#but bc it's not entirely off the table. well now my mind has latched onto it. and is like 'What If'

[orcelito]

Actually we r at 6 months now without any major deaths in my life, which is great! That's the longest I've gone without any major deaths since last May! The second longest was 4 months between July and November last year. Wow !

[mandolovian]

1. triple-scented jasmine

pairing: cottagecore!din djarin/the mandalorian x reader

warnings: none! reader has some gently spicy feelings but it’s all pretty mild and full of yearning + fluff + pining

word count: 1.7k

a/n: this entire concept is dedicated to @mndalorians​​ - thank u for fueling both my desire to live in the woods, and also to live in the woods with a tin can metal man. let me know what you think! pls expect more of this world bc i love it so so so so much ✨

You’d been eyeing the Mandalorian that moved into the property across from yours.

It was a rundown bungalow sitting on overgrown land: soil that hadn’t been turned, cobwebs that hadn’t been dusted. The previous owner was a portly man with ruddy cheeks - good-natured in temperament, but heavy-handed with the liquor. Towards the later years of his life, he became increasingly neglectful of the raised garden beds that lined the fences, and the poor citrus trees were left to shrivel into husks of their magnificent beings.

The arrival of a spaceship onto the planet sent many hushed whispers through the little farming community, no matter what kind of spaceship it was. Mira came rushing to your front door that morning, laden with town-gossip and bottles of bantha milk, a little shiny eyed and sweaty at effort it had taken to speed walk to your house in the morning sun.

‘It’s a Mandalorian,’ she stage-whispers, cooling herself with an old newspaper while sitting on your porch steps. ‘All shiny and pretty too. Parked his ship in the old hangars downtown. Probably the only ship in those hangars, to tell the honest truth.’

You lean against the doorframe, picking at a loose string on your apron. ‘What’s a Mandalorian doing around here, Mira?’ you ask.

��Beats me,’ Mira says, shuffling her heavy skirts to sit more comfortably on the steps. The fabric hides the swell of her belly, and she keeps a hand on it when she leans back to look at you. ‘I heard it’s the same shiny Mandalorian that was shooting up all those Outer Rim cities. Maybe he’s looking to settle down here!’

You look down in exasperation at Mira with raised eyebrows, and she throws her hands up in defence before going back to vigorously fanning herself.

‘Either way,’ she says after a while, getting up with some difficulty. You offer her your arm and she takes it gratefully, heaving herself up to her feet. ‘It’ll be some excitement for us, you know?’

Her voice drops to a stage whisper again as she grabs your forearm, grinning toothily. ‘Maybe he’s single and is really looking to settle down!’

‘Mira please-’

‘I’m just saying!’ she says, waving you off. You help her collect the empty bottles back into her basket, and she waddles back down the porch steps. ‘If that Mandalorian comes knocking at your door, you best be opening it!’

----

Mira wasn’t wrong. He really was quite shiny.

With a mug of coffee and a biscuit, you settle yourself on the window seat and curle up your feet under you. It’s a prime position to look through the cracks of the curtains as the Mandalorian unloads his luggage off the rusty hover-trailer. The sun is high in the sky and shines off his armour as he lifts case after case off the trailer, stacking them on the porch of the bungalow.

A little baby follows the Mandalorian’s feet as he walks from the trailer to the house. Green, about a foot high, and almost entirely composed of petal-ears that raises and lowers in time with the crates that the Mandalorian carried. Your heart tightens a little when the baby trips over his little robe and goes sprawling into an overgrown rosemary bush, and tightens just a little more when the Mandalorian reaches down to pick the baby up, stroke his ears, and press the baby’s forehead to his helmet.

Maybe he is here to settle down.

You concede that he’s difficult to wholly admire from afar, but even with the distance that unfortunately befalls between you, you can tell that he was strong. Broad. You let your mind wander at the sight of his thighs when he kneels to tug at a handful of weeds that prevents his fence from latching firmly.

Capable and compassionate.

And if your eyes flutters shut and your thighs press against each other with just a little bit of pressure? Well, no one needed to know.    

-----

‘Hi there!’

If anyone told you that you would open your front door, dressed in a nightdress and slippers, to a fully armoured and incredibly luminescent Mandalorian, you would say they were absolutely dreaming. Even still, there he stands, in his beskar glory, and your breath catches a little at the sight of his broad shoulders taking up nearly all of the doorway.

‘Hello,’ he says, and maker you’re already melting at his voice. ‘My son and I, we just-’ he haphazardly gestures behind him, ‘-moved into the house down there.’

‘I saw,’ you say quietly, choosing to avoid mentioning how much you’ve already stared at him today. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘We don’t seem to have electricity at the house,’ he says with a sigh, tapping his fingers against his belt. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the fuses but the entire system seemed turned off. Would you... would you maybe know why?’

‘You might not have your house connected to the grid,’ you say after a beat, tapping the corner of your lips in thought. ‘That house has been empty for years, of course it’d be disconnected.’

‘Is there a way to fix that?’

You shake your head, and the Mandalorian sighs quietly in response. ‘Not till morning,’ you say. ‘You’ll need to see Ledo Rikil in town tomorrow - he’ll be able to link your house up to the grid.’

‘I see,’ says the Mandalorin. He seems a little sheepish, perhaps dejected, and he lets out a tinny sigh again. Wrapping your arms around your middle, you shift slightly on your feet.

‘If it’s any consolation,’ you begin, not wanting to part so readily, ‘tonight will be warm so you’ll not need any heating, but maybe I can give you some candles for the dark?’

The Mandalorian hums, deep and sugary. Your toes curl inside your slippers at the sound and you feel ever so slightly dizzy. ‘That would be wonderful,’ he said, and stars, was it always going to be like this? Could you keep it together for one conversation?

You usher him over the step into your house, and he gingerly walks in. You can tell that he’s trying his best to avoid stomping on your floorboards, and you know better than to ask him to take his boots off. The Mandalorian carefully moves himself to stand on the rug in your living area - as if he’s a penguin seeking an iceberg on the wooden sea.

‘This is a nice house,’ he says, tilting his helmet as he watched you from the middle of the room. ‘Very… homely.’

He trails off at the end of the sentence, and seems to sink even more sheepishly into his beskar studded boots.

‘You’re allowed to take inspiration, if you like,’ you say with a soft laugh, turning to rummage through your cupboards. ‘Can’t imagine that the old shack has any personality right now.’

‘I haven’t lived in a house in a long time,’ says the Mandalorian, and you hum in response. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him cautiously take a seat at the edge of your couch, rearranging his limbs until his hands were folded on his lap like a regency-era maiden.

‘Well,’ you say, balancing several candles in your arms as you walk over to him, ‘you’ve come to the right place for inspiration and illumination.’

Onto the coffee table in front of him, you lay out the selection: four paraffin pillar candles, a handful of tealights, and one ornate jar, complete with a glass lid. The Mandalorian leans forward and rests his forearms on his knees, tilting his helmet to silently assess your layout.

‘The paraffin ones should be your go-to candles,’ you say, sitting back on your knees on the rug in front of the coffee table. Gently, you push the pillar candles closer to him. ‘They can burn for half a day, and they have a very bright flame. They’ll brighten an entire room with no problem.’

You pick up a tealight, and hand it to the Mandalorian. It sits tiny in the middle of his palm, and he strokes the edge of the wick gently with a gloved finger.

‘Those are good for temporary use,’ you say. ‘Or if you only need light for a small area. Or just for decorating. Up to you, really.’

‘And the glass one?’ he ask.

You pick up the jar and open it, before offering it to the Mandalorian. ‘It’s a housewarming gift,’ you say. ‘Triple-scented jasmine. Made it myself.’

The Mandalorian puts down the tealights, and accepts the jar with as much gentle grace as an armoured man could. ‘You made this yourself?’ he asks, and you nod shyly.

With a quiet groan, you sit up on your knees, and flex side to side to stretch out your sore hips. ‘They’re not too hard to make,’ you say, ‘I could show you one day if you’d like?’

There’s a soft crackle of a laugh, made hoarse by his helmet. It’s warm, delightful, and you wonder what it might feel like against the apples of your cheeks.

‘It’s incredible,’ he say, and you fiddle demurely with the edge of your dress at the praise. ‘Thank you so much for all of this - how could I ever repay you?’

‘Nonsense,’ you say, standing up straight and brushing off your skirts. The Mandalorian stands up with you, and he haphazardly arranges the candles in his forearms before sheepishly accepting a canvas bag from you. ‘Just… come say hello every so often. I’ll introduce you to everyone!’

‘Everyone?’

He’s standing back on your doorstep now, swinging the bag of candles lightly in his left hand. The moonlight shines off the harsh planes of his armour, and you idly wonder how often and how long he spent polishing it. You’d have to ask sometime.

‘It’s a small town,’ you say. ‘We help each other out. It helps knowing one another.’

The Mandalorian steps backwards, carefully down the porch steps and onto your gravel path. ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he says, tilting his helmet towards you. ‘I’ll see you later.’

You cross your arms against the quiet breeze, and lean against the post. ‘Goodnight, Mandalorian.’

[gallickingun]

hofortendou x nishinoya || gallickingun matchups

@hofortendou : first off conGRATS !! i’m so glad to see that your blog keeps growing! also i would like to participate in your matchup event! i would like a male match from haikyuu 🥰 i’m (she/her) 5’4”, short-ish haired brunette with big hazel eyes (i’m talkin’ tim burton scale) and covered in freckles. I do digital art both as a hobby and for uni, i play video games, watch too much anime, i longboard when i can or if it’s a particularly nice day out, and i absolutely love plants, like they’re all over my apt. if i had to give myself an aesthetic i’d say a mix between art mom n grunge, i think? i usually wear a hoodie and shorts/sweats bc i work from home but i’m a sucker for cropped jackets/shirts w mom jeans and docs when i need to actually get dressed. i like to learn new things and am v organized but not overbearing w it, my personality is very open minded, intro-extroverted and humor based but i’m literally baby and WILL cry if you raise your voice at me. that being said i’m v affectionate and love me some tenderness. if i had to look for anything in a partner it’d be sympathy and humor, for sure. and i would love to go do something fun like roller skating or walk around a fair for a first date, something memorable and not super basic, y’know? ty and ily moe ❤️

Thank you so much for participating! I really hope you like this! And thank you again for supporting me, it means the whole entire world 🧡

Warning: Slight NSFW ahead! Under the cut~

― Noya supports going out or staying in - whether that’s trying a new Thai place, or watching anime on the couch. Sometimes you gotta paint the town red, other times you have to chill out on the sofa! ― He’s affectionate as all get out, absolutely adores and requires to touch you at all times. Hand in your pocket, hand in your hand, hand on your waist. Once you two get comfortable enough with each other, he’ll kiss you in public if you’re okay with it, he’ll hold your hand at all times, and will definitely make sure that everyone knows the two of you are grossly in love. ― I think your aesthetics would go really well together! Noya canonically loves the color black, so I think that your grunge aesthetics would go together, even if you both like to switch it up from time to time. 

☁ Nishinoya absolutely adores you. To the point where you’re not sure sometimes if he’s genuine or not. Whether you’re fully decked out in a complete face of makeup and a full snazzy dress, or lounging around the house in one of his old jerseys and some joggers.. that man is going to remind you how beautiful you are.

☁ He definitely wants to kick your ass in video games, though. He has a radical competitive streak, no matter what the activity is or if he’s done it before. It will be his first time playing Mario Kart and he’ll jump up and down on the couch, mashing buttons and squealing at the top of his lungs every time he gets thrown off the track. If it’s more FPS style games, he talks too loud and pretends to know what he’s talking about by using slang that he’s heard from his other friends who play video games a little more. 

☁ Noya loves it when you wear crop tops - sweatshirts, tanks, tees, etc. - he likes to sneak his hands along your waist and up your shoulders. His thumbs run along your ribs and he pulls you in closer all the time, nuzzling your nose and whispering sappy compliments and corny pick up lines and raunchy one liners. He ducks his head into your neck and as he’s pressing kisses to your skin, his fingertips are searing into your waist, and you feel completely lightheaded at being so overwhelmed by his closeness.

☁ He gets loud from time to time, but when you shy away from him or possibly even tear up, he’s immediately bringing his voice down a few octaves and rushing forward to apologize and comfort you. His hands find your face and his voice is gentle, eyes warm as he looks across at you to 

☁ There is a pretty heavy praise and worship between the two of you - Nishinoya loves to kiss your lips and tell you how pretty your eyes are and how good you take him and how beautiful your body looks while he’s fucking into you slow and deep. He’ll whisper with his nose against your temple, his lips against the shell of your ear, “Such a good girl, damn, you’re gorgeous. Look so pretty when you’re taking me just like this,” and then he makes your pussy cream with his fingers sneaked between your hips to find that precious bundle of nerves. 

☁ On the same hand, he loves it when you whimper praises into the thin air between your bodies. You whimper, gasping out, “N-Noya, love your cock, please, fill me up, I-I want more.” And oh, does he deliver. Somehow he’s able to keep stretching you out and filling you up, even when you both think your cunt has sucked him in to the base. You tell him in blundering babbles how strong he is and how safe you feel with him, and the sound of you doting on him with your words is what makes his cock twitch just before he coats your walls white.

☁ At least once a month you two have a veg out on the couch night. Noya orders dinner, you put together a blanket nest, and you two snuggle down into the corner of the couch and watch whatever reruns or new anime is on that you’ve both decided to watch. He’ll ask you a million questions if he’s never seen it before, even if you haven’t seen it before, because he’s just so curious to know how it ends even though he doesn’t really want you to tell him.

☁ Nishinoya wants to do everything you love, no matter if he’s truly interested in it or not. It’s important to you, so it’s important to him. However, he really has a short attention span, so unless it’s something super stimulating, you’ll need to be willing to redirect him whenever necessary. You might need to stop for food in the middle just to break it all up. 

☁ Affectionate? Please. Nishinoya can’t keep his hands off of you. If you’re in the same room together, he’s stood next to you, hand in your back pocket or arm around your shoulder. Everyone knows you two are together from the moment you set foot anywhere because he’s kissing your forehead or you’re leaning into his bicep or you’re holding each other around the waist. Sometimes the others have to remind you that you’re in public, even though Noya is just giving you a lil’ forehead smooch.

