#and I find it just adorable and hilarious

[persicipen]

₊ ˙ ⊹ . 𝓖𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝓑𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝓑𝒐𝒚. WRIOTHESLEY ₊ ˙ ⊹ .

ৎ୭ — · · 1.4k ノ gn reader — sweet intimate celebration of his birthday. subtle flirting (a failed attempt at doing so). established relationship. comforting fluff with hugs and giggles <3

The atmosphere in the Duke’s office is rather light-hearted and joyful, unlike the usual stern reputation of the Fortress. The steady hum of machinery beyond the thick walls buzzes along with the quiet crackle of a small, ornate heater placed in the corner — a luxury in the underwater prison.

The tea table is neatly set, the gleaming silver teapot releasing curling wisps of steam into the air, mingling with the earthy, spiced aroma of Chenyu Adeptea — a new blend being a part of your gift. Though muted in tone, you two celebrate this day with the gentle clink of porcelain teacups and muffled laughter. The sharp tang of the sea breeze and metallic rust replaced with a delicate sweetness that hints at the rare delight.

“Mittens, huh?”

It’s the low timbre of Wriothesley’s voice that breaks temporary silence, testing out the lovely other part of your gift, fingers examining the texture. He takes his time making sure they fit snugly, the pair of fine-woven mittens. Albeit he couldn’t care less about how they look.

“Well, it’s cold here in the Fortress, and the humidity makes it unbearable sometimes…”

“I will make great punches in these.” He says with a note of chuckle at the end, all while testing his grip in the fluffy covers on his hands. “Look at them, my new gloves to punish lawbreakers!”

The very image of Wriothesley imitating boxing punches with the fists wrapped in the softest of fabrics makes you giggle loud. Loud and clear, a sound he adores so much when it reverberates from the stone walls and metal pipes like delicate chimes in the wind. The sound he misses every single minute when you have to return above the sea waves.

His place has never felt this warm before, with the candles flickering on the curved desk, the tea table heavy from the gifts from the staff, and — last but not least — his heart is about to melt, a glowing cauldron of fondness for you. You are simply there, smiling back at him, raising the teacup in a silent toast for his birthday.

For someone who took this post in selfless service to the people and their safety, the fact that they all care so much — but none as much as you — makes him want to serve them twice as much. Maybe working in the Fortress, in this new home of his, isn’t that bad after all. No, not in the slightest. No worse than if he were to restart his entire life on the surface, in the society he doesn’t remember from his early years.

“Do you like them?”

You seem to notice the pause, the thoughtful gaze he shoots at the pair of mittens on his knuckles.

“A lot.” He responds softly, rubbing his thumb against the soft fabric. “They will serve me well.”

Butterflies dance in your stomach with each passing moment of admiring the way his hands seem so much more gentle than they appear to be, the touch not as hard and coarse as he puts it across. Though there is a hint of sadness, a lingering melancholy at the thought of how the roughness of his fingertips was created, the callouses on his palms a result of years and years of fighting.

“I’m happy you like them.” You say, leaning forward. “I was worried it wouldn’t be enough.”

“Enough?!” Wriothesley raises an eyebrow under the tuft of his cobalt bangs, perplexed. “Never in a thousand years could I ever deserve what you give me!” He holds his mitten-wrapped hands up just to make a point. “These? These are cute! I have never received fluffy gloves from anyone before. Not even once. This is so fun! You are the sweetest for coming up with this idea!”

The tenderness of his voice, almost desperate to show how much it all means to him — it’s silly, hilarious even that a small gift can make such a difference — the fondness pouring from his eyes, like he’s pouring liquid honey over your soul. You find yourself moving closer, drawn to him, craving his closeness. Craving to wrap your arms around his waist and find the steady thumping of his heart amidst all other background noises.

“Should we get you a pair for every winter month, then?” You joke, shyly leaning against him, carefully observing his reaction. “Who would’ve thought that the Duke of Meropide is such a sweetheart, hm? A good boy under those scary looks, all giddy over a colourful yarn.”

Wriothesley doesn’t answer at first, fighting off a boisterous laugh. His mind is racing in several different directions, struggling to form coherent thoughts under your touch. He sighs, gently enveloping you into his embrace and letting himself indulge in this feeling just for a little while longer. It is not enough to have these small moments when you visit him here, but he gladly accepts anything you offer him, secretly hoping there’s a chance you will stay with him longer this time.

Anything, a glimmer of hope.

And now you are saying all these sweet things…

“Why would you want to get me more when I can have you wrapped in my arms every winter?” He asks in the same tone you used earlier, with a barely audible chuckle at the end of the sentence. “You’re much warmer, you know.”

“Ah, you and your flirting out of nowhere! Just when I’m least prepared.” You shake your head, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips to shake off the fire running to your face at his comment.

“Are you embarrassed now?” He smiles softly, his eyes glinting mischievously in the candlelight.

“No!” You pout, unwilling to admit how you do melt a little under his gaze. “I can flirt back too, if you wish.”

“Please.” He begs, chuckling as he says that. “Entertain me with your wits.”

He seems amused by this idea. Not in a teasing way, but rather playful, genuinely interested in what you are about to say. And so you give it a try, breathing in slowly to think of something… well, witty. Or at least funny enough to make him smile.

Obviously, as if asked to show your skills on request, your head is empty. This is embarrassing, not funny at all. But you cannot let him see that, trying to appear cool and nonchalant about it.

“Well, perhaps you’re right—” you begin, “you may have those fluffy mittens on your hands, but you will still need someone to warm up your heart.”

“I think I may be infected with a cold by now,” he replies, barely holding it together as he leans in for a bear hug, the entire lump of his large self covering you in hearty embrace. “I might need some extra cuddles.”

You squirm in his hold, pretending to struggle as if your plan is to run away — yet he knows well enough that it’s a playful ruse to get more affection out of him. He snuggles against your cheek, gently rubbing his nose against your skin. There is so much he wants to say, so many things that swirl in his head, and yet no words are uttered. He feels content to enjoy this moment with you.

No interruptions, no reminders that you have to return to the surface soon.

When Wriothesley lets go of you, his eyes fixate on the lines of your face, and your lips curl into a warm smile. His hands cup your cheeks gently, not wanting to ever let go. Your skin is soft under his touch, warm against the wool of the fluffy mittens. He traces the curves of your face with the gentleness of someone who is seeing you for the first time, every minute detail captured and studied. Every subtle feature — the glint in your eyes, the slight twitch of your mouth as you bite back a grin — he’s committing it all to memory.

“You are so beautiful,” he breathes out, his words hanging in the air between you like a thin thread of golden light. “I—”

“I love you more.” You interrupt him, stealing the kiss that was on the tip of his tongue, along with the confession.

Wriothesley lets out a pleased sound, almost like a low purr. The soft blush creeping onto his cheeks makes his face seem softer, somehow less threatening. The Duke of Meropide no longer towers over you like a mountain, but he is the most tender of the men. And you couldn’t have fallen in love with anyone else.

No, only with him.

“Happy birthday, Wriothesley.”

[raginglesbian2006]

Ne Me Quitte Pas

Alastor x angel!reader

Chapter 4: Stardust

Chapter warnings: Alastor being Alastor

When our love was new, and each kiss an inspiration.

But that was long ago, and now my consolation

Is in the stardust of a song.

Masterlist

Time seemed to stop for Alastor.

Those bright, beautiful eyes he had fallen in love with in the mortal world, turned to look at him, acknowledging his presence.

His ever-present smile wavered a bit, just until those eyes turned away from him to look at Lucifer.

