#but the final round of editing gives me so much anxiety. not fun.

[serenpedac]

Thank you so much @ejunkiet for the tag, this was a fun one ♥️

Tagging forward: @lykegenia @wayhavenots @evilbunnyking @deepinifhell @nat-seal-well @grapecaseschoices @serial-chillr (I'm probably forgetting people, so if you want to do this, please consider yourself tagged 😘)

[frances-baby-houseman]

Friends in or near swing states! If you are looking to productively channel your anxiety and enthusiasm in these final days of voting, please consider canvassing. It is fun! It will get you so many steps! You might make friends! You might run into your mother in law in line to get your materials! It is really easy-- I canvassed in Wisconsin with Illinois and Wisconsin Democrats on Saturday and I'm hoping to go back for one more round this weekend. If you are local to me and want to come, I'd be happy to get a group together! Then you get a cheeseburger at the end as a prize! I mean you pay for the cheeseburger, they don't like give it to you, it's just culvers but like you do get to hang out at the end!

Ok! Let me know!

Honestly here's a link to sign up with info, you can click it and learn for yourself:

Also phone banking (which tbh seems scarier to me than knocking on doors!) and ballot curing and also Swifties for Kamala are doing social media engagement where you comment on kalama posts to help boost their place in the algorithm. There is still so much to be done and YES it does make a difference!!

EDITED TO ADD: Phone banking isn't actually scary, don't listen to me!! It's great and easier than ordering a pizza!! Esp since a lot of us don't live in or near a swing state!!

[kiraixi]

Christmas Shopping

I decided to post one of the drafts sitting in my docs, I have a few which will probably be edited and pulled together to make a fic hopefully :’))

This is set in California in Billy’s childhood, just wanted to explore somethings as there is so much we don’t know about his past, enjoy~

Holiday shopping is always a difficult thing for their family, winter meant time for giving not taking. His father would always tighten his generosity on them. And worse,

 Mama’s anxiety would crawl up the wall. 

She’d always try to capture the ‘Christmas cheer’ in everything. Overspending on tinsel, trinkets and baubles was her way of shouting to the world everything was okay. He didn’t really see the point; they would all end up crushed or broken anyways, more weapons in Dad’s artillery. 

Neil would lash out more, glass icicles were expensive. And sharp.

A lose-lose situation for everyone.

It all comes to head when she picks up a wreath, chattering about how ‘welcoming’ it would be for relatives that never visit.

His face turns bright red right when she says that. 

A shouting match ensues.

He screams something about money and incompetence and she screams back.

Billy doesn’t stay around for long, normally when they argue not much attention is paid to him. 

He wanders around, pulling himself to the toy section, liking the colours and sounds on display. He doesn’t get many toys, they’re all stuffed in the corner of his room. Easy tidying. 

His dad says he’s a big kid now, doesn't need that baby junk anymore.  

Billy’s content to just stare at the displays. It’s fun to scan over the instructions, imagining himself at home actually building. His favourites are the dollhouses, but they're not for him. They stay out of reach on the upper shelves, the rich kid shelves. 

He risks a peek at them ever so often. 

Mostly Billy just likes the small bits and pieces that come with the houses. He’d dig into the bottom of the toy boxes at school, marvel at the small milk cartons and frying pans half the size of his pinky.

Something about their tininess fascinated him, putting them in the exact spot he wanted was fiddly work, but always left him feeling accomplished.

“Billy!”

He breaks away from his daydream, a familiar girl stands at the end of the aisle. 

“Audi, hi!” He smiles at her, a bit strained. If his parents turned the corner right now he’d be in big trouble.

“Are you picking out your Christmas presents?”

“Just looking around..” Not gonna mention that he can’t afford most stuff here..

She walks towards him, “Mummy said she’d buy me that one,”

Pointing at something on the highest shelf, it’s one of those talking teddies. She has to stand on her tippy toes to show which one she wants, it’s kinda funny. He hums in approval, it is a super cool toy. 

“It’s been sitting on my list forever, what are you getting?”

Billy scratches the back of his neck. Should he point at the cars? But the miniature mansion includes a working elevator. 

He points at the house.

“Isn’t that a… girl toy?” She frowns. 

He shrugs, “Nice um.. colours and stuff”

“If only it had more purple…” She hoists the toy off the shelf and turns it around, he looks over her shoulder scanning the label. 

$8.99. Yeah, expensive.

“Audelia darling!” A voice calls out. They both look up

A very pretty lady rounds the corner, dressed in a green skirt and white blouse. It looks like something Mama would point at in a magazine. 

Audi beams at said woman, “Mummy!” She hooks an arm around him, “This is my friend Billy”

The pretty lady – Audi’s mum – gives him a polite smile, “‘I’ve heard from Audelia about you, it’s nice to finally meet.’ She reaches out for a handshake.

Billy’s never met someone so formal, it’s a bit intimidating.

He scavenges his brain for a surname, Audi did mention it before. Something that rhymes with barber. 

He clasps her hand, ‘Thank you Mrs Barbour’ 

She laughs. “It’s Barbeau but you can call me Marie dear,” 

“Billy?!” 

He freezes. 

Mama’s voice. 

They all turn, his parents are standing at the end of the shopping aisle.

Father looks very, very angry.

Audelias’s mum stands up straighter, maybe she can sense the tension oozing out of his dad.

He's looking for a fight.

Mama looks like she’s desperately trying to hold Neil back. She keeps giving him these wide eyed stares, stuck between disbelief and fear. 

Like a deer about to be run over. 

Dad saunters up to them, landing a heavy hand on his shoulder. Billy stays stock still.

Neil smiles, all teeth and snarl. It cracks his lips apart. 

‘Who are these people, son?’

This is the worst possible day ever. 

He looks down, there’s a smudge near his heel from running around during recess. He never wanted to be somewhere else more than now. Maybe if he clicks his heels together three times, he’ll disappear from real life. Just like in the fairytales Mama read. 

 His grits his teeth, ‘A friend’

Neil’s grip tightens, Billy has to work his face really hard to not wince in any way. That would be really embarrassing.

His mum sidesteps Neil, she places her hand on the other side. His shoulders are starting to ache from all weight on it.

She smiles at the other two.”I’m so sorry but we’re in a rush, it was lovely meeting you Mrs…?”

Audelia’s mum folds her hands over, “Dr Barbeau”

Neil interrupts before she can reply, “ – Mrs Barbeau, Goodbye.” 

Audelia just looks completely confused, can't understand the adults' stiffness. Hopefully her mum won’t hate Billy after this. 

His dad gives one last glare in their direction and yanks him towards the exit. 

Looking back he sees Audi waving with a little frown, she’s still holding the dollhouse. 

                                                            *

Neil slams his door on the way in, Billy shrinks into the back seat. 

Mama doesn’t look at him at all.

“What was that?” His father turns in his seat, fully facing him. Yep, this is definitely the worst day possible.

He looks down, avoiding eye contact.

“What have I specifically said about mingling with some types of people?”

He keeps looking at the floor.

“Huh, Billy?”

Mum interjects, “Neil I don’t think he meant – ”

A raised hand in her direction is enough to silence her.

He turns back to the wheel and starts the car. “Don’t forget the lessons I teach you, son.”

The rest of the drive is silent.

[miekasa]

the babysitter’s club (1)

+ pairing: levi ackerman + (fem) reader, featuring bright-eyed but very easily intimidated interns and part-time babysitters eren and armin who are trying their best

+ genres and warnings: modern au, parents au, fluff, yes the dog’s name is captain and he’s tiny what about it

+ summary: eren and armin are good subordinates, who happen to be pretty good babysitter, too. usually. 

+ word count: 2.7k

+ notes: this was just something fun i edited and reworked again, also to provide some more insight about dad levi and my oc kids; this focuses only on holden, who is the oldest of the bunch, but you’ll more about the rest as they go

It’s not that Levi doesn’t trust Holden’s babysitters, he just would rather watch over her himself. Moreover, he would rather have the time to spend with his small daughter instead of having to leave her in the care of someone else who isn’t you, but sometimes life gets busy, and babysitters come in real handy.

He still doesn’t understand why Erwin would schedule the both of you to attend such important work-related meetings on the same weekend; much less, to send you half-way around the world for yours, and then book Levi for damn near twelve hours on a Saturday. He would murder Erwin if he weren’t his direct boss, and a long-time friend. But shit happens, and while it’s a major inconvenience and pain in his ass to be working on a weekend, it’s good to know he could rely on the brats at the office to step up on such short notice.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that if anything happens, I won’t hesitate to dismember you,” Levi says calmly, closing his briefcase after triple-checking its contents.

“Of course,” Armin stiffens visibly, awkward laughter seeping through his words, “Eren and I would never let anything happen to Holden.”

To his left, Holden has already tugged Eren to the coffee table for a game of children’s Scrabble, determined to show off her new skills. Levi smiles slightly as he remembers playing the game with her last week, and how awe-struck she was to have seen Levi create a word bigger than “unattainable”—which is currently the longest word in her four-year-old vocabulary. But he’s certain she would have no trouble beating Eren.

He gives Armin a slight nod. He knows Holden is in good hands; or good enough hands with Armin, anyway. It’s not the first time the duo has babysat, and for as air-headed and clumsy Eren could be at the office, he seemed to be pretty damn good with kids if Holden’s attachment to the brunette was anything to go by.

Levi recounts that you’ve questioned on multiple occasions why Eren was so dedicated to being your PA when he seemed to have a potential career in taking care of, and maybe even teaching children. Not that he’s not a good assistant to you, but he’s certainly not as organized or detailed-oriented as Armin. Levi shrugs away the thought. Eren’s career choices are none of his business; his only concern is that he keeps his daughter safe and sound.

“Right. My card is on the kitchen island, you can buy lunch and dinner or whatever, I don’t think there’s much in the fridge,” Levi informs Armin. He looks briefly to the clock on the wall; he really should get going. “Remember to walk Captain at some point, and no matter what Holden says, he absolutely does need a leash on him. If Erwin isn’t being a complete asshat, I’ll be home by nine. (Y/N) will probably still be on her flight, so call me if you need anything.”

Armin nods enthusiastically, promising Levi that they would take care of everything. They’d better.

“Alright, I’m heading out,” Levi announces, pulling his keys from the table near the door, “Be good, Holden. Tell Armin and Eren if you need anything.”

Holden’s head perks up at the sound of her name. Elegantly, or as elegantly as a four-year-old can be, she stands from her seated crisscross position, to run over to Levi by the door. He should remind her that she should use walking feet inside the house, but he can’t bring himself to, instead crouching down to meet her height.

“Bye, daddy,” she tells him sweetly. Levi reaches a hand out to ruffle the top of her head, much to the small girl’s chagrin. She sports a grimace almost identical to his as he reaches up to try and smooth out the aftermath of her father’s affections, “Daddy!”

Levi can’t help but chuckle, reaching two fingers out to poke at his daughter’s forehead. “Be good. I’ll be back soon.”

“Mommy too?”

Levi sighs, “No, mommy doesn’t come back until Tuesday.”

“That’s four days away,” Holden’s doesn’t hesitate to express her dissatisfaction. Levi nods, a little proud of how quickly she’d calculated that in her head, “Can Eren stay until Tuesday?”

“No, Eren cannot.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Holden crinkles her nose. Levi really has got to do something about her fascination with Eren.

Holden looks backwards to where Eren is still seated around the coffee table, he and Armin watching the father-daughter duo. After reconciling with the fact that Eren does, in fact, have his own home to go back to at the end of the day, Holden turns back around, and holds her hand up, palm facing Levi. He does the same, bringing his larger palm to hers, so that her hand is pushed against the middle of his.

Not one for hugs, kisses, or larger displays of affection, Holden simply turns her palm so that her hand grabs around Levi’s as best as possible, hooking her thumb around his pinky finger—what Levi’s heard the young girl call a hand hug.

“Bye, daddy,” she repeats, squeezing his hand, “Come back soon.”

Levi bends his fingers to wrap around her hand, “I will.”

“Keep an eye on her,” Levi reminds Armin and Eren, after standing back up and gripping his briefcase in his hand, “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

“Holden never causes trouble,” Eren says in response, but his words are spoken in coos to the young girl, who’s already back at his side. 

Levi scoffs, “I was talking to you.” 

“We’ll be fine, boss, don’t worry,” Eren chuckles with an awkward blush, “We love looking after Holden.”

“I’m not your boss,” Levi deadpans, double-checking his pockets for his keys, “You’d better hope everything is fine. Call me if anything happens, I’ll be back soon.” 

With one final round of good-byes, and a wave from his daughter, Levi’s out the door, and stepping into his car with a grimace. It was just one stupid day out of his life. Besides, Holden would be fine with Armin and Eren; she always is. Levi is just grumpy that he can’t be the one to spend the day with her. 

He sighs, reluctantly, putting his keys in the ignition. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could come back to Holden. Everything would be fine in the meantime; for now, he had to focus on how he was going to get himself to sit through Erwin’s long-ass meeting. 

“Levi! Hi! Um… okay, so don’t freak out, but Armin and I are at the hospital with Holden right now—don’t freak out—because there was a small incident at lunch—don’t freak out and fire me please—but! It’s all gonna be okay, they’re already treating her and she’s doing fine now, so don’t freak—”  

“Tell me not to freak out one more fucking time and I’ll castrate Armin and feed you his balls myself.”

“You sound a little freaked out,” Eren placates, wincing and holding his phone away from his ear when Levi growls in response.

“You have five seconds to tell me what you two idiots did to my daughter and explain why I shouldn’t decapitate you immediately.”

“It’s a funny story, actually—so, um, we think Holden might be allergic to nuts…?”

“What do you mean might be, Jaeger?”

Eren can feel his heart in his throat. He eyes Armin on the other side of Holden’s hospital bed. He looks no better—color almost completely drained from his face, but Eren doesn’t think he can say much else to his boss before his knees give out from underneath him.

“Uh, well, it was a lot of technical terms, and—I—um, actually I’m going to let Armin explain!” Eren hurries, all but chucking his phone at the unsuspecting blonde.

Armin’s blue eyes look almost grey with anxiety, but before he can protest, Eren is flailing his hands and pointing fingers and reminding him that Levi will kill them both if he doesn’t start talking.

Reluctant, and terrified, Armin finally lifts the phone to his ear, stuttering out a pathetic hello, but Levi cuts him off before he can say anything else.

“Save it. Send me your location, and pray I don’t kill you when I get there.” Armin chokes out a “yes, sir,” before slowly bringing the phone down to his side.

The good news is that Holden’s allergic reaction wasn’t too severe: her throat had been irritated, and hives had emerged as a result, but it hadn’t been closing up. And luckily, Eren had the endurance to run nearly a mile and half with a four year old tucked under his arm; because with the traffic Armin observed whilst he and Captain huffed and lagged behind, it would have taken thrice as long to get Holden to the ER had they waited and called for an ambulance.

Even better was that Holden was an unnervingly calm kid, even whilst having an allergic reaction. She looked almost back to normal now, save for a few red looking blotches on her neck and upper arm; and seemed more than content to be watching a video on Eren’s phone, despite the situation. She was a little bummed out to find out that she could never eat the new ice cream she liked so much ever again, but she seemed to quickly get over it once Eren reminded her that there were lots of other flavors out there for her to try. Flavors that wouldn’t make her choke to death.

Still, Eren and Armin could probably kiss their jobs goodbye, seeing as they had nearly just poisoned their bosses’ daughter. Holden seemed to like them enough, but, unfortunately, Holden wasn’t the Ackerman who signed their checks.

At the very least, Eren doesn’t think you’ll be too upset with him. He doesn’t think you’ll be ecstatic to hear that while you were away on your already inconvenient work-trip on the other side of the globe, that he also managed to land your daughter in a hospital bed… but you were the more forgiving one. Then again, maybe not so forgiving when it comes to the health and wellbeing of your daughter. 

Eren falls back against the wall in dread. You weren’t even in the same country as him and he was worried about what you might say or do to him. Levi was probably less than twenty minutes away and fully capable of beheading him.

“You… uh, you think the Interior Branch is still looking for interns?” Eren breaks the silence, looking towards Armin, who’s taken the seat next to Holden’s bed, petting Captain robotically as the dog sits in his lap.

“I don’t think it matters,” Armin responds, “They won’t hire corpses.”

Fifteen minutes, and several run red lights later, Levi is bursting through the doors to the pediatric wing of the emergency room. He doesn’t care about the old woman at the reception yelling at him for causing a ruckus, or the other parents, doctors, or visitors eyeing him for marching around like he owned the place. Holden was in there somewhere, and he was going to get to her.

“Holden—oh, god, Holden,” Levi coos, frantic, as he marches into Holden’s room, scurrying to the side of her hospital bed. A cold hand reaches up to stroke her face. Angry, red bumps litter the sides of neck, her cheeks are puffier than usual, and the perimeter of her mouth seems a bit irritated, but Levi is relieved. She’s okay, his baby girl is okay.

“’M fine, daddy,” Holden assures him. She’s almost overly-perceptive for her age, able to pick up on her father’s out of character antics, and does her best to console him. “Eren ran with me all the way here when I started coughing and itchin.’”

Levi nods, the dark grey splotches in Holden’s eyes bringing him comfort, ensuring him that she was okay. “They gave me a shot, and I don’t like needles, but I didn’t even cry at all. Ask, Armin and Eren, they saw! Captain, too.”

“Brave girl,” Levi smiles, reaching his hand up to push her hair out of her face then leans over to press a kiss to her forehead.

Levi had almost forgotten that Eren and Armin were in the room until he hears a blundering cough from behind him. The younger boys look petrified, Eren practically shaking in his shoes, while Armin doesn’t even have the confidence to look him in the eye.

“We’re really sorry, Levi,” Eren apologizes, voice scratchy and wobbly, like he’d been the one to just get a shot, “We didn’t know—and when she started coughing and saying she couldn’t breathe, I swear, I ran here as fast as I could—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s… fine?”

Levi sighs. Maybe he’d been a little harsh with them on the phone, letting his emotions get the best of him. He’d already been pissed off enough to not have the time to spend with Holden this weekend; hearing that she’d been hurt was just the final push over the edge for him, but it wasn’t necessarily Armin or Eren’s fault.

“I didn’t know either,” Levi exhales, reaching at hand out to pet the top of Holden’s head again, the young girl now distracted once again by the phone in her hand, “She’s never had a reaction to anything before, and neither (Y/N) or I have any strong allergies.”

Armin shuffles where he’s standing. “The doctor said she might be allergic to tree nuts. We, uh, we gave her pistachio ice cream after lunch.”

If there’s anything concerning Levi, it’s that they gave Holden ice cream before dinner, but he supposes he can let it go for now.

“Eren told me to try it, and it tasted good, daddy,” Holden interjects, “Before I started coughing, it was good.”

“Ah, well, you can’t—you shouldn’t eat things that make you feel sick!” Eren stutters loudly.

“But it was good,” Holden pouts, “And you said to try new things, Eri. I won’t know if it makes me sick if I don’t try them.”

Levi holds back his laughter. He knows that Holden definitely wouldn’t want to try the same same flavor again knowing now that she was allergic to it; she was just pulling at Eren’s leg. Levi would have to keep an eye out for the stuff anyway, especially if her oh-so-precious Eren has expressed any former love for it. 

“Um, Levi, sir,” Armin calls, pulling Levi’s attention towards the blonde, “We didn’t know if (Y/N) would have landed already, but do you think you should call her, to, um, let her know?”

Levi’s face pales three shades when he realizes that none of them had already informed you that your daughter was currently hospitalized with a new found allergy.

“You can call her,” Levi says, a shudder in his spine at the thought of relaying this information to you, “That’s your death sentence, not mine.”

[misterghostfrog]

[IMAGE ID; a digital drawing of Martin Blackwood carrying Jonathan Sims from The Magnus Archives. Martin is a fat freckled white man with curly ginger hair that is shaved close at the sides. He has a pair of round framed glasses in a bright red, under the glasses he is wearing eyeliner, and a navy eyeshadow. He has black lipstick, two black snakebite piercings under his lip, and a small black nostril piercing. His ear has a large black piercing that cuffs a chain to a small black piercing higher up his ear, and one final black piercing in the middle. He has a black choker, and then a looser chain necklace with an eye ornament on it. He has a studded lather jacket on that is covered in multiple patches and pins, mostly hidden by Jon: of the visible pins there is a trans flag patch on his chest, and on his shoulder is a large dark colored patch that has A-C-A-B on it in white. Under the Jacket is a black shirt that he has partly tucked into his pants, the shirt has a large anarchy symbol drawn on it in red. Under that he is wearing jeans that are significantly ripped as far as we can see. On his right hand he has several black rings, and his nails are painted black. Jon is a skinny Jordanian man with brown eyes and shoulder-length grey-streaked dark brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail at the base of his neck. He has a beard beginning to grow that appears to be the product of forgetting to shave. He is covered in a series of small round scars that vary in exact size. He is wearing a pair of rectangle-framed glasses, a plain t-shirt, a pair of jeans that are ripped at the knee, and converse. Martin is carrying Jon bridal style in his arms, and is looking away, he is blushing, though his expression is concerned and appears to be speaking. Jon has his arms wrapped around Martins neck, his cheeks are darkened and he is staring at hte ground with an expression somewhere between fear and the face one makes when they’re having to retrace every step they’ve taken to get here. END ID]

Punk Martin but make it Jonmartin.

Also I wrote a lil thing to go along with this under the cut, its only barely edited because it was mostly for fun so be warned its a big ol mess! But its s2 jonmartin nonsense with Martin being very cool and attractive and Jon being seven layers deep in denial (Also I may have written Jon as a touch autistic because its projection hours tonight i’m too sleepy to mask and that goes for writing too babey)

(Mentions of worms, past injuries, and Jon dealing with some internalised ableism and general foolishness)

Jon forgot his cane.

It’s a relatively regular occurrence, for a multitude of reasons. For one thing it’s something of a recent addition to the list of things he needs to keep track of when he leaves the house. Another lovely parting gift from Prentiss, a worm in his left leg that went just quick enough to start burrowing into the bone before it was removed. 

For another, he really has other things to worry about. And if it doesn’t hurt, it shouldn’t matter. Most days he can get by just fine without it- it hurts of course. But not so much he can’t support himself, and really, does he need it otherwise?

Martin and Tim don’t seem to agree, though Sasha has kept respectfully to herself on the whole business. Martin, of course, he trusts. Albeit only recently. But that doesn’t make him right, his priorities are warped. Naturally. He doesn’t see the bigger picture.

(or at least that’s what Jon tells himself)

Which is what leads to this moment, sitting on a bench outside the shop, single grocery bag by his feet. He’d only run out to get a few things, but somewhere between the his flat the the shop his barely visible limp had become more pronounced as his hip began to throb, then he was halfway through the frozens when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to finish the trip. After that he’d barely made it through checkout to the nearest seat before all but collapsing into it.

And now he’s sitting, stuck. An insurmountable walk from home, without his stupid cane. Which, he notes, he wouldn’t need if he’d brought in the first place. Funny how that works.

“Jon?” A familiar voice jolts him out of his thoughts. Jon jolts upright. Martin. 

He knows Martin lives in the area, a side effect of his... investigations. Though he was unaware he used the same shop. He looks up, a greeting or perhaps a question on his lips that dies as soon as he actually lays eyes on Martin.

Martin is wearing a leather jacket. Not just a leather jacket of course, but that’s the first thing Jon can process. He’s wearing a studded leather jacket covered in various patches that advertise various opinions and identities that Jon doesn’t have time to think about. His  jeans are about as much rip as they are Jean, and he’s got piercings- and eyeliner. he’s dressed like he should be riding a motorcycle, not the beat-up red bike he’s got beside him.

“Are you alright?” Martin says, and Jon realizes he’s been staring.

“Are you going to a costume party?” Jon blurts instead of answering. A costume party would make sense, of course. Martin doesn’t dress like this, he dresses like- like-

It occurs to him dimly that he’s never encountered Martin outside of work, at least never in a scenario that would allow him to change out of his work clothes. And some part of him has always assumed that sweaters and khakis were simply how he dressed. It suited him, really. Or Jon had assumed, but then again he assumed anything familiar is suiting.

“Wh- A- no?” Martin answers, looking vaguely offended. Jon flushes.

“I- sorry, I just- I’ve... I didn’t think you seemed the type to dress... like that...?” Jon fumbles, pathetically trying to salvage the conversation. Judging by Martins expression, he’s failing.

Martin opens his mouth to say something, and Jon realizes there’s likely no coming back from this particular mortification. He snatches the bag by his feet and moves to stand. Some excuse already tumbling out when the reason for his sit-down, which had dulled to a shockingly forgettable throb, decides to remind him of his place in the world.

He lets out a cry of pain, and crumples. Only stopped from hitting the ground by a pair of arms that wrap around his chest and under his shoulder. 

“Oh my god, Jon. Are you alright- what- is it your leg? Where’s your cane-” Martin babbles, Gently replacing Jon on his bench as Jon breathes through gritted teeth.

“It’s fine- i’m fine Martin I-” he sighs, studiously avoiding Martins gaze. “My cane is at home.” He tries not to sound chastised as he says the last part- he shouldn’t have to after all. He’s still Martins boss. He shouldn’t be looking away like he’s been caught at something.

“Jon” Martin sounds exasperated, and Jon crosses his arms. Once again, nothing like someone being scolded. He’s not being scolded. He’s an adult. “How long have you been sitting here like this?”

“I...” Jon begins before trailing off, he’s not actually sure. The period between sitting on the bench and the pain dulling enough for him to think through the fog is something is a blur. He is pretty sure someone asked if he was alright at some point. His lack of answer seems to be enough for Martin though.

“Just give me a moment.” He says, stepping away from Jon over to his bike- which has fallen over onto the ground -pulling it upright and over to Jon on the bench. He pushes down the rusted kickstand with a hearty kick- and Jon briefly notes he’s wearing steel-toed boots -and sets the bike gently upright.

“Okay, so! If you sit on the bike I can push it, and you can get home and rest that leg without jostling it too much by trying to walk without your cane.” He says pointedly. Jon makes a face,

“This... this really isn’t necessary Martin- I’m perfectly capable-” He grumbles, waving a hand dismissively. But a glance at Martins expression shuts him up quick. 

“Do you think you can stand?” He asks. Jon pauses, the memory of the white-hot flash of pain still fresh in his mind. He grimaces, shaking his head. Martin hums thoughtfully. “Alright, would you be alright if I picked you up? Just for a moment to get you on the bike” He asks carefully.

Jon hesitates, looking between Martin and the bike. And weighs his options. After several seconds he nods. Martin smiles, and Jon feels something in his chest flutter. Anxiety at his decision most likely. Or perhaps nerves in relation to sitting on a bike, he’s never ridden one- of course Martin will be doing all the work but surely there’s some sort of balance required isn’t there? Really he shouldn’t be riding a bike like this-

Those thoughts are all swept away at the feeling of large warm hands gently scooping him off the bench. He instinctively throws his arms around Martins neck for support as he’s lifted into the air. 

He can feel Martins chest warm against his side as Martin holds him close, one hand on his shoulder and the other supporting his legs. He’s being cradled by his subordinate, carefully as so not to jostle his leg. And all he can think about is how warm Martin is. He’s large and soft despite all the sharper accessories and he smells a bit like leather and tea on top of whatever soap he uses. Probably something that Jon wouldn’t be able to name with a gun to his head. And Jon can see the freckles on Martins cheeks and neck close enough to count if he wanted to even as he looks away, saying something Jon can’t quite parse because he’s too busy reeling from the realization he’d be happy to sit in Martins arms like this for the rest of his life.

His face goes hot and he forces himself to look down at the ground. The pain is clearly messing with his head, or perhaps the sleep deprivation. Or perhaps he’s still riding the high from that moment of realization that Martin isn’t trying to kill him, that he can trust him. 

Either way he’s not thinking straight, which is why he’s dissapointed instead of relieved when Martin gently places him on the bike with the exact amount of care he took in picking him up. Which shouldn’t make him feel so oddly jittery but it does.

The ride is quiet, aside from awkward instructions from Jon on where to turn as Martin guides them carefully along the sidewalk. They miss a turn once because Jons too preoccupied with the feeling of Martins arm bumping against his shoulder as he guides the bike.

And then they’re at Jons flat, and Jon once again feels that misplaced disappointment. He wonders if perhaps Martin will carry him up to his flat, and his face burns again as the silliness of the thought hits him.

Martin does very, very briefly lift him to help him off the bike when he stumbles. But his leg has recovered enough that he can make it up to his flat without assistance, or so he tells Martin. Who looks unconvinced.

“Let me at least walk with you, yea? That way I know for sure you got home safe.” He insists, and Jon forced himself to be displeased with the situation.

It ends up being a good thing Martin came along though, a partway up the steps the railing is no longer enough to support Jon, and he ends up half-carried the rest of the way. Martins arm under his shoulder, his own loops around Martins back, gripping the jacket for support. He can feel his head drifting at the contact- Martin is just so damned warm and safe and Martin it’s impossible not to get distacted.

He forces himself to think about something else, anything else. The jacket- he can feel the leather under his fingertips and it’s as good distraction as any.

It’s a nice jacket, really. Clearly well-worn. And it does suit Martin, in an odd sort-of way.

Jon winces internally, remembering the conversation from earlier. He hadn’t meant to come off so... well. It doesn’t matter. Except that it does, even though it doesn’t, but it does.

Once they reach Jons door, he pushes off of Martin to lean on the wall while he fumbles for his keys. Martin lingers as he does so, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly in the silence.

Jon finds his keys and sighs in relief as the door swings open.

He nearly wanders inside and shuts the door before remembering basic human etiquette. He pauses in the doorway, turning to Martin. Who smiles awkwardly.

“Thank you.” He says stiffly, still leaning heavily on the doorframe. “That was... very kind. Of you.” Martin shakes his head.

“It’s nothing, really. Couldn’t exactly just leave you there, could I?” 

Jon shifts awkwardly, wincing at the brief weight on his leg. He’s right of course, morally at least. If not logically.

“I... I suppose not.” He says, hesitating before adding “I’m sorry.”

“Look, Jon. I already said it’s fine-”

“No-” Jon grimaces “not for that. I- I meant... for what I said. About your clothes. They don’t... I just- I didn’t expect it, and I may have come off as... rude.” He mutters

“Oh.” Martin says flatly, Jons sure he’d forgotten about that until just now, and he wishes he could have kept it that way.

“they do suit you, though.” He says, after an awkward pause. “Your clothes, I mean. It looks- you look nice.” he finishes as genuinely as he can- he does mean it. Of course, he just doesn’t know how to make it sound like he does.

“Oh” Martin says again, brightening slightly, his cheeks going blotchy red in a blush. “I- er- thank you...? I suppose?”

“Yes. Well. Your welcome, I suppose.” There’s another awkward pause, Martin isn’t quite smiling at Jon, but there’s something soft in his expression Jon can’t quite parse. “ Have a good day, Martin.” He says finally, after a long pause. Martins cheeks redden again.

“Oh- yeah, er. You too Jon- and take care of yourself. Alright?”

Jon nods, and Martin smiles. And Jon thinks he’d like to see Martin smile a bit more.

He waves as Martin heads down the stairs, he can hear Martin humming as he goes.

[lokislastlove]

Come One, Come All (dark!Loki x reader)

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, knife play, oral (m&f), smut, bondage, kidnapping.

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: I wrote another one! No idea where this came from, but it was fun to write. Still working on improving my smut, huge thanks to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for some tips and editing the shit out of it. 😘 also I know there is a creepy clown in the pic but I feel like I have to say there aren’t any clowns in the fic. I hate clowns.

Chapter 1:

It was the kind of summer night you dream about, warm enough to keep you comfortable in your shorts and peasant top, but with a light breeze that keeps you cool enough to fight the flush of alcohol in your veins. You look forward to these moments when you are able to go out with your girlfriends and let loose, forgetting about all life’s responsibilities, if just for a single night.

“Come on!” Ash calls over her shoulder, her hand tight around your wrist pulling you impatiently.

“Aww but that looks so good” you groan as you press your face longingly against the glass barrier of the hand dipped corn dog cart.

The sweet scent of the frying corn dough wafts tantalizingly through the air making your mouth water. You friends laugh at your theatrics, having just helped you scarf down a large sugary funnel cake and a platter of nachos, the evidence of which still stains the corner of your mouth. Really, it was their fault for getting you tipsy before taking you to the county fair, everything just smelled heavenly and if you could you would try one of everything.

“Just a slushee?!” You beg as Jen steps behind you and pushes you out of the food court, giggling the entire time.

“Come on, fight the drunchies! You promised you would try that new funhouse,” Jen whines, looping her arm through yours, Ash doing the same on the other side.

“Oh yeah,” you grumble.

“Oh stop it” Ash scolds playfully. “Everyone at work keeps talking about it - it’s like a mini escape room! And I’ve always wanted to do one, please.” She rants excitedly before giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh that’s cheating. No one can resist those big brown eyes” you pout, but yield as easily as they knew you would.

“I know” Ash smirks, tossing back her long silky black hair over her slender shoulder.

“This is gonna be so much fun, I promise” Jen bumps your hip, giving you a wide encouraging smile.

You manage a strained grin as you let them lead you through the crowd. It’s not that you don’t like funhouses or the idea of doing an escape room, having always loved solving riddles and doing puzzles. It’s just you don’t like clowns, and every funhouse in your experience has at least one.

“Oh damn there’s a line!” Jen moans as you all stop in front of a large structure covered in flashing lights, the ominous ‘Tricksters Trap’ bathing your face in a violent red glow.

Garish contrasting colors somehow both attract your eye and make it hard to look at. Your pupils dilate with the lines of fluorescent bulbs burning into your retinas. The stereotypical circus music blares through the cheap speakers, reminding you of one of those old Jack in the box toys. And of course, without fail, was the obligatory clown statue hanging over the entrance, like some creepy sentinel there to guide you to your inevitable demise.

“Ugh fucking clowns” you grimace as you pass by the entrance, heading toward the end of the line.

“Yeah they definitely nailed the creep factor,” Jen agrees, her eyes shining with nervous excitement.

“I know isn’t it great?!” Ash squeals.

You stand there taking in the horrific detailing painted on the side of the metal structure. You are thankful when Ash explains there is a time limit, only ten minutes to complete the puzzle or else they kick you out and you have to try again. If you figure out the puzzle you get to leave through the mirror maze and you earn the coveted “I tricked the Trickster” sticker.