☁ Noya is a pretty joking guy, even though he does have his serious moments. He and Asahi are really close and he knows how to joke with him, so he learns from that and uses it to determine how far he can go with you so far as sarcasm and banter. He nudges your ribs and giggles in your ear and tells too many jokes sometimes, but you love it. There are times when he takes it too far, though, and the first time you get upset because of something he said, he’s apologizing for days and latching himself onto you like a koala. You have to tell him a dozen times over that you’re okay, so long as he doesn’t tell that joke again. 

"It’s hot! And I’m not getting any better at this!” Noya groans, dropping back on the concrete so he’s laid out, sprawled limbs spread out every which way. He drapes his arm over his face to cover his eyes from the beating sun, his lips pulled into a pout, “Please, can’t we eat?!”

You chuckle, squatting beside him to tickle the little sliver of skin that’s peeking out from under the hem of his shirt from where he’s caused it to ride up by moving his arms around. “C’mon, Yuu, you’re not going to quit on me now, are you?”

Noya groans, rolling onto his side so he can rest his cheek against the tops of your knees, “But it’s hot and I’m hungry. We’ve been at this for hours!”

“It’s been twenty minutes.”

“Well-”

“It’s fine, babe,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair, pulling gently at the brunette strands with your digits. Another chuckle shakes your chest and he turns his head to look at you, thankful that your body is blocking the direct sunlight, “I don’t want to not learn, honey, I just forgot to eat breakfast. Maybe we can grab something, go for a swim, and then try again?”

You do as he says, finding a food cart to grab something small to eat and scarfing it down on a picnic table that’s centered along the pavilion that overlooks the beach. You hold hands underneath the table, your palms rested on Noya’s knee. He’ll play with your fingers, squeezing your knuckles and following the curve of your palm down to your wrist. It feels that sometimes he’s even checking your pulse to make sure that you’re still okay, still with him. As if he cannot believe that this isn’t some sort of dream that he has the ecstasy of reliving every day.

As you drop your tee shirt to reveal your bathing suit, you can’t help but notice Noya’s eyes are all over your frame. He comes up behind you before you can turn around to admonish him for undressing you with his eyes in front of everyone here on the beach, and his arms wrap around your waist, head tucked into your neck. When he speaks, his voice is husky and it sends a jolt of electricity directly to your core, “We could always just go home-”

“You promised, Noya!” You whine, circling your hands around his wrist and tugging playfully. He groans and bares his teeth to your shoulder, sucking one harsh time before releasing you, “Only because I’m completely whipped for you, babe.”

Your feet hit the water and Noya is flying past you into the waves, screaming at the top of his lungs before he plunges into the sea. You can’t contain the giggles that part your lips, covering your mouth with your hand as the waves crash into your shins. You’re meeting him halfway, floating in the ocean water up to your shoulders, your body folded at the waist beneath the crest of the waves, “You’re so dramatic, Yuu.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way, would you?” he asks, eyes still burning with that familiar flame as he tugs you by your hips so you’re straddling his waist beneath the water. You gasp as he rolls his hips up into you, the feel of his thick length hardening against your thigh, “N-Noya-”

“Shh,” his voice is accented by the feel of his middle finger slipping your bathing suit to he side, “Keep quiet, baby girl, and I’ll make sure we both feel good.”

Your voice is lost in your throat, irises swallowed by your pupils when the first languid stroke of his fingers finds your innermost folds. Nishinoya pulls your chin with his free hand, tilting your head so he can kiss you on the mouth, eliciting a gasp from the back of your throat, “That’s not quiet, baby. Try again.”

The way you gulp and nod your head makes him chuckle, but he can’t keep himself from you, and before you know it, he’s devouring you from both ends.

Matchups Original Post | Ko-Fi | Patreon | Commissions | AO3 | Writing Tag

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[parkjmini]

Precarious // 8

mafia!bts: park jimin precarious: adj. dangerously insecure or unstable Psychotic, that’s how he viewed himself. He was a precise hitman who never made a mistake, until now. Set on an all kill mission, he brings back more than just blood stains. word count: 2710 warnings: explicit language, violence, drugs

[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] 8

im back from hiatus (-: AND i thought id surprise yall with a chapter of Precarious finally after all these long, waited months anD I made this one a little longer as a treat bc i never update this story )-: 

“Where the fuck have you been all day?” Jungkook pushed Jimin’s chest as he walked through the door. He didn’t respond. You, shyly, tried to hurry pass into Jimin’s room. 

“(Y/N), stay.” Jin offered and patted the seat next to him on the couch. Everyone watched as you scurried quickly next to Jin, your head ducking down. It always scared you when all seven of them were gathered together, especially with Namjoon in the room. He terrified you the most.

Peering up, you saw Jimin taking small peaks in your direction. He was leaning coolly against one of the columns. Namjoon stood more in the middle, orchestrating everything. “We have a big shipment tonight. A big expensive shipment.” There was an evil shine over his eyes as he spoke.

“Why can’t Hoseok and Yoongi handle it themselves?” V asked, addressing J-Hope and Suga as their real names. They often tried to call each other by their aliases because you were around, but there was always someone who falters through. V --- Taehyung --- was the one to always forget. He’s messed up enough for you to catch all of their real names. 

Steam came out of Namjoon’s ears and his lips remained in a thin line. He exhaled sharply, obviously annoyed with Taehyung’s statement. “Did you not just hear me say it was a big and expensive shipment? Do you think I am an idiot to allow only two of my men to transport when goons are everywhere trying to get their hands on the same stuff? When did we decide that it was okay to question me?”

“Do you want to die, V?” Jin slapped the back of Taehyung’s head. The young boy groaned in pain and apologized. Yoongi merely scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

It seemed like Jin was second in command. He was very close with Namjoon and cared for him deeply. You figured out that he was the oldest among all the men. Jin had a bad case of rambling and making small talk.

“Pick up is at 2 AM at the loading docks. There will be two trucks filled with drugs, one arriving at 1:30 AM and the other arriving five minutes after. That’s where we come in. Get on those trucks and complete the exchange.” Namjoon paced and Hoseok leaned back casually in the couch.

“We’re hijacking them?” Jungkook asked.

“Why the big surprise, it’s not the first time you’ve done it.” Namjoon tossed two cream colored folders on the coffee table. Yoongi was quick to shuffle through the papers.

What he said next ran a shiver down your spine, “we’re messing with the cartel? This is going to be fun.”

“No live witnesses. Take care of it.” Namjoon eyed Jungkook and Jimin. They both nodded, but Jimin seemed out of it. 

Namjoon scanned the room and he walked towards you. “Stay here and watch the house.”

“I love house watching---” the minute that left your mouth, you regretted it. You decided it wasn’t the brightest idea to sass the man everyone was afraid of. “I’ll stay.” You gulped.

He grinned and turned back to everyone else. “Times ticking.” He headed for the door and everyone started to spring up to follow.

However, Jimin began strutting towards you. Jungkook, puzzled, stopped him and shook his head. He shoved him off and Jungkook stared at his partner make his way to you.

You met him halfway, near the stairs up to the open front door. He automatically wrapped his arms around your waist. He head rested in the crook of your neck. You closed your eyes to soak in his embrace. “Be careful.” You whispered into his ear. He nodded into your shoulder. 

Opening your eyes, you saw Jungkook glaring at the two of you. “Lover boy, we need to go. Now.”

Jimin kissed your cheek before letting you go and running out the door. The mansion was empty and you stood in their grand living room alone.

You missed Jimin already.

Jimin threw his hoodie in the corner of the van. He tied his bandanna around his face. His black t-shirt clung loosely to his skin. He stared out the window, thinking about the kiss you two shared earlier that night. He has never felt so warm inside. He loved how soft your lips were and how perfect they seemed to fit.

He didn’t want to leave you alone at the house, partly because he was uneasy about you sneaking out and leaving him forever. He didn’t know how you felt about him, but he had made his actions clear. He really liked you.

“So you fucking her now?” Jungkook whispered. Jimin snapped his head to see Jungkook’s dark brown eyes staring. He couldn’t see the rest of his expression because of his bandanna.

Jimin was thankful that no one else heard the kid speak. He shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it? You’re in love with her and she’s in love with you?” Jungkook rolled his eyes. 

“No. She makes me feel different, safe almost.” 

Jungkook threw off his hoodie as they approached the dock. “That’s ironic. The only danger you encounter is yourself, Jimin.”

The vehicle came to a stop. Clicks of a loaded gun filled the dark car. Namjoon counted down with his fingers. 1... 2... 3... 

Then the doors slid open and everyone ran out. Jimin hurried behind the large loading tanks, closest to the entrance. The time ticked to 1:30 AM and right on cue, a big truck crept up slowly. There were two people visible to Jimin. There was the driver and someone in the passenger seat. Jimin turned around and spotted Jungkook a few feet away. He nodded and signaled for Jimin to go.

The passenger was the person closest to Jimin. Pointing the gun, he aimed directly for his chest as he stepped down from the tall vehicle. In seconds, he fell to the ground. Jimin sprinted to the other side and opened the door to the driver’s seat. Everything happened so quickly. The driver fell from the seat in a blink and soaked in his own pool of blood. 

Namjoon came from Jimin’s left and pulled himself up into the trunk. He jogged to the back of the truck and Hoseok was already latched on. He was undoing the lock with incredible skill. Taehyung rolled a smoke bomb and voice erupted from inside the trunk.

Hoseok slid the entire back up and exposed the stacks of drugs along with the several cartel members. They were coughing at the sudden suffocation of air. Jimin took his chance and shot repeatedly, seeing red.

People began running from behind the tanks and attacked Hoseok and Taehyung. Jimin wasn’t registering the surprise ambush. He shot at their heads. Hoseok, taking the opportunity after almost being strangled to death, shot Taehyung’s attacker in the face.

It was suddenly 3 against 5 as more slowly appeared. Namjoon didn’t hesitate to step on the gas. Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok jumped onto the truck before it was too late. They were all shooting at the others who tried to stop them.

“Did you know?” Taehyung asked, panting. 

“No clue. I guess they were expecting us.” Hoseok shrugged nonchalantly. Jimin watched as the second truck pulled up and Jungkook, Jin, and Yoongi repeated the same offence. They were becoming smaller and smaller as they drove away.

Suddenly, they were swerving and a sharp turn caused them to topple over onto the dead bodies. “What the hell, Namjoon..”

You wandered the vacant house, swinging yourself around the large columns in the living room. Your mind replayed your sweet moment with Jimin, forgetting that a feeling like this had existed. There was a time before this mess when you were happy. You didn’t think you’d feel it being with him, of all people.

It was almost foreign. This feeling of joy and wanting to be with someone. Your stay here had been long and difficult. It was not the life you had ever wanted, but it had to be something you had to deal with. And Jimin was there to guide you through it, along with his own repressed insecurities in his own mind.

However, your emotions were skewed, almost lost. It died along with your family. It felt wrong to be revived, mainly because your family couldn’t have the same chance. You hoped that you’d be okay one day and that Jimin was going to be there to heal with you.

Your mindless swinging stopped when you heard a car pull up and there was hushed chatter outside the door. Hiding, you crouched behind the large couch and held your breath.

There was loud, whispered yelling. Multiple voices echoed and you grew extremely terrified, your palms becoming slick with sweat. Your heart thumped loud enough for you to hear it in your ears. It couldn’t have been them; it was too early.

You waited and the voices stopped once they reached the door. The latches came undone, swiftly, and the figures staggered in. The lights flicked on and it revealed to be the gang.

Namjoon spotted you right when he entered and chuckled a little. “Next time, find a better hiding spot.” Everyone flooded in and you got up to see where Jimin was, but he never entered in.

“Where’s Jimin?” You asked frantically, looking past the weary expressions and shifty eyes.

“I told you she’d ask.” Jungkook groaned. “She’ll never notice he’s missing, yeah right. They’re practically attached to one another.” He rolled his eyes, for the hundredth time that night.

“Jin, handle it.” Namjoon ordered and Jin escorted you over to an empty room.

Jin’s concern expression didn’t sit well with you and you shook your head, assuming the worse. “Is he dead?” You asked, teary eyed.

He tilted his head and laugh a little. “No, Jimin? Dead? No way. There were detectives at the location and Jimin was bait.”

“He’s in custody?! And you all let him get caught? What is going to happen to him? Is he going to jail? ---”

“---Why do you care so much about what happens to him?” Jin cut your frantic questions and you blinked blankly at him, unsure as to how to explain yourself.

“Uh-- I--- well, I don’t know. Maybe because I worry for him.” You refused to make any further eye contact, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Why do you worry about a horrendous man who murdered your family and kidnapped you? Why care for a killer?” Jin pressed on and you leaned against the wall, searching for any way to counter his claims.

“Why did he let a rich, self entitled brat live when she was destined to be killed… by him? I guess we both have questions we can’t seem to find answers to.” You sighed and the young man before you smiled devilishly. “Now, moving on to questions that can be answered: what is going to happen to him and why was it him?”

“It was Namjoon’s orders and Jimin listens to him like a lost puppy, trying to seek comfort in a dark world. Jimin will be set on bail, which we’ll pay to get him out. He’s only going to spend a night in a cell at the station and then he’ll be back in your arms, babe.” 

“All the while detectives grill him the entire night and hope that he breaks. That’s emotionally damaging.” The image of a stone-faced Jimin sitting alone in an interrogation room popped in your head, chills running down your spine.

“This entire lifestyle is emotionally damaging, you would know, wouldn’t you?” Jin taunted and patted your shoulder.

“I don’t think people want to join the mafia. Majority are forced, sometimes it’s their only option.” You groaned and stomped your way to Jimin’s room. Jumping onto his big, empty bed, you filled it up with your warmth. Your sad heart fell to the ground after being lifted, hoping that Jimin was okay.

“Why were you there? Was Kim Namjoon there with you as well?” The officer nailed Jimin repeatedly for the past two hours, however, he did not budge. He stared straight ahead like he was trained to do and he ignored every comment made towards him.

“He’s not talking and the bail has been posted.” His partner squeezed the bridge of his nose in distress and frustration.

“Fuck! We had them this time. What were you doing at the docks!?” The older officer screamed at Jimin’s face and Jimin only responded back with a blink.

“Maybe we need leverage.”

“Check the files, see what you can dig up.” He commanded and hurried to shuffle through the piles of manila colored folders.

