all surprised to see you. 

“Y/N. Long time no see!” 

“Beard, I presume. A pleasure to officially meet you. I’ll let you two get to work.” 

Ted took his coffee and you made to head in the opposite direction, but before you could take a step away, he tugged you gently by the arm to get your attention. “Let me know you made it back, okay?” You smiled and nodded, touched at his concern. He cut his eyes over at Beard before ducking and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

Despite being in your 20s when you met, something about Ted always made you feel like a schoolgirl. As you walked away, you pressed a hand to where his lips had met your skin and grinned to yourself. 

22 Years Ago

“I’m telling you, Ted, she’s so into you! You shouldn’t give up.”

Beard was reclining in the beanbag chair Ted kept in the corner of his dorm room, a half-smoked joint in one hand and a cup of instant noodles in the other. Ted was on his narrow twin bed, tossing a tennis ball at the ceiling again and again. 

“I’m not giving up,” he protested, catching the ball one last time before sitting up to look at his constant companion. “I just think, ya know, if it was meant to be she wouldn’t be so hard to find again! I’m just gonna…let the universe take it from here. Maybe we’ll have a class again next semester.” 

Beard was unassuaged, his eyebrows furrowing. “Fine. But I bet you $100 right now that she’s the one. To be paid on your and Y/N’s wedding day.” Beard stuck out a bony hand and Ted rolled his eyes, a small smile as he shook reluctantly. 

“Whatever you say Beard-o,” Ted sighed as he fell back onto his bed. He didn’t know how Beard could be so confident about it, but it seemed harmless if a little childish. 

Though the semester was over, Ted was taking summer classes and he still held out hope he might see you around. He wouldn’t say he was actively looking but he certainly kept his eyes peeled—which is how he noticed Michelle a few weeks later, the only other person in an empty university parking lot.

Beard kept his thoughts mostly to himself when Ted told him about Michelle; his money was still on you, as he reminded Ted. Ted just shook his head, throwing on a jacket to meet Michelle for ice cream.

And when he and Michelle got married, Beard silently paid up. 

Present

“I can feel you thinking, Coach, what’s on your mind?”

Ted and Beard stood shoulder to shoulder on the side of the pitch, Roy busy clomping around behind the slower players. Beard took a deep breath before responding, folding his arms tightly across his chest. 

“Was surprised to see Y/N this morning, that’s all.” 

“Ain’t that something,” Ted asked, immediately enthusiastic, “after all those years and she’s just…here! And divorced, like me.” 

“I guess that’s what I’m stuck on Coach, what’s she doing here? Now?” 

Ted looked over at his best friend, taking off his aviators in surprise, “Come on now, Coach. You’re not suggesting that she’s out to get me, are you? You used to be her number one fan!”

“Yeah, well, things change in 20 years, Coach. I’m happy for you, but you know I’m always looking out for you too,” Beard said gruffly, before stepping onto the pitch with Roy and blowing his whistle to round everyone up. Ted stayed where he was, hands on his hips, mulling over the nature of romance and coincidences.

-

You left your hotel for some sightseeing and shopping, a new outfit tucked under your arm for your date with Ted, and when you returned Beard was sitting in the lobby. He was wearing his hat pulled low over his brow and he reclined against the couch in his training clothes. You stopped in your tracks before making your way over to him. 

“Hello, Beard,” you had a hint of suspicion in your tone you didn’t attempt to hide. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon. I imagine this isn’t just a coincidence?”

“No, no it is not,” Beard shook his head, sliding over slightly to make room for you to sit. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” 

You set your bag down on the floor before sitting at the end of the couch, your body angled towards his. “Depends, can I ask you some first?” Beard gave you a go-ahead gesture so you asked, “how did you know where I was?”

“Ted mentioned the two of you were getting dinner here, I put two and two together.” 

“And where does Ted think you are?” Beard didn’t say that this was a secret excursion, but he didn’t have to. 

“Lunch with my girlfriend, Jane.” You didn’t know that you were worried that Beard was the one here to confess his love until he said he had a girlfriend and you immediately released a sigh of relief. 

“Little creepy,” you responded matter-of-factly. There weren’t any other people floating around the lobby besides staff here and there but you lowered your voice anyway. 

“That was my nickname in college,” Beard joked, and you knew he was joking despite the lack of any emotion on his face. 

“Well, then I’m glad I didn’t know you better.” 

That got a genuine laugh from Beard, a sharp bark of amusement that surprised both of you. It effectively reduced the tension between the two of you but you still didn’t know why he’d sought you out. 

“So what can I do for you?”

Beard sighed, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands on his knee. It seemed like the idea of saying a lot of words to you was making him preemptively tired.

“I have been Ted’s best friend for a very long time. I remember you, well, actually. And to be honest, I was rooting for you,” that admission surprised you, your eyebrows raising, but you didn’t interrupt, “but you disappeared off the face of the Earth and now here you are and I guess I just…I’m trying to keep my oldest friend from falling too hard, too fast and you disappearing again.”

It wasn’t what you expected—it was a little codependent but well-meaning and, more importantly, valid. Your lips tightened into a slight grimace that Beard must have taken to mean you weren’t sure how to answer, so he phrased it as a question, “So I guess I’m asking as politely as I can, where did you go and why are you back?”

“No, it's a fair question. And I figured it would be something Ted and I would talk about eventually though I do appreciate your…proactive…friendship. In short, I didn’t know Ted was looking for me; when he didn’t call I thought we’d just missed our chance. The two of you didn’t see me again because I dropped out, which is a much longer story and I didn’t go back until after you all had graduated.” Beard listened intently, a wince of embarrassment when you mentioned dropping out and he realized he was asking after something rather sensitive. 

“By the time I was in a place to even think about Ted, I looked him up and he was married. And then I got married, and,” you trailed off, waving your hand in the air in a vague way to communicate ‘you know, life.’ Beard just nodded. You weren’t annoyed by Beard asking like you might be with someone else, partially because he didn’t pry any further and partially because you felt something of a kindred spirit in him. He knew what it was like to not have life go your way. “And I’m here because I’m on vacation. It was genuinely a coincidence. A happy one. Serendipity, right?”

“Serendipity,” Beard repeated, a small smile on his face. “I’m sorry for interrogating you. But don’t feel like you need to keep any secrets from Ted, especially not on my behalf. He’s…done a lot for me, and I’ll take any chance I get to attempt to return the favor. Even if it’s a slight overreaction.” 

You just nodded as Beard stood up, clapping his hand on his thighs and adjusting his hat. You were gathering your bags when you realized he hadn’t left and when you looked at him, he winked. “For what it’s worth, I’m still rooting for you.” 

He didn’t wait for you to answer before walking away and you grinned at his retreating back. 

The next time you came down to the lobby, it was Ted on the couch waiting for you, in a navy suit and white shirt, no tie, and a bundle of pink stargazer flowers in one hand. 

He looked perfect. 

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

[velvetvertigo]

Give Me A Sign (Kiss Me Baby, One More Time)

Read it now on ao3!

By Superstar_Husky, aka me!

4,948 words, 1/1 chapters

There's worse people that Jude can use his first kiss on that his best friend.

Jonesy looks wildly around the room, trying to focus on anything other than Jude, whose blue eyes are all the way open for once and whose face is adorned with a faint pink blush. Ah, an often-ignored workplace safety poster. That’ll do the trick. “The signs so you know when to kiss the chick , man!” Oh great, now Jonesy’s voice is going up an octave too. Jude’s hands fly up to grab at his touque, another classic habit of a stressed-out Jude. “Oh man, the chick , dude! I gotta go meet Starr at the Gigantoplex! Catch you later?” He framed that last bit more like a question, lopsided grin wavering slightly. “No worries, dude. Later.” Even as he leaves, Jonesy still finds himself unable to fully rest his eyes on him. But once Jude’s fully gone, his eyes move to fixate on the doorway he left through and his fingers move up to ghost over his lips, drawn to them like static electricity. “Fuck .”

Fandom: 6teen

Ratings: teen and up

Warnings: none

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Jonesy Garcia/Jude Lizowski

Characters: Jonesy Garcia, Jude Lizowski, Starr (6teen), Nikki Wong, Wyatt Williams, Jen Masterson, Caitlin Cooke

Additional tags: friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, first kiss, IT WAS ONLY A KISS, how did it end up like this, feelings realization, coming out, kissing, making out, gay male character, bisexual male character, gay panic, internalized homophobia, period-typical homophobia, angst, angst with a happy ending, panic attacks, Nikki Wong is a good friend, Nikki Wong supports the gays, alternate universe: canon divergence

[peppermintquartz]

i'm not fitting this into any fic but the trash talk won't leave my head so imma jot it down here (in my head, when there's trash talking, it's usually Joe vs whoever. this time round it's Finn vs Roman)

in this kayfabe scenario, TJD and Bloodline have just begun scrapping. Finn and Roman have not yet had a proper match with the titles on the line, so Finn and Damian come out after a Bloodline match and they're applauding sarcastically.

Finn: Absolutely breathtaking, don't you think, Damian? Great match, Solo, Sami. You two are getting to be almost as in sync as the Usos. No offense to the Usos, of course. You two set the standard for tag teams in here.

Everyone in the Bloodline except Roman looks at Damian and Finn and are prepping to square off.

Damian: Even Paul was great! He kept morale up throughout the match. Utterly indispensable.

Paul: What do you two want?

Finn: What, we can't come out here to pay compliments to a dominant faction? You guys have been killing it. We gotta give my kudos where they're due.

Roman: Kudos received, Finn. Now get the hell outta here.

Finn: *chuckles* Ah, can't do that, Roman. Because - see, here's the thing. I see the Usos showing up and defending their titles. I see your boy Solo and your honorary Uce doing their best to soften up the challengers. I even see Paul Heyman carrying the belts for you. But you know what I don't see? Damian, do you know what I don't see?

Damian: What don't you see, Finn?

Finn: I don't see Roman doing jack shit.

Sami grabs a mic but Roman takes it from him.

Roman: Big talk for a man who's lost to me.

Finn, smiling: You had someone sabotage the ring because you knew you couldn't beat me in a fair fight. Even now, you need all of them to shield you.

Uproar from the Bloodline.

Sami: You will acknowledge the tribal chief, Finn, or we're gonna-

Finn, interrupting: You can "acknowledge" him all you want, Sami. You know me, I don't judge. Love is love.

Damian: Love is love, baby.

Finn: But until and unless Roman puts the titles on the line, he's just a pathetic little puppy dog pretending he can bite. Keep lying to yourself that the entire WWE Universe will fall to their knees to acknowledge you, Roman. Prop up that fragile self-esteem behind all that bravado. Call yourself the Tribal Chief and force others to follow.

Finn, no longer smiling: But no one tells the tribal chief the truth, do they?

Damian, mock whisper: They don't dare to. He might have throw a tantrum.

Finn: Know what the difference is between you and me? I don't need to force anyone. They trust me. Do you think your people trust you?

Sami: Of course we trust the tribal chief!

The Usos and Solo don't echo the words, though they step forward to form a wall in front of Roman so he can't see their expressions.

Finn: Roman, one last thing - I know why you won't put the titles on the line. Because you're frightened. I beat you on my first night on Raw. I would have beaten you if the ring ropes weren't rigged to fail. And I will beat you again, and take back what is rightfully mine.

[stealingpotatoes]

it’s ya girl potes back at you with another oc art dump!

(they’re all Dead Prince bar the last dood, which is just my top 5 tallest main character ocs lol!)

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: six ( 15.5k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

what is hybrid marking

8.2 million results. 

While scent mixing (heretofore referred to as ‘scenting’) is temporary and lasts a maximum of twelve hours if left undisturbed, scent marking (‘marking’ in common parlance) is semi-permanent. A ‘mark’ is created when the pheromones present in a hybrid’s bodily fluids are applied directly to their markee’s skin. When said chemical compounds seep below the epidermis and bond to the sweat glands found within the dermal layer of the skin, the target has been officially ‘marked’. Between domesticated hybrids and their human caretakers, this is most commonly done by applying hybrid saliva to the skin of the neck, where a human’s scent tends to be strongest. While the behavior involved in marking resembles some aspects of human foreplay, it is a non-sexual expression of mutual trust and affection. It is important to note that most hybrids of age are able to mitigate the oral secretion of pheromones and cannot mark accidentally-

“How do I look?” 

The sound of Jimin’s voice makes you jump. You fumble with your phone, trying to exit out of the website, shove it in your pocket and look at the leopard hybrid’s outfit at the same time.

“You look great!” You tell him once the device is safely tucked away.

He rolls his eyes at you. “You’ve said that about everything I’ve shown you.”

You had, but only because it was true. No matter what the trio of hybrids tried on, they all looked great. You weren’t sure what it was, but seeing them in something other than neutral sweat suits made them look even better than they already had. You were discovering they all had unique senses of fashion too. Taehyung preferred earth tones, soft fabrics and slouchy cardigans, Yoongi tended toward plaid overshirts and dark denim and Jimin had just come out of the dressing room in his sixth button down and second pair of chelsea boots. 

When the four of you had arrived at the mall that afternoon, you’d told them to go wild and call you when they were ready to check out. There was an entire section of the shopping center that catered specifically to hybrids and you were certain they’d be able to find everything they needed and more. You’d been all set to sequester yourself in a booth in the food court and indulge your hybrid research habit, but Taehyung had fixed you with a forlorn look the moment you tried to part with them and Jimin had insisted that you personally review every piece of clothing he put on. You wouldn’t deny that you were having fun, but surreptitiously trying to google what every little thing they did meant without getting caught was getting harder and harder. 

Jimin breezes past you to the semi-circle of mirrors on the far end of the fitting rooms, brushing his tail against your shins as he passes. That was another thing that had changed. Since the talk you’d had with the boys last night, it seemed like they were always finding some excuse to touch you or brush up against you . You didn’t know if it was a manifestation of their cat genes or them just wanting physical reassurance that you were there, but it seemed like every time you turned around there was a tail curling around your calf or a nose tip against your ear or a shoulder brushing your own. You were practically wreathed in them. Even Yoongi hadn’t seemed to mind when your fingertips had brushed against each other at breakfast when you’d passed him the juice. You didn’t know if you should count that as progress, but you want to. 

You’re not entirely used to physical contact and nearly every time Taehyung rubs his cheek on the top of your head or Jimin reaches out to link your fingers together, you jump. It feels strange, to have people be so blatantly physically affectionate with you. It’s not like you dislike it, exactly, it’ll just take some getting used to. Whatever adjustments you need to make, you know you’ll need to make them quickly. You don’t think the hybrids will give up on friendly hugs just because you never initiate them first.  

“Y/N-ah,”Jimin calls, catching your attention. He’s twisting this way and that on the platform, trying to catch his reflection in every possible angle. He hums in disappointment as he turns back to the front, tail waving behind him. “This collar,” he says, tugging on the offending band of bright green plastic around his neck, “-is ruining my outfit. We’ll need to get real ones today.” 

You feel like a stone has settled in your stomach. Your shoulders sag, but if the leopard hybrid notices, he doesn’t say anything. “Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah, you’re right.” In truth, you’d hoped to put it off for a little while longer. Collaring and leashing a hybrid had always seemed odd to you. After all, weren’t they people too? The law was the law, you knew, but something about publicly and visibly marking someone as property...well, the morality of it was gray at best. The temporary collars had provided you with a stay from the inevitable, but there was no avoiding it any longer, you supposed. They’d have to get collars. 

“I saw a store for them a couple shops down,” Taehyung supplies as he steps out of his dressing room in a white linen shirt and cream drawstring pants. “We could go there?” 

“That works for me...Taehyung, one of your buttons is in the wrong hole.” 

The tiger hybrid squints down at his shirt, feels blindly for the hole he missed, but can’t seem to find it. 

“No,” you tell him. “Not that one, the other- do you just want me to fix it?”

He pauses and looks up at you for a solid three seconds before giving a single, slow nod. 

You come to stand in front of him and start undoing the buttons from the top. There’s only four of them but each one you pop open reveals more and more of his honey brown skin and prominent collar bones. Your fingers brush his skin accidentally and he chuffs happily, one hand resting on your lower back as you start buttoning him up again. Heat starts crawling up your neck unbidden. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, you can feel the warmth of his palm, how long his fingers are. He presses you closer until your arms are nearly flat against your chest as you try to finish buttoning him up. It’s hard to move squished between the insistent pressure of his hand and the- surprisingly- hard line of his body, but you make do. “There!” You pat him gently on the chest as you finish the last button. “All done.”

He dips forward and rubs his cheek against your forehead, rumbling so deep in his chest that the vibrations pass into you. “Thank you.” He releases you and pulls away, but as he does, his lips brush against your hairline. You try not to read too deep into it. 

The tiger hybrid sidles over to his friend in the mirror, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist and dipping his head into his neck. Jimin reaches back and scratches behind one of his ears and your heart swells in your chest. It was nice to see them be so openly affectionate with each other. They’re so close in a way you can’t even begin to understand. It’s beautiful. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you thumb the screen to life. An incoming call from Mr. Seo. “You guys keep trying stuff on,” you tell the pair, already standing to make your way out of the dressing room. “I’ve gotta take this.”  They both call at you to hurry back and you give them a shout of assent as you rush away. 

The second you’re outside the store, you answer. “Hello?”

“Ms. L/N,” Mr. Seo’s voice crackles on the other end of the line. “I trust you’ve settled in well.” It isn’t a question and the tone of his voice makes it clear that he doesn’t wish to spend what precious time he has exchanging pleasantries with you. 

“Yeah, everything’s okay.” Everything had most certainly not been okay when you’d emergency dialed him two days ago about the tiger on your couch. The text he’d sent you back six hours later had told you to figure it out. You had and you knew you weren’t his responsibility, but him tossing you in the deep end was still a sore spot for you. 

“There’s been a change of plans.” 

You grimace. Straight to it, then. “What’s going on?” 

“Black Mountain Canines- the company your uncle purchased two of the hybrids from- changed their pick-up date. They want you to come get them in person today.”

“Pick-up?” You frown. “No, they were supposed to drop them off.”

“They were,” Mr. Seo confirms, “But it’s apparently no longer profitable for them to drive all the way into Seoul to hand-deliver two of their charges. They also claim they’re incurring additional expenses by feeding and housing two hybrids who’ve already been purchased, but we’ll see about that when we arrive.”

Your anxiety spikes and your fingers wrap tighter around your phone. You’d promised the boys a whole day out. All you’d done so far was get them phones of their own and furniture for their room. There was still so much to do, so much to see. “What about Yoongi and Jimin and Taehyung?” You blurt out.

Mr. Seo sighs and his breath crackles over the receiver. “Those are the cats, I assume? I suggest you let them know sooner rather than later that they’ll have to share their space.” There’s a flurry of movement on his end of the line, the sound of someone calling his name and papers shuffling. “I have to go; they need me to look over some case files.” He tells you. “I’ll be at Haneul Tower to pick you up in three hours. Be downstairs waiting.”And the line clicks off. 

You sigh and hang up. What were you going to tell the boys? Day one of your new friendship and you were already breaking promises. 

“Trouble?” Yoongi’s voice right behind you makes you flinch and whirl on him. His ears press back against his head and he takes a step back at your sudden movements. 

“Sorry!” You tell him, forcing your spine to relax. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you there; I thought you were still shopping. ”

“I can tell,” he snarks, but there’s no heat behind it. His eyes trace the line of your shoulders, still tense and flick to the phone in your hand. “I dropped my stuff at the register. What’s going on?”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, nerves making your stomach ache. “C’mon,” you tell him, walking back into the store. “Let’s pay and grab some lunch. I’ll tell you when we sit down.” He follows after you a few paces behind, trying not to let worry prick in him at the anxious shift in your scent. Something was about to change, he was sure, and not entirely for the better. 

Twenty minutes later, the four of you are sitting in the food court, a mess of shopping bags at your feet and a bowl of tteokbokki between you. Yoongi and Jimin had picked out all the fish cakes first and were bickering good-naturedly over who the last one should go to, but Taehyung seemed content to just gnaw at his rice cakes. You’d hardly touched anything, your eyes flicking back to the time on your phone. 1:20 P.M. Two hours and forty minutes ‘til Mr. Seo would be at your apartment to pick you up and bring you to get two more of the hybrids your uncle had bought. You push a rice cake around on your paper plate with the end of your chopstick. Well, no point delaying the inevitable. 

“Hey, guys?” You call softly. Three pairs of ears swivel toward you immediately. The words die in your throat and your tongue feels like lead as they look at you, all their eyes focused and expectant. You clear your throat and force yourself to continue. “So...you know how I…” You search for the right word, but there’s really no other way to say it. “...inherited you guys from my uncle?” 

Taehyung’s eyes flick toward Jimin and the leopard hybrid brushes his tail against the tiger’s. Silent communication you couldn’t even begin to decipher. “Yeah,” Yoongi says, tossing his chopsticks down and leaning back in his chair. “I told them.”

That was right. What you’d blurted out at Yoongi yesterday on the street you had yet to disclose to his juniors. “Thanks, Yoongi,” You tell him, meaning every word of it. He’d spared you from yet another uncomfortable conversation. 

“...For what it’s worth, we’re glad it’s you,” Taehyung tells you, his tail twining around your ankle under the table. He looks at his hyungs for confirmation and when neither of them deny it, he settles his amber gaze back on you. “We like being here with you, even if you didn’t pick us. It’s...It’s nice.”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips at his words. He beams at you, his boxy smile soft despite the sharp incisors poking his bottom lip. “I like having you guys around, too,” you admit, taking the time to meet each of their eyes. Jimin purrs as you look at him, the corners of his mouth curling. When your gaze meets Yoongi’s, his ears twitch but he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t blink either, just holds your stare with an intensity that makes heat crawl up your neck. You suddenly remember the warm stretch of his body over your’s, the sensation of his lips against your neck. You snatch your eyes away and cough to cover your lapse in speech.  “It would’ve been scary, I think, if I had to deal with all this alone.” 

You couldn’t even imagine it.That clinically clean apartment with its blank white walls and its imposing emptiness would have driven you down until you couldn’t stand it anymore. You’d always had a little pit of loneliness inside you. You didn’t know how long it’d been there. Maybe it always had been, a seed of something sad and dark at the core of your soul. You’d done well keeping it contained. You felt it in your goshiwon, but your room was small. It couldn’t grow beyond your keeping. In Oliver’s penthouse, it would’ve had endless room to sprawl and with no one to clip it back, you would’ve choked to death on vines of doubt.

“There are others,” you tell them, before you can down spiral into the mire of your own thoughts. “He bought other hybrids before he died. They weren’t supposed to be coming until next week but their company wants me to come get them today.” 

The mood at the table shifts almost immediately. Taehyung’s ears and tail sag, Jimin’s smile goes sharp at the edges and Yoongi’s lip curls. “How many others?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. You notice he does that when he’s nervous or uncomfortable. It’s a defense mechanism, no matter how at ease it makes him seem. 

“Four,” you answer and the bobcat hybrid’s ears tilt back in irritation. “Two are coming home today and the other two toward the end of next week.” Jimin doesn’t say anything, but you see the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. He’s annoyed. Taehyung drops a hand onto the smaller hybrid’s back and rubs circles in it, trying to soothe him. 

“Maybe it’ll be okay?” The tiger hybrid offers. He’s trying his best to be diplomatic, but you hear the strain in the deep timbre of his voice. “Having other cats around again might be nice. We used to live with a lot back at the center…”

You wince. “...they’re canines.” Almost immediately, all of their ears go flat against their skulls and they hiss in unison. Yoongi stifles himself the quickest, setting a hand on Jimin’s knee and squeezing to get the leopard hybrid to get a hold of himself. 