Despite Charlie’s cries for help and Lucifer’s aggressive disapproval, all he heard was silence. His glowing red eyes bore into the back of his beloved’s head.

You’d gone to heaven, of course you did and he knew that for a long time. He had scoured the ends of hell for your presence but found none who held even a shred of your likeness. He was relieved at first, knowing you would be spared from his violence, knowing you would be safe.

But it wasn’t long before he felt a sense of longing, desperation, and want to have you with him. He knew that if he played his cards right, his powers would help him grow stronger. He would be strong enough to bring you back to him.

 Even if it meant he had to rip out those striking wings of yours.

Those very wings that blocked his vision now.

He let out a static sigh, ordering his dead heart to calm down as he approached the party.

“Now, now, Your Majesty,” he started, letting his hand act as a barrier between the two of you. It is rather uncouth for royalty like you to act in such a brazen way.”

His eyes shifted to yours, holding your skeptical gaze. He could feel not a smidge of recognition deep within those irises.

His stance faltered for a fraction of a second before his grin widened as he turned to the king of hell who was still seething.

“Why not give this angel a chance to explain themselves, hm? Unless you’re incapable of behaving like an adult, let alone a king?” Alastor jeered.

Hearing this, Lucifer turned his blood-red eyes to Alastor, gritting his teeth and speaking, “And I think you should behave like the easily disposable subject you are.”

Charlie, feeling a murderous staring contest begin between the two, intervened.

“Dad, this angel has come to give our hotel their blessings,” she explained, moving over to you, “And they have proof from Sera! Right?”

Her nervous eyes shifted to you, begging you to try to quell this disharmony.

“Your daughter speaks the truth, Lucifer Morningstar,” you said, summoning the scroll into your hands and holding it out for him.

Lucifer snatched the scroll to read it himself, his eyes moving over every word. Alastor leaned over to look through it as well. As soon as he reached the end, he let out a guffaw.

“Oh, this is hilarious!” Alastor exclaimed, wiping away a fake tear, “The High Seraphim pitying us helpless demons?”

Alastor let out a dramatic sigh, holding a fist over his chest, “Oh how…,” his static faded, only to grow louder as you felt his presence nearing you, “....delightful.” 

With a tap, your cane transformed into your weapon. You pointed the sword right at his neck.

All eyes were on the two of you and silence grew, save for the quiet static that prevailed.

“You have a lot of guts trying to intimidate an angel,” you spoke, shifting your gaze to meet his, “especially since you’ve,” your eyes trailed down to his dress coat, “met one already.”

Alastor’s eye twitched as he shifted back with uncertainty. His ever-present grin straining as he tried to compose himself.

“And I don’t think that encounter went quite well for you,” You continued, your gaze piercing his soul.

He had never seen you like this before. Your eyes had always been one of his favorite things about you, having always held so much love whenever they looked at him.

But now, those very eyes he’d adored were holding him down in place, watching him like a predator stalks their prey. 

Before he could lose any more of his composure, your eyes turned to find Lucifer’s.

“Your Majesty,” you started, snapping your fingers to get rid of the scroll held in his hands, “As you can see, I am here by the order of the High Seraphim. She sees potential in this establishment and I do too.”

Lucifer’s stature was still guarded, but his demonic form had calmed down a bit, his horns having disappeared completely and his eyes slowly returning to their normal state. 

He stole a look at his daughter, her pleading eyes softening his resolve.

Letting out a sudden laugh, he walked up to you and pulled you down by your collar, making sure you were at eye level with him. 

“If you try to hurt my daughter,” he glared, “I’ll drag you down to a place worse than hell myself…permanently.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less from you, Your Majesty,” you said, cooly.

With a huff, he let go of you, rolling his shoulders back. He met Charlie’s gaze with a tired smile. She returned it with warmth, an unspoken understanding resonating between them.

“So,” Charlie looked at you with a gigantic grin, “When do we get started?”

You tilted your head, “I’m sorry?”

“Gosh! I have so many ideas to work with! I’ll show you my charts! There’s this excellent daily schedule I’ve planned for the guests, sin-free of course-”

“Hun,” Vaggie interrupted, “Maybe we should…help them settle first?” 

Charlie gasped, “Right!”

She grabbed you by your arm with a giddy disposition, “I have just the right room for you! Let’s go!”

Vaggie and Lucifer followed her as she dragged you upstairs, watching you like a hawk.

The rest of the hotel residents stood there in silence, before Niffty spoke out excitedly, “I like them.” She then hopped away happily with her broom, searching for her next pest victims. 

“I’m…. gonna go head out for a while, see ya later Angie!” Cherri said as she walked out of the hotel.

Angel Dust and Husk looked at each other, not sure what to make of the situation. A sudden and loud crackle of static alarmed the two of them.

 They turned to see Alastor seething, his smile morphing into a sickly grin. They followed his line of sight to the newly arrived angel who bore a soft smile as they patiently listened to Charlie’s excited ramblings, disappearing into the long halls with Lucifer and Vaggie in tow.

A pop sounded behind them as they watched Alastor fizzle away into the shadows.

“What’s the deal with ‘im?” Angel asked Husk, who merely shrugged, too tired and drunk to care.

You looked around the room Charlie had brought you to. It was quite spacious, decked out with a comfortable queen-sized bed, a few tasteful decorations, and a balcony overlooking the Pride ring. 

“The washroom’s right there and we serve 3 meals a day- the food and accommodations are all free, of course!” Charlie explained.

“The bar is open…whenever Husk feels like it, to be honest,” she admitted sheepishly, “but he’s a guest too so…”

Charlie trailed off, looking around.

“You….don’t have your luggage?” she pointed out.

“Oh! I do,” you said as you snapped your fingers twice. Your suitcases, numerous books, and everything else popped into existence, covering almost every inch of the dark red carpeted floor.

Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer looked dumbfounded.

“I..umm..may have packed a bit too much…” you said with an awkward smile.

Charlie regained her composure, “Don’t worry, take your time unpacking and settling in! We’ll just be out of your way!”

She dragged her father and girlfriend along with her, shutting the door behind her.

“Well that was something,” Vaggie started.

“I can’t believe an actual not fallen angel is in our hotel!” Charlie exclaimed, jumping on her hooves in the hallway.

“I still don’t know how to feel about this, Charlie,” Lucifer sighed, rubbing his temple with one hand, “Heaven, listening to us for once? Hah! As if.”

“Dad…,” Charlie placed a hand on her father’s shoulder, “If we don’t give Heaven a chance, we’d be bigger hypocrites than Heaven themselves!”

“Guess there’s no helping it,” Lucifer smiled, holding his hand over his daughter’s, “I won’t be able to be with you all the time though, still have official stuff I gotta handle from the castle.”

He turned to his daughter’s girlfriend.

“Maggie,”

“Vaggie-”

“Can I trust you to take care of my girl when I’m not in the hotel?” 

“I’ll protect her even when you’re here, Your Majesty,” Vaggie stated, “I’m not gonna let an angel of all beings harm her.”

“Awww, you guysss,” Charlie beamed as she hugged the two, “I appreciate all that but I can take care of myself too!”

“No doubt about that, dear,” Lucifer smiled, reaching up to ruffle her hair.

“C’mon, let’s give them time to unpack,” Charlie giggled, gesturing to the room of the new arrival, “And let’s give ourselves time to unpack…this situation.”

As soon as they were about to take a step, you popped your head out of the room with a smile.

“All done!”

The three looked back with wide eyes.

“Already?” Vaggie exclaimed, “ It's been like what…a minute?”