The younger deputy cleared his throat and pointed at a paper out of Jimin’s view. “There was a murder of a family, did you have anything to do with that?”

“It was a family of four, but the daughter is missing. You didn’t do your job correctly, did you? She’s out there somewhere and when we find her, you and your entire mafia is going down.”

Jimin’s eyes shifted nervously and he lost his cold hard expression.

“Where is the girl, Park Jimin? You seem to be uneasy at the mention of her.” They continued to crack him further and Jimin gulped. He hated how they mentioned you and the sheer percent of fear set in his system. Jimin wanted to protect you, away from all your troubles. However, he was unaware of how to do so and acted too hastily.

You were his special secret, the only thing that brought him serenity and comfort. He couldn’t let anyone use you; he was not letting anyone have the chance to rob you away. He was genuinely afraid of losing his only happiness.

“I hope you never find her.” Jimin finally spoke and the two men stared at him in disbelief.

“So he speaks?” The older man groaned sarcastically.

“Boss! Bail has been paid, he’s out.” Someone opened the door and yelled inside. Jimin held out his cuffed hands to be released and the frustration in their faces brought him delight. Nonetheless, he remained wary at the mention of you.

He was unsure how much longer he could control himself. There was too big of an affect on him and he needed to shut them down; you interfered with his work. But he didn’t want to repress his feelings anymore. He had forgotten how nice it felt to feel loved or love someone else. Confused and conflicted, he walked out of the station to be greeted with Jin leaning against the car.

“You look horrible. Rough night?” Jin jumped at the sight of Jimin. He shook his head and slumped his heavy body into the vehicle and Jin joined him.

“I have a surprise for you that will make you feel better.” Jin said and Jimin peered over, curiously wondering what could possibly make his miserable night better.

You popped up around Jimin, who sat in the passenger seat, and kissed his cheek. “Did they grill you that bad?” Your voice was sweet melody to his ears.

His heart almost leaped out of his chest at your touch and remained quick at your affection. “Surprise! I couldn’t leave her at home because she was being so persistent.” Jin groaned and started up the car.

Then Jimin remembered what the police had said, “we need to go. It’s a risk that she’s out here with roaming police all around.” He tried not to get mad, he held it in. His fists were clenched tightly at his lap and Jin was pulling out of the parking lot.

“We’re going to be fine. I’m not going anywhere without you, Jimin.” He unclenched his fists, his heart settling calmly in his chest. Your reassurance brought him comfort and made his anger disappear.

“I missed you.” Jimin breathed into the silence and your rosy cheeks accompanied you for the ride back to the mansion. “You should be asleep at this hour.”

“I couldn’t sleep in an empty bed. It’s better with you in it anyways.” You smiled, in return, causing a light pink to dance across Jimin’s cheeks under the morning dew.

[its-love-u-asshole]

Slipping Underneath [Ch. 5]

Pairings: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei

Summary: Tsukishima was in some deep shit he realized, but common sense told him he should have been rather happy about the discovery he’d just made. Of course, that didn’t stop him from freaking out.

“Tsukki? Did something happen?” Bokuto asked.

Dejected, the blond lifted his head, giving Bokuto the flattest stare he could manage. “The neighbor downstairs hates my voice.”

Rating: T

Tags: soulmates, mythology/sirens AU, some iwaoi and bokuaka thrown in bc why not, first meetings, fluff, Kuroo is a nerd and Tsukki can’t help but be charmed, Siren!Tsukki, Siren!Bokuto

Note: Hello! Thanks for your patience, those of you who have to deal with my terrible update schedule lol. We’re so close to the end here honestly...I’m really excited for the next chapter lmao I just hope I find time to write it ^^’’ I am taking 20 units this quarter at uni so I apologize for the slowness. My main goal is to finish this up within the month or so, and then my focus can be entirely on Let My Love! So wish me luck, and enjoy this update! <3 

AO3

The more and more Oikawa pestered Kuroo about his 'plan' the less Kuroo was interested. From the get go, he hadn't exactly been enthused about the little siren experiment anyways. Even Kuroo, someone who believed in cryptids and vampires and the like, couldn't fathom his boyfriend being some bloodthirsty creature from the deep.

Still he knew he'd eventually be forced into carrying out the plan, if only to eliminate the possibility. If it could even be called that.

Sirens. When was the last time there had been a siren sighting? A siren experience? Never. Not once in the last hundred years. Kuroo had checked, much to his embarrassment. He'd scrolled through message boards and chat threads for hours, yet the most he could find were a few interesting fanfictions and art depicting mermaid type creatures. All women. All not real.

He was being ridiculous, taking things too far. So what if it was sort of weird how guys crowded Tsukishima?

Kuroo's boyfriend was amazing, and gorgeous. Kuroo got his fair share of confessions himself. He was probably just too new to this whole jealousy thing, too new to the relationship thing altogether. But that was okay. He and Tsukishima were figuring it out, and they were having a great time along the way.

Screw Oikawa and his persistence.

Oikawa was just bored, needed a break from school and wedding planning, and probably thought the whole thing was one big joke. Kuroo thought ignoring him would be simple, and eventually the brunet would grow bored with this idea too, letting it fade into the background.

So far, that hadn't happened yet.

"Hey, so when are we going to do this?"

"Hey, Tsukishima has Tuesday afternoons off right? What about we test him then?"

"If he is a siren, do you think he'll eat us? Do sirens eat people?"

Kuroo's phone was busy with texts and phone calls, all from Oikawa. Even when he put his phone on silent, he felt like he could still feel each notification, lighting up from across the room. So much for studying.

Kuroo planted his face into his textbook as he saw his phone glow on the coffee table in front of him. The apartment remained silent apart from the groan he let loose into the cold air. With finals approaching, the campus communities had gotten quieter, less lively. In the distance, Kuroo could hear dulled music from a party, but otherwise, all was still. The formulas in his book looked tiny and unreadable, his mind too frenzied to really give them the attention they deserved. Not like he really needed to. He'd aced this chapter, as he usually did. He was only reviewing it to stay sharp.

Oikawa was gone this weekend, traveling to Iwaizumi's dorm for once to torture a different roommate, but he obviously had the time to bug the fuck out of Kuroo. Chucking his textbook across the couch, Kuroo snatched up his phone, reading the messages with disinterest.

Oikawa Tooru: Iwa-chan is in

Oikawa Tooru: by in I mean he got tired of telling me no

Oikawa Tooru: this plan is gold Kuroo!! when are we going to test it??

Kuroo snorted as he read through the various complaints which came after. Apparently, Kuroo was afraid of the 'unknown' or something. What the fuck. Kuroo Tetsurou, afraid of the unknown? Afraid of a challenge? He'd once attempted to eat eight saltines in less than a minute, ignoring the chance of choking. In his hubris, he'd nearly passed out from lack of air. Did that sound like someone who was afraid of anything? Not to mention, he'd once dragged the brunet into camping with him for two nights in search of bigfoot when they'd studied abroad in America. The unknown was Kuroo Tetsurou's bitch.

Typing out a series of refusals to Oikawa's demands, Kuroo felt another chill run through him, and he instinctively rolled into a ball on the couch. It'd been cold all night, but he'd been too stubborn to blast the heater, instead choosing to pile on blankets. Now though, nothing seemed good enough. He needed real heat, real comfort.

And there's a surefire way to get it...

Kuroo's eyes twinkled as he glanced up to the ceiling, hearing nothing. Good. That meant Tsukishima's roommate wasn't home. Kuroo hadn't met Bokuto Koutarou quite yet, but from what Tsukishima told him, he sounded like a lot of fun. Fun, but with loud footsteps. Kuroo always knew when Tsukishima was alone as a result. Perfect.

Now, he knew that technically, Tsukishima was busy writing a paper, but well...It had been a few hours since he'd last heard from his boyfriend. The blond deserved a break, and a healthy dose of Kuroo.

Pocketing his phone, Kuroo might as well have skipped onto the balcony, ready to make his climb. Tsukishima would scold him for being so reckless (and yeah okay, maybe he should've just taken the elevator), but the power of love couldn't be stopped. Besides, it was nostalgic now. This was how they'd met.

Kuroo ignored the voice in the back of his head which chose to latch onto more specific details. Right, when you'd climbed up to make him stop his horrid singing, singing which apparently only sounds that way to you. Because you're weird.

Kuroo shook his head, lifting himself with minimal effort until he was standing amongst all of Tsukishima's potted plants. A few looked like they were having a tough time, given the weather, but Tsukishima's meticulous care never wavered. They'd survive the cold.

Kuroo smiled fondly at the various shears and trowels littered about, along with the empty packets of seeds which Kuroo had gifted his boyfriend.

Looking forward, the orange glow of the lights already made him feel warmer. Or maybe it was just the person illuminated by them, Kuroo couldn't tell anymore.

He watched fondly as Tsukishima yawned, his slender fingers stilling in the midst of their furious typing. The blond had an oversized quilt flung around his shoulders, and he wore his designated 'comfy' sweatpants, old food stains and all.

Kuroo felt his heart lurch at the tired lines on his boyfriend's face, the instant need to pull him close overpowering him. Not bothering to knock, Kuroo pulled the sliding glass door open, pleased to find it unlocked.

It wasn't everyday he got the drop on his boyfriend, so he savored the 3.5 seconds of shock which flitted across his face before it turned into something less amused. "I'm writing a paper you know..."

Regardless, Tsukishima shut his computer almost instantly, a clear hint he'd had just about enough of academic jargon and citations.

"Well as you know, it's cold and I need warmth, so I win," Kuroo said, grinning as he plopped himself onto the couch. The old frame creaked under his weight, his body sinking into the cushions which desperately needed vacuuming. He heard Tsukishima scoff above him, and it only made his comfort skyrocket. Kuroo wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist, pulling him closer. Tsukishima wasn't exactly a human heater, since the blond suffered from the cold easier than most, but the added heat and softness made Kuroo sigh. They'd had breakfast just that morning together, but it really had been too long.

Tsukishima swallowed a laugh when Kuroo nuzzled his stomach, and Kuroo savored the moment for as long as he could before his self-control gave out, and he looked up. Tsukishima looked a lot more tired up close.

Kuroo blinked up at him, and Tsukishima's brow furrowed. "What?"

Kuroo shrugged, his hand coming up to trace the deep bags underneath his boyfriend's eyes. Tsukishima's chapped lips parted from the suddenness, but he stayed put, watching Kuroo think. The dry skin beneath Kuroo's fingers worried him. He wondered when his boyfriend had actually thought to take a shower or rest. "You study too much, you're gonna faint one of these days if you don't watch it..."

He spoke the truth too. Once Tsukishima sat down and set his mind to some sort of assignment, he didn't stop until it was done. Kuroo had learned this over the past few weeks, mostly because he realized he possessed a unique gift.

He could actually pull Tsukishima away from his work without much of a fight, and he took advantage of it whenever he thought his blond got too close to overdoing it.

Tsukishima laughed, lightly swatting Kuroo's hand away. "I won't."

Kuroo arched a brow, swatting Tsukishima back. He couldn't help but think that even looking near zombie level tired, the blond looked adorable. "How can you be so sure?"

He walked into a trap, he knew it, but it wasn't like he really tried hard to avoid it.

"I have a certain burglar who checks in on me frequently," Tsukishima said, his smile betraying the attempt at a jab. The hands curling gently in Kuroo's hair also served as an unfair distraction, Kuroo's number one weakness. Tsukishima's hands were magic, and the raven leaned into the touch gratefully. "He has no qualms about trespassing, so I'm sure he'll be around to nag me to sleep."

Little shit.

"You're the one who leaves the door unlocked!"

"Yeah, the patio door. The top floor patio door. That's not an invitation," Tsukishima insisted, but his smile hadn't wavered, and Kuroo had done his job. Already, the blond looked way more relaxed than before. The tenseness disappeared from his shoulders, and he'd begun sinking into the cushions of the couch, Kuroo's head in his lap. Perfect conditions.

Subtly, Kuroo pushed Tsukishima's cursed laptop farther away until it was out of sight. Couldn't risk the blond remembering his paper and trying to work on it for another three hours. He had a few days before it'd be due, plenty of time to finish.

Kuroo was set to turn in for the rest of the night, maybe take advantage of Bokuto's absence, but then he saw the expensive headphones which were connected to Tsukishima's laptop, and his mind flooded with the one topic he'd constantly pushed away. Music.

Kuroo's eyes roamed over the coffee table, noting the iPod touch sitting on it. Tsukishima hated carrying his music on his phone, especially due to storage. He had close to a thousand songs on there already, and the number was sure to grow. Kuroo felt something in his brain itch, a horrid scratch he couldn't ignore any longer. Not when it surrounded him.

Tsukishima loved music, loved singing. The evidence was everywhere. From the album posters on the wall, to the fact that whenever Kuroo turned on the small television it was on a music channel, or hooked up to Spotify. Tsukishima owned a record player, a birthday gift, and had his favorite albums pressed onto vinyl. There was a music note keychain hanging from his backpack, he had two pairs of in-ear headphones alongside his expensive ones.

When they were in Kuroo's car, the first thing the blond did was tune the radio to his preferred channel, pointing out when a song was new or when he liked a certain artist. His leg would bounce as he fought not to sing along, and he probably thought Kuroo didn't notice. But Kuroo did. Kuroo noticed everything.

Everyone thought Tsukishima's god given talent was singing, and all evidence lead to that being fairly accurate. No matter who Kuroo talked to, they thought his boyfriend's voice was lovely. So why didn't he?

Why did Tsukishima have to fight other guys off with a stick? Why didn't he indulge himself in his singing, no matter how terrible, around Kuroo? Surely, they were on that level now where he shouldn't care or be embarrassed. Before, the blond had insisted it was a privacy thing, something he preferred to do without an audience, but Kuroo grew less and less sure over time.

"Tetsu, are you alive up there?" Tsukishima said, tapping Kuroo's forehead gently with his index finger. The itch was unbearable now, his mind latching onto the question he so desperately needed the answer to. Tsukishima's soft, loving tone was the last straw. The words delighted his ears, made him melt, and yeah he probably loved Tsukishima if something as simple as his voice could do something like that too him. But then again, maybe his voice wasn't simple in the slightest.