“Hybrids of different species don’t play well together,” he explains. “Especially not when our animals are solitary in the wild. The only reason Jimin, Tae and I are able to stand sharing the same territory is because we’ve known each other since we were kids and we’ve had to do it before.”

Before? A question forms in the back of your mind, but now isn’t the time to ask it.

“We don’t like sharing what’s ours,” Jimin continues for his hyung, interlocking his fingers with yours on the plastic table top. “It’s instinctual.”

“I know, I know.” You squeeze his hand lightly, trying to reassure him. “But the apartment is big; can’t you avoid each other starting out?”

All three of them give you a strange look and Jimin’s lips curl in a way that isn’t quite a smile. “...right,” he purrs, a little delayed. “The apartment.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, anxiety sinking its claws into you. “I’m really sorry to spring this on you guys, I know it’s not great, but…” Your shoulders sag. “I don’t want to have promised someone a home and rip the rug out from under them, you know?” You knew what that felt like. You wouldn’t wish that feeling on your worst enemy. “I’m just...I’m worried that they’re not being treated well.”

“They were up for sale,” Yoongi drawls. “They definitely aren’t.” 

The taxi ride back to Haneul Tower is uncomfortably quiet. Jimin still holds your hand and Taehyung still leans on your shoulder, but nobody says a word. You help them carry their bags upstairs and drop them off in the master bedroom. You’d told them they could have separate rooms if they wanted, but they’d insisted on sharing, so you thought it was only fair that they get the largest room in the penthouse. Clothes went onto hangars and into closets and before you knew it, there were only ten minutes until Mr. Seo’s arrival. 

“You don’t have to go,” Taehyung huffs. He’s got you wrapped in a bear- well, you suppose a tiger hug and his cheek is mashed against the top of your head. You don’t even think he’s actively scenting you at this point, just keeping you from leaving. “Send your assistant instead and stay here with us.”

You let out a puff of laughter and pat the hybrid on the back in a way you hope is soothing. “Mr. Seo isn’t my assistant, buddy, he’s my uncle’s attorney.” You give a little tug away from him and he lets you go, albeit with a sad little mrow that makes him sound just like a disappointed cat. “I couldn’t ask him to do that. The only reason he’s coming is because they broke the contract. And I can’t drive.” 

The look Taehyung gives you is so downtrodden that you toy with the idea of calling the whole day off and staying with them- but no. You can’t bail out now, especially not with what you’d put Mr. Seo through when the first group of hybrids were delivered. “I’ll be back before you know it,” You tell him with a steadfast smile. 

“You’d better,” Jimin says, nudging the taller hybrid out of the way. Taehyung gives a half-hearted growl, but settles as Yoongi squeezes his shoulder. “The longer you’re away, the longer you’ll have to sit in the stench of those mutts.”

You frown. “Jimin-”

“Only joking,” He soothes, bringing both of your hands up to his cheeks. You don’t believe him, but you don’t press it. The leopard hybrid nuzzles into your palms, purring happily at the feeling of your skin against his. Your palms nearly burn from how warm he is. You feel a warm puff of air against your fingers and tense as Jimin presses all ten of them against his lips. 

“Jimin.” Yoongi’s voice is hard, but his junior’s lips curl up in a satisfied smile, one of his incisors pricking at the pad of your index finger. 

“Hurry back,” he murmurs. You try not to shiver at the feeling of his plush lips moving against your oversensitive fingertips. 

“I’ll do my best!” You say,  a pained smile tugging your lips apart. He hums in response and drops your hands, his fingers trailing across yours as he lets you go. 

“Hyung,” he calls over his shoulder. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Y/N-ah?”

“Don’t let them scent you.” Is all Yoongi says as he breezes toward the stairs. “You know better now.” 

It’s as much as you were expecting. “I’ll see you guys later,” You tell them as you head out the door. “Finish setting your phones up and text me if you need anything!”

True to his word, Mr. Seo is parked out front at 4 o’clock on the dot. You haven’t seen him in a little over a week and you’d almost forgotten how imposing he was. He cuts a sharp figure against the backdrop of the bustling street, dressed in all black and leaning against a brand new Buick Enclave. The poor valet stationed at the front door looks like he’s been trying to work up the courage to ask to park his car for the past twenty minutes and sags in relief as you start heading over.

The lawyer dips his head in acknowledgement at you and checks his watch. “Miracle of miracles,” he says, popping open the passenger side door for you. “You’re on time.”

“I was late one time,” you huff, sliding past him and into your seat.

“And that was enough,” he snips back, closing your door before you can come up with a retort. You grumble to yourself, but don’t press him. You know he’s right. He’d gone out of his way to help you and you’d put him out. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him as he settles into his seat and reaches for his seatbelt. “It won’t happen again; I know you’ve got other things to do.”

He stills and looks at you over the gold frames of his glasses. For a long moment he holds your gaze, unblinking. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Had you done something wrong? 

Finally Mr. Seo blinks and finishes buckling himself in. “I apologize for staring, I wasn’t sure if I’d heard you correctly.” He push starts his car and pulls away from the curb. “I never thought I’d see the day a L/N would apologize to me.” He edges the car into the steady stream of Seoul traffic and you’re off, zooming toward the freeway.

Silence fills the car again, but as Mr. Seo takes on-ramp, you work up the courage to ask your question. “Did Oliver never apologize to you?”

Mr. Seo snorts and it’s such an undignified sound that you almost can’t believe it comes from him. “You could tell your uncle the sky was blue and he’d argue that it was red until he was. And your grandfather-” He seems to catch himself, reigning back whatever meager bits of his personality had managed to slip through the cracks in his normally flawless veneer. You’re all ears.

Up until a week and a half ago, you hadn’t known you had any family, much less an uncle who owned buildings and bugattis. Now you were finding out that you had a grandfather too. “What about my grandfather?” The word feels strange in your mouth. It’d been years since you’d followed the word ‘my’ up with any type of familial relation. 

Mr. Seo cuts his eyes at you, and flicks them back to the front. “Nothing,” he replies, clearly done talking about him. “I spoke out of turn.” He reaches forward and turns on the radio, the sound of national news filling the silence.

You pout and slouch in your seat, disappointment setting in as the promise of new information slipped out of your grasp.

The rest of the drive is easy. Mr. Seo takes the highway out of Seoul and up into the foothills but you’re asleep before he even finds the exit. You’d slept more in the past two days than you had in the previous three weeks, but it seemed like years of bad habits were catching up to you.

Last night, you’d passed out halfway through the second movie snuggled up between Jimin and Taehyung. They’d been so warm and soft and the quiet thrumming of their heartbeats had lulled you to sleep before you knew what was happening.You’d woken up with them still curled around you and -maybe most surprising of all- Yoongi plating breakfast in the kitchen.

Still, it seemed even twelve hours of the best sleep you’d gotten in years and a peaceful morning devoid of stress -for the most part- hadn’t been enough.

You wake up just as the asphalt transitions into gravel, the sound of it crunching under the tires and the car’s shaking waking you up. You’re bleary-eyed and confused, but a sign up ahead snaps you to wakefulness. Standing like a guardian over a chain link fence topped with barbed wire is a metal sign, imposing as it is tall: Black Mountain K-9s, written in stark font.

“We’re here,” Mr. Seo says, as if it’s not obvious. He kills the engine and without its purring to distract you, you feel nerves starting to boil in your belly. What kind of place was this? You half expect sinister organ music to kick on and lightning to start flashing from black clouds. Neither of those things happen, though. The sky remains startlingly clear and the only things you can pick up are the sounds of whistles being blown, dozens of people doing call and response, and one voice, louder than all the others screaming for people to ‘Run faster! Get those knees up!’

You pop the door and step out of the car before Mr. Seo can open it for you and head around to the nose of the car, taking in the compound. 

“This facility produces some of the highest caliber bodyguards in the country,” He says, coming to stand beside you. The attorney rebuttons his suit jacket and flicks his sleeves up before settling his arms over his chest. “Politicians, celebrities, even a few former presidents all have hybrids from this training center.”

“It looks more like a prison,” You remark, nodding toward the barbed wire. “First big cat hybrids, now this...Why didn’t Oliver just get regular pets if he was lonely? Was he worried someone was after him?” 

“Anything I can tell you would be pure speculation,” He replies, walking away from you and heading for the callbox. “Your uncle very rarely confided in me.”

“But you were his attorney.” 

For just a second, the tight grip Mr. Seo has on his composure slips. His lips press together and his shoulders sag- but just as quickly as it’d lapsed, his mask is in place again. “Yes,” he says after a beat. “I was.” And he presses the button on the call box before you can pester him with any more questions about the dead men he’d known.

The call box crackles to life, speakers squealing with feedback. You flinch and slap your hands over your ears to protect them from the splitting sound. Mr. Seo doesn’t react at all and you’re stunned, wondering how he can stand it.

“Seo Seunghan and Y/N L/N for Lim Hangyeol.” 

The person on the other end doesn’t respond. The speaker cuts and a second later, the metal gate before you starts rolling to the side, pushed by invisible hands. It’s like a curtain going up at the theater. 

Before you lies a wide, dusty yard, devoid of any plant life. The thick-trunked trees and lush grasses of the surrounding mountainside had been stripped down to the roots here. All that remains are a few weeds poking out around the base of the long metal buildings that ring the fence, and even those seem like an intrusion. People are making use of the space in whatever way they can. A group of people with matching cropped black ears and docked tails run past you in four straight lines, all perfectly in step with each other. Over to your right, there’s a pack of teenagers working in pairs to scale a ten-foot tall sheer wooden wall and in the center of the field, twenty kids are running through taekwondo forms, supervised by a widely smiling instructor.

You’re in awe of it all. Every single person is like a cog in a well-oiled machine, all in the same black tactical pants and compression shirt. You’d never seen so many hybrids in one place before and certainly not all of the same breed.

Mr. Seo places a hand in the center of your back, steering you away from staring and toward a squat cement building.You let him lead you.

“When we get inside,” the lawyer begins, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “Let me speak first. If we can get him to admit to breaching the contract right away, it’ll be much easier to get him to agree to a settlement.”

You frown at that. “Why would we settle?” You ask him. “It’s not like I need the money.”

“It’s a matter of principle, Ms. L/N.” He sighs, pulling open the heavy metal door and ushering you into the building. “He did something wrong, and it’s most easy for him to bear the brunt of atonement financially. Without requiring damages be paid for breaches, contract law would collapse.” 

“Can’t you just have him apologize?”

Mr. Seo’s mouth twists up like he’s just tasted something unpleasant. “As you attorney, it is my duty to advise you against accepting restitution in the form of an apology. You’ll get a reputation for being a pushover.” 

You wanted to be anything but. “Alright, alright,” you concede, “Do whatever you think is best.”

The building you’ve ducked into seems to be an office. Along one wall are a set of metal folding chairs doing their best impression of a waiting room. Along the other is a metal door covered in peeling paint and one suspicious dent bearing a plaque that reads ‘DIRECTOR LIM’. Set between you and it is a desk covered in a mess of paperwork. An old desktop stands among it like an island in the ocean and middle aged hybrid woman in coke bottle glasses is hunched before it, tapping away at the keyboard at a mind-boggling speed. One of her ears twitches as the pair of you approach. 

“Take a seat,” she orders in a reedy voice, not bothering to look up from her work. “The Director will be with you shortly.”

“Send them in, Eunjung!” Someone shouts from behind the metal door  just as she’s finished. She doesn’t look up or stop typing or even acknowledge you two again. Mr. Seo takes it upon himself to breeze past her desk and open the door for you. 

The office is militaristically organized, all right angles and bare metal surfaces. There’s a black leather couch that’d seen better days to your left as you enter, a half empty water cooler to your right. Bookshelves lined with trophies and textbooks dominate the western wall. You scan the titles as you pass: Predatory Instinct: The Teaching and Training Canines, The Utility of Force, On Raising Hybrids, The Art of War, all dangerous and daunting as the man they belonged to.

Lim Hangyeol is the most grizzled man you’ve ever seen and the only other human besides yourself and Mr. Seo in the compound, it seems. He looks like a drill sergeant from an old action movie, his salt and pepper hair buzzed short and his face craggy with frown lines. There’s a semicircle of pockmark scars marring the skin of his right cheek and as you get closer, you realize they’re teeth marks. You shoot a concerned look to Mr. Seo, but he’s more focused on giving the director a shallow bow than allaying any of your fears. 

“Director,” He says, straightening back up. “Thank you for having us-”

“Spare me the bullshit,” The older man orders, kicking back his office chair and sinking back into it. “Take a seat. Let’s talk business.” 

A cold smile settles on your attorney’s lips and you see a cord twitching in his jaw, but he merely nods and replies in a breezy voice, “Of course.” 

The two of you do as you told, settling into two metal chairs in front of his desk. These ones are nicer than the folding ones in the waiting room, but no more comfortable. You try to slide yours forward only to find that it’s bolted to the floor. 

“Stops the dogs from throwin’ em when they get bad news,” Director Lim tells you as you uselessly tug at the legs. “Got tired of replacing windows.”

You grimace. If the awards on the bookshelf, what Mr. Seo had told you and the dozens of hybrids running boot camp drills outside were any indication, the man before you must’ve had some idea what he was doing. You didn’t end up providing security for high profile public figures without a smidge of credibility, you knew, but the bite marks on his cheek, the little crack about people throwing chairs at him and the way he’d referred to them as ‘dogs’ didn’t inspire confidence in you. 

This was your first time visiting a place that produced hybrids, you realized. You’d never even been into a shelter before and certainly not a breeding center. Were they all like this? Devoid of anything soft or comforting, rigid with rules and regulations? Had Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung come from a place like this? You don’t know and you’re not sure you’d like the answer if you did. 

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice,” Mr. Seo starts, popping open the hinges on his briefcase and pulling out a few sheaves of paper. “After the sudden cancellation of your company’s contract with Ms. L/N, I was concerned for the state of our business relationship.” He slides one of the packets across the desk to the director. 

“If I remember correctly,” Director Lim says, scanning the lines of ink and unintelligible legalese, “Me and your boss signed for delivery, not me and whoever this little girl is you brought.” 

Your eyes narrow and your lips curl, but before you can give voice to the nasty thing crawling up your throat, Mr. Seo gives a subtle shake of his head and taps you twice on the knee, out of eyeshot of the director. You grumble, but cage it behind your teeth. 

“See?” The man jabs one gnarled finger at the page, right over your late uncle’s flourishing signature. “It says it right there: L/N Oliver. Last I checked, he was dead. I’m not holding on to a dead man’s dogs. ”

That same muscle tenses in Mr. Seo’s jaw. “The contract states that Black Mountain Canines would deliver the hybrids my client purchased to his residence on December the eighteenth and that they would be received by a proxy if he was unavailable. You were made aware of the fact that he was unavailable, as well as the fact that he now has a proxy-

“I’ll pay the goddamn fine!” The Director barks, throwing his hands up in the air. “Christ above, I don’t know why he wanted those two fuck-ups in the first place, but I don’t want them on my property a second longer.” 

You shoot Mr. Seo a look of confusion, but he just watches, blasé, as the Director rifles through his desk drawers. The man finds what he’s looking for and drops two manila folders on top of the contract. “The pair of them are useless. If it weren’t for my reputation, I’d’ve had them both sent to shelters years ago. Or put down, but you know how touchy the law is about that.”

“I don’t.” You say, your voice edging dangerously close to a snarl. It slips out before you can stop it. Mr. Seo shoots you a warning look and you ball your fists up in your sweater sleeves, fingernails biting crescent moons into your palms with the effort of keeping your mouth shut. 

You can’t stand this man, you decide. He’s awful. You should’ve known that from the moment you saw elementary school aged hybrids stumbling through taekwondo drills with their ears taped and bandages on their tails. You’re going to take whatever hybrids Oliver bought, get them the fuck out of there and never look back. 

If Director Lim had heard you growl at him, he gives no sign of it, just flips open the folders. “To be honest, I should be paying you to take them off my hands. They’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since they aged out of training. I told your uncle he could have his pick of the litter for what he was paying, but he wanted a wide-eyed buffoon and a mutt who’d rip your hand off soon as look at you.” Clipped to the insides are photos of two men, staring back at you in black and white. 

One has the same black and tan cropped ears as every other hybrid you’ve seen thus far. Unlike them, he’s smiling. His eyes are little upturned crescent moons and he beams at you through the photo paper. There’s so much light in his face it’s nearly blinding. 

The other is not nearly as inviting. The photo is taken at an odd angle and it’s blurry at the edges, like whoever took it was much shorter than the subject and had to zoom in to even get the shot. His ears, larger than any of the other hybrids and longer furred, are pinned back against his head. His jaw is clenched and he glowers down into the lens, one eye soot black and the other piercing blue. 

There are stats listed on the pages behind their photos: height, weight, shot records and the like. Among them, you see their call signs, highlighted in yellow: Hope and Monster. 

“I don’t know where I went wrong with him,” the director says, tapping Hope’s photo. “He went through all the training, passed all the tests, but when it comes down to it, he just doesn’t have the instinct.” He gives a single shake of his head, clicks the tip of his tongue against his teeth. “No one wants a guard dog that’d sooner talk an intruder’s ear off than actually guard what he’s supposed to. He’s not good for much but nannying the pups, but he’s too soft on them too.”

A light bulb clicks on and you realize the hybrid in question had been the one instructing the kids outside in the center of the yard, his tail wagging a mile a minute as they completed another form correctly.

“Now this bastard…” the director continues, jamming a finger onto the second photo with so much force, it rattled the cup of pens on his desk. “Is my biggest failure.” He crosses his arms and kicks back in his chair, his dislike of the hybrid in question obvious. “His mother was the cornerstone of this facility for nearly a decade. I sold her pups to assemblymen and actors alike. Centers around the country wanted pups with her genetics. If it weren’t for her, we’d never have grown to this size.” He sounds wistful as he spreads his hands out, gesturing around himself like a king taking in his holdings. “But all good things come to an end,” He sighs. “A pack of wild hybrids settled a little higher up on the mountain.” His face darkens and his lips twist. “Wolves,” he snarls with all the disdain he can muster. 

“All that about them being noble and self-sacrificing? Complete and utter bullshit,” He scoffs. “They’re transient lowlifes who’d slit your throat as soon as look at you. At first I didn’t care. They stayed on their side of the mountain and I stayed on mine, but then they started sneaking down here at night to steal my food and fuck my dogs. By the time I managed to get the cops out here, they’d cleared out and my top breeder had gone with them.”

He let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “I tell you, I thought I was ruined. But wouldn’t you know it, she came stumbling back here six months later, barefoot and howling to be let in and heavy with some wild thing’s pup.” Director Lim snaps both the folders shut and slides them to you across the desk. “The thing about breeding hybrids is, the money’s all in the bloodlines. No one wants a dog with mystery genetics. The only way to solve that problem is to cut it off at the root- but it was already too late by the time she got here.” 

You feel sick to your stomach. You hope he isn’t implying what you think he is- that hybrid children he hadn’t planned out himself were mistakes in need of correction- but you know he is. Deep in your gut you know.

“And she spoiled him. She let him run roughshod over everyone and everybody in this compound. I tried telling her wild hybrids need a firmer hand- he certainly did if we were gonna break that wolf he’s got inside him, but she wouldn’t hear it. I tried to crop him with the other pups his age, he gave me these,” he said, gesturing to the teeth marks in his cheeks. “We keep him shut up away from the others, now, in the back when he can’t bother anyone. He gets his meals delivered but we don’t ever let him out.” The grizzled man shakes his head. “A drain on resources is what he is.”

“And his mother?” You ask, quietly. 

“Eunjung?” he questions. “You met her on the way in.” The director stands and unclips a ring of keys from his belt buckle, making his way around the desk and gesturing for you and Mr. Seo to follow. “I’ve got her doing desk work now. Gotta keep her close so she doesn’t cause any more trouble.” He pushes open the door to his office, barks something at his secretary and steps outside, not looking back to see if you two are following. 

You shoot Mr. Seo a look before you stand and he meets it, evenly. “We’ll discuss this in the car,” he says, stuffing papers back into his briefcase and flicking the clasps shut. Oh, you most certainly will discuss ‘it’ in the car. 

You don’t really know what it is or where to even begin. The kids with bandaged ears? The fact that Director Lim seemingly decided who was allowed to see the sun and who wasn’t? You think back to the conversation you’d had with Jimin, Taehyung and Yoongi last night. Right now, it seems years away, in some unreachable, idyllic past before you knew how breeding centers worked and how security hybrids were made. You feel foolish. Who were you to try to get them to let go of their pain and their hurt? If what they’d been through was even a little like what was going on here, they wouldn’t be able to for a long time. You’re angry. You’re disgusted. You are unquantifiably fucking sad. 

You pass Eunjung on your way out. In your time in the director’s office, she’s pulled her ash brown hair into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Peeking out of the collar of her sweatshirt you can see a faded scar in the shape of a ring, little puncture marks pale and glossy. It looked similar to the one on the director’s cheek, but this one was a complete circle and not ragged at all, like she’d stayed completely still while it was given. Teeth marks. 

You swallow. You want to do something, to give her some words of encouragement, but you have no idea what to say. You still don’t as you slow to a stop beside her desk, but you open your mouth to speak anyway. “I’m sorry,” You tell her, with all the sincerity in your heart. 

She doesn’t answer, but one cropped ear flicks toward you and her fingers slow in their incessant race across her keyboard. 

You turn to go. Mr. Seo was holding the door open for you and you can hear the director barking orders at a group of trainees to run an obstacle course faster. Just as you set foot over the threshold, she speaks. Her voice is so quiet, you have to strain to hear her over the steady clack-click-clack of her nails on the keys. 

“He likes green things,” she says, not looking up from her work. “And old books.” 

You look over your shoulder at her. Her face is a mask of neutrality, her eyes clear and her mouth set in a relaxed line. She looks fine, but there’s an ocean of meaning behind her words. You see her, just for a moment, as she’d been all those years ago, barefoot in the snow and begging for shelter, her stomach full with one of the moon’s own children. You commit the sight of her to memory. Then you turn and you go.

The director is waiting outside, shielding his eyes from the sun and regaling Mr. Seo with some long-winded explanation on the best way to treat hip dysplasia in Doberman hybrids. “Where to?” you ask, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. 

The man gives you a disgruntled look but despite the anxiety you feel spiking in your belly, you meet it evenly. Once upon a time, anyone in a position of authority looking at you the way he was would’ve sent you into a tailspin of self-doubt and nerves, leaving you shivering as your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, warning you of non-existent danger. If you were honest, it still did- but you didn’t have the luxury of running away and hiding anymore, not when there were people who needed you. 

“Hope’s bags are in the barracks. He just needs to grab them, and he can be on his merry way,” The direction grunts. “Monster’s still locked up, so I’ll-”

“I’ll go.” You can feel Mr. Seo stiffen beside you. 

“Ms. Y/N-”

“If he’s really that aggressive,” you start, your eyes not leaving the director’s for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to meet him now instead of when we’re packed into a car on a two hour car ride?” Director Lim narrows his eyes at you, but you don’t falter. You hold your hand out for the key. Your boldness surprises you. He drops the key ring into your open palm and you wrap your fingers around it, stuffing it in your pocket before he can snatch them back. You turn on your heels and march off in the direction he tilts his head in, nothing but a hiss of your name from Mr. Seo’s lips to accompany you. 

You walk quickly, eyes straight and willing your legs to go faster with every stride. It’s a long way across the compound but the less time you spend walking, the less time you have to stew in anxiety. None of the hybrids training in little packs spread across the yard pay you any mind- except for Hope. 