“Gotta get that sticker, or else that bitch Katie at work will never let me forget that she got one and I didn’t” Ash complains, causing you and Jen to share a look and snicker.

“Hey! Don’t laugh, this is serious! We gotta be smart and figure this out, failure is not an option” she urges dramatically before collapsing into drunken giggles with you and Jen.

“You ladies seem eager to prove yourselves,” slithers a low voice.

Startled you gasp and spin around quickly. The three of you look up at the tall lean figure standing behind you. He wears a perfectly tailored black ensemble, that matches the color of his slicked back hair. His eyes practically glow green against his alabaster complexion. His sharp cheekbones and angular jaw make your breath hitch, causing his thin lips to curve into a sinister smirk. He is stunning.

“Um, yeah. Well this place has the whole town buzzin’. Seems like everyone is talking about it” Jen is the first to speak.

“Ah I see. Wouldn’t want to miss your chance to take a stab at it” the mysterious man surmised, eyes focused on you.

“We got this shit. Right guys?” Ash assures him as she playfully smacks you and Jen.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out. Good luck,” he challenges with a raise of a brow.

You stare after him as he saunters away without another word. His hips and shoulders sway smoothly, his soft footsteps giving him a dangerous almost feline vibe, like he could rival even the most deadly of predators. As he turns to round the corner of the ride he takes one last look over his shoulder at you. Your eyes lock for only a fraction of a second but it’s enough to send a chill down your spine.

“That was weird, right?” You mutter, eyes still transfixed where he disappeared.

“Eh, just another creepy dude. If I had a nickel for every weirdo who tries to chat me up…” Jen jokes.

“You’d have like a whole 50 cents,” sasses Ash.

You are finally broken from your daze when Ash is pushed into you. You laugh and try to brush off the lingering effect of the handsome stranger, shifting your focus back to your friends. The line goes by quicker than expected, with only one group out of the three ahead of you making it out with stickers. The losing groups return to the line from a back door, bickering about where they went wrong.

Finally it is your turn. Ash claps her hands excitedly, dancing up the metal stairs to the costumed man at the entrance. His red and white stripped suit is expertly torn and painted with fake blood to make him look as intimidating as possible. With a tip of his top hat he welcomes the three of you and begins to explain the rules in his well practiced accent.

“Come one come all to the Tricksters Trap, if you’re feeling lost, just go find the map.” He sings with flair and a perfectly timed bow, directing you to the inauspicious black door.

Taking a deep breath you follow your squealing friends into the darkened hallway. Pausing to look back as the door creaks shut, cutting off the jovial sounds of laughter and chatter with a sudden slam. You flinch at the loud noise and turn back to the dim hallway. The short corridor is lined with wall to wall green velvet curtains barely visible with the green rope lights running along the ceiling.

“Guys?” You whisper when you don’t see them next to you, causing your heart rate to quicken

You call for them again, this time louder, your feet unwilling to move from the spot. It has only been thirty seconds and you are already about to call it quits. Get a grip. You take a hesitant step forward.

“You guys?!” You call shakily.

“Hey! Come on we found the map!” Jen pokes her head from around the corner at the end of the hall.

She disappears just as quickly, waving her arm for you to follow. You breathe a sigh of relief and rush after her. You enter a large room filled with all sorts of random objects. It’s as if it is designed to overload your senses. The green from the hall carried on into the room, more velvet green curtains hung on the walls that were not obstructed by shelves of books or other oddities. You saw everything from perfectly aligned glass jars filled with alien looking creatures, grandfather clocks, to treasure chests overflowing with grizzled toys.

Jen and Ash are hunched over a table with a map spread out smoothly. It was easy enough to see it was a map of the room and hallway, with what appeared to be three small rooms hidden along the wall behind the heavy green drapery. You go over and pull back a curtain and find a locked door, the other two also hiding a locked door.

“Ok so it looks like we gotta find a way to open these doors” you offer, your anxiety calming a bit as you focus on the mystery at hand.

“Hey look there is some sort of code over here by the lock on the door.” Ash hollers excitedly.

You each pick a door code and frantically search the room. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out you need to use the books on the large shelf along one wall. The first number tells you the book the second refers to a specific page. You find a slip of paper in the book with a riddle written in a blood red ink.

“I make two people out of one” You read aloud.

“You can hold me in one hand, but I’m used to fill the room” Ash reads hers, her face twisting in concentration.

You both look to Jen, “I have two hands, but I can’t clap.”

“Damn no wonder so many people failed, definitely wish I wasn’t drunk right now” Ash laughs.

“No no we can do this, it’s probably items in the room so let’s just focus. We’ll do one at a time.” You assert, pacing the room and trying to take in all the random objects.

“Two hands…” you mutter as you stop in front of a large grandfather clock. “Clocks have hands!” You yell excitedly and open the narrow door.

The heavy pendulums swing inside and you see a shining silver glint off the rounded golden end. You pull off the small silver key, stuck on by a tiny magnet, and jump in excitement.

“Holy crap! You’re a genius!” Jen exclaims running over to take the key and try it in the door.

The key slides in smoothly and the door opens with a gratifying click.

“Woo! Keep going, you are on a roll!” Ash claps as she cheers you on.

“Ok, ok” you giggle before taking a deep breath. “Two people out of one… maybe a camera? Or wait…” you realize as you stare at Ash currently checking her makeup in an antique mirror hung between two curtains.

“Ash! Try pulling on that mirror!” You yell pointing frantically at the mirror in front of her.

Her brows knit together briefly before understanding, grabbing the frame and tugging gently until it swings open, revealing a key hung on the wall.

“Yes!” You all shriek together.

Suddenly, the lights flicker and a loud maniacal cackle reverberates through the surround sound speaker, turning your elation into yelps of surprise.

“Two minutes left” a familiar polished voice echoes forebodingly throughout the room.

“Shit, that scared the crap out of me” Jen laughs clutching at her chest.

The warning gives you pause, managing to shift the spirit of the whole room. Ash giggles nervously as she watches the lights of the room transition from their previous dim yellow light to a menacing red hue. The mood lighting in addition to the increasing volume of the horror soundtrack playing over the speaker helps to put you back into your initial anxious state.

“Seriously? Is this fucking necessary?” You curse, shaking your head.

“Ok let’s get the last one guys! We can still do this!” Jen yells through the cacophony of sound effects.

“Yeah what can we fit in our hand but somehow also fills the room?” Ash reiterated the final riddle.

“These red lights make it so much harder to see” Jen complains bitterly as she rummages through the items inside a large chest.

“Lights… Jen that’s it! A lightbulb!” A smile breaks out on your face as you figure out the final clue.

“Look up there!” Ash points to a solitary darkened light bulb screwed into the ceiling.

“I got it.” Jen jumps onto the table and reaches up, unscrewing it quickly. “There is a key inside!” She shouts.

She unscrews the bottom of the fake lightbulb and received the key before handing it to Ash. Each of you run over to the corresponding doors and turn the key, squealing in delight when they all slide open.

“Is that it?” Jen asks looking into the cramped dark space behind the door.

It was little more than a closet. Barely enough room for each of you to stand in. You were at a loss. You could have sworn that would be the end.

“Guys there is a lever here on the back wall of mine, how about yours?” Ash’s muffled voice calls from inside her closet.

“Oh yeah mine too!” Jen replies.

“Do you think we have to pull them at the same time? ‘Cus mine did nothing when I tried it” Ash says poking her head out to look at you.

“Thirty seconds!” That haunting voice booms again as a tick clock sounds through the speakers, counting down your final moments.

“Ok let’s try it together!” You nod at both of them, before stepping into the tight dark space.

“THREE! TWO! ONE!” You shout, mirroring your friends calls, pulling down your lever with a snap.

There is a moment of silence as the lights of the room behind you suddenly go dark, the music and sound effects cutting off instantly.

“Did we get it?!” You yell.

You don’t get the chance to hear your friends response as the wood door slams behind you, locking you into the small space.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

[peaceisadirtyword]

Move On IX (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello!♥️ I finished this yesterday but I needed some time to edit it calmly, so I waited until today! I have to say, do you know when you plan an entire fanfic around a scene? Like you imagine a scene but need context, so you end up writing an entire series? This is what happened to me with the last scene of this chapter. I didn’t even know how to write it, and it ended up being much worse than I thought it would be. Anyway, there’s just one chapter left (will probably be ready for next week, bc I finished the internship and I have a bit more time now!) For now, enjoy this one🥰 

Btw! I made a spotify playlist with songs that give me ‘Move On’ vibes, feel free to listen to it and if you have a song that reminds you of it tell me and I will add it!💕

Warnings: angst, like a lot of angst, this is the most angsty thing I’ve ever written, drama bc I’m a dramatic person, a bit of fluff, mentions of anxiety, broken hearts... Angst. Also, Ivar may be a bit out of character (?) sorry :(

Words: 4074

Move On Masterlist

Move On Playlist

gif belongs to @beastologist​

The worst part of going out to the bar with your friends was that they were always surrounded by boys. You weren't that much into one night stands, so you tended to stay next to the bar or go dance by yourself and maybe make new friends as your friends flirted. That night wasn't different. You had barely drank two beers when one of your friends started glancing behind you and biting her lip. 

"Okay, I'm seeing the hottest guys ever right there" she muttered as soon as the conversation died. You were thankful that she didn't interrupt you, at least "Oh my god, they look like nordic Gods"

You raised an eyebrow with curiosity, but didn't turn around. Your other friends quickly checked them out and the giggles and whispers started. You wished you could join them, and gossip about hot guys in bars, but you just couldn't, and every time you tried it ended up being a disaster. 

"They're looking" one of them smirked "I knew it, this dress always works" 

You chuckled, shaking your head but low-key proud as you had been the one choosing her outfit and makeup. They were stunning, and you could understand that every guy in that bar had checked them out at least once, it made you proud to have pretty friends. So you kind of expected it when they started muttering that the guys were approaching. 

They hadn't lied, those boys were truly handsome, and even you widened your eyes and your mouth parted. You couldn't help but smile kindly at them when they greeted all of you. 

"I'm Ubbe" one of them, that had the brightest blue eyes you had ever seen "These are my brothers, Hvitserk and Sigurd" he pointed at the other two, both blonde. One of them, the first one to caught your eye, had dirty blonde hair and green eyes, while the other one had blue eyes but more pale than his brother. You didn't get to stare at them as much as you would have liked to, as you friends introduced themselves. 

"And she's Y/N" one of them pointed at you, and when the three pairs of eyes set on you, you had to clear your throat and look away quickly. 

"It's truly a pleasure to meet all of you" the green-eyed one, with a flirtatious tone, bowed his head slowly with a smirk on his lips "We realized you ran out of drinks" he raised an eyebrow "And we can't allow that, now can we?" 

He was good, one of your friends giggled and his smirk widened. 

"Yeah, we'd like to invite you to some drinks" Ubbe winked at other one of your friends, who nodded slowly.

"Okay, so next round is on you" she shot him a flirtatious smile and before you could react, they were already coupled up and flirting shamelessly. You finished your drink and looked around, a bit bored. 

"Is your friend not going to join us?"

You raised your head. So there were four of them. Well, maybe you would have someone to drink shots with. 

"Ivar is not much into meeting new people" Hvitserk chuckled "He doesn't like people" 

"He's cute" your friend hit your shoulder "Y/N, go talk to him" 

You knew they meant well, and they wanted you to have fun the same way they were having fun, so you rolled your eyes playfully and turned around to see him. 

You expected to see a handsome guy, if he was half as hot as the ones now sitting on your table, he'd be very hot. But you stopped breathing and nearly choked with your drink when you saw him. 

He was probably the most beautiful person you had ever seen. He was beautiful. He looked bored, his finger scrolled down his phone and sometimes his eyes wandered around the room with a scowl on his face. But if he looked like that scowling, you couldn't imagine how he'd look with a smile. 

You realized you had been staring, and cleared your throat as you turned back to your friends. The three brothers were staring at you, and Ubbe and Hvitserk smirked at each other. 

"Um... I wouldn't want to bother him" you shrugged, trying to gain some composure. 

"You wouldn't" Hvitserk raised an eyebrow "Ivar doesn't like people but, he might like a cute girl talking to him" 

"Don't listen to him" the other blonde one, Sigurd, rolled his eyes "He's an asshole, don't even bother" 

"Sigurd" Ubbe sighed, but decided to ignore them and went back to talking to your friend.

Hvitserk glared at his brother and shook his head. 

"I mean, you don't have to flirt with him or anything, I just thought the both of you would like some company" he smiled kindly at you "And I think you'd get along" 

You nodded slowly and he looked back to your friend, who winked at you with a smirk. When you finished your drink, you looked at him again. This time he caught you, and you turned around quickly with widened eyes and your heart racing. After the round of shots Ubbe bought, you stood up. 

Ivar was confused. He had seen you entering the bar with your friends, laughing at something someone said at the door. Then you ordered your drink with a smile and narrowed your eyes while looking for an empty table. When you finally found one, you quickly took your friends there. Now he couldn't see your face, but he kept glancing at you sometimes. He went out with his brothers frequently, and yes, he  looked at girls like they did, but when they'd stand up to go and actually talk to the girls, Ivar would always stay behind. He truly didn't need the pity stares or the smiles full of compassion, he also didn't want to see how they rejected him with a polite smile after they saw his crutches. No one wanted to hook up with the guy with crutches, but they were too nice and too polite to say it in front of him and his brothers. 

You looked beautiful, he noticed you as soon as you entered, and you had a different vibe, but he didn't even dare to think about you too much, not even when his brothers started whispering about that group of cute girls. 

"I also like that one" Hvitserk had said, pointing at you discreetly "But Ivar saw her first, and he had heart eyes while looking at her, so..." He shrugged. 

Ivar was startled by that, and turned to glare at his brother.

"I noticed too" Ubbe chuckled "Come on, let's talk to them, she looks nice" 

Ivar shrugged and looked down, ignoring them. 

"He won't do it" Sigurd raised an eyebrow "And he'd panic if she talks to him"

He had a point, Ivar did panic when he saw you approaching him. At first he thought you were going to the bar, then you looked at him and he gulped. He didn't have any more beer to calm him down, and he felt his heart racing. 

"Hi" you smiled at him, a bit flustered "Can I?" 

You pointed to the chair in front of him, the one Hvitserk had occupied before. Ivar stared at the chair for a couple of seconds before nodding slowly. 

You sat down, a bit taken aback by his silence. 

"I'm Y/N" 

He cleared his throat and finally found the courage to look at your eyes. 

"Ivar" 

"I... They went to flirt with my friends and I thought I'd come here with you because it's..." you wrinkled your nose and he nearly smiled "A bit awkward" 

Ivar nodded slowly. 

"That's okay" 

That's okay? What the fuck?, he thought. 

"Anyway, um... Do you want a beer?" 

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" he raised an eyebrow and his voice startled you. It had a musical tone, not too deep but not that high either. It was oddly attractive. 

"Well, I was going to invite you, but if that's affecting your masculinity, I will let you pay" you chuckled. 

Ivar looked amused. 

"It's because that always works for my brothers" he shrugged. 

Your heart raced when you realized what he meant. You still couldn't believe that a guy like that would even look at you, but you weren't going to complain. 

"Okay then, maybe I could pay next time"

You nearly regretted that, you had talked to him for barely two minutes and you were already talking about a second date. 

He probably thinks I'm desperate...

"Maybe" 

From up close, you could appreciate just how blue his eyes were. They reminded you of Ubbe's eyes, but Ivar's were less warm, deep, intense and overwhelming as the ocean, framed by dark eyelashes that completed a mysterious stare that made you shiver. His lips were full and pouty, and you nearly widened your eyes when he licked his bottom lip nervously. You realized you had been staring and it was probably not very nice to feel observed in that way. 

"Um... So they're your brothers?" you glanced to the other table, where your friends and their new companions laughed loudly. 

"Yes, I'm the youngest" he nodded "We have another brother but he's older, he has a family and those things" 

Their parents must be proud of what they made, you thought. If everyone in that family had those looks, you were probably meeting the people with the best genes in the world. 

"That's nice" you smiled "They seem fun"

Ivar grimaced. 

"They're fun for the first ten minutes, then they're annoying as fuck" he rolled his eyes, and you couldn't help but laugh. Ivar had never made a girl laugh, and he widened his eyes, surprised by the warm feeling that spread in his chest. 

Suddenly, your eyes found the crutches. Ivar tensed up and watched you as you stared at them confused. 

"What happened?" You looked at his face again, and immediately felt terrible. What if he didn't want to talk about it? Why did you have to ask? 

"It's a disease" suddenly, his tone was a bit more dry "I was born with it, I need braces and crutches to walk" 

You nodded slowly. 

"Sorry for asking" you bit your lip. 

"It's fine" he shrugged "As long as it doesn't bother you"

You narrowed your eyes softly. 

"Why would it bother me?" you smiled "I still wanna get that drink"

Ivar was equally surprised and relieved when you stood up to approach the bar, turning to wink at him with a smile. 

________________________________

Your face was covered on makeup and dried tears. You felt your lips dry and your eyes hurt from crying. It was cold, even if Ivar's warm body was pressed against yours. He was asleep, the medicines always left him exhausted, and he would sleep soundly for hours. You wanted to turn around and hug him so bad... To hide your face into his neck and breathe, relax next to his body like you did for years. It was your safe place, but now it didn't feel right. 

You turned your head to look at him. Ivar looked so calm and peaceful that your fingers ached to touch him, but at the same time it was even more painful than before. You had been weak, and sleeping with him would only hurt you both, because maybe the both of you thought things were just like before, but they weren't. 

You couldn't forget the pain, the disappointment and the rejection. Ivar had chosen someone else over you and that changed everything, and you were tired of being the weak girl that cried and mourned constantly because of him. 

It was still dark outside, but you could feel the dawn was near, as there was that chill in the air that precedes sunrise. But you couldn't sleep, you laid there the entire night, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember how his touch felt, how warm his lips were, because you were making a decision. 

You closed your eyes. They burnt and yearned for some sleep, but you wouldn't let yourself sleep next to him, not anymore. 

You could wait until he woke up, or leave before without a warning. Either way would end up in disaster, because you knew Ivar wouldn't let you go without an explanation, and you couldn't look at him in the eye and leave him, you weren't strong enough. 

You opened your eyes again, and glanced at him, leaning in to kiss his forehead softly. Ivar sighed deeply in his sleep, and snuggled closer to you. The pain seemed to have stopped, but you thought you'd leave some painkillers next to his bed before leaving. 

Years later, you still felt that tickling in your belly whenever you looked at him, just like the first time. Who would have told you that the strange at the bar, who sat alone and glaring at everyone, would become the center of your world? You remembered those first days, the shy kisses and nervous touches, how he hesitated whenever he leant to kiss you. His brothers' teasing, his small smiles and how he blushed when you said how good he looked. How he looked at you, how time would stop when the two of you were together. The weight of those nearly five years overcame you, and you let the tears fall once again. You loved him so much it physically hurt, and now you were sure he had loved you too, at least at some point, but now things were over. He made a choice, and he ruined it. Maybe you were also to blame, thinking that what you had with Ivar was strong enough to last forever, and that no one could ever break that. Maybe you should have taken care of him, made him feel special, like she did. 

Moving slowly, careful not to wake him up, you got out of the bed, shivering when you left the warm covers and walked around the room, picking your underwear and your dress and getting dressed as quickly as you could. Then you opened the door slowly and left the room, looking for your shoes and purse, which you left in the living room. The only time you went back to Ivar's room was to leave the pills on the nightstand next to a glass of water and caress his hair softly for the last time. Then, you left again, closing the door softly and swallowing your tears and the lump on your throat. 

You looked around the kitchen and living room. It felt so cold and empty now, and the silence was louder than Ivar and Hvitserk's laugh. You had lost the count of how many hours you spent in that living room, laughing with the brothers, whom you considered your family, eating, watching tv, cuddling with Ivar, having sex and then apologizing to Hvitserk for having sex on the couch, and then baking his favorite cookies to make him forgive you. Their presence lightened up the room, and standing there without any of them made you realize just how hard was going to be living without them. 

But you couldn't just leave without a word. It wouldn't be fair. You intended to call Hvitserk, but Ivar... Maybe it would be the last time you saw Ivar. The mere thought was enough to make you sob again, covering your mouth. 

You grabbed a small notebook and a pen from the small wooden table of the living room. It was a notebook you bought for them, to make them write down the phone numbers and the important things, even if they only used it to draw stupid things when they were bored. 

You wrote slowly, carefully, drying your tears when they didn't let you see. When you finished, you felt even more heartbroken, but also a bit more relieved. Maybe you couldn't look at him and say it, but it was easier to write it, and that's what you had done. 

You didn't bother to put the heels on and grabbed the shoes and the purse before leaving the flat, not daring to look back. 

_________________________________________

The taxi stopped next to your door. You managed to mutter a weak 'thank you' before stepping out of the car. The driver looked worried, but he just nodded and said goodbye. As you approached the door, you noticed a figure sitting next to it, your heart skipped a beat and you smiled widely when you recognized Hvitserk. He was still dressed on his suit, and his lips curved softly when he saw you, but it faded soon. The sun was starting to rise and he looked like an angel with the rose light hitting his honey colored hair and his playful green eyes, that now looked exhausted and worried. He looked like an angel, and he had been your angel for the past few months. Your smile turned into a grimace as you approached him, and when Hvitserk finally wrapped his arms around you, you let the tears fall again. 

"I knew it wasn't a good idea" he muttered, his voice husky and deep. 

You let yourself sob for a few minutes. 

"It was" 

"Did the two get to talk?" 

"Not much" you nearly smiled "But I got to say what I needed to say" 

"Good" he nodded "It will stop" 

You nodded. The pain wouldn't last forever, at least not the intense pain that didn't let you breathe. Someday you would be able to think about your relationship and feel that warmth again. You just needed some time. 

"Let's go" he whispered "I'll cook breakfast" 

__________________________________

Ivar had a bad feeling when he woke up. He forgot to draw the curtains, and the sunlight that entered the room made him open his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that your side of the bed was cold. The second was that it was cold and his legs were starting to hurt. Skipping his treatment would take its toll on him for days. He touched the part of the bed in which you laid after making love, looking at him with teary eyes and a dreamy smile. He pouted and looked away before the tears could reach his eyes. 

You had left his medicines next to the bed. Ivar nearly smiled, of course you would do something like that. Maybe he'd get up and go to the kitchen and you would be there, making coffee and trying to cook with the few things you could find in the fridge. Maybe you had put the earphones on and were listening to your favourite playlist as you danced around the kitchen. Maybe your face would lighten up when you saw him again. 

The pills were easier to swallow than the lump on his throat. He took his time, too scared to leave the room and not find you out there. He should have hold you tighter. 

Ivar put the sweatpants and a shirt on, and then the braces. His legs protested when he stood up, but he ignored them and walked slowly to the door. 

The flat was empty. Your shoes and purse were gone. Ivar's lower lip trembled and he stood there for a couple of minutes. Maybe you'd be back soon. Maybe you went to get breakfast. 

The weight of your absence washed over him for the first time. Freydis was gone, and now you had gone too. For months, he hadn't been with you but he knew you were there, that if he called you'd come, you'd be back to him and everything would be okay. Freydis made him feel so many things at the same time, but there was something missing, something that didn't fit. He did feel special, blessed by the Gods and important. And he did love Freydis, a lot, but then he saw you again. It would have been easier if you hated him, if you insulted and yelled at him, but you didn't. He had understood that during the wedding, that the only thing that he missed was you, he missed your relationship and how normal he felt with you. 

After years being rejected by everyone and overprotected by his mother, you came and treated him exactly as you would treat anyone else. And you made every single problem and struggle so easy Ivar couldn't help but fall in love with you. And it was a different kind of love, a different kind of relationship that he never thought he'd had. 

Freydis had been an intense crush, the first woman he truly looked at since you approached him that night at the bar. Of course he saw beautiful women every day, but it wasn't just your looks, it was something else. That thing he thought he had seen in Freydis too. 

His eyes saw the notebook on the kitchen counter. And he clenched his jaw trying to hold the tears back as he approached. When he recognized your handwriting his world collapsed again. You were truly gone. 

Ivar

He couldn't help the tears that fell down his cheeks. 

I know I can't tell you this in person, I wish I could. You're the most important person in my life, I love you, but I need to leave. Last night was amazing, and it was real, but then it ended and it stopped being real, right? Do you feel it too? It's not the same now. 

He rubbed his face, shaking his head as the tears rolled down uncontrollably. He did feel it too, as soon as he woke up. 

I don't know if you care, but I forgive you. I just need to leave because it hurt too much. I could stay and pretend everything would be okay, but it wouldn't be fair for neither of us. This is not good for anyone. Maybe someday, but not now. I don't regret anything, and I would approach and talk to you in that bar again without a doubt, because you made me really happy for years, and I hope I made you happy too, at least a bit. I don't know if we will ever see each other again, but if we don't, I hope you're happy and find that person, whether it is Freydis or someone else. I wish it was me, trust me, I wish it was me with my whole heart. But I need to end this now.

I truly love you, I always will. 

P.S. Please, take your medicines.

The last phrase should have made him roll his eyes, but instead it broke his heart a bit more. He threw the paper away, and barely managed to reach one of the kitchen stools before he collapsed, letting the crutch fall to the floor. He thought he'd stop breathing when the pain intensified. This was a kind of pain he didn't know. He had known sadness, rejection, disappointment and physical pain, but never this. You had entered his life and you stayed through everything, you were the only one that stayed out of love, and not because he was your family. And he had pushed you out. He pushed you and everyone that cared away because he was obsessed with a girl. Now you were gone and his brother didn't even want to be in the same room with him anymore. He was alone, and this wasn't something his mother could fix. 

Ivar heard the door opening. Hvitserk hesitated a couple of seconds when he saw him, but he sighed and closed the door. His brother didn't raise his head to look at him, and even if he wasn't too happy with Ivar, he couldn't help but approach him. He saw his little brother heartbroken, not the insufferable idiot with whom he had lived for the past few months. 

He didn't expect Ivar to hug him tightly, sobbing into his chest. He recognized that pain because he had spent the last couple of hours drying the same tears from your face. 

"Ivar" he sighed. 

"What did I do?" he took a deep breath "Why?" 

"You were a selfish, self-centered asshole" Hvitserk shook his head "But you will learn, you will grow" 

If Ivar was offended, he didn't say it. 

"She left me" 

"I know" he muttered "She's leaving all of us"

_________________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @therealcalicali @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @gruffle1 @justacripple @love-dria @heartbeats-wildly @letsrunawaytotomorrow @inforapound @sallydelys @hellogabysblog @winchesterwife27 @hecohansen31 @youbloodymadgenius @xinyourdreamsx @funmadnessandbadassvikings @eteramfools @tgrrose @lifeisabitchandsoareyou​ @lovessce​ @tootie-fruity @didiintheblog @alexhandersenx @belovedcherry @fantasydevil2002 @xceafh​ @astrape-the-weatherwitch​ @destynelseclipsa​ @poisonous00​ @littlebear423​ @justbloodlydreaming @xbellaxcarolinax​ @soleil-dor​ @geekydane-post​ @katarokkar11 @crackhead1-800​ @momowhoo​ @pedrolorian @flokisdaughter​ @crazybunnyladysworld​ @anotherfan07​ @heavenly1927​ @jungkxxkk​ @satanhalsey​ @nanahachikyuu​ @cocovikings23​ @ecarroll1978​ @darlingjae @buendiaremedios-blog​ @mcrmarvelloki​ @grimeundglow​ @punkrocknpearls​ 

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Would you write some steamy make out session between fem!reader x a daughter of your choice? Maybe the daughter would sneak out of the castle or sneak reader in the castle into her bedroom. They can go all the way, I'd love a dominant top reader in this, but if you're not comfortable writing about that someone can interrupt them when reader is just about have their hand in the daughter's pants. Thank you in advance!

I picked Bela, cuz I've already got some nsfw with the other two planned. Not gonna lie, this had me, like, screaming in the middle of the night because I'm incredibly easily flustered, and whooooo boy this is what the folks would call "horny". Anyway, I tried, hopefully it's good. If not, please forgive me, I haven't written nsfw in ages (can you believe I used to write this stuff with a straight face?). PS: the reader probably isn't as dominant as you were going for? I just, idk, personally exude bottom energy (even as an ace) and struggle a lil with that sort of thing. If I understand terms correctly (and I do not), the reader might count as a 'service top'. What does that even mean. I'm probably not correct. Just. Just read the thing and see if it's any good, leave me to my awkward flailing.

Under read-more for horny, obvs. Also because this is, like, 1.5k words, which belongs under a read-more. Oh, also not beta read? I could not willingly make someone read this and edit it.

Sweet Talkin' (Alt: the fic that killed j)

“Are you sure we won’t get caught?” You asked, butterflies in your stomach, equal parts nervous and excited. This date had taken weeks of planning. Every last detail was covered, from location to timing to where a certain noble would be, backed up by maidens and begrudging sisters alike. At the end of the day, you really shouldn’t be nervous. But considering just how special this was supposed to be… well, you couldn’t help your anxiety. Evidently your girlfriend feels much the same, as her reassuring smile was hardly as confident as it normally was.

“We’ve gone over this a thousand times, darling, we know it’s going to work out fine,” Bela Dimitrescu replied, before pulling you in for a quick kiss. The two of you stay in each other’s arms for a moment, gently resting your foreheads together. “It will be fine, it has to be. If my mother found out-”

“She won’t,” you interjected, quickly, trying to do for her what she had done for you. “You said it yourself, we’ve double and triple checked. As long as we finish up before dinner, as planned, your sisters will keep her distracted. Admittedly I’m still not sure how you managed to convince them to help.”

“The threat of mutually assured destruction,” Bela replied, as if it was obvious. Something about the way she was always so fast to respond, usually with something clever, made your heart skip a beat. Ooh, and the confidence she radiated? Even better. “Besides, I’ve covered for the two of them a dozen times or more, I think they owe me one. Now, let’s just enjoy this time we have together, alright?” Then she takes both of your hands in her own, giving them a soft squeeze, while looking at you lovingly.

“Is it getting a little warm in here, or is it just me?” You asked, blushing, almost overwhelmed by the heat shared between the two of you. There’s a slight lump in your throat, but you push it down as fast as you can. After all, this was exactly what the two of you had wanted, and you happened to have a little ‘surprise’ in mind. Now seemed like the perfect chance to act. “Maybe we should do something about it, hmm? Don’t want me overheating during our date, now do we?” Well, it wasn’t your smoothest moment, for sure. But you were used to Bela taking the lead in these sorts of situations. This was simply your turn to have some fun, finally show that you didn’t always need to be told what to do (not that you minded, at least not when it was Bela giving you commands).

“Oh? Do elaborate, darling, I’d love to hear what you’re suggesting,” she replied, soft smile betraying her mirth. For a second you see her gaze drift from your eyes to your lips, and you have a feeling you know exactly what she’s thinking about. Seizing the moment, you wrap an arm around her waist, then pull her in for a kiss. Soon enough you two are pressed against each other, eager in your movements, hearts racing in sync. Slowly but surely you move your hand, edging it down her back, then a little further… Bela gasps as you gently grab her ass, not having expected you to be the first to make such a move. A few moments later you have to break for air, chests heaving, but you don’t let go of her entirely.

“Less clothes, for starters. And since your skin isn’t, hmm, quite as warm as mine… I was thinking I could use that to my advantage. If your thighs need a little warming, we could kill two birds with one stone,” you said, practically purring, voice lower than usual. A blush soon rises up Bela’s cheeks as she considers your offer. It doesn’t take her long to smirk, satisfied, one hand going to cup your cheek.

“Right now, there is nothing I would love more,” she murmured. It’s all the encouragement you need to act. Without hesitation you tuck an arm behind her legs, sweeping her up and onto the desk in one smooth motion. It’s a good thing she cleaned up for our date, you think, as you position your body between her thighs. For now you focus your lips on her neck, leaving a trail of kisses along it. Meanwhile your hands find themselves on the fabric of her dress, slowly sliding it upwards, revealing more of her soft skin, ready and waiting for your touch. She lets out a quiet moan as you work, using one hand to hold your head close to her. “You’re rather eager today, dear. Worried we won’t have time for you to get a turn?” Bela asked, in between sharp breaths, teasing as ever.

Instead of replying, you just run your tongue over a particularly sensitive spot on her neck (one you’ve taken advantage of many, many times), unable to stop yourself from smiling when it draws another, louder, moan from her lips. Savoring the feeling, you give her the softest lovebite you can manage. Then you finally get the hem of her dress up to her thighs, allowing you all the access you need, and you pull back to look her in the eyes.

“The only thing I’m worried about is how loud you’re about to be. I wouldn’t want to scar the other maidens,” you said, grinning. Part of you remembers that Daniela and her girlfriend had already handed out plenty of mental scars. The rest of you, however, is content to focus on your girlfriend. So you give her one last quick peck on the lips. Seconds later you’re on your knees, looking up to admire the view. You can’t help but release a low breath at the sight. It takes you a moment to recover, blushing heavily, before you get back to work. Reaching up you take the edge of her underwear in your hands, tugging it away. Bela shifts as you do, trying to make it easier for you, and before long you’ve removed it entirely and tossed the garment over your shoulder. Normally you’d be neater, but when the two of you had all the time in the world… why bother?

Even with one hell of a prize right there, you don’t go straight for her cunt. You place a kiss against her inner thigh, then another one, taking your sweet time. It’s driving Bela crazy, and she’s squirming in place. Picking up the pace just a bit, you add in a couple nibbles, slowly climbing up her thighs, hands ensuring they stayed parted. Right as you move in for more, her fingers tangle in your hair, urging you closer, closer. On one hand you want to tease her, payback for a dozen times she’s done this exact thing to you. On the other hand… your lips can’t help themselves. You’re kissing her clit, loving the way she gasps in response, switching to using your tongue, quick licks one after another. Now her fingers are curling in your hair, pulling ever so slightly.

