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kingofbodyrolls · 3 months ago

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Deep Dive (m) | knj

You’ve been searching for gemstones deep on the seabed— having found a broken piece of blue aquamarine. Searching for the missing piece and your new rival, you find it and much more with the blue tailed merman Namjoon while on a quest for crystals.

→ Pairing: namjoon x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au, soulmate!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff, smut, angst + a very small sprinkle of comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 19.8k → Warnings (general) + triggers: not much, honestly it’s all very very fluffy, lovey dovey and cute (you’ll probably get a cavity). There’s also a lot more lore and worldbuilding in this one compared to the others, as this is the first time we’re properly introduced to the seacity🧜It’s also rather existential and philosophical. → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please be safe), oral (male and female), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, love making, kissing, breast play (licking, sucking, biting), handjob, fingering, clit play, hair pulling, creampie, very brief cockwarming. → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note(1): I really don’t know what happened when writing this one; my fingers totally slipped and most of this is just world building 🫣 At least I had a shit ton of fun writing it! I tried to make the smut a bit different than I normally do, because I just feel like what I write is getting very repetitive… So I tried changing the pace of it a bit, but I don't know if it worked or not. Anyway, I really hope you like this one too, and I managed to finish it before Namjoon’s birthday, which means I’ll release it on that day 🥳 Please do let me know what, and if you liked it, and if you’re excited for the rest of the mermaid stories ✨

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

The boat sways gently with the rhythm of the waves, each crest and trough sending a flutter through your stomach, a tantalizing whisper of the adventure awaiting below. The sea has always been your muse, its vast, enigmatic depths a sanctuary where you’ve carved out your own livelihood. As a freelance scuba diver, you descend into the ocean’s embrace, hunting for hidden treasures—crystals and gems, and occasionally, the rarest of finds. These treasures are not just artifacts; they are fragments of the earth’s ancient soul, preserved in the watery depths.

Hae, your best friend and partner in this aquatic quest, stands beside you, her hands steady as she helps you prepare for the dive. She runs a holistic and spiritual webshop called Soulful, a name that seems to capture the essence of her being—a blend of spirituality, sustainability, and an eye for the aesthetically divine. The gems and crystals you unearth find their way into her shop, where they are revered not just for their beauty, but for the energy they carry. The world has turned its gaze towards the mystical these days, and her shop has become a beacon for those seeking solace and healing in the arms of nature.

With your wetsuit snug against your skin, fins secured, and the weight of the oxygen tanks settling on your back, you feel the familiar thrill course through you. Hae hands you your goggles with a smile, and before placing the mouthpiece between your lips, you flash her a grin. “See you soon,” you say, voice laced with excitement. The small tool bag—your fanny pack of excavation tools—rests comfortably at your side, ready to assist in your quest for nature’s buried wonders.

You take a deep breath and plunge into the ocean, the water swallowing you with a resonant splash. As you breach the surface, your arms stretch forward, parting the water with a smooth, practiced motion. The ocean welcomes you, wrapping you in its cool, serene embrace. Here, beneath the waves, you are home, surrounded by the vibrant tapestry of sea life. Jellyfish drift by, their tendrils trailing like delicate threads of silk, while schools of tiny fish scatter at your approach, shimmering in the filtered sunlight that dances through the water. Deeper you dive, into the world where time slows, and the ocean whispers secrets long forgotten by the surface. The seafloor is a hidden gallery of nature’s artistry, where crystals and gems lie in wait, forged over eons by the earth’s elemental forces. Each one tells a story—of undersea volcanoes, tectonic pressures, and the alchemical dance of minerals. Hae often speaks of these gems as if they are living beings, infused with the spirit of the ocean itself, each one a relic of the deep’s quiet, patient creation.

You smile to yourself, recalling her poetic musings, almost as if you were reading straight from her website. But you know the truth behind the beauty—these crystals, formed through evaporation, precipitation, and the intricate dance of minerals, are more than just pretty stones. They are pieces of the earth’s heart, shaped by the hands of time and nature’s immense power. Sodium, magnesium, calcium, potassium—their chemical symphony plays out in each crystal, each gem a unique testament to the forces that birthed it.

To you, they are not just beautiful—they are a testament to the majesty of the natural world, a tangible link to the planet’s deep, unspoken history. Hae’s customers, too, are drawn to this connection, to the knowledge that each crystal was not mined en masse, but discovered and unearthed by your hands alone. This makes each piece not only ethically sourced but also one-of-a-kind, carrying with it a story that can never be replicated. And then, there’s the healing. The myriad of spiritual properties attributed to these gems opens another world entirely, one that you and Hae have only begun to explore. It’s a world where science and spirituality entwine, where the physical and the metaphysical dance in harmony. But for now, as you dive deeper into the ocean’s embrace, you’re content to simply marvel at nature’s handiwork, knowing that whatever treasures you find will carry a piece of this underwater realm back to the surface.

A glint catches your eye in the distance, a shimmer that pulls you deeper into the ocean’s embrace. You’ve lost track of how far you’ve dived—perhaps just a few meters, or maybe more. Time seems to stretch and compress down here, as fluid as the water around you. A quick glance at your watch reveals that only ten minutes have passed, but you know you must be mindful of the oxygen left in your tank. Still, the ocean’s siren call urges you onward, tempting you with secrets yet to be unveiled.

Something blue sparkles ahead, its brilliance cutting through the murky depths, and you find yourself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Your body moves with the fluidity of the water, each motion a dance of instinct and harmony. Down here, you’re not just an explorer—you’re a part of the ocean itself, swaying gently in time with the currents. The source of the light reveals itself as you approach a small rock formation, where gems of varying shades of blue glisten like forgotten stars scattered across the ocean floor. Aquamarine, calcite, and amazonite—Hae’s voice echoes in your mind, recalling the knowledge she’s shared with you. Aquamarine, the “Sea Water Stone,” born from the cooling magma of the earth’s depths, its color an echo of the ocean’s own hues. It’s a stone that calms the mind, eases stress, and sharpens communication, a talisman of courage and clarity. Blue calcite, a crystal forged from calcium, carbon, and oxygen, soothes like a lullaby, its gentle presence calming nerves and quieting anxieties. It also opens the mind’s eye, enhancing intuition and inner vision. And then there’s amazonite, a gem you’ve always favored. Its cool blue-green tones speak to your soul, a “Stone of Courage” that promotes truth, honor, and positive communication. It balances the masculine and feminine energies within, weaving harmony into the fabric of life. You reach out, your fingers brushing the rough texture of the rock, marveling at the beauty before you.

Carefully, you pull out your tools—a smooth flat file and a soft silicone hammer—and begin to work. The gems yield to your skillful hands, and soon, you’ve gathered a small collection of aquamarine, blue calcite, and amazonite, each piece a perfect reflection of the ocean’s quiet majesty. You tuck them safely into your bag, their weight a comforting presence at your side.

But the ocean isn’t done with you yet. You swim further, your eyes scanning the seabed where kelp and other sea plants sway like ethereal dancers. A small cave catches your attention, its entrance barely large enough to accommodate you, but you’re compelled to explore. You squeeze through the narrow opening, and the sight that greets you steals your breath away.

Before you lies a treasure trove of green crystals, their surfaces shimmering like serpent scales. Serpentine—Hae has spoken of this gem, formed deep within the Earth’s mantle by the transformation of silicate minerals through water. This is your first time finding it, and you can’t help but marvel at its beauty, the green hues reminiscent of a forest hidden beneath the waves. You run your fingers over the rough surface, feeling the ancient energy thrumming within the stone. Carefully, you chip away a few pieces, their weight adding to the growing collection in your bag.

But the bag is heavy now, laden with the ocean’s gifts, and a glance at your watch tells you it’s time to return. With a reluctant sigh, you leave the cave behind, swimming back toward the surface, your heart still lingering in the depths. As you break through the water, the sunlight dazzles your eyes, and Hae is there, her hands reaching out to help you back onto the boat. The weight of your gear is a burden you’re glad to shed, and you push the bag toward her, eager to share your discoveries.

“Wow!” she exclaims, her eyes wide with wonder as she sifts through the gems. “You really found a lot—and serpentine? You’ve never found that before. My customers are going to be over the moon!”

Her excitement is infectious, and you can’t help but smile. “That makes it all worth it,” you say, pulling off your hydro fin shoes with a satisfied sigh. “But I’m keeping one piece of serpentine for myself—it’s too beautiful to part with.”

Hae nods, still mesmerized by the treasures you’ve brought to the surface. The joy in her eyes is a reflection of your own, and you feel a deep contentment settle over you. The ocean has shared its secrets with you once again, and as you breathe in the fresh air, you know that the bond you share with the sea is stronger than ever.

You sail home under the setting sun, the ocean’s breeze carrying with it the scent of salt and adventure. The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the boat lulls you into a state of serene satisfaction. Back on land, you join Hae in her cozy apartment, where the warmth of the evening light filters through the windows. Her small photo studio, a creative sanctuary tucked into a corner, is ready for the treasures you’ve unearthed. Together, you arrange the crystals with care, each one glistening like a piece of the ocean’s soul captured in stone. The camera clicks, preserving the gems’ beauty for the world to see, as Hae’s artistic eye transforms them into visions of wonder. The process is swift but meaningful, a quiet ritual that binds your shared passions. Soon, the crystals will grace her webshop, ready to bring a touch of the sea’s magic to those who seek it.

“This collection is huge, Namjoon,” Hoseok remarks with a warm smile, his gaze sweeping over the shimmering array of gems that adorn the older merman’s room. “There’s so much history embedded in these walls,” he adds, pointing to the meticulously arranged stones, and Namjoon feels a flush of pride rise to his cheeks. He’s poured countless hours into curating this collection, each gem—some calcite, larimar, jasper, peridotite, amazonite, and serpentine—bearing the weight of time and the ocean’s secrets.

Yoongi casts a sidelong glance at Namjoon and his prized collection, murmuring with a wry grin, “It’s impressive... but also incredibly dorky.”

Hoseok bursts into laughter, his joy so radiant that for a moment, Namjoon thinks they don’t need the sun in their underwater world—Hoseok’s light is enough to illuminate the depths.

“I’m not a dork,” Namjoon protests, crossing his arms over his bare torso in an attempt to feign indignation, but his stern expression does little to sway the younger mermen. Their laughter echoes through the water, a melody of friendship that only strengthens the bond between them.

“Nerd, then,” Hoseok offers through another burst of laughter, his voice rippling through the water like bubbles rising to the surface. Yoongi, ever the skeptic, merely rolls his eyes, already weary of the conversation. Namjoon can sense that Yoongi’s thoughts have drifted elsewhere—likely back to his bed, where he longs to sleep away the rest of the day. But Namjoon’s heart beats with a different rhythm, one that craves adventure. He usually embarks on treasure swims with his friend Soo-ah, but she’s preoccupied with her fiancé, Seokjin, as they prepare for their upcoming wedding.

Namjoon casts a glance at his friends, hoping they’ll soon take their leave so he can slip away into the inviting embrace of the sea. The room feels too small for his restless spirit, and the ocean beyond the walls calls to him like a siren’s song. He had initially invited them over for their monthly book club, but the gathering has devolved into something else entirely—Hoseok couldn’t stop laughing at the protagonist’s ridiculous misadventures, and Yoongi, true to form, had forgotten to read the book altogether. The story, plucked from the land above, strikes Hoseok as particularly odd and amusing, especially since he’s never set foot on land himself.

“Book club’s over, right?” Yoongi asks with a resigned sigh, his voice heavy with fatigue, as if the very mention of reading has drained him further.

“Yeah, but do try to read the next book for next month,” Namjoon chides gently, though he knows his words will likely fall on deaf ears. Yoongi merely shrugs, not even bothering to pick up the worn book as he drifts toward the door. Namjoon watches them go, rolling his eyes as Hoseok flashes him a soft smile and a thumbs-up before they swim off to their respective homes.

As their laughter fades into the distance, Namjoon finally feels the freedom to pursue the adventure that has been stirring within him all day. The sea awaits, vast and full of mysteries, and he is eager to explore its depths once more.

Namjoon exhales a deep sigh, the weight of his thoughts momentarily heavy, but he renews his energy by nibbling on some fresh kelp. The taste is crisp and briny, filling him with the vitality he needs for the journey ahead. With a determined glint in his eye, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and sets off on his adventure. The sea has always been his home, its vast expanse a comforting embrace. His parents, both scholars dedicated to preserving the rich history of their underwater city, have instilled in him a love for the past. But while they focus on teaching the young minds of the city, Namjoon’s heart has always been drawn to the secrets hidden within the earth—gems and stones that hold their own silent histories.

He propels himself forward, his baby blue tail cutting through the water with graceful precision. As he gathers speed, the fish scatter in a dazzling display, their scales catching the light as they dart away. The underwater world rushes past in a vibrant blur of color, until something shimmering in the distance catches his eye.

Ahead, perched on a rock formation, are gleaming clusters of calcite and aquamarine, their surfaces dancing with the light that filters through the water. The sun’s rays, fractured by the waves above, cast a spectrum of blues across the gems, making them shimmer like the sky at twilight. Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat, as it always does when faced with such natural beauty. Each gem is a masterpiece of time and pressure, a testament to the earth’s patient artistry. He reaches out, reverently running his fingers over the cool, smooth surfaces, feeling the ancient energy thrumming within them.

He pulls out his tools, careful not to disturb the surrounding environment, and begins to collect a few of the precious stones. As he works, he remembers Soo-ah and selects a particularly radiant piece to bring back to her, a token of their shared love for the ocean’s treasures.

But his heart skips a beat when he notices something unsettling—many of the gems have already been harvested, leaving only a few scattered remnants behind. A frown creases his brow as he wonders who could have beaten him to this spot. None of his friends share his passion for collecting gems. Sure, Taehyung enjoys gathering trinkets and curiosities, but stones have never been his interest. The thought of another collector in these waters feels strangely alien, a mystery that tugs at the edges of his mind.

Who else, he wonders, could be drawn to these underwater treasures with the same fervor that drives him?

You find yourself submerged once more, the embrace of the ocean welcoming you into its depths as you embark on yet another treasure hunt, eager to unearth new crystals. Your path leads you back to the familiar cave where you previously discovered the serpentine and calcite, their beauty still vivid in your memory. Yet, something feels different this time—there are fewer crystals adorning the rock formation and scattered across the seabed. The ocean’s depths, a canvas for nature’s exquisite artistry, have always been a sanctuary for the many fascinating crystals that dwell there. But you’ve never encountered another diver who collects them as passionately as you do. The realization leaves you momentarily puzzled, until a flicker of purple catches your eye in the distance.

Intrigued, you glide through the water with graceful urgency, approaching the new discovery. As you draw closer, you recognize the delicate gray and rose-hued crystals as lepidolite, known for its ability to enhance astral travel and lucid dreaming. You’ve rarely come across these gems in your dives, and even now, only a few precious stones cling to the rock formation. Carefully, you retrieve your tools and begin to collect the lepidolite, tucking each piece into your bag with a sense of reverence.

Continuing along the seabed, you pass by schools of vibrant fish, their colors a blur of life around you, until something extraordinary catches your attention—massive aquamarine crystals, far larger than any you’ve ever seen before. They seem to pulse with a quiet energy, drawing you in with their mesmerizing blue hue. As you approach with a gentle hand, you feel an inexplicable connection to the gems, as if they are whispering tales of the ocean’s mysteries and the magnificence of the world beneath the waves.

Gingerly, you touch the aquamarines, and a surge of calm washes over you, a tranquility deeper than anything you’ve ever experienced. The sensation is strange, yet profoundly soothing, as if the ocean itself is sharing its serenity with you.

Taking your time, you inspect the crystals, standing tall on a rocky pedestal surrounded by pink sea bushes and kelp that sways in the water’s current. A few curious fish glide by as you carefully chip away at the base of the crystal, hoping to extract a substantial piece. When you finally succeed, you notice something peculiar—the crystal’s twin, the piece that once stood beside it, is missing. The jagged edge where it was removed is unmistakable. The question lingers in your mind, unsettling and persistent: Who has taken the other piece?

As you wonder who else might be drawn to the allure of these hidden gems, your hands continue their careful work, collecting a few more of the larger pieces, along with several smaller ones. You know that the smaller stones, though modest in size, still carry the same potent energy as their grander counterparts, and some people cherish them all the more for their delicate beauty. Each crystal, whether large or small, holds within it the ocean’s quiet wisdom, waiting to be shared.

Gently, you tuck the treasures into your bag, the weight of them a comforting reminder of the sea’s generosity. With a final, lingering glance at the shimmering aquamarines, you propel yourself upward, your body moving effortlessly through the water’s embrace. As you break through the surface, the world above greets you with a rush of air and sunlight. Hae is there, her arms open wide, her smile as warm as the sun. She helps you back into the boat, her touch gentle and reassuring, as if she understands the wonders you’ve just encountered below.

Once you’re back in the boat, the weight of your gear feels heavier than ever as you remove it, but your heart is light with the excitement of your discoveries. You eagerly reveal your treasures to Hae, each crystal glinting in the sunlight as you lay them before her. With a grin, you hold up the largest aquamarine, its cool blue depths mirroring the ocean below. “This one’s mine,” you declare, the gem feeling like a piece of the sea itself in your hand. But then your tone grows more serious as you add, “I think there’s another diver out there collecting gems. So many were missing from the formation.”

Hae’s eyes widen, her smile fading into a look of concern. You can almost see the wheels turning in her mind, already strategizing, perhaps even considering whether it’s time to move to a new, more secluded spot. The thought of competition makes her uneasy, her gaze drifting over the precious stones as if they might vanish any moment.

Sensing her anxiety, you place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” you say with quiet confidence. “I’ll dig around, find out who it is. We’ve come too far to let this unsettle us.” Your words are meant to calm her, to remind her that together, you’ve weathered challenges before. After all, her webshop, with its unique blend of spirituality and sustainability, has always stood out in a sea of imitators.

Hae exhales softly, her tension easing as she meets your gaze. “Okay, thank you,” she murmurs, her hands gently gathering the remaining crystals, leaving you with your cherished aquamarine. The stone gleams in your palm, a symbol of the bond between you and the sea, and now, a silent vow to protect what you’ve both worked so hard to build.

The pull of the ocean is undeniable, a quiet voice in the depths of your soul that beckons you toward the gem, as if it carries the very essence of the sea within its crystalline heart. You know instantly that this piece belongs by your side, a reminder of the ocean’s mysteries and your bond with its vast, hidden world. The sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the water as you sail back to shore, the quiet lapping of waves a soothing lullaby.

Returning to your apartment, you flick on the light, the familiar space bathed in a soft glow as you carefully place your ocean gift on the nightstand beside your bed. The gem catches the light, its surface shimmering like the sea at dawn. With a contented sigh, you brush your teeth, the routine grounding you after the day’s adventure. But as you lay in bed, your mind drifts back to the ocean, and sleep comes quickly, filled with dreams of underwater realms and the treasures that lie beneath.

Yet, even in sleep, a question nags at you. For days, the mystery has lingered in your thoughts—who could be venturing into the depths to collect gems alongside you? Your research has led you nowhere, each inquiry a dead end. No diver you know is as daring, or perhaps as mad, as you, willing to plunge into the ocean’s deepest reaches. The puzzle gnaws at you, an itch you can’t quite scratch, and the frustration builds like a storm on the horizon. It feels as if the answer is just out of reach, hidden beneath the waves, and the more you dwell on it, the more it drives you to the edge of your patience, a riddle you are desperate to unravel.

Driven by a spark of determination, you’ve hatched a bold plan—to dive back into the depths and catch the mysterious intruder who’s been claiming your precious gems. Hae thinks it’s a dumb idea, but she indulges you, knowing your spirit is as restless as the ocean itself. And so, once again, you find yourself out on the boat, with Hae in the vast expanse of the ocean under the midday sun. The boat sways gently, a rhythmic dance on the water’s surface as you methodically pull on your gear—your oxygen tanks, goggles, and hydro fins. The final touch is your backpack, securely fastened to the tank, ready to hold whatever treasures you might uncover.

With purpose in your heart and a steely resolve, you press your arms together and plunge into the ocean’s embrace. The world above fades away as you descend into the deep, your body slicing through the water with graceful determination. Thoughts of the smaller boats you saw earlier linger in your mind, fueling your hope that this dive will lead you to your elusive rival.

As you dive deeper, the current cradles you, guiding your body as you sway with the ocean’s rhythm, until you reach the seabed. The familiar terrain unfolds before you, a place you’ve visited many times, yet now it feels different, touched by the presence of another. Only a few small gems remain, their glint a reminder of what’s been taken. You scan your surroundings—kelp sways like dancers in the current, fish dart about in a symphony of colors—but no sign of competition yet.

Undeterred, you press on, swimming further along the seabed, following the contours of rocky formations. Your heart quickens as you reach a familiar spot, the place where you once unearthed a magnificent aquamarine. But as you approach, your breath catches—the rock’s surface is nearly barren, the aquamarine all but vanished, save for a few remaining shards that catch the light. Your fingers hover over the stone, tracing the empty space where the gems once gleamed, now a haunting reminder of what’s been lost to unseen hands.

A sudden jolt, like a spark of electricity, tingles through your fingertips, and before you can react, a blur of blue fills your vision, distorting the world around you. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the haze, but it remains—an ethereal presence in the water. Then, you feel a light, almost playful poke against your cheek, and a startled scream escapes into your mouthpiece, sending a cascade of bubbles spiraling upwards.

Instinctively, you jerk backward, heart pounding, as you struggle to comprehend what’s before you. No—this can’t be real. It’s not another diver. It’s not even human.

In front of you, suspended in the water like a living dream, is a merman. His face, heart-shaped and adorned with eyes like dragon-like darkened amber, is framed by short, blue hair that floats gently around his soft cheeks, jawline and pointed chin. Thin soft eyebrows arch over those wide, curious eyes—eyes that seem to hold all the wonder of the deep. His lips, thick and juicy are slightly parted in a soft ‘o,’ convey a mix of curiosity and surprise. Your gaze travels over his tall frame down to his bare chest, lean and strong, and then to the tail—an iridescent baby blue, shimmering with every subtle movement, a perfect extension of the ocean’s beauty.

A wiggling tail instead of legs.

You blink again, desperate to make sense of the vision before you. A merman… It has to be.

He drifts closer, his tail flicking gracefully as he reaches out to poke your chin once more, his voice resonating through the water with an almost melodic quality. “Are you human?” he asks, his tone gentle yet filled with the wonder of a child discovering something new.

Your mind races, and you nod frantically, unable to speak with the mouthpiece still in your mouth, your feet paddling in the water as you fight to steady yourself. The reality of the moment crashes over you like a wave—this is no fantasy. A merman is right in front of you.

As your gaze falls on the backpack strapped to his shoulders, you notice a subtle shimmer, a gleam of something precious. In that instant, the pieces fall into place—he’s the one. He’s the mysterious collector, your unexpected rival in this underwater hunt for gems.

“I’ve seen humans before,” he continues, his voice carrying an almost casual tone as he swims around you, studying you like a creature from another world, “but I’ve never seen one dressed like you.”

Your heart aches to respond, to ask a million questions, but with the mouthpiece in place, all you can do is let him circle you, his eyes filled with an innocent fascination. The silence between you is heavy with unspoken words, each glance exchanged like a whispered secret between the ocean and the sun.

As you take in the sight before you, your eyes are drawn to a necklace resting against his chest, the small piece of aquamarine nestled between the firm contours of his titties—chest, you mean chest! The gem, cradled in the hollow where his muscles meet, glimmers softly, almost as if it’s alive with the very essence of the sea. You can’t help but stare in awe, the allure of it tugging at something deep within you. Thank heavens for your goggles, masking the blush that would otherwise give away your wandering thoughts.

“You look funny,” he remarks, his voice laced with innocent curiosity as he reaches out to grab one of your hydro fin shoes. The unexpected touch throws you off balance, and for a moment, you find yourself flipping weightlessly in the water, your body twisting like a leaf caught in a gentle current.

“Is this supposed to be like a mermaid’s tail?” he asks, holding your foot aloft as though it were some ancient relic to be deciphered. His brow furrows in concentration, and you can’t help but feel a mix of amusement and bewilderment at the sight.

Instinctively, you jerk your foot back, breaking free from his grasp, and you push against the water with frantic kicks, a glance at your watch reminding you that time is running out. As much as you wish to linger here, captivated by the merman’s presence, the pressing need to return to the surface propels you upward.

“Hey! Where’re you going?” he calls after you, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation, but you’re already too focused on reaching the surface to notice the distress in his expression. The thought of what could happen if you don’t make it in time isn’t one you’re willing to entertain.

Breaking through the water’s surface, you take off the mouthpiece and gulp in fresh air, scanning the horizon until you spot your boat, a distant speck where Hae waits, the other vessels having long since disappeared. It seems manageable, this swim back to the boat, as long as you stay above water—your oxygen tank now empty, its weight a reminder of how close you cut it.

But before you can begin the swim, something solid collides with you, stopping you in your tracks. “Ow,” you exclaim, startled as you float backward, only to find yourself face to face with a familiar figure, his blue hair dripping wet above the waves.

“Hi,” the merman says with a smile, his dimples appearing like little pools of light in the sun. The simple word carries a warmth that catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re lost in the easy charm of his grin, the ocean around you feeling suddenly smaller, as if it were just the two of you in this vast, endless world.

“Hi,” you greet him with a soft smile, still astonished that he followed you to the surface at all. A swirl of unspoken questions rises in your chest, but they tangle in your throat, leaving you staring at him, wide-eyed and speechless. The world seems to blur, save for the merman before you, his wet blue hair plastered against his forehead, his dragon-like eyes sweeping over you with a curious intensity, as if he’s memorizing every detail.

“What’s all that stuff you’ve got on?” he asks, pointing a slender finger at your goggles and then at the oxygen tanks strapped securely to your back.

“These?” you say, finding your voice as you point to your goggles. “They help me see underwater,” you pause, feeling the weight of the tanks pulling at your shoulders, “And these let me breathe while I dive—they hold the oxygen I need when I’m down there.” You gesture to the tanks behind you, your explanation feeling small in the face of his wide, unblinking curiosity.

He hums thoughtfully, nodding as if piecing together a puzzle. “Makes sense,” he says at last, though his gaze strays past you, catching sight of Hae waving from the boat that rocks gently on the surface, her silhouette framed by the scorching sun.

“I... I have to get back,” you mumble, pointing toward your friend, the words feeling heavy as they leave your lips. You try to steady your thoughts, but they swirl like the currents beneath the sea, a thousand questions dancing just beneath the surface, questions you don’t quite dare to voice.

“Okay,” he says, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation, perhaps. “But before you go…” His voice halts your movements, drawing you back to him like the pull of the tide. You turn toward him again, heart fluttering in the quiet space between you, as if the ocean itself is holding its breath, waiting to see what comes next.

“What’s your name?” His voice is soft, carrying a gentleness that ripples through the water.

“It’s ___,” you reply, offering him a smile that’s both shy and warm.

“That’s pretty,” he says, and when his lips part into a smile, his dimples carve deep into his cheeks, making him almost impossibly cute, but dangerously so.

“I’m Namjoon.”

His name lingers between you like a secret, sweet and mysterious. “Will I see you again?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his brow raised in curious hope.

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face, the warmth filling your chest. There’s something about him—this enchanting creature of the deep—that makes you feel drawn in, like the tide itself is pulling you closer. You nod, the joy bubbling up inside you as you answer, “See you later, Namjoon.” There’s more than one reason you want to see him again. The unspoken questions whirl in your mind, but there’s also the thrill—because maybe, just maybe, you want to get your hands on the best crystals before he does.

As you turn and swim back toward Hae, your thoughts a mess of wonder and disbelief, a blush warms your cheeks. Did you just make a date with a merman? The thought sends a tingle of excitement through you. But when you glance back to where he was, Namjoon is already gone, having disappeared beneath the shimmering surface, like a dream fading with the dawn.

You finally make it to the boat, the sun still hanging high, bathing everything in golden light. As Hae helps you out of the water and hands you a towel, her eyes are wide with confusion. “Who was that? And how did he just vanish into the water like that, without any diving gear?”

“A merman,” you pant, peeling off your oxygen tanks and goggles. The words slip out of your mouth so naturally, like it’s something you’d say every day. Not the revelation of a magical creature, but a simple truth.

Hae stares at you, eyes nearly bulging from their sockets. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A merman,” you repeat, more firmly this time.

“A merman?” she echoes, her voice faint and incredulous, as if the very idea is too fantastical to grasp.

“Yes. A goddamn merman,” you say, grinning wide as you meet her disbelieving gaze. “Scaly tail and all.” And then the absurdity of it all hits you, and before you know it, you’re laughing—a bright, bubbling sound that lifts the tension from your chest.

Hae blinks, her mind racing to catch up with the truth you’ve laid before her. When she finally does, her gaze shifts to the shimmering crystals you’ve collected, and without another word, she turns the boat towards home, lost in thought as the ocean waves lap against the sides. And all you can do is sit there, the excitement of your encounter buzzing through your veins, as you wonder about the next time you’ll meet Namjoon beneath the waves.

The next time you set sail, the open sea stretching endlessly before you, a current of giddy anticipation courses through your veins. Thoughts of the blue-haired merman, Namjoon, fill your mind, sparking excitement deep within your chest. Will he be there today, waiting beneath the waves? You wish you could speak with him underwater, to ask him the thousand questions swirling in your heart, but the surface would have to do for now. You can’t help but smile at the thought of seeing him again.

Hae steers the boat through the shimmering water, the horizon vast and infinite. As you slip on your gear and dive beneath the surface, the ocean’s cool embrace pulls you into its depths. You swim purposefully, eyes scanning the underwater world, searching for both gems and a glimpse of Namjoon.

Suddenly, something blue catches your eye, sparkling in the distance. Your pulse quickens as you think, just for a moment, that it might be him. But as you swim closer, your heart sinks—it’s only a cluster of aquamarine, glittering like pieces of fallen sky. You feel a bit foolish, letting your hopes get the better of you. Shaking off the disappointment, you turn your attention to the task at hand, collecting the gems with careful precision, though your thoughts continue to drift back to the mysterious merman.

You move to a new spot, finding a hidden cave adorned with larimar crystals. The stones are breathtaking—swirls of blue, white, and gray blending like waves crashing upon a shore, smooth and radiant. The sight brings a smile to your face, the beauty of the moment settling into your heart. You gently gather some of the crystals, placing them in your bag with reverence, as if each one carries a secret.

Just as you’re about to leave the cave, a shadow falls across the entrance. Your heart skips a beat, startled by the sudden presence. But then, the familiar voice reaches your ears, warm and apologetic, and you see him—Namjoon, his figure filling the space, his smile soft and full of quiet charm.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand nervously scratching the back of his head, his eyes filled with a gentle sincerity.

Relief washes over you, and with a playful wave of your hands, you signal that it’s okay—that he needn’t worry. How you wish you could speak to him down here, let your words float freely in the water like the bubbles escaping from your gear. But for now, your gestures will have to suffice. Your smile says the rest—you’re just glad to see him again.

“You’re collecting crystals, right?” Namjoon asks, his voice cutting through the liquid silence as he gestures toward your already bulging bag. You nod in response, still catching your breath from the weight of the gems you’ve gathered.

“Do you want me to show you a cave with lepidolite?” he mumbles, his tone casual but a bit uncertain. “They’re pretty rare, but I know of a cave that’s full of them.” For a fleeting moment, you wonder if this is the ocean’s version of Netflix and chill, the awkwardness of the offer landing with the charm of a bad pickup line. You can’t help but smile at the thought.

Still, you nod, knowing that Hae would be thrilled to get her hands on more lepidolite, and besides, you’re curious. You figure underwater Netflix and chill is a bit different from what you’re used to anyway.

Namjoon leads the way, his brilliant blue tail weaving effortlessly through the water, shimmering like sunlight caught in a sapphire. You trail behind him, captivated by the rhythmic sway of his form, the way his muscles ripple across his broad back like waves sculpted by some divine hand. You can’t help but wonder—do they even have gyms down here? The sight of him, so fluid and powerful, is mesmerizing, and before you know it, time seems to slip away, your focus narrowing to the subtle dance of his movements.

“This is the cave,” he suddenly announces, pulling you out of your reverie. You hadn’t realized just how long you’d been swimming, utterly absorbed by the quiet beauty of the journey and him.

You follow him inside, and the sight that greets you takes your breath away—deep violet lepidolite, sparkling in the dim light like stars scattered across a twilight sky. You’re awestruck by the sheer abundance, the rare gems nestled into the cave walls as if nature had painted this secret world just for you.

“Beautiful, right?” Namjoon giggles softly, his voice echoing gently through the cavern as you nod, too taken by the sight to speak. You pull out your tools, carefully beginning to gather the precious stones, all while feeling the warmth of his gaze lingering on you. His silent watchfulness stirs a strange flustered feeling inside, like he’s studying you with the same intensity you’ve used to admire him.

Once your bag is heavy with lepidolite, Namjoon takes you on a quiet tour of other hidden gem spots. Each place he shows you feels like a secret whispered by the ocean itself, and soon your collection grows so large that the weight of it tugs at you, as if the sea itself is trying to pull you back down. When Namjoon offers to carry your bag, you try to refuse at first, clinging to your independence. But as your arms grow heavy, you relent, watching in awe as he effortlessly takes your overloaded bag, slinging it across his broad frame with ease. He carries it as though the weight is nothing, his strength as graceful as the tides themselves.

With a raised arm, you gesture that it’s time to surface—your oxygen running low, the familiar ache of needing air settling into your chest. He seems to understand immediately, and together you ascend, the world around you turning brighter as you rise toward the surface.

Breaking through the water, you gasp in the fresh air, peeling off your goggles and mouthpiece, eager to speak to him in the open air. Namjoon surfaces beside you, droplets clinging to his skin as the sun catches the water in his hair, casting a shimmering halo around his smiling face.

“We should do this again,” he says, his voice warm and full of excitement. “Wasn’t it fun?”

“It really was,” you reply with a smile, your heart still buzzing from the underwater adventure. “Thank you for showing me all those caves. My friend, Hae, is going to be over the moon,” you say, casting a glance toward the boat swaying gently in the distance.

“That’s great to hear,” Namjoon replies, his voice as smooth as the rippling waves.

A flicker of frustration tugs at your chest, and you bite your lip. “I just wish I could talk to you down there,” you admit, your words heavy with a longing that feels both simple and profound.

“It would be nice, yeah,” he muses, his soft smile brightened by the sunlight. “But I don’t mind coming up here to talk. I like the air up here too,” he adds with a gentle chuckle, his gaze warm and steady.

“I have so many questions,” you blurt out, the words escaping you before you can hold them back. There’s too much wonder bottled up inside you, too much curiosity, and it needs to spill over.

Namjoon laughs, a sound so genuine it feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Shoot,” he says, his dimples deepening like two small whirlpools at the corners of his mouth.

You pause, your mind swimming with possibilities, before settling on the most obvious. “Are you the only merman, or… are there more of you?” you ask, your voice tinged with awe.

“There are more,” he says with pride, his chest lifting slightly. “There’s a whole city beneath the sea—Naraeum, where we live.” His eyes gleam with the pride of someone who belongs to something ancient and wondrous.

A thrill runs through you at the revelation. An entire city of merfolk hidden beneath the waves. The thought makes your pulse quicken, the realization that you’ve stumbled upon something so extraordinary, so secret, that few on the surface could even imagine it. You feel as if you’ve been let in on the universe’s greatest mystery, and it fills you with a giddy excitement that hums like electricity in your veins.

“Are there cities or kingdoms beneath the waves? What are they like?” you ask, your voice soft with curiosity, eager to glimpse the world he calls home.

Namjoon’s eyes light up with a quiet pride. “Naraeum is a vast kingdom,” he begins, his words gentle yet full of wonder. “There’s pink coral stretching as far as the eye can see, ancient golden buildings weathered by time, and bright green kelp that sways like dancers in the currents. Dark caves hide beneath the surface, teeming with life—fish, crabs, creatures of every kind. And at night, everything glows with bioluminescent light, turning the ocean into a dreamscape.” A faint blush rises on his cheeks as he adds, “Maybe I can show you one day.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the thought of seeing an underwater kingdom beyond anything you’ve ever imagined. “That sounds unbelievable. I’d love to see Naraeum,” you say, barely able to contain the excitement bubbling within you. The idea of diving so deep, into a world untouched by human hands, feels too surreal to grasp.

“There are other cities too,” Namjoon continues, a smile tugging at his lips. “Some are smaller, some are larger, but Naraeum is like the heart of our region, the capital of sorts,” he adds, the pride in his voice unmistakable.

Your mind whirls with possibilities, questions tumbling out before you can stop them. “Do you have art? Music? Stories? How do you create them underwater?”

Namjoon laughs, a full-bodied sound that echoes across the waves. “We do,” he replies with a sparkle in his eyes. “Human books, for one—we’ve learned to preserve them so they don’t dissolve. Otherwise, we etch our stories on stone, carving our history into the bones of the sea. For music, we use instruments that echo your drums, flutes, and strings, but they’re crafted from merfolk hair, delicate yet strong.”

He pauses, a wistful look crossing his face. “Naraeum is ancient, filled with art and stories older than any of us. But,” he adds, adjusting the heavy bag on his back, “I fear I don’t have enough time to share them all right now. This bag,” he says with a light grin, “is starting to weigh me down.”

“Oh right, the bag!” you exclaim, snapping back to reality as a wave of panic ripples through you. You mentally scold yourself for letting the moment sweep you away, your feet kicking gently against the water as you make your way toward the boat. Namjoon swims by your side, effortlessly graceful, his shimmering tail flickering beneath the surface.

Hae is there, waiting with a patient smile, and as she pulls you aboard, you reach out to take the heavy bag from Namjoon’s hands. “Thank you so much,” you say, a warm smile spreading across your face despite the unspoken whirlpool of questions still swirling in your mind. You wish you could ask him everything, but those wonders will have to wait.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Namjoon replies, his voice soft like the lull of the ocean. His own smile is tender, a quiet acknowledgment that leaves you feeling light despite the weight of the bag.

Hae chimes in with a grin, “So, you’re the famous merman,” she teases, still a little wide-eyed as Namjoon flashes his bright blue tail above the surface, the sight leaving her speechless. The tail vanishes just as quickly, a flicker of the magic below.

“I’ll have to go now,” Namjoon says, his voice carrying a gentle farewell as he begins to swim backward, his gaze lingering on yours. “But I’ll see you again soon, ___.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks, and despite yourself, you smile and wave, heart fluttering in a way that’s both exhilarating and unsettling. You watch him dip beneath the waves, his form disappearing into the deep blue, leaving the water still and the air quiet.

Hae turns to you with a knowing look. “You’ve got a crush on the merman, don’t you?”

You can’t deny the warmth spreading through you, but you push the thought aside, the reality of it sinking in. He’s a merman. You’re human. It feels impossible, like something from a dream. But maybe—just maybe—being friends isn’t out of reach. Friends, you think, as if convincing yourself. That can’t hurt... right?

In the following weeks, you find yourself swept into a world beyond imagination—each adventure with Namjoon feels like diving into a storybook of magic and wonder. He takes you to hidden underwater realms where gems glimmer like stars, and schools of fish, dolphins, and whales glide by as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s as though the ocean has opened up just for you, revealing its secrets with every dive. The more time you spend with him, the stronger your heart tugs, pulling you deeper into your feelings. You try, futilely, to convince yourself you’re just friends, but every shared laugh, every meaningful glance, makes that harder to believe.

Namjoon is an incredible friend, one who listens to your ramblings with genuine interest. His conversation is as vast and deep as the ocean itself, leading you into existential tangents that leave you pondering life and its mysteries long after the talks are over. You wish for more—there’s an ache that grows inside you—but how could that even be possible? He’s a merman, you’re human. It feels like some impossible fairy tale. Yet, you’ve caught him stealing glances, his cheeks tinged with blush, and sometimes he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart flutter in ways you can’t ignore. But does that mean anything? How do merfolk even love? You wonder if their hearts beat the same as yours.

One quiet afternoon, as you sit with the sun lazily dipping below the horizon on the boat, you find yourself asking the question that’s been gnawing at your mind. “Are there any consequences if a merman falls in love with a human?” The words tumble out before you can stop them.