“Ah well…. angelic magic can go a long way,” you said, “I took the liberty to make a few tweaks to the room if you don’t mind.”

Charlie, growing curious, walked up to the room, “Of course, as long as…”

Her voice trailed off and her jaw dropped. 

The room had been completely transformed. Soft blue replaced the red hues that once decorated the walls. White drapes surrounded the bed canopy and the windows. A few potted plants were placed where it best suited them, and all your necessities were neatly arranged in their appropriate places. 

But the most drastic change of them all was the seemingly infinitely extending ceiling enveloped in a fitting angelic aura.

“Oh, don’t worry about the ceiling, it won’t disturb the rooms above this one,” you pointed out, watching Charlie shake her head in disbelief, “I just needed some space to stretch my wings.”

Vaggie and Lucifer stood behind Charlie shortly after, their mouths gaping like the princess.

“You’ve settled in already,” Lucifer chimed.

You sheepishly shrugged in reply. 

It wasn’t long before you had to bid them goodbye as they left you to your devices. 

You sighed and plopped yourself down on the bed. You opened the bedside drawer and took out a jewelry box. 

Opening it, you could see all the little trinkets Molly had made for you, the few golden cranes that Oliver had forged as a gift for you. You smiled, wondering what the two were up to right now in heaven.

Your emotions took a somber turn when your fingers felt the cool looped metal hidden beneath everything else. Holding it up, your eyes found the red ruby seated in the center of the ring.

The ring you’d come to heaven with. The ring, as St. Peter had described, was a parting gift from someone who loved you.

Someone….who loved you.

You wondered if you would find them someday—the person who gave you this ring. Surely they must’ve made it to heaven? Or perhaps condemned to hell?

Are they still here? Have they been thinking of you?

Do…do they still love you?

All those questions plagued your mind ever since you entered the gates of heaven. And they have never left you in peace.

Putting it back safely within the confines of the box, you slid the drawer close, turning your attention to your other prized possession. 

A radio. 

You’d made it so that it could play music with or without a station nearby. Although it took several attempts for you to get it right, on top of making sure you did not damage the gizmo, you knew it was worth all the hassle.

Something had drawn you to it when you first saw it sitting on the shop shelf collecting dust. Call it love at first sight, if you will.

You turned the dial, smiling when music played through. It was a song about love- a reminiscent memory of it.

Sometimes I wonder, how I spend

The lonely nights

Dreaming of a song

The melody 

Haunts my reverie

You lay down on the bed, letting your wings rest on either side of you. You feel a lone feather float down towards your face. You reach out to catch hold of it, right before it landed on you. 

And I am once again with you

When our love was new 

And each kiss an inspiration

You twirl the feather in between your fingers as your mind wanders.

.

.

.

You must find them -the person who loved you.

But that was long ago

And now my consolation is in the stardust of a song.

You must.

A/N: Sorry for the late updates. Trying my best to juggle my academics with writing. I can't promise regular updates, at least not until I get into med school but I'll try my best to not keep ya'll waiting. Thank you for reading!

Taglist:

@yumiburrito , @candyladycry , @sleepykittycx,

@fairyv-ice , @sonatabee @preciousbabypeter,

@mo-0-o

@goddesslilithmoriarty, @cyannese-rose,

@readergirlstuff, @nealeart,

@dollsgate, @cherry-cola-100

@dark-mark @hey-there-you @missa-archdevilme

@diffidentphantom, @eris-norwega

[kingofbodyrolls]

Okay. breathe. 

Inhale.

Exhale.

FUCKING HOLY FUCKING SHIT I AM NOT JOKING WHEN I SAY THAT I LOVED IT. Like. I ADORED it. Period. And now, Jae, let me tell you what I loved—I’m probably gonna quote your lines and if this turns into an essay, I’m really sorry 🙏😂

Okay. First off. The tone. Immaculate!!!! I love all the time you took to set the stage for MC standing in the rain, pouring, and how it made her feel and how fucking cold it was.

And it was at this point that I felt my heart racing, picking up speed because then it turned a very very soft thriller vibe—the car? Who is it, and why did they turn around? Like that writing was just perfect. Her fears, and then, as soon as she saw who it was 🥰

These three sentences—like, I know they are simple, right? But they are SO IMPACTFUL ✨

Were you happy? No. Relieved? Not even close. Scared? Absolutely.

And then the whole situation in the car! HELLO? “Yes mr. Park” FUCK. That was just so hot, even though she said it kinda timid, and THEN, and THEN the banter—like out of nowhere MC just shows her teeth and I was like YEAH TELL HIM GIRL 🤭

Okay, I have to highlight this section, because when MC screamed at him to shut up waving her hands in the air—that was so fucking hilarious to me I straight up laughed. I was choking on my laughter 🤣

Your jaw clenched, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “Shut up,” you hissed, your voice low but dripping with frustration. Jimin’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting in mock disbelief. “Did you just—” “Yes, yes, yes! I just told you to shut uuuupppp!” you yelled, throwing your hands in the air.

And then when he could see her bra. I mean, he was behaving like a gentleman and giving her his jacket. CUTE 🥰 Even though throughout he was behaving a bit like a dick—and when it turned out that he has feelings for her towards the end. EPIC and I were sold right then and there.

Honestly—their whole banter was just amazing! Love their characters!!! 

And when he was taking her home to his place 😂 I was like, is he kidnapping her??? 😂

And more hilarious banter (it was so fucking good!!!!)

And the creme de la creme for me was this epic moment:

His dark eyes glinted with amusement as he opened his mouth to respond— And then you sneezed. Hard. Right into his face.

I was laughing so hard I was wheezing 🤣 And every freaking time she sneezed on him, omfg. I know sneezing isn’t really sexy or anything, and I might be totally weird for finding it somewhat sexual, lol.

Anyway. I just love Jimin—like he sounds kinda cold and rough, but he’s just hiding his love for her. Probably doesn’t want to do too much because they are boss/employee? And you put him in sweatpants??? 😭 Are you trying to kill us? He looks so good and it’s so easy to imagine with your perfect writing!!!

And when he said they were going to bed—my mind was going feral, like please sleep in the same bed, tuck her in, ANYTHING. And I did not expect her to faint, and for him to worry so much, awwww 🥹

And then when he said this:

His gaze softened, and he smiled—a small, almost shy smile, but one that made your chest ache. "Sleep tight, love. We have something important to talk about tomorrow." And with that, he closed the door softly behind him.

LOVE? SLEEP TIGHT LOVE!

What you did to my heart right there. That is peak FLUFF. Mastery. I loved it and I was swooning. My heart was soaring and then he slept on the couch like a truly gentleman 😭

I mean—it was just so freaking fluffy and funny with banter. What’s not to love? And truly, I fucking loved it. It’s a new favorite of mine. You made me laugh, you made me smile and giggle and you warmed my heart with your words and these characters, so thank you so much 🥰

A true masterpiece, and a story that proves you don’t need to have smut to have an amazing story that can move you ✨

I’m sorry for my very long review. I like rambling and talking (if you couldn’t tell that already lol).

⛈️🤒❤️‍🩹😚 + Jimin pretty please

TITLE: Almost Romantic

PAIRING: jimin x reader

GENRE: rom-com, slice of life(?), Slow burn, Drama

WORD COUNT: 6k

TRIGGER WARNING: none (this is the first time i'm writing something with no trigger warning! hehe)

SUMMARY: After an awkward car ride in the rain, you end up at Park Jimin's fancy place, sneezing and fighting off both a cold and your long-time crush on him.

a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

a/n: Hey Anon! First off, let me apologize for taking forever to get back to you. I mean, wow, it took me so long you'd think I was trying to cure world hunger or something. Honestly, I have no idea what I ended up doing, and after all this time, I can only hope it's halfway decent. If you like it, please tell me so I can stop questioning all my life choices. And thank you for sending a Jimin request because OMG, I am dangerously obsessed with this man. Seriously. Anyway, hope you enjoy it. Luv ya!