“Babe,” Bela gasped, struggling to keep herself from bucking too hard, free hand clenching the desk as hard as she could. Eager to please her further, you work faster, tongue rolling over her wet folds, then focusing on her clit, cycling the motions, even as she moves herself against you. You swear you can almost hear her heart racing- but it’s just your own beating in your ears, nearly drowned out by the sound of her pleasure. Every sound urges you onward, rewarding every lick or kiss with a surge of pride. You were the reason she was gasping, calling your name, shaking ever the slightest. Soon, well, soon you’ll be the reason why she was cumming. “Oh fuck,” she said, tensing up for a split second, one last lick sending her over the edge. The way she tugs on your hair hurts, but you know it’s more out of reflex than anything else.

“Mmm,” you hummed, pressing a couple soft kisses to Bela’s inner thighs, letting her come down from her high without having to worry about overstimulation (at least not yet). Then you’re rising back to your feet, glad to stretch out a little. “Ready for round two?” You asked, teasing, though a hundred percent ready if she did agree. To your surprise… she nods, eagerly, sending you a familiar smirk. “Well, I’d better get to work, then.” With that said you move closer, grinning just as wide as your girlfriend, beyond glad that you had plenty of time to do whatever you wanted with each other… because the two of you were going to need every minute.

[snackhobi]

pairing: hoseok x reader / word count: 26.8k / genre: fluff, smut, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, slow burn, technically a buzzfeed unsolved AU but you don’t need to be familiar with BFU at all so dw!

summary: having hoseok as your best friend and co-host for your web series is a dream come true. the only hitch? you’re kind of in love with him, and it’s getting harder to ignore that fact, even if he doesn’t feel the same for you. 

warnings: idiots being oblivious, sexually explicit content, oral (f receiving + brief mentions of m receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), body worship + praise (f receiving), a lot of soft emotions and pet names, hoseok treating reader like a pillow princess

a/n: the more I read this the less happy I am with it but after the amount of time I’ve spent on it/how long it’s gotten, I’m calling it finished (even if it’s a lot lighter on paranormal related stuff than I’d initially planned OOPS...) please feel free to let me know what you think AHH x

--

Jung Hoseok is a lot of things. 

Jung Hoseok is: a work-friend-turned-real-friend-turned-best-friend, and one of your favourite people in the world. 

Jung Hoseok is: very easily scared, the opposite of a thrillseeker, Not A Fan of big rollercoasters, or haunted houses, or anywhere that involves jump scares or loud noises or anything vaguely dangerous or threatening. 

Jung Hoseok is: a man with ridiculous lung capacity who can also screech so loudly that you’re fairly certain he could shatter glass if he wanted to.

“It’s just a bat, hyung,” Jimin says, before the bat comes back round and Hoseok shrieks again.

Jung Hoseok is: clinging to you with a vice-like grip as aforementioned bat flutters above you, squeaking and trilling, and you stroke his hand in an absent, instinctual motion, trying to soothe him.

“I definitely heard footsteps as well,” Hoseok whimpers. “Why are we here?” 

Why are you here? Well, because Jung Hoseok is also: your co-host for one of BigHit’s most popular series, BigHit Unsolved.

It’s funny, in a roundabout sort of way, that Hoseok’s general fear of Most Things had been the thing that had cinched him his spot. You’d never expected Unsolved to explode in the way it had, starting off as a short video series with Yoongi beside you to bounce off as you described unsolved crimes, but then Hoseok had starred opposite you and the audience had just eaten it up: the way he got spooked at real life events, the modulation of his voice when it would rise or dip in fear, the way you riffed off each other- you, calm but enthused about your topic, and Hoseok, a quivering jelly of a man when scared.

Not to mention that Hoseok is just great on screen anyway, personable and bright and charming. He makes you laugh and brings out a level of exuberance in you in a way that no one else can, makes you do ridiculous things without even trying- your interactions are good video fodder, basically, and your audience loves how your friendship comes across on the show. 

And that’s another funny thing. You’d known Hoseok before Unsolved, of course, because everyone knows Hoseok, because Hoseok is wonderful, a sunshine of a man, loved by all. You, however, hadn't really spoken much to him- when you'd started at BigHit you'd been crushing on Hoseok in kind of a big way and you'd been worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him, so… you'd done the logical thing of avoiding him as much as was possible without being rude or weird. Face your problems and anxieties? In this economy? Haha, you don't think so.

Anyway. Because of this, your interactions had been pretty limited up until you’d asked him to appear in one of your videos. If anyone asked it was because you’d thought he would be a fun, one-off guest star, which was true, but the main reason was that Yoongi had cancelled because he was sick and no one else had been free when you’d been scrabbling around the office for a replacement. Despite not knowing you all too well, and despite being scared easily by true crime (“my mum watched CSI when I was a kid and it gave nightmares,” he’d told you afterwards), Hoseok had heard about your plight and was happy to replace Yoongi for the episode, and you’d found out that- despite your initial worry that you were going to make things weird- you get on really well.

Like, really well. Not just on camera, either. Before they’d started to roll, you’d been frantically making sure everything was in place, that you had all your notes, that all the pre-production was ready- and Hoseok had made you stand still, taking your hands in his, and he’d smiled at you in a way that had been so warm and comforting that all the tension had leaked out of you. After that it had just been so easy. You’d felt relaxed and the episode had come out great, and then Hoseok suggested that you grab lunch together in the cafeteria so you could get to know each other more. Of course you’d agreed- and the rest is history.

It didn’t take long for Hoseok to turn from a nice and funny colleague, to someone you actively looked for at work gatherings, to someone who you decided to ask to be your permanent co-host for the show, to someone who now has a spare key for your flat in case he ever runs out of snacks or just feels like dropping by. Which he feels like doing a lot, apparently, but you have a key for his place too, so it’s all even stevens. (You steal a lot of his face masks whenever you visit him and he never complains.)

Over time your huge crush on Hoseok has ebbed into a deep platonic love, fading and morphing into a comfortable friendship. Okay, sure, you still think he’s the most beautiful person in the universe and you’d immediately accept if he asked you to marry him and you kind of want to kiss him on the mouth sometimes (a lot of the time) or whatever, but that’s because you know how wonderful he is. It’s platonic. Not romantic. Mmhm. (Mostly.) Either way, you're completely comfortable around him despite any lingering feelings you might have, which is something you appreciate more than you can put into words.

So fast forward to now, multiple seasons into your show, and you’re more than used to Hoseok’s fear and touch. It had been startling, at the beginning, when Hoseok had grabbed onto you whenever he was afraid, but now you’re used to navigating places in the dark while Hoseok clings onto you like a particularly oversized backpack or holds your hand like a lost school child. (You’ve lost count of the minutes, nay, hours of footage that exist of Hoseok doing this, like some sort of gangly limpet, but you don’t mind.) Fans love to splice together footage comparing interactions over the seasons and it’s very obvious how wide eyed and stiff you used to go whenever Hoseok seized you, but now? This is your every day, baby.

Hoseok is still cowering behind you as the lone bat flaps above you, high up in the rafters of the old generator building you’re standing in. You and your crew and your guide are the only people at the abandoned gold mine, so Hoseok can’t have heard footsteps, other than your own- which is what you tell him.

“I think it was the building settling, Hobi,” you say. “This mining warehouse is pretty old.”

“Old and full of ghosts.” Hoseok moans. Jimin readjusts the camera and you know that, without a doubt, he’s zooming in on Hoseok’s terrified face. Namjoon’ll have some fun shots to edit later. Jimin is a very capable cameraman, and also unruffled by ghosts/loud noises/etc, but he does love to catch some interesting angles of the two of you. At least Taehyung refrains from doing that, although he does sometimes get too focused on making a shot artistic rather than capturing the abject terror on Hoseok’s face when it would be a good clip for the final video.  

“Well, we don’t know that.” You pause. “Maybe we should test it with the spirit box to find out?”

Hoseok’s face twists and you can’t help but laugh.

The supernatural half of the show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Your fans enjoyed his eternal suffering and fear whenever anything remotely spooky was mentioned, so they'd bandied about the idea of a paranormal-themed season and you'd taken the idea on board; the juxtaposition between yourself and your co-host was all the more defined when he was banshee shrieking at some innocuous sound while you stayed calm. You’re open to the concept of the supernatural but have yet to come across any evidence that you find compelling enough to make you a believer, while Hoseok is convinced in the existence of ghosts and finds the idea terrifying.

He doesn’t like the spirit box because of this, but you don’t mind it- although you don't really like the loud static it makes when it’s scanning through radio frequencies, trying to pick up if any spirits or ghouls are trying to talk to you. (They’re not, even if Hoseok insists that the random bursts of sound it spits out are definitely coherent words and sentences, rather than a mish-mash of random rubbish that it just happens to pick from normal radio waves.)

The spirit box, of course, is about as interesting as normal: that is to say, not really at all, though you have a good laugh after you ask for any spirits to give you a name and the only response is ‘pineapple pie’, which makes you feel hungry. Hoseok lets you rummage around in his pocket for a cereal bar, which you end up munching on between shots, as Hoseok swats bugs away from your faces. He attempts to karate chop a mosquito but misses by miles and you almost choke on a mouthful of oats as he makes the world’s most incredulous face and you giggle.

“We should make pineapple pie for a video at some point,” you suggest, and Hoseok is briefly distracted from his fear- he’d given up on the bugs and has been shining his torch over your shoulder at some old generator equipment and casting warped shadows on the walls behind it, dark silhouettes that could admittedly be considered a little spooky. “I’ve never had pineapple pie before.”

“There’s a Filipino bakery near our place that sells it!” Taehyung jumps in before Hoseok can respond, turning away from where he and Jimin have been making shadow puppets on the wall with their own torches. “It’s so good, you should definitely do it.”

Hoseok hums. “Jin-hyung would probably be happy to help out,” he says. You finish the cereal bar and tuck the wrapper back into Hoseok’s pocket, making a mental note to get in touch with the Tasty team member to ask him about it. He’ll leap at the opportunity. 

There’s a clattering noise somewhere far in the distance, probably rocks shifting or something, and Hoseok squeaks and crowds even closer to you, as impossible as that is with how he’s already wrapped around your back at this point, the harness for his chest-mounted camera digging into your spine. It’s a familiar sensation by this point. “Please can we get out of here now?”

“Sure,” you say indulgently, stroking Hoseok’s arm where it’s wrapped around your collarbones. “We need to drive down to the mining tunnels now anyway.”

Hoseok keeps hold of your hand as your guide drives you to your location, squeezing your fingers every time the car goes over a bump- which is pretty often on the rocky dirt track. Hoseok’s fairly touchy in general, always holding hands or hugging or kissing people, raining little pecks over their faces, and it had been Very Overwhelming when he’d first turned this attention to you. You’re not, like, not touchy, but back in season 1 you were definitely not used to spending time with someone who loves skinship as much as Hoseok does, and it had taken time for you to stop freezing up every time he casually touched or grabbed you.

It says a lot about how used you are to it now that you don’t even bat an eyelid when he wriggles into your twin bed at the hotel later, curling up around you once he’s finished his meticulous skincare routine.  “Your bed is over there, Hobi,” you say, although you immediately snuggle back into him, letting him spoon you. He’s always a lot clingier after you finish filming a supernatural episode- as if you can ward off any ghosts that might have decided to hitch a ride back from wherever you’d come from.

“I know,” Hoseok replies. He hitches a leg over yours, sighing happily when you reach an arm down to rub his calves. He always sleeps better if you massage him.

“I can’t wait to get home.” You dig your fingers into a muscle and Hoseok squirms a little. You huff out a laugh. “Arizona is so hot.”

“You look cute in shorts, though,” Hoseok says. He’s been saying the same thing all day.

“You just like shorts.” He’d been wearing shorts too, pretty much matching his clothes to yours; at this point you’re starting to wonder if he looks through your luggage before he packs his own stuff, because your outfits end up being eerily similar a lot of the time. You think he finds it reassuring, maybe, when you’re somewhere unfamiliar. Or maybe it’s because Hoseok’s fashion has influenced your own over the years. You definitely own a lot more bright clothing than you used to, not to mention the matching items you’ve both purchased together anyway.

Now that you think about it, Hoseok really has been a big influence on you, huh.

He falls asleep pretty soon after, going lax and limp as his breaths deepen and he dozes off. He always falls asleep before you do, awake one second and flat out the next; you envy his ability to drop off like that, usually taking a lot longer yourself, but you do find it good that he’s able to sleep so quickly despite his earlier fear. He always crashes at yours after you finish filming an episode when you’re home, too, otherwise he says he’s up all night with the fear- this is all part and parcel of Hoseok being your co-host and partner on the show, and honestly, you don’t mind it at all.

So you're used to this. When Hoseok makes a little noise in his sleep and starts shifting behind you, you lift his hand to your mouth and gently kiss his knuckles, running your thumb down his wrist- he settles immediately, going lax again. You'll chase away any nightmares with soft touches, shuffling around in his grip and holding him tight if you need to, before eventually drifting off yourself, safe and warm in the circle of his arms.

Even though you usually fall asleep after Hoseok, one thing you have over him is the fact you’re a morning person and find it a lot easier to get up with the sun. Despite your late night, you’re awake moments before your phone alarm starts to ring, turning it off before it can rouse Hoseok out of his sleep. When you slide out of the bed he stirs a little, instinctively reaching out for you in his sleep, and you carefully put a pillow in his arms so he can hold onto that instead; he settles down once he has the pillow hugged to his chest, and you take a moment to look at him fondly and gently kiss his forehead before you start to get ready for the day.

You’re pretty much done by the time Hoseok sits up at the sound of his own alarm, blinking blearily in your direction as you turn it off for him. He’s still holding onto the pillow as he sits up.

“Morning, honey,” you chirp. “You want coffee?”

Hoseok stares at you for a second, eyes squinting as he tries to wake up fully. “Morning,” he replies, voice hoarse from sleep, and you smile. “Please.”

When you’d first found out that Hoseok wasn’t a morning person, you’d honestly been gobsmacked. He’s just so bright and energetic that you figured he rolled out of bed like that- it just makes sense- but it actually takes him a surprisingly long time to get fully up to speed with his normal self. He’s a little slower, a little softer, draping himself over your back as you fiddle with the room's coffee machine to try and get some caffeine into him.

“We can always get some more at the airport,” you say conversationally, and Hoseok hums quietly into your hair before dropping a kiss there. “It’s a shame we don’t have time to eat at the breakfast buffet.” 

Despite his morning slowness, he’s still ready on time; he’s always punctual, is your Hoseok. You make up for missing breakfast at the hotel by purchasing tons of snacks for the flight to Pennsylvania, munching a pre-wrapped croissant as you read off your phone while Jimin dozes next to you, his head resting against the window. You’re sandwiched between him and Hoseok, who has the aisle seat- he cranes his head at your pastry and you tilt it against his lips so he can take a bite. You end up with a lapful of crumbs, but that’s okay. 

“So where are we off to next?” Hoseok asks once he’s done chewing, peering at your phone screen. Across the aisle from you, Taehyung very loudly unwraps a pain au chocolat, much to the irritation of the woman next to him. 

“We’re going to an old prison,” you say, and Hoseok meeps. “A penitentiary, to be exact.”

Taehyung shoves the pain au chocolat into his mouth whole so he has his hands free, fumbling for his phone as he starts to film how the colour drains from Hoseok’s face as you give him a brief synopsis of the prison and other places you’ll be going to while in Pennsylvania. This isn’t even for Unsolved; Taehyung just likes to have video evidence and receipts for everything, if his camera reel is anything to go by. Even though you’re vague with your descriptions- you like Hoseok’s reaction on camera to be as unscripted and natural as it can possibly be, when you finally turn up at your locations and then set up so that you can talk about it- once you’re finished, Hoseok is curled up against you, hiding his face in your neck.

“Why can’t we go somewhere nice for once?” He whines, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Budget doesn’t cover it, that’s why we have to sleep at haunted hotels. They’re cheaper.” Hoseok meeps again, and you relent, lifting your hand to cup the back of his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you,” you say, stroking his hair as you use your free hand to clumsily scroll through your phone, double checking the details of your planned trip.

“I know.” Hoseok is uncharacteristically quiet against your collarbones. Taehyung gives up filming and rips into another pain au chocolat packet, smiling guiltily at his seat neighbour when she tuts at him. “You never do.”

Despite Hoseok’s fear of a lot of things related to the show, and the fact he jumps and screams at pretty much everything, he’s never asked to bow out or avoid doing something. He even agrees to go into areas alone when the two of you try to ‘make contact’ with spirits, even though he’s obviously terrified- but each and every time before you part, you promise that you’re not going anywhere and you’ll be waiting right outside for him. You would never abandon Hoseok (even though ghosts probably aren’t real and he has nothing to worry about), and he knows that, and takes strength from it. It warms you.

He keeps his head nestled against your neck for a beat longer, and then smacks a loud kiss against your skin, which makes you squeal and slap him away while he laughs. 

--

As fun as it is to jet around the country- especially with Hoseok and the other guys- it's also exhausting, and there’s always something nice about coming home. Even though the increased budget that you’ve been allocated as the show’s been growing in popularity means that you can stay at nicer hotels now, your own bed is still the most comfortable place in the world. (Well, tied with Hoseok’s bed, thinking about it. The two are basically interchangeable at this point anyway, if you consider how often Hoseok ends up sleeping at your apartment and squirreling his way under your blankets as you’re trying to sleep.)

On the other hand, though, in spite of a return to your regular creature comforts, coming home still involves work: there are Q&As to be filmed, footage to edit, later episodes to plan, research to be done. As the original progenitor of Unsolved you take the brunt of the last two parts; Hoseok is the one who reacts to the facts you throw out, he’s not the one who investigates the different things you talk about on the show, but he’s always there to support you and talk to you whenever you need it. 

(Your audience knows Hoseok as someone who is cute and bright and cheerful, but he’s also quietly thoughtful and surprisingly serious when he has to be. That’s the side of him that you get to see whenever you stay late at the office, your desk lamp the only one left on in the room, hunched over your keyboard as you trawl through conspiracy threads in the deep bowels of the internet that are discussing who D.B. Cooper is. You love loud Hoseok, of course, but you appreciate this hushed part of him, too- the way he'll deliver you a hot chocolate with a kiss to your forehead before quietly sitting beside you and waiting for you to finish so he can take you home.)

Anyway. Coming home means coming back to the office, means putting in shifts at BigHit headquarters, etc, etc, all that jazz, so here you are, sitting on Hoseok’s lap and scrolling through your tablet as he does something of his own on his PC. The first time this had happened, it had raised eyebrows- not because it was considered inappropriate or anything, as BigHit is the kind of place where people can make out in hallways to ‘test the longevity of this 24 hour lipstick’ for a video and no one bats an eyelash, but because up until this point, you’d been renowned for pretty much being glued to your desk while working. But you like Hoseok and his energy, even when he’s not doing anything, and his lap is comfortable, even if he doesn’t exactly have the world’s thickest thighs. You work better when you’re around him. 

You’re scrolling through Instagram comments for questions to answer in this week’s Q&A episode when someone clears their throat. Both you and Hoseok look up in tandem to find Seokjin standing there, looking decidedly more grey-haired than he had the last time you’d seen him. He pulls it off effortlessly, of course. 

“What’s up, silver fox?” You let your tablet droop into your lap as Hoseok takes his hands off his mouse and keyboard and secures them around your waist instead, so you don’t slide off his legs. His hands are warm where they splay across your stomach and you can feel the bumps and texture of his bracelets through the material of your shirt. “Liking the new look, by the way.”

“You look really good, Jin-hyung,” Hoseok says from over your shoulder, and you nod in agreement.

“I know.” Jin sounds flippant but he seems pleased. He doesn’t say anything more than that, though, and just looks at the two of you expectantly. You both blink back at him.

“So… did you come over just to be complimented, or?” You slowly start to lift your tablet, acting as if you’re about to start reading off your screen again. “Were the thirsty comments on your latest video not enough for you today?”

Jin raises an eyebrow as he pretends to inspect his nails. “No, no, there were plenty of comments, as always,” he says loftily. Unsurprising, considering his unofficial(/basically official) title of Most Handsome Face in the office as well as the leagues of fans he has. He lets his hand drop as he quickly gives up pretending to be aloof. “So when are you planning to fit making pineapple pie into your schedule?”

“Oh!” Hoseok squeezes you in his excitement and you wiggle a little in his lap. “I almost forgot about that! Did Tae mention it to you?”

“Jimin too. They burst into the kitchen while I was filming and they were both holding a piece of Filipino pineapple pie aloft like they were wielding Excalibur, so, yes, you can say that it was mentioned,” Jin says, and you can’t help but wince. Being interrupted while filming is one thing, but the Tasty studio can be hazardous on top of that (y’know, what with the knives and fire and stuff), so you can only hope that Jin wasn’t using a mandolin or something when they had appeared. 

“Oof.” You wiggle your hips again and Hoseok immediately catches your drift, turning his chair so the two of you are facing Jin fully rather than having to turn your heads to look at him. Jin makes a weird expression, something you can’t put a name to, but it slips away too fast for you to catch properly- maybe he just had a sudden chill or something, who knows. “Sorry about them. How about I email you our filming schedule and you can see when you’re free as well? We were going to film a 70th episode retrospective soon and the pineapple pie video might be a nice sort of bonus on top of that.”

Jin agrees easily. You use your tablet to open the Google Calendar that you have with Hoseok, which makes Jin pause when he notices. “You share a GCal?”

“Duh?” You flick a look at Jin through your lashes. You and Hoseok have GCal where you input your work schedules to avoid potential clashes when you need to film together, but you also put in other plans the two of you have outside of work, if it’s ever necessary. “Why wouldn’t we? It makes it easier when we need to plan things for Unsolved.”

“Uh-huh.” Jin sounds sceptical, but you decide not to address it. You miss the look he gives Hoseok as you scroll through your calendar, the two men having a silent exchange as you start to draft an email. Somewhere across the office you hear Yoongi shout out an expletive and two sets of cackling laughter that sound suspiciously like Taehyung and Jungkook; you and Hoseok turn at the sound, but you don’t spot anything from where you’re sat. “Alright, I think that’s my cue to leave,” Jin says, and promptly dips before he gets dragged into whatever’s going on.

Whatever shenanigans Jungkook and Taehyung have gotten up to seem to be pinpointed to one area, so you avoid any fall out, and Hoseok eventually excuses himself to go to the toilet. You take over his chair while he’s gone. Asides from yourself, both computers at this desk are entirely abandoned- Yoongi is still absent, nowhere to be seen- and you’re tapping away at your tablet when all of a sudden you have a camera shoved in your face. 

For once it’s not Jimin or Taehyung or Jungkook, and instead when you look up you see Irene and Seulgi, the latter girl beaming at you while Irene holds the camera. Seulgi says your name and points at you with a perfectly manicured nail, and you blink at her, completely caught off guard. Irene zooms in on your bewildered expression.

“Um, hey guys,” you say. “What’s up? Need me for something?”

“We wanted to ask if you wanted to guest star in the next Ladylike video!” Seulgi chirps brightly, and you’re immediately on guard. While the offer seems innocent enough on the surface you can’t help but wonder if the next video is one of their wilder ones (you don’t care if the underwear is silver-infused and apparently wicks away smell and moisture, you flat out refuse to wear the same panties for a whole week). Fortunately your fears are assuaged when Seulgi seems to read your mind and answers your question before you have the chance to ask it. “We’re trying to recreate elaborate Instagram makeup looks with dollar store makeup.”

Irene giggles behind the camera when you visibly relax. “I’m in, that sounds fun,” you say, and both girls seem inordinately pleased. “Um, when are you planning to shoot it?”

“Tomorrow! It won’t take long, we promise,” Seulgi says. “You just need to be free for filming, we’ll do all the editing and stuff.”

You finalise the exact time you need to be available by and by the time Hoseok comes back from the toilet both girls have just gone. You stand up so that he can reclaim his seat, eyes glued to your tablet as you open up your Google Calendar so you can put the Ladylike video filming in, but you’re interrupted when Hoseok grabs you. You squeal in surprise when he tugs you back down rather than letting you sit down yourself, tablet getting sandwiched between the two of you as you end up straddling him in a desperate attempt to catch your balance- but before you can resituate yourself he starts to tickle you and you end up laughing uproariously into his face.

“Cute, cute, my Y/n is so cute,” he sing-songs, and you continue to laugh as you try to bat his hands away.

“Stop, oh my God, Hobi!” There are tears of laughter in the corners of your eyes as you squirm in his lap, trying to get away from his hands but being prevented from doing so by the desk at your back; you’re trapped between it and Hoseok, entirely at his mercy as the two of you giggle at each other.

“You realise other people work here, right?”

Yoongi has finally reappeared. He sounds disgruntled, but you put it down to the fact he has KITTY AVAILABLE FOR ADOPTION and a phone number scrawled across his face in what appears to be permanent marker, rather than at the fact that you and Hoseok are making noise. As Hoseok’s deskmate he’s used to this sort of behaviour by now.

“Hey hyung,” Hoseok says, shameless as his fingers continue to dance up and down your sides, although the touches are light enough now that you can turn your attention away from giggling to appreciate Yoongi’s new look. “Did you have a good nap?”

“A cat nap,” you say, and then giggle at the unimpressed look Yoongi throws your way- it’s hard to find him scary with the multi-coloured letters scribbled over his face.

He grunts as he sits down. “I’ll kill those kids,” he says, but there’s no real heat behind his words, and he slumps into his chair with a resigned sigh. “I kept scrubbing at my face but this shit won’t come off.”

You exchange a look with Hoseok, the two of you thinking about the hand sanitiser you keep in your handbag- the alcoholic gel would probably lift the ink off Yoongi’s face, but neither of you offer up this information. “I’m sure it’ll come off by tomorrow,” you say, and Yoongi makes a hopeful noise at the back of this throat. "Any particular reason why you've decided to act as a walking billboard for abandoned cats?"

"Thing 1 and Thing 2 said they were raising awareness for a local cat shelter and asked if I wanted to help. I said yes." Yoongi sounds rueful. 

"I feel very aware of it, hyung, so I'd say they did a good job." Hoseok laughs when Yoongi just flips him off.

Hoseok’s hands have gone still by this point. It’s not until Yoongi starts to tap at his keyboard that you remember the position you’re in, straddling Hoseok in his chair, your hands on his shoulders and his hands on your waist as you lean back against his desk- but as questionable and potentially incriminating as this entire situation seems out of context, literally no one is batting an eyelid. People are used to seeing this sort of thing from you two, both comfortable and not awkward with each other at all.

Hoseok's hands are warm and steady where they wrap around your waist. You're struck again by how large they feel- supportive, as always, when he holds you. 

"Mind letting me go, cowboy?" You say. "I should go back to my desk to get some work done."

"You're more of a cowboy in this situation," Hoseok says, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Seeing as you're the one that's doing the riding."

"Good lord," Yoongi mutters.

You laugh at the expression on his face before Hoseok wheels you both away from the desk so that you have room to swing your legs off him. "That's dirty, Hobi," you say, but it's said with a smile and wink.

After you've disappeared, waving at the two men, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at Hoseok. "I know you two are basically married at this point, but can you try and rein in the flirting when I'm trying to work?"

"We weren't flirting," Hoseok protests. Yoongi looks unconvinced, his other eyebrow rising to match the first, and just shakes his head before he resumes Googling ways to get the permanent marker off his face.

--

Irene’s touch is light as she puts the makeup onto your face, surveying her work critically as she does. 

“Alright, that’s the foundation done,” she says, once everything seems to have passed whatever rigorous criteria she has. “So we're onto the concealer next.”

There’s something soothing about having someone else do your makeup. Not to mention that you don’t have to worry at all about the production of the video- with your usual projects, your level of investment means that there’s always something to think about, but right now all you have to do is sit there and look pretty. You do listen and react whenever Irene shows you the products and so on, but otherwise, you are literally just sitting there and letting the other woman put stuff on your face; you can relax and unwind and let her take the lead.

Irene has just finished blending the concealer under your eyes when your phone vibrates in your pocket. While she's rummaging for the next product- setting powder- you quickly check your phone to see if it's anything important. It's Hoseok, asking where you are, because he has a coffee and Danish pastry for you and he can't find you; you realise then that you never put the Ladylike video filming into your calendar, distracted by Hoseok grabbing you, and today you'd just disappeared without telling him where you were going. Oops.

You quickly shoot him a reply before Irene starts to brush the powder across your face and you're both surprised at how well it sets. "Your skin is so nice," Irene says with a smile, sweeping the brush over your cheeks. You try not to laugh when the bristles tickles your face, flattered at her comment.

She's just finished doing your brows when you hear the studio door open and you catch sight of Hoseok. He's staying off camera next to Wendy so he doesn't get in the shot, quiet and unobtrusive, but you can't help but perk up when you see him. Although you stay silent so that it doesn’t interrupt the filming, Irene notices how you brighten and pauses in her motions to look over where Hoseok is standing.

"Hi, Hoseok." Much to your surprise, despite the fact that the cameras are rolling, Irene still greets Hoseok. You thought she'd make him wait until you were done. "You're here for Y/n, I presume?"

"I have a coffee for her," Hoseok says, a little sheepish, holding up an iced macchiato and a paper bag that's got a small grease stain spreading on it, a tantalising glimpse of the deliciousness inside. "I just came to drop it off?"

"I don't deserve you, Hobi," you say, beaming, and he smiles back at you. 

Irene gestures for Hoseok to come into the frame. There’s a brief moment where you and Hoseok exchange a small, surprised look- Irene is rummaging through eyeshadow palettes and seems like she’s still going through with the video even though Hoseok is about to walk on set- but he acquiesces and steps into the shot. Irene points at the Instagram photo she has open on her iPad, which is propped on the table so she can use it for reference and zoom in if necessary. “We’re doing this look with dollar store products."

“Woah,” Hoseok says, leaning down to peer at the picture, and he sounds suitably awed. “That’s really nice. You’ve chosen one with all of Y/n’s favourite colours.”

“It’s cute, right?” You’re so excited to see the final product, even if it ends up not looking as good as what you can see on the screen, considering the cheapness of the makeup that Irene is using.

“Not as cute as you,” Hoseok says, and you blow him a kiss before looking at the iced macchiato in his hands meaningfully.

“Coffee, coffee?” You sound hopeful but Irene tuts.

“You’ll need to keep your eyes shut while I do your eyeshadow,” she says.

Before you can begin to feel disappointed, Hoseok comes to the rescue. “Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you.”

And so that’s how you end up with Hoseok holding the straw of your iced coffee up to your lips while Irene applies the different shades and shimmers to your eyelids, your eyes shut as she does so; Hoseok makes appropriate ooh-ing noises, bowled over by how she manages to blend the cheap eyeshadows before doing a cut crease- you have to keep your eyes shut the whole time, letting the concealer dry on your lids so that it doesn’t smudge, gauging how it looks based on Hoseok's reactions. 

Every so often Hoseok will make a small noise and then you’ll feel the straw press up against your lips, and you’ll take a sip of your drink while Irene is switching colours or brushes; you feel thoroughly pampered today and you’re enjoying it immensely. She’s been describing the different products and their quality to the camera throughout the whole video, but now that Hoseok’s there, he responds to what she’s saying, making her giggle with how enthusiastic he is despite not recognising all the terminology she’s using. Although your eyes are shut you can't help but smile: that's your Hoseok, always lightening the atmosphere and making people laugh.

“Alright, you can open your eyes,” Irene says after what feels like a lifetime. The liquid eyeliner has dried by the time your eyes flutter open, the stark blackness against the expertly blended eyeshadows the first thing you notice when you look at yourself in the mirror.

“Woah, Irene! This is incredible!" You turn your head from side to side, taking in how different your eyes look after the ministrations of Irene's skilled hands. "Hobi, look at those wings! I wish I could get mine that even.” You don’t often wear liquid liner and when you do it takes you eons to get them to match, making each side bigger as you try to match the other- most of the time you just give up.

“You do look incredible,” Hoseok agrees. You look away from the mirror to smile brightly at him and then take another drink of coffee when he lifts it back up to your lips; the straw makes loud slurping noises as you reach the bottom of the cup and you end up sucking up more air than liquid, much to your disappointment. He chuckles at the look on your face but then coos when you pout. 

“I’m not done just yet, you know,” Irene says, unperturbed by your interactions. You wonder how this footage is going to turn out after the edit. “We still have lips and cheeks to do.”

Despite the fact your coffee is finished, Hoseok still remains next to you and watches Irene work. She lines your lips and then paints them a pleasant nude colour, before going in with an extra touch to your contour, and blush, and highlight (you’re genuinely in awe at the selection of makeup you can apparently get for a dollar each). There are so many steps involved in the execution of this look and you wonder how long it would take you to try and do this yourself, before deciding there aren’t enough hours in the day, even if Irene makes it look easy, finishing your face with a flourish.

“Alright, done!”

You pick the mirror up to tilt your head at different angles. You catch the way the highlight shimmers on your cheekbones and cupid’s bow, the way your eyes look after they’ve been shaded with colour and glitter, the sharpness of your brows, the fullness of your lips. 

“I can’t believe this was all dollar store makeup,” you say, awestruck. “It’s so much like the photo! I look so good.”

“Irene had an already perfect canvas to work with,” Hoseok says, and you end up smiling so widely your eyes almost squeeze shut.

“Flatterer,” you say.

“You two are so cute.” Seulgi sighs wistfully from behind the cameras and Wendy muffles a quiet cough into her palm.

Irene asks for your opinions on the makeup- you, moreso on how it feels on your face, and Hoseok, if he thinks it looks close to the Instagram photo (he does, but he's clearly biased because you're involved, which he doesn't try to hide). Once the cameras have been cut and everything has been wrapped up, Irene says you can go and so you hop off your chair. Before you can get too far, though, Hoseok stops you, touching his fingers gently under your chin. 

“Let me have a proper look.”

You immediately relax and let him tip your head slowly from one side to the other, eyes scanning across your makeup, which feels a lot heavier than you’d expected, but you’re still happy with how nice it is.

“Wah, so beautiful,” Hoseok says, a small smile on his face; it’s one of his softer ones, one that doesn’t show his teeth or his dimples, but rather squeezes his eyes into crescents, his gaze warm. Still blinding but in a different way.

“Irene did a really good job, didn’t she?” You say, enthused. Hoseok pauses, but then his teeth show as the smile grows.

“Yeah, she did.”

"Maybe I should get her to give me makeup lessons so I can look prettier more often." You've never been all too great at the more refined parts of makeup- blending eyeshadow or contouring, for example- but maybe you should add it to your repertoire, you muse.