Namjoon, floating beside the boat, nearly chokes on the beer you brought him, his laughter turning into a cough as he searches for air. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, more careful. “There aren’t really... any consequences,” he murmurs, the tips of his ears turning pink. His eyes flicker nervously to your lips, then meet your eyes again, a quiet vulnerability swimming in their depths.

Good to know, you think, your heart skipping a beat. But before the blush overtakes you, you scramble to change the subject, your curiosity pulling you in another direction. “Is there magic in the ocean, like the old legends say? Can you control it?”

He laughs softly, the sound like the ebb and flow of waves. “There is magic, but no, I can’t control it. None of us can. There’s a Sea Witch, though—she’s the only one with that kind of power, as far as I know.” His words are laced with mystery, and your mind spins with possibilities.

“Can merfolk live forever?” you ask, half-dreaming of a life that stretches beyond the boundaries of time.

“Yes and no,” he replies, his voice thoughtful. “We can live for so long it feels like forever, but we’re not truly immortal.” His gaze drifts across the water, as if pondering the weight of time itself.

“Interesting,” you murmur, your thoughts swirling. “What happens when a merperson dies, then? Is there an afterlife?”

Namjoon’s smile is wistful as he explains, “When a merperson dies, we hold a celebration—a spiritual send-off, really. There’s singing, dancing, it’s more of a party than a funeral. We celebrate their journey into the afterlife.” You must look puzzled because he quickly adds, “In the afterlife, we become ghosts. But if friends and family don’t send you off properly, there’s a chance the spirit might come back to haunt them.” He chuckles lightly, and you gasp, wide-eyed at the thought.

A cool breeze dances over the water, and for a moment, the world feels suspended between reality and the dreamlike expanse of the sea. You sit there, awed by the depth of his world, your heart both heavy with questions and light with wonder. And in that moment, despite the impossible distance between your two worlds, something seems to shift—something delicate and unspoken. You don’t know what the future holds, but maybe, just maybe, there’s magic enough to bridge the divide.

He passes the beer back to you, and you take a gentle sip, letting the taste linger without wanting the haze of drunkenness to settle in. Out here, in the middle of the endless ocean, everything feels both vast and intimate. A small taste is enough.

“Do you ever feel lonely in the vastness of the sea?” you ask, a quiet melancholy softening your voice as you gaze out at the seemingly endless horizon. The sea is breathtaking, yes, but the weight of its endlessness stirs something in you—a humbling reminder of how small one can feel in such a world.

“Sometimes,” Namjoon admits, his head dipping as his gaze finds the water. “There are moments when the ocean feels too big, too quiet.” His voice is soft, vulnerable. “But I have good friends,” he continues with a faint smile, “and I have my books when the solitude feels too heavy.” He looks at you with eyes warm and reassuring, as if to say that the sea might be vast, but he’s found beauty in its stillness.

“Oh, what books do you like?” you chuckle lightly, trying to brighten the mood, though his quiet sincerity tugs at your heart.

“Human books,” he replies with a gentle grin. “I love historical tales, but fiction is my favorite—stories that let me dream of other worlds.”

You smile, curiosity dancing on your lips. “What kind of fiction? Should I bring you some next time?” The words tumble out before you can catch them, your eagerness spilling over into the space between you.

A blush blooms across his cheeks, so deep it even colors the tips of his ears. In a shy, almost bashful voice, he says, “I... I like romance.” His admission is soft, as if he’s unsure of how it will land.

You can’t help but smile, your heart swelling with affection. There’s no shame in it, not to you—if anything, it’s endearing. “I have some romance books I can bring next time, if you’d like,” you offer, your voice gentle, feeling the warmth of your words fill the space between you.

Namjoon’s eyes sparkle, a soft wonder lighting them up as his blush deepens. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmurs, his voice as tender as the evening breeze.

The sun has begun to sink lower, casting a golden glow over the water. Namjoon glances at the sky, then back at you with a smile that feels like the closing of a chapter. “It’s getting late. I was thinking... next time, I could show you Naraeum.” His voice is proud, almost glowing with the thought. “If we go at night, the whole kingdom shines,” he adds, a spark of excitement in his eyes as he recalls the bioluminescent beauty he once described to you.

Your heart leaps at the thought. “I’d love that,” you say, feeling the pull of the ocean’s magic once more. “I’ll ask Hae to man the boat, so I’m not alone when it’s time to head back.”

Namjoon nods, his smile softening as the sun dips lower, its light casting golden hues over both the water and his blue hair. “See you soon,” he says, waving as he begins to slip beneath the surface.

You wave back, feeling the warmth of his presence linger, even as you sail toward the shore, the fading sunlight a reminder that the ocean holds many mysteries yet to be uncovered. And with each adventure, your connection to him deepens, like a current pulling you both to something inevitable.

"I’m telling you, you’re totally whipped, man," Yoongi says with a playful eye roll, his voice teasing but laced with truth.

“I’m not,” Namjoon protests, crossing his arms defensively, but deep down, he knows resistance is futile. His friends have been relentless, teasing him ever since you entered his life—how his smile stretches wider, brighter, after spending time with you, how your name slips into conversations that have nothing to do with the human world. It’s like you’ve seeped into his very soul. He knows he’s fallen, and fallen hard, but the weight of his feelings confuses him. He has no idea how to navigate them, unsure of your heart, or if you could even feel the same pull toward him. And how could it ever work between you two? The thought of venturing onto land to be with you dances through his mind like a fragile dream, but there’s a storm of questions swirling beneath the surface—questions he’s too afraid to ask, too scared to drown in all the unknowns.

“Just don’t get your heart broken,” Yoongi mutters, his voice softer now, tinged with caution. Namjoon nods, the words settling heavily in his chest like stones sinking to the ocean floor.

“Hey man, don’t throw your past experiences at Joonie like that!” Jimin chimes in, smacking Yoongi’s shoulder, a little too forcefully judging by Yoongi’s wince. “If he’s in love, he should go for it. Take the dive, see where the current leads him,” the blonde merman insists, eyes sparkling with mischief and optimism, trying to fill Namjoon’s heart with hope, pushing away the shadows Yoongi’s cynicism casts.

Namjoon, though, can only sigh. “I just don’t know…,” he mumbles, fingers trailing along the spines of his beloved books, rearranging them in some futile attempt to quiet the storm inside him. Anything to busy himself, anything to keep thoughts of you from consuming him. But it’s hopeless—why does his mind keep drifting back to you, like the tide, relentless and unyielding?

“It will never work,” Yoongi shrugs with a quiet scoff, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s seen too many relationships slip away. His words linger in the air, heavy like the deep sea.

Jimin, unphased, shoots him a scolding glare. “You never know that,” he says firmly. “Just because your love life’s been a shipwreck doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone else.” There’s a sharp edge to his words, a flicker of irritation.

“And look at Seokjin and Soo-ah!” Jimin adds, his voice lifting again, the gleam of an idea flickering in his eyes. “Soo-ah was human once too, remember? She turned mermaid for love. Maybe ___ would want to become a mermaid as well? Who knows what fate has in store,” he grins, ever the romantic, eager to plant seeds of possibility in Namjoon’s mind.

Namjoon’s heart stirs at the thought, but even the idea feels like a dream too distant, too fragile to reach. Could you really be part of his world? Could love, like the sea, find a way to bridge the impossible distance between you?

“I would never put that on her. She has a life—one she’s likely content with on land. I couldn’t ask her to leave it behind,” Namjoon says, his voice laced with breathless resignation, as though the weight of his own feelings has left him deflated, crushed beneath the impossibility of it all.

“She’s a good friend. I’ll just... enjoy what we have for now,” he adds softly, placing the book you’d given him gently on his nightstand, his fingers lingering on the cover. He already treasures it, not for the words it contains, but because it came from you. Though he hasn’t yet reached the end, he finds himself lost in the pages, immersed in the tale of a woman struggling with feelings for her best friend—torn between preserving their friendship or risking everything for love. If Namjoon sees a reflection of his own heart in those pages, he’ll never admit it, not even to himself.

“Love sucks anyway,” Yoongi mutters, his voice sharp and bitter, like a wound still raw and bleeding.

“You’re killing the vibe, Yoon,” Jimin sighs, shaking his head as he swims closer to Namjoon, his energy warm and comforting.

“Don’t listen to him,” Jimin adds, draping an arm around Namjoon’s broad shoulders, trying to lift the weight that presses down on his friend. “He’s the last person you want advice from when it comes to love. He’s forgotten what it means to believe in it.” Jimin shoots another glare at Yoongi, who merely shrugs, unmoved.

Namjoon lets out a weary sigh. He likes you—no, more than likes you. Perhaps he’s even in love, but he’s still learning to come to terms with that revelation. What if telling you his feelings drives you away? What if, in confessing his heart, he loses the precious friendship you’ve built together? You, who’ve brought laughter and life into his days. He’s never been close to a human before, not like this, and the thought of losing you weighs heavier than the ocean above him.

It’s not like he hasn’t ventured to land before, tasted fleeting moments with humans—flings that flickered out as quickly as they began. But this, you, feel different. And he’s in deep water now, uncertain of the way forward. It doesn’t matter to him that you’re human. If you were a mermaid, he doubts it would make things easier. What draws him to you isn’t your species, it’s your soul.

It’s the way your hair dances in the wind, or how it clings to your skin when it’s soaked from the sea. The way your cheeks flush red, that soft blush that dusts even the bridge of your nose. The way bubbles rise and swirl around you when you dive beneath the waves, how your lashes flutter like the wings of a butterfly. The way your presence calms the storm inside him, as though you carry the quiet strength of the sea itself.

Yes, Namjoon thinks, his heart heavy with the undeniable truth. He’s got it bad.

��Hae, I don’t know what to do,” you sigh, the weight of indecision pressing down on you as you sit at the coffee shop, staring at the steam rising from your untouched cup. You feel like you could pull your hair out, frustration boiling inside as you wait for the coffee to cool, though it’s really your emotions that need calming.

The midday sunlight filters through the window, casting soft golden light over your table, but you can’t appreciate the warmth. Your mind is too restless. What are you supposed to do with these feelings?

“It’s actually quite simple,” Hae says, her tone far too casual for the magnitude of what you’re feeling. She takes a sip of her coffee—how does she drink it so scalding hot?—and you scoff softly, half out of envy, half in disbelief at how calm she seems. “You just have to talk to him.”

You groan, the sound louder than you intended, pulling curious glances from the tables around you. Embarrassed, you lower your voice, but the frustration lingers, tugging at your insides like a tangled knot.

“It’s not that easy,” you say, pushing your coffee aside. “What if he doesn’t like me? What if I ruin everything between us?” Your voice drops to a whisper as your hands fall to your lap, palms sweaty and clammy. “How would it even work? He’s a merman, Hae. I... I’m just me.”

Hae raises an eyebrow, amused. “Girl—have you seriously not noticed the way he looks at you?”

You blink. “What do you mean? He looks at me... normal.”

She gives you a look that suggests you might be the most oblivious person on the planet. “Nah. He looks at you like he’s ready to drown in your eyes—like you’re his whole world.”

Her words hit you like a sudden wave, stealing your breath for a moment. Could she be right? You’ve never seen Namjoon look at you like that, at least not in a way you could recognize.

“Really?” you whisper, unsure, heart fluttering with both hope and fear.

“Yes,” she emphasizes, laughing a little as she sets her cup down. “You’re kinda stupid for not noticing.”

You finally take a tentative sip of your now-warm coffee, trying to hide the way her words unravel you. As the warmth settles in your chest, your mind starts racing, replaying all the moments you’ve shared with Namjoon, all the times he’s looked at you, spoken to you with that gentle smile. Had there been something more in those glances? Had you been too blind to see it?

“You should confess your feelings,” Hae says, matter-of-fact, sipping her coffee like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

But it’s not that simple, not for you. The thought of baring your heart feels like standing at the edge of a precipice, with no way of knowing if there’s solid ground beneath you—or a fall. What if she’s wrong? What if you’re wrong?

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t know if I can. What if I ruin our friendship? What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Hae gives you a knowing look, but you’re already spiraling, lost in your own thoughts. Maybe... maybe you could watch him a little longer, try to see what she’s seeing, catch more evidence that there’s something there, something more.

Because the risk of losing him over your feelings—that terrifies you more than anything.

It’s a few nights later, and the sea is a blanket of darkness as you and Hae venture out into its endless expanse. The sky above is nearly pitch black, save for the delicate shimmer of stars scattered like diamonds, casting faint light upon the inky water. The moon hangs low, its pale glow mirrored perfectly on the surface, creating a fragile bridge between the heavens and the sea. You pull Hae into a hug, murmuring your gratitude for her being here, for her unwavering companionship on this strange, otherworldly journey. She laughs softly, her voice breaking the silence of the night, and tells you she wouldn’t let you drown—not when she’s here to keep you safe. Her words bring a smile to your face, easing the quiet tension in your chest as you pull on your gear in the dark.

You slip into the water, the sea swallowing you whole. Beneath the surface, it’s as black as ink, the deep blue fading into a near-impenetrable navy that borders on oblivion. But there is no fear, only the pull of the unknown as you dive deeper, surrendering to the quiet pull of the ocean. Your breath is steady, your heartbeat louder in your ears than the sound of the waves above.

And then, there he is—Namjoon, his gentle smile waiting for you like a beacon in the depths, dimples carving softness into the darkness. His presence is steady, grounding, and for a moment, you forget you can’t speak, forgetting that the words you wish to say—I’m glad I’m here, thank you for this—are trapped behind the mask of your breathing gear.

Suddenly, his hand reaches for yours. The touch surprises you at first, a flicker of warmth against the cold of the sea, sending a soft spark up your arm, a silent current that makes your heart stutter. But then you relax into it, realizing how right it feels—his hand in yours, the silent understanding between you. It’s just a hand, you remind yourself, but even the smallest gesture carries weight in the depths of the sea.

“It’s dark,” he gestures to your joined hands, his voice a whisper through the water. “I’ll guide you.” You notice, even in the dim light, how his eyes shift nervously, and if the ocean weren’t so dark, you’d swear there was a blush creeping across his cheeks.

Together, you swim deeper, your hand still clasped in his as the world around you begins to change. In the distance, something gleams—a glint of gold, faint but unmistakable. As you draw closer, it becomes more defined, taking shape as towering structures rise from the seafloor like monuments from another world. Tall, ancient buildings glitter beneath the water, their surfaces gleaming with gold, adorned in intricate lettering and symbols you can’t begin to decipher. The curves and arches remind you of something familiar, some echo of human architecture, though far grander and more ancient than anything you’ve ever seen. These aren’t just buildings—they’re castles, palaces from a forgotten fairy tale. Everything is bathed in the ethereal glow of bioluminescent light, soft blues and yellows emanating from plants that pulse like stars, making the entire city shimmer as if alive with magic. It’s breathtaking—otherworldly in its beauty—and you feel your breath catch in your throat, mesmerized by the impossible splendor before you.

How many wonders exist beneath the surface, hidden from the world above? you think, the weight of it all is almost too much to grasp. That such a place could exist, a vast city of gold and light, thriving in the deep—how could you have never known?

“Welcome to Naraeum,” Namjoon says, his voice soft, gesturing toward the city center that teems with life. Merpeople of all shapes, colors, and ages drift through the streets, some lost in their own rhythms, others laughing and chatting, and children darting through the water in playful games. The whole scene is alive, vibrant, and full of warmth, and the sight of it fills you with something indescribable—joy, wonder, perhaps even belonging.

A smile spreads across your face, unbidden, as the reality of this magical place settles over you. For the first time, you feel like you’ve truly discovered something beyond the world you’ve known, something boundless and beautiful. And with Namjoon beside you, it feels like you’ve only just begun to understand its depths.

“This is the city hall,” Namjoon gestures toward the tallest of the castles, its golden spires reaching upward like fingers trying to touch the ocean’s surface. “The royal family lives there too.” His voice is soft, but there’s a weight to his words, something ancient and significant about the building that looms over the city like a silent guardian.

You glance at him, blinking, wishing you could ask more, the curiosity burning inside you. If only you could speak, but the water and the mouthpiece keep your questions trapped behind your lips. The tug of his hand interrupts your thoughts, and once again you’re being gently pulled deeper into the heart of Naraeum, where the city unfolds like a dream in slow motion.

The water sways with life—delicate kale and other greens move in rhythm with the gentle currents, shells glint beneath the sandy floor, and tiny crabs scuttle between the rocks, oblivious to your presence. Shoals of fish—bright yellow, orange, and black—dart past, their quicksilver bodies flashing through the twilight water. And now, the eyes of the merpeople are on you. Their gazes, curious and shimmering, follow you as you move through their world, and for the first time, you feel like a true visitor in a land not your own.

Three merpeople approach, their figures graceful and effortless in the water. One, a striking merman with a pink tail that shimmers like rose quartz in the dim light, looks you over with an intensity that makes you feel seen in a way both comforting and unfamiliar. You notice his hand intertwined with a mermaid beside him, her tail a stunning shade of purple that gleams like amethyst. Together, they are radiant, like a pair of jewels. They look perfect together, you think, a bit in awe of how seamlessly they belong to this world.

“This is ___?” the pink-tailed merman asks, his voice smooth, his eyes darting to Namjoon for confirmation.

Namjoon nods, and the mermaid smiles, her face brightening with warmth. “Pleased to meet you,” she says, her voice light like a melody. “I’m Soo-ah, and this is my fiancé, Seokjin.” You nod in response, acknowledging them with a smile behind your mouthpiece, feeling a sense of camaraderie in their presence.

But before you can speak—or even think of what to say—your eyes catch on the third figure. A dark-haired merman with a tail the color of midnight, streaked with gold that glimmers like starlight. His aura is different—colder, detached. His black eyes flicker over you briefly, then, with a dismissive scoff, he turns away, arms crossed over his chest as if to close himself off from the world.

Namjoon sighs, his voice edged with irritation, “That’s Yoongi.” The name comes out rough, almost an apology. “He forgot to take the stick out of his ass today.”

You can’t help but chuckle, bubbles escaping from your mouthpiece, rising toward the surface like tiny pieces of joy. Even in this underwater kingdom, humor survives, softening the tension. But Yoongi, unmoved, swims off into the shadows, his figure disappearing into the vastness of the sea.

“Don’t mind him,” Namjoon mutters, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Come on, I want to show you the rest.”

Soo-ah and Seokjin swim alongside you as Namjoon leads you through the winding streets of the marketplace, stalls lined up like sentinels, though empty now in the quiet of night. The architecture is both foreign and familiar, illuminated by the soft glow of bioluminescent plants. Everything feels untouched by time, and yet alive with history. You pass the grand library next, its shelves filled with tomes both ancient and new, merfolk stories and human books resting side by side. You can almost feel the weight of untold stories and hidden lore that fills the space, waiting to be discovered.

Namjoon’s excitement builds as he takes you to a fitness center unlike anything you’ve ever seen—massive bars with stones at either end, weights crafted from various-sized rocks, and machines clearly designed for strength and agility in the water. It’s a glimpse into the life of these beings, how they build themselves in this weightless world.

After a while, Soo-ah and Seokjin bid you farewell, their presence a quiet comfort as they swim off together, leaving you alone with Namjoon. Your pulse quickens. His hand, still clasped in yours, feels warm even in the cold depths of the sea. The way he glances at you—those fleeting, secretive looks that you’ve caught out of the corner of your eye—makes your heart race even more. Hae’s words echo in your mind, whispering truths you’re not sure you’re ready to admit.

Could it be? you wonder, as the two of you drift toward his home.

“This is my place,” he says softly, his voice reverberating through the water as he turns on the light—an iridescent seashell hanging from the ceiling that casts a gentle, pearlescent glow throughout the space. His home is carved into the heart of a cave, the walls smooth and cool to the touch, like the sea itself has shaped them over countless years. Your eyes fall on his bed, draped in what looks like a soft, inviting duvet, but as you get closer, you realize it’s woven from delicate strands of kelp, swaying ever so slightly in the currents. It’s an unexpected beauty, intricate and organic, like everything in this underwater world.

The longest wall is dominated by a towering bookshelf, its shelves lined with books, arranged meticulously by color and size. It’s mesmerizing, this ocean of stories he’s collected, and you can’t help but wonder what worlds and lives he’s explored within these pages. You want to tell him, to say how beautiful it all is—his home, his soul, him. But your words are trapped beneath the weight of the sea, tangled with the breathlessness of being in his presence.

Your fingertips brush the spines of the books, imagining all the narratives they contain, each one another layer of who Namjoon is. You glance down at your joined hands—his fingers laced with yours, and in that quiet moment, you swear you can feel something electric passing between you. A pulse of warmth, a silent exchange of emotions you can’t speak. You want to kiss him, more than anything. The way he’s gazing at you, his eyes soft and full of something unspoken, the gentle curve of his lips hiding a blush you wish you could see more clearly.

But here, in this quiet cavern beneath the sea, there’s nothing you can do. You can’t ask him what you’re dying to know, can’t lean in and feel the warmth of his lips against yours, can’t tell him that you’re falling, deeply, helplessly. All you can do is float here, heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid.

He clears his throat, nervously scratching the back of his head. His mouth opens as if he’s about to speak, then closes again. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, lingering in the air between you. He tries again, and this time his voice, soft and hesitant, finally breaks the silence.

“Thank you for letting me show you my world.”

You squeeze his hand gently, pouring all the gratitude and affection you can’t voice into that single touch. You hope he feels it—the appreciation, the awe, the quiet longing you carry for him. And in that touch, you wish you could invite him into your world, share everything that you are with him, even though he’s been on land before. But you don’t know if he’d want that. You’ve never asked, never dared to imagine what it might be like to share your lives across these two worlds. You’re afraid to impose, afraid to hope too much.

The moment hangs fragile between you, but like all perfect moments, it begins to fade as reality presses in. You feel the pull of time, the reminder that you need to return to the surface. Namjoon feels it too. His eyes flicker with understanding as he leads you back out into the city, guiding you through the soft glow of bioluminescent lights, past the merpeople still moving gracefully through their midnight routines.

The silence between you stretches as you swim toward the boat where Hae waits, but it’s not the kind of silence that weighs heavy. It’s filled with possibility, thick with everything you haven’t said. Your heart beats faster as you realize that, once you’re back above the water, you’ll have the chance to speak. To ask. The thought of it sends your pulse racing, a swirl of excitement and terror mixing in your chest.

What if he doesn’t feel the same? The question spins through your mind, gnawing at the edges of your courage. But the way he looked at you, the way his hand feels in yours, gives you hope. And maybe—just maybe—that will be enough.

As you break the surface of the water, you push your goggles up to rest like a headband, feeling the cool night air kiss your damp skin. It’s crisp, almost electric, filling your lungs with a freshness that makes the world above feel more alive than ever. Namjoon surfaces beside you, offering you a soft smile, but your attention is caught by the subtle blush dusting his cheeks, a faint rose bloom in the moonlight. He seems hesitant, his uncertainty mirroring your own, as if you’re both standing on the edge of something vast and uncharted, too afraid to take that first leap.

For a heartbeat, he swims closer, his presence looming gently in your space. You hold your breath, your pulse quickening with the thought that he might—maybe—kiss you. Instinctively, you close your eyes, ready to surrender to that moment, but instead, his fingers brush your cheek, and he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear with such tenderness it sends a wave of warmth through your body. His touch lingers, delicate and deliberate, and though it wasn’t the kiss you imagined, it makes you blush all the same. The heat rises to your cheeks, flooding you with a mixture of longing and disappointment.

But then something stirs within you—some reckless courage sparked by his closeness—and before you can think it through, you lean in. Your lips find his, a soft, quick kiss, almost like a whisper. It’s gentle, just a peck, but his lips are warm, softer than you ever imagined, like the sea breeze caressing your skin on a summer evening.

When you pull away, you see the surprise flicker in his eyes for just a moment before his features soften into something tender and full of quiet affection. His ears burn red in the moonlight, and his dimples deepen as he gazes at you with a look that leaves you breathless. His brown eyes—dark and shimmering, like polished amber—glow with something more, something deeper. You think, just for a second, it’s desire, simmering beneath his calm exterior.

“Thank you for tonight,” you whisper, your voice barely carrying over the soft lapping of the waves. You squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth and strength of him, and smile. “It was so beautiful.”

Namjoon doesn’t speak; he simply looks at you, his dragon-like eyes full of quiet intensity, his dimples softening the tension in the air. It’s a look that makes your heart skip, that holds a thousand unsaid words between you. And as you reluctantly pull away, swimming toward the boat, your mind is still spinning from the kiss, from the closeness, from everything left unspoken.

Hae pulls you up into the boat, and as you sit, catching your breath, you catch her sly grin. You know she saw everything—the kiss, the blush, the way Namjoon looked at you—but for now, she stays silent, letting the moment hang in the air. You wave to Namjoon, watching as he offers one last gentle smile before disappearing back into the deep, dark waters, the night swallowing him whole.

And even as the waves settle, your heart still swells, full of the hope and mystery that the night—and Namjoon—left behind.

The days pass in a blur of anxious thoughts, your heart heavy with doubt. Every dive into the ocean feels colder without a trace of Namjoon, and the silence is deafening. Each time you resurface alone, your mind spirals further into uncertainty. Did you overstep? The kiss lingers on your lips, but now you wonder if it was a mistake. It feels as if he’s vanished into the depths, leaving you adrift. Is he avoiding me? The question gnaws at you, twisting your insides. Maybe this is his way of saying he doesn’t feel the same, that he wants nothing more to do with you.

Hae, ever the caring friend, drags you to a fancy restaurant in an attempt to soothe your restless mind, insisting that you’re worrying yourself to death. You look like a dog that’s been kicked, she had said with a shake of her head, trying to make you laugh. But now, as you sit across from her, poking at the salad you barely have the appetite to eat, the weight of your uncertainty presses down even harder. Your stomach twists with every bite, the anxiety clinging to you like a shadow.

“Maybe he’s just busy, or caught up in merfolk stuff?" Hae suggests, her voice light, trying to pry you from the dark corners of your thoughts. But your mind won’t let you escape. Busy? No, your treacherous thoughts whisper, he’s avoiding you—he’s forgotten you, and the kiss meant nothing.

You say nothing, only stabbing your fork into the salad with a kind of quiet fury, each jab into the leaves an outlet for the storm brewing inside you.

“Uh, ___?” Hae’s voice breaks the tension, but you barely lift your head. She stumbles over her words, clearly uneasy, her tone cautious as she leans in closer. “There’s a man—blue hair—he’s looking at us.”

At her words, something stirs in you, curiosity overriding the anger for just a moment. Blue hair? Your heart skips a beat, and before you can stop yourself, you turn around, almost instinctively, as though drawn by an invisible thread. Your gaze collides with a pair of deep, brown eyes that hold all the mystery of the ocean. Namjoon.

His eyes glisten like the sea at dawn, reflecting both depth and tenderness, swirling with something unspoken—regret, maybe even desire. You swallow hard, feeling the magnetic pull that has always existed between you, but this time, it’s stronger. The air around you thickens as he walks toward the table, his presence unmistakable, sending your pulse into a wild rhythm.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, his voice soft, laced with an apology that doesn’t need to be spoken yet. The smile he offers is gentle, almost shy, and you can see the guilt in the way his eyes search yours. He knows. He knows he shouldn’t have disappeared without a word.

“Hi, Namjoon,” you manage to reply, the sound of his name on your lips stirring something deep inside you—something that’s a mixture of relief and frustration. You’re a little mad, of course you are. But as your heart races, you know you can’t stay angry with him, not when he’s standing there with that look in his eyes. He’s here now. And that’s enough for your heart to forgive him.

Your eyes travel down to his legs—strong, toned, perfectly human. He’s traded the water for the land, just for you, standing there in beige shorts like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And yet, your mind spins with the impossibility of it all, as if he’s a dream made flesh, and part of you still can’t believe he’s really here.

The air between you is thick with unspoken words, a tension that seems to ripple like the sea itself. Namjoon scratches the back of his head, his eyes shifting with uncertainty. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone,” he begins, his voice low and sincere. “I didn’t mean to disappear like that, but something happened in Naraeum—”

Before he can finish, the weight of your own anxiety breaks through, forcing the words from your chest. “I thought you didn’t like me, or just forgot about me.” The admission tumbles out, raw and trembling, the very fear that has haunted you for days finally taking shape between you. As soon as the words leave your lips, you feel exposed, vulnerable. You brace yourself for his response.

For a moment, he just stares, his expression frozen in disbelief, like your words have knocked the wind out of him. Then, his face softens, eyes wide with something close to shock. “Baby, no,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, the nickname slipping from his lips so naturally that it sends a flutter of warmth through your chest. He steps closer, worry etched in every line of his face as his gaze falls on you, sitting there with your heart in your throat.

Baby?

“I’d never forget about you,” he continues, his voice trembling slightly as he bites his lower lip, as if trying to hold something back. The intimacy of that small gesture makes your breath catch.

Hae clears her throat opposite you, breaking the charged moment. She rises from her seat, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, drawing both your gazes toward her flushed face. “Namjoon, please, take my seat and talk. I’ll go home and shower this tension off,” she says, her tone teasing but kind.

You open your mouth to protest, but then close it, realizing she’s right. The tension is palpable, thick as the ocean depths, and part of you is grateful for the space she’s offering. Even though nerves twist inside you like a storm, you know this is a conversation you need to have.

As Hae leaves, Namjoon sits down across from you, his eyes soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry I worried you, baby,” he murmurs, leaning forward slightly. His hands rest on the table, inching closer to yours, like he’s afraid to cross that final distance too soon.

There’s that word again—baby—and it stirs something deep inside you, butterflies rising in your chest, fluttering wildly, desperate to escape. It’s more than just a nickname; it’s a promise, a reassurance that melts the cold fear that has been gnawing at you for days.

“It’s okay,” you reply, your voice softer now, the storm inside you beginning to calm. “My mind just... got the better of me.” Your gaze flickers to where his fingers hover near yours, and your heart beats wildly at the nearness of him.

Namjoon is here, in front of you, and you realize with a quiet, overwhelming relief—he’s never really been gone.

“I could never not like you,” Namjoon murmurs, his voice dipping lower, softer, as if the truth is too delicate to be spoken aloud. “I think I... love you,” he finishes, the last words barely audible, yet they linger in the air between you like a fragile secret.

Did he just say love? Your heart stumbles, and for a moment, you forget to breathe. “You do?” you ask, your voice trembling with disbelief, your pulse fluttering wildly in your chest. Could it be real? Could he feel the same way?

A flicker of uncertainty dances across your mind, and you can’t help but press further, needing clarity. “Wait—do you think, or do you know?” Your question is gentle, but it carries the weight of hope, a hope that has been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Namjoon smiles at himself, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “Sorry,” he says, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “I know. I know I love you.”

Time seems to slow, the world slipping into a dreamlike state where everything feels soft, suspended, as if wrapped in the warm glow of your shared confession. The air between you feels charged, but also tender, like the fragile moment before the first petal falls. You can feel it now—he’s there with you, and this love, this real thing, is finally mutual.

You reach out, taking his hands in yours, and lean in closer. “I love you too, Namjoon,” you whisper, the words feeling both daring and true.

For a moment, silence settles between you, but it’s a comfortable silence—one filled with the weight of what’s just been said. His hazel eyes, flecked with warmth and softness, hold yours, and you swear you could drown in them. Drown and never wish to come up for air.

The pull between you is magnetic, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip out, unfiltered and bold. “Do you... want to come see my place?” The second the words leave your mouth, heat rushes to your cheeks. The invitation is brazen, filled with unspoken implications, but you know it’s what you want—all of him, not just this moment, but something more, something deeper.

Namjoon’s breath catches, and he stands, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yes, baby,” he replies in a voice that is almost a whisper, but carries the weight of everything he feels. That one word—baby—sends shivers spiraling down your spine, and you bite your lip, holding back a smile.

Hand in hand, you walk together through the quiet night, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth building between you. You don’t need words now; the simple contact of his hand in yours is enough, grounding you as you lean into his strong frame. It feels so natural, as if you’ve always been walking beside him, as if this was always meant to happen.

When you reach your apartment, you fumble for the keys, unlocking the door with a nervous flutter in your chest. As the door swings open, you flick on the light, and for a moment, you glance around, hoping he won’t find your space too cluttered or small. You’d cleaned just the day before, but still, anxiety lingers.

Namjoon steps inside, his eyes roaming the space, but he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he looks at you, his gaze heavy with something unspoken, something that makes your heart race. His hand tightens around yours, and you feel yourself being pulled further into his orbit, like gravity drawing you closer.

You look up at him, studying the moles that dot his skin, noticing the way his features are softened by the low light. He’s so close, and in this moment, with his warm eyes on yours and his hand gently holding yours, you think—this is what it means to truly be seen, to truly be wanted. And God, does he look so handsome.

Then, without hesitation, he dives in, his lips crashing into yours with a desperate, urgent need. The moment you let out a soft moan against his mouth, he releases your hand, now free to explore you. Both of his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, yet with a fierceness that pulls you deeper into him. The kiss consumes you, leaving you feeling like water melting in his palms—soft, fluid, and utterly surrendered. His lips tease yours, grazing them in a way that demands more, and when he seeks entrance, you grant it willingly. Your tongues meet in a slow, intoxicating rhythm, moving like waves crashing together under a moonlit sea.

Another moan escapes you, and you feel heat pooling deep inside, a yearning that’s overwhelming. And it’s only a kiss—yet it has you unraveling like a ribbon coming loose.

When he finally pulls away, his gaze locks onto yours, desire simmering in the air between you, thick and electric. “Baby, I want you so bad,” he breathes, his lips curling into a soft pout that makes your heart melt. How does he look both fierce and endearing at once?

You can’t help but smile, your own need burning just as fiercely. “Me too... Please call me ‘baby’ more,” you whisper, fluttering your lashes as you cling to the warmth in his eyes. “I love it.”

He chuckles, the sound like a low rumble of thunder. “Oh, I’ve noticed,” he says, amused. “Every time I call you ‘baby,’ your eyes dilate.”

You didn’t know that, but you feel the truth of it—the way that simple word makes your heart race, how it draws you even closer to him, making you crave more.

“I want you...” You pause, feeling the boldness rise within you, “I want you to fuck me.” Your voice is breathless, your gaze holding his with an unspoken plea.

Namjoon grins, a softness creeping into his eyes. “Oh, baby, I’m going to make love to you,” he whispers, and the words are like honey dripping slow and thick. “Don’t you worry,” he adds, his lips capturing yours again with a hunger that makes your head spin.

Each kiss sends you spiraling further into him, your sanity slipping, but God, you love every second of it. It strikes you then how much of a romantic he is, how the passion in his touch mirrors the stories he loves in his books.

He pulls back, his breath hot against your lips. “Where’s your bedroom?” he asks with a playful chuckle.

You point, and before you can say another word, his strong hands find your waist, lifting you effortlessly. You wrap your legs around him, straddling his hips as he carries you across the room. He opens the bedroom door with a sweep of his foot, not bothering with the light, and gently lowers you onto the bed. Laughter bubbles between you, soft and sweet, as his lips claim yours again in a kiss that is both feverish and tender.

Your fingers tangle in his blue hair, tugging at the strands, and he hisses in pleasure, the sound sending shivers racing down your spine. He grinds against you, his erection pressing firmly against your core, and you feel yourself unraveling again, melting beneath him. God, he feels big, you think, your body aching to know him, to feel him completely.

Your hands move to the hem of his shirt, your fingers brushing against his skin as you tug the fabric upward, longing to see his bare chest again. You know what lies beneath—his broad, muscular frame, every inch of him beautifully sculpted, chest rising and falling with each breath. And you need to touch him, to feel his strength beneath your hands.

In this moment, nothing else matters—just him, you, and the gravity of everything that has led you here.

He pulls away, sensing exactly what you want, and in one fluid motion, grabs the hem of his shirt, peeling it off in a way that feels almost sinful. The sight of him should be illegal—holy hell, the way his muscles flex as he undresses is enough to take your breath away.

Your hands move instinctively, drawn to the expanse of his chest, a perfect blend of softness and strength. The skin beneath your fingers is warm, and the way he feels—solid, yet yielding—is intoxicating.

“Like what you see?” he teases, his voice low and full of that gentle confidence, and you can only gape at him, feeling the warmth of your admiration blossom into something deeper.

“God, Namjoon, you’ve always been beautiful... inside and out,” you murmur, your voice filled with reverence, because while his looks are striking, it’s his soul that captivates you.

His lips curve into a soft smile, his gaze tender as he leans down, brushing light kisses along the curve of your neck. The sensation sends waves of laughter bubbling out of you, light and breathless, as the tickle of his lips spreads joy and heat all at once. He keeps moving lower, trailing kisses down your body like a map only he knows how to navigate.

When he reaches the waistband of your pants, he pauses, eyes flicking up to meet yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Can I?” he asks, his voice both eager and gentle.

“Yes,” you whisper, and as he unbuttons your pants, you arch your back to help him slide them off, heart racing. He pauses again, staring for a moment, captivated by the sight of you, the evidence of your desire already showing.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he says, his voice hushed and full of wonder. “All for me?”

You nod, breath hitching, your body already trembling with need. “Yes, Joon. You make me so damn wet,” you pant, writhing beneath him, desperate for more. “Please, just touch me.”

His gaze darkens with lust as he licks his lips, then dips his head lower, trailing kisses across your stomach, inching closer to where you need him most. Every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you, and you giggle softly, unable to contain the lightness you feel even as desire coils tighter within you. His lips press against the hem of your lace panties, nothing extravagant, yet he looks at you like you’re the most exquisite thing he’s ever seen.

With agonizing slowness, he hooks his fingers into the waistband, pulling them down with deliberate care. The cool air of your apartment contrasts sharply with the warmth between your thighs, and you gasp, aching for him. You feel exposed, vulnerable, but in the most delicious way—his gaze heavy with desire as he takes you in.

“Joonie…” you moan softly, voice trembling, as his eyes linger on your glistening pussy, admiring you. You wonder if he finds you beautiful like this, spread bare before him, and his awestruck expression tells you everything.

“Damn,” he whispers, voice thick with astonishment. “You’re so pretty… already dripping with need.”

Your breath catches as his words wash over you, and when he asks, “Can I taste you? Can I touch you?” you can barely manage a nod as you spread your legs wider, inviting him in.

“Please,” you beg, feeling delirious with want, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation.

His touch is featherlight at first, a single finger brushing over your swollen clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. You flinch, already overly sensitive, a gasp falling from your lips as your body responds immediately.

“More,” you plead, rolling your hips into his hand, urging him to press harder, to give you what you crave.

His fingers glide over you, warm and sure, stroking your slick skin with precision. Every movement sets off another spark, and a moan escapes you—high-pitched, breathy, and filled with need. His touch is both tender and demanding, and with every stroke, you feel yourself unraveling, caught in the storm of pleasure.

His fingers continue their rhythm, rolling over your sensitive clit with perfect precision, each movement making it throb with want. Your body reacts instinctively, hips rising to meet his touch, chasing more—chasing everything. You need all of him, and the craving is almost unbearable.

Namjoon watches you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken, his eyes filled with both desire and wonder as he works you with his fingers, and then, slowly, his lips find the tender skin of your inner thigh. His kisses are featherlight, but they leave a trail of fire in their wake, and you tremble under his touch. With each kiss, he moves closer, until finally, his mouth finds your pussy, his warm tongue lapping at your slick folds, tasting you with reverence.

He groans, the sound vibrating against your core, and your hands instinctively tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you want him to drown in your pleasure. His tongue flicks over your sensitive nub, teasing, tasting, and the sensation makes your whole body tense in anticipation. His fingers slide to your entrance, probing gently before slipping inside, one at a time. The stretch feels divine, his fingers curling to reach deeper, and soon two, then three fill you, stretching you in the most perfect, delicious way.

Your toes curl, your breath comes in ragged gasps as you feel the wave of your climax building, rising with every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his fingers. “Joon,” you gasp, a warning, but he only sucks harder, his lips and tongue working in tandem as his fingers thrust deeper, hitting that spot inside you that sends you spiraling.