Your path takes you directly behind the group of kids he’s working with. You give them a wide berth, not wanting to disturb them, but you get a little distracted. Your steps slow for just a moment as you drink him in. He’s tall- the same height as Taehyung, if you’re judging it right, but there’s an ease about him the tiger hybrid hasn’t yet mastered. Everything about Taehyung is pulled in. He’s always coiled tight, like he’s preparing to spring forward at any moment, all his energy drawn into the center of his being. Even last night, when you’d been cuddled up with him on the couch, he’d pulled you tight against his side, shifting and rearranging himself til you both fit on one cushion. He’d held you tight through both films, his tail curled around the both of you and his spine tight, like if he let himself relax for a moment, you’d both turn to dust on the wind. 

Hope has no such fear. Everything about him is spread wide open, from the heart-shaped smile on his lips to his arms as he demonstrates a series of punches to his little pack of students. They all watch him with rapt attention, ears perked up and bandaged tails wagging. One of them asks him a question and he laughs, ruffles their hair. He laughs in a way you’ve never seen before, shoulders shaking like he can’t contain the force of it alone. It makes your heart flip. 

His ears twitch, picking up the change in the cadence of your footsteps. He looks up and your eyes meet for the first time. He looks surprised to see you, for a moment, face blank- but then it melts into a soft smile, brimming with affection you’ve done nothing to earn. You snatch your gaze away and fix it to the dirt in front of you, embarrassed at being caught. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him cock his head to the side in confusion, but he doesn’t go after you. All the better, you’re all but running away from him now. 

You shuffle across the compound in a blur of scuffed sneakers and frayed nerves. You barely give yourself time to look up at the small cinder block building before you, shoving the key in the padlock before you can lose what unearned confidence you have left. You twist it, yank the rusted thing open, take a deep breath and enter.

You don’t know what you’d been expecting, but it’s certainly not what you find. The way Director Lim had spoken about him and this place, you’d been expecting cobwebs on the ceiling, blood spatters on the wall and rusty nails on the floor. What’s before you is almost entirely the opposite.

The room is a veritable Eden. 

There are vines climbing every available wall, wrapping around structural posts and digging their way between concrete blocks. Every surface is crammed full of flowering plants in makeshift pots: lilies in old water jugs, violets in a worn out boot, black-eyed susans dripping orange petals from an upturned helmet. The floor is in a similar state, ferns and foxgloves turning what little space around his bed there is into a meadow. It’s beautiful. 

“He likes green things,” you marvel, stepping into the room and pushing the door shut behind you. It seemed every living thing that’d been uprooted to expand the compound had found a second life here, sheltered from the Director’s violence. Maybe the hybrid who lived here had too. 

A plant different from all the others catches your eye. It’s set up on the cardboard box serving as his bedside table and it’s the only one in a real pot from what you can tell. It looks just like a miniature tree, complete with knobs on it’s trunk and tiny leaves. You let out a little sound of wonder and crouch in front of it, your fingers reaching out on their own to trail across the delicate branches-

A massive hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you cold. “Don’t touch that.” 

You hadn’t heard him approach, but now you knew he was there. You could feel his presence behind you, heavy and warm. He’s looming over you. You swallow and make your arm go limp in his grip. No need to give him a reason. “I won’t,” You tell him. “Will you please let go of my wrist?”

He drops your arm without protest and relief floods your body. You weren’t sure if there was a hybrid version of lockjaw and you certainly weren’t itching to find out. You sit back on your heels and struggle to your feet, still hyper aware of the person behind you, his eyes boring holes into the back of your head. By the time you turn around, he’s back where he came from, standing in the entrance for a bathroom you hadn’t seen, half hidden behind a curtain of vines. 

He looks different than the others. You’d been expecting that, but the full-length fluffy tail held stiffly behind his back and the long-furred ears pointed away from you are still a surprise. His fur, instead of being in rigid black and tan points, is marked by whorls of black, brown and gray. Instead of the lean musculature all the other hybrids had -all trim waists and narrow ankles- he’s sturdier, his shoulders broad and the veins in his forearms popping as he clenches his fists. He’s looking at you with that mismatched glare, his chin tilted toward his chest and his eyes shining aquamarine and obsidian. 

“If you’re new,” he starts, voice raspy. “They should’ve told you: you’re supposed to knock before you come in.”

“No, I’m not-”

“You can leave the food over there.” He nods toward a little plastic folding table jammed into one corner. It’s the one surface in his room that’s devoid of plants and there’s nothing on it besides a metal cafeteria tray, licked clean. “I won’t move when your back is turned.”

“I’m not here to deliver your food.”

He frowns, brows drawing together as his shoulders tense. “Then why are you…?”

You ball your hands up in your sweater sleeves and turn to face him full on. “I’m here to take you home with me.” You tell him. “They didn’t tell you?”

He laughs, but it’s a cold sound, devoid of joy. “Nobody tells me anything.”

Based on the short conversation you’d had with Director Lim, his sudden cancellation of contracts and the way he seemed ready to bulldoze over anything and everyone that didn’t fit his agenda, he didn’t seem the sharing type. Still it was hard to believe he hadn’t told him he’d be leaving the compound that’s been his home for over twenty years. 

“You don’t have to come with me,” you add, softly. “If you don’t want to. I know I’m a stranger. But you can leave-”

“I can’t go anywhere.” He taps the collar around his neck. At first, you’d thought it was the same as the ones every other hybrid had been wearing. You can see now that it isn’t. Theirs had all been leather with thin silver buckles holding them in place. His was leather too, but the band was broader and double-layered. There’s a little box on the side with hinges and a small drawing of a lighting bolt. A shock collar. 

Your stomach turns. 

You take a slow step toward him, but the second you do, his ears go flat against his head and he pulls his lips back, revealing sharp teeth. You freeze, hands held up and the keys dangling from your thumb. “I have the keys,” you say, extending them toward him. 

His eyes flick from your face, to the keys in your hand and back again, like he doesn’t believe what’s happening, like he can’t believe you’d actually want him free. The silence drags out into a little eternity before he speaks again. “If I try to unlock it, it’ll shock me.”

You blink up at him and risk another slow step forward, hoping you’ve caught his meaning correctly. This time, he doesn’t growl but his ears stay pinned back as he watches you through narrowed eyes. You close the distance between the two of you. 

When you were six, your mom scraped together enough money to take you to Busan for your birthday. You’d spent the day down at the beach, building sand castles with sea shell windows and wading through tide pools. After the sun had set, someone had set off fireworks and you’d watched them cuddled up in your mom’s arms, eyes wide and filled with a riot of colors you had no name for. It’s strange, you know. The ocean is miles away, but that’s what he smells like: the sea and the sand, and the last curls of smoke from homemade bottle rockets. He smells like that day. 

You lift your hands to the clasp on his neck and slide the key home. You twist it and the collar falls to the ground, a monster that can’t hurt him anymore. His skin is warm under your fingers, but puckered with scar tissue. There’s a ring of it around his neck, branching with whatever current had run through him in different directions. There’s no way this was legal, no way anyone with half a heart could treat another person like this. Your fingers trail one of the splits over his adam’s apple and he swallows beneath your touch, snatching your wrist again. 

“Dont.” His voice is cold. You blink, shaking off whatever spell you’d been under and shuffle back quickly, eager to give him space. He cradles his throat with one long-fingered hand, massaging the skin. He rolls his neck and you look away. You shouldn’t stare; the last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable. “I’ll go with you,” he rasps, answering the question before you can ask it again.

You gape for a second. You really hadn’t expected it to be that easy. “Really?” You can’t stop a note of relief from creeping into your voice.

“Anywhere’s better than here.” He answers back. So, you were a means to an end. It doesn’t bother you. You’ll be whatever you need to be to get him away from this place and that man who seemed to only want to drive him down. 

“Do you need time to pack, or-?”

He gives a firm shake of his head. “There’s nothing from this place I want to keep.” And that’s the end of it. You push open the door and stride back out into the cold mountain air, trying your best to exude the confidence you know you lack. The hybrid slinks behind you, head hunched between his shoulders and every step stiff. He hesitates at the threshold and looks up at you, uncertainty written in the rigid line of his spine. He’s nervous. He has every right to be. 

How long had he spent in that little cinderblock room, shut away from every living thing? How long had he spent being told that he was a monster? You didn’t believe it, not for one second. No one who was as violent as the director had painted him out to be could’ve raised that garden. 

He leans out of the door frame, sniffs the air and lurches forward, out of the shadow of his room, His shoulders bunch up even higher around his head and he goes stiff like he’s waiting for a shock or a shot or a shout- but none comes. The sun is still shining and he’s barefoot in the sand, standing for the first time in years under the open sky. He exhales in a short puff and it looks like he’s going to walk beside you- but he turns on his heels on goes back inside. 

You make a little noise of distress in the back of your throat. Had he changed his mind? Did he not want to come with you anymore? You go to call his name out of concern- but realize you don’t know it. All you have is the call sign he’d been given and you sure as fuck aren’t calling him ‘Monster’. You don’t have to flounder for long. He comes back out two seconds later, cradling the bonsai that’d caught your attention to his chest. 

“I’ll take this,” he mutters, shuffling into place behind you. You can’t smother the smile that starts tugging at your lips. Yeah, no one hateful would hold a little tree with as much tenderness as an infant. 

You give him a little nod. “There’s a terrace where I live,” you tell him, starting your trek across the yard once again. “It’s got a garden and a little greenhouse on it. It’s not very big, and it’s not as pretty as your’s, but you could grow new things there, if you wanted.”

His ears twitch in response, but he keeps his glower firmly focused on the plant in his arms as he shuffles along beside you. It’s then you notice he’s barefoot. “Do you wanna go back and get your shoes?” You ask, trying to make the question sound as innocuous as possible.

“Don’t have any,” he grumbles back. “Don’t need them; I never go outside.” 

Alright, that was understandable. Your first stop when you got back into the city would be a shoe store to get him a pair to wear- or maybe not with the way he kept flinching every time a whistle blew and his ears were swivelling like satellites at each new sound that reached them. You chew the inside of your lip. You don’t want to ask, but you know you should. Better to rip the bandaid off now, than get surprised later. “How long were you shut in for?”

“Fourteen.” He bites out. 

“...weeks?” You venture. There's a hopeful uptick at the end of your words. Even that would’ve been horrible, even that would be worthy of the litany of profanity you’re mentally lobbing at Director Lim- but it’s still better than the truth. 

The hybrid cuts a flat look at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Years.” 

A wall of your scent hits him like a freight train, vacillating between the thick, cloying odor of sadness and the burn of anger. His nose wrinkles at it, brows drawing together in confusion. 

However little you might’ve known about hybrids, however limited your view of them was, you knew they weren’t supposed to be locked up. Domesticated hybrids like hamsters and cats might’ve been fine inside a house all day, assuming they still had regular interaction with people- but dogs weren’t. And he was half wolf. Wild, he’d have had dozens of square miles to roam over, and he’d been limited to a four-by-four yard room for fourteen years. Your goshiwon was a similar size, but it hadn’t been your whole world. All he’d had was one tiny window and what narrow view he’d managed to glimpse in the doorway when his meals were delivered. 

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but you’re cut off by a scream of delight and a snarl keying up in the hybrid next to you’s chest. Your jaw snaps shut with a click. 

A few yards ahead, there’s a group of kids wrestling in a massive pile. They’re all giggling and rolling over each other, tails wagging a mile a minute as they play bite and make grabs for the person at the center of their puppy pile. A head of black hair and a pair of cropped ears pop up and you see that it’s Hope, smiling bright as the sun as his students try to pin him. 

“You can’t leave!” One particularly determined kid yips, adamantly pushing his shoulder back to the sand. “Who’s gonna teach us?”

Hope just laughs.”Lisa is gonna teach you with the older kids-“

A chorus of disappointed barks and howls breaks out. “Ms. Lisa’s classes are too hard!” A little girl complains.

“Yeah!” Someone else chimes in. “And she’s strict!” 

The hybrid ruffles both kid’s hair affectionately, careful of their bandaged ears. “Just because she won’t let you get away with skipping night practice doesn’t mean she’s strict,” he laughs. He’s only met with more grumbles and complaints. 

It warms your heart to see. Even if these kids were at the mercy of their director -for now, at least- it was good that they had him to rely on. Your eyes meet and the sheer force of light in his face makes your own heat up. You look away, but he’s spotted you. He disentangles himself from the mess of kids and draws himself up to his full height. He’s in the same uniform he was in before, albeit with a black tactical bag now strapped to his back. He takes a step toward you and the wolfdog hybrid's ears go flat against his skull. He’s not deterred. “Joonie?”  It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to the hybrid next to you. “Kim Namjoon, is that you?” Hope takes one step forward and the hybrid - Namjoon - takes a step back to counter him. Hope looks like he’s going to advance again, but a small pair of hands wrapped around one of his own stops him. 

A little girl is holding on to him. She can’t be more than six years old. Her tail is still long and her ears are still floppy and she looks so small in her child-sized boots and cargo pants. “Mr. Hobi,” she whines, her head craned back to look up at him. “Please don’t go.”

He falters. His eyes flick from the pair of you back down to her, then he crouches, holds both of her hands in his. “I have to, Sowon-ah,” he says softly. 

She sniffles pitifully and juts out her lower lip.”But why?” 

It’s a fair question. You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to come with you if he  doesn’t want to, but he beats you to the punch. “Because it’s my job, sweetheart,” he tells her, smiling softly.

“Y-your job is to teach us,” she hiccups back, face growing blotchy as tears well up in her eyes. Hope swipes one of them away with his thumbs. 

“I teach you so you can grow up well and protect your person, right?” She nods, little hands balling the fabric of her cargo pants up in her fists. “Right. Well this,” he continues, turning and looking at you with a soft smile. “Is my person. And I’ve gotta go make sure she stays safe.” 

You feel your heart jump into your throat. He’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky and you don’t deserve it. You’ve done nothing to warrant that much unearned loyalty. Sowon rubs at her eyes with the back of her hands and Hope pulls her into a tight hug. 

“Ah, don’t cry, Sowon! You’ve gotta make sure you get stronger so someone takes you home, okay? You don’t wanna get old and still be here like me, right?” He squeezes her and goes to stand, but gets mobbed by his students again, all wanting their own hugs and making him swear to write them letters. It takes another five minutes of tearful goodbyes and Director Lim approaching for them to turn him loose.

“Get back to your training, all of you!” He barks, stomping out of the office and slamming the door, Mr. Seo on his heels. The kids scatter to the four winds almost instantly, not wanting to be underfoot for whatever scolding the director was about to deal out. Hope’s face remains the same but you catch his ears droop just a little as his students leave him. The wolfdog hybrid- Namjoon, you remind yourself- on the other hand has his ears flat against his skull. A growl bubbles up in his chest and rips past his lips. It’s a dark, full bodied thing that has you taking a step back and Hope shrinking with a whine. 

“Joonie-” he pleads. 

“Don’t fucking call me that.” All the fur on Namjoon’s body is standing on end, from the points of his ears to the tip of his tail. Even his hair has fluffed out. His mismatched eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals his incisors and all that fury, all that rage, is leveled on Director Lim. 

To his credit, the grizzled man doesn’t shrink back an inch before the enraged hybrid. His lips twist and he yanks a little remote out of his pocket, mashing a red button in the center. Namjoon flinches, his hands fly to his neck- but nothing happens. The shock collar is gone and the director has no power over him anymore. 

The man in question’s eyes widen, flicking between the remote to the column of Namjoon’s throat, now devoid of his one element of control. “Where’s his collar?” He demands. “How the hell did you get your collar off?” He advances on the tall hybrid, his hand in the air and though he doesn’t stop snarling, Namjoon ducks his head, anticipating the blow. 

You don’t know what moves you. Maybe it’s Hope pleading for it all to ‘stop, just stop!’. Maybit’s how Namjoon knows exactly how to move when he’s about to get hit. Maybe it’s your own lack of self-preservation. Whatever it is, you blink and you’re in front of Namjoon, your hand up and clutching the director’s forearm, stopping him from striking the hybrid behind you. You’re not strong enough to stop him, not fully. Your elbow buckles in and you stumble back, your back pressing into the wolfdog hybrid’s chest.

The director yells something at you, red flooding his face. You can’t hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears, the pounding of your heart. You force a dry swallow down your throat, put on your bravest face and glare up at him. “Don’t hurt him anymore.”

He reaches out with his free hand to tug you out of the way, but before he can touch you, Hope is there. He presses close to your side and holds the director’s wrist firm, his eyes on the sand and his shoulders hunched up by his ears.

Director Lim looks angry enough to spit. “Hell of a time for you to grow a backbone,” he snarls at Hope, making the doberman hybrid flinch. “I want all four of you off my property now.” He snatched his arms free and you don’t miss the nasty glare he casts at Namjoon. “And if this mutt ever shows his face around here again, I’ll-”

“Director Lim,” Mr. Seo cuts in, his voice cool. “You’ve made yourself clear; we’ll leave. You needn’t make threats.” There’s an underlying warning in the attorney’s voice. The director locks his jaw.

“Get out.” He breathes. Hope ducks around him, his head low and his docked tail pressed close to his back. If he could tuck it, you think he would. You follow after him, eyes fixed straight ahead and your back ramrod straight. He might’ve scared the shit out of you, but you weren’t going to let him see that. Mr. Seo fixes you with a hard look and the second you’re within arms reach, he presses a hand to your back and ushers you toward the gate. The only one who remains is Namjoon.

He looks like his anger has rooted him to the spot. His ears are still flat against his head, his lip still curled. 

“Do it, boy,” the director taunts. “Give me a reason-”

“Namjoon.” At the sound of his name, his ears prick up and you turn around. It’d come not from Hope- which you’d expected, seeing as he seemed to be the only one who actually knew his fellow hybrid’s name- but from the open door of the office building where Eunjung stood. She looks at him, her expression unreadable and he stares back. All the tension in his body has shifted and for a moment, you think he’s going to spring toward her and fall into her arms- but she gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head and his face hardens. His arms tighten around his bonsai. You think you know, now, why it was the only plant in his room that had a pot. 

“Go,” she says and all the tension leaves him. His shoulders curve in and he drags himself past the director, out from the fence and toward Mr. Seo’s car. There’s something final about the way the gate rolls shut after him. If you hadn’t known better, you’d’ve sworn you heard him whine as it locked. 

The car ride down the mountain is...interesting to say the least. Hope insists that the seating arrangements inside the Buick be done to his specifications,( “You’ve gotta sit in the middle,” he tells you, pointing to the narrow center seat. “And Joonie and I will sit on either side of you to protect you in case we crash!” His tail is wagging a mile a minute behind him. You’re surprised it can move that much, given how short it is. Mr. Seo looks affronted at the unintentional jab at his driving and Namjoon just looks irritated. “I told you to stop calling me that.”) and he keeps throwing an arm across your middle everytime the car hits a bump. You’re going down the side of a mountain. There are a lot of bumps. He also keeps pressing his nose against the glass of his window, ears pricked up and trying to take in every tree that passes by. Namjoon, on the other hand, slouches back in his seat, his body curved around his plant and ever so slightly away from you. He still watches the world pass by, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of you or speak- which would be fine if anyone else would. Hope seems to be doing his best to appear stoic and alert every time you look at him and Mr. Seo seems comfortable with the quiet. So, you’re left to ride the two hours back to Seoul in silence. 

You almost cry with relief when your phone buzzes with an incoming text. You fish the device out of your pocket, thumb it to life and scan your notifications.

Unknown Sender [7:13 PM] where are you

You frown. Very few people had your number or any reason to text you. You’re about to chalk it up to a wrong number when the second text rolls in.

Unknown Sender [7:14 PM] it’s yoongi

Now that’s a surprise. When you’d hurriedly told the boys to text you, you’d been expecting Jimin to urge you to hurry or for Taehyung to ask for updates, not for their hyung to check your progress. A little smile pricks at your lips as you rush to reply

You [7:14 PM] We’re on the way back now!

Unknown Sender has been changed to Yoongi 

Yoongi [7:14 PM] can i call

You bite the inside of your lip, suddenly nervous. You know there’s no reason to be. After all, you tell yourself, what’s scary about a pair of roommates talking on the phone? You give him the go ahead and not three seconds after the delivered notification pops up, you get a call. You answer it on speaker.

“...Hello?”

“Did you just start driving?” Yoongi’s voice is thick with sleep, like he’s just woken up. It’s different than normal, his usual smooth drawl gone gravelly. 

“Y-yeah,” you reply, trying to ignore the way Hope is watching you out of the corner of his eyes and Namjoon’s ears have swiveled back toward you. “It’s gonna be awhile, still. Are Taehyung and Jimin-”

“They’re fine; They ate dinner earlier and they’ll be asleep til you get back.” He yawns and you picture him slouched on the couch, his hair mashed up on one side and his face puffy.  “Why do you sound nervous?”

“I’m not,” you counter. It’s a blatant lie and he knows it. He hums in doubt, but doesn’t press you.

“I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Do you want me to text you when we’re close?” It’s an innocuous question. There’s no reason you can see for him to pause as long as he does. For a second you think you’ve lost him- after all, mountains aren’t known for having great reception- but then you hear his breath fan over the receiver. 

“...Yeah.” 

You give a little nod you know he can’t see. “Okay.” He makes a little noise of assent and then his line clicks off. You hang up. Just as you do, another text comes through. 

Yoongi [7:16 PM] don’t let them scent you

“Who was that?” Hope asks in a small voice, pulling you away from your phone screen and Yoongi’s insistence that you remain scent-free. His tone is open, but you can tell by the way his knee is bouncing that he really, really wants to know. “Is that your husband?”

The bark of laughter that rips past your lips is out before you can think to stop it. Namjoon flinches and you wince at him in apology, your hand flying up to cover your mouth. Hope is frowning at you in confusion, his head cocked slightly to the side. You force yourself to calm and answer him. “No, Yoongi is not my husband.” You weren’t sure if you even really qualified as friends at this point. “He’s another hybrid that lives with me.”

Hope perks up in his seat. “You have another hybrid? Director Lim always told us that once we left the center, we’d be alone.” Your expression sours at the mention of the ill-tempered man and you shake your head. 

“No, there’s a lot of hybrids in Seoul,” you tell him, eager to dispel some of his misconceptions. “The three that live with me are named Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung. Yoongi’s around your age, I think. Jimin and Taehyung are younger.” The doberman hybrid sits at rapt attention, soaking up every bit of information you give him and waiting eagerly for more. What else could you tell him about them? You remember the boys’ reaction that morning when you told them you’d be bringing dog hybrids home. “...They’re all felines,” you say, slowly, trying to gauge their reactions. 

“So that’s why you smell like that.” It’s the first words Namjoon’s spoken since you all piled into the car. You turn to him, but he’s not looking at you.

“What do you-?”

“You smell like other hybrids,” Hope says, covering for him. “But I’ve never smelled any that weren’t other dogs before.” He leans closer, his seatbelt stretching. You tense and lean away from him, but he’s not deterred. The tip of his nose brushes your neck and you have to fight off a shiver as he breathes you in. “They smell the same…” he starts, his breath fanning over your throat. “...but different? And one of them isn’t as strong as the others-” He presses closer, trying to catch the scent that’s eluding him. You make a noise of mild distress and lean further back, pressing into the solid wall that is Namjoon. 

“Hoseok, let it go .” Hoseok. That was his real name then. To your surprise, the dog hybrid pulls back as instructed, settling back into his seat without so much as a whine.

“I’ve never met a cat before,” he muses, turning his attention back to the window. “I hope they’re nice.”

You think about the chorus of hisses you’d been met with when you told the boys they’d have to share their space. You hope so too.