"Sing for me," Kuroo whispered, almost against his will. His breath caught as the last syllable left his mouth, but goddammit, he was sticking with this. Kuroo blinked, watching as Tsukishima's face morphed from calm, to surprised, to something Kuroo could only describe as troubled. He'd never seen that expression before. He didn't like it.

"What...what are you talking about?" Tsukishima fumbled with his words, his hand leaving Kuroo's hair as he crossed his arms. "No way, that's embarrassing."

Something in Kuroo's stomach twisted, a weird foreboding creeping through his veins. Still, he put on an easy grin, a joking tone. "Aw c'mon, I sing all the time while we're in the car..."

Tsukishima didn't crack a smile. "I don't like singing in front of people, I told you already. I can put on some music if--"

"Why not? It's just us, I don't care," Kuroo insisted, and he knew at this point, he was pushing. He had to stop. But that feeling in his heart kept growing, the feeling that Tsukishima was hiding from him. Why? "I wanna hear your voice."

Tsukishima just stared at him, expression unreadable, until his next words trickled out of his mouth cautiously, carefully.

"You hate my singing, and I'm talking to you right now," Tsukishima said with a frustrated sigh. "Isn't that enough?"

"But you love singing, don't you," Kuroo said, more a statement than anything. Tsukishima bit his lip, the chapped skin cracking.

"Love is a strong word," he mumbled, staring at his hands. Kuroo kicked himself, but he couldn't reel himself in. He hadn't realized how upset this had been making him, how confused. He was being a dick now, but--

"You do. So why won't you sing?" He asked, trying to tack on a forced laugh so he could at least try to keep up the lighthearted mood he was pretending to be in.

Something in Tsukishima's expression snapped. The blond glared, one of those cold, icy ones which would stop anyone in their tracks. "Why won't you drop it? I told you I don't want to, I just get shy. Why are you being so insistent about it?"

And like that, Kuroo's stupid drive for the truth shattered into pieces. Tsukishima's eyes were bright with a weird mix of confusion and anger, his words too frenzied for his usually calm nature. It was Kuroo's fault.

What are you doing man?

He sighed loudly, wishing he could bang his head against the wall, but he figured that would solve nothing in the long run.

He'd let himself get carried away, and he knew better. Tsukishima kept looking anywhere but him, and the warmth from before had faded away. Now there was nothing, just a staleness he wanted to escape as soon as he could. He never should've forced anything on Tsukishima, they'd had this conversation before. He respected the blond's choice to not sing, no matter how bizarre it was.

Kuroo cared about Tsukishima, trusted him. Even if he was hiding something, Kuroo had to be careful about solving the mystery. He knew he wouldn't be able to help it, wouldn't be able to stay away. It was just who he was. Curious, determined. But he refused to lose Tsukishima along the way.

Plus, he was a man of science. Things had to be tested to achieve any level of truth.

No more bulldozing. No more hurting his blond, all Kuroo wanted to do was curl up next to him, and rest.

The strained silence between them wasn't what Kuroo wanted, and tentatively, he reached forward, uncrossing Tsukishima's arms gently. He hated when he did that around him, that wasn't how they were supposed to be. Tsukishima let it happen easily, his face softening in a rare show of guilt, and yeah, Kuroo felt twice as shitty.

But he could fix this, for now at least.

Kuroo placed his hand on Tsukishima's knee, not wanting to overstep too soon. "Hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done...whatever that was," he laughed, wincing at the sound a second later. "I was being a dick, alright? I don't care if you sing or not I just...I know you love it so much, I started feeling like you were forcing yourself not to around me. So I got sort of...upset, because I want you to be comfortable and--"

"Tetsurou, I am...comfortable," Tsukishima said, his voice hesitating at the blatant admission. The tops of his cheeks were flushed pink, but the glare still burned Kuroo's skin. Mostly because part of his reasoning was a lie. But he couldn't just come out and say 'sorry, my friend thinks you're a siren, and I'm starting to think so too' could he? He didn't like lying to Tsukishima, but...holy fuck this situation was so weird. If Oikawa was wrong, which he probably was, Kuroo was going to feel like the world's biggest idiot.

"But--"

"I'm more comfortable with you than I've ever felt with anyone, so shut up," Tsukishima insisted, quickly, and all the honesty looked like it was physically hurting him. But Tsukishima was trying, was doing this for Kuroo.

God, I'm the worst.

"And yeah whatever, I like to sing but I just don't like to around people," Tsukishima said with a sigh. Kuroo scolded himself when he had to stop himself from asking why. It wasn't important right then. "It's not just a you thing. My parents, my friends, I hate having an audience, that's all. It's not because I'm not close to you, because..."

And, in an attempt to murder Kuroo on the spot, Tsukishima leaned forward, pecking Kuroo on the lips in the blink of an eye.

"...obviously that's not true," Tsukshima finished, quietly, and he didn't leave Kuroo much of a choice. He leaned forward, seizing Tsukishima's lips again, kisses only broken my muttered apologies and the eventual laughter as the tension faded, forgotten.

In the morning, Kuroo felt refreshed and light, with an underlying current of resolve rushing through his veins. As much as he loved Tsukishima, last night had only confirmed his suspicions. Something bigger was going on, and he had to know.

He left Tsukishima's apartment, happy and as lovesick as ever, kissing the blond goodbye before returning to his own home.

Oikawa must've returned at some point earlier in the morning, because he sat at the table, munching on some toast while he flipped through cake catalogues. When Kuroo walked into the room from the balcony, Oikawa's face twisted in confusion, but Kuroo didn't give him the chance to speak.

"So, what's your plan?"

--

This was not going to fucking work.

"I changed my mind, I wanna go home," Kuroo deadpanned as he watched Oikawa crouch beneath a few bushes. There's a bench ten feet from us...

Iwaizumi looked perhaps even less hopeful than Kuroo did, but his eyes still shone with the slightest fondness as he watched his boyfriend execute his painfully stupid plan. Iwaizumi probably wasn't new to any of the brunet's antics, in fact he probably found them endearing.

Can't relate.

That was just how love worked though, Kuroo guessed. He ignored the guilt that stabbed his chest.

"There's no going back now," Oikawa whispered, making them look more suspicious than need be. Seriously, they could just sit...

The greenhouse sat across the cobblestone path in front of them. They were hidden, but had a fairly good view of anyone coming in and out of the greenhouse. Not like that helped them any, what could they tell just from looking on the outside? This whole plan was amateurish at best.

"How are we supposed to get proof anyways?" Iwaizumi chimed in, his brow furrowed in confusion. The scribbles in Oikawa's notebook had offered no clarity whatsoever. "If he really is a siren, won't I just be hypnotized? Or something..."

Iwaizumi blushed at the fact he was actually hypothesizing. Oikawa's influence always meant trouble for everyone...

"That's why you're going to record everything on your phone!" Oikawa practically vibrated with excitement, and Kuroo liked this idea less and less. "Once we see Tsukishima walk into the greenhouse, you'll turn on your camera and put it in your front pocket!"

Looking down, Iwaizumi indeed noticed the two front pockets on his jacket. He shot an unimpressed look at his boyfriend, and yeah, now he looked how Kuroo felt. "Is this why you made such a fuss about picking out my clothes this morning?"

Oikawa shrugged, his face bright and his smile positively infuriating. "Aw babe, don't say it like that! I also bought that for you, ya know. And look! We're matching!" Oikawa gestured to his navy blue sweater, a nice compliment to the jean jacket and navy sweater Iwaizumi wore, and Kuroo wanted to barf.

"Okay and then what?" Kuroo asked, pushing his hair back in frustration. He hated this idea so far, or maybe he hated the guilt laced behind it. Was he really this desperate? So desperate, he was going to spy on his boyfriend just for some farfetched theory?

He honestly didn't know anymore, the questions bouncing around his head making him sick. This was ridiculous. He should've just asked Tsukishima straight out about the siren thing, no matter how stupid he might sound.

But Kuroo couldn't dwell on his failed communication skills, he couldn't turn back either. Something about seeing Iwaizumi setting up the camera made Kuroo want to see things through. He'd pushed this far already, he'd have to suffer the consequences if he got caught.

"Well duh, Iwaizumi will hear him sing, fall under the spell, and...well...I don't actually know what happens after that," Oikawa said, his face stony from thinking. "Or if it happens like that at all...that's why this'll be interesting!"

You're so sure you'll be right...

What did Oikawa know? Kicking at the dirt, Kuroo scoffed. "Hope so. You're sure comfortable with sending your boyfriend out to be seduced, must be worth it..."

Okay so maybe Kuroo was simply being pissy at this point, but he did feel a great deal of satisfaction from the way Oikawa's hands tightened in the fabric of Iwaizumi's shirt, his face twisted into a grimace. Kuroo hated the thought too, despised the idea of anyone hitting on his blond, fake or not.

He just wanted Oikawa to share some of his frustration, even if only a little. In this situation, being an observer simply didn't feel fair.

Kuroo tried not to remember all the guys he'd seen coming onto Tsukishima, lest he imagine Iwaizumi in their place. Iwaizumi was just lucky Kuroo liked him. Not that Kuroo would get out of that fight scratch free if they weren't friends, since Iwaizumi was fucking ripped, but like hell would Kuroo go down easy.

"It's for...science so it--it's fine," Oikawa hissed, and Iwaizumi's hands immediately covered Oikawa's trembling ones. They always did this weird thing, where it was as if they could communicate without speaking. Iwaizumi would look deep into Oikawa's eyes, and a natural dialogue started, the product of years of built up trust and devotion. It was too intimate for Kuroo to stand for too long, especially with how shitty he felt, so he turned away to let them have their moment.

As Oikawa made sure to make the phone less visible, Kuroo noticed a certain blond enter the greenhouse across the road, and the reality of the situation finally sank in his stomach like a heavy stone.

No going back now.

--

Stepping into the greenhouse had become less of an escape for Tsukishima, and more of an instant relief. As he crossed the threshold onto the soil stained floor, he shut the door lightning fast, his vocal chords practically begging for release of some kind.

The urge left him powerless, the pull inescapable. The strength to resist diminished more with each passing day with Kuroo, every stupid text sent during lectures, every lazy day spent in Tsukishima's bed. Part of it continued to unnerve Tsukishima. How had it gotten like this? But like his resistance against the notes wanting to flow from his soul, the need to care about that also began to lessen drastically. Perhaps Bokuto had been right all along.

A singing siren is a happy siren.

Tsukishima scoffed at his own silly thoughts, focusing on his work. Of course, that didn't stop the music.

It started as humming usually, a slow, melodic buzzing which carried through the large space and eased the tension in his shoulders. Then, as he busied himself with his tasks, it grew louder and louder, eventually turning into lyrics which echoed off the walls. Like a mini concert hall, the acoustics adored Tsukishima's voice, and he couldn't bring himself to stop.

He liked to think it benefited the plants too, or at least, that had been his poor excuse given to Bokuto the other day.

Either way, Tsukishima felt light as air, and his voice only grew in liveliness as he worked.

Well, until something in the air shifted, and a door slammed behind him. His notes halted, cut off unnaturally and falling like shards in the air. It made Tsukishima cringe, the interruption making his skin crawl before he'd even fully registered it.

He really did hate having an audience.

Watering can half full, Tsukishima turned and glared at his unwelcome visitor. He cursed himself for not locking the door behind him, but the thought got cut short by the sheer strangeness of this situation.

This guy...wasn't coming up to him. Yet, Tsukishima could tell he'd been affected. The other's intense grey eyes were wet and dazed, almost empty of all emotion other than the usual lust. No doubt about it, he'd heard Tsukishima sing. Not good. Tsukishima's voice had been a forced to be reckoned with lately. It would take a while for this guy to snap out of it.

He looks familiar...

Something about the spiked hair and tan skin picked at Tsukishima's brain, but he couldn't figure it out. Shaking the thought away, Tsukishima put the can down, walking slowly towards the other. It at least got a reaction.

"Why'd you stop singing? I liked your singing..." The other said, his voice near a sigh. It was the same, annoying dreamy voice which guys always used on him. It was only cute when Kuroo did it. Still, there was no 'you're so pretty' or 'I'll do anything for you' thrown in, which was...different. Usually dudes wouldn't shut up. They'd pester the hell out of Tsukishima, flirting and begging and whatever else they thought would work.

This guy just stood there blinking.

I wonder...

"Yeah I'm sure, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave now," Tsukishima said, keeping his voice calm. Anger didn't exactly make the spell break faster.

The stranger's brow furrowed. "But...then I can't hear you sing. I want to hear you sing. I mean it..."

"No, you don't," Tsukishima sighed. "Listen..."

"I'll...do anything..."

Ah, there it was, if not a little more strained than usual. This guy was a fighter. Tsukishima squinted, crossing his arms. "You really don't mean that. You'll only regret it later. Don't you have a girlfriend or something?"

"Boyfriend," the other answered easily. Yeah, that explained it. It was harder to enchant those who were already in love with someone else, though not by much. All Tsukishima would have to do to break that resistance would be singing again with a bit more purpose. Then he could make this poor soul do anything he wanted, fall head over heels for him. Of course, he felt no need to do that. Tsukishima didn't need someone else's boyfriend, he had his own. Plus, now that he did have one, he had to respect the stranger's deep-rooted loyalty. Even under a siren song, he still clung to whatever he could of his partner.

Tsukishima massaged his temples, wondering how it always came to this. All he'd wanted to do was tend to the greenhouse, but no.

"You really do need to leave then. I'm not going to sing for you," he said, frustrated. He just wanted this to be over. "I'm not--"

"Why not? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you--"

"Is it because of the camera?"

Tsukishima froze, his gaze locking on the desperate look in the other's eyes. Something cold ran through Tsukishima's veins, a piercing fear, like fast acting poison. No...

No, he didn't hear right.

Tsukishima throat suddenly felt dry as Bokuto's face flashed in his mind, along with all the other fellow sirens he'd grown up with. His community, his existence. All of it, potentially at risk. It had to be a mistake...

"What camera?" He asked slowly, trying to keep his voice from cracking. All the while his mind raced with questions. How had he been found out? Was he being watched? Were there more people outside? Was Bokuto okay?

"This one," the other said, like it was nothing, pulling out his phone from his coat pocket. Delicately, Tsukishima took it, eyes wide. Sure enough, the camera app was open, recording the whole interaction. "Kuroo and Oikawa wanted to spy on you, since guys are always hitting on you--"

Something in Tsukishima snapped.

