#and I’d constantly be worrying about when and what I would eat next. Meticulously spacing out “meals” roughly 4 hours apart

[undyinglantern]

you know, when I watched the anime and the scene where he said this came up, I kinda just nodded and agreed like yeah he’s got a point. But now that I’m reading it at a slower pace I’m like well eating can include disordered eating or having a less than common allergy that you need to constantly keep on top of and be accommodated for, you could have insomnia or narcolepsy or just an irregular circadian rhythm among other sleep irregularities, and there are so many thing that can go wrong with your intestines not to mention even common things like utis or constipation or diarrhea; so eating sleeping and going to the bathroom absolutely are things that can make you nervous for any number of reasons

[imagine-this-fandom]

BNHA x Fem! Reader: The Rescue- Red Siamese

The rescue intro- Here

A/N: Warning! There are mentions of domestic Abuse! Nothing graphic, just mentions of behaviors picked up from living in an abusive household!

Inko led you back into the main store and past rows of all sorts of tanks, stopping  in front of a door with cute little pawprints running up the side. At the top of the door, the word CATS was in big bold letters. She opened the door and ushered you inside, carefully closing the door behind you.

The main room had various toys and structures spread out for the cats to enjoy. There were felines everywhere, and almost all of them watched you as you entered.

"Hmmmm... Where could he be hiding today?" Inko mused to herself, searching for a particular cat.

While she was preoccupied, you took this time to explore. You looked at all the cats scampering around the room. Some let you pet them, while others hung back warily. One of these cautious cats caught your eye. He was small and cream in color. His markings could make him a Siamese, but what stood out most was a faded shock of red covering the left side of his face. You watched him for a moment before slowly making your way over. He was cautious of your presence. You could see it in the way his body was tensed ever so slightly. You took it slowly as you got closer, not wanting to scare him. Once you were within two feet of him, you stopped and sat down, smiling at him encouragingly.

"Hey handsome, what are you doing over here by your lonesome?"

You didn't make a move to pet him, but watched him carefully, taking in his features and behavior.

Alongside his odd coloring, his eyes fascinated you. One was a calm grey while the other was an electrifying blue.

You hummed quietly as you sat and watched him, wanting to pet him, but also not wanting to scare him away.

This was how Inko found you.

"There you are! Oh, you found Shoto."

She gently scooped up the duel colored cat, much to his confusion.

"This is Shoto! He's the one I was looking for so you can take him home!"

While the cat was confused with his new perspective, he didn't seem that bothered with it. He had a cool and calm demeanor that was both odd for a cat and completely on par with what you'd heard.

"He's shy, but i think a sweetheart like you is exactly what he needs to open up!" Inko proclaimed, transferring the cat into your arms. She then set to work gathering cat related supplies for you. You watched her in silence, still a little bit stunned at your luck. The cat was quiet and seemed to just be observing the situation as well. You considered petting him, but with his wary nature earlier, you didn't want to risk startling him.

Once Inko had gathered a good size bag of supplies, she took Shoto from you and carefully ushered him into a pet carrier and handed it off to you.

"You're all set! Call if you have any questions! Good luck.”

You set out fairly confidently, but stopped frequently to check on your new pet. He was so quiet, it was a tad unnerving. Every time you paused to check on him, he would look up at you blankly. You were torn between the idea of him being incredibly smart, or just very very empty. He could be just observing calmly, or he could have nothing but elevator music behind his eyes. You had no clue and weren’t sure which one you were hoping for.

Once you reached your apartment, you set the carrier in the middle of the living room and opened the door for him before busying yourself with setting up his supplies. You set out cat food and water and set up all the different things Inko had given you. While you were invested in setting things up, Shoto carefully wandered the apartment. It was fairly modest, but so different from the traditional Japanese home he had grown up in. It was cozy, but he noticed with interest that you didn’t have pictures up. Apparently you didn’t get along with your family. At least you had something in common. 

You gave Shoto a wide berth as you walked past him to your room, not wanting to startle him and start off on the wrong foot on night one. He followed at a distance, Deciding it was important to analyze you and your behavior as you would be sharing a living space. 

You both settled down for the night in your prospective beds, albeit shoto found sleep much more slowly than you did.

 He didn’t sleep all that well. Waking up at the smallest noise. He awoke for the final time when he heard you make your way to the kitchen, body heavy with sleep as you continued on your quest for coffee.

You gave him a tired smile from over your mug.

“Well good morning strawberry shortcake!” You chirped. 

Shortcake? He was very confused and let out a bewildered little mew.

“It’s because of your red streak! You’ve got the white of whipped cream, and a strawberry streak” You pointed out his coloring fondly, already deciding that he was a sweetheart, so he needed a sweet nickname to match.

He just eyed you in growing confusion. He absolutely thought you were strange… But you seemed nice. You reminded him a little of both Izuku and Ochaco with your kindness and willingness to befriend him. Still, he was not used to it in the slightest. 

You quickly got to work making food, glad to be able to spend this day off of work. You couldn’t wait to get to know Shoto. Sure he was a bit.. Cold. But you were sure that if you worked with him, you’d unlock that heart of gold within. You noticed with growing concern that he never let you out of his sight. It made you worried to see him so wary. Sure it made sense that he would be on guard in his new environment, but there were other habits you caught that made you more upset. 

Shoto didn’t know he was doing it, but he always sat where he could see all the exits. Even though he was light enough on his feet not to be heard, he had already mapped out where to step to make the least amount of noise. You also disliked that he hesitated before turning corners. At first you thought it was just shyness peeking through, but you were in the same room… He did it regardless if you were around or not. This was a learned habit. You were definitely going to have to call Inko later. From what you could tell, Shoto didn’t seem to feel safe. He was on edge constantly and something told you that was not normal. 

You grimly tucked this info into the back of your mind and decided you were going to make your little shortcake feel loved and safe, no matter what it takes. You were determined and started to formulate a plan. First things first though, you had to make sure he was taken care of. 

“Shortcake, do you want some food? I made a little extra egg for you. I still don’t know what you like, but I promise I’ll do my best to find out.”

You slipped some eggs into his dish and curled up on the floor a few feet away, your own plate of food cradled in your arms. Shoto padded over to his dish, curious as to your motive, but pleased with your offering nonetheless. He sniffed carefully and took the smallest nibble before deeming it safe to eat. You were a decent caretaker so far, but he was determined to keep his distance as necessary. He wasn’t one to form attachments needlessly. You were supposed to take care of him. Having never had a pet of his own before, the concept was strange to him. Why would someone want the extra responsibility of caring for another creature? What did you gain from this experience?

As he ate, you nibbled on your own food, mind swirling with ideas for how to put the cat more at ease. Perhaps he’d like a heated blanket to lie on? Or maybe you should get him a cat tree. You’d definitely have to find a treat he liked so you could slowly gain his trust. 

And so the day continued. You spent your time attempting to befriend Shoto without pushing his comfort zone. He was surprised by your resilience, and it wasn’t long before he became accustomed to your presence. You were...calming. You never made sudden moves around him and whenever he caught you looking at him, you had a soft smile firmly in place. 

You finally took a break from Shoto watching for dinner. You had made soba, albeit slightly distractedly. You were expecting a call from Inko once she closed the pet shop. The call came at the most inopportune time and you had to sadly abandon your food in order to take the call. You walked out onto your balcony to talk, not wanting to bother your strawbaby with your pacing as you talked. 

Once the glass door slid shut, you turned your full attention to the voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey Inko, it’s great to hear from you, but I had a few questions about Shoto.”

“Of course my dear! What can I help you with?”

You bit your lip and carefully considered your questions.

“Did he grow up in the store, or was he owned before?”

There was a pause on the other end as Inko tried to think of how to phrase her next words.

“Well dear, all of my pets are rescued. Each had their own stories before they found their way to me. I will admit, young Shoto worried me. He was always really quiet and reserved. He got along with a few other animals and rarely initiated any interaction.”

You inhaled sharply, tears starting to sting as you mulled this new information over.

“Thank you for your help, Mrs. Midoriya, that helps a lot. That was my main question.”

“Of course dear. You’re always welcome at the shop and I’d love to hear from you soon. Any updates on Shoto are also welcome. I really do think you adopting him will be good for him.”

You smiled even though you knew she wouldn’t see it. 

“I’ll try to talk again soon, bye.”

You hung up and sighed heavily, almost certain in your suspicions now. It was a firm fact in your mind that Shoto had been abused in his previous home. Sure cats were wary creatures, but you knew that the meticulous and practiced behaviors you had seen were not normal. You were wrestling with several emotions internally. Sadness for him was a main one, as well as seething anger for whoever had hurt your sweet boy. Determination won over in the end. 

You had been so lost in thought, you had barely noticed the passing of time. You were drawn out of your thoughts by a chilly breeze as the moon made an appearance in the sky. You hugged yourself and made your way back inside only to pause at a strange sight. Shoto was perched on the table, happily consuming the now cold soba you had prepared earlier. 

While you were unsure if that was the best choice for him, he seemed to be enjoying himself. So you did the logical thing and heated up some soba for yourself and joined him at the table. He gave you a small uninterested look before returning to his meal. You both ate in silence for a while and you were pleased to see that he didn’t dash away when he finished. He politely waited for you to finish your own food, calm gaze fixed ahead. 

***** 

As the days passed, he started to open up a bit more. It wasn’t a dramatic change, but he was more at ease with your presence. He began to actively seek you out if you were in a different room. The space he put between you was shrinking too. You were elated! 

As excited as you were with the progress, you still weren’t expecting it when Shoto actually sat beside you. You had been reading a book on the couch when you felt the cushion dip next to you. Looking to your side, you spotted white and red fur nestled against your side. You stilled so as not to make a move that would scare him off. He was relaxed for the most part, but he seemed to be waiting for something. If you could hear his thoughts, you would be able to understand his tentative presence. He was testing the waters of his newfound companionship with you. The longer you stayed still without shooing him away, the less he felt like an intruder.

You didn’t want to ruin his moment, but this was the closest he’d been to you since you had got him from the shop. You wanted to let him know that he was okay where he was and that you were happy he was there. You tentatively reached out a hand, going slow so he had every opportunity to pull away. Your hand came to rest on his back and you  trailed your fingers lightly over him. His eyes seemed to widen a little from the contact, but he made no move to pull away or stop you, so you continued to pet him, adding a little more pressure. Before you knew it, he was relaxing and leaning into your touch.

Shoto wasn’t used to the feeling, but now that he had it, he didn’t want it to stop. Your touch was gentle and warm. He knew what it was like to have contact with someone, but it was something completely different with you. You were always so gentle with him. Even now as your fingers smoothed over his fur, you were tender and soft with your touch. It was comforting in a way he hadn’t ever remembered experiencing before, especially growing up/ He was used to strict schedules, rules clad in iron as well as grueling training that he was forced to endure for a good deal of his life. His childhood was spent in isolation from his siblings and fond human touch. Your encouragement and touch were so different from everything he had grown up with. It was a relief he didn’t even know he needed. 

Without thinking, his eyes drifted closed as he gave in to the bliss the petting sensations were causing. He was startled when something gave way within his chest and a low rumbling began to build up. He was freaked out until he heard your soft gasp. He looked up to see a wide beaming smile on your face, seemingly triggered by the low rumbling sound he was making.

“Awww, Shortcake, I knew you had a purr in there somewhere!” Your petting became more enthusiastic as the rumbles increased in volume.

Judging by your reaction, he had nothing to be worried about, and it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, just strange. He decided just this once not to worry about it, and let you continue as he closed his eyes again, letting himself melt against your soothing touch.

You were absolutely overjoyed. You had been working really hard over the past weeks to get close to the cold cat. Now he was a purring puddle under your fingers. Poor baby just needed someone to love him. Your heart was simultaneously overjoyed and broken by his reaction. You made a solemn promise to yourself to make sure he would always feel loved so long as you were around. 

******

As months passed, you kept your promise to the best of your abilities. You spent as much time as you could spare with Shoto, be it cuddles on the couch or play time with the toys you got him. He didn’t seem all that into the toys, but he would always give in after a while. He knew it made you happy when he chased the silly feather toy on the string. He personally did not find it fulfilling, but he had grown to adore the smile and laughter that came with it. He knew it wasn’t exactly the most logical thing, but he had started to look forward to your smiles everyday. He began to miss you as you went to work and took that lovely smile with you. While he didn’t mind his alone time at first, it became more boring and frustrating to bear. He became very entuned with your schedule.

Recently, Shoto had started to notice something was wrong. You were staying at work for longer and getting home later recently. This past week, you had barely been home with him at all. It was honestly starting to concern him. You had always made time for him and he was starting to miss you. You looked run down all the time, and you had a cough that was steadily getting worse. Yet you insisted that you work with him. You were so patient and caring as you spent time talking to him and cuddling with him. 

You seemed to be pushing yourself to work harder and harder at your job. He noticed that you were exhausted, you looked dead on your feet whenever he caught you by yourself. However, you were quickly back to sunshine and smiles whenever you knew he was around, as if you could fool him into thinking nothing was wrong.

“Hey strawbaby, how’s my sweet boy today? “ You happily cooed to him and patted the chair beside you.

While he didn’t quite understand your love of nicknames, he was growing used to it and enjoying it a little if he were honest with himself. If that is what you wished to call him, he would respond. He hopped up next to you and was pleased to catch a sweet smile turning up the corner of your lips. You showed affection so readily and quickly, even though you barely knew anything about him. It didn’t seem to be for any self serving reason, especially because you didn’t know who he really was anyway. Your fingers quickly found their way into his fur and he gladly submitted to your touch. As much as he missed being human, he couldn’t deny that this feeling was one he quite enjoyed. His body betrayed his thoughts as his eyes closed in delight and a low rumbling purr escaped his chest. 

“Sorry I’ve been so busy lately. I promise I’ll try to spend more time with you soon, but I’ve been taking on some extra shifts at work.”

You pulled him into your arms so he rested on your stomach and you could address him more directly. 

From his new vantage point, he could see that while you were smiling, you had dark circles under your eyes. This wouldn’t do, but he couldn’t see a way to help in his current state.

You pressed a tired kiss to the top of his head and leaned back on the couch, closing your eyes as you breathed deeply. 

You had only meant to rest your eyes for a little bit, but were quickly lulled to sleep by Shoto’s comforting weight on your chest. Your breathing was a bit more shallow than he liked, but he decided he’d just have to keep an eye on it. 

You jolted awake a couple of hours later to the sound of your phone alarm. You hissed in pain as you carefully slipped Shoto off your chest and hurried to get ready for the opening shift you had taken. You made sure Shoto had food and fresh water before giving the apartment one last glance, gaze softening with love as it landed on your sleeping cat. You blew a kiss to the fur ball before stepping out into the cold, coat forgotten in your haste to arrive on time.

You worked a long and grueling day, covering shifts for other coworkers at every opportunity and dealing with hard customers as the weather made people irritable. You kept telling yourself that things could only get better as the day continued, this ended up a lie, but you were determined to not let the hard day get the worst of you. You hadn’t admitted it to Shoto, but you were running yourself ragged. You were honestly running low on funds right now and the heating costs as well as rent were starting to get costly. Not to mention that you had a cat to support too. He was strange in that he didn’t care for any cat food you provided, so you supplemented as best you could with various human food to make sure he got the nutrients he needed. You were dead tired, but you loved that cat to the ends of the Earth and would do anything for him. You kept repeating that you were doing this for him as you pushed through your work load and continued home. 

You were almost certain you were sick, but it wasn’t anything serious as far as you were concerned.

((Yeah, covid isn’t going to be a thing in this universe because it’s the last thing I would want to read/write about, so don’t worry.))

You shivered as you walked home, trying your best to distract yourself from the cold as you walked. Your head ached and it hurt to think. Your head felt fuzzy and full in a way that made your whole body feel heavy. Perhaps you’d try to take a later shift tomorrow. 

Shoto was waiting for you when you opened the door and even though you were still shivering heavily from your walk, your heart was warm. You reached down and pet him after closing the door behind you.

“Hey shortcake, how’s my handsome boy?”

You went to stand back up and had to brace your arm against the wall as a wave of dizziness shot through you. You groaned and closed your eyes, clutching your head as you leaned on the wall, waiting for it to pass. Shoto looked up at you with concern, reaching up and putting a paw against your leg, trying to express his concern. That was definitely not normal for you.

You gave him a soft pat and moved further into the apartment.

“I’m okay Shoto, just a dizzy spell. I guess I pushed it a bit at work today!”

He looked back at the spot where you had crouched in pain. He hated how weak your breath sounded and the pain that had marred that lovely smile when you had leaned there. You were really scaring him!