The rain hammered down in relentless sheets, drumming against the tin roof of the bus stop above you. The cold air howled through the deserted street, wrapping itself around you like an unwelcome guest. The flickering streetlight cast a pale, ghostly glow, its harsh light accentuating the emptiness around you. You hugged yourself tightly, your arms gripping your sides as if you could hold yourself together.

You shivered, your breath coming out in quick, visible puffs. The dampness seeped through your clothes, clinging to your skin and chilling you to the bone. Drops of water slid down your face, some from the rain, others threatening to spill from your eyes. You blinked them away furiously, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking down. Mina had warned you about staying late at the office, but as always, you thought you knew better. Now you stood here, stranded and freezing, your phone a useless piece of metal in your bag.

A gust of wind tore through the street, whipping your hair into your face and dragging the rain sideways. You turned your head away, teeth chattering. The cold felt like it was pressing in, squeezing the air from your lungs. You couldn’t even hear your own shaky breathing over the roar of the storm.

The faint glow of headlights pierced through the rain, growing brighter as the car approached. Your heart surged with a flicker of hope, and you stumbled forward, arm jerking up to wave frantically. “Please,” you whispered, though your voice was swallowed by the storm. “Please stop.”

The car’s tires splashed through a puddle, sending icy water spraying onto your shoes. Its headlights illuminated you for a split second before sweeping past, leaving you in the dark once more. You stood frozen, your arm still raised as you stared after the fading taillights.

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard, trying to choke back the lump rising in your throat. Your hand dropped slowly to your side, trembling as you clenched it into a fist. The ache in your chest grew heavier, a suffocating weight that pressed against your ribs. A tear slipped free, quickly hidden by the rain streaking down your face. You swiped at your cheeks angrily.

The wind howled again, and you crumpled onto the cold bench behind you, wrapping your arms around you, tightly. Your nails dug into your damp sleeves as your shoulders began to shake. You couldn’t cry—what good would it do? No one was coming. No one ever did. The darkness pressed in closer, whispering that you were alone, as you rocked yourself gently.

Your heart jolted as you caught sight of the same car stopped just a few feet away. Its brake lights glowed faintly in the rain before it suddenly began reversing. The tires splashed through puddles, the sound sharp against the muffled roar of the storm. Before you could process what was happening, the car screeched to a halt right in front of you.

Were you happy? No.

Relieved? Not even close.

Scared? Absolutely.

Your legs locked in place as you stared at the car, your mind racing. Why would someone stop now after ignoring you the first time? The question sent a shiver down your spine. The pounding rain felt distant compared to the thunderous beating of your heart. Every nerve screamed at you to run, but your feet refused to move. You tried to steady your breathing, silently chanting, Stay calm, stay calm, but your chest tightened like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

The car door opposite you creaked open, the noise slicing through the storm like a warning bell. Your body tensed, muscles coiling as if preparing to bolt. But just as quickly, the door slammed shut again. What? Your brows furrowed, and for a fleeting moment, confusion overpowered fear. Is this person okay? Or are they just messing with me?

The passenger window began to lower, gliding down with a soft whoosh. Your breath hitched as a familiar face emerged, half-shrouded in the shadows of the car's interior. Park Jimin. Your boss. Your obnoxiously attractive, arrogant, self-absorbed boss. Relief washed over you like a bucket of icy water, though it was short-lived.

“Get in,” he commanded, his voice low and clipped as he motioned impatiently with his hand. You hesitated, frozen under his sharp gaze, but another gust of wind pushed you forward, your feet dragging against the puddled pavement. The rain soaked you even more as you opened the car door and slid in, trembling from the cold. The interior smelled faintly of leather and expensive cologne, but any sense of comfort was destroyed by his sharp voice cutting through the space.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What the hell are you doing here at this time of night? And why were you walking so damn slow?”

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing despite the exhaustion clawing at you. Of course, his first instinct wasn’t to ask if you were okay but to criticize. You forced a tight-lipped smile, your fingers curling into the damp fabric of your skirt.

“Yes, Mr. Park. I’m perfectly fine,” you bit out, the words dripping with sarcasm you tried to mask behind a strained politeness. Your fake smile wavered as you glanced at him, silently debating whether strangling him would be worth losing your ride home.

Jimin scoffed, shaking his head slightly, as though reading your thoughts. His eyes trailed over your face, lingering for a moment before they dropped lower. You noticed the shift in his expression too late. His gaze flicked to your collarbone, then downward. His eyes widened briefly before he snapped his head forward, clearing his throat with a harsh sound.

Confused, you frowned and followed his gaze. Your stomach sank as your eyes landed on the problem. Your white blouse, drenched from the rain, clung to your body like a second skin, and the bright red lace of your bra was clearly visible underneath.

A gasp escaped your lips as your arms flew up instinctively to cover your chest. “Oh my god,” you muttered, turning your body away from him, your face heating despite the cold. You shot him a glare over your shoulder, clutching your arms tightly around yourself.

Jimin rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze entirely. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose as he shrugged off his blazer. Without a word, he leaned over and held it out to you. You snatched it from his hand, your lips twisting into a scowl.

“You could’ve stopped the car near me,” you muttered under your breath, slipping the warm fabric over your shoulders. The faint scent of his cologne clung to it. So... manly.

His head snapped toward you, brows furrowed. “So, it’s my fault now?”

“Duh!” you shot back, pulling the blazer tighter around yourself as if it could shield you from his attitude.

“And what about the fact that you were walking so maddeningly slow? Like you were planning to camp out there all night?”

Your jaw clenched, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “Shut up,” you hissed, your voice low but dripping with frustration.

Jimin’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting in mock disbelief. “Did you just—”

“Yes, yes, yes! I just told you to shut uuuupppp!” you yelled, throwing your hands in the air. Your voice echoed sharply inside the car, silencing him completely. The weight of your outburst hit you like a tidal wave, embarrassment creeping up your neck. You turned your face away, heat flooding your cheeks. Great. Now I look like a lunatic.

He stared at you, stunned, his lips slightly parted as though he couldn’t quite process what had just happened. His wide eyes and slack jaw only made you angrier. You could practically feel his judgment radiating off him, and it made you want to crawl under a rock—or strangle him slowly and thoroughly.

“Stop staring and start the damn car,” you snapped, your voice cracking slightly.

His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he blinked, shaking his head. His cheeks flushed a soft pink, and he hurriedly looked away, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Fine,” he muttered, starting the engine with a low rumble.

The car began to move, the rain now a blurred sheet outside the windows. Silence settled between you, heavy and awkward, broken only by the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers. You sank back into the seat, pressing your hand to your forehead as a dull ache throbbed at your temples. A cold shiver raced down your spine, and you took a shaky breath, hoping it would settle your nerves.

“How long, Mr. Park?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the fight in you momentarily drained.

“Not far,” he replied, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “My house is just a few blocks away. We’ll be there soon.”

Your heart stopped. You sat up straighter, your hands clutching the blazer tightly. “What the hell do you mean, your house?”

He spared you another glance, his brows knitting together in mild confusion. “I’m taking you home,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

“Whose home?” you nearly screeched, pulling the blazer tighter around you as though it could somehow protect you from this insanity.