Kuroo and Oikawa.

The same chill ran through him again, but it was less fearful now, angrier.

Suddenly, the dots connected themselves. He knew this guy had looked familiar. Iwaizumi Hajime was a name which came up quite a lot in his conversations with Kuroo. This was Oikawa's boyfriend. Tsukishima had seen pictures of him in frames around Kuroo's apartment.

All three of them were working together. How cute.

"What?" He asked, feeling like he could spit venom. The hand around the phone was so tight, he felt he might snap it in half. The anger already started to boil inside him, but he willed himself to stay calm, to wait for an explanation, no matter how upset he already was. "But why..."

"Kuroo was suspicious. But not me, it wasn't me I promise," Iwaizumi pleaded, probably still too far gone and eager to please Tsukishima.

But Tsukishima didn't care anymore. He could only focus on the large grip around his heart, squeezing it until it burst.

With shaking hands, he deleted the video.

--

It didn't take long for Kuroo to realize the plan had failed.

A few pacing fueled minutes had passed since Iwaizumi had gone into the greenhouse, and Kuroo thought the wait would never end. Now though, he began to think it came too quickly.

The door to the greenhouse slammed open, letting out a very pissed off Tsukishima. The blond's eyes scanned the whole area, seething, his eyes ablaze. In his hand sat Iwaizumi's phone. Shit.

Behind Tsukishima, Iwaizumi trailed out slowly, hand on his head and a dazed look on his face.

Kuroo hardly paid him any mind though, his only concern was--

"Hey," Tsukishima hissed, his shoulders shaking as he stomped up to Kuroo's hiding place. Oikawa watched in concern for only a fleeting moment, gaze flashing with guilt and confusion before he ran off to talk with Iwaizumi. Kuroo didn't hold it against him, after all, Kuroo had to deal with this on his own.

A phone flew at his chest, and he just barely caught it. Yeah, he deserved that. He deserved everything he was about to hear. He wouldn't try to defend himself right away. Like a stupid kid, he shrunk in on himself, but kept his eyes on his boyfriend. That was the least he could fucking do.

"Don't bother looking at it, I deleted the video," Tsukishima said, voice a disturbing level of calm. But Kuroo knew better. He heard the shaky breaths and fluctuations. Fuck, he was absolute shit. "What the hell Kuroo? Is this some kind of joke?"

Kuroo would've loved if it had been just that. Then he could play this off as nothing more than a prank. Something told him Tsukishima already knew though, the hurt in his voice said enough. And well, Kuroo wasn't a liar at heart.

"No, I...I'm just an idiot, I let Oikawa convince me to spy on you and--"

Tsukishima laughed, the sound humorless and biting. "So now you're blaming your friends?"

"What? No! No. You're right," Kuroo said, dropping his hands. "It's all my fault, all of it. I'm sorry. I got suspicious and--"

"Suspicious. Suspicious of what exactly?"

Kuroo froze, words caught in his throat. He tried to step forward, because part of him ached to have Tsukishima in his arms despite the mess he'd made, but the blond deliberately stepped away.

Well damn, how did Kuroo come out and say the real reasons behind this? I thought you were a siren because I'm being a delusional bastard, but obviously I was wrong. Yeah, that would go over well with his pissed off boyfriend.

He didn't get a chance to say anything though, much less a new excuse, because Tsukishima had his own ideas in his head, and Kuroo's silence hadn't helped one bit.

"You really thought I would cheat on you so easily huh? I get hit on a few times and suddenly it's my fault, I was just gonna jump at any guy you sent my way?" Tsukishima said, and the emptiness there had Kuroo's blood running cold. Kuroo really had betrayed him, and his tone dripped with the raw emotion. Kuroo never wanted to be the cause of it again.

Space and caution be damned, Kuroo grabbed Tsukishima by the shoulders, panic setting in. "That's not true at all! I promise it's not, this--this isn't what I wanted!"

"Don't touch me!" Tsukishima ignored Kuroo's sputtering protests and started to move away, shaking off Kuroo's grip, and with each step, the distance made Kuroo want to vomit. He didn't want to lose Tsukishima, that's what he'd told himself huh? What a joke.

Kuroo chased after him for only a few steps, uselessly pleading. "Tsukki! Kei, please, you don't understand, let me--"

Tsukishima spun around, and the message came across loud and clear. Fuck. Off. "All I understand is that you don't trust me. But thanks for letting me know." Tsukishima's voice finally cracked on the last syllable, and Kuroo felt his stomach drop.

With that, Tsukishima wretched away completely from Kuroo's reach, storming off and out of Kuroo's sight.

All the while, Kuroo just stood there, feeling the warmth flood out of him.

[glowstickhaloboy]

AU where jack is a librarian and bitty accidentally studies

jack loves books. bitty hates studying.

but bitty needs to try something, bc whatever hes doing now is not working, and finals are coming up, so he thinks maybe if he gets some silence and solitude things he needs to know will start sticking

so he goes to the library and lo and behold theres an adonis behind the counter with a pencil tucked behind his ear as he intently reads a biography on Joan of Arc. bitty hears his conscience speak to him in beyonces voice, telling him that this boy is his

but hes a nervous wreck now that he knows theres someone hot here so yeah hes definitely not getting any studying done

except the cute boy doesnt even look up, and bitty remembers that hes probably straight anyway because thats the way the universe likes to be, so he keeps his head down and makes his way to an empty table (but he chooses one that keeps the cute boy in sight, and he isnt sure if thats because he is a masochist or isnt one)

he does his best to vibe this guy, who only looks up from his book when someone comes to check out or ask for the bathroom key, and bitty decides that hes gotta play it cool. that boy likes knowledge, so bitty will have to pretend that he also likes knowledge and isnt absolutely boy crazy, so he opens his textbook and gets down to business, hoping that that cute boy will look over at least and notice how studious this southern young man is

and almost three hours passes where bitty actually studies. he looks at his phone and realizes what hes just tricked himself into doing. he checks back on the cute boy, who is looking at him holy hell it was only for a second and then he quickly looked at his book again and relax eric relax he was probably just zoned out and happened to be staring at your face but maybe he could also sense how good you are at making pies and is deciding whether or not your boyfriend material

its already been three hours, but bitty definitely cannot leave now that developments are taking place

but its only fifteen more minutes before someone else shows up and takes the cute boys place behind the desk. the cute boy walks into the back and comes back with a jacket slung over his shoulder. “see ya, chris,” he says, and bitty wonders if hes being loud enough for his voice to carry on purpose, and when cute boy leaves, bittles insides all start screaming and he wonders if hes being blessed or punished because that boy must do squats or something.

bitty plays it cool for another half hour after that, because he cant look like he was only here because that cute boy was, but hes really only on twitter now. then he packs up his bag and spends the entire walk back to his room thinking about the moment he glanced up and the cute boy glanced down.

and he comes back the next day. bittle may play the slow game, but he has to see where this is going. day one, a glance, and maybe if hes really lucky, by day two he might get a pleasant “good afternoon. welcome to the library.”

he doesnt. he walks right in and sits in the same spot as yesterday, and the cute boy is reading the same book, but bitty tries to keep his face controlled, because this time cute boy looked up as he came in, and unless bittle was reading too much into it, cute boy looked down again as though this wasnt supposed to mean anything, like that was what he wanted bitty to think, but secretly it did.

they continue like this for two weeks, and eric is blessed to discover that the cute boy works a four hour shift every single day. which means theres never a day bittle has to miss out on seeing his sculpted-by-the-gods face.

and then valentines day rolls around.

bitty wonders what in the world am i doing so often while he bakes on february 14th that he knows he has lost any semblance of self-control

he walks into the library thinking the exact same thing, and of course, theres the cute boy, who has moved on to reading an account of the cuban vie for independence from spain, and for the first time, bitty actually approaches the counter

“um, hi,” he says, slightly breathless from the cold, and the cute boy looks up and smiles and says “hi” back. bitty has to ignore his pounding heart and continue on with the words hes been rehearsing since he turned the oven on.

“so, ive been spending a lot of time in the library recently, and i bake a lot, and since today is valentines day, i thought it would be nice to make these cookies for everyone today, so would it be alright if i left these on the counter and people sort of just... helped themselves if they wanted one? i made a card to”

bitty reaches into the basket and holds up a card designed by his friend lardo that reads “happy valentines day! please take one (1)”

the cute boys smile widens, and he says, “yeah. wow, they look great!”

after all the work bitty put into making them, they damn well better. he hasnt worked this hard on a batch of cookies since he campaigned for ninth grade class president. still, he cant help but turn as pink as the frosting on them when the first thing this boy ever says to him is a compliment on his baking.

“its nothin’” says bitty, setting the basket down and stuffing his mittens into his pockets

the cute boy latches onto bittys damnable accent and asks with interest “where are you from?”

“oh, georgia”

“nice. im jack, im from montreal.” he sticks out his hand and bittys suddenly clams up with sweat. oh no this cant be a horrible first handshake, it needs to be warm and nice

bitty decides he has to keep the mitten on, though, because that could be considered cute, right? sweat definitely couldnt. “eric,” he says, and doesnt allow himself to think about the fact that hes just put a bright red mitten in an adonis’s hand. they both seem to be running out of charm, though, so bitty muddles through

“um, they might be a little frozen from the walk over, but they should be good in a few minutes,” he says, then scurries over to his table because two weeks is way too soon to start talking

he distracts himself with literature homework to try to forget what a darn fool he just made himself out to be, but he cant completely tune out the rustling coming from the front desk as jack makes a careful display out of bittles basket and card, even allowing it to block the laminated sign warning patrons the repercussions of keeping overdue books.

a few more students trickle in, and a couple of them go for the basket, and Professor Whitmond tromps in with his two grandkids, who leave covered in powder and sprinkles, but bitty exercises all of his willpower to block it out because he cant believe he did this

but he also wonders if jack is going to take a cookie. hes obsessed with the thought of it. he needs jack to eat one of those cookies and realize that bittle is not just a pretty face. bittles entire body is on high alert, praying for it.

and then it happens. jack reaches into the basket, pulls out a cookie, and takes a bite. bittle thinks, checkmate.

he notices jack glance over at him, and bittle is now confident enough that he chances a bright smile. those cookies are good. they would never have made it out of his kitchen if they werent his best.

jack points at the cookie, his expression one of utter astonishment, and mouths, these are amazing.

bitty raises an eyebrow. i know.

jack makes another expression of astonishment, then waves bitty to go back to his studying. bitty pretends to, but really, hes wondering if bringing in a batch of cookies every friday would be too much.

(he does it anyway)

fridays become the staple of his relationship with jack. bittle brings in a basket of cookies, jack says something that makes bittle wonder if hes flirting or teasing, and bittle feels satisfaction drop into his gut as jack helps himself to the first of the bunch. there has never been a day where every cookie is not eaten.

and then jack changes the schedule. bitty comes in on friday with his usual basket, and jack says, “Eric. I had a question.” and bittles heart starts thumping in its stupid, traitorous way, and jack continues, “About these cookies...” and bitty thinks, oh great, theyre too much, hes only been pretending to like them for my benefit, enough is enough, “Would you mind making me a batch to send to Montreal? My parents want to try them.”

and bittys mind goes completely blank. Something about the way Jack says it completely straight throws bitty off guard. Because, yeah, hes caught on to the fact that Jack can be a bit socially awkward, but this definitely takes the proverbial cake.

“Your parents?” asks Bittle. “How do they know about my cookies?”

“I told them,” says jack, as if its obvious. “We call every friday night, and I always talk about your cookies.”

Bitty’s mind hurriedly re-writes his knowledge of the past few weeks to include the fact that Jack From The Library Has Been Speaking To His Parents About His Cookies And Now Jack’s Parents (IN MONTREAL!) Want To Eat Them.

“So, would that be too weird?” asks Jack.

“Not at all!” says Bitty, laughing slightly because hes terrified. “I can bring some in tomorrow if youd like!”

Its only when Jack smiles that Bitty feels relieved, like hes successfully navigated a minefield correctly. “Thatd be great!” says Jack. “I’ll pay you, if you want, to cover the cost of the ingredients-”

Bitty waves him away. “That’s not necessary, Jack, I’d love to.”

he goes to his seat and cuts his study time in half because he cant stop freaking out about making baked goods for jacks parents, who have never met him, and need to decide within their first taste whether bittle has any worth in their sons life

hes up half the night, and it definitely shows on his face when he brings into the library the next day. all he wants to do is say get them out of my sight.

jack accepts them with a confused look on his face, thanks bittle as bittle marches to his table and begins spreading out his books

oh yeah, and bitty has been getting weirdly good grades since all this started?? it turns out that bi-weekly flirting is the perfect reward for someone who needs to study more. his test scores have gone up dramatically, and even his GPA has gotten a modest boost.

thats only the secondary goal here, though, his real goal has always been getting jack to notice him

for three days, including baking night, bittle sleeps horribly, angsting over what jacks parents - whoever they even are - will think of his cookies. on monday, he gets his answer

“Eric!” jack greets as bittle walks into the library. hes smiling wide. “ive been told to tell you that youre moving to montreal to become my parents’ personal dessert chef.”

relief smacks into bitty like a forty-pound fist. he feels slightly whoozy. “they liked them?” he repeats.

jack just stares at him. “Eric. Have you ever had one of your cookies before.”

“No, I mean, well, yes, obviously I have, but it’s just that I’m always worried whenever new people try them that they’ll hate them, and since baking is the only thing I’m really good at, it’s important to me that people, you know, like my stuff.”

“Eric,” Jack says, for what feels like the thousandth time. “Everything you make is incredible. And baking isn’t all you’re good at. You study like a champion.” He offers Eric a fist bump.

Eric takes it for what it is, a sign of friendship, as he belatedly registers that Jack just called his baking skills amazing. Even if the boy is straight, he knows how to play Eric like a fiddle. And Eric is just gone enough to let it happen.

spring weather is finally setting in, and bitty starts to think about just how many days hes spent in the library this year, all so he can gawk at a boy he doesnt have a chance with. all this time, and he couldve been actually out there looking for someone who will genuinely be with him and make him happy.

he stops going to the library on a tuesday. by friday, he feels bad because the people on campus have come to expect his cookies every week, and he owes it to them to keep their stomachs satisfied with finals approaching. he makes a batch, not knowing what hes going to say to jack, or if jack will even care that bitty has been out by the pond enjoying his afternoons with his friends instead of hanging out inside.

he walks in with his basket, and jack seems to look both relieved and slightly cross. “Eric,” he says, because thats all he ever says. “You haven’t been here.”