His fears were realized when he heard a loud thud behind him. He whipped around and saw with horror that you were on the ground. Terror gripped his heart and he raced to your side. He was relieved without a doubt to find that you were still breathing, however your breaths were strained and raspy from the cough that had crept in over the past week. He tried to nudge you awake, but he couldn’t seem to rouse you. He felt helpless and more than that, terrified for your safety.

He tried desperately to come up with a plan. What should he do? Oh, if only he were human agai-

His frantic thoughts were cut short with a quiet popping sound and a nauseating change in perspective. He was taller. No.. not taller, human. He looked down at his hands in shock before also noting with relative indifference that he also was devoid of clothes. He would have felt cold, but his quirk kicked in and his temperature regulated itself. 

He turned his attention to the most important task at hand and quickly crouched beside you. He flipped you onto your back so you could breathe more easily and carefully picked you up, arm going around your back and the other under your knees. He slowly lifted you up, your head settling against his chest and shoulder. You looked so weak and tired, it twisted his heart painfully. He carefully carried you to your room and set you on your bed. His thoughts switched to hero mode as he analyzed the situation. You obviously hadn’t been getting enough sleep, and your body had given out on you. You were hot to the touch and he noticed that your sweater was soaked from the snow on your walk home. 

He got to work and stripped you of your outer clothes, having to do a little search before he located proper sleepwear and slipped it onto you. He then quickly took a clean cloth and created an ice pack with his quirk. He settled the pack on your forehead and tucked you into the bed, pleased to see the shivering ease.

He knew that he just needed to wait and watch for now, so he busied himself with finding clothes for him. He knew that when you woke up, you would be confused and the last thing he wanted to do was scare you. He eventually found a pair of sweatpants and a sweater that fit decently and he hurried back to your side. 

He didn’t leave your side again for the rest of the night. His hand found solace in yours, his thumb making comforting circles over your knuckles. He wished more than anything that you would open those beautiful eyes and smile at him again. He got his wish shortly after one AM.

You stirred and squeezed his hand as you woke up. Your head felt worse than before and nothing felt right. You almost felt like you were drunk. Everything felt fuzzy and unreal. Your eyes widened in the dim moonlight as they landed on a figure you had never seen before, at least not in this form. You were looking at Shoto with such awe and confusion, he was a little taken aback.

“Are you an angel?”

If your expression had taken him by surprise, your question absolutely stunned him.

“I’m not an angel, (y/n). How are you feeling?”

You pouted, scrunching your face in pain. 

“I feel dead. And you are an angel. You knew my name and I feel dead, and you’re too attractive to be human. That’s just facts.” You pointed out, hand slipping from his to rest on his cheek.

You were beyond adorable and he was honestly glad to see you awake again.

“I fail to see the logic behind that, but I’m more concerned with the feeling dead part. I can confirm that you are not dead, but you are really sick. Here, drink some water.”

He gently removed your hand and helped you sit up a little bit, bracing the back of your neck as he held a cup to your lips.

You thankfully sipped the offered water, the coolness soothing your sore throat. You gave him a weak smile once you had drank what you could. Your eyes tiredly looked over your so-called angel and you let out a small gasp.

“Your eyes are grey and blue! Just like my Shoto!” Your eyes widened with panic after a second.

“My cat! Angel, if I’m dead, who’s going to take care of him?! I need to go back! I need to make sure he’s alright! He’s going to think I abandoned him.”

You started to sluggishly claw at the blankets around you, struggling to get your body to respond.

Shoto carefully pushed you back down, shushing your cries and murmuring reassurances until you had settled down a bit. You now had tears making tracks down your face as you looked at him desperately, mind still foggy from the fever.

“Promise me he’s okay? I made a promise to make sure he was loved! I don’t want him to be alone or hurting again, he needs me!”

His heart clenched at your words and he crouched beside, cupping your cheek with one hand, thumb wiping away the tears that had escaped.

“It’s alright, (y/n). Shoto is alright. He’s more worried about you right now. You’re not dead, you’re safe and so is he. I need you to calm down and try to sleep, okay? You can see Shoto in the morning. You have to rest for me now, alright?”

You gave a small nod and settled back against the pillow. You tilted your head to the side a little and kissed the palm of his hand where it still rested against your face.

“Thank you angel… I’ll try and sleep. I need to get better for Shoto.”

A small warm smile spread across his face and you drifted off with the thought that the angel’s smile was the prettiest thing you had ever seen in your life.

*******

When you awoke the next morning, you were still in a lot of pain, but you were definitely more lucid. You moved to stretch, but found an unfamiliar weight in your way. You looked to your side to see your hand was caught in the grasp of a sleeping man. You truthfully should have been freaked out, but you were oddly calm. Nothing like waking up to find the literal man of your dreams at your bedside. Rather than wake him, you took this time to drink in his features. In the morning light, you noted the odd coloring of his hair. It wasn’t until he shifted that you got a good look at his face. When you did, you heart nearly stopped. He had a red scar covering his eye on the left side of his face! Not only that, the placement was exactly like the marking on your cat. 

He must have felt the difference in your grip because he slowly started to stir. Your theory of shapeshifting cats was now gaining a whole lot of evidence as you locked eyes with a gorgeous set of mismatched eyes you would recognize anywhere.

“S-shoto? You’re human.” Your already scratchy voices sounded even more strained as you were struck in shock.

The man in question just gave a small nod and placed the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Your fever is gone. How are you feeling?”

You blinked. You were having trouble processing, but his total nonchalance was equally as jarring as the situation was.

“I’m feeling… confused. And sore. “

He nodded and offered you a cup of water which you gratefully took from him. Your memories of the night before slowly returned as you both stared at each other in silence. It seems like as he was in his feline form, he wasn’t very talkative.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You mumbled, a shy smile crossing your face.

A small smile of his own formed and you nearly choked on your water.

“Of course, I couldn’t stand by while the girl I love suffers.”

 Once again you nearly choked on your water. He frowned and took the glass from you before you accidentally drowned yourself. 

“I think you should try to rest some more. I’ll go make you some food and we can talk then.”

He stood as he made his announcement. He hesitated for just a moment before he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and walked out.

You sat in stunned silence. You absolutely had questions, but right now you were going to do as your angel had asked. You were smitten and from the way he acted… so was he. You looked forward to learning more about who he was and how he came to be in your life, but you could wait and let him take care of you just a little while longer...

[raindropsduringthesunset]

Share Tea With Me (Can't We Watch The Stars?) (TSS Fateful Fae AU)

Ao3 ~~~ Wattpad

First Part, Last Part, Next Part

Characters: Virgil, Logan, Janus, Roman (mentioned), Remus (mentioned), Patton (mentioned)

Relationships: Analogical (Platonic), Analogical (Romantic?), Anxciet (Platonic), Anxceit (Romantic?), Loceit (Platonic), Analoceit (Platonic), Analoceit (Romantic?)

TW: neglect (mentioned), wishing death upon someone (mentioned), panic attack, crying, anger (brief, not directed)

cw: Remus (brief showing) (sympathetic), Janus (sympathetic), Patton (brief showing) (sympathetic), kissing (forehead, platonic), fear, exhaustion, food

