#apparently you can just jump into here without any bugs or anything

[bellassoblr]

ey bruv the area ahead isn't safe go away

[mynameismckenziemae]

In Case You Didn’t Know

Part 3

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OFC

Summary: The tension builds

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, sexual tension, wet dreams, etc.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Charlie: Sorry to bug you on a Sunday but can you do me a favor and add someone in for me this week? Any day works.

Hayes: Depends. It’s not that old farmer who called me a dumbass when I told him he needed a new knee?

Charlie: Lol, no. It’s my friend Jake. Traumatic tibia/fibula fracture after he ejected from his jet.

Hayes: Wait, that Jake?

Charlie: My best friend Jake…yes.

Hayes: *cough* The one you’re in love with *cough*

Charlie: Maybe I was just trying to let you down easy.

Hayes: Liar. You have hearts in your eyes when you talk about him. 😍

Charlie:🖕🏻 Forget it. I’ll just drive him to Austin. And I am NOT getting you coffee at all this week. You’re on your own.

Hayes: No, I’ll see him. I’ve got to meet this guy.

Charlie: Thank you. He’s not talking about it yet but I think he’s pretty shaken up.

Hayes: I bet. I’ll see you tomorrow and we’ll look at my schedule.

Charlie: Great, thanks again.

Hayes: Anytime.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake smiles a bit more when you eat dinner together at the table that night.

He falls asleep with his head in your lap again, tightening his grip on your thigh when you try to move, so you end up on the couch too; waking up with an awful crick in your neck.

“Hey Jake, let me up. I’ve gotta get in the shower,” you whisper.

“'m so comfy though,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your bare thigh; the slight scruff of his facial hair sends a thrill between your thighs.

You both freeze.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I did that,” Jake says, a blush rising to his cheeks.

“No big deal,” you say, brushing it off. “Need anything before I jump in the shower?”

“I’m good, thanks though,” he replies, lying back down.

He’s still asleep when you put his breakfast on the counter and a note on the coffee table telling him to call if he needs anything.

“Be a good boy for Jake, okay?” You tell Cash with a boop to his nose before heading to work.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake’s on the porch when you pull in a little after 5, throwing a tennis ball to a delighted Cash. He looks better already; more rested and lighter.

You could used to seeing him at home every night.

“How was your day?” You ask as you juggle the pizza you picked up and some PT equipment.

“Pretty good, slept ‘til 10. Haven’t done that in years. Caught up on some TV and then came out here to play with Cash,” he says, petting your tired dog. “You?”

“Long but good. Dr. Hayes can you see you tomorrow over the noon hour. Let’s get your PT out of the way and if you do a good job I’ll reward with you pizza and beer.”

“I’ll try my best, what happens if I don’t?” Jake asks cheekily.

“You get a bologna sandwich and the day-old milk in the fridge,” you tease, knowing he hates bologna.

He looks a little green as he replies. “I’ll do good.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“I’m sweating. Why am I sweating Charlie?” Jake pants from the thick exercise mat on the floor.

You had him do some upper body work to keep him in shape when he gets back to California.

“‘Cause you lift too many weights without enough cardio,” you laugh at the offended look on his face. “I’m kidding. You just haven’t worked out in almost 2 weeks, so you’re a little deconditioned.”

“Apparently.”

“Alright, let’s finish up with some stretching,” you say, kneeling on the floor by him and lifting one of his legs.

“Jesus, your hip flexors are tight,” you say, pushing his leg towards his head.

“What the fuck is a hip flexor?” He grits out, holding his breath.

“Breathe. It’s the group of muscles towards the front of the hip. Right here,” you reply, hovering over his upper inner thigh.

He nods, face red. “Fuck that burns.”

“Maybe you’ll think twice before folding women in half, huh?” It slips out of your mouth before you think.

Very professional.

He huffs out a laugh. “It’s been so long since I’ve been laid, I don’t think I remember how to do that.”

“You too?” You cringe internally at yourself. Shut up.

“Yeah. Almost 2 years,” he replies, looking at the ceiling to avoid your eyes. “You?”

“Grad school, so about the same,” you answer, bending his leg for a different stretch.

“Fuckfuckfuck, cramp,” he grits out.

“Here, turn over and I’ll massage it.”

You help him to his stomach and dig your fingers into his hamstring, the muscle contracted and rock hard, but it eventually begins to loosen under your touch.

Other things begin to harden as your fingers work upwards, his ass clenches and he grunts when your hands almost reach the crease where his thigh and butt meet.

“Sorry, ticklish?”

“Mhmm,” he answers, his tone strained.

“Alright, you earned that pizza. Let’s go,” you pat his leg and rise.

“I need a minute,” he murmurs, face pressed into his crossed arms.

“Shoot, cramping up again?” You ask, ready to help.

“No. I’ve got a uhm…situation.”

“What hurts?”

“Nothing hurts. I’ve got a boner.”

“Oh,” you realize, heart skipping a beat.

He sighs, lifts his hips to presumably tuck himself into his waistband, and rolls back over.

Your eyes flick to his groin and your mouth waters at the thick, hard line of his erection.

You ignore it and help him up, catching him as he stumbles. His face just inches from yours. His eyes flick to your lips before meeting yours. “Thanks,” he says after clearing his throat and stepping back after you hand him his crutches.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Your ‘Liked Songs’ on Spotify plays softly as you sit at the kitchen table as you share the pizza. The Coors are going down easy and soon you’re down to the final 2 of the 6 pack as Jake has you crying from laughing so hard as he tells you of Rooster’s latest antics.

You’re feeling good as you wash the few dishes when one of your favorite songs comes on.

“Give me one reason to stay here,” you song softly before turning to him and pointing your soapy finger at him. “and I'll turn right back around…”

“Sing it, Charlie!” Jake calls, taking another swig.

So you do, dancing along as you approach him.

The energy in the room shifts from playful to tense when you straddle the thigh of his good leg.

“You can call me baby,” you lean forward, brush your lips over his.

“You can call me anytime,” you whisper, meeting his heated gaze, rising quickly when you realize what you’re doing.

“Come on Cash, I’ll take you outside,” you say as you leave the room to cool off.

Jake’s head falls back as he tries to do the same.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

You both go to bed shortly after.

It takes ages to fall asleep as you kick yourself for your actions; tossing and turning most of the night and wake up feeling like you only slept an hour.

You hear Jake softly call your name as you head back to your room in a towel after your shower.

“Yeah?” You ask.

No response.

You hear him grumble again and wrap your towel around you tighter as you walk to his room, gasping when you push open his door.

The blankets are kicked off and he grips himself through his boxer briefs, eyes still closed.

He’s having a wet dream. About you.

“Charlie!” He mumbles, back arching as he cums, coating the inside of his briefs.

His eyes shoot open when you whimper at the sight.

“Fuck.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A/N: sorry this was another short one. I hope it’s decent, I wrote half of it while in the ER waiting for my husband to get a CT after he was in an accident today that totaled my car 😬 he’s okay btw, just very sore.

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing your feedback in comments/reblogs.

Tagging:

@mamachasesmayhem

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

@86laura11

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

@daggerspare-standingby

[anzynai]

Hello :D

I heard requests were closed but available for twisted wonderland 👀

If you don't mind, could you do Jamil and Kalim having a big tickle fight? :3

Have a nice day/night!~☆

-🍓

Bugs

Kalim & Jamil (Twisted Wonderland)

a/n: IM WRITING THIS SO FAST HELPP IM IN A HURRY but this was supposed to be a drabble but then i was like “wait i can turn this into a fic” so here i am. it was a bit hard characterizing them but i hope i did it okay! ANYWAYSSSS enjoy <33

summary: there’s a bug on jamil. thankfully, kalim is there to save the day!

word count: 1.2k

——

It had been a relatively normal afternoon in the Scarabia dorm. Kalim and Jamil were together in Kalim’s room doing their homework. Or more so, Kalim attempting to do his homework and Jamil watching to make sure that the housewarden didn’t get distracted every two seconds. In any case, it was routine for the two of them. What happened next, was not.

“Kalim, focus—” Jamil started, but cut off suddenly when he saw something small fly across the room in the corner of his eye. He whipped his head to the right, the direction he saw it go. But before he has the chance, it zoomed past him again and he got a clearer view. It’s very much a bug and it’s going right towards him! He flinched and swatted, trying to shoo it away, but it apparently didn’t work because he felt it land. On him.

There’s a bug. There’s a BUG on me. Right now!! Jamil thought to himself, panic seeping deep into his bones.

“Get it off..!” Jamil shrieked embarrassingly, shaking his body with no sense of precision or direction whatsoever, while Kalim tried to swat the bug off of him.

“Stay still! I’ll get it for you!” Kalim shouted, determined to help, but Jamil couldn’t do anything but stay still when he felt it begin to move.

He barely suppressed a gasp and a giggle, feeling a ticklish sensation on his spine, as Kalim scurried his hands over the vice housewarden’s body, trying to catch the nimble critter.

“I got it!” Kalim exclaimed, at last, holding a small beetle in his hands. He brought it over to the window, so that it could be free… somewhere else… away from them and off of Jamil.

A sigh of relief escapes Jamil, his racing heart slowing down. Then, just as he let his guard down, Kalim jumped up.

“Wait, I think there’s another one!” Kalim gasped, faux shock on his face. Normally, Jamil would have pointed out that Kalim was a terrible liar, but with his nerves on edge, he was not willing to take his chances in the scenario that Kalim was being truthful. A bug was a bug, afterall, and he does not mess around about bugs.

Instead of flailing, however, he stiffened. He took a deep breath, trying to remain as calm as he could as he tried to remind himself that Kalim was probably just joking… right?

“Is there really a bug?” He said, slowly and carefully, making sure his breath doesn’t waver.

“It’s right there!” And before Jamil can say anything, Kalim squeezes his sides, which tells the servant that his reaction to Kalim touching him seconds before did not go unnoticed.

“W-wahahahahat?!” Jamil giggled, too incredulous to think straight.

“Stop moving! I’m trying to get it off!” Kalim said, but the smile on his face shows otherwise.

“Y-youhuhu liahahahar!” Jamil clamped his arms down to his sides and if anything, that seems to amplify the sensations. Curse him for being so damn ticklish.

“Fineee, you got me! Can’t I just make my best friend laugh?” Kalim shrugged as he used his fingers to poke and prod any part of his body that he could touch. It made Jamil feel as though he was losing his mind as the seconds dragged on.

Without thinking, Jamil reached over to pinch Kalim’s sides. Although they had many tickle fights (with Kalim nine out of ten times being the one to start it), Kalim still seemed unprepared when Jamil decided to fight back.

“Hehehey! I’m tihihickling y-you!” Kalim laughed, his movements faltering.

“This is what you deserve…!” Jamil cried, a half-hearted glare painting his features. Switching the roles found him straddling Kalim as he tickled the housewarden’s sides. Kalim moved his hands from Jamil, instead trying to push at his arms.

“Ahahahaha!” Kalim giggled, a blush taking over his face.

“Not so funny now, huh?” Jamil teased, a smirk on his lips as he began squeezing Kalim’s hips.

“Y-ouhuhu hahahaven’t won yehehet!” Kalim declared, newfound determination in his tone as he lifted his hands towards Jamil’s armpits, squeezing the particularly sensitive flesh. Jamil’s arms clamped down, his tickling weakening. Still, with Kalim underneath him, Kalim continued to scribble around Jamil’s armpits, both of them laughing all the while.

“Stahahap!” Jamil squealed, trying to get the advantage over Kalim again by also going over a spot he knew would give a good reaction from Kalim. His thighs. It was at a bit of an awkward angle, with the positions the two were in, but the vice housewarden was nothing if not good at adapting to.. less than favorable circumstances.

“Wahahahait, nohoho!” Kalim shrieked, kicking his legs. His face was flushed and there was a shocked grin on his face.

“Where’s that cockiness from before?” Jamil let a smirk slip onto his face, feeling confident that he had now gotten the upperhand.

“Nohoho, stahahap! I’m sohahahahorry!” Kalim giggled, bubbly and happy, despite his protests. He wasn’t even fighting much. Not that Jamil was surprised, Kalim had said himself before that he didn’t mind being tickled.

“Sorry? Do you think that’s enough when you said there was a bug on me to tickle me?”

“Nohoho, Jahahamil!” Kalim exclaims, bright. Jamil starts kneading into his stomach, tracing and scribbling along the other’s sensitive skin. The shirt he was wearing offered some protection, he was sure, but not enough.

“So ticklish.. I can’t believe I hadn’t gotten the upperhand sooner. Luck, I guess,” Jamil teased as Kalim curled up, scrunching his neck and shaking his head back and forth. It looked.. a little silly.

“Nuh-uhuhhh! You’re suhuhuper tihihicklish, toohoho!” Kalim tried to say more, but as laughter consumed him, his words died out pitifully.

“Are you sure about that? I’m winning, afterall,” Jamil asked, as he dipped a finger into the other’s belly button, relishing in the howl Kalim let out.

“NAHAHAAH. JAHAHAMIL!” It seemed he was starting to near his limit. Kalim let out a deep breath, but that only resorted in a snort and Jamil didn’t even have to think about how cute and funny it was before Kalim was shouting again. “Y-youhuhu WIHIHIN! YOU WIHIHIN!”

At those words, Jamil stopped and allowed the housewarden to catch his breath, residual giggles leaving his lips every so often.

“Man… and I really thought I was gonna get you that time,” Kalim whined after a few moments, kicking his legs in a pout.

Jamil snickered. “With your sensitivity? As if.”

“I mean,” Kalim sat up, staring at the other. “You gotta admit, you’re pretty ticklish too. I was close this time.”

Jamil coughed into his hand.

“..You wish.” He tried not to blush. Ugh, he hated when people mentioned how ticklish he was. When they did that, he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t true.

“Next time!” Kalim declared, pumping a fist into the air, a resolved and serious look on his face.

Jamil only let out a long and audible sigh. “Hopefully, there won’t be a next time.” He pressed a palm to his forehead, pinching in between his eyebrows, slightly feeling phantom tingles on his body.

“Haha!” Kalim only laughed at that before Jamil stood up and handed him his worksheets.

“Come on, you still have to finish your homework,” Jamil said, intending to change the subject quickly. Kalim groaned, falling back to the ground.

“Ughhh, I forgot about that…”

And so, the night was followed with lots of math equations, alchemy procedures, and yeah, tickles.

[blametheeditor]

Voretober Day 20 | Bond

Voretober Prompt List

First | Previous | Next

If given the opportunity, would you take the chance to go to space and travel the stars? What if the person offering to take you was someone you trusted more than anyone else?

What if that person is no longer entirely human?

MENTIONS OF SOFT VORE

Content Warnings: Soft, non-sexual vore (only mentions for now). Mentions of body horror. Mentions of experimenting on people. Mentions of death and murder, violence. Being trapped against one's will. Dehumanization. Abductions. Cursing. Darker themes/tone

___________________________________

“How far have we gotten?” 

“We’re finally onto the rules of baseball,” Scott says without pausing his sketching. “Which I’m going to tag you in for, but I think I’ll be able to give a decent hologram to work with.” 

He senses more than sees Vincent walk up behind him. Mike is already sitting in the chair to his right, watching a baseball field slowly come to life, but instead of grabbing the chair to his left the taller looks over his shoulder. 

“Nice job, Scotty.” A purple hand suddenly reaches forward, forcing Scott to pause as a finger hovers over one of the bases. “Though, I think this line will corrupt it.”

His eyes narrow, trying to see what Vincent apparently does. “How can you tell? Is it glitching or something?” 

“Or something,” is murmured vaguely. “If you don’t trust me, we can give the hologram a try.” 

“...are you messing with me?” Scott asks, looking up to meet his best friend’s gaze. One that’s suspiciously surprised by the accusation. 

“Me, mess with you? Why Scotty, when have I ever done such a thing?” Vincent asks. 

In retaliation, Scott swipes his hand over his nearly finished sketch, activating the hologram so it becomes a fully interactive 3D image instead of just glowing lines on the page. 

Part of him expected it to glitch sporadically, or possibly crumple into itself before becoming 2D as a mess of indiscernible sketches all mangled together. Neither happens, and he’s left staring at a fairly decent baseball diamond that will be helpful to explain the rules of the sport. 

Vincent thinks so as well, his arms reaching around Scott before closing the book with a loud snap before lifting it high over his head as he walks toward the doorway leading to the giant’s section. “Thanks, Scotty!” 

Scott’s left staring after his best friend, too shocked to do anything. And then Mike’s jumping out his chair with an excited shriek, racing after Vincent. 

That’s when he realizes he was left behind. “Vince!” 

He’s only given a wave as the purple man disappears from sight. Scott quickly climbs out of his chair as well, jogging toward the door before cautiously peering out, uncertain what exactly the current plan is. 

He’s greeted by Vincent sitting cross legged on the floor, grabbing a book big enough to smash Scott like a bug before setting it down in front of him and opening it, not paying any attention to the absolutely minuscule form climbing up his pants. He is careful with the book currently pinched between two fingers, setting it down in the middle of the pages with symbols bigger than it before using a nail to flip the microscopic cover. 

With a wave of his hand, Scott’s sketch is suddenly ten times its original size as it turns into a hologram, making it almost big enough to actually be usable. 

...he better not be used as a living demonstration. 

“Up here, Scott!” Mike waves from where he sits on Vincent’s knee. “Come sit next to me!” 

Scott hesitates. Sends a look up at the smirk hovering tens of feet above them. “You know, you could’ve just told me this was the plan.” 

Vincent smiles before offering a hand palm up. “Surprise.” 

“I hate you,” Scott grumbles as he walks across the fingers, gasping when the hand lifts before he’s properly sitting down, arms pinwheeling in the attempt to keep his balance. It’s only a few seconds before it’s stopping and he can stumble off, but it’s enough to have him whack the nearest digit as they retreat. “Were you trying to make me faceplant?” 

“No way to really prove it.” 

He glares as he carefully sits down next to Mike. “I swear you’re gonna be the death of me.” 

Just to prove it, a finger appears to poke his side, making him fall against Mike as the kid giggles. “Now, when it comes to baseball, you have two teams playing against each other.” 

As if he didn’t just make a lifelong enemy who’s currently planning payback, Vincent motions toward the hologram as he begins to explain the basics. Like the numerous positions, what exactly ‘bases’ are, and it’s not allowed to hit someone with the bat or directly throw the ball at them. 

“Did you play baseball?” Mike asks. 

The purple man pauses, looking down at them with a slightly distant gaze. “I did.” 

“Did Scott play with you?” 

That earns a small smile. “No, Scotty never played. Even refused to be my pitcher when I wanted to practice my swings.” 

“I tried to once, and you complained I didn’t throw fast enough,” Scott defends. 

“You couldn’t even clock a 65.” 

“My fastest was 55 and that was the first I ever threw a ball!” 

“I tried giving you tips to improve your throw.” 

Before he can fire back that simply saying he was ‘throwing it wrong’ wasn’t a tip, Mike is gently tugging on his sleeve. “Why do you have a jer-sey if you didn’t play?” 

“Oh,” Scott murmurs as he looks down at his attire. “This is Vince’s jersey. I was dressing up as one for Halloween.” 

He can see the question in Mike’s eyes since they haven’t spoken about holidays yet, but the kid holds himself back to focus on the topic at hand. “Why does it say W-reyt?” 

“Wright,” Scott corrects with a smile. “Like ‘right’ with a silent w.” 

Suddenly, the fingers are back to delicately pinch the other sleeve. When he looks up, he’s met with an awed expression. “This is mine?” 

“Uh, yeah.” The moment he says it, he realizes what it must mean to Vincent. That if Scott has his jersey, then what about his other items? Everything he owned back on Earth? Were they safely kept as reminders of the person who disappeared, or thrown away to make room for other things? “I...we each got a jersey.” 

His brothers got first pick of course. After a year passed, they packed away the everyday items, like clothing and everything he kept in the bathroom. They didn’t touch his bed or any of his other items, just the things that clearly weren’t being used anymore. But not before they decided to take one of his numerous jerseys for the different sports he played as a reminder. 

Daniel has his hockey. Jonathan his football. Anthony his soccer. Scott his baseball. 

Last time he checked in with the brothers, Vincent’s things were still exactly where they were left when he first disappeared. Though the rest of the room has changed, the second bed taken out along with all of Anthony’s things. Now Jonathan and Anothony share a room, and Daniel is now in the master bedroom. 

They might not have all gotten along, and there were certainly times when they would butt heads with Vincent, but they love their brother more than anything. And even though they were never really close with Scott, they always treated him like family. 

Though he doesn’t know if they let him have the jersey of their brother’s favorite sport because that was the only one Vincent ever properly tried to get him to play, or if they found it too painful to wear something with the same year he disappeared. Because Vincent never asked for a specific number, just whatever got handed to him. Who could’ve known 87 was an omen instead of what the coach randomly picked for the lineup. 

A smile tugs on Vincent’s mouth. A slightly sad one, but mostly fond. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice.” 

“Well, you’re not exactly behind me often,” Scott shrugs. “If you want to wear it, by the way, just let me know.” 

“I’d rather not risk having to grow and ripping it to shreds,” the giant murmurs. “It’s also funny seeing you wear a jersey despite never being a single sport in your life.” 

“Some of us aren’t naturally athletic.” 

Vincent flashes a lopsided smile. “Nope. Others are short string beans with noodle arms who can’t throw an average 65.” 

Scott sputters. “What the hell, what did I do to deserve that?” 

A finger nudges him. “Nothing about deserving, just stating the truth.” 

“The truth!” 

“What’s hell?” 

The sudden question makes him jump, turning to see Mike looking up at him expectantly, clearly having been amused by their argument. But he can only stay silent for so long, especially if something he has yet to learn about comes up. 

And Scott just committed the cardinal sin of telling a child there’s such thing a curse words. 

Vincent guffaws, somehow not managing to throw them off his knee from his movements. “It would be you.” 

“It’s just a place, Mike,” Scott explains, hoping he can distract the kid enough he doesn’t ask why Vincent’s laughing. “You don’t need to worry about it.” 

Big blue eyes turn pleading. “But you said ‘the hell’.” 

God help him. “Yes, but it’s just a phrase, it doesn’t really mean anything.” 

“Oh it means something,” Vincent rumbles as he wipes a tear from his eye. Once he composes himself he leans away from to prop his cheek on his fist using his other knee as an armrest. Gives a wide Cheshire grin that says he will not being giving Scott any mercy. “Well, do you want me to explain, or will you do the honors?” 

“We’re not teaching him!” Scott exclaims, though it sounds more like pleading. 

“Why not?” Vincent grins. “He wants to learn about Earth and humanity. And what’s more human than cursing?” 

“He doesn’t need to know. And if we do teach him, we’d be terrible...” He waves a hand, trying to find the right word. “Alien caretakers.” 

Both Mike and Vincent wrinkle their noses. “Vincent’s my brother.” 

“And those are supposed to teach about cursing,” the purple man agrees. 

Scott freezes. “I’m sorry, brothers?” 

“Adopted. Keep up, Scotty.” 

“You can’t just say that and expect me to know what you meant! I only learned he’s a Colossan a few days ago!” 

“Colossian.” 

“Vincent so help me-” 

“I want to be a human,” Mike interrupts. It catches both of them off guard, looking down at the kid’s determined expression as he looks between the two of them. “I don’t want to be a Colossian. I want to be a human like Vincent, and know how to play baseball, and curse.” 

He looks so proud of himself with such an announcement. Though it doesn’t escape Scott’s attention Mike is watching him like he’s waiting to be told if his want is possible to achieve. As if asking for permission. 

When he glances up at Vincent, his best friend only raises his eyebrows. 

“Okay, one, you don’t need to know how to curse to be human. Two, even though I think you picked the worst role model to have, we can teach you everything you need to know.” 

Mike brightens. “Including cursing?” 

“Including cursing," he sighs in defeat. Ignores the wide smile on Vincent’s face, no need to rub in. “Though I’m not teaching you, that’ll all be on Vince.” 

“Until we get to hell,” the giant sneers. “Though if he’s human now, he needs a full human name.” 

Mike gasps before standing up, unable to contain his excitement as he bounces in place, somehow never loosing his balance despite the unsteady surface. “Like what!” 

“Could give him yours,” Scott muses as he copies Vincent’s current position. “Michael Wright.” 

“I think we can get more creative than that,” the giant says. 

“Like pasta!” Mike cheers. 

“Unfortunately that’s not a proper last name,” Vincent grins. 

“Smith?” 

“So far Pasta’s winning.” 

Scott scowls as he waves a hand. “I don’t hear you making any suggestions.” 

A thoughtful hum emits as amber eyes look down in thought. Then they flick over to the hologram of a baseball field. “Schmidt.” 

It takes a moment for Scott to remember why the name sounds so familiar. “The baseball player?” 

That sells it for Mike. “Can that be my name!” 

Vincent smiles as he reaches over to ever so carefully ruffle the kid’s hair with a fingertip. “Your dad is going to be absolutely livid when he finds out.” 

“Not unless I tell him about baseball,” Mike proclaims. 

“Just make sure you don’t talk about the swearing lessons,” Scott murmurs. “So, Schmidt, should we break for lunch?” 

“Yes!” the kid says before all but throwing himself off of Vincent’s knee. A hand catches him before Scott can yell, though that doesn’t mean his heart automatically settles down as it’s then offered for him to climb into. 

He’s too shaken to speak, silently standing up on wobbly legs that buckle the moment he steps into the palm. He takes a moment to close his eyes, concentrating on taking deep breaths to calm his nerves, opening them once the sense of vertigo is gone. 

“I take it back, both of you will be the death of me.” 

“Come now, Scotty,” Vincent rumbles as he slides the two onto the floor in front of  the doorway. As Mike darts into the kitchen, he shrinks down to offer Scott a hand off the ground. “You’ve only been in space for a little over a month. By the time Mike hits his growth spurt, nothing will surprise you.” 

“That’s a very mild way of saying a teenager will be able to hold me in his hand.” 

“And yet I think you’ll prefer him carrying you around over me.” 

“Maybe, but only after he’s carried you around.” 

Vincent raises an eyebrow. “You think he’ll help you get payback for every time I’ve pocketed you?” 

Scott smirks. “Oh, you’d be surprised how quick he broke at the thought of a Pocket Vincent.” 

[tsuki-sennin]

Who's ready to cry over a little cactus guy today~? Me~? You~? Us~?

Fun~! More little guys~!

Spoilers, I guess...

-Spanner gave Boruto a bad review so he got attacked by a salty Naruto fan who knew that he was right.

-MechaniChani...

-Crab...

-I wonder who exactly made Isaac.

-Awwwww

-Little guy~!

-You're gonna help us, huh Smaphone?

-Sma!

-Funny enough, Faiz and Kaixa have Ride Chemy Cards just like you in the toyline. You'd fit in great~!

-He caught something~!

-Gotta think the way they think!

-Think fast, chucklenuts!

-Hi, MechaniChani :)

-These're just the most

-Delightful little guys

-Ah, there's our conflict for today.

-No teamwork today, huh?

-Rinne didn't really do anything, but-

-Hello there, kiddo.

-"Can you... please take care of this guy?"

-Filling up a flask, eh? I see this is Labyrinth rules. Where's the Fresh PreCure crew when you need 'em?

-Lachesis again today, eh?

-Okay, have fun, be home before dinner.

-Riku, huh?

-Ahhhh, dads.

-This poor kid...

-Yeah, wiping these innocent people's memories isn't a good thing at all. This is probably the first thing that's gonna go.

-Thinking ahead, are we?

-I concur with Rinne here. I don't think that just because he's a kid means he'll be immune to becoming a Malgam. If Malice in Gotchard works the same way it does in Zero-One, I think just one bad fight with his parents can turn him into a Cacturne. And those bastards are terrifying on Sandstorm teams.

-"Too slow, mine now."

-You get graded based on Chemy catches? Oh, that's concerting.

-C

-Church, I didn't even register that this was a church.

-A bit ironic, considering that alchemy can be traced back through Islamic tradition and Ptolemaic Egypt.

-Easy there buddy, I know you're kneeling before Lachesis in a nun habit, but-

-Oh hey there, Mama. Hotaro ran out and... apparently Sabimaru teleported out, but we can help~!

-"MONEY!"

-"Oh... hey. Get outta here."

-Hotaro does know what people want, at least.

-Ohhhh, steel drums~! Enhance the comedy~!

-Hotaro, if you fail at fifth grade math, I swear.

-Oh

-Cram schoolers, man.

-Poor kid...

-"Round 2! Kick the can! I happen to know a can, I know all their weakpoints!"

-Fight bugs with bugs!

-Ohhhhhhh, seems like Sabimaru's a bit of a stool pigeon.

-Don't lie to me, Kurogane. You've got your own favorite little guys, and they go vroom!

-"This guy seriously sucks. >:("

-"And who am I to tell him he's wrong?"

-It's extremely difficult to win without capturing any pieces... but it's extremely easy to lose without capturing any pieces.

-I see Spanner doesn't trust Minato-sensei either.

-How the fuck can he snipe so hard

-"SPEAK UP MAN, I'M IN A WARZONE!"

-Tea time :)

-Rinne's overwhelmed.

-Oh, hey Atropos, what's up?

-Might wanna choose a less conspicuous outfit

-Tonbo~!

-"Just so you know, this'll be on the quiz later. You might want to take out a notepad or take a picture of the screen with your pet smartphone."

-I live for these costumes

-HE ATE THE NEEDLE

-Shoot him! Shoot him!

-Beefed his jump.

-Hawkstar~!

-Hotaro once again relies upon his understanding of elementary school math.

-NeedleHawk!

-Those shoulders are definitely reused from Bravo.

-SABO!?

-Et tu, cactus friend?

-WHERE

-RINNE???

-ATROPOS???

-Well fuck, man! Guess I gotta watch the next episode now!

[luminenwalker]

For all you entrepreneurs out here, blank sens spikes, yellow cloth and insect repellant are selling hot right now. Also wondering, anyone ever feel like they're being watched, after using green spikes? I asked someone about it, and they said 'It's a door, not a window.' //Axol

Been finding bodies ... yeah, hold on before you interrupt. Bodies without any blood in them. So, what's up? There a blood shortage? I know it sells, sure. Some folks are either sloppy or desperate for the red. //Draugr

Swear it felt like I almost walked in on a vein being tapped while I was checking out a place ... don't ask. Anyway, body was still warm. Felt like I was being watched. //Draugr

Just gotta rant heads, favorite turkish grill just got lit up in some pimp’s turf war, as if these pricks need another street corner more’n I need my protein block döner, you could barely tell the difference! And their pilav was the real deal, man... // Franceska

People don't think about it, but there's a lot of religious diversity here.  Holo Jesus and doomsayers. Druggie bug cultists and black magic what-have-yous. Techno collectivists worshipping some kind of machine. Weird stuff. But just people trying figure their shit out. // Draugr

Been encountering some weird shit on the streets recently, a lotta people in accidents, crashes, falls, fits, so far so normal yeah? Well, a bunch of these people had these weird iridescent eyes and seemed to be in some kinda trance, anyone know anything about this? //Enn

Following up on that question about explosives earlier: I found a box of pipe bombs in an abandoned squat not that long ago. Homemade. Probably local. Either way, an influx of explosives is a bad sign. //Draugr

The proof of our failure is that even with the bounty of cybernetic and genetic augmentation we are content to exceed our humanity only mentally and physically, but not morally. //Panzer Kunst:0.1

We who should use our self creation to be angels have made ourself demons with fresh hells to occupy. //Panzer Kunst:0.1

Walking down a sidestreet a little after midnight, heard someone singing up on a roof somewhere. Crisp. Clear. Unfiltered. When was the last time you sang? //The Maenad

They used to say that every time a door closes, another one opens. Problem with Cinci is, every door sucks. And if you don't pick, Cinci will pick for you. //Core

It doesn't matter if you're a whore down on their luck or a hardcore sadistic thug, some heads will still try to jump you in an alley. And that's why natural selection is fake. //Supernova

People always ask me why I wear so much armour? Simple. If someone shoots you, you have a problem yes? Well if someone shoots you and it only bruises? They have a problem. //Death Said

Why wouldn't the corps acknowledge the Shakes exist? They could make serious bank off selling remedies. When the corps go out of their way to not make easy money you know things are extra shady.  //Draugr

Man, what people don't understand is, this shit's all in the game. Some head catches two in the teeth for dropping dime, that's just the game. 'Nother gets a payday for preppin' needles for the girls on the block, that's the game. You either a player, or played. //Zara One

The howling apparition steal your mind in the ochre sunset of your coming birth. The locust will eat your eyes and in turn you will see out of theirs. A multitude. A massless movement intertwined as the dust lands heavily upon the world. //Morlden

This is the Fucker From Flint, got a warning for any listeners all the way in Cinci. //FFF

Flint n' Steel, a local gang of chromed up pyromaniacs are migrating your way, their leader suddenly went crazy(er) last few weeks, screaming he can find the "Burning Ochre Fountain of Flame" or something, and apparently you guys have it. //FFF

Watch out, and turn around and run if you start smelling burnt... everything. //FFF

What? Summerz here already?  Winter went by in a Hazzze for me. THE HEAT IS COMING!! //Burn't

We do this song, this dance. We know the lyrics by heart. Tempos rise and genres change, but we do this song this dance. Knives rise and faces change,  but we do this song this dance. The record skips once again. //Muss IX

DJ Underbyte, checkin’ in to keep yo circuits sizzlin’. I ain’t no fan o’ the corpo man, but man some of y’all need to chill out down there. //DJ Underbyte

Met with the guy a couple times after, not quite a friend but he was a cool dude.  Up close got to see its paintjob, and even got to drive it once. Was fucking wild, and YOU can buy the "Flying Jack" spike from Jags! Tell em "Blue Stripes" for a discount. //Jack

No, I am not, not, am not dead, even in pieces I am more alive than ev-ever. I was broken, but I paid to be-ee f-f-fixed in another way. It hurts, I can barely talk n-now, or see, hear, or even be be moved, but I can watch and listen, with my new eyes. //A Blue Striped Drone

My eyes, eyes they go where I can not, can not... f-fly.  They go by and far to see, gift that viv-vision to me. Don't shoot for the s-skies. Its my true home, now. I might f-fire back. //A Blue Striped Drone

For the first time in history we have the way to influence our own evolution, and of course the corpos who did it all whip up fear and panic about 'muties' and get them killed on sight. Bullshit. //Kalico

This whole city stinks. Stinks something bad, stinks something rotten, like the sensation of gasoline burning the nostrils. Starting to think it's just one big powder keg waiting to blow, and despite being kneedeep in it I can't help but want to strike a match //Herald

Found another black clinic today. What was left of it. That rancid smell from a meat freezer that wasn't cold no more. Rusty surgical tools plastered to an old fast food tray in blood and viscera. Desperation's worse than any gang in Cinci. //Shortwave Sam_Ry

Data day, day to day: Controversy as neo Noh-thrash legends Sucker for Pain announce tickets to their latest tour can only be purchased via 'aten-bucks' the Sinzal backed neuro coins.//Data day

Data day, Day to day: Space Mom and the Magnificent Sapcaddies ( whose lead singer's break with Sucker for Pain lead to 3 arrests  announce the 'More for your money' tour advertised exclusively on the Aten-buck network. //Data Day

All dates to clash with Sucker For Pain's newly anounced tour. //Data Day

Everyday you change a little. Everyday I Change a lot. Everyday is a New day. //New Natti

Been a hot minute, Cinci. Been in a haze, feels like. Anyway, hot tip. Around the dump I spied a game of King of the heap. Head with a metal blade past the elbow on the left arm. Good fighter, good odds if you got the cash. Might be a good bodyguard? Your call. // Tee-J

Who you were doesn't matter. Who you will be isn't a concern. Who you are right now is static. Most of you are boring and sad, staying the  same inside even as some of you claim to embrace Change. //New Natti

But you're still you. Not me. I'm not the same Me you saw yesterday. Real, full Change takes more than just a pretty face.  //New Natti

[jungkxook]

—the love bug. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: spiderman!jungkook + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 20,649 (sorry)

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: every night, jungkook puts on the red mask and flings himself confidently into perilous danger; but that same heart of steel that fuels his will and spirit seems to fail him whenever it comes to you 

⟶ warnings: coarse language, mild violence, jungkook is really shy and cute and dumb bc he’s so smitten, also jungkook’s butt in spandex is nice, needy/clingy sex, oral sex (fem!receiving), face riding, fingering, riding, missionary, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: this is a repost of a fic i had on my old blog! 

You see Jungkook every night without fail.

When the sun has set below the distant horizon and plunges the world into a formidable darkness, driving most ordinary civilians to seek shelter in their homes, he stumbles into the café tucked cozily on the corner of a busy street in Lower Manhattan. The concrete city is still very much alive in a harmonious mix of sirens and the hum of cars but is subdued, muffling under the night sky and is most susceptible at this time to misconduct. Usually, at this point of night, the café you work at is nearly empty, save for a few stragglers that huddle tiredly at certain round tables. Most times, these are students from the university you attend just around the bend, whose weary eyes peer over the laptop in front of them as they meticulously work on an essay due the next morning, only fueled by the cup of coffee next to them.

Though you’ve seen Jungkook plenty of times around the campus of your school, he never once enters the café for the sole purpose of late night studying or writing. Instead, as you come to find over the course of many strange nights, Jungkook stumbles in through the doors sometime after 9 p.m., always with one strap of his backpack thrown over his shoulder. He always looks dishevelled, exhausted, as if he has spent the evening running all over the city of New York; and then he plops himself down into a seat by the window, burying his head in his folded arms that lean on the top of the table. Most times he orders a coffee and though he downs it the fastest you’ve ever seen, he is still somehow able to fall asleep at the table. Sometimes, he hardly ever touches the coffee and lets it grow cold as it rests next to him but he always, without a doubt, falls asleep next to it.

You never wake him. Usually, when you work the late night shifts, you are alone for a handful of hours until your next coworker arrives for their shift. You don’t mind the company anyway, even if he sleeps for most of the night. It’s comforting to at least see he’s resting, though you find yourself snickering to yourself as you watch the snoring boy when it’s just you and him alone in the café. Though you have grown up with Jungkook as your next door neighbour as a child, have attended the same schools and been in most classes together from elementary all the way to your freshman year of college now, and have watched one another mature and change, you have never really exactly gotten to know Jungkook as well as you’d like. Typically, your conversations are short and friendly, ranging from you taking his order at the café and spotting him around campus and asking if he knew the answer to a question for the homework assigned to the class you share with him.

This night isn’t any different.

You’ve become eager, always anticipating when Jungkook will walk through the doors of the café and make himself at home as he routinely does. However, just before 9 p.m. on a Thursday night, when the small bell above the door rings to signal a new arrival, you are immediately disappointed to find that it is not Jungkook. Instead, it is a crude muscular man not much older than you with tattoos that litter his arms and a star inked into the left side of his neck. The sight of him causes you to groan inwardly, forces you to straighten your back a little more, hold your chin a little higher. Most nights the café may be occupied by university students, but other nights you are forced to deal with tasteless strangers that try to intimidate you but instead give you an agonising headache.

You have seen this man before, have remembered the star tattoo and the scar just above his right eyebrow. He has come into the café before and has been the source of trouble more often than not. As the man approaches the counter in an imperious stride this time, you notice the smirk that tugs at his lips and feel the foreboding shudder that runs down your spine.

“Evenin’,” You greet. “Can I get you anything?”

The man’s eyes flicker to the menu above the counter, as if he is pondering what to order. He looks back down at you and then leans against the counter, closing the distance between him and you causing you to take a step back.

“How are you doing tonight, sweetheart?” he asks. “Been awhile, huh? Did you miss me?”

Forcing a fixed smile on your face, you reply shortly with, “I’ve been well. Can I get you anything?”

Apparently, the way you repeat your question in a firm manner doesn’t act as well of a hint as you had hoped for the man. He’s smirking wickedly, clearly enjoying the strain he puts you through.

“I know what you can get me, sweetheart,” he drawls. “When do you get off? Maybe we can meet round back and I can show you what a real man is like.”

“No thanks.”

“Playing hard to get, hm?” he muses. “I wonder what else that pretty little mouth of yours can do.”

Though you are appalled, you swallow your nerves and narrow your eyes into a glare. It can tell you to kindly fuck off, you grimace to yourself. Instead, you turn your back to him, pretending to occupy yourself with cleaning the counter as you mumble blankly, “Not interested.”

The man chuckles. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s just a little fun━”

“She said she’s not interested.”

The familiar voice that interrupts the man causes your heart to leap blithely in your chest and makes you realize you have been so caught up with the man by the counter that you hardly noticed the way the bell rings a second time as the newcomer enters the shop. Standing just behind the man is Jungkook, whose carob hair sticks out in messy tufts and weary eyes are laced with an underlying menace. The man looks from you to Jungkook and must assume the confrontation isn’t worth a fight. The smug smile remains on his face even as he shrugs, muttering something along the lines of, “Whatever, man. I was just trying to have some fun.”

Whether or not Jungkook has scared him away, the man relents and retreats to the door of the café, disappearing outside once more. As soon as the door shuts behind him, you come to realize that you are now alone in the café with Jungkook with nothing but the sound of the flat screen t.v that hangs in a corner behind the counter, faintly playing on the news channel.

“You okay?” he asks, catching your attention. “He didn’t do anything, did he?”

“Oh, no. No, I’m fine,” You say. “Thanks for that, by the way. Though I could’ve handled it myself.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I don’t doubt that but it’s nice to get a little help sometimes.”

You smile up at the boy who towers above you and, despite the fatigue that droops his eyes, his pink lips still unfurl into a wide, radiant grin that brightens his face.

“How long are you here for tonight?” he asks.

“Till close. Then I have to head home and put together a powerpoint for psych,” You yawn as if to emphasize your boredom. “What can I get you? The usual?”

Jungkook looks at you as if you are his saving grace. The smile stretches further across his cheeks as he nods. “Please?”

“Will do. Sit tight, I’ll be right over.”