Hoseok's smile dims as he becomes oddly sombre, hand shifting to cup the bottom of your chin so your face is gently cradled in his hand. "You're gorgeous all the time, makeup or not," he says. "Makeup is fun and you do look great but please don't think you need it to be pretty."

A shy smile plays at your lips. You feel bashful but you can't hide from Hoseok's gaze when he's holding onto you like this, but it wouldn’t matter even if you did. Hoseok knows you well enough to read your moods if you attempt to hide them- but because you trust him you don’t try to. 

"Ahh, you're too sweet to me, Hoseok," you murmur. He always compliments you, but the thing with Hoseok is that he always means it, and although you should be used to it, it still catches you off guard every time. 

"You deserve it." The soft smile has returned to his face and he lets his fingers drop away from your chin to tangle with yours to lead you out of the studio. “Now come on, you still have your pastry to eat.”

“I totally forgot about that! Oh, but I’ll probably smudge my lipstick.” Your sudden excitement about food dips instantly as you realise this. “I mean, I doubt dollar store stuff has much staying power anyway, but it’ll definitely smear onto the pastry, like, immediately.”

“I’ll cut it up into small pieces for you,” Hoseok says, and you make a noise of happiness as the door to the Ladylike studio shuts behind you both.

Seulgi and Wendy and Irene all look at each other, the two of you all but forgetting that they'd been standing there and had thus witnessed that entire exchange in excruciating detail. Wendy and Seulgi both open their mouths but before they can speak Irene holds up a hand. “I know,” she says. “Trust me. I know.”

--

Around the office, Jin might be renowned for his silliness, propensity towards dad jokes and loud laughter, but on set- while he’s still very much himself- he’s a professional and takes safety in the kitchen Very Seriously.

“If you damage any of my equipment with your clumsy fingers, I will grate so much parmesan down your throat that you die of cheese asphyxiation.”

“Sounds kinky,” Hoseok laughs, but then he jumps behind you when Jin brandishes a decorative pineapple at him as if he’s about to brain the other man. 

“Babe, I’m not about to explain to your family that your final words were, and I quote, ‘sounds kinky’, especially if it was before Jin offed you via fermented dairy products,” you say, although you still shield Hoseok with your body- as if there was any chance you’d be able to stop Jin if he was on the warpath. His shoulders are so broad. Still, you’d fight him for Hoseok if you had to.

“My family love you, I think they’d be okay with it,” Hoseok says from behind you. Jin makes a weird expression with his face before he sets the pineapple back down onto the table next to the rest of your equipment, raising his eyebrows at something; before you can ask what’s up, you’re distracted by the sensation of Hoseok’s hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “It’s okay, Jin, Y/n and I cook together all the time. We won’t mess up.”

“Hobi’s really good at cooking,” you pipe up, and Hoseok affectionately nuzzles at the crown of your head. You cook dinner together at least once a week, trying to use different recipes each time- cooking is a great hobby because you get food at the end of it, and cooking with Hoseok is especially great because you get an excuse to break out the candles and fancy tablecloth your mother had gifted you, even if your food is something simple. 

(You never thought you’d learn multiple ways to fold a napkin, but Hoseok is always so excited whenever he sees you start to crimp them into shape, so you like to mix things up for him.)

Jin’s face shifts back into that look that you’re starting to think looks like he’s eaten something that he’s not sure if he likes or not- a little disbelieving, perplexed, resigned. You never get a chance to ask why, though: Jin claps his hands and tells you to put on your aprons so you can start filming, and you eagerly pull it over your head before helping Hoseok tie his behind his back. (Jin makes the face again, but you’re too busy tying a cute bow to notice.)

Jin seems genuinely impressed when it turns out that the two of you have been telling the truth. Of course, the Tasty team member is directing you and giving instructions so it’s not as difficult as it might be otherwise, but he ends up surprisingly uninvolved with the physical part of the process; you and Hoseok hand jobs off to each other and work in tandem to prepare the dough and filling, and once the pie is in the oven you even begin to clean everything up unprompted, moving around each other with an unconscious level of ease. 

Jin just ends up sitting on a stool and watching you do his ‘minion work’ although you think he just doesn’t want to get in the way. Hoseok hipchecks you gently and then giggles when you pretend to be pushed back by the strength of the motion and flop dramatically over the sink.

“How often do you two cook together?” Although the question is technically directed at the both of you, for some reason you get the feeling that Jin is aiming this more towards Hoseok, who answers him.

“Usually two or three times a week,” Hoseok says.

“Hmm. I see.” Jin looks thoughtful, and you can’t help but feel like there’s something you’re missing in this simple question and answer exchange. Hoseok has an expression on his face that you’ve never seen before- which you’d thought was impossible, because you know Hoseok inside and out, and it’s confusing. You feel surprisingly unsettled by it.

Your best friend seems like he’s trying to cut whatever tension’s in the air by turning his attention back to tidying up, but he fumbles when he goes to shut a drawer and catches his fingers. He’s barely had time to make a small ow noise before you’re there, lifting his hand and inspecting it carefully. “Stop distracting my boy, Jin, let him focus on cleaning up your messy ass kitchen,” you say.

“Excuse you, my kitchen is a temple, it’s only a mess because you’ve been in here,” Jin says primly.

“Sounds like something a messy person would say.” You would roll your eyes but they’re focused on the reddened skin of Hoseok’s fingers. They just look slightly pinched, nothing major, but still. You’re careful when you touch him. You don’t want him to hurt any further. “Are you okay, baby?”

“No.” He sniffles and his lip wobbles dramatically and you laugh. You do what you always do when Hoseok hurts himself in some small, superficial way- you lift his hand to your lips and gently kiss the fingers he’d gotten caught, inflamed skin already fading back to its usual colour, pain clearly already gone. 

“There,” you declare. “All better.”

Hoseok’s expression is warm and tender as he looks at you, his fingers still cradled in yours as you look up from your touching hands, and your gazes lock. There’s a brief moment of stillness, a second that starts to crystallise into something more, and you’d swear his face had just started inching forwards when there’s suddenly an almighty clattering noise from behind you and you both jump, the moment broken.

“Oops,” Jin says blithely. You turn around to discover that all the pineapple related knick-knacks and decor on the table are now scattered on the floor around him, a tangle of paper decorations and plastic fruit that’s rolling across the room. “I seem to have slipped.”

“Weren’t you just going on about how messy we were?” You raise an eyebrow at him, but you’ve already turned away from Hoseok to squat down and help Jin tidy up, chasing down an errant pineapple. You don’t see the pointed look that Jin gives Hoseok behind your back, and when you turn around with the over-large pineapple clutched in your arms, both men seem to be acting like normal. “I’m going to pay Namjoon to keep that in the final cut so everyone can see how chaotic you are in the kitchen.”

“Joonie would never betray me like that,” Jin says with completely unearned confidence, just like he does with most things- but the sad thing is, he’s right. Namjoon is too much of a professional to keep unnecessary shots in the video, and besides, Jin seems able to get away with being outrageously chaotic because he’s so charming and pulls it off so well. If the footage of him somehow sending everything to the floor was kept in the video, people would probably love it.

Once the pie is done cooking and has finally cooled enough for Jin to cut it into triangular shapes, you’re so excited to eat it that you’re bouncing up and down on the spot a little. Hoseok is too. Jin humours your excitement with understanding- he loves to eat too- although he raises his eyebrows at the way you and Hoseok lock your arms together before you lean forward to take a bite of the pineapple pie. You let out a muffled little groan into the pastry once it finally touches your tongue, sweet tartness of the pineapple exploding across your tastebuds, pastry buttery and flakey as it melts in your mouth.

“Jin, this is so good,” you say, and Hoseok hums around a mouthful of fruit filling in agreement.

“I think your ghost was onto something,” Jin says. He’s already polished off his slice, while you and Hoseok are barely halfway through your own, disentangling your arms so you can focus on eating properly. Sometimes you wonder if Jin just unhinges his jaw and swallows things whole because you’ve never seen someone who can eat as quickly as he can. “They could see you pining.”

Your face twists in confusion. “What?”

“You know… pining… like a pineapple,” Jin says, before giggling to himself like he’s just told the world’s funniest joke. You raise your eyebrows at Hoseok, but then you take another bite of the pie and immediately forget about Jin’s cryptic nonsense.

“This is so good, isn’t it, Hobi?” You ask.

“It’s so sweet and light and delicious,” Hoseok says. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I thought we were talking about the pie, not me, Hoseok,” Jin says, and then lets out peals of squeaky laughter when you roll your eyes.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I think you can get a cream for that,” Jin continues to laugh, before you throw a paper pineapple at him.

--

There’s still pie left over the next day. Of course, you’ve saved slices for the rest of your crew. Jimin and Taehyung are snacking on slices of pie as they help each other set up the cameras and mics in the studio, making sure the lighting hits you and Hoseok so that you stand out against the room behind you. Today’s the day you’ve set aside to film the 70th episode, and you’re excited for the chance to do an official retrospective of the show so that you can look back at all the places you’ve been to and the things you’ve discussed, as well as plans for the future.

“Did the two of you coordinate your outfits for the video?” Tae says curiously, and you glance down at your clothes. It’s only then you realise that- although your outfit is darker than his- there are flowers on Hoseok’s bomber jacket and your dress is covered in a floral pattern.

“Huh, I didn’t even notice,” you mutter as you pluck at your dress.  “Guess we’re just telepathic.”

Hoseok stays silent, strangely enough, but when you hold your hand up for a high five he responds enthusiastically and continues to grip your hand afterwards, which makes you laugh. “That’s friendship,” he says, and you laugh again, squeezing his hand.

The two of you keep laughing as the cameras start to roll, watching the clips from your most popular episodes so far, between answering commonly asked questions from fans- one of the more frequently asked being ‘why did Hoseok agree to be a co-host when he always seems scared during filming and screams all the time?’

You read this question off your list and Hoseok’s answer is immediate. “Y/n is one of the hardest workers I know,” he says. “So I was excited to be invited on board for a show that she had created. And I wouldn’t say that I’m always screaming-”

“Yeah, when you have to pause to breathe,” you interject, and he laughs.

“Sure,” he says indulgently. “But, honestly, when Y/n is there it’s easy to forget that we’re standing in some terrifying old building or haunted tomb or whatever.” You rest your chin on your hand as you watch him continue to speak. “I would honestly be a lot more scared if she wasn’t there. She’s very good at distracting me if I’m getting too worried. She’s very comforting.”

“That’s a nice way of saying that I’m basically a defence mechanism for you.”

“Basically.” Hoseok grins at you so widely, teeth on show, gorgeous. 

Now that he mentions it, it’s true that as your friendship has grown, his fear has ebbed; although he still screams as loudly as before, it happens less often, but because sudden noises and jump scares always startle him, it still happens a lot. If you don’t take the time to reflect it’s kind of easy to forget how your friendship has grown over time, which is why it’s another good reason to have this retrospective- for the sake of the series, sure, but your relationship with Hoseok has grown as the show has, too.

When you flip over the final page to read the final question, you’re surprised to see an extra one tacked onto the end- you’d been the one to select them, after all, and this one has been added after the fact, someone’s messy handwriting scratched across the paper. You don’t recognise the writing. Honestly it kind of looks like someone had written it with their non-dominant hand to avoid detection, almost like a child’s writing from a cartoon, all but missing the backward E’s- but the question is pretty innocuous, so you figure you may as well answer it. You can just ask Namjoon to cut the footage later if you don’t like it.

“Y/n: If Hoseok decided to quit being your co-host, who would you want to replace him?” You squint at the paper as you decipher the scrawl, not seeing how Jimin and Taehyung exchange a sly, down-low high five off camera. “Huh.”

“You started the series with Yoongi, right?” Hoseok pipes up. “Would you bring him back?”

You’d chosen Yoongi as your original co-host for Unsolved because you vibed well and had pretty similar opinions when it came to a lot of things, and you’d worked well together in the past, but the truth is that- “No, I wouldn’t,” you say immediately. Hoseok seems genuinely surprised. “Honestly, if you stopped co-hosting with me, that would be the end of Unsolved. Hoseok and I are a package deal at this point and I would never consider filming the show without him.”

Hoseok looks stunned, but you keep going. “The show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Yoongi was great for the videos he was in, but- even if he didn’t have other commitments, he couldn’t take over from Hobi. Unsolved isn’t just a show about the supernatural, or crimes, it’s about us dealing with the supernatural or true crimes,” you continue, and then your nose wrinkles as you realise what you’ve said. “Well, we don’t directly deal with true crimes, fortunately. I’d make a terrible detective. My hand isn’t steady enough to draw one of those chalk outlines, y’know? I’d probably just end up drawing someone who looked suspiciously like Kirby. Anyway, Hoseok is my best friend as well as my co-host; if you get one of us, you get both of us, and if you don’t get both of us, you get neither of us.”

“I love you, Y/n,” Hoseok says. It’s not the first time he’s said this to you, but you think it’s the first time he’s ever said it on camera, and his tone is strangely earnest. He must be getting really nostalgic about the start of the show if it’s making him sound like that.

“Love you too, Hobi.” You beam at him. “I’m really glad we became friends.”

Behind the cameras, Taehyung makes a weird croaking sound and Jimin hits him hard on the arm.

“Uh, normally when someone's choking you hit them on the back, Minnie,” you say.

“I’m not choking, I’m fine,” Taehyung wheezes. Jimin punches him again.

“Uh-huh.” You raise an eyebrow. “Anyway. What was I saying. Oh! Yeah, referring back to the question- while I would never stop him if he thought it was the right thing to do, I certainly hope that Hobi doesn’t want to quit being a co-host.”

“I would never.” Hoseok’s expression is weirdly intense as he says this and you can’t help but laugh.

“Good! I’m glad we’re both in it for the long haul.”

Taehyung still looks kind of constipated once filming is over, but before you can ask him what’s up, Jimin pulls him to the corner of the room and the two men exchange some quiet words. They seem oddly serious and you purse your lips as you try to work out what’s going on, but then Hoseok’s hand slips into yours and your attention is drawn away from them.

“Celebratory 70th episode filming dinner?”

“I thought we were going to have a celebratory dinner with our minions when the episode actually aired,” you say, tilting your head at Taehyung and Jimin. “Didn’t you put it in the GCal?”

“I meant just you and me,” Hoseok says, squeezing your hand gently. “A co-host only dinner.”

“Ooh, we’re in an exclusive club, are we?” You giggle and squeeze his hand back. “Sure, why not. Can we have pizza? I’m feeling like pizza.”

“You can have anything you want, baby,” Hoseok answers, affection written across all his features. You go all wobbly inside, your insides melting into a puddle of goo at how warm and tender he is. You love your best friend so much. “Let’s leave those two to it, it seems like they’re busy.”

You look back over at your cameramen. Jimin has his cheeks puffed out and Taehyung looks chagrined. You purse your lips again, a little unsure if you should leave them if they’re having some sort of disagreement, but then Hoseok slips his hand out of yours and crouches down in a way that you recognise instantly. You make a noise of happiness and leap up, letting him lift you into a piggyback; you lock your arms around his neck and start to giggle as he bounces you a little, getting his hands comfortable under your calves.

“We’re off!” Hoseok announces. Jimin and Taehyung look away from their discussion to the two of you, their expressions both mirrors of each other as their eyebrows rise in unison when they spot how Hoseok is carrying you. “We’ll leave you to tidy the studio.”

“Enjoy the rest of the pie!” You wiggle your fingers at them in a little wave before squealing when Hoseok hitches you up his back again without warning, tightening your grip on him. “Pizza time, Hobi, let’s go.”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes you laugh before you bury your head in his hair, stifling your giggles against his scalp. He smells so nice and soft and lovely, familiar, like home.

“Wow, they’re unbelievable,” Jimin whispers behind you, though you don’t hear him, more focused on not bumping your head in the doorway as Hoseok walks you both out of the studio. 

You end up going to your favourite pizzeria, sitting at your usual booth in the corner. You’ve been here so many times with Hoseok that you don’t need to look at the menu and just order your usual half-and-half, feeding each other slices of garlic bread and struggling with the gooey, molten cheese that seems to stretch endlessly from your slices of pizza. You feel warm and comfortable, your feet brushing under the small table whenever you shift your legs, laughing each time Hoseok traps your foot under his before letting you go.

“I can’t believe we’ve done 70 episodes,” you say, leaning back against the smooth leather of the booth seat after you’ve stolen a sip of Hoseok’s Sprite. “I never thought we’d get this far. I honestly thought you’d have died of fright by now,” you tease, swinging your leg gently against his.

“If I die, I’ll haunt you from beyond the grave,” Hoseok says, pulling a face at you that’s clearly meant to be ghoulish, and you laugh.

“I’ll take the spirit box home from work so you can talk to me.” You lean your elbow on the table and rest your chin on your palm, still smiling. “Obviously you’d do the same for me, right?”

“As long as you kept other ghosts away from it,” Hoseok says, shivering. “I don’t want to have to talk to them too.”

“I promise. I’ll be the only thing haunting you, don’t worry.”

Hoseok smiles at you, eyes warm. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You share a banana split for dessert. You’re pretty full so Hoseok eats the majority of it, which gives you the opportunity to watch him, the way his dimples appear when he chews; you must have watched him eat a thousand times but you’re never any less endeared by the sight.

“I meant what I said, you know,” you say suddenly, and Hoseok looks up, cheeks bulging with ice cream and banana.

“Hmrh?” He makes a noise of questioning around his mouthful of food, and you laugh when you spot a smear of chocolate sauce on his chin. You swipe it away with your thumb before mindlessly sucking it off, too distracted by the sweetness bursting across your tongue to notice how Hoseok stares at the motion with wide eyes. He swallows. “What?”

“When I said that I was glad that we became friends,” you say. “When I first asked you to star in an episode I never thought we’d end up here, you know? But… I’m really happy. And I really do love you a lot, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiles all the time. In fact, you’d say he spends more time smiling than he doesn’t, happiness always radiating from his face like sunlight shining down from the sky, golden and bright- but the smile he gives you right now is softer than that. It’s more like the softness of the sunrise, spilling over you through just-opened curtains, warm and gentle and comforting.

“I love you too, Y/n,” he says. “More than anything.”

You put a hand over your face as you giggle bashfully at the earnest look on his face. “Stop,” you whine. “You’re so cheesy, oh my God.”

“You said it first,” Hoseok points out, but he starts to laugh along with you, before the server comes over to give you your bill and you end up fighting over who pays- Hoseok wins, much to your disappointment, but lets you front the tip as a compromise.

As always he catches the subway with you and holds your hand all the way home, only letting go when you get to the door of your apartment building. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he says, and you glance up from where you’ve been rummaging in your bag for your keys.

“Bright and early as always,” you reply, smiling. “I’ll make sure to bring your casserole dish back tomorrow, it’s still on my counter. I’ll make you some lunch to make up for how long I’ve kept it.”

“Okay.” Hoseok watches as you finally unearth your keys, jingling them triumphantly as you do. “Baby?”

“Hm?” You look up from where you’ve been fitting the keys into the lock. “Yes?”

“I meant it when I said it, too.” He looks oddly sombre, none of the usual levity on his face. “I love you more than anything, Y/n.”

Your heart seizes in your chest, stuttering a little at his tone and his expression. He’s told you that he loves you, sure, and you always say it back, but Hoseok’s never said it like this: like there’s more meaning behind his words than normal. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, frozen in place, key still pressed into the lock- but before you can gather your thoughts Hoseok’s face is morphing into his usual smile before he dips forwards and kisses you on the forehead.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow! Don’t forget the casserole dish!” 

And then he’s bouncing down the steps just like he always does, turning momentarily to give you a jaunty wave before walking briskly back in the direction of the subway.

“See you tomorrow,” you echo faintly, feeling off kilter and off balance as you watch him disappear into the distance.

--

Okay. So. You’ve told yourself on multiple occasions that, nowadays, what you feel for Hoseok is entirely platonic. He’s your best friend, and you love him, and it’s very easy to feel romantically inclined towards your friends sometimes because friendship involves love, and you should be friends with your romantic partners anyway, so there’s a lot of overlap. You may have lingering memories of your crush, yes, but you’re over it. 

At least, you could have sworn you were. So why are you projecting onto Hoseok again all of a sudden? When he said he loved you, it wasn’t a romantic confession, despite what your instincts might be telling you. Your brain is screaming at you to look at it logically, and you’re trying your best to tell yourself that, that it Wasn’t Romantic and it was Just Hoseok Being Hoseok, the man who tells all his friends that he loves them on a regular basis, it wasn’t romantic.

“Morning, baby,” Hoseok says, smiling at you, before noticing both the coffees you’re holding. “Ooh, is one of those for me?”

“Hi.” Your voice is weirdly breathless. “Yeah, I got your favourite.”

Hoseok lights up and makes grabby hands at you, and you feel utterly helpless as you hand it over. You feel like Past-Y/n, a previous version of yourself, the one that was still new to BigHit and used to get all in a muddle when Hoseok so much as looked at you. You feel like you’re rediscovering your crush all over again, like some sort of giddy schoolgirl, and you kind of want to slap yourself- but then Hoseok takes a sip of his coffee and makes a little noise of pleasure and all that self-hatred turns to static, replaced with nothing but affection for the man holding the door open for you.

You manage to keep it together pretty well, for the most part, you think. It’s not until you leave your computer to speak to Hoseok about something that you nearly lose it. He sees you coming and smiles widely, instinctively wheeling away his desk and patting his lap in invitation. Your brain goes blank as you panic and you abruptly swerve and act like you were walking over to Jungkook the whole time, missing the way Hoseok’s face drops with disappointment.

You’ve been lurking to one side of Jungkook’s desk for a few minutes before the man acknowledges you, looking away from the video he’s apparently editing to raise an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you lost? Hobi-hyung is over there.” Jungkook starts to point but then you grab his hand before anyone notices, pushing it back down against his desk.

“I know where Hobi is,” you say through gritted teeth. Jungkook blinks at you as you continue to trap his hand against his desk, tightening your grip when his fingers twitch. “I am having a small crisis and I would appreciate it if you let me pretend to have a conversation with you about work.”

Jungkook looks baffled but doesn’t argue, clearly a little scared of how tightly you’re grasping his fingers. “Um, okay,” he says, slowly. “Do you need to hold my hand at the same time?”

You look down at where your hands are still connected before you release him. He flexes his fingers with a wince. “Wow, you’re a lot stronger than you look.” He sounds impressed. “Have you been working out?”

“I bench press the weight of my stupidity daily,” you sigh. Jungkook lets your words pass without comment, putting his free hand back onto his mouse and resuming his work. You squint at his screen, intrigued. “What are you working on?”

You end up perching on Jungkook’s desk as he talks you through his most recent project, and how he and Tae have almost finished putting together the cat shelter video- you coo at all the footage of the different cats, small kittens to mangy strays, scruffy and cute. You’re too busy laughing at the unflattering shots they have of Yoongi while he’d been sleeping before they’d written across his face and you don’t notice how Hoseok keeps looking over with a mix of confusion and almost hurt flashing across his features. 

He doesn't show any of this when you meet him later, though. You’ve recomposed yourself by the time lunch rolls around and you manage to return Hoseok’s casserole dish without fumbling. Despite your inner turmoil last night you’d still made time to pack lunch for the two of you, using the cute lunchboxes that Hoseok’s family had given you last Christmas- he lights up when he sees the dosirak you’ve packed, fluffy rice and other side dishes, all of his favourites.

“You are a blessing,” he says, and you smile as he eagerly dives in. You tackle your own food more slowly, having to approach the kimbap carefully because of how you’d been overzealous with the filling. “Ooh, can I have some of that?”

“Sure,” you say, gesturing at the bite sized slices in the tub in front of you. Instead of taking one of those, however, Hoseok leans forward for the piece of kimbap you’ve already grabbed. You’re frozen in place as you feel his lips around your fingers, teeth lightly grazing your skin as you instinctively surrender the food to his mouth, a light swipe of his tongue over your fingertips to catch the light sheen of sesame oil there, soft and wet against your touch. 

Hoseok leans back and chews like nothing is out of the ordinary- and to be fair, you’ve fed finger foods to him before, it’s not out of the ordinary, but right now you feel like you’re on the verge of a meltdown. Your brain keeps replaying the past few seconds, the softness of his lips around your fingers, the wet of his tongue against them, the way his eyelashes had fanned out against his cheek as he’d glanced down at the food in your hand. You are Very Much Not Okay.

Hoseok is still happily chewing his kimbap, swallowing it down and taking a sip of water before he seems to notice that you’ve gone eerily silent. “Y/n?” He blinks at you. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “Um. I just remembered that I. Have a thing? I have to? Go do? You can eat the rest, seeyoulaterBYE.”

You can’t let this crush rear its head like this again and make your friendship awkward. The two of you have shared the same bed more times than you can count, for God’s sake, and you’ve even discussed rooming together- the rent in LA isn’t exactly cheap, and if you pooled your resources you could get a pretty nice place- and that had all been okay! That hadn’t made you feel strange at all! But Hoseok eats food from your hand like he has a thousand times and you’re spiralling out of control like this? Why is this happening now?

Ugh. Ughughughugh. Stupid.

Namjoon finds you hidden away in the Unsolved studio later, where you’ve absconded with your tablet to try your best to get some work done with your limited resources, hidden away from everyone; it’s weird being in here when you’re not filming, without Hoseok in the seat next to you, so you’re not really doing a great job. (You’ve spent more time blankly watching Queer Eye on Netflix than you have being productive.)

“Hey, Y/n.” Namjoon’s gentle voice is like a balm to your soul. Hoseok might be your best friend now, but Namjoon was your friend first and the two of you are still close, both in and out of work. He’d made you feel comfortable and welcome when you’d first joined the team and continues to support all your projects. He’s a really great friend and colleague and an even better person.

You smile at him as he shuts the door. You can tell he’s trying to do it quietly but ends up accidentally slamming it loudly, and you stifle a laugh as you notice the guilt that appears on his face.

“Joonie! Come on in.” You beckon at the seat next to you, scooting away a little so he plenty of room to sit. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just wanted to talk to you about some editing stuff but Hobi said you’d disappeared somewhere for a, um, ‘thing’.” Namjoon doesn’t comment on the fact that you still clearly have Queer Eye open on your tablet, Jonathan’s face a blur on the screen from where you’ve paused it during a transitional shot. Instead he sits carefully down next to you and leans back in the chair, adjusting his glasses; he looks particularly cozy today, with his glasses and jumper and cardigan. He pulls off the Hot Academic look really well. “Any particular reason why you’ve squirreled yourself away here?”

You muffle a sigh, looking down at the notebook you have next to your tablet; what little handwriting is on the page is especially messy and disjointed, reflecting your distracted mind. Namjoon has a naturally reassuring presence anyway but his outfit today seems to accentuate that even further, like you could bury your head into the fuzziness of his jumper and find inner peace.

“Oh, okay, I suppose this is happening,” he says.

Yep, the jumper is just as soft as you’d thought, and it smells nice and soft too. Namjoon doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve smooshed your face into his shoulder and instead he angles himself so you’re both more comfortable, and he starts to pat your back soothingly. It’s nice, of course, but you can’t help but compare his touch to Hoseok’s- Namjoon is more methodical and measured, like he’s thinking about each motion, while Hoseok just seems smoother and more natural because he’s always touching you, second nature by now. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ughughughughguhguh,” you say articulately into the weave of Namjoon’s clothing. He chuckles warmly.

“Long day?”

Good old Namjoon. A gentle question, open ended, offering you the opportunity to deflect, or tell him the truth. You turn your head to avoid getting jumper lint in your mouth, but stay leaned against him.

“Kind of,” you say. “It’s just…” You struggle to put it into words, but Namjoon just waits patiently while he continues to pat your back. “It’s Hobi?”

Namjoon’s hand goes still, though you’re not sure if it’s because of your words themselves or the tone of them, the way you pitched it up at the end like a question, like you weren’t too sure yourself. “Did he do something?”

“No! No. Yes? No,” you settle on. “No, no he didn’t. It’s not him, it’s me,” you say. “Ugh.”

You end up pulling away from Namjoon to scrub tiredly at your face, not noticing his expression, which he quickly reschools when you look back at him. “We were just doing our usual thing, you know,” you say, and Namjoon nods as he listens, even though your description is incredibly vague and could mean any number of things. “But then he said he loved me and like- we’re best friends, we say we love each other a lot, it’s not unusual or anything, but… I guess it got to me this time? Like it felt like something more than just friendship? He didn’t mean it like that, of course, but I guess it’s hard to, uh, shake that feeling now that it’s gotten into my head.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Although Namjoon seems a little perplexed he’s still clearly concerned, and your eyes widen.

“What? No, no, it’s fine! I don’t mind it. It’s more that-” You pause. You’ve never actually voiced your less-than-platonic feelings for Hoseok out loud, though you’re certain it must have been obvious to start with- even though no one had ever mentioned it or teased you about it, so maybe they hadn't noticed. 

Either way, it sort of feels like once you put the words out into the world then the truth will linger and be unavoidable in a way that you’ve been desperately avoiding so far. But it’s just you, and Namjoon, and you would trust Namjoon with your life, even if you wouldn’t trust him to hold anything fragile or delicate. “It’s not the idea of Hoseok loving me like that that makes me uncomfortable. I just don’t want things to be weird?” Namjoon continues to look levelly at you, waiting patiently for you to get to the point, and you take in a deep breath. “IhaveacrushonHobi,” you rush out. “And I don’t want to ruin the friendship by reading into things too much because I’m being overly hopeful or something.”

Namjoon pauses. He looks thoughtful as he fixes his gaze on you through his glasses. “Y/n.” He sounds solemn, like he’s discussing something of deep importance, like your tiny breakdown over your best friend requires the same level of gravity as the rapid disappearance of bees, or climate change- like it’s something world changing and heavy and important. He’s not doing what you’ve done over the years, as in, desperately tried to minimise your feelings just so you can stay sane. “You sound unhappy about it.”

“I am unhappy about it,” you say, unhappy. “Hobi is my best friend and I do love him a lot, and I’m happy being friends, and I reallyreallyreally don’t want to make things weird. I should be used to this by now, it’s not like what he and I do is anything I’m not used to.”

“Things change when romantic feelings develop,” Namjoon says, ever patient, and you let out a pained little groan.

“It’s not- these feelings aren’t new, Namjoon.” You sigh, and for the first time since you started this conversation, Namjoon looks surprised. Guess your crush on Hoseok hadn’t been obvious in the beginning, then. “I don’t know if I ever told you that I met Hoseok before I even got a job here, technically?”

You’d come out of your BigHit interview feeling unsure. Off balance. You hadn’t known if you’d come across as desperate and too eager to please, rather than a go-getter team player, but all you’d been able to think about was how getting a job at BigHit would mean that you could finally save up enough to move out of the awful shared room you were in with the mould in the corner that kept coming back no matter how many times you cleaned it. The interview had gone on longer than you thought and you barely had time to get to Starbucks before your shift started- if you got a job at BigHit you could finally quit that place- and you’d hurried to leave the building only to discover that it was raining.

“Oh,” you’d said. 

You’d stood in the reception area, staring out of the glass windows at the torrential downpour outside; it had been sunny earlier that day, no indication that the heavens were going to open, and you hadn’t brought a coat or umbrella with you. Your one nice interview outfit was going to get drenched, and it was going to stay wet in your locker at Starbucks while you were working, and basically the entire month had been just terrible and after a potentially wasted interview you just kind of wanted to cry.

Before the tears could start to pool in your eyes, however, Hoseok had appeared. Not that you’d known him or his name at the time, of course, but he’d swept into the building like some burst of sunlight that had cut through the clouds despite the rain, shaking an umbrella off before laughing at Yoongi’s disgruntled face at the scattering water. You’d been stunned by the sudden flare of energy in the room and were still standing there when Hoseok’s eyes fell on you, on your stance, the way you were staring at the grey skies outside and the obvious lack of an umbrella in your hands.

And he’d just- he’d just walked up to you like you were friends, like he knew you, and he’d proffered the still damp umbrella, like it was nothing.

“It’s raining pretty heavily out there,” he’d said, and he’d been smiling, and you’d looked at him in shock, and he’d laughed. “You’ll need this.”

“I- what?”

“You clearly need this more than me,” Hoseok had said, bright smile fading into something a little more gentle, and you’d accepted the umbrella with unsteady hands, unable to say no to this sunshine of a man. “Feel free to give it back whenever.”

“I- I don’t work here,” you’d admitted, shamefaced. “I’m just here for an interview.”

“So you can give it back to me once you get the job.” Hoseok had said it like it was a done deal, like there weren’t other people vying for the position you’d applied for, people who were probably infinitely more qualified and better in interviews. “Okay?”

For the first time that month, you’d felt like someone believed in you- because you certainly didn’t believe in yourself. But Hoseok had been smiling at you, with his heart shaped mouth and his bright eyes, and you’d felt like a flower basking in his rays, turning towards him as your petals unfurled in his light, and you’d said- “Sure. Yes. I will.”

Here, now, in the present, you look down at your hands as you finish telling this story. “I just put the umbrella on his desk when he wasn’t around, after I got the job,” you tell Namjoon. “I didn’t talk to Hobi for ages because I didn’t- I didn’t have the strength to look him in the face without, you know. Without making it obvious that I had a raging schoolgirl crush on him. And he never said anything about it- I don't think he even remembered me at all, he'd just given some person his umbrella because they needed it, you know? And then we became friends and my crush died down and everything was okay, but- I guess the crush never really went away after all. Ugh,” you say. “This sucks, Joon. It sucks.”

The way Namjoon looks at you is compassionate and soft. “I know,” he says. “It’s understandable that you’re worried about this, because your friendship with Hoseok is important to you. But I don’t think you have anything to be concerned about, really.”

“You’re just saying that,” you mumble, and Namjoon chuckles.

“No, I’m not,” he says, gently. “I think you need to be more confident in what you and Hoseok have. Even if you admitted your feelings and he didn’t feel the same, you know he loves you too much to throw your friendship away, and it’s strong enough that it can survive whatever’s thrown at it. But, if you’ll forgive me for speaking out of turn, I would wager you’re not the only one with romantic feelings, Y/n.”

“You’re very sweet, Joonie, but I really don’t think that’s the case.” You let out a little self-pitying sigh. “Hobi’s just so lovely to everyone, it probably seems like that because we’re best friends.”