It’s 9:30 by the time Mr. Seo drops you off back in front of your building. He wishes you a good night and promises to call later in the week to discuss Black Mountain Canines. You’re not sure if there’s anyone to report him to or anything you can do, but you want to try. What you’d seen at the compound was wrong any way you looked at it. It made you sick to leave anyone there knowing how the director treated Namjoon and Hoseok. No one was useless. No one deserved to be locked away for years at a time for the sheer crime of existing. You’d make them see that. 

The moment you step out of the car, Hoseok is all wide smiles and exclamations. “Woah, you live here?” he asks, tilting his head back to take in all fifty-one floors of Haneul Tower in their sparkling, glass-paned glory.

“Yeah,” you tell him, handing him his bag. In his excitement to get out of the car, he’d abandoned it and Mr. Seo had nearly driven away with it. “But I just moved in a couple days ago, so it’s still pretty empty.”

Hoseok nods, scanning the windows like he’ll be able to pick out which one’s your’s. Behind you, Namjoon is lingering on the sidewalk.

He’s still got his bonsai clutched close to his chest and he’s hunched down around it like he’s trying to stop unseen hands from picking at it. His shoulders are bunched up by his ears, and he flinches with every car horn, every siren that comes to you on the wind. He’d grown up in the mountains and spent the better part of his life indoors. It only made sense that he’d be sensitive to the sounds of the city. 

“Is there a security system?” Hoseok asks, still enamored with the building. “How many entrances does your apartment have?”

“Just one second,” you tell him, forehead wrinkling as you take in Namjoon. You slide slowly toward the wolfdog, not wanting to startle him. “Namjoon?” He flinches when you call his name, head whipping toward you. “Do you wanna go inside? I know it’s new, but it’ll be quieter, I think.”

His mismatched eyes flick from you, to Hoseok, to the building and back to you before settling firmly on the concrete at his feet. He seems different than he had in the mountains. He’s smaller, quieter, less sure of himself. Was it because this is all new territory for him? Or had the snarling hybrid in the mountains just been a roll he was forced to play, the mythic monster to the director’s tyrant king. 

“You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to,” you tell him, in a voice you hope is reassuring. “We can wait, if you need to.”

“I’ll wait with you, Joonie,” Hope chimes in, giving the larger hybrid the same soft smile he’d given his students earlier. 

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “It...it’s fine,” he mutters, “We can go in, I just…” He takes a few hesitant steps forward and huddles closer to you. There’s still an inch between you, but it’s closer than you’d thought he’d come. 

You peer up at him. “Okay?” You ask. He gives a single nod and your little group moves through the double doors and into the lobby. 

It’s quieter at this time of night. You don’t recognize the woman standing behind the reception desk. There’s no one really around except one man, pacing the width of the lobby looking thoroughly put out. You can’t really see his face, but there’s something familiar about the slant of his body. He whirls around as the glass doors click shut and you catch sight of a fringe of gray hair, pointed ears, narrowed yellow eyes and an all too familiar pout. 

Yoongi. 

“Fuck.” You’d completely forgotten to text him. Judging by the look on his face as he stalks toward you, he wasn’t happy about it. To his credit, Hoseok does his best to guard you, sliding in front of you and pushing you behind him. You can’t see Yoongi’s ears beneath the hat he’s wearing but if his curled lip and narrowed eyes are any indicator, they’re pinned straight back. 

“Move.” He snarls at the doberman hybrid. Hoseok is taller than he is, but the closer Yoongi gets to him, the smaller he seems to shrink. There’s fire in the bobcat hybrid’s eyes. Hope whimpers and slinks out of his way, ears low. 

You wince. “Heeeeey, Yoongi. I’m sorry I forg-“ before you can even finish the sentence, he tugs you toward him by the shoulders. His face roves your neck, sniffing in earnest as he tries to pick up the scent of the other hybrids on you. All is well until he reaches the right side of your throat and grazes over the exact spot Hoseok had nosed earlier. He pulls away slowly, his shoulders tight. His head turns slowly to the doberman hybrid, mechanical. 

“You.” He hisses at the other hybrid with so much virulence it makes your blood run cold. He takes one step toward him, teeth bared in a snarl, but Namjoon slides in front of him bumping him back. A growl bubbles in the bobcat hybrid’s chest and the wolfdog matches it, both their ears pinned flat against their skulls. 

“Hey-” If either of them hear you, they don’t react. They’re too focused on having a staring contest. “Hey!” You push between them, a hand on either of their chests. Namjoon snarls as you touch him and Yoongi looks ready to skin him alive for that alone. He pushes against your hand, trying to get closer to the taller hybrid. You ball your hand up in the fabric of his shirt. “Stop it!” The receptionist already has the lobby phone in her hand. She’s whispering earnestly into it and you’re sure security will be on the way any second. You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut. “Everybody, elevator.” 

Yoongi hurls an accusatory finger in Hoseok’s direction. “These fucking-”

“Yoongi, please,” you plead. That gets him to stop. His arm falls to his side and he glowers down at you for a few seconds before stalking over to the elevators and slamming the up button. “I’m sorry,” you murmur to Hoseok and Namjoon. The smaller of the two hybrids is still hunched in on himself and the taller has Yoongi fixed in his mismatched gaze, his lips curled in anger. 

This was not the way you wanted this to go. You’d wanted them to have time to settle before you discussed next steps and gave them the same talk you’d given the felines, but it didn’t look like that was in the cards. You don’t know what’s gotten into Yoongi. You’d thought the bobcat hybrid was calm, cool and collected, completely unflappable in the face of anything. Apparently not. He seemed upset that some of Hoseok’s scent had gotten on you, but there’d been no way to help that. You’d been packed in a car with him and Namjoon for two hours. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?

“It’s not okay,” you tell them, wanting them to know you didn’t condone the way Yoongi had acted. “I don’t...I don’t know why he’s acting like this; he doesn’t normally. Do you wanna go up separately?”

It’s Hoseok who answers. “No, we’ll go up together,” he assures you with a small nod. “If...maybe if we get used to each other, it’ll be okay?” 

You’re not optimistic, but you give him a pained smile you hope is reassuring. “Yeah, maybe?” You cast a look back over your shoulders. Yoongi is waiting by the elevators, his arms crossed over his chest and his tail flicking in irritation. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Well, there was no avoiding it. “Come on,” you tell them. “Just...keep to the other side, for now. I’ll stand between you and him.” 

The four of you pile into the elevator, all tucked into your own corners. It’s strange, you think. It’s never seemed small until now. Hoseok keeps casting worried looks over at you, Namjoon keeps subtly shifting closer and Yoongi is still glowering at the both of them, angry for a reason you can’t quantify. 

“If it helps,” Hoseok starts softly, his voice an intrusion in the awkward silence. “I really didn’t mean to, honestly-”

“Don’t apologize.” Namjoon counters. “If it bothers him that much, he can speak up” 

You don’t know what they’re talking about. It’s too late that you realize the canines aren’t addressing you. Suddenly, Yoongi’s fingers are hooked through one of your belt loops. He yanks you backwards and you stumble, falling against the length of his body. “My bad,” You shoot out, before the hybrid can hiss at you. “I just lost my bala-” The words die on your tongue as Yoongi fixes his mouth to the soft skin of your throat. The elevator goes quiet.

The canine hybrids avert their eyes almost instantaneously, instinct telling them they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t be. Yoongi keeps them fixed firmly in his sights, a dark growl bubbling in his throat. 

Your fingers flex uselessly at your sides, hands clenching unclenching as the hybrid works over the sensitive skin of your neck with his teeth and tongue. ‘Don’t make a noise,’ you plead with yourself. ‘This isn’t what it feels like. Don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise-’ Yoongi’s incisors graze over a vein and a little whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it. The grip he has on your hips becomes bruising. You feel your legs turning to jelly beneath you. Any more of what he was doing, and they’d have to mop you up off the elevator floor. You force your throat to swallow. “Y-Yoongi, I think that’s enough-” You don’t know if he hears you over the noise he’s making, so you lace your fingers through his and untangle them from your hips. He releases you with a wet pop and you slap a hand over the skin he’d marked. Heat floods your face and a smirk spreads across Yoongi’s, his teeth flashing at the canines. He leans in again to rub his nose against the mark he’d made- but a hand on his chest stops him. 

“Can you stop?” You ask in a small voice. Honestly, you’re embarrassed. Regardless of what the articles said about mark-making being platonic, it doesn’t feel friendly. It feels possessive and mean and you don’t like it. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you like you asked, but what is with you today?” Yoongi’s expression changes from smug satisfaction to confusion and then surprise, like he hadn’t expected you to protest. “I know what I said about you being ready but…” You rub a hand over the mark, wiping away saliva and your sweat. The bobcat hybrid visibly deflates. The elevator chimes for the fiftieth floor and the doors roll open slowly. You rush out before any of them can and start punching the code in your door with shaky fingers. You don’t know what to say. You’re tired and stressed and you don’t know what’s going on. Was this about the apartment? You knew the felines wouldn’t be happy about sharing their space, but why had Yoongi gone this far?

“Y/N…” He trails after you, his ears drooping. You shake your head, You can’t talk to him right now. 

“In the morning,” you tell him as the door swings open. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” You can’t deal with everything that’s happened today, and Yoongi flipping out and getting the canines settled. You weren’t that good at juggling. 

By the grace of all that’s merciful, Taehyung and Jimin are still asleep when you walk in. You’d need to have an extended meet and greet tomorrow, you decide. Maybe do some icebreakers or team building exercises. If they reacted anything like their hyung did, you were in for one hell of an adjustment period. 

Hoseok and Namjoon trail you into the penthouse warily, sniffing the air. You want to give them time to explore and get their bearings, they deserve that, but with the way Yoongi still seems agitated when they venture anywhere but exactly in your steps, that’ll need to be saved until tomorrow morning too. You give them the most spartan tour you can muster up and show them each to a guest room, promising to order them furniture and get them the things they need tomorrow. 

By the time you collapse into your own bed, it’s damn near 11. You groan and drag a pillow over your face as you ask the universe for the thousandth time why it had decided to continuously kick your ass. Having three hybrids had been hard enough. Having five of all different species was likely to prove impossible and having seven was going to be a sisyphean task you’d had no training for. You groan and kick your feet in the air, allowing yourself the brief respite of a temper tantrum before crawling under your covers and flicking the lamp off. Maybe in your dreams there’d be no stress and no snarling hybrids with behavior you couldn’t explain.

[rqnvindr]

delicacies

pairing: baker!childe x gn!reader

genre: fluff, modern bakery!au, suggestive 

w.c: 1.5k

warnings: making out lol

synopsis: moving to a new country was quite the adventure. and you found new areas to travel further within the cute boy right down the road’s ocean eyes.

--

it had been a total of two weeks since you arrived in italy. getting settled was your top priority, but now that you’ve got your place set up and are getting used to college life in a new country, it was about time you started checking off some of the more leisurely activities on your checklist.

the streets were clearer, less busy than usual, on the weekend you enter the bakery. it seemed like an unpretentious, small business, with the simple, yet homely, beige walls and the old vinyl in the corner playing soft tunes. the bell rings when you enter, but no one seems to be behind the counter when you examine the array of cakes in the front display.

“welcome! i can help you when you’re ready to order!” a perky male voice interrupts you in the middle of eyeing a slice of strawberry cake. you look up to see a ginger with a warm smile, the crinkles around his blue eyes genuine. 

“hello! i was hoping to get this slice of cake right here.” you point to said strawberry treat.

“ah yes. my older brother has been WAITING for someone to try his new signature strawberry cake. but there honestly can’t be anything special about something that tastes the same no matter what.” you can practically hear the way he rolls his eyes as he takes the cake out to put it in a box. 

you raise an eyebrow. “complaining about your own products? that doesn’t seem like a very good marketing strategy, but i suppose reverse psychology will do its job.” 

“you sound like you know about sales quite a bit.” he smiles wryly. “are you a business major?”

“yup! i actually just moved here to study at the local university for an overseas program.” you only knew this guy for a maximum of 30 seconds, and he had already seemed so open and was able to read you like a book. it made you want to know more about him in exchange. 

“so your family bakes everything here?” you ask. 

“yes we do! my parents usually do the baking while my siblings and i work varying shifts here up front or stocking up the inventory. but we too, also experiment with different recipes to sell new things.” 

you hum in response. “you must have a lot of siblings then.”

the boy chuckles in response. “i do. i don’t know what i’d do without them.” he sounded so happy while talking about his family and it made you feel warm just hearing about how they worked together. 

“is this a competition for how much we can learn about each other within a span of a few minutes.” he smirks. “when we haven’t even learnt each others names yet?”

you inspect his attire, pausing at a name tag pinned to his shirt pocket. “ajax? nice to meet you, i’m (y/n).”

“well, (y/n), hope to see you again after trying my brother’s cake. hope it makes you realize that you gotta go for the chocolate or vanilla, not something that wasn’t meant to be a dessert in the first place.”

--

“i mean it was good so i came back for another one?” you can’t help but laugh when the same boy you met at the counter last week shakes his head.

“and you came to order right around closing time too, huh? guess this makes you a new challenge for me.” you avert your gaze to the ground, suddenly feeling nervous from his chastising. 

“fine, you can lose the pouty face. i’ll accept your questionable taste just this one last time.” he pushes his hair back with a sigh after packing up your order and you catch yourself staring. 

and of course, just when you allow yourself to indulge in the sight of a mysterious sea of unanswered questions in his blue eyes, he locks eyes with you. he knows you’re checking him out, causing him to smirk coyly. 

“ajax,” you begin, preventing the atmosphere from heading somewhere more tense. “have you lived here all of your life?” 

“as a matter of fact, no i haven’t. my family has been around, but i think we’ve finally found where we’re supposed to belong here. i’ve been living here long enough for people to start calling me by two different names too. ‘tartaglia’ and also ‘childe’.”

hm. so he was attractive and went by multiple names....

“‘tartaglia’? interesting, sounds like you’ve even earned yourself a name amongst the locals here.”

“i don’t know why they named me after the guy from that one play, though. maybe it’s because i leave a little bit of a stutter in people’s lives.” childe winks.

--

stutter, huh.

you thought he was just being a boastful young man. until you found yourself just happening to visit the bakery during times you predicted he’d be there. 

childe was like a peacock strutting his stuff out in the open, captivating, and divine. you had never met someone so adventurous yet down to earth at the same time. one moment he’d be bragging about his ventures with his friends, and then next thing you knew he’d do a 180 if his little brother called in the middle of your conversation. 

it wasn’t just his actions. he grew more bold with his words too. eyes shooting stars as he looked you up and down, noticing the new outfit you wore just for him when he purred about how good you looked and how it was always a treat to have someone as sweet as you visit after a long day at work. 

he was always full of surprises. you’re reminded of that when you find him standing behind the counter in a hoodie and jeans instead of his usual work attire.

“what’s up? disappointed that i’m not wearing the apron?” childe exits the space separating you two, and stands dangerously close to you. “don’t worry, i can put it back on when i show you the new frosting i’m working on.” he chuckles and rubs your shoulder, the small exchange of body heat making you feel warm all over.

“a new product, huh? is this to help your family business or to compete with your siblings?” you watch him count the cash at the register with your hands tucked underneath your chin. 

“sweetheart, even a guy like me can take on baking as a hobby rather than just a way to make ends meet or pick fights.” with that, he slides the cash register drawer closed. “come on, it should be processed by now.”

you slowly follow childe into the back. as promised, he puts the apron over his casual clothes, the sight rather domestic. 

he dips his finger into the light pink frosting after giving it one last stir and licks it off. the sight makes you shiver and lick your own lips.

“mmm. so i guess strawberry does taste pretty good. if done right of course.”

“what made you change your mind, mr.strawberry-anti?” you smirk.

“baking is a delicacy. i was never a ‘strawberry-anti’, just wary of how it’s supposed to mesh with desserts for the sake of compliancy. i made this frosting to test it out some more, and as a special treat. for you.”

before you can receive his gesture to claim your treat, childe gives you the same glimmering look that he always uses before pulling at your heartstrings even further. 

and it becomes way too much for you to handle when he leans his face closer to yours.

“here, have a taste.” childe teasingly presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. he continues to leave gentle pecks on your lips, and you let out shaky breaths every time he pulls away.

“why did you stop?” you whine and he hovers over your entire body this time, pushing your hips onto the counter.

“hm, not enough? come closer then.” you wrap your arms around his neck, this time, getting a real taste of his creation when he claims your mouth whole. 

you grip onto his hair when he adds more pressure into the kiss, pulling especially harder when he nibbles on your bottom lip. as if having unlocked the key to your greatest depths, he effortlessly slides his tongue into your mouth, and you moan upon tasting the lingering strawberry flavor mixed with the feeling of your tongues connecting.

much to your dismay, you both pull away for air. your breaths mingle hotly before he coaxes you into taking a bit more for yourself. not long after you savor the sweetness, childe’s lips are back on yours. the way he sucks the cream off your lips makes your head spin, making you forget about everything else but this one boy in front of you, the mystery boy in a foreign country who sent you through a rollercoaster during only your first month of living here. 

“ajax...” you breathe out his name when he lets go of your now swollen and red lips. the boy proceeds to kiss your cheek and jawline gently, laughing softly against your skin.

“i can’t help it, baby. it tastes even better on you.”

[batarangsoundsdumb]

guess fucking what? my inbox is so fucking full right now i'm unloading all of this shit in one post.

For the 11th gotham memes: gothamites react to bruce being jacked in a tiktok he made with kids, like super yoked, ripped as hell

fucking hilarious thanks. i think i did it in one meme post, but i genuinely don't remember which one

i dunno which of the batfam would do this but one time i was sleeping over at a friends house and ended up on the floor bc the bed was so very small and i just stayed there because the rug was soft

that's a drunk jason move i don't know what to tell you

tim and jason are "i listen to pop punk" solidarity. whenever jason highjacks the batmobile theyll go on long ass car rides blaring mcr and paramore and then never talk about it again

as they should!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tim: no jason it's my turn using the aux cord i gotta put on my jams jason: don't you dare put on weird shit tim: don't worry, you're gonna love this *plays fearless (taylor's version)

hear me out hear me out, red hood stans 🤝 nightwing stans t h i g h s

holy shit yes.

SNL au: Bruce breaks character when pretending to superman and says something like "I'm not superman! You've seen his gps!! It's from 2001!!!" @sabeanybabe

superman flies past the snl building the next day just to say 'actually it's from 2005, i'm not a heathen'

does your back hurt from carrying the batfam fandom

it hurts more from the exotic rock collection i keep in my backpack, but thanks for the concern.

I love your posts by why would you always leave the best parts in the tags?

as a treat for the people that check the tags ;) (and also because i'm committed to the short post aesthetic)

somehow your playlist was everything i never knew i needed. i mean it. this is my new favorite playlist.

and don't you dare get a new favourite playlist!

babe ur stoner tim playlist is exactly too perfect, earth is literally blessed by ur existence

babe thanks so much! i love my stoner tim playlist because it's just my usual playlist but people think it's an artistic choice that i put taylor swift and britney spears in there, when it's just what i unironically like listening to

JANDKSKDK BILLY RAY CYRUS ON THE STONER TIM PLAYLIST I LOVE IT IT

again it's not even an ironic choice, i know every single word and i genuinely like the song

The last chapter of Fundamentals of Casework has me crying at work. Thanks I love it @dudelookitsalesbian

oh babe, i'm sorry, but also, not sorry i love chapter 4 so much it's my lovechild with the 'mental illness' tag

soooo....stumbled on your tumblr by some stroke of fate??? read your DC fanfic first. which is PHENOMENAL btw. then found all the batmemes; the funniest thing EVER bc everyone forgets about regular old gothamites. kept scrolling and your blog pops up as recommended. clicked on the ao3 for shits and giggles and waddaya know?!?!? it's YOU!!! you're LEGEND!!!! ever seen that meme? it's a video of a cat that got into a baseball field and the two announcers get really invested in his escape attempt and start giving a play by play of the cat instead of the game. memeable moment: "GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!"

i seriously think about this ask every single day and it's so fucking funny to me that i've never seen the meme you're referencing, but i still find myself going 'GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!' whenever i see something funny. but wow i'm glad you liked this steaming pile of garbage

Fav dc character overall? And fav batfamily character?

don't ask me to pick between the loves of my life, but i can tell you i've cried about every single batfamily member and also wally west (my beloved)

What's your opinion on fans having a problem with batfam being "too big"? And some even claim that batfam is just "Bruce Alfred Dick Damian" and the rest of them are just "friends and allies" (source: reddit) Personally, I like batfam because of this reason but idk

stupid. a family can never be too big. i'm not that big a fan of like huge batfam stuff with everybody from every single universe, because as much as it's funny for bruce to have like 30 kids, it just feels a little too OOC for me.

This is the best tag I've seen involving the batfam, thanks for thinking of it

This is canon now @nctxrejects

lmao yeah i think at that point alfred has had to sit through like at least a dozen coming out talks and just has a pride flag collection in the attic that he pulls out whenever a kid comes out

idk why batfam hits different as compared to any other superhero family

bc it's found family and usually the other superhero families are almost all genetically related in one way or another

I don't know if you watch the umbrella academy but I saw your last post about batcest and saw the similarities. But the thing is (although I think it's weird) in TUA, they addressed it by saying "they were raised as weapons, not siblings" or something along those lines, which is simply not the case with batfam.

yeah i watched tua but i also thought it was ridiculous and they still treated each other as siblings so i didn't like the luthor/allison thing, and am glad they stopped doing that shit bc it fucking sucked.

Hot take: Batcest shippers are the same people who believe adopted siblings are not actual siblings

smoking hot take: batcest shippers are the people who watch 'my sister got stuck in the washing machine' porn

Duke was adopted by Bruce?

not technically no, but do i, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb, look like i care?

True story but I had to change my freaking name because it used to be "Damien" and most people would go "OH LIKE DAMIAN WAYNE" like please I'm just tryna live

true story, but i don't actually think of damian when i hear the name damian, literally the first thing that pops up is damian darkh like bruh what?

apparently dc comics company supported comic stores by giving out new titles and stuff during the beginning of the pandemic to help them run and I just think that's wholesome

ah yeah that's so fucking cool, still don't like dc, the company, because this world is a capitalist hellhole and we're all owned by warner brothers or disney with no in between.

ayo looking at tumblr head canons and finding out bruce is actually a terrible father is a punch in the gut

lmao yes, in like 50% of comics bruce is a terrible father and it gives me whiplash

oooh I just saw the jason todd vs winter soldier post and the real question is: batman vs iron man

while iron man has like hundreds of cases of armor, batman could throw out an emp and have the guy dropping out of the sky in 2 seconds.

dickfast = fastdick = quickdick = quickie

magnum hot take

hey bata(?) just thought I'd let you know I have copied the obnoxious emoji and Billy Ray post for use on simping men going forth

thank you 😘🌷 (@spacebarsidecar)

why would you do that to your followers???? i get why i did it, but why would you???

what is scarecrow made the nightwing funko pop himself, like those diy-ers that paint over other ones

oh god no, horrible take, horrible take, that's a disgusting thought oh no

I see your HC that Bruce and Oliver fucked and raise you this: Dick and Roy ALSO fucked

yes they did and it was a horrible moment for jason to find out dick has fucked both of his best friends

"at this rate bruce adds like 1 child to his family every decade or so" Duke is introduced in 2013, Damian as Damian, not as an unnamed child, in 2006. And he is already 14 years old, Robins rarely remain Robins after 16 😬 It looks like a new Robin and Batkid will appear in a couple of years

i mean i can't wait? but somebody will probably die first tho, we're due for another major character death. my money's on either cass or duke this time.