The world tilts, and your back arches as the orgasm crashes through you, white-hot and electric. You thrash beneath him, pulling at his hair as pleasure floods your body, and all you can do is moan his name in a broken, breathless whisper. Even as your body shudders, he doesn’t stop, his mouth still on your clit, drawing out every last wave until you’re trembling with overstimulation. You tap his shoulder weakly, and finally, he pulls back, his face glistening with your slick, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his hand brushing softly over your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His touch is light, reverent, and though you’re still floating in the bliss of your release, you feel the need to return the favor rise within you.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper, your voice thick with desire as you shift, pushing him down beside you. He opens his mouth to protest, but the words are swallowed by a low groan as you straddle his lap, feeling the hard bulge of his cock press against your wet core. You grind down on him, teasing him with the friction, and he lets out a ragged moan that makes your pulse quicken.

“I just want to make you feel good,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his lips, tasting yourself on him. “I don’t know how mermen make love, but as humans—I want you to feel good too.”

He chuckles softly, his hands resting on your hips, eyes dark with hunger. “It’s definitely not the same,” he admits, voice low and breathless, and that’s all the encouragement you need. You slide down his lap to the floor, your eyes locked on his, your intentions clear.

Your fingers find the waistband of his shorts, and he helps you pull them down, revealing his muscular thighs. When you see the thick outline of his cock straining against his boxers, your mouth waters, anticipation making your pulse quicken. Tugging down the last barrier, you free him, and his cock springs forward, thick and long, the head flushed red with need. A bead of precum glistens at the tip, and your breath hitches at the sight of him, hunger twisting deep inside you.

You lick your lips, your hands moving with purpose—one resting on his thigh, the other wrapping around the thick base of his shaft, feeling the weight of him in your palm. Slowly, you begin to pump, your fingers sliding over the velvety skin as you build a steady rhythm.

Namjoon groans, the sound so deep it reverberates through your core, and you can feel him tense beneath your touch, his body reacting to every stroke. His groans are like music, deep and sinful, and they make you want to push him further, to hear more of those primal, desperate sounds spill from his lips.

Damn, you need more of him.

You glance up at him, mischief in your eyes as you give a playful wink before taking him into your mouth. The taste is salty, a mix of his precum and something else, something almost elemental, as if the sea still clings to him. It sends a shiver down your spine, urging you to lose yourself in the act. You move with intent, your lips and tongue working in unison, breathing deeply through your nose as you take him deeper, each stroke making his body tremble beneath you.

He gasps your name, his voice barely a whisper, like it’s the only thing tethering him to the moment. His hands find their way to your hair, gentle, not controlling—just resting there as if he’s entranced by the sight of you. He glances down, watching the way your mouth moves over him, and his breath quickens, as if the very air has become too thin.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice strained, “you’re so damn good at this.”

You smirk inwardly, already knowing, but the praise sends a thrill through you. There’s something intoxicating about the way he fills your mouth, the way you feel him pulse against your tongue. It makes you wonder how your pussy will take him, how it’ll feel when he’s buried deep inside you, stretching you wide.

You’re making a mess of him—your saliva slicks his length, dripping down onto the sheets—but you don’t care. Not when he’s like this, writhing beneath you, his muscles taut with need. Your hand moves lower, cupping his balls, rolling them gently in your palm, and you feel them tighten as he draws closer to the edge.

“Damn,” he rasps, voice rough with desire, “you look and feel so fucking amazing.”

The sound of his praise sends another wave of heat rushing through you, making you wetter, a needy ache building low in your belly. You take him deeper, determined, your throat tightening as you try to swallow him down. But your gag reflex protests, and you pull back slightly, not wanting to push too far. Instead, you focus on teasing the head, your tongue circling slowly before flicking across his sensitive frenulum. He groans sharply, his hips jerking, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you.

He’s unraveling, his control slipping, and you love it—love the power you hold over him in this moment, love seeing him lost in you.

Suddenly, his hands come to your cheeks, stilling your movements as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. “Baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with both lust and affection, “you’re dangerous with that mouth. If you keep going, I’m going to come right down your throat… and I want to make love and come inside you.”

You release him with a soft pop, a teasing smirk playing on your lips as you lick them slowly, savoring the taste of him. “You can always come down my throat later,” you murmur, your voice low and sultry. Rising to your feet, you peel off your shirt, followed by the clasp of your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your breasts spill free, and the heat in Namjoon’s gaze intensifies as his hands instinctively find your hips, his grip firm yet tender.

“Is every inch of you just perfect?” he breathes, awe in his voice. The compliment sends a flush of warmth to your cheeks, and you chuckle softly, not answering because his words feel rhetorical, like they’re part of the worship that’s building between you.

Instead, you lean down to kiss him, pouring every bit of your desire into it. His cock twitches beneath you, hard and throbbing against your thighs, but you take your time, savoring the kiss—long, slow, and tender. You straddle him, hovering just above his cock, your body aching to sink down, to feel him inside you. But instead, you pause, letting yourself get lost in the depth of his gaze, his eyes like molten gold, swirling with emotion.

He kisses you again, his lips soft but insistent, and in that moment, you feel weightless. Like you’re floating, caught in a current, drifting between pleasure and affection. You feel cherished, like a treasure he’s unearthed from the depths of the ocean—glimmering, precious, and adored like the gems you’ve been collecting.

He groans, a deep, feral sound vibrating from his chest, and his hands tighten around your hips, the pressure promising bruises that’ll bloom as tender reminders of this moment. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, baby,” he pants, his eyes dark and hooded with lust, as if he’s trying to memorize every curve of your face. His lips search for yours, hungry, desperate to close the space between you again.

“Likewise,” you breathe out, your voice shaky, your pulse racing. One of your hands trails down his body, fingers grazing his taut abdomen before wrapping around the thick length of him. You lift yourself slightly, feeling the heat of him against you. Just as you’re about to guide him inside, his deep voice cuts through the haze of desire.

“Should we use a condom?” he asks, his words momentarily shattering the tension, leaving the air thick but still.

You blink, slightly caught off guard, but quickly recover. “We don’t have to,” you murmur, sensing his hesitation. His brow furrows, so you add, “I have an IUD, and I’m clean. It’s… it’s been a long time for me.” Your words taper off, embarrassment creeping into your cheeks, suddenly feeling vulnerable beneath his gaze.

He studies you for a second, his expression softening before that same, dark hunger returns. “Okay, I just wanted to make sure,” he rumbles, his voice like molten velvet, sending shivers racing down your spine. The sound of him, the depth of his tone, makes your body respond instinctively—your pussy clenches with anticipation, aching for him to fill the emptiness inside you. “It’s been a long time for me, too. So, I’m sorry if I don’t last long…”

You shake your head, silencing his concern with a gaze that speaks louder than words. You need him, now. The heat between you both is unbearable, every second a sweet kind of torture. You guide the head of his cock to your entrance, teasing yourself by gliding him along your folds, feeling his hardness slick against your wetness, sending delicious tremors through your body.

Slowly, you position him at your opening and sink down.

The stretch is exquisite—a burn that ignites every nerve as he fills you inch by glorious inch. He’s thick, and the sensation of him sliding deeper feels like nothing you’ve ever known. Your breath catches in your throat, and you swear you hear him curse under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening as he savors the feel of your walls closing around him.

“Fuck…,” he groans, his voice wrecked, vibrating through you like a shockwave. “So damn tight.”

“Yeah…” you pant, your head spinning, your body adjusting to his size. Inch by agonizing inch, until finally, he’s fully seated inside you. You pause, trembling, your insides fluttering as he twitches deep within. You let out a soft moan, your lips searching for his in a fevered kiss, one that feels more like a collision than anything tender.

When you pull away, your gaze locks with his, your voice barely above a whisper. “You feel so fucking good… like you’ve always belonged there.”

He hums in response, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he traces your body with his hands, unable to take in enough of you. “You’re perfect,” he breathes, the words low and reverent.

Bracing your hands on his broad shoulders, you lift yourself slowly, your body trembling with anticipation. Then, with a burst of need, you slam down, impaling yourself on his cock, a scream of pleasure ripping from your throat. Namjoon moans, the sound guttural and raw, as you ride him with renewed vigor, losing yourself in the rhythm.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, catching his attention, and without hesitation, his hands move to cup them. His lips trail down to one nipple, his mouth warm and eager as he takes it between his lips. You gasp at the sensation, a surge of heat flooding your core, and you feel a gush of wetness coat him as your body responds to his touch. You didn’t realize you’d come until the tremors hit, your pussy clenching tightly around him, your body quivering in waves of pleasure.

His tongue circles your nipple, flicking it gently before his teeth graze the sensitive bud, and the sensation sends you spiraling. Your breath stutters as he switches to your other breast, his hands roaming, kneading your skin, every touch heightening the electricity between you. Just as his mouth closes around your other nipple, his teeth accidentally bite down harder than intended, and a sharp cry escapes your lips—his name, ripped from your throat like a plea and a curse all at once.

He freezes, eyes wide, concern flashing across his face. But the look you give him—wild, consumed with lust—tells him everything he needs to know.

“I’m so fucking sorry—,” he gasps, but his words barely register through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. Your gaze softens, your eyes half-lidded with desire, a gentle delirium swirling in their depths.

“No, no, it was good, Joonie,” you whisper, your voice a breathy melody. Your hand drifts to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the damp strands of his hair, tugging lightly. “I loved it.”

He pauses, a chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest, and you feel the twitch of his cock still buried inside you, a silent promise of more. His lips descend to your chest again, worshipping your skin with slow, languid kisses. His tongue finds your nipple, teasing it with a delicate flick before sucking, nipping just enough to make you moan his name, the sound a song on your lips.

Your body trembles, another orgasm crashing over you like a summer storm, your walls tightening around him in waves of bliss. He groans, a low, primal sound vibrating through your entire being. “Fuck, you—” His voice breaks with need as he rises from the bed, lifting you effortlessly, his body still entwined with yours. In one swift motion, he turns and lays you back down, pressing you into the sheets, his hips surging forward with raw intensity.

“This fucking pussy,” he growls, the words so feral, so laced with hunger that it sends a jolt of heat through you, your toes curling as your body responds to the deep, relentless thrusts. You moan, overwhelmed by the sensation of being pushed up the bed, your fingers gripping the sheets in desperation. Could you come again? Already, your body is teetering on the edge, caught in the rhythm of his passion.

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “You look so gorgeous, baby,” he rasps, each word dripping with lust as his hips drive into you again, leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as though all the air has been stolen from your lungs.

“Are you gonna come again?” he asks, his voice rough with need. You bite your lip, uncertain if you can, but the fire in your core tells you otherwise. Your hand slips between your bodies, fingers seeking out your clit. Everything is so slick, so impossibly wet, but you manage to find that perfect rhythm, circling the sensitive nub as your breath hitches in your throat.

It’s like the tide pulling you under—a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you with blinding force. Your orgasm overtakes you, your body shaking beneath him as you cry out his name, each syllable a desperate plea, a prayer to the god of ecstasy. You thrash beneath him, lost in the throes of release, and still, he keeps thrusting, deep and deliberate, as your body flutters around him, the aftershocks rippling through you.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” he groans, his voice thick with desire as his cock twitches inside you, on the edge of release. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his warm seed filling you as his orgasm hits him hard, his body trembling with the force of it. His face—god, it’s beautiful in this moment—the way his lips part, how his brow furrows in pleasure, how he keeps moving, riding out the last waves of his climax until he begins to soften inside you.

Both of you are left panting, gasping for air like you’ve surfaced from the depths of the sea. He collapses beside you, pulling you close, your bodies still warm, still trembling. Your chests rise and fall in sync, the silence between you heavy with shared satisfaction.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rasp against your ear.

You chuckle, cheeks flushed and glowing. “Yes… we should definitely do that again.”

He turns on his side, his fingers brushing your arm tenderly as he gazes at you, eyes filled with warmth. “We really should.”

But then, out of nowhere, a ripple of anxiety courses through you, tightening your chest. You turn to him, your heart suddenly heavy. “Can we really make this work?” you ask, your voice small, vulnerable. “You, being a merman… and me, human?”

Namjoon’s expression softens, his gaze tender as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. His hands trace soothing circles along your back, grounding you in the moment. “Yes,” he whispers, his voice filled with quiet certainty. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll make it work. We have to.”

In his arms, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, the world feels possible again.

→ Taglist: @allie-is-a-panda @jeonsbabygirlsworld @bangtannie7 @suker4angst → Disclaimer: the banner is obviously partly made with AI— I just want to point that out, to clear the air. I’d normally never use AI in my work, but for this specific fantasy series, I just came up really sort with making them myself with pre existing images of bangtan 😭 Because I want a certain aesthetic (no, a moodboard is not what I was looking for), I decided to use AI to crunch out the merman— I did not, and I repeat this, I did not write any of their names for the prompts, which is also why I do not want to show any faces in these banners, because I know how the guys feel about making AI with them, and I agree. Which is why, this is in short just generically made images that are prompted by a scene in the story. In the end, I still made the banner— did retouching, color grading, added and/or removed stuff, added background etc. Just to let you know. Normally, all my banners and graphics are made by me, unless otherwise stated! (lol, what I mean here is that I’m making them myself, I still sometimes use stock photos and vectors made by others in my work (the banners)). → Author’s note(2): Only four mermaid stories left now! 🥳I hope you’ll like the other ones as well, and please let me know what you liked; you’re always welcome to leave me a comment, a reblog or an ask 🥰 Thank you so much for reading, love you 💜

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nochukoo97 · 8 months ago

Text

we can’t be friends (wait for your love) - teaser

pairing: childhoodfriend!jk x childhoodfriend!oc

summary: you and jungkook have been friends since birth, and as you both grow into teenagers, you can’t help but have some sorr of longing feeling towards him. but after a turn of events, you move away from your home town, growing apart from the boy you onced were close to. almost a decade later when you decide to move back, there’s someone familiar yet unfamiliar waiting for your arrival… was this the universe giving you a sign about him?

warnings/tags: story starts off when the both of them are children, but most of the plot is when they are adults :)), eventual: kissing, an emotional rollercoaster 🥲, they’re stuck in a ‘what are we’ moment, playing a waiting game of who confesses first, a little bit of angst, smut, but fluff too hehe

a/n: IM BACK 🥲 after being in writers block sighhh but i am back hehehe hope u r excited for this!! anyways this is just an intro for the actual fic, its more of what happened before the present which will be in the main part hehehe

TAGLIST OPEN!!

(this is the introduction, the main part is coming soon :)))

MASTERLIST

23 July 2007

You’re currently wedged between two bookshelves in the living room of your house, eyes trained on the words in your book, giggling to yourself when the plot takes a funny turn. Meanwhile in the background, Jungkook and your brother Taehyung, both a year older than you, the two ten year old boys play fighting in your parents backyard, their game was way too rough for you to even watch, you decided.

That’s always the way it’s been since you were young, Jungkook’s mum dropping him off at your parents place as he spent time with your brother, mostly roughhousing like they are now, and you, at nine years old, simply tucking yourself in another fairytale, which to you seemed like a much better way to past time.

You never truly spent a lot of time with the two of them when Jungkook would come over, besides the once-in-a-while moments where your parents would make you guys bond a little through board games or card games which the two elder boys would never take seriously, the games always ending in them either throwing the board game pieces at each other or stacking the cards into a pyramid.

When it came to school, you tried your best to stay away from bumping into your brother at school, but you’d always end up being teased in front of your friends by him and Jungkook, making fun of your two pigtails or your very glittery pink bag you had just gotten as a birthday gift, but you were used to it anyways, having grown up with a brother.

12 August 2011

Four years go by and now you’re finally completing your last year in middle school, Jungkook and your brother having moved on to high school, and as expected, they end up attending the same school, as they have done their whole life.

But since four years ago, a lot has changed. You’ve grown much closer to Jungkook, having gone on quite a few trips with his family, and you could even consider him a close friend. Most importantly, he’d grown from being a kid to a teenager, even though he was only a year older than you, the 14 year old boy suddenly became someone you always wanted to hang out with. To you, you saw him as someone cool. Instead of teasing you along with your brother, he now would defend you from your brother’s teasing, treat you to ice cream on the weekends and even teach you the video games he played with your brother.

“And then he let me get as many toppings as I wanted,” You tell your friends, clicking the buttons on your phone to show them the picture of your ice cream, filled to the brim with all sorts of toppings because Jungkook said you could.

“You’re so lucky, I wish I had a boyfriend like that,” Jiyeon sighs, pouting her lips as she sulks.

Your face turns red, tip of your ears warm as you quickly deny, “He isn’t my boyfriend! Just a friend… In fact he was my brother’s friend first,” No, you couldn’t even begin to try and imagine Jungkook as someone more than your friend!

“Well, but you should definitely confess to him on valentine’s day, it’s in like six months,” Yuji twirls her hair, nudging your leg slightly as she giggled.

To the three of you, as 13 year old girls, having a valentine was a big deal, especially since the whole idea of a crush and all was new to you guys as teenage girls.

“No! I don’t have feelings for him! He’s just nice to me I guess,” You frown at Yuji, just because she confessed to her crush and now apparently has a boyfriend, doesn’t mean you need to do it too, you decided.

You didn’t have a crush on Jungkook right?

You push away the thought quickly, this whole topic was so taboo to you, it made you feel squirmy thinking about it. No, you didn’t have any sort of feelings towards the older boy, never.

So that day when you arrived back at home, spotting Jungkook and Taehyung sitting at the table and doing their homework, you decide to take a seat away from the certain boy.

“Huh? Why are you sitting all the way there? Come back here,” Jungkook hums, pulling out his earphones in bewilderment, you had always sat next to him whilst the three of you would do homework together after school, nudging him here and there to ask for help with a math problem.

“I- okay,” You scooch towards the chair next to him, dragging your books along the table as you avoid eye contact. Your cheeks heating up again as you remember your conversation with your friends in school earlier, it made you feel all tingly inside, but why were you being so weird in front of him?

“You’ve been staring at that math problem for ages, need help?”

You jump up in surprise at Jungkook’s voice , letting out a small yelp as your brother snickers at you from across the table, you kick his shin in response, sending his hands flailing to the injury, mumbling some cuss word you don’t understand.

“Yeah,” You only muster out a whisper, handing over your pencil to the boy, who finds your behaviour a little off but nonetheless, doesn’t comment on it.

And while he explains the solution and working to find the value of X, you can only notice his eyes, his nose, the mole under his lips, the scar on his cheek from when he fought with your brother years ago, his lips.

And then you for yourself to snap out of your daydream when his eyes lock with yours in confusion as to why you’re staring at him instead of your workbook.

03 January 2012

But then five months later, opportunity for valentine’s day didn’t even come for you anyways, as you pack your bags to move miles away from the place you once called home, since your father had been posted to a new country for his work.

The whole idea of leaving your life behind and all the people you’ve ever known since young was such an overwhelming feeling that you didn’t even think once about your feelings for Jungkook anymore, or maybe you did once, but it didn’t matter.

So when you tugged your luggage and watch your brother sadly hug his best friend goodbye at the airport, reality struck, you wouldn’t ever get a chance to even properly assess your feelings for Jungkook anyways, so you simply wave him goodbye, not looking back so you don’t think further than a goodbye.

He did make sure to exchange his Instagram and Facebook with you, promising you and your brother to keep in touch, which you agreed to. Maybe there was a part of you that wanted to cling onto the idea of him, but you didn’t let yourself believe that anyways.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook ff #jungkook smut #jungkook x oc #bts #jungkook x you #jungkook drabble #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios

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wlntrsldler · 11 months ago

Note

Hiiiiii!!!! I love Apple Pie by Lizzy McAlpine!! Can I get Jamie Tartt to apple pie?

apple pie | jamie tartt

based on the song apple pie by lizzy mcalpine

description: jamie gets insecure sometimes, but having you with him helps.

pairing: jamie tartt x actress!reader (f!reader she/her)

warnings: lots of kissing, self-doubt, insecurities, mention of jamie's dad

word count: 2631

ted lasso requests are open | main masterlist

When Jamie first got into a relationship with you, he knew that both of your busy schedules would pose a problem down the road. With his football career seemingly reaching new peaks every season and your acting career taking off after being cast in what is being called “the film that revived the dying genre of romantic comedies,” the amount of time you get to spend with each other decreased significantly since the start of your relationship.

You first met Jamie halfway through his returning season at AFC Richmond. You met him at a birthday dinner party for a friend of a friend where you relentlessly teased him for his ridiculous, but outstanding performance, on Lust Conquers All. You had originally praised him for it when you were fully under the impression that he was putting on an act. You didn’t find out that he was just being his prick-ish self, albeit his younger prick-ish self, until about four months into your relationship when he embarrassedly admitted it to you. That’s how you found yourself rewatching the entire season together on his couch until 2 hours before Roy knocked on his door for his training session.

At first, Jamie thought you were making fun of him. His insecurities would still peek in here and there and sometimes he couldn’t help but worry that you’d see him as nothing more than a dumb footballer like everyone else does. He quickly realized, though, that while you were losing your mind laughing at how he acted in the show, making fun of him was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Why’d ya wanna watch this shit anyways?” he grumbled, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. “It’s just poopy. ‘M not even like that anymore.”

“I know,” you sat up, pausing the show when you heard his voice crack. You knew the tone of Jamie’s voice when he was cracking jokes and when he was happy, and this voice wasn’t one or the other. You turned your body to face him, “I know you aren’t like this anymore, I just thought it would be funny.”

“I dunno, I suppose it doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“What doesn’t?” you questioned. “Why I want to watch it?”

“Yeah,” Jamie replied. His eyes were looking at everything but at you. He was playing with the threads of the blanket loosely draped over his legs. He rubbed his nose with his balled-up fist. “Why does it matter how I was before you? I’m better now, yeah? Unless you don’t think so...”

“Oh, love,” you grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. You were so engrossed in the episode on the TV that you didn’t realize how uncomfortable Jamie was feeling about the whole situation. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying more attention to how you were feeling about this. We can stop watching it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He hummed, tugging on your hoodie to pull you closer to him. “I just don’t want you to see how I used to be and realize you don’t want to be with a prick like that, even if I have changed, you know? I don’t know… I just thought that with ya, I’d have a fresh start.”��

“Jamie Tartt, enough of that now,” You took over being the big spoon, which made Jamie nuzzle into your neck contently, “You have changed. You’re an amazing man and the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. I only wanted to watch this show because it’s such a shitty show that it’s nice to just unwind. When I watch this Jamie on the screen, my brain can’t even comprehend that it’s you.”

“You don’t think I’m a prick anymore, yeah?” Jamie asked again, hoping that he’d get a confirmation, “Like you wouldn’t leave me over that?”

You’ve learned over the past few months things about Jamie– one of which is that he needs to be told positive things or else he’d spiral. The thing is, if you could go into his mind and turn off that control box that spews self-doubt and insecurities to him, you would do it in a heartbeat. But since you can’t, you were more than happy to shower him with love and adoration in hopes that your voice can drown the rest of them out.

“Never,” you placed your lips on his in a soft kiss. “You’d have to work a hell of a lot harder to get rid of me.”

“I’m working double overtime just so you’d keep me, love,” he murmured, pulling you in for another kiss. His hand reached for the remote to turn the TV off to leave you both in the glow of the floor lamp in his living room.

“You don’t have to work hard for that.”

Jamie had gotten used to having you around his flat. He would leave for 4 AM training with Roy with you on his bed, often naked, then return at around 6:30 AM to shower and join you back in bed for another hour before you woke up. He’d wake up for the second time that day with you drawing patterns on his chest and a soft smile on your face. He’d lean over and place a loving kiss on your lips and he’d feel prepared to start the day.

You were filming a show in London for three months, which meant that for three months, this was Jamie’s life. In between projects, you stayed at his place. For two weeks after the wrap party, you came home to him, visited him at the facility, and went to all the team outings, home games, and away games with him. He was with you 24/7 and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He didn’t realize how he took it for granted until filming ended.

Three weeks ago, you flew to New York City to begin filming another movie. With training and games, Jamie hasn’t been able to take time off to visit you, and with filming just starting, you couldn’t fly back to Richmond either.

Jamie was doing fine– as fine as someone can be when their daily routine was abruptly disrupted. He was proud of you. The premise of the movie seemed perfect for you and was a seamless continuation of the romantic comedy trend you were on. People were buzzing for your next project, especially after your last one was so well received. He was so proud of you…. But he also missed you.

During the three weeks that you were gone, you and Jamie still texted each other constantly and FaceTimed everyday, despite the crazy time difference. He wanted to make it work, and so did you, so you did what you could to stay in touch. While not being able to hold you and kiss you for three weeks was killing Jamie, he was glad he was still able to spend time with you. Things didn’t get to Jamie until Jan Maas made an off-handed comment about it.

All of them were packing up after training, feeling extremely antsy with the Man City match on the horizon, Jamie especially. There were a lot of things on his mind, including the possibility of seeing his father, who he hadn’t seen since Wembley, and playing against his old team was always a trip. In short, he wasn’t feeling his best and the fact that you weren’t nearby made it worse.

“Jamie, we have not seen Y/N in a while,” Sam noted, “Is everything okay with you two?”

“She’s filming a movie in New York, bruv,” Isaac replied before Jamie could speak, “Right, Tartt?”

Jamie nodded, putting his shirt over his head, “Yeah. She’ll be gone for a few months, at least.”

“I do not know how you’re gonna survive, Jamie,” Jan Maas said. “You are so clingy when it comes to her. I don’t think you can make it all those months.”

The rest of the team chuckled at Jan’s teasing tone, but Jamie furrowed his eyebrows in thought. Was he clingy? He frowned as he continued to put his things away. He picked up his phone from his cubby, smiling when he received a few messages from you while he was at training. As he was about to respond, Jan’s comment made him stop in his tracks.

Maybe it would be best to let you have a night to yourself. You had a life outside of him and you deserve to be able to live it without having him cling to you all the time. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, slipping his phone in his back pocket, before walking out of the locker room to head to his place.

When you woke up to no text from Jamie, you assumed that he was just worn out from training and didn’t have the energy to reply. You’ve seen the intense training he went through, so you wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. But as the day went on and there was still no word from Jamie– you’d even checked the timezone clock on your phone to make sure you weren’t being unreasonable– you began to worry. FaceTime calls went unanswered and instead, you were met with the Apple automated response, “Sorry, can’t talk right now.”

To: lover boy <3

“Hi, love. Got some exciting news, you free to chat? Xx”

By the time you were boarding the plane to Manchester, Jamie still hadn’t texted you back. After begging the producers to give you a week off filming, they finally agreed. You asked for this week in particular, knowing that you wanted to be there for Jamie for the Man City match. There was a lot on the line for Jamie and you wanted to be there for him no matter what happened.

The entire plane ride back to England was filled with dread and anxiety. It wasn’t like Jamie to not respond. Unless he was at a game, training, or sleeping, but even then he had a special ringtone for you that wakes him up whenever you called, he always replied to your messages as soon as possible. When you landed, everything that could go wrong went wrong. Your plane was stuck on the tarmac for an hour because there were problems with the gate. Your luggage got delayed which left you sitting at baggage claim for another 45 minutes. When you finally arrived at the hotel the team was staying at– shoutout to Ted for being yours and Jamie’s number one supporter and telling you where they were staying– Jamie was nowhere to be found.

You dragged your luggage to Jamie’s room, plopping on the bed tiredly. You glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. 9:28 PM. Ted mentioned that there was a 10 PM curfew so you hoped that tonight was not one of the nights where Jamie decided to break the rules. Ted also mentioned that Jamie has not been himself lately, which did nothing to soothe your panic. You hopped in the shower to rinse yourself from the long day you’ve had. You did your night routine and dug into Jamie’s bag to retrieve his AFC Richmond hoodie. Before putting it on, you held it up to your nose, sighing as your senses were filled with Jamie. You missed him.

It was 9:57 PM when you heard the door unlock. You were on his bed, scrolling aimlessly on social media, when you saw him. You sat up, shutting your phone off. He walked in with his head low. His shoulders were hunched over a bit, but he looked okay. He looked better than how Ted described him.

He kicked off his shoes, before looking at you on his bed, startled. His eyes widened, first in fear that there was someone in his room, then in surprise that it was you in his room. His lips curved down in a frown, eyebrows furrowed in sadness.

“Baby,” you whispered, moving to the side of the bed to make room for him.

Jamie knew that he needed to not be clingy. He didn’t want to bother you too much. He was trying to be cool. But when you called him “baby,” with that voice, in his hoodie on his bed, his resolve crumbled to pieces.

He ran to you, nearly tackling you off the bed when he engulfed you in his arms. He buried his face in your neck, a mix of your lotion and the cologne he sprays on his clothes surrounding him. You cradled the back of his head, mumbling how much you missed him into his shoulder. Jamie could cry. He hasn’t seen you in so long, but here you are now.

“What are you doing here?” He asked when he finally pulled away from you. He couldn’t stray too far though. His arm was still wrapped around you while you cuddled into his side. “I thought you were in New York.”

“Well, if you bothered to answer my texts,” you trailed off, faking a voice of sadness. You poked his side, “You would’ve seen that I had exciting news. The producers gave me a week off after begging them since I first got to New York and this week is perfect because I know tomorrow’s match is gonna be a lot for you. I wanted to be here for you, whatever the outcome is.”

“Oh.” Jamie was speechless. Here he was ignoring you like a prick while you were planning to come back just to be here for him. He didn’t deserve you.

“Yeah,” you continued, “If tomorrow we celebrate, I’ll be here making sure that you drink enough water so that your hangover the next day won’t be too much. If tomorrow we try to never think about it again, I’ll sit next to you on the bus in silence holding your hand and when we get home we can do the same thing.”

Home. You were here and he felt like he was home.

“I missed you so much,” Jamie sighed. He kissed you all over your face, giving your lips extra attention. “‘M sorry if I was bothering you by texting and calling so much over the last few weeks… I just missed you loads and I wanted to talk to you.”

“Baby, you didn’t text and call me enough,” you played with his hair, running your fingers through the strands. “If it was possible, I would stay on a call with you all day, everyday. Can’t get enough of ya.”

He smiled, his worries disappearing with every word you said, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, I love you, Jamie Tartt.” You kissed him deeply. “Couldn’t get tired of you even after a million years. Now, catch me up! Tell me everything.”

Jamie, feeling like himself again, began to tell you everything you missed over the last few weeks– meeting Sam’s father, meeting Ted’s mum, Roy and Keeley, and seeing his mum earlier that night, which is why he came home late. He talked about how a visit to Georgie and Simon helped lift his spirits, and how Georgie was gushing about you and asking him when you’ll come to visit again.

Then he talked about his fears for tomorrow and everything that’s been piling up on him ever since you left. As he spoke, you rubbed his back comfortingly, a small reminder that you’ll always be here no matter what.

Jamie knew that he still had a lot of work to do. He knew that his insecurities could get the best of him sometimes and it can cause him to push back on people who love and care about him, but he was trying. You believed in him and that’s all he needed.

#ted lasso fics #ted lasso #ted lasso imagines #ted lasso imagine #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x yn #jamie tartt oneshot #frances writes #frances song fics

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ofjunemoment · 1 year ago

Text

work it | na jaemin

Jaemin can’t quite keep a part time job; every time he gets hired, he somehow fucks up enough to be fired straight away. But he just can’t get fired from his job with you, not until he successfully asks you out on a date, anyway.

OR: How many times can your cover Jaemin’s mistakes before you blow up, or him.

pairing — jaemin x fem!reader

genre — restaurant!au, slowburn, fluff, humour, smut (MDNI)

wc — 20k

content — profanity, both jaemin and reader work at a chinese restaurant, kun, jaehyun, mark and shotaro mentioned, waitressing dynamics (im gonna be honest most of this is just me throwing words together and hoping for the best), smut tags below the cut :)

a/n — *sniff* my baby.... i loved writing this so much because the dynamics is something i truly enjoy ^^ there were times i wanted to strngle myself because i just couldn’t think of how to but the scenarios into words but here it is <3 hope you guys have fun reading!!!!

smut tags — making out, boob/nipple play, fingering, pet names, just the slightest bit of a dom/sub dynamic, lmk if i missed anything <3

Jaemin is in the back room of the pet store, looking at a big bag of dog food and a laminated paper with the number of servings needed for each pet section when he hears his boss call for him.

“Jaemin? You doing okay here?” He turns around to look at Mr Choi, showing a light smile and a thumbs up.

“All good sir, just trying to familiarise myself with each serving of the pet food before I try feeding them.” He waves the card around, the lanyard attached to it swishing around. Today was his third time coming in with a shift at the pet store, and although the place isn’t near his house, it wasn’t far from his campus either, which ultimately makes his travel easier. If he can go all this way to a lecture he won’t even remember, he can go again and again to make some cash and help his sobbing wallet.

Mr Choi grins, plump fingers clapping together in delight. “I knew I could trust you. You’ve worked in so many places so you must have adapted quicker.” At this, Jaemin’s smile strains a bit as he lays his hand on one of the food packets to seem normal. He’s not wrong, Mr Choi— Jaemin has worked at a lot of places. He started when he was fourteen at his uncle's small business in the night markets, looking after keychains and phone cases while his uncle would try to sell items with his marketing voice. His task was to answer customers when they asked for the price, and to find out the price he just had to remember the prices — and if he was really struggling, his uncle quips, you can look behind each sections name tag, where the prices are written in vibrant red.

But he was confident with the prices, who would forget that the key chains cost 500 won and the cases cost 1000 won?

Of course he wouldn’t forget, but he wasn’t correct either. The five and fifteen behind those items were actually 5,000 won and 10,000 won. And throughout the entire day when he would receive coins instead of the colourful notes his uncle was collecting, he didn’t even question it; he just thought his uncle was a top-tier marketer. Needless to say, he was ‘fired’ (he’s not sure if he was even supposed to be paid for his labour) and his parents took out the money he credited to his uncle from his savings.

You would think that the brutal action of taking someone's hard-earned pocket money would deter them from trying another job again until they were fully prepared to take on such professionalism. But Jaemin was devastated at the fact that he had lost his chore money while sitting down on a plastic stool in the hot summer's night market. And so he tried to get another job to attain back the money.

At age fifteen, for his birthday present, he had asked for a job opportunity from his parents. Reluctantly, they had asked one of their neighbours if they’d like to get their lawn mowed. After seeing Jaemin in the backyard a few times doing the gardening, they weren’t abhorred by the idea of paying him a small fee to clean their lawns. Excited, he set to work with the mowing, which was something he would do, but he didn’t remember if it was the growing bush on his left side or right that he was to avoid at all costs. Turns out it was both, which attained Mrs Choi��s sacred tea sprouts that she’d imported from one of the islands in between Malaysia and Indonesia, and it costs an arm and a leg, he recalls her saying. The horror on her face, when she saw the shaved-down plot of land, was something Jaemin never wishes on his worst enemy and all the while desires to draw frame to frame.

But of course, it didn’t end there. He worked at a convenience store and a local retail store when he was sixteen, but was fired from the first and never received his roster from the latter. He thought that maybe local stores were just too picky with their quality of work due to having to compete against monopoly businesses, and so he opted to turn to chain businesses instead. He worked at McDonald’s and almost deep-fried his instructor's hand when being taught how to work the fries, and barely batted an eye when a few teenagers shoplifted the stores’ display clothes when he was working the chain clothing store at the mall near his house. To his defence, he’d thought that they were his coworkers changing the clothes on display with their casual dress code of the workplace, and so naturally, he didn’t think much of it. His longest-lasting job was at a general retail store he was hired for during Christmas, where he lasted for three weeks due to his supervisor being too busy to catch Jaemin’s mistake.

It’s a miracle really that he’s lasted three solid days at this place, but there isn’t much he can screw up in a pet shop; so far all he’s tasked to do is feed the fishes, as they’re the easiest to feed, and discard the box with hamster and rabbit poop for compost. Surprisingly, they’re both placed in the same corner of the room, but they’re kept in different storage boxes. Jaemin remembers how green means compost, and blue means fish; it makes sense, so he just goes to the blue one and scoops one full scoop into a mini bucket, before going into the store and feeding the fish. With the compost bin, he simply fits it onto a wheeler before going out to the back and dumping it into the designated compost area.

Jaemin sniffles a bit, before placing the laminated poster back on the shelf, checking his watch for the time. “Oh,” He exclaims, “It’s lunchtime for the fishes,” His smile towards his boss might just be pushing it, but it seems like he’s doing a great job at, well, keeping this job; anything resembling ass-kissing, he’ll try. As long as it guarantees a longer stay for him of course.

Mr Choi laughs heartily, sending Jaemin a thumbs up as he slowly filters out of the back room while Jaemin heads to the blue tin. What he misses is how the relief from Mr Choi’s face turns into sheer horror, as he sees Jaemin scoop into the blue tin and drop the pendant-like substances into the fish’s designated feeder.

“Stop!” Jaemin drops the scooper into the tin as his boss yells out, his blood running cold at the sudden shout. “Jaemin..have you been using—” Mr Choi’s eyes widen as he cuts himself off, going back to the store with hurried steps. Jaemin is very confused, as he has his hand midway in the air from Mr Choi’s exclaim, standing in the backroom like an NPC only activated when a main character comes to him for a quest.

But, miraculously, he can move his feet as he hears another shout of— a woman? Or maybe it was just Mr Choi’s sheer…excitement of Jaemin’s dedication to his job? But what he sees when he gets out of the back room and into the main store isn’t a surprise party held for Jaemin and his efforts (okay, he thought that maybe this was all a ploy to just show his new staff some appreciation; he’s still sceptical about the horror in Mr Choi’s voice, can you blame him?). What he’s instead met with is his boss’ and how his hands are clenched on his already thinning scalp — Jaemin winces when he sees a strand slowly descend to the floor— as he skids left and right around the aquariums.

It isn’t until Jaemin takes a closer look and sees that the fishes he thought were sleeping are now, well, permanently sleeping; on the floor of the aquariums, save with a few floating slowly, hanging on for Mr Choi’s happiness or the longevity of Jaemin’s work streak. He later finds out that fish float when sleeping.

“Jaemin, oh my god— the blue tin is the compost bin, and the green one is the fish food! I’ve told you about this two times, there’s even a fish sign on the green tin, how could you not tell?!” Jaemin might be tripping, but he swears he can see the bald patch on his boss’ head growing steadily.

Of course, now wouldn’t be the best time for him to point out scalp care remedies, and so he settles for the next best thing; “I thought the fish sign meant that they just…smell really bad…” Mr Choi now has his hand splayed across his face before he slowly goes to rub at his eyes, and nose bridge next, probably preventing a stress-induced nosebleed.

He points towards the front of the store, where the counter sits next to the door, finger jabbing up and down. Jaemin takes this as a sign to get some tissues from behind the counter, or his boss’ water bottle that always seems to have unlimited tea; but before he can even get back to him, with his eyes still close, in the softest tone Mr Choi says “... Out.”

He would’ve stopped his job hunting there, to be honest; but he’s in the last year of his course and is living with a roommate in a separate flat from his parents, which means he has to have at least some money to buy some necessities like groceries, much less pay rent.

He tells this much to Mark when he asks why Jaemin decided to work at a gym straight after working at a pet shop, and also what his resume looks like for people to still be keen to hire someone like him. He completely evades the second question, happily confiding in his friend about the job at a gym he picked up a week after being fired from sending the fishes into a food coma.

(“…Too soon?”

“Yeah, maybe a little bit.”)

And when Mark asks how Jaemin’s day was as a conversation starter, he vulnerably confides in him about losing his job again. This time working at a gym, he was assigned the task of giving out flyers and talking to people about why they would benefit from going to the gym, according to the outline he was provided in this big binder, the corner of the cover peeling off with age. While he was trying to promote the gym and give the discount flyers, he got into a long-winded conversation with this one old man who was talking about how the treadmill ‘fucked his knee up’, which had Jaemin thinking if treadmills existed in the 1980s.

They were five minutes into Jaemin searching the creation of gyms on Naver and the old man scolding him for not listening to a customer even though he was ‘not yet a customer because you haven’t accepted the flyer, now have you?’ when his supervisor comes out and yanks on Jaemin’s ‘employee in training’ lanyard from around his neck. Jaemin wasn’t sure what factor was the tipping point, but Mark thinks it was because he was on his phone during work hours.

“Or maybe the fact that you were stuck talking to someone likely to be the last person to ever sign up to a gym?” Mark is spinning his pen as he says this, looking up from his laptop screen towards Jaemin. Mark doesn’t even write his notes by hand, so it’s truly beyond him why he’s brought a high-class fountain pen to their study session at Jaemin’s, but that should be the last of his worries.