Summary: Logan understood many things, but perhaps he has more to learn.

~~~

Logan had learned to not care anymore. He wasn’t unempathetic or unsympathetic- no no, those weren't the right words. He honestly wasn’t quite sure if there was a word for how he treated his empathy. So he settled with repressed. The word had a connotation that didn’t fit perfectly, but it fit enough. It wasn’t that bad; just a way to get shit done for once.

When he was younger there was never a time that he truly had to care. He was carefree, without any responsibilities quite yet. At that age, he’d settled for reading and researching when he had spare time- not that anything had changed over the years in that regard. Logan had always had a knack for picking up information and a talent for staying quiet. He used that to his advantage when he used to go to fae meetings.

He would hear one fae make a passive-aggressive remark toward another one, take note of when the selkies whispered to each other, pay close attention to the higher ranking faes eye movement. When you’re a young fae, there’s not much you can do other than observe while you wait for your magic and traits to grow in. It didn’t help that Logan, while a quick study, was a slow grower.

While he was far more mature than any of his clan- with the possible exception of J- could ever be, he always managed to get assumed to be the youngest at fae events. During the occasional poly-realm ball, Logan would constantly get assumed to be a new fae.

While most would find the assumption of youth flattering, Logan found it to be quite annoying. Why shouldn’t his maturity be reflected in his appearance? To be fair, Logan had full control over his human appearance, but his fae appearance was far too complex for him to break down enough to transform. Too much light, too many parts, too many oddities. He’ll stay comfortable with a human body that is malleable.

Now with V around, he wasn’t the youngest anymore- not by a long shot. V wasn’t that much younger than all of them- not when comparing fae years to V’s human years. At most V was about a year or two younger than Logan.

Logan thought it was… interesting. He by no means was going to make V a test subject. That wasn’t his place- nor anybody’s for that matter. He just found it so… fascinating how quickly humans aged yet how young they could appear to be. Logan tested a few things once V had arrived, checking outside of the realm every few days to see how the world aged and then checking on V. V was a passive test subject, not fully aware that he was participating in an experiment.

‘Experiment,’ J would kill Logan if he heard him refer to spending time with V as an experiment. Logan quickly realized that calling V anything other than a human was not his place. He found it appropriate considering that V, of course, was sentient and very capable of making his own decisions.

There weren’t many things that Logan didn’t understand. That was his ‘talent’. Apparently his clan- a chorus of very capable and powerful fae- lacked basic understanding in some- most- fields. Logan hated to sound self-conceited but the majority of his clan had… a different type of intelligence to put it lightly. The others had emotional intelligence, Logan had practical intelligence.

He supposed that was why he hadn’t tried to speak to V one-on-one until he had fully acclimated. Humans were very emotional beings. They made decisions and connections based on feelings more than facts. Logan somewhat admired that, it was interesting to see how humans were just so affected by emotions. V was a small example, emotionally attaching himself to J the moment the others were out of the way. J seemed to be far from complaining, happily taking the mortal under his wing.

Perhaps Logan wanted to know what it would be like to take V under his wing. He boiled down the urge to just wanting to study him more. Humans were interesting. Logan had many books about humans in his library- which in itself was very large- but none of them seemed to set out a full picture for him to analyze. Still, he managed to grasp at least a basic understanding.

There were very few things that Logan didn’t understand. He took great pride in that.

LINEBREAK

Logan ate quietly, chiming into the conversation sweeping over the table every so often. Pat had cooked supper that night, just a soup and sandwich. V was still getting used to regular foods and no one was very keen on accidentally triggering a possible allergy.

V sat across the table from Logan, J next to him. The two softly whispered to each other, J occasionally smirking a little bit and glancing up to the others at the table. V picked at his food, taking a bite every minute or so. Logan pursed his lips.

He wished V would eat more- or at least more often. Janus hadn’t gotten him to eat three meals even after a week of trying. When he would get the hang of eating, the boy was seemingly a metaphorical bottomless pit, but until then he seemed to barely be able to stomach even the thinnest broth.

“L?” J asked from over the table, “Would you possibly like to accompany us to tonight’s full moon? I’m aware that you will be staying up to observe it and I do not wish for you to be alone.”

Logan stared at the two across from him, thinking for a moment. His eyes managed to catch V’s for a microsecond, but that was enough for him.

“Of course, I’d be pleased to have you two- um,” Logan looked at his notebook for a moment, “ tag along…?” He looked over to the Prince and waited for his nod before returning his attention to J.

“Wonderful,” J moved his gaze back down to V, leaning down a little to whisper something in his ear. Logan watched as V nodded and picked up his spoon again, eating more of his soup. A loud clink sounded at the other end of the table causing the three of them to jump, the Duke looking over with a guilty look on his face.

“Sorry, Princy here thought it would be a good idea to hit my arm while I was eating.” The Duke sent a teasing glare to his brother, earning an exasperated scoff.

“Since when have you eaten soup with utensils and not just drank it from the bowl?” L asked, his face pinching together.

“I don’t know, I just felt like it today.”

“Sure, you totally weren’t trying to impress- hey!” The Prince’s teasing was cut off by the Duke elbowing him with a newfound smile.

“Kiddos, no play at the table.” Pat hummed before taking a bite of his sandwich. Logan rolled his eyes and stirred his soup.

TIME SKIP

Logan looked up at the sky, a warm hue of deep and dark blues capturing his gaze as he attempted to stare through the stars to see a planet that was supposed to be visible that week. He had a telescope but he preferred to not use it as his eyes had always been quite keen.

The chains on his glasses tickled his cheeks as he tilted his head back. The cold feeling of the quartz and gemstone beads ghosted his cheeks in a faux kiss from the crystals. The stars sparkled and reflected off his lenses, the light glimmering in his eyes.

“I do hope we aren't too late,” A voice- Janus- called as he walked into the field, V close on his heels. Logan tore his gaze away from the sky, shifting to look at the two.

“You need not worry, you haven't missed a thing,” Logan looked to V, “Good evening little one, I'm pleased you wished to join me.”

“Tha-,” V cut himself short, “I am grateful that you allowed my presence.”

“Oh darling, do stop with the formalities. Just relax for a bit, will you, my darling?” Janus rubbed his hand against V’s back smiling when he leaned into the pressure. Logan rolled his eyes at his fellow fae and returned his gaze to the sky.

The stars seemed to glimmer with newfound vigor, sending sharp waves of dark green over the sky that Logan was sure V could not see. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Janus helping the mortal get comfortable, taking off his cloak and folding it carefully before placing it on the ground.

You’re so meticulous with him.

Oh shut it and get on with whatever space tangent you have planned.

Watch your tone, Logan teased, his eyes locking with Janus’s.

Or what?

“You know,” Logan looked at the moon, “The moon, while it appears very white, is actually a soft yellow. Tell me little one, have mortals like you made it to space quite yet?” V blushed and shifted from foot to foot, words getting caught in his throat before he coughed them out.

“No, we haven't. I’m sure if humans went to space we would never believe the stories told by the explorers.” Logan hummed in acknowledgment.

“It’s not often that people truly believe stories, whether or not they are from reliable sources. The stories that I have seen humans believe have been purely nonsensical,” Logan cringed and glanced at V, “No offense intended.”

“None received. I understand why you have only seen examples like that. It’s not like you’re wrong,” V laughed to himself, making the two faes hearts leap and bound, “I’ve heard some… intense stories of my own…” The mood seemed to darken.

Janus and Logan looked between each other, both internally debating whether or not to change the subject. They watched as V slowly sat onto Janus’s coat, brushing his fingertips softly over the grass and its carefully grown ferns and fibers.

“The moon looks so big…” V muttered, letting out a shaky breath. A question begged on his tongue, his eyebrows knitting together. Logan pursed his lips and shrugged off his coat, placing it on the floor below him.

“The moon does tend to appear fairly large on nights like these. It does help that the sky is wonderfully dark tonight- and of course our setting assists in its clarity.”

“If you wish to ask a question, please do so. It would be a pleasure to answer any inquiries you may have.”

“Oh- uh… I was just wondering...” V tilted his head up to look at the sky. His face morphed slowly, unreadable to LOgan as he thought for a long moment before shaking his head.

“It’s alright. I… I’m not sure what I would ask you anyway.”

Logan and Janus exchanged a look over V before Logan nodded his head and glided through the grass to the telescope.

Taking off his glasses, Logan bent down slightly, gripping the body of the tool gently before putting the lens to his eye and closing his other. After a few moments of gently twisting the focus piece, he finally got the telescope to focus on the moon. The surface looked close enough to touch. It felt as if he could pluck the moon from the sky. Logan imagined what it would be like to touch the moon.

Perhaps it would be smooth, rolling gently in his hand leaving a residue of gray and tan in the crevices of his palm. Maybe it would be rough, like a dry ball of fragile mud, its craters leaving indents in his fingers. He knew it was illogical to imagine simply taking the moon from the sky like a berry from a bush, but the hypothetical of the situation was too interesting to ignore.

“Go ahead, ask.” Logan heard a soft encouragement from Janus, a quieter whisper from V attempting to counter it, “Darling, I swear by my honor that he would never be cross over you for wondering.”

Logan stood up straight, turning his head to look at V who was still trying to quietly reason with Janus as to why no he could not ask Logan a question, are you insane?

“If you have something to ask please go ahead little one, I truly do not mind.”

V’s body snapped to look at Logan, a surprised look in his eyes as he took a step back into Janus. He jumped at the feeling of a pair of gloved hands on his back, gently pushing him forward.

“Um- I- um,” V shifted from foot to foot, “Can I… May I use the telescope?”

“Of course! Humans have more… inefficient eyesight if I remember correctly, yes?” Logan asked, stepping to the side. Janus sent him a quick look before lowering his eyes back to the mortal.

“We uh- yeah.” L nodded and gestured down to the telescope, “How do I- where do I look?” V asked, a blush crossing his face.

“Just look through this eyepiece right here with one eye and close the other, if you wish to change the focus just rotate this right here.”

V strode up and hesitantly reached out, gently taking the body of the telescope in his hands with a feather-like touch. Slowly, he bent down to look through the telescope. The sky appeared a brilliant black, the moon radiating light.

Stars twinkled just past the focus, the faint sight of a plant he couldn’t remember the name of to the left of the moon. Perhaps he could ask Lo… Wait. A fist in his chest tightened on his heart as he spent more time looking. He tore himself away from the telescope, a pit of guilt settling in his stomach as he realized the fae were staring at him.

“I didn’t mean to… I apologize if I looked for too long.” V twidled with his hands.

“Oh little one, it’s quite alright. I can’t fault you for wanting to look- I offered after all. If you wish, you can look longer.” Logan reassured, a gentle smile gracing his features before he steeled his features. Despite his attempts at calming V’s worry, he stepped away from the telescope and wandered over to Janus, stepping behind him.

The three eventually grew more comfortable as the night grew darker and the moon posed itself about them. V laid in the grass, blinking up at the twinkling sky with his lips slightly parted. Janus sat on a stump beside V that he insists was there before he tried to down- oh please L, may we just move past it? Logan was busying himself with studying the planet beside the moon. The wind blew intermediately, keeping the three of them cool. A serine calm washed through like a rain shower, seeping deep under Logan’s skin as he scanned the sky.

Time seemed to pass slower in the moment as V slowly closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion built up over weeks of little sleep pull him into a deep pool of serenity.

“Is he asleep?” Logan asked, glancing over to V. Janus looked up from where he was busy sewing up a shirt and looked over V for a moment.

“I believe so.”

“Oh… He looks quite peaceful when sleeping. Younger, perhaps, is an appropriate word.” Logan said, tilting his head slightly as V’s nose scrunched up at the feeling of stray grass brushing against it. Janus hummed in agreement and slowly stood, dusting off his coat and letting out a low breath.

“I feel now may be a good enough time as any to take V to bed. We’re both thankful for you allowing us to take your time,” Janus thanked, bending down to gently place his hand on V’s arm.

He muttered a quiet, darling, may I carry you to your room? Which was followed shortly by a soft hum and V reaching one of his hands to take one of Janus’s in an attempt to sit up.

Logan watched, his heart aching with something he wished he knew how to identify, as Janus helped V stand and subsequently swept him up and carefully carried him. Janus draped his cloak over V as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head before beginning to walk away towards the path. Logan took in a shaky breath and closed his eyes for a long moment.

Perhaps it was an appropriate time for him to turn in for the night as well.

TIME SKIP

V cursed quietly under his breath, falling forward slightly as he reached for the top of a cabinet. His attempts to reach the cups always seemed to be fruitless as he would eventually either have to climb up onto the counter or wait for a fae to wander into the kitchen and offer to get a cup down for him.

“If you would like some assistance I’m more than happy to-”

“HOLY FUCK-” V stumbled back, falling flat on his ass with a plop that made his head hurt.

“I apologize for startling you, that was not my intention,” Logan said from the doorway. At some point, he had entered the room, and V, somehow despite his typically sharp sense of perception had missed his entry.

“It’s fine,” V pushed himself up, rubbing his temples and the space above his eyebrows gently, “and… Yes, I would like some help.”

Logan strode gracefully across the kitchen and effortlessly took a pair of glasses from the shelf, handing one to V and placing his own on the counter below. He chose to ignore when V muttered under his breath, “Stupid fae and their stupidly long arms- not fair.” Logan let out a soft breath, a smile twisting at his lips at the comment.

“Would you like some tea? I always seem to make more than needed.” That was a… slight lie. Logan always made extra in case any of the others- more notably J- may like a cup. He was always more than happy to share with his friends.

“I, um… Sure?” V shrugged as he reached up once more and grabbed one of the far more accessible plates before pausing and taking down a second one.

The two worked separately; Logan boiling the water before placing in the tea leaves to steep, V buttering two buns before placing them on their respective plates. Logan hummed in satisfaction as he strained the tea and added a little bit of honey to both cups.

As domestic and comfortable as the energy of the room was, V couldn’t shake the tense feeling of his shoulders being hunched. He was so frustrated that he couldn’t just relax. He knew he was safe… didn’t he?

“Here you go. I hope you enjoy it, though it is alright if you don’t fancy the flavor,” Logan gently placed V’s glass in front of him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, uh, here.” V slid one of the plates to the side, catching Logan by surprise.

“Little one, you didn’t have to.”

“I-... I wanted to. It felt right.” V interrupted, his shoulders tense as he awaited Logan’s reaction.

“Well then, I appreciate your kindness. I do quite enjoy these buns, to be honest,” Logan carefully picked up the plate, “I wish to eat with you if you are alright with that.”

“Yes- Yes, of course.”

V followed Logan as he wandered through the off door of the kitchen, entering the dining room beside him. The two sat down quietly next to each other, looking up every so often to acknowledge when a new fae would enter the room. The Prince and Duke simply bowed and took their respective spots across from the two. Pat waved excitedly and sat beside the Prince. J raised an eyebrow and moved to sit next to V, dropping a biscuit on his plate with a throwaway remark about how he should be eating more.

“V?” Logan asked as he placed his glass on top of his plate, scooting his chair back.

“Yes?”

“Would you perhaps like to join me tonight to study the moon again?”

“... Sure.”

LINEBREAK

It quickly became a routine for Logan and V- and Janus of course- to go watch the stars together at least once a week. Not that the routine had been happening for a while. They really wouldn’t interact much during the time they would spend out in the field, instead favoring observing the sky in silence.

After about a month the three had grown comfortable enough to share casual conversation. Sometimes Logan or Janus would tell a story about the fae, V always captivated by their colorful language and unusual tales. Not once though had V spoken a story of his own, though neither of the fae were making a living attempt to get him to do so.

Sometimes V would get so close to sharing a story before he would catch himself and quickly change the subject, tensing up after. Maybe, he thought, he should tell them something- anything really. He felt that they deserved to know something, even if V knew damn well that they were not going to like what they hear.

LINEBREAK

Logan had expected neither J nor V to come to visit him that evening. The two of them had had a long day, busy with things that Logan had decided were none of his business to know. It truly wasn’t his business, but when he saw the two of them at supper, their exhausted and slightly sad demeanors throwing off the entire table.

As much as Logan wished to check in on the two’s health, he figured that perhaps with how closed off they were it was best to leave them be. Even if the bags under their eyes made his heart ache.

While he knew well that J and V needed sleep, he did feel rather lonely at the moment. The lack of a questioning remark or warm body to simply spend the hours with left Logan feeling forlorn. He debated for a moment possibly waking Pat or even one of the twins before simply sighing and looking back down at his notebook to return to his sky mapping.

The wind blew harder that night, an occasional clear-skyed drizzle of dew dropping every once in a while. Logan could feel the tall grass bush its gentle bristles against his ankles, tickling the skin like a kiss from nature.

Logan cursed under his breath as he dotted incorrectly, only waiting a moment before using his magic to clear the ink from the page. His perfectionism never ceased he supposed.

A soft sniffle sounded a few meters away from Logan, him pausing his writing in curiosity. After a few moments of silence, he shook his head and resumed his work. Just as his pen touched the page a shaky exhale echoed closer to him, the soft brushing of grass and ferns rubbing against fabric trekking closer.

He raised his head to the sound and was shocked to find eye contact with none other than V. He assessed his body for a moment, taking in the tear tracks and red friction rashes that painted V’s face.

“Are you alright?” Logan found himself asking. V shrugged in response and shifted from foot to foot. Logan bit his lip and thought for a moment, glancing around the stargazing space.

“Do you perhaps wish to stay with me?” V nodded, hesitating before walking forward and stopping only a few feet away from Logan. Logan shrugged off his coat and shook it out before handing it carefully to V, smiling gently when he took it with a grateful nod.

V managed to settle on a dry patch of dirt- Logan refused to admit that he used his magic just for him to sit. V took the coat and wrapped it around his shoulders, holding the hands with a white-knuckled grip.

“Would you like to speak of what ails you?” Logan gently kneeled down as to not tower over the mortal.

V gazed up at him, the light behind his eyes morphic as if his soul were aching to tell him what was wrong. To Logan’s dismay, V broke their eye contact to look down at a flower, shaking his head just the smallest bit.

“‘Jus don’ wanna be alone,” V’s voice quavered, “Please?”

A sharp spike of pain shot its way through Logan’s heart. V’s shoulders trembled, him flinching when Logan reached forward before retracting his hand and shuffling to sit next to V.