You spin around from behind the counter, almost immediately jumping to work as you rummage through the shelves. When you’re finished making his order that consists solely of a medium black coffee with two sugars and turn back around to face him, you find him seated at a table off to the side, not far from the counter. His backpack lays discarded on the ground by his feet and his elbow rests on top of the surface of the table, his chin nestled in the palm of his hand; his eyes are fixated on the television screen hanging just ahead and, for once upon entering the café past dusk, he doesn’t lack a sense of emotion. Instead, his brows knit in concern as he is engrossed by whatever is happening on the news.

As you approach his table with his coffee in your hand, you crane your neck to look up at the screen and what has seemingly caught his interest. On one side of the screen is a female news reporter in a pink blouse and gray blazer; on the second half of the screen, you see a familiar flash of striking red and blue that swings from building to building from an, albeit, shaky recording from a passerby’s phone.

“And in other news,” The woman who speaks has a strong, smooth voice as she stares ahead at the camera with a rather sour look, “the masked mystery man, otherwise known as Spider-Man, was spotted earlier this morning when he put a stop to a robbery in an apartment in Queens just before noon. Though most would argue that Spider-Man is New York’s very own masked hero, the New York City Police Department are still searching for the identity of whom they call a vigilante, saying he is causing mayhem in━”

“Some guy, huh?” You muse pensively, sliding the coffee onto the counter next to Jungkook. “This spider guy or whatever.”

The boy in front of you glances down meekly at the coffee and back up at you. His eyes flicker to the screen hanging in the corner once more. “You mean Spider-Man?”

Nodding, you say, “Yeah. He comes out of nowhere two years ago and now he’s everywhere. What do you think of him helping with all this dangerous crime stuff?”

“Ah, well, that’s his thing,” Jungkook says, shrugging. “If he couldn’t handle it, he wouldn’t be helping solve a lot of the city’s crimes. I think he’s pretty cool, y’know, for a masked guy. I definitely don’t think he’s a vigilante or━ or a criminal.”

“You talk about him as if you know him,” You giggle.

Jungkook’s eyes widen for a split second and then he’s furiously shaking his head. “Know him? No, no, of course not! I’m just a… Just a big fan ━ and an even bigger fan of Iron Man.”

He picks up the coffee next to him and lifts it to his mouth for a quick sip, nearly burning his tongue but swallowing his curses.

“I like him,” You confess at long last. “He’s interesting. I think he’s just what we need at a time like this.”

Just then, the bell above the door rings once more and a small group of friends wander into the shop, each carrying backpacks and heavy textbooks. They sit at a table off in the corner and you sigh as you look back down at Jungkook.

“That’s my cue,” You say. “Gotta go, but have a good night, okay? And, Jungkook? You really should get some more sleep.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond but you are already turning away and so he sits back in his seat, defeated once more. He watches as you stride happily to the group of friends sitting at a table to take their order, your hair bouncing slightly under the fluorescent lights. He folds his arms over the top of his table and buries his head in them, though he sneaks one last glance up at you. Despite his eyes itching with sleep, he pries them open just a second longer to watch you smile as you speak with the students and it is the last thing he sees before he slips off into a light and contented sleep.

As you step out into the cool, early Autumn night and shut the door of the café behind you to lock it, the single thought most prominent in your mind is sleep.

You’re exhausted, but the homework still waiting to be completed in your home is the only thing that pushes you to stay awake. You hurry to fish the store keys out of your coat pocket and, with a euphonious chime, use them to lock the front door, ignoring the way the cold breeze nips at your cheeks. You grasp the collar of your coat tighter around your body and then hike the strap of your own bag further up your shoulder as you turn to walk away.

Jungkook had fallen asleep as per usual after your short conversation with him and then vanished an hour some time before you closed, waving a final farewell to you. The rest of your night had been rather slow, with only two more customers entering the café until each person left to venture back out into the cold and leave you alone. To finally be freed from the confinements of the café has you breathing in the crisp air in a deep breath. Exhaling placidly, you cross the street and begin making your way toward your one bedroom apartment which is only a fifteen minute walk away from both the café and your school.

You aren’t quite sure how long you have been walking for when you begin to notice the sound of footsteps behind you. In fact, if you had been listening more intently since the second you left the café, you would be able to recall the fact that these same heavy footsteps had been following along behind you since then. You don’t necessarily see the problem at hand just yet, thinking it to be just another innocent passerby who is coincidentally walking the same way as you. After all, New York City has a tremendously huge population.

You take a left, turning the corner of the street to continue along the path to your home. The only light that illuminates the way are the silvery wisps from the moon that hangs high in the night sky and the flickering street lamps that you pass occasionally. You take another left and strain your ears and hear the sound of footsteps again. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe it was just a random passerby, but most cities weren’t foreign to that of strange stalkers. Holding your breath, you slowly glance over your shoulder at the figure who has been following you and spot a man just a few paces away, the hood of his sweater drawn over his head.

You immediately turn back around, eyes wide as panic begins to settle in. You take another left, then a right, cross the street and retrace your steps back towards the café and each time you hear the heavy footsteps; each time they quicken in pace as does yours. You hadn’t even realized how briskly you were walking until you glance over your shoulder for a second time and see the man once more. Suddenly, you turn a sharp corner and race ahead before coming across an empty and darkened alleyway. You slip into its shadows, your heart hammering wildly against your chest and in your ears, and continue to walk until the brick wall at the very end of the alleyway comes into view. A dead end.

You turn back around and begin walking forward before freezing suddenly. If you go back out there, that man could still be lurking; if you stay in the alleyway, you could hide until you think it’s safe. Your eyes flicker around for something to cower behind and just before you notice the dumpster off to the side, you see a shadow in the corner of your eye. Turning around, you come face-to-face with the hooded man who is all but blocking your path to freedom. Except now, you’re able to stare into his face past the silhouette that his hood draws on his features. Now, you can see the star tattoo on his neck, the scar above his right eyebrow and an image of the man from the café only hours ago flashes across your eyes.

“You,” You gasp. “What do you want from me?”

Behind his hood, you can see him smirk slyly. “I just want to chat to you, babe. What are you doing all by yourself out here?”

Your eyes narrow into a scrutinizing glare. You step forward to walk around him but he grabs onto you, his arm snaking around your waist as he drawls, “Not so fast. I’ve been meaning to get you alone like this.”

Just as you open your mouth to shout out for help, the noise of sudden scuffling in the alley causes the man to stop. It comes with the rustling of the wind and could have easily been mistaken for the sound of a trash can falling over or paper tumbling loosely but it is also unmistakable the sound of footsteps. The man must notice something before you do as he squints further into the alleyway, muttering a small, “What the hell━”

“Come on, dude, that’s seriously no way to treat a girl!”

The foreign voice that drifts into the alleyway seems to startle not only yourself, but the man in front of you. His grip loosens on you slightly as he cranes his neck to look amongst the shadows.

“Well, anyone, for that matter.”

The stranger’s voice is youthful, most likely belonging to a boy around your age. It is oddly calm and nonchalant despite the situation that is unfolding before him, and then he clicks his tongue disapprovingly. As your eyes flicker open, you follow the source of the sound towards the blocked end of the alleyway still veiled by the darkness. Had this person always been there or had they really materialized out of thin air?

“Who’s there?” The man in front of you grunts. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“And why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?” The voice retaliates. He pauses as if he is waiting for an answer and then he is speaking up again. “Let me guess. You’re gonna tell me to screw off or something right? God, you guys are always so predictable and yet you never make it any easier for me.”

The man scowls, his hand drops from your throat as he turns to the looming darkness and hisses gruffly, “Mind your own business, punk━”

Before he can carry on, something flings out of the darkness and lands on the man’s face in a blink of an eye. He immediately lets go of you, grunting in confusion and flailing his arms about. As you drop to the ground, you subsequently bang your head hard against the brick wall and groan in pain, though you’re able to catch a glimpse of what the man is trying so desperately to claw off his face before your vision goes blurry. It is something thin and wispy, made of silver glistening strands that resembles, oddly enough, a spider’s web. As the man fumbles into the darkness, arms swinging clenched fists wildly about.

“Over here!” The boy taunts. “Missed me again! You know, you’re not very good at this.”

You struggle to climb to your feet, clutching your head in agony as you squint into the darkness. From where you are, you can only see the man fumbling around uselessly, the other figure still concealed by the darkness. As you attempt to get a better look, you hear the boy grunt in pain and catch sight of the man just after he had swung his fist into this person’s face, while his other hand had successfully been able to finally rip the mesh off his face.

“Okay, ow, that hurt,” The boy admits.

But before he or the man can continue on, you’re springing forward, mustering all your strength and courage into one impromptu movement. You grab your bag that had been discarded on the ground, heavy with a few school textbooks you had brought with you; you clutch it tightly, race up behind the man, and swing it hard at his head. His actions come to a sudden halt, he staggers forward, and immediately collapses to the ground, unconscious. Then finally, plunged into the darkness of the alleyway, you slowly look up to face the eye of your helper and are met, instead, with a flash of red and blue.

Standing before you, adorned head to toe in a tight suit is none other than the mysterious masked vigilante. He’s much taller in person than you expected, and much more muscular too, though with his face hidden beyond a mask, you can’t say much else about him. Instead, you gasp as you stare up at him in astonishment.

“Hey, nice hit!” he says, an apparent grin in his voice. “That was pretty awesome━”

“It’s you!” You exclaim.

“Me?” He seems confused at first but then he’s straightening up. “Oh, right, right. It’s me! Just, uh, your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. Rescuing damsels in distress is kinda my thing.”

Your amusement for the mysterious hero is quick to fade, however, in wake of the throbbing pain on your head. It makes you aware of the fact that your knees have since grown weak, your mind spinning. When you take a step forward, you are suddenly faint and stumble over your feet, tripping to the ground. Before you can hit the pavement, the boy swoops forward and into view, catching you swiftly in his arms and holding you up.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he says. “Oh man, we gotta get you home. Can you tell me where you live?”

You can feel your lips moving in response, most likely informing him foolishly of the apartment complex you live in. Though this boy has been noted on performing acts of bravery and fighting against crime, he’s still a stranger ━ and, even more warily so, a complete enigma. There was no reason to trust him, despite him helping you only minutes ago, but in that moment you are weak and exhausted. In the very next second, you find yourself slipping off into a deep and tranquil slumber.

When you awaken the next morning, you are first greeted to the bright light of the sun that licks at your cheeks and warms your face. You note the soft plush of the mattress under you, the soft breeze that ruffles your hair, and when you pry your eyes open, you find yourself laying on the bed in your room; your window opened. Just when you begin to think the night before was all just some elaborate dream, you feel the slight tinge of pain in the back of your head and, despite it all ━ despite the pain and despite the memory strange man who had followed you ━ you smile softly at the thought of the boy in red and blue.

The next time you see Jungkook is on that Thursday.

Truthfully, you’ve been eager to find him around campus if only to tell him about your encounter with New York’s masked hero. You hadn’t told many people, safe for your closest friends, though you’re keen to see Jungkook’s reaction as you’ve learned he’s a fan of this spider guy. Wednesday is the only day you have a class with him and so as soon as the boring lecture for your anthropology class is finished, you spot him striding casually out the door and catch up to him just as he’s walking down the smooth pavement of the campus sidewalk.

Word, however, seems to spread fast amongst the friends in your year and whereas you only told one of your friends on that previous Friday about your encounter in the alleyway, Jungkook has already heard the story through misconstrued words at least a dozen times, through whisperings of people that aren’t even your friends. It’s a novelty, apparently, to witness something like this strange masked man. But, naturally, Jungkook is rather surprised when he hears your familiar dulcet voice calling his name.

“Jungkook!”

He whirls around to face you and smiles as he sees your figure walking towards him, adorned in leggings and a baggy school shirt to match the evening’s warm weather. You’re smiling at him, almost as radiantly as the sun that it almost quite literally blinds him as he doesn’t seem to notice the other girl walking just in front of him. He bumps into her before he can step out of the way and hastily apologizes before turning back to you only to see you giggling.

“What can I do for you on this fine evening?” he asks as you approach.

“I’ve been meaning to find you since Friday,” You say. “You’ll never believe what happened on Thursday.”

“I’ve been hearing it all week since then.”

“You have? Who told you?”

This causes Jungkook to chuckle lightly. He hikes the usual one strap of his backpack further up his shoulder as the two of you begin to walk again, “Y/N, everyone’s been talking about it. I guess no one can keep their mouth shut anymore. So tell me: what was this Spider-Man guy like?”

A small smile stretches across your face at the name, your teeth instinctively biting down on your lower lip in an attempt to hide in. Was it just Jungkook or did he see the slightest of pink pinch at your cheeks? When you look back up at him, your eyes are shimmering.

“Honestly?” You reply sheepishly. “I think I’m crushing on him pretty hard.”

Jungkook nearly chokes. When he speaks next, his voice is slightly higher than usual, so he clamps his mouth shut, clears his throat, and tries again. “You don’t say? He must be a real charmer then. Do you, uh, even know him well enough to crush on him?”

“It’s strange,” You remark. “You’re right ━ I don’t even know him and yet I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since then. I guess chivalry isn’t dead after all, huh?”

“What even happened?” Jungkook asks.

“Remember that guy you scared away Thursday night? I got into some trouble with him━ but don’t worry!” You throw in the last few words when you see Jungkook’s brows scrunch in concern. “Spider-Man came before anything could happen. He saved me. I owe him my life at this point.”

Jungkook notes the dreamlike tone in your voice and when he glances down at you, you’re smiling blissfully down at your scuffed Converse shoes. It’s mesmerizing to see you so content and jubilant, beaming like the sun once more that hangs in the clear cerulean blue sky. He inhales a deep breath of fresh air, smells the wafting nodes of freshly ground coffee somewhere in the distance, and exhales slowly.

Nervously rubbing the back of his neck, he looks over at you once more and asks, “Hey, um, so for that anthro project we have to do ━ I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to be partners for it?”

Your eyes light up at the proposition and you nod enthusiastically. “Sure thing. I’d love that, actually. Maybe we can meet up this Sunday to plan everything out and see who’s doing what?”

“Hey, Y/N!”

Just then, you hear the familiar sound of your friend calling your name. You glance ahead where your eyes land on a group of girls sitting on a nearby bench and you wave at them. They gesture you over and you skip ahead a few paces, turning to look at Jungkook. He smiles as he nods.

“Sorry,” You apologize sheepishly. “But Sunday at the café at noon?”

“Sounds like a date.” Jungkook reddens suddenly at the way he words his thoughts and stammers to correct himself. “Not a date! Work date. Uh━”

“It’s a date,” You giggle. “See you!”

Then you’re rushing off to join your friends, leaving Jungkook alone once more. He sighs in your wake, shakes his head at himself, and grudgingly walks away.

That night you can hardly sleep.

You blame it on the stress that comes with being a student, constantly under the strain of a multitude of assignments and upcoming tests. When the clock strikes half past one in the morning just as you are finishing typing up the last sentence of a seven page essay on your laptop (seated at your desk, where you have been for the past few hours), you decide you need a break before you go absolutely insane. Shrugging on a simple cardigan, you tiptoe out of your room, down the corridor to the elevator, ignoring the way your joints that have stiffened in place stretch in a satisfying pop. You’re stumbling out and onto the roof of your apartment building in no less than five minutes, emerging out into the open night.

It isn’t terribly cold and, after inhaling a deep breath of the refreshing air, you sigh in relief and you walk to the concrete barrier at the very edge of the roof and lean against it. Gazing out at the vibrant and lively concrete and glass buildings and skyscrapers alike that build the city of New York, with each window illuminated by a warm glow of light, seems to give you a sense of peace. You can hear the hum of cars, a distant sound of sirens, the occasional honk, and the thump of bass from somewhere in the distance to your left, all amassing into the rhythmic pulse of the city; across from you, in the building complex on the other side of the street, you can see silhouetted figures of perhaps caffeinated students or late night lovers. The sky is empty, blank and dull as it stretches on over the entirety of the city, but you can see the moon, brightly shining in all its glory, bold and proud amongst the artificial light.

A slight breeze disrupts the stillness of the roof, rustles your hair, followed by the looming feeling of not being alone. You hear the sound of footsteps landing softly on the ground and turn around slowly, casting your gaze across the seemingly empty rooftop. But you see it ━ or rather, him ━ in the shadows near the door a bit further off. It’s strange how calm you are in the moment but the presence doesn’t exactly feel intimidating to you ━ especially when you notice the flash of red and blue.

“You again?” You ask humorously.

“Sorry if I scared you.” The voice that carries with the wind towards you is familiar, youthful. “Definitely not my intention.”

“I’m not scared,” You say. “If I can recall amongst your many gritty crime fighting, you saved a cat stuck in a tree a while back.”

The boy chuckles. “Ah, well, just all a part of the job.”

“What are you doing here?” You take a step toward him and hear him retreat further into the darkness.

“Well, you’re probably going to call me weird and insane,” he says, “but I just wanted to check on you. You were pretty out of it when I dropped you off at your place.”

“You’re not stalking me now, are you?”

“No way!” he says. “I was just, y’know, in the neighbourhood. I was actually about to call it a night when I passed your apartment and then I saw you up here. Must be fate, huh?”

“Fate sure is weird,” You muse pensively, pursing your lips. You pause, squinting your eyes into the darkness. “Thanks, by the way. For helping me that night and bringing me back. Is there anyway I can repay you?”

“Repay me? Oh, no, no!” he says. “That’s not what this is all about, I promise. What I do is for the city and for the people. I can sleep better at night knowing thugs like that guy are being taken care of properly.”

“That’s a pretty commendable thing to do,” You say. “You gotta be pretty brave to put yourself in danger each night.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

There’s a smirk in his voice that stretches his words into a confident and smug drawl. You, in turn, smile bashfully. You look down at your shoes and then back up at the shadows.

“Can you step out of the dark?” You ask. “I want to see you.”

“Ah, but then that’ll ruin the mystique,” he points out. “And where’s the fun in that?”

You shake your head at him, pearly white teeth gnawing down on your lower lip to hide the smile that tugs at your mouth. You pull your cardigan tighter around your torso, ignoring the distant sound of a wailing siren.

“Maybe I’ll see you again,” he says. “I have to go but it was a pleasure meeting you━ uh, what was your name again?”

“I never told you,” You say. “And if I do, it’ll ruin the mystique, won’t it? Where’s the fun in that?”

He laughs into the night, a sound so genuine and amiable. “Fair enough. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, despite the terrible circumstances. Try to stay out of trouble, okay? And get some sleep!”

You can hear him moving, as if preparing to leave. You step forward, mouth opening to stop him, but then he is gone, the sound of feet leaping into the air the last thing you hear from him. By the time you rush to the other side of the roof and look around frantically for any sight of him, you spot the mysterious vigilante as a tiny speck soaring from building to building. You smile as you watch him disappear amongst the horizon, bleeding into the glow of lights until he is gone, becoming one with the city altogether.

The days pass in a very typical blur.

Sunday comes and goes much too fast where both you and Jungkook work diligently for a few hours at the café before the rest of the week goes by. You hardly see Jungkook except for at night, as always past 9 p.m., when he stumbles wearily into the café and plops down in his usual seat. And, with the days passing as usual, there are still the consistent reports of sightings of this mysterious Spider-Man. Though you seem to go about your routinely oblivious days, you are all Jungkook is able to think about. You are all he usually thinks about these days, anyway, and all he is thinking about that very Wednesday when he’s supposed to be hanging out with Taehyung.

It isn’t uncommon to see Jungkook with Taehyung around campus. They have, after all, been best friends since the moment they met in their small daycare they attended together. Taehyung is more than accustomed with Jungkook’s habits and knows the boy in and out, including every secret and every crush he’s ever had (which, for the most part, has been you). That Thursday afternoon they are both sitting at the park just across from campus where most students from the school spend their time. Jungkook’s perched on the edge of the large concrete water fountain in the middle of the bustling meadow, with Taehyung reclining on his back, basking in the sun with a bag of chips on his stomach. They both spot you walking by with a friend and wave at Jungkook which causes Taehyung to roll his eyes.

“Dude,” he sighs, exasperated. “Just ask her out already. She already said she’s crushing on you.”

Jungkook looks down at his friend and shakes his head. “No, she said she’s crushing on Spider-Man. Not me.”

Taehyung, who was in the middle of shoving a handful of chips in his mouth, stops suddenly. He pushes himself up, nearly dropping the bag of chips, eyes wide as he stares at Jungkook in utter disbelief.

“Are you kidding me, dude?” He asks incredulously. “You’re the same person, you idiot.”

“But she doesn’t know that,” Jungkook explains calmly. “As far as she knows, Spider-Man is this cool dude and I’m just… I’m just me. Jungkook. Boring and not charming.”

“So then tell her the truth,” Taehyung says. “Y’know, use yourself as your own wingman.”

As he shoves another handful of chips into his mouth, Jungkook shakes his head once more. He’s already thought of this idea plenty of times before but it’s not as easy as it seems. The responsibility that comes with putting on that mask each night is followed by even greater risks for the people he’s around. Telling you the truth could only end in one way, anyway.

“I can’t do that,” Jungkook says. “What if I tell her and she’s let down?”

Taehyung would shake his head disapprovingly at his friend this time and mumble something along the lines of, “You think too much.”

And while that may be true in Jungkook’s case, Taehyung just wouldn’t understand. There is a reason Taehyung is the only person who knows about Jungkook’s secret and he is already endangering the life of his friend. To tell anyone else would only result in a much more terrible outcome for not only the people around him, but Jungkook himself. Still, though, as Jungkook settles back on the edge of the fountain and looks in the direction of the path you had vanished along, there is an inkling of a voice in the back of his mind that nags him, urges him, to tell you.

Jungkook sighs. He finds it ironic that anytime he puts on the red mask and flings himself into perilous danger, he is always confident, never once wavering, and yet when he is just himself, just another mundane passerby, that same heart of steel that fuels his will and spirit suddenly pales in comparison.

If only he could be so brave without that mask.

On Friday evening well into the night when what little stars you can see in the polluted sky begins to blend with the glowing light from building windows as far as the eye can see you find yourself at an overcrowded and clamorous party. You had been more than content with spending the start of your weekend not working but, upon entering the party, you find yourself not nearly enjoying the time as well as you had hoped you would. You’ve long since lost sight of your friends and the guy standing in the corner of the living room who had been eyeing you for most of the night had most certainly not helped with your mood ━ and, if anything, turned you off from drinking.

Albeit still slightly buzzed from the few drinks you had earlier been bestowed in the quintessential red solo cup that defines every high school and college party you’ve been to, you stumble out onto the balcony of one of the rooms for a breath of fresh air and are startled to find you aren’t alone when you spot the figure of a young man leaning against the railing.

“Oh, shit, sorry. Didn’t know anyone was out here━”

As the figure turns around, you are relieved and thrilled to see it’s Jungkook. You stop yourself, clamping your mouth shut, and smile up at him with a dainty hand on your hip. A look of recognition dawns on his face at the sight of you, his own lips tugging into a friendly grin.

“That’s okay,” he says. “Feel free to join me on the balcony of escaped party attendees ━ because I assume that’s what you’re doing? Escaping?”

You push yourself forward to the railing, standing beside him as he turns back around to face the city. “I just needed a break from it all. You? I gotta say I’m pleasantly surprised to see you here.”

He flashes you a sheepish smile, resting his arms atop the railing and leaning forward. “Exactly. Parties aren’t really my scene. My friend, Taehyung, dragged me out here but this balcony seems to be my favourite place.”

“Well, if it means anything,” You tell him, “I’m glad you came.”

When you look at Jungkook, you find him already gazing at you, his lower lip tucked between his teeth. His carob eyes crinkle with the smile on his face and he finds himself still staring at you even long after you have turned away to stare up at the sky. It’s a surprisingly warm night, though you silently thank yourself for throwing on the denim jacket you’re wearing earlier in the day whenever a cool breeze breaks through the city.

“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?” You say after a while. “That we can’t see the stars from the city. That’s why I like camping. Star-gazing and watching the sunrise are two of my favourite things. It kind of keeps me humble in a way.”

“That’s an interesting way of thinking about that,” Jungkook says. “Sometimes I get so carried away by being in the city; it’s kind of nice just to slow things down once in a while.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels that way,” You crane your neck to cast a steady gaze across the towering buildings in the near distance. “The city can be pretty beautiful, too, though.”

“You think so?”

“Of course,” Your eyes twinkle playfully at a sudden thought that seems to warm your face. “And some of the people help make it beautiful. Like that spider guy. What he’s doing for the city is incredible.”

“Ah, right. Spider-Man.” The words leave Jungkook in a small exhale. “You must really like him, huh?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“I can name a few. Like the police.”

“They’re just scared of him because he’s doing their job better than they ever could.”

Jungkook chuckles lightly. He shakes his head as he looks down at his clasped hands and the calluses on his fingers from past tribulations. It’s silent again, in which time the thump of bass from the party ensuing behind you two fills the air, followed by a burst of vigorous chanting and cheering from within.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks suddenly, his voice timid.

“Go ahead.”

Jungkook pauses, thinking. He seems to struggle with forming his thoughts into words as he remains silent for a second too long. “Okay, let’s say I know this person really important to me, and let’s say I have this thing ━ this equally as important thing ━ that I really want to tell them. The thing is, I can’t just do that because if I do, I’m afraid that this person will be let down. What do you think I should do?”

You’re quiet as you ponder his words, looking pensively down at the city below.

“Well,” You hum slowly, “what’s the point in hiding behind a fake front the whole time? It’s kind of like hiding behind a mask your whole life, right? And I think life is too short for that because, before you know it, it’ll be too late. What if you don’t tell this person and you end up regretting it for the rest of your life? I don’t know. Sometimes I think that you just meet the right person in life who’s worth that risk.”

Jungkook turns to look at you and suddenly your eyes meet in a steady, thoughtful gaze. His own stare softens at whatever sort of thoughts flood his mind and you wonder if his eyes have always been that shimmering. His tousled dark brown locks flitter slightly in the breeze, his pink lips parted ever so slightly. You open your mouth to speak, uttering his name in a euphonious whisper.

“Jungkook, I━”

But your voice is cut off abruptly by the influx sound of wailing sirens down below that convey some sort of grim situation unfolding somewhere in the formidable darkness of the night. Both you and Jungkook press yourselves over the railing, squinting down at the crowded streets below just in time to see a flash of blinking red lights and a mass of both police cars, ambulances, and firetrucks. From somewhere in the background from within the party, you can hear a voice exclaiming, “Dude, there’s a fire around the corner from here! The whole street is blocked off.”

“No way. What the hell happened?” Another voice asks.

You exchange a wary glance with Jungkook before slipping back into the party. A small group has formed around the t.v. in the living room, on which is playing the local news and showcasing a burning apartment building, the vicious orange flames of which billow out of opened windows and all but consume the top floor as clouds of gray and black smoke invade the night sky. There’s a reporter talking fast into the camera, describing in detail what had happened to the building on a nearby street, but your eyes can only stay fixated on the monstrous flames. You don’t realize Taehyung has somehow found both you and his friend and is standing behind the other boy, watching the news unfold before him. Unbeknownst to you, his stare flickers nervously to Jungkook and then━

“Shit,” Jungkook curses suddenly. “I gotta go.”

You turn to look at him curiously. “Go where? It’s midnight on a Friday.”

“I completely forgot I had to pick my aunt up from the subway,” he says. “She works the late night shifts and I can’t let her walk alone in the dark like this. I’ll see you both later! Let me know what happens with the fire.”

Taehyung, who seems more than accustomed to Jungkook’s abrupt pardon of his presence, nods. “Will do.”

The boy is already a few feet away from you, rushing toward the front door of the room, but you stop him before he can slip out of your reach entirely.

“Wait, Jungkook!” You call out. He spins around to look at you almost immediately, a look of panic on his face. “Don’t forget we have to meet up at the library on Sunday to work on the project.”

“Got it,” he says, raising his two forefingers to his forehead in a mock salute. He turns back around and begins bounding towards the door, giving you two one last wave. “See you later!”

The door slams shut behind him and the party, despite the group crowded around the t.v., carries on in a cacophonous sound of drunken yelling and dumb music, completely and utterly oblivious. You let out a sigh as you turn back to the t.v., noting Taehyung’s presence still beside you. He takes a satisfying sip of whatever beverage is occupying the red cup in his hand and nods.

“That’s Jungkook for you,” he says. His voice is a tired sigh, dispirited almost, as he thinks of the boy that has been his friend since freshman year of highschool. Just before he turns away, you hear him muttering, “Always putting others before him.”

You don’t see Jungkook that Sunday.

Whether or not he had entirely blown you off or had simply forgotten, you wait and wait in complete silence in the school library for nearly three hours as every call and every text you send to his phone goes otherwise unnoticed or ignored. It is entirely unlike Jungkook to completely vanish and though you want to be mad, you are more disappointed than anything else. You spend your time at a table by yourself, books and papers sprawled out before you, as you try to work diligently on the last piece of writing you need for the assignment to be complete whilst trying to not let your eyes wander to the time on the clock hanging on the wall opposite you but to no avail.

In a corner above the front desk, you see a t.v. propped on the wall that plays the silent image of the news as they recall the events from that Friday at the burning building. Fortunately, that spider guy had arrived before any casualties could happen and you watch, for the third time since Friday, as the recording footage shows the red and blue hero swinging defiantly into the wall of fire and pulling various residents from the fire. A duo of girls sitting next to you croons dreamily over the masked man, especially as they witness him emerging from the fire with a small and unscathed Corgi dog in his hands that, you admit, is rather admirable.

On Wednesday night, you find yourself stuck in the sparkling confinements of the café bound to the six hour shift you were in the midst of completing. It’s surprisingly busy for a day in the middle of the week, though you assume that’s only because each customer is in a rush to seek refuge from the surprisingly cold evening. You hadn’t even been thinking about Jungkook when he makes himself known in the café some time after 9 p.m. You hear the bell ring above the door, feel a short gust of shocking wind, before it shuts behind him. When you look up instinctively to greet the newcomer and lay your eyes on the boy, your words fall short.

You watch as he stumbles forward, his feet practically dragging behind him in worn up Converse shoes. He looks exhausted ━ even more so than usual ━ and judging by his dishevelled hair and crumpled clothes and the way he seems to walk in a daze as if he is in another world, you assume he hasn’t slept in a while. He still hauls his backpack with one strap slung over his shoulder that he drops lazily to the ground beside a table before he plops himself down into the seat with a groan in one swift motion. What’s most strange are the blossoming bruises on his neck and the fresh cut on the highest point of his left cheekbone.

You hate that you’re so weak for that boy; that even though he completely ignored you, you still pity him. Wondering what sorts of trouble he’s been finding himself in lately, you pour him a cup of steaming black coffee and walk towards his table. He hardly even notices you as his head is buried in his folded arms atop the table, though he peeks up past his bangs when you slide the coffee beside him.

“I’d hate to see the other guy,” You hum.

His eyes brighten at the sight of you and he pushes himself up, raking a hand through his unkempt hair in a poor attempt to fix it. “Y/N━”

“Where were you, Jungkook?” You ask sternly, suddenly. “On Sunday? I waited for you for over three hours. I called you and texted you and you completely ignored me. You could have at least gotten back to me. I had to finish the rest of the assignment by myself.”

His brow creases with concern, his stare softening apologetically. He leans forward, suddenly helpless.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I━I didn’t mean to━ Something came up.”

“Whatever, Jungkook,” You sigh. “It’s fine. I can’t stay and chat but I’ll have you know I already handed the assignment in online. You’re welcome. Oh, and the coffee’s on the house. You look like crap.”

You spin on your heel and march away to help another customer before Jungkook can even try to talk to you. He watches as you slip from his grasp, a frown scrunching up your face that is forced to soften as you approach another table. He collapses against his chair and groans inwardly, rubbing his hand over his aching and swollen face. He knows you’re mad at him but he can’t quite tell if you’ll stay like that for long. He doesn’t blame you anyway, but he couldn’t just tell you where he had gone or what had happened. Could he?

It’s much to his dismay that you don’t talk to him the next day, or on Tuesday, or on Wednesday, or on Thursday. He tries to find you around campus but he is always too late and, instead, finds you slipping away from him each time. He pops into the café a few nights and though you work both nights, it’s still much too busy to actually talk to you and so he, doing what he does best, falls asleep at the table as he silently broods. Whether or not it’s your anger purposely driving you further from him or simply life intervening, Jungkook wants nothing more than to apologize ━ if he can even get close enough to you to do so.

Finding yourself on the rooftop of your apartment building isn’t uncommon. Most of your free time is spent up there, either watching the night sky or gazing at the busy city under a cerulean blue sky and golden sun. That Friday night is no different. With no homework and no social gathering to devote yourself to, you sneak off to the roof and position yourself in just a spot where you can see the towering buildings of each borough in each direction you cast your gaze. You would have been content falling asleep up there, with nothing but the sound of the distant hum of cars to lull you and the view of the moon and window lights that act as the metropolis’s stars.

You all but lose track of time, unaware of whether or not you have been there for minutes or hours but you don’t entirely mind. You would be lying, too, if you denied that there was some sort of inkling of hope in you that hoped maybe you would see him again. That is why when you hear the soft plop of feet dropping to the ground moments later, you are not at all startled by the sudden presence, though you are astounded by his arrival, as if on cue. You don’t even need him to speak to know who it is and when you feel the smile ghost along your lips, there is a moment of pause where you question your own sanity for being so happy to see this masked and mysterious man. But he isn’t at all a mystery at this point when you feel as if you’ve acquainted yourself with him well enough.

“You shouldn’t be out here all alone,” The voice that drifts through the shadows of the roof is familiar, gentle. “It’s dark. Who knows who could come up here?”

“Yeah,” You snort. “Wouldn’t want any strangers sneaking up on me ━ or masked vigilantes who seem to be following me.”

You turn to look at him but are greeted with nothing except emptiness. He lingers somewhere in the darkness and you squint your eyes, desperately trying to spot him. He laughs, the sound so silvery and smooth like honey.

“Someone’s following you?” he replies tauntingly. “Do I have to deal with them again?”

“Why are you always hiding in the dark?”

The sudden question seems to cause him to hesitate. It’s silent before you hear his voice wander over to you.

“To add to the mystique?” he says.

“Now that’s suspicious. Maybe I should call the police on you.”

“They would never be able to catch me.”

“Someone’s cocky,” You take a step toward the darkness, in the direction of the sound of his voice. “Did the fame get to you already?”

You hear him take a step back from you and it, subsequently, causes you to linger. You wait before stubbornly pushing yourself forward once more.

“What fame? People want to lock me up.”

“And most people are in love with you. I overheard a few girls gushing over you saving that dog from that burning building the other day,” You giggle. “Does it mean anything to you?”

“Ah, well,” You can hear the grin in his voice, can see the silhouette of his figure not too far from you, “I gotta admit the attention is pretty nice. But no one knows who I am without this mask so it doesn’t really matter.”

“How does that make you feel?”

One step forward, another backward. You pause; at this rate, you’ll have chased him all the way to the other side of the roof.

“I don’t mind. It keeps me humble,” he replies. “But it also stops me a lot of the time, y’know? With this mask on, I feel invincible; with it off, I feel useless. But someone pretty important to me once told me that life is too short to constantly hide behind a mask.”

A wide, genuine smile stretches across your face. You take another step forward and this time he stands still. From where you are, you can see the tall and lean figure, adorned in the signature tight red and blue suit.

“That’s pretty smart of them to say.”

“She is pretty admirable. Much braver than I could ever be without this mask.”

He turns around from you before you can reach him. You watch as he casually strides forward a few paces to the barrier behind him, which he props his hands against to lean on. He seems to be lost in thought, perhaps struggling with some sort of inner turmoil. You tiptoe in suit, cautious as you approach him. You can see the muscles that strain from beneath his suit, the heave and fall of his chest.

“Can I know your name?” Your voice is a gentle whisper that carries to him with the wind. “Your real name?”

When he turns around to face you once more, you’re standing only a few feet away from him. You take another step forward, closing the short distance between the two of you and are made aware of how much taller he really is. The way he towers over you is almost comforting, familiar, that no emotionless red mask could cause you to stray. He’s so much more different up close in that suit. He hesitates before he forces himself to speak.

“I think,” he pauses. He swallows thickly, attempting to subdue the quickening race of his heart as he clamps his fingers into his sweaty palms. “I think you already know my name.”

This seems to pique your interest. Quirking a brow and cocking your head to the side, you stare up at the masked face that gazes back down at you. You aren’t entirely sure what compels you to do so, as it could be a complete disaster and not at all what you are expecting, but you slowly, so very slowly, reach up with your hands to grasp gingerly at his face. The red fabric beneath your fingertips is soft and as your digits brush lightly over his covered cheekbones, he hardly moves. For some reason, you can feel your heart hammering against your feeble chest, can hear it in your ears in tandem with the sound of passing traffic down below. His heart is beating just as fast, though he thinks it nearly stops when he feels your fingers begin to gently pull at the neck of his mask, sliding it upward.

The first poke of tanned skin has your heart quickening, your breath hitching in your throat. You tug the mask the rest of the way off and, finally, step back to look at the mysterious masked hero known as Spider-Man.

Jungkook.

It’s Jungkook.

The familiar boy stands before you, his hair a disheveled mess from the mask, his doe eyes even wider now in timid fear as he looks down at you. Everything is him, from his luscious pink lips, to the freckle on his neck, the piercings in his ears, that tiny scar he’s had since he was a child on his cheek. The city lights and moon illuminate him from behind and he seems nervous as he anticipates a reaction but you are much too busy admiring him. Your fingers trace delicately over the fresh scar on his face that he had brandished at the café only a few nights ago. A breath of satisfaction slips past your parted lips and then you’re laughing silently to yourself.

The boy looks dumbfounded at first, and then he quirks a brow. “What’s so funny?”

“I knew it,” You shake your head at nothing in particular, or perhaps the way you continue to giggle.

Jungkook suddenly looks shocked, though he instantly seems to relax. He studies the smile that stretches across your cheeks in awe, brightening your face in all its glory. “How did you know?”

“Well, you’re not exactly that smooth, Jungkook,” You grin. “The late nights coming into the café, always scratched up and always tired as if you’ve ran all over the city; always getting jumpy when you hear police sirens ━ like the night at the party. Not to mention that one time at the café when the news was on and they were talking about a robbery at the bank and hostages being held and you ran right out of there only for Spider-Man to show up on the scene minutes later. It’s all very suspicious, don’t you think?”

He can’t help the laugh that escapes him, a joyous sound of content. He leans against the palm of your hand that is cradling the side of his face with the scar.

“Right,” he sighs. “All very suspicious.”

His stare locks with yours in a steady gaze and neither of you can turn away. His eyes sparkle like the stars in the sky, lingering with it a sense of hope and content. He is mesmerizing, with the city he devotes his time to saving in the horizon beyond him. It’s near impossible to look away, but why would you want to? It happens much like a blink of an eye, a frail beat of your heart; it comes with the passing of a car whizzing by on the streets down below and is as much startling as the sudden breeze that sends chills down your spine.

He begins to lean forward ━ or maybe that was you? Your eyes flutter shut, your anticipation held with a deep breath, until finally your lips meet with his though you hardly have time to relish in it. Almost as soon as your lips touch, he’s pulling away quickly. He doesn’t move too far and his mouth lingers just over yours. His eyes remain fixated on the curl of your lips for a moment too long before he rips them away to meet your hazy gaze.

“Wait,” he hums. “You━ You said you were crushing on Spider-Man. Does that mean you knew this whole time and━ and like me?”

The question is so like Jungkook; so innocent and silly and genuine that it causes a sweet giggle to bubble at your lips. He’s always been so oblivious to these kinds of things and so maybe that’s what pushes you to kiss him next. Your lips lock for a second time and, though it is just as fleeting, you note with joy the softness of his mouth as it folds over yours. You part from him with a breathless gasp, your nose brushing lightly against his as a smile stretches across your face.

“What do you think, bugboy?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, a playful taunt that makes Jungkook smile wide.

He kisses you this time, slow and passionate as if attempting to pour every single one of his emotions and thoughts for you into the single intimate action. His hands grasp at either side of your face, carefully pulling you closer to him to deepen the kiss and you, instinctively, melt against his broad chest. Your fingers trail up the lean muscle of his arms to twine in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging with yearning. His hands fall to your waist, enveloping you in his body, and when he parts from you, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Can I show you something?”

You nod. His eyes light up and then he’s jumping up onto the cement barrier behind him, turning around to look at you. You gasp from the sudden movement, your stomach churning unpleasantly at the sight of him quite literally standing on the edge of a building only to remind yourself he’s Spider-Man. He’s done plenty more reckless things than this. He holds his hand out, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

There’s no hesitation as you answer him with another firm nod. “Of course. Always.”

“Then take my hand,” he says. “I’ll never do anything to harm you, you know that.”

You do know that. Jungkook wouldn’t hurt a fly; he’s too good and precious for the world you live in and he says yes far too often to people who most likely don’t deserve it, but he knows when to stand up for not only himself but others as well. You are just one of the few he cares for wholeheartedly and you know that.

You reach out carefully and place your hand in his surprisingly cold and large ones. His fingers wrap around yours as he helps you up onto the barrier, holding you closely toward him.

You take a deep breath, shut your eyes, and put every ounce of your trust into this single, courageous boy ━ and you let yourself fall with him.

You’re roused awake by the sound of light tapping against your bedroom window.

It startles you at first, causing you to jolt upright into a sitting position as you look around frantically at your empty and dark room; the only light comes from the city life and the moon outside, shedding a warm glow onto the floor before it. For a moment, you think you had just dreamt the noise but then you hear it again, low and near. You crane your neck to look and first see a shadow but, as the figure shifts into view, you’re able to see the familiar young man in red and blue. Your heart leaps in your chest and suddenly you’re scrambling off your feet, throwing yourself at the window to throw it open.

The night Jungkook had admitted to being Spider-Man and jumped up onto the edge of the roof, holding his hand out to you in a silent question of trust, he leaves you with a night that you swear you will cherish forever. Wary of where he will go but entirely consenting of his spontaneity, he surprises you by carrying you throughout the city, swinging from building to building in an extraordinary feat that feels as if you’re flying; and, as if that hadn’t been a big enough thrilling shock, he brings you to the very top of the Empire State Building, just under the antenna. No one is there and no one can see you and, with Jungkook under the brightening sky with the view of New York stretching out into the horizon before you, you feel as if you have the whole world in the very palm of your hand.