“Mine,” he said simply, his eyes darting back to the road.

"Home. Your home," you repeated, your tone sharp as you gestured toward him. "I wanted to go to my home."

Jimin’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw ticking in irritation. “I didn’t know the address,” he said flatly, avoiding your gaze.

“You could’ve just asked!”

“I wanted to, but you yelled at me to shut up.”

“And so your brilliant solution was to bring me here?” you retorted, throwing your hands up in disbelief.

His eyes snapped to yours, narrowing as he pulled the car to a jerky stop. “Excuse me? I live here. What the hell do you mean by here?” he asked, his voice low and offended, his brows drawing together.

You glared at him, your lips curling into a bitter scowl. “Then why have you stopped in the middle of nowhere?”

Jimin’s lips parted, a humourless laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “I think you’ve been out in the rain too long. Maybe some water leaked into your brain because it’s clearly not working. We are not in the middle of nowhere, you deranged woman.”

Before you could retort, he pushed his door open with a sharp motion and stepped out, slamming it shut behind him. You stared after him in disbelief, his broad back retreating into the rain. Grumbling under your breath, you wrestled with your seatbelt, finally kicking the door open and following him.

The rain hit you like icy needles, soaking through your clothes as you stumbled out of the car. The moment you stepped onto the pavement, you froze, your jaw slack. In front of you stood a towering, modern building, its glass facade gleaming despite the downpour. “Wow,” you muttered under your breath, momentarily forgetting your anger. But then you caught sight of Jimin’s retreating figure, and you cursed under your breath, hiking up your heels to chase after him.

“Of course, you’d leave me behind,” you muttered as your heels clicked against the wet pavement.

Jimin turned his head slightly, flashing you a grin that made you want to slap it off his face. “Oh, you’re here! I thought you’d decided to spend the night in the car,” he teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You narrowed your eyes at him, shivering as you wrapped his blazer tighter around yourself. “Do you have a knife at home?” you asked, your tone casual as you both inside the elevator.

He paused mid-step, his shoulders stiffening slightly. “Yeah… why?”

“Just so I know where to find one,” you replied, tilting your head innocently. “For when you start talking too much rubbish.”

Jimin turned to face you fully, his brows lifting as his mouth parted in shock. For a brief moment, he looked genuinely alarmed. Then, as you burst into laughter at his expression, he sighed in relief, shaking his head.

“You think you’re funny?” he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer to you, his eyes narrowing slightly.

You smirked, lifting your chin. “I think I’m adorable.”

His lips twitched into a smirk of his own as he leaned in, his face now dangerously close to yours. You wanted to step back, but the cold glass of the elevator doors pressed against your back, trapping you. His dark eyes glinted with amusement as he opened his mouth to respond—

And then you sneezed.

Hard.

Right into his face.

The moment froze, your eyes widening in horror as he flinched, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “What the actual hell?!” he yelled, his voice a mixture of disbelief and rage. He stepped back, his face scrunching up in disgust as he muttered a string of curses, switching languages with every expletive. English, Japanese, Chinese, and then a barrage of rapid Korean filled the small elevator.

You stared down at your feet, heat crawling up your neck. “Sorry…” you mumbled, barely audible, too mortified to meet his eyes.

He glared at you, his nostrils flaring. “Sorry? Sorry?!” He stepped forward, looking like he had a whole speech prepared—

But the elevator dinged, its doors sliding open.

For the first time that night, you silently thanked every god you could think of as Jimin stomped out, muttering under his breath. You hurried after him, sneezing again as the cold air hit you.

“Sit,” he barked, pointing to the plush couch in his spacious living room. His voice was sharp, but his eyes softened for a moment as they flicked to your shivering form.

You sat without a word, clutching his blazer tightly around you. Jimin disappeared into hallway, still muttering under his breath. As you sneezed again, you couldn’t help but laugh softly at the ridiculousness of it all, even if he was plotting your demise in the next room.

He came back, dressed in a plain sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, his hair sticking up in messy tufts, like he’d been running his hands through it. Barefoot and casual, he should’ve looked harmless, but instead, he looked annoyingly good. His sharp gaze locked on you as he walked closer, his lips pressed into a tight line, like he had something serious to say. Your throat dried up when he stopped right in front of you, the scent of his and something uniquely him filling the air between you. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, and just as his lips parted to speak—

You sneezed.

Right on his face.

“Women, seriously?” he muttered, his lips curling into a smirk as he wiped the back of his hand against his face.

You scowled, tugging his oversized blazer tighter around yourself. “What? I can’t help it!”

“You can’t help anything. The only thing you can help at is being mean and senseless.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped, leaning toward him, ready to unleash your fury—but another sneeze erupted before you could get the words out.

“Eww!” he exclaimed, jerking back like you’d just sprayed him with acid.

He pointed toward the hallway, his expression torn between disgust and resignation. “You, come with me. Before you drown my house with your sneezes.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging after him as he led you through the sleek, modern interior of his house.

“I didn’t ask you to bring me here,” you grumbled, your damp hair sticking to your neck. “You could’ve just dropped me off at my place.”

He turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing in exasperation. “Did you see how hard it was raining? You wanted me to take you home and then drive back through that storm? I could’ve gotten stuck—or worse. You should be grateful!”

You glared at his back, muttering under your breath, “Grateful, my ass.”

Jimin stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, revealing a spacious, minimalist bedroom. He disappeared into the walk-in closet without a word, emerging moments later with a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

“Here,” he said, shoving the clothes into your arms. “Change into this.” His voice softened, just for a second, before he added, “Bathroom’s on the right. Don’t take forever.”

You raised a brow as he turned and left without waiting for a response. Rude.

But as you glanced around his room—simple yet elegant with muted tones and clean lines—you couldn’t deny the faint flutter in your chest. It was surreal, standing here, surrounded by the essence of him. Once upon a time, when you’d first started working at the company, you’d harboured the most ridiculous crush on him. Obsessive, even. But you’d gotten over it. Or at least you thought you had.

Quickly peeling off your wet clothes, you slipped into the hoodie and sweatpants. They were far too big, the sleeves swallowing your hands, but they were warm and soft. And they smelled… like him. Clean, woodsy, with the faintest hint of something sharp and intoxicating. You hated how comforting it felt.

Or maybe you didn’t.

When you returned to the living room, he was sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest. His eyes flicked to you, scanning you briefly before he gestured toward the coffee table. “Soup,” he said simply.

Your gaze shifted to the large bowl sitting on the table, steam rising from the golden liquid. Your heart softened a fraction as you sat beside him, the warmth of the soup drawing you in. Without a second thought, you grabbed the bowl and scooped up a spoonful.

The second it touched your tongue, the heat seared your mouth, and you yelped, dropping the spoon back into the bowl. Jimin’s eyes widened, as he shot forward. “What the hell?!” he exclaimed, snatching the bowl out of your hands and placing it back on the table.

Before you could respond, he was in front of you, crouching slightly, his face a mixture of panic and concern. leaning closer. He started fanning your mouth with his hand, his brows furrowed as he muttered under his breath. Then, without warning, he leaned in further and blew.

The cool air hit your lips, and your breath hitched. His face was inches from yours now, his dark eyes focused intently on your mouth. You froze, acutely aware of the way his hand hovered just beneath your chin, steadying you. The moment stretched, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. His gaze flicked to yours, and for a heartbeat, neither of you moved. His lips parted slightly, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Are you blind? C-Can’t you see it’s hot?” he scolded, his voice breaking slightly as he cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly on the couch. His eyes darted away from yours, and for a fleeting moment, you caught the faintest hint of colour creeping up his neck.