BRO you're so right all of your Bruce's ex headcanons are amazing but they aren't ships, that's kinda wild. Like I don't want any peeks into how their relationship was I just want to see everyone make fun of them

lmao YES it's just i love bruce being a slut, like good for him.

I am in love with your posts your honour thank you

omg thanks are we like,, gonna kiss now?

The justice league needs to have a meeting to discuss how many of their members/partners have slept with bruce. Because through a combination of cannon & fannon (if DC wasn’t homophobic) we have AT LEAST: 1) clark 2) lois 3) oliver 4) dinah 5) john

Thats not counting villains or random civilians @dudelookitsalesbian

yes yes yes, they'll have a yearly meeting about how many of their collective exes could be out for revenge and batman's list just keeps getting longer.

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

and what about it?

when steph's fighting livewire and she zaps her with lighting and nothing happens and then they both just. stand there awkwardly for a second and talk. yeah i couldn't stop laughing at that batgirl steph is the BEST

oh yeah that was fucking hilarious and i think it would be so cool and sexy of dc to give steph a little comic series,,, as a treat

Hi I absolutely adore all of yours "Bruce and Oliver very badly pretending they didn't fuck each other" memes

lmao i do too

I need you to know that “Bruce Wayne had frosted tips” is one of my favorite Bruce takes of all time it’s so galaxy brained. you’re right and you should say it

he also painted his hair blonde once when he was travelling and in conclusion, this is why he's being blackmailed by the gotham gazette.

you know my thing about gordon being branded as the only good cop in gotham is its a load of shit like arguably he's a good person and not working to screw people over or anything but the fact that he also works w. batman makes him a shit cop. like yea batman is better than the mob but its still illegal its still an abuse of power he just not making bank

babe, all cops are bad cops. (but yeah youre absolutely right, working with vigilantes makes you a shit cop, but also working against vigilantes just makes you an asshole cop yanno?)

ruh roh i think i’m about to add “so not yeehaw” every time i don’t like something

that's a very good vocabulary upgrade

somehow i feel like steph already knew. like babs obviously knew but i feel like bruce got high/drunk in front of steph and started telling his boarding school stories and steph was just like “oh you fucked up i’m never gonna forget this”

steph and bruce have weird uncle/rebellious niece dynamic and they just hang out sometimes and bruce will be like 'i once broke my arm when i tripped over a hedge when i was drunk so oliver drove me to the hospital on an electric scooter' and steph will just have to sit there with that knowledge in her head.

Hello I just wanted to tell you you are So right in all your steph opinions bc she is, in fact amazing and I think that's very sexy of you. Ps. Your Bruce/Oliver fic is hilarious

babe, thank you so much and yes steph is amazing and i love her and she deserves the world and she's the best member of the batfam hands down. also thanks

In Supersons we see a couple of kids that are implied to be Damian and Jon's children and the boy has laser eyes and can fly, so I asume he's not adopted. The girl, who calls Bruce grandpa, can also fly, btw. So it's canon (probably by accident) that Jon can have kids and he must have married one of Bruce's kids. (I'm hoping for Damian, mostly because any other of his children would be waaaaaaaaaaaaay too old.) @artemisa97

lmao that was probably an accident seeing as jon is a 17 year old superhero in the year 3000 (by the jonas brothers)

You know, I'm a die hard fan of your memes, but I gotta say one thing: if Gothamites actually took gas mask everywhere with them, then the Scarecrow would just be a weird dude in a weird costume, and not a villain oh so scary. DC really should just takes notes from you.

bold of you to assume there's no gothamite anti-maskers

How does it feel being the funniest person on this app?

horrible, next question.

I can't listen to Green Day or Billy Joel without thinking of your post about how Bruce got arrested at a Billy Joel concert @nightwings-kid

yeah that's your mistake, i on the other hand can't enjoy billy joel without thinking about the glee rendition of 'uptown girl'

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

superman: so what do you do in your free time? batman, thinking about the superman fanfiction he's writing on the batcomputer: i have no free time

bruce and oliver be like boyfriends to co-workers 401k (do the justice leagues get 401ks??? not that bruce and ollie would need them, but-)

lmao yes just 400 thousand words of bruce realising 'oh dip oliver is such a fucking dumbass' (also i don't know what a 401 k is but i assume they don't?)

Gothamites would totally boo superman as he saves Gotham while batman is out. @meenje

he's like 'okay think about that next time you want to be saved from an alien octopus'

I just took long break from dc comics and I come back to see ric grayson ??

i think it's very cool and sexy of dc to see dick and just think 'you know what? let's just give him a traumatic brain injury' and then didn't develop his character in any real way

SPEAKING OF RIC GRAYSON, gothamites making confused memes out of ric grayson is much needed

'dick grayson is my taxi driver? can anyone explain what the fuck happened he looks like an italian plumber?'

i hate to say it but batfam are def "marvel characters" in that sense they are characters who are human but become superheroes unlike most dc characters who are gods trying to be human maybe this is why I like batfam

fair enough

[bluemingcore]

title: ma'am this is a bakery

summary: You stepped into the bakery, the aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries wafted in the air, making you dizzy with euphoria. It was such a warm and inviting atmosphere, this favorite bakery of yours.

Or, you find something eye catching in your favorite bakery and it isn't bread! A relationship between you and Jisung slowly blooms, like yeast in bread.

characters: park jisung (nct) x reader

warnings/tags: none; fluff, lots of fluff; she/her pronouns are used for reader; bakery and university au

word count: 10, 417

a/n: a gift for my sister :)

title a reference to the meme "sir this is a wendy's"

links: ao3

You stepped into the bakery, the aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries wafted in the air, making you dizzy with euphoria. It was such a warm and inviting atmosphere, this favorite bakery of yours. You loved stopping by every day for lunch to grab something to eat before heading back to class.

Taking a tray, you peered into the plastic cases, your hunger tempting you to go take everything you see.

Resisting that urge, you take a cheesy bread. You glanced around at the other breads, wondering if you should take a sweet bread to counter the savory one. You spotted the milk tea bun. It was sitting alone in the case. The last one! Quickly making your choice, you reach for the milk tea bun.

Just as you were doing so, another hand reached for the same one. Accidentally touching the stranger’s hand, you pulled back quickly.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” You say, turning your head to look at the other person.

“No, it’s fine,” the stranger said. He turned to look at you. “You can take it.”

You stared at the man in front of you. Dressed in a white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with a dark blue apron—stained with what looks like flour—that fell above his knees, and black jeans. An employee...? You thought. You had to crane your head up to look at him. He was tall. And handsome. Really handsome.

You blinked.

“... Are you sure?” You asked, glancing away to look at the lonely milk tea bun.

“Yeah I’m sure. You reached for it first. Besides, you’re a customer. The customers always get what they want, right?” He smiled at you, making your heart skip a beat.

That last part kind of sounded a little sarcastic... So he is an employee then.

“Ah... I guess so...” You muttered.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get something else to eat for lunch,” The man absentmindedly said, more so to himself than to you. He then grabbed the milk tea bun and placed it on your tray for you, walking away before you could even say thank you. You blinked, a little confused by his actions, but decided to just finish your lunch trip and headed to the registers. Placing your items on the counter, you looked around for the boy who was gracious enough to give you the last milk tea bun, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Strange... You thought, bringing your attention back to the cashier when they asked, “Is that all for you?”

You ordered a milk tea to go and paid for your items. You left the bakery, walking back to campus while sipping on your drink.

—————————

You met up with your friend, Sophia, to eat lunch together at your university’s courtyard. Sitting at a picnic table, Sophia asked, “What did you get this time?”

“Brown sugar boba and a cheesy bread and a milk tea bread,” You answered, sitting down while taking your food out of the paper bag. “You?”

“I got a salad from the student union.”

“Gross,” You playfully said, looking disgusted. “I told you you should’ve gone with me. Also, I saw a cute worker there.”

“Really?” Sophia questioned, sounding actually uninterested in the supposed cute guy.

“Yeah, really. I’ve never seen him there before. He must be new,” You replied, eating your food.

“Yeah probably. You would know, you go there everyday.”

“Exactly. Anyways, we were both trying to get the last milk tea bun,” You continued.

“Wow, so romantic!” Sophia commented sarcastically.

You rolled your eyes. “I think he was on his lunch break or something, and wanted to eat it. But he let me have it.” You waved the milk tea bun to show it. “Obviously. He just put it on my tray and disappeared??? He’s so weird...” You shook your head, continuing to eat your lunch.

“Men are just weird like that.”

“Yeah, they are.”

—————————

Jisung wiped down the counters, quickly hurrying up to finish his tasks to his closing shift at the bakery. For what seemed like the 100th time that day—since he met her—his mind started thinking about the girl who wanted the milk tea bun earlier that day. He stopped what he was doing and hung his head low, sighing exasperatedly, as he thought about how he just gave her the bread and ran off without saying anything. Stupid... Why did I do that? He chastised himself, regretting his actions. I hope she comes back to the bakery soon...

—————————

Little did he know, you did return to the bakery the next day for lunch as you always do. You grabbed the food you wanted and paid for it. You didn’t see the Milk Tea Bun Boy (which was what you decided to dub him) you met the day before working, and you wondered where he was.

Just as you were opening the door to leave, someone else was also opening the door to enter.

“Oh!” The voice said in surprise. “Sorry.”

You looked at the owner of the voice and to your surprise, it was Milk Tea Bun Boy!

“Oh it’s you,” You said. “From yesterday. Thank you for letting me have the last milk tea bun.” You smiled brightly at him.

He stared at you, feeling a little flustered not only by what you said, but your smile. She’s cute... He thought.

“I-It’s nothing. I hope you enjoyed it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, not making eye contact with you.

“I did. Thank you. I got something different today.” You lifted the bag of food. “Well… I gotta go now. Bye.” You nodded your head slightly at the boy, before making your exit.

Jisung stared at your figure as you walked down the sidewalk, away from him and the bakery. He sighed, as he entered the bakery. She returned so quickly. If my shift was earlier I could’ve talked to her more. But still, he felt glad that he had a chance to see you, even if it was just a brief moment. Jisung went to the kitchen to put his apron on and start his shift.

—————————

“I saw him again today,” You said, sitting down on the bench and eating your food.

“Milk tea bun boy?” Sophia asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Yeah. I think he was going to work. I was leaving and he was walking out.”

“Did you say anything to him?”

“I told him thank you for letting me have the last bread.”

“You should get his number since you think he’s cute,” Sophia teased.

You shook your head at the thought. “I’m not gonna do that. That’s too awkward.”

Sophia laughed at you.

—————————

The next day for lunch, you and Sophia both decided to eat at the bakery together. You hoped Milk Tea Bun Boy was working, because you wanted Sophia to see what he looked like.

The two of you arrived, the scent of freshly baked bread saturating the air of the bakery.

“It smells so good in here,” Sophia commented, making moves to grab a tray.

“Hi, welcome!” A voice called from behind the counter. You turned your head towards the voice.

Milk Tea Bun Boy!

You smiled back at the employee. “Hi,” You said in response before turning away to your friend. You grabbed a tray for yourself, whispering to your friend, “That’s him.”

“Oh?” Sophia took a sneaky glance at the employee behind the counter, who was busy helping another customer. “That is a boy.” Was all she said in response.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you took the bread you wanted. A potato croquette and a milk tea bun.

The two of you headed towards the register with your items. “Hi. Is this for here or to go?” Milk Tea Bun Boy asked.

You were going to say to go, until your friend Sophia interrupted, “Let’s eat here.” She suggested. You glanced at her then back to the employee.

“For here,” You replied with a small smile.

“And is that all for you?”

“Um… can I also get a brown sugar milk tea with tapioca?”

“Sure.” As the employee rang up your items, you glanced down at the name tag fastened on his apron. The name read: Jisung.

After you paid for your items, you sat down at a table near the windows. The sun outside was shining bright and few clouds breezed along the blue sky. You watched as Sophia paid for her things, and sat across from you.

“Are you just gonna watch him from afar?” She teased, taking hold of her food and eating it.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and shaking your head as you picked up your food. “I wasn’t even looking at him.”

“Yeah, sure whatever you say.” She giggled.

“Number 31.” Jisung’s voice called. You glanced at your receipt on the table.

“Oh that’s me,” You got out of your seat to the pick-up counter.

“Thank you!” You smiled at him as you took your drink.

He smiled back, nodding. “You’re welcome.”

You sat back down at the table, sipping your drink.

“I feel like I’ve seen him before…” Sophia said, thoughtfully chewing on her food.

“Where?” You lifted your brow quizzically.

“Hmm… I think he also attends our university. I think I’ve seen him in the hallways before.”

“Hmm...” You murmured, sipping on your drink.

—————————

“Jisung.”

“Huh?” Jisung snapped out of his stupor and looked at his co-worker.

Jeno shook his head. “Why don’t you just ask her out man?”

“I… don’t even know her name…” Was the only excuse Jisung could find.

“Well, then next time she comes and orders a drink, just ask, ‘Do you have a name or can I call you cutie pie?’” Jeno winked at his friend as if to make his point.

Jisung stared blankly at Jeno. “We don’t even ask for names. We use numbers for orders.” He pointed out so matter-of-factly. “You should know that you’ve worked here longer than I have.”

Jeno sighed dramatically, taking his friend by the shoulders and giving him a rough shake. “I’m trying to help you here!”

“Okay, okay, stop!” Jisung gripped Jeno’s wrists to remove the other boy’s hands off his shoulders.

“Besides, I think she comes in everyday for lunch.”

Jisung lifted a brow. “Really?”

Jeno nodded. “Yeah. I noticed when I started working here. Well, Monday to Friday at least. She may also go to the same university as us.”

“Hmm…” Jisung responded absently, returning to the task of wiping the tables down.

“Look, if you don’t ask her out, I will.” He looked at his friend, grinning mischievously.

Jisung glared at him. “Don’t you dare.”

Jeno laughed. “I’m kidding. But seriously. Just ask her out. You miss the shots you don’t take. She could say yes. Oh, what if she has a boyfriend already? That’d be awkward.”

Jisung groaned at his friend’s ramblings.

—————————

On certain weekdays when Jisung was working the lunch shift, he often saw you come in to grab something to eat. Sometimes you came in with your tall friend, sometimes it was just you. It has been a week since he first had that encounter with you, but he still never built up the courage to ask you out, or even make small talk outside of his usual work-related questions. The encouragement, or nagging, from Jeno didn’t do much to push him to say anything to you.

Jisung sighed internally at his whirlwind of thoughts. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he just talk to her? Why—

The ringing of the bells brought Jisung’s attention to the present. The door of the bakery opened and lo and behold, the source of his internal turmoil walks in.

Lunchtime already? Jisung thought to himself as he checked the time on his watch. Time had gone by really quick.

Jisung looked back at you, and was caught by surprise to see that you were accompanied by another person. It wasn’t your tall white friend this time, but a male instead.

Is that her… Jisung’s thoughts began to storm again.

He watched the two of you as you both walked around and chose which items to eat. He turned to Jeno, who was manning the cash register. Jisung didn’t have a chance to ask before the older boy beat him to it.

“Hey, do you think that’s her boyfriend?” Jeno asked lowly.

Jisung sighed. “I don’t know.”

Jeno noticed his friend’s inner turmoil. “Well, we can’t assume every boy she walks in with is her boyfriend. It could be a relative or a friend.” He tried to make his friend feel a little better.

Jisung quickly left the cash register counter when he saw the pair approaching.

After the pair paid for their items and left, Jisung approached Jeno again.

“His name is Bryson,” Jeno said.

“What? How do you know that?” Asked the young boy with furrowed brows.

“She said his name.” Jeno replied as if that was a fact Jisung should’ve been aware of. “He offered to pay for their food and she was like ‘Bryson you don’t have to do that!’” His voice went high-pitched for a moment to mimic the girl. “But he insisted and paid for the food anyway. This is why I don’t think they’re dating because —“

Jisung rolled his eyes, turning away to leave his friend’s ramblings. “You talk too much.”

“Hey! Don’t you wanna hear my theory?” Jeno called after.

“Not really. You don’t make any sense.” Jisung went back to his tasks.

—————————

Later that day after classes ended, you met up with Sophia to walk to the library to do some homework together.

“… and I didn’t want Bryson to come with me but he insisted! What if Milk Tea Bun Boy thinks we’re dating now?!” You groaned.

“Hey, at least you got free food.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“If you’re stressing so much over this, just make it known to him that you’re single! Ask him out already!”

You shook your head. “Too awkward.”

“What’s awkward is you lusting over him while saying nothing.” Your friend rolled her eyes.

“I’m not lusting over him,” You quipped.

“Whatever you say.”

—————————

Several days later, you, along with Sophia, once again went to the bakery to grab lunch.

“Let’s eat here today,” Sophia suggested.

“Mmm….” You replied as you thought about what to eat.

Sitting down at the table near the windows after you paid for your items, you noticed Milk Tea Bun Boy walk in, the bells above the door jingling behind him as he was putting his apron on. As he walked in, he glanced at you. You flushed and quickly looked away, giving new attention to your food instead.

Sophia stared at you blankly while she shook her head.

Jisung watched from afar as you and Sophia chatted away and ate together. He thought you looked especially cute today. Your hair was styled differently and the dress you wore was adorable, suiting you quite well, he thought. He sighed internally and turned away. What was he thinking? What was he doing? Was he just going to stare at you from afar forever? Or was he going to finally get the courage to do something about it? Maybe Jeno was right—

Without thinking, Jisung made his way to where you were sitting. When you and Sophia noticed him approaching, your attention was turned to him.

Oh no… He thought. Why was he approaching you again? What was he supposed to say? Think Jisung, think!

“Uh…” He sputtered upon reaching your table. “If you’re done eating, I’ll take that.” He looked at the trays on the table and the other trash.

“O-oh… Yeah we’re done. Thank you.” You said, smiling warmly at him.

Jisung’s ears tinged pink, he looked down and quickly took away the trays and trash.

Sophia could only stare at him and you with a confused look. “Okay… Let’s go back to campus. My next class starts soon.”

—————————

“You did that??!” Jeno laughed. And laughed. Until tears sprung from the corner of his eyes.

Jisung groaned. “Shut up! I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Haha, sorry. It’s just too funny.” He wiped a tear away from the corner of his eye and flicked it at his friend.

“Stop that.” Jisung glared, swatting away Jeno’s hand.

“But seriously man. You need to just talk to her. She seems nice. Like I said, if you don’t say something, I will~” He chuckled.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Hehe, who knows…”

—————————

The next day for lunch, you and Sophia once again ate inside the bakery.

“I can’t believe midterms are coming up so fast,” You said with a sigh after a bite of food.

“I know. This semester is going by way too fast.”

Jisung emerged from the employee break room, unsurprised to see you sitting at the table by the window with your friend. He was on break when you arrived, so he didn’t see you come in. He adjusted his apron, walking towards you, his head replaying the conversation between him and Jeno from yesterday.

“I can take that if you’re done,” He said, standing by your table.

“Oh, yes, we’re done, thank you.” You gave him a small smile.

Jisung started gathering the trays on the table. “I notice you come here a lot…” He started.

“Yeah, I really like this bakery. And it’s really close to campus so I like to come here to get something to eat in between classes.” You replied.

He nodded. “I see… So you go to [university name] then?”

“Yeah, we both do.” You gestured between Sophia and yourself. “Do you go there too?”

“I do. I’m a music major.”

“Oh that’s cool! What —“ You were interrupted by the jingling of the bells from the door.

“Hi, welcome!” Jisung turned to the new customers walking in. “I gotta go.” He said to you, taking the trays and leaving.

“Well that was a good start!” Sophia said encouragingly as you both walked back to campus.

“It was so awkward…” You sighed, shaking your head.

Sophia patted your shoulder. “Cheer up. At least he initiated conversation. Maybe he likes you.”

You could only sigh at her response.

—————————

“Good job. At least you said something to her.” Jeno said to Jisung as the two were walking to the library together.

“She probably thinks I’m weird, just talking to her outta nowhere. Then, a customer walked in in the middle of our conversation and I had to leave.”

Jeno playfully slapped his friend on the back. “Gives you another opportunity to talk to her next time. By the way, do you have the notes for sociology? I dozed off last class and I seriously need to get to studying for that midterm.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I have it. I’ll email it to you.”

—————————

Your head spun as you glossed over the list of terms that were going to be on your midterm. You enjoyed your sociology class, but these terms were so much to remember all at once! You were sitting at a table at the bakery that you always go to, left hand holding a curry bun, other grasping pages of notes you printed out. It was the weekend, and you were waiting on Sophia to arrive so the two of you could start studying for midterms together. You sighed and put the paper down, taking a bite of your food and glancing around the bakery. Milk tea bun boy—Jisung, if you will—wasn’t working at the moment.

The door opened, bells jingling to signal an entry. You turned your head towards the door, expecting Sophia to walk in. Instead, it was Jisung, apron hung over his forearm, a backpack slung over his shoulder. The two of you made eye contact. You weren’t sure whether you should say hi, so you opted for a friendly smile—a smile that Jisung returned—before turning back to the papers sprawled in front of you.

You checked the time on your phone. Where was Sophia? She was already 10 minutes late.

From behind the counter, Jisung watched as you were poring over the sheets of paper on the table. He began thinking of ways to make conversation with you. Absentmindedly, he grabbed the table cleaning supplies, and sauntered over to the empty tables near you.

You weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings, your eyes trained on the paper in your hand, as you read and reread the terms. Jisung was cleaning the tables, mind still mulling over how to make small talk to you. Why couldn’t he just be bold and brave like Jeno was? That man would make conversation with a tree if it looked interesting enough.

He sighed inwardly before he noticed a stray paper on your table slipped off, cascading slowly onto the floor. He looked at your concentrated countenance, focused on reading whatever it was that you were reading. You didn’t seem to notice the fallen paper.

Jisung walked over and picked it up for you.

Finally, you lifted your eyes up when you noticed his presence nearby.

“This fell.” Jisung said, handing you the piece of paper.

“Oh, thank you.” You took the paper from him.

“… What are you studying for?” He asked, looking at the mess of papers.

“Intro to sociology.” You answered with a sigh. “It’s midterm season.”

Jisung noticeably perked up at “sociology.” “Intro to sociology?” He echoed. “I take that course too. Who do you have it with?”

“Professor Robertson. He’s a really great professor.”

His eyes widened. “Professor Robertson? I take him too!” He smiled.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “What, really? Wait, what section? I’m in section five.”

Jisung deflated, nodding in understanding. “Ahh… I’m in his fourth section.”

“Oh okay... Did he give your class a study guide? He told my class that he’s going to give us a study guide for the exam. A study guide would be really helpful, so I can know what to study for. I printed out all my notes and the PowerPoints lectures.” You gestured to the papers in front of you. “It’s a lot.” You sighed.

Jisung shook his head, chuckling softly. “He told us the same thing. He hasn’t emailed a study guide yet, but we’re all waiting on it. You’re preparing for it kinda early, don’t you think? The midterm’s still a couple of weeks away.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s best to prepare early, right? Plus, there’s so much material to know.”

He nodded. “You’re really thorough. I haven’t even started looking over my notes yet.”

“You should get a head start. Exam day is gonna be here before you know it.”

“Haha, you’re right about that. Uh, well… How about studying together sometime? I could use the help.” Jisung felt nervous.

You were taken aback by the question. “Oh, sure! I could use a study buddy!” You smiled at him, a giddy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

He beamed at your response. “Cool! Um… oh, I never gave you my name. I’m Jisung.”

You giggled. “I know. I noticed it on your name tag.” You pointed at the name tag on his apron, crookedly displayed.