You sit with Jungkook that night, talking, not talking, listening intently to him as he recounts the tale of how he had turned into the masked hero with his peculiar powers, and watching the sunrise from beyond the very tops of buildings and skyscrapers. There are no words to describe the breathtaking view from one of the highest points in the city, watching as the golden sun peaks over the horizon and sets the city ablaze in saturated warm hues of orange, pink, and purple, mingling together in one impressionistic masterpiece that could put even the greatest of painters to shame. The light reflects against the glass panes of windows in a mirage similar to flickering flames that never scathe the city, but instead seem to enhance the beauty it holds.

You never want the night to end but eventually it does and, when he returns you to your bedroom window with one parting kiss, it and Jungkook’s lips are all you can dream about.

A week has passed since then, in which time you’ve done nothing but find yourself growing closer with Jungkook. He’s all you’ve been able to think about these days. So, to hear him and see him at your window is enough to make butterflies form in the very pit of your stomach. You see him sitting on the fire escape just outside your window, leaning against the building looking even more exhausted than usual. Another fresh cut lines his cheek in a stripe of red though he doesn’t seem to mind much for it as he dozes off slightly. You push open the window, startling him awake, and poke your head outside. A weary smile tugs at his lips at the sight of you.

“Well, this is romantic,” You stifle the giggle that bubbles at your mouth. “Thank you for not throwing rocks at my window, Romeo. To what do I owe this pleasure of seeing you at two in the morning?”

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asks sheepishly. “I just wanted to see you.”

His response earns a shy smile stretching across your face. “No, you didn’t wake me,” You say with a shake of your head (though the way you comb your fingers through your mused hair tells him otherwise). “What happened to your face, Jungkook?”

He reaches up to his face, as if momentarily forgetting the cut, winces, and then drops his hand from his face. He grins wolfishly, attempting to shrug it off. “Oh, this little thing? It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I just got caught up in a little fight but I’m fine. I swear. You really should see the other guy.”

The smug tone in his voice as he rambles on makes you stare at him in amusement. You sigh as you take a step back, saying, “Come inside. I’ll clean that for you.”

“Well, if you insist.”

He smirks as he pulls himself through the window and into your room. His eyes wander around the four walls, noting the decor that lines it, the shelves with all your personal trinkets and belongings, the clothes littered on the floor, and the empty take-out box of Chinese food that rests atop your desk. There’s a soft aroma of something sweet that smells like you ━ possibly a perfume or a soap or shampoo? ━ and it makes Jungkook’s head spin pleasantly. He asks about your day and then sits on the bed and, as you tell him about your boring classes as you rummage around your bathroom for something to clean his wound with, he smiles.

He finds your room comforting ━ or maybe he just finds your presence comforting. Either way, over time you find that this would only be a common occurrence throughout the next month. He startles you the first few times he shows up but then you begin to stay awake a little longer, waiting eagerly by the window as you wait for him to arrive. Most times he’s bruised or has small and fresh cuts, of which you either hand him an ice packet or clean the cut; sometimes he isn’t even hurt and instead claims simply that he just wanted to see you before you went to sleep. But each time he listens to you and your day, asking about yourself rather than him and no matter how hard you try to pry information out of him about what had possibly happened to him throughout his night, he swiftly brushes it off. You don’t mind either way ━ you just want to see him as much as you can, anyway.

There is one night, however, where things seem to go entirely different.

You’re curled up in bed reading a book when you hear the light tapping on your window. You’ve come to leave the window pried open slightly as you wait for him, but even so he still takes the time to knock to signal his arrival. You instantly climb to your feet, wandering over to the window and tossing it open with a flourish. As Jungkook climbs in through the small space, you note the tight suit he’s wearing is slashed at the top of his arm and both the skin underneath it and on his face is bruised and cut; other than that, and judging by the cheeky smile on his face, he seems to be ok.

You shake your head at him, smiling gingerly as you muse, “Who’s the damsel in distress now, bugboy?”

Jungkook smirks, prodding your sides with his fingers and causing you to squirm as you walk past him. “There’s no shame in needing a little help every once and awhile, right? I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Sit down,” You tell him, winking up at him. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Minutes later you return to sit by his side on the bed, cleaning his cuts as per usual and, while he has a frozen packet of peas pressed to his bruised and sore shoulder, you are busying yourself by sewing the cut in his suit with blue thread you had found in your room. In the midst of your work, perhaps you press too generously down on his recent wound, as he winces slightly and shifts on top of your bed. You crane your neck to look up at him, studying him curiously. He seems to notice your stare and quirks a brow as he looks down at you.

“What’s up?”

Your fingers stop their work on his suit and, remembering where the cut had broken his skin just slightly underneath the tear, brush lightly over the tender flesh covered in gauze. “Does it hurt?”

Jungkook shakes his head, sitting up a little straighter. “Hurt? No, no, of course not. It just, uh━ It isn’t the most pleasant. But this isn’t the worst I’ve been after a night in the suit so I can handle it.”

Your eyes study his battered face in some sort of admiration, albeit mixed with timid nervousness. What sort of things had he encountered, had he been through, that he won’t tell you?

“Are you ever afraid?” You ask gently.

“No way,” he shakes his head, but not before you spot the confident grin he flashes you. “It’s honestly nothing I can’t handle by now. It’s not so bad, either. It’s kinda weird. I mean, ever since getting bitten, I’ve found the healing process is a whole lot faster.”

Maybe he notices the lingering uneasiness in your eyes, the way you seem to doubt him. He reaches out with his fingers to gingerly brush against the side of your face in a swift flourish as he tilts your head a little higher. He smiles something warm that makes your heart melt as you lean your face against the palm of his calloused hand. To avoid the prying stare he gives you, you smile lightly and shake your head, attempting to change the subject.

“Dunno, bugboy. Are there any perks to this job?”

Jungkook snorts as you finish sewing his suit. As you discard the needle and leftover thread, he says, “There are. Like, for instance, knowing the city is a little safer. Then there’s the fact that Spider-Man seems to have a lot of admirers…”

“I thought you said it doesn’t matter anyway because no one knows who you are.”

“Well, there is you,” he says. “And I gotta say you’re a pretty good perk.”

A blush tinges your cheeks as you sit across from him. Your eyes flicker down the suit that adorns him and you try to bite back the lighthearted snicker that bubbles at your chest. “I was gonna say a perk is this tight suit. At least, for me it is. Your ass has never looked more fantastic.”

Jungkook suddenly bursts out into laughter, throwing his head back. When he looks back at you, his hand finds the side of your face once more and pulls you towards him. With your lips hovering just over his, he mumbles something, anything, just for the sake of responding despite already being lost in you.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then you’re kissing him.

You’ve come to find that Jungkook’s lips are entirely irresistible and the more you kiss him, the more you wonder why you hadn’t confessed to him earlier. He’s gentle as he lets his lips fold over yours, mouth dancing with mouth in a passionate yearning. But there’s a certain type of underlying insatiable hunger that seems to wash over both you and him and fast. Your fingers rake up the side of his face and tangle in his messy locks and soon he’s pulling you onto the bed, onto him. You instinctively straddle his lap, craning your neck so as to deepen the kiss, never once breaking apart for air. But something seems to happen, something that startles Jungkook so deeply. Perhaps it’s the way you grasp his hair a little tighter, the way he heard you gasp when he bites down gently on the side of your jaw, the way your hips fit over his; or perhaps it’s the way you tug off your shirt in an attempt to get closer to him, displaying to him the plain white bra you’re wearing that all culminate into something more. He knows where this is going, you know where this is going ━ and though Jungkook would want nothing more than to carry on, he’s reminded of a terrifying and prominent thought that has always haunted him the moment he made that mask.

You feel the way he tenses beneath you and, in the next quick second, he’s pulling apart from you and you, so dazed and lost, gasping for air, stare down at him dumbfounded.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” You ask. “Did I hurt you? Is your arm okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says weakly.

You grin as you press another kiss to his throat, mumbling into his neck, “Good, then let’s━”

“No.”

“What?”

You sit back on his lap suddenly, staring at him with a flushed face. Your hair is mussed messily, a red bruise blossoms on your jawline that Jungkook had graced you with, and one strap of your bra hangs daintily over your shoulder and Jungkook can’t help but notice how utterly sexy you look. He groans inwardly, tearing his gaze to look up at you. He swallows thickly, wincing at the bright and innocent twinkle in your eyes.

“We━” he pauses and then says, “We can’t do this.”

You quirk a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says slowly, carefully, “we can’t do this. I’m━ I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was thinking but I should have stopped this sooner.”

“Stop what?” Your voice is weak, small. You know what he’s referring to but you don’t want to believe it just yet.

Fuck, I can’t do this, Jungkook curses to himself. If he had just stayed away from you from the beginning, this wouldn’t even be happening. He wouldn’t be about to hurt you or himself.

“Us,” he whispers. “There can’t be an us, Y/N.”

Your brows knit together in confusion but your eyes are wide with fear. “What are you talking about? How can there not be an us? I thought━ I thought you wanted this.”

When he hesitates to respond, you’re quick to slide off of his lap, standing to your feet. Suddenly you’re panicking, embarrassed. He sees the way your lips are pulled tightly in a thin line, the way you rake your hands through your hair, mumbling, “Oh my god,” as you search for a shirt. Jungkook springs to his feet, grasping onto your waist but you easily slither out of his reach, clutching your shirt to your chest. To you, you think you have just made a fool of yourself, nearly striping naked for a boy who apparently doesn’t want you. Jungkook knows this is what you’re thinking and it pains him so.

“No, no, I do,” he says. “I do want this! I just can’t do it.”

“And why not?” You snap hotly. “You’re not making any sense. Either you do or you don’t want us to be a thing.”

“It’s not that simple━”

“It sure seems like it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Any explanation would be better than none,” You say firmly, “and simultaneously making me look like an idiot for looking so eager.”

Jungkook sighs heavily. He takes a step back from you, running both hands frustratedly through his hair, letting the muscles in his biceps flex as he does so. When he looks back at you, he’s solemn.

“There can’t be an us because I’m just gonna put you in danger this way,” he says. “People are out there looking for me! Not just the police, but hardcore criminals, gangs, thugs, murderers. If they find me, or if they find out that you’re close to me or know me, they’ll hurt you too. I can’t have that, Y/N.”

“But I can handle it,” You insist.

“I can’t,” Jungkook’s voice is stern, set in place. “I can’t have that on my conscience, knowing that if you get hurt, it’s because of me. That’s all I ever worry about, from the second that I put this mask on. No one knows about me being Spider-Man and I kept it that way for a reason. Don’t you think I could have flaunted that I was this supposed super cool new hero? I didn’t do that because of you; because of the people that I’m close to.”

“I don’t care,” Your voice is feeble, cracking. “I don’t care if I get hurt. If you can handle it, then so can I! I just want to be with you, Jungkook. I━ I love you━”

Jungkook hears the words you blurt out quickly but he doesn’t seem to necessarily register them at once. A stiff silence settles in the room between the two of you, an undeniable form of the point of no return, except you don’t regret the words you say. You mean them wholeheartedly because you have always admired and loved Jungkook, from the little boy next door to this young hero before you. You stare at him shyly, albeit unwavering. A panic washes over him, drains his face of any colour, and suddenly it feels as if he can’t breathe, his chest concaving in on his shrill heart. As the words begin to register in his mind, he can only sorrowfully gaze at you; but the lack of silence has your confidence paling and soon you’re looking away, shaking your head. A pained expression paints your features and though it hurts Jungkook more than any other wound that has been inflicted upon him in fights on the street prior to this, he knows he has to do this.

You already know his answer before he even speaks it. When he does say the final words that leave you in such an excruciating and unbearable pain, he has already fled, grabbing his mask and escaping out of the window, escaping from you, and into the heart of the city. When he’s gone and you’re alone in the thick silence do his words finally return to you and are the cause of the broken heart you are forced to nurse through muddled tears over the aimless days to come:

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

You don’t see Jungkook the next day or the day after that.

In fact, you don’t see him for three entire weeks. He stops showing up at the café late at night, stops attending the classes he has with you (or maybe he just blends well into the other somber looking faces), stops visiting your window in the early morning hours. Autumn bleeds numbly into the beginning shock of cold that is winter and, though there is no snow yet, you still feel the wrath of the frigid season. And, with the sudden loss of Jungkook, comes the abrupt and unwarranted disappearance of Spider-Man. Maybe it is your fault, maybe it is Jungkook’s fault. Either way, the masked enigma vanishes without a trace after your argument with Jungkook and the city’s crime, now freed from the vigilant watchful eyes of New York’s hero, spikes.

It feels almost as if the city has swallowed him whole or as if he has dropped off the face of the earth and the only thing to remember him by is the sudden havoc that ensues the city. The only thing you have to even know if Jungkook is still alive are the occasional updates from Taehyung who comes to befriend you if only to mention Jungkook every once and awhile just for the sake of easing your worried mind. You’re not so much mad as you are upset, but you care entirely more for his own wellbeing and to not hear from him causes you agony.

There is only one brisk moment in which you encounter Jungkook and it comes simply from a happenstance. You are not at all expecting to see him and nor is he expecting to see you. Rather, you are seated on a wooden bench in the park just beside your school on a day graced with a strange warmth for winter. Wrapped in a scarf and knit hat, you are flipping through the pages of a book for one of your classes when a figure stands before you, momentarily blocking the sun’s light from your view. As you glance up at the shadow cast over you, you are genuinely surprised to find Jungkook standing there. He looks, perhaps, even more so dishevelled than usual, his hair and attire all one negligent mess as if he couldn’t even find the strength to care for himself. Dark circles line his sunken eyes which stare down at you sorrowfully.

“Y/N… Can I talk to you?”

Your heart skips a beat. For a moment, you can’t turn away from him. For a moment, you fear that you will cave into him but then you are reminded of your broken heart. It’s what causes you to act in such haste, shaking your head up at him as you shut your book and shove it into your bag. You stand to your feet and brush past him and he, so caught up in your rejection of him and the own twinge of pain he feels in his heart, lingers by the bench. Then, he is walking after you, his footsteps swiftly catching him up to you.

“Y/N. Y/N, wait! Please, just let me━”

Jungkook breaks out into a sudden jog and only stops when he is standing in front of you. With your path blocked, you, too, come to a halt if only for the benefit of the doubt. He desperately tries to meet your eyes but you look past him, arms folded over your chest.

“Let me talk to you,” he begs. “Away from here. Just you and me. I can explain everything. I━”

“You had your chance, Jungkook,” You quip dryly. “You didn’t have to run away from me.”

“I wasn’t━ I didn’t mean to━” he tries, but is interrupted once more by your strained voice.

“You left me.” Now you are staring at him and Jungkook wishes that you hadn’t even bothered to give him the chance. Once full of shimmering admiration, your eyes are only glossed over with a pained disappointment. “I told you I loved you and you left me. You made me look so stupid and I━ No. No, I’m not doing this right now.”

You push yourself forward, walking carefully around him. He watches as you storm away, shaking your head to yourself. With one last despairing attempt, he calls out to you once more.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I let you down. I know. I’m a failure.”

You stop. Your back is turned to him before you force yourself to look over at him and he foolishly thinks that maybe you’ll give him a chance to properly explain himself. Instead━

“You’re not a failure, Jungkook,” You tell him firmly. “I just━ I need to be alone right now. But don’t leave them. Don’t let them down. The city needs you.”

Jungkook flinches. He wants to call out to you again and pull you back to him, explain everything that is on his mind, but he can’t. Instead, he is forced to watch you walk away from him until you disappear amongst the crowd and even then he doesn’t move. He knows you’re disappointed with him.

He knows the whole city is disappointed with him ━ but the only person he wants to impress is you and he fears he��s ruined his only chance to.

You hardly seem to sleep at night anymore, instead too caught up in the thoughts that plague your dreams. Instead of going to the roof as you usually do when you can’t sleep, you find yourself lying helplessly in your bed, staring up at the empty night sky through your window. One night, as you’re dozing off on your bed, your eyes blinking wearily as they try to focus on the shimmering moon, you begin to hear a noise. It’s similar to a light tapping, though it drowns out in the sound of a siren from somewhere down below. At first you believe you have just dreamt it but then you hear a loud thud, slightly muffled from somewhere outside your window. It jolts you awake, has you pushing yourself up into a sitting position, and glancing around your room for any sign of something that may have fallen in there before noticing a flash of movement from the corner of your eye.

Red and blue.

Interest piques your drowsy mind at the thought of it being Jungkook but why would he be returning to you now? You would have been entirely set on begrudgingly flopping back down onto your bed and turning your back to him had you not felt that dreadful feeling that something was terribly wrong. You can’t hear his voice and when you turn to get a better look, you find him standing on the fire escape just outside your window, slumped dangerously against the wall with his back to you. It is that dreaded feeling that pushes you out of your bed, drags you to your window which you lightly throw open, only to be met with a sight that leaves you in horrific shock.

Jungkook is adorned in his usual tight red and blue suit, though his mask is off and gives you a clear view of his weary face, now muted in colour, that your eyes land on first. His eyes are shut, his head rests against the brick wall of the building, and his skin is marked with dirt and grime, bruises and dried blood. As your eyes trail lower, following the curve of his arms to his hands that cradle his side, you finally spot the large wound from beneath his fingertips on the left of his abdomen, shimmering a bright crimson red. Immediately your heart sinks to your stomach as you gasp loudly.

“Oh my god! Jungkook!”

Shimmying your way through the window to get closer to the boy hardly has him stirring. Your hands come out to grasp at his face, forcing him from his slouched position.

“Jungkook, can you hear me? What the hell happened?”

His eyes flicker open momentarily at the touch of your warm fingers and he musters a small smirk, the corners of his lips lifting up just slightly.

“It’s just a scratch,” he mumbles hoarsely. “You should definitely see the other guy now.”

“You’re an idiot,” You grumble, your eyebrows knitting into a frown. “Why are you here? You should have gone to the hospital! I’m taking you right now━”

“No, no,” he protests stubbornly. He shifts his weight and immediately flinches from the pain. “No, you can’t. I’ll be okay. I just━ I need some time to rest.”

A deep sigh exhales past your parted lips at the mention of what had happened the night he fled so suddenly. Instead, you brush off the memory and give him a small shake of your head. “Here, stop talking. Let me help you get inside and I’ll see what I can do for you. This is gonna hurt a bit but can you move?”

Jungkook nods. As you wrap your arm carefully around his waist to shift him over to the window, he sucks in a deep breath and pushes himself forward. You try to help as he stiffly climbs in through the small window, grunting in pain as he does so, and then stumbling into your room and bumping into your desk next to the window, knocking a few trinkets down. As he leans dangerously against your now skewed desk, you hurry through the window and help him to his feet, pulling him over to your bed.

Despite the way he had left you so suddenly days ago, there is no air of stiffness in the room. The only thing that surrounds the two of you is a melancholic silence as you rummage around your room for the medkit you knew you had stowed away eons ago. For the most part, Jungkook patches himself up, downing a couple of painkillers, cleaning his wound in his abdomen and stitching it closed with a steady hand that has evidently done this before. You sit across from him in your desk chair, watching him intently as he sits on your bed, having shrugged off the top part of his suit and leaving his torso exposed. Other than the blood and dirt that cakes his golden skin, you take note of the toned muscles that make his abs and the way they flex in tandem with every time he winces as he tugs at his wound.

When he’s done, the silence is still unmoving. Jungkook wants to speak but his throat is dry and any time he dares open his mouth to say something, anything, he immediately recoils. It’s only when you’re helping him into your bathroom so he can take a shower does he finally gather the courage he needed all this time without his mask on. Before you can turn to walk away on him, he catches your attention by calling your name. When he speaks next, his voice is faint, terrified.

“I’m sorry.”

He gulps when you turn to look up at him and suddenly he’s made aware of the fact that the two of you are cramped so closely together in your small bathroom. It makes the shame he feels more prominent as he looks you in the eyes.

“You were the first person I could think of when this happened,” he says. “I━ I know I have no right to be here after what I did to you but I just needed someone. I needed you.”

Your heart flutters at his words though you hide this feeble act by turning away from him. “It’s whatever, Jungkook,” He hears you mumble faintly, your back to him. “Anything I can do to help.”

He wants to say something more but he hesitates again. He watches as you take a deep breath, the heave of your shoulders under a heavy weight, before you ultimately walk out of the door and shut it behind you, leaving it slightly ajar. You linger in your bedroom, standing in front of your window as you gaze out, absentmindedly gnawing on your lower lip as you fold your arms tighter around your torso. You hear the shower switch on, let the calming sound of falling water wash over you, and shut your eyes momentarily. You can still see the light from the bathroom pouring out into the darkness of your room from the angled door, and can see the steam start to cloud the mirror.

There’s something so indistinctly intimate about having him in your shower in the next room over after days of avoiding one another. You have every right to be enraged and upset with him and yet you aren’t. You can’t bring yourself to ever hate the boy in the room over. You understand why he left so abruptly and it makes sense but now, in that moment in time, with nothing but a wall dividing you two, there is a certain type of craving you can’t subdue. A craving and a yearning to be closer to him; to tell him how you feel before, if even, he decides to flee in the morning after.

You blame it on your stubbornness that pushes you forward. Really, it seems to happen in such a haze, a rush of adrenaline. One moment, you’re standing by the window; in the next moment, you’re by the bathroom door, your fingers clutching the handle. As you push it open, you can only see a misty silhouette of Jungkook’s figure from beyond the steamed glass doors of the shower. Your heart is hammering against your chest as you walk to the shower, slowly kicking off your shorts as you go.

Jungkook must hear you as you make your way into the bathroom because as soon as you carefully slide open the glass door, he’s already staring at you with a lack of surprise, noting the baggy t-shirt you wear and the way his heart flips when he imagines you in a similar shirt of his. You only meet his curious eyes, noting the water that trickles down his toned and glistening body and flattens his usual unkempt hair into his lashes. He shakes his hair out of his eyes and suddenly he looks remorseful. It’s almost as if he can read your mind and anticipates every second you take to just step inside, his eyes beckoning you to come. It’s not like he cares; in fact, he wants you next to him. God, he just wants you so bad.

Steady hands find the hem of your baggy white t-shirt that you lift up and over your head, exposing the smooth expanse of your bare stomach and the perk of your bare breasts. You shimmy out of your baby pink underwear and, suddenly, you’re standing completely vulnerable before him and yet this is all he wants and all you want. You step inside the shower, closing the distance between you and him even more until you’re right in front of him, letting the warm water pour down onto you. It’s become stifling hot in that little space and there’s only a split moment where you fear you’ve made a mistake before you feel Jungkook’s hand come up to gently hold the side of your face. His thumb caresses your cheekbone, his eyes gazing into yours, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s a soft kiss, one where he takes his time to thoroughly enjoy it, first kissing your upper lip, then your lower lip in some sort of sensual manner that leaves chills running down your spine. He leaves a trail of warm and wet kisses from your jawline to your neck, nuzzling his nose against your throat as your breath catches. His hands fall to grasp at your hips, yanking you toward him and you so easily comply, melting completely into his broad chest and immediately feeling a sense of warmth as if you’ve always belonged there, wrapped up in his strong arms.

“You’re blushing,” he remarks gently, making you realize he’s pulled apart from you to study your face. His fingers brush away the hair that falls into your eyes and he smiles. “You’re blushing now after you walked in on me naked? God, you’re so cute.”

You whine something in protest, burying your face in his neck and he laughs. His fingers tickle at your sides, causing you to squirm in his grip, and when you look at him again, his stare is tender and fond.

“Come here,” he mumbles.

You let him pull you into another kiss that has your head spinning. His tongue grazes your lower lip, teeth slightly nibbling down on the flesh in a way that jolts your heart. As your hands snake up his chest to wind with the hair at the nape of his neck, your own mouth parts open, letting his tongue twine with yours in a heated kiss. He can feel everything against his own body, from the perk of your breasts to the slope of your hips. His hands slide down to rest upon your lower back and the way he pulls you flush against him, letting you brush against his firm cock, makes your head spin again. It’s what wills you to start grinding your hips against his in a slow pattern that has his breath hitching in his throat, his fingers digging tighter into your skin.

“You’re driving me insane,” his voice is husky as he speaks, smooth as it filters through your ears.

You can’t help but smirk against his mouth. “Likewise.”

“How about we get out of here?” he asks. “The bed seems a hell of a lot more comfortable.”

You nod eagerly, mumbling a small, “Please,” against his luscious lips, too reluctant to pull away. He seems to have trouble, too, as he remains in his spot, even long after he reaches down to turn the water off, his lips still locked with yours. Granted, it gives you time to dry off before he’s hoisting you up with ease, instinctively letting your legs wrap around him. A thought abruptly pops into your head and causes you to gasp, your lips parting from his with a significant pop.

“Jungkook!” You scold. “Be careful! Did you forget about the gaping wound in your side or?”

“I’m fine,” he assures, already swiftly carrying you out of the bathroom and into your room.

“I don’t care what your magical radioactive spider bite does for you,” You retort. “I don’t want to somehow hurt you.”

He laughs in response, a sound that reverberates against his chest and your own torso. He’s already standing by the bed when he carefully lowers you down onto it. He crawls over you, instantly towering over your body as he leans down to chase your lips. In one quick movement, you hook your leg around his waist and, using your hands, shift him over until he’s on his back and you’re cradling his hips. He seems surprised at first, his stare flickering from the navel of your stomach to the soft buds of your breasts. Past the valley of your chest, his eyes fall once more upon yours and he smiles breathlessly, his hair sticking up in tufts.

“Really?”

Your eyes fall to the stitched wound on his side covered in gauze and your fingers brush against it delicately, following the natural curve of his abs. “I’m serious, bugboy. You may be this notorious, unstoppable force out there, but to me you’ll always be Jungkook.”

He pouts. “That doesn’t sound as cool as being Spider-Man.”

“Spider-Man is cool.”

“See? Even you think so. This is why I never told you ━ everyone thinks Spider-Man is cooler than Jungkook.”

A roll of your eyes has him smirking, though the smile is quick to falter when you begin to grind your hips against his, feeling his firm member poke at your thigh. His jaw drops open slightly at the sudden contact, his brows knitting together in slick concentration as his eyes fall to your glistening soft core.

“You didn’t let me finish,” You breathe steadily. “Spider-Man is cool, but Jungkook is cooler. You’ve always been strong and dauntless to me. You’ve always been a hero to me.”

“God,” he moans, “you’re making it really hard to focus on how cute you’re being when I can already feel how wet you are.”

The giggle that slips past your lips only further proves his point. His head rolls back against the pillows beneath him as you continue to slowly grind against him.

“Do you want me to stop?” You taunt.

“No, no,” he gasps. “Holy shit, no. We can save the mushy talk for afterwards, right? Please?”

You nod briskly, gulping for air as you feel the burning sensation between your thighs. Your fingers dance down the front of your stomach to the bundle of nerves that you rub at carefully. Jungkook watches intensely as you pleasure yourself before him, feels his own cock hardening at the sight of your fingers gracefully rubbing patterns into your clit, coating your digits with your leaking cum. He writhes beneath you, desperately aware of his own need for you, but god help him if he doesn’t finish watching or helping you get off. He swallows thickly, loosening his dry throat.

“Well, if you’re gonna make me sit here then,” he says, “can you at least let me help?”

“I’m listening.”

“Good,” he grins. “Then come sit on my face.”

He says it so confidently that it has you stuttering in your pace. Your eyes flicker down to his mischievously twinkling eyes and the way he bites on his lower lip. You hardly hesitate at his command, pushing yourself off of his crotch and shuffling yourself forward, tossing one knee over his head so that he’s seated nicely between your thighs. His hands remain on your hips to keep you steady as you wiggle around until you’re comfortable. He plants a kiss on the inside of your thigh, murmuring, “I’ll take good care of you, baby. Sit back and relax.”

You do as you're told, letting him pull you carefully down to his face and feeling as he leaves a trail of kisses along the inside of your thigh. When his mouth is hovering just over your core, you can feel his warm breath fanning against you and hum in delight, waiting eagerly for his every move. He nudges you closer and closer until you feel that one fell sweep of his tongue against your core, warm and slick as it grazes your folds, immediately sending a shock of white hot pleasure surging through your body. A shocked moan emits from your parted lips in a sound similar to, “Ooh,” that has Jungkook smirking against you.

Suddenly, all you can focus on is him and the way his tongue works so expertly against you, kitten licking at your core until you’re dripping wet in a lewd combination of saliva and your own succulence. You nearly lose your balance the moment he makes contact with you and, with each passing second of immense pleasure, it makes it more difficult to hold on. Your thighs shamelessly squeeze shut (though Jungkook grips lightly onto one of your thighs to shift you apart) and when you feel yourself wobble, breathless and dizzy from the feeling of hot fire burning at your core, your hands fly out to grasp at Jungkook’s carob locks, silky to the touch as they slide out from the seams of your fingers. Admittedly, having Jungkook’s face buried beneath your thighs is a ridiculously hot sight that only spurs your blatant spiral into a panting mess.

“Jungkook━ F━Fuck━ Oh my god━”

The moan that leaves you is throaty, guttural and Jungkook swears he’s never heard anything sexier. Watching you writhe helplessly above him is all that he needs. As his tongue licks firmly at your clit, he can’t help but reach down to his own hard dick. His fingers wrap delicately around his shaft and he pumps himself slowly, groaning into your womanhood at the thought of your delicious and hot walls wrapped around him. He shuts his eyes as he works in a smooth rhythm against both him and yourself, imagining what it would be like to just have you anyway he wants, imagining your own reactions similar to the ones you’re making now.

“Ah, shit━” You gasp suddenly. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good━”

God, there you go again. His palm squeezes harder against his member at your breathy moans and he swears you’re driving him absolutely mad. To him, this feels so surreal. He’s dreamed of this; he’s dreamed and wanted nothing more innocent than to just fucking hold your hand and yet here you are in such a compromising position with him and he feels like the luckiest guy in the world. The best part about it all is that you make him feel this much bliss, this dizzy, when he’s simply just around you. Fuck, he’s so in love with you.

Your fingers clutch a little tighter at his roots and his eyes snap open. He stares up at your frazzled mess and, with his free hand, presses his fingers against your core in areas that his tongue has yet not reached. He coats his digits in your glistening arousal and coaxed with such ease he’s able to push them past your folds, earning another beautiful moan from you. He curls his finger inside you, stretching your core, flicks his tongue a little harder at your clit, squeezes his own hand tighter around his cock as he desperately jacks himself off to this, to you. He pumps his finger in and out of you in tandem with his own hand around his length, hearing your sweet whimpers and choked moans.

He must curl his finger just right inside of you or maybe it’s the way your sensitive clit begins to throb with each lick he takes or maybe it’s when he joins his tongue with his finger in a dangerous duo but then you jut your hips forward ever so slightly and jerk them back. He’s eating you out with such vigour, such hard passion that you can feel his chin and his nose brush against your core and each contact has you gasping. He pulls apart just enough when he feels you jerk your hips backward again and you’re so caught up in the pure ecstasy that has overcome you that you hardly realize until you hear him speaking, muttering faintly against your folds, “C’mon, baby. Ride my face. Cum for me.”

His only response is a weak sputtering as you try to gasp for air. You don’t need to be told twice at this point as you feel as if you’re chasing after your high. You unabashedly begin rocking your hips against his mouth and fingers. He tilts his head just right so that his nose burrows into your clit, his tongue and digit slipping further within your walls that clench around the thought of having something of girth like Jungkook’s length inside you. Jungkook’s own hand slacks at his pace around his member, his fingers reaching up to dig into your waist and thighs to hold you in place as you continuously rock against him. You’re so close, you can feel the familiar tension start to form in the very pit of your stomach.

“F━Fuck!” You cry. “Jung━kook━ I’m━”

Your voice breaks off into frail croaks, your hands flying out to grab onto the sturdy frame of your bed in front of you as you feel your high approach. Jungkook pulls you harder against his face, letting you grind against him as he burrows into you, completely ravaging you with his mouth until you feel your release take hold of you. It shakes you to the bone, causes you to writhe in pleasure above him as you come to a halt, emitting a loud moan of his name as your hot release leaks onto his chin, coating his mouth in your shimmering cum.

“Fuck, fuck━ Jungkook!” Your nails dig into the bed frame, your teeth sinking into your lower lip and muffling your dulcet moans.

He laps at your core, licking away every last drop of your succulence until your hips twitch away from the sensitivity you feel. When he finally pulls apart from you, he stares up at you from between your thighs with an amused smirk, his hair messily mused from your doing. You muster a faint smile in return as you pant heavily, attempting to calm your shrill heart and he beckons you over. You blissfully clamber back down his torso, once more straddling his hips as you curl up into his chest, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his lips. You feel him smile against your own mouth and it’s something so gentle, so ardent, that it warms your heart.

“That was so fucking hot,” he mumbles between kisses. “Round two?”

Giggling, you part from him momentarily only to reconnect your lips to his jawline, nibbling on the soft skin there. “How about I let you have a turn?”

He quirks a brow in curiosity though he already knows your intentions as your hand flutters down his stomach. He can’t help the moan that slips past his lips as he feels your soft hands grasp firmly at his hardened cock. He feels as if he could practically melt in your hands or explode at any moment and you hadn’t even done anything. His hips instinctively buck into your fist but he shakes his head. He sits up suddenly, startling you in your spot though his hands come out to grasp at your face and hold you in place as he kisses you feverishly.

“How about,” he breathes, nipping at your lower lip, “you let me make love to you right here, right now.”

For a moment, you become carried away with the taste of his lips mingled with your wet arousal that fades away fast. You return the kiss with such zeal, too reluctant to part from him just yet, that when you muster the nerve to lean away, you’re panting heavily.

“Not so fast, bugboy,” You taunt. “I still want you to rest.”

You give him a little nudge backward and he obediently follows your wordless command, plopping back against the pillows of your bed as he looks up at you, his hands resting on your upper thighs.

“I don’t know if you can consider sex as resting,” he points out playfully, a wry grin plastered on his face.

He watches as you smile, the rapid heave and fall of your chest, as you wiggle around until you’re comfortable again on his lap and have lifted your hips off of him. Your hand wraps around his shaft once more and you pump him once, twice, in slow motions as you spread the leaking cum from his throbbing head along his shaft. His jaw drops open at the feeling, eyebrows knitting together, and his fingers dig a little too harshly into your skin accidentally but you don’t at all mind ━ not when you’re able to see such a beautiful reaction from him as he comes undone before you.

Seconds pass of bated breath as you lower yourself slowly, carefully, to his cock. You run the tip of his length along your folds and up to your clit, rubbing small patterns against it that has both of you whimpering lowly. You coat him in your leaking arousal and then lower yourself onto him, finally connecting the two of your bodies as one.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts.

Jungkook seriously feels as if he’s about to explode ━ literally. You’ve only just sat on him and he’s afraid he won’t be able to hold himself together long enough before he feels his sweet release. You’re just so warm and wet, so deliciously wet, that he slides easily into your walls that hug him just right. His mind is spinning, and even more so when he feels you stop halfway and lift your hips again. You drop them to the same level and then back again, repeating this process until you drop your hips fully, flush with his.

“Oooh, Jungkook, hmm,” Your fingers dig into his abdomen at the feeling of being so damn full. You can practically feel him throbbing and your own walls clench and release around him as you adjust to his size.

“Move━” he chokes out. “Move, please━ holy shit━”

And you do. You grind against him, rolling your hips around his firm cock as the fire continues to burn between your legs. You raise your hips languidly and drop them back down again and again until you’ve adopted some fluid rhythm, being so easily coaxed by your own cum.

“Like this?” You gasp.

He nods absentmindedly, swallowing thickly. “Fuck yes, just like that, baby.” His head rolls back against the pillows, the vein in his neck straining, “You feel so━ so fucking good.”

“Tell me,” You breathe.

Jungkook finds it hard to concentrate when his eyes fall on you. He watches as your breasts move in tandem as you ride him, the glistening arousal on your folds that coat his length that he watches disappear into you each time. He greedily reaches out as he’s lost in his own thoughts, his hand cupping your plush breast in a firm hold, his thumb brushing against your perked nipple. Your back arches in response, leaning closer to his warm hand, as he focuses on the tightness that is your core.

“Warm,” he moans. “So, so fucking wet ━ oh my god, you’re dripping, baby. Shit, you feel so perfect around my cock.”

You cry out his name, quickening your pace as you chase your high. Your strides are relentless, desperately searching for a sweet release and Jungkook feels the same. He’s held it in this long ━ he isn’t so sure he can hold himself together for much longer. He can’t take it anymore. Just as he feels you slowing down from exhaustion, he sits up once more, his strong arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you tight against his chest. Your own arms slide around his neck and you lean forward to crash your lips against his as you roll your hips steadily against his now. The new angle has him hitting a spot in you that shakes you to the core, has stars forming in your eyes.

You bite down hard on his lower lip accidentally as you try to conceal the loud moan that bubbles at your lips. Jungkook only smirks in response, especially when you shamelessly let those strangled moans out. As you sink lower onto him, Jungkook thrusts his hips upward to meet yours halfway, earning a sharp gasp from you. He tightens his hold on you and continues to thrust up into you again and again, so hard and so fast that it makes you writhe with pleasure above him. You can feel him stretching you wide each time, can feel your sticky arousal begin to trickle down his cock and your thighs.

So much for making sure he doesn’t hurt himself again ━ his thrusts are pure animalistic, hasty and needy, though all either of you care about in that moment is feeling that sweet release. You collapse entirely against Jungkook’s arms, letting him take hold of you as his hips smack against your ass. When you finally feel your second high of the night approach, your reaction feels near explosive. He thrusts again and again and you choke out somewhere between the sound of skin against skin and heavy breathing, “J━Jungkook━ Fuck! I’m close━”

He growls in response, eager to push you to yours as he chases for his. Another thrust and, holy shit, there. He hits a spot in you once, twice, and over and over again that just feels so incredibly good that you can’t help but unravel in his arms. It takes you by surprise, washing over you an immense cloud of bliss as white-hot pleasure blinds you, starting from your core and spiralling out to every edge of your body until your toes are curling. You cry out his name in a beautiful harmonious sound as your cum leaks profusely from you and coats him just right.

Fuck this ━ he doesn’t care anymore that you want him to rest. He needs to feel his own release now. So he grabs you securely and then he’s twisting you around, shoving you onto your back as he pushes his hips into you. You’re writhing beneath him, your back arching until your warm and sweaty chest is pressed against his. Your fucked out expression that stares back up at him but with such tired and loving eyes only spurs him on further (that, and the way you’re clenching so nicely around him). It’s completely messy but he’s so close. Another hard slap of his hips and then he’s finally coming undone. He pulls out of you fast, his hand coming down to grab at his cock as he pumps himself, thickly coated with your juices.

He cums moments later with a deep, rough moan, releasing onto your stomach in ivory beads that paint you his. His hand slacks around his softening length and then he, so spent and slightly sore from his wound (only slightly, he swears), collapses against you. The room suddenly falls silent, safe for the heavy panting and the shrill beating of your hearts that you both try to tame. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and your arms wrap around him to lazily twine his hair with your fingers. It’s nice to just lay there like that, enveloped in each other's arms, basking in the heavenly glow of euphoria. He kisses your neck then, soft and simple, and litters kisses down your throat to your collarbones and then back up again to your lips.

When he parts from you, his eyes remain locked on your mouth until he forces himself to look away and up at you. You’re smiling at him and it’s the type of genuine, albeit exhausted, smile that always warms his insides and makes him feel at ease. Tracing the curve of your lips with his index finger, he hums thoughtfully to himself.

“I lied about before,” he says sheepishly. When you quirk a brow at him, he continues. “I lied about before when you asked me if I’m ever afraid when I go out at night. I’m always afraid. Part of why I wear that mask is so the people I’m up against don’t see me wimping out. But, god, when I’m with you, I feel invincible.”

He watches as a light blush pinches at your cheeks, your fingers reaching up to softly graze his cheek.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers. “I love you. I always have and I swear you make me stronger. I don’t know what it is. I think I just want to fight harder for you. I know I was a dick for leaving that night but I know we can make this work. I just need you to believe in me, too.”

Your eyes, littered with stardust, stare into his as if he is the entire world. “I’m strong, too, Jungkook. I don’t always need protection.”

“I know that,” he chuckles.

“Good. Then get back down here and kiss me again, bugboy.”

Jungkook laughs. He doesn’t hesitate to lean down to press his lips lovingly to yours. He melts against your chest and he is content if every night is like this, in each other’s arms. As he deepens the kiss, he hears you whisper against his lips, “I love you, too, bugboy,” and it is all he needs to feel as if he has the world in his very palm.

Jungkook has always been afraid. He is afraid of not living to see the next day, afraid of losing you or his family or friends but every shred of fear fades away when he’s with you. As the city continues to breathe from beyond the brick walls of your apartment and as the sun begins to rise from the very heart of the metropolis along the horizon, Jungkook is certain that he and you together are invincible.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[toesucker416]

So someone in a group asked me to tell them why I hate the ocean sunfish so much, and apparently it was ~too mean~ and was deleted. To perpetuate the truth and stand up for ethical journalism, I'm posting it here. [Rated NC-17 for language.]

Disclaimer, I care about marine life more than I care about anything else, for real. Except this big dumb idiot. And it's not like an ~ironic~ thing, I mean it IS hilarious to me and they ARE THE BIGGEST JOKE PLAYED ON EARTH but I seriously fucking hate them.

THE MOLA MOLA FISH (OR OCEAN SUNFISH)

They are the world's largest boney fish, weighing up to 5,000 pounds. And since they have very little girth, that just makes them these absolutely giant fucking dinner plates that God must have accidentally dropped while washing dishes one day and shrugged his shoulders at because no one could have imagined this would happen. AND WITH NO PURPOSE. EVERY POUND OF THAT IS A WASTED POUND AND EVERY FOOT OF IT (10 FT BY 14 FT) IS WASTED SPACE.