One of Namjoon’s eyebrows rises. “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes,” you say, a little miserable, looking down as you pick at a loose thread in one of your sleeves. “People mistake us as a couple a lot because we’re so close, you know? But Hoseok doesn’t see me like that.”

“Mm.” Namjoon makes a little noise of understanding, giving you a considering look as you continue to unravel your sleeve. “I see.”

He eventually coaxes you out of the studio, and when he discovers that you never finished your lunch he brings you to the café around the corner that all the BigHit employees love; you pick up an iced coffee for Hoseok, just the way he likes it. You feel better after talking to Namjoon and by the time you leave the café you feel pretty much back to normal. Mostly relaxed. You don’t feel weird when Hoseok lights up when he sees you, because he always does, because you’re his best friend, and this is normal. You can be normal.

“Again? It was my turn to get you coffee,” Hoseok says with a pout and you laugh.

“Don’t worry about it.” When you hand Hoseok his drink and your fingers brush, it’s okay. It’s okay. Your friendship with Hoseok is more important than your other feelings for him, and you’ll just focus on that. You’re not sure that’s what Namjoon was trying to communicate to you, with all his listening and gentle words, but you can bottle up these emotions and keep them on lockdown until the weird feeling passes. It’ll work. You’ll be fine.

A few hours later, you realise that you’re not fine.

“Joonie!” You pounce on Namjoon when you find him alone in the break room, filling a glass at the tap. He jumps and sends water sloshing over his hands when he drops his cup, though it fortunately doesn’t break when it clatters into the sink. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“I’m not going to point out that you snuck up on me from behind without making any noise, but, that’s okay,” Namjoon says, ever tolerant. He very carefully puts the glass upright in the middle of the sink before he turns around. “What’s up?”

“I, um, am maybe panicking a little bit,” you admit in a hushed voice, even though there’s no one else in the tiny kitchen with you. “So you know Unsolved has a bigger budget now that we’re more popular? And I’ve been pushing for us to go abroad somewhere on said bigger budget? And they said we could schedule some episodes for Britain because basically every other building in Britain is haunted?”

“Yes, I am aware,” Namjoon says. “I did help you to draft the emails that you sent management.”

“You did, and I’m still eternally grateful,” you say, truthfully. “But I’ve been so caught up in the 70th episode retrospective and my much more recent, uh, Hoseok related stuff, that I totally forgot how soon it was coming up and we fly to London next week?”

Namjoon blinks at you. “You have plenty of time to pack before next week, why are you panicking?”

You muffle a scream into your hands while Namjoon looks on with concern. 

“It’s not packing I’m worried about, Joon,” you say once you’ve pulled your face out of your palms. “It’s just that when we’re abroad I’m not going to be able to get away from Hoseok and I’m worried that I’m going to erupt like a volcano and spew all my emotions over him and then I’m going to have to change my name and drop off the grid forever when he inevitably rejects me, and I was always terrible at camping. I could never get the fire to light.”

Namjoon, for all that his patience seems endless and eternal, gives you a look that borders on weary. Like he’s the father to a child who keeps eating glue even after being told that there’s no nutritional value in it and they should be using it for macaroni art anyway, and also why are they eating the glue when it’d make more sense to eat the pasta that’s right there, even if it’s uncooked? 

“First of all, you can be off the grid and still have access to ways of heating that don’t require fire,” he says. “And second of all, why are you panicking so much about London?”

“Because Hobi always gets super clingy when we fly anywhere.” You shuffle from foot to foot, feeling awkward. “And that’s when we’re still in the US. I feel like if we’re in a different country it’ll be compounded? Even if I don’t say anything out loud, I feel like my feelings will be obvious just in the way I act?”

Namjoon pauses before he grips your shoulders. His palms feel so big and warm, a steadying presence. “Would that be so terrible? Think about it, Y/n. If that was the case, then it gives Hobi the opportunity to speak out if he notices. If your friendship is entirely platonic to him, then he won’t notice, right? You’ll be okay.”

You open your mouth to take in a breath and respond, but before you can say anything Seokjin comes sauntering into the cramped break area, entirely indifferent to the weird atmosphere he’s walked into. His eyebrows raise as he spots how you and Namjoon are standing. “Ooh, are we gossiping? Is there tea to be spilled? You both look very serious, let me in on it.”

“I was just asking Namjoon if there was any advice he could give me about travelling to Britain,” you lie.

“She didn’t realise that over there lemonade is like soda.” Namjoon lets his hands drop from your shoulders as he plays along with ruse, and your face twists up in confusion.

“It’s what?” You look at him for a second before realising that Jin is staring at you, and you pretend to laugh. “Ohh, yeah, haha! Yeah, that’s crazy, haha. Um, I should get back to my desk for my notebook, I should write this down before I forget,” you say, before scuttling out of the break room.

Once you’ve disappeared, Seokjin gives Namjoon a long look. “I can’t believe you haven’t broken yet,” he says. “I still personally think we should just lock them both in a room together until one of them confesses, but apparently that’s ‘inappropriate workplace behaviour’.” The air quotes he makes are exaggerated and theatrical, as if the entire thing is a farce.

“It is and I’m not going to take that statement back,” Namjoon responds. Seokjin rolls his eyes dramatically but Namjoon ignores him. “It’s better if they come around to it by themselves. I believe in them. Besides, weren’t you the one who intervened when it looked like Hoseok was going to kiss her? I had to edit that footage, I saw how you pushed all those decorations off the table.”

Jin raises his eyebrows. “Can you imagine the chaos if he’d done that without either of them confessing properly first? They’d both pretend like it never happened. I was doing them a favour.” He casts a sideways look at Namjoon, who nods in reluctant agreement. “You know the rest of the office has a pool on how soon one of those idiots actually confesses? Do you want in on it? If either one of us gets it, we can split it 50/50.”

“That’s also grossly inappropriate,” Namjoon says, before he pauses. “Hm. How much is in the pool?”

--

Turns out you didn’t need to worry so much.

“Oh my God, look at that!” Hoseok has his face pressed up against the glass of the pod, the London Eye giving you the opportunity to look down at the metropolis of the city sprawling out below you; Hoseok’s pointing at a weirdly shaped skyscraper, panels of glass refracting off alternate shades of blue. “That’s so cool!”

“I think it’s called The Gherkin,” you say and he makes a noise of delight. Beside you, Jimin and Taehyung take a selfie with the panorama of London behind them, and you smile.

It’s true that Hoseok has been clingier than usual. The thing is, though, you’ve been clingier too; you’ve had time between filming to do some sightseeing, and neither of you have been to London before, so everything is exciting and fun and new, and you’ve been holding onto each other throughout the journey, familiarity in an unfamiliar place. You’re too busy taking in the sights and travelling from place to place, you and Hoseok and Jimin and Taehyung cramming close together each time you take the Tube somewhere, or asking people to take photos of you, and you’re having too much fun to worry about anything else.

You even get recognised a few times, which is exciting. You know Unsolved is popular but there’s something gratifying about people an ocean away knowing who you are and enjoying your work- you look on fondly as Hoseok makes your fans laugh, putting the nervous ones at ease, before shuffling together so they can take photos with you. It’s lovely, really, and you’re so glad that you and Hoseok get to experience this together. There’s no one else you’d rather be with.

You’d had a brief moment of panic after filming the first episode, Hoseok sliding into your bed as per usual, but you’d both been so tired and jetlagged that you’d basically fallen asleep the second he’d finished wrapping his arms around you, so it had been okay. You weren’t as jetlagged for the second episode, of course, but there was something soothing about having Hoseok curled around you as he slept; despite how your heart probably should have been racing, it had just gone quiet instead, slipping into a gentle beating rhythm as you’d drifted into sleep.

So on the whole it’s been all been going a lot better than you’d thought. It feels natural to let your head fall onto Hoseok’s shoulder as you both stare out of the train window, watching the fields and villages slip by as you race out of London to your final filming location, only a few days away from jetting home again.

“We should come back,” Hoseok says suddenly, his voice low enough that Jimin and Taehyung aren’t distracted from the card game they’re playing together across the aisle from you.

“For more episodes? We’ll probably have to wait till the next quarter so there’s money in the budget.” You turn away from the view outside to look up at him, chin resting on his shoulder. “We can start looking up other haunted locations when we get home, if you want.”

Hoseok smiles. “I meant we should come back just for a regular holiday,” he says. “So we don’t have to worry about rushing from place to place. I know you’re disappointed we didn’t have time to see the Royal Botanic Gardens. I know how much you love flowers.”

Oh. You keep looking up at Hoseok, the way you have such a perfect view of the round apples of his cheeks, the swoop of his nose, the sharp cut of his jaw- you think about walking hand in hand with him past bursting blooms, through delicate arching greenhouses, surrounded by colour and beauty, and you know you’d still think he was the most beautiful flower there. 

“I’d like that,” you say quietly. You’re almost drowned out by how loudly Taehyung yells snap! and the subsequent groan Jimin lets out, but you know Hoseok hears you by the way his mouth lifts into a smile. “Is there anything you wanted to see next time?”

Hoseok shrugs, but only with one shoulder, doing a little jiggle with the one you’re not resting your chin on, which makes you smile. “Nothing specific,” he says. “I’m happy as long as I get to see it with you.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he says this, words settling deep in your chest, and you turn your head so that your cheek is resting on his shoulder again, shirt soft against your skin. “Love you, Hobi.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond straight away, but then he turns his head and kisses the crown of your head lightly. “Love you too.”

You arrive in Colchester in the late afternoon, and you don’t film until tomorrow, so after you’ve finished unpacking your stuff at your apparently haunted bed and breakfast, you make the group decision to just chill out for the evening and grab a couple of drinks. There’s a pub near your B&B so you and the boys pile into it, claiming a table in the corner so that you’re not in the way of the regulars, although every so often one of you has to venture up to the bar to order your drinks, trying to follow whatever sort of queuing system seems to be going on. (After the lemonade thing you had actually ended up actually asking Namjoon about Britain and the etiquette over here, and he was very insistent on following queues.)

By the time it’s your turn to grab the drinks it seems like it’s starting to get busy, so it’s taking some time for the bartender to get to you, but that’s okay- you lean against the bar and scroll through your phone, taking the opportunity to double check your schedule for tomorrow, when you feel someone tap your arm and you glance up.

“Hi,” the man says. He’s been waiting nearby, lounging against the bar, similar to you. “Are you waiting for a drink? You can go first, if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, no!” You shake your head and laugh a little. “You were here before me, that’s okay.”

When he hears your accent his eyes light up. “Oh, are you a tourist? I thought I hadn’t seen you around, because I definitely would have remembered you. How long are you over here for?”

“Uh, just a couple of nights.” You smile at him. “I’m guessing you’re a local?”

“Yeah.” He smiles back at you. “I could show you around, if you’d like.”

You startle at the sudden sensation of hands sliding around your waist, but it only takes you a second to recognise the touch and you relax against Hoseok, your back pressed against his chest as you turn away from the man to glance up at your friend. “Hi, baby,” he says. “Did you make a friend?”

“We’ve only just started talking, actually,” you say, turning back to the guy you have yet to introduce yourself properly to. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”

“That’s okay. I think my friends are calling me,” he says, and he pushes himself off the bar before brushing himself down and then walking away, giving both of you a polite little nod as he passes.

“He never even ordered his drinks.” You blink with confusion and then shrug. “Oh well, means we’ll get ours sooner. You can go sit back down, Hobi, I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m already here, I may as well stay with you,” he says, tightening his grip around your waist, and you don’t argue. He keeps hold of you as you wait and then helps you carry your drinks to the table before he pulls you onto his lap, keeping you in place with one hand splayed over your stomach while he uses the other to lift his glass to his mouth.

“Fuck chairs, right?” Jimin says. Taehyung elbows him.

“Don’t be jealous because I have the best seat in the house,” you say, before sticking your tongue out at Jimin. 

He gives you a mock affronted gasp and clutches his chest and you laugh before settling back against Hoseok, comfortable on your familiar perch atop his thighs. Hoseok might be the world’s biggest lightweight and easily gets tipsy over a single sip of alcohol- but despite this, his hold on you is firm and steady, even when he’s laughing over your shoulder, keeping you safe in his lap. He keeps stealing sips of your drink, dipping his head forwards to capture your straw whenever you’re not paying attention, but you don’t mind. What’s yours is Hoseok’s. (You’ve been taking sips of his beer, too, even if you make a face at the bitterness each time.)

By the time you shuffle back to your B&B, you’re all pleasantly drunk and keep giggling at each other about dumb and inconsequential things, although you’re careful to keep your voices down so that you don’t disturb anyone, trying to keep your footsteps light as you walk up the stairs. Jimin and Taehyung’s room is a little further up the corridor than yours and you clap your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter when you see Taehyung trying to open the wrong door before Jimin redirects him.

You might not be too much better, but at least you remember which room is yours- you unlock the door on your first try, although it’s a little hard to step inside with how Hoseok is wrapped around your back, trying to time his steps with yours but failing a little with how tipsy he is. You keep laughing whenever he moves his feet forwards at the wrong time, a messy tangle of limbs that keep bumping together as you kick your shoes off, and you end up collapsing onto one of the beds with Hoseok still clinging onto you. He tips over backwards while your back is still pressed to his chest and you let out a little squeal at the sudden falling sensation, but he cushions your fall without complaint and still doesn’t let go, even when you accidentally elbow him in the sternum.

“We should wash up and get in our pyjamas,” you say, but you’re already wriggling into a more comfortable position, turning over so you can look at his face instead of staring up at the ceiling. Hoseok’s head has sunken into one of the fluffy hotel-style pillows, his hair a messy halo around his head, face flushed red from the alcohol. You smile down at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says. “I don’t want to move right now.”

“You’re so drunk,” you giggle, but you rest your head on his chest and let your body relax, muscles unwinding as you let out a long, happy sigh. “We can move later, then.”

Even though you’d genuinely meant to get up and do your nightly ritual, you’re so comfortable snuggled with Hoseok in the soft bed that you drift off. For once, you fall asleep before him, eyes fluttering shut as your breaths deepen with sleep; Hoseok keeps stroking a hand down your back, brushing tenderly down the line of your spine with his long fingers in a way he’s done a thousand times. He’s still grateful for the opportunity every time, though- that he gets to see you like this, that he can touch you like this, that you’ve allowed him so deeply into your life and made a home in his, too.

“Goodnight, baby,” Hoseok says, voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. You’re so deeply asleep that you don’t stir, but he’s still careful and gentle when he touches his lips to your forehead with the lightest of pressures, tender. “Sleep well.”

When you wake up the next morning, it takes you a long time to come fully to your senses. You feel warm and heavy, surrounded by the smell of fresh sheets and Hoseok, and you don’t want to wake up just yet; you’re in that soft place between waking and sleeping, drifting in wakeful limbo as you slowly start to regain a sense of who you are and where you are. 

Your brain flickers on, starting to pull itself together as the sensation of being a singular warm mass starts to dissolve, drawing up a mental map of how your body is slotted against Hoseok’s, where your limbs start and his end. That’s your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. That’s his arm around your shoulder, keeping you close even in your sleep. That’s your hand, resting on his hip, fingers hooked in his belt. Those are your legs, tangled around his, your toes pressed to his calf, and that’s-

Your eyes fly open. You’re still wearing your clothes from the night before, thicker denim of your jeans rather than the flimsy cotton of your pyjamas, but you know exactly what’s pressed against your hip bone. You’ve slept in the same bed with Hoseok enough times that this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve woken to his morning wood, but you’ve never been this tangled up before; you normally slide out of bed and pretend you haven’t noticed anything, and by the time Hoseok wakes up it’s normally gone, or he subtly shuffles off to the bathroom to deal with it, thinking that you’re none the wiser. 

It’s natural, it’s normal, it’s nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, but right now all you can think of is the hand you have near his hip, how close it is to his arousal, how easy it would be to slip your hand past his belt and jeans and boxers to grasp that hard, heavy heat-

You stiffen. You would never, ever do that, not ever, never take advantage of Hoseok while he was sleeping, and you know it was just a flickering thought in your still sleepy brain, probably still a little drunk, too- but you feel sick. You can’t believe you would even hypothetically consider taking advantage of him like that. If you were more than friends, then, sure, you’d wake Hoseok up with a pleasuring touch- but you’re not. You’re not. 

It takes a real feat of slow, drawn out acrobatics, but you manage to extricate yourself from Hoseok’s grasp without waking him. He only wakes up to the sound of the shower rumbling through the wall, blinking as he realises that his arms are empty, even though he should be used to this by now. By the time you walk out of the ensuite, towelling off your hair, Hoseok’s got a cup of tea waiting for you by the kettle, a few scattered milk droplets nearby from the tiny, complimentary pots.

“Morning, baby.” He’s still sleepy and there’s a crease on his cheek from where he’d turned his head into the pillow, hair ruffled, shirt wrinkled after a night of sleeping in it. “Tea?”

You feel a little better after your hot shower, scrubbing all the dirty thoughts off your skin, but when Hoseok looks so soft and homely like this it’s hard not to want to just eat him whole. 

“Ooh, how British,” you say, trying to laugh- Hoseok still seems too heavy-eyed to notice how you’re a little bit off right now, thankfully. “Yes, please.”

Unfortunately, you can’t shake your lingering weirdness and feelings of guilt, and when Hoseok wakes fully, he notices. You’re not due to film at Colchester Castle until it’s night time, shooting the episode when it’s going to be dark, so you’ve organised a day trip to the town’s zoo- Colchester Zoo is huge, full of all sorts of animals and exhibits, and Hoseok’s been excited to visit it from the moment he found out about it. 

You’d even looked up the map online so that you could plan out the optimum route and ensure you didn’t miss anything, the two of you crowding around your phone screen and pointing excitedly at the names of the different exhibits, ready and raring to go.

So Hoseok is understandably a little stunned when you apparently seem to want to drag your feet and stay with Jimin and Taehyung instead. Both the boys want to just wander around the zoo willy-nilly, separating off from you and taking it slow- but after a brief, silent discussion between the two of them, eyes flicking at each other and then back to you, they agree to come with you on your planned route.

You send up a silent prayer of thanks to anyone who’s listening. You can use the chaotic duo as cushioning and put them between you and Hoseok if you need to.

You know you’re not being especially subtle right now, but every time Hoseok moves closer to you all you can think about is how his choice of outfit today is fraying your already delicate nerves, the loose fabric of his fashionable sweatpants doing nothing to protect the outline of his dick from your wandering gaze. You don’t mean to look, but you can’t help it, even if you’re fairly certain that half the time it’s just a crease in the fabric from how he’s standing and not actually his dick, but-

“I thought it’d be harder than that,” Taehyung says. “It’s so much hairier than I thought it would be.”

You freeze, eyes shooting away from Hoseok’s crotch. Luckily no one seems to be paying you any attention and instead the boys are peering into the armadillo exhibit, watching as the animal snuffles around the ground.

“They don’t call it a large hairy armadillo for nothing,” Jimin giggles. “And it’s still a baby, the armour hasn’t grown in properly yet. It’ll look harder once it’s grown up a bit.”

All the tension rushes out of your body at once. Jesus Christ. 

Hoseok notices you slumping a little, glancing up from the map when he hears the sigh of air escape your body. “Are you okay?” He seems concerned.

“Never better,” you lie unconvincingly, giving him a weak smile. “What’s next on the list?”

Hoseok seems concerned about you for the whole day, and even a little hurt when you keep slipping out of his grasp, but the truth is that you need to put some distance between the two of you right now, for the sake of your own heart and sanity. Being desperately head over heels for Hoseok is one thing and you’d just started becoming okay with that again, but this sudden wave of physical yearning (you’re too embarrassed to think of it as horniness) is out of the left field and it’s a lot harder to cover up. You hate seeing sadness on Hoseok’s face, and normally you’d be cooing over him and asking him to tell you what’s wrong- but you know what’s wrong. It’s you. 

“Do you think something happened?” Taehyung whispers quietly to Jimin, the two of them watching as you act like you’ve been distracted by the Koi fish and walk away from Hoseok as he’s just about to reach for your hand.

“I think we’re reaching critical mass.” Jimin pretends to read from the zoo map. “We’ve nearly hit the nuclear reaction and one of them is finally going to blow. It might get messy.”

“I hope not,” Taehyung says, watching the way Hoseok stares at the back of your head as you peer into the tank of glittering fish. “I’ve never been good at cleaning up.”

It’s a little easier once the evening finally rolls around and Hoseok replaces those delicious sweatpants with marginally more professional jeans, as ripped as they are. It’s also easier to slip into the natural rhythm and rapport you have when you’re being filmed- it’s not that you’re ever any faker on camera, but it’s just an unthinking response to the sight of them, your body switching from Normal mode to Work mode. Taehyung readjusts the camera rig you have looped around your body while Jimin sorts out Hoseok, night vision lens pointed towards your faces, before letting you go.

“Ready?” You ask, glancing at your co-host. Hoseok seems less enthusiastic than usual, and you internally cringe, contrition shooting through you at how you’ve managed to dampen his mood because you’ve spent the whole day being distant.

“Ready,” Hoseok says, subdued. Your face crumples and you reach out for his hand, squeezing his fingers, trying to communicate a silent apology for something he isn’t even aware of. 

“I won’t abandon you, okay?” You keep your fingers tangled with his as you speak and grip them hard. “There’s a lot of scary stuff in this castle and I promise I won’t leave your side.”

Hoseok pauses but then squeezes your hand back, and he seems to brighten, even though he’s still a little dimmed. “I know,” he says. “I know you won’t.”

Even though he says that, he spends less time clinging onto you than normal. It’s probably not noticeable to the average onlooker, and with how most of the footage is going to be cut later, you’re certain your audience won’t notice either- but while Hoseok still screams and jumps at things, he seems to separate from you as soon as the fear has passed. He doesn’t linger or keep hold of you, even when he seems visibly shaken, eyes wide as you ascend the stairs and hear what sounds like singing even though there’s no one else here- it’s probably just wind whistling through the ancient corridors and walls of the castle, but you know that Hoseok is terrified.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” You look over your shoulder and proffer your hand but Hoseok just shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” He’s clinging onto the banister, both hands white knuckled around the metal railing. “I’m fine.”

Even though you’ve been the one who’s been avoiding touching him all day, it hurts when he says that, as hypocritical as you know you’re being. You draw your hand back to your side and don’t offer again after that, although you still pat him soothingly when he instinctively grabs you later, jumping at a clattering noise in the distance. You’re not easily spooked, but Colchester Castle definitely has some weird vibes, so if you’re feeling like this, Hoseok must feel even more scared than normal.

At one point you walk through a spider web and flinch in surprise when you feel it on your face, jumping backwards and swiping at your face. Hoseok is immediately there, eyes wide as he stares at you, immediately protective despite his fear. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Uh, it was just a spider web,” you admit, chagrined. “I overreacted, sorry.”

Hoseok nods and immediately backs off, giving you room as he turns around. You can’t help the hurt that flashes across your face as soon as he looks away.

“Critical mass,” Jimin mutters to Taehyung, who nods sagely.

The worst and weirdest moment of the night actually happens once the episode is over. Hoseok is oddly quiet as you both get ready for bed, not talking to you through the open bathroom door as he meticulously massages cream into his face like he normally does- and once he flicks the light off, plunging the room into blue tinged darkness, you’re stunned as you watch his silhouette slide into his own bed instead of into yours.

He’s never slept in his own bed after a supernatural filming. Even after your first paranormal themed episode together, when you’d still been mostly strangers. He’d been bashful and hesitant despite how obviously scared he was, asking if he could sleep in your bed, and of course you’d said yes, wanting to do anything you could to soothe him and help him feel safe. So the fact he’s not sleeping in your bed now, it’s- it’s- it’s not right. 

The only light in the room is from the tiny, faint red numbers of the digital clock, and you watch as time trickles slowly by- you stay awake for what feels like hours, laying on your side as you stare towards Hoseok’s bed. Your eyes adjust to the near darkness, room painted in low-contrast sfumato, and you can see how Hoseok is turned away from you; he’s unnaturally still and silent, and you know he hasn’t fallen asleep either, too scared and wound up to drift off.  

Outside, a vehicle rumbles past, and you can see how Hoseok stiffens at the noise of the loose fan belt, a high squeal that’s admittedly startling after the silence of the night. The shine of the headlights through the drawn curtains is muted but still more than enough to throw the room into brief, sharp relief, the tension in Hoseok’s shoulders screaming out to you- you can’t stand it anymore and you slip out from under your blankets so that you can make your way across the dark room. 

Hoseok turns when he hears you stumble over something on the floor- you think it’s a pair of socks- and makes a little noise of surprise when you throw back the corner of his duvet so you can slide in next to him.

“Y/n?” He sounds tired, but still fully awake- you were right, he’s been struggling to sleep.

“Hobi,” you say. “Why are you over here, all alone like this?”

You can barely make out the details of his features, as curved towards each other as you are; you can see the faint darkness where his hollows of his eyes are, his pretty mouth nothing more than an undefined line in the muted room. 

“I- I didn’t want to disturb you.” His voice is a quiet, unhappy murmur, and you feel your heart break at the dejection in his tone.

“Oh, Hoseok.” You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks; you can feel the tension in his face, how he must be frowning. You might not be able to see everything all too well, but you’re more than familiar enough with Hoseok’s face to know where the furrow between his brows is, and press a little kiss to it. “My Hobi,” you say, and start to litter kisses over his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, the tip of his nose. “My baby. My darling.”

You keep touching your lips to his skin, wanting his unhappiness and fear to fade away, whispering pet names between each kiss. You tilt your lips against his chin, and Hoseok makes a little noise before his hands come up to grasp your wrists, pulling them away from where they’re still cupping his jaw. You go still, eyes widening, even if he can’t see it. “Hoseok?”

“Did I- did I do something wrong?” He sounds unsure. “You were avoiding me all day- I thought you didn’t want- I thought you wanted me to leave you alone,” he says, and you can hear guilt in his voice. “I thought I’d scared you off somehow.”

You make a little, unhappy noise. “No, baby, no,” you say. You shake your head, faces still so close from your kisses that your noses brush, but you don’t pull away- you need him to know that it’s not his fault. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t that at all.”

“Then what was it?” His grip slips away from around your wrists to slide his fingers between yours instead, holding your hands. “Tell me.”

You go still. His tone is so imploring: he wants to know what’s wrong, so he can fix it, make it better. “Hoseok.” Your voice is quiet. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok.”

“And you’re mine,” he says, squeezing your hands. Your heart feels small and feeble in your chest, a weak little thing that swells up at Hoseok’s words, but immediately shrinks again in fear. “You can tell me anything.”

“You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you repeat. Hoseok goes silent. “You’re my best friend, and I-” You take a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs, get some oxygen flowing through your terrified heart, taking bellows to a dying ember, trying to grow it into a flame. “Honestly, I’m just selfish, Hoseok,” you say. “I’m just- being your best friend is already everything to me- but I’m so selfish-”

“Y/n.” Hoseok’s voice is a hush.

“I’m in love with you, Hoseok.” 

There. You said it. 

You can feel how Hoseok stiffens, how his fingers go utterly still in yours as you continue to speak.

“I’m in love with you, and I was just so scared you’d realise how head over heels I’ve always been for you and you’d end our friendship because everything I feel is just so much, and I just needed space today, I needed space to try and get my head straight and not scare you away by making things weird, and I’m sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I never want to hurt you, Hoseok. I’m sorry. I love you. Please don’t hate me.”

You take in a deep shuddering breath once all the words have spilled out of you, so much air. It’s out in the world, now, and you can’t take it back. 

As the seconds tick by, the initial heady rush of terror starts to fade and is instead replaced with resignation, unsurprised at how Hoseok is still frozen against you. He’s deathly silent. He’s probably mentally drafting the nicest way to gently let you down, always so kind and lovely, so wonderful, your Hoseok. 

A twinge shoots through your heart as you mentally correct yourself- he’s not yours, and he doesn’t want to be. You should have just kept your mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. Your voice is a miserable whisper. “You’re just so easy to love.”

You try to pull your hands out of his so you can slink back to your bed and wallow in your misery, but Hoseok just tightens his grip. You tug again, a little more insistent, and this time he lets go- but before you can roll out of his bed he’s grabbing your face, long, beautiful fingers splaying over your cheeks and jaw, locking you in place as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Y/n.” His voice is uncharacteristically serious, low. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re-”

You’re cut off when Hoseok presses his mouth to yours. He’s kissed you before, on your forehead, your cheeks, the bare skin of your shoulder when you wear the sundress he likes so much- but you’ve never felt his heart shaped lips against yours, never felt them soft and warm as they catch your own, and it’s so much. He keeps drawing his mouth across yours, catching your lips between his own, tongue pressing out to swipe across them, and you shiver as the kiss slowly turns slick and wet, even as it stays so tender.

His hands wrap around your waist and he rolls over you, pinning you down with his weight as you keep kissing and kissing and kissing. Your hands are in his hair while his cup your face, holding you like you’re something delicate and precious, palms warm against your skin. You don’t separate to breathe, keeping your lips locked as the kisses turn open-mouthed, Hoseok’s tongue gliding against yours, the lingering taste of your shared toothpaste mingling with his saliva- you shiver underneath him when he nips at your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue, and you crane your head forward to press further into his mouth, kisses slow and deep, and by the time you finally separate, you feel dizzy and breathless.

“Hobi,” you breathe out. “Hobi, turn the light on, I want to see you.”

Hoseok leans over you to flick on the bedside lamp, illuminating you both with its bright light- you can see how kiss swollen his gorgeous mouth is, how the sheen of your saliva on his flushed lips glows gold from the lamplight, how his hair is a mess from how you’ve been running your hands through it. He looks like your best friend, and also nothing like that at all, something familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Hoseok, forever changed by the touch of your lips.

“My baby.” He’s smiling at you, all warmth and fondness, and you squirm underneath him, embarrassed by the weight of his affection for you. “Y/n. I love you too.”

You probably shouldn’t be surprised, considering how Hoseok has just kissed you breathless, but you still feel your heart stutter in your chest. You’re staring up at him with your wide eyes as he bends forward again- he mimics what you did earlier, trailing kisses over your forehead and cheekbones and nose before he kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, then your cupid’s bow, then just under the swell of your bottom lip. “I love you, love you, love you,” he says, punctuating each kiss with the repeated confession, as if each time he says it it’s not punching the air out of your lungs.

“Hoseok?”

“Yes?” He’s still smiling, those warm little creases under his eyes as he looks at you, every inch of him just screaming out happiness. You did that. He’s happy because of you. 

“Do you- do you remember when we first met? Years ago?” You don’t want to break the moment, but he’s never mentioned the umbrella thing and you’ve never asked before and you have a burning desire to know if he can recall-

“Do you mean the first time we actually met, or the first time you officially introduced yourself to me? I remember both,” Hoseok says. “I always knew you’d get the job. Besides, if you hadn’t, you would have had to keep the umbrella,” he adds, smile edging into something a little cheeky. “And then there would have been a pretty girl out there thinking about me every time it rained.”

Your eyes widen before you hide your face in your hands, overwhelmed at the idea that Hoseok had thought that you were pretty before he’d even known you; he coos at you and pulls your hands away to reveal your flustered expression, trapping them against the pillow so you can't hide your face again. Hoseok’s smile has faded into something a little more serious, but no less loving, and although you feel open and naked and vulnerable right now, it’s not because you think he’s judging you. 

“You never said anything, so I thought you’d forgotten,” you admit. “But from the second you smiled at me as you handed me that umbrella, I knew I was a goner. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Hoseok.”

It’s not often that you see Hoseok look like this, his eyes so serious and deep, but his entire face is still so soft, smiling. “Me, too,” he confesses. “Me too. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to risk our friendship and I love you too much to want to give that up.”

The smile that splits your face is so wide it almost hurts. “I love you,” you say again, for the sheer novelty of hearing it out loud, seeing how Hoseok lights up- the fact you can say it without fear of his reaction, because he loves you, too. He loves you. He’s in love with you. “I love you, Hoseok, I-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, swallowing your words of love into his curved mouth, the two of you smiling and laughing as your lips come together again and again- but when he presses his tongue to your lower lip and you part them, he licks into your mouth in a way that’s almost lewd, warm and wet, and you shiver as you think about exactly how long that tongue is.

Hoseok still has his hands around your wrists from before, and you feel how his grip tightens imperceptibly when he feels you tremble underneath him. Your cheeks feel warm when he pulls back and you wonder if your blush is visible, but Hoseok seems intent on other things, dipping his head forward to catch your earlobe between his teeth for a sharp moment, nipping it before licking it with his hot, wet tongue. Your entire body shudders as he starts to kiss down the side of your jaw, and you tilt your head to give him better access, gasping when he draws his tongue over the oversensitive skin of your neck; you can feel how he smiles against your skin before kissing your throat.

“Hobi,” you breathe, and then gasp when he draws the flat of his tongue over the hollow of your neck. Each teasing touch of his tongue and lips is trickling straight to your core, your panties growing wetter and wetter with your arousal. “Hobi, oh.”

“I’m going to worship you the way you deserve to be worshipped, princess,” he murmurs, lips moving against your collarbones as he speaks. “I’ve been waiting to do this for so long." He keeps kissing you between his words, punctuating them with sweeps of his tongue over your skin, and it's so much. "Hold still for me, baby, there you go.”

Hoseok releases your wrists and you flex your fingers but stay in that position, your hands palm up as they rest either side of your head. Hoseok leans back to stare at you underneath him, laid out for his gaze; you’re in an old t-shirt and faded pyjama bottoms, face bare, hair a haphazard mess where it rests against the pillow, but he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Like you’re draped in diamonds and gold and silks. He looks at you with reverence and love, like he wants to cherish you- but there’s also something deeper in those half-lidded eyes of his, like he wants to swallow you whole.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. You bite your lip, swallowing down a needy noise at the tone of his voice, hands clenching into fists where they rest beside your head.

“Hobi, please,” you say. “I need you.”

“You have me.” He takes one of his hands and slowly pushes the material of your shirt up, dragging his palm over your skin as he reveals the softness of your stomach. He lets the material bunch just under your breasts, ignoring how your nipples have hardened and stand out through the thin cotton of your old tee, running his fingers over your sides; you buck a little underneath him, sucking in a breath at how his touch is almost ticklish. “So sensitive.”