“I won’t leave, I promise- it’s alright,” Logan soothed, keeping his eyes on the human for a few moments before tearing his gaze away. V spared a few glances to his side before slouching and allowing his body to relax.

The two sat in silence, the sky eventually recapturing Logan’s attention- though a part of him stayed focused on V’s presence. He glanced over to V for a moment before pulling his notebook out again and attempting to pick up where he had left off.

Out of the corner of Logan’s eye, he could see V staring down at the journal. He tilted his notebook towards V so he could see the drawing better while carefully drawing a faint line against the parchment, connecting two stars.

“Would you be interested in listening to my ramblings?” Logan asked with a gentle hum. V blinked up at him before nodding and scooting a bit closer.

“It’s easy to see the sky this time of year, I usually take the time to map the sky in this weather. You see,” Logan flipped the pages, showcasing a few very slightly different maps, “I do this once a month- I started this a few centuries ago. The earth orbits oh so slightly around the sun every day, changing the sky in such a way that you can practically never get the same image of the stars twice.

“Look here- This constellation, Taurus, is visible this time of year. If you look at the moon at the moment, the brightest star in the constellation, Aldebaran, is positioned close to the bottom left. Do you see it?” V nodded while looking to the sky. Logan smiled at the way the stars seemed to sparkle in his eyes, a newfound smile gracing V’s lips.

Logan continued to sketch and explain what each line meant, on occasion directing V’s gaze to a specific star or constellation. About an hour into their shared time, Logan felt the mortal lean his head against his shoulder, his eyes half-lidded and tired before fluttering closed. Logan smiled softly at the feeling of V’s warm body beside his. His lips tingled in a way he couldn’t make sense of. Logan turned his head and gently place a kiss on V’s forehead, resting his lips on the skin for a long moment before returning to quietly writing.

His chest burst with flurries of stardust and bliss. Later that evening Logan would have to scoop V up and take him back to his room, but for now to bask in the feeling of V beside him.

TIME SKIP

The following week, V seemed to open up more. While the emotion and nerves seemed to exhaust him by the end of the day, he still managed to spend the nights of the week out with Logan and Janus to watch the meteor shower.

“Did you know meteor showers are also referred to as shooting stars or star showers?” Logan tipped. V smiled and raised his eyebrows.

“Really? Well- I like star shower more than meteor shower. It sounds… Prettier.” He justified, Janus and Logan nodding in agreement. V shifted his gaze between the two fae before directing his gaze to the sky with wistful bliss coating his body.

“How do you just… know this stuff?”

“Humans haven’t discovered much of space- or any of it from what I’ve observed. But fae are a bit more… advanced than humans.” Logan explained, cringing slightly at his own wording.

“... Like with their eyesight?” V asked, not looking away from the stars. Logan sent him a small smile.

“Yes, you’re doing a wonderful job.” Janus nodded to Logan, giving him quiet praise of his own. V paused, his face morphing between expressions before he looked to the side, away from the fae. Janus looked over at the two from where he was standing, raising an eyebrow at V.

“Is there anything wrong, darling?” He asked. V’s eyes glanced over to the fae before snapping back to the sky.

“I… Space is…” He groaned and brought his hands to his face.

“Take your time little one.” Logan gently lifted V’s hand from his face, brushing his thumb over his knuckles. The touch was less to make sure that V didn’t hurt himself in his efforts to find words, more to just… touch him. Logan couldn’t explain to anyone why he felt such an urge to touch and pamper the mortal but he found he couldn’t find the need to.

“Space is big. I… Don’t know if I like it or not,” He continued, sighing before looking up again, “Space is big and… and scary and-” A few beats of silence passed before Janus frowned and strode over, kneeling in front of V and taking his chin gently in his hand.

“You’re leaving something out darling. It’s alright if you wish to tell us. We are more than happy to listen.” He hummed with a gentleness Logan wasn’t fully aware Janus was capable of- that didn’t mean he was surprised.

“It just… it reminds me of when I lived in my town.” The air immediately went stale.

“I wouldn’t- They wouldn’t let me in some nights. Some nights it was cold, others it was just dark, sometimes it was both. I… I hated it. Space wasn’t nice then- there was never enough light those days. It was like even the sky didn’t want anything to do with me…” V blinked blankly into space.

“I remember- the day I decided I was going to leave I was locked out. I already knew I was going to be but it still hurt. Someone had lit a bonfire at some point and I- I thought I was going to get burned again-” the fae’s blood boiled deep in their veins at how casually V uttered such abuse, “-so I just… planned in my head. I know there basically no going back. I’m… I’m alright with that. They don’t want me there anyway.”

V laughed at himself, tears springing into his eyes, “I’m not even sure I’m wanted here.”

A pang shot its way through Janus and Logan’s hearts as V tried to curl into himself. Janus reached carefully forward and cupped V’s cheeks in his hands, brushing his fingers against his cheekbones. Logan sat frozen as he tried to remember what the hell he’s supposed to do in these situations. Gods, human psychology books are hard to come by- let alone reliable books.

Logan swiped his thumbs against the backs of V’s hands, his throat bubbling as Janus cooed and soothed the mortal. V shook and tightened his grip on Logan’s hands.

“I don’t- I don’t know why I didn’t leave sooner. They wanted me to leave or- or die, or-” Janus hushed him softly, wiping away V’s tears as his voice was torn away from him. Logan looked up to Janus, silently begging for him to tell him to do something to help. He was answered with a glance of panic equal to his own

V let out a surprisingly quiet sob. Logan reached behind him and rubbed his back, his chest heavy with the need to hold him. Janus sighed sadly and reached his hands around V’s back pulling him forward to rest his forehead against Janus’s chest.

“Oh darling, it’s alright. Let go little one, we have you.” V took his now free hand and gripped tightly at Janus’s cloak, burying his face in his shirt. Janus wrapped one hand around his waist and buried his other hand in V’s hair.

“Take a deep breath starlight, breathe in- good,” Logan praised as V took in a deep shaky breath before wheezing it out and continuing to heave, “Come on little one. Look at me for a moment- just a moment.”

V turned his head, his red-tinted eyes meeting Logan’s, the tears seemingly never-ending. Logan reached the hand that was on V’s back up and gently took the hand V had on Janus’s chest into his own. He carefully pulled V’s hand towards his own chest, exaggerating his breathing. Janus watched the movements with understanding before beginning to move his hand in V’s hair.

“Darling, can you breathe with L? Can you do that dear?” Janus hummed while looking down at V. He nodded shakily and squeezed Logan’s hand a few times before attempting to follow his breathing.

Every so often V would space out and forget to breathe out but one of the fae would simply tighten their respective grips on him to grab his attention. After several failed attempts and gentle reassurances, the fae managed to get V’s breathing under control.

“Are you alright?” Janus asked, removing his arm from around V to allow him to move away. The mortal looked up with tired eyes before nodding and mouthing a reassurance voicelessly. He stood slowly, tugging his hands away from Logan and hugging himself at the sudden cold fire that burned his skin.

“I’m… gonna go to bed…”

“Would you mind us walking with you?” Logan stood up, brushing off the dust from his knees. V hesitated, biting his lip before slowly nodding. Only a moment later Janus was at his feet and the three began walking to the clearing.

The forest glowed with a strange aura of worry. As V walked ahead, leaves brushed against his arms as if the forest was trying to comfort him. After the practically silent trek to his room, he quickly reached for the door handle and twisted it.

“Wait!” Janus called, stepping forward quickly and took off his cloak, folding it and handing it to V, “If you start to feel lonely call for me darling.” Janus bent down slightly and pressed a kiss to V’s forehead. V gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and opened his door, holding the cloak close to him as he stepped through the gateway and closed it behind him.

Tension hung heavy in the air as the fae stared at the door, processing whatever the hell had happened in the past hour. Logan looked to Janus and clapped his mouth open and closed, words failing him at the moment. J sighed, fixing his hair and rubbing at his temples.

“I need some tea.”

TIME SKIP

“J, would you please calm down?”

“Calm down? Calm down?! L, you’re just as enraged as I am- don’t even try to hide it! That was completely unacceptable!” Janus ranted, pacing back and forth.

Logan let out a shaky sigh and flexed his fingers, sparks of magic popping aggressively under his skin. The rational part of Logan wanted to take a deep breath and talk about what had just occurred. The irrational part of him wanted to set something on fucking fire.

Rationality in any tense situation- and somehow it felt especially a situation under these circumstances- was hard to come by. Logan just so happened to have the eternal label of ‘voice of reason’.

“I am angry J, but perhaps now is not the time to… express that anger,” Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I have the feeling that we haven't even scratched the surface of his trauma.”

“And that's supposed to be comforting information?” Janus asked, sending a glare to the other fae. Logan sighed and sent a twin glare back.

“Well you see, I’m not the one who is known to provide comfort .” He bit.

“Yeah- sure, says the one who just comforted V.”

“This isn't-” Logan cut himself off, closing his eyes and breathing deeply? “This isn't the same thing- and this isn't helping. We're just getting angry at each other. At this rate, we aren't going to get anywhere with this new information.”

Janus sat down in a chair that they had brought from the dining room, slouching before burying his face in his hands with a heavy sigh. Logan pursed his lips and turned around to the now whistling kettle, pouring the boiling water in two teacups and placing a tea strainer in each cup to steep. He gripped the counter, closing his eyes for a moment to just think.

What should he do in this situation- gods what would anyone do in this situation? This wasn’t Logan’s field. It’s a damn miracle that he even got V to calm down! Humans are so... so complicated, and Logan couldn’t understand how they worked- let alone the topic of emotions and how those worked with humans.

Logan's eyes focused on the now gold-tinted water in front of him, his hands suddenly scrambling to take out the loose tea to put in bowl to the side. He spooned in honey and placed the tea cups on matching saucers, breathing slowly as he did so.

“Here,” Logan said as he turned around, carefully handing a plate to Janus before returning to his place against the counter.

“I… I appreciate your kindness. I regret my wrath, you weren’t deserving of that.” Janus looked to the floor, shame shining faintly in his eyes.

“It’s quite alright, I too was acting inappropriately,” Logan took a sip of his tea, letting the warm sweetness of the chamomile coat his tongue, “While our rage is fitting, now does not seem to be the time to apply such a harsh emotion. We have to discuss what we must do with what we now know.” Janus smirked over his cup, swallowing a bit of his drink.

“Right back to business as usual my dear,” He teased. Logan rolled his eyes, hiding his own smile as he looked to his shoes.

“While the tone change is very welcome, I would like to make a few suggestions as to what we can do as precautions.” And as quick as the light air had come, it was washed out and replaced with a serious fog.

“Do share.”

“Well, to start,” Logan wandered to his seat, placing his saucer and cup on his flat lap, “We should make a plan on how to handle breakdowns such as this and share it with the others. Neither of us would like to see what would become of a situation where one or more of us do not know how to calm down V.

“Second, we need to make plans on how to ease into conversations like that with V. Clearly the abruptness of the conversation did not aid in his panic. Third, we have to tread lightly around him for the next few days. Perhaps-”

“On the contrary, I feel he may be more distressed if he changed our body language over the next few days. He seems to be more comfortable with how we act currently over how we would behave if we were to walk on eggshells around him.” Janus explained.

“Why would we walk on eggshells-”

“Just a figure of speech dear.” A fond smile quirked J’s lips, the taller fae blinking at him as he processed the words.

“Oh- alright, so what are we to do in order to make him more comfortable?”

“Just… behave regularly. Perhaps ask the twins to hold off their activities for a day or two.” Logan nodded, bringing his cup to his lips.

“Nothing more to suggest from me, is there anything else you wish to say?” Logan asked, sipping his tea. Janus got a chaotic glint in his eye before he looked to his tea, stirring it gently.

“You spilled tea on your tunic?”

“I did?,” Logan looked down, scowling when his eyes met a yellow-ish stain, “ Damn!”

TIME SKIP

When V walked into the kitchen the next day, Pat had left a plate on the counter covered with a damp cloth and bowl to keep the food warm. It wasn’t anything V could note as eventful, but the thought still managed to calm what tension he had woken up with.

As he wandered into the dining room, he noticed Logan sitting in his usual seat, reading a book with a plate of crumbs in front of him. Janus stood on the other side of the room, tending to a line of herbs outside of a ‘window’ (V had found that the window was simply a projection, not exactly real but not exactly fake. He couldn’t wrap his head around it but he decided that it made sense.)

Logan peeked up from his book, sensing V’s presence in the room. He smiled gently up at him before taking a hand off of his book and carefully pulling out a chair beside him. V moved quickly to sit in the chair and placing his plate on the table.

“Good afternoon little one,” Logan greeted, causing Janus to look up sharply with hopeful eyes. Once he had spotted V, he softened his expression and took off his gloves, placing them on the windowsill before walking over to the two at the table.

“It’s hardly the afternoon dear- good morning darling, how was your sleep?” Janus asked, lifting V’s head before ruffling his hair fondly.

“I slept alright, nothing notable.” V lied through his teeth, both the fae in the room internally cringing at the taste it left in their mouths. Janus sent Logan a look.

Should we?

No, not yet. One day, but not now. We’ll get there eventually. Let's just… enjoy the morning while it’s here.

Logan couldn’t object. Especially when V appeared so comfortable in his seat eating his breakfast. He allowed his focus to drift back to his reading as Janus returned to his work.

LINEBREAK

Logan was still struggling to grasp how to handle V’s mental health- not for lack of trying. Emotions had never been and he supposed would never be his strong suit. He had asked Pat for assistance on how he could help V cope with his trauma, but he didn’t get much of an answer- Pat didn’t quite understand how humans worked either. His empathy though- when in tense situations- had always been admirable.

He found it scare, not being able to understand. His heart ached with the need to understand, sharp spikes of pain slicing through his chest whenever he would see V tense and shy away from touch he very obviously needed. It scared Logan to know he didn’t understand how to help, or what he was feeling, or why he was so damn protective over V.

Logan felt something for the human. Something he didn’t dare call devotion. Something he didn’t dare call love. He didn’t understand how he could feel such things- such trivial, sporadic, terrifying things.

Janus had suggested in a late-night exchange of quips and tea that perhaps Logan just cared for V. Logan… couldn’t object. Caring was easier than loving- and as Janus pointed out that Logan adamantly ignored, loving caring a were possible to do simultaneously.

Logan preferred to simply care because he understood what it was to do so. There was security in understanding. Logan would call whatever he felt for V simply caring if he understood it- if he felt secure in his words.

Security and understanding were when V seemed to need in dire situations. Logan could provide that. Truly, he would provide anything V needed if he so asked- even if he would never admit it to save his pride.

Logan cared for V- that was enough for him to understand. That was enough for him to feel safe in his thoughts. Enough for him to know he would keep V safe. Caring was enough.

Taglist: @i-read-by-lamp

[nochanchu]

the coldest nights (are the warmest with you)

pairing: park chanyeol x reader (unnamed oc) genre: slice of life au | fluff, themes of self-doubt and overthinking, includes negative thoughts (nothing too heavy but I figured I’d mention it) wc: 4,588 description: It’s nights like these that feel the warmest in his arms. author’s note: biggest shoutout to my girl @tendershepherd for pre-reading and editing this for me... I honestly have no clue if this thing would be finished without her. <3333333333 love yoooooooouuuu!!

As the bus doors hiss open to its final stop of the evening, she suddenly feels even more tired than before.

She’s used to hard days, even the occasional bad days, but today was, as much as she hates to recollect on it, a particularly shitty one. She can’t shake thoughts of the inevitable, of what she has been asked constantly—“are you going to work as a waitress forever?” “when are you getting a real job?” “do you think you can make a career off of writing?”—and all she can say is she doesn’t know, she never knows, she won’t know until something happens, whatever the fuck that may be. Because this isn’t certain, none of it is. The best thing she can do is wait and wait and wait, however long that may be.

Her grip on the brown paper bag tightens and the thermos presses harder into her chest, though she doesn’t care much for the slight burn of the ventilated metal.

Each of her steps take her down a path she hasn’t walked along in a few months, not since Chanyeol told her about obtaining this new recording space. She remembers how he pressed his lips to hers chastely and then passionately because he couldn’t bear to keep his excitement down, and she remembers kissing him back and letting him spin her in an embrace.

It’s been amazing to think back on the timeline of their relationship, now more than ever when she considers where they started. Friends with mutual friends who saw the vestiges of a beginning neither of them would have conceived in their junior year of college. Her least of all, until that night by the bar on the upcoming block, where Chanyeol had mistaken her for Sooyoung, their wingwoman, and how he confessed his feelings for practice for a later occasion that never really came. At the time, she hadn’t considered her feelings for Chanyeol—not yet at least—until his confession. She never imagined him liking her in that way, mainly because she hadn’t considered getting into any relationships altogether.

To her, romantic relationships were a hassle—an investment that she wasn’t sure she was ready to invest the time for. Friends were different. Friends were friends. They were an integral part of her life for their support and care that while a significant other could offer, she didn’t feel the pressure of presentation with her friendships. She was herself. She was bare-faced, comfortable clothes wearing, dressed up, vulgar, opinionated, and just about everything under the damn sun with them and they appreciated it all, and with them, there were no worries about turning someone off. Sure, they could have discussions and debates, but at the end of the day, she shared a beautiful relationship with her friends, and upon learning about Chanyeol’s feelings for her, she was grateful to him for being so patient with her.

She didn’t know what to do at first. One part of her feared the loss of a friendship with Chanyeol if she decided not to return his feelings. Another part of her wondered what things would be like with him, because they had always had an easygoing dynamic. And overall, she had no idea in the least what to do. She couldn’t decide.

He said that was okay. He said that even if she didn’t know what she wanted to do right away, he was content with sticking around until she did, no pressure, just support, because that was Chanyeol for you. Whether what she wanted was platonic or romantic, she had been certain that he would’ve stayed regardless; him confirming that only made her feel a little better.

He didn’t push for more, and that struck her. She didn’t realize how much she appreciated that until she thought back to past lovers. These were the ones that lasted only a few months at a time, who only wanted more on their own time and didn’t account for hers. Whether they got what they wanted or not, they left by the end of it, and to be honest, it stung. Much of that made her question her own place in relationships, and whether she was at fault for the downfalls of past ones or not, because there were times where she considered the things she could’ve done right to get them to stay, but somehow Chanyeol showed her that it wasn’t just up to her to get someone to stick around—the other person has to want to stick around too.