You nodded, the sting of embarrassment silencing any snarky retort. Any other day, you’d have torn into him for bossing you around, but now? You couldn’t even muster a glare. Instead, you pressed your palms to your cheeks, only to realize they were burning.

What the hell was wrong with you?

Your mind raced as you sat frozen in place. You’re over him. You’re over him, you chanted silently, willing the blush to disappear. But deep down, you knew the truth—your heart was still as stupid as ever.

And then, just as you thought you could gather yourself, you sneezed again.

His head whipped toward you, eyes narrowing slightly. You braced for the scolding that was surely coming, shoulders tensing as you sucked in a breath.

But instead, he shifted closer.

Your breath hitched.

His gaze softened, his brows knitting together with concern as he leaned in. “Are you really sick?” he asked, his voice quieter this time, almost gentle.

Before you could answer, his hand moved toward your face. You froze as his fingertips brushed your forehead, testing your temperature. His touch was warm—too warm—and your heart thudded violently in your chest.

He frowned, his hand lingering for a moment longer before sliding down to the side of your neck, his thumb grazing your jaw.

That was it. You were doomed.

Your pulse quickened beneath his touch, and you swore he could feel it. His brows furrowed deeper, his expression shifting from mild concern to genuine worry. “You’re turning red,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His thumb moved slightly, tracing an invisible line along your skin. “Do… Do I need to call a doctor?”

The tenderness in his tone almost shattered you. Why did he have to be like this? Why now?

You shook your head quickly, snapping out of your daze and leaning back, desperate to put some distance between you. “No,” you managed to croak, your voice embarrassingly hoarse.

He blinked, his hand falling back to his side as he sat upright. “Oh,” he said, his tone clipped. His shoulders stiffened as if he suddenly realized how close he’d been.

You caught his slight grimace as he scooted away, the small gap between you growing wider.

Your chest tightened, and before you knew it, you were pouting.

His gaze flicked to you, one brow arching in confusion. “What?” he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

You shook your head quickly, too flustered to explain.

“Seriously, what’s wrong now?” he pressed, his brows drawing together again.

But you just shook your head once more, biting your lip to keep from saying something stupid—like how much you’d missed this, how much you wished he’d never pulled away.

And yet, even as he leaned back into his corner of the couch, his gaze lingered on you for a second longer than necessary, his expression unreadable. And that tiny, almost imperceptible pause was enough to make your heart ache with hope.

“You hungry?” he asked, his voice low and casual as he glanced over at you.

“No,” you said quickly, your tone sharper than intended.

His lips quirked up, clearly not believing you. “You sure? I can cook,” he offered, his brows lifting in that way that made his face unbearably soft, like he was trying to coax the truth out of you.

You shook your head firmly. “I’m sure,” you mumbled, shifting your gaze back to the soup in your hands. You’d already eaten, and you knew he had too.

A comfortable silence fell between you. He leaned back on the couch, his head resting against the cushions, eyes fluttering closed. His chest rose and fell evenly, and for the first time since you’d met him, he looked utterly at peace.

And absolutely stunning.

You tried not to stare, but your eyes betrayed you, taking in every detail. The way his jawline looked sharper under the dim light, the soft curve of his lashes resting against his cheeks, and his lips—God, his lips—full and slightly parted, as if he was moments away from whispering something that would undo you.

Your gaze trailed down to his clothes, his sweatshirt slightly rumpled but hugging his shoulders perfectly. His loose, comfy sweatpants sat just right on his hips, and even in such an unassuming outfit, he looked... ethereal.

It wasn’t fair. How could someone look like that just sitting there?

You pulled your eyes away, forcing yourself to look out the glass wall instead. The rain pounded relentlessly against it, streaks of water catching the faint glow of the city lights outside. The storm showed no signs of stopping, and you couldn’t help but regret staying late at the office.

I could’ve finished it all tomorrow, you thought bitterly, tightening your grip on the warm bowl in your hands. Your eyes drifted back to him, unable to help yourself. The question burned at the back of your mind: why had he stayed late? You knew he often worked late, but on busy nights like this, he typically stayed at the office rather than going home. Tonight, though, he’d changed that.

You frowned slightly. What was different this time?

You didn’t know—and couldn’t have known—that the difference was you.

He had seen the storm warning on the news and had sent everyone home early, but you had stayed behind, stubbornly working. He had been about to leave, but seeing you there, so focused, so unaware of the weather worsening, had stopped him in his tracks. Jimin was nothing if not professional, but he had always harboured an unspoken interest in you—a quiet, persistent fondness he never let show.

And now, here you both were.

The silence stretched on, the sound of the rain filling the space between you. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but when you finally opened your mouth to speak, the words were out before you could stop them. And you almost regretted it. Almost.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The question slipped out before you could stop yourself, your eyes widening in surprise at your own words.

Jimin’s eyes flicked open, locking with yours instantly. There was a quiet amusement in his gaze, and his lips tugged up into that soft, teasing smile that made your heart do something you tried to ignore. He didn’t speak right away, just studied you as if he could read everything you weren’t saying.

“No,” he replied, his voice quiet and surprisingly soft. “Why do you ask?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling silly, and looked everywhere but at him—out the window, at your hands, the bowl of soup on the table. Anywhere but him.

He leaned back into the couch, clearly amused, a playful edge to his tone. “Why are you behaving like this?” His smile was still there, small but knowing.

“Like what?” you blurted out, but even as the words left your mouth, you knew it was a bit of a dumb question.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” He raised an eyebrow, watching you like you were a puzzle he was determined to figure out.

You stared at him, blinking a few times like he’d just sprouted another head, making his laughter bubble up, soft but genuine.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he teased.

“Because you’re talking weird,” you said, voice a bit sharper than you intended, but your words faltered under his gaze.

He chuckled again, the sound warm and disarming, sending a flutter through your chest. “You’re behaving weird,” he countered.

You let out a frustrated huff and turned away from him, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, hoping the action would somehow shield you from whatever was happening between the two of you.

He chuckled again, and it was like a spark igniting inside you, frustrating and electrifying all at once. You glared at him, but even that seemed pointless when he was looking at you like that—like he could read the thoughts swirling in your head.

The silence that fell was oddly peaceful, but it didn’t sit well with you. You always needed something more. Chaos, noise, anything but stillness. Fidgeting in your seat, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You broke the silence, your voice sounding louder than you intended.

“Mr. Park—”

He cut you off with a soft smile, sitting up slightly. “You can call me Jimin,” he said, the words coming out like an invitation, a subtle challenge in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, hesitant. You glanced away quickly, feeling the heat creep up your neck as you crossed your arms defensively. “Are you sure?”

His gaze didn’t waver, locking onto yours with an intensity that made you feel suddenly exposed, vulnerable in a way you couldn’t explain. “Why do you look so unsure?” he asked, his voice gentle but with a teasing edge.

You stiffened, trying to find something—anything—to say. “You were perfectly okay threatening me and cursing at me. What happened now?”

His face twisted into a playful look of disbelief. “When did I—”

You were about to cut him off, but the teasing glint in his eyes silenced you.

“Huh?” His head tilted, and his smile grew, mischievous and daring.

“Okay! But I don’t mean any of it,” you blurted out, the words tumbling over each other as you sat up straighter, hoping it would make you look less flustered.