“You haven’t even touched me properly yet,” you say, a little snarky despite your breathlessness, but then you’re cut off when Hobi’s hands slide under the t-shirt to cup your breasts, palms and fingers cool against your overheated skin. Your pussy clenches when he flicks his thumbs over each of your hardened buds, running the pads of his fingertips over them, and you arch into his touch.

“So sensitive,” he says again, a little smile behind his words as he watches how your chest rises and falls under his hands, sucking in air when he pinches your nipples between his fingers. “Do you like that, baby?”

“Like it when you touch me,” you sigh. Hoseok smiles, flashing his teeth at you before leaning forward to kiss you again. He coaxes you to lift up a little so he can pull off your shirt, smoothing your hair when it gets ruffled by the motion, but before you can smile up at him for his tenderness, he lowers the heat of his mouth over one of your nipples and you gasp.

One of your hands flies up to grasp his hair when he circles the bud with his tongue, and you let out a low moan as he continues to lave attention on it, flattening his tongue and dragging it over the sensitive flesh. He alternates between your breasts, using his hands and fingers on whichever he’s not suckling between his lips; goosebumps erupt over your skin, and you keep biting back whines and gasps each time he does something particularly wicked with his mouth. 

You feel so, so wet, arousal pooling between your legs, and you need him to touch you there. But he's slow, taking his time until your chest is heaving and your skin is flushed and your nipples are slick from the wetness of his mouth, his fingers just the right side of rough whenever he pinches the hardened peaks, and you mewl beneath him.

You’re just about to beg Hoseok to give you more when he finally lifts his mouth from your nipple, and you go tense as he starts to trail his lips down the valley of your breasts, across the sensitive skin of your stomach, hands roaming over the rest of you; he slides down the bed until he’s resting between your legs, and all you can think about is how close his mouth is to where you want it to be. 

You’re so wet that you’ve soaked right through your panties, a touch of dampness clinging to the flimsy material of your pyjama bottoms too, and you shiver at the way Hoseok seems to drink down the sight before he hooks his fingers into the loose elastic waistband, and starts to inch them down. He’s moving torturously slowly, kissing your bare legs as he reveals your skin, touching his lips to your thighs, your calves, your ankles. 

He does the same again with your panties, even more slowly; palms sliding up the side of your legs so he can curl his fingers around the fabric of your underwear and peel it off you. You shiver when your pussy is finally revealed, your inner thighs slick with your arousal and cooling from the touch of the air- Hoseok continues to suck and kiss trails across your legs even as he stares at your naked, weeping core, his gaze heavy as he drinks down the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, running his fingers over your bare skin as you tremble beneath him. “So gorgeous and perfect. Look at you, all laid out, just for me. I love you.”

“Hoseok,” you whimper. He’s still entirely clothed while you’re naked and bare, and you feel utterly debauched in comparison to him, the sheen of his saliva still shining over your body, nipples hard, your pussy lips flushed from arousal, every part of you begging for more- meanwhile he’s still got his surprisingly cute matching pyjama set on. The contrast is making your dizzy. He cups your foot in one of his hands, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner ankle, and your toes curl. “Please, baby, I need you.”

“I’ve got you, princess,” he murmurs. He drops one last kiss to your ankle before shifting towards your canting hips; his breath curls out over your core and you shudder, another flood of arousal shooting through you, your cunt clenching as Hoseok stares at it shamelessly. “Look at you,” he says, reverent. “So pretty and wet for me.”

“Hobi,” you whine. You bite back a gasp as he hooks your fingers behind your knees and forces your legs apart, spreading you open, entirely helpless underneath his hungry gaze. You watch in wonder as he lets his tongue curl out of his mouth, looking sinfully dirty as he does- but then you let out a whine when he turns his head away from your pussy and licks the inner seam of your thigh instead. Your hips jump at the sensation, your skin so sensitive from the attention that he’s lavishing on you, but it’s not where you want his mouth to be, even if the lingering kisses he’s giving to your inner thighs feel good. “Hoseok, please.”

He hums indulgently, and you’re about to start begging again when he purses his lips and blows out a puff of air over your flushed lower lips; the sudden chill against your damp folds has you tensing, and before you can gather your wits Hoseok drags his hot, wet tongue up the seam of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You cry out from the sudden explosion of sensation when he repeats the motion but presses past your lower lips to tongue at your slit, lapping up the juices at your entrance before circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, your spine arching as your hips buck. “Oh, God, Hoseok, yes, right there.”

He slides one of his arms over your stomach, trapping you, holding you down as you try to cant your hips towards his mouth. You sob with pleasure as he continues to drink down your juices, leisurely licking at the most sensitive parts of you, in no rush at all. “Hobi, please,” you beg. “Please, I need more.”

Hoseok turns his head to lightly bite your inner thigh, your leg twitching at the sensation, surprised at how pleasurable it is. “Ssh,” he murmurs. “I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time. I want to savour it,” he says, and you let out a whine when he dips his head back down and starts to lap at your clit again, his dark eyes watching each of your reactions, the way you writhe and curl your toes each time he dips back down to your entrance, pressing his tongue inside you. “You taste so good, baby. Your pretty little cunt is so perfect.”

You whine at the praise, writhing when each swipe of his tongue over you is fanning the flames of your arousal higher and higher, and you can feel how the coil inside you is tightening, so close to reaching your peak. Hoseok’s still eating you out, nice and slow, and you’ve never felt an orgasm creep up on you like this- you moan as Hoseok finally buries his face in your pussy, tongue sliding from your slit, to your clit, over and over. 

It’s so, so good, and then you watch as he slides one of his long fingers inside you and curls it inside you just right- “I’m gonna cum, Hoseok, I’m- oh!”

The intensity of your orgasm hits you like a freight train, exploding from deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed and your toes curl as you cum and cum and cum, Hoseok keeping his mouth on you the whole time, your entire body shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over you, wetness flooding out of your cunt that he drinks down eagerly. 

The build up was slow, and the come down is slow, too, aftershocks rippling through your body for longer than any orgasm you’ve had before, and Hoseok keeps licking and sucking you through it all until you’re almost crying out from the overstimulation and you have to push his head away. The aftershocks are still rippling through your body as Hoseok rises, your pussy clenching each time, and you feel boneless and strung out- but you know Hoseok isn’t done with you yet.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he says. You reach out for him and he comes so easily, fitting himself between your arms. His lips and chin shine with evidence of your arousal and when you pull him in for a kiss you can taste yourself across his tongue, a noise bubbling up at the back of your throat when you feel how slick his lips are against yours.

“Wanna make you cum too,” you say, your voice weak after the strength of that orgasm; you take in a deep breath, willing the oxygen to bring some energy back into your body. “Baby. Hoseok.”

“Mm.” He kisses you again. “You will, baby, don’t worry, you’re always so good for me.”

Your fingers fumble when you try to unbutton his shirt, but when Hoseok laughs, it’s not patronising at all; he just sounds fond. He takes over, deft fingers making quick work of the shirt before he throws it aside, revealing the slim line of his body to you. He’s beautiful and lean, nipples dark, skin golden, with a dark trail of hair that dips down into his pyjama bottoms- your eyes zero in on the way Hoseok’s loose pyjamas do nothing to hide his erection, the hard strain of his cock against the fabric, and you let out a little sigh of happiness that you’re finally getting to see what you’ve been desperately staring at all day. When you reach out for him your fingers barely brush his skin, and you make a greedy little noise, hungry for more.

“Need you,” you say. You want Hobi inside you, splitting you open, as close to each other as you can physically be. “Clothes off now.”

Hobi lets out a loud laugh, and you melt at the utter joy in the sound, how his face is so open and bright. 

“God, I love you,” he says, before unceremoniously shedding the offending garments. He wiggles his hips in an entirely unsexy manner, and you end up laughing too when he gets one of his legs caught and has to kick the pyjama bottoms off in an entirely graceless way. You’re still letting out quiet giggles even as Hoseok is finally bare in front of you, beautiful and unabashed in his nakedness, and you love him. 

You feel like liquid sunlight, overflowing with happiness; you’ve never laughed like this with anyone before, both naked yet still somehow amused, flipping from all-consuming arousal one second to laughter the next, but it just feels natural. Because it’s Hoseok, and everything feels so easy with him.

“I love you too,” you say, and then, when your eyes drop to his cock, you say: “God, you’re beautiful.”

His cock is gorgeous, curving up towards the ceiling, a drop of precum beaded at the tip; it’s not completely straight, hanging just a little to the left, but it’s Hoseok, so it’s perfect. He wraps his fingers around your hips and you let out a little squeal when he tugs you down the bed towards him so that your legs are dangling off the side and your hips are practically flush; his cock bobs when he moves and you shiver with how close it is to your heated core. Just like the rest of him, it’s long and lean and gorgeous, and you can’t wait to have it inside you. Although-

“Don’t I get to taste you?” You can’t help but say this with a pout, and Hoseok’s face splits into a wide smile.

“Next time, baby,” he promises. “Tonight is for you.”

Next time. The realisation that tonight is just one of many, just the start of an entirely new chapter in your life with Hoseok- that you’ll still be friends, best friends, but also more- settles inside you, warm and soft and safe. Your face creases into a smile and you slide your hands up Hoseok’s body, over his stomach and chest, touching all the skin you can, relishing in the fact that you’ll grow familiar with it all in a way that you never could have dreamed of. 

“You’re always so good to me,” you say.

“You deserve it, princess,” he replies. You tilt your hips towards him and you see how his eyes darken at the motion, tenderness swallowed by lust, and your body lights up like a livewire in preparation, ready to feel him push inside you. You’re already loose and wet from your first orgasm, but you don’t protest when Hoseok starts to run his fingers over the seam of your thigh; he presses straight in with two fingers, your body opening up for him so easily, and you gasp at how deep they move inside you, so long and pretty. 

“There, Hobi, right there.” He’s clearly not trying to bring you to orgasm again but he still listens to your directions, keeping the motions of his hands the same, fingers rubbing over your inner walls so perfectly. 

You can hear it, noises slick and dirty before he pulls them out, and you watch as he uses your arousal to slick up his cock, rubbing your juices over his hard length. It’s lewd, how he does it, pumping himself as he spreads it over his cock, wet noises vulgar and obscene, shooting straight to your core; you don’t think you’ve ever seen or heard anything so arousing in your life, the way Hoseok has his lip caught between his teeth as he looks at you, cock stiff between his legs as he runs his fingers over it. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper. “Hoseok, fuck.”

You arch your back when he grips his cock in one hand, guiding himself towards you- but rather than pressing into your entrance he runs his throbbing length back and forth through your lips, gathering even more of the wetness there, the slide so easy and smooth. It’s the most delicious, glancing pressure against your clit, not enough to satisfy, but enough to have you gasping again, the way you can feel the silken heat of his cock against you. 

“Hoseok, please.” You don’t attempt to hide the desperation in your voice. “I need you.”

Hoseok lets out a guttural groan at your words; he drinks in how blown your pupils are, the flush from your orgasm still visible over your chest, the way your fingers are clutching the bedsheets, white cotton tangled in your grasp. “Anything you want, baby,” he says, and finally, finally, he grasps his length and tilts it to your entrance. He rests there for a second, the tip barely touching you, and you see how he steels himself as he grasps your hips, before he starts to sink into you.

“Oh!” He fills you so well, inch by torturous inch, your body opening up for him so easily it’s like his cock was made to fill you; once he bottoms out you can feel how snug he is inside you, cockhead pressed against your cervix, and you shiver. “Oh, yes, Hoseok, so good.”

He stays still for one long, drawn out moment, before his hands slip off your waist and he reaches for yours. You entwine your fingers with his, staring up at him as he leans forward and kisses you; the motion has his cock shifting inside you and you whine a little against his lips, before biting off a gasp when he rocks his hips forwards. The motion is fluid and rolling, and Hoseok sets an unhurried pace, languidly filling you up with his cock, over and over and over.

The pleasure that’s growing in you is slow and relaxed. You’re not chasing your orgasms- you’re revelling in the closeness, the connection, the slip of skin against skin, how Hoseok is filling you up, how you’re drawing him in. You end up staring into each other’s eyes, Hoseok’s forehead pressed to yours so there’s nothing in your vision but him; you only break eye contact when one particularly deep roll of his hips sends a shudder through you, your eyes squeezing shut as you gasp.

“Feel so good, baby,” Hoseok murmurs. “So good for me.”

You make a noise of confusion when he lets go of your fingers and leans back, straightening up, but then he hooks his hands under your knees and you lift your hips; you drape your legs over his shoulders, arched towards him, lower body lifting off the mattress. Hoseok drives forward and you immediately gasp at how he hits your sweet spot straight on, the change of angle forcing the head of his cock to brush the top of your inner walls, each drag of the blunt head sending shocks of pleasure shooting through you.

“Wanna feel you cum around my cock, princess,” Hoseok says, and you shudder. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Hobi, yes- faster- oh-”

Hoseok starts to ramp up the pace, snapping his hips into yours with the sound of slapping skin, and you can feel how you’re starting to tighten around him, pussy clenching with each thrust of his hot cock inside you. “Gonna cum for you, Hobi,” you say. “So close, fuck.”

He takes one of his hands off your waist and slides three fingers over your clit, and you cry out with pleasure as he starts to rub at your bundle of nerves in tight circles; the added stimulation is just what you need, and you tumble over the edge into your second orgasm of the night. Hoseok moans when he feels how your cunt clenches around him, rippling tightness around his cock, and your eyes fall shut as your mouth falls open and you rock your hips into the sensation, grinding against Hoseok to prolong the pleasure, and he continues to snap his hips forward.

You go lax, almost limp, but Hoseok is still hard inside you, so you try your best to keep your back arched towards him; the fluid roll of his thrusts is starting to fall out of rhythm as he approaches his own peak, and although your pussy is crying out at the oversensitivity, you try to match his pace, canting your hips towards Hoseok each time he drives forward.

“Want your cum all over me, Hobi,” you say. “Want you to cum on my tits-”

Hoseok curses, composure slipping entirely for the first time all night, and you feel how he fumbles his rhythm before he catches himself. His thrusts are fast and choppy before he pulls out and drops your hips to the mattress; you whine at the sudden emptiness, but then he’s shuffling his knees onto the bed and he has his hand wrapped around his slick length, jerking himself hard and fast as you arch your back and push your chest towards him.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says through gritted teeth. “So pretty, baby- fuck!”

He gasps in air before he lets out one long, drawn out moan, and then there’s hot cum splattering across your breasts, whiteness painting itself across your skin. Hoseok continues to pump himself, cock letting out more ropes of cum, and you can’t help but let out a noise of satisfaction at the sight, lifting your hands to run over his hip bones and waist and flexing thighs, watching the way Hoseok’s face draws together as he rides out his own orgasm, until his hand falls away from his cock and he’s slumping forwards over you, panting.

You hum, reaching for him and pulling him down so you can brush your lips against his. “You’re so hot when you cum,” you say. “I could watch you cum all day.”

Hoseok lets out a breathless laugh before he kisses you again, properly this time- you’re content to keep kissing regardless of the cum that’s starting to cool on your chest, but Hoseok is insistent on being a gentleman and excuses himself to the bathroom to get a towel so he can clean you up. When he drags the damp towel over your skin, he’s so soft and gentle, although you still shiver a little when the rough fabric drags over your nipples; he bends down and kisses you in apology. 

You feel warm and small and soft, watching as Hoseok walks around the bed, still naked; the paltry lamp light is still more than enough for you to see every line of his beauty, the way each of his muscles shifts under his skin as he walks and moves, bending over to gather some of the discarded clothes from the floor. You sit up and lift your arms so he can help you back into your thin t-shirt, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him with a firm press of your lips, before he shimmies back into his boxers, though you personally don’t think he needs them.

When you finally settle down for the night you both curled up on your bed- because Hoseok’s is rumpled and sweaty from your previous exertions- and nestle up gratefully under the sheets, warm from the weight of the duvet and Hoseok spooning you from behind.

“I love you,” he murmurs, nosing at the side of your neck.

“I love you too,” you reply, and then end up giggling a little, stomach jumping under Hoseok’s hand. “I need to buy Namjoon a thank you slash apology gift when we get home, you know,” you say thoughtfully. “He had to put up with me having a meltdown about you, and it turns out he was right.”

Hoseok brushes his nose over your ear. “Jin kept making pretty blasé comments to me about us,” he tells you. “But he does that about most things, so.”

You hum lightly before pressing back further against Hoseok, who tightens his hold around you in response. “I guess they knew before we did,” you say. “We’ve been acting like a couple for a long time, to be fair.” Thinking back on it, it was pretty obvious, but hindsight is 20/20, as they say. 

The next morning, as always, you wake before Hoseok- and this time when you feel the hardness pressed into your ass, you don’t panic. You do what you always do and slide carefully out of Hoseok’s arms, but unlike every other morning, he doesn’t wake up to an empty bed. Instead, he wakes up with a small gasp to the sight of you with your mouth around his cock, your eyes wide and innocent as you stare up at him; you work him up while he’s still half-asleep and slow, swallowing down his cock until he cums down your throat. You litter kisses over his hips and thighs, smiling into his skin as he comes down from his peak, his pupils blown.

“Morning, Hobi,” you say, kissing the divot below his hip bones. “I love you.”

“Come here,” he says, voice still a rasp from his sleep, eyes hungry as he reaches for you.

When the two of you eventually stumble downstairs for breakfast, Jimin and Taehyung are already there; you’re much later than normal but neither of the boys seems to notice anything out of the ordinary, Taehyung asking Hoseok to pass the pepper mill as soon as you’ve sat down.

Taehyung is enthusiastically grinding pepper over his bacon and eggs when Jimin pipes up. “You know, the ghosts in this B&B apparently like to watch the guests while they try to sleep and make noises to keep them up,” he says conversationally. “You didn’t happen to notice anything out of the ordinary in your room, did you? Taehyung and I could have sworn that we heard moaning or something at some point, but I think it must have been a trick of our minds.”

You and Hoseok exchange a quick glance. “Uh, nope, can’t say that we did,” you say, and Hoseok nods emphatically in agreement.

Jimin pauses. He squints at you, before turning to Taehyung and pulling the pepper mill out of his hands to get his attention. “I told you it was going to happen soon,” Jimin says. “They finally hit critical mass and confessed. I knew that moaning wasn’t from ghosts.”

“And there’s no mess to clean up, even if we didn’t win the betting pool.” Taehyung sounds pleased. “Can you pass the salt now please?”

You watch incredulously as both boys continue their business as usual, Taehyung swapping the pepper mill for the salt grinder while Jimin opens a tiny jar of raspberry jam for his toast. 

You turn to Hoseok, scandalised at the idea that a) your friends/co-workers heard you last night and b) there’s apparently some sort of office bet about your relationship with Hoseok, only to find that the man in question has a look of alarm on his face.

“Do you think the ghosts were watching us last night?” He has an expression that’s a mix of affronted and also scared. “That’s dirty.”

“No, baby, I don’t think we had ghostly voyeurs in our room,” you say, stroking Hoseok’s hand with reassuring fingers, before you frown and look back at the other two boys. “I hate our friends. You have a betting pool?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty big,” Taehyung says. “I’m not sure who’s won the money, I’d have to check the spreadsheet when we get back home.”

“I bet Jin was the one who came up with it, wasn’t he?” Taehyung and Jimin exchange a look, but neither of them say anything, which is more than enough to answer your question. “I’m going to shove a wedge of parmesan down his throat when we get home and see how he likes it.”

“I love you,” Hoseok says.

“I love you too,” you reply, turning your head to accept the kiss he gives you.

“You’re so cute,” Jimin says.

“Why parmesan?” Taehyung asks, before twisting the salt grinder with enough gusto that he pulls the bottom off and salt goes cascading over his breakfast. “Oh, oops. Do you think they’ll let me have more eggs?”

--

Your thank you/apology gift to Namjoon is a tin of Scottish shortbread that you find in a cute tourist shop, although when you find out he’s actually the proud winner of 50% of the betting pool, you take the shortbread back for yourself and Hoseok instead.

When Yoongi arrives at his desk to the sight of you sitting in Hoseok’s lap and feeding him between kisses, he just rolls his eyes, mutters ‘finally’, and makes no further comments. You laugh into Hoseok’s mouth and allow Jungkook to steal a piece of shortbread on his way past, too busy kissing your boyfriend to care.

“You can have the last bit of shortbread,” you say, and Hoseok grins up at you.

“You’re just saying that because I ate you out this morning,” he says, and you giggle.

“I can’t believe you just made me listen to that with my own two ears. I’m in hell.” Yoongi sounds so tired. “I think I preferred it when the two of you were dancing around each other. Go back to doing that.”

“No can do, Yoongles,” you sing-song. “I love Hoseok and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

“I love you too,” Hoseok says, looking up at you with bright eyes, and you giggle before dipping down to kiss him again.

“Everyone else knew before you did,” Yoongi mutters, but neither of you pay him any mind.

[solarwonux]

31. Why haven’t you kissed me yet?

college!wonwoo x reader

w.c 1.4k 

warnings: angst, mentions of alcohol

note: haha hey I’m laura and I like writing angst. Tbh this took a turn I did not expect, but also this might be part of something bigger that’s coming later on this year. Let me know your thoughts please all kinds of feedback is helpful and I read everything. I hope you like it <3 

ps. I edited this in a rush so I’m sorry for any mistakes.xx

masterlist || drabble game

It was stupid.

Joshua’s idea to play truth or dare was stupid. You should’ve pretended to walk away to get another drink in order to avoid the embarrassment you were currently facing, but sadly the odds were never in your favor. And the small room you were currently in with the last person you ever wanted to be stuck in a room with, was becoming stuffy and overwhelming. 

It’s not like you hated Wonwoo per se. He was simply someone you didn’t care about, your feelings towards him were indifferent, didn’t matter nor did they exist. 

At least that’s what you told yourself. 

The unfortunate truth was that he had been someone you were secretly crushing on for all three years that you had known him. And Joshua knew this, which is why he had decided to play matchmaker when Wonwoo had picked dare over truth. 

Your heart started pounding when instead of protesting he accepted his faith and extended his hand for you to take. He led you towards the vacant room at the end of the hallway, your friend’s hollering and making all sorts of incredulous comments. When the two of you were finally safe inside the simple tiny room, the only sign of life was the small black duffle bag next to the wooden wardrobe; Wonwoo let go of your hand and sat down on the twin-sized bed. While you stood by the door gripping the sleeves of your tie-dyed long sleeve, a gift from your best friend Vernon, wishing you could leave. 

Five minutes had passed and only an awkward thick air of silence filled the room, until Wonwoo decided to break it. “Are you just going to stand there the entire time, you can sit down you know?” 

“Oh, right.” You nodded uncrossing your arms from in front of you and sat down on the floor with your back against the door. Wonwoo scoffed and leaned back on his elbows eyeing you through hooded eyes. 

“That’s not what I meant but suit yourself.” He said smugly before rolling his eyes and shifting his attention to the wardrobe on the far left off the room. 

Fourteen minutes. 

All you needed to do was endure fourteen minutes of this torture and you’d be able to go back to ignoring each other and pretending like your feelings for him were nonexistent. 

So far only six Mississippi’s had gone by.

“How long do we have to be in here for again?” Wonwoo broke the silence again, the tension was thick and so far it seemed like you were the only suffocating in it. 

“Um...only eight more minutes.” You brought your knees up to your chest and hugged them tightly. He was now looking at you and you couldn’t tell if it was indifference or disgust. After three years of knowing him...barely you couldn’t differentiate between the two and it always plagued with you a wave of anxiety. “I mean I’m not counting or anything it’s just...um yeah I think eight more minutes maybe seven now.” 

If you could rip your tongue out of your mouth to keep yourself from embarrassing yourself any longer you would. 

“Alright.” Wonwoo mumbled and sat up again resting his elbows on his knees in a poor attempt to close the semi large gap between the two of you. “Why have you kissed me yet?” He smirked before placing his chain against his thumb. 

Your eyes grew wide and the air your lungs stopped at the base of your throat. He was only playing with you. That was all he was good for, but you couldn’t deny the soft palpitations of your against your rib cage, “I...um I thought that was your dare not mine?” You quirked your head to the side and tightened your arms around your legs. Your fingernails dug in your clothed shin and the panic started rushing through you when you noticed that he was now making his way towards you. 

“You’re kind off making it hard for me when you’re all the way over here, so I’m giving you the reigns on this whole stupid game, but time is ticking and I’d rather get this over with sooner rather than later.” He finished and sat down in front of you, copying your position and resting his chin against his knees. 

Sometimes you wondered why you harbored such stupid feelings for the boy in front of you, especially when he opened his mouth. Nothing good ever game out of it but then again he never stayed in your presence long enough for you to decide otherwise. He always left as soon as he saw you enter a room or approach the same table your mutual friends were sitting at. The few times he did stay and it was very few, everything he said got under your skin. More so if it was directed towards you. 

“It’s a game right?” You questioned resting your back against the door. He was now too close to you and although he looked adorable you wanted to get away from him as soon as possible. Five minutes left. You breathed out, “And no one can see us, so we don’t have to kiss. They’re not going to ask because they’re too drunk and have probably forgotten by now.”

“Ashk, you’re no fun.” He blew out a raspberry, fogging up his round glasses and blowing his bangs away from his forehead briefly. “Just like you said...it is a game but I also don’t want to end my night without kissing someone.” He leaned back on his hands and extended his legs on either side of your body trapping you in. “Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen on parties and friend trips? There has to be at least two people hooking up.” He winked, tapping the toe of his sock covered foot against your side causing you to move away slightly. 

“I’m sure you can find someone else to satisfy your needs then.” You shrugged and tore attention away from his soft deceiving brown eyes and focused them on the stupid brown wardrobe. It had become the star of the night. 

“I want that person to be you though.” Wonwoo whispered his calloused fingers had found their way to your chin and turned your face carefully to look at him again. Your knuckles had gone white from how hard your grip was on your legs. 

“W-Why? You don’t like me, hate me for some unknown reason so why show an interest now that you’re a few to many drinks in?” 

Wonwoo laughed lowly, his thumb caressing your cheek and slowly traveling to your parted lips. You weren’t gonna lie if you had had a few more drinks in your system you would’ve given in to his touch and worshipped the ground he walked on. But you knew your limit and had stopped taking bitter tequila shots an hour ago. 

“You’re wrong, unfortunately I don’t care enough to hate you. Frankly, I don’t see what my friends see in you but you’re cute...kinda enough to satisfy me for a night, atleast.” He tilted his head to the side and retreated his hand letting drop to his side. 

He looked better when he kept his mouth shut, you concluded. 

Thankfully you were nearing the one minute mark. Now after his confession and the utter jabs he had made towards your heart made you realize the thing you should’ve realized a long time ago. Jeon Wonwoo was an asshole hiding behind his god given looks and he didn’t deserve your attention or your heart. 

“Find someone else then.” You pushed yourself off the floor using your entire strength. You could feel his glowing glare watching your every move as you opened the door to the room, kicking his foot in the process. Forty six minutes were left but you couldn’t stay in his presence any longer.

Six pairs of eyes were on you as soon as you came into view, obviously waiting to see what or hear of what had happened behind the closed door. Thankfully for you and unfortunately for them nothing had had happened and you had never before gotten the urge to kill someone as much as you wanted to murder the one and only Joshua Hong. 

“You guys wasted your time.” You said before walking past them and down the hallway listening to their curiosity take over before the questions started up again. You didn’t care the only thing in your hazy state was the burning feeling of tequila as it traveled down your throat. Alcohol wasn’t the best way to deal with a heart break; it only led to a piercing hangover, but it would help in surviving the remainder of the night and keep you from crying. The last thing you wanted and needed was to cry, Wonwoo didn’t deserve your tears so you weren’t going to give him that feeling of instant gratification. 

At least not now.

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 3: steady now

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing: college hockey player! mark x college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, humor, college au, sports au

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, party with drugs and alcohol, scene of borderline harassment (nothing actually happens), financial struggle, insecurity, social anxiety, mention of injury

a/n: huge thank you to my beta readers @writing-frog​ and @skiimmiilk for helping me edit this! now I won’t have to tweak it a hundred times after posting XD also (not spoiling) I’m sorry I did you like this, sungchan :(

I’m not sure if I’m awake, dead, or dreaming, but somebody please take me out of this misery.

Your neck struggled to support your head as you fought to stay conscious on the locker room bench. It was early Saturday morning and team practice was far from over. Unwillingly, you had to stay up the previous night, studying deep into the AM because a certain boy kept distracting you in your head.

Over and over again, through your shift at the diner to the ride home to right here as you clung onto Yuna’s arm for support, Mark’s cute smile and Lisa’s daring accusations spun through your tired mind. It’s really not fair- a guy talks to you once and you’re already imagining things…

You quickly shake the thoughts from your head. 

  “Alright girls, thanks for coming in so early today,” your head skating coach, Tanya, smiled warmly, “captains, get everyone warmed up and I’ll go over some exciting announcements at the end of practice”.

“Thank you, Tanya,” the fatigued girls chorused half-heartedly as the captains ushered everyone out of the locker room and into the hallway for stretching. 

Reaching down to touch her toes, Yuna looks over to you. “Y/n, are you okay? You look worse than usual”.

The exhausted expression on your face said it all as you bent down to do the same. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. Econ test is coming up too”. You yawned into your words.

“I know you’re gonna say no, but if you wanna let loose a little, there’s a party tonight,” Yuna peers at you upside-down from in between her legs.

“You know I’m not a party person,” you decline, blacking out slightly as you stand back up. You blink to clear your vision.

As much as you admired your popular best friend for putting herself out there and being able to have fun at a party, it couldn’t be you. The drinking, the smoking, the groping, ogling men- not to mention the anxiety of existing in a frat house full of judgmental people, was all too much for you. As tempting as letting loose a little on a Saturday night sounded, you’d much rather do it in a way that involves your cozy pj’s and watching your favorite skating compilations on YouTube. Alone.

“I know, I know,” Yuna holds her hands up innocently, “but it could be fun. I know Mark is gonna be there”.

You whip your head around so fast that your ponytail nearly slaps her in the face. Flustered, you smooth down the nonexistent wrinkles on the front of your skating jacket. “Oh, that’s nice. What’s that got to do with me?”.

“Just letting you know,” Yuna shrugged in a ‘matter of fact’ manner. 

The captains led the team out to the rink to do laps. You weighed Yuna’s words for a minute as you skated across the ice. Naturally, being here where you were the most comfortable with yourself made you more susceptible to her convincing ploy. If you looked at the last few days in review, you had already made four new friends from just letting Yuna take the reins for one afternoon. That’s about one friend for every dollar in your bank account!

But the nagging reality was that Yuna had a massive amount of friends, cool friends, who were probably going to be at that very party while you had nobody but her and a guy you just met. This didn’t sit well with your anxieties. You’ll just end up awkward if Yuna wants to talk to someone else, or desperate if you cling to Mark, who would probably be weirded out.

As expected, it’s best to stay in.

The practice ran smoothly. As always, the hour and a half of spinning, falling, and getting back up resulted in soreness and loss of breath. Nonetheless, it recharged you and the cloud of tiredness in your head finally dissipated. You felt so free on the ice because you knew that you did it well. It isn’t about the money or your popularity or if you have to work part time just to afford the skates that you wear. If you put in the hard work and effort, you are rewarded with success; that’s a big part of what you liked about it. 

“Excellent job today, ladies. I’d like everyone to give a special round of applause to y/n today,” Coach Tanya suddenly singled you out as the team gathered around to hear her ending announcements. Tanya gave you a warm smile and gestured towards you as you bow to your clapping teammates. “For mastering the triple lutz. I can tell you’ve been practicing extra hours, both from the log sheet and from your performance today. At this rate, we may send you to nationals in the spring”.

Gasps echo across the cold, near-empty stadium. Your jaw hung open at Tanya’s ambitious plan and Yuna grabbed onto your arm excitedly, giving you a nudge of congratulations. It was extremely rare for a sophomore to be sent to the national competitions. Even some seniors never make it past the pre-auditions at Seoul University alone. You weren’t even dreaming of going within the next year despite all of your extra night-time practices. Looking at Tanya’s face, it didn’t seem like she was joking either.

“Thank you, Coach Tanya. I will work even harder”.

“That being said, I have some exciting news pertaining to all of you ladies: this year, Seoul University is sponsoring our team to hold a friendly competition for the winter festival as a sort of main event. Don’t be alarmed because it is optional. It’s September now, so if you are interested in participating, you will have just under four months to prepare a pair skate for the festival in December. Untraditionally, the audience will be voting to choose a winner instead of a panel. Furthermore, the theme, costumes, and music will all be up to you, so have fun with it! Oh and not to mention, the winning pair will be rewarded a monetary prize of $5,000 each”.

Shocked looks were exchanged between teammates. Your brain was still processing to make sure you heard Tanya right as she reiterated.

“Yes,” Tanya laughed, “you heard me right, girls, $5,000 each. It’s a tremendous opportunity and if not for the money, for a chance to practice performing in front of a crowd”.

Murmurs of excitement hush across the near-empty stadium.

“Yuna,” you look up to the taller girl and grip her arm with both hands, “Yuna please we gotta do this”. You shake her slightly with your pleading, “be my partner?”.

The blonde giggled, “duh, of course! Lisa and Hope will probably do it together since they’re both on JV so it’s perfect. Let’s get that ten grand for you!”.

“Wait no, but-”

“Y/n. You know I’m not about to argue with you about this,” Yuna sighed, looking up to the fluorescent ceiling lights to avoid your indignant stare. You relaxed your grip on her arm, knowing that you wouldn’t win this fight no matter how guilty you felt. “You’re better than me by a long shot. If anyone could bet on a winner, they’d put their money on you without a doubt. And if we win it’ll be because of you, so think of it as a fair split based on contribution. I’ll take a $20 cut to buy us dinner,” Yuna encouraged. 

You close your eyes and rest the side of your head on her shoulder.

That’s my best friend. I don’t deserve her.

You felt bad, but you knew that you needed this money more than anything right now. Your parents didn’t earn much and they were already burdened by this semester’s tuition, even with the scholarships. Picking up extra shifts at Frankie’s did little more than cover skating fees and rent. The heavy, looming fear of next semester being the one when you’d have to drop out often kept you up at night. It’s nobody’s fault, but that’s how it is.