It took her a month to figure out what she wanted. She remembers how she confessed as he carried her on his back after she drunkenly tumbled off the play structure with only a scrape on her knee and how she repeated the confession the morning after she took his bed. Because his apartment was the closest from the group’s favorite bar at the time, she told him on the steps of the building that she was passing by that they had their first date—he bought her ice cream and let her take the perfect snapshot of it just to nurse her nasty hangover and desire to capture the moment.

Then, it took several months to an I love you. The very timbre of his laugh became her favorite song out of everything in his arsenal, but she blurted it out and he hugged her tight said he loved her too, more than anything in this whole world. (“Even music?” she asked, teasingly. He said ‘maybe’ and she went wide-eyed.)

A year and a half to move into together. Something he said in passing before offering to look at places with her when she casually agreed. Somehow they found an apartment, pretty far from their old studios, but cheaper and worthwhile.

And, two years to be here, comfortable and content. With each other, at least.

Life in and of itself has always been hard. She wrote and he made music, but neither of these things brought a lot of money on table. They worked side jobs (read: “practical” jobs) and that paid the bills, but finding the time for crafting was the real challenge. Neither of them knew when inspiration would strike, whether that was during her day job or the freelance one she took on to stay close to her writing roots, or Chanyeol during his assistant job at the radio station or when Chanyeol has a few hours to spare at the new studio.

Chanyeol was having better luck in that department; with some of his songs getting sold here and there, some producers even considering him as a prospective pupil under their wing for the bigger and better things they’ve been hoping for. Which meant more nights at the studio—a safe haven for him, a place that he could finally call his own. His studio was no longer just the cramped, well-insulated closet that he used to occupy up until he realized he couldn’t keep working there. She didn’t mind, even rooted for this next step into his future, and she’s still rooting for him. While his long nights away leave him sorely missed, she can’t help but feel a swell of pride and joy in knowing that he’s proving people wrong.

Her and Chanyeol have been creators for as long as they could remember, something they both relished in as hobbies and eventually taking up as occupations, because this is what they’re good at. She feels blessed to know that he understands what it means to create and put your all into something, even when it comes at the cost of judgement and doubt. Hell, writing, as valued as it’s made to be, has often posed issues between her, prospective lovers, and family members who often asked her why she hadn’t just taken up something that would get her more money instead of “wasting time,” but not Chanyeol. 

She likes to believe, mainly because of Chanyeol, she isn’t wasting time, that the student loans she accumulated won’t bury her with their accruing interest, that the publishers she’s submitted work to will get back to her with positive news, that the graduate schools she applied to will give her a second glance, and that the school she had gone to wasn’t a mistake imposed upon her by her family because it was close and convenient. She likes to believe that, well, she wouldn’t be a complete failure after all the years she spent planning and mapping out these years of her life.

/

When the studio’s familiar, incandescent gleam materializes before her, she finally feels like she can breathe.

Namjoon, Chanyeol’s right-hand man, greets her at the door. She instantaneously hugs him and runs a hand through his mint-haired locks, still not over the change but somehow finding it befitting for him and the new chapter beginning for him and Chanyeol. “M’so glad you’re here,” he says just a little too fast, but far too tired to care.

“Well, go eat and rest,” she replies, knowing a little too well that he’s probably going to walk over to the diner two blocks over because of the cute waitress that almost always serves him there. “Try scoring her number this time, yeah?”

“Whatever.” He smiles at her, warning her that Chanyeol’s in the zone, before departing.

Her presence goes unnoticed inside the studio, as expected. She simply places the thermos, still warm as ever, and the paper bag onto the space of Namjoon’s former spot and waits.

She watches Chanyeol as his gaze remains planted on the screen, listens to the unfamiliar melodies of the song blasting through his headphones, enjoying its progression even though she can’t pinpoint the same flaws that he does. She still finds herself drawn to his process, immersive and meticulous as it is, because of him; the same determined man she has come to love over the past two years.

To say the least, Chanyeol has always been a dreamer, always yearned for more, and “more” for him at first was something as simple as purchasing new equipment. It probably wasn’t until obtaining his own space that “more” became a hope for bigger and better. “More” wasn’t just the latest equipment; it was recording songs, creating beats, writing lyrics. It became perfecting what was already good, because he aimed for flawless.

His work always struck her as a mish-mash of anything and everything, of a genre that she could not simplify. Her bias went beyond just enjoying everything he did, it was truly experiencing these pieces for what they offered. What always stayed in her mind with every piece was the fact that he put bits of himself into it, and she knows, as a creator like him, what that’s like firsthand. She knows the painstaking notions of putting her heart and soul into her work, and always hoping that the message reaches someone—that the hard work is recognized.

This line of work is hard. It can be so fucking vicious when you let it all eat up at you, and even though neither of them say it, they appreciate each other for understanding what it’s like to hope and hope and hope. Even when the outcome can be nothing but a bare minimum of words from an audience they expected way too much from, but knowing how much people are receiving his works makes her heart swell, because he deserves it.

She hears him say her name.

Chanyeol’s voice sounds hoarse and deeper than usual, probably from lack of use and fatigue creeping in. She wishes she could take him back to bed and rid him from the purplish hues underneath his eyes, but she doesn’t want to take him away from work.

She smiles, and in a tone aiming for teasing, but probably looking more tired, she says, “Now you notice me.”

He frowns a little.

“Sorry, got caught up. I thought you’d be home by now.” He fully turns toward her and rises to walk over. This excites her, even if she didn’t mean to take him away from his work.

“You can keep working. Don’t let me distract you,” she warns him before rising as well.

“Nonsense. You came all the way here,” he says, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her in close.

He manages to plop them both down to the couch before she can say another word, positioning them where her head can reside atop of his chest and they can curl together. She instantaneously leans into his touch without regards to her previous statement because she relishes in everything he so effortlessly offers her—his warmth, his scent, him.

This reminds her of how long it’s been since they’ve shared a moment like this. At least now that she’s coherent enough to register his touch, she’s certain that she has felt the ghost of it in a half-asleep stupor at godforsaken hours of the night, but what with all his free hours spent here, she’s seen him less and less. The only chance she has is the first few minutes of waking when she looks to her right and sees him beside her before they have to part ways for work.

She blurts out, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He pauses, and she can feel him looking at her now. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” She stops, trying to recollect the thoughts she’s been mulling over. She knows there’s no lying to him, not even a white lie could convince him. “I’m tired, Chan.” It’s the best way to summate everything.

“Sleepy tired or tired in general?”

“Both. Mostly of work. Of waiting to hear back from publishers and grad school programs. Of everyone’s questions about what I’m doing, because I have no fuckin’ clue. You know people ask me as if I have the answer to that one goddamn question that’s supposed to make up the rest of my life. They’ll ask me why didn’t I switch over to something else, why I’m being so stubborn about what I want to do, but I can’t help it. I’m not cut out for other things like math and science. I know this is not what will bring money to the table, that the kind of nine to five I’m working is the horror story you tell your kids about pursuing anything but STEM, but I’m good at writing, at telling stories that others can’t, and I’m trying I—I swear—” Somehow it feels like everything she’s been trying to dial down is spilling over.

She didn’t realize how bad it was. She always figured it would fade out into existence eventually, and all those worries about post-graduate life would be nothing but a mere bump in the road. This felt more like a major sinkhole ready to swallow her whole.

He holds her face up, caressing her cheeks.

Everything feels less heavy when she’s with him. Like all the noise mutes over as she meets his gaze, because when she sees those warm eyes, she knows it will all be okay somehow.

“I know, baby. You are trying. I know you are. You know you are. Those people that tell you otherwise don’t mean shit, because they don’t know what you go through behind closed doors. How much you adore writing and the kind of wonderful things that come from your work. Or how you get so fired up about a subject and there’s nothing stopping you from making a point or researching something until you fully understand it so you can relay it back to the person you were talking to about it. Those people who doubt you and your capabilities only know what they see, and all they’re seeing is the very bare minimum, because if I were a publisher, I would’ve done a contract with you ages ago. And, if I were a grad school, I’d sure as hell give you the best scholarship to attend.”

She chuckles, enjoying the way she can feel his heartbeat against her. “You’re biased, but thank you.”

“I mean every word and you know that. If I could announce to the world that my girlfriend is the most creative and capable writer who deserves to teach students so they can be instilled with that same joy, then I would, a million, bajillion times over and over again until my voice goes hoarse.”

“Really?” she asks softly.

He nods.

She can tell he still has more to say, so she waits.

His hands opt to stroke her hair. “I tell my friends any chance I get that you’re gonna hit the bestseller list—they may or may not have it memorized by now, but still. I mean it. You are so talented. You are hardworking and dedicated. Even though things aren’t happening right away; they will happen. Things take time. And if there are some detours or even other paths that pop up, then it must be for the best, but I truly believe that you will publish at least one book and grad school is gonna accept you. I hope you know that.”

“I know.” In an even smaller voice, she says, “I just get scared, you know? I don’t wanna fail. I don’t wanna prove those people right. I wanna be able to say that despite all the setbacks, it was all worth it in the end.”

“It’s okay to be scared. I think we all are. You know I am. I work like crazy, but that’s only because I don’t wanna lose out on my shot to do better for us. I wanna do the very best that I can, so I can say I tried even if I don’t make it where I want to be.”

“Huh?” she asks, trying to meet his eyes.

“I don’t know whether where I want to be in a few years will stay the same or if it’ll change some time down the road. What if other things come up? Like we have to move or someone needs help or something. God forbid, no one gets sick or anything like that, but at the very least, even if I totally bomb after a few more songs, I think I’d be satisfied knowing that I tried my hardest to get to that dream of having an album at first before taking a different path. I don’t want to live with regrets, so I think this is a good way to about things.

“Plus, success can be defined and re-defined in a number of ways. Sometimes ‘success’ is getting that one book published or having an album out. Whatever reception either of those receive might not be what we expect, but I guess the accomplishment of making something happen should count for something. There really is no marker of success unless you define it so, and I might sound like I’m talking out of my ass right now, but I mean, those self-help books you leave lying around really are helpful.”

She laughs again, really looking at him this time.

As solemn as he sounded, the smile on his face makes her chest tight in a non-painful way. It’s like her heart just wants to remind her of just how much she loves him, and she clings to him even tighter than before, now nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck.

“I’m glad I came. It feels like it’s been too long since I’ve seen you and talked to you like this,” she mentions, letting out a small sigh, “And, I know it seems like I’ve gotten comfortable,” she laughs, “but I really don’t mind if you go back to work, I swear. I just… I don’t want to be alone right now.”

He says after a while, “You know, I’ve been working so much I didn’t even ask you how you’ve been—you had to come all the way over to me from work just to talk, I’m really, really sorry—”

She shakes her head fervently. “Don’t be. There’s nothing you should feel sorry about, okay? I’m happy you’re working. I’m glad one of us is. I’ve just been in my head too much. But being here with you makes me feel better. Watching you work—which you should do—makes me happy.”

He sighs, muttering under his breath about how stubborn she is. She smiles a little.

“I also needed the peace of mind that you’re eating properly, so I brought you some food. Chowder in the thermos and some sourdough rolls in the paper bag. The bread’s probably not the best right now after I trucked through two blocks of cold, but still.”

“I’ll love it,” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you.”

She smiles against his chest.

/

“Do you want to hear the song I’ve been working on?”

“What?” she asks, blinking at him.

When Chanyeol’s in his chair, that means business; she knows more than anyone else how much he values his time. To waste any precious minute sidetracked is the equivalent of blowing a song’s progress. It’s harsh, though he’s never told her to leave him alone—she knows when to leave him be just as he knows how to leave her be when the inspiration bug bites her. But for some reason, he turns his attention to her and away from the screen.

He repeats the question this time punctuated with a small laugh, because she must look confused more than ever.

“You can focus on your work, you know. I don’t want to distract you.”

“Pfft.” His lips turn upward, enough for his cheekbones to become more prominent. “You aren’t distracting me. I’d actually appreciate some fresh ears right now. Joon must’ve been going insane, because I’ve been playing the same loop for the past half and a half.” She probably doesn’t look convinced, because he adds, “I promise you aren’t distracting me. I want you to hear this. You don’t have to move either. I can see how tired you are right now.”

“Chan—” She sighs, feeling a teensy bit curious. How long has it been since she’s heard a demo of his anyway? “Are you sure?”

He nods. “Really. I almost feel like you need to hear it.”

This intrigues her.

“Alright.”

She doesn’t know what to expect at first. Listening to Chanyeol’s music has always been a commonality; his music is an extension of him, of his soul, and it’s never anything that sounds or feels like the same thing twice, thrice, or whatever. It’s always different, always touching her in ways that she can’t quite place, because he is him. He is talented, beautiful, and touching all the same. He is the warmth she seeks when nights are cold, when nights like this threaten to keep her up despite all the fatigue that eats at her.

The beat is slow at first, a small yet haunting sound that strikes her upon the first few seconds. It continues to reverberate across her chest, louder and yet calming as his voice softly fills the room, “Can’t you see?” It’s like an audible whisper, as if he’s asking her instead of the imaginary listener, so she shuts her eyes and hopes to picture the next lines.

“The moon rises and the sun falls for nights like this/For these moments we call our own,” Namjoon joins in, still keeping the tranquil melody and helping her conjure a memory from the first time they invited her to the studio. It wasn’t the first time she had scene it or seen them in action, but it was the first time they had worked so effortlessly without the hiccups of a four-by-four foot space. Or the first night in the apartment. It’s small, no doubt, but having something to call your own—priceless, unforgettable. They had ached for things to call their own, for successes that would fight against doubt and adversity, and slowly but surely, they were doing exactly that.  

She can’t stop the smile imprinting deeper on her face, how much she wishes she could just reach over and grab Chanyeol’s hand when he sings, “When you are alone and it feels like I’m too far/I’m here, I’m holding your hand, your heart”—she wanted to tell him that it was true, that even with hours apart from one another, she had no doubt that his love supplemented her focus and efforts and that if there was one place to call home, it was always going to be a place with him.

“All for us,” she remembers he once told her. At the end of the day, everything they did was for their future together, for them to say that they did what they could, and that’s all that matters. She could work at the diner or she could enter graduate school to get another goddamn degree, maybe both, maybe neither. She was trying—she knew that, even a small, minute part— and Chanyeol knew that too. She didn’t need to get signed with a publishing house yet, though it would be nice, she didn’t need it right away. She didn’t even need the recognition of her family to give her what she had now, because no one but Chanyeol could give her something as special as this.

This might have been her favorite line for more than obvious reasons: “All for nights like this.”

Nights like this; ones where she can leave behind her worries and be here, present with someone who loves her and her passions without considering the benefits that come with her, someone who cares to live for and in the moment without getting caught up in that social media bullshit, someone who is the one and only,  Park Chanyeol.

He stays through the trials, tribulations, happiness, and peace; he helps, cares, and tries, lives with all that he can. He inspires her and even at the possible forfeit of his own productivity, he asks her to stay with a gentle smile on his face—even as sleep overtakes her without hesitation after the first play of the song.

/

She doesn’t remember how long she laid on that couch even after Chanyeol got up to eat and went back to work. She vaguely recalls him telling her to stay, so they can both go home together, but she doesn’t ever remember getting woken up to leave.

What she feels beside her in the warmth that once surrounded her within the first hour of her arrival. This is the very warmth that carries the ability to soothe and heal the ache in her mind and soul. And, while she wakes to a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead and limbs entangled in a small space, she doesn’t worry about falling off the couch when she knows all too well who has her waist locked into place and keeps her right there on the edge—the comfortable kind.

She doesn’t know what time it is, nor does she care to reach for her phone inside the pocket of her hanging jacket off by a nearby chair. She doesn’t really care whatever the time may be, because right now, she feels the weightlessness of contentment. Even with an uncertain future, she knows she’ll be okay.

With Chanyeol helping her stay afloat, she knows she’ll be okay.

She feels his arms come back around her frame again. He gives her a squeeze (“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” he seems to say), and she does the same thing back (“I know, and I appreciate you,” she wants to say).

[itsjustanothertuesday]

Lost and Found: Bechloe AU

Howdy, everyone! I wrote a quick AU drabble about a super famous Chloe meeting producer Beca within LA when Beca finds her lost dog :)

Description: Chloe Beale, an incredibly talented and famous actress, happens to lose her dog whilst filming her latest movie. After several attempts to find her dog, she ends up posting on social media for help finding him. It wasn't until amateur music producer Beca Mitchell randomly stumbled upon the dog on her way home that Chloe was able to reunite with her furry best friend.

Chloe Beale was a well-known actress. Everyone knew her bold yet characteristic red hair from the frequency in which she starred in blockbuster films. She was in at least one movie a year, hopping from project to project in a seemingly effortless fashion. Her workaholic nature and overall talent in acting had scored her a variety of roles, spanning from musicals to horror films to chick flicks. This kind of attention had granted her constant talk show interviews, magazine shoots, and even the title “the ginger Sandra Bullock.” She was, by consequence, everywhere.

Chloe Beale was a well-known actress.