“Of course you don’t,” he said, his laugh escaping just beneath his words. The playful glint in his eyes only deepened as he relaxed back into the couch, arms spread wide like he was claiming the space between you. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and you couldn’t help but feel that same pull in your chest, though you tried to ignore it.

You crossed your arms tighter over your chest, trying to regain some control over yourself. “You really think you’re so charming, don’t you?”

He leaned in slightly, his smile widening, and your stomach fluttered despite your best attempts to stay unaffected.

“I don’t just think... I know.” His voice was full of that confidence that made your heart race, that impossible assurance that had you questioning everything.

You rolled your eyes, but even you knew it was more for show than anything. Your lips wanted to curl up, but you kept them pressed tight, the heat in your cheeks betraying the hard facade you tried to maintain.

“Yeah, right. Your just full of yourself,” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected, but the playful tone that slipped into your voice gave you away.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, his grin widening. “But I’ve got goods to back it up. Just look at how you're blushing.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you immediately shifted in your seat, trying to hide the heat spreading across your face. Your heart was racing now, and you could barely keep your breath steady.

“Am not!” you protested, but it came out weak, a poor defence against the blush that was clearly visible.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, before standing up. “Sure, let’s go.”

Confused, you followed him, your feet moving almost mechanically. You barely registered his words at first, still caught in the strange feeling his teasing had left in your chest. “It’s getting late. We should go to bed.”

Something about the way he said "we" made your stomach twist, or was it flutter? You weren’t sure. All you could hear now was the odd ringing in your ears, a soft buzz that drowned out everything else.

“We?” The word slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, confusion knitting your brows together as you watched him.

He gave you a small, almost reassuring smile as he stepped into his bedroom, holding the door open for you. His eyes never left you as he waited, his gaze warm, not at all like you had imagined it would be.

You stepped in hesitantly, your heart pounding with every step you took closer to him. Your mind was swirling, but you couldn’t place what was happening. You trusted him, you did, but something about this moment felt different—felt new.

“What happened?” he asked softly, his hands reaching out to gently pull you toward him, his touch grounding you in a way that made everything else fade into the background.

You blinked, confused. “Huh?”

His eyes searched your face with concern, his brows furrowing as his fingers grazed your cheek. “You’re so... pale.”

“Am I?” you whispered, suddenly aware of how unsteady you felt.

He didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. His touch moved from your face to your forehead, gently pressing as though checking for something. His fingers trailed down to your neck, the soft touch sending shivers down your spine.

You felt lightheaded, almost as if his hand was the only thing keeping you grounded. Your knees wobbled, your breath catching in your throat as your vision blurred.

“What happened to you?” His voice was barely a whisper now, a trace of worry creeping in that made your heart thud painfully in your chest.

The softness in his tone made your legs feel even weaker, like they could give out at any moment. Your body trembled slightly under his touch, your mind too foggy to make sense of anything.

Before you could even respond, he scooped you up effortlessly, his strength surprising you. He laid you down gently on the bed, the sudden movement making everything feel even more surreal.

You felt lighter than you ever had, almost weightless, like you could just float away. But your head—your head felt impossibly heavy, as if you couldn’t hold it up anymore. The dizziness washed over you in waves, your senses fading. You barely registered the way his face hovered above you, worry etched deep in his expression as he watched you. His hand was still on your forehead, his touch warm against your cool skin.

You barely registered the way his face hovered above you, worry etched deep in his expression as he watched you. His hand was still on your forehead, his touch warm against your cool skin.

“God, what... hap-happened?” he murmured again, but you couldn’t find the strength to answer. Your vision blurred even further, the world around you spinning uncontrollably. You felt yourself slip away, your body growing heavier.

And then, without warning, everything went black.

You blinked your eyes open, still disoriented, only to find Jimin staring down at you. His face was inches away, concern etched across his features. His hand was gently placed on your arm, and his eyes were wide, scanning your face for any sign of distress. The dim light in the room made the worried expression on his face all the more intense.

"You okay?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he helped you sit up, his hand guiding you gently. He reached for the glass of water from the bedside table, offering it to you with a quiet determination. Without thinking, you drank it in one go, the cool liquid helping to clear the fog in your mind. You nodded weakly, still feeling lightheaded, but trying to reassure him.

"You fainted," he said, his voice unsteady as he watched you closely, his brows furrowed in disbelief. You nodded again, still not fully processing what had just happened.

He looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise, lips parted in a mixture of concern and confusion. His expression was so pure, so real, it made something twist in your chest. You couldn’t help but chuckle, though it was soft, a little breathless.

"I’m fine, Jimin," you reassured him, the words coming out far less convincing than you hoped.

"No, you're not," he said firmly, his voice almost pleading, his tone so filled with worry it made your heart clench. "You fainted. Let’s go to doctor."

"I’m fine," you repeated, though the words felt weak. His eyes never left yours, searching for any sign that you were telling the truth. His hand reached up, rubbing his face in frustration, his worry only growing.

"And I’m worried," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. His gaze softened, and you could see it in his eyes—the deep concern, the care that he couldn’t hide.

You felt a strange warmth spread through your chest, something raw and unspoken. But you also didn’t want him to act like this, not with you. Not now, not after everything.

“Why?” Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost a whisper, and you couldn’t look him in the eyes. It was the question you’d been asking yourself for so long, and now it slipped out before you could stop it. Your heart raced, your chest tightening as you waited for him to answer.

For a moment, he was silent. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, his gaze softening, and you could feel the tension between you grow thicker, thicker still. Then, as if to break the tension, he slowly reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch so gentle it sent a shiver down your spine. His hand lingered, resting on your skin, as if he wasn’t ready to pull away.

“Sleep,” he murmured, the word leaving his lips like a tender command. But the last thing you wanted to do was sleep. The night was still young, the rain pouring outside, the sound of it filling the room. The cold breeze from the open window brushed against your skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

“I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room,” he said, as if it was the most natural thing to do. You stared at him, confused, unsure why he was saying that. You hadn’t asked him to, hadn’t even thought of it.

“Why?” you asked, your voice cracking just slightly.

“Because you’re sleeping on my bed,” he said, his voice firm but kind, as if it was obvious. He made you lie back down, covering you with the duvet, the soft fabric comforting against your skin. As he stepped back, you couldn’t stop the aching feeling in your chest, that unbearable pull that made your heart beat faster.

He moved toward the door, slow and deliberate, like he didn’t want to leave but had to. Every step he took felt like an eternity, and you wanted to call out to him, tell him to stop. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have the words.

When he reached the door, he paused and turned around to face you. His gaze softened, and he smiled—a small, almost shy smile, but one that made your chest ache. "Sleep tight, love. We have something important to talk about tomorrow." And with that, he closed the door softly behind him.

You lay there in the quiet room, your heart still racing, your mind spinning. You stared at the door, your thoughts scattered, your breath shaky. Did he just…? Did he just call you love?

The word echoed in your head, a faint warmth spreading through your veins. It was too much, and yet, you couldn’t stop the flutter in your chest. The night had shifted, everything had shifted, but you didn’t know what it meant. You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of hope.

And as the rain continued to pour outside, the sound somehow soothing your frayed nerves, you let your eyes flutter shut, your heart still thumping, your thoughts tangled in him.

I don’t know if you liked it or not, but please, leave some feedback. Like, tell me how much you loved it or absolutely hated it. I’m all ears... honestly, I’m mostly just here for the drama either way.

[brainrotcharacters]

the easy grip on the knife. the leg over the seat. the hand over the other seat. the sassy "come get it" move. you know the bitch is smiling behind that mask even as he said the line.