They are so completely useless that scientists even debate about how they move. They have little control other than some minor wiggling. Some say they must just push water out of their mouths for direction (?????). They COULD use their back fin EXCEPT GUESS WHAT IT DOESNT FUCKING GROW. It just continually folds in on itself, so the freaking cells are being made, this piece of floating garbage just doesn't put them where they need to fucking go.

So they don't have swim bladders. You know, the one thing that every fish has to make sure it doesn't just sink to the bottom of the ocean when they stop moving and can stay the right side up. This creature. That can barely move to begin with. Can never stop its continuous tour of idiocy across the ocean or it'll fucking sink. EXCEPT. EXCEPT. When they get stuck on top of the water! Which happens frequently! Because without the whole swim bladder thing, if the ocean pushes over THE THINNEST BUT LARGEST MOST TOPPLE-ABLE FISH ON THE PLANET, shit outta luck! There is no creature on this earth that needs a swim bladder more than this spit in the face of nature, AND YET. Some scientists have speculated that when they do that, they are absorbing energy from the sun because no one fucking knows how they manage to get any real energy to begin with. So they need the sun I guess. But good news, when they end up stuck like that, it gives birds a chance to land on their goddamn island of a body and eat the bugs and parasites out of its skin because it's basically a slowly migrating cesspool. Pros and cons.

"If they are so huge, they must at least be decent predators." No. No. The most dangerous thing about them is, as you may have guessed, their stupidity. They have caused the death of one person before. Because it jumped onto a boat. On a human. And in 2005 it decided to relive its mighty glory days and do it again, this time landing on a four-year-old boy. Luckily Byron sustained no injuries. Way to go, fish. Great job.

They mostly only eat jellyfish because of course they do, they could only eat something that has no brain and a possibility of drifting into their mouths I guess. Everything they do eat has almost zero nutritional value and because it's so stupidly fucking big, it has to eat a ton of the almost no nutritional value stuff to stay alive. Dumb. See that ridiculous open mouth? (This is actually why this is my favorite picture of one, and I have had it saved to my phone for three years) "Oh no! What could have happened! How could this be!" Do not let that expression fool you, they just don't have the goddamn ability to close their mouths because their teeth are fused together, and ya know what, it is good it floats around with such a clueless expression on its face, because it is in fact clueless as all fuck.

They do SOMETIMES get eaten though. BUT HARDLY. No animal truly uses them as a food source, but instead (which has lead us to said photo) will usually just maim the fuck out of them for kicks. Seals have been seen playing with their fins like frisbees. Probably the most useful thing to ever come from them.

"Wow, you raise some good points here, this fish truly is proof that God has abandoned us." Yes, thank you. "But if they're so bad at literally everything, why haven't they gone extinct." Great question.

BECAUSE THIS THING IS SO WORTHLESS IT DOESNT REALIZE IT SHOULD NOT EXIST. IT IS SO UNAWARE OF LITERALLY FUCKING EVERYTHING THAT IT DOESNT REALIZE THAT IT'S DOING MAYBE THE WORST FUCKING JOB OF BEING A FISH, OR DEBATABLY THE WORST JOB OF BEING A CLUSTER OF CELLS THAN ANY OTHER CLUSTER OF CELLS. SO WHAT DOES IT DO? IT LAYS THE MOST EGGS OUT OF EVERYTHING. Besides some bugs, there are some ants and stuff that'll lay more. IT WILL LAY 300 MILLION EGGS AT ONE TIME. 300,000,000. IT SURVIVES BECAUSE IT WOULD BE STATISTICALLY IMPROBABLE, DARE I SAY IMPOSSIBLE, THAT THERE WOULDNT BE AT LEAST ONE OF THOSE 300,000,000 (that is EACH time they lay eggs) LEFT SURVIVING AT THE END OF THE DAY.

And this concludes why I hate the fuck out of this complete failure of evolution, the Ocean Sunfish. If I ever see one, I will throw rocks at it.

Hey reply with your least favorite animal THAT IS NOT AN INSECT

[thr-333]

Just Another Class Trip :)

Part 1

No, no ignore the smily face i assure you it means nothing foreboding, nothing foreboding at all.

Next >

---------

“It’s suspicious,” Marinette glares as they leave customs.

“What would that be, Mari?” Chloe yawns, not bothering to dedicate her limited remaining brain power apparently.

“Lila,” She whispers back, “She’s been so quiet all the way here,”

“What about how she weaseled her way into first class?” Chloe yawns again, sleep mask resting on her head.

“Or tried to steal your bag,” Kagami says with venom, her having saved Marinette from that disaster.

“Accused you of giving her the wrong flight time,” Adrien adds, somehow being full awake even after their long flight.

“Slipped metal into your pocket so security would go off,” Chloe downright glares at Adrien, but would never admit to the bags under her eyes.

“Came by and woke you up every time you fell asleep,” Kagami looks at her pointedly, shadows under her eyes being her only give away.

“Too quite,” Marinette whispers, the list going largely ignored as they approach the security scan.

“Just relax Mari,”  Adrien pats her shoulder, not enough to break her concentration, “Lila will be so distracted by being in Gotham she won't have time for you,”

Adrien was wrong.

Of course he was wrong.

This is Lila they're talking about.

“Oh Marinette!” Lila all but yells as Marinette is placing her bag in a tray, “I’m so glad you didn’t go through with it,”

Marinette cringes, the security guards all looking her way as Lila dances off. She just sighs as she is escorted away by the airport security, to the protest of her friends and not much else.

“No sir I am not holding any firearms or weapons,” Marinette answers as monotone as possible, the security guard didn’t deserve her ire not matter how tiresome this was getting.

“We interview the source,” Oh no “Apparently you were discussing terrorist activities,”

“I was not sir, Lila must be mistaken,” Yep big mistake, I’m sure that's all it is , “I’m simply here for a class trip,”

“You’re wearing a bulletproof vest,”

Yeah probably should have left that one at home

“My parents are protective, they know how dangerous Gotham can be,” They were not fans of the horror stories Aunt Selina used to tell her from this city, “They insisted I have it as protection,”

While they most certainly wanted her to be safe the vest was more her idea. It was also more for enabling trouble than avoiding it. At least she was trying to be safe about secret crime fighting.

“Makes sense,” He sighs from across the table, checking through some paperwork, “You’re seventeen, here on a class trip right?”

“Yes sir,”

“Well if you’re here on a Wayne funded trip they probably did and extensive background check,” He pauses for a minute looking deep in thought, “Alright then, you can go,”

That seems kind of lax

“Are you sure?”

“We literally have super villains walking through here every other day,” True that, “You’re holding no weapons and have been endorsed by the Wayne's that's better than most people that have been in here,”

“Well if you’re sure,” Marinette stands awkwardly walking to the door as he waves her off, “Is there anything I need to sign, or…”

“Unless I want to fill out extra paperwork, no,” He seems so tired, Marinette wished she could get back at Lila for making his job harder.

“Have a good day then!” She smiles brightly, getting a small one in return.

She leaves, the security guards handing back her bag, fortunately not mentioning the miracle box or her Kwamis. She smiles brightly, even with Lila trying to ruin her trip she could still enjoy her time here in Gotham- and her phone buzzes with an Akuma alert.

With a sigh, Marinette ducks into the nearest bathroom, locking a stall behind her.

“Kaalki,” The Kwami zips out of her bag, “Tikki, Combine,”

With a flash of light followed by another she appears in Paris dropping Kaalki’s transformation.

She looks over the city, some Akuma attacking the Eiffel tower. At least they didn't seem to be the brainwashing type, she didn’t have Chat Noir there to help with crowd control.

With a flip she jumps, planning to kick the Akuma on the way down. They dodge and she lands in front of them instead.

“Well, well if it isn’t the bug,” The Akuma, in a horrible patch work costume mocks, a purple mask appearing over their face, “Hand over your miraculous!”

How about you come and make me Hawkmoth? I promise to stick that cane up your ass

Oh how she wishes she could say just that, but it wouldn't be very Ladybug of her. Why did the younger her have to have a stick up her butt?

“Not today Hawkmoth,” She says instead, making sure to put the practiced amount of enthusiasm into it, “Or any other day for that matter,”

“How are you going to save Paris without your little kitty cat?”

How are you going to beat me with that terrible fashion sense

Besides Chat Noir deserved a break. At least she hoped he was taking a break, he couldn’t tell because of secret identity reasons. It wasn't like she had any right to stop him, she was having a vacation in Gotham right now, and she was out all the time for work. She could manage without Chat for a while, he deserved that much.

“I will do whatever it takes to protect the people of Paris,” Ladybug remembers to answer the question.

“Hand over your miraculous now!” The Akuma lunges at her

I should have chosen a different persona

She dodges the beam of light that can’t mean anything good. Jumping back to get some distance.

Chat Noir had the right idea

She bites back the cutting remark on the tip of her tongue. Instead throw out her yo to wrap around their arm. The Akuma pulls it forward, sending her through the air. She leans into it swinging around to get a better vantage point, studying the monologuing Akuma below.

Maybe I can for Starling

She has created Starling as a vigilante identity to use in Gotham, if the class was ever in trouble. No not if, when . With a sigh she summons her lucky charm getting a table tennis paddle.

Although I’m only meant to use that identity as a disguise to protect the class

The only thing that stood out was the Akuma's hand, she'd have to gather more information before striking.

Maybe Starling can have a word or two with Lila, that could be fun

She drops down in front of the Akuma. They seemed to like monologuing, maybe all she had to do was probe a little bit.

“Why would you want to side with Hawkmoth?”

“This is my family's greatest heirloom it has been passed from generation to generation for centuries, some fool broke it and I was crushed having disappointed all my ancestors!” The Akuma holds up a broach type jewel, “But Hawkmoth- Hawkmoth brought it back and now my greatest and dearest treasure will forever be-”

Ladybug smacks it to the ground, crushing it underfoot.

The Akuma looks at her shocked, letting out a long drawn out gasp. Marinette does not meet their eye as she catches the Akuma. She throws the paddle she used to smack it out of their hand into the air to cast the cure.

I must be really jet lagged, I’m usually at least a little more creative than that, but it worked

She pretends not to see the reporters coming in for interviews, seeing the victim and their broach in one piece. She makes a speedy exit, needing to transport back to Gotham before the class get too ancy.

“I’m sorry the rented bus left a long time ago,” The attendant informed her, looking sorry for the dishevelled teen.

Marinette groaned, so much for running around the airport for thirty minutes with a dead phone. Thanking the attendant she sulks off to collect her bag instead, she’d have to figure another way to the hotel.

She spends another hour hunting down her bag. Chasing after leads of people who might have mistook it. Checking again with Airport security, who again pulled her aside for having a suspicious missing bag. Luckily the security guard before defended her, she brought him a coffee and two for herself.

“Maybe someone will return it?” Tikki whispers, her and Kaalki hidden in the folds of her scarf.

“It’s fine Tikki,” Marinette sighs, halfway through her first cup in under a minute, “I have replicas of all of them anyway, I’ll just grab some samples from the MDC fashion show,”

She’d have to stop by later, the outfits should have been transported last week along with most of her recent catalogue. The only problem was all the other necessities she lost. But that wasn’t a problem, she carried the miracle box in her backpack and that's all that really matters.

“And some of my… special outfits when we go back home,”

She had altered her current outfit to transform into her vigilante disguise. Her scarf pulled up and could be turned inside out into a mask. Her skirt could be transformed into a cape and hood combo. A zip down the middle of the skirt to split it for the cape and a zip up hood that lay flat along her skirt. She simply turned it inside out and wore it around her shoulders. Combined with a bullet proof vest it wasn't half bad, her belt full of weapons could always be hid under her skirt which was a big plus.

She sighs waiting for a taxi in the cold Gotham air, hating it more than most. Although she supposed superhuman strength was a fair exchange for extra cold fingers. Marinette fought to stay awake, she had also been holding Kaalki for so long she was starting to develop the ability to sleep standing up and would doze off randomly. Certainly helpful at times, but not right now.

“Hello,” Marinette is startled out of her drowsiness.

She looks at the hesitant young man before her, looking just as tired as she is.

“Hello?”

“Is something the matter?” Something sparks at the back of her mind, a feeling she often gets from Chloe whenever she is helpful.

Do I look that bad?

“Just a mix up with transportation,” She smiles, he clearly knows it’s fake.

“Do you need a ride?”

“No I’m-” She sighs, what could go wrong getting in the car of a random person in Gotham, “Yes, I do thank you,”

“Over here, I’m Tim by the way” He stifles a yawn, leading her towards a limousine, the door being opened by a driver.

“Marinette, here,” She hands over the extra coffee, “You look like you need it just as much as me,”

Tim looks at her like a god sent, taking the coffee as they reach the limo.

“Good call Alfred,” Tim whispers to the driver, slipping into the car.

“Hello miss, I am Alfred Pennyworth,” She shakes his hand, something stronger fires at the back of her mind, a true holder perhaps? But Chloe was a true holder right?

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” She smiles, trying to assess what miraculous would suit him.

“Best get inside Miss Dupain-Cheng,” She climbs inside at Alfred's behest, “Gotham is awfully cold for a Lady,”

She gets the feeling that is not chivalry.

“Where to Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Alfred asks, already in the driver's seat.

“Wayne hotel please,” She pulls her backpack onto her lap, still regarding Alfred suspiciously.

“Traveling alone?” Tim asks absentmindedly, still nursing his coffee cup.

“I’m here with my class, they left without-” No that's no good , “I got held up they went ahead,”

“Class… staying at the Wayne hotel…” Tim mumbles to himself.

“I believe what Master Tim is trying to ask is if you are part of the Martha Wayne foundation trip,” Alfred informs from the front seat.

“Yeah that,” Tim takes another scalding gulp of coffee.

“Yes I sent in the submission, I’m still surprised we got it,” Marinette had been thrilled at a trip to Gotham, it is where her Aunt Selina lives after all.

“You seem very responsibility Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Alfred complements, “Almost as if you could shoulder the weight of Paris,”

“I didn’t say where I was from,” Marinette tenses getting more than a little unsettled, he seemed to know something more.

“Not to worry, I have close connections with the Wayne's and was aware this years class was from Paris is all,”

“I see,” Marinette nods along, the possible meaning behind the comment still being concerning.

“We forgot your bags!!!” Tim suddenly yells, jumping up and making Marinette jump, they both curse in sync as they spill coffee on themselves.

“It’s alright!” luckily the coffee landed on her black tights, so no noticeable stains, “My bags were stolen,”

“Oh…” Tim relaxes back, “Wait… that's not alright at all!”

“It’s fine, I already have a plan to get some spare clothes and I just need to run to the store,”

“Right… to the Wayne hotel was it?” Marinette nods and Tim starts tapping away at his phone.

She fishes out some wet wipes from her bag, passing them to Tim, who looks confused until she points out the growing coffee stain. With a smile and a few more taps at the phone he takes them off her.

“Left behind and bags stolen, doesn't sound like your Lucky day,” Alfred presses, and he needs to stop, it could be chance, surely its just chance.

“I guess not,”

You don’t know the half of it.

“Well I hope the rest of your day is much better,” Tim bids as they pull up to the hotel.

“Thank you, and thank you so much for the ride,” Alfred opens the door for her to get out.

“Not a problem,” She waves them off, watching them disappear down the street.

They’re nice, probably wont ever get to see them again, thats a shame

“Dick! Holy fuck!” Tim kicks down the door of his brothers room, “I just met the nicest girl who's had the shittest day on earth,”

“First of all welcome back, how was your trip?” Dick greets hanging from the ceiling as Tim takes his desk chair, “Second, what are you talking about?”

“Met a girl at the Airport who didn’t have a ride, she gave me coffee,”

“That's enough to buy your loyalty,” Dick grins, Tim flips him off.

“Listen, she's part of that Martha Wayne Foundation trip and her class left her at the Airport!”

“What?!” Dick drops from the ceiling onto his bed, “Thats so dangerous, especially in Gotham,”

“Right?! She even had her luggage stolen!” Tim pushes the chair over to Dick, “And she was still so nice, even after an eight hour flight!”

“You said she was part of the Wayne foundation trip?” Dick asks, getting a nod from Tim, “Yeah, we are definitely seeing her again,”

[cocochannel00]

“Papi’s Grumpy”

Inspired by the supposed picture of Harry and Niall on a walk... Dad!Harry takes his son for a walk and the lack of ice cream sharing makes Harry sad 

(Spanish/Latina Reader for all my bilingual ladies out there- I put the english too so don’t worry)

Your POV:

“Mi amor (my love) can you grab Lucas’ hat from the dresser? It’s chilly outside” you shouted from the kitchen as the sound of little feet shuffled above you. Harry was determined to take your son for a hike despite Lucas’ less then enthusiastic thoughts on having to leave his new toy dinosaur grandma Anne had bought him last weekend.

“Working on it love” Harry shouted as you heard a shriek followed by the noise of Harry’s feet stomping as he chased after your little rascal.

You shook your head at the antics of your two boys. If this baby was anything like your last, you knew you were in for a handful. 

“Gotch ya” you heard your husband shout as your little boy burst out in fits of giggles. 

The voices got closer as you continued to cut up the cucumbers into rings for Lucas to bring as a snack for their trip. Much like his father, your little boy was an absolute nightmare to be around when he was hungry.

“Mama mama no quiero no querio (don’t want to, don’t want to)” Lucas cried as Harry walked into the kitchen, placing the little boy down so he could run to your side. 

You looked at the little boy who was hiding his face in your dress before looking up at your husband who was rolling his eyes at your son’s antics. Steadying yourself against the kitchen counter, you bent down with a groan before picking up your son and placing him on your hip. 

“Careful Love, doctor said not to pick up weight cause of the baby” Harry stated before you gave him a death stare and placed Lucas on the countertop in front of you. 

“Que no quieres hacer, mi amor (What don’t you want to do, my love)” you asked as you ran your hands through his soft hair. 

“No walking Mama. Is bording” Lucas mumbled, mispronouncing boring as he rubbed his eyes.

“But Papi’s taking you, and Uncle Niall is going too! You guys are going to have so much fun” 

“Uncle Niall?”

“Yeah Uncle Niall is going, and if you’re good they might even take you out for ice cream”

“Ice cream Ice cream Papi” Lucas shouted as he kicked his feet against the counter. 

“But the ice cream is only if you’re good, bub. Now come on, lets go get your shoes on before Uncle Niall gets here” Harry said before grabbing Lucas off the counter and walking to your foyer. 

You placed the bag of cucumbers along with a small water bottle into one of Harry’s various fanny packs just as a honk rang outside. You carefully waddled towards the front door, hoping none of Lucas’ toys would be in your path as you hadn’t been able to see your feet since month 6 of your pregnancy. The commotion of voices and giggles started as you finally made it to your front door, slightly more out of breath then you would care to admit. 

“If it isn’t my favorite pregnant mama. Excited for a little alone time while we’re gone?” Niall shouted as he came up to give you a hug before rubbing his hand on your protruding stomach and handing you a box of your favorite chocolates. 

“Mmm I knew you were always my favorite member of the band. Can’t wait to nap on the couch all afternoon” you chuckled in reply as Harry grunted from the ground where he was finishing tying your son’s shoes. 

“Well we better get a move on if we want to make it back before dark. Can you pass me the fanny pack please, Love” Harry asked as he carefully placed the winter hat on top of Lucas head.

“There’s some snacks for the 3 of you and Lucas’ sippy cup. Try and tire him out a bit but not to much, you know how cranky he gets when he’s over exhausted. Don’t forget the bug spray and the sunscreen that’s in the front- “ you began before getting cut off.

“I know Baby, don’t worry. We’ve got everything taken care of, you just put your feet up and get some rest and I will see both of you later” Harry replied as he gave you a chaste kiss on the lips before crouching down to kiss your stomach.

“Ok ok get on with it then. Adiós mi principito, portate bien para Papi, ok? (Goodbye my little prince, be good for daddy, ok?)” You stated as you placed a kiss on Lucas’ hat covered head before zipping his jacket up properly.

“Ok Mama. Wuv you” Lucas replied as he waved and made his way to the garage, the two adult men following closely behind. 

You waved them off before making your way to the couch to get a bit more comfortable. 

“Alright baby, need you to chill out in there for me so I can get some sleep. Know it’s a bit squished in there but you gotta work with it just a bit longer” you mumbled to the baby having a boxing match with your ribcage today. 

“Ok ok I get it, I get. We’ll put Papi on so you calm down” you stated as you shuffle through Harry’s songs before picking “Golden”, making your baby calm down almost instantly. 

You sighed, grateful for the sudden calm before snuggling deeper into the couch and falling asleep.

Harry (3rd Person POV?):

“Papi are we there yet?” Lucas shouted from the back of the car as Harry made a right turn onto a dirt road. 

“Yeah bud, were almost there. Just need to park and we can start exploring” he replied as he pulled into an open parking spot towards the back of the lot. 

Niall jumped out of the car and went to take Lucas out as Harry began to grab the supplies for the hike. 

“Alright buddy do you want to hold Niall’s hand or mine while we walk around” he asked Lucas as he jumped around in a puddle nearby.

“Uncle Niall Uncle Niall” Lucas screamed before latching onto Niall’s hand and dragging him towards the trail.

“Guess I’m the favorite today, huh?” Niall said with a smirk as Harry rolled my eyes at him.

“Give him another 20 minutes and he’ll be whining that he’s tired” Harry mumbled as they made their way into the woods.

The three of them walked through the trail with Lucas grabbing sticks and rocks before Harry could grab them from his hand and put them back on the ground. They continued up the trail for another 10 minutes before they made it to an open field full of flowers. Lucas tried to squirm out of Niall’s grasp as soon as he saw a patch of bright purple tulips. 

“flower mama” Lucas whined as he looked up at Harry with puppy eyes, begging to be let go so he could go grab them.

“You can go grab some flowers, but don’t go to far, ok?” he told Lucas as he nodded his head quickly and ran towards the tulips.

“Is he always this... excited?” Niall asked as they watch Lucas run around grabbing all the flowers he could in his tiny pudgy hands. 

“Yeah. Apparently I was just as anxious as a kid but it’s definitely a lot sometimes.” Harry said.

“How is (Y/n) holding up being pregnant and with you two at home? No wonder she wanted the two of you out of the house” Niall laughed as he sat down in the grass.

“She’s doing good. This baby has got her more tired then with Lucas and she’s been having a lot more cravings but otherwise everything has been going well.”

“Can’t believe you’re going to be a dad again in a couple of months, it’s crazy” Niall replied 

“Yeah, I’m almost more nervous with this one. She’s gonna be my princess and I need to protect her from everything, paparazzi, boyfriends, everyone. Can’t have anything happen to her” he mumbled as kept an eye on Lucas from their spot in the grass.

“Have the paparazzi been bad with Lucas?” 

“Not as bad as we thought but with the pregnancy they’ve been bloody pests. (Y/n) can’t even go to Tesco without a camera getting shoved in her face. I’ve had to bring on Gary to escort her when she’s in public because I’m to worried she’s going to get hurt by someone” Harry replied back.

“I’m sure she didn’t like that”  Niall said.

“Fought me on it for nearly a week before I basically told her that if she didn’t take Gary with her then I wasn’t going to be leave her side the entire pregnancy and I think having me around all the time scared her more” he replied with a laugh as Lucas came running towards them with to handfuls of flowers.

“Papi flores (flowers)” Lucas shouted as he crashed straight into Harry’s chest, knocking him down into the grass. 

“They’re very nice flowers Lu, are they for mama?” he asked as his son nodded his head eagerly showing him the slightly wilted tulips in his hand.

“Oi did you get me any flowers?” Niall asked as he grabbed Lucas from behind and began to tickle the little boy.

“Stop stop!” Lucas shouted, “flower flower” he continued as he held his arm up to Niall with a flower. 

“Ok, I guess I’ll give ya a break since you gave me such a nice flower” Niall replied as he placed the flower in his hair. 

“Papi you” Lucas shouted as he handed Harry one of the many flowers he had picked.

“Thank you, bub.” he said as he kissed Lucas’ cheek.

“No papi! no you, mama” he said as he handed him a fistful of flowers.

“I don’t get a flower?” Harry asked with a pout as Lucas shook his head with a giggle before releasing a loud yawn. 

“You getting tired on us already, mate?” Niall asked as the little boy rubbed his eyes and shook his head. 

Harry groaned softly as he got up off of the ground, wiping off the grass from his pants before looking down at Lucas.

“Caminamos (We walk)?” he asked Lucas as the little boy shook his head and stretched his arms out to his father with a whine.

“Alright bud let’s get you back home to take a nap then” Harry said as he picked Lucas up in his arms, tucking Lucas’ head into the crook of his shoulder.

“Guess you were right about the walk” Niall snickered as he carefully grabbed the flowers from Lucas’ hands so they wouldn’t get crushed. 

The three of them slowly made their way back through the trail.  Niall and Harry made light chatter about their recent music endeavors while Lucas dozed off to sleep. They were nearly to the end of the trail when Harry began to hear a soft music play from the parking lot. 

“What’s that noise?” he asked as he shifted Lucas in his arms.

“Think it might be the ice cream truck.” Niall whispered as the catchy song began to get louder.

“Dear god, please no” Harry mumbled as Lucas lifted his head at the sound of his favorite dessert being mentioned.

“Ice ream?” Lucas questioned as he looked around for the sweet treat while Harry gave Niall a death stare.

Lucas squealed as he saw the truck just a mere four spots away from their car, making it virtually impossible for them to avoid a tantrum without stopping. 

“Papi truck” Lucas shouted as he pointed at the large ice cream cone on top of the truck. 

“Yes I see the ice cream truck” Harry mumbled back as Niall let out a laugh.

“Alright you little lad, why don’t you come with you Uncle Niall and we’ll get ice cream. What flavor do you want?” Niall asked as he opened his arms to Lucas.

“Nilla” he said mispronouncing Vanilla as he tried to wiggle out of Harry’s arms and into Niall’s.

“Only one scoop though Niall” Harry stated as he placed Lucas in his arms and watched the two boys go off to the truck. 

Harry decided that it would be best to prep the car for the mess Lucas was about to make, so he head back to car. After unlocking it, he hastily searched for the box of wipes (Y/n) always had in the trunk for emergencies. Harry placed the wipes in the car door next to Lucas’ car seat and scrolled through his emails as he waited for the two of them to return. 

“Papi papi look” Lucas shouted as he ran towards Harry with a giant cup of ice cream in his hand. The cup had to have been at least two or three scoops and covered in sprinkles. 

“I thought I said one scoop?”

Lucas giggled as he quickly ran to hid behind Niall legs.

“Just a little ice cream H, don’t worry” Niall replied as he ate a spoonful of his chocolate ice cream. 

“Can I at least have a bit?” Harry asked Lucas as he crouched down in front of his small frame.

He shook his head quickly and hid his ice cream more, nearly spilling it all over Niall’s pants.

“Why not, bud?”

“Germs papi” Lucas stated as he shoved a spoonful of sprinkles in his mouth

“D-did he just say germs?” Niall asked as he tried to contain his laughter, but failed miserably.

“Yes” Harry sighed, “(Y/n) has been teaching him about hand washing and how we don’t want to share germs and I guess the little rascal figured out how to use it to his advantage”

“That’s absolutely rich. Come on Lucas lets get in the car before daddy tries to get his germs all over ours” Niall shouted as he grabbed Lucas’ hand and ran towards the open car door behind Harry. 

“I really can’t win with you two today” Harry mumbled as he made his way to the driver seat just as Niall finished buckling Lucas in. 

“Alright boys are we ready to head home?” Harry asked as he started the car and began to pull out of the parking lot.

“Si casa casa (Yes, home, home)” Lucas cheered from his car seat, his face already covered in sprinkles again. 

“He’s going to be on such a sugar high when we get home... the misses is going to kill me” he mumbled as they continued on our drive home.

The drive back was mostly silent, the only sound being heard was the soft rock music playing in the background and the slurping noises coming from the two passengers. 

“We’re about to be home so the two of you better finish your ice creams before mama sees them” Harry said as he pulled up to the gate of his house, waiting for it to open.

“You know, might just have you take the brute of the fall for this one mate. I’ve been in (Y/n)’s good graces this long and I’d like to keep it that way” Niall replied as he pulled out his own car keys, ready to make his escape.

“You Irish coward” Harry chuckled as he parked the car in the driveway and got out.

“Listen I might not know what she’s saying when she yells at me in Spanish but the tone in her voice tells me there not nice things and I want to end the day good” Niall stated as he grabbed Lucas out of his carseat and began swinging him around in the air.

“Careful, boy’s got a stomach like is dad. He’ll puke all over you” Harry replied as he grabbed the empty ice cream cups and put them in the trash can outside.

“Well we can’t have that” Niall mumbled as he placed Lucas on the ground and crouched down to his height “Will you say hi to your mama for me? Maybe we can do this again” 

“Yes yes” Lucas squealed as he gave Niall a big hug before running into the house.

“Still up for a round of golf next week” Niall asked as he made his way to his car.

“Yeah, send over sometimes and I’ll fit it into my schedule” Harry replied as the two men said their goodbyes.

Harry made his way into his house, trying to be as quiet as possible in case she was still sleeping but the minute he heard the giggles coming from the living room he knew she were awake.

He carefully pulled off his sneakers and placed his hat and Lucas’ in the laundry basket before making his way to her.

“Mama, papi’s grumpy” he heard his son say to his wife.

“And why do you think that mi amor (my love)?” she asked as Lucas as she brushed away some of the hair from his face.

“I no share ice ream mama” Lucas replied as he played with the now wilted flowers he had picked for his mother. 

“And why didn’t you share baby?” (Y/n) asked, puzzled by her son’s statement.

“Germs” Harry replied from behind his wife as he placed a kiss to her temple softly.

Lucas nodded his head quickly, “mama said no germs”

(Y/n) laughed at the serious expression her two, almost three-year-old son had on his face as he discussed germs.

“Good listening baby. Germs are bad but a little germs are ok so next time daddy asks for a bit of your helado (ice cream) do you think you can give him some?”

“Yes mama” Lucas replied as he wrapped his arms around (Y/n) in a hug. 

(Y/n) placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “alright Lu, why don’t you go play with your toys for a couple of minutes before bath time that way we can get all the germs off you before bed”

“Not all mama” Lucas shouted as Harry laughed at the mess his wife had caused with his son’s new germ obsession.

“Ok we’ll leave some” she replied as Lucas ran off to the playroom next door to play with his toys.

Harry made his way around the couch and took a seat next to his wife before giving her a quick peck on the lip.

“How was your peace and quiet?” he asked as he ran his hand up and down (Y/n) very large stomach.

“It was good. Was pretty much asleep the whole time till Lucas came running in. How was your walk with Niall?” (Y/n) asked.

“Was nice until the ice cream situation. Niall let him get two big scoops so he’ll probably be on a sugar high all afternoon” 

“He didn’t even share them?” (Y/n) replied with a smirk as Harry groaned and hid his face in the crook of her neck.

“No because mama said germs were bad so we don’t share germs” Harry grumbled as (Y/n) laughed at his antics.

“I’m sorry, love. Maybe if you ask our other baby really nicely she might let you have some of her rocky road that was leftover from a couple of nights ago.” she replied as she rested her hand on top of Harry’s.

“I’m sure my baby girl won’t mind, right princess? You don’t care about germs yet” Harry stated as he leaned down to place a kiss to (Y/n)’s stomach as the baby began to kick more aggressively. 

“Hate to break it to you H but I’m taking these karate kicks as a no to ice cream sharing” (Y/n) mumbled as Harry glared at her. 

“I can’t win in this house anymore” he stated as he slumped back into the couch with a pout. 

(Y/n) laughed again before leaning over to leave a trail of kiss all over his face before connecting with his lips. Just as the two of them had found a good rhythm, they heard their son shout.

“I ready bath. no germs pwease” 

The two of them laughed as Harry carefully untangled himself from his wife, ready to wrangle his son into the bath. He might not have gotten ice cream but he definitely wouldn’t have traded today for the world.   

@TMZ_TV: Yesterday Harry Styles and his son were spotted out for a walk with former One Direction bandmate Niall Horan. Could a reunion be in the works? Click the link in our bio to find out everything we know.

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Lucky Charm: Reflekdoll

Summary: Adrien struggles to adapt to his powers as Mister Bug while facing an old villain with a new trick. Will he be able to learn fast enough to save his partner?

----------------------------------

"Reflektas, start turning the rest of Paris into me!"

Adrien hid behind the overturned car as Reflekta's clones started attacking untransformed civilians. Apparently, Reflekdoll broadcast a signal that brainwashed any copies. "That's new."

"You are Chat Noir, correct?"

Turning, he spotted a red kwami holding a pair of earrings. "Yeah? And that over there is... Ladybug?" Adrien asked as someone who could only be his Lady launched herself at the giant sentimonster. The suit may have been different but the cat ears were a dead giveaway.

"There's been a little mix up with the Miraculous. I'm Tikki, pleased to meet you!" Tikki offered Adrien the earrings which he accepted.

"Well! Tikki, transforme-moi!"

-----------------

Marinette dodged blast after blast from Reflekdoll.

"Well, my Lady Noire, looks like you're playing the easy part today!"

Lady Noire looked over to see who could only be Chat Noir with her Miraculous. "Not so sure about that!" Placing herself in front of him Lady Noir whirled her staff as a shield, blocking Reflekdoll's beam. "Looks like we'll be taking on two opponents that amplify each other's powers!"

They jumped onto the top of a nearby stone pillar as Reflekdoll attacked again.

"Stay focused, Mister Bug!"

Mister Bug took his yo-yo out and whirled it like he'd seen Ladybug do countless times. "Just my luck. I'm gonna have to capture two akuma instead of one."

"No, one akuma and one amok," Lady Noire corrected.

Reflekta fired her beam into one of the ports onboard. The magic layered by Reflekdoll before it shot a concentrated beam. Mister Bug acted on instinct and tackled Lady Noire out of the way. They rolled to their feet and charged up Reflekdoll as Lady Noire explained what a sentimonster was.

"Would've been nice to know what the Peacock could do before their sentimonsters started showing up!" Mister Bug commented as he launched a kick at said sentimonster to little effect.

"It was on a need-to-know basis!" Lady Noire swung her staff into the sentimonster with similar results.

"I really need to talk with the Guardian about what he considers 'need-to-know'!" Mister Bug leapt back towards the ground with Lady Noire. "Okay, so we need to find Reflekta's akumatized object and the baby monster's amok."

Lady Noire deflected another beam from Reflekdoll. "Can you manage or should we switch back?"

"C'mon! I'm totally capable of doin' it!" Mister Bug smirked.

Lady Noire pulled him out of the way of Reflekdoll's beam and they ran towards the Eiffel Tower. "We need to figure out where the akuma and amok are!"

"Probably the same place as the last time we fought her. In her bracelet!"

They jumped onto the tower itself and used the iron structure to shield themselves. "Maybe. We're gonna have to check that!"

"If I could just get my hands on a mirror I'd be able to reflect her own beam back at her!"

Landing on the first level, Lady Noire turned to look at Mister Bug. "That's not how it works." She crossed her arms. "The Lucky Charm doesn't just give you what you want."

"You ever asked? Watch and learn!" Mister Bug grinned. "Lucky Charm!"

"A mirror!" Oh, Adrien was gonna lord this over her so much! 

"Beginners luck," Lady Noire declared. Chat Noir was gonna be insufferable about this she could feel it.

"You're just jealous of my mastery!" Mister Bug teased.

A loud banging interrupted them and they looked down to see Reflekdoll climbing the tower. Reflekta steering with one hand and shooting her much smaller lasers through the window eyes with the other.

Mister Bug held out his mirror and reflected one of them back at her. Bullseye!

Reflekdoll shot at them with its big beam.

 "Very effective, Mister Bug."

"Hey, it worked didn't it?"

Lady Noire sighed in exasperation. "May I remind you that the Lucky Charm doesn't just give you an object to defeat the villain with-"

"I thought that's exactly what it does?"

"You actually have to figure out exactly how to use it!" Lady Noire poked him in the forehead. "Using your head!"

Reflekdoll reached there level and started firing. Mister Bug jumping for cover while Lady Noire blocked its attack with her staff. "Since you wasted your Lucky Charm. I guess that means it's my turn, buggaboy! Watch and learn! Cataclysm!"

Lady Noire leapt at the sentimonster and-

Her body was pulled out of the way of Reflekdoll's beam just in time. Mister Bug unwinding his yo-yo none too gently. "What was that about using your head? May I remind you that Cataclysm needs a physical medium to work properly! If that sentimonster is made outa magic I doubt it'll do what you want!"

Lady Noire held the Cataclysm as close as she could without actually touching it. "Well, what do you suggest?"

Mister Bug pulled her out of the way of another beam. "Uh... I... Knock her back to ground level while I come up with something?" Adrien smiled with the most conviction he could muster.

Lady Noire groaned. "Think fast!" And rushed out. Dodging Reflekdoll's attack she extended her baton and struck the sentimonster with her full momentum. Reflekdoll crashing back down to earth.

Taking advantage of Lady Noire's distraction Mister Bug glanced around from his high vantage point. Trying to spot anything that would spark an epiphany like Ladybug. "Okay, I admit it!" he cried out, shoulders slumping, "Being Chat Noir is way more fun."

Lady Noire leapt around the sentimonster and struck at its body. The Black Cat giving her a bit more agility than she was used to. Very handy.

Mister Bug added a swing of his yo-yo to one of her attacks. Reflekdoll stumbling with their combined force.

Lady Noire landed beside him. "What have you got?"

"Ah," Mister Bug rubbed the back of his neck. "About that..."

She stared at him. "Seriously!?"

"Well, I'm sorry! Some of us are just slow learn-"

"LOOK OUT!"

Lady Noire didn't think. She just acted. Mister Bug was the only one who could purify the akuma and he needed to keep going. She pushed Mister Bug out of the way as one of Reflekta's clones attacked... Just as Reflekdoll fired its beam.

"My Lady!" Mister Bug cried out.

Lady Noire stood immobile as a Reflekta copy.

"Yes! Now get bug boy's Miraculous!" The original Reflekta ordered.

Springing to life, the Reflekta that used to be Lady Noire aimed her bracelet and fired.

Mister Bug whirled his yo-yo as a shield and leapt to the nearest roof.

"You won't get away from me!" Reflekta called after him as he fled for cover.

-----------------

Adrien leaned against the wall of his hiding place. Breathing deeply, heart hammering in his chest. "Okay. It's okay. Ladybug does this all the time! What would Ladybug do? What would Ladybug do?"

The Ladybug earrings beeped insistently.

"This is fine!" Adrien announced as he detransformed.

Tikki falling into Adrien's palms as he fell to his knees.

"This isn't fine! Tikki, I can't do this! I'm no Ladybug! We should've switched back when she said! I-" Adrien's chest constricted and he forced his breath to slow.

"She trusted you enough to keep going," Tikki said weakly.

Her state bringing Adrien out of his head. "You need food."

Tikki hovered closer to his face, looking him in the eye. "No two of my Ladybug's have ever been exactly alike. Some are slower learners than others. I trust you, too."

Adrien looked away, shoulders hunching. "But I messed up."

"Remember Stoneheart?" Tikki prompted. "Ma- Ladybug messed up too. But you still believed in her." She placed a paw on his cheek. "Believe in yourself now."

Adrien's gaze came back to her.

"Don't ask what Ladybug would do. Ask yourself: what would Adrien do?"

Steeling his resolve Adrien nodded, rising to his feet and cupping Tikki in his palms. "First things first," he inched closer to the alleyway's entrance. The overturned car with his stash of Camembert a short sprint away. "Let's get you recharged."

A gaggle of Reflekta clones chased a group of civilians past him. The people hit turning into more copies and standing still until the akuma villain's voice came booming over the city. The new clones springing to life so they could follow her orders.

They lit up in Adrien's mind and his head shot back to the sentimonster in the distance. Its beam lighting up too.

Adrien gazed down at Tikki and grinned. "I've got an idea."

-----------------

"Lucky Charm!"

A mirror fell into Mister Bug's hands. "Wow, twice in a row. Lucky me," Adrien deadpanned as he tied it to his arm like a shield using his yo-yo. The plan was a laughably simple two step process.

Step One: Get shot.

"Hey, Reflekta!" he hollered from a rooftop at convenient shooting hight. "Don't you know that pink frills are so last season?"

"Once I turn the whole world into Reflektas it'll be the only season!" She fired into Reflekdoll's port which concentrated her energy into a stronger blast.

Just as planned. Mister Bug braced his feet and held his Lucky Charm directly in front of him. "Here we go!"

The sentimonster fired.

Step Two: Shoot Reflekta with her own sentimonster's magic.

The beam reflected off Mister Bug's mirror and perfectly into the round eye windows. Blasting Reflekta dead center.

Adrien held his position for a moment, peaking past his makeshift shield. Reflekta and Reflekdoll stood still. Waiting for orders from... themselves. The enhanced magic dependent on the sentimonster and by extension whoever was driving it.

"Yes!" Mister Bug raised both fists. "Now just a little pest control and we can all get on with our day!"

Finding and purifying the akuma and amok was easy when he wasn't being shot at. Grabbing Juleka as the sentimonster vanished and setting her down on the ground.

Adrien looked at Mister Bug's reflection in his mirror... "I've always wanted to do this." And tossed his Lucky Charm into the air. "Miraculous Mister Bug!"

As the ladybug's restored Paris he spotted a familiar black suit. Adrien ran for her.

"Mister Bug? What- OOF!" Lady Noire stumbled as her partner barreled into her and tried to squeeze all the air out of her lungs. Once she could breathe Marinette wrapped her arms around him and patted his back. "You did good, little bug."

Adrien just held her for a moment. She was okay. He'd saved her. She was okay.

Then his earrings beeped.

Breaking the hug, Mister Bug jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Ah, we should split."

"Yeah..." Lady Noire readied to extend her baton. "... I think I finally get why you're so protective."

Mister Bug smiled. "And I get why you're so focused all the time."

He offered a fist bump and she accepted. Both heroes leaping in opposite directions.