So when her small little dog went missing, basically the entire world knew. She normally took her dog with her to every set, letting him sit in her lap whilst she sat in the makeup trailer. However, Chloe was stationed at a new set for an upcoming movie, and her dog had managed to escape her trailer during filming. After a solid day of forcing the cast and crew to search for her beloved dog, she ended up posting a sad callout post on her Instagram, hoping that a kind stranger across the city of Los Angeles would find her dog and bring him back to her.

chloebeale: The love of my life, my dog Billie, somehow escaped the set of When in Rome and has been missing for several days. I’ve been searching relentlessly for him and thought I would find him by now, but neither me nor the cast has been able to find him around the studio. If someone has any sort of news or has spotted my dog, please let me know!! He is kind and friendly so don’t be scared to approach him. He also really likes hot dogs!! He is most likely somewhere around LA and I hope you guys can help me find him!!

The fact that she had several million Instagram followers both helped and hurt: although her post would reach a lot of people, her inbox was usually flooded from fan messages. Adding to the point that wealth tended to accompany fame, Chloe chalked her dog’s return to good faith in humanity, hoping that someone wasn’t sadistic enough to keep him for ransom or to blackmail her. She was still obviously worried, and spent her time between takes constantly scouring her direct messages for any news. This current week in filming happened to be the more melancholic component of her upcoming movie, so she was still able to keep working despite the resurgence of a depressive episode. Once she left the set, however, she no longer had the hair and makeup crew to hide her disheveled, defeated demeanor.

Every now and then one of her friends would call her to check in on her – to which she dismissed them or had no updates. A few of them would try to take her out to lunch or get her out of the house, since she never left except to meticulously scan the surrounding neighborhoods for Billie whilst driving. Her roommate was at least making sure she was eating, and oftentimes had to physically pull Chloe off the couch to have her shower. Secretly, Chloe appreciated it. But she still pitched a struggle regardless.

After 4 days of coming up empty handed, Chloe was ready to give up. Of course she loved her dog to the end of the world, but she found it hard to function without him sitting next to her or sharing a space on her bed. She was steadily running out of ideas. So when she heard her phone ring on Day 4, Chloe was ready to brush off yet another phone call from her friends trying to drag her out of the house. As she lay horizontally on her couch, she could see her phone light up from the surface of her coffee table, chiming with a custom Britney Spears ringtone she had downloaded a few years prior. It rang the full course of the song, and the caller was booted to voicemail.

After several moments of staring at her phone, she ended up slapping her hands against the table to grasp it when it was just out of reach, curious to who was calling her at 1pm on a Saturday. Strangely enough, it was a number Chloe didn’t recognize. But they did leave a voicemail. A shaky voice started to speak on the other end, pausing awkwardly at points and leaving weird moments of silence. Chloe continued to listen anyway.

Voicemail, 1:04pm: “Hey, um, Chloe. I’m calling to let you know that I think I found your dog? Well, I know it’s your dog. Your name is on the tag of his collar, and I recognize him from online and stuff. Anyway, I found this number also on the tag so I thought I’d call. I found him down by the waterfront, so I took him to my place. I fed him some cat food… sorry it’s all I have. Um, yeah. Give me a call back when you get this. Thanks. Bye”

Chloe sat mouth agape for a strong second before immediately pressing the return call button. Her heartbeat continued to escalate as she listened to the dial tone, praying the person would immediately pick up since they only left a voicemail just a few minutes prior.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” Chloe breathed, excitement hitched in her throat. “You found my dog?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I took him to my apartment for safety. He’s doing okay.” The voice reciprocated.

“Holy shit.” Chloe muttered, disbelief plaguing her face. “Shit, yeah, can I see him? Where do you live? I don’t know if that’s a weird thing to ask, sorry.” The redhead was near emanating the awkwardness from the other girl across the line, desperate to see her furry friend. She quickly debated whether or not this was a scam, but not many people had Chloe’s phone number, so she took the risk in thinking this mysterious girl actually found Billie.

“No, it’s totally fine, I get it. Plus I kinda know who you are anyway.” The girl realized that might have sounded crazy fan stalkery, so she continued: “You’re not a complete stranger, I mean. I can text you my address?”

“Yes please, that would be great.” Chloe bulldozed over the asynchrony. “When can I come get him?"

“Anytime today works, I guess.”

“Okay, be there in an hour.” And with that, the redhead quickly hung up the phone to go throw on better clothes and gather an assembly of dog treats.

Beca Mitchell was an amateur producer. She had skipped college to pursue a music career, thriving off a large SoundCloud presence and having a keen ear for mixing. She had self-moved to LA after being hired by a small producing firm by the shore, mainly keeping to herself and just concentrating on her music. Her days at the studio were long, but she didn’t do much at home to warrant complaining about her extended hours.

Beca Mitchell was an amateur producer.

So when she spotted the raggedy white dog that belonged to none other than Chloe Beale, she was a little beside herself. She was walking back to her apartment after surprisingly getting out of work while the sun was still out, taking several side alleys after picking up something at the pharmacy. Although the terrified pup was cowering by a pile of trash and was remarkably dirty, Beca could still recognize the characteristic mop-like look that she saw every now and again on social media. Even though she hated to admit that she followed current celebrity news, it was hard not to when living in the heart of all the showbiz. Plus, she had to keep up-to-date if she ever were to work with any of them.

After she cautiously approached the smaller dog, she took the liberty to take him into the safety of her apartment. Beca had a pet of her own, a goofy male tabby cat, so the only pet food she had to give Billie was technically for cats. It’s not like it really mattered all that much, since the dog graciously took the food and water Beca provided for him. She later soothed and stroked his back, relaxing him to the point where both the dog and the cat ended up lazily dozing on the couch. It wasn’t until everything calmed down that Beca realized that Chloe Beale’s dog was now in her apartment. And what the actual fuck was she supposed to do?

She investigated both Chloe’s Instagram and Twitter, but figured it would be difficult to get ahold of someone of that status. And how many people at this point claimed they found her dog already and were just hoping to meet Chloe in the process? Billie readjusting on the couch interrupted her thoughts, as the dog caused a jingling commotion from his collar during the shuffle. Beca’s eyes widened at the sound, immediately getting up to examine the collar for dog tags. Low and behold, listed on an engraving was Chloe’s name and phone number.

After a quick glance over at Billie, she tentatively picked up her phone and tapped the digits onto the phone screen. Her initial call was sent to voicemail, so she left a trembling message for the actress that her dog was now in her possession. It didn’t take long for the redhead to call back, and the two decided that Chloe was coming by to get her dog within the hour. Within the hour. Oh, shit. The mildly star struck Beca had already lost track of time, and the knock on her door was indicative that her hour had already passed.

She approached the door with soft footsteps, adjusting the dark flannel she was wearing and patting her hair down in an attempt to look presentable. She took a quick peek through her peephole before letting out an abbreviated sigh, unlocking the door from the inside and opening to the sight of Chloe Beale.

She was shorter in person than on film, but still surpassed Beca by a few inches. She adorned bright red hair, accompanied by crystal eyes that beamed in excitement but also a touch of anxiety. She fumbled her hands along the length of her fuzzy sweater, not speaking immediately but almost expecting Beca to say something first. Beca was too mesmerized by the beauty that was in her doorway to speak.

She shook her head and squinted her eyes quickly before breaking the silence. “Uh, hi. Come in.” The redhead crossed the entryway, waiting for Beca to close the door before following her to the living room. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to bathe him or anything.”

“Billie!” Chloe exclaimed, prompting the dog to bolt from the couch and greet her. Beca clamped her mouth shut from additional commentary, merely just watching the two reunite.

Only a few moments had passed before Chloe spoke again. “Thank you so much for finding him. I was beginning to lose it. I also thought someone had found him and just wanted to keep him, or something weird. Just thank god it was you.” She had put emphasis on the word “you,” a detail Beca was mentally over-analyzing as the redhead spoke. “And you didn’t have to go to the effort of giving him a bath too, nonsense!”

She continued to pet her dog as Beca stood there somewhat awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed in the conversation. The feeling of her cat rubbing on her leg prompted her to answer: “He became good friends with my cat, at least."

Chloe beamed at Beca from her crouching position. “That’s amazing. I didn’t think he liked cats.”

“His name is George Clooney.” Chloe giggled, causing Beca to also snicker at the announcement of her cat’s name. It was kinda stupid, she had to admit. But she got the idea from one of her closest friends naming their cat after Meryl Streep.

“And what about your name? I realized I never asked.” The redhead stood up to match Beca’s eyeline, cradling Billy in her arms.

“Beca.” The shorter brunette answered firmly.

“Well, nice to meet you Beca.” The two exchanged a semi-firm handshake, and they erupted into nervous giggles once they realized the formality of the greeting.

“I really appreciate this, you have no idea.” The redhead began, peering at her dog. “Can I make it up to you somehow? How about lunch, dinner?”

Beca smiled, easing into the kindness that she wouldn’t have otherwise expected. Chloe was genuine, and Beca could respect that. “I can do dinner, for sure.”

“Awesome. Then it’s a date.”

Beca blinked several times in a row, not sure if Chloe meant a date or a date date. Chloe refusing to break eye contact whilst flashing a wide smile indicated that she was serious. Man, that smile was infectious.

“Yeah, a date.” Beca finalized, breaking out into a larger smile as the two women continued to stand there, easing into each other’s presence.

[swiggity-swump]

Christmas Cookies

ok so look here guys I write pretty much exclusively platonic fics for voltron because I've actually watched very little of the show and I don’t really have (m)any ships in particular but,,,,,, I think I’ve dug myself a watery grave next to Davy Jones with this one lads because all of a sudden I will do down with this ship

(and like this isn’t even particularly romantic I just! want to see more of these two chillin together. which two am I referring to? YOU’LL HAVE TO READ TO FIND OUT haha lol I’m great at clickbait guys. jk the whumpmas people will put it in the tags and starclan knows that all of one (1) people will read this on my blog)

@vldwhumpmas2017 GET THAT GOOD DAY 5 CONTENT FROM YA GIRL ZEE

(it’s real late guys I’m so tired)

Cooking with Altean equipment and ingredients always required concentration. Everything was new and unfamiliar. Hunk couldn’t let his mind drift off like he did when he cooked anything at home or he was liable to end up with something that nobody wanted to eat, not even the mice, and they were significantly less picky than any of his friends.

What it was that was distracting him that day, he couldn’t have said. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that Hunk hadn’t been wearing any kind of protection when he reached into the oven.

The tray clattered loudly to the floor, covering Hunk’s cry of pain. He sagged against the counter, hunched over his burned hands. He felt his eyes beginning to well up and tried to blink the tears away, only to feel them already rolling down his cheeks.

A shadow appeared in the doorway. “Hunk?”

“Keith.” The single word held all of Hunk’s emotions - his pain, his embarrassment and simultaneous relief at being found. Keith crossed the room to get to him, closing the oven as he passed it, and wordlessly held out his hands. Hunk extended his own so that Keith could see, inhaling sharply when Keith’s finger brushed against the tender skin.

“Sorry.” Keith carefully adjusted his grip, peering at Hunk’s hands with an unreadable expression. As gently as he could, he straightened Hunk’s curled fingers to get a better look at them.

“I think you’ll be okay,” he said finally, starting to pull Hunk in the direction of the sink. “They look like first-degree burns.”

“Isn’t first-degree the worst one?” Hunk asked nervously.

A tiny smile quirked up Keith’s lips. “That’s murder. The worst burns are third-degree.” He twisted the handle to turn the sink on, placing a finger under the steady stream to monitor the temperature. When it was to his liking, he placed Hunk’s hands under the water.

Hunk winced at first; the water passing over his burns felt like too much for the sensitive skin. Keith firmly held Hunk’s wrists in place, though, and eventually Hunk was able to relax as the cold started to lessen the pain.

Keith finally noticed the dropped sheet. “Were you… making Christmas cookies?” The sugar cookies, strewn on and off the platter, were meticulously cut into five-point stars. Hunk would have liked to do gingerbread people like he usually did, but without any cookie cutters he’d had to settle for geometric shapes he could cut with a knife.

“Yeah.”

“Why?” The question threw Hunk.

“Well… I mean, it’s right around that time on Earth. I asked Pidge and she said it’s, like, December 23rd or something.”

“I didn’t even think about it,” Keith confessed. “I just kind of figured that… y’know, we wouldn’t celebrate it in space.”

Hunk shrugged. “I don’t know if we’re really gonna do anything big. It’s just, everyone’s been so down recently. I mean, it’s understandable, given the fact that we’ve been away from our homes for months, and the Galra are constantly on our tail, and we’re really poorly equipped to handle, like, any attacks from them-”

“Hunk.”

“Sorry. But, anyway, I just wanted to do something to try to cheer everyone up a bit. And cookies usually work for that. I just sort of went with the Christmas idea on the spot.”

Keith nodded slowly. “I guess that makes sense.” Leaving Hunk by the sink, he walked over and picked up the cookie sheet, careful to hold it level and avoid losing any more cookies. Hunk was saddened by the amount left on the floor, but it wasn’t unsalvageable; about half of the batch was left unharmed.

“Do you think you could decorate those for me?” Keith whipped around, eyes wide. Hunk had surprised himself with the question, actually, but he knew immediately that it was a good idea.

“Me?” Keith was hesitant, but Hunk saw him waver when he darted a glance down at Hunk’s hands, still sore and red under the water. He tried to make his expression as pitiful as possible. It seemed to work, because Keith seemed to panic a bit when he looked back up at Hunk.

“I don’t… I wouldn’t… I mean, I’d probably just ruin them. I don’t know anything about decorating cookies.” He looked down at the still-warm cookies, uncertainty clouding his eyes.

“You’ll do fine. I can walk you through it from over here,” Hunk encouraged. “It’s easy. Just frosting and sprinkles. Or the closest I could get to frosting and sprinkles, anyway.”

“All right.” Keith gave in. “What do I do first?”

Hunk nodded towards the bowl of yellow frosting he’d managed to make with some creative engineering of the food goo. “Give that a good stir or two and then just spread it over the cookies. It doesn’t have to be perfect, just try and make it even.”

He craned his neck to watch as Keith followed his instructions, face pinched in a frown of concentration. It took him several minutes to frost the first cookie; he was being incredibly careful, perhaps more than was necessary. Still, Hunk waited patiently as Keith moved onto the next one and then the next. As he got used to working with the frosting, he fell into a rhythm, and each one was completed more quickly than the last.

“How’s that?” he asked when he’d finally finished the last one. His voice betrayed no emotion, but Hunk could tell by looking into his eyes that he was nervous, not sure if he’d gained Hunk’s approval.

He had nothing to worry about, of course. The frosting was a bit thinner than Hunk would have done, but that was an individual choice, not necessarily a bad one. The cookies looked beautiful - the frosting went right up to the edges of each one, and was evenly spread. Hunk turned off the sink and walked over to get a closer look, noticing as he did so that Keith had a way of swirling the knife that left a delicate pattern in the frosting.

“You did great,” he said warmly. Keith smiled widely. Hunk was surprised at how readily the smile came, but the smile was contagious; he couldn’t help smiling back.

“Now it’s just the sprinkles,” he said, nodding towards the various garnishes that he’d found and set out earlier. “You can use all of them on each cookie, or different ones, or whatever you want. Leave some without any, too. I think Shiro likes them better that way,” he added as an afterthought.

Keith examined each container, weighing his options, while Hunk gently patted his hands dry with a towel. They were still a bit raw, but the burns were much less painful than they’d been earlier. He’d ask Coran if there was any sort of ointment he could use later.

Keith was intently focused on decorating the star cookies now. He’d already covered about a quarter of them with some sort of silver flakes, and had moved on to carefully arranging long red strips of something across another set of stars. Hunk nodded his approval at the neat lines.

Lastly, Keith opened the container of green powder that Hunk had found. “Is this one… spicy?”

“I think so,” Hunk answered. “Maybe go easy on that one.”

A mischievous grin crossed Keith’s face. Dumping an inordinate amount onto one of the cookies, he announced, “That one’s for Lance.”

Do you ever just write a bit and you nod to yourself and you’re like “goddamn i’m good. i’m such a good fucking writer” well that’s me with the first-degree/third degree bit I thought I was so clever coming up with that

[dovechim]

it’s okay, that’s love 01

➾ water polo player!jimin x psychiatrist!reader ft the rest of bangtan

requested by this anon 

➾ warnings: mentions of mental illnesses (depression, anxiety, ocd, split personality disorder etc), self harm, angst, fluff, smut 

➾ word count: 8.3k

➾ Summary: People are constantly making some kind of connection with each other- be it friendship or romance. But human bonds always lead to messy complications; commitment, sharing, driving people to the airport, letting them get up close and personal with the darkest parts of ourselves. And sure- it’s scary as hell to watch them cross those boundaries you’ve so meticulously drawn, but it’s okay, because that’s love.

➾ disclaimer: this is purely a work of fiction and i do not claim to be a qualified mental health professional. this work is not intended to provide any medical advice of any sort, please consult a licensed physician instead. 

a/n: so this is it! my attempt at starting a series that deals with slightly more touchy and sensitive topics. please do not ask me when the next update will be out, check my updates page instead!!  tagging my favourite people to scream with @blueagust and @yoongihime and @jheartseok thank you for being so lovely and enduring supporting me no matter how much i rant to you <3 

It’s your 10th hour straight on your feet, and your morning shift has evolved into an evening one without your knowledge with no sign of ending anytime soon. There’s an ache that settles into your shoulder blades and your neck makes the most grotesque cracking sounds when you rotate it.

“How are you doing this evening, Mr Seung?” The bright smile on your face that you greet all your patients with is not dimmed by your fatigue.

“Ah, I’m alright today Dr ______,” the wizened old man gives you a fond smile, and the concern in his eyes turns into a nonverbal reprimand when he picks up on your physical state. “Why are you still here? I thought you were on the morning shift today.” 

“I’m just doing my last rounds,” you reach over to tuck the bleached white sheets around him more securely, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth at his chiding tone. When his mock glare doesn’t let up, you pat his hand gently with a laugh. “I’ll be out of your hair after this- I promise!! At this rate people would think I’m your patient instead.”

You reach for the clipboard at the end of his bed and check the last entry made just that morning, taking note of the lowered levels of Ambien. “Are you sleeping okay at night?”

“It’s much better now, don’t worry dear,” he says with a wistful smile. “I still see her sometimes- only in my dreams now- but it doesn’t hurt. And she doesn’t ask me to go and see her anymore.”

You check the bandages on his wrists thoroughly. “You’re doing great Mr Seung. If the dreams come back, be sure to tell me okay?”