“Oh right.” He smiled, glancing down at his name tag.

“I’m y/n.”

“Y/n?” Jisung repeated. “That’s a pretty name.” He smiled softly at you. You felt heat rush to your cheeks. “Oh, um, let me give you my number. I work until closing today but if you ever want to study together, just text me.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket. “And you can give me your number too, um, if you want to, of course.”

You smiled, reaching for your phone and handing it to the boy. “Well, even if I don’t give you my number now, you’d end up having it when I text you anyways.” You responded playfully with a laugh.

Jisung cleared his throat, entrapped by the fact that he was now exchanging numbers with you. And on top of that, you insinuated that you were going to text him eventually. “Ha… you’re right,” He said with a smile, taking your phone in his hands and giving his phone to you. He entered his number into your contacts, and you did the same to his. Just as you took your phone back, the door opened. Sophia’s tall figure walked in, giving you a wave and a smile. You smiled and waved back.

“I gotta go back to work. Good luck studying.” Jisung said with a bright smile, turning on his heel and walking away.

“Sorry I’m late.” Sophia sat down across from you, “I had to wait for my co-worker to arrive before I could clock-out and they were late.” She opened her backpack and started rummaging for her laptop.

“It’s okay,” You reassured, a smile on your face as you looked at the new number displayed on your phone. Park Jisung, it read.

Sophia grinned at you. “So… what happened?” She wiggled her eyebrows knowingly.

“What do you mean?” You feigned ignorance.

She scoffed, playfully rolling her eyes. “Okay, you can just tell me after. I’m gonna get something to eat.”

—————————

“You got his number?!” Sophia’s eyes were wide. The two of you were finished studying and were walking back to Sophia’s car.

“Yes!” You beamed, feeling giddy and unbelieving that he actually asked for your number. “He wants to study for the sociology midterm together.”

“Well, how exciting for you.” She grinned.

—————————

Several days later, while you were sitting in statistics class bored out of your mind, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. It was a text from Jisung.

Hey do you wanna study together at the library?

You immediately responded.

What time?

I’m at work until 2:30pm, so after that?

Okay sounds good :) I’m in class right now so I’ll head straight there and find us a table

Great see you then! :D

You hid your smile behind your hand and began impatiently tapping your foot. Could this class just end already?

—————————

Finally. His shift was over. It was 2:30pm and Jisung took off his apron, folding it and stuffing it inside his backpack. “I’m clocking out now,” He announced to his manager.

On his way out, he stopped in his tracks.

—————————

You texted Jisung: I’m sitting on the first floor next to the windows in the back

You weren’t sure why you felt so nervous. You were just studying sociology with a (cute) boy who works at the bakery you always go to, who had asked for your number. So nothing wrong with that. You started taking out your laptop and notes.

After some time, you received a text from Jisung.

I’m on my way!

—————————

“Hey!”

You looked up at the voice. “Hi.” You smiled at Jisung. He was wearing jeans and a printed t-shirt. You thought he looked weird without his work apron on. But then again, it’d be weirder if he always wore it. This was the first time you saw Jisung outside of his usual setting at the bakery. It was weird, in a different-nice kind of way.

“I got us something to eat while we study.” He placed a bag on the table. “Some pastries from work.”

Your eyes widened at the pleasant surprise. “Woah, really? Thanks!”

“No problem. Here.” He reached into the bag, pulling out a milk tea bun and handing it to you. “I’m sure you’ll like this one.”

You laughed. “I do. Thank you. Sorry about taking the last one from you that day.”

Jisung shook his head, settling himself in the seat across from you. “It’s fine, really. So, how are you studying?”

The two of you only managed to study for about 30 minutes before getting tired of it and deciding to “take a short break.”

“How long have you been working at the bakery?” You asked, cheek resting on the palm of your hand.

“Hm… Maybe about 2 months now? I haven’t been working there that long. My friend Jeno, who also works there, got me the job.”

“I see. I figured you haven’t been working there long because I go to that bakery all the time.”

“Yeah, you do come in often. Is it your favorite place?”

You nodded with a smile. “The top bakery in this city in my opinion. Everything is always really good and the workers are always nice.”

“Ah… so you think I’m nice?” He teased, grinning almost too playfully.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Unless there’s reason for me to think otherwise?” You playfully responded.

His face reddened at your forthright response. “Haha, no… I do think of myself as nice.”

The conversation petered out.

“You told me before you’re a music major right?” You asked eventually. “What do you want to do in the future?”

At that, Jisung smiled brightly, as he began diving into an explanation of his hopes and dreams, his love for music and his wishes of creating music and singing, for making people happy with music. You listened intently, entranced by his passion for music, his smile and the way his eyes sparkled while talking about it.

“You’re so passionate about it.”

He smiled. “What about you? What’s your major?”

“Well now I’m gonna sound silly compared to you and your passions.”

Jisung vigorously shook his head. “Don’t compare your dreams to mine. We all have different dreams in their own right. Your passions have a special meaning to you as mine does for me.”

You smiled at his words and his adamant reassurance. “I…”

It was then your turn to explain yourself, your passion, your dreams, and future goals. Jisung looked at you, listening intently, nodding and asking questions when appropriate. He kept his full attention on you and his interest in what you had to say made you feel giddy inside.

Before you knew it, two hours had passed.

“So much for studying.” You sighed.

“That’s okay. We can try again next time.”

“Next time?”

He smiled. “Yeah, if that’s okay with you.”

Tapping your finger on your chin, “Hm, I don’t know. You’re not that great of a study buddy, considering we barely did any studying.” You joked with a little chuckle. “I’m kidding.”

“Then you can give me a second chance tomorrow.”

You smiled. “Okay, tomorrow. You better prove yourself.”

—————————

Tomorrow came and Jisung did prove himself to be a decent study companion. For the first forty-five anyways. Then as the day before, you and Jisung lapsed into leisurely conversation. The two of you were able to talk for hours. You were comforted by how Jisung was very easy and fun to talk to. The conversation would veer into favorite music, artists, recent movies, favorite movies, and just about any topic that could be discussed that wasn’t sociology.

Before you knew it, evening had fallen and the last rays of the sun disappeared from the sky.

“It’s getting late now.” You remarked, looking outside the windows at the darkness shrouding the courtyard.

“I’ll walk you back to your apartment.” Jisung offered, picking up his things from the table.

“You don’t have to do that.”

He shook his head. “I do. You shouldn’t walk by yourself in the dark.”

“… Okay. Thank you.”

“You know, I haven’t stopped by the bakery these past two days for lunch,” You were telling Jisung as he walked you to your apartment. “Since we’ve been studying together and stuff.”

“Oh that’s right. We can study at the bakery tomorrow then? I don’t work tomorrow anyways.”

“Yeah, okay, we can do that.”

You made conversation about the anime Jisung finished watching on the way to your apartment. You told him that you had already watched that one and were amicably discussing the thrilling plot and your favorite characters before you finally ended up on the front door of your apartment.

“Well, we’re here.” You said, feeling awkward. “Thanks for walking me here.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

Jisung nodded. “Yeah.”

You unlocked the door. “Bye…”

“Bye. Good night.”

“Night.”

Jisung slowly turned to leave. You pushed your door open, and looked at his retreating figure. He turned around for a moment, smiling at you and waving before finally disappearing around the corner.

You walked in your apartment and closed the door behind you. You had so much fun with Jisung that ending the night felt wrong, almost sad. But you were going to see him again the next day. You smiled to yourself thinking about it.

“Oh hey you’re home.” Sophia called out to you from the kitchen, causing you to jump.

—————————

You impatiently tapped your pen on the desk, eager to finish your last class of the day. You just wanted to see Jisung. You felt excitement bubble inside as you thought about meeting him for another study session at the bakery. You wondered if he felt the same.

Time passed, the lecture boring you to tears. The minute the professor wrapped up the lecture, dismissing the class, you packed your things and left straight to the bakery.

Jisung was already there, sitting at a table with two drinks and some food spread out, and his laptop balanced on the corner of the table. It was weird to see Jisung at his workplace, not in his work uniform and not working. But you had to admit, you liked seeing him like this. When the door opened, he looked up from his laptop, giving you a smile and then waved you over.

“Hey you.”

You returned his smile, setting your backpack down and sitting at the chair across from him. “Hey. You’re actually studying.” You said teasingly.

He chuckled. “I barely started.” He pushed a drink and wrapper of bread towards you. “This is for you.”

“What really? You gotta let me pay you back.”

“No.”

“What, why?” You whined, pouting. “You bought food last time too. It’s only fair.”

He shook his head vigorously. “No. It’s on me. I mean it.”

“Jisung…” You whined, dragging out the last syllable of his name.

The corner of his lips tugged in a tiny small, finding your insistence rather adorable and endearing. “Okay, okay, fine.”

You smiled brightly.

“Next time though, okay?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Okay. Fine. Next time for sure.”

Jisung propped his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand. So cute… He thought as you grumbled to yourself before finally deciding to take out your laptop and study materials.

“No distractions this time, okay?” You told him in a stern tone. “I have other assignments I need to focus on.”

He nodded. “Yes ma’am. I won’t bother you.”

He wanted to though. While you were focused on whatever assignments you had, he watched you from the edge of his laptop from time to time (okay, he’ll admit it, for most of the time). He thought you looked cute like that. Your expression held unduly focus on your laptop and notebook, your lips sometimes moved to mouth whatever it was that you were reading, sometimes you would blink excessively at your laptop as if confused at something, your brows would scrunch together in concentration. He couldn’t help but admire your features.

You were tapping the bottom of your pen to your chin, deep in thought, with a blank expression on your face, your eyes moving back and forth on the laptop screen.

“You’re so pretty…”

“Huh?” Your eyes moved from the screen to his face.

Jisung’s eyes slightly widened in realization. Wait. Did he just say that out loud? Oh crap. He didn’t mean to.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shaking his head. “I said I’m bored.”

You tilted your head. It sure didn’t sound like that before but you didn’t want to dispute it since you weren’t totally sure. “We barely started studying.”

“Yeah, so? Studying is so boring.”

You shook your head with a light smile. “You’re not wrong there.”

“Jisung?” The two of you looked to the source of the voice.

“Huh, Jeno? You’re working today?”

“Yeah, I switched shifts with Jaemin.” Jeno looked over at you. A grin spread on his face. “Oh hey. You’re the customer that always comes here. I haven’t seen you around lately.”

“Yeah, it’s because I’ve been spending time studying with Jisung.”

“Oh~? Really? Well, how exciting.”

“Not really. It’s studying.” Jisung mumbled. He looked at his friend with an unamused stare. “Shouldn’t you be clocking in now?”

Jeno huffed a small laugh. “I suppose I should now. I’ll let you two at it. If you need something let me know~” He lifted a hand to wave before turning away, walking towards the employee door.

“Sorry about him.”

You laughed. “It’s fine. Let’s get back to studying.” You looked at your laptop before looking back at Jisung. “No distractions! I’m gonna set a timer so no distractions until then, okay?” You reiterated sternly.

He smiled. “Okay, okay.”

The two of you studied for an hour. Well, more like you were doing work while Jisung sometimes got distracted by you (but he was also doing some studying here and there).

An hour passed. You took a deep sigh, sitting back in your chair. “Okay… I finished my assignments.” You looked up at Jisung. “Did you get anything done?”

“Uh… A little?”

You pursed your lips, shaking your head in a playful manner. “Shame, Jisung, shame.”

He laughed. “Sorry. I couldn’t concentrate. There’s just some… natural distractions, you know?”

“Natural distractions?”

“Yeah. Distractions that can’t be helped.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling slightly at his nonsense. “Whatever you say.”

The two of you then dropped into idle conversation. You talked about this and that, the weather, the classes you’re taking this semester, the new drinks the bakery is developing, and before you know it, another hour passed.

“… you would think the main character would know better but he doesn’t,” Jisung was saying about a character in a certain film.

“Yeah, right, it’s-“

“Hey, you two.”

You and Jisung turned to the voice. It was Jeno again.

“What is it, Jeno?” Jisung sounded mildly annoyed.

“I was feeling bored. Just wanted to say hi.”

“Well, hi. Now go back to work.”

“Ah, so harsh.” Jeno shook his head. He turned to you. “I never got your name. I’m Jeno by the way.”

“I’m y/n.”

“What a lovely name, y/n~”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

Jisung looked at you then turned his head to give Jeno a stare. “You’re on the clock.” He stated with a sigh.

“What? You flirt on the clock.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Uh, yeah you do. Last time when y/n was—“ Jisung kicked his friend in the shin. “Ow!”

“Okay, okay you’ve made your point.”

The door opened, bells jingling as a customer walked in.

“Great timing,” Jisung mumbled to himself.

“Alrighty then, I’ll go. Talk to you later y/n and Jisung!”

Jisung sighed as his friend turned and walked to the counter. “Sorry about him. Again.”

You laughed. “He’s quite entertaining.”

“Yeah, in more ways than one.”

You checked the time on your phone. “Ah… I think I should get going now. I told my friend Sophia that I would go grocery shopping with her.” You began to pack your things. “Today was really productive though. Thanks again for studying with me. I always find it useful to have someone to study or do homework with because it keeps me focused. Even if we’re not working on the same subject, you know?”

He nodded. “Yeah, same here.” (A half-lie, since he wasn’t doing much work in the first place.)

You slung your backpack over your shoulder, standing from your chair. “I’ll see you later then?”

He nodded, giving you a smile. “Yeah. Bye.”

You waved as you made your way out the door.

Jisung sighed as he watched you leave, feeling somewhat empty inside with your absence.

“Good going with the study dates.”

He turned his head, staring at Jeno who was standing next to his table. “Dates?”

“Isn’t that what these things are called?”

Jisung thought about it for a moment. He didn’t really think of the study sessions as dates. “Huh… I guess so… But we haven’t had an official ‘date’ yet. I haven’t really asked her out… These are more like… friendly gestures?” Yeah, sure. Friendly gestures.

Jeno scoffed. “Yeah sure. Proud of you for making the moves on her though!”

“I swear I’m gonna hit you one day.”

“What do you mean one day? You already kicked me today.”

“I think that was well deserved.”

—————————

You didn’t get to study with Jisung the day after. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. He had sent a text explaining his unfortunate work and class schedule, so he wasn’t able to study at certain, available times with you. But despite not getting to spend “study” time with him, you still visited the bakery on your break times. Sometimes he would be working that shift, sometimes he wouldn’t (you’d text him telling him you were at the bakery and he’d reply with a frowny face about how he’s in class or elsewhere). Even though you were still able to see him sometimes while he was at work, as well as having late night texts with him, you began to miss your study sessions together (even if those study sessions weren’t always the most productive ones).

One day, you received a text from him.

Can you come to the bakery at closing time?

You responded: Sure but why?

I’ll see you then!

He did not answer your question. You smiled and shook your head at the phone. Still, you complied. You spent the day on campus finishing up assignments and studying before walking to the bakery five minutes before closing. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a dusky orange glow on the streets. Approaching the store front, you could see Jisung through the glass wiping the tables down. He lifted his head and saw you staring at him. He smiled and waved. Giving him a sheepish smile in return—you felt a bit embarrassed about getting caught staring—and a wave, you walked inside the bakery.

“Hey.” The door jingled behind you as you walked in. “Why’d you want me to come at closing time?”

“Give me a moment.” He finished doing his task and walked behind the employee doors. There were voices chatting indistinguishably and Jisung eventually reappeared without his work apron on. He was wearing a white button up shirt rolled to his elbows and dark blue jeans. You thought he looked really handsome like this.

“So… what is it?”

He ran his hand through his hair, looking a little fidgety. “Well… It’s dinner time now. And I was wondering if you wanted to go out and grab some dinner together?” He took a pause. “If you want to, of course…”

You were taken aback by his sudden question. You gave a short laugh, a sort of nervous, giddy laughter. “Wait, are you asking me out on a date?”

He blinked, a light blush making its way to his cheeks. “Yeah, I am. Y/n, would you like to go out on a date with me?”

You smiled, a giddy feeling bloomed in your stomach. “I’d love to go on a date with you Jisung.”

He returned your smile. “Great. Let’s go. I know a nice sushi place.”

The two of you walked to the sushi restaurant that was not too far from the bakery.

“You know, at first, I thought you had a boyfriend.” He said this to you while you were waiting for your order to arrive.

“Huh? What, why?” Your face scrunched in absolute confusion.

Jisung gave an awkward chuckle before explaining himself. “It was because that one time you walked in the bakery with a guy.”

You tilted your head to the side, thinking about that ‘guy.’ “Ah.” You realized who he meant. “Bryson? That’s just a friend. You don’t need to worry about him. I turned him down long ago.” You took a sip of your drink.

Jisung nodded. “Ah, I see. Of course you’d have other suitors. It makes sense, since you’re so pretty.”

You looked at him in surprise, taken aback by his compliment. You blushed, taking another sip of your drink to cool yourself. “How can you say that with such a straight face…” You mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

The food eventually arrived and you and Jisung talked amicably while eating your dinner. Talking about this and that, the weather, your classes, recent movies and music. You loved how easy Jisung was to talk to. You loved how his eyes shine bright when he talks about a hobby of his or something he finds interest in or likes doing. You love how whenever you talk with him, he centers his attention on you and just you, making you feel like you’re the only person in the world.

“Ah~ That was so good. I feel so full now.”

The check came around and Jisung instantly snatched it in his hands.

You gave him a glare (that had no bite). “Let me pay! Last time I said that I’ll pay next time and it’s next time.”

“No, it’s okay. I got it.”

“Jisung, really!”

He chuckled, shaking his head adamantly. “Consider this as… a gift for going out with me tonight.”

You huffed. He was persistent and stubborn and you didn’t have it in you to keep fighting him. “You’re so stubborn.”

He smiled.

“Let me walk you back to your apartment.” He said once the two of you were outside the restaurant. “It’s late now. I can’t have you walking back by yourself.”

So, he walked you back to your apartment. The two of you once again fell into a vibrant conversation about any topic plausible to talk about.

“Thanks for walking me home,” You said as you approached your apartment.

“It’s no problem.”

“And thanks for dinner. I had a lot of fun.” You smiled. Before you lost your courage, you quickly stood on your tiptoes, giving him a peck on the cheek. “That’s to show my gratitude. Good night.” You unlocked the door and hurriedly stepped in, shutting the door behind you. You stood with your back pressed against the door, heaving a sigh as your face reddened.

“Oh hey you’re home.”

You jumped at Sophia’s voice, placing your hand over your heart. “You gotta stop scaring me.”

—————————

Jisung stood motionless at the other side of the door, fingertips touching the skin where you kissed him. A blush tinted his cheeks, reaching the tips of his ears. He couldn’t believe how adorable you were.

Later that night, when he got back to his dorm, he sent you a text.

I had a lot of fun tonight. Let’s do it again sometime

—————————

“Again” did happen (again and again). Jisung and you made studying/homework sessions at the bakery or library an occasional ordeal (naturally, dependent on your schedules), even little dates to the sushi restaurant for after-studying dinner became an occasional event. As you spent more time with him, you got to learn more about him and vice versa. He was a kind, gentle and humorous individual. He even got along well with your best friend, Sophia, which you were glad about. You even made him cookies one day, as a thank you gift for always buying you food. He was in disbelief at your baking abilities, as the cookies were soft and chewy, just how he likes it (when Jisung brought them back to his dorms, Jeno even tried to steal one, earning a slap on the shoulder from the other).

And little did you know, he felt the same way. Jeno would talk about you and ask questions about you to Jisung endlessly (to the point where Jisung would be a little bit annoyed). Jisung found you to be a truly beautiful, benevolent and passionate person. Whenever you talked about something you like, you never notice the smile on his lips and the shine in his eyes when he listens to you talk. You never notice the shy glances, the subtle admiration of your features, and the wistful longing stares at your lips. You weren’t aware but he did wonder how soft your lips were or how soft you would feel in his arms.

“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” He was telling Jeno one day after work, “But… she exceeded any expectations I had. She’s so pretty inside and out.”

“Yuck,” Jeno responded jokingly, to which Jisung rolled his eyes at.

“You asked.”

—————————

Midterms came and passed. You and Jisung studied for the sociology midterm together on the days before the big exam, quizzing each other on the terms and concepts, reviewing each lecture and PowerPoint, crying and screaming at the stress of exam-taking. (“Stressing over exams is such a nice bonding experience” Sophia told you).

“I’m in enormous debt to you and your study guide. It really saved my grade,” Jisung said to you when he saw you the following day of the exam. "Jeno's too." He chuckled.

You smiled, shaking your head. “It’s no problem, really. Glad it helped and you got a good grade.”

“Enough to keep my B+ I hope…” He took a pause. “Actually, I was wondering… do you wanna come over to my dorm this weekend and watch a movie? I can order us pizza or something… and we can just… watch whatever movie you want? A thank you for helping me study.”

So you did. Sitting on his bed with a blanket over your lap and a slice of pizza in your hands, you waited for Jisung to pull the movie up on his laptop.

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen all of the Shrek movies…” He was saying to you.

You shrugged, your mouth full of pizza. “I mean, I’ve only seen the first one.”

“We’re doing a Shrek marathon now.”

Despite having seen the Shrek movies numerous times, Jisung still paid much attention to the plot. You thought it was cute. You couldn’t help but stare at him a little. You thought he looked really pretty, the lights in the room were out, the laptop casting a harsh glow on his features, his focus entirely on the screen before him. You wanted to reach out, maybe brush your hands across his cheek, maybe hold his hand, put your hand on his chest and pull him close to you…

The lights flickered on and you blinked, hard.

“Oh hey there you two!”

“Jeno, couldn’t you have at least warned us before turning the lights on?”

Jeno only laughed.

The moments you spent with Jisung continued just like that. Days went and passed, and before you both knew it, it was soon spring break. You were gracious for it of course, but a hint of silent disappointment sprouted when Jisung told you he would be visiting home for the week. You didn’t say anything, but you silently wished to spend more time with him, seeing him one to three times a week just wasn’t enough. You craved his presence at times. Even if it was just sitting together in a room, that was enough for you.

—————————

So, Jisung visited home for spring break. You missed him a lot and going to the bakery just wasn’t the same without him there. Sometimes you’d expect to see him there standing behind the counter, only to be disappointed when he’s not. It was only a week without him but it felt much, much longer.

Who knew one week could feel like one year?

One more day! Can’t wait to see you :)

You smiled at the text from him. Before you were able to text back, your phone started ringing.

“Hey what’s up?”

“Hey y/n." Jisung's voice replied through your phone's earpiece. "...Sorry for the sudden call. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Oh…” You were slightly taken aback by his straightforward words.

“Sorry. Was that weird to say?”

You shook your head, even though you knew he wouldn’t be able to see it. “No, not at all. I… I miss you. A lot.”

A sigh of relief on the other side. “I miss you more.”

You huffed a laugh. “This isn’t a competition.”

Jisung chuckled. “Well, what are you doing right now?”

“I was actually preparing to go to bed.”

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, I forgot about the time difference.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just… glad I get to hear your voice.”

“Are you in bed right now?”

“… Yes…? …This better not be going where I think it’s going Park Jisung,” You replied in a jokingly stern tone.

“What? No!” Panic in his voice at the implications. “No, no, no…”

“I was kidding~”

“What I meant was, I want to play you a song… to help you go to sleep.”

“Play me a song?”

“Yeah. Hold on, let me grab my guitar.” A couple of thumping and ruffling sounds could be heard as you patiently waited for Jisung. “Okay, got it. Are you lying comfortably in bed?”

“Mmm… Give me a minute.” You reached over and turned the bedside lamp off, nestling yourself under your covers, placing your phone next to you, and turning your phone to speaker mode. “Okay, all comfortable.”