-----------------

"Tikki!" Marinette cradled her friend to her chest.

"Marinette!"

"I can't believe how much Chat trusts me... Knowing you might have to do that again? I don't think I could handle it."

"He's your Chat Noir for a reason, Marinette," Tikki agreed.

-----------------

"Fighting by yourself is horrible, Plagg! I don't know how Ladybug does it." Adrien held him tight. Deciding never to let his Miraculous out of his sight again.

"She's got you most of the time, doesn't she? You're supposed to support each other, ain't ya?"

"Yeah. You're right..."

-----------------

"... Well, one things for sure, Tikki." Marinette gazed off in the direction Plagg flew towards.

-----------------

"She definitely-"

-----------------

"He definitely-"

-----------------

"-got the short straw."

----------------------------------

Yes, this is technically the last prompt... But it's already written and I'm impatient.

@adrienaugust

[snackhobi]

pairing: hoseok x reader / word count: 26.8k / genre: fluff, smut, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, slow burn, technically a buzzfeed unsolved AU but you don’t need to be familiar with BFU at all so dw!

summary: having hoseok as your best friend and co-host for your web series is a dream come true. the only hitch? you’re kind of in love with him, and it’s getting harder to ignore that fact, even if he doesn’t feel the same for you. 

warnings: idiots being oblivious, sexually explicit content, oral (f receiving + brief mentions of m receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), body worship + praise (f receiving), a lot of soft emotions and pet names, hoseok treating reader like a pillow princess

a/n: the more I read this the less happy I am with it but after the amount of time I’ve spent on it/how long it’s gotten, I’m calling it finished (even if it’s a lot lighter on paranormal related stuff than I’d initially planned OOPS...) please feel free to let me know what you think AHH x

--

Jung Hoseok is a lot of things. 

Jung Hoseok is: a work-friend-turned-real-friend-turned-best-friend, and one of your favourite people in the world. 

Jung Hoseok is: very easily scared, the opposite of a thrillseeker, Not A Fan of big rollercoasters, or haunted houses, or anywhere that involves jump scares or loud noises or anything vaguely dangerous or threatening. 

Jung Hoseok is: a man with ridiculous lung capacity who can also screech so loudly that you’re fairly certain he could shatter glass if he wanted to.

“It’s just a bat, hyung,” Jimin says, before the bat comes back round and Hoseok shrieks again.

Jung Hoseok is: clinging to you with a vice-like grip as aforementioned bat flutters above you, squeaking and trilling, and you stroke his hand in an absent, instinctual motion, trying to soothe him.

“I definitely heard footsteps as well,” Hoseok whimpers. “Why are we here?” 

Why are you here? Well, because Jung Hoseok is also: your co-host for one of BigHit’s most popular series, BigHit Unsolved.

It’s funny, in a roundabout sort of way, that Hoseok’s general fear of Most Things had been the thing that had cinched him his spot. You’d never expected Unsolved to explode in the way it had, starting off as a short video series with Yoongi beside you to bounce off as you described unsolved crimes, but then Hoseok had starred opposite you and the audience had just eaten it up: the way he got spooked at real life events, the modulation of his voice when it would rise or dip in fear, the way you riffed off each other- you, calm but enthused about your topic, and Hoseok, a quivering jelly of a man when scared.

Not to mention that Hoseok is just great on screen anyway, personable and bright and charming. He makes you laugh and brings out a level of exuberance in you in a way that no one else can, makes you do ridiculous things without even trying- your interactions are good video fodder, basically, and your audience loves how your friendship comes across on the show. 

And that’s another funny thing. You’d known Hoseok before Unsolved, of course, because everyone knows Hoseok, because Hoseok is wonderful, a sunshine of a man, loved by all. You, however, hadn't really spoken much to him- when you'd started at BigHit you'd been crushing on Hoseok in kind of a big way and you'd been worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him, so… you'd done the logical thing of avoiding him as much as was possible without being rude or weird. Face your problems and anxieties? In this economy? Haha, you don't think so.

Anyway. Because of this, your interactions had been pretty limited up until you’d asked him to appear in one of your videos. If anyone asked it was because you’d thought he would be a fun, one-off guest star, which was true, but the main reason was that Yoongi had cancelled because he was sick and no one else had been free when you’d been scrabbling around the office for a replacement. Despite not knowing you all too well, and despite being scared easily by true crime (“my mum watched CSI when I was a kid and it gave nightmares,” he’d told you afterwards), Hoseok had heard about your plight and was happy to replace Yoongi for the episode, and you’d found out that- despite your initial worry that you were going to make things weird- you get on really well.

Like, really well. Not just on camera, either. Before they’d started to roll, you’d been frantically making sure everything was in place, that you had all your notes, that all the pre-production was ready- and Hoseok had made you stand still, taking your hands in his, and he’d smiled at you in a way that had been so warm and comforting that all the tension had leaked out of you. After that it had just been so easy. You’d felt relaxed and the episode had come out great, and then Hoseok suggested that you grab lunch together in the cafeteria so you could get to know each other more. Of course you’d agreed- and the rest is history.

It didn’t take long for Hoseok to turn from a nice and funny colleague, to someone you actively looked for at work gatherings, to someone who you decided to ask to be your permanent co-host for the show, to someone who now has a spare key for your flat in case he ever runs out of snacks or just feels like dropping by. Which he feels like doing a lot, apparently, but you have a key for his place too, so it’s all even stevens. (You steal a lot of his face masks whenever you visit him and he never complains.)

Over time your huge crush on Hoseok has ebbed into a deep platonic love, fading and morphing into a comfortable friendship. Okay, sure, you still think he’s the most beautiful person in the universe and you’d immediately accept if he asked you to marry him and you kind of want to kiss him on the mouth sometimes (a lot of the time) or whatever, but that’s because you know how wonderful he is. It’s platonic. Not romantic. Mmhm. (Mostly.) Either way, you're completely comfortable around him despite any lingering feelings you might have, which is something you appreciate more than you can put into words.

So fast forward to now, multiple seasons into your show, and you’re more than used to Hoseok’s fear and touch. It had been startling, at the beginning, when Hoseok had grabbed onto you whenever he was afraid, but now you’re used to navigating places in the dark while Hoseok clings onto you like a particularly oversized backpack or holds your hand like a lost school child. (You’ve lost count of the minutes, nay, hours of footage that exist of Hoseok doing this, like some sort of gangly limpet, but you don’t mind.) Fans love to splice together footage comparing interactions over the seasons and it’s very obvious how wide eyed and stiff you used to go whenever Hoseok seized you, but now? This is your every day, baby.

Hoseok is still cowering behind you as the lone bat flaps above you, high up in the rafters of the old generator building you’re standing in. You and your crew and your guide are the only people at the abandoned gold mine, so Hoseok can’t have heard footsteps, other than your own- which is what you tell him.

“I think it was the building settling, Hobi,” you say. “This mining warehouse is pretty old.”

“Old and full of ghosts.” Hoseok moans. Jimin readjusts the camera and you know that, without a doubt, he’s zooming in on Hoseok’s terrified face. Namjoon’ll have some fun shots to edit later. Jimin is a very capable cameraman, and also unruffled by ghosts/loud noises/etc, but he does love to catch some interesting angles of the two of you. At least Taehyung refrains from doing that, although he does sometimes get too focused on making a shot artistic rather than capturing the abject terror on Hoseok’s face when it would be a good clip for the final video.  

“Well, we don’t know that.” You pause. “Maybe we should test it with the spirit box to find out?”

Hoseok’s face twists and you can’t help but laugh.

The supernatural half of the show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Your fans enjoyed his eternal suffering and fear whenever anything remotely spooky was mentioned, so they'd bandied about the idea of a paranormal-themed season and you'd taken the idea on board; the juxtaposition between yourself and your co-host was all the more defined when he was banshee shrieking at some innocuous sound while you stayed calm. You’re open to the concept of the supernatural but have yet to come across any evidence that you find compelling enough to make you a believer, while Hoseok is convinced in the existence of ghosts and finds the idea terrifying.

He doesn’t like the spirit box because of this, but you don’t mind it- although you don't really like the loud static it makes when it’s scanning through radio frequencies, trying to pick up if any spirits or ghouls are trying to talk to you. (They’re not, even if Hoseok insists that the random bursts of sound it spits out are definitely coherent words and sentences, rather than a mish-mash of random rubbish that it just happens to pick from normal radio waves.)

The spirit box, of course, is about as interesting as normal: that is to say, not really at all, though you have a good laugh after you ask for any spirits to give you a name and the only response is ‘pineapple pie’, which makes you feel hungry. Hoseok lets you rummage around in his pocket for a cereal bar, which you end up munching on between shots, as Hoseok swats bugs away from your faces. He attempts to karate chop a mosquito but misses by miles and you almost choke on a mouthful of oats as he makes the world’s most incredulous face and you giggle.

“We should make pineapple pie for a video at some point,” you suggest, and Hoseok is briefly distracted from his fear- he’d given up on the bugs and has been shining his torch over your shoulder at some old generator equipment and casting warped shadows on the walls behind it, dark silhouettes that could admittedly be considered a little spooky. “I’ve never had pineapple pie before.”

“There’s a Filipino bakery near our place that sells it!” Taehyung jumps in before Hoseok can respond, turning away from where he and Jimin have been making shadow puppets on the wall with their own torches. “It’s so good, you should definitely do it.”

Hoseok hums. “Jin-hyung would probably be happy to help out,” he says. You finish the cereal bar and tuck the wrapper back into Hoseok’s pocket, making a mental note to get in touch with the Tasty team member to ask him about it. He’ll leap at the opportunity. 

There’s a clattering noise somewhere far in the distance, probably rocks shifting or something, and Hoseok squeaks and crowds even closer to you, as impossible as that is with how he’s already wrapped around your back at this point, the harness for his chest-mounted camera digging into your spine. It’s a familiar sensation by this point. “Please can we get out of here now?”

“Sure,” you say indulgently, stroking Hoseok’s arm where it’s wrapped around your collarbones. “We need to drive down to the mining tunnels now anyway.”

Hoseok keeps hold of your hand as your guide drives you to your location, squeezing your fingers every time the car goes over a bump- which is pretty often on the rocky dirt track. Hoseok’s fairly touchy in general, always holding hands or hugging or kissing people, raining little pecks over their faces, and it had been Very Overwhelming when he’d first turned this attention to you. You’re not, like, not touchy, but back in season 1 you were definitely not used to spending time with someone who loves skinship as much as Hoseok does, and it had taken time for you to stop freezing up every time he casually touched or grabbed you.

It says a lot about how used you are to it now that you don’t even bat an eyelid when he wriggles into your twin bed at the hotel later, curling up around you once he’s finished his meticulous skincare routine.  “Your bed is over there, Hobi,” you say, although you immediately snuggle back into him, letting him spoon you. He’s always a lot clingier after you finish filming a supernatural episode- as if you can ward off any ghosts that might have decided to hitch a ride back from wherever you’d come from.

“I know,” Hoseok replies. He hitches a leg over yours, sighing happily when you reach an arm down to rub his calves. He always sleeps better if you massage him.

“I can’t wait to get home.” You dig your fingers into a muscle and Hoseok squirms a little. You huff out a laugh. “Arizona is so hot.”

“You look cute in shorts, though,” Hoseok says. He’s been saying the same thing all day.

“You just like shorts.” He’d been wearing shorts too, pretty much matching his clothes to yours; at this point you’re starting to wonder if he looks through your luggage before he packs his own stuff, because your outfits end up being eerily similar a lot of the time. You think he finds it reassuring, maybe, when you’re somewhere unfamiliar. Or maybe it’s because Hoseok’s fashion has influenced your own over the years. You definitely own a lot more bright clothing than you used to, not to mention the matching items you’ve both purchased together anyway.

Now that you think about it, Hoseok really has been a big influence on you, huh.

He falls asleep pretty soon after, going lax and limp as his breaths deepen and he dozes off. He always falls asleep before you do, awake one second and flat out the next; you envy his ability to drop off like that, usually taking a lot longer yourself, but you do find it good that he’s able to sleep so quickly despite his earlier fear. He always crashes at yours after you finish filming an episode when you’re home, too, otherwise he says he’s up all night with the fear- this is all part and parcel of Hoseok being your co-host and partner on the show, and honestly, you don’t mind it at all.

So you're used to this. When Hoseok makes a little noise in his sleep and starts shifting behind you, you lift his hand to your mouth and gently kiss his knuckles, running your thumb down his wrist- he settles immediately, going lax again. You'll chase away any nightmares with soft touches, shuffling around in his grip and holding him tight if you need to, before eventually drifting off yourself, safe and warm in the circle of his arms.

Even though you usually fall asleep after Hoseok, one thing you have over him is the fact you’re a morning person and find it a lot easier to get up with the sun. Despite your late night, you’re awake moments before your phone alarm starts to ring, turning it off before it can rouse Hoseok out of his sleep. When you slide out of the bed he stirs a little, instinctively reaching out for you in his sleep, and you carefully put a pillow in his arms so he can hold onto that instead; he settles down once he has the pillow hugged to his chest, and you take a moment to look at him fondly and gently kiss his forehead before you start to get ready for the day.

You’re pretty much done by the time Hoseok sits up at the sound of his own alarm, blinking blearily in your direction as you turn it off for him. He’s still holding onto the pillow as he sits up.

“Morning, honey,” you chirp. “You want coffee?”

Hoseok stares at you for a second, eyes squinting as he tries to wake up fully. “Morning,” he replies, voice hoarse from sleep, and you smile. “Please.”

When you’d first found out that Hoseok wasn’t a morning person, you’d honestly been gobsmacked. He’s just so bright and energetic that you figured he rolled out of bed like that- it just makes sense- but it actually takes him a surprisingly long time to get fully up to speed with his normal self. He’s a little slower, a little softer, draping himself over your back as you fiddle with the room's coffee machine to try and get some caffeine into him.

“We can always get some more at the airport,” you say conversationally, and Hoseok hums quietly into your hair before dropping a kiss there. “It’s a shame we don’t have time to eat at the breakfast buffet.” 

Despite his morning slowness, he’s still ready on time; he’s always punctual, is your Hoseok. You make up for missing breakfast at the hotel by purchasing tons of snacks for the flight to Pennsylvania, munching a pre-wrapped croissant as you read off your phone while Jimin dozes next to you, his head resting against the window. You’re sandwiched between him and Hoseok, who has the aisle seat- he cranes his head at your pastry and you tilt it against his lips so he can take a bite. You end up with a lapful of crumbs, but that’s okay. 

“So where are we off to next?” Hoseok asks once he’s done chewing, peering at your phone screen. Across the aisle from you, Taehyung very loudly unwraps a pain au chocolat, much to the irritation of the woman next to him. 

“We’re going to an old prison,” you say, and Hoseok meeps. “A penitentiary, to be exact.”

Taehyung shoves the pain au chocolat into his mouth whole so he has his hands free, fumbling for his phone as he starts to film how the colour drains from Hoseok’s face as you give him a brief synopsis of the prison and other places you’ll be going to while in Pennsylvania. This isn’t even for Unsolved; Taehyung just likes to have video evidence and receipts for everything, if his camera reel is anything to go by. Even though you’re vague with your descriptions- you like Hoseok’s reaction on camera to be as unscripted and natural as it can possibly be, when you finally turn up at your locations and then set up so that you can talk about it- once you’re finished, Hoseok is curled up against you, hiding his face in your neck.

“Why can’t we go somewhere nice for once?” He whines, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Budget doesn’t cover it, that’s why we have to sleep at haunted hotels. They’re cheaper.” Hoseok meeps again, and you relent, lifting your hand to cup the back of his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you,” you say, stroking his hair as you use your free hand to clumsily scroll through your phone, double checking the details of your planned trip.

“I know.” Hoseok is uncharacteristically quiet against your collarbones. Taehyung gives up filming and rips into another pain au chocolat packet, smiling guiltily at his seat neighbour when she tuts at him. “You never do.”

Despite Hoseok’s fear of a lot of things related to the show, and the fact he jumps and screams at pretty much everything, he’s never asked to bow out or avoid doing something. He even agrees to go into areas alone when the two of you try to ‘make contact’ with spirits, even though he’s obviously terrified- but each and every time before you part, you promise that you’re not going anywhere and you’ll be waiting right outside for him. You would never abandon Hoseok (even though ghosts probably aren’t real and he has nothing to worry about), and he knows that, and takes strength from it. It warms you.

He keeps his head nestled against your neck for a beat longer, and then smacks a loud kiss against your skin, which makes you squeal and slap him away while he laughs. 

--

As fun as it is to jet around the country- especially with Hoseok and the other guys- it's also exhausting, and there’s always something nice about coming home. Even though the increased budget that you’ve been allocated as the show’s been growing in popularity means that you can stay at nicer hotels now, your own bed is still the most comfortable place in the world. (Well, tied with Hoseok’s bed, thinking about it. The two are basically interchangeable at this point anyway, if you consider how often Hoseok ends up sleeping at your apartment and squirreling his way under your blankets as you’re trying to sleep.)

On the other hand, though, in spite of a return to your regular creature comforts, coming home still involves work: there are Q&As to be filmed, footage to edit, later episodes to plan, research to be done. As the original progenitor of Unsolved you take the brunt of the last two parts; Hoseok is the one who reacts to the facts you throw out, he’s not the one who investigates the different things you talk about on the show, but he’s always there to support you and talk to you whenever you need it. 

(Your audience knows Hoseok as someone who is cute and bright and cheerful, but he’s also quietly thoughtful and surprisingly serious when he has to be. That’s the side of him that you get to see whenever you stay late at the office, your desk lamp the only one left on in the room, hunched over your keyboard as you trawl through conspiracy threads in the deep bowels of the internet that are discussing who D.B. Cooper is. You love loud Hoseok, of course, but you appreciate this hushed part of him, too- the way he'll deliver you a hot chocolate with a kiss to your forehead before quietly sitting beside you and waiting for you to finish so he can take you home.)

Anyway. Coming home means coming back to the office, means putting in shifts at BigHit headquarters, etc, etc, all that jazz, so here you are, sitting on Hoseok’s lap and scrolling through your tablet as he does something of his own on his PC. The first time this had happened, it had raised eyebrows- not because it was considered inappropriate or anything, as BigHit is the kind of place where people can make out in hallways to ‘test the longevity of this 24 hour lipstick’ for a video and no one bats an eyelash, but because up until this point, you’d been renowned for pretty much being glued to your desk while working. But you like Hoseok and his energy, even when he’s not doing anything, and his lap is comfortable, even if he doesn’t exactly have the world’s thickest thighs. You work better when you’re around him. 

You’re scrolling through Instagram comments for questions to answer in this week’s Q&A episode when someone clears their throat. Both you and Hoseok look up in tandem to find Seokjin standing there, looking decidedly more grey-haired than he had the last time you’d seen him. He pulls it off effortlessly, of course. 

“What’s up, silver fox?” You let your tablet droop into your lap as Hoseok takes his hands off his mouse and keyboard and secures them around your waist instead, so you don’t slide off his legs. His hands are warm where they splay across your stomach and you can feel the bumps and texture of his bracelets through the material of your shirt. “Liking the new look, by the way.”

“You look really good, Jin-hyung,” Hoseok says from over your shoulder, and you nod in agreement.

“I know.” Jin sounds flippant but he seems pleased. He doesn’t say anything more than that, though, and just looks at the two of you expectantly. You both blink back at him.

“So… did you come over just to be complimented, or?” You slowly start to lift your tablet, acting as if you’re about to start reading off your screen again. “Were the thirsty comments on your latest video not enough for you today?”

Jin raises an eyebrow as he pretends to inspect his nails. “No, no, there were plenty of comments, as always,” he says loftily. Unsurprising, considering his unofficial(/basically official) title of Most Handsome Face in the office as well as the leagues of fans he has. He lets his hand drop as he quickly gives up pretending to be aloof. “So when are you planning to fit making pineapple pie into your schedule?”

“Oh!” Hoseok squeezes you in his excitement and you wiggle a little in his lap. “I almost forgot about that! Did Tae mention it to you?”

“Jimin too. They burst into the kitchen while I was filming and they were both holding a piece of Filipino pineapple pie aloft like they were wielding Excalibur, so, yes, you can say that it was mentioned,” Jin says, and you can’t help but wince. Being interrupted while filming is one thing, but the Tasty studio can be hazardous on top of that (y’know, what with the knives and fire and stuff), so you can only hope that Jin wasn’t using a mandolin or something when they had appeared. 

“Oof.” You wiggle your hips again and Hoseok immediately catches your drift, turning his chair so the two of you are facing Jin fully rather than having to turn your heads to look at him. Jin makes a weird expression, something you can’t put a name to, but it slips away too fast for you to catch properly- maybe he just had a sudden chill or something, who knows. “Sorry about them. How about I email you our filming schedule and you can see when you’re free as well? We were going to film a 70th episode retrospective soon and the pineapple pie video might be a nice sort of bonus on top of that.”

Jin agrees easily. You use your tablet to open the Google Calendar that you have with Hoseok, which makes Jin pause when he notices. “You share a GCal?”

“Duh?” You flick a look at Jin through your lashes. You and Hoseok have GCal where you input your work schedules to avoid potential clashes when you need to film together, but you also put in other plans the two of you have outside of work, if it’s ever necessary. “Why wouldn’t we? It makes it easier when we need to plan things for Unsolved.”

“Uh-huh.” Jin sounds sceptical, but you decide not to address it. You miss the look he gives Hoseok as you scroll through your calendar, the two men having a silent exchange as you start to draft an email. Somewhere across the office you hear Yoongi shout out an expletive and two sets of cackling laughter that sound suspiciously like Taehyung and Jungkook; you and Hoseok turn at the sound, but you don’t spot anything from where you’re sat. “Alright, I think that’s my cue to leave,” Jin says, and promptly dips before he gets dragged into whatever’s going on.

Whatever shenanigans Jungkook and Taehyung have gotten up to seem to be pinpointed to one area, so you avoid any fall out, and Hoseok eventually excuses himself to go to the toilet. You take over his chair while he’s gone. Asides from yourself, both computers at this desk are entirely abandoned- Yoongi is still absent, nowhere to be seen- and you’re tapping away at your tablet when all of a sudden you have a camera shoved in your face. 

For once it’s not Jimin or Taehyung or Jungkook, and instead when you look up you see Irene and Seulgi, the latter girl beaming at you while Irene holds the camera. Seulgi says your name and points at you with a perfectly manicured nail, and you blink at her, completely caught off guard. Irene zooms in on your bewildered expression.

“Um, hey guys,” you say. “What’s up? Need me for something?”

“We wanted to ask if you wanted to guest star in the next Ladylike video!” Seulgi chirps brightly, and you’re immediately on guard. While the offer seems innocent enough on the surface you can’t help but wonder if the next video is one of their wilder ones (you don’t care if the underwear is silver-infused and apparently wicks away smell and moisture, you flat out refuse to wear the same panties for a whole week). Fortunately your fears are assuaged when Seulgi seems to read your mind and answers your question before you have the chance to ask it. “We’re trying to recreate elaborate Instagram makeup looks with dollar store makeup.”

Irene giggles behind the camera when you visibly relax. “I’m in, that sounds fun,” you say, and both girls seem inordinately pleased. “Um, when are you planning to shoot it?”

“Tomorrow! It won’t take long, we promise,” Seulgi says. “You just need to be free for filming, we’ll do all the editing and stuff.”

You finalise the exact time you need to be available by and by the time Hoseok comes back from the toilet both girls have just gone. You stand up so that he can reclaim his seat, eyes glued to your tablet as you open up your Google Calendar so you can put the Ladylike video filming in, but you’re interrupted when Hoseok grabs you. You squeal in surprise when he tugs you back down rather than letting you sit down yourself, tablet getting sandwiched between the two of you as you end up straddling him in a desperate attempt to catch your balance- but before you can resituate yourself he starts to tickle you and you end up laughing uproariously into his face.

“Cute, cute, my Y/n is so cute,” he sing-songs, and you continue to laugh as you try to bat his hands away.

“Stop, oh my God, Hobi!” There are tears of laughter in the corners of your eyes as you squirm in his lap, trying to get away from his hands but being prevented from doing so by the desk at your back; you’re trapped between it and Hoseok, entirely at his mercy as the two of you giggle at each other.

“You realise other people work here, right?”

Yoongi has finally reappeared. He sounds disgruntled, but you put it down to the fact he has KITTY AVAILABLE FOR ADOPTION and a phone number scrawled across his face in what appears to be permanent marker, rather than at the fact that you and Hoseok are making noise. As Hoseok’s deskmate he’s used to this sort of behaviour by now.

“Hey hyung,” Hoseok says, shameless as his fingers continue to dance up and down your sides, although the touches are light enough now that you can turn your attention away from giggling to appreciate Yoongi’s new look. “Did you have a good nap?”

“A cat nap,” you say, and then giggle at the unimpressed look Yoongi throws your way- it’s hard to find him scary with the multi-coloured letters scribbled over his face.

He grunts as he sits down. “I’ll kill those kids,” he says, but there’s no real heat behind his words, and he slumps into his chair with a resigned sigh. “I kept scrubbing at my face but this shit won’t come off.”

You exchange a look with Hoseok, the two of you thinking about the hand sanitiser you keep in your handbag- the alcoholic gel would probably lift the ink off Yoongi’s face, but neither of you offer up this information. “I’m sure it’ll come off by tomorrow,” you say, and Yoongi makes a hopeful noise at the back of this throat. "Any particular reason why you've decided to act as a walking billboard for abandoned cats?"

"Thing 1 and Thing 2 said they were raising awareness for a local cat shelter and asked if I wanted to help. I said yes." Yoongi sounds rueful. 

"I feel very aware of it, hyung, so I'd say they did a good job." Hoseok laughs when Yoongi just flips him off.

Hoseok’s hands have gone still by this point. It’s not until Yoongi starts to tap at his keyboard that you remember the position you’re in, straddling Hoseok in his chair, your hands on his shoulders and his hands on your waist as you lean back against his desk- but as questionable and potentially incriminating as this entire situation seems out of context, literally no one is batting an eyelid. People are used to seeing this sort of thing from you two, both comfortable and not awkward with each other at all.

Hoseok's hands are warm and steady where they wrap around your waist. You're struck again by how large they feel- supportive, as always, when he holds you. 

"Mind letting me go, cowboy?" You say. "I should go back to my desk to get some work done."

"You're more of a cowboy in this situation," Hoseok says, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Seeing as you're the one that's doing the riding."

"Good lord," Yoongi mutters.

You laugh at the expression on his face before Hoseok wheels you both away from the desk so that you have room to swing your legs off him. "That's dirty, Hobi," you say, but it's said with a smile and wink.

After you've disappeared, waving at the two men, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at Hoseok. "I know you two are basically married at this point, but can you try and rein in the flirting when I'm trying to work?"

"We weren't flirting," Hoseok protests. Yoongi looks unconvinced, his other eyebrow rising to match the first, and just shakes his head before he resumes Googling ways to get the permanent marker off his face.

--

Irene’s touch is light as she puts the makeup onto your face, surveying her work critically as she does. 

“Alright, that’s the foundation done,” she says, once everything seems to have passed whatever rigorous criteria she has. “So we're onto the concealer next.”

There’s something soothing about having someone else do your makeup. Not to mention that you don’t have to worry at all about the production of the video- with your usual projects, your level of investment means that there’s always something to think about, but right now all you have to do is sit there and look pretty. You do listen and react whenever Irene shows you the products and so on, but otherwise, you are literally just sitting there and letting the other woman put stuff on your face; you can relax and unwind and let her take the lead.

Irene has just finished blending the concealer under your eyes when your phone vibrates in your pocket. While she's rummaging for the next product- setting powder- you quickly check your phone to see if it's anything important. It's Hoseok, asking where you are, because he has a coffee and Danish pastry for you and he can't find you; you realise then that you never put the Ladylike video filming into your calendar, distracted by Hoseok grabbing you, and today you'd just disappeared without telling him where you were going. Oops.

You quickly shoot him a reply before Irene starts to brush the powder across your face and you're both surprised at how well it sets. "Your skin is so nice," Irene says with a smile, sweeping the brush over your cheeks. You try not to laugh when the bristles tickles your face, flattered at her comment.

She's just finished doing your brows when you hear the studio door open and you catch sight of Hoseok. He's staying off camera next to Wendy so he doesn't get in the shot, quiet and unobtrusive, but you can't help but perk up when you see him. Although you stay silent so that it doesn’t interrupt the filming, Irene notices how you brighten and pauses in her motions to look over where Hoseok is standing.

"Hi, Hoseok." Much to your surprise, despite the fact that the cameras are rolling, Irene still greets Hoseok. You thought she'd make him wait until you were done. "You're here for Y/n, I presume?"

"I have a coffee for her," Hoseok says, a little sheepish, holding up an iced macchiato and a paper bag that's got a small grease stain spreading on it, a tantalising glimpse of the deliciousness inside. "I just came to drop it off?"

"I don't deserve you, Hobi," you say, beaming, and he smiles back at you. 

Irene gestures for Hoseok to come into the frame. There’s a brief moment where you and Hoseok exchange a small, surprised look- Irene is rummaging through eyeshadow palettes and seems like she’s still going through with the video even though Hoseok is about to walk on set- but he acquiesces and steps into the shot. Irene points at the Instagram photo she has open on her iPad, which is propped on the table so she can use it for reference and zoom in if necessary. “We’re doing this look with dollar store products."

“Woah,” Hoseok says, leaning down to peer at the picture, and he sounds suitably awed. “That’s really nice. You’ve chosen one with all of Y/n’s favourite colours.”

“It’s cute, right?” You’re so excited to see the final product, even if it ends up not looking as good as what you can see on the screen, considering the cheapness of the makeup that Irene is using.

“Not as cute as you,” Hoseok says, and you blow him a kiss before looking at the iced macchiato in his hands meaningfully.

“Coffee, coffee?” You sound hopeful but Irene tuts.

“You’ll need to keep your eyes shut while I do your eyeshadow,” she says.

Before you can begin to feel disappointed, Hoseok comes to the rescue. “Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you.”

And so that’s how you end up with Hoseok holding the straw of your iced coffee up to your lips while Irene applies the different shades and shimmers to your eyelids, your eyes shut as she does so; Hoseok makes appropriate ooh-ing noises, bowled over by how she manages to blend the cheap eyeshadows before doing a cut crease- you have to keep your eyes shut the whole time, letting the concealer dry on your lids so that it doesn’t smudge, gauging how it looks based on Hoseok's reactions. 

Every so often Hoseok will make a small noise and then you’ll feel the straw press up against your lips, and you’ll take a sip of your drink while Irene is switching colours or brushes; you feel thoroughly pampered today and you’re enjoying it immensely. She’s been describing the different products and their quality to the camera throughout the whole video, but now that Hoseok’s there, he responds to what she’s saying, making her giggle with how enthusiastic he is despite not recognising all the terminology she’s using. Although your eyes are shut you can't help but smile: that's your Hoseok, always lightening the atmosphere and making people laugh.

“Alright, you can open your eyes,” Irene says after what feels like a lifetime. The liquid eyeliner has dried by the time your eyes flutter open, the stark blackness against the expertly blended eyeshadows the first thing you notice when you look at yourself in the mirror.

“Woah, Irene! This is incredible!" You turn your head from side to side, taking in how different your eyes look after the ministrations of Irene's skilled hands. "Hobi, look at those wings! I wish I could get mine that even.” You don’t often wear liquid liner and when you do it takes you eons to get them to match, making each side bigger as you try to match the other- most of the time you just give up.

“You do look incredible,” Hoseok agrees. You look away from the mirror to smile brightly at him and then take another drink of coffee when he lifts it back up to your lips; the straw makes loud slurping noises as you reach the bottom of the cup and you end up sucking up more air than liquid, much to your disappointment. He chuckles at the look on your face but then coos when you pout. 

“I’m not done just yet, you know,” Irene says, unperturbed by your interactions. You wonder how this footage is going to turn out after the edit. “We still have lips and cheeks to do.”

Despite the fact your coffee is finished, Hoseok still remains next to you and watches Irene work. She lines your lips and then paints them a pleasant nude colour, before going in with an extra touch to your contour, and blush, and highlight (you’re genuinely in awe at the selection of makeup you can apparently get for a dollar each). There are so many steps involved in the execution of this look and you wonder how long it would take you to try and do this yourself, before deciding there aren’t enough hours in the day, even if Irene makes it look easy, finishing your face with a flourish.

“Alright, done!”

You pick the mirror up to tilt your head at different angles. You catch the way the highlight shimmers on your cheekbones and cupid’s bow, the way your eyes look after they’ve been shaded with colour and glitter, the sharpness of your brows, the fullness of your lips. 

“I can’t believe this was all dollar store makeup,” you say, awestruck. “It’s so much like the photo! I look so good.”

“Irene had an already perfect canvas to work with,” Hoseok says, and you end up smiling so widely your eyes almost squeeze shut.

“Flatterer,” you say.

“You two are so cute.” Seulgi sighs wistfully from behind the cameras and Wendy muffles a quiet cough into her palm.

Irene asks for your opinions on the makeup- you, moreso on how it feels on your face, and Hoseok, if he thinks it looks close to the Instagram photo (he does, but he's clearly biased because you're involved, which he doesn't try to hide). Once the cameras have been cut and everything has been wrapped up, Irene says you can go and so you hop off your chair. Before you can get too far, though, Hoseok stops you, touching his fingers gently under your chin. 

“Let me have a proper look.”

You immediately relax and let him tip your head slowly from one side to the other, eyes scanning across your makeup, which feels a lot heavier than you’d expected, but you’re still happy with how nice it is.

“Wah, so beautiful,” Hoseok says, a small smile on his face; it’s one of his softer ones, one that doesn’t show his teeth or his dimples, but rather squeezes his eyes into crescents, his gaze warm. Still blinding but in a different way.

“Irene did a really good job, didn’t she?” You say, enthused. Hoseok pauses, but then his teeth show as the smile grows.

“Yeah, she did.”

"Maybe I should get her to give me makeup lessons so I can look prettier more often." You've never been all too great at the more refined parts of makeup- blending eyeshadow or contouring, for example- but maybe you should add it to your repertoire, you muse.

Hoseok's smile dims as he becomes oddly sombre, hand shifting to cup the bottom of your chin so your face is gently cradled in his hand. "You're gorgeous all the time, makeup or not," he says. "Makeup is fun and you do look great but please don't think you need it to be pretty."

A shy smile plays at your lips. You feel bashful but you can't hide from Hoseok's gaze when he's holding onto you like this, but it wouldn’t matter even if you did. Hoseok knows you well enough to read your moods if you attempt to hide them- but because you trust him you don’t try to. 

"Ahh, you're too sweet to me, Hoseok," you murmur. He always compliments you, but the thing with Hoseok is that he always means it, and although you should be used to it, it still catches you off guard every time. 

"You deserve it." The soft smile has returned to his face and he lets his fingers drop away from your chin to tangle with yours to lead you out of the studio. “Now come on, you still have your pastry to eat.”

“I totally forgot about that! Oh, but I’ll probably smudge my lipstick.” Your sudden excitement about food dips instantly as you realise this. “I mean, I doubt dollar store stuff has much staying power anyway, but it’ll definitely smear onto the pastry, like, immediately.”

“I’ll cut it up into small pieces for you,” Hoseok says, and you make a noise of happiness as the door to the Ladylike studio shuts behind you both.

Seulgi and Wendy and Irene all look at each other, the two of you all but forgetting that they'd been standing there and had thus witnessed that entire exchange in excruciating detail. Wendy and Seulgi both open their mouths but before they can speak Irene holds up a hand. “I know,” she says. “Trust me. I know.”

--

Around the office, Jin might be renowned for his silliness, propensity towards dad jokes and loud laughter, but on set- while he’s still very much himself- he’s a professional and takes safety in the kitchen Very Seriously.

“If you damage any of my equipment with your clumsy fingers, I will grate so much parmesan down your throat that you die of cheese asphyxiation.”

“Sounds kinky,” Hoseok laughs, but then he jumps behind you when Jin brandishes a decorative pineapple at him as if he’s about to brain the other man. 

“Babe, I’m not about to explain to your family that your final words were, and I quote, ‘sounds kinky’, especially if it was before Jin offed you via fermented dairy products,” you say, although you still shield Hoseok with your body- as if there was any chance you’d be able to stop Jin if he was on the warpath. His shoulders are so broad. Still, you’d fight him for Hoseok if you had to.

“My family love you, I think they’d be okay with it,” Hoseok says from behind you. Jin makes a weird expression with his face before he sets the pineapple back down onto the table next to the rest of your equipment, raising his eyebrows at something; before you can ask what’s up, you’re distracted by the sensation of Hoseok’s hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “It’s okay, Jin, Y/n and I cook together all the time. We won’t mess up.”

“Hobi’s really good at cooking,” you pipe up, and Hoseok affectionately nuzzles at the crown of your head. You cook dinner together at least once a week, trying to use different recipes each time- cooking is a great hobby because you get food at the end of it, and cooking with Hoseok is especially great because you get an excuse to break out the candles and fancy tablecloth your mother had gifted you, even if your food is something simple. 

(You never thought you’d learn multiple ways to fold a napkin, but Hoseok is always so excited whenever he sees you start to crimp them into shape, so you like to mix things up for him.)

Jin’s face shifts back into that look that you’re starting to think looks like he’s eaten something that he’s not sure if he likes or not- a little disbelieving, perplexed, resigned. You never get a chance to ask why, though: Jin claps his hands and tells you to put on your aprons so you can start filming, and you eagerly pull it over your head before helping Hoseok tie his behind his back. (Jin makes the face again, but you’re too busy tying a cute bow to notice.)

Jin seems genuinely impressed when it turns out that the two of you have been telling the truth. Of course, the Tasty team member is directing you and giving instructions so it’s not as difficult as it might be otherwise, but he ends up surprisingly uninvolved with the physical part of the process; you and Hoseok hand jobs off to each other and work in tandem to prepare the dough and filling, and once the pie is in the oven you even begin to clean everything up unprompted, moving around each other with an unconscious level of ease. 

Jin just ends up sitting on a stool and watching you do his ‘minion work’ although you think he just doesn’t want to get in the way. Hoseok hipchecks you gently and then giggles when you pretend to be pushed back by the strength of the motion and flop dramatically over the sink.

“How often do you two cook together?” Although the question is technically directed at the both of you, for some reason you get the feeling that Jin is aiming this more towards Hoseok, who answers him.

“Usually two or three times a week,” Hoseok says.

“Hmm. I see.” Jin looks thoughtful, and you can’t help but feel like there’s something you’re missing in this simple question and answer exchange. Hoseok has an expression on his face that you’ve never seen before- which you’d thought was impossible, because you know Hoseok inside and out, and it’s confusing. You feel surprisingly unsettled by it.

Your best friend seems like he’s trying to cut whatever tension’s in the air by turning his attention back to tidying up, but he fumbles when he goes to shut a drawer and catches his fingers. He’s barely had time to make a small ow noise before you’re there, lifting his hand and inspecting it carefully. “Stop distracting my boy, Jin, let him focus on cleaning up your messy ass kitchen,” you say.

“Excuse you, my kitchen is a temple, it’s only a mess because you’ve been in here,” Jin says primly.

“Sounds like something a messy person would say.” You would roll your eyes but they’re focused on the reddened skin of Hoseok’s fingers. They just look slightly pinched, nothing major, but still. You’re careful when you touch him. You don’t want him to hurt any further. “Are you okay, baby?”

“No.” He sniffles and his lip wobbles dramatically and you laugh. You do what you always do when Hoseok hurts himself in some small, superficial way- you lift his hand to your lips and gently kiss the fingers he’d gotten caught, inflamed skin already fading back to its usual colour, pain clearly already gone. 

“There,” you declare. “All better.”

Hoseok’s expression is warm and tender as he looks at you, his fingers still cradled in yours as you look up from your touching hands, and your gazes lock. There’s a brief moment of stillness, a second that starts to crystallise into something more, and you’d swear his face had just started inching forwards when there’s suddenly an almighty clattering noise from behind you and you both jump, the moment broken.

“Oops,” Jin says blithely. You turn around to discover that all the pineapple related knick-knacks and decor on the table are now scattered on the floor around him, a tangle of paper decorations and plastic fruit that’s rolling across the room. “I seem to have slipped.”

“Weren’t you just going on about how messy we were?” You raise an eyebrow at him, but you’ve already turned away from Hoseok to squat down and help Jin tidy up, chasing down an errant pineapple. You don’t see the pointed look that Jin gives Hoseok behind your back, and when you turn around with the over-large pineapple clutched in your arms, both men seem to be acting like normal. “I’m going to pay Namjoon to keep that in the final cut so everyone can see how chaotic you are in the kitchen.”

“Joonie would never betray me like that,” Jin says with completely unearned confidence, just like he does with most things- but the sad thing is, he’s right. Namjoon is too much of a professional to keep unnecessary shots in the video, and besides, Jin seems able to get away with being outrageously chaotic because he’s so charming and pulls it off so well. If the footage of him somehow sending everything to the floor was kept in the video, people would probably love it.

Once the pie is done cooking and has finally cooled enough for Jin to cut it into triangular shapes, you’re so excited to eat it that you’re bouncing up and down on the spot a little. Hoseok is too. Jin humours your excitement with understanding- he loves to eat too- although he raises his eyebrows at the way you and Hoseok lock your arms together before you lean forward to take a bite of the pineapple pie. You let out a muffled little groan into the pastry once it finally touches your tongue, sweet tartness of the pineapple exploding across your tastebuds, pastry buttery and flakey as it melts in your mouth.

“Jin, this is so good,” you say, and Hoseok hums around a mouthful of fruit filling in agreement.

“I think your ghost was onto something,” Jin says. He’s already polished off his slice, while you and Hoseok are barely halfway through your own, disentangling your arms so you can focus on eating properly. Sometimes you wonder if Jin just unhinges his jaw and swallows things whole because you’ve never seen someone who can eat as quickly as he can. “They could see you pining.”

Your face twists in confusion. “What?”