Bitty shrugs. “I made cookies,” he says, and offers Jack the basket.

Jack’s brow furrows. “Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No,” says Bitty, which, because he doesn’t know what on Earth he’s feeling, is almost the truth.

Somewhat stunned into silence, Jack accepts the basket Bitty offers him and watches Bitty leave again. Bitty walks until he’s out of sight of the library, then sits on the nearest bench and wipes his eyes. He’s being ridiculous. There was literally never even anything between him and Jack. It was all made up in Bitty’s head, a fabrication based on a few standard conversations and lies garnered by baked goods. Maybe Bitty is crying because he’s such a fool. Why did he waste so much time on a needless fantasy? What was wrong with him.

“Well,” he mumbles to himself, standing. “At least your grades went up.”

this is the part where he looks up, hoping that jack might have followed him and was now waiting, out of breath, to say something meaningful and restore all of bitty’s hopes. but the sidewalk is empty, and bitty is left exactly like normal--creating a version of jack that doesnt exist based on the picture he has in his head

he goes back at the end of the day, when he knows jack will be gone, to collect his cookie basket from the library. a boy named chris hands it to him. “yeah, thanks for bringing these in today!” says chris. “the guy i work with seemed kinda down, so i think he needed a pick me up. i mean, he said that theyre for the patrons, but i got him to eat one, and i could tell he even felt better afterwards. theyre super good! i mean, i always ate them, i didnt know jack didnt, but-”

“thanks,” said bitty. he thought that if he didnt interrupt, this young man would never have stopped talking. “er, thats sweet of you.”

so for three weeks, bitty only comes in on fridays to drop off cookies. he and jack dont say a lot to each other. but as bittys mood steadily improves, jacks mood steadily worsens.

im healing, bitty thinks as he walks in on the third friday. that wasnt healthy, eric, it was sensible to get out of that.

“hey jack,” he says happily, setting the basket of cookies on the counter. “special delivery.”

jack squints at him for a moment, with a smile that seems more like a grimace. “thanks,” is all he says. he says it in a very particular way. flat. thanks.

bitty’s brow furrows. he thinks about asking, but he grew up in the hospitable south, where the popular motto was let everyone get on with their own business or get cussed out for pryin’. “um. youre welcome.”

he almost walks out, then shouts screw it! in his mind and turns around. “are you mad or somethin’?”

jack looks up as though feigning ignorance. all the lines on his face look hard. he sighs. “no, eric. its nothing to worry about. thanks for the cookies.”

“because my mama used to teach me lessons in passive aggressive bullshit when i used her pan sheets without askin’.”

“its nothing. its me. have a good day.”

“only she never tried to brush me off when i wanted to talk to her about it.”

jack considers him. “you dont come into the library anymore,” he admitted. “im not mad at you, im just... grumpy.”

bitty has to fight hard to keep his heart bolted down. he misses his friend, he tells himself. do. not. read. into. it.

“Oh,” says Bitty. “I, um. I didn’t mean to make you upset. Er. Have you been reading anything good recently?”

jack defrosts a little and they have a nice conversation about the true crime novel jacks gotten into. bitty feels a little bad for ghosting him, and maybe he misjudged things a little by saying there was nothing there, because hey certainly got along well, but he wasnt naive enough to think there was any use kidding himself about something romantic.

by the end of it, jacks laughing, and eric finds it in himself to giggle along too, and it feels like a nice resolution. maybe you cant have it all, eric thinks, but you can have this.

he bids jack goodbye, feeling better about the whole mess, glad that he said something.

at the end of the day, chris returns bittys basket, and bitty cant help but ask how jack was today. all chris says is, “Glowing.”

For the first time, bitty and jack run into each other outside the library. theyre at the campus coffee shop, perhaps both gearing up for finals week, and jack is leaving just as bitty is entering.

“Eric,” says Jack, genuinely smiling. Bitty’s smile is also completely real.

“Jack.”

“It’s weird, but it just kind of clicked for me that you’re a real person,” says Jack, then makes a soft face of pain. “I mean, obviously you’re a real person, but I’d only ever seen you at the library before. Now that we’re somewhere else-”

“I get it,” bitty assures him. “Are you working there next year, too?”

Jack shrugs. “Who knows? I’d like to, but someone with work-study might take my place. I’m always getting yelled at for reading when I should be re-shelving books. And I get cookie dust all over the counter on Fridays.”

Blushing, Eric says, “That is entirely your fault and no one else is responsible for that.”

“Not at all.” He’s still smiling, which Bitty thinks is ridiculous. “Are you doing anything right now?”

Bitty gestures to the line ahead of him. “Buying coffee,” he says.

“Anything else?” Jack clarifies. Bitty shakes his head. “I’ll wait with you. We can sit down and drink it together.”

He has to know what he’s doing, Bitty thinks. Once again, blind hope fills his chest and Bitty says, “Sure. That’d be nice.”

by the time their cups are drained, theyre too deep in conversation to move. when a pause comes, however, jack clears his throat. “Um. Actually. Eric. I, um, just wanted to clarify something, because I think I didn’t before.”

Bitty sighs dramatically. “I knew it. You’re using me because your parents want more cookies.”

Jack’s laugh is music for Bitty’s soul. “They seriously have not stopped asking about you since I sent those cookies. I didn’t know what to say to them when you stopped coming to the library.”

Bitty turns a little quieter. “Sorry about that,” he says. not because he feels sorry for not going, but because hes sorry that jack was hurt because of it.

“It’s okay, Eric, really,” Jack says, and hes so earnest that bitty believes he means it. “Anyway, what I wanted to say was, I think I didn’t clarify that when I asked you to sit down. You know. With our coffees. I sort of intended that to be. You know. Asking you out for coffee. Because I think you’re great.”

Bitty’s heart starts beating triple-time. His eyes turn to saucer plates. “This entire time, I was trying so hard to convince myself that you would never be into me!” he all but shouts. “I couldn’t deal with having a crush on a straight boy so I avoided the library like the plague.”

Jack blinks. “I never told you I was straight, Eric.” It’s not a reprimand, but it also totally is. Bitty puts his head in his hands.

“I thought I was being a fool for one thing,” he says, “but I was being a fool for something else entirely. I am so sorry, Jack.”

“You could make it up to me by letting me buy your coffee next time.”

Eric peeks at him through the gaps in his fingers. “Don’t try to fool me into thinking you’re smooth, Mr. Zimmermann. I know you too well.”

[fluffyllamas-23]

There shouldn’t be any S4 spoilers bc this is an AU, but just a warning, I guess?

There’s a knock on her door, and Pidge forces herself to look up from her laptop screen.  Her vision swims, but is quickly replaced by a heavy pounding in her head.  She drags a hand down her face and then rubs at her eyes, that are burning with exhaustion.  

“Come in,” she rasps, and squeezes her eyes shut at how raw her throat feels.

“Hey, Pidge,” Matt says, walking into her room.  He sits on her bed, and Pidge stares bleary-eyed at her older brother.  

“What are you doing here?” She breaks off coughing, and Matt raises his eyebrows.  

“I heard you’re sick.  Mind telling me why I’m just now finding out about this?”

“Who said I’m sick?”

“Hunk, Lance, Keith, Shiro, Allura,” he says counting them off on his fingers, "Coran, who’s my boss.  I had no idea he even knew you.  How do you know him, by the way?”

“He’s one of my professors.”

Matt blinks, “what? He’s a professor too?”

She nods, “yeah…drama class.”

“I always forget that you’re taking that.”

“Well I am…and I’m not sick,” Pidge mumbles, but is interrupted by a harsh coughing fit.

“Go to bed.”

“I have a test and a paper.  And it’s only seven, it’s too early to sleep.”

“It’s not too early if you’re sick-“

“-Which I’m NOT.”

“Pidge, I’ve known you for twenty one years, I know when you are...and you are.”

She sniffles, “it’s not that bad.”

He presses a hand to her forehead, and then sighs in relief.  No fever.  “Okay, well take a break at least.  Come have dinner.”

Pidge hesitates for a moment before she nods and pushes away from her desk.

She follows Matt into the kitchen, and plops down at the table.  She’s been hunched over her desk for hours, and now her back and neck are aching.  

Her entire body is, actually, and she suspects that has more to do with whatever the hell it is she’s coming down with than studying for so long.

“Here,”

Pidge stares at the bowl of soup tiredly, going cross-eyed as she fights to stay awake, “I hate soup.”

“Katie, eat the soup.”

She groans and presses her cheek to the table, “I’m not hungry though.”

“I know, but you still need to eat.  Hunk says you’ve been holed up in your room all day.”

She sniffles, rubbing at her nose, “mmm…yeah.”

“Eat your food.”

The sound of the door opening doesn’t even register with her until Shiro and Hunk are sitting at the table.

“Pidge? You okay?” Shiro asks.

Hunk pokes her, and then looks up at Matt, “what the hell, I leave you with her for ten minutes and you kill her?”

“Shut up,” Pidge groans.

Matt sighs and crouches down next to her so that he’s in her line of vision.

“Just a few bites. I know you’re not feeling well, but you need to eat something at least.   You can sleep after.”

She sighs in defeat and forces herself to sit up.  

“‘Kay.”

After forcing herself to eat a few bites, Matt follows her back into her room.  He gives her some medicine and then tells her he has to go to work, but tells her to text him if she needs anything.  Upon leaving, he instructs Shiro and Hunk to keep an eye on her.

Pidge sleeps soundly until around two in the morning when she wakes with a start, heart pounding in her chest.  Her skin is slick with sweat, making her shirt cling to her body uncomfortably.  Her hair is plastered to her face as well, and she feels so sick, she’s nearly in tears.

Her head is throbbing so painfully that her stomach is churning.  Everything feels wrong - she’s achey and her entire body feels heavy and tired. She’s freezing too, and it doesn’t take long for her to realize she’s shivering so much that her teeth are chattering. She’s congested too, and can feel it settled into her sinuses and rattling around her chest with each inhale.

She fumbles with her phone the moment the first sob rips from her throat.  

*

An incessant ringing breaks Matt from his sleep.  It takes a few minutes for him to realize that it’s his phone, and he grabs it quickly, a frown on his face.  

Pidge.  

“Pidge?” He says, the exhaustion he was feeling moments earlier is now replaced with a cold ball of dread in the pit of his stomach.  “What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

He’s greeted by the sound of her sobbing and then coughing, and he feels his heart drop.  

“I n-need y-you.”

He gets out of bed, “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“I h-had a bad d-dream, and-“ She breaks off into another coughing fit that sounds so harsh and grating that he winces.  

“And you’re not feeling well, are you?”

She bursts into fresh tears, and Matt puts on his shoes, grabs his keys, and hurries out the door.  

“Pidge, what was your dream about?”

“Y-you and d-dad a-and Sh-Shiro d-dissappeared a-a-and I c-couldn’t f-find y-you,” she breaks off as she chokes on a sob, “I th-thought you d-died.”

By the time he gets to her, she’s a sobbing mess, and she immediately reaches out for him.  He sits on the bed next to her, and she latches onto him.

“Pidge, you need to relax,” Matt soothes.

“I don’t want to go to sleep,” she whimpers, tears still streaming down her face. She sounds just as miserable as she looks, and Matt can feel how hot her skin is through his shirt. 

She tends to overwork herself and then ends up so sick she can’t get out of bed.  She’s been that way since they were kids, and even though Matt’s accustomed to it, and knows she just needs to sleep it off, he still hates it. 

“You’re sick, you need it.”

“But-“

“-If I stay will that help?”

She nods, sniffling, “don’t leave.”

“I won’t.  I’m going to get you some medicine though, you have a fever.”

“No, don’t leave,” Pidge cries, eyes welling up with tears again.

“I’ll be two minutes, I promise,” he soothes, “just rest, I’ll be right back.”

She lets him go, and sinks into the pillows.  When Matt comes back, she’s half conscious and is staring blankly at the wall.  She makes no move that she heard Matt come back in, and he crouches down in front of her.  

“Pidge,” he says, putting a hand on her forehead, “look at me.”

He manages to get her to take the medicine, and then he plops himself down in her desk chair and yawns tiredly.  

Not long after Pidge falls back asleep, Matt’s eyelids droop and his chin drops to his chest as he drifts into a very uncomfortable and restless sleep.