“Any song requests?” He strummed a cord, causing you to smile as the sound vibrated through the speakers on your phone.

“Hmm…” You gave it some thought. “Play me a song you recently started writing?”

“Okay. I don’t have the lyrics all written out yet but I have the basic melody.”

“That’s okay. Anything you play will be nice.”

Jisung began strumming the guitar, a soft melodious tune gently reverberated through your phone and into your darkened bedroom. The chords he played were careful and smooth, making you feel peaceful.

“This sounds so lovely…” You whispered, closing your eyes. Jisung didn’t respond, he continued strumming the chords on his guitar, in hopes of helping you fall to sleep. After a while, the gentle lull of slumber washed over you gradually as you focused on listening to Jisung’s melodic guitar playing. Jisung continued playing until your soft breathing could be heard through the phone.

“Y/n?” There was no response, as you had fallen into deep sleep. “Good night y/n… I love you.” He could only hear your soft snores in response.

When you awoke the next morning, your phone was dead. You groggily plugged your phone into the charging port and turned it back on.

A text from Jisung.

Sleep tight y/n. I hope you enjoyed the song I played. I’ll assume you did since you fell asleep so quickly hehe~ I tried staying on the phone with you but the call suddenly ended 5 hours in.

You titled your head to the side as you read this text. Did he really stay on the phone with you for five hours after you fell asleep? You smiled. You really couldn’t believe him.

—————————

Jisung had finally returned from his trip and you were incredibly eager to see him again. But every time you texted him asking if he wanted to study together or whether he was at work that day, he never replied. Still, you continued going to the bakery for lunch and even then, you hadn't seen him working at the bakery since his return.

On such a day, however, you did notice Jeno working.

“Hi Jeno,” You greeted him as you walked up to the register with your items.

“It’s y/n! Hi!” He greeted you with a bright smile. “How ya doing?”

“… I was wondering where Jisung is? I haven’t seen him in a while... Did he quit?”

“Jisung? Oh no, he didn’t quit. He’s just working less this week because of jet lag, so he’s been working in the evening shifts.”

“Ah… I see.”

“Is something wrong?”

You shook your head. “No… It’s just that he hasn’t answered any of my texts so I was kinda worried…”

“Ohh, I see… Well, it’s probably because he—“ Jeno suddenly cut off mid-sentence, eyes wide as if he said something wrong, and pursed his lips together in a tight line. He then let out a nervous chuckle. “It’s nothing. Nevermind what I just said. Don’t worry about Jisung, he’ll answer you soon.”

“… If you say so…”

“Okay is this all for you? Your total is $11.59.”

—————————

Jeno was right. Jisung texted you a couple of days later.

Hey! Sorry I haven’t responded to your texts. I’ve been busy with something. Can you meet me at the bakery tonight at closing?

You were so perplexed by his actions. Not speaking to you for a week after his return from his trip even though you missed him so much drove you near madness. Now this sudden cryptic text with a vague explanation and asking to meet at the bakery for no disclosed reason? You sighed. You really couldn’t understand it. But if going to the bakery meant answers, then that’s where you’ll meet him.

You approached the bakery’s store front almost exactly a minute before it closed. You peered into the windows. The bakery was all cleaned up yet there was no sight of Jisung. Strange.

You opened the door. The bells jingled behind you. As the door shut, you could hear the sound of music being played softly through the speakers. You looked around, brows furrowed in confusion. Still no sight of Jisung. On the table in the far corner near the windows--the one you always sit at--was a milk tea bun and a cup of brown sugar milk tea. You sat down at the table. The music continued playing softly. The sound was melodic, with gentle guitar strums and harmonious chords. Actually… It sounded quite familiar.

Then, the soft sound of a man singing. Your eyes widened slightly upon realizing that it was Jisung’s voice singing. The lyrics spoke of a person with a kind and charming smile with bright, vibrant eyes and a passionate soul. A person who is thoughtful and lovely, who is ethereal like the stars at night. A person that is easy to fall in love with. You listened carefully, completely captivated by Jisung’s singing voice. This was the first time you had ever heard Jisung sing and you wanted to relish in his melodic voice. But the song soon ended and a dull silence filled the bakery. Then, the door to the employee’s room opened, causing you to turn your head towards it.

“Jisung?”

He smiled, walking towards you. “Did the song sound familiar? It’s the song I played to you that night to help you go to sleep. It’s a song I’ve been working on for you and I finally finished it yesterday. I wanted to finish it as soon as possible, so that’s why I haven’t been answering your texts lately… I’m sorry.” He sat down next to you, giving you a genuinely apologetic smile. You were in disbelief. When you didn’t say anything, he continued. “I… This song is meant for you. To… confess my feelings to you. I know I ignored you for a whole week, so I hope this can make up for it…” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. He opened them, looking directly at you, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “Y/n… I like you… a lot… You had me in your hold that day we met here, at this bakery. I didn’t know I could like a person as much as I like you. And I love spending time with you, studying, doing homework, watching movies… and I want to keep being with you like this… So, will you be my girlfriend?”

You were in shock at his heartfelt confession. He was absolutely adorable and kind in every way you could imagine. “What if I say no?” You teased. Jisung visibly deflated and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his cute reaction. You quickly continued, “I’m joking Jisung. I accept your apology. The song is… wonderful. I can’t begin to describe how amazing it is…” You gave him a smile, squeezing his hand in return. “Thank you. Of course I’ll be yours.”

He took you into his arms and gave you a warm, tight, loving hug. He released you from his hold, though still gazing into your eyes. His eyes darted down to your lips, then back at you. He cleared his throat. “Um… May I… uh… kiss you?”

You smiled widely and nodded your head, a giddy feeling in your stomach. You didn’t wait for him to react before putting your hand on the back of his neck, gently pushing him towards you, and meeting his lips with yours. The kiss was soft and sweet. He tasted like mint candy (you wondered if he ate a mint in preparation for this).

Once you broke apart, Jisung beamed, a pink tint to his cheeks. He sighed happily. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

His smile was so adorable, you couldn’t resist to lean in again and kiss him on the corner of his lip. “Wait no longer. You can now have as many kisses as you want.”

His smile only grew wider. “It’s late. Let me walk you home?”

—————————

You walked into your favorite bakery, the bells jingled to signal your entrance. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, making you smile. Your eyes caught the last milk tea bun sitting alone in its clear case. Without a second thought, you went over to take it. Just as you reached for it, someone was also reaching for it.

“Oh, sorry!” You brushed hands with the other person. You turned to look at who it was. A smile spread across your face. “You take it this time.”

Jisung smiled. “No,” He took the milk tea bun and placed it into your hands. “It’s yours now.”

“Jisung re-“

“No take backs!” He quickly leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before turning and walking away. Your cheeks flushed.

“H-Hey… There’s people around…” Your fingers touched the skin where he kissed you.

Jisung swiveled his head to look at you, giving a bright smile. “I’ll make it up to you with a movie at my place tonight?”

You sighed, smiling. “I can’t say no to that.”

[vvitchering]

5. "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?" For Dincobb? :D

Another dincobb!

—

“Hold still.”

“I am—ouch! Shit, that really does hurt.”

Behind the protective shield of his helmet, Din scowls. This is just one of the ever increasing number of times recently he’s been thankful for the beskar covering his expressions. It’s allowed him to maintain his cool and collected image while he quietly and secretly fumes. Although maybe Cobb would benefit from a few visible scowls aimed his way. Maybe it would cut down on the amount of stupid stunts he pulls.

Yeah, right.

Like so many of their adventures together, this one had started in a bar. Cobb had tagged along on a hunt after practically begging for a chance to get off-planet and see some of the universe. For all his lack of fancy armor, Din had to admit Cobb was a crack shot with a blaster and their battlefield chemistry made the marshal a dependable ally in a fight.

They had bagged the bounty without much of a fuss. So of course they had to find trouble somewhere else to make up for it.

The client wants to meet a local bar to transfer the credits. It's a little odd, but not unheard of. Some clients prefer to close deals the old fashioned way with the exchange of physical currency and a handshake. Others just want a chance to gawk at a fully kitted out Mandalorian.

This particular client ends up falling into a much rarer category. They're all sultry smiles and extraneous touches and generous tips. Din doesn't often encounter beings who are brave enough to be so forward with him and it throws him for a bit of a loop. He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, wanting to get up and join Cobb at the counter where he's waiting for him, but not wanting to burn a potentially lucrative bridge with a wealthy client.

The client smooths a hand across his shoulders, fingers sliding up his neck, probably hoping to find a patch of uncovered skin where Din's cowl meets the seal of his helmet. Din's trigger finger itches. Steady. Think of the credits. You'll be set for months after this. You've endured worse.

He's so wrapped up in his own pep talk that he doesn't notice Cobb walking up to the table until its too late to warn him off. The marshal roughly taps the client on the shoulder. Words are exchanged.

The client isn't even allowed to finish getting the slur out of their mouth before the fists start flying. Din takes a generous second to feel flattered and warm at Cobb's protective instincts before stepping in and ending the fight, hauling Cobb off the howling client by his collar.

Ah well. There will be other bounties.

And so here they are, piled back into the ship, Din busy scowling behind his helmet and holding an emergency cold pack to Cobb's spectacularly blackened eye and split lip.

"I ain't apologizing, if that's what you're after." Cobb finally says.

"You lost us a fair bit of credits with that stunt, you know. I was fine."

Cobb huffs angrily.

"You got a funny way of doing business, then. That creep wasn't gonna take no for an answer. And before you start with the lecturing, I know you can handle yourself. Doesn't mean I gotta like watching you put up with it."

Din blinks, scowl momentarily forgotten. It's a novel thing, having someone around who defends him as steadfastly as Cobb does, both on and off the battlefield. Cobb watched him take down a dragon, Manda knows the man is well aware of how well Din can take care of himself. So...

"Wait a minute. Are you...jealous?" Din asks, removing the cold pack so he can judge how that accusation lands.

Cobb is already red from his injuries but, ha, yeah, there's the tell tale flush in his cheeks as he begins to sputter and protest.

It's endearing.

Din leans forward and as gently as he can manage, taps his helmeted forehead against Cobb's. Their gazes meet briefly, one of Cobb's pretty hazel eyes obscured by the swelling. Din smiles, and feels his own eyes crinkle around the corners.

Without missing a beat, he smashes the cold pack back into Cobb's face. The marshal yelps indignantly as it presses too hard against his battered skin.

"Thank you." he tells Cobb, sincere and warm. "Don't do it again."

--

Due to Tumblr’s usual bs, I lost my first draft of this thing. I had some of it saved, but the first part had to be completely rewritten. And then when I brought everything over here to post, Tumblr screwed up the formatting. Ugh. I hope anon likes it anyway and I’m very sorry my inbox ate this and kept it hidden from me for so long.

With that, I’ve finally cleared everything out!!! Now I can disappear again for another 87 years

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

Stories I haven’t read yet, but clearly need to put on my ever-expanding List.

~*~

Welcome back queen [Thank you, it’s so lovely to be back!] if ur still doing follower recs I gotta recommend I would wait for a thousand years by bleuett it’s soooooooo good

[This one was actually recced to me by two different people, the other of whom said, “ Maybe I'm crying a little so I feel like a should recommend ‘I would wait for a thousand years’ by bleuett on ao3.”]... it’s def. on my List!

I would wait for a thousand years

by bleuett (T, 10k, wangxian)

Summary:  During the worst of winter, a traveler comes to stay at Lan Wangji's inn. He wears a red ribbon in his hair.

“Do you see the rabbit?” Wei Ying asks and points at the moon. “That’s the moon rabbit, he helps make Chang’e more immortality elixir. He keeps Chang’e company.”

“I do not wish the rabbit for company,” Lan Wangji says tightly. “You are the one I want by my side.”

“And I’m here, Lan Zhan. If you go to the moon, I’ll follow you, I’ll always be here now.”

~*~

I just read a great fic by aisthuu "every love story is a ghost story", didn't see it in your recs so wanted to recommend it! LWJ is a guqin composer and teacher, buys a cheap guqin off eBay which ends up being attached to WWX's spirit from canon era. It's bittersweet, LWJ deals with Lan's homophobia (implicit in a Lan way) and his feelings towards the ghost. This is author's only ao3 fic and honestly I don't remember how I stumbled upon it, but I'm happy I did and hope you will enjoy it too!  [I’ve recently read this one, and loved it!]

every love story is a ghost story

by aisthuu (M, 59k, wangxian, my bookmark)

Summary:  The man is in Lan Zhan’s bed. Did they—he begins to wonder, eyes trailing to where the man’s body lies under the blanket. Had Lan Zhan—?

Then the sleep-fog clears and Lan Zhan realizes that the young man isn’t quite opaque around the edges.

“You’re a spirit.”

The spirit narrows its eyes. “I’m so much more than that.”

(Lan Zhan buys a guqin off eBay for a suspiciously low price, only to find that it’s haunted. And now there’s a ghost in his bed.)

~*~

Ok so I absolutely have to rec "see you yesterday" by glyphic. It's a wip, but it's currently at 101k so there's a whole lot there, and it's terrible and wonderful and beautiful all at once. The way the backstory of canon events is adapted to the modern-with-cultivation setting is brilliant, and then there's the amnesia, and then there's the time loop. This fic lives permanently rent-free in my brain.

see you yesterday

by glyphic (M, 101k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  

Wei Ying 21:09 hey lan zhan what’s the weirdest way youve died

Lan Zhan 21:11 Falling encyclopedias.

Wei Ying 21:12 omg no way that’s so rude turning books against you???

Lan Zhan 21:13 A betrayal I will never forget.

On Halloween night, an exiled demonic cultivator and a Lan disciple get stuck in a time-loop, find each other, and try to figure it all out.

~*~

If you are looking for recs for yourself I absolutely love (the complete!) story Just as the Snow Melts by draechali on AO3. It's a canon divergence where everyone lives, even WWX! ~ @airmidcelt

Just as the Snow Melts

by draechaeli (T, 67k, wangxian)

Summary:  Like a snowy mountain top in spring the residents of the Burial Mounds trickled down the mountain and joined the flow of society.

“I went to the Burial Mounds,” Lan WangJi said.

“Ah, yeah… I’m sorry Lan Zhan,” replied Wei WuXian, “I hadn’t thought anyone would come to visit. I am still not sure how it happened; I brought A-Yuan to Yiling to play by the river and then ended up somehow teaching a bunch of children swimming and writing along with him.”

~*~

Hello! It's come to my attention that you have not as yet read Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation! Please do! It's the only thing that gave me joy during 2020 😆 like proper belly laughs and disney villain style cackling. It is a wip, and it is long but so so worth it!! The author has reworked the entire canon through these message crystals and still conveys complex characters despite the tricky format. It's just so good!! Highly highly recommend it! ❤ ~ @theladypeartree  [Oh!  I’ve been subscribed to this one, and know that @swaglexander-the-great is a reliable provider of Hilarity, so I’m excited for it to be finished!]

Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation 

by Hades_the_Blingking (T, 49k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  The Untamed universe is exactly the same, except everybody has magical crystals that have a suspiciously familiar messaging system. The story is pretty much the same as the show, except everyone lives!! (so minor changes).

or in which Wei WuXian tries his darndest to date Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng possibly has a aneurysm, Jin ZiXuan is still the most awkward human alive, and Xue Yang makes me write some VERY cursed things. Written in chatfic format! :3

~*~

Chomrafy on AO3 deserves love and encouragement; she’s written a body of compact, poetic, and eloquent shortfics each of which can stand alone, but that comprise an intricately cross-referential and mostly internally-consistent universe. They’re grouped as chapters in works according to theme; for example, “in cupped hands” focuses upon Jin Ling and his second-generation baggage; “Departure in Autumn” portrays the last years of WWX’s first life. Follow the tag “Chomrafy’s MDZS shortfics.” [I don’t see this tag?]

in cupped hands

by chomrafy (G, 2k, wangxian)

Summary:  Of secrets, of futures, of love. A Jin Ling-centric collection of 200-word fics.

Ch.1: Jin Ling repays a debt (JL, JC, & WWX). Ch.2: Jin Ling and a ghost in the mirror. (JL & JYL) Ch.3: A matter of friends (JL & the other kids) Ch.4: In this house we don't keep dogs (JC & WWX) Ch.5: In the end, he remains silent (JL & uncles) Ch.6: A first night hunt, of sorts (JL & the other kids) Ch.7: Jin Ling, forgiving, forgetting (JL & LXC & JGY) Ch.8: Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling argue (JL, JC, & WWX) Ch.9: Jin Ling and his father (JL & JC) Ch.10: Jin Ling speaks up (JL, JC, & WWX) Ch.11: Jin Ling and a piece of home (JL, JC, & WWX)

Departure in Autumn

by chomrafy (not rated, 6k)

Summary:  Four perspectives. A steady march to the end.

Ch.1: Because if anything happens to them, Wen Qing would never be able to heal with these hands again. Ch.2: As long as this is still home, Jiang Yanli will wait as long as she needs to. Ch.3: Five times Jiang Cheng reaches for Wei Wuxian, one time he turns away. Ch.4: Whether the road is broad or narrow, bright or dark, they would have to keep walking. Wei Wuxian digs Wen Qing's grave.

~*~

Hello, hope all is going well. I don't have an ask, by I do have a recommendation. I read this fic a while ago and found it again. I just wanted to recommend this for everyone. Let me know what you think please. Thank you. [Oh!  This one’s in my To Read list, but  I’d forgotten about it.  Mmmm, fox!wwx and dragon!lwj.]

Ten miles of Lotus Flowers

by Yukirin_Snow

M, 274k, wangxian

Summary:  He was a mischievous fox spirit, wreaking havoc where he went, about to depart on a journey that would span centuries.

He was a heavenly prince, a proud dragon destined to ascend the throne to become emperor.

Neither expected their paths to collide over the span of three lives.

~*~

I forgot if it was your blog 😥 that recommended “Bestseller” (when Wei Wuxian writes the Xianxia cut-sleeve equivalent of Fifty Shades of Grey, based entirely on his experiences with Lan Wangji, he doesn’t expect it to become the next big hit) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528316/chapters/51318766)

But OMG IT WAS HILARIOUS!!! I LOVED IT!! And if it wasn’t your blog, I’m so sorry for how weird this sounds 😭😭😭😭 I just loved this fic so much that I have to tell it to someone 😢 [It’s on my List, but I haven’t read it yet!]

Bestseller

by pupeez4eva

M, 8k, wangxian

Summary:  He had written the book to prove a point. It was never supposed to be a big thing, and he certainly never intended for everyone — Jiang Cheng, Zewu-Jun, the Juniors, literally everyone— to be reading about his sex life.

Oh God, he definitely needed to make sure Lan Zhan didn’t find out about this.

(Or, when Wei Wuxian writes the Xianxia cut-sleeve equivalent of Fifty Shades of Grey, based entirely on his experiences with Lan Wangji, he doesn’t expect it to become the next big hit).

~*~

I’d like to rec On Your Marks, Get Set, Bake! by @blackwiresgrowonherhead

It’s one of my absolute favorites and I laughed out loud so many times when reading it

on your marks, get set, bake!

by BlackWiresOnHerHead

G, 41k, wei wuxian & juniors

Summary:  Jin Ling resumes thumping on the door to room 721, and the small collection of freshmen starts chanting “Senior Wei! Senior Wei! Senior Wei!” with increasing volume until finally Wei Wuxian opens the door.

“Yes?” he says with his widest, most innocent eyes.

“Senior Wei!” demands Lan Jingyi, shoving himself to the front of the group. “Why didn’t you tell us you’re a contestant on this year’s season of The Great Gusu Bake Off?!?”

--

Several months ago, college student Wei Wuxian secretly competed in the most popular reality show in the country. The show starts airing in the fall. The freshmen in his dorm collectively lose their minds.

~*~

If you're in the mood for v. short ridiculous fun fic, may I suggest My chain hits my chest/When I'm bangin' on the radio by x_los It's 2k modern cultivators AU, featuring WWX calling LWJ's sword Bitchin' [omg I’m laughing so hard] and I think it's more fun going in blind?

My chain hits my chest/When I'm bangin' on the radio

by x_los

T, 2k, wangxian

Summary:  Lan Wangji finds he doesn't even need to call for help for Wei Wuxian to come running.

[otomegema]

title: Convergence Theory, ch. 2 pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don’t even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: mature tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

It had been a logical move to allow Gojo to take down your number, entering it into his contacts with an obscene amount of heart and wishing star emojis by the brief glance you caught over his shoulder. It looked like he was already banking on your acceptance of the deal, but when you parted, your to-go sushi in a small plastic bag, you hadn’t expected to hear from him until tomorrow evening at the latest.

Or maybe even never.

But now, back in the hotel you were being comped for while in Tokyo, you wished silently that you’d never given that man your cell phone number.

Honey

Baby

Future-pretend-love-of-my-life

Have you made a decision?

He wasn’t human. It was barely 6am, did he wake up this early for lessons every day? You groaned, nearly swatting the phone off the nightstand in the dark.

You shot back a fast reply.

-oh I’m sorry

-I’m still recovering from getting electrocuted the other day

-Some asshat led a curse to me

You rolled over, managing to get at least another decent half hour of sleep in before the phone chimed again, lighting up the darkened hotel room.

\(★ω★)/

YOUR asshat

Should you choose to accept this mission

You threw off your covers, forcing yourself up to sit against the stack of pillows behind you as you tapped out a reply.

-My pretend asshat

-Mother will be so proud

The dots of his reply began immediately.

So is that a yes?

You sighed, rolling your eyes to yourself.

-Day isn’t over -Hasn’t even started tyvm

The dots began. Stopped. Began and stopped again, this time not reappearing. You tossed your phone onto the bed and teetered up and over to the coffee maker. The pot was finishing brewing by the time your phone chimed again.

You’re so slow.

The addition of punctuation and the sudden lack of emoji seemed almost like a warning flare that Gojo’s patience was waning. But you hardly knew the man and really, what did you care? A favor for a favor was what he offered. You didn’t owe him anything.

I have other options too.

His text continued and for a moment you frowned, wondering if his intention was to have that sound like a threat. You felt heat rising in your throat— he didn’t want to play that game.

So no pressure. Genuinely.

Oh. Good. That was better. You felt the tension uncoil as fast as it had grown.

Tho I AM your only hope for advancement <3

You could have thrown the phone right through the wall. Your thumbs worked rapidly, shooting out your reply in no time.

-Ah yes, your finest quality

A quick appearance of dots.

My special grade ranking? (･ω<)☆

You smirked.

-Humility

You’re no fun.

Text me when you are done being boring.

This was probably the most you had ever spoken to Gojo, despite having seen him on and off from a distance for the better half of your life. He was hard to miss. Every event at the main house would have him and his immediate family at the forefront. No one ever stopped talking about Gojo Satoru and his accomplishments and his strength and his skill as a sorcerer.

It was nauseating, having to pretend to nod and smile like it was all some great blessing just to orbit near him. It was bad enough he read like a sun to your abilities, as if he needed to be made to think he was anymore of the center of the universe.

Your palm itched. The desire to tap back a response now, a firm denial, very strong. But not stronger than your excitement at the possibility of being a first grade sorcerer. It was everything you had wanted. Prestige, recognition, tougher missions and the pay and rewards that came with them.

You were no weakling. Sure the telemetry technique took you out of commission, but it was hardly your greatest feat. You had finally been able to manifest the cursed technique lapse, blue. Granted, it was a one off and exhausted you so fully afterwards that you nearly fainted on the spot… but your tolerance was getting better. The precision of your manipulation of your cursed energy would never be on par with Gojo, but you could, some day, maybe even manage to shoot the technique off twice.