“Actually, they did have yoga and treadmill training for those aged sixty-five and above, so I wasn’t even targeting the wrong market.”

“Are you saying you’ve been wrongfully fired?” Mark sports an amused smile at Jaemin as if he’s laughing along with his joke; but that’s the problem, he wasn’t joking.

“Don’t laugh at my demise,” Jaemin smacks Mark’s arm, and he would feel bad at the wince that the latter lets out if he hadn’t been on the receiving end of his brutal laugh-hitting habit five out of seven times in the past week. Mark slowly halts his laughing fit when he sees Jaemin sulking, suddenly turning soft.

“Alright, you know what, here,” Mark fishes out his wallet as he says this, twisting and turning his bag on Jaemin’s bed. He gives the latter 10,000 won, waving his hand out towards Jaemin’s window. “Go ahead and get some snacks, my treat. And get me the watermelon-flavoured ice cream too?”

Jaemin scoffs. “You’re only doing this because you’re too lazy to get it yourself.” Mark’s smile is sheepish.

“Well, do you have 10,000 won to spare?” That shuts Jaemin up, as he snatches the notes out of Mark’s hand with a glare.

“When I do get 10,000 won, I’m making you eat the note,” Mark’s laugh is nervous as Jaemin marches out.

The cold hold of the ice cream contrasts the warmth in Jaemin’s hand, as the walk back to his unit proves to be a good remedy for taking a mental break from studying, as he decides to take a long way back; partially because the walk through Central parks is nice, but mainly because he wants Mark’s ice cream to have melted into a gross mush when he gets back.

Walking through the park, the rustle of the plastic bag and the tree branches are the only sounds echoing throughout, with Jaemin swinging his arm leisurely. The park is a circle shapen thread of grass with benches and pathways swirling around it, adorned with a children's playground in one corner, and the park's famous Yoshino cherry tree sitting right in the middle of the whole scene. The walk from the ice cream store back to his unit, the long way, requires Jaemin to walk through the park and the line of stores and restaurants in company with the park’s facilities. For as long as he’s lived here, three out of four of the store slots have been busy with business and traffic; all but one.

Unit store 1279 is infamous for dooming local businesses whenever someone applies for its lease. Jaemin has seen two restaurants and at least three cafes open and close, all with varying reasons for closing; the landlord is a nightmare to deal with, a corner of the store leaks something green but only when no one pays attention, and lastly about how there’s a ghost that lingers near the back door, sending cold shivers down staff and patrons alike when they pass through the door.

Out of all these rumours, Jaemin truly has yet to see one of them be proven true, the landlord was friendly enough to send welcoming flowers when each business would open; and close. He was keen to feel the shiver of the ghost's presence course through his body when he visited two openings ago but to no avail.

However, the reason why he finds the store so intriguing today is related to neither of those rumours; right on the glass door of the supposed vacant spot is an estate-sealed sticker adorned with bold letters spelling out “SOLD”. Not leased, but sold, with just below the official sticker being a recruitment post, a single slip of the business's phone number flapping in the light breeze.

We are looking for part-time staff. Starting rate at 25,000 won per hour. No prior experience is required.

Jaemin shifts from one foot to another as he eyes the piece of A4 paper taped to the door. Isn't this fate? A store opening right near where he lives, willing to accept someone with no experience, and the last slip of number is left? All while Mark’s ice cream is melting in his bag. This is the universe's calling if he knows of any.

Jaemin paces around the living room while Shotaro sits on the couch, head tilting left and right to the opposite rhythm of Jaemin’s paces as he tries to look past his whizzing figure and to the TV. If Shotaro had even a single mean bone in his body, he would ever so kindly tell Jaemin to stop pacing and maybe instead stand in one place, if he’s comfortable to of course. But as far as Jaemin is aware, he flinches at the sight of a fly, and is much less able to hurt one, so, of course, he doesn’t tell Jaemin to stop obscuring his vision, and instead turns to look at him, ignoring his show.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and Jaemin finally deflates, seeing this as an invitation to rant to his roommate. Plopping himself right next to Shotaro on the three-seated couch, he links their arms together by the elbow, needing something to ground himself.

“I wanna call this place and see if I can get a job, but I don’t know how to go about it; is there such a thing as a verbal resume?”

“You mean, an interview?” Shotaro provides, hand hovering slightly in the air as he contemplates patting Jaemin’s hand in comfort, but not for long as Jaemin separates them with a look of shock on his face.

“So that’s the word I was looking for?” He frowns to himself in contemplation, before sulking right back into Shotaro’s bicep. He doesn’t think they’ve passed the phases required to get this close to his former, but he’s too stressed about fucking up another job, and Shotaro seems to not mind this sort of interaction.

“If you find it so stressful to call them and have a phone interview, why don’t you send them a text?” Jaemin doesn’t know if this is truly coming from the goodness in his heart or if this is just something that everyone knows. Either way, the words put him at ease as he stands from the couch, patting Shotaro on the shoulder in thanks.

“You’re right! They didn’t specify their expectations; they just had phone number slips and a recruitment notice. You’re a genius Shotaro,” To that, the boy flushes with a shy smile on his face, but before Jaemin can hear him say something about how he didn’t do anything, and that he would love to help you even a little bit, Jaemin has headed off to his room and is curating a message to send.

To: +82 10-7854-4793

Hello, My name is Jaemin and I am interested in working in your establishment. When can I come in for an interview?

From: +82 10-7854-4793

Hello Jaemin. We are grateful for your enthusiasm, could you stop by next Thursday at 12 p.m at the Tao Village restaurant? Please bring a copy of your resume and provide a USB of a soft copy of said resume. We look forward to hearing from you.

To: Tao Village HR person (I think)

Yes I am available :) Thank you

Jaemin was not quite sure what is an appropriate outfit for when you want to be interviewed for a job as a waitress, but Shotaro’s eyes had dimmed just the slightest when he saw Jaemin step out of his room with jeans and a hoodie.

“Is that what you’re gonna wear?” His tone was far from condescending, even with the smile on his face, he looked more like a proud mom, but Jaemin could tell when his roommate may be slightly disappointed with a poor choice, so he had gone back and dressed up in some slacks he had and a polo shirt tucked in. he hopes he doesn’t see people he knows, or worse, Mark, because he knows he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Now he’s situated in front of the store, the ‘sold’ sticker now nowhere to be seen and a light glow shining through from the glass door, but the sun shinning from outside obscures any other view Jaemin could peak from the inside, as he sees more of his own reflection instead. Hand clasped on a clear folder and a USB with his resume, he pats his head one last time before opening the door and stepping in.

He’s been inside this store a few times over the past few cafes and restaurants, and so he’s not surprised to be met with a whole new interior. On the contrary, he’s quite pleased with the choices that the current owner of the store has made, with the walls now an even slate with ivory-coloured paint instead of the rundown orange brick that the last restaurant had. There are tables and chairs fit for two, and a last one for six people uninformed from left to right, with a counter and a curtain obscuring what he assumes is the kitchen towards the end of the restaurant.

Jaemin was too enamoured with taking in the whole place that he had completely missed the mini counter situated a bit to his left, with you standing behind, confused as to why someone has came in to simply look at the interior design and not, well, the menu.

A clear of your throat startles Jaemin out of his daze, as he looks towards you with the initial look of annoyance before his expression melts.

She’s so pretty. What the fuck? Does she work here? Is this a needed requirement? Maybe Jaemin should’ve topped up with a bit of cologne or something to truly seal his spot, but before he could embarrass himself by very subtly going to smell his shirt, you start.

“Hi, welcome to Tao Village, how can I help you?” He’s not sure if you’re using a customer service voice on him but it proves to work as he immediately thinks of how sweet your voice sounds. But Jaemin doesn’t want you to think he’s a creep who follows pretty women around and ask for their number the minute they open their mouth (he was so, so, tempted to ask for yours), so he tries a better way to ease in.

“I need to…speak to your manager.” His strong voice startles you both, as your eyes widen a bit before you lean back from the counter, now wary.

‘Is…is everything okay? My manager is unavailable at the moment.” Your eyes flit back to the curtain, where Jaemin assumes the head of this whole place is at the moment. His brows furrow further as he looks down at his watch. Twelve p.m., on the dot like the person he had texted requested. There must be a mistake.

“No, I’m sure they’re here. Maybe somewhere at the back? I need to speak to them,” he’s not sure why he’s suddenly being so demanding (he suspects that it's the polo shirt he’s wearing) but he’s nervous and he doesn’t want to be rejected before he was even given a chance to prove himself.

“I’m sorry if I offended you in any way, sir,” You voice out, now leaning back with your hand situated on the ring button placed below the counter, in case of emergencies or to be able to call for backup from the back of the kitchen. You didn’t think that you’d use it this early, “Can I make it up to you or help you in any form?”

Before you get to ring the button or Jaemin gets to backtrack, the curtains pull back and out comes a man in his mid-twenties, wearing an apron and holding a… paintbrush?

“Is everything alright?” He drops the paintbrush into its respective tray before he steps closer towards the two of you. You point at a faint smear of paint that’s caught on his cheek, mentioning silently to rub it off. Still, when he gets the memo and goes to wipe it off, he ends up smearing it further into his skin, his expression not wavering from its seriousness. It’s when he does a one-over at Jaemin that it all clicks.

“Oh! You must be here for the interview.” He pats down on his apron as if checking his bearings. “Kun said he’ll be back by now; that’s alright, have a seat.” He offers one of the two-seater tables, as Jaemin shuffles his way onward to take a seat, plopping himself on the opposite side of who he assumes is the boss of this place, as he takes his apron off and goes to brush at his clothes, before taking a look at his stained hands and deciding otherwise.

“Thank you for coming, my name is Jaehyun and I’ll just give you a brief breakdown of this place,” Jaemin nods as he rubs his palms against his jeans, thinking about how much he truly knew about this job. Come to think of it, he has no clue what the job he’s applying for even entails, just that they need staff who don’t necessarily need any experience (Jaemin does have some experience, maybe not the right kind) and were willing to pay enough for him to be able to pay his rent and only eat instant noodles two times a week, instead of the standard eight.

“We’re called Tao Village, and we offer a range of Chinese cuisines. I run this place with Kun, who was the one that got in contact with you. Both he and I cook, so we’re always in the kitchen. I have my niece,” That’s when Jaehyun points at you, which you don’t hear as you set up cutlery on tables with your earphones in, completely tuned out. “But she needs help for when we get a bit busier, or when it’s closing time; I can’t stay back because I have to wake up early the next day for the stores' essentials. We can show you the ropes but so far I just need you to work from Friday till Sunday.” Jaemin does his best to listen and store the information, but he realises that Jaehyun’s waiting for his reply.

“Yes, that should be okay,” He gave a thumbs up and a tight-lipped smile, which he slowly brings down when he sees Jaehyun’s stare on his hand.

“Great,” Jaehyun claps, standing up and reaching for the apron he placed on his lap before wrapping it around himself. “Well, the official opening of this place is on Saturday. Come in on Friday and we’ll try to acquaint you with the basics.” With a clap on the shoulder and a grimace of a smile - can it even be considered one? - Jaehyun hands him a brochure-like menu of the restaurant, telling him that if he can memorise it as soon as possible it will be helpful.

You’re wiping down the counter when Jaemin stands to leave, and when he shoots you a barely-there smile, all you do is look away.

“You got another job?” Mark sounds surprised when he says this, and that puts Jaemin off, because, of course, he got another job.

“What was I supposed to do? Stay jobless and have Shotaro pay all the rent and food expenses?” Jaemin’s on laundry duty this week, and is being mindful of what colours are supposed to go together according to the laminated piece of paper Shotaro taped above the washing machine.

“Knowing him, he probably would offer to pay your uni fee too.” Mark tosses up a pair of bundled-up socks as he says this. “Wait, so where do you work now?”

“At the new restaurant, you know the haunted place just past the park?” Mark hums as he says this. “I’m a waitress, er, waiter there now. From Friday to Sunday. Which is good because I only have classes throughout the weekday.”

“And you barely get invited out during the weekends anyways,” Mark snickers as he says this, but misses catching the sock as Jaemin grabs a pair of used underwear and throws it directly at the boy, barely missing the undergarment as he looks at him wide-eyed. Words of ‘ew dude’ and ‘that’s gross’ goes into one ear and out the other as he picks the briefs back up and shoves them in the washing machine, closing its door and starting it off.

“Well, I have a good feeling about it this time,”

“Are you gonna blame the ghost for your- wait, did you put any detergent in?”

“ …Does it not come with detergent already?”

Jaemin picks a lint off of his shoulder, before smoothing his hand down his shirt and his pants next. He was told to wear an all-black attire, not sweatpants or hoods, so he stuck with a simple t-shirt and some black jeans. He doesn’t know why he’s exceptionally nervous this time when all the other times he was only caught praying to last more than a weeks worth of paycheck. For some reason, he’s not keen on crossing his boss this time - Jaehyun seems scary.

Stepping forward, his hands find the handle and with one deep breath, he pushes the door. Except it doesn’t budge.

He steps back and looks through the glass of the door, seeing if anyone is inside. When he doesn’t find anyone, he pushes once more, and one more time with all his body weight; yet it doesn’t budge.

“I swear they asked me to come in at four,” He fishes his phone out of his pocket, looking at the time while his face stays squished against the door. Not even a second later, he hears the click of the door unlocking, and before his reflex could take over and help him step back, he’s launched forward and onto the ground.

“Oh my god, are you okay? Why would you cling to the door like that?” Your voice reaches his ears as he’s situated on the floor, and he then realises that his fingers were latched onto the door handle when you pulled the door to let him in.

Your slack-covered knees come into his vision first, before your face enters his view, albeit upside down.

“You didn’t get a concussion from that alone, did you?” Sounding so serious, Jaemin couldn’t help but laugh slightly at your words as he pushes himself up to his elbows, brushing at his shirt before inspecting it for any dirt. So much for looking wanting to look presentable.

“Jaehyun’s not here yet, and Kun’s stepped out just then,” Jaemin realises this is the most he’s heard you speak since the first time he’s seen you, as he sees your standing figure reaches a hand out to him, offering to help him up. He gladly accepts it, but is mindful to not pull all his weight.

“Oh,” Is all he can muster, now sheepish at the fact that your second impression of him is not any better than the first. His eyes scan around the place as he finds new additions since last week, such as a few ink-wash paintings on the wall and paper lanterns lining down the ceiling instead of the LED lamps that Jaemin saw last. Even the staff counter looks more lived in compared to the glimpse he caught before, with what looks like a brand new electric kettle and two mugs with silicone lids, one with a peach and another with a bear as their handles.

Not knowing what else to say, his eyes seek yours for any sort of initiative; hoping that you will catch his gaze and give a smile, all while explaining to him the in’s and out of this place, like how should he take orders, if there’s a particular way to fold the tissues that are placed on the tables, and if the Fujian fried rice of this restaurant is the one with or without pumpkin. Simple details.

But you all but look back at him, instead you drop your gaze away from him entirely and go to the staff counter at the back of the restaurant, picking up and taking a look at the kettle before you go behind the curtains that lead to the kitchen, out of Jaemin’s sight. He’s not sure if he’s even allowed there as a rookie staff, so he doesn’t play with his luck and instead trudges behind the counter at the door. After a few minutes of poking and prodding at things like the card reader and a pen cup, the front door swings open and in comes a tall man with red hair, holding plastic bags full of an assortment of things from food to cutlery.

“Oh, you must be Jaemin,” Jaemin straightens his back at the mention of his name, nodding his head and bowing in lieu of a greeting. The man trudges through the restaurant, the bursting plastic bags bumping into the chairs every now and then, and not long after the door swings open once more to reveal Jaehyun.

“Jaemin! You’re,” He gives his watch a glance, “On time! How pleasant, come, have you met Kun? Let’s go into the kitchen first.” Jaehyun manages to say this all with an expressionless face, but Jaemin does not feel like he’s being condescending, following his now-boss silently through the restaurant, past the main staff counter and the curtains and into the kitchen. Boxes are perched on the metal counters of the restaurant’s kitchen, filled with what Jaemin guesses are the containers for the ingredients of the dishes, and some restaurant plates, as well as takeaway boxes and bags. You’re taking out the abundance of takeaway container lids from boxes that take up two-thirds of your height, stocking them up on the top shelf.

“Kun, have you met Jaemin? I’m not sure we’ve given him a proper tour of the place,” Jaemin doesn’t think he’s gotten any sort of tour of the whole place, so all he does is politely shake his head.

Kun grunts as he places another big box next to your unpacking figure, the impact of it barely making you flinch. He looks at Jaehyun before his gaze falls on Jaemin, and with a smile and a wave of his hand, he goes through the backdoor of the kitchen without looking back.

Jaemin is guided through the whole place, with Kun showing him the storage room and the cold room, which conveniently has a sliding door; the singular bathroom of the whole place, and the main part of the restaurant.

“You don’t need to prepare much for tomorrow, it says in your resume that you’ve worked in a lot of places for short amounts of time, which gives me the impression that you can pick up traits easily,” Jaemin delivers a stiff smile as he feels Kun clasp a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Me and Jaehyun will just tell you the way we work, but first I need you to help with the unpacking. Any questions?”

Jaemin nods his head, taking the chance to now ask his burning question. “Will I get paid for today?”

Kun just laughs and pats him twice on the shoulder, shaking his head and heading to the kitchen, shoulders bunching up now and then.

Tasked with the job of organising the cutlery, Jaemin places the metal spoons and forks into the cutlery tray placed next to the plates and bowls for setting up the tables. You’re here too, wiping down the window and the glass door, emitting any sort of stain. Jaemin tries his best to not let his gaze wander on for too long, wanting to be in your good books. From what it seems, you seem just as important as both Kun and Jaehyun, so he doesn’t want to risk doing anything wrong, or piss you off. He also thinks you’re really pretty and would like to ask you out, but that’s beside the point.

It’s when you’re getting up from wiping the bottom of the window when you hear the clatter of plastic. Turning around, your eyes widen when you see Jaemin and the plastic forks he was supposed to put away at his feet.

“I…” There goes Jaemin’s one and only chance. He isn’t even being paid for this and he’s gonna get fired, right in front of the person he was trying to rizz up, too. Before he can say anymore and save his reputation, you whizz past him and into the kitchen, the curtains flying around you but you’re mindful enough to shut them back, not letting the sight of Jaemin with a bunch of forks splayed around him like he’s being sacrificed to the fast-food culinary Gods. He hears Kun and Jaehyun’s voices coming through the curtains, variations of them asking if everything is alright, to which you answer with the clutter of pots and pans.

Coming back with a big metal bowl, Jaemin’s eyes widen as you kneel — for the second time today — at his legs, picking up the forks frantically and placing them in the metal basin.

“Are you gonna help?”

And now he’s on his knees too. Scooping up the forks and placing them in the bowl, once every single fork is off the floor, you rush towards the undermount sink at the corner of the staff counter just as footsteps echo from the kitchen and Jaheyun’s figure emerges.

“Is everything good?” Jaemin feels paralysed, unable to decipher anything since the doom he felt spilling all the single-use forks onto the floor.

“Yup,” You answer nonchalantly, filling up the basin full of forks with water and a few drops of dish soap. “Just thought to rinse these clean first before…” You pause for a second as you look at Jaemin, before trailing your gaze to Jaehyun with a smile. “Before Jaemin organises them.”

Jaehyun simply nods his head before he trudges back to the kitchen, and Jaemin barely gets to utter a ‘thank you’ before you walk past him and into the kitchen.

“So she just helped you? That simply?” Jaemin’s smile is all but smug, as he cracks open his beer and clinks it against Marks, both taking generous sips.

“What can I say? I charmed her with my natural skills,”

“The natural skills of messing things up,” Mark scoffs at him before leaning over to get a piece of fried chicken out of the takeout box. “She probably pitied you for making a rookie mistake.” He starts munching on the chicken and hums in delight, following it with a sip of his beer. Jaemin reaches to pick up a pickled radish.

“Well, rookie mistake or not, she likes me enough to help me. You should come to work tomorrow for the grand opening, and while you’re at it bring everyone else too; I swear she doesn’t even like people,” Mark laughs in delight at Jaemin’s invitation, promising to come up with something.

Mouth full, he asks, “How long do you think you’ll last?”

“Swallow your fucking food first before jetting all your spit at me dude,”

In the same black polo shirt, Jaemin steps in at noon, just like his boss number one (Kun) asked him to, while boss number two (Jaehyun) had emphasised that calling him this early is to ease him in easier into the culinary business. Jaemin doesn’t mind, he’s just glad that he’s being paid for today's work.

He greets you with a wave as soon as he gets in, to which you wave back before going to the kitchen and announcing his presence.

“Jaemin’s here now,” You come back out and stand at the staff counter, taking the kettle and filling it up with water to boil. Going behind the counter, he places his phone and earbuds into his pocket, remembering that they were prohibited unless he’s on his break. Once the water is boiled, you pour it into the two mugs Jaemin remembers seeing yesterday, before putting it back on its stand and taking the mugs back into the kitchen.

Jaemin simply fiddles around, not knowing what to do. It looks like his presence on Friday was needed to set things up, but now that it’s all done, he can only wait for a customer to walk or call in, or either one of you to give him a command; he’s weary this time ‘round to not fuck anything up.

Coming back out right behind Kun, you busy yourself at the counter next to the door while Kun comes up to Jaemin, patting him on the back.

“Don’t worry about doing much today, it’s just a soft opening and not a lot of people know about our business anyways. I’m just expecting maybe two or three takeaway orders and just a handful of tables. This could be a good chance for you to bond with each other, yeah?” But before Jaemin could take in the fact that Kun had wanted some sort of bonding to happen, his mind got caught on the words ‘soft opening’.

“Wait, so today’s only the …soft opening.” Careful with his tone, Jaemin tries to make it sound like he’s just restating a fact rather than being surprised. Kun is too busy drinking from his hot water to notice Jaemin’s nervous front.

“Yup, Jaehyun and I decided it would be best to have a grand opening maybe after we got to test the waters out.” He places the silicon lid with the bear cover back on his cup to retain the heat, and Jaemin really can’t help but feel like something bad is brewing. But before he could even voice out a word, the door to the restaurant opens with a bell resounding, and in swarm a pack of ten or so customers, and a blob that looks like Mark.

“Yoo, this place is quite neat,” Apparently it talks like Mark too.

Both shocked still with wide eyes, trying to make sense of where and how this many people all came together into the restaurant just minutes after the soft opening, Jaemin just hopes that nothing about Mark and what seems like a club he gathered from the university can be somehow linked back to him. It doesn’t seem like the universe is keen on taking his side, however, as he sees Mark’s eyes squint and searches around the restaurant, knowingly searching for him. Jaemin doesn’t know why he hasn’t tried looking at where the general staff area would be, like at the door or where he’s currently situated, but before he could duck to hide or face his impending doom, you miraculously step in.

“Hello, welcome to Tao Village, how can I help you?” You sport a kind but mute smile, hands clasped together politely.

“Yeah, can I have, like, a table or something?”

“Sure, for how many people?”

“Ooh! Good question… I think there’s like, ten of us at the moment.”

“Is it alright if I were to ask you to sit separately? Since you’re walking in, we didn’t have the opportunity to set up. Just in two groups of three and one table for four maybe?” Jaemin doesn’t know how you do it, but his shoulders sag when Mark gives you a thumbs up, going back to the group of people all loitering around the entrance, telling them that they will just break into subunits.

Kun has somehow slipped away without any notice, which left just Jaemin behind the counter for you to encounter when you head towards the bottled water in the fridge. “Can you help me with the water? I’ll take their orders and you can just follow along first,” With a nod of his head, you press the bottle into his hands, waving him off as you reach for a server notepad, writing down table numbers and heading to the tables.

With your presence and the two chefs busy in the kitchen, Jaemin doesn’t do much but avoid eye contact with Mark and listen to you pick up the scarce phone orders that come through; trying his best to learn how to pick up such skill. After the third time of the phone ringing and Jaemin staying in place, simply looking at you to pick up the phone, you pick it up and press the answer button, before pressing it against his ear and giving an encouraging nod.

It turns out to be a scam call, with the person on the other end attempting to sell Jaemin a double-doored fridge with a touch screen and dual ice and water dispenser, all while Jaemin tries to promote the restaurant.

“With the dual dispenser, you can fill your glass up with both water and ice at the same time so your water doesn’t go too cold on the first si-“

“The mapo tofu is a great dish to order, as tofu proves to be a primary source of iron, easily accessible and cheap with the rising price of meat.”

“…It’s a Samsung model which has been on limited release—“

“Do you want the food or not?”

(The telemarketer hesitates just a bit before stating that they’ll call another time.)

Nothing else happens, you two go to the kitchen whenever a sound of the bell ringing resounds, signalling that a dish is ready to be served, and Jaemin uses all of his brain power and logic skills to pick up dishes that are for tables that Mark isn't seated at.

He successfully gets to do all that is required of him and stealthily avoids Mark, silently celebrating as he sees you place fortune cookies at every table, signalling that it’s time for them to pay the bill and leave.

But of course, nothing good ever lasts.

“Jaemin, bro,” Mark must’ve been some assassin in his past life because Jaemin barely notices him creeping up to him until he’s already wrapped in a handshake and a bro hug. “Well done dude, you barely made a mistake today. Yo, the food was good too, you should bring back some of the Mongolian lambs every now and then, yeah? I’ll see you later,” And with two claps on his back, he’s fishing his pockets for spare change as he heads towards the front counter and near the door, finding a singular coin before placing it in your palm, smiling as if he’s single-handedly pulled you out of poverty.

“Your friend?” You murmur towards him, looking at the coin in distaste.

“Yeah, unfortunately so.”

“I can’t do it,” Jaemin is shaking his head and hands vehemently; making him feel even more sick than he was.

You roll your eyes at him, holding the restaurant's phone in your hand. “You have to start somewhere, you can’t just avoid it now and expect to be miraculously good one day. I swear once you learn how to pick up phone orders you’ll only want to do that.” You explain, before putting your free hand out, palm facing up, encouraging Jaemin to do the same. Once he follows, not without a lot of hesitation, of course, you gently place the phone in his hand, closing his fingers around it with two hands before giving it a light pat.

“Now,” You pick up Jaehyun's phone that's placed on the counter, dialling the restaurant's number before placing yourself on the other side of the restaurant to cease any echoes. “I’m gonna call and act like a customer, you try writing down the order details.” With a nod of his head, you press the dial and turn the other way around, opting to look away to make Jaemin less nervous.

With a deep breath in, he picks up. “Hi, welcome to Tao Village,” He pauses, looking at you for any sign of motivation, but continues when he notices you waiting. “What would you like to order?”

“Jaemin,” Your voice sounds in the dining area and not through the phone, as you turn slightly to look at him with the phone tucked into your chest. “Some customers might not order food straight away. Maybe try asking how you can be of assistance,”

“Hello, welcome to Tao Village restaurant. Uh, how can I help?” Jaemin tries again, to which you reply with a bunch of dish names, asking for the different types of sauces that come with the mixed vegetables, as he tries his best to answer with what he remembers and writes down the prices of each dish from the takeaway menu.

“Uh, okay. Is that, did you want anything else?”

“Nope, I’m good. What's the total?” Jaemin fumbles with the calculator, shoulders hunched over the counter, punching in the numbers and writing down the total on the piece of paper. “That would be around 38,000 won.”

“Are you sure?” This time your voice is right by his ear without the phone pressed against it, your arm brushing against his side. Jaemin doesn’t even have the time to be scared, distracted by the proximity of you two as you reach over and use the calculator.

“It came up to 42,000 won. Did you forget to calculate the buns?”

“Oh,” Jaemin splutters. “Maybe, my bad.” Although this all sounds so new to Jaemin, he doesn’t feel as overwhelmed as he thought he would; with every other job he had, there would be someone assigned to help Jaemin understand the ropes of the place, but everyone else would add something on too, like how folding clothes the ‘Marie Kondo way’ was is even more efficient, even if that defeats the whole purpose of displaying a t-shirt at a department store.

You coach him through the quirks one by one, not moving on until Jaemin shows that he’s somewhat picked up the action. It all feels like a dream come true, with you guiding him as if you know that he couldn’t last a week into his job without actually knowing that. He’s just not sure how effective it will be in the long run. And it turns out that he doesn’t need to wait long to find out, as the ringing of the phone echoes in the restaurant devoid of any noise except for the soft piano background music.

Nodding your head at him, Jaemin picks up the phone and only hesitates for half a ring before he presses accept, bringing the phone to his ear and repeating the welcome phrase. It all goes well, with the customer asking if they can make a phone order for pick up, to which Jaemin replies ‘Why yes, of course you may’, and the sound of a car door closing sounds through the phones speakers, and suddenly the quality of the customers' voice sounds like hot garbage as their phone connects to their cars’ bluetooth.

“Sorry, did you say you wanted mixed vegetables in rooster sauce? Sorry, we don’t offer— oh. Oyster sauce. Yup,” You look at him with a confused look on your face, curious as to why Jaemin can’t understand the person when everything was good. The furrow of your eyebrows and the scratching sound from the phone sets Jaemin off, as the customer mutters something about ‘how many times do I have to repeat myself?’.

Jaemin writes down what he can understand, writing down the name ‘Kai’ and giving the customer the estimated waiting time, before hanging up the phone.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” You give him a pat on the shoulder, taking the slip of paper from his hand, wincing as you take a look at the scribbles writing of the dish names and their prices. “It’ll just go up from here. Hey, tell you what, why don’t you try remembering the ingredients of our fried rice, and see if you can differentiate between which one is the normal one and the special one without looking at the names, yeah? I’ll go help set up the ingredients for cooking these dishes,” And with one last tap, you disappear behind the curtains, taking a pen with you and correcting the mistakes before providing it to the two chefs.

You’re busy talking at a table of customers when the door swings open and in walks a customer, which leaves Jaemin to tend to them instead. With a customer service smile, he clears his throat and greets them.

“How can I help you?”

“Oh, I’m here to pick up an order. Under the name Kim I think? Sorry, I didn’t place the order but my dad did.” The woman scrolls through her phone as she says this, looking at what Jaemin guesses to be an exchange of texts between her and her dad. He ducks a bit to look at the dock under the table, where all the takeaways are brought and placed with the order slip attached to them with a piece of tape. He sees one with the name Kim and picks it up, removing the attached slip and placing it on top of the counter while the lady reaches for her wallet.

“Okay, uh, did you order the sweet and sour pork, with a large fried rice?” Jaemin reads off the food, a procedure you emphasised was important when dealing with takeaway orders. The lady nods, impatient as she swings her card around. He looks at the price at the end of the paper before punching it into the machine. Once the transaction goes through successfully and a receipt is printed, the woman quickly snatches the handle of the takeaway plastic bag and nods her head goodbye. Jaemin senses that something is wrong, off maybe even, and so he looks at the copy of the receipt and the contents of the order slip, looking at the other orders waiting at the dock and their contents and seeing that they all match their slips, and so with a shrug, he sets off to go back to the staff counter.

It isn’t until ten minutes pass that his wrongdoing was confirmed, as you call for his name from across the restaurant while sifting through the takeaway orders, a customer patiently looking over to see your interaction. He pulls up beside you, squatting down eye-level to the dock like you are before he whispers, “Did I do something wrong?”

“Where is the order for Kim? The one with the fried rice and sweet and sour pork? I remember bringing it here when it was packed at the back.” Jaemin feels his blood run cold at the mention of the order, a clear replay of his interaction with the woman coming in full blast.

“Oh… that…” At this, you pause your search and look at Jaemin, whose breath hitches at the short distance between your faces, courtesy of your crouched figures. You close your eyes, breathing in deeply to calm your nerves, before straightening up at lightning speed, knocking Jaemin over and onto the ground with an ‘oof’.

“Your order is still not ready yet, sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll go and check up on the progress, did you want to take a seat while you wait?” You smile at the customer, who nods back and says something about not minding the wait. You walk over Jaemin’s bent knees on the ground, going past him and into the kitchen.

He picks himself up quickly, making brief eye contact with the customer before looking at the curtains which you walked into. He’s doomed, you’re gonna tell Jaehyun and Kun about the mistake you made, and they’re gonna come out mad with their sleeves pulled up, ready to beat the shit out of him. He should’ve taken the self-defence class his mom recommended to him when he was twelve, maybe then he could do something to make the pain afterwards not hurt as much.

But before he could think about running out of the place with the bowl of fortune cookies (compensation for the beating that is due… possibly), you come back out, heading for the sink and filling up a glass of water while you place it on the table that the real Kim sits at.

“Shouldn’t be too long, they’re just finishing up on the sweet and sour pork. Here some water while you wait.” And now Jaemin is confused. He’s still on the floor of the restaurant with his brows furrowed and mouth hung open as if he’s gonna start throwing a temper tantrum. Your eyes widen ever so slightly when you catch a glimpse of him still on the ground where you left him, but your professionalism pushes through as you widen the smile on your face with a hum, before shuffling away towards his direction when the customer looks away. Pulling him up, Jaemin is only able to offer you a few murmurs of random words to voice his confusion.

“They’re making a new batch, I figured that someone provided a similar name and didn’t know the order details, which is why they accepted it. Don’t worry, they don’t know that you mixed it up,” Jaemin feels a sense of relief wash over him, looking at you with what he knows to be his puppy eyes; you make sure to look away.

“Isn’t it like, against the rules to not tell them?”

“Well, if you like rules so much, you can go ahead and take this takeaway order to the back and confess. Or you can split its payment with me and take what you like home. While you decide what to do, I’ll call the customer you gave the wrong order to and offer some apology coupon.” If it was professional to, Jaemin would give you the biggest head; but unfortunately, this isn’t the film industry, and so he sticks to the next best thing, which is to just look at you longingly.

In hindsight, five weeks have passed and Jaemin is still an employee of Tao Village, surpassing his longest streak of two weeks and five days at the retail store. Which calls for a celebration.

“To Jaemin,” Shotaro opens a can of beer with one hand, which truly impresses Jaemin, because he didn’t think that he knew what alcohol was, let alone drink it. “Who can finally pay his half of the rent on time,”

“You’re too nice, Shotaro,” Mark clinks his can against his and Jaemin’s at the toast, taking a sip. “I would’ve kicked him out as soon as he somehow disconnected the house's water system. You guys had to shower at the campus locker rooms for a week.”

Shotaro simply laughs as Jaemin lunges at Mark. “You don’t even live here, why do you keep coming? You should pay rent at this point too, fucker,”

Mark shoves at Jaemin’s face, which was really close to biting his shoulder, effectively avoiding a months-long bruise. He scooches away on the couch, leaning against the handle and sipping his beer. Jaemin picks up a piece of takeaway fried chicken, and it’s with his mouthful when Shotaro asks how he’s liking the place.

“It’s okay, it’s not too busy since it just opened and no one really knows of its existence. Except for when Mark brought a shitton of people on its soft opening day,”

“You told me it was the gran-”

“Anyway, thankfully I didn’t get into trouble for that. But I was close all the other times…”

Mark snorts while Shotaro mumbles something about how well Jaemin is doing. “What, did you do all the cliche mistakes?”

“Define cliche,” Jaemin speaks after taking another bite of the chicken, making Mark kick at his thigh lightly. “Like, did you spill red wine on a customer? Or break a plate, or write down the wrong order. You know, restaurant waiter cliches.” Jaemin ponders for a second at this, thinking back to his five weeks of employment at the place.

“Not quite…” He tilts his head in thought, but before he could follow it up with anything, Shotaro and Mark clink their drinks together from opposite sides of the couch.

“Then that means you’ve finally healed! Let’s celebrate while we can,” Mark and Shotaro both chug at their drinks, and Jaemin would be ecstatic to join if it weren’t for the fact that it’s only three pm in the afternoon. But also because he doesn’t think he can celebrate yet.

“Shotaro, did you know about this person Jaemin’s working with as well? He has a massive boner for her but like, they barely interact.” Shotaro chuckles at this, glancing at Jaemin whose face is now red as he stumbles for an excuse.

“She must be really nice if you like her; does she help you around a lot?” Shotaro questions, making Jaemin flush even more.

“If only you knew,”

He picks up a carton of Sprite from the ground of the cold room, goosebumps erupt all over his forearms as Jaemin hurries out of the place, closing the door shut with his foot. Shuffling past the two chefs cooking and back into the dining area, he briefly searches for you before he finds you at the basin at the staff counter, washing the used cups.

“I brought the carton,” He announces, making you turn around.

“Thanks, do you mind placing it here? You can open the carton but be careful when you put it at the edge, it can spill out.” Your fingers are covered in sud as you point at the counter next to you. With a nod of his head, he perches the carton on the counter, half of it hanging out with the cluster of items placed, not providing enough room. As he gently prods open the cardboard packaging, he glances at you, back facing him as you lather the cups in soap one by one. Before he could continue with his task with his newfound motivation (your existence), you lean over and open the door to the mini glasswasher, backing up against him as you place the cups in.

He averts his gaze quickly, eyes wide from seeing you bend over like that, not wanting to lose his feminist streak from letting his mind wander so easily. As he continues to prod at the Sprite container, he feels the briefest brush of your legs against his, and he completely splutters, accidentally hooking his finger at the opening of the carton and ripping it open, making all the cans stacked against each other topple out and over the edge of the counter, one by one making an impact with the floor.

With a screech and a poor attempt of stopping the cans in motion, he squats to make it to the cans before they fully fall to the floor. But it seems like, yet again, the universe is not on his side, because not only does he fail to catch most of the descending drinks, the bridge of his nose makes contact with the edge of the counter, making him join the cans on the floor.

“Oh my god,” You’re shocked by the view in front of you, like some sort of twisted Renaissance painting. You reach down, and just as Jaemin is about to tell you not to worry about him, and that he can just die a beautiful death with the cans surrounding him, you pick up the fallen cans, inspecting them for any damage.

“You’re lucky none of these popped open, the floor would be sticky for days,” You mutter as you place the cans back on top of the counter, separating the ones that turned out fine and the dented ones. All the while Jaemin lies there, his nose throbbing, contemplating how he’s lasted here so far.

“Aren’t you gonna tell them?” He closes his eyes as he gently presses his cold fingers against his nose bridge, soothing the pain. The answer seems to be an obvious ‘yes’ if your lack of reply is anything to go by. A few seconds pass and he feels the cold contact of a can replacing where his hands were on his features, and when he opens his eyes, he sees your face above his, inspecting him.

“What is there to say? That you’re on the ground fighting against a nosebleed?” You taunt, removing the can and inspecting the spot with the gentle press of your fingers. Grabbing his hand and opening his palm, you place the dented can you used gesturing to his face.

“You can drink it once you’re done, they won’t notice,” Jaemin sits up as you say this, bringing the can up to his nose, pressing the cold against it as he watches you go back to turning on the machine and walking away, tending to other restaurant responsibilities.

Notepad and pen in hand, Jaemin walks to the table that raised their hand at him and delivers his best customer service smile. “Hello, welcome back to Tao. Would you like to order?” You had given Jaemin the heads up to look after this table exclusively.

“They’re this group of ladies that have nothing to do but spend their significant others’ money. They come like, almost every second day; something about wanting to support local businesses. And they give generous tips. No one does that.” You sigh. “I wish I had that much free time.”

The women smile at him, seemingly charmed. Jaemin knows the power he holds, and he also knows that if he bunches up his cheeks just right, he can have any woman over the age of fifty want to pinch them.

“What a charismatic boy,” one of them comments, and he blinks his eyes and tilts his head, smile still on his face feeling just slightly strained as he politely rejects the compliment, feigning humility.

“Okay, well can we start our entrees with a set of fried dim sims and spring rolls, and for the main course we’ll have the mapo tofu, fried rice— did you say you wanted Hokkien mee? One of those too please, and a serving of mixed vegetables with oyster sauce and chicken chow mien. No mushrooms for either, please. And for drinks, we’ll just have three tsingtao’s and one glass of Shiraz.” The woman drones, and Jaemin has a bit of difficulty catching up and writing down all the dishes she’s named, and so he repeats it all back once it’s done; a practice heavily encouraged by you.

When Jaemin finishes listing the dishes back and receives four nodding heads, he smiles in thanks and head’s to the kitchen, yelling out ‘New order!’ for the chefs to be aware of. Coming back out and placing a copy of the notepad at the staff counter, his smile turns genuine when he sees you, showcasing two thumbs up.