[seokjins]

vhope,

i hate u i hate vhope i hate myself ,,, bitch come collect ur children i’ve had Enough @silkjimin

they’re one of the most !!!sunshine couples around !!!!! wtf !!!

hoseok’s a pretty bubbly person & taehyung is also Optimism Personified™ so that’s why they’re regarded as the people u go to if you need emotional support ??bc they’ll always be ready to drop date night w/o question if any of their friends isn’t feeling well and needs some of their Love alskghasg

they’re also a very stable couple :0 they communicate a lot, allow each other to grow personality-wise & then redefine their relationship with open minds, knowing that if they need to break it off amicably, they can

vhope @ home

kings of being soft and sweet with each other omg (x)

taehyung tries to make hobi laugh all the time and it’s really cute bc he’ll look like the happiest man on earth when his dumb jokes actually work fpasdghl

literally one of the most intimidating n attractive couples when they’re out and about (x) (x) (x)

taehyung finds out that hobi has a thing for hair pulling after half a month of dating um

if ur talking about non-idol au they meet by literally running into each other bc taehyung’s late and trying to make the next bus before it leaves but ends up spilling his (hot) coffee all down hobi’s front and then trying to clean it up while apologizing the entire time lol

he even, at one point, offers to take his shirt off and give it to hoseok and while hobi’s trying not to check out the hot dude who just gave him third degree burns via his drink, he won’t take up the offer bc he’s gay but not a heathen, thank u namjoon

hobi tells him to forget it bc it’s not that big of a deal, but taehyung gives him his phone number anyway bc “wow i’m so fucking sorry, please text me so i can buy you another …. everything, but i can’t miss this class, i’m so sorry bye!” and leaves hobi standing in the middle of the sidewalk with holding phone upside down where taehyung’s shoved it into his hand before taking off down the street not really knowing who/what hit him???

and he thinks he won’t see taehyung again bc what are the chances ???but taehyung just happens to be a hot, hot actor who nearly gets his face smashed in while filming stunts on his latest project and hoseok is a hot, hot doctor who just happens to be the one fixing him up lol

hobi’s nickname for taehyung is “pixie boy”

taehyung’s always playing w hoseok’s ears or his hands or his hair or his cheeks etc and loooooooves it when hobi wears hats and his ears do the elf thing he finds it so cute

taehyung always sleeps draped over every single part of hoseok he can latch onto asldhgasgd it’s so cute he’s searching for the cuddles even when he’s sleeping lol

taehyung’s very tactile (i’ve said this before) and hoseok’s the perfect fit as bf because he loves it when tae’s attached to him in some way idk also hobi is a really good hugger?? taehyung struck it big by picking him up tbh

LOVING AND SUPPORTING EACH OTHER ALWAYS ???THAT’S MY S H I T u guys mY SHIT

hoseok’s obsessed w taehyung’s boxy smile he can’t get enough of it and needs to go in for a kiss every time he sees him smile bc his heart is being gay and doing the fluttering thing rip ,,

when the two of them are chilling out together they’re so soft?and gentle w each other ???like???? they’ll be making out on the couch with the television on in the background and won’t talk much even through dinner but they’re still pressed up close holding hands and maybe hoseok’s making quick work of the underside of taehyung’s jaw while smiling the entire time bc he knows it gets tae WEAK fppfhjpsjhfpt

hoseok’s terrified of basically anything u can get scared of bc 1) he almost died after getting stung by a bee once to later find out he’s really allergic to them 2) was forced to swallow a spider in elementary school when some kids were bullying him 3) is just. Not a Fan of Scary Things

so when the group goes to watch a horror film @ yoongi and namjoon’s apartment he spends the entire thing tucked up against taehyung’s side w his face buried in his bf’s shoulder and taehyung runs a hand through his hair or down his side w an arm wrapped around hobi’s waist trying to calm him down the whole night

he’ll still be shaking when they get back lmao and jumps at every single sound in the house fpfjhdfspt taehyung just. holds him and pets his hair and says he won’t leave him alone and it’s going 2 be ok

UMMMMMMMMMMMM hoseok always gets up early for runs and when he comes back he gets coffee for his bf n then wakes him up if taehyung’s still asleep and carries him out of bed sometimes,,,

hobi gets really bad flight anxiety and he used to take meds that’d knock him out the entire time but now he sits next to taehyung and they get rid of the armrest in between them and he half curls up in tae’s lap and gets kissed all down the side of his face when the turbulence gets bad im.

kim taehyung in headbands = jung hoseok’s DEATH

literally never let vhope work out together hobi will spent approx 85% of the time staring @ taehyung and the other 5% almost dropping weights on various body parts by accident and 10% falling off the treadmills lmao

TAEHYUNG BACKHUGGING HOBI IM DEAD INSIDE BYE

alternatively: this

they take soooooooo many selfies together ,, they update their snapchat stories with couple videos and pics and dumb romantic things they’ve done for each other or a slice of domestic life that makes everyone gag lol

hobi will cook dinner for the two of them and won’t eat even if tae’s out much later than expected on a shoot and will fall asleep on the couch waiting for him to come back and taehyung’ll snapchat a pic of his bf and a pic of him kissing his bf and a pic of him cuddling his bf and a pic of him on his bf and a pic of him hugging his bf and caption it with a thousand hearts and sappy stuff about love and appreciating the life he’s been given and put it on his story for his 579023 million fans to view #bye

taehyung wins some acting award and hoseok can’t stop crying and it’s really funny bc tae’s pretty emotional but hobi looks like he’s poured a water bottle down his face (lol)

taehyung promoting hobi’s YT channel bc he’s obsessed w hobi’s dancing this is no lie my friends

hoseok’s entire instagram, which is public even tho he’s dating a celeb (technically before he became a celeb ok) is now filled with taehyung ,, vintage pics of them together and the captions are full of love related emojis and stuff like “i’m so proud to be urs” or “congrats on the win baby!!” or a snap of tae’s battered script when publicity for his new movie starts going around and is like “this looks like a good one, can’t wait to see you in it”

WHENEVER TAEHYUNG DIES IN A FILM HOSEOK CRIES SO HARD BC IT LOOKS TOO REAL AND HE cannot™ he’s already got a weak and soft and emotional heart and he cannot™

hoseok: do u kno who the prettiest person in this world hiseveryone: hobi pls……..hoseok, slamming his hand on the table: KIM TAEHYUNGeveryone: ok hobi

[parkjmini]

fam(ily) - one | pkjm

parent!au: park jimin A single father of twins show you the true meaning of family and what it takes to love like a parent, even if they aren’t your own. word count: 4.8k genre: fluFF?? aNGST?!? idk jimin is a dad

one | two

[A/N]: goin straight to the point, our little family by the very talented @nightbts heavily inspired me to write this fanfic !! I absolutely lovLOVEelovelove that story, so much i made my friend read it WITH me. its a beautifully written piece and i never knew i loved parent!jimin so much. sis i wasn’t lying when i said it inspired me to write my own !! pls enjoy, dont have high expectations bc its not anywhere near how good OLF is lol

“I don’t think you’re going to find a decent girl at the club.” Jungkook said entering the noisy, dark building.

Jimin laughed, “who said I’m trying to find a decent girl?”

Taehyung rose an eyebrow. “So what are you going to do when she wants to hook up? Bring her back to your place with your twins in the next room?”

Jimin frowned and ordered the first drink on the menu. “No.. I don’t know.” You, the only girl bartender in the club, fixed the drink in the fastest manner Jimin has ever seen. You poured it into a glass and slid it towards the man. He lifted it, weary as to how it was going to taste. The glass rim touched his lips and the alcohol burned his throat as he took it all in.

“Can we just enjoy the night?” Jimin asked when he saw the other two awkwardly hesitant. “I’m not bringing home anyone, guys. I came out here to forget that I was a single dad working a 9 to 5 job.”

Jungkook laughed and patted his best bud’s shoulder. “That’s a little hard to forget when your babies are both of your wallpapers.”

Jimin rolled his eyes and shrugged off his friend’s hand. Taehyung walked off to flirt with the girl bartender down the bar. Jimin was left alone, swirling the ice and liquor in his heavy glass.

“Rough night?” You asked as you polished the cups. He looked around to make sure you were addressing him. Taehyung had wandered off to another girl and you had walked back over. He peered up to see your soft smile. Your eyelashes fluttered against your pale cheeks. Your hair was secured messily in a bun.

Jimin laughed it off, not sure how to answer that question. It was more of a rough entire six years and since he had twins, it felt multiplied by two. “You could say that.”

You looked up from your towel and paused. Half smiling, you began making another drink. You mixed some of the hardest alcohols and shook up something deadly. You grabbed Jimin’s empty cup and poured in your concoction. “Oh no.. I didn’t order—”

“It’s on the house.” You smiled. “It’ll make you feel better… or numb. Sometimes feeling nothing at all is what we all need to feel okay.”

“Thank you.” Jimin beckoned his drink to you and sipped it. It was a strange taste, but smooth on the tongue. “That’s something else. What is this called?”

“It’s not on the menu. It’s my special drink.” You reorganized your counter. “You seem like you needed one.”

“Ah, are you a mind reader on the side as well?” Jimin joked, earning a laugh from the both of you.

“Sadly no. That doesn’t pay enough for the bills.” A man sneaked up behind you and poked your sides, causing you to yelp cutely. Your sweet smile disappeared. “God, I told you I hate that shit.”

“Surprise! How about you come back to my crib tonight?” He nibbled on your ear. Jimin looked away, uncomfortable at the scene in front of him. He scanned the room for his friends, while at the same time eavesdropping on your conversation.

“I’m with a customer right now. Are you really asking me to hook up when I’m working?” You sounded annoyed, extremely annoyed.

“Did you forget how you even got this job? Don’t give me attitude or you can go back being unemployed.” A loud smack caught Jimin’s attention. He thought he’d slapped your face, instead he saw the man’s hand groping your butt. Your face contoured into disgust. Jimin would never want anyone to touch his daughters like that. He couldn’t take it anymore, his blood boiled the longer he stared.

“You know I can file for sexual harassment right?” Jimin spoke up and chugged his drink.

The man let go of you. “What are you? A cop?”

“No, but I am a witness to your sexual harassment.” You stepped away from the man, pushing his hand away from your backside.

The man laughed and nodded. “Okay. My bad.” He winked at you and strutted away, something else catching his short attention.

“Thank you.” You whispered loud enough for only Jimin to hear. Your head ducked down, embarrassed.

Jimin shook it off. “Don’t worry about it. I have tw—” He stopped himself before continuing, knowing he was giving out too much information than needed. “—I just hate seeing women getting treated like that.”

Your smile returned, bright and resting comfortably on your face. “I’m (Y/N).”

“Jimin.” He replied almost instantly.

“Well Jimin, I hope your tomorrow is a better day. Enjoy the rest of your night.” He saw you smile once more before heading to his left to greet other guests.

By the end of the night, Jimin was in no shape to drive home. Jungkook and Taehyung had to lift the man into the car and take him back to Taehyung’s place. Jimin was so knocked out that he wasn’t sure which visions were reality and which were his dreams.

He must’ve dozed off for a while until he shot up in panic on his best friend’s couch. “The girls!” He yelled. The curtains were stained with a light blue, birds chirping in the trees. It was the perfect morning scene, but not for Jimin.

Taehyung walked out of his room with just his boxers on. Confused, he ruffled his hair. “What are you yelling about?”

Jimin was trying to find his jacket with his car keys. Frantically, he searched every space between the cushions. “Tae, it’s Monday. The twins have school. What time is it? Where are my keys? Where did you put my jacket? Why did you let me drink last night?!”

Taehyung, as panicked as his friend, started turning his own house upside-down to find his friend’s belongings. “I think it’s 7:35 AM.”

“Thirty-five?! I only have five minutes to get home and even make sure that they’re awake and get them to school before 8 AM? School is like a fifteen minute drive… dude! Help me!” Jimin paced the now messy living room.

“I’m trying! Maybe creating a mess was a bad idea because now we can’t find anything.” Taehyung rummaged through his counters and tables. His movements finally stopped when he finally remembered where he left his friend’s jacket. “You didn’t leave the club with a jacket, Jimin.”

Jimin groaned and held his head. He was dealing with a major hangover headache and now this. “How did I not leave with one?”

“You were passed out on the dance floor without a jacket when Jungkook and I found you, man.” Taehyung ran inside to get his own car keys. “Take my car.”

Jimin caught the tiny trinkets in his hands and hurried out the door. He rushed through probably three yellow lights and drove as fast as he could. Jimin rolled out of the car and knocked on the door to his home.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for it to be opened. “Jimin, where have you been all night?”

“Jen, I don’t have time right now to explain. Are the girls up?” The young girl nodded and crossed her arms.

“They’re getting dressed right now. I was worried sick when I found your bedroom empty this morning. Jimin, go change quickly. You smell like throw up and alcohol.” Jen ushered him to his room. Jimin didn’t have much time to wash up, but he changed out of his clubbing attire to something more comfortable. He roughly combed through his hair and spritz some cologne to mask the smell.

Jimin went right down the hall to his daughters’ room and knocked softly. He heard the innocent giggles and a small ‘come in’ before entering.

“Minjoo? Minseo?” Jimin saw the two girls with socks on their hands and big smiles to see their father.

“Daddy!” They both cheered in unison. They latched onto their dad, who gathered his two favorite girls in his arms.

“Girls, why do you have socks on your hands?” Jimin pulled a funny face and they both giggled, clapping their sock covered hands.

“Seonnie said they’re mittens.” Minjoo chimed and rubbed her dad’s face with her soft socks.

“JooJoo said her hands are cold in the morning, so I said we should put socks on our hands to keep them warm.” Minseo conducted heat with her tiny baby hands and placed them on her sister’s cheeks.

Jimin gazed upon his beautiful daughters and set them down. “Well, where ever you have them, we need to go. We are going to be late for school.”

“Oh no! Teacher says that that’s bad.” Minjoo grabbed her backpack that was way to big for her and pushed her dad’s left leg to get him out the door. Minseo followed suit.

Jimin waddled out, with his two girls pushing him along. Jen laughed at the sight and handed Jimin the keys to the car and a water bottle. “For the hangover.” She smiled and Jimin thanked her.

“What would I be without you?”

“Late. Now go.” She shooed the man and his kids out the door.

“Girls?” Jimin called behind him to the tiny six year olds at his legs. They both stopped and turned back to the young women at the door.

“Bye Jen!” They waved together and continued shoving their dad to the vehicle.

“Bye you two, be good at school.” Jen closed the door and Jimin carried his daughters to Taehyung’s car. He buckled both of them in the back as they whined about there being no car seat.

“I’m borrowing Uncle Taehyung’s car right now, so there aren’t any car seats.” He rushed and hopped into the driver’s seat. Taking a deep breath, he started up the ignition and took his daughters to school.

“Good morning class!” Your older cousin beamed with excitement in front of the tiny kindergartners. The small children were huddled up in a circle around her. It was always so astonishing to you to see how different someone could be around children. You were doing a teacher internship program and was lucky to be assigned to your relative’s class.

You don’t have children of your own or any younger siblings, but you loved children. You wanted to develop the same passion your cousin had for teaching. Before you were able to actually become a teacher, you first had to finish school. To pay for school, you had to work and since you were busy during the day, your only options were night time jobs. That lead to you getting a job as a bartender, which you’ve never hoped in becoming.

A knock startled both you and your cousin. She gestured her head for you to answer the closed classroom door as she continued her lesson plans. Opening the door, you were greeted by a familiar face and your favorite twins.

“(Y/N)?” Jimin choked out. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost. You closed the door to the classroom and stood outside to talk.

“J-Jimin? What are you—”

“Daddy, you know Ms. (Y/N)?” Minseo asked curiously, tugging at Jimin’s jeans.

“Ms. (Y/N), sorry we’re late. We tried to hurry, but we had socks on our hands!” Minjoo apologized. “And daddy wouldn’t let us go in until we put them back on our feet.” She pouted.