“You know… pining… like a pineapple,” Jin says, before giggling to himself like he’s just told the world’s funniest joke. You raise your eyebrows at Hoseok, but then you take another bite of the pie and immediately forget about Jin’s cryptic nonsense.

“This is so good, isn’t it, Hobi?” You ask.

“It’s so sweet and light and delicious,” Hoseok says. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I thought we were talking about the pie, not me, Hoseok,” Jin says, and then lets out peals of squeaky laughter when you roll your eyes.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I think you can get a cream for that,” Jin continues to laugh, before you throw a paper pineapple at him.

--

There’s still pie left over the next day. Of course, you’ve saved slices for the rest of your crew. Jimin and Taehyung are snacking on slices of pie as they help each other set up the cameras and mics in the studio, making sure the lighting hits you and Hoseok so that you stand out against the room behind you. Today’s the day you’ve set aside to film the 70th episode, and you’re excited for the chance to do an official retrospective of the show so that you can look back at all the places you’ve been to and the things you’ve discussed, as well as plans for the future.

“Did the two of you coordinate your outfits for the video?” Tae says curiously, and you glance down at your clothes. It’s only then you realise that- although your outfit is darker than his- there are flowers on Hoseok’s bomber jacket and your dress is covered in a floral pattern.

“Huh, I didn’t even notice,” you mutter as you pluck at your dress.  “Guess we’re just telepathic.”

Hoseok stays silent, strangely enough, but when you hold your hand up for a high five he responds enthusiastically and continues to grip your hand afterwards, which makes you laugh. “That’s friendship,” he says, and you laugh again, squeezing his hand.

The two of you keep laughing as the cameras start to roll, watching the clips from your most popular episodes so far, between answering commonly asked questions from fans- one of the more frequently asked being ‘why did Hoseok agree to be a co-host when he always seems scared during filming and screams all the time?’

You read this question off your list and Hoseok’s answer is immediate. “Y/n is one of the hardest workers I know,” he says. “So I was excited to be invited on board for a show that she had created. And I wouldn’t say that I’m always screaming-”

“Yeah, when you have to pause to breathe,” you interject, and he laughs.

“Sure,” he says indulgently. “But, honestly, when Y/n is there it’s easy to forget that we’re standing in some terrifying old building or haunted tomb or whatever.” You rest your chin on your hand as you watch him continue to speak. “I would honestly be a lot more scared if she wasn’t there. She’s very good at distracting me if I’m getting too worried. She’s very comforting.”

“That’s a nice way of saying that I’m basically a defence mechanism for you.”

“Basically.” Hoseok grins at you so widely, teeth on show, gorgeous. 

Now that he mentions it, it’s true that as your friendship has grown, his fear has ebbed; although he still screams as loudly as before, it happens less often, but because sudden noises and jump scares always startle him, it still happens a lot. If you don’t take the time to reflect it’s kind of easy to forget how your friendship has grown over time, which is why it’s another good reason to have this retrospective- for the sake of the series, sure, but your relationship with Hoseok has grown as the show has, too.

When you flip over the final page to read the final question, you’re surprised to see an extra one tacked onto the end- you’d been the one to select them, after all, and this one has been added after the fact, someone’s messy handwriting scratched across the paper. You don’t recognise the writing. Honestly it kind of looks like someone had written it with their non-dominant hand to avoid detection, almost like a child’s writing from a cartoon, all but missing the backward E’s- but the question is pretty innocuous, so you figure you may as well answer it. You can just ask Namjoon to cut the footage later if you don’t like it.

“Y/n: If Hoseok decided to quit being your co-host, who would you want to replace him?” You squint at the paper as you decipher the scrawl, not seeing how Jimin and Taehyung exchange a sly, down-low high five off camera. “Huh.”

“You started the series with Yoongi, right?” Hoseok pipes up. “Would you bring him back?”

You’d chosen Yoongi as your original co-host for Unsolved because you vibed well and had pretty similar opinions when it came to a lot of things, and you’d worked well together in the past, but the truth is that- “No, I wouldn’t,” you say immediately. Hoseok seems genuinely surprised. “Honestly, if you stopped co-hosting with me, that would be the end of Unsolved. Hoseok and I are a package deal at this point and I would never consider filming the show without him.”

Hoseok looks stunned, but you keep going. “The show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Yoongi was great for the videos he was in, but- even if he didn’t have other commitments, he couldn’t take over from Hobi. Unsolved isn’t just a show about the supernatural, or crimes, it’s about us dealing with the supernatural or true crimes,” you continue, and then your nose wrinkles as you realise what you’ve said. “Well, we don’t directly deal with true crimes, fortunately. I’d make a terrible detective. My hand isn’t steady enough to draw one of those chalk outlines, y’know? I’d probably just end up drawing someone who looked suspiciously like Kirby. Anyway, Hoseok is my best friend as well as my co-host; if you get one of us, you get both of us, and if you don’t get both of us, you get neither of us.”

“I love you, Y/n,” Hoseok says. It’s not the first time he’s said this to you, but you think it’s the first time he’s ever said it on camera, and his tone is strangely earnest. He must be getting really nostalgic about the start of the show if it’s making him sound like that.

“Love you too, Hobi.” You beam at him. “I’m really glad we became friends.”

Behind the cameras, Taehyung makes a weird croaking sound and Jimin hits him hard on the arm.

“Uh, normally when someone's choking you hit them on the back, Minnie,” you say.

“I’m not choking, I’m fine,” Taehyung wheezes. Jimin punches him again.

“Uh-huh.” You raise an eyebrow. “Anyway. What was I saying. Oh! Yeah, referring back to the question- while I would never stop him if he thought it was the right thing to do, I certainly hope that Hobi doesn’t want to quit being a co-host.”

“I would never.” Hoseok’s expression is weirdly intense as he says this and you can’t help but laugh.

“Good! I’m glad we’re both in it for the long haul.”

Taehyung still looks kind of constipated once filming is over, but before you can ask him what’s up, Jimin pulls him to the corner of the room and the two men exchange some quiet words. They seem oddly serious and you purse your lips as you try to work out what’s going on, but then Hoseok’s hand slips into yours and your attention is drawn away from them.

“Celebratory 70th episode filming dinner?”

“I thought we were going to have a celebratory dinner with our minions when the episode actually aired,” you say, tilting your head at Taehyung and Jimin. “Didn’t you put it in the GCal?”

“I meant just you and me,” Hoseok says, squeezing your hand gently. “A co-host only dinner.”

“Ooh, we’re in an exclusive club, are we?” You giggle and squeeze his hand back. “Sure, why not. Can we have pizza? I’m feeling like pizza.”

“You can have anything you want, baby,” Hoseok answers, affection written across all his features. You go all wobbly inside, your insides melting into a puddle of goo at how warm and tender he is. You love your best friend so much. “Let’s leave those two to it, it seems like they’re busy.”

You look back over at your cameramen. Jimin has his cheeks puffed out and Taehyung looks chagrined. You purse your lips again, a little unsure if you should leave them if they’re having some sort of disagreement, but then Hoseok slips his hand out of yours and crouches down in a way that you recognise instantly. You make a noise of happiness and leap up, letting him lift you into a piggyback; you lock your arms around his neck and start to giggle as he bounces you a little, getting his hands comfortable under your calves.

“We’re off!” Hoseok announces. Jimin and Taehyung look away from their discussion to the two of you, their expressions both mirrors of each other as their eyebrows rise in unison when they spot how Hoseok is carrying you. “We’ll leave you to tidy the studio.”

“Enjoy the rest of the pie!” You wiggle your fingers at them in a little wave before squealing when Hoseok hitches you up his back again without warning, tightening your grip on him. “Pizza time, Hobi, let’s go.”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes you laugh before you bury your head in his hair, stifling your giggles against his scalp. He smells so nice and soft and lovely, familiar, like home.

“Wow, they’re unbelievable,” Jimin whispers behind you, though you don’t hear him, more focused on not bumping your head in the doorway as Hoseok walks you both out of the studio. 

You end up going to your favourite pizzeria, sitting at your usual booth in the corner. You’ve been here so many times with Hoseok that you don’t need to look at the menu and just order your usual half-and-half, feeding each other slices of garlic bread and struggling with the gooey, molten cheese that seems to stretch endlessly from your slices of pizza. You feel warm and comfortable, your feet brushing under the small table whenever you shift your legs, laughing each time Hoseok traps your foot under his before letting you go.

“I can’t believe we’ve done 70 episodes,” you say, leaning back against the smooth leather of the booth seat after you’ve stolen a sip of Hoseok’s Sprite. “I never thought we’d get this far. I honestly thought you’d have died of fright by now,” you tease, swinging your leg gently against his.

“If I die, I’ll haunt you from beyond the grave,” Hoseok says, pulling a face at you that’s clearly meant to be ghoulish, and you laugh.

“I’ll take the spirit box home from work so you can talk to me.” You lean your elbow on the table and rest your chin on your palm, still smiling. “Obviously you’d do the same for me, right?”

“As long as you kept other ghosts away from it,” Hoseok says, shivering. “I don’t want to have to talk to them too.”

“I promise. I’ll be the only thing haunting you, don’t worry.”

Hoseok smiles at you, eyes warm. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You share a banana split for dessert. You’re pretty full so Hoseok eats the majority of it, which gives you the opportunity to watch him, the way his dimples appear when he chews; you must have watched him eat a thousand times but you’re never any less endeared by the sight.

“I meant what I said, you know,” you say suddenly, and Hoseok looks up, cheeks bulging with ice cream and banana.

“Hmrh?” He makes a noise of questioning around his mouthful of food, and you laugh when you spot a smear of chocolate sauce on his chin. You swipe it away with your thumb before mindlessly sucking it off, too distracted by the sweetness bursting across your tongue to notice how Hoseok stares at the motion with wide eyes. He swallows. “What?”

“When I said that I was glad that we became friends,” you say. “When I first asked you to star in an episode I never thought we’d end up here, you know? But… I’m really happy. And I really do love you a lot, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiles all the time. In fact, you’d say he spends more time smiling than he doesn’t, happiness always radiating from his face like sunlight shining down from the sky, golden and bright- but the smile he gives you right now is softer than that. It’s more like the softness of the sunrise, spilling over you through just-opened curtains, warm and gentle and comforting.

“I love you too, Y/n,” he says. “More than anything.”

You put a hand over your face as you giggle bashfully at the earnest look on his face. “Stop,” you whine. “You’re so cheesy, oh my God.”

“You said it first,” Hoseok points out, but he starts to laugh along with you, before the server comes over to give you your bill and you end up fighting over who pays- Hoseok wins, much to your disappointment, but lets you front the tip as a compromise.

As always he catches the subway with you and holds your hand all the way home, only letting go when you get to the door of your apartment building. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he says, and you glance up from where you’ve been rummaging in your bag for your keys.

“Bright and early as always,” you reply, smiling. “I’ll make sure to bring your casserole dish back tomorrow, it’s still on my counter. I’ll make you some lunch to make up for how long I’ve kept it.”

“Okay.” Hoseok watches as you finally unearth your keys, jingling them triumphantly as you do. “Baby?”

“Hm?” You look up from where you’ve been fitting the keys into the lock. “Yes?”

“I meant it when I said it, too.” He looks oddly sombre, none of the usual levity on his face. “I love you more than anything, Y/n.”

Your heart seizes in your chest, stuttering a little at his tone and his expression. He’s told you that he loves you, sure, and you always say it back, but Hoseok’s never said it like this: like there’s more meaning behind his words than normal. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, frozen in place, key still pressed into the lock- but before you can gather your thoughts Hoseok’s face is morphing into his usual smile before he dips forwards and kisses you on the forehead.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow! Don’t forget the casserole dish!” 

And then he’s bouncing down the steps just like he always does, turning momentarily to give you a jaunty wave before walking briskly back in the direction of the subway.

“See you tomorrow,” you echo faintly, feeling off kilter and off balance as you watch him disappear into the distance.

--

Okay. So. You’ve told yourself on multiple occasions that, nowadays, what you feel for Hoseok is entirely platonic. He’s your best friend, and you love him, and it’s very easy to feel romantically inclined towards your friends sometimes because friendship involves love, and you should be friends with your romantic partners anyway, so there’s a lot of overlap. You may have lingering memories of your crush, yes, but you’re over it. 

At least, you could have sworn you were. So why are you projecting onto Hoseok again all of a sudden? When he said he loved you, it wasn’t a romantic confession, despite what your instincts might be telling you. Your brain is screaming at you to look at it logically, and you’re trying your best to tell yourself that, that it Wasn’t Romantic and it was Just Hoseok Being Hoseok, the man who tells all his friends that he loves them on a regular basis, it wasn’t romantic.

“Morning, baby,” Hoseok says, smiling at you, before noticing both the coffees you’re holding. “Ooh, is one of those for me?”

“Hi.” Your voice is weirdly breathless. “Yeah, I got your favourite.”

Hoseok lights up and makes grabby hands at you, and you feel utterly helpless as you hand it over. You feel like Past-Y/n, a previous version of yourself, the one that was still new to BigHit and used to get all in a muddle when Hoseok so much as looked at you. You feel like you’re rediscovering your crush all over again, like some sort of giddy schoolgirl, and you kind of want to slap yourself- but then Hoseok takes a sip of his coffee and makes a little noise of pleasure and all that self-hatred turns to static, replaced with nothing but affection for the man holding the door open for you.

You manage to keep it together pretty well, for the most part, you think. It’s not until you leave your computer to speak to Hoseok about something that you nearly lose it. He sees you coming and smiles widely, instinctively wheeling away his desk and patting his lap in invitation. Your brain goes blank as you panic and you abruptly swerve and act like you were walking over to Jungkook the whole time, missing the way Hoseok’s face drops with disappointment.

You’ve been lurking to one side of Jungkook’s desk for a few minutes before the man acknowledges you, looking away from the video he’s apparently editing to raise an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you lost? Hobi-hyung is over there.” Jungkook starts to point but then you grab his hand before anyone notices, pushing it back down against his desk.

“I know where Hobi is,” you say through gritted teeth. Jungkook blinks at you as you continue to trap his hand against his desk, tightening your grip when his fingers twitch. “I am having a small crisis and I would appreciate it if you let me pretend to have a conversation with you about work.”

Jungkook looks baffled but doesn’t argue, clearly a little scared of how tightly you’re grasping his fingers. “Um, okay,” he says, slowly. “Do you need to hold my hand at the same time?”

You look down at where your hands are still connected before you release him. He flexes his fingers with a wince. “Wow, you’re a lot stronger than you look.” He sounds impressed. “Have you been working out?”

“I bench press the weight of my stupidity daily,” you sigh. Jungkook lets your words pass without comment, putting his free hand back onto his mouse and resuming his work. You squint at his screen, intrigued. “What are you working on?”

You end up perching on Jungkook’s desk as he talks you through his most recent project, and how he and Tae have almost finished putting together the cat shelter video- you coo at all the footage of the different cats, small kittens to mangy strays, scruffy and cute. You’re too busy laughing at the unflattering shots they have of Yoongi while he’d been sleeping before they’d written across his face and you don’t notice how Hoseok keeps looking over with a mix of confusion and almost hurt flashing across his features. 

He doesn't show any of this when you meet him later, though. You’ve recomposed yourself by the time lunch rolls around and you manage to return Hoseok’s casserole dish without fumbling. Despite your inner turmoil last night you’d still made time to pack lunch for the two of you, using the cute lunchboxes that Hoseok’s family had given you last Christmas- he lights up when he sees the dosirak you’ve packed, fluffy rice and other side dishes, all of his favourites.

“You are a blessing,” he says, and you smile as he eagerly dives in. You tackle your own food more slowly, having to approach the kimbap carefully because of how you’d been overzealous with the filling. “Ooh, can I have some of that?”

“Sure,” you say, gesturing at the bite sized slices in the tub in front of you. Instead of taking one of those, however, Hoseok leans forward for the piece of kimbap you’ve already grabbed. You’re frozen in place as you feel his lips around your fingers, teeth lightly grazing your skin as you instinctively surrender the food to his mouth, a light swipe of his tongue over your fingertips to catch the light sheen of sesame oil there, soft and wet against your touch. 

Hoseok leans back and chews like nothing is out of the ordinary- and to be fair, you’ve fed finger foods to him before, it’s not out of the ordinary, but right now you feel like you’re on the verge of a meltdown. Your brain keeps replaying the past few seconds, the softness of his lips around your fingers, the wet of his tongue against them, the way his eyelashes had fanned out against his cheek as he’d glanced down at the food in your hand. You are Very Much Not Okay.

Hoseok is still happily chewing his kimbap, swallowing it down and taking a sip of water before he seems to notice that you’ve gone eerily silent. “Y/n?” He blinks at you. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “Um. I just remembered that I. Have a thing? I have to? Go do? You can eat the rest, seeyoulaterBYE.”

You can’t let this crush rear its head like this again and make your friendship awkward. The two of you have shared the same bed more times than you can count, for God’s sake, and you’ve even discussed rooming together- the rent in LA isn’t exactly cheap, and if you pooled your resources you could get a pretty nice place- and that had all been okay! That hadn’t made you feel strange at all! But Hoseok eats food from your hand like he has a thousand times and you’re spiralling out of control like this? Why is this happening now?

Ugh. Ughughughugh. Stupid.

Namjoon finds you hidden away in the Unsolved studio later, where you’ve absconded with your tablet to try your best to get some work done with your limited resources, hidden away from everyone; it’s weird being in here when you’re not filming, without Hoseok in the seat next to you, so you’re not really doing a great job. (You’ve spent more time blankly watching Queer Eye on Netflix than you have being productive.)

“Hey, Y/n.” Namjoon’s gentle voice is like a balm to your soul. Hoseok might be your best friend now, but Namjoon was your friend first and the two of you are still close, both in and out of work. He’d made you feel comfortable and welcome when you’d first joined the team and continues to support all your projects. He’s a really great friend and colleague and an even better person.

You smile at him as he shuts the door. You can tell he’s trying to do it quietly but ends up accidentally slamming it loudly, and you stifle a laugh as you notice the guilt that appears on his face.

“Joonie! Come on in.” You beckon at the seat next to you, scooting away a little so he plenty of room to sit. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just wanted to talk to you about some editing stuff but Hobi said you’d disappeared somewhere for a, um, ‘thing’.” Namjoon doesn’t comment on the fact that you still clearly have Queer Eye open on your tablet, Jonathan’s face a blur on the screen from where you’ve paused it during a transitional shot. Instead he sits carefully down next to you and leans back in the chair, adjusting his glasses; he looks particularly cozy today, with his glasses and jumper and cardigan. He pulls off the Hot Academic look really well. “Any particular reason why you’ve squirreled yourself away here?”

You muffle a sigh, looking down at the notebook you have next to your tablet; what little handwriting is on the page is especially messy and disjointed, reflecting your distracted mind. Namjoon has a naturally reassuring presence anyway but his outfit today seems to accentuate that even further, like you could bury your head into the fuzziness of his jumper and find inner peace.

“Oh, okay, I suppose this is happening,” he says.

Yep, the jumper is just as soft as you’d thought, and it smells nice and soft too. Namjoon doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve smooshed your face into his shoulder and instead he angles himself so you’re both more comfortable, and he starts to pat your back soothingly. It’s nice, of course, but you can’t help but compare his touch to Hoseok’s- Namjoon is more methodical and measured, like he’s thinking about each motion, while Hoseok just seems smoother and more natural because he’s always touching you, second nature by now. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ughughughughguhguh,” you say articulately into the weave of Namjoon’s clothing. He chuckles warmly.

“Long day?”

Good old Namjoon. A gentle question, open ended, offering you the opportunity to deflect, or tell him the truth. You turn your head to avoid getting jumper lint in your mouth, but stay leaned against him.

“Kind of,” you say. “It’s just…” You struggle to put it into words, but Namjoon just waits patiently while he continues to pat your back. “It’s Hobi?”

Namjoon’s hand goes still, though you’re not sure if it’s because of your words themselves or the tone of them, the way you pitched it up at the end like a question, like you weren’t too sure yourself. “Did he do something?”

“No! No. Yes? No,” you settle on. “No, no he didn’t. It’s not him, it’s me,” you say. “Ugh.”

You end up pulling away from Namjoon to scrub tiredly at your face, not noticing his expression, which he quickly reschools when you look back at him. “We were just doing our usual thing, you know,” you say, and Namjoon nods as he listens, even though your description is incredibly vague and could mean any number of things. “But then he said he loved me and like- we’re best friends, we say we love each other a lot, it’s not unusual or anything, but… I guess it got to me this time? Like it felt like something more than just friendship? He didn’t mean it like that, of course, but I guess it’s hard to, uh, shake that feeling now that it’s gotten into my head.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Although Namjoon seems a little perplexed he’s still clearly concerned, and your eyes widen.

“What? No, no, it’s fine! I don’t mind it. It’s more that-” You pause. You’ve never actually voiced your less-than-platonic feelings for Hoseok out loud, though you’re certain it must have been obvious to start with- even though no one had ever mentioned it or teased you about it, so maybe they hadn't noticed. 

Either way, it sort of feels like once you put the words out into the world then the truth will linger and be unavoidable in a way that you’ve been desperately avoiding so far. But it’s just you, and Namjoon, and you would trust Namjoon with your life, even if you wouldn’t trust him to hold anything fragile or delicate. “It’s not the idea of Hoseok loving me like that that makes me uncomfortable. I just don’t want things to be weird?” Namjoon continues to look levelly at you, waiting patiently for you to get to the point, and you take in a deep breath. “IhaveacrushonHobi,” you rush out. “And I don’t want to ruin the friendship by reading into things too much because I’m being overly hopeful or something.”

Namjoon pauses. He looks thoughtful as he fixes his gaze on you through his glasses. “Y/n.” He sounds solemn, like he’s discussing something of deep importance, like your tiny breakdown over your best friend requires the same level of gravity as the rapid disappearance of bees, or climate change- like it’s something world changing and heavy and important. He’s not doing what you’ve done over the years, as in, desperately tried to minimise your feelings just so you can stay sane. “You sound unhappy about it.”

“I am unhappy about it,” you say, unhappy. “Hobi is my best friend and I do love him a lot, and I’m happy being friends, and I reallyreallyreally don’t want to make things weird. I should be used to this by now, it’s not like what he and I do is anything I’m not used to.”

“Things change when romantic feelings develop,” Namjoon says, ever patient, and you let out a pained little groan.

“It’s not- these feelings aren’t new, Namjoon.” You sigh, and for the first time since you started this conversation, Namjoon looks surprised. Guess your crush on Hoseok hadn’t been obvious in the beginning, then. “I don’t know if I ever told you that I met Hoseok before I even got a job here, technically?”

You’d come out of your BigHit interview feeling unsure. Off balance. You hadn’t known if you’d come across as desperate and too eager to please, rather than a go-getter team player, but all you’d been able to think about was how getting a job at BigHit would mean that you could finally save up enough to move out of the awful shared room you were in with the mould in the corner that kept coming back no matter how many times you cleaned it. The interview had gone on longer than you thought and you barely had time to get to Starbucks before your shift started- if you got a job at BigHit you could finally quit that place- and you’d hurried to leave the building only to discover that it was raining.

“Oh,” you’d said. 

You’d stood in the reception area, staring out of the glass windows at the torrential downpour outside; it had been sunny earlier that day, no indication that the heavens were going to open, and you hadn’t brought a coat or umbrella with you. Your one nice interview outfit was going to get drenched, and it was going to stay wet in your locker at Starbucks while you were working, and basically the entire month had been just terrible and after a potentially wasted interview you just kind of wanted to cry.

Before the tears could start to pool in your eyes, however, Hoseok had appeared. Not that you’d known him or his name at the time, of course, but he’d swept into the building like some burst of sunlight that had cut through the clouds despite the rain, shaking an umbrella off before laughing at Yoongi’s disgruntled face at the scattering water. You’d been stunned by the sudden flare of energy in the room and were still standing there when Hoseok’s eyes fell on you, on your stance, the way you were staring at the grey skies outside and the obvious lack of an umbrella in your hands.

And he’d just- he’d just walked up to you like you were friends, like he knew you, and he’d proffered the still damp umbrella, like it was nothing.

“It’s raining pretty heavily out there,” he’d said, and he’d been smiling, and you’d looked at him in shock, and he’d laughed. “You’ll need this.”

“I- what?”

“You clearly need this more than me,” Hoseok had said, bright smile fading into something a little more gentle, and you’d accepted the umbrella with unsteady hands, unable to say no to this sunshine of a man. “Feel free to give it back whenever.”

“I- I don’t work here,” you’d admitted, shamefaced. “I’m just here for an interview.”

“So you can give it back to me once you get the job.” Hoseok had said it like it was a done deal, like there weren’t other people vying for the position you’d applied for, people who were probably infinitely more qualified and better in interviews. “Okay?”

For the first time that month, you’d felt like someone believed in you- because you certainly didn’t believe in yourself. But Hoseok had been smiling at you, with his heart shaped mouth and his bright eyes, and you’d felt like a flower basking in his rays, turning towards him as your petals unfurled in his light, and you’d said- “Sure. Yes. I will.”

Here, now, in the present, you look down at your hands as you finish telling this story. “I just put the umbrella on his desk when he wasn’t around, after I got the job,” you tell Namjoon. “I didn’t talk to Hobi for ages because I didn’t- I didn’t have the strength to look him in the face without, you know. Without making it obvious that I had a raging schoolgirl crush on him. And he never said anything about it- I don't think he even remembered me at all, he'd just given some person his umbrella because they needed it, you know? And then we became friends and my crush died down and everything was okay, but- I guess the crush never really went away after all. Ugh,” you say. “This sucks, Joon. It sucks.”

The way Namjoon looks at you is compassionate and soft. “I know,” he says. “It’s understandable that you’re worried about this, because your friendship with Hoseok is important to you. But I don’t think you have anything to be concerned about, really.”

“You’re just saying that,” you mumble, and Namjoon chuckles.

“No, I’m not,” he says, gently. “I think you need to be more confident in what you and Hoseok have. Even if you admitted your feelings and he didn’t feel the same, you know he loves you too much to throw your friendship away, and it’s strong enough that it can survive whatever’s thrown at it. But, if you’ll forgive me for speaking out of turn, I would wager you’re not the only one with romantic feelings, Y/n.”

“You’re very sweet, Joonie, but I really don’t think that’s the case.” You let out a little self-pitying sigh. “Hobi’s just so lovely to everyone, it probably seems like that because we’re best friends.”

One of Namjoon’s eyebrows rises. “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes,” you say, a little miserable, looking down as you pick at a loose thread in one of your sleeves. “People mistake us as a couple a lot because we’re so close, you know? But Hoseok doesn’t see me like that.”

“Mm.” Namjoon makes a little noise of understanding, giving you a considering look as you continue to unravel your sleeve. “I see.”

He eventually coaxes you out of the studio, and when he discovers that you never finished your lunch he brings you to the café around the corner that all the BigHit employees love; you pick up an iced coffee for Hoseok, just the way he likes it. You feel better after talking to Namjoon and by the time you leave the café you feel pretty much back to normal. Mostly relaxed. You don’t feel weird when Hoseok lights up when he sees you, because he always does, because you’re his best friend, and this is normal. You can be normal.

“Again? It was my turn to get you coffee,” Hoseok says with a pout and you laugh.

“Don’t worry about it.” When you hand Hoseok his drink and your fingers brush, it’s okay. It’s okay. Your friendship with Hoseok is more important than your other feelings for him, and you’ll just focus on that. You’re not sure that’s what Namjoon was trying to communicate to you, with all his listening and gentle words, but you can bottle up these emotions and keep them on lockdown until the weird feeling passes. It’ll work. You’ll be fine.

A few hours later, you realise that you’re not fine.

“Joonie!” You pounce on Namjoon when you find him alone in the break room, filling a glass at the tap. He jumps and sends water sloshing over his hands when he drops his cup, though it fortunately doesn’t break when it clatters into the sink. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“I’m not going to point out that you snuck up on me from behind without making any noise, but, that’s okay,” Namjoon says, ever tolerant. He very carefully puts the glass upright in the middle of the sink before he turns around. “What’s up?”

“I, um, am maybe panicking a little bit,” you admit in a hushed voice, even though there’s no one else in the tiny kitchen with you. “So you know Unsolved has a bigger budget now that we’re more popular? And I’ve been pushing for us to go abroad somewhere on said bigger budget? And they said we could schedule some episodes for Britain because basically every other building in Britain is haunted?”

“Yes, I am aware,” Namjoon says. “I did help you to draft the emails that you sent management.”

“You did, and I’m still eternally grateful,” you say, truthfully. “But I’ve been so caught up in the 70th episode retrospective and my much more recent, uh, Hoseok related stuff, that I totally forgot how soon it was coming up and we fly to London next week?”

Namjoon blinks at you. “You have plenty of time to pack before next week, why are you panicking?”

You muffle a scream into your hands while Namjoon looks on with concern. 

“It’s not packing I’m worried about, Joon,” you say once you’ve pulled your face out of your palms. “It’s just that when we’re abroad I’m not going to be able to get away from Hoseok and I’m worried that I’m going to erupt like a volcano and spew all my emotions over him and then I’m going to have to change my name and drop off the grid forever when he inevitably rejects me, and I was always terrible at camping. I could never get the fire to light.”

Namjoon, for all that his patience seems endless and eternal, gives you a look that borders on weary. Like he’s the father to a child who keeps eating glue even after being told that there’s no nutritional value in it and they should be using it for macaroni art anyway, and also why are they eating the glue when it’d make more sense to eat the pasta that’s right there, even if it’s uncooked? 

“First of all, you can be off the grid and still have access to ways of heating that don’t require fire,” he says. “And second of all, why are you panicking so much about London?”

“Because Hobi always gets super clingy when we fly anywhere.” You shuffle from foot to foot, feeling awkward. “And that’s when we’re still in the US. I feel like if we’re in a different country it’ll be compounded? Even if I don’t say anything out loud, I feel like my feelings will be obvious just in the way I act?”

Namjoon pauses before he grips your shoulders. His palms feel so big and warm, a steadying presence. “Would that be so terrible? Think about it, Y/n. If that was the case, then it gives Hobi the opportunity to speak out if he notices. If your friendship is entirely platonic to him, then he won’t notice, right? You’ll be okay.”

You open your mouth to take in a breath and respond, but before you can say anything Seokjin comes sauntering into the cramped break area, entirely indifferent to the weird atmosphere he’s walked into. His eyebrows raise as he spots how you and Namjoon are standing. “Ooh, are we gossiping? Is there tea to be spilled? You both look very serious, let me in on it.”

“I was just asking Namjoon if there was any advice he could give me about travelling to Britain,” you lie.

“She didn’t realise that over there lemonade is like soda.” Namjoon lets his hands drop from your shoulders as he plays along with ruse, and your face twists up in confusion.

“It’s what?” You look at him for a second before realising that Jin is staring at you, and you pretend to laugh. “Ohh, yeah, haha! Yeah, that’s crazy, haha. Um, I should get back to my desk for my notebook, I should write this down before I forget,” you say, before scuttling out of the break room.

Once you’ve disappeared, Seokjin gives Namjoon a long look. “I can’t believe you haven’t broken yet,” he says. “I still personally think we should just lock them both in a room together until one of them confesses, but apparently that’s ‘inappropriate workplace behaviour’.” The air quotes he makes are exaggerated and theatrical, as if the entire thing is a farce.

“It is and I’m not going to take that statement back,” Namjoon responds. Seokjin rolls his eyes dramatically but Namjoon ignores him. “It’s better if they come around to it by themselves. I believe in them. Besides, weren’t you the one who intervened when it looked like Hoseok was going to kiss her? I had to edit that footage, I saw how you pushed all those decorations off the table.”

Jin raises his eyebrows. “Can you imagine the chaos if he’d done that without either of them confessing properly first? They’d both pretend like it never happened. I was doing them a favour.” He casts a sideways look at Namjoon, who nods in reluctant agreement. “You know the rest of the office has a pool on how soon one of those idiots actually confesses? Do you want in on it? If either one of us gets it, we can split it 50/50.”

“That’s also grossly inappropriate,” Namjoon says, before he pauses. “Hm. How much is in the pool?”

--

Turns out you didn’t need to worry so much.

“Oh my God, look at that!” Hoseok has his face pressed up against the glass of the pod, the London Eye giving you the opportunity to look down at the metropolis of the city sprawling out below you; Hoseok’s pointing at a weirdly shaped skyscraper, panels of glass refracting off alternate shades of blue. “That’s so cool!”

“I think it’s called The Gherkin,” you say and he makes a noise of delight. Beside you, Jimin and Taehyung take a selfie with the panorama of London behind them, and you smile.

It’s true that Hoseok has been clingier than usual. The thing is, though, you’ve been clingier too; you’ve had time between filming to do some sightseeing, and neither of you have been to London before, so everything is exciting and fun and new, and you’ve been holding onto each other throughout the journey, familiarity in an unfamiliar place. You’re too busy taking in the sights and travelling from place to place, you and Hoseok and Jimin and Taehyung cramming close together each time you take the Tube somewhere, or asking people to take photos of you, and you’re having too much fun to worry about anything else.

You even get recognised a few times, which is exciting. You know Unsolved is popular but there’s something gratifying about people an ocean away knowing who you are and enjoying your work- you look on fondly as Hoseok makes your fans laugh, putting the nervous ones at ease, before shuffling together so they can take photos with you. It’s lovely, really, and you’re so glad that you and Hoseok get to experience this together. There’s no one else you’d rather be with.

You’d had a brief moment of panic after filming the first episode, Hoseok sliding into your bed as per usual, but you’d both been so tired and jetlagged that you’d basically fallen asleep the second he’d finished wrapping his arms around you, so it had been okay. You weren’t as jetlagged for the second episode, of course, but there was something soothing about having Hoseok curled around you as he slept; despite how your heart probably should have been racing, it had just gone quiet instead, slipping into a gentle beating rhythm as you’d drifted into sleep.

So on the whole it’s been all been going a lot better than you’d thought. It feels natural to let your head fall onto Hoseok’s shoulder as you both stare out of the train window, watching the fields and villages slip by as you race out of London to your final filming location, only a few days away from jetting home again.

“We should come back,” Hoseok says suddenly, his voice low enough that Jimin and Taehyung aren’t distracted from the card game they’re playing together across the aisle from you.

“For more episodes? We’ll probably have to wait till the next quarter so there’s money in the budget.” You turn away from the view outside to look up at him, chin resting on his shoulder. “We can start looking up other haunted locations when we get home, if you want.”

Hoseok smiles. “I meant we should come back just for a regular holiday,” he says. “So we don’t have to worry about rushing from place to place. I know you’re disappointed we didn’t have time to see the Royal Botanic Gardens. I know how much you love flowers.”

Oh. You keep looking up at Hoseok, the way you have such a perfect view of the round apples of his cheeks, the swoop of his nose, the sharp cut of his jaw- you think about walking hand in hand with him past bursting blooms, through delicate arching greenhouses, surrounded by colour and beauty, and you know you’d still think he was the most beautiful flower there. 

“I’d like that,” you say quietly. You’re almost drowned out by how loudly Taehyung yells snap! and the subsequent groan Jimin lets out, but you know Hoseok hears you by the way his mouth lifts into a smile. “Is there anything you wanted to see next time?”

Hoseok shrugs, but only with one shoulder, doing a little jiggle with the one you’re not resting your chin on, which makes you smile. “Nothing specific,” he says. “I’m happy as long as I get to see it with you.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he says this, words settling deep in your chest, and you turn your head so that your cheek is resting on his shoulder again, shirt soft against your skin. “Love you, Hobi.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond straight away, but then he turns his head and kisses the crown of your head lightly. “Love you too.”

You arrive in Colchester in the late afternoon, and you don’t film until tomorrow, so after you’ve finished unpacking your stuff at your apparently haunted bed and breakfast, you make the group decision to just chill out for the evening and grab a couple of drinks. There’s a pub near your B&B so you and the boys pile into it, claiming a table in the corner so that you’re not in the way of the regulars, although every so often one of you has to venture up to the bar to order your drinks, trying to follow whatever sort of queuing system seems to be going on. (After the lemonade thing you had actually ended up actually asking Namjoon about Britain and the etiquette over here, and he was very insistent on following queues.)

By the time it’s your turn to grab the drinks it seems like it’s starting to get busy, so it’s taking some time for the bartender to get to you, but that’s okay- you lean against the bar and scroll through your phone, taking the opportunity to double check your schedule for tomorrow, when you feel someone tap your arm and you glance up.

“Hi,” the man says. He’s been waiting nearby, lounging against the bar, similar to you. “Are you waiting for a drink? You can go first, if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, no!” You shake your head and laugh a little. “You were here before me, that’s okay.”

When he hears your accent his eyes light up. “Oh, are you a tourist? I thought I hadn’t seen you around, because I definitely would have remembered you. How long are you over here for?”

“Uh, just a couple of nights.” You smile at him. “I’m guessing you’re a local?”

“Yeah.” He smiles back at you. “I could show you around, if you’d like.”

You startle at the sudden sensation of hands sliding around your waist, but it only takes you a second to recognise the touch and you relax against Hoseok, your back pressed against his chest as you turn away from the man to glance up at your friend. “Hi, baby,” he says. “Did you make a friend?”

“We’ve only just started talking, actually,” you say, turning back to the guy you have yet to introduce yourself properly to. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”

“That’s okay. I think my friends are calling me,” he says, and he pushes himself off the bar before brushing himself down and then walking away, giving both of you a polite little nod as he passes.

“He never even ordered his drinks.” You blink with confusion and then shrug. “Oh well, means we’ll get ours sooner. You can go sit back down, Hobi, I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m already here, I may as well stay with you,” he says, tightening his grip around your waist, and you don’t argue. He keeps hold of you as you wait and then helps you carry your drinks to the table before he pulls you onto his lap, keeping you in place with one hand splayed over your stomach while he uses the other to lift his glass to his mouth.

“Fuck chairs, right?” Jimin says. Taehyung elbows him.

“Don’t be jealous because I have the best seat in the house,” you say, before sticking your tongue out at Jimin. 

He gives you a mock affronted gasp and clutches his chest and you laugh before settling back against Hoseok, comfortable on your familiar perch atop his thighs. Hoseok might be the world’s biggest lightweight and easily gets tipsy over a single sip of alcohol- but despite this, his hold on you is firm and steady, even when he’s laughing over your shoulder, keeping you safe in his lap. He keeps stealing sips of your drink, dipping his head forwards to capture your straw whenever you’re not paying attention, but you don’t mind. What’s yours is Hoseok’s. (You’ve been taking sips of his beer, too, even if you make a face at the bitterness each time.)

By the time you shuffle back to your B&B, you’re all pleasantly drunk and keep giggling at each other about dumb and inconsequential things, although you’re careful to keep your voices down so that you don’t disturb anyone, trying to keep your footsteps light as you walk up the stairs. Jimin and Taehyung’s room is a little further up the corridor than yours and you clap your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter when you see Taehyung trying to open the wrong door before Jimin redirects him.

You might not be too much better, but at least you remember which room is yours- you unlock the door on your first try, although it’s a little hard to step inside with how Hoseok is wrapped around your back, trying to time his steps with yours but failing a little with how tipsy he is. You keep laughing whenever he moves his feet forwards at the wrong time, a messy tangle of limbs that keep bumping together as you kick your shoes off, and you end up collapsing onto one of the beds with Hoseok still clinging onto you. He tips over backwards while your back is still pressed to his chest and you let out a little squeal at the sudden falling sensation, but he cushions your fall without complaint and still doesn’t let go, even when you accidentally elbow him in the sternum.

“We should wash up and get in our pyjamas,” you say, but you’re already wriggling into a more comfortable position, turning over so you can look at his face instead of staring up at the ceiling. Hoseok’s head has sunken into one of the fluffy hotel-style pillows, his hair a messy halo around his head, face flushed red from the alcohol. You smile down at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says. “I don’t want to move right now.”

“You’re so drunk,” you giggle, but you rest your head on his chest and let your body relax, muscles unwinding as you let out a long, happy sigh. “We can move later, then.”

Even though you’d genuinely meant to get up and do your nightly ritual, you’re so comfortable snuggled with Hoseok in the soft bed that you drift off. For once, you fall asleep before him, eyes fluttering shut as your breaths deepen with sleep; Hoseok keeps stroking a hand down your back, brushing tenderly down the line of your spine with his long fingers in a way he’s done a thousand times. He’s still grateful for the opportunity every time, though- that he gets to see you like this, that he can touch you like this, that you’ve allowed him so deeply into your life and made a home in his, too.

“Goodnight, baby,” Hoseok says, voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. You’re so deeply asleep that you don’t stir, but he’s still careful and gentle when he touches his lips to your forehead with the lightest of pressures, tender. “Sleep well.”

When you wake up the next morning, it takes you a long time to come fully to your senses. You feel warm and heavy, surrounded by the smell of fresh sheets and Hoseok, and you don’t want to wake up just yet; you’re in that soft place between waking and sleeping, drifting in wakeful limbo as you slowly start to regain a sense of who you are and where you are. 

Your brain flickers on, starting to pull itself together as the sensation of being a singular warm mass starts to dissolve, drawing up a mental map of how your body is slotted against Hoseok’s, where your limbs start and his end. That’s your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. That’s his arm around your shoulder, keeping you close even in your sleep. That’s your hand, resting on his hip, fingers hooked in his belt. Those are your legs, tangled around his, your toes pressed to his calf, and that’s-

Your eyes fly open. You’re still wearing your clothes from the night before, thicker denim of your jeans rather than the flimsy cotton of your pyjamas, but you know exactly what’s pressed against your hip bone. You’ve slept in the same bed with Hoseok enough times that this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve woken to his morning wood, but you’ve never been this tangled up before; you normally slide out of bed and pretend you haven’t noticed anything, and by the time Hoseok wakes up it’s normally gone, or he subtly shuffles off to the bathroom to deal with it, thinking that you’re none the wiser. 