Now bashful, he says “I think I’ve replaced you as ‘favourite waiter’ now.” His smile is cheeky as he says this, with you rolling your eyes, pointing at the fridge near the counter instead. “Stop spewing bullshit and get the drinks ready. I’ll write down the prices of each dish.” With a salute and nod of his head, he goes to fetch the drinks from the fridge and the bottle of red wine nearby, as well as an empty wine glass. Preparing the drinks, your shoulders brush against each other in the tight space of the staff counter, with you looking back and forth between the menu and the order slip. Jaemin misses when your eyebrows furrow together, inspecting the slip for something.

“Uhm, Jaemin,” He hums back in response, eyes still focused on pouring no more than one standard drink of the wine. “Did you tell the kitchen that this is the table with a mushroom allergy?”

Jaemin’s heart drops to his ass.

His posture straightens immediately, vision zeroing in on the table he just took the order of, as his head slowly turns to you, a million thoughts run around in his head. With the expression he sports, you quickly grab a pen and a highlighter, running back into the kitchen as quickly as possible. Scanning the restaurant, when he sees all the customers occupied, he slowly slips away and into the kitchen, leaving them unattended to somehow save his ass, and from a possible murder case.

“—do you mean there’s a mushroom allergy? And why did none of you tell us? Of course the mixed vegetables and chow mien have vegetables in them.” Kun speaks as he cooks on the wok, lifting it every now and then as the clang of his wok’s spatula echoes out, mixing around the satay chicken.

“He wrote it down but just forgot to say it out loud,” You bluff, pointing at the copy of the slip that Jaemin brought back into the kitchen, now adorning the words ‘NO MUSHROOM’ in bold, highlighted letters at the top. Your other hand is clasped behind your back, holding the pen and highlighter. Jaehyun momentarily stops making his fried rice, coming up to the counter, and looking at you over it before snatching the slip, his aggressive manner making Jaemin wince slightly.

With a poor squint of his eyes, you and Jaemin wait with bated breaths for him to somehow finish reading the two words. When his eyes stop squinting, he spares a look at both you and Jaemin, placing the slip back down onto the counter before reaching into the bowl containing the ingredients for the dishes, fishing out the mushrooms and putting them back from where he originally picked them up, waving you both off. And you barely waste any time, muttering a sorry and going towards the curtains, pushing Jaemin out with you.

“Sorry. Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else to say, looking at you while you ignore his gaze so close to your face, centring him back to the staff counter. You shake your head and hand at him as if to say that he has nothing to be sorry about.

“Mistakes happen. Now can you put the puppy eyes away? We have a new customer to serve.”

“I’m not that stupid to bel— Hi, welcome to Tao Village. How can I help you?”

“Jaemin, do you think you could give the Chardonnay to table three? It’s for the man with the glasses,” You ask as you calculate the total of a takeaway order you just took, glancing at him to see if he’s available.

“Sure,” It turns out that you’ve already set out the glass and the bottle, as he opens the cap and pours it in, before taking a tray and placing the glass on it. You’ve taught him a few times to hold the tray with one hand, but he’s taking it slow and only using a single hand with drinks and sauces that he’s asked to deliver, not wanting to be too ambitious. Balancing it, he eyes for table number three and said man with glasses, strategically planning to swiftly arrive and deliver the drink.

As he waltz’s his way through, with his vision zeroed in on the customer, he completely misses the lady at the table before wanting to get out of her chair, completely skidding it across the floor and making an impact on Jaemin’s side.

Everything is suddenly carried out in slow motion, as he sees the fright on the woman's face, the tilt of his body and tray towards the customer settled on the table, the white wine toppling over the rim of the glass. If he retains his focus, maybe he can slow-mo recover and balance himself, only causing the wine to spill on the ground and maybe himself. He is willing to sacrifice his (Shotaro’s) black t-shirt.

Then he blinks.

A groan echoes and silent gasps are spilt, as he opens his eyes and sees first the man drenched in white wine, and Jaemin’s hand on his arm, balancing himself. Before he could even separate himself and apologise profusely, he is suddenly grabbed by the collar, and in his head, he’s already commemorating the lovely memories he’s made here with you and mourns how quickly he has to abandon the delusion that you two will end up together.

With one eye squeezed close, he’s not sure if it’s better to expect a punch or a slap against his face, but before he can anticipate either, he hears someone say “Excuse me, sir,”

“What do you want,” The man snarls at you, as you make eye contact with him, a silent customer-service-smile sported on your face as always.

“Apologies sir, but we don’t accept this sort of behaviour in our restaurant. Violence is not part of our values. I do ask of you to let out staff member go, you’re scaring him.” Jaemin can’t help but nod his head at the man, who glares at him before letting him go and jamming a finger into Jaemin’s chest.

“This boy spilt my drink all over me, how is that a part of your values?” He yells, making Jaemin wince at the loud volume, but you merely blink, stepping forward and closer to the customer, lowering your voice in an attempt to get him to soften his, too.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience caused sir, but this sort of behaviour is not tolerated. If you would allow our staff to apologise and we’ll-”

The customer scoffs, “Apologise? An apology isn’t gonna fix the stain caused on my shirt. Isn’t the customer always right? Who the fuck are you to speak to me like this,” He shoves you at your shoulder as he says this, causing you to stumble back into Jaemin’s figure, whose arms shoot out and hold you by the waist.

The curtains leading to the kitchen skid aside, and out steps Jaehyun. It all feels so dramatic if Jaemin were to look at it from a perspective of an outsider, as Jaehyun walks over to you three, his figure looming over all of you.

His smile is blinding, dimples forming on both his cheeks as he clasps his hands together. “Out,” Is all he says, hand now facing the door of the restaurant.

The man blanches. “But—”

Jaehyun merely shakes his head in a stern manner, smile suddenly dropping, pursing his lips as if taunting a child. Without making contact with the customer, he guides him gently towards the door, before the man gets the memo and stomps his way out. Jaehyun turns to the remaining customers at the table, providing a formal apology and confiding in them that they simply don’t tolerate this sort of behaviour towards their staff.

“Would you like to pack away your remaining food? You can pay at the counter just at the front, thank you for your understanding and apologies for the inconvenience,” And with that, he steps back into the kitchen, curtains shutting close as if they barely jostled. As you and Jaemin pick up the plates and pack the food into takeaway containers, Jaemin slowly approaches you, his arm brushing against yours.

“Are you okay,” He asks, voice solemn. It never feels nice to get yelled at by a customer, Jaemin’s just used to it, but he forgets that it can take a toll on different people.

Your smile is shy, barely looking in his direction as you click to close the lid of the container, grabbing both of your containers before placing them in a takeaway bag. “Yeah, I’m okay.” without a second glance, you walk to the front counter, giving the bag to the customer as well as the receipt.

“Can you two close up? Kun and I have to get up early tomorrow to make it to the fish market before the good quality scallops all sell out.” Jaehyun says this later in the day, as he folds his apron and places it on the staff counter. “I’ve already mopped the back. Do you have the keys?” He looks at you as he says this, to which you nod and give a thumbs up. With a nod of his head, he goes through the back door of the restaurant, leaving you two alone. Jaemin mops as you wipe the tables clean, preparing them to be set up once again tomorrow. Silence engulfs you two, with the only sounds being the slosh of the mop in the bucket and the scrape of chairs as you manoeuvre around them.

Jaemin decides that this is a good time to speak up. “Thank you for doing that,” He continues pumping the mop into the drainer part of the bucket, removing all excess water before plopping it back down. “I wouldn’t have minded if he had smacked me,” At this you laugh, cheeks bunching up cutely making Jaemin’s heart flutter.

“Did you want him to smack you?” You look into his eyes this time, the lights of the restaurant reflecting in your iris’. Jaemin thinks he could get used to this.

“Are you kink-shaming me? I doubt that’s allowed within the Tao VIllage values,”

“I’m not too sure. Hey, why don't we talk to the boss about it tomorrow?”

Jaemin’s grin is cheshire-like, “Wouldn't be the worst conversation I’d have,” At that you raise an eyebrow, to which he throws a wink. A comfortable silence engulfs the two of you, as you continue with your tasks, working around one another and you avoid the places Jaemin has freshly mopped while he manoeuvres himself around you.

It’s when you’re outside of the place and locking the doors, sizing up and down the door to put all the locks in place when you speak up. “You don’t have to thank me, by the way. People make mistakes, and Jaehyun would be less mad at me than at you. Plus, Kun doesn’t care like that either, as long as he can run this business, you can break as many cartons of drinks as you desire,” Looking over your shoulder, you catch Jaemin gazing at you, the same puppy eyes leering at you. Looking away, you pick up your stuff from the ground, wanting to bid him goodbye and completely disappear, maybe quit this job and move countries and settle down with a farming family of seven that don’t mind an additional one person to work their fields and pet their cows as a form of cattle therapy. Anything but face Jaemin’s face abd his ridiculously handsome features.

But before you could begin your progress, Jaemin calls out your name, making you turn around to face him once more. Thankfully, there’s no sign of the puppy eyes, but he is smiling.

“Since it’s a Sunday and we have a day off tomorrow, do you want to grab some food with me?”

The warmth from the broth and fishcake in your cup seeps into your hand, preventing them from getting too cold in the Autumn breeze. Jaemin counts his notes under the red and yellow haze of the fishcake stall, handing them to the old lady once he collects the right amount. The woman snatches the notes once Jaemin presents them and counts them twice, nodding her head in dismissal when she’s done.

Picking up his cup, the two of you manoeuvre yourself around the park and settle on a free bench, looking out into the lit-up park, with parents and kids at the playground while adults settle their picnic mats and huddle around near the fairy-lit trees; the Central park seems to be teeming with more people with the sudden shift of seasons, as people embrace the coming cold by celebrating in their own ways. Kids scream at the top of their lungs when sliding down a steep slide, and adults teem with laughter as they swish their wine in their plastic glasses.

Picking out a stick of fishcake from the cup full of broth, you blow on it a few times before biting into it, settling into the park bench more comfortably as the warmth of the food engulfs you. Excluding the bustle of people, you and Jaemin sit quietly as you indulge in your food.

But the silence doesn’t last long. “I don’t know how kids are so agile at such a young age. Like, aren’t their bones basically jelly?” Jaemin points at the few kids climbing up ropes at the playground, taking them to a tall slide as a reward.

“It doesn’t look too hard,” You quip, head leaning closer to Jaemin as you look at the kids climbing up vicariously. Jaemin turns to look at you, making you realise just how close you leaned in. “You think you could climb that?”

“At my age? Easy,” You scoff, leaning back and away, now feeling more flustered. If Jaemin catches on to your behaviour, he doesn’t make it obvious, sipping on the broth in his cup and opting to ask you about your favourite playground equipment.

“Thank you for the fishcakes,” You pat your stomach, smiling at your coworker.

“Of course,” He rocks back and forth on his heels the two of you standing at the edge of the park, ready to part ways. “I can never have a pretty girl like you be deprived of such Autumn goodness,” Jaemin teems at you as he says this, ready to receive some sort of backlash for his behaviour.

Imagine his surprise when you slightly guffaw, before stopping yourself with a hand to your mouth and a straight face. “If you think I’m so pretty,” You start as you turn around, slowly beginning the walk back to your house. “You would do more than just buy me a 3,000 won snack; I think pretty girls like me deserve more. No?” And with a wave, you continue your walk, leaving Jaemin with wide eyes and a slightly concerning grip on his cup.

It’s been eight weeks since Jaemin started working at Tao Village as a waiter, and he hasn’t known peace throughout.

It’s not that the pay is bad, or that the people around him treat him terribly. The pay is generous enough and as rarely as he sees Kun and Jaehyun on his shift, even if they’re a curtain width away from him, they’re nice and give him a container of food after every shift. And you’re an angel on earth, helping him whenever he fucks something up, and saving his ass nearly six times since he’s started working here.

The problem is that he makes those mistakes. And he has to go out of his way to not make these mistakes, and after every shift he feels like he’s worked five days with no break when in reality he just had a five-hour shift and a very generous thirty-minute break, eating hot and sour soup while you tell him about the weird customers you’ve encountered, asking him to rank them from most to least smashable with the details given from your anecdote.

Speaking of you, he thinks you're the epitome of his worries. Ever since he slipped up and basically confessed to thinking you’re attractive, you’ve been tormenting him, torturing even. If he were to tell you this, you would deny it all. And of course you would, because—

“I’m not doing anything,” You reply when Jaemin asks what you’re doing with the order slip that he’s just written down on. With a pen in your hand and a separate order slip, you’re copying down everything word for word instead of just taking Jaemin’s one to the back like normal.

“Yes, you are. Why are you making a copy of my slip— Are you ripping it to pieces?!” Jaemin shrieks, which catches the attention of the patrons in the restaurant, earning him a light smack against his arm.

You sigh, “Look, Jaehyun doesn’t like it sometimes when the slip looks too messy. There’s already a lot of oil and water being splattered on these poor things the minute they go past the curtain.” You shake the paper in your hand. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, you grab Jaemin’s hand, not looking at his face in case he’s flashing those eyes again. Jokes on you, because he’s also blushing, so you’re doing him a favour.

“Your handwriting isn’t messy, they’re just used to mine. I don’t want them to make a fuss over nothing,” You pat his hand and head to the back, not before reminding him to check on table number seven.

Looking at his left hand, the hand which you grasped hours ago, he holds it to his chest and prays to whatever holds power to keep him strong. He doesn’t know if you’re doing these things on purpose, or if he just has a weak heart.

“You barely go out of your room, so I’d say the second option is more likely.” Mark quips, tilting his body to the same side that his kart skids in the game. Jaemin lies down on his bed arm slung over his eyes as Mark plays on his console.

“Am I just due for a good fuck? Is that why I’m basically busting whenever she brushes past me?”

“Yo,” Mark sounds concerned now. “Brushes past you? Like, it’s just the accidental skinship that makes you horny?”

Jaemin sits up now, wanting to prove himself innocent despite the words he uttered just seconds ago. “You have to understand, I think she’s doing it on purpose.”

“I’ve seen your place Jaemin. The staff counter seems like a tight fit, I don’t know how she can be doing these things on purpose.” Jaemin huffs at that, falling back onto his bed again. He doesn’t know how to explain to his best friend that he isn’t delusional, so he just mutters a ‘whatever’ and tries tickling him, wanting him to lose the game and get last place.

“Yup, your order is just right here. So it’s just the large special frie—” His voice gets stuck in his throat repeating back the order to the customer when he feels a figure pressed up against his back, and with a glance to the side he sees you leering over, looking at the slip he holds in his hand. When he makes eye contact with you, you barely give back a nod of your head, encouraging him to continue reading.

“Sorry. Uhm, just the large special fried rice, and two servings of the spring rolls,” You lean in even more, and Jaemin can only thank the great heavens above for the bit of privacy that the takeaway counter provides. He feels the plush of your breasts pressing against him, leaning against him while you reach over below the counter to some pens, opening the notebook of table reservations and writing in a new booking.

He only messes up putting in the total price of the order twice on the machine, before the customer picks up his food, leaving you two behind the counter. Just as he’s about to turn around and say something, you separate yourself from him, patting him on his shoulder and closing the notebook shut.

The first thing he does is find his bearings, as he clutches a hand at his chest, then his neck, and lastly his ears, feeling how hot they were. Next, he has to somehow find a way to see if he just made that whole scenario up. Looking at where you now were, which was at a table, conversing with a customer, he was a few seconds away from losing his mind. But his thoughts were confirmed when you glanced a look at him, the corner of your lips lifting ever so slightly before you continue speaking to the table.

Jaemin doesn’t know how long he can last.

He now knows how long he can last.

Unsurprisingly, it’s not long at all. He doesn’t know if what you’re doing is on purpose, or he’s just infatuated with you enough to now notice these things, but all he can blame it on is the fact that it’s been some time since he last got laid, and so that’s why he’s getting flustered by your proximity these days.

But he also thinks that you might be doing some things on purpose; like squeezing past him in the tight margin of the staff counter to wipe some inconspicuous water stain, bodies brushing against each other in a tight squeeze, or inspecting his hand for too long after he’s delivered a sizzling plate of Mongolian lamb to the table, in search for an injury you both know is not there if he hasn’t already blatantly dropped the whole dish onto the table. Or that one time when you both went to the cold room, with him reaching up for the carton of beers while you kneel to get the soft drinks, side to side. You had momentarily lost your balance while pulling out the boxes from the back, resulting in your hand clutching at his pants, wanting to regain your balance.

“Oh, sorry,” Your words are a clear contrast between your actions, as your hands linger on for longer, lashes fluttering when you look up at him, the light of the cold room twinkling in your eyes. Jaemin swears he feels your hands squeeze ever so slightly before you let go, shuffling out of the room with a carton tucked by your side.

He doesn’t know how to confront you about it; it’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the sudden burst of attention he’s receiving from you, it’s just that it’s both not enough and too much. He wants more but he doesn’t want to risk popping a boner while taking a sixty-year-old woman’s order.

Every time he thinks he’s got you cornered, something always comes along to save you, like the call of a customer, or Kun coming through the curtains to get some hot water, even though his sightings are as common as blue moons.

So when Jaehyun asks you two to restock some of the items into the storage room as a part of your closing shift, Jaemin thinks the opportunity is basically being graced into the palm of his hands.

“The stuff might be a bit heavy, so be careful with your posture when picking up the boxes,” Jaehyun tuts, scrubbing his wok clean. “And remember to lodge something between the door, it still gets stuck from the inside. Don’t go home too late, but also don’t half-ass things as well.” Jaemin almost shivers when he hears her mom echoing back the same things to him in his head.

“Jaemin, do you know that door wedge we have at the back? You can use that, sometimes even I forget. Kun’s trying his best with the handle.” He steps over the freshly mopped places, going past and at the cashier, placing your tips in your dedicated storage boxes.

“Okay we get it Jaehyun, but if you keep speaking we won’t be done unti—” The front door shuts before you can finish what you were saying, but you only let out a light sigh before finishing up with the mopping, with Jaemin drying the cutlery with a towel.

“I’m gonna start with the boxes first,” Jaemin nods his head at you, seeing you go through the back door and towards the storage room. Jaehyun and Kun were kind enough to place a few boxes inside, but there were some still littered outside.

When a few minutes pass and Jaemin is all done, he still sees the extra boxes outside, not having moved a bit. He calls for your name, just to see if you’re back there.

“Yeah, I’m here, just—” You grunt, balancing the box on your knee as you take its contents out, placing them on the shelf. “Trying to sort this. Can you help me with the boxes outside? Be careful with the door, I have my shoe lodged there.” Jaemin rolls his eyes at the third reminder of the day, before shutting the lights off from inside the restaurant and picking up the boxes near the door, stacking them on top to only use one trip to the storage room. The light from within shines a silver lining across the now dimmed restaurant, as Jaemin nudges the door open with his leg, careful to avoid your shoe as you had advised.

He places the boxes down with a groan, straightening up and stretching his back. “That was a piece of cake,” He smiles cheekily at you, to which you barely react, handing him the box you were balancing, opting to take the items out from his hands, making the process more efficient.

“Are you having fun?” Jaemin speaks again, not letting the silence between you two stretch out for too long.

“With putting these things away? Not exactly my definition of fun,” You look at him questioningly, picking up another item while glancing at him.

“Not with the packages,” He shakes the one in his hand for emphasis. “I meant ever since that night at the park, where I called you cute—”

“Pretty,” You mutter, and the word slightly shocks you both, as Jaemin sees your shoulders stiffen. You have been doing everything on purpose, because you, too, put some meaning into his attempts.

“You keeping tally on how I compliment you?” putting the box down, he opts to look at your face as he says this. It’s not every day that he gets to tease you like this, so he uses this opportunity to rile you up a bit as you do to him, body inching closer to yours.

You feel the heat radiating off of him and onto your back, as you place down the last item in your hand on the shelf and turn around, only to be startled at the proximity of you two, Jaemin inching closer with the box discarded at the side. This close to him, your eyes tilt up to look at his, mischievous iris’ grinning back at you.

“I don’t…” Jaemin’s eyes glance at your lips as you start, parted open now as your mind blanks on what to say next. The distance between your bodies shortens, and you feel yourself craving for something. A simple touch of his hand at your sides, the heat of his breath at your cheek, the soft push of his lips against yours.

Your tongue brushes the corner of your lip at that thought, an action Jaemin can’t miss with how close you two are.

“You don’t? Don’t what, don’t know what I’m talking about? Finish your sentence pretty,” Jaemin’s hand raises, and your chest flutters at the anticipation of his touch, only for it to deplete when he places it on the wall beside your shoulder, getting closer and closer.

You want to scream, needing him to just do something, anything, but your body still inches back, wanting to see how far either of you can prolong this. Jaemin notices your game, leaning his head in and bringing his lips to your ear.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything for you, just gotta have you use your words, baby.” At this your eyes flutter, fists clenching at your sides to gather up the courage as his warm breath fans against your neck.

“Can you kiss me?” Your eyes look at his as you push his body back by his shoulders, wanting to look at him as you ask for him, for more. Smile slowly softening, he leans in and places a peck onto your lips, plush skin pressed against you, both of your eyes closing shut. Before you get to do anything else, he parts back slowly, seemingly done. But you’ve barely even started.

“More,” You mutter before placing your arms around his shoulders, pushing both of you closer to one another as you lean in, kissing his lips once again, catching him by surprise. His lips are only still for a split second, before he reciprocates, pushing against you, giving you exactly what you asked for.

“Your hands, please,” You mutter in between as they slowly turn from innocent pecks to open-mouthed kisses, your own hands coming to his biceps, wanting him to touch you.

“Where, baby?” He sighs against you, hands grasping yours, ready to be guided.

“Everywhere,” You clasp your hands together, before grabbing his wrists, placing one at your waist and the other underneath your boob, arching your back in encouragement and contempt of finally having him closer. And Jaemin listens well, hands squeezing and thumbing at your body over your clothes skin, before roaming them around. Slithering one behind your back, pushing your body flush against his, chests brushing as he rushes to kiss you more, lips pressing against you feverishly. Your arms wrap around his neck and shoulders, wanting your boobs to be pressed against him fully, nipples perked with arousal from him, having the both of you pushed back and against the wall as he follows your lead of wanting to be all over each other.

Except walls don’t click shut.

But Jaemin either doesn’t notice or pays it no mind, continuing his quest of ravaging your lips, not that you mind, as he squeezes the flesh of your boob and brushes a finger over your clothed nipples, biting lightly onto your bottom lip as your mouth parts slightly from the pleasure, soothing it with a swipe of his tongue.

“Jaemin,” You try calling for him, voice coming out a bit hoarse as you pull back slightly. He takes that as a sign to venture more.

“What is it, hmm? Want me to go lower?” He doesn’t wait for your reply as he angles his head down towards your neck, breath tickling against your skin as he nips at it lightly.

“No, Jaemin. There’s—” He chuckles at you, looking into your eyes with a smirk now adorning his face. He raises his eyebrows at you while he scans your body pressed against his, and that shouldn’t affect you as much as it did.

“What, does my pretty baby want more?” his smile now turns slightly giddy, placing a sweet kiss on your lips before bringing both hands to your sides, squeezing slightly making you react to the sensitive spot being handled. “I can’t fuck you here, as much as I’d love to. But I don’t wanna be looking at a box of fortune cookies—”

“Jaemin, we just closed the door.” And you physically see Jaemin react to this, as he processes your words with a confused look, before the light in his eyes dims and his face falls, looking frantically between you and the door behind you. He searches at the bottom of the door where you had lodged your shoe, only to see it past the frame, squeezed from the pressure of your bodies against the door.

He’s about to apologise profusely, mind scrambling to think of a way he can get you two out. But before he can get too far, you plant a kiss on his cheek, and another one on his lips when he turns his head to look at you. You let out a light sigh as his hands find themselves back onto your body, pushing your hands towards his jacket, wanting it off. He shucks it off and throws it behind, hands grabbing at you again as you bring your fingers to rake at the hair at his neck.

“But—” Jaemin cuts himself off with a whimper when your hand grazes under his shirt, the cold press of your fingers against his warm stomach, fingers splaying themselves against his taut muscles, grazing your nails lightly making his body flush even further.

“Fuck, the door,” He tries again, but falls short as his head falls against your shoulder when your fingers linger past the seam of his pants.

“Later, I need to feel you,” You mutter. “Someone will come by tomorrow morning anyway,”

“Oh, fuck.” Jaemin curses as you palm his dick over his pants, his hips bucking up and into your touch, wanting more of you against him. His hand pushes your shirt up, tucking it before he slips his fingers behind your back, reaching for your bra and taking it off once the hooks are undone. His hands cup at your boobs, vision glazed over you as he squeezes them together. He leans in with his mouth parted, looking up at you and making eye contact, whining slightly in lieu of asking for your permission. It’s hard to wait for your word when he’s just as desperate, wanting your touch and scent all over him.

“Jaemin, please,” You pant, hand flying to his hair and gripping softly, scratching your fingers against his scalp as an initiative. “Make me feel good, I want your mouth on me,”

He swipes his tongue against your perked bud, before blowing lightly and saying “Anything for my doll,” mouthing at your breast, before closing his lips around your nipple, sucking in as his free hand occupies itself with your other boob, slightly scraping his nail against you before pinching your tit. The pain and pleasure shoots through your body, as you moan his name, nails scratching his head.

Your whimpers and whines turn Jaemin on even more, as he swipes at your bud one last time before pulling back, tipping your face back towards him and kissing you again.

“Want your fingers…been thinking about this so much,” You reach for one of his hands, guiding him to the apex of your thighs, looking at him as you press his fingers against where you want him the most. Even through the thick fabric of your pants, the push of his fingers against your core has you whining, happy for some friction but wanting, needing more.

As his hand goes to unzip your pants, he replaces them deftly with his leg instead, pressing his knee against you.

“Fuck,” You sigh, as he presses himself closer to you, body now flushed against yours, thigh stimulating your pussy through your pants, mouth at your cheek, jaw, neck. Jaemin is completely overpowering your senses, yet you want more.

“Pretty doll, letting me do all of this to you.” he pushes your pants down, leaving you in your underwear and your shirt tucked up, fixing it every now and then to pinch at your tits, loving when you keen against him. “Wanting me to do all of this to you. Have you thought about me a lot? Bet you thought about us sneaking off right here so you could suck me off, or maybe thinking about me taking you right behind the counter, forcing yourself to act normal with my cock in you,” He hums against your ear, swiping his tongue against the shell before biting lightly on your lobe, wanting you to remember his touch all over you.

You’re not entirely sure what he's saying, yet you nod your head up and down, moan slipping past your lips at the light swipe of his fingers against your clothed core, doing anything to get him to give you more.

Jaemin chuckles, “Is your mind going blank already? I barely did anything to you baby, do I have to dumb it down for you and remind you?” His condescending tone is the only thing that registers in your head; that and the fact that he’s not doing anything, hands splayed still at your sides, his knee not pressing hard enough against you, with no signs of more.

He leans in and presses a sweet peck against you, before his hand squeezes your cheeks together, an attempt of garnering your attention back.

“If you want something,” He leans in, just a breath away, but moves back when your eyes lock on his lips and lean in. “You gotta tell me. I’ll only do what you want me to, got it?”

Nodding your head, you add a breathy ‘yes’ when Jaemin raises his eyebrows at you.

“Good girl,” He smiles, and it only makes your head just the slightest bit dizzy. But you’re brought back when you feel the press of his thigh against you once more, a friendly reminder of what you’re missing out on.

“I want your fingers,” You start, voice wavering a bit, getting shy from having to voice your dirty thoughts. But the press of his finger pads against you edges you on even more, encouraging you to continue. “Always look so good doing the most mundane things. Want you to fuck me with your fingers, fuck,” Jaemin proves to be a great listener, as he quickly makes work of shoving your underwear aside, commenting how you’ve ‘soaked through your panties and my pants, messy girl’. He rubs against your clit, building up a rhythm, before rubbing his fingers against your folds, soaking them in your juices thoroughly before the pad of his fingers press against your hole, making quick work.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jaemin grunts at the squeeze of your walls against his two fingers, filling you to the hilt and shallowly pushing. “Bet you would feel so good around my cock,” You moan at his words, eyes falling shut as you rest your forehead against his shoulder, giving him better access to whisper such filthy words to you.

“So fucking dirty, getting off of my fingers in public like this. You’re lucky it’s late, no one gets to see you like this,” His fingers quicken their pace, the hot feeling in your stomach tightening as the palm of his hand smacks against your clit, other hand occupying itself with gripping your ass or tweaking your nipples. “Only I get to see you like this, messy and undone. All mine for the taking.”

“All yours,” You echo back, head burrowing further into his neck. As you feel another finger push into you, his pace making you clench tighter and tighter, you let out a high-pitched whine when his other hand comes down to stimulate your clit. Mockingly, Jaemin repeats back your moan in the same high-pitched voice, twisting the end of it to sound like a question.

“Is my baby close?” He pecks at the side of your forehead, a sweet gesture contrasting the pressure of his fingers against you.

“Please, Jaemin. Don’t stop,” You feel yourself grow hot, storage room now feeling stuffy as you separate from his shoulder, head tilted back against the door as your senses are overwhelmed.

“You’re so hot, fuck.” He smothers the pool of drool gathering at the corner of your lips, spreading it onto your cheek before leaning in for a kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, too close and fucked out to makeout steadily, just wanting to feel him against you. Curling his fingers against you, you feel yourself ripping over the edge as he presses his other hand against your stomach and swipes his tongue over yours, sucking at the tip of your muscle before finishing it off with a peck.

“Let go, pretty. Show me how messy your cunt can get,” Fingers fucking into you, with a final rub and pinch of your clit you break off into a silent moan, hands clutching at his shoulders as you tense up, finally reaching your high. Jaemin’s fingers keep a steady pace as he helps you ride off your high, now going slower than before. But his fingers don’t stop even when you calm down, seeing how far you can go as he overstimulates you.

“Hurts,” You cry, but don’t make a move to stop his ministrations, hips pushing up into his touch, panting against his mouth when he kisses you again, pushing his fingers in and out of you. After a few more seconds though, your whine lilts painfully and you weakly push at his hand, to which he relents as he slows down the pace, before pulling them out carefully.

“It’s gonna feel icky for a bit, so bear with me,” Jaemin softly murmurs, reaching above to a shelf that conveniently holds paper towel rolls. The emptiness that is left emphasises the tiredness you feel, as your shoulders slump and you lean back against the door for further support. Jaemin folds the towel and dabs at your core, cleaning you up to the best of his abilities before he wraps his clean hand around your waist, manoeuvring you to lean against the wall, carefully pulling your shirt down and underwear and slacks back up. He slides the two of you down slowly, and you open your eyes to look at him, tiredness slowly wearing away as your heart flutters at his gestures.

“You okay?” He hums, his back now pressed against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with you as he gently smoothens his hand down your scalp, before cupping your face gently. You nod your head, leaning in and pressing a kiss against him.

“More than okay, that was so hot.” He chuckles at your words, poorly concealing the smug look that overtakes his features.

“I’m glad at least one of us had fun,” He teases, which makes you feel shy, as you spare a glance down to see a chub at the zip of his pants. He waves you off, adjusting himself a bit before sliding his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together.

“With what we did just then? I’ll be able to come for days even just thinking about you,” He laughs softly as you squeeze his hand in warning, before resting your head against his shoulder, with Jaemin reaching over for his jacket discarded earlier on, tugging it over your legs to provide warmth.

“You haven’t made a mistake today,” You mutter, breaking the silence that had settled as you play with his fingers with both your hands. Jaemin can only look at the side of your face as you say this, before getting comfortable and pressing his cheek against your head. “How could I when you have such high standards to meet? I need to be on your good side,” Your scoff holds no mean intentions, glancing at him briefly over your shoulder.

“You’re already on my good side,” He faux gasps.

“You’re telling me you liked me this whole time? I didn’t have to prove myself to you?” Jaemin squeals as he sways side to side, before wrapping himself around you and swaying you along with him.

You’re shy when you speak up again, muttering “I’ve already told you how I thought.. about you,” He tsks as he meets your eyes again, eyes going down to look at your lips that you bite nervously.

“Don’t even think about talking about that, I don’t know how long I can stay working here and pining after you.”

“But… I like— wait. Do you not like working at the restaurant?” Feeling like a deer caught in headlights, Jaemin tenses a bit at the information he let slip. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s ungrateful for your efforts, but the soft gaze that you give to him only soothes him.

“Okay, I’ll be honest. I think you’ve noticed by now that I’m not the most, flawless, person ever.”

“You’re telling me that you’ve made a few mistakes? No way,” He whines at your tease, as you bite your lip to contain your laughter, nodding your head to get him to continue.

“I’m just not really good at keeping part-time jobs like this. Things that need me to physically and actively do things. I once got fired from a scouts guidance group because I would give badges to the kids when they asked.”

“…Aren’t scout leaders there by volunteer? How can they fire you?”

“That’s my point!” He grumbles against you, bringing your head back down to his shoulder when you lift yourself to look at him, not wanting to look at you directly in your eyes. “And working as a waiter is definitely not easy, because I have to guess when a customer wants to order before they actually call me, and help with food and dietary needs and advice, and be smiling and happy all the time even when the old ladies pinch at my cheek and call me handsome like I’m some three-year-old golden child.” You pat at his bicep soothingly, fingers squeezing as he rambles on, letting him pour it all out.

“Well,” You bring your hands up to your lips, pressing a light kiss at the back of his hand before settling it back against your legs. “If you hate the job so much, why not quit and find something better?”

He stills as you ask this, thinking about your question. He hasn’t ventured far from the initial annoyance of having the job, not thinking of the reasons why he’s staying in contrast with the million reasons why he doesn’t want to. But the tingling feeling left at the back of his hand seems to be enough of an answer.

“Because I get to spend my time with you,” You squeeze your lips together as he says this, not knowing if you should cringe or swell at his words. You giggle lightly when you see him fall shy, hiding his face into your shoulder.

“Okay, then don’t quit,” You quip when you realise he’s not going to come out of hiding anytime soon, opting to play with your laced fingers instead. “Stay with me. You can deal with customers who ask if we have duck on our menu even when we clearly don’t, and try your best to not burn your finger on the sizzling plates, or get locked in the storage room overnight.” Jaemin feels bittersweet at the scenarios you provide, torn between what he should do.

“Or you can ask me out and then quit,” You shrug, conveniently avoiding his sudden gaze on you as he sits up. “Up to you,”

“I can do that?” You glare at him.

“I’m gonna blow up, Jaemin. I can’t believe you haven’t—” He stops you with a peck to your lips, now grinning like a maniac. “Can I be your boyfriend?”

“What will I gain?”

“Uhm… unlimited head?” You clench your grip on his hand harder. “...And a very deep and meaningful emotional connection where we fill each other's gaps and lift our—”

“Unlimited? Can you promise?” He’s about to agree without a second thought, before he sees you raise a suspicious eyebrow at him.

“..Yes?”

“Then yes, you can be mine.” He sighs contentedly now, cuddling himself back into you.

“I can’t wait to quit.”

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, but you’re woken up by the sound of a door hinge and a sudden shine of light. You try to bring your hand up to shield the onslaught of the sunshine, but the weight on your hand reminds you of your position, with Jaemins head tucked on your shoulder and yours stacked on top, hands still laced and legs slightly tangled into each other. With a squint of your eyes, you look up at the figure standing at the door.

Jaehyun’s facial expression doesn’t change much, other than the slight parting of his mouth. To you, this means that not only is he shocked still, but also somehow angry and maybe … confused? If the left side of his lip is slightly tilted down; you’re still trying to learn.

“Jaemin,” Your hoarse voice calls, shaking the boy next to you lightly to wake him up. He whines, lips mumbling gibberish into your shoulder.

“The doors open, Jaem,” That wakes him up a bit more, as he squints towards the open door.

“Oh,” He says, and then Jaehyun clears his throat. “...Oh,” The two of you rise slowly, as Jaemin places his jacket over your shoulders.

“So,” Jaehyun starts when the three of you step out of the room, the two of you now standing like students being punished for their wrongdoings. It takes all his willpower for Jaemin to not raise his hands in fists over his head.

“Funny you ask, boss. Remember when you told me not to close the door?” Jaemin thought he started off strong before he saw you looking at him with wide eyes. Jaehyun’s lip tilts to the left.

“How could you ignore the only warning I gave you? Not only did you lock yourself in that room, but her too? You know how dangerous that is, what if we didn’t have a Sunday shift to open for? This liability costs you, Jaemin.” At that, the boy feels his posture straighten.

“Am I..?” Jaehyun's frown is the strongest expression Jaemin has ever seen. He feels like doing a backflip right now.

“Fired? Of course—” And it probably is rude for him to whoop as loud as he did, but Jaemin is on cloud nine, having bagged a person like you and being liberated from having to mop the floors like clockwork. He cups your cheeks and kisses you square on your lips, laughing at the surprised squeak you let out and the bliss he feels. Taking and shaking Jaehyun’s hand, he turns and walks out of the place.

Jaehyun sighs. “This is who you were rooting for?”

Your cheeks feel hot from the sudden public display of affection, before shrugging. “He’s cute. And he’s always trying his best.” You try as your hand clutches at the sleeve of the jacket he’s lent you.

Ever since being fired from the restaurant, Jaemin feels like he now has the best of both worlds, going to the restaurant after your shift to pick you up, or spending time with you as your boyfriend throughout the week, not feeling like he only has to look forward to a shift to see your face. You’re also happy with this shift in your relationship, spending your time with him freely.

But Mark isn’t.

“I don’t know why you couldn’t have asked her out and kept your job. You don’t even get to use your twenty percent employee discount.”

“I mean, if I’m an ex-employee then I can’t see why I couldn’t.” Mark grunts as he smacks at Jaemin, leaving the latter with a pout on his lip as he rubs at his shoulder.

“I miss the Mongolian lamb, man. Can we not go back at all?” Jaemin thinks about it briefly, his mind going back to the restaurant and how you’re probably working your Friday shift at the moment. “I don’t see why not,” he hums, thinking about planning a day when both he and Mark can drop by, but he is dragged to his feet and is being pushed to wear his shoes and shrug on a jacket, before he is out the door with Mark guiding him through it all.

“Welcome to Tao Village. Oh, hi,” You look up from the slip of the phone order you just took, seeing Jaemin and Mark standing at the door. Jaemin’s lips break into a smile as he sees you, already enamoured even when you’re in your work uniform. Mark merely smiles and nods his head as a greeting, before lifting up two fingers, gesturing for a table for them.

As the boys take their seats, you go up to them with a bottle of water and ask Mark if he wants his Mongolian lamb dish for today. He clasps a hand to his chest, touched. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

“It’s all you order, really.” You write down his order into the slip in your hand, before looking at your boyfriend, who’s been gazing at you fondly, barely concealing adoration. You tap at the menu in front of him, encouraging him to voice his order.

“I want you,” Jaemin’s smile is menacing as he says this. Mark visibly shrinks in his seat, but you barely blink. “Gross, dude,”

“A dish's name, Jaem. Or I’ll tell Jaehyun that you’re here.” At that he pouts, leaning back before asking for fried rice, and a glass of red wine.

Mark gets his dish on the sizzling plate, and Jaemin spends two whole minutes trying to make sure that your fingers didn’t get caught on to the hot pan. You smack at his hand to get him back to his food, to which he flings his hand back, making impact with his glass and conveniently spilling the red drink all over. Mark blinks twice at the scene unfolding, pausing when he almost shoved a piece of lamb into his mouth, before continuing when he sees the wine only seep into the tablecloth and not anywhere near him.

Jaemin looks between the cloth and your expression. “Look at what you did,”

“What I did? Your hand was the one that smacked into the glass. You didn’t even try to catch it?” Jaemin ignores your words, waving at your words as if they’re merely pesky flies.

“It’s okay, I can forgive you but you have to compensate in another way,” He smirks at you, before his fingers slowly inch towards your waitress' apron wrapped around your waist, thumbing at the fabric tied around you. “Maybe a pretty girl like you can go out with me?”

You smile sweetly, clasping his hands into yours and rubbing your thumb into the back of his hand. You place it down on the table, your smile not dimming as you shake your head. “You have to pay for that, kind sir,” You nod your head in mock shame and guilt. Jaemin’s smile dims as he looks at the red-stained tablecloth.