“I will, but… it’s just... if the dreams stop, will I forget her? If I don’t see her anymore, what if I forget how she looks like?” His voice is lowered and there’s a certain shakiness to it. 

“Mr Seung, your wife is doing well, I promise. And you won’t forget her, you know why?” You close your hand over his and bring it up to his heart. “Because she’ll always be in here, and she would want you to live your best life. So you have to hurry and get better.”

He accepts your words with genuine relief in his eyes, and his head reclines back against his pillow. You reach over to adjust it more comfortably beneath his silver head of hair before dimming the table light next to him. 

“Goodnight, Mr Seung. See you tomorrow.” You let yourself out of his private ward, closing the door gently. 

You head for the reception to drop off the latest updates for Mr Seung, and your fellow resident Sejeong sidles up next to you, peering over her shoulder for a glimpse of the other cute resident, Kim Taehyung, who’s a million percent idiotic and zero percent cute, at least to you.

“He’s not here,” you mumble in slight amusement before Sejeong nearly topples over the counter.

“Ugh,” her bottom lip sticks out in a pout as she slouches in disappointment. “How am I gonna make it through the rest of the night without him?”

“I’m sure you’ll manage somehow,” you scribble off the last note on your clipboard before replacing the pen in your pocket. 

“Wait, speaking of, why are you still here? You know morning shift means you get off at 5pm right?” Sejeong narrows her eyes at you.

“I know- it’s just, Irene sunbae–nim asked me to take over for the final rounds, and since I had time to kill before a consultation tonight…”

“What consultation?” Sejeong glances over at the whiteboard up on the wall behind the counter. “There’s nothing scheduled past 8pm.”

“Oh, this was last minute, they had to reschedule and Taehyung couldn’t fit them into his slots anymore, so I offered to do it for him.” Reaching back to hide your limp, greasy hair into a bun, you avoid Sejeong’s raised eyebrow.

“_____-ah, don’t you think you’re overdoing it a little? I know we’re supposed to be first year residents and all… but there’s such a thing as a work life balance, y’know?” 

“I’m fine, honestly. I don’t need you to mother me around,” you roll your eyes mockingly at her, but Sejeong knows there’s no venom behind your words.

“Just remember there’s something called food, bitch, and you need to ingest it every 4 hours or so.” She retaliates with a pinch to your side before she’s called away by one of her patients who is currently throwing a fit over mealtime.

“Likewise, bitch.”

* 

“Hi, how are you feeling today? Is there anything I can help you with?” 

The pink-haired boy in front of you looks a little uncomfortable as he squirms in his cushioned seat. Within the first five minutes of entering your consultation room, he’s already run his fingers through his hair six times, but you do admit that if you had such fluffy, silky hair, you’d be touching it all the time too. He fidgets with the sleeves of his oversized lemon yellow sweater, tugging them to cover his hands. His almond-shaped eyes wander around the room restlessly, and he scratches the back of his neck.

“Um, firstly, I’m sorry about the sudden reschedule, something came up and I-”

“Don’t worry, it’s not a problem at all,” you smile warmly at him, glancing down at his info sheet in your file. “Park Jimin, right?”

“Y-yeah. I feel so horrible about making you see me this late at night,” he looks genuinely torn as his shoulders slouch in regret. “It’s just- a friend made an appointment without telling me, and I tried to cancel it but he practically blackmailed me into coming.”

“Oh,” you fold your arms on the desk. “Why would your friend do that?”

“He says he used to see you for regular sessions a while ago, and that you were really good.”

“Really? What’s your friend’s name?”

“Min Yoongi.”

You chuckle at the mention of the name. “Ah, Min Yoongi, tough as rocks on the outside, and he’d rather die than let anyone know about that soft side of him. Was a tough nut to crack, that one.”

Jimin’s features light up in agreement, and his smile makes his eyes disappear into adorable crescent moons. “Exactly! When I first met him, he asked me if I’d gone through puberty yet.”

“He asked me if I left a panda facial mask on by accident.” 

Jimin breaks out into giggles, and when he laughs he throws his entire body into the single action, curling up into himself on the seat and attempting to cover his mouth with those sweater paws of his. His laughter is intoxicating and infectious at the same time, and he looks so carefree and childlike. 

His laughter dies down after a little while, and you’re almost sad to see it go. “Jimin, do you know why Yoongi made this appointment for you?”

A crease mars the space between his brows as Jimin ponders for a few seconds. “Honestly, I don’t think so. I think it was just one of his pranks that he felt like pulling-”

Your stomach suddenly makes its demands known in the form of loud gurgles, and your hands immediately go to your abdomen. It occurs to you that you’d had nothing to eat all day other than a few cups of lukewarm coffee and a hasty bite of a sandwich. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, this is so unprofessional-”

His eyes widen immediately at the sound, and he looks so remorseful that you feel even worse about your errant stomach. “No, no, it’s my fault for asking to see you this late, and for wasting your time too!”

“Wait, you’re not a waste of time at all, Jimin, I was just too busy to eat all day-” 

“Tell you what,” Jimin leans forward in his seat, placing his elbows on the desk. “Since there’s nothing wrong with me, we can cut this appointment short and I can take you out for dinner.”

“Um…” You hesitate as you scan over his info sheet. His chin is propped on one of his hands, and he’s staring at you so intently that you have to admit that despite his rounded cheeks and cutesy looks, this man is fully aware of his masculine charms and not afraid to use them at all. 

“C’mon, it’s a Friday night, and it just seems like such a pity for a pretty woman like you to be cooped up in here listening to me talk about my non-existent problems.”

Damn. He’s smooth with his words as well, even though you know at least half of his statement is a bald-faced lie. You sigh deeply and reach to undo your greasy, messy bun, entirely in a dilemma. Yoongi isn’t the type to fuck around with something like this, there must be something up with Jimin if he felt the need to arrange an appointment on his behalf, but you’re both experienced and perceptive enough to know that you’re not going to get anything out of Jimin like this either. 

And let’s face it, you’ve had one of the longest days in your life, and you’d give just about anything for a good steaming bowl of ramen right about now.

“I guess that doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit grudgingly, and he springs up from his seat immediately.

“Great, let’s go!”

Jimin leads the way to a hole in the wall ramen place just about two blocks away from the hospital where you practice, and if you hadn’t been holed up with your residency for the past year, you’d know about this place sooner. 

The piping hot noodles is like a soothing balm for your aching joints and muscles, and you nearly moan in relief the moment you sip the rich, creamy broth. The chunks of buttery, fatty pork slices just about melt on your tongue and before you know it, you’ve devoured your entire bowl.

Jimin is staring at you with what seems like amusement etched on his features, toying with his own noodles with a pair of chopsticks held with ease between his fingers. You wipe your mouth in mortification.

“Sorry, I don’t usually have such bad table manners.”

“That’s a relief, I was just about to walk out of here and never see you again,” he grins while licking his lips before taking a sip of hot green tea. 

“So, Park Jimin, tell me about yourself, who are you, what do you do, y’know, the works.” 

The corners of his mouth turn down in a mock grimace. “I wasn’t aware that this was just another relocated consultation session.”

“It’s not, just take it as… a pretty woman trying to get to know you at a ramen place,” you blush slightly at using his words from earlier, but the lighting of the booth is dim, and you play it off by taking a sip from your tea cup. 

“Well, I’m a semi-professional water polo player training for the national team, I’ve been playing ever since I got into the sport in college. Used to be an art major, but let’s be real, that shit doesn’t pay. Not like water polo does either, but at least the hot body comes with the job.” He leans back in his seat casually as he says this, and for a moment you wish he wasn’t dressed in such loose clothing so that you can admire his physique that he boasts so confidently about. 

“Wow, water polo huh? Can’t say I have much enthusiasm about watching 20 men drag each other underwater for a ball.” 

“It’s 7 aside, for your information. Would your interest be peaked if I mention that we wear two layers of swimsuits in case one rips due to foul play?”

You wince in response, and the mental imagery that plays itself in your head is traumatising. “Um, not really. Can’t say I have much experience there either.”

Jimin bursts into a full-bellied laugh. “What if I said above mentioned swimsuit is only a pair of tiny swimming trunks?”

“Got me there. Half naked, wet men are my kink.” You blush in embarrassment when you realise the lack of filter of what you’ve just said, but Jimin doesn’t seem to be fazed or surprised, giggling with his hands over his mouth. “How do you know Min Yoongi?” 

“Oh, Yoongi-hyung? We met in college. We continued living together after graduation, along with a few other guys from college.”

“I see,” you hesitate, licking the rim of your teacup as you watch him set his chopsticks aside and lift the bowl to his mouth. “Do you know about his… issues then?” 

“Not entirely, I do know about them but not in detail. Hey wait, isn’t there something called patient confidentiality? You’re not a quack doctor are you?” Jimin’s voice is muffled by his huge bowl, but he sets it down and eyes you with a teasing smirk.

“First off, smart ass, patient privacy is more appropriate in this situation, and secondly, I didn’t divulge anything, yet.”

“Fair enough, so I guess I won’t be getting anything else out of you?”

“Nope,” you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and give him an innocent smile.

“Well… your turn then. Tell me about yourself.”

“There’s not much actually…” you bite your lip in thought. It’s been ages since anyone has even asked you a question like this, you’d spent the last decade of your life buried in books before working yourself to the bone to pay off all those college debts. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been out on a date, even though this is most definitely not a date, or even met someone new. “Studied medicine in college, decided to specialise in psychiatry, and so… here I am. Quack doctor who allowed her patient to take her out for ramen.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “That’s it? C’mon, I must have talked for like 10 minutes straight about myself, and this is all I get in return?”

“I’m better at listening than I am at talking. Comes with the job, I might say,” you quip in return, shrugging nonchalantly. A yawn surfaces from the depths of your fatigue, and you cover your mouth halfway through it.

Park Jimin only laughs in response. “C’mon, let’s get you home old lady. Can’t have my quack doctor passing out in a ramen place.” 

He foots the bill, which you argue with him vehemently over, eventually giving in noncommittally when he says you can treat him the next time. Jimin offers to call you an Uber back to your house, but settles on walking you back to the hospital when you tell him that’s your current living quarters for the past year already.

“What? What kind of a shit life is that?”

“It’s called a residency for a reason. It’s not so bad when you get used to it I guess. And every night when I get back to my room, I’m so tired that I just fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.” Rubbing your eyes wearily, you stop at the entrance of the hospital, turning to him as the doors slide open.

“I guess this is it then, goodnight, _____.”

“Hey Park, wait. You have to promise me that you’ll reschedule a proper follow-up session with me okay? Just… just to be sure. Or else I’ll really feel like a quack.” You tack on the latter part of your sentence just as an excuse, but he seems to buy it.

Jimin waves your seriousness away, until you grab the arm of his fuzzy yellow sweater firmly. “Alright, I promise, Dr Quack. But I have a tournament coming up so I might not be that free for a while.” 

“I’m at your beck and call, Park. Just hit me up whenever.”

*

“Hey, didyoueatbreakfastyet?” Taehyung mumbles incoherently through a mouthful of toothpaste and you flick the towel around your neck at him. 

“Rinse, then spit.” You reach for your own toothbrush in a Hello Kitty cup, alongside a whole row of other cups of toothbrushes and squeeze out some toothpaste. “And no, I’m running late this morning, got a new out-patient after morning rounds.”

“You sure you’re in a state to see patients like that?”

“At least I can just wash my hair. I think you’ll need some favours from the cosmetic surgery department, want me to cash in some for you? I think Yeri owes me-” 

“Geez, good morning to you too.”

The ward is already buzzing with activity as you start your shift, checking the roster duty board at the reception only to discover that the senior fellow Irene has unloaded her morning rounds onto you again. Sighing in resignation, you reach for the pen in your pocket and start clicking it on and off as you move into the patient wards.

“Hi Mr Seung, how was breakfast today?” 

The elderly man greets you with a cheerful smile as always, and as you supervise the nurses running a few tests on him and update his chart, he’s content to chatter away at how excited he is for his grandson to be visiting him later that day. When everything seems to be in order, you smile at him and adjust his bedding before telling him that you’ll see him again at lunchtime.

Your phone beeps with a reminder that your out-patient appointment starts in 15 minutes, so you power through the rest of your morning check-ups as fast yet as thoroughly as possible. When you’re finally back at your consultation room, a tall, blonde haired man is already waiting outside. 

“Kim Namjoon?” The man looks up when you call his name. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, please do come in and have a seat.”

Namjoon settles himself rather awkwardly on the seat opposite you as you reach for his patient file and briefly flip through it. “So, you were referred to by your general practitioner to begin out-patient treatment for… obsessive compulsive disorder?”

“Y-yes.” He scratches the back of his neck and fiddles with his fingers, and your attention is drawn to the dry, peeling skin of his hands. His entire body language screams of tension even as he’s perched on the edge of his seat, as if trying to touch as little surface area of it as possible. 

Your eyes soften at the sight of him looking so uncomfortable, and as you reach out to touch his hand, he visibly grimaces and pulls away. Namjoon reaches to take off the black framed glasses that are perched on his nose and polishes it with a soft cloth that he retrieves from his pocket as if to calm himself.

“Namjoon, we’re going to start some behavioural therapy during our sessions okay? We’ll be working on the cognitive aspect in order to try and override your impulses to constantly wash and clean things.” Giving him a warm smile, you place your hands palm up on the desk. “I’m going to need you to touch my hand.”

He gives you a hesitant look. “Um, did you wash your hands?”

“Yes, I did, but I can sanitize them in front of you if you’d like.” A look of relief passes over his face, and he nods gratefully. Squeezing a dollop of gel sanitizer onto your hands, you rub it into your skin before extending your touch again. This time he places his fingertips in the middle of your palm with much less hesitation before withdrawing again.

“That’s a great start, Namjoon. Just keep in mind, baby steps okay? It helps if you constantly remind yourself of the reason why you want your treatment to go well.”

“Well… I want to get better so that this… habit doesn’t interrupt my daily life anymore. It’s kind of inconveniencing the people who live around me and I don’t want to be a burden to them anymore. Th-that’s why.” Namjoon pushes his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose delicately.

“Okay, but let’s try not to think of it as being a burden to others yeah?”

“But that’s what it is,” he looks down at his lap, picking imaginary pieces of lint off the fabric of his denim jeans. “I just hate seeing that look of concern on their faces when they look at me, as if this… disorder is all they can see. And I want to get better too, but it’s hard and I feel like I’m constantly disappointing them.”

“Be patient with yourself, you’re doing your best. If your loved one or someone you cared about had some issues they were dealing with, you wouldn’t want them to be this harsh on themselves would you?” Namjoon nods slowly, as if he’s digesting your words. “Speak to yourself as if you were speaking to your best friend, or your family. Would you hurt them like you’re hurting yourself?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” he says and a hint of a smile finds its way onto his lips. “It kinda makes sense now. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, that’s what I’m here for. See you next week.” 

You stop by briefly at the cafeteria for a sandwich which you swallow down, more to fill your stomach and prevent yesterday’s events from reoccurring, than for the taste itself. Sejeong is lingering by the counter gossiping with some of the ward clerks, and you slide in right beside her. 

“-one hot piece of ass, he is.”

“Wait, who is this we’re talking about?” You flip through the charts that are on the counter, ones that indicate that the respective patient needs attention.

“Kim Taehyung.”

Ugh. You roll your eyes at her.

“C’mon _____, you’ve been friends with him since forever haven’t you? Can’t you do me a solid and just introduce us?” 

“Trust me, the only thing that guy is good at is making 3 minute ramen in 1 minute.” The flipping of pages does nothing to muffle her exaggerated groan, but you ignore her and continue reading off the comments on the charts.

“What’s the use of having a friend with a hot guy best friend if she doesn’t let you tap that every once in a while?”

You reach to chuck a clipboard at her, but she dodges it with her quick reflexes. “I can’t believe it, is that all I am to you?”

Sejeong shoots you an imploring gaze followed by puppy eyes as she latches herself onto your arm. “Awww c’mon, you know I love you, remember I bought you those shoes that one time?? And it totally helped you get laid that time don’t even deny-” 

Clapping a hand over her mouth, you turn to Seulgi, one of the ward clerks. “Did a patient by the name of Park Jimin call to reschedule an appointment, by any chance?”

Seulgi frowns as she looks over the records for that morning. “No, was he supposed to? Should I contact him for you?” 

“Oh, no it’s okay, I’ll just do it myself. Thanks Seulgi!” With one last playful glare at Sejeong, you turn and head off to finish the rest of your morning rounds.

*

Jimin buries his nose deeper into his pillows, frowning at the sudden flurry of action coming from outside his room. He blearily checks the time on his phone before getting up leisurely to head for the bathroom, peeking an eye open to see Yoongi arranging his messy blonde hair in the mirror.

“What the fuck Yoongi-hyung? What are you doing up so early?” 

“Watch your language kid.” Yoongi has never been a morning person, and for him to be up before noon on a Saturday is rarer than a blue moon. “Appointment. Speaking of, you did go to the one I made for you yesterday right?”

“Yes hyung,” he mumbles sleepily, stumbling back into his room and ready to drift off into sweet slumber again as he hears the apartment door closing in Yoongi’s wake.

Seeing you for therapy used to be a pain in his ass, but now Yoongi actually looks forward to it, and god forbid if anyone should know. So he can only put on his grumpiest expression as he knocks on your door and waits for your response before entering and settling himself down opposite you.

“Good morning, Yoongi! How have you been?” Your bright, cheery smile is just a tad more than he can handle at this time of the day. 

“Awful, you just had to give me a slot before noon didn’t you?” He rubs his eyes and gives you a little yawn. 

“Duly noted, I’ll reserve my nights for you every month from now on okay?” You know well enough by now that his cynical quips and sarcasm is more for show than for anything else, so his comments just bounce off you harmlessly. “We agreed last time to slowly wean you off your anti-depressants right? How was it this month on a lower dosage?”

“It was okay, I guess.” It’s hard for him to talk about his feelings so openly like this, but he knows it’s for his own good. Yoongi fights the urge to insert as many scathing remarks as he usually does. “Some days are great, some days not so great, but I’m doing the best I can.”

“And that’s enough, Yoongi. Some days you’re allowed to just lie around and do nothing.” You watch him as he avoids eye contact with you, staring down at his lap instead. It took you a long time to get him to open up to you, weeks of frustration and cold, stony silence. He’d once been your most difficult patient, foisted on you by all the other residents and fellows who’d long ago given up on him. “How’s your mixtape coming along?”

“I’m almost done with it, it helps sometimes. When I’m working on it, it feels like there’s finally something I know how to do well. And then things aren’t as scary anymore.” Yoongi visibly perks up at the mention of his mixtape, and the spark in his eyes that accompanies the subject of composing or music looks so much better on him than the hollow, overcast shadows under his eyes.