It’s natural, it’s normal, it’s nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, but right now all you can think of is the hand you have near his hip, how close it is to his arousal, how easy it would be to slip your hand past his belt and jeans and boxers to grasp that hard, heavy heat-

You stiffen. You would never, ever do that, not ever, never take advantage of Hoseok while he was sleeping, and you know it was just a flickering thought in your still sleepy brain, probably still a little drunk, too- but you feel sick. You can’t believe you would even hypothetically consider taking advantage of him like that. If you were more than friends, then, sure, you’d wake Hoseok up with a pleasuring touch- but you’re not. You’re not. 

It takes a real feat of slow, drawn out acrobatics, but you manage to extricate yourself from Hoseok’s grasp without waking him. He only wakes up to the sound of the shower rumbling through the wall, blinking as he realises that his arms are empty, even though he should be used to this by now. By the time you walk out of the ensuite, towelling off your hair, Hoseok’s got a cup of tea waiting for you by the kettle, a few scattered milk droplets nearby from the tiny, complimentary pots.

“Morning, baby.” He’s still sleepy and there’s a crease on his cheek from where he’d turned his head into the pillow, hair ruffled, shirt wrinkled after a night of sleeping in it. “Tea?”

You feel a little better after your hot shower, scrubbing all the dirty thoughts off your skin, but when Hoseok looks so soft and homely like this it’s hard not to want to just eat him whole. 

“Ooh, how British,” you say, trying to laugh- Hoseok still seems too heavy-eyed to notice how you’re a little bit off right now, thankfully. “Yes, please.”

Unfortunately, you can’t shake your lingering weirdness and feelings of guilt, and when Hoseok wakes fully, he notices. You’re not due to film at Colchester Castle until it’s night time, shooting the episode when it’s going to be dark, so you’ve organised a day trip to the town’s zoo- Colchester Zoo is huge, full of all sorts of animals and exhibits, and Hoseok’s been excited to visit it from the moment he found out about it. 

You’d even looked up the map online so that you could plan out the optimum route and ensure you didn’t miss anything, the two of you crowding around your phone screen and pointing excitedly at the names of the different exhibits, ready and raring to go.

So Hoseok is understandably a little stunned when you apparently seem to want to drag your feet and stay with Jimin and Taehyung instead. Both the boys want to just wander around the zoo willy-nilly, separating off from you and taking it slow- but after a brief, silent discussion between the two of them, eyes flicking at each other and then back to you, they agree to come with you on your planned route.

You send up a silent prayer of thanks to anyone who’s listening. You can use the chaotic duo as cushioning and put them between you and Hoseok if you need to.

You know you’re not being especially subtle right now, but every time Hoseok moves closer to you all you can think about is how his choice of outfit today is fraying your already delicate nerves, the loose fabric of his fashionable sweatpants doing nothing to protect the outline of his dick from your wandering gaze. You don’t mean to look, but you can’t help it, even if you’re fairly certain that half the time it’s just a crease in the fabric from how he’s standing and not actually his dick, but-

“I thought it’d be harder than that,” Taehyung says. “It’s so much hairier than I thought it would be.”

You freeze, eyes shooting away from Hoseok’s crotch. Luckily no one seems to be paying you any attention and instead the boys are peering into the armadillo exhibit, watching as the animal snuffles around the ground.

“They don’t call it a large hairy armadillo for nothing,” Jimin giggles. “And it’s still a baby, the armour hasn’t grown in properly yet. It’ll look harder once it’s grown up a bit.”

All the tension rushes out of your body at once. Jesus Christ. 

Hoseok notices you slumping a little, glancing up from the map when he hears the sigh of air escape your body. “Are you okay?” He seems concerned.

“Never better,” you lie unconvincingly, giving him a weak smile. “What’s next on the list?”

Hoseok seems concerned about you for the whole day, and even a little hurt when you keep slipping out of his grasp, but the truth is that you need to put some distance between the two of you right now, for the sake of your own heart and sanity. Being desperately head over heels for Hoseok is one thing and you’d just started becoming okay with that again, but this sudden wave of physical yearning (you’re too embarrassed to think of it as horniness) is out of the left field and it’s a lot harder to cover up. You hate seeing sadness on Hoseok’s face, and normally you’d be cooing over him and asking him to tell you what’s wrong- but you know what’s wrong. It’s you. 

“Do you think something happened?” Taehyung whispers quietly to Jimin, the two of them watching as you act like you’ve been distracted by the Koi fish and walk away from Hoseok as he’s just about to reach for your hand.

“I think we’re reaching critical mass.” Jimin pretends to read from the zoo map. “We’ve nearly hit the nuclear reaction and one of them is finally going to blow. It might get messy.”

“I hope not,” Taehyung says, watching the way Hoseok stares at the back of your head as you peer into the tank of glittering fish. “I’ve never been good at cleaning up.”

It’s a little easier once the evening finally rolls around and Hoseok replaces those delicious sweatpants with marginally more professional jeans, as ripped as they are. It’s also easier to slip into the natural rhythm and rapport you have when you’re being filmed- it’s not that you’re ever any faker on camera, but it’s just an unthinking response to the sight of them, your body switching from Normal mode to Work mode. Taehyung readjusts the camera rig you have looped around your body while Jimin sorts out Hoseok, night vision lens pointed towards your faces, before letting you go.

“Ready?” You ask, glancing at your co-host. Hoseok seems less enthusiastic than usual, and you internally cringe, contrition shooting through you at how you’ve managed to dampen his mood because you’ve spent the whole day being distant.

“Ready,” Hoseok says, subdued. Your face crumples and you reach out for his hand, squeezing his fingers, trying to communicate a silent apology for something he isn’t even aware of. 

“I won’t abandon you, okay?” You keep your fingers tangled with his as you speak and grip them hard. “There’s a lot of scary stuff in this castle and I promise I won’t leave your side.”

Hoseok pauses but then squeezes your hand back, and he seems to brighten, even though he’s still a little dimmed. “I know,” he says. “I know you won’t.”

Even though he says that, he spends less time clinging onto you than normal. It’s probably not noticeable to the average onlooker, and with how most of the footage is going to be cut later, you’re certain your audience won’t notice either- but while Hoseok still screams and jumps at things, he seems to separate from you as soon as the fear has passed. He doesn’t linger or keep hold of you, even when he seems visibly shaken, eyes wide as you ascend the stairs and hear what sounds like singing even though there’s no one else here- it’s probably just wind whistling through the ancient corridors and walls of the castle, but you know that Hoseok is terrified.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” You look over your shoulder and proffer your hand but Hoseok just shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” He’s clinging onto the banister, both hands white knuckled around the metal railing. “I’m fine.”

Even though you’ve been the one who’s been avoiding touching him all day, it hurts when he says that, as hypocritical as you know you’re being. You draw your hand back to your side and don’t offer again after that, although you still pat him soothingly when he instinctively grabs you later, jumping at a clattering noise in the distance. You’re not easily spooked, but Colchester Castle definitely has some weird vibes, so if you’re feeling like this, Hoseok must feel even more scared than normal.

At one point you walk through a spider web and flinch in surprise when you feel it on your face, jumping backwards and swiping at your face. Hoseok is immediately there, eyes wide as he stares at you, immediately protective despite his fear. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Uh, it was just a spider web,” you admit, chagrined. “I overreacted, sorry.”

Hoseok nods and immediately backs off, giving you room as he turns around. You can’t help the hurt that flashes across your face as soon as he looks away.

“Critical mass,” Jimin mutters to Taehyung, who nods sagely.

The worst and weirdest moment of the night actually happens once the episode is over. Hoseok is oddly quiet as you both get ready for bed, not talking to you through the open bathroom door as he meticulously massages cream into his face like he normally does- and once he flicks the light off, plunging the room into blue tinged darkness, you’re stunned as you watch his silhouette slide into his own bed instead of into yours.

He’s never slept in his own bed after a supernatural filming. Even after your first paranormal themed episode together, when you’d still been mostly strangers. He’d been bashful and hesitant despite how obviously scared he was, asking if he could sleep in your bed, and of course you’d said yes, wanting to do anything you could to soothe him and help him feel safe. So the fact he’s not sleeping in your bed now, it’s- it’s- it’s not right. 

The only light in the room is from the tiny, faint red numbers of the digital clock, and you watch as time trickles slowly by- you stay awake for what feels like hours, laying on your side as you stare towards Hoseok’s bed. Your eyes adjust to the near darkness, room painted in low-contrast sfumato, and you can see how Hoseok is turned away from you; he’s unnaturally still and silent, and you know he hasn’t fallen asleep either, too scared and wound up to drift off.  

Outside, a vehicle rumbles past, and you can see how Hoseok stiffens at the noise of the loose fan belt, a high squeal that’s admittedly startling after the silence of the night. The shine of the headlights through the drawn curtains is muted but still more than enough to throw the room into brief, sharp relief, the tension in Hoseok’s shoulders screaming out to you- you can’t stand it anymore and you slip out from under your blankets so that you can make your way across the dark room. 

Hoseok turns when he hears you stumble over something on the floor- you think it’s a pair of socks- and makes a little noise of surprise when you throw back the corner of his duvet so you can slide in next to him.

“Y/n?” He sounds tired, but still fully awake- you were right, he’s been struggling to sleep.

“Hobi,” you say. “Why are you over here, all alone like this?”

You can barely make out the details of his features, as curved towards each other as you are; you can see the faint darkness where his hollows of his eyes are, his pretty mouth nothing more than an undefined line in the muted room. 

“I- I didn’t want to disturb you.” His voice is a quiet, unhappy murmur, and you feel your heart break at the dejection in his tone.

“Oh, Hoseok.” You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks; you can feel the tension in his face, how he must be frowning. You might not be able to see everything all too well, but you’re more than familiar enough with Hoseok’s face to know where the furrow between his brows is, and press a little kiss to it. “My Hobi,” you say, and start to litter kisses over his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, the tip of his nose. “My baby. My darling.”

You keep touching your lips to his skin, wanting his unhappiness and fear to fade away, whispering pet names between each kiss. You tilt your lips against his chin, and Hoseok makes a little noise before his hands come up to grasp your wrists, pulling them away from where they’re still cupping his jaw. You go still, eyes widening, even if he can’t see it. “Hoseok?”

“Did I- did I do something wrong?” He sounds unsure. “You were avoiding me all day- I thought you didn’t want- I thought you wanted me to leave you alone,” he says, and you can hear guilt in his voice. “I thought I’d scared you off somehow.”

You make a little, unhappy noise. “No, baby, no,” you say. You shake your head, faces still so close from your kisses that your noses brush, but you don’t pull away- you need him to know that it’s not his fault. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t that at all.”

“Then what was it?” His grip slips away from around your wrists to slide his fingers between yours instead, holding your hands. “Tell me.”

You go still. His tone is so imploring: he wants to know what’s wrong, so he can fix it, make it better. “Hoseok.” Your voice is quiet. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok.”

“And you’re mine,” he says, squeezing your hands. Your heart feels small and feeble in your chest, a weak little thing that swells up at Hoseok’s words, but immediately shrinks again in fear. “You can tell me anything.”

“You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you repeat. Hoseok goes silent. “You’re my best friend, and I-” You take a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs, get some oxygen flowing through your terrified heart, taking bellows to a dying ember, trying to grow it into a flame. “Honestly, I’m just selfish, Hoseok,” you say. “I’m just- being your best friend is already everything to me- but I’m so selfish-”

“Y/n.” Hoseok’s voice is a hush.

“I’m in love with you, Hoseok.” 

There. You said it. 

You can feel how Hoseok stiffens, how his fingers go utterly still in yours as you continue to speak.

“I’m in love with you, and I was just so scared you’d realise how head over heels I’ve always been for you and you’d end our friendship because everything I feel is just so much, and I just needed space today, I needed space to try and get my head straight and not scare you away by making things weird, and I’m sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I never want to hurt you, Hoseok. I’m sorry. I love you. Please don’t hate me.”

You take in a deep shuddering breath once all the words have spilled out of you, so much air. It’s out in the world, now, and you can’t take it back. 

As the seconds tick by, the initial heady rush of terror starts to fade and is instead replaced with resignation, unsurprised at how Hoseok is still frozen against you. He’s deathly silent. He’s probably mentally drafting the nicest way to gently let you down, always so kind and lovely, so wonderful, your Hoseok. 

A twinge shoots through your heart as you mentally correct yourself- he’s not yours, and he doesn’t want to be. You should have just kept your mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. Your voice is a miserable whisper. “You’re just so easy to love.”

You try to pull your hands out of his so you can slink back to your bed and wallow in your misery, but Hoseok just tightens his grip. You tug again, a little more insistent, and this time he lets go- but before you can roll out of his bed he’s grabbing your face, long, beautiful fingers splaying over your cheeks and jaw, locking you in place as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Y/n.” His voice is uncharacteristically serious, low. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re-”

You’re cut off when Hoseok presses his mouth to yours. He’s kissed you before, on your forehead, your cheeks, the bare skin of your shoulder when you wear the sundress he likes so much- but you’ve never felt his heart shaped lips against yours, never felt them soft and warm as they catch your own, and it’s so much. He keeps drawing his mouth across yours, catching your lips between his own, tongue pressing out to swipe across them, and you shiver as the kiss slowly turns slick and wet, even as it stays so tender.

His hands wrap around your waist and he rolls over you, pinning you down with his weight as you keep kissing and kissing and kissing. Your hands are in his hair while his cup your face, holding you like you’re something delicate and precious, palms warm against your skin. You don’t separate to breathe, keeping your lips locked as the kisses turn open-mouthed, Hoseok’s tongue gliding against yours, the lingering taste of your shared toothpaste mingling with his saliva- you shiver underneath him when he nips at your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue, and you crane your head forward to press further into his mouth, kisses slow and deep, and by the time you finally separate, you feel dizzy and breathless.

“Hobi,” you breathe out. “Hobi, turn the light on, I want to see you.”

Hoseok leans over you to flick on the bedside lamp, illuminating you both with its bright light- you can see how kiss swollen his gorgeous mouth is, how the sheen of your saliva on his flushed lips glows gold from the lamplight, how his hair is a mess from how you’ve been running your hands through it. He looks like your best friend, and also nothing like that at all, something familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Hoseok, forever changed by the touch of your lips.

“My baby.” He’s smiling at you, all warmth and fondness, and you squirm underneath him, embarrassed by the weight of his affection for you. “Y/n. I love you too.”

You probably shouldn’t be surprised, considering how Hoseok has just kissed you breathless, but you still feel your heart stutter in your chest. You’re staring up at him with your wide eyes as he bends forward again- he mimics what you did earlier, trailing kisses over your forehead and cheekbones and nose before he kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, then your cupid’s bow, then just under the swell of your bottom lip. “I love you, love you, love you,” he says, punctuating each kiss with the repeated confession, as if each time he says it it’s not punching the air out of your lungs.

“Hoseok?”

“Yes?” He’s still smiling, those warm little creases under his eyes as he looks at you, every inch of him just screaming out happiness. You did that. He’s happy because of you. 

“Do you- do you remember when we first met? Years ago?” You don’t want to break the moment, but he’s never mentioned the umbrella thing and you’ve never asked before and you have a burning desire to know if he can recall-

“Do you mean the first time we actually met, or the first time you officially introduced yourself to me? I remember both,” Hoseok says. “I always knew you’d get the job. Besides, if you hadn’t, you would have had to keep the umbrella,” he adds, smile edging into something a little cheeky. “And then there would have been a pretty girl out there thinking about me every time it rained.”

Your eyes widen before you hide your face in your hands, overwhelmed at the idea that Hoseok had thought that you were pretty before he’d even known you; he coos at you and pulls your hands away to reveal your flustered expression, trapping them against the pillow so you can't hide your face again. Hoseok’s smile has faded into something a little more serious, but no less loving, and although you feel open and naked and vulnerable right now, it’s not because you think he’s judging you. 

“You never said anything, so I thought you’d forgotten,” you admit. “But from the second you smiled at me as you handed me that umbrella, I knew I was a goner. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Hoseok.”

It’s not often that you see Hoseok look like this, his eyes so serious and deep, but his entire face is still so soft, smiling. “Me, too,” he confesses. “Me too. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to risk our friendship and I love you too much to want to give that up.”

The smile that splits your face is so wide it almost hurts. “I love you,” you say again, for the sheer novelty of hearing it out loud, seeing how Hoseok lights up- the fact you can say it without fear of his reaction, because he loves you, too. He loves you. He’s in love with you. “I love you, Hoseok, I-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, swallowing your words of love into his curved mouth, the two of you smiling and laughing as your lips come together again and again- but when he presses his tongue to your lower lip and you part them, he licks into your mouth in a way that’s almost lewd, warm and wet, and you shiver as you think about exactly how long that tongue is.

Hoseok still has his hands around your wrists from before, and you feel how his grip tightens imperceptibly when he feels you tremble underneath him. Your cheeks feel warm when he pulls back and you wonder if your blush is visible, but Hoseok seems intent on other things, dipping his head forward to catch your earlobe between his teeth for a sharp moment, nipping it before licking it with his hot, wet tongue. Your entire body shudders as he starts to kiss down the side of your jaw, and you tilt your head to give him better access, gasping when he draws his tongue over the oversensitive skin of your neck; you can feel how he smiles against your skin before kissing your throat.

“Hobi,” you breathe, and then gasp when he draws the flat of his tongue over the hollow of your neck. Each teasing touch of his tongue and lips is trickling straight to your core, your panties growing wetter and wetter with your arousal. “Hobi, oh.”

“I’m going to worship you the way you deserve to be worshipped, princess,” he murmurs, lips moving against your collarbones as he speaks. “I’ve been waiting to do this for so long." He keeps kissing you between his words, punctuating them with sweeps of his tongue over your skin, and it's so much. "Hold still for me, baby, there you go.”

Hoseok releases your wrists and you flex your fingers but stay in that position, your hands palm up as they rest either side of your head. Hoseok leans back to stare at you underneath him, laid out for his gaze; you’re in an old t-shirt and faded pyjama bottoms, face bare, hair a haphazard mess where it rests against the pillow, but he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Like you’re draped in diamonds and gold and silks. He looks at you with reverence and love, like he wants to cherish you- but there’s also something deeper in those half-lidded eyes of his, like he wants to swallow you whole.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. You bite your lip, swallowing down a needy noise at the tone of his voice, hands clenching into fists where they rest beside your head.

“Hobi, please,” you say. “I need you.”

“You have me.” He takes one of his hands and slowly pushes the material of your shirt up, dragging his palm over your skin as he reveals the softness of your stomach. He lets the material bunch just under your breasts, ignoring how your nipples have hardened and stand out through the thin cotton of your old tee, running his fingers over your sides; you buck a little underneath him, sucking in a breath at how his touch is almost ticklish. “So sensitive.”

“You haven’t even touched me properly yet,” you say, a little snarky despite your breathlessness, but then you’re cut off when Hobi’s hands slide under the t-shirt to cup your breasts, palms and fingers cool against your overheated skin. Your pussy clenches when he flicks his thumbs over each of your hardened buds, running the pads of his fingertips over them, and you arch into his touch.

“So sensitive,” he says again, a little smile behind his words as he watches how your chest rises and falls under his hands, sucking in air when he pinches your nipples between his fingers. “Do you like that, baby?”

“Like it when you touch me,” you sigh. Hoseok smiles, flashing his teeth at you before leaning forward to kiss you again. He coaxes you to lift up a little so he can pull off your shirt, smoothing your hair when it gets ruffled by the motion, but before you can smile up at him for his tenderness, he lowers the heat of his mouth over one of your nipples and you gasp.

One of your hands flies up to grasp his hair when he circles the bud with his tongue, and you let out a low moan as he continues to lave attention on it, flattening his tongue and dragging it over the sensitive flesh. He alternates between your breasts, using his hands and fingers on whichever he’s not suckling between his lips; goosebumps erupt over your skin, and you keep biting back whines and gasps each time he does something particularly wicked with his mouth. 

You feel so, so wet, arousal pooling between your legs, and you need him to touch you there. But he's slow, taking his time until your chest is heaving and your skin is flushed and your nipples are slick from the wetness of his mouth, his fingers just the right side of rough whenever he pinches the hardened peaks, and you mewl beneath him.

You’re just about to beg Hoseok to give you more when he finally lifts his mouth from your nipple, and you go tense as he starts to trail his lips down the valley of your breasts, across the sensitive skin of your stomach, hands roaming over the rest of you; he slides down the bed until he’s resting between your legs, and all you can think about is how close his mouth is to where you want it to be. 

You’re so wet that you’ve soaked right through your panties, a touch of dampness clinging to the flimsy material of your pyjama bottoms too, and you shiver at the way Hoseok seems to drink down the sight before he hooks his fingers into the loose elastic waistband, and starts to inch them down. He’s moving torturously slowly, kissing your bare legs as he reveals your skin, touching his lips to your thighs, your calves, your ankles. 

He does the same again with your panties, even more slowly; palms sliding up the side of your legs so he can curl his fingers around the fabric of your underwear and peel it off you. You shiver when your pussy is finally revealed, your inner thighs slick with your arousal and cooling from the touch of the air- Hoseok continues to suck and kiss trails across your legs even as he stares at your naked, weeping core, his gaze heavy as he drinks down the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, running his fingers over your bare skin as you tremble beneath him. “So gorgeous and perfect. Look at you, all laid out, just for me. I love you.”

“Hoseok,” you whimper. He’s still entirely clothed while you’re naked and bare, and you feel utterly debauched in comparison to him, the sheen of his saliva still shining over your body, nipples hard, your pussy lips flushed from arousal, every part of you begging for more- meanwhile he’s still got his surprisingly cute matching pyjama set on. The contrast is making your dizzy. He cups your foot in one of his hands, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner ankle, and your toes curl. “Please, baby, I need you.”

“I’ve got you, princess,” he murmurs. He drops one last kiss to your ankle before shifting towards your canting hips; his breath curls out over your core and you shudder, another flood of arousal shooting through you, your cunt clenching as Hoseok stares at it shamelessly. “Look at you,” he says, reverent. “So pretty and wet for me.”

“Hobi,” you whine. You bite back a gasp as he hooks your fingers behind your knees and forces your legs apart, spreading you open, entirely helpless underneath his hungry gaze. You watch in wonder as he lets his tongue curl out of his mouth, looking sinfully dirty as he does- but then you let out a whine when he turns his head away from your pussy and licks the inner seam of your thigh instead. Your hips jump at the sensation, your skin so sensitive from the attention that he’s lavishing on you, but it’s not where you want his mouth to be, even if the lingering kisses he’s giving to your inner thighs feel good. “Hoseok, please.”

He hums indulgently, and you’re about to start begging again when he purses his lips and blows out a puff of air over your flushed lower lips; the sudden chill against your damp folds has you tensing, and before you can gather your wits Hoseok drags his hot, wet tongue up the seam of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You cry out from the sudden explosion of sensation when he repeats the motion but presses past your lower lips to tongue at your slit, lapping up the juices at your entrance before circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, your spine arching as your hips buck. “Oh, God, Hoseok, yes, right there.”

He slides one of his arms over your stomach, trapping you, holding you down as you try to cant your hips towards his mouth. You sob with pleasure as he continues to drink down your juices, leisurely licking at the most sensitive parts of you, in no rush at all. “Hobi, please,” you beg. “Please, I need more.”

Hoseok turns his head to lightly bite your inner thigh, your leg twitching at the sensation, surprised at how pleasurable it is. “Ssh,” he murmurs. “I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time. I want to savour it,” he says, and you let out a whine when he dips his head back down and starts to lap at your clit again, his dark eyes watching each of your reactions, the way you writhe and curl your toes each time he dips back down to your entrance, pressing his tongue inside you. “You taste so good, baby. Your pretty little cunt is so perfect.”

You whine at the praise, writhing when each swipe of his tongue over you is fanning the flames of your arousal higher and higher, and you can feel how the coil inside you is tightening, so close to reaching your peak. Hoseok’s still eating you out, nice and slow, and you’ve never felt an orgasm creep up on you like this- you moan as Hoseok finally buries his face in your pussy, tongue sliding from your slit, to your clit, over and over. 

It’s so, so good, and then you watch as he slides one of his long fingers inside you and curls it inside you just right- “I’m gonna cum, Hoseok, I’m- oh!”

The intensity of your orgasm hits you like a freight train, exploding from deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed and your toes curl as you cum and cum and cum, Hoseok keeping his mouth on you the whole time, your entire body shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over you, wetness flooding out of your cunt that he drinks down eagerly. 

The build up was slow, and the come down is slow, too, aftershocks rippling through your body for longer than any orgasm you’ve had before, and Hoseok keeps licking and sucking you through it all until you’re almost crying out from the overstimulation and you have to push his head away. The aftershocks are still rippling through your body as Hoseok rises, your pussy clenching each time, and you feel boneless and strung out- but you know Hoseok isn’t done with you yet.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he says. You reach out for him and he comes so easily, fitting himself between your arms. His lips and chin shine with evidence of your arousal and when you pull him in for a kiss you can taste yourself across his tongue, a noise bubbling up at the back of your throat when you feel how slick his lips are against yours.

“Wanna make you cum too,” you say, your voice weak after the strength of that orgasm; you take in a deep breath, willing the oxygen to bring some energy back into your body. “Baby. Hoseok.”

“Mm.” He kisses you again. “You will, baby, don’t worry, you’re always so good for me.”

Your fingers fumble when you try to unbutton his shirt, but when Hoseok laughs, it’s not patronising at all; he just sounds fond. He takes over, deft fingers making quick work of the shirt before he throws it aside, revealing the slim line of his body to you. He’s beautiful and lean, nipples dark, skin golden, with a dark trail of hair that dips down into his pyjama bottoms- your eyes zero in on the way Hoseok’s loose pyjamas do nothing to hide his erection, the hard strain of his cock against the fabric, and you let out a little sigh of happiness that you’re finally getting to see what you’ve been desperately staring at all day. When you reach out for him your fingers barely brush his skin, and you make a greedy little noise, hungry for more.

“Need you,” you say. You want Hobi inside you, splitting you open, as close to each other as you can physically be. “Clothes off now.”

Hobi lets out a loud laugh, and you melt at the utter joy in the sound, how his face is so open and bright. 

“God, I love you,” he says, before unceremoniously shedding the offending garments. He wiggles his hips in an entirely unsexy manner, and you end up laughing too when he gets one of his legs caught and has to kick the pyjama bottoms off in an entirely graceless way. You’re still letting out quiet giggles even as Hoseok is finally bare in front of you, beautiful and unabashed in his nakedness, and you love him. 

You feel like liquid sunlight, overflowing with happiness; you’ve never laughed like this with anyone before, both naked yet still somehow amused, flipping from all-consuming arousal one second to laughter the next, but it just feels natural. Because it’s Hoseok, and everything feels so easy with him.

“I love you too,” you say, and then, when your eyes drop to his cock, you say: “God, you’re beautiful.”

His cock is gorgeous, curving up towards the ceiling, a drop of precum beaded at the tip; it’s not completely straight, hanging just a little to the left, but it’s Hoseok, so it’s perfect. He wraps his fingers around your hips and you let out a little squeal when he tugs you down the bed towards him so that your legs are dangling off the side and your hips are practically flush; his cock bobs when he moves and you shiver with how close it is to your heated core. Just like the rest of him, it’s long and lean and gorgeous, and you can’t wait to have it inside you. Although-

“Don’t I get to taste you?” You can’t help but say this with a pout, and Hoseok’s face splits into a wide smile.

“Next time, baby,” he promises. “Tonight is for you.”

Next time. The realisation that tonight is just one of many, just the start of an entirely new chapter in your life with Hoseok- that you’ll still be friends, best friends, but also more- settles inside you, warm and soft and safe. Your face creases into a smile and you slide your hands up Hoseok’s body, over his stomach and chest, touching all the skin you can, relishing in the fact that you’ll grow familiar with it all in a way that you never could have dreamed of. 

“You’re always so good to me,” you say.

“You deserve it, princess,” he replies. You tilt your hips towards him and you see how his eyes darken at the motion, tenderness swallowed by lust, and your body lights up like a livewire in preparation, ready to feel him push inside you. You’re already loose and wet from your first orgasm, but you don’t protest when Hoseok starts to run his fingers over the seam of your thigh; he presses straight in with two fingers, your body opening up for him so easily, and you gasp at how deep they move inside you, so long and pretty. 

“There, Hobi, right there.” He’s clearly not trying to bring you to orgasm again but he still listens to your directions, keeping the motions of his hands the same, fingers rubbing over your inner walls so perfectly. 

You can hear it, noises slick and dirty before he pulls them out, and you watch as he uses your arousal to slick up his cock, rubbing your juices over his hard length. It’s lewd, how he does it, pumping himself as he spreads it over his cock, wet noises vulgar and obscene, shooting straight to your core; you don’t think you’ve ever seen or heard anything so arousing in your life, the way Hoseok has his lip caught between his teeth as he looks at you, cock stiff between his legs as he runs his fingers over it. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper. “Hoseok, fuck.”

You arch your back when he grips his cock in one hand, guiding himself towards you- but rather than pressing into your entrance he runs his throbbing length back and forth through your lips, gathering even more of the wetness there, the slide so easy and smooth. It’s the most delicious, glancing pressure against your clit, not enough to satisfy, but enough to have you gasping again, the way you can feel the silken heat of his cock against you. 

“Hoseok, please.” You don’t attempt to hide the desperation in your voice. “I need you.”

Hoseok lets out a guttural groan at your words; he drinks in how blown your pupils are, the flush from your orgasm still visible over your chest, the way your fingers are clutching the bedsheets, white cotton tangled in your grasp. “Anything you want, baby,” he says, and finally, finally, he grasps his length and tilts it to your entrance. He rests there for a second, the tip barely touching you, and you see how he steels himself as he grasps your hips, before he starts to sink into you.

“Oh!” He fills you so well, inch by torturous inch, your body opening up for him so easily it’s like his cock was made to fill you; once he bottoms out you can feel how snug he is inside you, cockhead pressed against your cervix, and you shiver. “Oh, yes, Hoseok, so good.”

He stays still for one long, drawn out moment, before his hands slip off your waist and he reaches for yours. You entwine your fingers with his, staring up at him as he leans forward and kisses you; the motion has his cock shifting inside you and you whine a little against his lips, before biting off a gasp when he rocks his hips forwards. The motion is fluid and rolling, and Hoseok sets an unhurried pace, languidly filling you up with his cock, over and over and over.

The pleasure that’s growing in you is slow and relaxed. You’re not chasing your orgasms- you’re revelling in the closeness, the connection, the slip of skin against skin, how Hoseok is filling you up, how you’re drawing him in. You end up staring into each other’s eyes, Hoseok’s forehead pressed to yours so there’s nothing in your vision but him; you only break eye contact when one particularly deep roll of his hips sends a shudder through you, your eyes squeezing shut as you gasp.

“Feel so good, baby,” Hoseok murmurs. “So good for me.”

You make a noise of confusion when he lets go of your fingers and leans back, straightening up, but then he hooks his hands under your knees and you lift your hips; you drape your legs over his shoulders, arched towards him, lower body lifting off the mattress. Hoseok drives forward and you immediately gasp at how he hits your sweet spot straight on, the change of angle forcing the head of his cock to brush the top of your inner walls, each drag of the blunt head sending shocks of pleasure shooting through you.

“Wanna feel you cum around my cock, princess,” Hoseok says, and you shudder. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Hobi, yes- faster- oh-”

Hoseok starts to ramp up the pace, snapping his hips into yours with the sound of slapping skin, and you can feel how you’re starting to tighten around him, pussy clenching with each thrust of his hot cock inside you. “Gonna cum for you, Hobi,” you say. “So close, fuck.”

He takes one of his hands off your waist and slides three fingers over your clit, and you cry out with pleasure as he starts to rub at your bundle of nerves in tight circles; the added stimulation is just what you need, and you tumble over the edge into your second orgasm of the night. Hoseok moans when he feels how your cunt clenches around him, rippling tightness around his cock, and your eyes fall shut as your mouth falls open and you rock your hips into the sensation, grinding against Hoseok to prolong the pleasure, and he continues to snap his hips forward.

You go lax, almost limp, but Hoseok is still hard inside you, so you try your best to keep your back arched towards him; the fluid roll of his thrusts is starting to fall out of rhythm as he approaches his own peak, and although your pussy is crying out at the oversensitivity, you try to match his pace, canting your hips towards Hoseok each time he drives forward.

“Want your cum all over me, Hobi,” you say. “Want you to cum on my tits-”

Hoseok curses, composure slipping entirely for the first time all night, and you feel how he fumbles his rhythm before he catches himself. His thrusts are fast and choppy before he pulls out and drops your hips to the mattress; you whine at the sudden emptiness, but then he’s shuffling his knees onto the bed and he has his hand wrapped around his slick length, jerking himself hard and fast as you arch your back and push your chest towards him.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says through gritted teeth. “So pretty, baby- fuck!”

He gasps in air before he lets out one long, drawn out moan, and then there’s hot cum splattering across your breasts, whiteness painting itself across your skin. Hoseok continues to pump himself, cock letting out more ropes of cum, and you can’t help but let out a noise of satisfaction at the sight, lifting your hands to run over his hip bones and waist and flexing thighs, watching the way Hoseok’s face draws together as he rides out his own orgasm, until his hand falls away from his cock and he’s slumping forwards over you, panting.

You hum, reaching for him and pulling him down so you can brush your lips against his. “You’re so hot when you cum,” you say. “I could watch you cum all day.”

Hoseok lets out a breathless laugh before he kisses you again, properly this time- you’re content to keep kissing regardless of the cum that’s starting to cool on your chest, but Hoseok is insistent on being a gentleman and excuses himself to the bathroom to get a towel so he can clean you up. When he drags the damp towel over your skin, he’s so soft and gentle, although you still shiver a little when the rough fabric drags over your nipples; he bends down and kisses you in apology. 

You feel warm and small and soft, watching as Hoseok walks around the bed, still naked; the paltry lamp light is still more than enough for you to see every line of his beauty, the way each of his muscles shifts under his skin as he walks and moves, bending over to gather some of the discarded clothes from the floor. You sit up and lift your arms so he can help you back into your thin t-shirt, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him with a firm press of your lips, before he shimmies back into his boxers, though you personally don’t think he needs them.

When you finally settle down for the night you both curled up on your bed- because Hoseok’s is rumpled and sweaty from your previous exertions- and nestle up gratefully under the sheets, warm from the weight of the duvet and Hoseok spooning you from behind.

“I love you,” he murmurs, nosing at the side of your neck.

“I love you too,” you reply, and then end up giggling a little, stomach jumping under Hoseok’s hand. “I need to buy Namjoon a thank you slash apology gift when we get home, you know,” you say thoughtfully. “He had to put up with me having a meltdown about you, and it turns out he was right.”

Hoseok brushes his nose over your ear. “Jin kept making pretty blasé comments to me about us,” he tells you. “But he does that about most things, so.”

You hum lightly before pressing back further against Hoseok, who tightens his hold around you in response. “I guess they knew before we did,” you say. “We’ve been acting like a couple for a long time, to be fair.” Thinking back on it, it was pretty obvious, but hindsight is 20/20, as they say. 

The next morning, as always, you wake before Hoseok- and this time when you feel the hardness pressed into your ass, you don’t panic. You do what you always do and slide carefully out of Hoseok’s arms, but unlike every other morning, he doesn’t wake up to an empty bed. Instead, he wakes up with a small gasp to the sight of you with your mouth around his cock, your eyes wide and innocent as you stare up at him; you work him up while he’s still half-asleep and slow, swallowing down his cock until he cums down your throat. You litter kisses over his hips and thighs, smiling into his skin as he comes down from his peak, his pupils blown.

“Morning, Hobi,” you say, kissing the divot below his hip bones. “I love you.”

“Come here,” he says, voice still a rasp from his sleep, eyes hungry as he reaches for you.

When the two of you eventually stumble downstairs for breakfast, Jimin and Taehyung are already there; you’re much later than normal but neither of the boys seems to notice anything out of the ordinary, Taehyung asking Hoseok to pass the pepper mill as soon as you’ve sat down.

Taehyung is enthusiastically grinding pepper over his bacon and eggs when Jimin pipes up. “You know, the ghosts in this B&B apparently like to watch the guests while they try to sleep and make noises to keep them up,” he says conversationally. “You didn’t happen to notice anything out of the ordinary in your room, did you? Taehyung and I could have sworn that we heard moaning or something at some point, but I think it must have been a trick of our minds.”

You and Hoseok exchange a quick glance. “Uh, nope, can’t say that we did,” you say, and Hoseok nods emphatically in agreement.

Jimin pauses. He squints at you, before turning to Taehyung and pulling the pepper mill out of his hands to get his attention. “I told you it was going to happen soon,” Jimin says. “They finally hit critical mass and confessed. I knew that moaning wasn’t from ghosts.”

“And there’s no mess to clean up, even if we didn’t win the betting pool.” Taehyung sounds pleased. “Can you pass the salt now please?”

You watch incredulously as both boys continue their business as usual, Taehyung swapping the pepper mill for the salt grinder while Jimin opens a tiny jar of raspberry jam for his toast. 

You turn to Hoseok, scandalised at the idea that a) your friends/co-workers heard you last night and b) there’s apparently some sort of office bet about your relationship with Hoseok, only to find that the man in question has a look of alarm on his face.

“Do you think the ghosts were watching us last night?” He has an expression that’s a mix of affronted and also scared. “That’s dirty.”

“No, baby, I don’t think we had ghostly voyeurs in our room,” you say, stroking Hoseok’s hand with reassuring fingers, before you frown and look back at the other two boys. “I hate our friends. You have a betting pool?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty big,” Taehyung says. “I’m not sure who’s won the money, I’d have to check the spreadsheet when we get back home.”

“I bet Jin was the one who came up with it, wasn’t he?” Taehyung and Jimin exchange a look, but neither of them say anything, which is more than enough to answer your question. “I’m going to shove a wedge of parmesan down his throat when we get home and see how he likes it.”

“I love you,” Hoseok says.

“I love you too,” you reply, turning your head to accept the kiss he gives you.

“You’re so cute,” Jimin says.

“Why parmesan?” Taehyung asks, before twisting the salt grinder with enough gusto that he pulls the bottom off and salt goes cascading over his breakfast. “Oh, oops. Do you think they’ll let me have more eggs?”

--

Your thank you/apology gift to Namjoon is a tin of Scottish shortbread that you find in a cute tourist shop, although when you find out he’s actually the proud winner of 50% of the betting pool, you take the shortbread back for yourself and Hoseok instead.

When Yoongi arrives at his desk to the sight of you sitting in Hoseok’s lap and feeding him between kisses, he just rolls his eyes, mutters ‘finally’, and makes no further comments. You laugh into Hoseok’s mouth and allow Jungkook to steal a piece of shortbread on his way past, too busy kissing your boyfriend to care.

“You can have the last bit of shortbread,” you say, and Hoseok grins up at you.

“You’re just saying that because I ate you out this morning,” he says, and you giggle.

“I can’t believe you just made me listen to that with my own two ears. I’m in hell.” Yoongi sounds so tired. “I think I preferred it when the two of you were dancing around each other. Go back to doing that.”

“No can do, Yoongles,” you sing-song. “I love Hoseok and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

“I love you too,” Hoseok says, looking up at you with bright eyes, and you giggle before dipping down to kiss him again.

“Everyone else knew before you did,” Yoongi mutters, but neither of you pay him any mind.

[liquid-luck-00]

Connections 10

Chapter 10

this is based on @thepeacetea daminette soulmate au

Masterlist *** First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving in Themyscira, they were greeted by Queen Hippolyta and guided them to large hall. Introductions were made and Tikki zipped towards Hippolyta, nuzzling her cheek.

"You are the Ladybug of this generation?" The Amazonian Queen asked the youngest in the room.

"Yes, Ma’am." Marinette answered quickly and slightly panicked in the Queen's presence.

"Your soul is a true creation soul," she began her explanation. "As your soulmate and intended cat is a true destruction soul." As if on cue Damian, in corporeal form, 'crashed' through the ceiling, falling, and landing with a thud.

"Nice entrance Demon spawn." Jason snickered as Damian stood up.

"Tt. When I get my body back Grayson and Drake help me with this.” He demanded, but was actually asked of his brothers. He held up two batons.

“Dick would be better than...” Tim’s voice cut off as Damian merged the two and it expanded into a bo staff. “I stand corrected.”

“The Black Cat is the most offensive Miraculous," Hippolyta continued to explain. "As you've already found the first two, attempt to find the third."

"There are five total," Tikki chimed in. "But you'll need Plagg for the other two and to use your Power." Damian nodded and sat down fiddling with the staff, then batons, then the staff again, while listening to the Amazonian Queen.

"What does this have to do with the Lazarus Pit and bringing Damian back?” was asked by Bruce.

"Everything. Understanding the power that she is and he will, wield explains why there will not be an adverse effect on him." Hippolyta calmly explained. “The Ladybug as you may know uses a yo-yo as the primary weapon, but you also have two collapsed escrima sticks. Your powers include the 'Lucky Charm' and 'Miracle Cure’ used together you can reverse all damage caused as a result of the miraculous, or if any miraculous took part during anytime of the altercation. It is also possible to revive the dead with your power."

"So is it possible for Mari to bring back Damian?" Was asked by a hopeful Dick.

"Unfortunately not. What occurred was a result of the soul bond and the magic embedded into Marinette." A sad knowing look crossed the Queen's features. "This is where the Pits of Lazarus comes into play. As Marinette is the embodiment of creation and luck, as Damian is the embodiment of destruction and misfortune they are the two souls of this generation who can enter its waters without corruption."

"Why?" was chorused by the four eldest Waynes.

"The Pits were created by a wish merging the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous." Tikki now spoke again. "But with such powerful magic it comes with a cost. Pit madness comes when a person has a soul alignment with a miraculous, like Jason. For others it may vary, but for souls like the two of you, as part of Plagg and I, you are immune to the madness only reaping the benefits."

"Why didn't you say this before, Tikki." Tim brought up. "Because I can't see souls like my chosen can and Mari is too young to see them now." the miniature goddess responded.

"Pits as in more than one?" Bruce whispered, as if in deep thought.

"There are half a dozen pits around the world hidden away. Each is guarded by one of the inner kwamii, but that is more of a tidbit than necessary information." the Queen smiled. “Now has that calmed some concerns?"