Yet like a miracle angel sent from Heaven, this competition could cover an entire semester’s worth of tuition if you win. You needed the prize money desperately. You were going to have to win it no matter what.

“Bye!”. You waved to your teammates as they exited the locker room, probably to go out and be social on a Saturday afternoon. Unfortunately for you, your only plans were to sit alone at the library, studying.

“You seriously don’t wanna join us for lunch today?”. Yuna slung her skating bag over her shoulder. Her wet hair from just showering stuck to her face, but even like this she looked like she could be on the cover of a teen magazine.

“I’ll pass. I can grab a salad from the convenience store before I head to the library. Midterms are coming up and I gotta do a lot of review,” you explain, brushing a wide comb through your tangled mess of hair. Yuna moved to pull her hair back into a ponytail. You watched as her perfectly sculpted reflection made an action so simple into a reason for envy. The stained locker room mirror, however, did your bare face no favors. Your best friend remained oblivious as you picked yourself apart again. Your cheeks were a little too round, nose a little too wide, eyebrows a little too uneven. You shove the brush in your bag and turn around before you could fall deeper in insecurity. “Let’s go”.

As always, you chose to disregard your insecure thoughts and pretend like they never existed. Talking about it seemed weird, so you just chose not to do it. And you didn’t like bothering other people with your problems either. It was best to just keep it to yourself. 

“Y/n!,” a familiar voice called out from behind you. You stopped walking down the stadium corridor, turning around to see who could’ve known your name. Usually it’s Yuna getting stopped by one of her many friends.

Ashy blonde hair came into view as the boy jogged to catch up with you. Your legs were doing just fine after over an hour and a half of training, but they trembled at the sight of a certain dreamy junior boy.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here,” Mark smiled down at you, the dim hallway lights catching on his cheekbones and jawline, accentuating his beautifully sculpted features. 

“I’ll see you later,” Yuna winked, patting you on the back and making a break for the exit before you could protest.

“I-uh, hey, Mark,” you stutter. Was it just you or did he get even more good-looking since the last time you saw him?

“Did you guys just get out of practice?”. You could hardly pay attention to his simple question as you checked him out. Mark sported a simple outfit consisting of a plain black hoodie with matching black joggers and sneakers. His red hockey bag which was slung across his back was supported by one of his thumbs. With the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to his elbows, you watch as the lines of his forearm muscles shift and strain with each fine movement from the weight of the duffel.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah! We did,” you answer after an awkward pause. Oh, God, please let that not have been weird. “Are you here for your practice?”. You mentally slap yourself for your stupid question; he’s wearing gym clothes and has his hockey gear, what else was he going to do at the rink?

“Yeah, I am,” Mark laughed good-naturedly, leaning slightly on the wall next to you, “I came here a bit early, actually. I was hoping to catch you”.

Catch...me?

Your face flushed at his heart-fluttering remark. Contesting with the urge to spontaneously burst into flames, you try your best to give a steady reply, “Oh! What for?”.

“I-uh,” Mark diverted his gaze down to his shoes, “I know I got your number from the group chat, but I wanted to ask you in person. There’s a party tonight at the sheep’s house- my friend’s house- and I was wondering if I was gonna see you there”.

You simultaneously wanted to sink into the floor to disappear forever and jump into the air to celebrate. You did neither. 

Was he asking you out? Not really. But then again, he wants to see you there at the party. And he came here early to specially ask you in person. 

You replay the debate you had with Yuna earlier. Past-you had made some valid points about not going, but how could you say no when he put it like this?… oh, fuck it.

“For sure. I’ll be there”. You offer a wry smile to try to cover your nervousness.

“Awesome,” Mark’s eyes twinkled as he smiled, “can’t wait to see you tonight, then”. 

“Can’t wait,” you echoed. You couldn’t help but notice how he was a few inches taller and you had to tilt your head back to meet his soft, brown eyes.

“I should probably get down to the rink to set up for practice”

“Oh okay! Don’t let me keep you”

“Not at all”. His fingers shifted to adjust the strap of his hockey bag and your eyes brushed over the ripple of his forearm. He was doing the bare-minimum and your knees were ready to buckle in the middle of the hallway. 

“I’ll get going then!,” you excuse yourself with a curt wave. Turning around, you head briskly for the exit before you could embarrass yourself further and agree to more irrational proposals. 

Before your hand could even touch the exit door to let yourself out, reality hit.

Oh no. I have to go to the party.

Yuna squealed and pounced you onto your bed as you told her the news. “I can’t believe it! You’re really gonna go?”.

You run a stressed hand through your wavy locks, “I guess? He didn’t leave me much of a choice”. Rolling around on your bed, your best friend clapped and cheered despite your wanting to travel back in time and tell Mark you couldn’t make it. But how were you supposed to say no to that face? Thanks to this, your library study session was far from focused or helpful.

“We gotta get you looking hot, y/n. I mean, you’re already hot,” Yuna corrected, “but even more hot for your first college party”.

Hopping off your now messed-up covers, you go to observe yourself in the full-body mirror in all your said ‘hotness’. You were currently enveloped in a grouchy oversized tee shirt that you got from a choir field trip in high school paired with plain gym shorts hidden underneath. Your hair was especially frizzy from being air-dried after your shower. 

“The only hot I am is a hot mess,” you groaned. Did you look like this when Mark saw you earlier? Shit.

“Nonsense, silly,” Yuna hugged you from behind, “you’re adorable and you’d be surprised how much hair, makeup, and a good fit can change someone”. She looked into your eyes eagerly through the mirror as if asking for permission. You were too nervous about the party to deny her so you gave your roommate a reluctant nod. It was better that she helped you get ready so you could fit in and thus blend into the background.

Squealing again, Yuna gave you a squeeze and scurried to flit through her closet for something you could wear. 

“Go straighten your hair, y/n!”

“Yes ma’am”. This much you could do. “How’s this?”. Yuna held up a skimpy bralette top, its white lace barely covering any surface area at all. 

“That’s a top?!”

“Ok nevermind”. Tossing the tiny piece aside, your roommate continued sifting earnestly through her collection of expensive clothes.

You ran the straightener through your partitioned hair carefully. 

“What about this one?”. Yuna held up a simple red crop top. A small notch ran an inch down the neckline which gave it a little edge, but it seemed like it would be in your comfort zone.

“That’s perfect,” you smile.

Hair now pin straight and finally smooth, you change into the red top and ripped black denim shorts Yuna picked out for you. Your best friend was much better at makeup than you were, so you let her take the lead once again. The only times you wear full makeup are for performances and you would look like a complete clown if you showed up with the two inch eyeliner you knew how to do. 

Applying a small amount of base makeup to your face, Yuna went for a more natural look, knowing that you weren’t comfortable with standing out too much. Subtle brown eyeshadow and lengthening mascara made your eyes pop just the right amount and a cherry lip balm tinted your lips a translucent, shiny red. Even you had to admit your confidence was boosted from the new look you weren’t used to seeing in the mirror. 

That’s me. I’m… kind of pretty

“Aw, honey, you look so beautiful,” Yuna cooed, wrapping up your makeover with a clap. She did her own makeup effortlessly and put on the discarded bralette from earlier. However ridiculous it looked on the hanger, she made it look like a million bucks and it suited her perfectly. 

You moved to sit on your bed and lace up your trusty white sneakers. Yuna wore a bigger shoe size than you which came as a relief because you weren’t sure if you could handle wearing any of the daring stiletto pumps in her collection. 

“You know, I’m so happy you’re going to come this time. I was always really sad when you stayed home studying every weekend instead of going out and having fun”.

“I would’ve gone if I knew how to talk to people,” you reason, picking at the dirty aglet of your shoelace, “and I’m honestly really nervous right now. You better not leave me, okay?”.

“You’re so sweet and thoughtful, anyone would be lucky to talk to you! I know it’s easier said than done, but you’d be surprised what a little confidence will do. And of course, I won’t leave you”. Yuna gave you a bright, reassuring smile before pulling you off the bed. 

You take one last look at your reflection in the mirror.

That’s right, confidence. I’m confident.

“Let’s go”

The walk down to the party was much shorter than you expected. Turns out, the ‘Sheep’ lived in that sketchy house just off of campus which you made a point to avoid during your nighttime jogs. The tables were turning as you approached the rickety front porch on purpose. You clung to Yuna as an array of neon lights shines through the window blinds and the open door. The bass of a generic pop song jolted through your bones. 

Walking into the home, your grip on Yuna’s arm tightened as unfamiliar faces surrounded you. The crowded room stank of sweaty bodies and weed. A countertop stocked full of red solo cups and different types of alcohol was visible from where you stood. Heads turned to stare at Yuna while the two of you entered.

What am I doing here?

“Hey, you made it!,” an unfamiliar voice shouted from over the ruckus. Your eyes fell nervously on the voice’s owner. He had dark brown hair and sharp, defined features. His accent was strange, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. 

“Hey!”. Yuna brought the stranger in for a loose hug. “Yangyang, this my roommate and best friend, y/n. Y/n this is Yangyang also known as ‘the sheep’. He’s from Germany”.

Ah, Germany.

You offer him a small wave, surprised when he pulls you unexpectedly into a hug. 

“Nice to meet you, y/n. Mark’s told me all about you,” Yangyang smirked, “please help yourself to drinks, girls. The guys are in the basement playing pong”.

“Woo! Let’s get wasted!” Yuna yelled while pulling you towards the drinks.

You stood awkwardly at her side as she poured both of you drinks- a half a solo cup of strawberry vodka for her and a sprite zero for you. You wish you could be in bed, curled up alone with a good movie. Or even at the library studying-

“Hey,” a deep voice right next to your ear wrecked your train of thought. Alarmed, your eyes were met with the middle of a chest as you turned around to see who it was. Craning your head back, an unfamiliar, tall boy with stiffly-gelled brown hair looked down at you. You winced at the acrid smell of axe body spray now flooding your nostrils. He looked young, maybe even younger than you, but he was clearly very drunk. “Where have you been all my life?”.

“Excuse me?,” you exclaim over the booming music. The boy placed his hands on the counter on either side of you, trapping you in between his arms. Looking over to find Yuna, she had already shifted deeper into the crowd and was busy talking with other people. 

“I’m Sungchan,” the boy unwelcomingly introduced, “what’s your name, beautiful?”.

“I-uh I’m y/n,” you stuttered. Sungchan’s face was way too close for comfort and his breath stank of cheap alcohol. You felt his humid exhalation brush over the top of your head like a toxic cloud and you fought to not gag.

“Y/n. You come here with anyone?”. You pressed your back as far into the counter as you could to get away from him, but there was little room to go. Fear began to set in as you realized you were trapped. What should I say? What do I do?

“I-I…” 

“She came here with me”. A firm hand gripped Sungchan’s left arm and yanked it forcefully away from the counter. Your saving grace put a gentle hand on your shoulder, tugging you slightly away from the drunk perpetrator. Struggling to comprehend what was happening, you looked up to see it was Mark, staring the intoxicated boy down. 

“C-captain”

“What’s a freshman doing with my girl?” Mark pressed. His expression was unamused. 

Your heart trembled at his unanticipated lie. His girl? Mark brushed a reassuring thumb over your shoulder, clueing to you that he would handle this. 

“I didn’t know, I-”

“Sungchan, right? You still trying to make varsity next year?,” Mark interrupted, eyebrows raised in annoyance at the freshman. Sungchan’s eyes went wide as he held both hands up innocently.

“Y-yes I-”

“Misconduct can get you kicked off the team, you know. Not to mention I’ll be senior captain next year so I’ll have a say in who makes it into varsity”.

“I’m sorry, captain, I really didn’t-”

“Fuck off”. Mark gestured his free hand towards the open front door. Sungchan looked around, as if unsure what to do. The surrounding party-goers danced and drank on, unaware of the altercation and more interested in who they were going home with tonight. Finally, the lanky boy’s head cleared enough to make a decision. Sungchan bowed slightly in apology and stumbled towards the exit. The untouched solo cup of sprite fizzed in your shaking hands.

“Are you okay?”. Mark faced you with a concerned look.

You clenched your grip tighter around your drink as you fought back tears, the shock wearing off and the gravity of the situation hitting you full-on. You set the cup down and shake your head no.

“Do you want to get out of here?”.

You nod your head vigorously and tears began streaming down your cheeks. What a waste, all of Yuna’s hard work down the drain. Mark nudged you forward and guided you towards a back door. Weaving your way through the crowd, Mark greeted his friends with a “hey” or a simple nod. You felt a few girls eye you discontentedly at the sight of Mark’s hand ghosting over the small of your back while others were too high or drunk to notice. The cool night air welcomed you as Mark urged you outside and you rushed to escape the cramped house. He shut the door behind him, muffling the heavy bass so you could finally hear yourself think.

Dabbing away at your tears so he wouldn’t see, you breathe deeply to regain your composure. 

“Thanks for that”. You managed to let out after a few minutes of sniffling and silence. Your voice was slightly hoarse and you couldn’t meet his eyes, but he waited patiently by your side. 

So much for coming to this party, he probably thinks I’m a mess. This whole thing was a huge mistake. 

“I think I’ll go. Sorry I can’t stay”. You turn to walk down the wooden porch steps.

“Wait-”. Mark’s voice halts your departure. “Would you like to go on a walk with me? Or I can at least take you home. I don’t want you going out alone after what just happened…”. 

Looking up at him, the dim porch light glowed behind him, giving him a soft golden halo. His brown eyes which were usually smiling now shone with worry as he scanned over your tear-stricken face. Your heart which was beating rapidly from fear earlier began to settle down in his reassuring presence. Being alone right now might not be the best idea. But more importantly, being with him sounded like what you really needed. You nod.

The sound of crickets chirping and sneakers scuffing took over as the two of you walked farther away from the booming music of the party. You weren’t sure where you were headed, but you also didn’t know if there was anywhere you wanted to go. Wandering down the deserted streets in comfortable silence, Mark followed you patiently as he waited for you to be ready to talk. Before you knew it, your feet brought you to the lake and you stood watching the water ripple under the night breeze. The moon, almost full, illuminated silver each ebb and flow.

“I’m sorry you’re missing the party”. You quietly broke the silence. You felt bad for making him leave. All of his friends were there and he probably really looked forward to it. 

“Don’t be. I only went so I could talk to you, anyways”

You look at him in surprise. Mark’s eyes remained glued to the lake, sparkling from the reflected moonlight.

“How many girls have you told that to?,” you scoff. Internally, you screamed.

“Couldn’t name another one”

You pause before resolving to stroll further down the lakeside. The sound of footsteps behind you confirmed that he was following. Stopping as you reach the familiar creaky wood, you take a seat on the worn-out dock, him on your right. You dangle your feet over the dark, sloshing waves. It was cool, despite the summer season. A breeze rolled by, making you shudder. However cute the crop top was, it didn’t do much to keep you warm. Not that you could have planned on running away from the party and needing a sweatshirt beforehand.

“Here, take this”. Mark unzipped his jacket to give to you.

“Oh it's ok-”. You couldn’t finish your protest before the warm fabric was draped across your shoulders. Your face grew pink once more. If you didn’t know better, you could be admitted to the hospital for how much you’ve been blushing recently. “Thanks,” you mutter, looking down at your hands with a small smile. 

“Is that Frankie’s?”. Mark’s voice cut through the silence.

“What?”

“Is that Frankie’s?,” Mark repeated, nodding at the small restaurant bordering the lake some distance away. It looked as if it had just closed, yellow fluorescent lights still on while a tired waitress scrubbed away at a table. Only one car, probably her’s, remained in the parking lot.

“Oh, yeah. That’s where I work part time,” you confirmed. “I come here to the dock to sit sometimes. You know, just to think”.

“I feel that. Sometimes everything is way too much to handle and you need to take time to breathe. I have a place like this too”

Mark’s sincere confession came as a surprise to you and unintentionally, it showed on your face.

“What, you don’t believe me?” Mark feigned hurt, putting a hand on his chest. “Do you think hockey guys can’t have feelings too? I have a fan club for heaven’s sake!”.

You laugh at his exaggerated outcry. 

“And that’s a bad thing? Don’t you guys like the attention? Attention from lots and lots of pretty girls”. You raised an eyebrow, teasing him.

“As if,” Mark ran a stressed hand through his hair, “they’re all crazy as hell. Honestly, none of the guys really like the attention”.

You nod in understanding. Seeing how the Lovelees acted the few times you were around them, you’d hate being the subject of their affections too.

“But how about you,” Mark continued, “I haven’t seen you much at parties”.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “if you couldn’t tell from tonight, I’m not much of a party girl. Today was my first and probably last party”. You had gotten so comfortable walking and talking with Mark that you had almost forgotten about the horrible incident that occurred earlier. Pulling the soft jacket over yourself more, your face falls as you remember Sungchan’s intoxicated face.

“Hey” Mark’s hand grazes over your slumped shoulders, bringing you back to focus on him. “I’ll never let him bother you again”. 

While you were unsure of how your makeup was holding up due to all the crying, his delicate features were all the more beautiful under the pale moonlight. You notice how close you’re sitting, knees almost brushing against each other’s and his face was but inches from yours. And even though you were wearing his jacket so he was left with only a tee shirt, you were sure you weren’t imagining the heat radiating from his body. Slowly, your eyes flutter down to his parted lips.

There it is once more, the hot flush in your cheeks and the strain in your chest. 

Meeting Mark has been a rollercoaster of emotions, but you felt undeniably comfortable sitting next to someone who would’ve been a stranger just a few days ago. Something about him felt familiar to you now and you trusted in his words. He was someone... safe. 

“Really?,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of his soft, pink lips. 

“Really”. His confirmation was too gentle to be heard above the sound of the rushing water below, but you read his lips as they shaped around the word.

Before you know it, you were leaning in, just enough so you knew you weren’t imagining it. A mellow breeze plays with your hair, causing a few strands to fall astray. Cautiously with his hand, Mark slowly tucks the fallen pieces back behind your ear. He hesitates there. The feeling of his warm fingertips sends tingles down your spine. Carefully scanning your expression to make sure you were okay, his hand inches down to gently cup your cheek. “Can I kiss you?”.

You could feel the warmth of his breath fan across your lips, his own not centimeters away. Your heart pounded rapidly as you gave an affirming nod. Closing your eyes, you wait.

This is happening.

A jolting vibration from your pocket caused your eyes to shoot right back open and Mark let go of you in surprise. Your phone kept buzzing, the harsh sound amplified by the wooden dock. Sighing in frustration, you struggle to remove it from your back pocket as Mark looks away, coughing awkwardly. Your face burned red from embarrassment.

Why does this always happen to me?

“Hello?”. Your tone was laced with annoyance.

“Y/n! Where aare youu?,” Yuna slurred. Trap music blared in the background confirming that she was still at the party. You could hear Ten asking if Mark was with you over the ruckus.

“I left. And yeah, Mark is here”. You put the phone on speaker and held it up towards the boy you were about to kiss moments ago. 

“Hey guys,” Mark said sheepishly. Yuna squealed in delight.

“That’s my boy!”. Ten’s booming voice took over the call.

“Stop it man,” Mark warned, increasingly agitated at the couple for ruining the moment.

“Okayy kids! Have fun, but not tooooo much fun”. Yuna giggled into the microphone. 

“I’m hanging up,” you said quickly before pushing the red button to end the call. Any longer and you weren’t sure you could resist throwing your phone (and perhaps yourself) into the lake. A brief moment of silence ensued, both parties unsure of what to do next. Was there anything you could do to save the moment after that? 

“I uh…,” you start.

“Yeah umm…,” Mark agreed. Silence ensued.

“Uhh…”. Your steady tone wavered as you started to giggle. The awkwardness dissipated because before you knew it, both of you were laughing wholeheartedly at the unfortunate situation. 

“Yuna tends to have great timing,” you explain.

“Mm. Ten does too,” Mark related, stroking his chin and nodding as if thinking deeply. 

“She said she wouldn’t leave me at the party but lo and behold”. You gesture to your surroundings, exasperated.

“That sucks,” Mark agreed, “you should have come found me. I was waiting for you, actually”.

“I was going to,” you picked at the zipper of his jacket, “but we had just gotten there when... you know”.

“Yeah. You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready. I don’t want to pressure you at all, but I’m always willing to listen”

“You’re,” you look for the right words, “you’re so amazing”. 

“Yeah?”

You keep your gaze in your lap, “Yeah. And you know, I wish we’d met earlier, Mark. Because it’s really nice talking to you and you’re a really great guy”. You check for his reaction.

“Yeah, I wish we met sooner too”. His expression was that of… adoration.

Being with Mark was so easy. Conversation came to you two easier than anything else in life did. And just like that, feet swinging in sync above the water, you talked for hours. He told you about his alien conspiracy theories and his aspirations to be a professional hockey player and then retire into sports medicine. You told him about your parents and how you missed them dearly because they worked way out of the city to support you and your dream. You did everything you could to be able to pay them back, even majoring in economics which was more profitable than environmental studies or professional skating. Mark listened thoughtfully and admitted that he related in a lot of ways with his parents being all the way in Canada. 

The night rushed by and the two of you talked until the golden peaks of sunrise painted the water from its usual blue. You had shifted so you were sitting facing each other on the dock. The early sunlight cast a warm glow over Mark’s face. He looked like a painting- a Monet. Or a Renoir.

“Um so, I guess it’s Sunday now”. Mark rested his chin into the crook of his elbow. You could hear the tired in his voice, but you mutually understood that neither of you wanted to leave.

“Do you have to go?”. You picked at a piece of fuzz on the sleeve of his sweatshirt which you were still wearing. The disappointment was evident in your question. Even though you had spent the whole night getting to know each other, it felt like you had just barely scratched the surface. There was still so much more you wanted to talk about. 

Checking his watch, Mark contemplated for a bit. 

“It’s 6:12 a.m. right now. I actually have to get somewhere by 6:30,” Mark explained.

“So early?”

“Yeah it’s… you could come with me if you want?”. His sleepy eyes twinge with hope.

You look to the lake, the sparkling ripples tinted gold with the rising sun. Sunday was usually a rest day for you and you didn’t have anything planned. As fatigued as you felt, everything in you wanted to accept his invitation. You cracked a small smile, getting up to stretch your legs. You hold out a hand to help him up.

“Lead the way”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home? This might not be fun for you…”

Mark’s expression was worried as the two of you stood at the entrance of the local church, the doors open and you could see rows of tables and food set up as if ready for people at any minute. The streets were starting to bustle as the world began to wake up. A volunteer from inside the church spotted you, walking out to give his greetings. 

“Mark!,” the man called out as he pulled Mark  in for a warm hug, “good morning!”.

His eyes turned towards you and Mark moved to introduce you. 

“Daniel, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Daniel. We volunteer together here at the church to serve breakfast to the homeless,” Mark disclosed.

“Nice to meet you, Daniel”. You shake his hand with a smile. Gosh, I probably look like a mess right now. I didn’t even get to change or take off the makeup from the party yesterday. You self-consciously zip up Mark’s oversized jacket to hide your exposed midriff. 

“Nice to meet you, y/n! This is the first time Mark has brought a… friend here”. Daniel’s eyes darted between you and Mark with an assuming smile.

“Yeah,” Mark coughed, turning to you, “do you want me to take you home? This probably isn’t what you expected I don’t know why I-”

“No,” you interrupted, “I’d like to stay and volunteer”. Offering him a reassuring smile, you rest your hand on his arm to show him that you were okay. There was truth to his worries when Mark said this wasn’t what you were expecting. You never would have thought that a popular guy like him woke up early on the weekends to help the needy. Evidently, he did it out of the kindness of his own heart, not for attention. You always imagined it was all parties and messing around, but you were pleasantly proven wrong.

“Great! Mark can show you around and get you started,” the older man clapped before heading inside.

“You’re kind of awesome, you know that?”. Mark’s question caught you off guard. He slipped his hand into yours to lead you into the building, the simple action sending your heart into a frenzy. 

“Awesome how?”

“Just… awesome,” Mark clarified cryptically, holding the door open for you to enter the storage room. He tosses you a green volunteer shirt.

“Alright, I’ll take the compliment,” you laugh, taking off his jacket and handing it to him. To your surprise, he pushes it back to you.

“You keep it. I like it a lot better on you”

Mark Lee if you keep saying things like this, I’m going to catch on fire.

You fight to put out the flames spreading across your cheeks and give a single nod, setting the sweatshirt down on a nearby box. Not willing to strip in front of him in the church storage room, you pull the volunteer shirt over on top of the shirt you were already wearing.

“So anyways,” Mark continued as if he didn’t just say the most romantic thing you’ve heard in your life, “the people will start coming in about 20 minutes. Our job is to portion out the food and once everyone is served, we can go eat and talk with them”.

“Got it”

“Here, let me get this for you”. His hand guided your waist to spin around as he pulled an apron over your head. Tying the back of the garment together, your breath hitches in your throat as you feel his fingers brush under the fabric of your shirt. You turn your face to the side and you can see his soft expression in your peripheral vision. The heat from his body behind yours feels so welcoming.

I wish he’d kiss me right now.

And he wants to. He tries to. He’s leaning in and everything is perfect. Your heart is beating fast as you tilt your head back, but like clockwork, a jolting buzz from his pants makes you jump apart. No, not like that.

“I swear to God, I’m throwing away my phone”. Mark ran a frustrated hand through his hair, picking up the kiss-blocking call. “Hello?”. You sighed.

You watch as the annoyed expression on his face fades into shock as the speaker on the other side panicked through the phone. Your own frustration transforms into concern as Mark looks at you and you catch the words “car” and “hospital”. Mark paces back and forth.

“Alright, I got it. Yeah, she’s with me. I’ll tell her. We’ll come right now. Don’t worry, Ten, she’s going to be fine”

“What is it?,” you ask as soon as he hangs up the call, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry.

“It’s Yuna…,” Mark trailed off, shocked by the news. Your heart dropped down to your feet.

“What about Yuna?” Your voice shook with panic.

“She-she was in a car accident. She’s at the hospital right now”

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[strangerobin]

Rue: Chapter 6 (Jasper Hale x OC)

Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you. To spend a lifetime with you. Body and soul.

Or

Stolen away just nights before their wedding, Jasper had mourned the loss of his lover, Adeline, for centuries. Until a similar face showed up one day out of the blue, just as beautiful and just as youthful.

Part 6

A plan of sorts that leaves neither parties thrilled.

She was still waiting for a sign.

On occasions, Adeline felt watched and the unease in her heart refused to subside. Something was about to happen to break this faux peace, she was sure; but just what it was she had no clue. And the more time had passed, the more on edge and paranoid she got, going so far as to snapping at poor Loreen for the smallest of things. She hated herself more than ever.

In the end, the sign she had been waiting for came in the form of flowers.

Cornflowers to be exact.

A bouquet was left in the early morning on the doorsteps of their little shared house. No one had heard the deliverer. Anakin and Teddy were away, engaging in their own businesses. Loreen was still tucked safely in her little fort of plushies and rag dolls. Adeline had merely opened the door to enjoy some fresh air and was instead met with a bouquet of cornflowers arranged with utmost care.

Your eyes are the colour of cornflowers.

A man she loved once told her. So she was reminded of.

Holding the bouquet as far away from herself as possible, she chucked the bouquet straight into the trash and went about her day as if nothing happened. As if she wasn’t bouncing her leg non-stop while watching reruns on TV, or how distracted she was, or how Loreen kept shooting worried glances at her. As if she wasn’t practically vibrating anxiety off her being.

The flowers never stopped. Every morning a fresh batch was laid on the doorsteps, Loreen even managed to steal some and displayed them in a pretty little vase in her room. Out of spite, Adeline thought. She tried to stay vigilant and stand guard at the door, but then they would only appear elsewhere around the house. She knew then that there was no running from this.

Adeline would bet good money on who her secret admirer (stalker) was. She did not remember him as a stubborn man; but from the persistence of his action she had gathered what game he was playing at. This was an open challenge issued to her, a taunt, he wouldn’t confront her upfront. No, he was patient with his schemes and would strike only when the hour was ripe; he was the predator and her the prey now. And she was so so tempted to rise to the bait. But she must keep her cool, and not loose her mind. He might loose his interest in her yet.

In a century or two. Her treacherous mind taunted mercilessly.

Oh but how wrong was she.

The next taunt came the next day in the form of a book, Frankenstein.

Specifically, the exact copy of the cheap paperback edition she had left behind in Whitehorse months ago.

In a fit of hysterics, she threw open the front door and went all the way up to the front yard and bellowed into the empty countryside. “Leave me the fuck alone you sick bastard!”

Only later did she start to question.

How did he find her? How did he manage to track her down from Whitehorse to Minnesota and now Colorado? She was confident of her concealment ability.

So then, how?

*

From a distance, Jasper watched the girl sitting at the front porch, lacing up her roller skates. The child turned her heard, seemingly to answer someone inside the house before finishing up the rest of her laces. Then in trepidation she tested water with the first few step, before gaining confidence and propelling herself forward into the open road.

In her flowy sundress and a light cardigan, seemingly not minding the alpine chill, the child spread out her arms and laughed with her head thrown back, as if she were soaring amongst the wind instead. She seemed like any other child, if it weren’t for her scent, and that luminous skin in the morning light.

Jasper casually got out of his car and leaned against it, unsubtly observing the girl. That seemed to catch the child’s attention as she eyed him suspiciously while zipping past the first time; before turning round at the end of the drive and passing by again. If she was scared then she hardly showed it. After a few back and forth, she finally slowed a few meters from Jasper and regarded him cooly.

“Who are you?” Her asked in a sing-song voice. “If you’re here to sell cable or insurance or fire resistant something, we’re not interested.”

“Ah I see so you are the Madame of the house then, little lady.” Jasper chuckled and watched as the child pouted and crossed her arms, petulant at the name. Yes, she was like one of those children too smart for their own good, sharp witted but quick to anger. And much too trusting. “Fear not, I am only a friend. Tell me, do you live here with family?”

“Half siblings.” The child corrected.

“And is not your half-sister called Adeline?”

“And you are?”

“A long time... friend.” He hesitated after a second.

“Oh?” Now her voice was laced with suspicion.

Jasper smiled charismatically and exerted an air of reassurance over the child. “Do you think you can send a message from me to her?”

The child frowned, clearly reluctant. “Couldn’t you do it yourself? If you really are her friend. She’s in a mood these days and I don't want to cross anymore than I need to.”

“I don’t think she’d like to see me for now.” Jasper shrugged nonchalantly, as if he was not in fact stalking the said person, but simply had a disagreement with her over a conversation during bar night.

She narrowed her eyes at him again.

“What’s in this for me?”

Jasper bowed his head respectfully. “Of course there will be payment on my part. I shall be forever in your debt.”

She pursed her lips and pondered on the request thoughtfully. “If I am to be messenger,” She began slowly. “I’d like a year’s worth of Ben and Jerry’s. And a year’s subscription of Netflix!” She looked so haughty then, so proud of herself for striking a deal that he had to chuckle.

“Oh little lady.” He said in between laughs, somehow adoring the sweet innocence of the child. “You drive a hard bargain don’t you? Yes of course I promise.” He put a hand over his heart and bowed. “Cross may heart and hope to die.”

That seemed to satisfy the child and she grinned cheekily at him, no doubt pleased with her little bargain of free ice cream and Netflix films.

“Here.” He produced from his pocket a single map. And handed it to the girl. She eyed it suspiciously before taking in gingerly, their hands briefly touching. If she noticed his ice cold skin then she did not make a remark.

Instead her eyes flickered back to him and she chewed on her lips thoughtfully before finally opening her mouth. “I hope... I hope whatever it is between the two of you, all will be well soon.”

Momentarily caught surprised, Jasper straightened his stance and looked to the house in the distance with longing and tenderness.

“Yes I hope so too.”

*

“Oh Lorie you’re finally back. Fun time roller skating?”

Adeline was sitting on the sofa, in a bathrobe with blankets wrapped all around herself up to her head flipping through the channels at top speed.

“I met a friend of yours down the street.” Loreen announced.

“Friend? What friend-”

“Jasper.”

She froze at the name.

“Come again?”

“Jasper was here and he wanted me to pass on a message to you.” Loreen stated as-a-matter-of-factly and handed over the old map. She scrutinised her sister; watched as her face blanched before being replaced by red hot fury.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Adeline bellowed, crumpling the map into a tight little wall. “Where is he? Is he still out there now?!”

Loreen shrugged, trying to convey the message that she was just as clueless as the other was. “I’m sure he’s only just left.”

Adeline bolted out of the doors at once.

“Jasper!” She yelled like a lunatic, and searched frantically, not giving a fig what the neighbours would think. She had other pressing matters to be concerned of.

How dare he! How dare he approached her family, especially her innocent sister! He had already shattered her little peaceful life! That she could tolerate, and she supposed to some extent, she was reaping what she had sowed years ago. But preying on her young sister like that! He had no right! Absolutely no right! How dare he!

Hidden under the shades of the woods she took off in a blur, trying to locate the man. But the faint smell she caught whiff of indicated that he had long since been gone.

Still livid, she stomped her way back to the house.

First the flowers, then the book and now this map. Jasper; yes she was finally going to acknowledge this, that he was the same man she had met all those years ago, and that yes he was a fucking vampire now! And one with no fucking sense of boundaries! His message was clear and simple.

Don’t think that you’ve been forgotten. I know where you are and I will find you, whatever it takes. Or you can come to me, on your terms. You know where to find me.

She spread the crumpled map out.

Washington.

It was a state map of fucking Washington!

Like a flame being doused with ice cold water, she finally realised her mistake all those months ago. The hybrid child she had met in the clearing… That was how he had come to know of her. There was no doubt of it now. The child must have told her coven of their meeting, and either he was part of the coven, or he was on intimate terms with them. Either way, she had damned herself that day when she had decided not to trust her instincts to stay inland. And like dominoes, a little push had unknowingly caused the whole system to collapse on its own, the shockwaves continuing to reverberate in the aftermath of the disastrous meeting.

Adeline cursed and screamed in frustration.

Stupid! Stupid! She was so stupid! What was she to do now?! Engage? And she would be falling right into his laps without a fight. Run? But for how long? He had proven himself more than capable of tracking her somehow, it would be all for naught. He had a coven; and she had only her siblings. Siblings whom never got involved with her affairs, nor did she wish to involve into the mess. And especially not her youngest.