[catsharky]

Presenting: King Sidon, his wife Queen Yona and his boyfriend Link.

Yona is very supportive of everything except Sidon forgetting his ceremony cues.

(I had an atrocious week and TotK has been coming in clutch for keeping me sane.)

[egophiliac]

What do you think of Rook's savanaclaw card? <333

I didn't get him (and I need to save my keys for Silver's birthday, sob) so I looked up his groovy, and I'm not over how incredibly dramatic and epic and cool it looks in direct contrast to the absolutely ridiculous context. just look at that dynamic action and his majestic sparkling tears and keep in mind that this is pretty much right after a bunch of characters have been dance battling for his soul.

and then even the actual moment of the groovy is just like

this is NOT a negative in the slightest, I love it all, this truly was an incredible update in so many ways

[quitealotofsodapop]

I ADORE the imagery of LBD using Chimera!Tang on Macaque as a mirror to Tripitaka and Wukong.

Perhaps the chimera is the one to punish Macaque instead of the bone demons...

(*after Macaque loses track of the van*) Macaque: "Ugh. What do you want?" Chimera!Tang: (*silently begins shaking his pair of cicada wings*) Macaque: "What are you-" Chimera!Tang: (*wings emit a screeching high-frequency sound similar to a swarm of cicadas*) Macaque: (*recoils like Wukong being punished by the Headache Sutra*) "OK OK I GET IT! I MESSED UP! JUST STOP!" Macaque, internally: "Is... is this how he felt?"

Fun fact about the "four eyes" thing! Cicadas actually have five!

So Tang would have three small eyes clustered in the centre of his forehead - almost like a bindi or how Erlang has his third eye.

We probably need to make a diagram of how Tang's chimera body breaks down! I can see him having chicken wings as the larger of the four, with cicada wings hidden beneath almost like lace. Also tiger monk mention! Grey-blue fur!

As for LBD's sigils being in Bone script -I tried to get a good screenshot to check and it appears you're right though I can only make out "Ox" and "Sheep". The characters wrap around each other in an odd pattern. I could see her using chicken as a "filler" in the chimera

As for the Kaiju able to take him on? They'll need monkeys on the case, but the gang will need a little help...

From a certain Miss "Has venom powerful enough to make Buddha weep";

And who ends up cooking up a storm for the "hungry monk-demon" who wandered into her territory on his way to track down the heroes.

Chimera!Tang: (*stomach grumbling!*) :( Scorpion Queen, holding up a bowl of noodles like it's a cat dish: "Aww! Are you hungry?" Chimera!Tang: (*happy cicada noises as he digs in!*) Scorpion Queen, petting the feasting beast: "Who's a handsome boy? You are!" Macaque, watching from a safe distance: "Yet, I'm the one slacking off, apparently."

During the events of "Amnesia Rules"; Pigsy, Wukong, and Mo (+perhaps Nezha since he's here) still run into her - seeking shelter after finding kaiju-sized paw prints in the area. The queen is delighted to have more guests, and rambles on about the "odd monk-demon" she fed, accidentally giving the gang hints of what has become of their dear Tangy... She asks to keep in touch!

Their eventual skirmish becomes almost a callback to the Spider Gang - with the Scorpion managing to envenoming the chimera enough for it's hold on the Third Ring (and perhaps even LBD's connection to him) to weaken. Tang's chimera being part chicken is hilariously ironic, since in the book, Scorpion Queen was defeated by Maori the Rooster star god.

I can see Wukong still becoming possessed, with the Lady Bone Demon preying on his connection to his late master in order to catch him off-guard.

The monkie kids pretty much bully Macaque into being their warrior so that they can get their nerd and king back!

With perhaps a cameo from a certain Bull able to take The King on in a fair kaiju battle;

(*art by Overly Sarcastic Productions*)

Ofc I am sucker for "character's closest companion/lover talks them down from a dangerous-superpowered form"

Pigsy hugging Chimera!Tang as MK did to Samadhi Fire!Mei.

Okay so I saw some Dungeon Meshi x Lego Monkie Kid art you reblogged and it has been EATING at me. So now I gotta throw my hat into the Au idea ring.

So a lot of arts I’ve seen have portrayed Tang as Marcille usually, but I think he totally works as Falin, too. Like, eaten/almost eaten by a monster? Check. Self sacrificial for their friends? Check. Teleportation powers? Check!

Basically what I’m saying is that I think it’d be a cool (and angsty) Au idea if one way or another Tang got chimera’d. Because the idea of that middle-aged man going crazy as a chimera is beautiful to me, plus it’d be very unexpected! I don’t know how he’d get like that, mayhaps through LBD’s meddling?

(It wouldn’t make as much sense for him to have the main body of a dragon, though, so maybe instead he’d have something like a lion or tiger instead for the bulk? I think it’d be neat. Especially if we bring the cicada powers into play, then we’d have a bird-cicada-lion/tiger chimera on our hands and I’d LOVE to see that. I dunno, just a thought.)

Chimera!Tang 👀

CHIMERA!TANG DOING THE "WHOA HEY!"-SHIRT RIP!? ╰(✧∇✧╰)

YES PLEASE!! ٩(◕ั ∀◕ั๑٩)

If Tang was chimera'ed I can see the body mainly being that of a tiger, as per Tripitaka's transformation in the Jttw Yellow Robed Demon arc, mixed with that of a dragon-sized insect ala the Golden Cicada connection.

If we're thinking of this taking place in LMK canon; maybe Tang gets captured by LBD during the events of Lantern City/"Benched"? Or maybe even earlier around the time of Shadowplay - MK's second father going missing during perhaps the worst possible time in his life, only to reappear as a corrupted monster of his former self. Wukong and Nezha don't get bodied by a ward spell in this timeline - but rather by Tang himself.

LBD taking the final remnant of the Golden Cicada, a being embodying the cycle of life/death, and warping it into her Champion for the Destruction of this world.

Potential mirror to the infamous Possessed!Wukong vs Macaque fight with Pigsy and Chimera!Tang?

Yes please, :3

[lunalikestowriteanddraw]

You know on how Frost does his tabaxi hop at the beginning of episode 2? Do you think he did that little butt wiggle that cats do before they do a jump?

[andi-o-geyser]

We must protect her at all costs

[thegreatyin]

this nemesis ambition started out a little slow but I am getting closer to finding that bastard who killed my wife, and I’ll not rest a minute now that im far closer to on his trail

sorry got in character for a second

Anyways fun ambition so far very fucked up though

congratulations on joining the murder club anon!!!! depending on who you ask the name refers to either people who have murdered or people who have witnessed murder. usually both. actually extremely often both. it's a swell time you'll feel right at home (don't mind our collective skyglass knife collection in the back)

[xxgothchatonxx]

No deep thinky-thoughts - just Cagula’s sad puppy eyes :(

oh I have Thoughts about this part right here! But I’ll shut the hell up for once and just leave this funny post alone 😂

[lizhowlski]

yknow i think it’d be pretty funny if they used twitter

[meganechan05]

Anyone else headcanon that Rita finds it incredibly difficult to eat Moffun-themed foods? Like anything that is shaped/decorated to look like Moffun makes them have an internal meltdown because it's too cute to eat but they don't wanna waste food.

[wexhappyxfew]

carrie and dougie met in greenland and dougie immediately wanted to ask her to dance (but chickened out), while vivian and blakely met in greenland and they immediately exchanged stories of college (where they both attended university of washington, having no idea the other also went there)

[moeblob]

Man the last few days have been stressful, have more OCs??

[cerealbishh]

"I don't want my father's divorces."