“Well, seems like you’re doing fine then, I’m really proud of your progress,” you scribble down an adjustment for his meds. “Oh by the way, Jimin told me you were flatmates, is there a particular reason why you made that appointment for him? Jimin said it was just a prank.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes in response. “Do I look like I have that much time on my hands? No, it wasn’t a prank. I was just… worried about that kid and I thought he should see you. Wait, didn’t he attend his session yesterday?”

“Um… yeah he did but it kinda went off schedule a little. I told him he should see me for a reschedule but he said he had a tournament this week and so…”

“You should come.”

“What?” 

“To his match, see him play. It’s next Sunday afternoon, he’s a really talented kid if I do say so myself.” Yoongi rarely ever gives compliments, but when he does you can be sure its credit where credit is due. “I think you might get a better insight to him this way too.”

“C’mon, no one hates the sun more than I do, and that’s an exception with you around. Can’t you just tell me what’s up with that kid so I can just treat him from the comfort of my consult room?” You whine at the thought of spending more than five minutes under the sun, even if it is watching wet half-naked boys play around in the pool. 

He only smirks as he stands from his seat, heading for the door. “Nope, that’s your job isn’t it? I’ll send you the deets, make sure to turn up.”

*

The layers of sunscreen you’ve slathered on are starting to feel greasy on your skin, but you’d rather withstand the oily slick than get burnt. The swimming pool is a foreign place for your pasty skin, so when you show up rather grudgingly, the sheer number of people present, along with the constant wails of the loudspeakers, overwhelms you a little.

Yoongi told you to meet him by the pool, but joke’s on him because this entire place is called the pool so he really should have been more specific, and no you’re most definitely not blinded by just how much naked skin there is being paraded around in this place.

Thank goodness for the invention of sunglasses.

You’re trying to squint past the glaring rays of the sun and it’s hard to pay attention to where you’re going as you slam straight into a hard, warm, tanned wall of muscle.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” 

The person in question steadies you with hands on your shoulders, and your gaze is immediately drawn to the toned firmness of his chest right at eye level. “My pleasure beautiful, are you alright?”

It dawns on you that he must be one of the players since he’s also half naked, and you tear your eyes away from his golden chest only to be met with doe eyes and messy brown hair barely concealed under his navy water polo cap, strings dangling by his ears.

“U-uh yes I’m fine! Actually, you’re one of the players right? Do you know where Park Jimin is by any chance?” 

The handsome, half naked stranger flashes you a grin with a little scrunch of his nose. “Of course, he’ll be in the locker room getting ready. I can take you to him, follow me!” 

You’re just contemplating exactly how wise it is to enter a locker room full of skimpily clad men when Yoongi and Jimin emerge from its depths, thankfully.

“_____! You’re here!” Jimin’s eyes light up immediately when he sees you, and he bounds up to you like an excited little puppy. He’s sporting the same navy water polo cap as the stranger you bumped into, tugged over his ears and the strings tied under his chin. And he definitely wasn’t lying about his physique the other day, his tiny little swim trunks ride low on the carved v shape of his hips and reveal the rock hard ridges of his abs. “And you’ve met Jeongguk already?”

“Oh yeah, he offered to bring me to you guys, since, y’know, someone was so specific,” you narrow your eyes at Yoongi, but he only shrugs innocently. 

“_____? To what do we owe the pleasure of such beautiful company?” Jeongguk’s eyes trail down over your figure, taking in your outfit of a crop top and denim shorts with a cocky smirk and wandering eyes.

“That’s noona to you, brat.” Yoongi hits him over the head, and Jeongguk winces as he shrinks away even though he must be at least twice the older man’s size. 

“Yoongi asked me to come watch you guys play, and he’ll buy us a round of drinks after no matter the result.” Yoongi gives you the stink eye, but Jeongguk only reaches out to slap him on the back.

“Damn, I think I like you already noona,” Jeongguk winks, but he’s interrupted by the sound of a whistle blowing.

“Yoongi-hyung, _____, we’ll catch you later okay! Gotta go for warm-ups before Seokjin-hyung kicks our asses,” Jimin grabs Jeongguk by the ear and tugs him towards a broad shouldered, tall brunette dressed in sweats and surrounded by what must be his team.

Yoongi ushers you toward the stands and you snag a pair of seats with a good view, but your eyes are still fixed on Jimin and Jeongguk huddled with their team for a last minute strategic meeting. “So, what are the rules here?”

“Foul play is off limits unless it’s underwater where the referees can’t see them, otherwise it’s fair game. This entire thing is just like captain’s ball or soccer but in water. The game is divided into four 8 minute periods. Most goals at the end wins.” Yoongi looks disinterested as his eyes skim over the calm surface of the pool, but he’s infinitely more knowledgeable than you are.

“8 minutes only? That seems really short.”

“There’ll be timeouts that can be called by either side. But yeah, generally it’s that short because it’s an incredibly demanding, stamina intensive sport, since players aren’t allowed to touch the bottom of the pool at all, they have to tread water at all times.” The whistle blows, and the blue capped team enters the water with a series of splashes. At the opposite end, the opposing team is clad in white caps.

As soon as they enter the water, you lose the ability to distinguish them from each other. Jimin’s pink hair is concealed under that water polo cap, and all of them have similar, muscled physiques. Players from both teams line up on either side as the referee prepares to throw the ball into the centre of the pool.

“They all have a number on their caps, Jimin is 6 and Jeongguk is 2,” Yoongi informs helpfully even though you didn’t ask, but your eyes zero in on them immediately.

The whistle sounds, and the bright yellow ball is dropped into the middle. Both sides immediately surge for possession of the ball as they sprint towards it. Jeongguk’s frame is easily one of the largest on the team, and he cuts through the water with a swiftness and speed that’s remarkable for his size. Jimin is more agile, though his speed is not lacking either, but he hangs back behind Jeongguk as he grabs the ball a split second ahead of his opponent and tosses it easily to Jimin. 

The gameplay is intensely violent, with physical scuffles here and there, but it seems to be within the rules since there’s no fouls declared. Jeongguk elbows a few defenders out of his way as he swims to make a pass, strikes that are dangerously close to vulnerable eyes and mouths. The players move with both speed and agility, and incredible endurance as they constantly change positions in both attack and defense.

“They’re doing pretty well,” you comment as Jimin scores a goal and the team celebrates with a rowdy splashing of water and cheers.

“Hmm,” Yoongi isn’t convinced as he folds his arms pensively. “Just wait a little more.”

The ball goes back to the opposite side and Jimin cuts through the water towards it, heading straight for the other player who currently holds the ball in one hand. The white capped player is of larger stature than he is, but Jimin doesn’t hesitate as he jumps straight into a physical scuffle with him for the ball, and his teammates start swimming toward him to assist. Grunts and shouts sound over the splashing water, and Jimin’s aggressive growls drown out the other player’s shouts for help as he smashes his head into the other player, causing the struggle to cease at once.

The whistle sounds immediately and the referee orders Jimin out of the pool. But Jimin continues to struggle and scuffle with the other player despite orders for him to stop, and it takes a few of his own teammates to restrain him and drag him to the edge of the pool.

“Wh-what’s happening??” You shoot to your feet as you squint for a better look, spotting a trickle of blood emerging from under his navy cap as Jimin is manhandled by Seokjin to the sidelines. Gameplay has paused as the other injured player seeks medical attention. 

“It always ends up like this,” Yoongi sighs as Jimin continues to argue and even attempt to punch his own coach. “He has trouble controlling his aggression in gameplay, and it always spirals out of control, leading to him on the bench for the rest of the time. Out of the water he’s the sweetest boy ever who wouldn’t even hurt a fly, but in the pool…”

“Oh,” you stare, transfixed as Jimin is pushed roughly towards the bench, and another player takes his place in the water. The whistle is blown and gameplay starts again. “What if this is just an anger management issue?” 

Yoongi shakes his head doubtfully. “I don’t think so… it can’t be that simple. We’ve tried getting him to go for anger management classes but… he doesn’t seem to remember doing anything wrong, and he isn’t able to acknowledge his violent behaviour.”

You watch the pink haired boy pull off his cap and throw it onto the ground with a wet slap, running his hands through his wet tresses in frustration that’s etched clearly onto his face. He watches the game in the water with balled fists and a clenched jaw, and once or twice Seokjin has to physically restrain him from jumping into the water again.

“So doc? What’s your diagnosis? He’s mentally insane right?” Yoongi turns to you with a joking tone, but his dark eyes betray his genuine concern and worry.

“I’ll have to see him for more sessions before I can say anything for sure.” Biting your lip, the rest of the game passes as your attention is completely riveted on the boy on the bench.

Jeongguk scores the winning goal just shy of the final whistle blow and your area of the spectator stands goes wild in victory, leaving you and Yoongi seated. The players indulge in a celebration by throwing Seokjin into the water, causing him to sputter and mock threaten them with extra reps during the next gym session, but they all join him in the pool anyway.

You leave your seat and head towards the edge of the pool, jaw clenched in determination even as your heart aches to watch Jimin all alone on the bench while his teammates celebrate.

“Wait, _____ where are you going?” Yoongi stops you with a hand on your wrist, and you whirl back to face him.

“To talk to Jimin.”

“Don’t be impulsive, you’re better off leaving him alone. Usually after an episode he needs to be alone to cool down. Jeongguk tried to talk to him once and got a black eye for it.” Yoongi tugs firmly on your wrist, and despite his small stature, his grip is firm and unrelenting. “Trust me, you don’t want to be around him right now.”

“Alright… I guess,” you reluctantly let him lead you toward Jeongguk, who’s currently trying to outdab one of his teammates, unable to tear your eyes away from the lone pink haired boy with his knees tucked to his chest on the bench.

*

“Thanks for meeting me at such a short notice, Mr Kim.”

“Please, call me Seokjin.” The tall and broad shouldered water polo coach smiles at you from across the table. “And don’t mention it at all, I should be the one thanking you, especially if you can help our Jiminnie in some way.”

“I’ll do my best,” you smile tightly back at him. “I have some questions about his behaviour, and since you’ve been his coach ever since college, I thought it’d be best to approach you.”

Seokjin nods while taking a sip of his iced coffee. “That’s right, ask away.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Ever since he started playing the sport,” Seokjin pushes his drink away with a sigh. “He’s really talented- definitely has the potential to go international, maybe even the Olympics, but with how he’s acting up, he gets suspended more times than he gets to play. He hardly ever lasts a full game.”

“Do you know anything about his past or history before he started playing water polo?” You type his comments quickly into your tablet, trying your best to keep up.

“Not really, although I do know that he has a tendency for violent and self-destructive behaviour. He was suspended in college for getting into fights and even almost joined a gang, until the school counsellor suggested that he channel his anger and rage into a sport instead. And that’s how he ended up with me.” 

“I see, this is very helpful, thank you so much.”

Seokjin adjusts the pink cap atop his head as he watches you type notes, and he eyes you with a hopeful expression. “I really do hope you can help him, _____. Jimin is a good kid, I know it, and I’d hate for his talent and passion to go to waste.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll do my best,” you reassure him. “Oh and one more thing- have you or any of the team players tried to talk about his behaviour with him? I was informed that after he has an episode, he prefers to be left alone.” 

Seokjin shakes his head. “Like you said, he’s too violent to be approached after it happens, and I have a hard time making him stay seated on the bench while waiting for the game to end. In the past we’ve tried to discuss his behaviour in the following days, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.” 

“Doesn’t acknowledge it? Can’t, or won’t?” You prod further, watching the coach’s expression grow pensive in thought.

“I don’t know, ______. Once I tried to force him into owning up to his behaviour, thinking that it was just some teenage rebellion but it triggered another violent episode and a few of our team got hurt trying to stop him. Ever since then we’ve kind of just let it go every time so that training can proceed and everyone can get on with their lives.”

Making sure to get every last word down into your notes, you let the silence settle in between you and Seokjin amidst the bustling café as you try and digest all the information.

“It’s probably for the best to avoid any direct confrontation with Jimin about his behaviour for now lest it triggers another episode,” you advise him as you close your tablet. “The cause of his behaviour might stem from a lot of possible sources, such as repressed trauma, be it in childhood or teenage years. I won’t know for sure till I get the chance to observe him more closely.” 

Seokjin nods in understanding as you stand, and he pushes back his chair as well. “Thanks again, _____. Feel free to call me if you have any more questions.”

As you bid him goodbye and walk out of the café, your phone buzzes in your pocket insistently.

2.06PM [Kim Taehyung]: can u come home asap? 2.06PM [Kim Taehyung]: there’s sort of a small situation 2.07PM [You]: what situation??? don’t tell me u put aluminium foil in the microwave again 2.07PM [You]: taehyung. is our house still standing 2.07PM [You]: ???? 2.08PM [Kim Taehyung]: yes 2.08PM [Kim Taehyung]: but we might have a bigger problem than that

“What do you mean evicted??”

Your landlady, a middle aged woman sporting a horrible 80s perm and decked out in leopard print pants, folds her arms and glares. “Evicted. Kicked out. Meaning: go find somewhere else to stay.”

“Wait, all just because this idiot here,” you switch your glare over to Taehyung, who’s currently busying himself with checking the mailbox- which is empty for god’s sake- “just because he didn’t pay rent on time once?” 

“Uh, actually-” Taehyung’s small voice pipes up.

“Oh it’s not just rent alright,” the landlady says as she shoots him a withering glare, prompting him to shut up immediately. “There have been numerous complaints from the neighbours about the noise level over the past year, and yesterday one of them filed a police report.” 

“But- that’s not possible,” your racing heart slows down upon hearing her accusation. “This must be a mistake. That’s entirely impossible, since we’re first year residents we spend almost all our time at the hospital, even sleeping over on weekdays so there’s no way those complaints could be about us, unless-”

“It’s on the weekend,” Taehyung supplies helpfully, his cheery expression immediately dampening once your scowl is redirected his way.

“But I barely even come home on the weekends either-” Realisation dawns upon you as you register the guilty look on Taehyung’s face.

The landlady crosses her arms in indignation. “If it was just partying or drinking, I could tolerate such rowdy behaviour, but unfortunately it was due to events of a more… sexual nature.”

Fucking Kim Taehyung. You’re going to kill him the second you get him alone. He might have been your best friend ever since high school, but right now if you walked past him on a street and he was burning to death, you wouldn’t have any qualms about strolling past without a backward glance.

“C-can’t you give us one more chance?” Taehyung recognises the look of death upon your face, and being very familiar with your quick temper, decides that he’d rather face the wrath of the landlady instead.

“Eviction is final. Between that and your constant late rent payments, that was the last straw. You have two weeks to move out.” Her tone brooks no argument, and she turns around to head back to her apartment, leaving you and Taehyung stranded on the balcony. 

“I can’t believe this, you just got us evicted because you couldn’t keep your fucking dick in your pants,” you whirl around to grasp him by the ear, pulling hard. “And I even reminded you how many times that it was your month to pay rent?” 

“Ah babe, I’m sorry- ow!! Look, I promise I’ll fix everything okay? You just head back to the hospital and I’ll take care of everything here.” He offers you his signature boxy grin that’s meant to reassure you, but instead achieves the opposite effect. “Hey, don’t you have a patient in like 20 minutes anyway?”

“Fuck, what time is it?” You whip out your phone to check. “We’re not done here asshat, just wait till I get back and deal with you.” 

*

You arrive back at the hospital panting and sweating under the sweltering summer sun. As Yoongi had promised that day after the match, Jimin is waiting patiently outside your consult room just on time, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans as he paces up and down the hallway. You apologize and quickly unlock the door with your pass, gesturing at him to take a seat.

“I’m so sorry I’m late Jimin, did you wait long?” You grab his patient file, which still pathetically empty, from its neat, organised row on your shelf.

“Don’t worry about it at all, I didn’t wait that long,” Jimin grins at you as he watches you flip open the file. 

At the sound of his bright, cheerful voice, you pause to look up at him, and take in his overall appearance. His hair is freshly damp, taking on a darker pink hue as it lays over his forehead and his cheeks are rounded and full as he smiles at you, his plush lips stretched into a pleasant grin.

He’s so different from the aggressive, violent boy you saw that day at the pool.

“Yoongi-hyung said you wanted to see me, so here I am. Although, if you wanted to see my handsome self so badly, you could have just asked me yourself. I would’ve definitely picked somewhere else for our first date.” Jimin scoots his chair closer to the desk with a grin.

A smile makes its way onto your lips at his effortless charm. “I’d have picked that ramen place for a repeat performance, but unfortunately my schedule is full today.”

“Ah, there’s always next time right?”

“Maybe,” you say noncommittally. “Jimin… you remember what happened on Sunday right?”

“Sunday?” He pauses to ponder for a while. “Oh, we had a game that day!”

“That’s right,” you swallow hard before taking a deep breath, gesturing to the small bandage on his forehead. “Do you remember how you got this?” 

“Um, not really, but I’m always like this after a match. I just sleep the entire day off after, and the memory is kinda fuzzy in my head. Jeongguk told me we won though.” Jimin picks up on your slightly distressed expression and frowns. “Why, is there something I should know? Is there something wrong with me? Did I get injured and lose my memory?”

“No!” You rush to calm him down as his tone increases in anxiety. “You’re perfectly fine, Jimin, I was just asking as a standard question.”

Jimin relaxes slightly at your words but his bottom lip remains trapped under his teeth as he worries at it. “Then what is it? There must be something wrong with me if I have to see you like this right?”

“Firstly, Jimin, there’s nothing wrong with you, so please don’t ever think that.” You make eye contact with him for a few long seconds, not allowing him to look away and avoid you in order to convey how serious you are about this. As he meets your gaze, you smile at him in order to set him at ease a little more.

You hesitate with your next words, considering his overreaction and tendency to jump to conclusions. He also seems to be displaying several signs of general anxiety, and you wouldn’t want to alarm him unnecessarily, especially since you’re still unsure of his actual diagnosis. “I was just talking to your coach, Seokjin, the other day and he seemed to think it’s a good idea for you to attend a few counselling sessions. To learn how to deal with stress as an athlete, particularly.”

He accepts your explanation easily. “Oh I see. Seokjin-hyung really worries about me these days.”

“Yeah, he really wants you to make it to the national team, Jimin. Isn’t that what you want too?” 

“I do want that, I want to do well and make everyone around me proud,” he gives you a small smile as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“You, will Jimin. As long as you promise to keep seeing me, you’ll do really well.”

“Okay, I promise.”

that’s it!!! for the first chapter at least, i hope you liked it!! i will try and maintain a regular update schedule, once again please check my updates page for more information <3

addie