“It’s part of the Tao Village policy.”

OKAY the part where jaemin *mocks.. u hehe was completely inspired by @/sunpopz haechan fic called ‘free falling’ !! give that a read bc its soso good

thank you for reading! let me know if you enjoyed it <3

#jaemin x reader #nct jaemin smut #jaemin smut #jaemin fluff #nct jaemin x reader #nct scenarios #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #jaemin scenarios #jaemin hard hours #jaemin oneshot #nct dream oneshots #na jaemin smut

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lunarlando · 4 months ago

Note

Hi I just saw ur girl dad lando requests r open and ran over bc I'm obsessed with dad lando too and there's simply not enough fics on it unfortunately.

Anyway my fic/blurb idea is fluffy and slightly angsty? so lando and fem!wife!reader's daughters r in their teens and and they're used to reader (their mum) typically being the "bad cop" and lando being the "fun parent" who will spoil them and can never say no to them when reader does. One day readers tired of her teens hating her for being the mean one so they decide to switch roles and the girls r rlly confused and angry at lando and start being nice to reader who's enjoying watching lando take her place for once. Maybe the girls ask to go out to a party or ask for new phones or smth u can decide. Ignore my request if it doesn't seem interesting 😭 and have a grt day byee xx

thank you for the request! a few other grid kids make an appearance, hope that's okay! and lando is such a fun dad type guy you're so right x

feel free to request more :)

Having teenage girls was not an easy feat.

You were warned of the terrible twos and gotten through them twice with your sanity intact, but nobody had ever warned you about teenagers. You suspect it should’ve been a given, but when you thought about having teenagers you always saw yourself as the type of mum who your daughters would feel close to.

Now that you’re the mum of a sixteen and seventeen year old, you find yourself becoming the opposite. You’ve turned into the bad cop between Lando and yourself. He’s the fun parent, you’re the party pooper. He spoils Estelle and Delilah because he can, because he loves his girls more than life itself, and you’re stuck reining in his gift giving because you don’t want them to become accustomed to always getting what they want when they want no matter the cost.

Even when you put your foot down on some of their more extravagant requests, Lando finds a way around it.

Part of the reason Lando spoils them so much is because he was still racing in Formula One when both of them were born and while they were growing up, so he’d miss things sometimes. He tried his hardest not to miss bigger events like their birthdays and holidays, but other stuff like their school recitals, sports games—he did the best he could, but a lot of the time it just never aligned with his busy schedule.

Now that he’d taken a step back from being in the seat of a car for the past three years, he was trying to make up for lost time.

“I feel like the girls think I’m a hardass,” you sigh as you’re getting ready for bed one night. Lando is brushing his teeth, but he sticks his head out of the bathroom at your words, frowning at you with the brush still in his mouth. “Do you think they hate me?”

“You’re their mum, they don’t hate you,” he replies through toothpaste bubbles, wrinkling his nose at you. “All you’ve done their whole lives is take care of them. How could they hate you?”

“Because I’m their mum,” you say pointedly. Lando cocks his head, like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. “Mums and daughters are different from mums and sons. Trust me.”

“Okay, fair. But I don’t think you’re a hardass. You’re just…firm with them, is all.”

You snort unattractively, looking at him pointedly. “Yeah, I have to be, mister take my credit card, buy whatever you want.” Lando hums thoughtfully, disappearing back into the bathroom to finish washing up before reappearing and padding over to his side of the bed. “I love that you want them to have everything they could ever dream of, and I say this with nothing but even more love, but you’re not the best when it comes to saying no to the girls.”

“I know. I just…I hate it when they look so disappointed and sad.”

“And you think I do? I don’t want to be the bad cop, but someone has to,” you grumble, setting aside your book. Lando snuggles up close to you, propping his chin on your shoulder. “You should try it.”

“Ha, that’s funny.”

“No, I’m serious, Lan. Tomorrow, we switch roles. You’ll be me and I’ll be you, and then you’ll understand,” you propose, smiling at him in that way you know he won’t be able to resist. All these years and you’ve still got your husband wrapped around your finger.

“That doesn’t sound like a good time.”

“Oh, it won’t be. Not for you, at least. But we’re a team, aren’t we?”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

—

Fortunately for Lando, things at the Norris household don’t get interesting until nighttime the following day.

“Hey Mum, we’re going out tonight. Just wanted to let you know since we might be out after curfew,” Estelle says absentmindedly, not looking up from her phone. Beside her, Delilah giggles quietly, ever her older sister’s follower. You want to tell them no—their curfew is late enough as it is and they’ve got school tomorrow—but you refrain. It’s Lando’s turn to be the bad cop.

“Sure, I don’t see why not. Ask your father first though,” you reply instead. From the couch where he’s watching some rerun of an old grand prix, Lando straightens at the mention of his name, twisting around to look at you with wide eyes. You raise a brow, tilting your head at the two girls who’ve turned their attention on their dad. “Go on, he’s listening.”

They share a confused look with each other, but you can see the gears turning in their quick teenage brains. If mum said yes, dad would definitely say yes. Easy.

Or so they think.

Delilah bounces over to sit on the couch next to Lando, smiling at him widely. “Hi daddy! Can we go to a party tonight?”

Now Estelle’s sitting on his other side, bringing out the same patented charming Norris grin. “Well, it’s not really a party. More like a few friends hanging out. Super laid back.”

“Uh huh. Gonna need some more details, lovebugs,” Lando hums, flashing their same smile right back at them. There’s no use in trying to play the guy who invented the game. “Who’s gonna be there, where it is. You wouldn’t want your mum and I to worry, would you?”

“Um…” Delilah balks. She probably wasn’t expecting him to ask so many questions. He usually doesn’t, just says yes because he can’t bring himself to say no to them.

Estelle cuts in before her sister can potentially dig them into an inescapable hole. “Adrien’s going, Clara and Maeve will be there too, and Teo.”

Adrien and Teo—Charles’ and Carlos’ sons, respectively, and Clara and Maeve—Oscar’s twin daughters. You know that she knows the two of you trust your friends, so name dropping their kids would give them a fighting chance. She’s smart like that. You’d admire it more if her intellect wasn’t aimed at sweet talking her parents.

Lando sneaks another panicked glance back at you, and you shake your head slightly. That solidifies his resolve, because as much as he doesn’t want to disappoint them, you have an agreement, and a deal’s a deal. “Sorry girls, it’s gonna be a no. We’re all staying in tonight.”

“What?”

“Let’s do something as a family, yeah? Game night? Or you can do some laps on the sim, I know how much you like that,” Lando offers up, as if enticing them with sim racing would soften the blow of their dad’s first no.

“Seriously? But dad, it’s not a party! We’re just gonna watch a movie or something!” Estelle exclaims, crossing her arms over her chest.

The girls share another look with each other, this one more irritated than confused. Lando just tries his best to stay firm looking. You, on the other hand, watch the whole thing play out from where you are, fighting to hide a smile, because now he knows how you feel all the damn time. It shouldn’t please you, but as someone who’s been taking the brunt of their teenage-ness for a while now, it brings you just a smidge of joy.

“That doesn’t change things, unfortunately. You two will be staying here with your dear old parents, and that’s it.”

“That’s so unfair though!” Estelle huffs, rolling her eyes.

Lando cocks his head at her, brows raised in challenge. “I’d watch the attitude if I were you, Stell.”

Delilah switches her tactic to try and salvage things, coming over to where you’re still chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter. Out of the two of them, your youngest knows exactly where her mum’s soft spot lies. “Mum? We just want to hang out with our friends. Please?”

“You heard your dad, girls,” you say, shrugging. “If he says no, it’s no. Sorry.”

They disappear down the corridor grumbling to each other rather quickly after that, no doubt already texting their friends about how awful their dad is. It almost makes you laugh, because for once, you’re not the one they’re mad at. Lando trudges over to you, pressing himself against your back in a rather dejected hug.

“Doesn’t feel great, does it?”

“Is this what it feels like to be you?” he groans. You can feel him frowning against your neck and you chuckle, running your fingers through his curls affectionately. “We’re setting some more ground rules, effectively immediately.”

“Like what, don’t be mean to your mum? They’re teenagers, Lan. It’s what they do.”

“I was never like this.” That draws quite a laugh from you. “What?”

“So if I call your parents and ask them if you were ever a little shit when you were younger, they’d say no?”

“...Don’t call them.”

“That’s what I thought.” You kiss his cheek gratefully still. “We balance each other out well, I’d say. I don’t mind being the bad cop sometimes, but you can’t just be a fun dad all the time.”

“But it’s so fun being a fun dad,” he whines, but you know he understands. “I don’t have to feel like this.”

“You’ll get over it, darling. They will too, and we’ll be back to the same old thing tomorrow.”

“I love you, bad cop.”

“Love you more, fun dad.”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #dad!lando norris x reader #dad!lando norris x fem!reader #dad!lando norris x wife!reader #ln4 x reader #lando norris flangst #lando thoughts 💭

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strawberry-seob · 2 months ago

Note

do u think intak has a crush on me? be honest

hmm, good question anon. i'm not sure if he has a crush on you, but if he did, i was thinking about what that might be like. and once i got to thinking about that, i decided i had to write about all the other members as well, so here's what i got; hope you enjoy!

pairings: ot6 p1harmony (crushing on reader) x fem!reader

warnings: mdi

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

✧ Intak ✧

“oh! wow,” intak says, unable to find any other words as he looks you up and down, admiring the dress you’d picked out for your mutual friend’s birthday party

he’d always find reasons to touch you: sitting next to you, his thigh would press against yours, fingers brushing against yours carelessly; he’d push or hit you playfully when you make him laugh

speaking of laughter, he’d laugh at every single one of your jokes; he loves being around you because of how much you make him laugh

gets so shy when you look him in the eyes

blushes easily

when you drink together, it’s so obvious that he likes you. his inhibitions completely disappear and he’s just all over you, leaning his head on your shoulder and giggling like an idiot

✧ Keeho ✧

“where my hug at?” keeho croons, opening his arms wide and walking toward you with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face

constant playful banter, he’d tease you relentlessly like a middle school boy

charismatic and confident as hell, will make the most insanely direct eye contact while flirting with you and never backs down

half the time you wonder if he likes you or if he hates you, but little do you know, he thinks about you constantly and is always talking to his besties about you

always trying his best to make you laugh (if his jokes don't make you laugh, he'll try to tickle you so that it happens one way or the other)

✧ Jiung ✧

“hey y/n, have you eaten today? here, have some of this,” jiung says, voice laced with concern, offering you the rest of his chocolate chip cookie

absolutely neurotic, he’s a total wreck and always so nervous to talk to you

despite his nerves, he’s so thoughtful, always asking you questions about yourself, and tries to learn everything he can about you

very sensitive, notices every little thing about you – like if you look cold, tired, or worried; always asking you when you last ate and offering to feed you if it’s been a while

great texter, very responsive, willing to have detailed conversations both via text, over the phone, in person; a great conversationalist all around and loves to talk to you any chance he can get

✧ Taeyang ✧

“what are you looking at, punk?” taeyang teases, noticing you staring at him; but you also notice he can’t stop smiling

will always order food for you whether or not you ask, and memorizes your favorite foods

awkward but confident anyway, has no problem looking you in the eye and flirting brazenly

steals glances at you and smiles to himself when you’re not looking

pays attention to songs you like and surprises you by learning how to play them on guitar for you; tells you it's no big deal and it was super easy (even though he spent hours practicing)

lots of playful banter but it’s so obviously flirty; if you’re shorter than him he’s always making fun of you for it and if you’re taller than him, well, he’s making fun of you for that too

✧ Shota ✧

“y/n, watch this!” shota yells, stepping back before planting his hands on the floor and doing a handstand for several seconds before tumbling all over himself and looking up at you bashfully

he always shows off his new dance moves for you and then looks at you to see your reaction

when you’re in a room, he doesn’t notice anyone else and clings to you as if nobody else is around

he'll give you the most considerate, well-thought-out gifts imaginable, based on vague conversations that you had with him months ago that you barely even remember. he remembers so many odd and subtle details about you

very touchy, but in a restless way; asks if he can play with your hair and hugs you every single time he sees you, even if you just walked out of the room for 5 minutes

✧ Jongseob ✧

“hey,” jongseob says with a tight smile, looking up from his phone briefly as you walk into the room

you’d have no idea he has a crush on you. one of his friends would end up telling you and it would come as a complete shock. it’s not that he treats you badly, he’s just a perfect gentleman: he’s always attentive and kind but not any more than he is to anyone else

once you find out that he has a crush on you, you’ll be able to piece it all together but most of the pieces would have to come from others. he’s constantly complaining to his friends about how much he likes you. you’d find out he agonizes about your every interaction and constantly overthinks; when you text him, he sees it immediately but tries not to respond right away because he doesn’t want to come off as too desperate. generally, a lot of the crushing is happening behind closed doors and he’s just an absolute mess and doesn’t know what to do about it

he makes playlists full of songs that remind him of you (but doesn’t tell you)

he listens to all of the music you recommend to him and writes notes of his thoughts while listening, then reports his detailed opinion/thoughts back to you

never initiates physical contact (always waits for you to initiate), but every time you hug him, he takes full advantage of it, wrapping his arms around you tightly before reluctantly letting go

#p1harmony drabbles #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony fanfic #p1harmony #strawb writes

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thefrogdalorian · 7 months ago

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Candles

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Even though Din insists he doesn't want you to make a fuss over his birthday, you cannot resist spoiling him in your own special way. Although your perfect day does not go entirely to plan, you are determined to make the best of it...

Word Count: 3.8k ✯ Rating: Teen ✯ Content Warnings: A few suggestive lines, mentions of grief/mourning parents. Other than that, pure fluff! ✯ Author's Note: Thank you @decembermidnight for betaing this one, I always appreciate your help! Since we don't know Din's canonical birthday I thought May the Fourth was a good excuse to celebrate... but you get it on Revenge of the Fifth instead! ☺︎ I saw a post from someone (can't remember who) that said Din has holes in his socks, it's a hc I hold dear and was fun to explore in this fic!

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

Din Djarin does not delight in being doted upon. You know this with as much certainty as two suns rise over Tatooine.

Yet, you cannot resist your urge to spoil him on the one day of the year that is truly his.

Din's reluctance to be spoiled is precisely why you rose before dawn, pottering around the modest galley, gathering the ingredients necessary to bake a cake. You hope that even though Din is ordinarily a light sleeper, the energy he exerted in passion the previous evening will have sufficiently tired him out so that he sleeps in, for once.

After all, he does so much for you and the big-eared, bug-eyed baby boy you both vowed to raise as a Mandalorian warrior in the small cabin you share on Nevarro. Baking him a cake is the least you can do.

Preparing a cake to celebrate his birthday is not the only thing you have in mind. Even though Din already declared that the greatest gift of all is your love, you could not resist spending a few credits to treat him to a small gift. The thought of surprising him with it causes a knot of anxiety in your stomach, but you try to suppress those fears as you begin weighing out the ingredients.

You focus too on the beautiful sentiment Din expressed to you, how deeply he treasures your love. Such words are a far cry from the hardened, battle-weary warrior you had first encountered on Coruscant. Din reported to your boss, Carson Teva, for his latest missions from the New Republic. The first meeting in that office had left you curious, if a little intimidated, by the hulking Mandalorian who towered over you as you quietly worked at your desk.

Din extended a gloved hand to you at the end of your all-too-brief conversation. When you took it and shook it, marvelling at the softness of the leather and how his hand engulfed yours, you were sure that you had felt a spark. You wondered whether you detected a hint of longing in his lingering touch. Whether he, too, had felt a tingle across his skin as your hands touched.

Almost an entire cycle later, you had your answer.

You smile when you think back to those early days. How Din's visits became more frequent and led to longer and more personal conversations. Your chats became less concerned with threats that plagued the galaxy. Eventually, they continued outside the parameters of the depressing New Republic office building where you once worked.

Life with Din was everything you had yearned for and more. A boring bureaucratic desk job was never your desired lot in life. Din had opened up an entire galaxy of possibilities for you. He had brought you to Nevarro and given you the life you had always wanted but never expected for yourself.

All things considered, making a special effort for his birthday is the least you can do to attempt to repay the enormous debt of gratitude you owe to Din. A debt you are certain you will never truly manage to clear but are determined to try anyway.

So, rather than spending the first moments of light of Din’s birthday cuddling with him... instead, you find yourself hunched over the kitchen counters as pale orange light streams in from across the lava flats.

You hum quietly to yourself while you mix the carefully weighed-out ingredients, careful not to wake Din. Pouring the batter into the tins is a rather precarious manoeuvre and you are careful not to waste a single drop of the mixture.

With the cakes finally baking in the Nanowave, you turn your attention to the mountain of pots before you. Upon seeing it, you wish Din was a little more flexible on his no-droids policy. Or that Grogu was awake.

The kid has been known to use his powers to aid his parents with domestic chores from time to time, particularly if you allow him to sneakily eat a frog from his pond without his father noticing.

Unfortunately, there is to be no help. If you want to keep the secret cake under wraps until you present it to Din later, you must get stuck into washing up.

You make good progress, carefully scrubbing away the remnants of batter with a soapy rag. So consumed are you by your diligent cleaning of each pot and utensil that you do not hear familiar footsteps as they echo across the hard kitchen floor.

You let out a yelp of surprise into the stillness of the early morning when a familiar pair of long arms wrap around your waist and a chin rests upon your shoulder.

“Good morning, ner riduur,” Din rasps as he softly kisses the side of your neck.

His voice is rough and gravelly with sleep, even deeper than usual. You gasp as he presses himself into you. It seems that Din has sufficiently recovered from the exhausting activities which kept you awake for most of the night. Until dawn was far closer than you had intended, given how early you knew you had to be awake to bake his cake.

For a moment, it is enough to make you forget the task at hand.

Then you remember with a jolt why you are in the kitchen at such an early hour. You spin around in Din's embrace and vocalise your disapproval.

“Din! It's far too early. Go back to bed!” you plead, keen for him to leave immediately.

Din responds by tightening his grip on your waist and continuing to press hot, open-mouthed kisses on your neck. It takes all of your strength to push him away.

"Please, Din," you whine, staring into his eyes, “I'll join you soon.”

Din sighs and then nods slowly, “Don't be too long, I'll be lonely...”

You exhale deeply as he turns to leave, pleased that Din is none the wiser about the surprise sweet treat.

Unfortunately, the Nanowave has other plans. The characteristic ding lets you know that the cake is ready. Before you can respond, Din is over there in a shot. For the first time, you notice that he is wearing nothing except a pair of loose-fitting cotton shorts. His toned physique bared to you, muscles straining under his scarred skin as he leans over to take the cake out of the Nanowave.

Din spins around with the cake cradled in his hands, the tin covered in a towel to protect his hands. He raises an eyebrow at you, clearly confused at what you have been making.

“Surprise!” you halfheartedly exclaim, with a nervous chuckle, “Well, it was meant to be a surprise at least…”

“Ner kar’ta, you shouldn’t have,” Din whispers, with no true sense of disapproval in his tone. His brown eyes are glassy as he smiles at you with such tenderness that you feel your chest tighten.

Din asked you not to make a fuss over his birthday. But you can tell he is deeply touched by the gesture. The emotion on his face is almost enough to distract you from the fact that your riduur is barely clothed, practically glowing in the soft golden light which brings the promise of a new day.

Almost.

All frustration and disappointment vanished at the sight of him before you. Din is always stunning, but in dawn's soft, golden light, you are convinced he is the most breathtaking sight in the entire galaxy.

You take the cake from his hands and gently set it on the kitchen counter to cool. Although Din has seen the cake, he has no idea of the decoration you intend to adorn it with. Later. You can finish the cake later.

For now, those honey-flecked brown eyes and the expanse of golden skin on display are far too irresistible. You pad across the kitchen and wrap your arms around Din’s neck, pressing your lips against his. It is a show of intent. You groan in delight when he cups your cheeks with his large hands and deepens the kiss, tenderly stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

Icing the cake can wait. For now, there is something far more mouthwatering to occupy your time...

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Fortunately, you and Din slipped some clothes on before you drifted off after exhausting yourselves with your early morning lovemaking. So, when Grogu uses the Force to leap onto your entwined forms a few hours later after the golden light has turned to something paler and more indicative of mid-morning, he is saved from a scandalous sight.

“Good morning, ad’ika,” Din coos, grinning widely in an expression which makes his eyes light up despite the sleepiness there.

Grogu chirps in response. His familiar baby babble is still only way he communicates with you and Din. Din nods and presses his forehead to his boy. Your heart soars as you watch the two of them interact.

You wonder how Din understands him. You love Grogu; bonding with him was effortless. But their bond is something special, something which goes beyond words, a bond which you feel truly privileged to witness. Grogu saved Din in so many ways and made him into the man who is so easy for you to love today.

“Why don’t you two get up and make something to eat?” you ask, yawning and stretching as you come around after the rude awakening.

“No special birthday breakfast for me?” Din asks, feigning incredulity.

“I thought you didn't want me to make a fuss?” you giggle, then add with a hint of seriousness, “I would never deprive you of a lazy morning of making flatcakes with your son.”

Din’s eyes flash with sentimentality and he leans over to kiss you again. Then, he rises from the bunk, chatting away to Grogu as he goes. You smile in their wake, so proud of your little Clan.

You had an ulterior motive for suggesting Din and Grogu prepare something to eat, unrelated to your reluctance to find yourself in the kitchen again given the considerable time you already spent there this morning. While Din and Grogu go to make breakfast, it gives you the perfect opportunity to finish wrapping Din’s present.

Even though he said there was nothing you could buy for him, you still wanted to treat Din to something that would truly be his own. Much of his disposable income and free time is spent making your and Grogu's lives easier. Although you know acts of service are his love language, the thought that he would not have any gifts to open for his birthday is unacceptable to you.

Mercifully, you had settled upon a present with surprising ease. You knew that Din needed nothing more than he already had to be satisfied, so the prospect of finding something small yet meaningful had seemed slightly daunting.

Fortunately, the weekly artisan market on Nevarro came to your rescue.

Din is meticulous in polishing and maintaining every part of his armour, especially the parts visible to the admiring eyes of others. Din does not neglect a single part of it.

There is one piece of his everyday attire, however, which was noticeably shoddy compared to the rest of his beskar brilliance—his socks.

They were threadbare and riddled with holes. A fact you had pointed out to Din numerous times, but the stubborn man still refused to have them darned.

So, when you saw the deep red, thick socks at the weekly market on Nevarro, you knew they would be perfect, to the extent that you had purchased two pairs.

You are sure that Din will appreciate them and not take umbrage with the gesture, that he will realise you are doing it for his comfort. Still, your hands tremble as you wrap the socks up in brightly coloured paper. You hope that the socks are as well-received as you have imagined they will be.

When Din calls to let you know that breakfast is ready, you stash the wrapped socks beneath the covers on your bunk and eagerly make your way to join them.

Although you try to be present and enjoy the simple domesticity of breakfast with them, your mind is preoccupied with worries about whether the gift will be appreciated. The worry does not dissipate, remaining a leaden weight in your gut.

After finishing the flatcakes, you insist on cleaning up since it’s Din’s birthday. Even though you have done far more washing up than you intended, having some alone time while Din takes Grogu outside to his favourite pond gives you time to think.

You had planned to give Din the socks after you returned from a planned walk across the lava flats. But when Din and Grogu return to the cabin and are eager to leave for the walk, you can wait no longer. You want to enjoy this time with them, rather than being preoccupied with worries over how your gift will be received.

Din and Grogu hover by the entryway, clearly buzzing with anticipation for the walk. You are relieved that Din had not yet placed his helmet on, cradling it under his arm. The days when he wore it constantly feel so long ago; like they are from another age. Over the time you have known him, you have seen far more of his brown eyes than that dark T-visor. Yet, he still wears it whenever you leave the cabin.

“Just need to use the ‘fresher,” you insist, excusing yourself.

“Alright,” Din nods.

Instead of heading to the ‘fresher however, you scoop up the presents from underneath the covers on your bunk, taking deep breaths to compose yourself as you head back towards them.

Din looks over at you curiously, shaking his head as he attempts to repress a smile when he sees the gift. You breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that he appears to be excited by the prospect of a present.

“I know you said no gifts, but these are practical, I promise,” you vow.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Din says sternly, his eyes darkened like they do when he scolds Grogu before his entire expression softens and you feel instant relief. He adds affectionately, “But thank you, ner kar'ta. You are too good to me.”

“You deserve it,” you smile, leaning in to kiss Din on his stubbled cheek.

Din nods and then tears into the brightly coloured paper. You wait with bated breath, anxious to see his response. For a terrible moment, he does not move. Then, your heart aches as his face drops. Din scowls at them, clearly unimpressed.

You open your mouth to apologise before Din plasters a grin across his face, a smile that does not quite reach his eyes and addresses you.

“Thank you, ner riduur,” Din smiles weakly, “Let me go and put them on right away.”

“Okay, Din,” you reply, your tone unsure.

Din hands Grogu to you and disappears off into your quarters. Grogu tilts his head to one side as though he is appraising the situation.

When Din is not quick to return, your concern is immediate. He had been itching to get out on the walk. Now that he is taking his time to put the socks on, you are certain something is wrong. Fear and guilt settle in the pit of your stomach.

“I don’t think he liked them,” you murmur, searching Grogu’s large eyes for answers.

Grogu nods slowly.

You take another steadying breath in preparation to assess the situation. Despite your trepidation, you head down the hallway towards your quarters. The thought of Din being unhappy for even a second on his birthday unsettles you, especially if you were the cause of such an unwelcome emotion.

When you make it to your room, the hulking silhouette of a Mandalorian warrior, with his broad shoulders slumped over in anguish greets you. The guilt is instant. You hover in the entryway for a few moments, cradling Grogu and pondering your next move.

“Din, did I offend you with the gifts?” you finally question as you set Grogu down on the bunk.

Din sighs and shakes his head, turning to face you. The happy expression of this morning has been replaced with one of anguish.

“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday,” you feebly murmur.

Din’s eyes widen in horror as he stands up from the edge of the bunk, instantly closing the distance between you and reaching out to hold your upper arms in his large hands.

“No, never,” he promises, brown eyes darkened with sincerity.

You nod, shooting him a sceptical look.

“They, uh…” Din closes his eyes and sighs, clearly struggling with something, “They just remind me of something…”

You look at him, still confused by his evasiveness. You weren’t sure what such a simple pair of deep red socks could have done to disturb him so deeply.

Din opens his eyes, “Of somewhere,” he clarifies before he shuts them again.

He pauses for a few more seconds and you stand there unmoving, barely daring to breathe.

“The colour reminds me of the robes we wore on the planet of my birth.”

You swallow the lump which has abruptly formed in your throat, nodding at him to indicate you understand. He does not have to elaborate, to go back there if he does not want to.

“Okay, Din,” you say gently, wrapping your arms around his waist and bringing his head into your chest, “I can exchange them for a different colour.”

Din shakes his head, “No, I love them. It was just…” he sucks in a deep breath, voice quivering slightly as he adds, “A surprise. I try to avoid that colour at all costs.”

You think back to why you had been drawn to the socks. Perhaps your subconscious picked up on the fact you had never seen him with anything of that colour and wanted him to try something new.

“They feel incredibly warm, the material is so soft. Thank you, it was very thoughtful of you,” Din smiles weakly.

You can tell that something is still troubling him, so you boldly ask, “Do you think of them on your birthday?”

Din seems taken aback by your question but nods.

“Before I met Grogu and you, when my heart was hardened and I rarely allowed affection in, my birthday was the one day of the year I would allow my mind to wander back there,” Din admits, “To think of them, of the life we could have had. Now I realise, of course, that if I stayed on Aq Vetina, I would never have met Grogu. Or you.”

Din addresses his son now, scooping him up and cuddling him tightly, “You are the best things that ever happened to me.”

You feel overwhelmed with emotion as you look at them. Din presses his forehead to Grogu's for a few seconds, closing his eyes and relishing the contact.

Din opens his eyes and meets your gaze, “I have to let that place go. It’s not my home anymore. Not even this cabin is home,” Din muses.

You look at him quizzically, not following his train of thought.

“Home isn’t a place for me,” Din whispers, “It’s a feeling. It’s the way you and Grogu love me.”

You are floored by the sentiment. That this once stoic warrior has such tenderness to him still amazes you.

“Oh, Din,” you whisper, cupping his cheek as you press your forehead to his.

Your arms encircle his waist. He brings you close with one hand and you know that he is drawing comfort from embracing you and Grogu like this. When you finally lean your head back, you detect a certain tiredness in those brown eyes you love so much.

“Why don’t you get some rest, honey?” you question, “Grogu can join too. It’s been a long, emotional day already and I want you to enjoy the rest of your birthday.”

Thankfully, Din does not fight you, conceding that he needs rest. When he climbs under the covers, you drop a tender kiss on both of their foreheads and turn to leave.

Before you leave the room, soft, even breaths indicate that they have already fallen asleep. The sight of Grogu’s tiny head on Din’s chest as they nap together makes your heart swell.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The cabin is bathed in golden light once again, this time after the sun has set. The three of you sit in contented, companionable silence as you appreciate the full feeling after a good meal.

You utilised Din and Grogu’s nap to ice the cake and prepare a special dinner consisting of Tiingilar, a traditional Mandalorian dish. Despite your apprehensiveness at perfecting the recipe, Din approved of your attempt.

As you sit there, you contemplate suggesting another nap. Consuming a sizable quantity of rich food always leaves a certain tiredness.

But there is still one important duty yet to be carried out.

While Din is somewhat distracted talking to Grogu, you quietly excuse yourself and stealthily prepare dessert.

Your fingers tremble as they did when you wrapped the presents as you light the candles. You head towards the table on shaky legs. You begin singing the traditional birthday song with accompaniment from Grogu, who tries his best to join in with various chirps.

Din grins as he watches you. You notice with relief that the spark in his eyes has returned. When you finish the song, you place the cake before him on the table.

“Blow them out!” you encourage.

Din nods and leans forward to extinguish the candles after savouring the moment a few beats longer.

The excited expression on Din’s face is soon made bittersweet, “I’ve never blown out my own candles before,” he admits.

“There’s a first time for everything,” you whisper, touched by the years of agony which lie behind those words.

You are grateful that shovelling the sweet dessert into your mouth gives you an excuse not to speak as you are unsure how to move on from such an admission. Din has been through so much. Yet, he is still one of the kindest, gentlest men you have ever met. You want to give him all the experiences the galaxy has to offer. To make up for all of the years of hurt.

“Thank you for the cake, it was delicious,” Din appreciatively says after he swallows his last bite.

“You’re welcome,” you smile, “I think Grogu enjoyed it, too.”

You nod over at your mischievous son, who has more of the bright blue icing smeared around his face and tunic than ended up in his mouth.

Din smiles as he places the plate back on the table before you. He rubs his belly contentedly and adds, “Thank you for making this my best birthday yet.”

“Of course, Din,” you shrug, “You deserve it.”

You are already planning ways to make next year even better.

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #my fics #din djarin deserves to be spoiled ALWAYS

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hobisstar · 1 year ago

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moving you | jjk x plussize!reader

summary: sitting on weverse with your best friend seems like fun! until your best friend finds his fingers deep in between your folds.

warning: jungkook is touchy, yn is also touchy, matching besties, smut, jungkook dom, yn sub, yn champagne confetti. i think thats it.

it was time. time for yn, his favorite person outside of family and friends to come over.

this was normal ya know, her coming over every other week for week just to sit with jungkook and bam. but this time he had to do something.

so jungkook grabbed his phone and sat it up on his kitchen counter. he was going to go live on weverse. he has talked to her before and asked if it was fine, he wanted his fans to meet her really bad and she agreed without hesitation.

this wasnt his usual lives though since yn was over. its was kinda like a meet & greet through weverse if you will.

yn was just walking in from the bathroom when he grabbed her hand and pulled her close. jungkook kissed her cheek off camera and then pulled her into the camera, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“army, this is yn. i’ve promised you guys were going to meet her..” he smiled and watched the comments on the live go by extremely fast. it was definitely hard to read anything they were saying but jungkook managed to see a few comments.

“matching pajamas? you guys look like a couple. we get told that a lot. believe it or not Joon, bought these for us for my birthday.” he answered. “ your bestie is my bestie. no, she is mine only.” he laughed. yn smiled watching the interaction between him and his fans.

yn pulled to go pet bam since he was staring at her and whimpering this entire time. she sat down and cuddled with bam on the floor and laughed as he continued his live.

“me and yn want to back some brownies. even though its 2 am” he mentioned as she stood up. walking up to him and stating “ Kookie was hungry and thats all he has in his house” laughing as she walked back into the camera.

as much as he thought this wasnt going to work, it was going smoothly. they were baking and interacting with army as if this was normal. but the only problem was that, jungkook loved putting his hands on any part of yn. she liked doing the same. since being on live they haven’t really touched and he misses it.

“we will be right back army!” he stated and took her to his bedroom. their bedroom at this point because his sheets smelled like her.

without missing a beat he instantly pulled her into him gripping on her hips and letting his hands rome down to her ass.

he gripped it softly then slapped both cheeks. she chuckled and held onto his biceps.

you know jungkook and yn have been this way since theyve met actually.

they have always been blunt, touchy, honest with each other. it’s normal. so normal that the rest of the group is so tired of seeing it.

“if we are gone too long they are going to assume that we are doing something naughty…” yn whispered to his ear which sent him to chuckle.

“ ah… you are such a tease..” yn watched him poke his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

one of yns biggest fears was crushing Jungkook. everytime he sits her on top of him its a fear. when she sits on his face. its a fear.

jungkook absolutely enjoys it. give him a run for his money. or life.

he loves it :)

absolutely. never be scared to give your man or bestie all of your weight. youd be surprised how much they can handle.

anyways, jungkook picks yn up and puts her on his desk. not caring if she was sitting on important information.

“then we should make this quick no?”

without waiting for a response jungkook kisses her deeply and eagerly. its like there lips were made for each other. both their bodies were crafted for each other’s.

wasting no time, he slipped her pajama pants down to her ankles. he glade he persuaded her to not wear underwear with him. this is so much easier.

going back to her lips he slowly massaged her clit with his four fingers. he loved her lips but right now he needed to mask her moans with his own lips.

“your so wet for me and i barely did anything yet” jungkook whispered into their kiss which made her shiver and whimper into the kiss.

“please… kook please” yn quietly whined.

needing to hear nothing more Jungkook entered two digits and slowly moved them while he bit on her lip. he felt her grinding against his fingers trying to get him to go faster to which he did. soon, he was moving his two fingers in and out of her at a nice enough pace. yn felt her wave of orgasm coming with each sharp thrust of his fingers. as if on que, yn bit his lip and he speed up even faster.

“ oh fuck k-kook im cumming…” jungkook smirked and took his fingers out and slapped her clit fast watching her release and go to her high. He put there lips together again and she moaned well probably screamed into the kiss as she squirted all over his floor and desk.

he slowed down his hand and soon massaged her pussy helping her come down from her high.

yn was a shaking mess and very limp. when she opened her eyes she saw jungkooks shirt wet and the floor infront of her covered in her juices.

he kissed away her shock then pulled away chuckling.

“ mmm… champagne confetti.” kook looked her up and down with lust in his eyes. god he needed more.

without saying a word he walked out the room and grabbed his phone “ army, im sorry but i have to end the live… yn got a little tummy ache and i need to comfort her.. ill talk to you guys later. Bye!” he smiled and waved ending the live.

he put his phone on the counter then also grabbed the oven mitt and took the brownies out the oven. those will definitely be good, but not better than the meal he was ready to have.

after putting the brownies on the stove to cool off, he headed back into the room and smirked while closing the door.

“ready for round two, doll?”

#jeon jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #hobisstar writes #jungkook ff #bts #jeon jk #jjk #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #bts jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts jeongguk #jungkook

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its-a-me-mango · 3 months ago

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Phew I think I finally got back to everyone!

I know I already said thank you but I really wanna thank y'all again, I do genuinely appreciate every single birthday wish and gift that was sent to me. Knowing that so many people wanted to take time out of their day to do something just for me is just, I really can't put it into words its such an amazing feeling and it just makes me feel so loved and appreciated so thank you guys again! I've hopefully gotten back to everyone, you guys are all so amazing and special so I really wanted to make sure I gave some of my time back to you guys in return!

To everyone who's kindly made me a gift, thank you so much! I treasure all of them so deeply and I can't stop looking though all of them (I do that normally too but there's so many to look through from the past few days it's insane!), they're all so unique and I love every single one of them! To anyone who couldn't get anything done, thank you for just considering doing something for me at all, I know how hard it can be to create so please don't apologise, knowing you wanted to do something is enough for me! And to anyone whos still maybe working on something, there's no such thing as a late birthday present so take your time and I wish you the best, I can't wait to see it and I will love it! :3

All the birthday wishes were so fun and unique too I had so much fun replying to everyone so thank you all again, I know I can repeat myself a lot but I do sincerely mean everything I say each time, I'm just not a person of many words lol.

Anyway one last time, thank you, I should be back to normal SMG4 asks and posting now, I had a few sent in that were normal asks so I'll be replying to them hopefully soon and I have even COOLER things coming up soon so stay tuned for that!!! Very exciting I can't wait.

Anyway I love you guys, peace and love on planet earth <3

#mango art #getting EMOTIONAL getting SAD getting CRYING!!!!!!!!!!!!! I need to be sappy or else I die lol #smg4oc: mango

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runningfrom2am · 3 months ago

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requiem // part six

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.6k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: omg hi i am finally back with a new part for this series!! kind of a filler but idk i still think it's cute :) enjoy!

also, reminder to follow @runningfrom2am-library and turn on my notifications there to join my taglist for this series!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

two years earlier

"So, I'm thinking balloons over the whole ceiling of the foyer, gold and red- thoughts?" Your mother asks as you enter the threshold of your family's lake house.

"You say that like you haven't already ordered everything." You giggle in response, footsteps echoing across the tile as you step off the carpet of the grand entryway.

It was less of a "house" and more of a mansion, in Coriolanus' opinion.

He had been here countless times throughout the years and sporadically would spend the weekends here with you and your parents when you didn't want to be "bored" and "lonely" on the large lakefront property. Poor you, he always thought sarcastically, but would never voice it.

Regardless, he loved getting to come out here with you in the summers and occasionally for a day or two over the holidays when you could skate on the frozen lake. You had taught him how yourself, holding onto his hands at nine years old and skating backward in front of him while he channeled the look of a baby deer taking its first steps. Your little laugh and small words of encouragement were the only thing that kept him upright- most of the time.

But this time, it was summer, and he had been looking forward to this weekend for weeks. Not because he was all that excited about seeing your classmates who he had needed just as much of a break from as his studies, but more so because it was your birthday. Or, close enough to it.

Your sixteenth birthday, more specifically, and your parents were pulling out all the stops. Thus the balloons and your family's staff running around like their lives depended on it to get everything ready for the early afternoon when all the other guests would be arriving to stay for the night and the following morning.

"Okay, well, yes, I did, but I knew you would like it so it's fine." Your mother insists and you look over at Coryo, rolling your eyes behind her back. She was right, you didn't mind the red and gold, but it was no surprise you didn't have any say in the planning of your own birthday party. It was more for your parents than it was for you, anyway. More for the reputation of your family name, although, you didn't doubt that it would be fun.

"Come on." You whisper to your best friend, gently tugging on his shirt to pull him upstairs.

"Mom, we're going upstairs until the others get here!" You call over your shoulder, already running up the staircase.

"Yes, yes, I'll send someone for you when everything's ready. Just shout if you get hungry." She agrees mindlessly, already putting down bags of last-minute snacks you had picked up on the way.

"Thank you!" Coryo adds in as well as you pull him along.

She laughs softly and shakes her head. "Of course, Coriolanus. You kids have fun. Oh, and go ahead and leave your overnight stuff just in the sitting room upstairs!"

When your other classmates who were able to make the hour-long trip finally all made it out to the beach house, it quickly became bustling with life. The large floor-to-roof windows that spanned both stories of the home were pulled open completely, opening it out to the porch, the pool, and the lakefront. The music was loud, and your parents had set up every screen and projector on the property, inside and out, playing home videos of you when you were growing up. Most featured your performances, and you loved those, but your favourites were of you and your friends.