Reversal Red was next to impossible. And Hollow Technique? Truly impossible. The Six Eyes was needed to even attempt it. Most of your practice had been devoted to perfecting your long distance teleportation skills, fine tuning your telemetry technique and working on establishing your domain. That one was easier. The Unlimited Void crushed your opponent beneath an overload of sensory information, information you could easily channel and tap into with your own unique skills as a Limitless user.

But like all things, you were only second best. And barely. It was a joke. Comparing yourself to Gojo. He was on a level you could never achieve— unless.

You grabbed your phone, hastily dialing the new number and wincing at the loud, cheerful greeting from the other line.

“Good morning, moon of my soul, tenderest heart, darling—!“

“I haven’t even said yes yet, you monster.”

“Ah! A name of my very own? Be still my trembling heart!”

“I wish to make an amendment to the agreement.”

There was a lengthy pause. You could practically hear the slow spread of that sly smile. Content as the cat who caught the canary.

He knew he was about to win.

“Let’s hear it.”

“If you are putting my name forward for first grade, that means you have someone else in mind to be the second backer and someone in mind for me to shadow on missions and train with, yeah?

“I do.” Gojo said, his tone surprisingly serious.

“Have them put my name forward instead. I want to shadow you.”

Gojo laughed, a short mirthless thing, “What makes you think I have the time?”

“You have enough time to play pretend, I’d think any fiancé would leap at the chance to be with his lovely wife-to-be and keep her safe.”

Gojo hummed.

“Why me?”

This was an oddly familiar conversation.

“Purely selfish reasons. You are the best Limitless user. I am a Limitless user. I want you to teach me.”

“You aren’t on my level.” He said, no malice in his words, just simple facts.

“Then teach me what I can handle.”

There was another pause.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you just because you’re my girl.”

The bare utterance of the endearment sent a shiver up your arms and not an entirely pleasant one either. His girl. God, how would you even begin to explain this fake engagement to your parents? Who knew the depth of your jealousy and bitterness over Gojo since you were— what? Five? Younger?

“Since I am just your ‘pretend’ girl, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Your funeral, babe.” Gojo said, “But I’m glad we resolved this early! Because we are having dinner. Reservations are made, I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something pretty!”

Your words caught in your throat, stuttering across your tongue and unable to force out before the line cut off and he was gone.

You pressed the edge of your phone to your temple, already feeling a headache coming on. Something pretty? Shit.

-Something pretty? -Too vague. I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear.

A dress! Something for the evening. A Line.

V Neck def

Show off what puberty gave ya (＾〃＾)

Chiffon with ruffle lace

And grey-blue

-Why?

To match my eyes <3

-Where in the world do you expect me to find that specific dress in the next few hours

Downstairs with hotel staff I had it dropped off <3 <3 <3

-That’s creepy

(つω`｡) </3 </3

-Enough with the hearts -How much? I’ll pay you back

It is a gift <3

-How’d you even know my size

A gentleman never reveals his secrets

┐(‘～` )┌

You sighed and set aside your phone to call down to the front desk. Sure enough, a few minutes later someone brought up a large white box, tied with a grey-blue ribbon. You set the package on the small counter in your room’s kitchen and opened the lid, brushing aside soft tissue paper.

The dress was ridiculously soft, made of fine, nearly translucent layers of chiffon. It was a lovely color, the sight making you suddenly think of the feeling in the air before a thunderstorm, the smell of rain. The ribbon matched.

You looked for a price tag and found none, but folded away at the bottom of the box was a hand written receipt. You paled at the figure displayed on it.

-Gojo, I can’t possibly accept this.

Don’t be stupid. No one would believe I was serious about a woman unless I was positively spoiling her rotten. s’not like it broke the bank!

-Forget the first-grade rec

-Pay my bills

Too late! Negotiations are closed :)

-So what the hell am I doing at this dinner?

Eating Duh and being seen with yours truly easy peasy right?

You sipped your coffee, keeping the mug well away from the dress. It was certainly nicer than anything you had ever owned in— well. Ever. It was hard to argue that there were clearly going to be some additional perks to this arrangement you hadn’t previously thought of.

Plus we gotta go over some ground rules

-Thought you said negotiations were closed

-This mean we can revisit my bills?

g2g

Students need me!

Ttyl babe

The ease in which that man showered you so soon with endearments was nauseating. Had he ever even had a girlfriend before? Or just those usual moon-eyed women who fawned and petted him?

And now everyone was gonna think you were one of those girls. You drank your coffee faster, relishing in the way it burned down your throat and overpowered the bad taste in your mouth.

“First-grade… first-grade. Remember the first-grade.”

And training. You’d squeeze every possible benefit from this arrangement out that you could. Sorcerers worked in teams, but at the end of the day, it was every man and woman for themselves.

Let them think what they want when you were seen tonight. You would come out on top.

***

The day passed quickly and you found yourself standing in front of the hotel mirror, twisting back and forth to get a feel for the movement of the dress— and half practicing staying upright in the heels that had arrived not even a moment later.

They were high enough to be appealing, but low enough to keep you from falling over on your face. Gojo had texted an explanation that he figured you were out of practice in wearing anything other than sneakers and combat boots and to consider them training wheels.

You’d wanted, once again, to punch him in the face.

The kind of girl he liked was a stilettos kinda girl, you guessed, huffing to yourself as you sat down and twirled one of your ankles, stretching the muscle. Even the low heels were not entirely comfortable, but you’d manage.

Checking your makeup one last time, you picked up your own worn purse and slung it over your shoulder. Women who wore these kind of dresses and came in on the arm’s of other men and women like Gojo never had anything more than the smallest clutch— but you weren’t those women.

You made your way down to the lobby and were surprised to find a chauffeur waiting outside with a very very sleek European car of some kind. You weren’t great about those kinds of things, only noting the seats were made with soft black leather and there was even a divider built in like in a limo to give the passengers privacy.

The chauffeur ushered you into the empty car and you sat back with a sigh as silently he delivered you to the next destination. You had, in some small place, hoped Gojo would already be present.

Why he felt the need for such spectacle was beyond you, but maybe this was what was expected of a clan family son when he courted a young woman. It felt— weird. Nice, but weird. The drive was not overly long, the car coming to stop.

You knew this restaurant. Some fancy French-Japanese fusion place that charged a hundred dollars for a single plate with a broiled pear covered in wasabi or some weird shit. Already you felt your stomach churning with anxiety and encroaching regret.

This was gonna suck.

This was gonna suck so bad.

The chauffeur opened the door and you barely managed not to wobble on the pavement. Feeling stilted and exposed as other guests and couples regarded you with open curiosity and veiled judgment.

Clearly they were used to seeing the same people come and go from this restaurant and you were not one of them.

You clutched your bag tighter to your arm, hand reaching inside instinctively to find your phone and text Gojo you were out. This was over. Find someone else— when your surname was shouted from the door.

All eyes turned as if in sync to Gojo, wearing simple trousers and a white shirt tucked in. He didn’t even have a tie or a jacket, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes even as he looked right at you.

A few people tsked their disapproval, but they may as well have been ghosts for all the attention Gojo paid them. When you didn’t immediately make your way over to him, Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets and strode over to meet you.

He grinned, the lowering of his chin and the slow rise back up an obvious indicator he was sizing you up and didn’t care if you knew.

He whistled.

“Ow, ow!”

“Shut it— you know this dress could cover my rent for half a year?! And these shoes! I could buy a used car with this ensemble.”

“You even drive?”

“Not the point.”

He laughed again, loud and careless.

“Figured since you were dawdling you might need an arm to lean on.” Gojo said, offering your his elbow without removing his hands from his pockets, “Or perhaps…”

He feigned a gasp, “Are you feeling shy?”

“I’m leaving.” you deadpanned, managing half a turn before his hand was on your waist, turning you back. He took your hand, the feeling of his palm on your side still burned into your skin as he hooked your arm in his own.

You allowed it, leaning on him only a little. He looked pleased, smugly so, as he led you inside and to a table that was already set for two.

There was a wine glass sitting by your own plate. The one by Gojo’s was turned upside down and set to the side… a can of soda sitting, bright and out of place, in its spot.

“… where did you even get that.”

“Vending machine.” Gojo said simply and even kicked your chair out a little for you to take a seat. How flattering.

“Wine is for you, if you want it. Figured it might help take the edge off.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to wait for the server to return and simply tipping the bottle of red into your own glass.

“What about you?”

“I don’t drink.” He said, cracking the tab on his soda with a loud pop. Several eyes filtered your way, whispers behind hands and napkins as Gojo all but drained the can in one gulp.

“So— ground rules?” you said, unfolding a cloth napkin and settling it in a half folded triangle across your lap the way you saw other women doing.

“Straight in, huh? Alright. Terms.” Gojo lifted one finger, “As already discussed, you and I will be ‘courting’— dating. Whatever the fuck. I’ll take care of arranging the dates, you show up, act sufficiently smitten and in about a year give or take, we break up.”

Gojo lifted a second finger, “Two. In exchange, I have two first grade sorcerers who will back your promotion. And, as requested—“ Gojo’s voice dropped a fraction, almost grumpily, “—you’ll come with me on my missions for your first semi-grade probation.”

“Now ground rules. At any point either of us wants out, it’s done. No questions asked. But don’t think that means you get to ditch and just keep that first grade appointment. I’ll make sure you end up right back at a grade two.”

You sipped your wine, giving your mouth something to do than form some very choice words at that moment. Gojo noticed, his smile almost a snarl, but the expression quickly vanished. You had a funny feeling trying to hoodwink or swindle him would end very poorly for anyone.

“And when you develop feelings for me—“

“If.” You amended quickly, but Gojo ignored you.

“—when you develop feelings for me. You have to tell me and again, the engagement is over. You can keep your rank. No harm no foul. I can hardly blame you for falling for me.” Gojo said with a wistful sigh. You were grateful for the arrival of the first course, forcing you both to fall silent for a moment until they departed.

You had no idea what was on the plate. Some kind of salad? It was hardly a mouthful. Gojo didn’t even touch his silverware and feeling less than impressed with the cuisine, you didn’t either.

You drank your wine.

“Barring sickness or injury you are required to appear for every date I set. Including the ones where you have to meet other members of the main family.”

You frowned, but didn’t object.

“Wait— what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is the engagement off when you develop feelings for me?” You said lightly, trying to play off your smile as wistful.

Gojo scoffed, his reaction almost enough to hurt your feelings… just a little bit.

“Non-issue. I don’t do feelings.”

“God, you sound like a fuck boy.” The words came out before you could stop yourself, the last syllable off your tongue right at the moment the server had returned to reclaim your plates. An eyebrow was raised and you hid your face down with a flustered cough.

By the time you looked back up, you got the joy of seeing Gojo staring at you from over his glasses, a broad and deeply amused grin on his face.

“Not non-issue. If I get the feelings rule you get the feelings rule. End discussion.”

Gojo shrugged, again not touching the newest course which was, to your extreme annoyance, some kind of grilled pear.

“You should slow down.” He warned in a sing song voice as you poured another glass.

“I’m not a baby— okay. So we got terms, we got ground rules. Anything else?”

“You can’t refuse my gifts.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply and he simply smiled and hummed with a shrug.

“It’s for appearances! Oh. Speaking of appearances—“ Gojo sat up, fishing something from his back pocket and sitting it on the table. You stared at the simple black box, fearing a vein might burst in your forehead at any moment.

“What is that.” You stated more than asked.

“Open it.” Gojo said, his voice light and encouraging as he nudged the box closer, “Come on, open it. Open it. You know you wanna, sweetie, light of my life, fire of my lo—“

You snatched the box up if only to stop him from finishing that sentence.

You swallowed hard, the sounds of the room fading out as you flipped open the box and found, sitting upon a small satin pillow— a… key?

You lifted it from the box, noting it even had a little custom keychain made to look like a white cat with a tiny blindfold.

“It’s to my apartment!” Gojo announced with a giddy laugh, clasping his hands together in a way that was entirely un-adult like.

“… I have my own place. Thank you.”

“In Kyoto. This is here, in Tokyo. Where you will need to stay for this all to work, remember?”

“Where will you stay?” You asked dryly, vaguely hoping his answer would be something other than what it was no doubt going to be.

“Very funny. You’ll have your own room—if you want it.”

“Why—“ your voice nearly broke and you had to take a moment to clear it, “Why uh— why wouldn’t I be wanting my own room?”

“Feelings are off limits, naturally. But if you want to take me up again on that offer from back in the day…”

The surge of cursed energy that rippled off of you was so strong Gojo nearly toppled backwards, his laugh gaining a somewhat nervous lift to it if only for just a moment.

“I’ll have my own room. My own locked room.” You bit out, feeling your face flushing hot and hating every second Gojo seemed to be enjoying your utter mortification, “Unless that is a problem.”

“Nope. Not at all. Probably for the best ultimately, I’ve been told I have a bad habit of dickmatizing folks.”

“… I’m sorry, you what.”

“Dickmatizing! Ya know. Like hypnotizing but with—“

“I got it!” You groaned, pressing your face into your hand. When did it get so damn hot in here? You snatched up your wine glass and finished off the contents, feeling even hotter.

“Is that all?”

“Unless anything comes to your mind, then yep.” Gojo finished, ignoring yet another course. You were almost tempted. The dish was some kind of meat, but the sauce drenched over it smelt sharply of something bitter and sour at the same time. You stomach recoiled at the thought and yet rumbled in protest to its growing hunger.

“So what do you think?”

“You’re disgusting?” you said flatly.

“I meant about the deal.”

You glowered openly at him. It was going to take a lot of practice to turn that deprecating expression you felt naturally pull unto your face at his sight into something loving and tender… but for first-grade ranking? For lessons on your Limitless? Fuck. Fuck you’d do it.

You poured the remainder of the bottle into your glass and polished it off in one shot.

“I accept.”

Gojo clapped his hands together, “Excellent! Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Huh?” You barely managed to get the questioning sound out before Gojo was up and out of his chair. You scrambled up, head rushing with the wine and the weirdness of this entire conversation. By the time you managed to catch up with him, he snaked out his arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you flush and warm against his side.

You about threw him across the room, but your attempts at a grapple were thwarted by the sudden thrumming of the familiar Neutral Limitless ability, stalling your moments to such a small speed you felt suddenly frozen.

The impulse to toss him passed and instead you let him escort you outside where the car was still waiting.

“Take us to the place, ya know the one.” Gojo said to the driver and in a surprising show of gallantry, actually held the door open for you to get in first.

“And open the back window. If she throws up, I’d rather it be on the pavement.”

You elbowed him in the chest— accidentally of course.

***

The car drive was a bit longer, taking you away from the glitz and glamor of this side of Tokyo and to what looked arguably as one of the most hole-in-the-wall noodle joints you had ever seen. The street kitchen was small, the counter open outside with a few bar stools. The smells of teriyaki and spices and cooking oils were heavy in the air and made your mouth water.

Gojo perched on one of the stools and you came to sit alongside him, watching as he ripped open a set of chopsticks and rubbed the splinters off.

He ordered quickly—yakisoba and yakitori. Along with several packages of mochi they kept behind the counter in the same kinda plastic bags you’d find at a convenience store.

Gojo had been right— you should have slowed down. The world had a light haze to it… a slight tilting. His hand on your back felt massive and overly warm as he guided you back to sitting straight.

“Eat, ya lush.” He ordered, piling noodles and chicken unto a smaller empty plate for you from his own, “C’mon.”

Gojo popped one of the mochi bags and dumped the sticky sweet confection right on top of your yakisoba. You grimaced, picking the sweet off and trying to wipe some of the sauce from it before you took a generous bite.

The food was greasy and delicious and abundant and cheap and your mouth was in heaven. Even having not used your Limitless since yesterday, every taste still felt heightened. Maybe it was the way your cursed powers tried to compensate from the wine, but everything somehow was more delicious.

You attempted to snag another piece of yakitori from Gojo’s plate, only to have your chopsticks blocked with a clack.

“Ah ah ah— hands off.”

“What’s yours is mine, right?” You chided, only to be dodged again in a movement faster than your eyes could perceive. Did he just use his Limitless to counter you? Feeling emboldened, you activated your own, the faint pulse of the energy so close together giving you the sort of deflecting feeling one experiences when holding two sides of the same magnet near together.

Repelling, shifting. Trying to shove the energy into a way that the two forces would collide rather than deflect.

You were concentrating fully. The minuscule movements invisible to even your eyes, but the feeling was there. A sort of blindsight where you didn’t need the Six Eyes to tell you what was happening— but it would have definitely helped. You flicked a glance up and lost your control, your chopsticks shooting away and nearly cracking one in two.

Gojo chuckled. It was the expression on his face that had distracted you. His eyelids were half dropped, his smile soft as he readied himself to deflect you again. Your energy was no match for his… but it matched. It was made of the same stuff. Controlled the same way. He could see, with the sharp clarity of his Six Eyes, every tiny precise movement you made with your cursed energy. A mirror of his own abilities in miniature.

He was playing with you. And all the sudden you felt as if a small knot in your chest had shaken free, the coil coming undone.

Was there anyone else on this Earth you could do such a thing with?

Feeling strange and suddenly shy, you drew your energy back in and refocused on eating from your own plate, grumbling at your loss.

A second later, Gojo’s chopsticks moved over your plate, dropping another helping of noodles in.

A small concession. A victory in it's own right, even if it had not won the yakitori.

“Sober up, will ya? But don’t eat too fast. I’m not cleaning up vomit, no way, no how.”

“You’re always so vulgar.” you murmured, speaking around a mouthful of noodles and mochi. Gojo turned and stuck his tongue out at you. A confirmation or a reprisal, you couldn’t be sure.

But regardless, it did something to you he had never managed to do before.

It made you laugh.

[mnictasbcl]

A guide on how to be un-kidnapped

Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson

Tags: Crack, Swearing, Kidnapping, Connor is a little shit

Summary: Connor finds himself kidnapped yet again, oh no! This time with Hank in tow. He makes sure to harness his trusty trick that makes the kidnappers regret ever choosing him as their target.

Read it on AO3! Or, read below!

Connor woke up in an unfamiliar room, groaned, and closed his eyes again.

Great. Just great. He’d been kidnapped, yet again. Did the universe think this was funny? It was only a month ago this had happened, the kidnappers demanding a ransom and etc and etc…

Hank had been scared shitless. He’d assured him that he was fine. All it had done was waste his time. Kidnappers in Detroit were just becoming so boring these days. They thought that now androids had their rights, if they kidnapped random androids who looked like they had loved ones, they’d get a hefty pay-out.

Which, to be fair, was a decent plan. Except they all seemed to be sharing the same hit list— and Connor believed his name was at the top of it. And they never got a single penny. Why? Because Connor and his dad were police officers, thank you very much. They could figure it out themselves.

This time, though… he could feel that something was different. Someone sitting across the room from him. He dragged his eyes back open.

“Hank!”

Thank god, they’d kidnapped Hank as well. He’d have some company for once.

Oh.

They’d kidnapped Hank as well.

Who the hell was going to get them out of this one?

“Hank. Hank! Wake up!”

The man groaned, starting to shift as he woke up.

“There we go. Come on, we’ve been kidnapped.”

“Urgh.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Hank’s drowsy blue eyes snapped open.

“What? Kidnapped? Oh, for fuck’s sake. I was watching the sports. Now I’ll never know who won.”

Connor stared at him. “Uh, Hank. We’ve both been kidnapped.”

“Oh, shit. Uh…”

“But don’t worry.” He continued. “I have a plan. It’s what I do sometimes when the kidnappers are a little smarter and actually lock their doors, or don’t give away their location, or don’t turn off my internal GPS.”

“I’m listenin’.”

“Well, you know the times they’ve simply sent me back, practically on your doorstep?”

“I… recall. Probably. Fuck, my head hurts.”

“Yes, they were a bit brighter this time. Disabled some of my systems too. But anyway—what I do in those situations is persuade the kidnappers to let me go.”

Hank laughed. “Kid, I know you think you’re bright as shit but you’ve gotta realise you can’t just ask the kidnappers to let you go.”

“Yes, you can. Only, you don’t ask. You… persuade.”

“And how the fuck do you persuade kidnappers?”

“It’s easy. You make them no longer want to have kidnapped you. You make them regret it.”

“What, you bust their kneecaps?”

“No. I… as you put it sometimes, I act like ‘a little shit’. It usually does the trick—”

Hank choked back laughter. “You… annoy the kidnappers to let you go.”

“Yes. It’s very effective.”

“Fuck. You know what, I believe you.” He paused as the door to the room rattled. “I’ll leave it to you.”

Connor nodded, looking up and taking stock of their kidnappers. Only two of them, the typical henchman, and his boss.

“Hello!” He waved. “How are you doing?”

“Shut up.” The boss replied, hand floating around the taser on his belt.

“No.”

“What? I’ll—I’ll make you shut up!”

“Impossible.”

“It’s true.” Hank agreed. “He once lectured me ‘bout my eating choices for a solid hour.”

“You. Shut up as well.”

Connor sighed, conceding, instead resorting to tapping his fingers against the floor. The henchman, he noted, stayed at the door. Smart. The boss, however, came closer.

“You two. I’ve got a big ransom. But I didn’t promise not to hurt you both.”

Connor looked up at that. “What? Who’s paying the ransom?”

The boss blinked. “Your friends.”

“What, which ones?”

“Uh, ones at… Your workplace.”

“Ah, my colleagues.”

“Yeah. Now shut up.”

“I wish you’d said some of my other friends. They might’ve been able to pull something together. But my work friends?” He chuckled. “I think they’d be glad to have a break from me.”

“Woah, cool it on the self-depreciating humour, that’s my fuckin’ thing.” Hank chimed in. “But he’s right. Plus no one’s gonna pay up. Who’d you send the ransom letter to?”

“Oh no, I think we will get our money. Gave it to your big friend. Captain… Jeffrey.”

“Oh man, Fowler?” Hank shook his head, struggling not to laugh. “He’s not gonna. I busted his coffee machine and his printer last week.”

“Shut up.”

“And the department can’t afford the extra costs.” Connor added. “Not after the… the tinsel fiasco.”

“The what?” The henchman broke his silence from the doorway.

“Shut up!”

“The tinsel fiasco.” Connor repeated. “I… have a way with tinsel. I have a special relationship with it.”

“Eurgh. Don’t wanna hear that again, Con. Let’s think about the consequences of our words.”

“What?” He batted his eyelashes, acting innocent. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that I love tinsel. Tinsel loves me.”

“Shut UP!”

“If you talk about tinsel one more time, I’m coming over there and… and…”

“No one is going anywhere! I—”

“And what, Hank? Try and convince me in your heathen ways that tinsel is not a god-given gift? It’s a luxury you wish you had.”

“It’s my goddamn tinsel!”

“No, it’s—”

“SHUT UP!” The boss roared. “I don’t want to hear anything about tinsel, from either of you! Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.”

“Okay. I’m the one in charge here, alright?”

“Hey, buddy, no one said you weren’t.”

“If you’re feeling insecure,” Connor paused, twisting his hands around, carefully working off the handcuffs, “I can help you learn how to assert your authority.” He got up, holding out his hand.

“SIT BACK DOWN!”

Connor complied, holding his hands in surrender.

“I… I’m in charge here. I am. I’m getting my fucking money and getting out of here!”

“You got it, chief.”

The man roared, charging out of the room, pushing his henchman aside as he went. The henchman sighed, twisted his hand in his pocket and pulled out the keys, chucking them across to Connor.

“Just leave. Please.”

They unlocked the cuffs and climbed out of the open window, snickering all the way, sharing a brief high five before making their way to the nearest place with cell service.