"Is there a Pit not controlled by the League?" Jason blurted out. Because logically the league couldn't control all of them.

"A few, such as the one here on Paradise Island." Queen Hippolyta answered in turn.

"I can get my body back without the League?" Damian whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

This was the best news they could get. Damian could be revived while not having to struggle with the Pit madness. He wouldn't need to be near the League which means he wouldn't question himself. That he is able to build upon what he has since moving to Gotham without being the Prince of Assassins.

"Yes. Now come little bug, little cat." Marinette and Damian each flanked the Queen as the rest followed behind.

A short trek into the Mountains and they arrived at a pit. The same acidic green with chaos and creation swirled. Damian's body was deposited next to the swirling pool.

"Understand that when you emerge, both of you, will train here in order to strengthen and teach you the magic you will wield." the two children nodded, clear resolve on their features. "Good."

After bringing Damian back from the dead they almost immediately were placed into training. It was true that there was no madness, his mind was intact without being clouded by anger. Their soul bond was a huge benefit. Where Damian caught the physical aspect quickly and it transferred to Mari. While Mari was a natural at magic and helped guide Damian through.

Yes the Amazon’s did not particularly trust men but they could recognize Damian as a Black Cat, which along with his brother’s nickname Demon Spawn, he gained the name Hellcat. That and they could clearly see that Damian was Marinette’s soulmate, but didn’t treat her as a damsel in distress, instead as a partner and equal. Which helped him earn some respect to the warriors around them. Which was how the two spent most of the week before going back.

What they couldn't be prepared for was the tornado named Jagged. As soon as they arrived in the manor he was there in a fury of a whirlwind.

"Hey little Rocker, how was the trip?"

"It was fun." Marinette smiled at her dad.

"So got any pictures to show your papa, love." he asked excitedly.

"Pictures?" she repeated quizzically.

That was when the Wayne’s and Mari began to laugh

"What’s so funny?" The rocker asked confused.

"Apparently we were so caught up in the vacation we didn’t take pictures." Tim grinned, the little liar he is, spoke up. He had pictures but they were mostly of his brothers getting their asses handed to them by the Amazons. And he couldn’t explain how they happened to be on the secret hidden island filled with Amazonian warriors. "Their also was zero service on the island." He finished with a shrug.

"Ohh I did bring back some shells and crystals and some seeds for my garden." Mari chimed in. "I can tell you all about it."

"Yes you can on the plane to wherever you and the bird you choose to come with us." Jagged smiled at his daughter.

"Jared what are you..." Bruce near finished his sentence.

Jagged having interrupted his thoughts he sentence. “Come now Batsey you steal little rocker for a week so I steal one of your birds." He stated as a matter of fact.

Bruce just stood with his jaw slack. Sure Mari told them he figured them out, but he forgot, he had a child to revive goddamn it. “Fine but I think it’ll be a good idea to tell him Mari." He turned to the young girl.

The girl chewed her lip before putting her hand in her light vest shirt. A red pixie bug flew out and sat on Mari’s head.

"Hello I’m Tikki the Ladybug kwamii, Marinette is my chosen holder." Tikki's voice rang through the room.

"I’m sorry what now?" The rocker was eerily still and quiet.

"Long story short your daughter is a magical girl and Demon Spawn is her soulmate and is also a magical girl, boy, you get the idea." Jason chuckled.

"Okay let me get this straight. Mari's soulmate is the Grumpy Gargoyle, they are both magical kids who are chosen by fairies. All of you are Gotham's vigilantes, which I'm assuming you've been training Little Rocker."

"Yes.??” Dick answered unsure.

"Okay."

"Okay." Dick again responded. Before realizing, "Wait! Okay!”

"Ya," Jagged shrugged. "You've all met Mari. This is completely plausible with her. So who are we stealing from Bruce?"

"Dames!" she jumped to hug him from behind, arms wrapped around his neck.

Damian for his part didn't throw Marinette off. In fact he repositioned to piggy back her, a ghost of a smile spread on his neutral features.

"So where are we going?"

Yucatan Peninsula

Why?

The Twins said a gift for future bugs and cats were there.

Haven't their been cats and bugs since them?

Yes but travel was limited.

In other words scavenger hunt.

Yes. How's your Spanish? Because the most logical place to start would be the Mayan ruins.

"Mejor que eI tuyo." she smirked at him.

"God damn it their doing it again." Jason dragged his hands down his face.

"Doing what?"

"Their bond is shockingly rare, its a Mind link sharing knowledge, meaning basically anything one knows so does the other. As if that isn't enough now they can communicate telepathically."

"So why the Spanish rocker?"

"Cancun, Mayan scavenger hunt." she grinned.

"Sounds good. I'll shoot Penny a text and we'll leave tomorrow sound good?"

"Yup." She responded, Damian nodded and finally set her down.

Your helping me pack.

As if I'd let you do it yourself.

Knowing you, you'd pack your Robin uniform.

'Pfft'

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @itsmeevie01 @miraculouspenta

Taglist ���🦇: @thanks-captain-obvious @mandy989 @our-preciousss @readingismyoxygen @birdy912 @shifty-lesbian-retro-goblin @todaylillypads @laurcad123 @demonangel27 @be-happy-every-day-please @fandom-trapped-03 @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @t1dwarrior-of-earth @saays-bitch @k-poplunardreams @animegirlweeb @weird-pale-blonde-person @myazael @toodaloo-kangaroo @moonlightstar64 @miraculous-simmer7 @wannajointhecrabcult @blackmagicforever @iamabrownfox @justcourttee @consumeconstantly @abrx2002 @livelifeauthorstyle @certifiedbidisaster @dreamykitty25 @ironspiderstark @fantasyislive @dast218 @susiej1118 @sassakitty @lilyreadbooks12 @dawnwave16 @mochegato @galla02006 @nathleigh @trippingovermyfeet @promiswords @rosep16 @officiallydarkgeek @inarachi02 @justafanwarrior @emimar7

[eastofthemoon]

Title: A Rose Has Thorns

Rating: G

Series: The Owl House

Characters/Pairings: Hunter/Willow

Summary: It was Hunter's first solo mission since he left the Emperor's Coven and moved into the Owl House. All he had to achieve was purchase a few items at the market. That should be simple, right? 

Archive of Our Own

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Luz asked.

Hunter sighed as he held up the list, swinging the basket over his shoulder. “I can handle a shopping trip, Luz.”

“Yeah, but I'm pretty sure you’re not exactly used to things like shopping,” Luz retorted. “I mean, from what Lilith said about the Emperor's Coven...”

Hunter couldn’t deny that. Most of the domestic chores in the Emperor’s Coven were handled by servants or abominations. Hunter had never even done his own laundry until he found himself living at the Owl House.

That had been an interesting lesson. Eda claimed Hunter had done well, but Hunter had a hunch that setting clothes on fire was not as common as Eda claimed.

Hunter sighed as his cardinal flew to his shoulder. “Look, I’ll be fine. I have my palisman with me and I have actually bought things before.”

Luz chewed her lower lip. “Yeah, but-”

Eda placed a hand on Luz’s shoulder. “Let him go, kiddo. If Hunter wants to do this solo we've gotta respect that.”

“Besides, it’s not like he could do any worse than you did,” King called out from the couch. “He just has to avoid trusting any wizards.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Why would I trust a wizard? They’re famous for being shady-”

“Oh, wow, would you look at the time,” Luz said nervously as she pointed over her shoulder. “I have to, uh, go get ready for my date with Amity! See you later, Hunter! Byyyyyye!”

Luz hastily dashed out of the room. Hunter turned to Eda.

“Do I... want to know?” he asked.

“Meh, I'll fill you in on the blackmail later,” Eda said as she crossed her arms. “Seriously, kid, you sure you don’t want to at least take King with you?”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “For the last time, I’ll be fine. I’ll be back within the hour.”

-----------------------------------------

Two hours later, Hunter couldn't suppress the twitch in his eyelid. He had finally managed to find almost every item on the list... except for formian crystal. He was almost tempted to just return empty-handed, but he knew the house needed it for their crystal ball - whatever his opinions on King's shows.

Besides, it was a matter of pride at this point. After his declarations, how could he prove to Luz and Eda that he could be useful and handle things like a normal person if he didn't return with every item on the list?

Unacceptable.

His cardinal gave a comforting tweet. It had tried to give him some suggestions, but hadn’t been in the market place for a long time. So in spite of intentions, the little palisman knew even less than Hunter.

Hunter patted the cardinal’s head as he glanced around the various shoppers passing by. There were many less people around at this time of day which admittedly is why he had come alone. There was a much lower risk of one of the Emperor Coven guards spotting and arresting him on the spot.

Still, Hunter wasn’t thrilled with the idea of asking someone for help. What if they recognized him and reported him? Maybe if he picked the right shopkeeper- Wait. Not far from him were a couple of girls close to his age.

Chances of them turning me in is lower, Hunter thought and walked over. At least if they're anywhere near as anti-authority as the human. I’ll ask them.

The two girls were laughing over some joke, but stopped abruptly as they noticed Hunter approaching.

“Hey, can I ask you two a quick question?” he asked.

The girl with pink hair and three eyes looked at him and smirked. “If you mean where to get a better fashion sense, that is not going to be a 'quick' answer.  Where do we even begin?”

“Uh no,” Hunter said with a raised eyebrow. “I just wanted to know where I could find someone selling formian crystal.”

The other girl tapped her chin in thought. “Um. That's for old crystal balls, right?  I think there’s a booth over in the east-”

“West side,” the pink haired girl jumped in with a grin. “She means there’s a seller on the far west side of the market.” She turned to her friend. “Right, Skara?”

The girl named Skara blinked, but then nodded rapidly. “Oh..uh, yeah, like Boscha said.” She gave a shaky smile and pointed. “To the far, far west side.  Nearly...outside the market?”

“West side, okay,” Hunter said as he started walking in that direction. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” the girl named Boscha said with a smirk.

Hunter found her a bit odd, but he was too worn out from shopping to worry about it.

“Last item.  Last item!  I can do this.  I just need to get this done so we can head home,” he said aloud to his cardinal.

Another hour later, Hunter had been up and down the west side of the market three times but he still hadn’t found any formian crystal.

“Where is it,” he grumbled as his cardinal hovered nearby. “It’s supposed to be here!”

The cardinal tweeted in his ear.

“No, I will not just go home,” Hunter said as they continued to walk. “I can't fail my mission, and it isn't complete until I find-”

Suddenly, he walked straight into someone's back. The pair of them let out a grunt as each, separately, stumbled and fell to the ground.

Hunter quickly forgot about his annoyance as he scrambled to his feet. “Sorry, are you okay?”

The person he had bumped into was another girl. She waved off his concern as she adjusted her glasses and dusted the dirt off her clothes.

“Don’t worry,” she said with a small smile. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.”

A bee palisman carrying a small basket hovered nearby and the girl gave it a pat on the head. “I’m okay, Clover - oh dear.”

Hunter looked down and saw what she had noticed. The items from his basket had fallen out when he had crashed into her.

“Great,” Hunter grumbled as he knelt down and started picking them up. “Just what I needed.”

He started gathering up and inspecting the items for damage, engrossed in his task until a jar of toad jam was suddenly thrust in his face. He hadn’t realized the girl was kneeling next to him and was helping to gather everything

Hunter blushed. “Uh, thanks,” he replied. Why didn’t I see that?

“You're welcome,” the girl replied, still smiling. “Do you need help with anything else?”

Hunter sighed. “Actually, yes,” he said as he rose. “Can you tell me where I can get some formian crystal?”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Formian crystal?  Here?”

“Yes.  The vendor that’s supposed to be stationed in this area.”

The girl frowned. “Um..last time I checked, no one in this part of the market has ever sold anything like that.  This is the area for fertilizers, cloth dyes, and any of the really pungent produce.”

“What?!” Hunter cried. “But that Boscha girl said there was a stall here for it.”

The girl’s eyes widened, then narrowed as she held a tight frown. “Wait, Boscha? Three eyed girl with pink hair? She told you to come here?”

Hunter didn’t like where this was going. “Uh, yes. I’ve been searching for over an hour.”

The girl sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Boscha, honestly…” She shook her head. “I kind of hate to tell you this, but she lied.”

“What?” Hunter growled. “Why would she do that?”

 Was it all a trap? Was she working with the Emperor’s Coven-

“Because she’s a mega jerk and probably thought sending you to the 'smelly' end of the market would be funny,” the girl replied firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. “She has a twisted sense of humor.” She pointed to herself. “Personal experience.”

“Oh,” Hunter mumbled. “That kind of makes sense.”

He glanced over the list. Maybe he should just head back now. He had wasted enough time as is and there would be...concerns if he wasn’t back soon.

The girl gave a small smile and pointed. “Come on, I’ll take you there.”

Hunter blinked. “Um..take me where?”

“To where you can get some formian crystal.”

Hunter frowned and tilted his head. “You will? But... why?”

“Because I want to,” the girl replied. “Besides, I was heading in that direction anyway.”

Hunter paused. Should he trust her? What if this was another trick? But without her intelligence, he had no way to avoid failing his objective.

“Are you coming?” the girl asked with a concerned frown.

Hunter shook his head. “Yes, sorry.  I was just lost in thought.”

The girl smiled back. “I’m Willow by the way.”

“Hunter,” he replied, frowning to himself. Willow? That name sounds familiar. Wonder why?

He tossed the thought aside and quickly caught up with her.

True to Willow’s word, she took her directly to a stall selling assorted magical crystals, including what he was looking for. She even helped him bargain to get it a few snails cheaper.

Hunter tucked the small bag carefully in the basket.

“Thanks,” he said.

“No problem,” Willow replied with a smile. “I know what it’s like dealing with a bully far too well.”

So, do I, but on a different scale, Hunter thought as his mind drifted back to the Emperor’s Coven.

His cardinal tweeted and Hunter patted his head. “I have to get home, but thanks again for the help.”

“Sure thing,” Willow said as she began to walk in the other direction, the bee buzzing busily beside her. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Hunter said with a wave.

As he walked home. The girl’s name bugged him. Willow...Willow...I know I've heard that name somewhere, but where?

Hunter got his answer exactly two days later.

Luz had invited two of her friends over for a 'study session'. Amity had apparently been dragged off into ‘bonding sibling time’ with her brother and sister, which was admittedly a bit of a relief for Hunter. She was still suspicious of him over that whole Eclipse Lake business.

Gus was the first to arrive. He seemed wary of Hunter, but was mostly friendly.

“If Luz says you’re okay, then I’m willing to trust her opinion,” Gus said. “She’s a pretty good judge of character.  Besides, it's hard to pull the wool over an illusionist's eyes!”

Hunter couldn’t help but agree with him.  Or at least his opinion of Luz.

They chatted for a bit before Luz’s other friend arrived. Hearing a new, and yet somewhat familiar voice, Hunter raised his head and froze.

It was the same girl who had helped him at the market. It was only then his brain connected the dots.

Willow, as in Luz’s friend Willow who she talks about all the time, Hunter thought with a gulp. Cursing his poor memory, he stood up.

“And this is Hunter,” Luz said as she pointed to Hunter. “Also formerly known as - wait for it - the Golden Guard.”

Willow gave a shaky smile, but it vanished as she spotted Hunter. The basket slipped from her fingers, kept up only by her bee palisman's efforts.

Hunter coughed as he gave a sheepish wave. “Um...hi?”

He could feel everyone’s eyes on them as the silence between the two of them continued.

She’s probably just as surprised as I am, Hunter thought.

Luz got in between them and frowned. “Something wrong?”

Hunter rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh...we've met before. Actually."

Luz tilted her head as Gus grasped his chin in thought, muttering under his breath.

“You have? When?” Luz asked.

“Uhh…” Hunter stammered as he struggled to find an explanation that wouldn’t have Luz fretting over him.

“In my dads’ shop,” Willow chimed in quickly, fending off King's attempt to climb her and peer into her basket.

Hunter blinked. “The shop?”

Willow gave him a look and suddenly he understood.

“Rrriigghhhttt,” Hunter said slowly and gave a shaky smile. “I was just curious so I popped in for a quick look.”

“Yeah, and we had a nice little chat,” Willow added.

“Oh,” Luz said as she placed an arm around Hunter’s shoulder. “Man, the Boiling Isles.  Small world, am I right?”

“Suspiciously small,” Gus commented, tapping the spine of a book.

“Who cares,” King said as he pointed at Willow. “The important thing is that I’m smelling tasty yum-yums that should be in my tum-tum, but they're still in that basket.  You have brought tribute to your monarch, and it must be delivered!”

Willow smiled. “You're right!” she glanced at Luz. “It’s snaggle bread but my dads left out the fairy wings so Luz can enjoy it.”

“Aw, that was nice of them,” Luz said as she moved to take the basket. “How about I get some plates?”

“I can do it, I know where they are,” Willow offered as she headed into the kitchen.

“Okay,” Luz said. “There should be some toad jam in the cupboard too!  Fresh from the market!”

Hunter glanced behind as his cardinal landed on his shoulder.

“Um..I’ll go make us some tea,” Hunter offered as he pointed. “Be right back.”

He ignored their baffled expressions as he ventured into the kitchen. Willow didn’t turn around. Hunter hesitated, considering talking to her, but finally just moved towards the kettle in silence, turning on the tap.

More silence followed until Hunter turned off the tap and placed the full kettle onto the stove.

The clearing of a throat caused Hunter to look up. Willow had finished arranging slices of bread on a plate with the jar of jam, and was rifling through the butter knives.

“Ssssooo,” Willow began as her bee fetched teacups from the pantry, “I’m assuming you didn’t want Luz to hear how we actually met?”

Hunter covered his face with one hand. “Yes, please,” he groaned. “If she found out how my first shopping trip went, she would never let me live it down.”

Willow’s face softened. “Luz isn’t like that,” she admonished as her bee palisman landed on her shoulder. “But I get how being tricked by Boscha can be kind of embarrassing, so I’ll respect your pride.”

Hunter sighed. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Willow crossed her arms. “However, there is something else I want to make clear.” Her eyes narrowed. “Amity and I do talk about things, after all."

Hunter sighed. He’d been expecting this. “All right, let me have...it?”

Suddenly, Willow was holding one of the knives and was stomping forward. Hunter barely had time to react before he found himself pinned against the wall. His cardinal gave a concerned tweet, but the bee was buzzing angrily nearby and it stayed where it was on the counter.

Hunter could theoretically get out of this. Probably. Maybe. Willow was shorter than him and he had more training, but she had a weapon and he didn't - not to mention the sheer determination shining in her eyes.

“Luz is a very dear friend to me, and I care a lot about King, Eda and Hooty,” Willow stated firmly as she held the butter knife unwaveringly. “Now.  I do believe in second chances.  That's why Amity and I are friends again.”

“Under...stood,” Hunter said slowly, wondering how a simple butter knife could be more threatening than Kikimora's clawed monsters.

“I do, however, wish to inform you that Luz is friends with a plant witch.  Plant witches know about plants.  Including which ones are very toxic,” Willow pulled his shirt collar close until both of their noses were touching. “If you betray Luz, or Gus, or Amity or anyone in this house you'll get first-hand knowledge of dragon fly blossoms.”

“The... burning, stinging kind?” Hunter guessed.

“The same,” Willow said as her bee gave another buzz. “Do we have an understanding?”

“Clear as formian crystal,” Hunter replied as he held up his hands.

Willow’s smile returned. She slipped the butter knife up her sleeve and her bee suddenly became much calmer.

“Good,” she said and took a deep breath as she steadied herself. “Oh boy, that took a lot out of me.”

Hunter wasn’t sure how to reply, but was thankfully saved by King’s voice.

“Where are those snacks?!” he cried. “Your tiny tyrant is getting hungry here!”

“Be right there,” Willow called as she gathered up the plates. “Coming?”

“In a minute.  I, um.  Need to wait for the water to boil to make tea,” Hunter added quickly.

Willow smiled, nodded and left the kitchen.

Hunter took deep breaths until he heard the kettle boil, removed it from the stove and started pouring it over the teabags. As he was putting the lid on the teapot Hooty extended his head into the kitchen window.

“Wooow, that was intense,” Hooty commented.

“No kidding,” Hunter commented as his cardinal landed on his shoulder and then paused. “Wait, you saw the whole thing?”

“I see everything in this house,” Hooty replied cheerfully.  "Eeeeeverythiiiiing."

“And you didn’t do anything?  Say anything?!” Hunter asked.

“Willow wouldn’t have hurt you unless she had to,” Hooty replied as he smiled. “She’s a lovely lady who's as sweet as a dragon fly blossom.”

Hunter kind of understood. Helping out during his first shopping trip proved what kind of person she was. And yet, there was that look in her eyes. Willow, for all her sweetness, was clearly also a person who was willing to protect those around her.  Whatever the cost.

Even A Rose Has Thorns, Hunter thought.

It was a line from one of Belos’s old books. Hunter never quite understood the significance. Of course roses had thorns. It was just how they were.

He looked to where Willow had stood. Now he felt like he understood the full significance.

“She’s very admirable,” Hunter muttered, andis cardinal tweeted in agreement.

He glanced at Hooty and saw the house demon was smirking at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You liiiiike her,” Hooty sang as he wiggled about.

Hunter blushed. “What? Well...Yes, I mean I hope to be her friend.”

“Oh, old Hooty has been around all the blocks!  This is clearly the beginning of a slow-burning subconscious unrequited crush,” Hooty replied in a sly tone.  "That is, for noooooow~"

Hunter waved his hands in the air. “What makes you think that?!”

“Oh, I don't knooooow," Hooty smirked.  "Why are you blushing?”

The words died in Hunter’s mouth as he fumbled with the kettle, putting it aside and sweeping the teapot onto a tray.

“I’m leaving now,” he declared.

“Feel free to ask me for advice,” Hooty called to his retreating back. “I’m knowledgeable in all the glorious and sinister ways of the heart! Just look at how I helped Lumity set sail!  Literally!”

Hunter vowed he would never ask as he left the kitchen.  And did his best to ignore the tweeting of the cardinal on his shoulder.

[lancermylove]

Sweet Gestures 2 (HC)

Fandom: FFVII

Pairing: Angeal x Reader, Zack x Reader, Genesis x Reader, Sephiroth x Reader, Cloud x Reader, Tseng x Reader, Vincent x Reader, Reno x Reader, Rude x Reader, Biggs x Reader, Rufus x Reader

Warning: None

Prompt: Small gestures that show how much they care.

The week was just getting started, and the pile of you had to finish wouldn't stop growing. Your coworkers kept bugging you, and your boss wouldn't stop criticizing your work. You just wanted to take a break, but apparently, that was asking for too much. Thankfully you had that someone special in your life that always knew what to do when you felt under the weather.

———————————————

Zack 

You rested your forehead on the desk and let out a sigh. “Hey baby, come take a little break!” His cheery voice brought a smile on your face. Lifting your head, you saw your boyfriend holding two ice-cream cones in his hands. "Hurry up, or the ice-cream will melt!" 

Angeal 

While you were working, you heard unusual sounds coming from the kitchen. You quietly made your way to see Angeal putting away groceries. He looked at you and smiled, "Sorry to disturb you. Thought you could use a little help, so don't worry about the groceries and cooking. Just focus on your work and leave the rest to me."

Genesis

Your notifications on your phone were getting out of hand. Picking up the phone angrily, you unlocked your phone to see the messages from Genesis. Hot selfies of Genesis filled the chat thread followed by a message: "I thought you could use a handsome distraction. ;)"

Sephiroth

Out of the blue, you had received a message from your boss saying that he's sorry for assigning you so much work, and you no longer had to do it. Your phone went off while you were trying to figure out what had happened. Sephiroth sent you a message that read: "Now relax. Your boss is no longer going to bother you."

Cloud

It was way past your dinner time, but you decided to ignore your rumbling stomach and focus on work. You heard the door to your room opening, and you nearly jumped out of your chair. Cloud stepped into the room with a smile and a plastic bag in his hand, "Hope you don't mind that I let myself in. Are you hungry?"

Tseng

Your coworker hurried into your office, "Hey, you never told me that you had a boyfriend!" You looked up from your computer screen to see her holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. A blue card with silver swirls was attached to the beautiful bouquet: "Take care of yourself. If you need anything, let me know."

Vincent

You felt a gust of cold air hit your back, but you didn't turn around as this was your boyfriend's usual way of announcing himself. For a few minutes, he stood behind you and watched you at work. Your tense shoulder told him everything he needed to know about your condition. Vincent slid one finger under your chin and turned your face towards him before pressing his lips on your own. With that gesture, he wordlessly excused himself.

Reno

You decided to take a little break and check your phone notifications. Seeing a text message from Reno, you opened it to find a hilarious gif. Your sudden laughter filled the small office room. Below that gif was a message: "Remember to take a break and smile!"

Rude

You were surprised to hear your doorbell ring as you were not expecting any guests. Though you wanted to continue working, you decided to answer the door. A delivery boy handed you a paper bag and walked away without waiting for your reaction. You looked down at the paper bag to find a sticky note attached to it: "Eat properly. Your meals will be delivered to you from now on."

Biggs

You were just about ready to pull your hair out. The stress was slowly building up, and now, it was getting to you. Right in the middle of stressing out about stress, you heard a voice call out to you, "Relax, will you? I cleaned your house and cooked your meals, so stop worrying about all that. Just focus on your work, cutie."

Rufus

Your boss walked into your office and began to apologize extensively. Not knowing how to react, you remained silent, but the shocking moment was interrupted when your phone rang. You quickly answered the call to hear the voice of your beloved, "If that man troubles you further, inform me right away. To think that he had the audacity to burden my princess." When you asked him about the situation, your boyfriend informed you that the company you worked for was now owned by the Shinra Company.

———————————————

FFXV version can be found here. 

[keichanz]

Mistake

kay so i really don't care if some of this doesn't make sense because this is the first thing i've written in a while that i don't absolutely hate. well this version at least. ending up scraping the first draft because it just seemed wrong and went in a different direction. im glad i did cause im happy with it.

anyway i realize that this may not get much feedback because i took a different approach to it, aka the entire pov is from an OC but i can't bring myself to care too much because i wrote this purely for myself. got inspired, started writing, and i actually liked the content i was writing. end of.

btw the oc doesn't refer to inuyasha as a half-demon because he's unaware he is one and i was too lazy to delve into those waters anyhow.

also for the sake of this oneshot pls dont look too closely at the ranks of diplomat and ambassador. i was too lazy to put much research regarding positions of power so just...go with it.

inspired by @stillunderyourbed​'s art that can be found here.

It was…quaint. Smaller than what he'd expected. The housing structures looked subpar, there didn't appear to be any wooden walkways, and he could detect the distinct odor or fish in the air with hints of manure. There even seemed to be a perpetual dust cloud hovering at about waist high, thickening from the numerous carts, wagons, horses, and villagers kicking up dirt as they went about their daily lives. Already he felt like there was a layer of dust caked on the inside of his lungs and he wasn't even inside yet.

All in all, it was your typical countryside village, home to simple folk that made a living off of fishing, farming, and trade. The diplomat sneered in disgust. For being the rumored home of the creature strong enough to destroy the despicable Naraku, the village was…less than impressive. And to say that he was underwhelmed would be a vast understatement.

Shifting atop his mount, a chestnut gelding that had been his faithful companion for the last four years, Takeji frowned as he surveyed the sight before him. It was early afternoon, so men were out working in the fields, women were chatting amongst themselves as they laundered clothing at the river, and children were running about, playing and laughing while dogs barked at their heels. He could see the great red torii gate and the stone staircase that led to the shrine and he could hardly refrain from rolling his eyes.

The village was obviously poor, possibly even teetering on the edge of poverty, and instead of feeding themselves for a good long while, they decided to construct that monstrosity. He would never understand the minds of simple common folk. Daft. All of them.

Barely keeping himself from scowling, Takeji reluctantly climbed off his mount and forced himself to move forward into the pathetic excuse for a village. Already he knew he would have to burn his expensive attire; there would be no getting the dust and stench out of it after his ghastly visit. A visit he had not wanted to make, but being a highly revered and prestigious diplomat, it was his duty to travel to far off lands in hopes of establishing a profitable relationship that would ultimately benefit his homeland.

Although, looking around and fighting against the urge to retch at both the nauseating stench and the mere sight of all the unwashed villagers milling around, Takeji wondered not for the first time why he even bothered to accept this task. True, it was said the slayer of Naraku did hail from here, but surely having his homeland associated with this hovel would garner nothing but loss. So why had he agreed to come?

Oh, yes, he mused, grimacing as he stepped over a large manure pile right in the middle of the road. Because apparently, being all chummy with the nation's hero will allow us to have him at our beck and call, because who doesn't want a powerful demon capable of slaying the most evil demon in all of existence as an intimidating presence during negotiations, and let's not forget he alone would be equal to about one hundred soldiers in battle.

Rolling his eyes, Takeji tied his mount to a hitching post, withdrew his satchel with all the necessary paperwork, and set about finding this Inuyasha fellow. He'd been told the demon wore scarlet robes, carried a sword at his hip, and had white hair so no doubt he would stick out like a sore thumb amongst the droll browns and grays of the common folk, which suited him just fine. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could leave because there was no way he was staying even a second more in this village than he had to. Even if the next inn was hours away, he'd make the journey; the inn here was probably as unclean and riddled with bed bugs or something. Ugh. How vile.

Shrugging the satchel over his shoulder, Takeji bit back a groan, sighed, and hadn't even made it a single step before the sound of screaming froze him in his tracks. He gasped and immediately started looking for the danger, body tense, preparing to hop back onto his steed lightning fast and make a hasty getaway.

But as he looked around with wide eyes and a frantically beating heart, Takeji couldn't help but notice that he was the only one that appeared to have heard the sound of terror. The villagers were just continuing to go about their day, calm as you please, either severely deaf or completely uncaring. Takeji was beginning to wonder if he was perhaps hearing things when it happened again, a high-pitched sound that he realized with dread belonged to a child.

Takeji gaped. A child was in danger and nobody cared?! What kind of village was this?! Another shriek pierced the air, and Takeji made a decision. Very well; if these imbeciles weren't going to do anything about it, then he himself would see to the danger. While by no means a swordsman or warrior, he did have some weapons training he could fall back on for this precise reason. Traveling alone was dangerous, and you never knew what you would encounter.

Resolved, the diplomat set his jaw, unsheathed the dagger at his waist, and darted toward the direction the screams were coming from. He meandered between houses, hoped over lazing dogs, dodged startled villagers in his path, and he came into a small clearing by the forest's edge. The sight that greeted him was…not what he expected.

Coming up short, Takeji watched with a befuddled frown as one child chased around two other, slightly older looking children. One might think they were playing a game of sorts, and the diplomat started to believe that was indeed the case…until the one doing the chasing, clad in red, suddenly jumped high into the air, over the heads of the other two children, and landed before them with hands raised.

Hands, Takeji noticed with growing dread and disgust, tipped with claws on each finger and he quickly realized what exactly was happening. That wicked little demon brat, that creature was toying with those helpless children! It was keeping them trapped, preventing them from running away by leaping over their heads and blocking their route of escape! They screamed, the demon child laughed, and so potent was his fury, so enraged was he for the fact that the villagers apparently did not care about what was happening right beneath their noses, Takeji failed to notice the wide smiles on all three of the young one's faces. The blood pounding in his ears prevented him from hearing the gleeful giggles as the two human kids scrambled away from the one clad in red, and without another thought, Takeji moved.

"Run, children!" Takeji ordered as he hurled himself into the clearing, dagger raised as he charged toward the demon brat with a baleful glare. "I will take care of his filthy animal!"

All three children froze in place, eyes wide as Takeji inserted himself between the two human children - twin girls, he idly noted - and the demon spawn that dared raised its claws toward them. The brat stared up at him with big brown eyes and it - she - actually looked confused. Takeji scowled. He would not fall for such a ploy.

"I will not allow you to harm them," he spat and pointed his dagger at her. The child blinked at him and then looked behind him at the two girls who still had not taken the chance to flee. In shock, perhaps? Stunned? No matter; they were safe, so long as he stood between them and the threat.

The demon child made a face and started to walk around him, completely disregarding the weapon trained on her, but Takeji shifted and stopped her once more. He heard the two behind him whispering as the spawn looked up at him once again, this time frowning at him with narrowed eyes. And was that a growl he heard? He snorted. Was she actually trying to appear threatening? Pathetic.

Scowling, Takeji lifted a foot, placed it on her stomach, and shoved. The demon gasped as she stumbled back and then landed on her behind with a small grunt. He heard a gasp from behind him, urgent whispering, and then hurried scrambling. A glance over his shoulder told him they'd finally gotten wise and ran away. He nodded. Good. Now he could deal with this vermin without innocent eyes to bear witness.

But as he stared down at the pathetic sight before him, Takeji wondered maybe if such measures would even be necessary. The beast was still lying where she had fallen and was staring up at him with wide eyes brimming with…wait. What? Were those tears? Oh, you have got to be joking.

Rolling his eyes, the diplomat scoffed at the pathetic play for mercy and careless waved his dagger at her. The child actually flinched and followed the blade with her gaze, wariness clear in her eyes. Well. It appeared her self-preservation instincts have finally kicked in.

"Cease your theatrics," Takeji drawled, unimpressed. "They do not fool me. Now lucky for you, demon spawn, the pathetic sight you project has made me decide to spare your life. Your tainted blood is not worthy enough to soil my blade, so I will say this only one and you would do well to heed this warning, beast."

Hardening his stare and curling his lip into a sneer, Takeji spat, "Leave this place at once and do not return. There is no place for the likes of you, an abomination that preys on helpless children. Now get out of my sight, afore I kill you on principle. Your vile presence disgusts me."

The child grunted and Takeji watched, stone faced, as she got to her feet. Then to his surprise the little demon balled her hands into fists at her sides and glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the tears he could clearly see brimming her eyes. He cocked a brow, unmoved. She sniffled once, twice, and then to his utter surprise and bafflement, her face suddenly crumbled, her lower lip trembled, and she promptly burst into loud tears before spinning on her heel and running away.

"P-Papaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Takeji frowned. Papa? Were the brat's kin nearby, then? Body tense and weapon raised, he waited, prepared to either fight or flee - because he wasn't a fool and knew when he was in over his head - but when no demons came bursting out of the tree line, Takeji slowly relaxed.

Bewildered and more than a little annoyed at the whole debacle - what a waste of time! - the diplomat scoffed in derision as he turned to watch the little demon brat scurry away. And then right at that exact moment, a figure donned in red dropped to the ground seemingly out of nowhere and Takeji felt a wave of relief sweep through him. Finally! This had to be his demon quarry.

Nodding, Takeji stepped forward and opened his mouth to call out a greeting—

And then froze in his tracks as the greeting abruptly died on his tongue. Because the little demon girl, the one he'd just pointed his weapon at and shoved to the ground, ran straight to the figure robed in red and Takeji could do naught but watch with a growing sense of horrified dread as the older demon knelt down to take the child into his arms.

All color promptly drained from his face and Takeji suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He glanced behind the pair and he was somehow not at all surprised to find the twin girls from earlier glaring at them and holding onto the skirts of their mother with a monk garbed in violet robes beside her. They too were staring at him in a not so friendly manner, but upon returning his gaze to the two demons, Takeji numbly thought that if looks could kill, he would surely be dead by now.

Because the demon robed in red - which was now unmistakably the child's father and none other than Inuyasha, the demon he'd come here for - was glaring absolute murder at him and it was obvious that he was. Not. Pleased.

Takeji swallowed and unconsciously backed up a step. With one small hand fisting her father's robes, the child had the other pointing an accusatory finger at him as she no doubt recited to him their earlier…ah, exchange. Inuyasha said nothing in response, but he didn't need to. The deep, nearly subsonic growl that erupted from his mouth, complete with fully bared fangs in a truly fearsome snarl, told him very clearly of his thoughts on his daughter's mistreatment by him.

Which, if Takeji had to guess, were not very Takeji-friendly. At all.

Somehow managing to fight against the urge to flee, Takeji swallowed hard as Inuyasha pushed to his feet and stalked toward him with that same murderous look on his face. Something told him, perhaps some deeply rooted self-preservation instinct, that if he even tried to run right then, it would not end well for him. So he remained where he was and tried valiantly to control the trembling in his body as he slowly, very slowly, tucked his dagger back from whence it came.

Inuyasha stopped in front of him and Takeji cleared his throat before attempting a placating smile, but it looked more like a grimace than anything. "Ah…I assume you are…In—"

One second Takeji was staring into the scowling features of one pissed off dog demon. The next there was a bright flash of light and then he was staring at the business end of a very large and very sharp sword. With the tip just a hair's breadth away from his nose, Takeji gasped sharply and stumbled back a step out of instinct.

Sweet merciful heavens! How—?

"Usually I'd ask who the fuck you are," the demon growled, his eyes twin slits of baleful gold. "But honestly, I can't really bring myself to care enough to know the name of the asshole who threatened my daughter when she was doing nothing but playing with her friends."

Takeji blanched for the second time and he could actually feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat. He fucked up. Oh dear god he'd fucked up so bad—

"There's—there's been a misunderstanding," Takeji tried in a voice higher than usual, raising his hands up in what he hoped was a placating gesture as he eyed the very sharp point of that blade. "I—I admit I've made a grave mistake—"

"Shut the fuck up and tell me why I shouldn't gut you where you stand," Inuyasha hissed, lips feeling back off his fangs in another fierce snarl. With his ears pinned back and those golden eyes glaring absolute death at him, the demon made quite the menacing picture. Takeji had the brief, if a bit ludicrous thought, that perhaps the demon Naraku perished from the sheer animosity that was coming off of the silver-haired demon in waves.

Swallowing once, twice, Takeji realized that he only had his quick wit to get him out of his certain predicament. So bracing himself, he opened his mouth—

"He's from the continent, Inuyasha. You can't hurt him."

Startled hazel eyes swung toward the source of the voice but amber eyes stayed locked on their target, the only acknowledgment of the voice a flick of an ear.

The owner of the voice the human diplomat could only presume was the child's mother, as the child in question was standing behind her legs and was actually smirking at him. He frowned.

"You're from Shenshi," the woman remarked and Takeji swung his gaze back to her. "Right?"

Though her expression wasn't openly friendly, it wasn't exactly unfriendly either, however the human diplomat still felt he needed to tread carefully. Because while her face didn't betray anything, her stare was hard and her mouth had tightened into a thin, flat line. She had one hand on her daughter's head while the other clutched a longbow, and belatedly he realized she had a quiver of arrows slung across her back. He barely held in a flinch as he realized this was one of the demon's companions that had assisted in slaying Naraku, possibly the young woman in which Inuyasha held a more meaningful relationship.

A much more meaningful relationship, if the child currently glaring daggers at him was anything to go by since she was more or less living proof of it.

Wonderful. So he'd gone and threatened the only child of two of the most powerful beings in Japan. Clearly he'd stepped over the wrong grave and pissed somebody off.

Clearing his throat and aiming a strained smile toward the woman who was still awaiting his reply, Takeji nodded once. "Ah, y-yes, my lady. I'm—"

"The diplomat Ambassador Sharaku sent to convince Inuyasha to join his ranks so he'd have the support and protection of 'The Great Slayer of Naraku.'" The woman raised a delicate brow at him. "How am I doing so far?"

Takeji had the good grace to look a mite sheepish. "Ah…well—"

"You can't kill him, Inuyasha," she repeated and Takeji thought she sounded disappointed. "If he goes missing, the ambassador will send his troops to find out what happened or if he returns injured, it could be taken as an insult and you can imagine what would happen after that. You would risk mine or Moroha's life like that, and you know it."

Inuyasha growled but said nothing to refute her words, so Takeji assumed he agreed.

"He threatened her, Kagome," the demon spat, inching the blade closer to his throat and Takeji flinched. "Called her a fucking animal, shoved her down, and waved a goddamn dagger in her face! You can't honestly expect me to let that—"

"Papa," the child - Moroha - suddenly said, successfully stalling her father's angry tirade. A quick glance revealed the girl, still sticking close to her mother, was staring at the older demon with big brown eyes, bright with the threat of tears as she worried her bottom lip. And evidently the sight was enough to calm the raging storm of Inuyasha's fury because he grimaced, released a low growl, and then Takeji watched in stunned amazement as the massive sword suddenly transformed into a rusty katana before it was sheathed at his hip.

With a weapon no longer at his throat, Takeji could breathe a little easier and he released a breath he hadn't even been aware he'd been holding. But then he sucked it right back in when Inuyasha suddenly stepped in close and got in his face, a low, threatening growl leaking past rightly clenched teeth bared in another snarl. Golden eyes bore into his own, filled with a lethal warning that had the human male's back straightening and his blood to run cold in his veins.

"You listen carefully, asshole," Inuyasha hissed, glaring so heatedly it was a wonder Takeji didn't burst into flame. "Don't you dare think that my wife's words have any sort of sway over my decision to spare your pathetic life. I'm not scared of your weakling ambassador and I sure as hell ain't scared of his little human army. No, the only reason that I let you live is because I don't want my daughter, the one you foolishly threatened when she had done nothing wrong, to see me sully my hands with your disgusting blood when I reduce you to nothing more than a bloody smear on the ground."

Takeji paled and swallowed thickly. That particular image was…not pleasant.

Inuyasha watched the color drain from his face. Satisfied, he sneered before saying in a growl filled with sinister promise, "Now get the fuck outta my village and if you ever touch my daughter again, I'll gut you so fast you won't even have time to fucking scream."

Then with that, Inuyasha leveled him with one last dark scowl before spinning on his heel and stalking away, a clear dismissal. Neither mother nor daughter even spared the frozen human male a glance as Inuyasha paused to pick his daughter up into his arms before striding away, his wife close to one side and his friends on the other.

From over his shoulder, Takeji could only watch in a mixture of shock and befuddlement as the little demon girl named Moroha smirked and then stuck her tongue out at him, safe and sound in her father's arms.

Left standing in a state of numb bewilderment, Takeji blinked, looked down at himself, and had the passing thought that it was a very good thing he'd decided to wear brown trousers that day.