Coriolanus was a star in your home videos, undeniably. Some of the girls from your class were sitting on the back porch with virgin cocktails your parents' staff had made, pointing out themselves in clips from school events and previous birthday parties and laughing at their younger selves.

Laying on the dock next to Coryo and Clemmie, you were laughing at the boys at the other end of the dock trying to shove each other off when your father's boat pulled back up next to you and he cut the engine.

"You want to go next, bird?" He calls to you as Festus and Pup stumble out of the boat, drenched from head to toe and dripping all over you and your towels.

You look over at Coryo, smiling hopefully at him and he nods, getting up quickly while you make the same effort to get Clemmie to come with you. "Clemmie, come on. The tube fits three people well enough." You tell her as you get up, pulling at your bathing suit to make sure it is still fitting right.

"No, no. I'm good. My parents say that's a death trap, and I believe it." She chuckles, waving her hand dismissively. "I'll be here. You two have fun."

"Suit yourself." You shrug, taking your father's hand as he helps you onto the boat, and Sejanus Plinth, who was already onboard and apparently decided to just stay, hands you a life jacket which you quietly thank him for.

"Clemensia, it's perfectly safe. I'll even go slow for you." Your father offers her as you zip yours up, watching Coryo do the same. Weirdly enough, you can't help but notice it looks good on him. Just about anything does, though.

"No thank you, I'm just fine right here. I'm not the best swimmer as it is." Your friend replies gratefully. "I prefer land."

"Alright, then, but we'll be doing trips all afternoon if you change your mind." He tells her, going back to the helm of the small speed boat reserved specifically for your tubing and wakeboarding and starting the engine up again.

The boat starts moving and you go over to the ship's radio, clicking it on again and turning it up to hear the music better over the sounds of rushing water as he takes you out deeper on the lake.

Once you're satisfied with the volume and the song, you climb up to the front of the boat to sit next to the two boys who are waiting. You weren't sure what they were talking about, making small talk most likely, knowing the both of them, but regardless it stopped when you sat down.

You enjoy the music and the spray of fresh water on your skin for a couple of minutes until you're far enough from the shores to stop.

You and Coryo both get up with a fair bit of excitement, having always loved going tubing with your father behind the wheel of the boat every summer.

"Sejanus, are you coming?" You ask hopefully as you and your friend throw the large inflatable off the back of the boat and into the water, pulling the rope back so it's close enough to climb on.

He looks to your father, who nods encouragingly at him. He'd been on the boat for almost all of the afternoon but hadn't once actually got on the tube. It wasn't much of a secret that he wasn't very well-liked by other kids, but his parents had insisted that he attend your birthday, so he just decided to stay close to one of your parents.

"Um, okay. Sure." He replies quietly with a nervous nod.

Out of all of your classmates, he was the most comfortable with the two of you- being among some of the only kids who hadn't been mean to him in the past.

"Hold on tight." Your father tells him as you and Coryo get situated, laying on your stomachs next to each other and holding onto the handles by your heads and leaving enough room for Sejanus on your other side. "These two are professionals, I don't hold back like with the other kids." He says teasingly, giving you a knowing look.

He climbs on next to you while you hold onto the back of the boat for him, trying to keep it as steady as possible.

"Don't worry, it's gonna be fun." You say to him when you hear the motor start up again and you give your dad a thumbs up to start going.

"It does look like fun." Sejanus agrees quietly, and you can hardly hear him over the waves as the boat moves slowly away from you and the rope starts to unravel.

You turn to look at Coryo again, giving him a smile. "Here, let's switch handles." You suggest, letting go of one of yours and nudging his hand away from his to trade so your arms would overlap on the somewhat rough material that was known to give you both rug burns in the past. "That way we can keep each other on."

He nods, chuckling to himself as he complies, looping his hand under your handle and gripping on tight. "Yeah, we can definitely try."

You knew it wouldn't make much of a difference, but you liked the way his arm felt over yours; warm from the heat of the sun but somehow chilling you down to your bones.

The tube jerks to the right to catch up with the rope as your father's boat gets far enough away and begins to pull you, and you can feel Sejanus tense up beside you as you start to pick up speed.

"You gotta relax!" You call out to him over the rushing water, and he just looks at you with wide eyes as you continue straight for the time being. "Lean into it and you'll stay on easier!"

Sejanus didn't really listen. That much is clear when within a matter of minutes, hitting a corner and bouncing over the waves created by the boat, he tumbles right off the side.

You glance back over your shoulder to see that he's okay, but with the speed you're already moving and the turn your father makes to go back for him, that was a clear mistake.

You weren't paying attention when you hit the corner hard, swinging out behind the boat with the now uneven weight distribution, and before you know it the tube is flipping completely and rolling fast over the surface of the water.

Coryo hears you scream as you suddenly disappear from his side, which only makes it flip faster. He somehow holds on, but not without a blinding pain in his hand and up his arm as it gets caught in the handle that wasn't his, and then he's quickly surrounded by the blue of the lake as well.

You're giggling when your father circles back to you after helping Sejanus out of the water, and you can still see Coryo a ways away. You never realized how fast you were going until you both got thrown off, and you were usually very far away in the water.

Climbing up onto the boat and dripping wet, you pull the tube back up to the boat and hold on to the rope while your father steers you over to your friend, his blonde curls soaked and clinging to his forehead, almost completely covering his eyes.

"Coryo!" You call out as you get closer, laughing through your words. You get closer to the back ladder, prepared to help pull him out. He doesn't respond, though he's looking at you, and you realize quickly that he's ghostly pale- more so than usual, and he's clutching his hand to his chest. "Hey, you okay?" You ask, your smile fading quickly as you lean over the edge to reach for him.

He nods stiffly, and when he reaches out to take your hand, you notice that he's trembling.

"Are you hurt? What's wrong?" You ask, and you quickly hear your father's steps behind you.

"I- um..." You can tell as you try and help him up that he's embarrassed to admit that something's wrong- though he doesn't need to be.

"Dad?" You begin to ask for help, worry seeping into your tone, but he's already there. He gently nudges you out of the way and reaches into the water to pull Coryo out, which, is decently easy for him to do. He was always a skinny kid, and right now you were grateful for that.

"You okay, son? Let me see that." Your father says once Coryo gets his footing, still holding his hand close to his chest.

"You hurt your hand?" You ask when he doesn't move, just staring between you and your father with shock plastered all over his face.

He nods slightly, teeth chattering, and you hear that Sejanus must have turned down the music.

Your father gestures for him to show him his injured hand again, holding his own to take at it and look. "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm just going to take a look."

Coryo looks at you for a split second before looking away again, carefully holding his hand out for your father to look at.

Your father decided after that that maybe that wasn't the best activity to take other people's kids on while they were under his supervision. Secretly, it's a relief that Coryo was the one who got injured from it- he was closer with your family than anyone else, and there likely wouldn't be someone showing up at your door within the week to press charges over a broken thumb. You were still worried, though.

You made quick work upon returning to dry land of hurrying upstairs to your room with him, arm wrapped around his waist as your father tied up the boat. It was only his hand that was injured, but you had never in your life seen someone so pale- Coryo looked like he could collapse at any minute.

"Someone's grabbing ice for it, just sit down on the bed and I'll get you some water." You say as you guide him to sit on your bed that sat against the corner of the large room, only mildly aware of the shake in your voice and the panic you were quickly descending into.

"I-I'm okay, it's really not that big of a deal..." Coryo mutters and you shake your head, about to leave when your mother walks in in a hurry.

"I brought some ice, darling." She says as she brushes past you to sit next to him and you stand clear out of the way. You needed to give her the space to be a mother and help- you knew that much.

You look around for Coryo's overnight bag while she helps hold the ice pack wrapped in a dish towel to his hand, but you can't find it anywhere. "Mom, we left Coryo's stuff in here this morning, did any of the staff touch it?" You ask, hoping to find him a shirt to cover his shivering skin. The shock, the air conditioning of the house while still dripping wet, and the ice pack were not a friendly combination.

"Oh, I had it moved to the sitting room." She points to the door and your brow furrows slightly.

All your friends who were spending the night were sleeping in the sitting room, and there were beds and a projector screen set up in there with snacks for movies and everything, but you and Coryo were supposed to stay in here when it was time to actually go to sleep. "What? Why? We're sleeping in here."

Your mother shrugs. "I don't know, honey, I just feel that it's time that you both have some of your own space."

What she means is 'I don't think it's appropriate for the two of you to share a bed anymore.'

You and Coryo look at each other, only briefly, and it's only safe to assume that you're both feeling the same thing.

You had never been in less of a rush to grow up, and to be forced to grow apart.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

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bloodyinkandquill · 2 months ago

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Ban Hammer and sibling Reader

i almost typed x instead of and i almost screamed, my birthdays coming up so trying to figure out if my partner can come visit me for it, but collage schedules get in the way, might have to settle for thanks giving instead, anyways let’s write this lmao,

oh and for this you’ll see a lot of my head canons for how the spawns work in phighting, i will also use the canon of children being spawned with the mental and physical age of around 10, they also will just be considered 10 from their spawning!

- A child born to one of the Spawns without parents were a dime a dozen, more common then having parents, they’d still run a blood test to see if you had any biological family, siblings or parents, sometimes on rare occasions they’d find a sibling but for the most part the children were alone, left to be raised by the Spawn keepers, in a large building full of kids like you, for 8 years till either by some miracle you were adopted or more likely you aged out and were set into the world, or unfortunately also commonly, you’d be outside of the Spawn building with no keepers nearby and be involved in some sort of violence, and that was just one more open bed in the Spawn building

- You were just another kid, never really had any friends, but you’ve only been alive a year or so, you knew you would never be adopted, you’d age out, there were so many other kids, stronger, smarter, cuter, whatever than you, so you tried to make the best of your time in the Spawn, so when the keepers said your room unit was going to the park you were excited, one room unit at a time would go places so you were very happy to be going somewhere

- When you got to the park other kids started running around and playing with each other, you went off towards the sand box, but when you got close you saw someone was already playing there, looked older than you, maybe 14? With yellow horns, they looked off, maybe like they were dyed? They were building things then destroying them, laughing to themself and occasionally looking in a certain direction and talking, you weren’t sure who to, you gathered your courage to approach and ask if you could play with him, when you walked up behind him he turned around and you saw he had four eyes, you were a little surprised but said you liked his eyes, he lit up at that saying people usually think that they’re weird or scary, you asked to play with him and he agreed

- You learned his name was Ban Hammer, you had fun, eventually moving from the sand box to other things, he was older and bigger than you, neither of you minded and had the time of your lives, soon enough the keeper called out that you all were about to leave, you were sad and he asked why don’t you come back tomorrow, you explained you couldn’t, you were a parentless child living in the Spawn, he frowned and turned towards a certain direction and asked the air if he could keep you, you were, incredibly confused

- After some one sided conversation you heard the keeper call out your name, you were about to say bye and run over to the group when you heard a adult sounding voice groan and say fine, then looking back materializing in front of you was a demon, no not a demon, one of the swords, you were dumbfounded, Ban Hammer ran up and hugged her thanking her, she said to you that she’ll foster you, because she loves her son so much, if it works out she’ll adopt you, you were a little scared but if this worked out you’d not only get adopted but by one of the deities, you thanked her and she went over to the keeper you and her son in tow

- After that you begun living with them, you and Ban Hammer were very close, running around and playing all the time, he had to learn you weren’t as strong as him, you were younger and a mortal, he was a demigod so he had to watch his strength around you, neither of you minded and you two became very close, Windforce warmed up to you eventually, if one day you woke up and noticed you felt a little stronger and life there was some divine protection over you, you didn’t say anything but you did leave her a little gift

- As you two grew older you got closer, play fighting and talking about what you wanted to do as adults, you also started jokingly making fun of each other, playful banter and soft jabs, you formed a true sibling bond of going into each other’s rooms, turning on the lights, staring at each other then just leaving, since Windforce still had her duties to attend to you two would commonly be home alone, you never minded since she’d spoil you two whenever she got back, you would also assist him in dying his horns yellow, you did it once or twice too because you both wanted to look more like your mom, neither of you knew why his horns were purple to her yellow but you’d just shrug and put the dye on them

- With him being older he’d take you places like to go get food or to a store to buy snacks, since he could summon wings to fly with you worked out a way for him to fly you places, some nights you’d go soaring in the sky, it was those nice moments that made you closer, he’d play a prank of pretending to drop you but he always made sure you were never in any actual danger, you were one of the only mortals who ever got to see the world in that way, soaring in the air without a care in the world

- Once you two were both adults you saw each other less but still hung out often, meeting up to talk about your lives or to see Windforce, he stopped dying his horns yellow to look like your mom, and he started creating the Ban Lands, you offered assistance on occasion but for the most part he worked on it by himself, you’d reminisce on childhood memories, playing together and pranking each other, you still did on occasion, you’d butt heads in a playful way, if either of you were interested romantically in someone the other would instantly research everything about them and then deem if they were worthy of the other

hope you enjoyed! i semi projected me and my sister’s relationship, i have two but one isn’t biological (long story) so im far closer to my biological sister, she’s older and i love her/p (obviously)

#x reader #phighting #phighting x reader #phighting!#platonic #ban hammer x reader #banhammer x reader #phighting ban hammer #ban hammer phighting #banhammer phighting #phighting banhammer

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ilwonuu · 9 months ago

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. '•.¸♡ sweet kiss ♡¸.•'

↴ hansol vernon chwe

‧₊˚✩彡‧₊˚✩彡‧₊˚✩彡‧₊˚✩彡‧₊˚✩彡‧₊˚✩彡‧₊˚✩彡

᯽ summary- one of your not so close friends asks to be kiss you at one of your friends parties.

᯽ warnings- fluffy, kissing, some heavy petting, strangers ish to lovers, seokmin interupts, lmk what else!!!

᯽ authors note- happy birthday vernon!!!! i love him so much. (also look out for a seokmin fic today<3) lmk if you want another part/parts!!!! also so sorry about these fics coming out today i know it’s technically not late but i wanted to posted them yesterday </3

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you are currently sitting in the living room of seokmin’s party. you’re not having best time that you had intended. you quickly looking around for the boy. you feel a soft hand on your shoulder causing you to turn around.

“oh my gosh vernon you scared me!” you laugh at his straight face and the half smile he’s giving you. “sorry. i just saw you alone. where did seokmin go?” he asks you. you shrug in response. “i don’t know. i went to grab another drink and came back he was nowhere to be found.” you taking another sip of your drink.

“well if you wanted i can stay with you until you find him.” he smiles at you. you nod following him into the backyard of seokmin’s house. there isn’t many people out here. you calming down from all the energy inside.

“you seem tired.” he observes you as you sit next to him by the pool. “i am a little. i think the alcohol just isn’t my friend.” he doesn’t say anything for a moment. “i get that. a lot actually. i don’t really drink that much but i smoke. which is definitely worse in a way.”

he doesn’t say it in a jokingly way. you laugh anyways. his expression making it hard for you not to smile. “i like smoking too. drinking is usually fun. i just always get sick.”

“me too. that’s why i stopped. it’s lame plus weed is more fun. at least for me.” he pulls out his half smoked blunt. he lights it taking a couple hits before offering it to you. you smile at his gesture taking it from him. you take a few hits passing it back to him. “why haven’t we done this before it’s nice.” he has moved a little closer to you now. causing your face to heat up.

“yea i agree also you have pretty good company.” you lay your head back. he smiles to himself. “can i ask you something kinda um- bold?” you smile at his words looking up over at him again. “yea anything.” you mutter to him giving him a quick smile sitting up completely facing him.

“can i kiss you? i kind of- i really want to kiss you.” you don’t expect his words at first. you comply easily. wanting to kiss him now as well. “yea? okay-“ he moves so he his grabbing your face. he pulls you in slowly. kissing you softly. both of your slow kisses turning into desperate kisses.

his hand that was against your cheek is now moving down your body gently. he pulls away from your kiss. “is this okay?” you just nod pulling him back into the kiss. he lips are immediately moving with yours. he is his immediately addicted to your lips.

the two of you are completely forgetting about the other people outside with you. you guys don’t care. it’s just too good.

is this actually as good it feels in the moment? or are you just desperate? probably thoughts you shouldn’t be having while making out with him. i think you’re high is kicking in.

his hand is going underneath you shirt to the back of you bra. you pull away from the kiss. “is this okay?” he asks again. you take off your bra while keeping eye contact with him. you are pulling him back to kiss you whispering a quick. “yes vernon..” he smirking slightly into the kiss moving his hand to cup your breasts before the two of your make of sesh is interrupted.

of course it’s seokmin and all he can do is laugh. “you guys were about to fuck if i didn’t come over here im assuming?” he looks at you for an answer but vernon answers quickly. “um if she wanted but that’s not the point you left her for a while. she was looking for you..” he just smiles. “well im here now!! sorry was a bit distracted. i can still take you home y/n.”

you look over at vernon and then look at yourself and how unorganized you must look to them. should you go home?

you decided against leaving with seokmin deciding to walk to vernons when you two were ready.

“whatever you say. have fun!! use protection please!” seokmin hugs you before going back into the house. vernon is already rolling another blunt for the two of you. “i had fun tonight. i know you’re now leaving yet but i just wanted to say.” he looks away from you. you think his awkwardness was cute. too cute that is.

the barely had met the boy already knowing he wouldn’t be a stranger for you. everything about him was attractive. you had a hard time focusing. he was such a sweet boy. his lips, his lips were so sweet. his kisses were sweet and gentle against you. he never denied any of your kisses.

you wanted him so bad already.

#Spotify #seventeen #svt #vernon #vernon fluff #vernon smut #vernon seventeen #svt vernon #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt smut #svt fanfic

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daisyvisions · 11 months ago

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Unspoken Words (Pt. 1)

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: best friend!Sangyeon x afab!reader x enemy!Hyunjae

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Summary: If someone were to tell you that you'd be in a fake relationship with the person you despise the most just to make your best friend jealous, you would've laughed in their face. But here you are... caught up in this exact situation.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 4.2K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: (18+, minors DNI), fake dating, mutual pining, angst, jealousy, lots of suggestive themes such as: mention of a handjob and orgasm, groping, and fondling with breasts. Mentions of alcohol. Some cursing, lots of kissing and making out, eventual smut in part two. One use of the pet name “baby”. Implied sex and loss of virginity. Lots of time skipping. Let me know if I missed anything! Proofread twice.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: And just in the nick of time I’ve managed to write out my Secret Santa exchange gift. This one’s for you baby girl @winterchimez / @midnightfantasiez. You nearly sniffed out that it was me writing for you so I had to deviate and lie to you for a moment so sorry about that huhu anyway! A true blessing that you happen to be my recipient because we both love sangmil. A two-part mini series because I just love to keep you on your toes 😈 Hope you enjoy this gift! Thank you so much for your friendship and all the fun moments shared! Special shoutout to @momhwa-agenda / @aimeecarreros for being my accomplice hehe. Finally a sangmil fic has made its debut on the blog!

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet

You never should’ve gone to this stupid spring dance.

The thought in your mind repeating like a broken record as you try to hug yourself from the cold air outside the gymnasium. Tears running down your face as you stare off into the ground trying not to remember the reason why you suddenly ran out of the venue to begin with.

It wasn’t always like this. You were once very content with how things were going on in your life.

With the semester almost ending and all your mid-term grades just enough to pass, you couldn’t wait to celebrate surviving your last year of college with this one magical night. Especially with your best friend Sangyeon by your side.

Right… best friend.

The same best friend that had been ignoring you for the last two months or so (not that you were counting of course). Your mind races as you try to figure out for the nth time what even started this whole issue between you two.

All you could think back to was the beginning of his odd behavior, which started the week after your birthday. At first you thought Sangyeon was just busy with extracurriculars, which was often the case since he was part of numerous clubs and volunteer work.

But then things started to feel off as soon as he would ignore your calls, take too long to reply to texts, hearing from other friends he was just at home when he told you he was “fully booked” to hang out. It was like he was trying to come up with every excuse in the book just to not see your face.

Was he trying to hide something from you perhaps? That idea immediately disappeared as soon as you accidentally overheard his conversation with Haknyeon that one time you were all hanging out at Eric’s apartment.

“What?! You’re not gonna ask her to the spring dance?” You hear Haknyeon’s surprised tone.

“Of course not.” Sangyeon scoffs. “Why would I want to bring her? We’re just friends after all.”

You felt a sudden pang in your heart. Tears threatening to fall down as Sangyeon’s words bore deep holes within your soul. After everything you’ve been through together, this is how he thinks of you?

It shouldn’t have been that deep honestly, but with him ignoring you for the past couple of weeks and remembering the promise you made with each other to go together to the spring dance? It really fucking hurt you. Especially when you and Sangyeon had been by each other’s side since you first met three years ago at your freshman orientation. Instantly hitting it off like two peas in a pod and the rest was history.

Somewhere down the line, you knew you had some sort of feelings for him. Who wouldn’t?

With a smile that can cure any bad feeling you had, how he always took care of you first, the lingering hugs before you had to part ways at the end of the day, the way he would remember even the most insignificant details of a story you were rambling about, and made sure to always message you good night and good morning… He was the dream guy for you.

And even if you had moments wherein you thought he might’ve felt the same way, you didn’t want to sacrifice the strong bond you had with him over a stupid little crush. You just settled with the idea of just staying in the friend zone and not dare to cross any lines with him. Burying any what could’ves and everything else in-between.

Maybe that’s why Sangyeon distancing himself from you hurt more than it should’ve honestly.

So when you were seated at your table during the dance and saw Sangyeon entering the room with his date wrapping her arm around his, you felt massive sting in your chest.

That should’ve been you. It should've been you spending this night with him instead of whoever was currently by his side.

You thought you could go through the night just by avoiding your gaze their table, but the way Sangyeon smiled at his date and at everyone else like nothing was wrong, but his face slightly faltering as he quickly glanced your way, you just had to get out of there before things went downhill.

Your teeth were chattering from the cold air breezing against your exposed skin, nose sniffling and hands wiping whatever tears were leaving marks on your face. Suddenly, a pair of shoes enter your line of vision while your eyes were still glued to the ground.

“You shouldn’t be out here, it’s freezing.” The familiar voice tells you.

As soon as you look up, you find Hyunjae staring down at you. One of his eyebrows slightly raised as he wonders what has gotten you into this depressed state on a special night like this.

“Laugh it up Hyunjae, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? To see me cry?” You look up at him for a moment with your tear-stained face before looking back down at your feet.

Before you could even continue feeling sorry for yourself, Hyunjae sighs and squats down, his face now at the same level as yours. You feel his fingers lift your chin and gently tap the tears away from your cheeks with his handkerchief. Your eyes widen as he leans in closer, making sure not to ruin your makeup in the process.

“W-what are you doing?” you stutter.

“Pretty girls like you shouldn’t be crying.” He nonchalantly replies.

You’re too stunned to speak at his comment. As far as you know, Hyunjae has been nothing but a pain in your ass ever since he accidentally bumped into you in the hallway causing your diorama to break into tiny pieces as it fell to the ground.

Since then, you wrote him off as your sworn enemy. Always finding ways to annoy the hell out of you and get you to react to his antics, making side comments to one another, and his constant teasing that made you want to rip your hair off.

So no, never in your wildest dreams would you hear such a comment coming out of Hyunjae’s mouth.

“Hello?” Hyunjae waves his hand in front of you.

“What?” You shook your head as you were too distracted from hearing the question he had asked you.

“I said, do you wanna get out of here or what?” He sighs as he lends his hand out for you to grab. You hesitate at first. In any normal situation, you would never even let Hyunjae get as close as he did just now, let alone go somewhere with him.

But what the hell… Anywhere is better than here.

“So… who’s the lucky guy that has you bawling your eyes out? It’s obviously not me.” Hyunjae smirks. You had found yourself seated by the bar, eating french fries as you waited for your drinks to arrive.

“It’s uh- It’s a little complicated.” You try to avoid his eyes.

“Trouble in paradise?” Hyunjae pops a fry into his mouth waiting for your answer. Your eyes widen at his suggestion, knowing who he was referring to.

“What? No! I mean- We were never together if that’s what you’re thinking.” You sigh before carefully explaining to him the whole situation you were currently in with Sangyeon. Hyunjae intently looks into your eyes as you tell your side of the story.

“Huh…” Hyunjae takes a sip of his beer.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” You look at him as he drinks, trying to not to dwell too much at the way his neck looks flexed under the dim light.

“You’re really impatient you know that?” He chuckles before taking another sip. “I was about to tell you an idea I just thought of.”

“Yeah? Let’s hear it then.” You take a sip of your cocktail this time.

“What if you make him jealous? Like really jealous.” Hyunjae suggests.

“Pass. First of all, I don’t think he likes me that way. And second, who the hell would he even be jealous of? Sangyeon hardly gets jealous by anything.” You squint at him. What a silly idea.

“No c’mon. Trust me, he’ll be jealous alright. Especially when it comes to you.” He eyes you up and down subtly.

“What does that even me-” Before you could even finish your sentence you spot behind Hyunjae a group of students dressed in formal attire entering the bar. And like a moth to a flame, you immediately spot Sangyeon and his date amongst the group.

Hyunjae turns around to see what had been the cause of your panic, his eyes immediately spotting Sangyeon from a distance as well. And as soon as Sangyeon had a puzzled look on his face he knew that Sangyeon had spotted the two of you by the bar, wondering what the hell were you doing with Hyunjae of all people.

You hop off the bar stool, attempting to run away like you did during the dance, but you suddenly feel a hand gently grab you by the arm and pull you back before you could even make a run for it.

“C’mere.” Hyunjae asks.

“Wha-”

“Just follow my lead.” He whispers in your ear.

And before you know it, you feel Hyunjae lips pressed against yours. His hands cupping your face before sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. It takes a moment for your brain to process what’s going on, but your body responds faster by wrapping your arms around Hyunjae’s neck and deepening the kiss.

The way his lips perfectly mold against yours, how soft they feel as his hands squeeze your waist. The little groan he lets out as you slip your tongue inside his mouth, tasting the beer he had drank as your fingers run through his hair.

You nearly moan with how he slowly but expertly moves his mouth against yours. As if he’s taking to memory what your lips feel like in case this moment would never happen again. Both you and Hyunjae nearly forget you’re practically sucking each other’s faces off in public, which was surprising considering the nature of your relationship with one another.

No one could even tell the two of you despised the other as you held each other like lovers.

None of you see it, but the way Sangyeon looks at both of you right now is as if he wants to throw daggers at Hyunjae from across the room. Witnessing the both of you passionately kissing each other makes his stomach churn, a feeling he has never felt before. So many questions run in his head as he continues to watch from afar.

Before he even tries to take a step towards your direction, he sees you both pull away from one another. Hyunjae whispering something in your ear as you look too stunned to speak before taking out his wallet, pulling out cash and settling it on the table before whisking you away out of the bar.

Sangyeon really should’ve brought you to the spring dance like he promised… because not only does he feel like an asshole, but a jealous one at that.

The car ride on the way to your house was incredibly silent, as if what had happened between you and Hyunjae was just your imagination. Except it wasn’t. You could still feel his lips lingering on yours as you try to lean your head against the window and looking at anything passing by.

You’re broken from your trance as you hear Hyunjae’s door closing and his figure making its way to your side of the car. He lends out his hand for you to grab once again, helping you get out of the car and walk you to the front of your apartment.

“So… I’ll see you around?” Hyunjae smiles awkwardly says as he puts both his hands in his pockets.

“Hyunjae, wait-” You grab his elbow as he’s about to turn around.

“Hm?” He raises one eyebrow.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but-” You huff in-between, “let’s go with your plan.” You watch the little mischievous smirk appear on Hyunjae’s lips.

“If you just wanted to make out some more you could’ve just asked.” He teases. You’re about to slap him on the arm but he catches your hand and holds it tight.

“I’m kidding! Just… Let me know when and what time we can talk about it more alright?” He squeezes your hand gently. You don’t know why but a tiny little butterfly flutters in your stomach as you feel Hyunjae’s thumb subconsciously stroke the back of your hand.

“Okay… Thank you by the way for tonight-” you tiptoe a bit to hold Hyunjae’s cheek and leave a light peck on his lips. He’s caught off guard by your action, almost leaning forward some more to continue kissing you but you pull away quick enough before he does.

“Y-yeah, sure. Anytime.” Thank god it’s night time he thinks, otherwise you would've easily spotted the redness flaring in his ears and made fun of him for it.

“Call me okay?” He squeezes your hand once more before letting go and walking back to his car. You watch him drive off before heading up to your apartment, leaning against the front door and letting out one big sigh of relief.

“What the hell did I get myself into?”

“If you really want this to work, we have to set a few ground rules.” Hyunjae he pulls out a pen and paper from his bag, immediately writing down a numbered list for you both to fill out.

“Rule one- if one of us wants to stop this thing at any given moment, the contract will end.” Hyunjae says as he writes it down.

“Hmm.. what about rule two- if any of us catch some sort of feelings for one another, the contract is immediately terminated” You add. Hyunjae scoffs at the idea.

“Catch feelings? Seriously?” He looks up at you with a smirk. “Is there something you’ve been meaning to tell me this whole time?” He continues to tease.

“I’m serious! It’s only gonna get complicated for us to execute this plan if feelings are involved. Haven’t you seen the movies?” You ask him.

“Fine, you have a point.” He writes down your suggestion earlier.

“Okay, rule three- kisses are a must if you want this thing to work.” He looks at you in the eyes. “And other things couples do.”

You roll your eyes at him, “Fine, but nothing beyond second base please?” You scrunch your face at the thought.

“Oh?” Hyunjae looks at you with a few twinkles in his eyes. “So does that mean I get to play with your-”

“NO! Not that. Like y’know, just waist touching and maybe the occasional touch of the ass. But definitely and absolutely no touching my chest whatsoever.” You point your finger at him. “I'm serious.”

“Alright alright!” Hyunjae raises his hands up in defense. “Anything else you wanna add?”

“Let me see the list again.” You grab the paper from his hands, carefully examining the words written before nodding.

“This looks good. Yeah, I’m fine with this.” You hand the paper back to Hyunjae.

“It’s a deal.” He says as you both shake on it before getting up to part ways.

Before you have a chance to take a step towards where your class is, Hyunjae pulls you into his chest and leaves a kiss on your lips, making you squeal in surprise.

“Sit with me during lunch. We start this today, okay?” Hyunjae reminds you. You nod your head before shyly giving him a kiss on his cheek and walking away to head to your first class of the day.

Sangyeon could not keep his eyes off you during study period. It had been this way every time you happen to be in the same room as him. You looked beautiful as ever of course but he could feel his blood pressure shooting up every time he would be near you.

Ever since that night he saw you kissing Hyunjae almost two weeks ago, it was like the two of you were everywhere.

He hated the way Hyunjae would always whisper something in your ear and you would laugh at whatever he said. Or the way his hand would find purchase on your lower back. And not to mention the way he would brush any loose hair behind your ear before kissing you goodbye.

It should’ve been him. He should've been the one doing all these things to you. He should've been the guy leaving you all those loving kisses, holding you by your waist, reminding you of how beautiful you look every single chance he got.

If only he was honest with you that night.

Sangyeon’s internal monologuing was cut short when he sees you getting up from your seat and patting Hyunjae on the shoulder before making your way between the bookshelves in the library.

As you slowly search for the book you need for your English paper, your shoulder bumps into a semi hard surface. “Oh! I’m so so-” you whisper but stop mid sentence as the familiar scent of cologne hits your nose.

“Hey….” Sangyeon whispers.

“Uh- Hi.” You back away from him a bit as an awkward silence falls between you two.

“How are things going? We haven’t talked in a while.” He fiddles with his own fingers, trying to think of the next words to say to you.

“Good I guess? Just trying to make it through the semester and stay motivated.” You respond.

“Sure looks like it-” Sangyeon mumbles. But you clearly hear him and scoff at his rudeness.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You cross your arms against your chest.

“Seriously… Hyunjae? Why him?” He loudly whispers. “You’re better than that.”

“Yeah?” You step a little closer to Sangyeon, closing the gap between you two.

“Well where the fuck have you been huh? Where were you when I needed you?” You match the level of his tone.

“You don’t understand-”

“Then explain it to me then Sangyeon! I’m listening.”

He tries to speak but nothing comes out, panicking that this might be the last chance he could get to explain why he’s been so distant.

“I-uh” His eyes look everywhere else except you.

“Nothing? Thought so.” You push past him, making sure to harshly nudge your shoulder against his.

Sangyeon tries to follow you, but as soon as he steps out between the bookshelves he sees you head out of the library while Hyunjae scrambles to grab all your things from the table and chases after you. He sighs out of frustration combing his hair as he mentally curses at himself.

Oh he really fucked things up didn’t he?

“And he had the nerve, THE NERVE to tell me I know better. I can’t believe him!” You pace back and forth in your bedroom as you rant to Hyunjae about the events that took place in the library

“I honestly don’t know if I should feel offended or flattered at his little comment about me.” Hyunjae’s eyes follow you as you continue to move around.

“Think about it this way, at least we know the plan is working. Otherwise he wouldn’t have approached you like that.”

“Maybe? Ugh! Why are men so dumb?” You sigh.

“We think with our dicks that’s why. Well… maybe that’s just me.” He smirks, trying to crack a joke to break the tension. His little joke becomes successful when you look back at him and chuckle.

“Forget about him,” Hyunjae adds. “Tonight we drink to celebrate passing yet another exam and watch movies til we fall asleep or you decide to kick me out. Whichever comes first.”

He pours a full glass of wine for each of you as you plop down beside him and get cozy.

“Fine, but I’m picking the movie okay?” You tell him as you open your laptop and search for your favorite comfort movie.

Hours pass, almost three bottles of wine finished, and the movie long forgotten as you decide to chat with each other about anything and everything instead. It’s been nothing but laughs and mocking each other as you reminisce all the times you pissed each other off and funny stories of one another.

“Oh the look on your face was fucking priceless-” You laugh out loud, trying to catch your breath as you recall one embarrassing moment of Hyunjae.

“Well what the hell was I supposed to do then huh? Tell the professor I was getting a handjob under the table during his class?” His voice raises in defense. “Not my fault she couldn’t resist me.”

“You looked so mortified too holy shit-” You laugh.

“I was nearing a fucking orgasm okay? Then he calls me to the front of the class to write down my answer for the stupid formula. That professor practically edged me!” His cheeks starting to turn even more red as you continue to laugh at him.

“Ow it hurts, wait-” You clutch your stomach from the pain of laughing too much.

“Oh yeah? Let’s see how you like it then-” Hyunjae lunges forward, pulling your arms away to tickle you furiously.

You squeal out his name, trying to push him away while he tackles you. As you try to squirm out of his grip, you don’t even realize the position you’ve gotten yourselves into. Your body caged under his as he grabs your wrists and pins them down at each side of your head.

As the laughter starts to die down, Hyunjae looks down at you with heavy eyelids. You look incredibly pretty under him in this moment, he thinks to himself.

You didn’t even do anything in that moment but it was like he felt so drawn to you. Like you were a siren pulling him in. Your breath hitches as he leans down closer to your face, briefly stopping to search for any sign of consent before fully pressing his lips against yours.

This obviously is not the first time you two have kissed. But for some reason, this kiss felt different than all the other ones. You both kiss each other slowly, lips molding like a perfect dance as his hands let go of your wrist and hold you by your waist instead.

And just like the first time you kissed, you find yourself automatically wrapping your arms around him and running your fingers through his hair, pulling his body closer to yours as kisses travel down from your jaw to the most sensitive part of your neck.

You feel your core blooming in heat as his tongue expertly swirls inside your mouth. How it pulsates for him as you feel his hands go under your shirt, stopping right under your breasts.

You suddenly gasp as his hands start fondling your bra covered chest, gently kneading them as he continues to leave small marks on your sensitive skin with his lips.

A choked moan comes out as you feel his manhood throb against your core, reminding you of the thin layers of clothing, your thin pajama shorts and his sweatpants that stand between you two from crossing any lines.

“Hyunjae, wait-” You try to slowly push him off. His head pulls away to look at your face.

“Oh shit. I’m- fuck sorry no chest stuff-” You see the panic look in his eyes. But before he’s able to pull away, you grab him by the wrists and press his hands deeper into your chest.

A deep groan comes out of his mouth as he squeezes your breasts again, feeling your sensitive buds slowly hardening under your bra.

“No it’s not that. I-” You close your eyes for a moment before swallowing the lump in your throat. You feel your cheeks become warm at what you’re about to confess to him.

"I've never done stuff like this before..." you nervously say.

It takes a few seconds for your words to sink in before Hyunjae looks back at you with widened eyes.

“Oh uh- are you sure? We can stop. We don’t even have to do anything more-” He caresses your cheek.

“The thing is…” You pause to slowly swipe your thumb on his lower lip. “I want to-”

You look up at him with the most innocent looking eyes and Hyunjae swears to himself that he’s never seen anyone look at him the way you do. Like he had hung the moon for you. Hyunjae softly smiles at you before leaning to kiss you once again,

"Then sit tight baby… Because I'm about to rock your world."

(Part 2)

367 notes · View notes

waywardstation · 9 months ago

Text

I'm Glad You're Here

It is Akari's sixteenth birthday, and a surprise party is thrown for her. She isn't able to appreciate it as much as she wants to though, and Ingo can tell. Emmet also struggles with facing his first birthday without Ingo, but Elesa is there for him.

HAPPY (VERY LATE) SECOND ANNIVERSARY PLA!! What a wonderful game that has given me many friends and creatively compelled me for more than two years!! I tried to get this out on the date, but lots of things made it very hard to. So now it's out on valentine's day instead, so I'll just excuse it with saying this is my love letter to PLA haha, and it fits with palentine's day, as it contains a lot of appreciating friendships and found family.

I wrote this including three prompts that I had gotten, such as requesting something about Akari or Ingo dealing with their birthdays in Hisui, Ingo and Akari acknowledging the found family dynamic I write them with, and Akari talking a little more about her own family.

OR read it here on AO3!

Enjoy! —————

“Goodnight, Akari!”

“Hope you had fun at your party, Akari!”

“Happy birthday, Akari!”

Standing by the Galaxy Hall’s doors with Ember at her feet, said teen thanked partygoers and bid them goodbye as they trickled out into the chilly autumn night. Protecting themselves from the ongoing rain as best they could, they were quick to make their way down the steps and back to their village homes.

“Oh, Professor! Rei!” Turning away from bidding goodbye to Darego and thanking him for the photos he took, she saw Laventon and Rei were next to leave. “You’re heading out now too?”

“Unfortunately so,” Laventon seemed a bit sheepish, as if apologetic for leaving despite the event having already ended. “Early mornings filled with paperwork are not the most forgiving of late night festivities. Otherwise we’d stay and properly take care of that whole disaster upstairs!”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Akari waved him off with her hand. “I already said Ingo and I would take care of it! Honestly he’s probably already done by now, so it’s fine, you guys can go home! You both already did so much for me tonight with this whole party, anyways; I don’t know how you did it!”

Laventon returned the smile she gave them both with one that was twice as big, seeming very proud with the compliment. “Well it was quite a delight to finally reveal all this, I’ll say; having to keep all of it hidden from you for the last few weeks was by far the hardest part!”

“You did a good job, I had no idea until everyone shouted ‘surprise!’ , honestly.” Akari shrugged her shoulders, giving a little laugh about it. “Thank you for all of this, Professor.”

“You’re most welcome, my dear girl!” Laventon held her in a tight embrace when she stepped forward to give him a farewell hug. “Once again, happy birthday!”

“And Rei, you too; thank you so much for the party,” She next reached out to grab her friend’s arm and pull him into a hug when Laventon stepped aside.

“Well of course-!” He choked out with some strain, crushed in her sturdy grip but doing his best to return the embrace. “You deserved it!”

As the two moved out the door to head back for the night, Laventon gave one last look back, shielding his eyes from the rainfall with one hand. “I hope you have a very good night, we’ll be seeing you tomorrow!”

“Yes, goodnight Akari, happy birthday!” Rei added on, following behind.

“Goodnight, guys!” Akari made a show of waving and bidding them both goodbye, but as Laventon made his way down the steps first, she reached forward and grasped the end of Rei’s scarf, tugging him back.