“Girls, why don’t you join the class first?” You opened the door to let them in.

“Bye Daddy!” Minjoo reached up to give Jimin a hug goodbye.

“Have fun at work, Daddy!” Minseo chimed in and joined her sister in a hug fest crave.

Jimin got down on one knee to hug both of his precious girls. “Kiss?”

The twins each gave Jimin a kiss on his respective cheeks. He did the same to them, the two earning kisses on both of their soft round faces. “Be good girls. I’ll see you two real soon.”

The way he acted towards his children warmed your heart. He was so gentle and looked at them lovingly. You heard your cousin welcome them warmly before you shut the door again. “Well.. this is unexpected.”

“Which part?” Jimin chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Your hair was no longer in a messy bun, but cascading down your shoulders. Your make up was more minimal. However right when you smiled, Jimin had a rush of familiarity. “I never expected to run into customers from the club at an elementary school.”

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t.” Jimin laughed nervously. A heavy atmosphere fell upon the two of you.

“I guess I can see where those two got their cute smiles from.” You mentally slapped yourself for saying that. He was probably married to a magnificent woman. It was so inappropriate and you saw as he shifted on his leg. If anything, you added to the uncomfortable silence. “I apologize for that.”

“No-No, no it’s okay, really.” Jimin laughed, his eyes disappearing again. “Maybe I should let you get back to teaching.”

“Oh.. I’m not a teacher, yet.” You shook your head. “I’m just the intern. My cousin is the teacher.”

“You’re an intern?” Jimin asked. You were a lot younger than he thought.

“Yeah.. are you more surprised at the fact that I’m an intern, than the fact that we meet again in a family friendly environment?” You chuckled.

“A little. You’re much younger than you come off as.” Jimin ran his fingers through his hair.

You nodded, “it always seems as so.” Your heart thumped lightly at his simple movement.

“Now are you more surprised by the fact that we bumped into each other in a school than the fact that I’m a father to twins?” Jimin joked.

“Well I was caught off guard, but now I understand why you were so mad last night at my boss.”

“Maybe I really was one of the good guys?”

Your eyes widened, not intending for your comment to come off offensive. “I mean I’m sure you are. I’ve just never seen anyone react the way you did.”

“I guess I shouldn’t have threatened him with a sexual harassment complaint. I was going to punch him, but your special drink had really strong effects on my motor skills.” Jimin saw your tint cheeks at the mention of your drink.

“If I knew you had children to go home to, I would’ve toned it down a lot more than what I gave you. How’s the hangover? You okay?” You rubbed your arm, guilty for giving him such strong poison.

He gave a thumbs up. “Really kicking my ass right now.”

A screaming child caught your attention inside the classroom. “I should get back inside.” Your hand blindly found the door handle. Jimin nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Nice to see you again, (Y/N).” He backed up slowly and you did the same.

You exhaled as your back pressed against the heavy door. Something deep down made you want to see Jimin again. He was a very attractive man, day and night, he knew how to dress. His hair wasn’t pushed back like it was last night, so it gave him a more youthful look. You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Ever since he sat down at the bar, you knew you wanted to get to know him. Of course, you didn’t know he had two daughters and he’s probably married. He looked young, so when Minjoo and Minseo appeared at his side, you were shocked. He was a young father of two. The thought was beautiful.

That was when you realized you needed to diminish any feelings that dared to surface. You needed to erase any thoughts that weren’t appropriate. He already had a perfect family, twins and a loving wife.

Your cousin motioned you over to her desk. The children were all distracted finger painting, dipping their small fingers in globs of paint. “What took so long?”

“I was talking to a parent.” You whispered.

“How did it go?” She asked, filled with a childish wonder.

Puzzled, you blinked back at her. “Fine? They were running a little late because Minseo and Minjoo had socks on their hands—”

“I’m not talking about that. I mean what did you think?” Her hands held your shoulders to shake you, a big smile on her face.

You held onto her wrists to stop her, “what did I think of what?”

“Park Jimin.” Your cousin’s voice was low and quiet. She was eyeing the twins to see if they’d heard. However they, too, were immersed in coloring with their fingers.

“Kim, what?!” You were surprised for the second time that day. Genuinely confused, you wondered as to what she was trying to get at.

“He’s a fine piece of a—” You covered her mouth before she could continue.

“He’s your students’ parental guardian. Kim, this is so unprofessional. He’s married.” Your eyes were popping out of your sockets.

She chuckled softly, “honey. He’s a widow.”

Stunned, you froze. Your cousin was clueless to your expression. “Kim, that’s even worse! He’s still legally married, but his wife is gone.” You whispered loudly. You freaked out. Everything you previously felt was absolutely gone. You felt guilty for even trying to hit on him. Your eyes panned to the quiet girls giggling to themselves. Sympathy filled your eyes as you watched them wipe paint on each other’s gumdrop cheeks.

Kim shrugged and marveled. “Well.. all I’m just saying is that he’s hot and a young dad. A single hot young dad with two cute twins. How much better is that?”

“A single dad not by choice.”

“Okay, yeah. I hate how you have a heart sometimes.” She groaned and walked over to tend to her twenty-something children.

“That’s coming from a kindergarten teacher, Kim.” You followed after her.

Jimin clocked into his mundane office job. He had gone home to change into his business casual clothing after dropping off the twins. Jen had left and prepared a breakfast for him. Taehyung arrived with Jungkook behind.

“The girls arrived to school on time?” Taehyung shuffled next to Jimin.

Jimin shook his head. “They were late, but not because I didn’t drive fast enough. It was because they had socks on their hands.”

Jungkook popped up at Jimin’s right. “Socks? On their hands? Are you still drunk?”

“No. I’m not making this up. They had their socks on their hands as mittens because JooJoo’s hands get cold in the morning. I didn’t want to bother with them putting it on their feet because I was rushing out of the house. But then I couldn’t let them walk into school with socks on their hands.” Jimin sighed and gave Taehyung his keys back. “You need to drive me to pick them up though.”

“Fine by me. That means I get to leave early.” Taehyung did a little celebration dance before sitting down in his cubicle across from Jimin.

“Who gets to leave early?” The company’s CEO walked past their tables. Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung stood up and bowed slightly to greet her. “You remember what I said about the bowing, none of that. It makes me feel weird. We’re like the same age.”

All three of them exchanged glances and relaxed. “If you’re this lenient, people won’t take you seriously.”

“I’m only this chill with you guys, maybe not Taehyung.” Her hand rested on Jimin’s shoulder. Taehyung automatically sat down and rolled his eyes. “Did you get the new files, Taehyung?”

“New files?” He half groaned, half pouted. The CEO nodded her head and tapped her wrist, as if she had a watch.

“How are the girls, Jimin?” She beamed happily at the young man.

Jimin coughed, “good. About the girls.. I need Taehyung to drive me to pick them up. I left my car somewhere else and I lost my car keys—”

“No worries. 4 PM, right?” She smiled and Jimin nodded. “Great. Just make sure you finish what you need to before clocking out. Taehyung, those files!” Her heels clicked away and she hid into her office.

“I swear she has a vendetta against me.” Taehyung sighed.

Jungkook laughed, “or maybe she’s into you, but she’s trying to hide it by targeting you.”

“That’s too deep, man. And if she is, it’s still not very fun.” Taehyung rested his head on his hand and stared at his computer screen.

After several hours staying sedentary, Jimin got up to stretch out his tired legs. Him and Taehyung walked to the bathroom together, discussing last nights endeavors. Getting back, Jimin saw a missed call and a voicemail left on his personal device. It was from the twins’ school.

Quickly listening to the voicemail, he prayed that nothing had happened to them. He hoped that they weren’t in any trouble or any bad news. Schools usually only called if there was bad news. Jungkook looked over Jimin’s cubicle to see the panicked man on his phone. He nudged Taehyung, who also watched the scene unfold.

“Hello Mr. Park… Jimin.. this is Ms. (Y/N). I know this is probably very inappropriate, calling you on your personal number when there isn’t an emergency. Well, I feel like it’s still urgent enough to give you call. Nothing is wrong with the girls, they’re fine. I wouldn’t want you to worry about that. I’m calling because you left your jacket last night. I forgot to mention that this morning and I would like to give it back to you because I assume you would like to pick up your car as well. If you want to arrange some time, call me back on my personal cell.” Jimin searched for a pen and a post it note to scribble down the following numbers.

He hung up and proceeded to dial. After the second ring, your delicate voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hi, (Y/N). This is Jimin. I was wondering when it’ll be a good time to pick up my jacket.” Jimin spoke nervously through the phone. His sweaty palms clenched his dress pants.

You hummed lightly, “I’m heading over to the club right now to start my shift. You can swing by any time and get it.”

Jimin slapped his forehead as he realized something, “I bet you I got a parking ticket.. I am such an idiot.”

“I hope not. I re-parked your car in my reserved parking spot, so that wouldn’t happen.” Jimin couldn’t see you, but he knew you were smiling. A weight was completely lifted off of his chest and he sighed.

“Thank you so much. I can’t even explain.”

“No problem. Just give me a call when you get here.”

“Alright. And (Y/N)?” Jimin didn’t want to leave you just yet. “How are my girls?”

“They’re wonderful. No need to worry. They’re all heading over to after care.”

“And you? How are you?” He genuinely wanted to know how your well being was. Some part of him didn’t want to hang up and let you go. He heard you chuckle over the phone.

“I’m good. Thank you for asking. How is that headache?”

Jimin grinned slightly, unable to stop his lips from curling up. Taehyung kicked him underneath the table and eyed the CEO getting up from her desk. “Subsiding. I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Goodbye—” Jimin hung up abruptly and shoved his phone into his pocket.

“Who was that?” Jungkook smirked.

Jimin was caught off by that question. He was embarrassed to share about who you exactly were. “The girl bartender from the club.”

Taehyung rose an eyebrow, “how did she get your number?” He glanced over at Jungkook and made kissing noises.

“You two are so immature.” He brushed them off.

“Wait, the girl who totally rejected me?” Jimin nodded at Taehyung’s remark. He pretended to be offended, but it didn’t last long. “She was hot. Nice choice. Just admit you gave her your number and we can move on.”

Jungkook snickered and a smile crept onto Jimin’s face. The thought of them thinking that he did that made him laugh. However, they obviously misunderstood. “I didn’t, but assume what you want.”

“Oh, you so did.” Jungkook hollered, causing a scene. Everyone in the office stared in their direction as they all three tried to pretend nothing happened.

You rapidly grabbed Jimin’s coat from your car and headed to the back parking lot. You had told them to wait there for you. Walking out from the suffocating building, the cold air caused goosebumps to form on your exposed arms. You held his silky material close to your chest.

Jimin came out of the car and his friend appeared from behind the rolled down window of the driver’s seat. “Hey gorgeous, remember me?” He smirked and licked his lips.

You only smiled because he was Jimin’s friend. “Ignore him.” Jimin rolled his eyes and received his jacket from your clutch. “Thank you again. I can’t imagine where I’d even begin to look for it.” There was a wet glisten in his eyes and he refused to look into yours.

“You’d most likely suffer a parking ticket first.” You joked in hopes to lighten the mood, puffs of smoke coming from your mouth as you laughed. Jimin always had that charm to make you smile. He was honestly a funny guy, very easy going. You wanted to be the same to him. You desired to see his famous eye smile.

You heard tiny voices call after you. Peering behind Jimin, Minjoo and Minseo came pouring out of the car. “Bye Uncle Taehyung.” They waved halfheartedly and rushed off to hide behind their dad’s legs.

“Thanks Tae.” Jimin signaled off his friend, who simply nodded and drove off.

“Ms. (Y/N)! We saw you at school today.” Minseo observed. You got down to face the two shy, yet excited girls. Minseo and Minjoo had Jimin’s eyes and squishy cheeks. You saw Jimin in the twins whenever they smiled, but when they didn’t, they didn’t look much like their father. Their features were both incredibly proportional and small. You pondered about the beautiful woman who gave birth to these marvelous girls.

“Yes you did. It’s late now. You guys should go home now and wash up, you little monkeys still have paint on your faces.” You scrunched up your nose and pinched their soft chipmunk cheeks. They responded with an adorable giggle and toothy smiles. Minjoo had two of her top teeth missing and Minseo had two of her bottom row missing.

“I heard you guys did finger painting. These two wouldn’t stop talking about how much fun it was.” Jimin patted both of their heads and ruffled their black hair.

“Fun, but messy.” You enticed. “I have to go in now, girls.. Jimin.”

“Right, of course. Sorry for all of this. Come on, we need to go home and eat dinner.” Jimin reached for the twins’ hands.

They whined and ran to latch onto your legs now. “But we want Ms. (Y/N) to stay, Daddy!”

“Yeah. She can eat dinner with us. She can taste how good of a cook you are.” Minseo praised and pleaded Jimin with her sad puppy eyes.

You couldn’t stop your heart from burning at the girls’ affection. “Park Minjoo and Park Minseo, remember when we talked about other people having their own plans they need to do? We can’t always have everyone’s time.” He knelt down and spoke sternly, with a child-like voice. They were still his babies, so he spoke softly.

“You’re right.. Daddy.” Minjoo let go and pouted in Jimin’s arms. Minseo refused to let go. She was always the more independent, stubborn twin.

“Seonnie..” Jimin chimed. The endearing nickname caught your attention and you melted at how gentle Jimin was to his girls.

“I am not letting go until Ms. (Y/N) promises us that she’ll have dinner with us one day.” Her short arms wrapped around your calf. Jimin looked up at you, sending you apologetic eyes, and back at his daughter.

“We can’t force people to have dinner with us, baby.” His hand smoothed her hair.

“I’d love to.” You blurted out and held out your pinky for Minseo. She erupted into giddy smiles and cheers. “I promise I’ll join you for dinner one day.”

“You don’t have to—” Jimin tried to convince you otherwise, but you truly wanted to join the tiny family for a meal.

“I want to. You can’t change my mind, I’ve already locked the promise with your daughter.” You smirked. Minseo wrapped her little finger around yours.

“JooJoo!” She waved her identical sister over to join the pinky wrap. She popped up and followed her sister. “Daddy!!”

Jimin hesitated before intertwining all four of your pinkies together. “Until we meet again, (Y/N).” He beamed.

“Until we meet again, Jimin.”