“Rei, wait!” She whispered, pulling her confused colleague back to her. “Real quick-”

Before he could even protest, Akari reached around behind the Galaxy Hall’s door, and handed him a small woven basket. Holding it out, she waited for him to take it.

“Here, take these. I know the Professor would say no if I tried to give it to him. But it’s for you both, as thanks for putting this whole party together for me.”

Rei studied the basket for a moment. Quickly picking up the sweet smell coming from inside, he put his hands up. “Akari, thank you but we couldn’t take that, those are yours!”

“I know, but please; I love Radisa’s cakes, but I also have a ton of dango from Beni, and Cyllene got me all those imported pastries from the Ginko Guild, and Floaro made me a whole box of muffins…” Akari explained, numbering all the confectioneries with the fingers on one of her hands. “There’s no way I can eat all of them by myself, and I’d rather someone gets to enjoy them rather than let them be wasted!”

“Rei!” Amongst the rain, the professor’s voice called out from down by the units; he’d finally noticed he was gone. “Are you coming?”

Looking back over his shoulder at the call of his name, Akari took the chance to shove the basket into Rei’s hands, to his surprise. “Hey!”

“Uh-oh, yours now!” Akari put her hands behind her back and took a step away from him, a mischievous grin on her face — Rei was now entirely stuck with them. “Guess you gotta take them now!”

“You can’t just- that’s not fair!” Rei seemed stuck between amusement and exasperation as he looked between her and the professor’s direction, caught in the middle of two different options and no proper time to consider them. He shook his head.

“Agh, fine! Thank you for these, Akari, really-” With a free arm, Rei pulled Akari into another quick hug, before whipping around to rush down the steps, protecting the basket as best he could from the rainfall. “Coming, Professor!”

As her colleague made his way down the steps and into the rain, Akari waved him off until he disappeared. Once he was out of sight, the teen’s big smile waned into a more neutral line, and she turned to go back inside the hall. With Ember quick to follow behind as she headed for the staircase, the door closed behind her.

The drizzle continued on.

—————

“Did we miss another spot?”

Ingo glanced over his shoulder from where he stood up on a chair. Akari had entered the otherwise-vacant room, Ember at her heels while she pushed stray paper streamers aside from where they dangled.

“It appears we overlooked the ceiling,” The warden returned to the task at hand, stretching an arm back up to scrub as Akari came near to watch him. “And I’ve overestimated how stubbornly bean paste clings to surfaces once it’s dried. Would you mind holding that bucket up for a moment?”

“Even up there? Man, Beugene really did get it everywhere, didn’t he?” Akari laughed as she retrieved the bucket from the table and held it up to him – she could already hear Beuregard profusely apologizing again to her tomorrow for letting his wurmple get into (then burst out of) her cake. He really could stand to keep a better eye on Beugene, seeing as Miki’s staravia almost flew off with it the other day, but she truely hadn’t been upset at the incident. It had honestly been too impressive seeing just how much cake and paste the little Pokémon had managed to splatter all over the walls, carpet, and guests to feel mad about it.

“Thank you,” Ingo dunked his paste-covered rag into the bucket, wringing the soapy water out generously before going back to work on one last spot. A couple thorough scrapes, and the last of the cake seemed to finally be gone.

Ingo handed the rag back to Akari as she reached out to take it, having already placed the bucket back on the table. She set it aside as the warden took one last look around the room from atop the chair, a final scan. “There. While I wouldn’t be surprised if a Galaxy Team member somehow finds another spot somewhere tomorrow, that should be the last of it.”

“Ok, now get down,” Akari gestured to the floor with one hand while she held the chair with the other. “Don’t want you hurting your old man back.”

“I’m not that old,” Ingo played along with her teasing as he always did. But regardless, he began to step down with a soft grunt that did suggest some tightness, at the very least.

Normally, Akari would have pursued it with more of her usual teasing, like asking how old he really was then — he always came up with something funny when she asked that. But she knew he didn’t really remember his age. And yes, he always said it didn’t bother him in the grand scheme of things. But reminding him he didn’t have that right after they had finished celebrating her sixteenth birthday felt uncomfortable, especially considering he didn’t remember his own birth date either. So she left it there this time, watching him get down.

“Well, exploding cake and its messy aftermath aside, I’d say your party was quite a success; what an array of festivities we had tonight!” With his feet back on the ground, Ingo sang his praises as he set the chair back where it belonged against the wall. “I’m glad to see the sudden rain didn’t dampen the mood; it’s good the professor had opted for an indoor celebration! I do hope you had a good time and enjoyed yourself.”

“Yeah,” Akari began to pick the few remaining scraps of colorful paper out of the carpet, though with a contradictory tone. “I did! It was really nice tonight.”

Ingo’s frown tugged slightly. He pulled down a bundle of streamers and crumpled them together, but he kept a careful eye on her. “…It was all alright, wasn’t it? Because I can understand if the whole, well, cake incident is still upsetting, what with no one actually being able to have any.”

“No, no-” Akari waved it off and turned away from him as Ember handed her a mouthful of paper she had picked up herself, though it also felt avoidant in nature. “Sorry, no, it’s not that. Really, that didn’t bother me! I’m just tired, I guess. It was a really late party!”

Ingo didn’t quite buy it with the way his features held tight. “Well then, that makes two of us I suppose.”

A couple times tonight near the party’s end, he had wondered if something was bothering her. It surely seemed so, but asking unobtrusive questions and gently inquiring if certain things were ok had come up with nothing but reassurances. But still, something felt wrong. As the evening went on, Ingo had been suspecting it went a little deeper.

And when the teen asked if he could possibly stay back and help her clean up, he was afraid it went even deeper than he initially suspected. Like, displaced-person-problems deep. Something he would come the closest to understanding out of everyone here. It was her birthday today after all, being spent in a time period she didn’t belong to. He could easily see it being a day of conflicting emotions, if that was the problem.

But Ingo didn’t know if Akari was simply seeking company from him, or conversation. And if it was as personal as he thought it was, he would never ask about it before she was ready. So for now, he would stick to the former, but he was prepared for the latter if she asked for it.

“Ok, I think that’s all of it.” cramming the last of the colorful paper scraps into a wad, Akari dropped the last of it into a bucket they’d been using for trash. Besides a table standing a little crooked, and a few chairs a little out of line against the wall, it seemed they had restored it to its previously-clean, empty state. “Thanks for staying after to help out, Ingo.”

“I was happy I could be of service,” Picking up the scraps-filled bucket and stuffing the streamers into it, Ingo went for the doorway and stood at the exit. “Before I dispose of this and depart, is there anything else you’d like any assistance with?”

Another chance for her to get out what was clearly weighing on her. But only if she wanted to. Grey eyes patiently watched her as she looked off to the side, clearly considering what to say.

“Um. I’ve got like, a ton of gifts downstairs.” Akari pointed down, in general reference to the floor below. “Would you be able to help me take them back to my unit? Normally I wouldn’t mind a couple trips, but the rain…”

Ingo gave her a flat-lined smile. “Not a problem at all. I’d be happy to help you carry the extra cargo.”

–––––

The drizzle was there to greet them all when Ingo pushed one of the Galaxy Hall’s doors open with his back, holding it open as Akari and Ember hurried out. Carefully going down the slippery steps, they hurried down the empty street to the teen’s unit, burdened with various birthday presents.

“Quiw!” Ember reached the door first, and eager to get out of the rain, squeezed through the moment Akari opened it by a crack. To the teen’s dismay, her Pokémon began shaking the freezing rain out of her fur with a vicious full-body shake.

“Ember, no! You’re supposed to do that outside!” Akari scolded the quilava as she opened the door the rest of the way, but she already seemed resigned to the fact she’d have to dry the floor and walls off later. She opened up her damp blue hanten, now bulging considerably with boxy shapes, to quickly remove the gifts she had sheltered inside it. At least they were still dry.

Ingo stepped into the doorway after her, holding his own similarly-bulging coat closed around the rest of the gifts. Akari retrieved a towel and began to chase after a protesting Ember with it as the warden placed her presents down near the door, but he then stepped back out to wait under the unit’s eave. He wanted to minimize how much rain he tracked inside – he wouldn’t add to the trails of puddles that Akari and Ember were currently leaving all across the floor.

“Ember! You’re dripping everywhere!”

“Qwill!”

Akari was completely absorbed in catching her Pokémon, Ingo could see. He supposed part of him had been curious if she had wanted him to come with her so she could share what had been bothering her – maybe she just hadn’t wanted to say anything at the party, which was understandable.

But now he supposed not, and that was ok. Maybe she’d share another day. Or maybe not at all. But regardless, he had given enough openings for it, so it was now entirely up to her on if she wanted to share or not.

“Well,” Ingo cleared his throat, “I suppose I should get going then, and leave you two to enjoy the rest of your night.” He pulled his cap down further over his eyes in anticipation of going back out into the rainfall. “But I’d like to say that I had a wonderful time at the party tonight, and thoroughly enjoyed being a part of it. I hope today’s celebrations made for a fulfilling and memorable day with those close to you, and I wish for even better ones in the future. Once again, happy birthday Miss Akari, and goodnight.”

“Wait! Ingo, wait-” Akari abandoned the chase. Throwing the towel at Ember (who was subsequently swallowed up by it in an instant), she came back to him. Arms wrapped around his middle and squeezed tightly as she hugged him. “Thank you. For being at the party, and for helping me after. And for the really nice birthday wishes too.”

“You’re very welcome.” Ingo returned the hug as best he could. “Sixteen is a special milestone, after all.”

The restraint that was Akari’s arms only tightened instead of loosening. She stood against him, turning her face into his tunic and let out a long sigh. She didn’t say anything immediately. Ingo wondered for a moment if he had said something wrong amongst those ten short words.

“...Sorry, I know you’re tired and you have stuff you gotta do tomorrow, and you’re trying to leave,” She finally looked up at him. “But, would you mind sticking around for a second? It won’t take that long. But, um, I can make us some tea.”

So she did want to talk to him.

Ingo’s frown once again pulled into a neutral line, his eyes indicating a reassuring smile behind the shade of his hat’s brim. He would certainly be tired tomorrow, but he found that didn’t bother him much in this moment. “Of course.”

—————

“I… don’t believe I follow. What do you mean it didn’t count?”

“I mean it didn’t count, because today can’t actually be my birthday. Like I didn’t actually turn sixteen today.”

With one hand absentmindedly stroking alongside Ember’s back as she curled further into his lap, Ingo watched Akari take the steaming tea kettle from off the irori. The warmth from the pit was a welcome heater against the cold breeze of the cracked-open window behind him — he would have preferred it closed, but Akari liked to listen to the rain. “But today is the date of your birthday, correct? Did we get it wrong? Oh dear, I… I apologize profusely if we did!”

Firsthand embarrassment crept close. No one ever liked to have the date of their birthday forgotten, or gotten wrong. Secondhand embarrassment trailed behind. He knew Akari would never have the heart to tell everyone they got the wrong day after everything they had planned. It must have been so awkward to know the whole time and not say anything for everyone else's sake; no wonder Akari seemed so bothered today.

“Woah, no, it’s nothing like that!” Akari briefly stopped pouring the tea, surprised at how flustered Ingo seemed to get. “Sorry! No, you guys didn’t get it wrong! And I mean technically, today is my birthday. But it's also… not?”

“...While that is certainly a relief, I’m afraid I am still in the dark.” Ingo insisted.

She had told him once that some things felt wrong, like her name. It hadn’t seemed wrong and she certainly felt it as her own, but for all she could remember, she could never recall the name ever leaving the mouth of her friends or family during moments with them. Not even her mother.

She had considered when she was put here, some personal information had been messed with in her memory to ‘protect’ things. She said it would make sense if her name was one of those things. She also said maybe she was entirely wrong and had watched too many time-travel sci-fi movies, a concept he could only dimly recall once re-explained at length.

Ingo couldn’t tell her if she was right or wrong about that. But he was aware of her thoughts on this by now, and he wondered if she had begun to suspect if her birth date was one of those altered things as well.

Setting the kettle back over the irori and getting up with the two cups of tea, Akari handed one to Ingo as she sat down next to him against the wall. Ember, who had previously been comfortable in Ingo’s lap, immediately abandoned him for Akari’s instead. “Um, ok. Let me try and think of how to explain this… Oh, wait- I have stuff I’ve written-”

Leaning over Ember, Akari reached into her satchel, now placed near her bed. She pulled out her Pokédex and set it across her quilava’s back. Ingo, both intrigued and surprised, sat forward to get a better look. She had written things down about this? He watched her flip through the back pages until she reached the sections she had been looking for.

Notes. Dates. Scribbled out nothings. Timelines of the year by its months. Arrows, jumping backwards and forwards on said timelines. Numerous question marks etched deep and dark with frustration.

Page after page. Attempt after attempt trying to understand.

Ingo blinked, keeping down a reflexive mouthful of questions. Whatever this was, it had been bothering her for a long time, clearly. And she had been trying to figure it out by herself the whole time, because this was the first he had heard or seen anything about it.

“Ok, so I remember that before I was put here, when I was still at home, it was almost spring. It was at the beginning of the year, nowhere close to my birthday! But after I got here, and I first showed up on Prelude Beach,” Akari held up the Pokédex, tapping at the page. “I learned that here, it was almost fall. And only a few weeks after my birthday!”

She was tapping at one of the many timelines she had made that took up two pages, surrounded by notes and question marks, and overall seeming to be one of the simpler ones. All of the months of the year, in chronological order. There was a blue dot on March, and on August, a red dot — an arrow connected the former to the latter.

“I skipped like, five months ahead into the year when I was brought here. Kind of. I went back in time, but like, that doesn’t affect my age, does it? So looking at it that way, I really just kind of lost five months, if I went straight from March to August?” The notes lost Akari’s gaze as she blinked up at Ingo, as if wondering if she was even making any sense to him. “Right?”

“Uhm,” while the diagram she had written out certainly helped visualize the jumble somewhat, this was still a lot for Ingo to process. He sat back, scratching under his hat with one hand. “I might require another run-through or two to fully comprehend it, but I believe I’ve grasped the gist of it. That seems probable.”

Perhaps it was because he himself had no birthday, year, date, or even season of his own to compare with as a reference point anyways, but he’d never really given much thought to something like this. It made sense though, he thought. Just because someone went back in time on a certain day, doesn’t mean they’d show up in the past on that exact same day, down to the second. Akari certainly could have showed up here, with the year five months ahead from when she left her own time.

Not that it even mattered much, but maybe something like that had happened to him as well.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, I know all of this sounds so confusing, and all these scribbles probably aren’t helping. It was hard trying to figure this out with nothing but books to use as reference.” Akari seemed to become self-conscious of her rant; she closed her Pokédex and set it down at her side, replacing it with her cup of tea. “But I know dates aren’t the same. It was technically my birth-day today, yes, but not my birthday . It hasn’t been an actual year since my last birthday. I honestly don’t count myself as turning sixteen for another five months.”

“Well, I can understand the conflicting emotions with the celebrations now.” Ingo swallowed down a long sip of tea in order to verbalize his sentiments. He did not understand, though. Not entirely. When he listened to her talk, he heard confusion, and perhaps a little self-directed frustration. He didn’t exactly hear the well-hidden sadness he saw at the party.

This didn’t feel like it was all of it. But he was beginning to suspect he knew what the rest of it was, and he would not broach it himself.

“It was entirely unintended, I’m sure you understand, but all the same, I’m sorry to hear that the party brought up unwanted reminders.” He added on another statement to address it as best he could, more genuine to his true thoughts. “I’m sure the others would be too, if they were aware.”

“I know, I know… and I feel bad about that.” Akari confessed. “But they didn’t know. And I don’t want them to.” She looked down into her tea. “It wasn’t like, obvious that I was bothered at the party, was it Ingo?”

“Not particularly,” He half-lied. It certainly hadn’t been obvious, but it had been enough for him to suspect something, at the very least. He couldn’t speak for anyone else though, and he doubted anybody would ever be able to guess the reason if they did notice anything. “I don’t believe anyone would suspect themselves as the cause of your troubles.”

“You were asking me a lot tonight if I was ok.”

“An exploding birthday cake can be quite a distressing matter.”

The dry humor got a little laugh out of Akari. “…Yeah, ok. But. It’s just…”

Ingo waited.

“I don’t know,” she stumbled, though Ingo could see she very clearly knew. “The party wasn’t really the problem. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate everything they did, because I really did! I know it took a lot of work! But… I dunno.” She stumbled again. “You saw the party tonight. It was huge! And it’s not like it wasn’t super fun, because it was, or that it was too much for me or anything, because it wasn’t , but I kind of just…”

Akari shrugged, looking off to the side. Ingo watched her, patient as she set her cup down on the windowsill behind them and began fidgeting with her scarf.

“I don’t know, I guess I wished my mom had been here to celebrate it too.” Her voice wavered for a moment. “Even though I know that’s impossible right now. I just didn’t want her to miss it. Or more like do it without her, I guess. She would always talk about how turning sixteen was so big and so important, and it was going to be a special milestone. Just like what you said earlier.”

Oh. So it was something he had said.

“I think my mom was looking forward to this birthday more than I was!” Akari continued. “SO I felt bad that I did it without her. And I really miss her a lot, all the time. And I know she doesn’t know what happened to me. And I’m worried about that, and I just… Yeah. I didn’t want her to miss it.”

Ingo bit the inside of his cheek; it was what he suspected it to be – missing her family. Her mother.

But despite all the growing suspicion he let build up inside him over the course of the night, shamefully, he still wasn’t quite sure what to say. Akari’s mother was rarely the topic of their discussions, on account of the teen’s own emotional distress over it. Ingo never tried to bring it up on his own, and treated it with caution the few times she would bring it up herself, but it meant words always came slowly and with much difficulty when they would turn to it.

“That’s why today just can’t be my birthday. I want to be back with my mom by the time it actually is.” Akari kept handling the fabric of her scarf. “Because tonight I just kept thinking about how she was missing it. And I don’t know if I’ll be able to ever have something like that again. And I’m afraid that she thinks that too.”

“Oh, Miss Akari,” Ingo set down his own cup as she looked back up at him, sniffing with newly-misted eyes that threatened to well up. The sign that that was all she was going to say on the matter, and she was done. He opened his arm when she leaned closer to him, and she slumped into his side at the invitation, rubbing at her eyes to catch anything before it could fall. “I’m so sorry, I know you miss her dearly.”

A child separated from their mother. A mother who doesn’t know what happened to their child, or if their child is dead or alive, and is only more inclined to assume the former as time goes on. Except the child is not, and has no way to reassure the mother, or comfort her — no way to tell her she’s still alive, and that she hopes she doesn’t somehow suspect it’s her fault, and that she’s thinking of her every day while trying to find a way back to her.

It should not be this way.

But it is.

Ingo’s heart hurt; did he leave behind some terrible situation like this as well? Broken hearts and unanswered questions? It was easier for him to forget possibilities like this sometimes, when memories were not there to remind him of them.

“I do.” The teen settled more comfortably, rubbing at her eyes again when Ember reached up to lick at any stray tears. Her voice was shaky, but not uncontrolled — she took a deep breath to regain it. “It is really hard.”

Gears were turning in Ingo’s head, trying to figure something out. What could he say to this? She had been upset to the point of tears, and he wanted to comfort her. But he could not offer a promise to her, telling her she’d get back to her own time, see her mother again, and celebrate with her the way she wanted. Because as much as he wanted it to happen for her, he just did not know if it would. And Akari knew he did not know. Telling her something like that would just be empty, and maybe even painful. And he felt that lamenting the ghosts within white-out memories was a different kind of heartache compared to the vivid grieving over separation from one’s mother. Or maybe it was. But he didn’t know if in trying to console her with relatability, he would end up referencing too much loss, or not enough. What could he possibly-

“But it’s been easier. With you around.”

All the overworked lines speeding through Ingo’s mind halted. “...Oh?”

“I mean, you’re like the only other person in this entire world that can understand this whole thing right now. Like, really understand it. Even though I know they’ll listen, I don’t really know how to bring this stuff up to other people sometimes, because these aren’t things that anyone can really help.” Akari went on, seemingly not even noticing that he had mentally stalled. “Like I obviously couldn’t tell Rei or the Professor the party made me feel like this after all the time they spent putting it together for me, that would be terrible. And I don’t know how obvious it was, but I kind of took a long time working myself up to even tell you tonight. Even though to me, you’re like my, um…”

A very heavy pause as she mulled over her words.

“...I don’t know, my time-travel buddy here.”

Akari pet Ember as she talked, who by now had settled back into her lap, seeing as there were no more tears. Ingo found some appropriate humor in the title she gave him, but was otherwise quiet. She wasn’t finishing her sentences with a tone that suggested she was really done; it seemed like she kept wanting to say more but was cutting herself short.

“So… thank you for listening to all that. It’s just nice to have someone to talk to that really understands what I’m talking about.” Was all that came out instead, all that summarized her feelings on the matter. “I just wanna say I’m glad you’re here too, so I don’t feel so out of place, or lost, here.”

Ingo took in a breath, ready to thank her for such kind words and add in a reassurance that yes, he was there for her, but it seemed the moment of silence had led to quick reflection, then overthinking; Akari became noticeably flustered, suddenly leaning off of his shoulder to sit up straight.

“I mean, wait, no-” She stumbled. “I’m… I’m not saying I’m like, happy you ended up here just to make me feel more comfortable or anything, of course not! It’s terrible that it happened, especially the way it did! Obviously! I’m just-”

A pause to gather her thoughts.

“I’m… thankful I have someone else who can understand my situation, and helps me. And I’m not alone in this. Is what I’m trying to say. If that makes sense.” Akari finally killed her choppy ramble by taking a hasty sip of her tea.

“I understand,” Ingo tried to reassure the flush of embarrassment on the teen’s face; it hadn’t come across like that at all. “And as long as we’re being honest, I must admit I hold similar sentiments.”

He leaned his head back against the wall. Staring at the square of dim moonlight stretched across the floor from the window behind them, he watched the shadows that the rainfall projected as it came down outside. She told him she appreciated that he listened and talked through these things with her, but he hadn’t said much of anything yet. Well, now it was time to do that.

“I hope I’ve been transparent enough about just how much your arrival has changed my tracks for the better.” He started slowly, idly turning his cup of tea in his fingers. “From when I first arrived here until our routes crossed, I felt… entirely derailed. You know that. I’m even sure you can recall that disposition from when our tracks first crossed.”

“Yes,” Akari slowly allowed herself to settle back against his shoulder. She didn’t really give their first meeting much thought these days. Looking back, it felt polarizing to compare him to the man she had first been introduced to, now paling as distant and directionless in comparison to how he was now.

“But I’ve regained an amount of myself that I thought was indefinitely lost due to your assistance. I know that I lived in a time period comparable to yours, if not the very same — wouldn’t that be something?”

It had to be the very same, Akari just knew it was.

“I also know that I conducted many exciting battles alongside someone who enjoyed them just as much as I did, if not more. And I know that this someone was similar to me in many ways, and very dear to me. Perhaps family, from what I’ve gathered at this point. And while the identities and locations are still quite blurred, I’ve recovered many fragments that indicate I was fortunate enough to be loved by friends and family, seemingly up until my sudden derailment.”

Akari recalled the times when Ingo first remembered these things. When she first helped him recover shards of these cracked but significant recollections, whether purposely or accidentally.

He always cried.

Whether that was uncontrollably in the moment with her, or later in the evenings when he had resigned himself to the privacy of Lady Sneasler’s den, there were always tears.

She knew it hurt him to recall such loving, warm, comforting memories when all his situation did was serve as a reminder that it was out of reach, had been for a long time, and may still be for much longer. Questioning if it would ever be felt again by the same people who extended so much love to him, and he couldn’t even do them the decency of remembering their faces. Weaponized grief accusing him that it had all been taken for granted – that it hadn’t been appreciated enough back then.

Akari knew, because she would cry over similar things when she was alone at night, sometimes.

But she could do that. She was a teenager. Teenagers could cry.

Ingo was an adult. Adults could cry too, but it always felt harder to deal with when it was them. Especially when it was Ingo. Ingo, someone who always comforted her. Ingo, who didn’t cry.

At least, he didn’t before he started regaining these memories that she’d helped recover.

“But, it…” Akari looked down into her cup of tea, conflicted. In a way, she felt like Ingo was thanking her for simultaneously helping and hurting him. “I mean, it feels like-” She didn’t know how she wanted to phrase it. “-I know it hurts a lot sometimes, to remember. Would you… knowing what you know now, would you rather not have, um…”

It seemed Akari was becoming disheartened with the question, probably beginning to find it an insensitive question to ask. Ingo understood what she was getting at, and she realized that.

“Nevermind,” she finally ended the struggle and cut herself off. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” Ingo reassured her. “It can be quite hard, yes, to know what I’ve been removed from. It weighs heavy on my heart when I stop to reflect on it. But I know I have something to return to now. And while it can be painful at times, it is, to me, a welcome change from the plaguing hollowness of loss and confusion. I would not have, well… myself without you, and for that I am immensely grateful.”

It was heartening to see his words put her at ease, but he realized he was getting off track from what he was trying to express.

“ Ahem, all of this is to say; likewise, Miss Akari, if I had any say in the matter, I would not wish for you to be displaced here either. Yet you are. And as unfortunate as it might feel sometimes, all one can do is make the best of their situation. And there was nothing either of us could have done about our destination, but your presence at this station is a pleasant one, both in company and agency.” Ingo cleared his throat. “I am thankful for our friendship.”

“Me too…” Akari sounded almost choked up again, her voice quiet. “ See, you always know what to say. Thank you.”

The ambience of the rainfall against the unit’s eave became prevalent as conversation died. They sat like that for a while. Whether listening to the rain or replaying the conversation in her head, Ingo didn’t know what it was that Akari was doing. But the relative darkness in the room, the internal warmth of the tea, and the relaxing pattering of rain against the roof outside was a very dangerous combination for him. His eyes were already growing heavy, he should probably get going before he falls aslee-

“Hey Ingo,” The warden started when he felt a bony elbow suddenly nudge him in the side. “When we both get back, I’m gonna have another birthday party, one on my actual sixteenth birthday, with my mom there so that she doesn’t miss anything this time.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Ingo yawned, sitting forward to help rouse himself from the weakening grip of sleep. She was treating an ‘if’ like a ‘when’, and he sometimes warned her about doing that, but he found that right now especially, he couldn’t not indulge her a little.

“Yeah, and it’s gonna have tons of balloons, streamers and confetti everywhere.” Akari leaned her head against his shoulder to look back at him. “Like so much, even five days after the party, you’ll sneeze and confetti will still come out.”

“Every proper birthday party needs that.” Ingo couldn’t help but huff a laugh through his nose at the visual she’d constructed. “What colors for the theme?”

“Everything’s gonna be blue, of course!” She knew that he knew her favorite color would be the only choice. “You know that! Oh, and also, one birthday cake that’s the size of two! To make up for the one that exploded today!”

“What flavor?”

“Chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. So everyone can have a flavor they like. And-” Akari sat up and fully turned to him, like this next part was serious. “I'm gonna have every single one of my friends and family come. So that means you’re going to be invited too! And anyone else you wanna bring! I’ll get to introduce you to everyone there!”

Ingo smiled. Because it did sound nice, truely. But the small smile quickly dulled. Indulgence aside, he didn’t want to encourage setting herself up for hurt. “You know I would love to. And if I can, I certainly will. However… Miss Akari, I truly hate to bring it up, but please be mindful of what we’ve talked about. I wouldn’t want there to be… any hurt. In case our tracks do not run as close as expected.”

Hopeful prospects built upon skewed expectations are terribly vicious if time reveals those expectations are wrong. It would leave deep wounds if they did go back to their own times, only to be separated by a gate of decades that stretched so far, they’d only ever be able to assume that’s what had happened, and never know for sure. But it would hurt more if they had convinced themselves that would not happen and took that as fact.

And so Ingo did not.

And while Akari had said over and over that she did not either, he could tell that really, deep down, she did.

And all of this wasn’t even considering the very real possibility that Ingo might not have a ticket back home like she did. She had told him time and time again that she’d drag him back by the arm if she had to, and stop anything that tried to keep her from doing so, but… what was a teenager against the Unknown?

“I know, I know.” Akari said it with concerning brevity. “But we have to come from the same time. How could we not? You also know what Pokémon gyms are, and contests! And you actually know what double battles are, too. And you know what cellphones are, and pizza, and video games!”

“It is… convincing.” Even though it was more vague than anything that narrowed things down to decades, not a single year, Ingo decided to just leave it there for now. This was not something to talk about at length tonight. Not after all she had just told him.

“So you’re gonna need to come! I really want to introduce you to my mom. I know she’d wanna meet you after all you’ve done for me! Knowing her, she’d probably try and repay you with tons of home-baked things, and I need to warn you she’s going to hug you with the strength of an ursaring trap.”

“Ah, well now I know where you get that from.”

A quick, simple sentence said without much of a tone, but Akari caught the humor of it. She laughed into her tea. “No, hers are like three times as strong as mine!”

With her leaning into her cup, Ingo did not see the playful look she gave him in the stretch of silence.

“And, just thought you’d like to know, she’s single too…”

“O-oh-” Ingo found himself sitting forward suddenly, his ears steaming hot with sudden embarrassment at the implication. Arceus, of all the ways for her to confirm his suspicions that a father probably wasn’t present. Surely not- “I- no no, with all due respect Miss Akari, I don’t think that would-!”

“Kidding, kidding, I’m kidding!” The teen shouted in between laughs, pushing his shoulder playfully and giving him a big, stupid smile. “Geez, you’re always so easy! I know! That wouldn’t work anyways, you’re like… the weird, distant uncle I didn’t find out about until like a year ago, if anything.”

“Weird uncle?” Ingo snorted at the notion, perhaps a bit too loudly — he hadn’t been expecting that, but it was certainly less heart attack-inducing than the former proposition.

“Yes!” Taking his laughter as disagreement more than surprise, Akari shoved his arm again. “I mean, you let me do a lot of things that I don’t think responsible parents would let kids do-”

“Because I’m- I’m not your parent,” Ingo hastily tried to correct her, still somewhat processing the topic. “And I’m not letting you, I’m simply ensuring you’re performing the proper safety checks when doing them!”

One would have much more success trying to properly equip her with tools and knowledge than to try and stop her from doing anything she was set on doing. Anyone who knew Akari well enough would know that.

“Yeah, well, I know my mom would kill me if she knew of all the dangerous things I was doing, and you don’t. There.” The teen poked him several times to drive her point home. “That’s what uncles do. And, you respond to my jokes with more jokes, and you like all my pranks-”

“I wouldn’t say all of them,” Ingo squeezed in, shaking his head but allowing himself to laugh a little.

“-and you let me hang around you like every time I come by, and you listen to my problems, and you help me when I need it-”

“You make it out to be a chore, I assure you it’s not-”

“-and! And! I don’t know how you do it, but you can fall asleep anywhere within like, thirty seconds.” Akari started snickering, looking back at him to see his reaction. “You were doing it like two minutes ago! I’ve only ever seen three types of people do that.” She began numbering off with her fingers, “Dads, uncles, and grandpas. You kind of best qualify for the latter in that area because you’re like, super super old, but…”

“Hey!” Now it was Ingo’s turn to nudge her with his arm – she was already joking with him again. She laughed more freely this time, quickly settling back against his shoulder.

“Point is, you’re um, kind of what I wished my actual uncle would have been like when I was growing up… if that’s not too forward to say. You’re the weird, distant uncle. Except the weird is a good weird, and the distant part wasn’t your fault. I appreciate that you um, basically look out for me here. It helps with missing my mom.” She finished, ending it by returning to her cup for another long sip of tea.

What a confession.

Ingo had known she had grown very attached to him over the months, and he could not deny he had done the same. She had made it very easy, he supposed; her frequent company filled time that had previously been spent alone, and those times were much happier now. And while he had grown to feel some sense of responsibility over her – she did often follow advice or guidance from him anymore, so logically there was some responsibility there – but he hadn’t thought much past it. He never felt like he had to.

However, she basically just admitted she felt like his ward, if he could compare it to anything. He had not known she had grown to see him like that, exactly – he wasn't sure he even saw himself like that – or when that had even first begun.

But it was comforting, in a way. Whether he had a spouse or children before Hisui, he did not know – he very much doubted it, but realistically, he didn’t know for sure. And siblings? Or parents? The scratched-out faces and names that haunted his cracked memories never made it clear. Those people could have been family, but they could have also been just close friends, and while that was certainly family in its own way, it was… hard, not really knowing.

And although he certainly did consider the Pearl Clan his family in Hisui, eternally indebted to Irida and the rest of the clan for their kindness to him, the circumstances of his acceptance had unfortunately felt purely obligatory or pitiful by some. It felt... different. And he didn't know if that would ever change.

So it was nice to hear someone call him family.

Akari had never said that phrase explicitly, but basically confessing of her own volition that she saw him as a member of hers was, in all honesty, painfully consoling and cathartic.

Ingo realized he hadn’t said anything yet. He turned to address the teen; she was sipping the last of her tea, but her cheeks were pink now, eyes down as she pet Ember with her other hand – she had grown self-conscious of her vulnerability in his silent processing, perhaps thinking he didn’t reciprocate the proposed connection. Or worse, he thought she was clingy for it.

She had confessed everything to him that she’d held back earlier, hadn’t she?

“Well, I am glad to know I live up to the expectations then, Miss Akari.” He made sure to give her a smile, still turned down in the corners but clearly, genuinely happy with his eyes. “I believe the feeling is mutual.”

Very few words, but relieving and emotional all the same. Arms reached around his shoulders to give another steel trap hug. “Thank you. For that. And for talking with me tonight. I know I said it would be quick, but…”

“It’s quite alright. I’m glad we could talk as well.” Ingo picked it up when she trailed off, squeezing her back with an arm in a side hug.

Weird uncle.

Yeah, he supposed he could get used to that.

“Ok then, you’re definitely going to need to come to my real birthday party now, no way you can’t.” Akari finally let go of him. Ember leapt off her lap and onto the floor as she moved to stand up and collect both of their tea cups, now empty. “And you’re gonna have to start showing up to family barbecues too! And your own family’s gotta come too, so you can introduce them to mine, and we can get even more get-togethers!””

She was joking, but he could tell she also was not. Another pang of future uncertainty dampened the sentiments, but Ingo looked past it as he made his own move to get back to his feet, and help her put everything away. “I can certainly try my best to do so.”

Hmm. His own family too.

His heart ached. He did wish he could remember them. He found himself wanting to meet them just as much as Akari did, if not more. (Surely though, he did.)

A part of him once again wondered if they missed him the way he missed them. Or the way Akari missed her mother.

—————

“Thank you, Elesa. I know you didn’t have to.”

“Please, don’t even mention it! You know I’d never pass up another opportunity to drag you around with me.”

Emmet pulled his cap down over his eyes as he stepped out of his apartment to join his friend. After he locked the door, the two of them began to make their way down the stairs to the street below. “Though I’m happy to go with you, I'm sorry to hear about Skyla. That was very unfortunate timing.”

“It really was; she said she’s already feeling better, though! She just told me to tell you to enjoy the premiere for her.” Elesa hooked her arm around Emmet’s as they continued down the steps.

It genuinely had been unfortunate timing for Skyla to catch a cold only a few days before the premiere of Pokéstar Studios’ newest movie that Elesa had a part in. But even if she hadn’t, herself and Elesa had long before agreed that they were going to come up with an excuse to take Emmet in her place anyways.

His birthday was not until tomorrow, and while many things had been planned with friends and family to occupy the day with good times and love, Elesa did not want him confining himself to his dark apartment tonight. Things were often just as painful the day before, as well.

“Skyla’s name is on the ticket.” Emmet absentmindedly observed as she handed the decorated slip to him. The dozen pokeballs within his coat weighed heavy for a moment. “And all of my Pokémon will be there, not Skyla’s. Will I have to show them ID or something?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it when we get there.” She reassured him. “Again, last-minute stuff, but I can work that out pretty easily.”

“Mmm,” Emmet hummed. That seemed like it would be his only response. But as he continued to scrutinize the name on the ticket, he spoke up again. “It’s ok, Elesa. I know that this was not last minute.”

While she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, Elesa also couldn’t say this wasn’t unexpected. Emmet had always been very good at picking up on things.

She just didn’t want him to think this was being done out of pity or anything.

Which maybe part of it was, how could it not be? But moreso, Emmet was her friend. And she wanted him to have something to think about other than grief tonight.

“I’ve been saying it’s last-minute too much, haven’t I?” She asked, seeming a little rueful.

“Yes, you have.” Emmet sounded almost amused as they continued down the steps. If he was bothered, he certainly wasn’t showing it. “But you also have not said a thing to me about my birthday all week. That is verrry unlike you.”

Harassing himself and Ingo with silly cards, gaudy gifts, and at least one big activity the week of their birthdays. Making Ingo and Emmets’ birthdays a week-long, inescapable reminder of the big day they shared was Elesa’s style of celebration. Not this.

But to be fair, just like how this year was… a first for Emmet, it was a first for her too. It was a first for everyone. Emmet understood why she was walking on eggshells – their birthdays had very much been an Ingo-and-Emmet thing. One was not without the other, ever.

Except this year, it was.

It was understandable why people would be nervous to bring it up to him in all the ways they had before. They were afraid it would serve as a reminder that someone was not there anymore to celebrate it with him. And they were right, it would. But while Emmet appreciated the sensitivity, he didn’t want a careful birthday where everyone was afraid of how to handle him. It wasn’t intended, but it would be demeaning.

“I’m sorry, Emmet. I just didn’t really… know how to do it this year.” Elesa confessed what he had already known. They were practically at the bottom of the stairs now. “And I didn’t want to say or do anything that would be- I didn’t want you to be alone, or thinking of anything that’ll hurt right now. I just want you to feel as loved and appreciated as you are, not sad. Not on your birthday.”

“I do feel loved.” Reaching the bottom of the stairs and stepping onto the sidewalk, Emmet stopped so that they could talk face-to-face for a moment. “Tonight I was invited to an event that was very much not planned last-minute, with my dear friend, to see a movie that she is in. And tomorrow, I will get to spend the entire day with friends and family. And even after that, when I am back in my apartment, I have all of my Pokémon, who need me as well. You all do a verrry good job of making me feel loved. It is a good birthday already.”

“Oh Emmet,” Elesa let go of his arm to reach out for him. She settled into his shoulder as she gently hugged around his neck. Emmet reciprocated, arms secured around her back.

Emmet knew tomorrow was going to be different. Difficult, certainly. For the first time, only half of him would be there. The reminders were still daily and constant, but tomorrow they were going to be a little sharper, a little more poignant. He couldn’t avoid that. But he did not want to try and bury it – he had already slipped into that once before, and learned how destructive and painful it was. And he certainly didn’t want others to feel like they needed to as well for his sake. He was hurting, and a part of him always would regardless, but he was not fragile.

“And it is ok to talk about Ingo.” Emmet spoke into Elesa’s shoulder. “It will be his birthday tomorrow too. And even if he is not right here at this moment, I would not want him to be excluded from it.”

“Alright,” There was relief in the way she sighed, squeezing him a little harder.

“Thank you, Elesa.” Separating from the hug, Emmet gave her a reassuring smile, though it was not without a hint of melancholy. “You are a very good friend.”

At the edge of the sidewalk, a sleek black car pulled up to them and stopped, engine thrumming quietly.

“Oh, that’s for us,” Sniffing, Elesa carefully wiped at her eye and cleared her throat. “You know, Emmet, I’m really…” She stopped, seeming to think better of it. No more apologies or condolences for tonight, she was supposed to be cheering him up. “...I’m glad you could come with me tonight.”

“I am too, very much.” Emmet seemed doubly grateful for the lighter change of topic. He followed her as she led him over to the car, and opened the backseat door for her. “I have not gone with you to one of these in a while! Last time was several years ago when you took Ingo and me with you to see that terribly cheesy rom-com you had a cameo in.”

“Well, funny you should bring that up,” A bit of Elesa’s playfulness slowly began to show itself again, a smile brightening her features as she scooted across the seat to make room for him. “Because lucky for you, tonight’s movie is also a romantic comedy!”

“Blech!” Emmet made an exaggerated gagging sound as he stepped into the car after her, which sent Elesa into a fit of laughing while he closed the door. “I will be watching this for you, not for the romance!”

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