Frustrated, she flipped the map to find an actual written message penned in impeccable cursive handwriting. Which got her blood boiling immediately.

Do you have what it takes?

Self-righteous bastard! Well she’ll show him!

Adeline was in and out of the house in a flash, clothes changed. “Addie where are you going?” Loreen was by the door, obviously concerned.

“I’m going.” Her reply was short, clipped.

“At least wait for Anakin or Teddy.”

“No Loreen. I have to go. You’ll be fine on your own right?” Adeline tried to smile to relieve the tension, but evidently the tight-lipped smile only succeeded in agitating her sister more.

“I suppose yes. But-"

“Stay safe dear. I’ll see you in a bit.”

And she was out.

She refused to address her other concerns; like what did he want by actively seeking her out, or how did he even find her when she had made sure all her tracks were concealed? What did it mean for the two of them now that the other was all along alive and well? What would it entail for either parties from here on? What would father even do should he learn of this?

All of the what ifs and hows and whys were all overshadowed by her high-strung emotions. Her action was spurred into motion and further fulled by her fury at her former lover. Really, she lacked even a concrete plan of engagement which she seemed to be forgetting repeatedly in favour of the raging anger within her.

One she had not felt in years now.

*

“Are you sure she’ll come?” Edward asked.

“I’m sure.” Was Jasper’s curt reply, even if the doubt was weighing heavily down on his heart. He was back in Forks, back with his family where there was still some semblance of safety and control.

For nights, he had sat outside of Adeline’s little house in his car, just thinking and formulating, the best ways to engage her. He could knock on her door right then and there, and no doubt she would lose her shit, and everything would be fucked. Or he could catch her attention and lure her out back to where he felt safest, and should she decide to come along with then he would engage accordingly. At that time it felt like a decent plan, but now that he was home, the plan seemed stupid. Either way seemed like it would end pretty badly. In the end, he had made his escape early, had not stayed to see Adeline’s reaction at his subtle message. For fear of rejection, for fear of being unable to bear the disappointment.

He was such a coward.

And now he watched as his brother grimaced and frowned, clearly hesitating whether to speak his mind out or not, before finally making his mind up. “It’s just… are you sure about this?”

“About what?” Jasper said feigning ignorance.

“You’re taunting her.” Edward stared him straight in the eye, somewhat sternly. “Is this any way to court the girl you like?”

“Well, says the man who stalked his then classmate in her bedroom every night.” He shot back with barb, clearly annoyed.

Edward’s face soured and immediately stalked off the other way.

Offended.

Jasper sighed and ran a hand absentmindedly through his tangled hair, emotions all over the place. He knew he was an unwelcome presence in the house lately, practically vibrating off anxiety within a mile radius and affecting anyone within. It made the others nervous, stressed even. And everyone avoided him like the plague.

Bella and Edward had taken Renesmee to their little cottage so that the little one would not be affected. Carlisle had taken to working long hour shifts at the hospital and God knows where Rose and Emmett were.

And Alice... Alice was distancing herself from him.

She had taken to avoiding him, bluntly. She was never in the same room as he was. Had stopped being affectionate like she used to. Their interactions were reduced to light pats on his shoulder, fleeting hand touches, tight-lipped smiles that never quite reached her eyes. She was clearly hurting regardless of what she proclaimed. And to make matters worse, it was fracturing the family.

Emmett’s the-devil-may-care attitude can be reassuring, but Rosalie’s disdain at him was dully noted. Bella was torn and Edward was still suspicious of Adeline but somewhat more understanding of his predicament, although apparently he had just pissed off his last comrade. Carlisle and Esme were only concerned for the two of them, no doubt wanting the best for the pair of them.

And there was nothing he could do.

Alice had made the decision for the two of them.

But it tortured him as much as it killed her. She was the light in his pitiful life for years, his beacon in the dark night. She would never forgive him for all his betrayals just as he could never forgive himself for being the one to hurt her,

And now it pained him just as much to think of Adeline, of his plan to lure her out. He had known her like the back of his own hand then. Though what an irony that felt now. The one he had meant to share his life with, ended up being the one he had known the least.

While she can be sweet and lively, her temper seemed to have a mind of its own. And her heart always dominated in any decisions she made. She was open to persuasion, but would never bend to anyone’s will by force. Would react badly and lash out if forced.

And he had forced her hand.

Adeline would come, she must. Because if she did not, what then? He could go back to Alice and begged for her to take him back or he could continue hunting Adeline down, but then what? He could not force her into anything against her will, he would not. While he was no saint, he certainly was no monster to force himself onto her. She had only need to say the words, with steel in her resolve and he would begone as she requested, forever.

And should she have changed?

It had been more one and a half century since their parting, he had changed much. How did he expect her to remain the same? How did he expect her to remain steadfast in their love? Or its lack thereof?

He was torn between being content with simple ordinariness, or pursuing something more, something all encompassing and consuming, but also elusive which might end up being a gamble for nothing.

Either required him to make a blind leap of faith, though one was certainly more perilous than the other.

"I don't... I don't know what to do." He finally admitted aloud to Edward's retreating form, watched as the man turned to look back at him with narrowed eyes. "I have the choice... I have the choice to move on like she did, or I can continue to pursue her to the ends of the world, like some psychopathic stalker vampire..."

"But you don't want to be neither." Edward sighed sympathetically.

"No."

"And yet you don't want to let her go either."

"No, I don't either."

Jasper shot his brother a bittersweet smile before lapsing into silence. It felt embarrassing to tell Edward of his inner most thoughts, but at the same time there was something cathartic in finally sharing with someone what he thought.

"If there's anything I learnt from being with Bella," Edward said after a moment of thought. "It's that every relationship requires the investment of both parties. It's useless if she doesn't reciprocate your feeling."

Jasper quirked his lips ruefully. "Alice seems to think otherwise."

"Alice can't see the hybrid's future."

"No but I told her we might be soulmates."

"Well are you?"

"I don't know... I think so."

Jasper looked up to see Edward with a smug smirk aimed at him. "Well what do we have here? The cold and calculating Major Whitlock stumped for once because he's confused what to do with his lover-"

"Edward!" He protested loudly.

Ed laughed with mirth before holding up his hands in surrender. "I digress." Then his demeanor turned serious again. "Like I said, it requires two people to be in love. A soulmate bond doesn't automatically make her fall in love with you and vice versa. At the end of the day, it's just a bond. It ties the two of you together in this life, you can feel her, might even need her. But at the end of the day, it's for the both of you to decide if the both of you want to purse a more serious relationship, no?"

Jasper looked away, not wanting to meet his brother's intense gaze.

Had he considered what she wanted?

He loved her, still. But did she want him in the same way?

"I... tell me what I should do then?"

The proposition pained him physically and mentally and Jasper closed his eyes and swallowed harshly.

But Edward only looked at him with a tenderness and pity in his eyes.

"Do what's right, brother. Don't make it a regret of yours for eternity."

[writeyouin]

Rodimus X Techbug – Guardian Prime (COMMISSION)

Description – When a new Autobot joins the Lost Light, Rodimus seeks to become their mentor. However, when he learns of Techbug’s difficult past, he might find the task harder than he expected.

A/N – Hey @ask-tf-techbug​, I hope this is what you had in mind. If you want anything editing, just say the word and I’ll do it ASAP. In the meantime, thank you very much for the commission.

WARNINGS – Smut. NSFW. Mentions of abuse.

RATING – M

WORD COUNT – 2173

Rodimus walked with a spring in his step, eager to meet Techbug, the newest recruit to the Lost Light. Ultra Magnus had warned Rodimus of Techbug’s past. Originally an Autobot who had been captured at the start of the war, he had been forced into the Decepticon ranks. Techbug had been controlled through abuse, manipulation, and torture; it had turned him into one of the Decepticons’ most ruthless killers, Silentdeath. Now that the war was over and Techbug was free to start his life anew. He had been sent to the Lost Light to receive therapy from Rung, who specialised in treating PTSD, among other things.

Although Rodimus knew of the infamous Silentdeath, it didn’t taint his opinion of Techbug; after all, Drift had once been a Decepticon, and he’d managed to turn his life around. With the right mentor, Techbug would be just fine, and Rodimus was determined to be that mentor, if only to prove to Ultra Magnus that he could be responsible when he wanted to be; besides, how hard could it really be, being a mentor?

Finally, Rodimus reached Techbug’s new hab-suite, whereupon he rapped a playful tune on the door.

“Hey Techbug,” Rodimus greeted with a wink once the door was opened, “I’m Rodimus, the co-captain of the Lost Light. Nice to meet ya.”

Rodimus didn’t let his surprise at Techbug’s appearance show. He wasn’t small enough to be a mini-bot, yet he couldn’t have been taller that fifteen feet, only coming up to Rodimus’ chassis. He also had a similar appearance to Earthen cats, with a white tipped tail that sharply contrasted his orange colour scheme, and cat audials to match; it was rare to find bots that were shaped after organic creatures. Moreover, Rodimus couldn’t help feeling that Techbug was slender, more like a femme than a mech. To be perfectly candid, Rodimus found Techbug cute.

“Hi…” He whispered quietly in response, unsure of what to say since he didn’t know Rodimus; what he would give to be more comfortable with strangers like most other bots were.

“So,” Rodimus beamed, ignoring the tension. “You want a tour of my ship? It’ll help you get more acquainted.”

Techbug gave a small nod and left his hab-suite, following closely behind Rodimus, who slipped easily into the role of charismatic tour-guide.

They were about three-quarters of the way through the tour when something Rodimus said piqued Techbug’s interest.

“This is one of three labs that we have aboard the ship. As you can see, uh- Techbug?” Rodimus looked behind him, sure that the bot had been there a minute ago.

“Look at this, it’s all brand new,” Techbug marvelled, zooming around the lab. “Is that a GR-91 Centrifuge? I haven’t seen one in real life before. The Cons’ never let me into their labs and they only had old ones anyway. Do you know how fast this could separate particles? It could- Uh… I mean… Sorry for getting so over-excited… I’ll- I’ll be quiet now.”

Rodimus grinned cockily, “Hey, don’t worry about it, it’s cool to see you so excited. You like this lab? Then take it. Nobody else uses it anyway. Brainstorm and Perceptor each have one, so you may as well get this one if you want it.”

“Primus,” Techbug’s tail piece twitched in anticipation, “All of this for me, are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no biggie.”

‘Oh, but it is,’ Silentdeath, Techbug’s alternate personality growled maliciously inside his processor. ‘It’s a very big deal, right Techie? What have you done to deserve this? Nothing! You’ve done nothing for this, betrayer.’

“Be quiet,” Techbug hissed.

“What was that?” Rodimus asked, having missed Techbug’s warning.

‘Ooh, he’s listening to our private conversation. We don’t want that now, do we. You should stare him down. One look from our outlier ability and the only time he’ll speak is with Primus in the Afterspark.’

“Stop,” Techbug whispered.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” Rodimus placed a soothing hand on Techbug’s shoulder-plate. “Med-bay isn’t far from here, I could take you to see Ratchet.”

‘HE WANTS TO TAKE YOU TO MED-BAY! You remember what happens in med-bay, right? They’ll recode you again, and they’ll make sure it hurts. I can’t wait to hear your pathetic screams when they tear you apart and put you back together again. Such sweet agony.’

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Techbug pushed Rodimus, making him stumble backwards.

Before Rodimus could protest, Techbug fixed him with a hard glare, feeling his outlier ability rising up from within, burning quickly through his already low energon supply. With the ability to freeze or kill an enemy with a look, Techbug had been one of the Decepticons’ best weapons. With a full fuel tank, he could have frozen up to three mechs, as it was however, Techbug only managed to freeze Rodimus in time before a warning flashed on his visor: ENERGON LEVEL CRITICAL. SHUTDOWN PROTOCOL ENGAGED.

Techbug passed out and Rodimus was stuck, aware of everything yet unable to help. Fortunately, it only took a few minutes for Rodimus to be released from the effects of the outlier ability, allowing him to move freely once again.

He vented the excess air from his systems, eyeing up Techbug tiredly, “Something tells me that you’re going to be a bit of a handful… I’m really glad you left your swords back at the hab-suite.”

“I’m sorry,” Techbug murmured, unable to look Rodimus in the optics. The two were in the med-bay, where Rodimus had carried him after his energon burnout. “I didn’t mean to freeze you up like that… I was- He made me do it.”

“He? You mean Silentdeath?” Rodimus asked, feeling sorry for yet another bot whose mentality had been damaged in the war.

Techbug looked uncomfortable at the mention of his Decepticon name.

“Hey, you don’t have to worry. We’ve all made mistakes, y’know, except for me, ‘cos Primus broke the mould, I was far too perfect even for him.”

Techbug snickered and Rodimus shot imaginary finger guns at him, “And the bot does know how to laugh. Good for you buddy. Anyway, is there anything you wanna do next? I’m okay staying here for a while if you want, but now that you’re energised, I was thinking we could do something fun. What do you say?”

Going against his social anxiety, Techbug nodded, “Something fun sounds good, Captain.”

After a few weeks aboard the Lost Light, Techbug started to come out of his shell. Silentdeath was quieter than he had ever been before. Techbug hadn’t used his outlier ability since he’d frozen Rodimus. With Rung’s help during therapy, he was even confronting some of his worst memories which he had always shut away in an attempt to forget; it wasn’t easy, and it usually left Techbug feeling a little worse for wear, but in the long run, he knew it would be helpful. Best of all, Techbug had even been making friends among the crew. He still gravitated towards Rodimus, but who wouldn’t? Rodimus was charming, funny, handsome, had a great aft-

Techbug blushed, snapping his eyes away from Rodimus’ aft which he had blatantly been staring at as Rodimus went to buy the next round of high-grade energon for them.

“Seems like you have a little crush,” Dogfight smirked, taking a seat next to Techbug and wrapping his arm chummily around him. “The name’s Dogfight.”

“T-Techbug,” Techbug whispered his name quietly, going ridged at Dogfight’s uninvited touch.

“Yeah. I know all about you. Been watching you for a while. You’ve got a few admirers yourself, by the way. I should know, I’m one of them. That’s actually why I’m here. I was thinking that maybe you could ditch Hot-Wheels over there,” He gestured to Rodimus. “-and come spend some time with me. Maybe even see where the night leads, if you catch my drift.”

Dogfight stroked the inside of Techbug’s thighs sensuously, leading his way up to his interface panel. Supressed memories of Techbug’s past surfaced, hitting him like a freight train. He remembered how the Decepticons had used him for sex. They had called him names, debased him, forced their way into his interface panel, made him their slave in the berth as well as away from it. Techbug felt like he might purge his tanks if he didn’t escape Dogfight’s touch.

Once again, he concentrated on his outlier ability, though this time he was in full control of it as he froze Dogfight in place and extricated himself from his hold. On a full energon supply, Techbug was not weakened by the use of his outlier, however it did not stop him from feeling nauseous as he ran back to his hab-suite, trying desperately to forgot Dogfight’s unwanted advance.

As soon as Rodimus saw Dogfight frozen in space where Techbug had once been, he abandoned the high-grade energon he’d just bought. He rushed out of Swerve’s and immediately transformed, driving speedily towards Techbug’s hab-suite.

“Techbug,” Rodimus called, banging on the door, worried that he might be too late to stop one of Techbug’s episodes. “It’s me, Rodimus. Are you in there?”

As he was left waiting, Rodimus seriously considered using his override code to unlock the door, but before he could do so, Techbug opened it, wiping coolant from his optics.

“I’m- I’m fine, Rodimus. You should just go, I’ll be alright.”

“You’re clearly not fine. What happened back there? I just looked up and you were gone. You should at least talk about whatever it is. Was it something to do with Dogfight? Did you have another accident? Was it Silentdeath again?” Rodimus rushed through the list of possibilities, speaking faster with each question.

Finally, Techbug relented and let Rodimus in, if only to stop the persistent questions.

“I- I just- I got spooked and I couldn’t be there anymore. I only wanted to be with you tonight anyway.”

“Me?” Rodimus pointed dumbly at himself. “Why? Were you feeling shy or something?”

Feeling simultaneously vulnerable, frustrated, and like he needed some attention, Techbug threw his arms around Rodimus’ neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Thankfully, Rodimus didn’t question the action as he returned the kiss, pressing his mouth hungrily against Techbug’s as if they couldn’t get close enough.

Up till now Rodimus had ignored any lingering romantic ideas of Techbug, worried that by being a mentor, he would only pressure his ward. Since Techbug had initiated the kiss however, Rodimus saw no reason to reject the advance.

Rodimus yelped as Techbug’s nimble fingers tugged at his neck cables. He broke off the kiss, staring uncertainly at Techbug. “Are you sure?” He asked, alluding to the prospect of interfacing.

“Yes,” Techbug vented air out of his vents eagerly. He had never interfaced because he wanted to before, it was always because he had to; this was new and exciting and he could already feel his spike straining to be free of his interface panel.

Rodimus reached tentatively for Techbug’s aft, massaging it gently as he made his way to the berth, falling against it rather than laying on top of it. Techbug’s interface panel slid open, his spike rubbing against Rodimus’ inner thigh.

“Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?” Rodimus joked.

Techbug’s face-plates flushed red and his cat-like tail lashed impatiently from side to side, “I want to see yours too. I want to ride you like a hover-bike.”

Rodimus’ engines revved, “Looks like you already found the ignition.” He lifted Techbug up, letting him wrap his legs around his waist. “Now all that’s left is to get on.”

He inserted his spike into Techbug’s valve, moaning at how good it felt. Although he had planned to take it slow for their first time, Rodimus was surprised as Techbug forced himself down on Rodimus’ spike.

“I’m not that delicate,” Techbug whispered huskily.

Taking the hint, Rodimus gripped Techbug’s hips and pulled him onto the berth, so that Techbug was on top; most bots assumed that Rodimus liked to be on top but in truth he found it nice to be submissive on occasion.

Techbug began gyrating on Rodimus’ spike, growling with lust every time it pressed against his anterior node. He was desperate. He needed this attention. He basked in the warmth of Rodimus’ presence. Rodimus however, sought to toy with Techbug, reaching low to rub at his spike.

Techbug bit his lip to keep from crying out as Rodimus jacked him off. It wasn’t long before tips of transfluid beaded the top of Techbug’s spike.

“Delicious,” Rodimus purred, looking Techbug in the optics as he gathered the trans-fluid off his spike and licked it off his servo.

“Primus!” Techbug squeaked, feeling his overload building up. “I- I-” Techbug never got to finish his sentiment as Rodimus overloaded with a loud moan, followed closely by him.

He was going to tell Rodimus that he loved him, but at that moment, the words didn’t matter, and by the look on Rodimus’ face, he thought that Rodimus might know already anyway.

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[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

It’s incredible how throwing together an essay for classes can make you not want to even think about words for a day. In unrelated news, I made a lot of progress in my Minecraft world, and did some graphing in the process!

Anywhos, time to get into Izuku’s first day of class and all that fun shenanigans (which might be on the Sunday before the actual first day? | April 8th/9th or sommat like that.) I’ll try to get first shots of characters when they pop up, though most show up in the next chapter I think?

[No. 5 - Smashing Into Academia]

We enter into Spring, as well as Izuku preparing to head out for school! Inko is worried about Izuku forgetting something, and I find it hilarious that she is reminding him to bring pocket tissues and a handkerchief. Family of quick criers, them. 

Izuku promises he has everything and is in a hurry to make it to class on time, but Inko holds him back one last time to tell him he looks great in his school uniform. We get a full body shot of his uniform (though from the side) and so we get the first view of the abomination he makes of his tie. Also, a small thing:

Obviously perspective makes it a bit awkward to be sure, but you can kind of see how much he’s grown over the year since the start of the series (which is hilarious to say when we’re four and a half chapters in). 

Anyways, another view of the school, which just has such an odd design in my opinion. I’m sure there’s good reasons for it or it’s based on some landmark / building I don’t know about but Hori is referencing. We next jump to Izuku rushing down a hall, looking for 1a while noting how huge the place is, while noting that less than 1 in 300 applicants get into the hero course - 36 to a grade, divided into two classes of 18. (Plus the two per class that come in from recommendations, but that gets mentioned later.)

He finds the door (which is like almost four times as tall as him), all his anxiety flaring up about how his class will be the elites from that exam, and how he hopes that ‘those scary guys’ (Katsuki and Tenya) are in the other class. 

I’m sorry I’m cackling. Poor anxious bean. He immediately gets to find out that he is, in fact, sharing a class with them both. We also get our first peek of Kaminari, Mineta and some of Ojiro! 

Knock off brand Kaminari… his hair is so fucking weird like this, I can’t even.

Anyways, Tenya is snapping at Katsuki to get his feet off the desk since it’s insulting to UA and the people who made said desk. Katuski blows him off (metaphorically) and demands to know what school Tenya is from. When Tenya offers it as well as his name, Katsuki calls him a ‘stuck up elitist’ who he should ‘blow to bits’, which has Tenya questioning whether he really wants to become a hero.

Tenya then notices Izuku, who is still peeking from the doorway and is startled when he gets noticed. He marches over and tries to introduce himself again, like he practiced this speech dozens of times in the mirror or with the begrudging aide of his older brother in the month between the exam and the first day of class or something. (Poor, poor Tensei.) Izuku cuts in long enough to mention he heard that already, and introduces himself.

Tenya pushes on with his totally-not-prepared-in-advance apology speech, declaring that Izuku had perceived the true nature of the exam while he had not, and that he’d misjudged him, before declaring Izuku the superior candidate through grit teeth. Izuku, meanwhile, thinks that he didn’t perceive anything - which in its own way proves more how he earned his spot; he didn’t rescue Ochako for points, but because he was driven to save her.

Katsuki finally notices Izuku and is not pleased, while we get a shot of the wider class and get to confirm that Aoyama, Asui, Ojiro, Shouji, Jirou, Tokoyami, Hagakure, and then Katsuki and Kaminari again- wait a fucking second.

When the fuck did their rows move around? And when did Ojiro teleport to the other side of the classroom?? What the HELL? I mean, Katsuki and Kaminari are still oriented the same against each other and could technically fit into their second noted spots, but like, I. You know what, nevermind, just assume that was an editing mistake and move on with my life.

Izuku gets spooked again when Ochako appears behind him in the doorway, with her recognizing him by his hair and as ‘the plain looking boy’, while Izuku notes her as ‘the nice girl’ and calls her cute in her uniform, which is adorable. Also, confirmation on the toe finger beans! Also, while she does have some blush marks on her cheeks, it’s not those round circle blush marks like from the anime… suppose we’ll see if those develop.

Ochako is glad he got in like Present Mic said he would, especially with that cool punch of his. Izuku is blushing up a storm and stammering out his thanks for her speaking on his behalf. While she asks how he knows that, we get to focus on Katsuki as we head into a delicious flashback about when they were congratulated on getting into UA.

Their homeroom teacher calls Izuku’s success ‘a miracle we never expected’ while giving a chuckle. This is apparently news to Katsuki, what with the look he gives to Izuku. We can see the buds just coming in on the trees outside - it is March, after all - and Katsuki’s pulled Izuku to the side and shoves him against a wall to ask what dirty tricks he used to get in, which is like. I’m impressed he thinks Izuku can somehow cheat his way into the top school. 

Katsuki logic: There's no way this guy who's just behind me in class scores and with a buttload of determination, who I saw at the entrance exam, could possibly have managed to figure out a way to defeat the robots and get in; no, he must have cheated and tricked the teachers and staff of the top school in the country, which would be arguably even harder and draw more attention than fighting the robots in the first place.

Ah, what a fucking gremlin. He goes on about how he was supposed to be the first and only, and how Izuku tore his grand plans to shreds, and how he’d told Izuku to go somewhere else.

And then! Izuku grabs his arm with both hands, and we get to see him stand up for himself once again:

Friendly reminder that, once again, Izuku is not afraid to stand up to Katsuki where it matters. Also, look at that, he does believe he earned his place in UA, and refuses to back down on becoming a hero now that he has someone who believes in him and is backing him up. God just. The shift in dynamics in this scene, where Izuku is first pushing himself as an equal and with just as much right to aim for heroics and be in UA as Katsuki. It’s fucking gorgeous. 

We return to the present as Katsuki thinks about how Izuku actually stood up to him, and how there’s something fishy about the whole thing. Meanwhile, Ochako notes that that day is entrance ceremony and guidance sessions, and wonders what their teachers will be like, while Izuku is desperately trying to hide how red his face is from having an extended conversation with a cute girl.

I don’t feel like I have anything to add, this is probably the funniest introduction we will ever get to a character. Just, the way he’s just lying there on the floor. The way the two stare at him. The way he just pulls out that jelly pouch and sucks it all down in one go. The entire class united in their ‘what the FUCK’ as he gets up while still in the sleeping bag.

Discord:

What a legend. Also, a face of regret:

Anywho, Aizawa pulls himself out of his sleeping bag while noting it took the class eight seconds to quiet down, before mentioning that time is a precious resource and that they (the class) aren’t very rational. Which I know comes as a shock when considering they’re teenagers, the most rational and logic-minded age group in existence. 

The class realizes that the hobo who walked into their class is, in fact, their teacher, while Izuku determines that he’s also a pro hero - but interestingly, he doesn’t recognize him at all. Aizawa introduces himself by his name and that he’s their homeroom teacher, which surprises all of them again. He then pulls out a school gym uniform (from the sleeping bag!) while telling them to get changed and head out to the grounds.

Wow, I really hope he recently washed and changed into a clean uniform and shoes, or else this is really, really, REALLY awkward. Hell, I mean it already is, but like. There’s dramatic and then there’s whatever the fuck is happening here.

(Honest to god, this is THE most Extra™ and Dramatic™ bastard in the entire series. I cannot even begin to explain the levels of Extra™ happening here.)

Discord:

We briefly move over to Toshinori, who’s reading the Secret Faculty Registry. Which makes me wonder how many people on the staff are actually known to be teaching there by the public. Like, we know Present Mic and Midnight have to be well known staff members, but like, how many more are kept secret? Eraserhead is obvious because he’s underground, and All Might just is not someone you can reasonably hide. But like, in the USJ, the kids are surprised to see Thirteen, so like… what’s the minimum ‘roster’ they keep for the public facing side while the rest are kept quiet so that villains don’t try to target them or the students of UA to get to them?

I mean, look at those security keypads on the doors, they probably go to a decent length to protect their staff and schedules… a shame those all can be worked around with a decay quirk.

But yeah, Toshinori notes that the UA system is like no other, with the homeroom teachers conducting - well, what leads into Aizawa’s test, but I have to wonder whether any of the other teachers have ‘extra’ little tests or showcases they do with their homerooms. Definitely nothing as extreme as Aizawa ‘Plus Extra™’ Shouta, though. Anyways, we go back to the kids in their uniforms who are being introduced to his test - which will apparently be a test of their quirks. (Also, that CURSED bootleg Tokoyami.) 

Ochako asks about the entrance ceremony and guidance sessions, and Aizawa says there’s no time to waste on it if they want to become heroes. And again, with bringing up that ‘freestyle’ educational system and how that applies to the teachers, and knowing how Nezu lives for chaos… yeah, I really have to wonder what the other classes were going through for ‘orientation’.

He then brings up the eight standard gym tests done in middle school - softball throw, standing long jump, 50-meter dash, endurance running, grip strength, side-to-side stepping, upper-body training, and seated toe touch. He notes that the country insists on prohibiting quirks in calculating averages on those records, and considers it irrational, saying that the Department of Education is procrastinating. 

Don’t you love having flashbacks in chapter 5 of the manga?

Aizawa asks Katsuki how far he could throw in middle school, to which Katsuki replies 67 meters. Aizawa throws him a softball and tells him to try it with his quirk, and that he can do whatever so long as he doesn’t leave the circle, so give it all he’s got. Katsuki stretches a bit and winds up, and just:

This is exactly the sort of nerd who would come up with the hero name he currently has. Also, I was just reminded that technically, Izuku is supposed to be ‘narrating’ all this to some unknown audience, which makes all these internal thoughts for Katsuki and others in retrospect even funnier since he had to ask them what they were doing/thinking at the time. Especially the villain stuff, like, dude, what did you do to find out this stuff? Or worse, did you make it up for dramatic effect?

Anyways, Katsuki sends that softball rocketing away, with smoke rings following in its wake. The dust from the blowback wooshes past the other students (and oof, Jirou there wincing at the noise, poor girl, being put in a class with such loud classmates); when the ball finally hits the ground and rolls to a halt, it’s still smoking. Aizawa notes the distance - 705.2 meters - and shows it off to the class while noting how it’s important to know their limits, as their first rational step to figure out what kind of heroes they’ll be.

The class gets into how awesome this is, and how great the hero course is; meanwhile, Izuku is panicking over these events he didn’t know were coming. Aizawa is silent for a moment before echoing their ‘awesome, you say’ back to them. He puts on another dramatic loom as he says that they’re aiming to be heroes after three years, and asks whether they really think it’s all fun and games. He then declares that the lowest score across all eight events will be judged hopeless and expelled, which has the whole class shouting in shock while Izuku panics more.

We briefly jump to Toshinori again, who in turn is noting that Aizawa will be nothing but trouble, as it shows the man’s codename ‘Eraserhead’ and that he’s expelled 154 students by that point. 

Back to Izuku, who is still panicking as he thinks about how he’s still all or nothing, and can’t regulate his power. Aizawa, still being a dramatic bitch, runs his hand back through his hair while declaring that the student’s fates are in UA’s hands, and welcomes them to UA’s hero course. The other students are dredging up their determination, while Izuku’s narration asks what he can do.

God, why do people not write Aizawa ‘Plus Extra™’ Shouta being so overly dramatic more often? He’s like AVPM Snape levels of dramatic. Maybe even AVPM Malfoy. 

As a sendout, from the discord:

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Fall From Grace

Whumptober Day 28: Such Wow. Many Normal. Very Oops. Prompt: Accidents

A careless bullet from Wilford's gun hits Yandere as he's up in the studio catwalks, and what happens next reminds Wilford too much of memories long-buried.

Warnings: Blood, violence, falling from a height, traumatic flashbacks

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober Series)

Enjoy!

~

It’s a normal day in Wilford’s studio, though it’s not a filming day. The usual players are around; Bim and Wilford half-rehearsing, half-editing a script while the Jims scamper around in the catwalks, as they often do. This time, though, Yandere is with them, venturing through the dark space and running across beams. Wilford hasn’t heard much from the trio since they went up there aside from occasional bursts of giggles, so he suspects they’re getting along well. A nice change, as the Jims usually seem a little frightened of Yandere, for reasons Wilford can’t fathom at all. Who could be scared of his adorable, stabby little brother? Either way, the three seem to be having fun together now, which is more than could be said for Bim and Wilford. The script felt right when they first wrote it, but its chinks and mistakes are making themselves known as they rehearse it, resulting in edit after edit.

“Ugh, this blasted script!” Wilford mutters, pacing in annoyance. At some point he pulled out his gun in anger, though he’s now only using it to scratch an itch behind his ear. “I thought you knew what you were doing with this, Trimmer!”

“Hey, how is my fault!?” Bim cries, “You wrote on this as much as I did, and we’ve corrected plenty of your mistakes so far, by the way.”

“Plenty of yours, too!” Wilford insists. He waves the manuscript for emphasis. “You keep using too many words to say the simplest things! Real people don’t talk like that!”

“And you insist on paring down everything until it doesn’t make sense!” Bim retorts, “We have to give people something, or else they’ll get bored!”

“And your long-winded lines won’t bore them just as much?” Wilford scoffs, “If anyone in the room knows about entertaining, I think it’s the face of Mark’s whole channel, don’t you?”

“I look more like Mark than you ever did, you egomaniac!” Bim cries, then blinks. “That’s not the point, the point is that your lines suck and we’re gonna be fixing them all day!”

“Maybe once we fix yours!”

“Yours first, Pinky!”

The argument continues. Even Yandere and the Jims can hear them from the catwalks. The Jims are amused, Yandere is bewildered.

“Do they always argue like that?” Yandere asks, peering as far down as he can without losing his balance.

“Yep,” RJ replies, “They yell and yell, and sometimes Pink Jim fires his shooty, but they always work together later like nothing happened!”

“Huh,” Yandere muses, standing up straight again, “I can see that. Anyone else arguing with onii-san like that would’ve been shot by now.”

“PJ looks like he’s going to shoot something soon,” CJ signs, before literally pointing out the way Wilford is waving his gun around.

“Oh, maybe I spoke too soon,” Yandere says, though he seems unbothered by the prospect of Bim getting shot.

“Pink Jim never shoots Bim Jim!” RJ exclaims, then pauses. “Well, not on purpose. He’ll probably fire into the ceiling or something.”

True to form, Wilford aimlessly fires his gun right then, straight over his shoulder and into the catwalks – where it whizzes right past the group. CJ yelps and jumps, and RJ looks behind himself, searching for where the bullet went.

“That was close!” RJ says, “Right, Stabby Jim?” He gets no response, but hears a gasp from CJ. “Stabby Jim?” he repeats, turning to look at Yandere.

Yandere looks back, eyes wide, hands over his stomach, blood seeping rapidly through his fingers. He lists to the side, tries to step back to right himself. But his foot touches air, and he slides off the catwalk beam before the Jims can even reach for him.

They do anyway, though, crying out as Yandere falls straight down.

Bim and Wilford hear them, look in their direction with just enough time to see Yandere hit the ground with a thud, right on his back. He doesn’t get up.

“Oh, fuck–” gasps Bim, running past Wilford to get to Yandere. Wilford teleports instead, poofing to Yandere’s side.

“What on earth??” Wilford mutters, “Yan’s balance is better then mine–”

“Wil, he’s bleeding!” Bim shouts, kneeling down to Yandere, “When you fired your gun just now, it must’ve hit him, that must be why he fell! Oh shit, fuck, Yan, wake up–”

Yandere doesn’t. He lays motionless, eyes closed and limbs strewn like a doll aside from the one arm still laid across his bleeding stomach. Blood starts forming a pool around him. Wilford stares at Yandere, eyes getting wider by the moment as Bim frantically putters around him. He tries checking Yandere’s breathing, as much as he can without moving him.

“Oh no, Wil, I don’t think he’s breathing,” Bim gasps, looking to Wilford. “What are you waiting for, go get Doc! You can teleport faster than I can run!!”

Wilford can’t move. He can hardly think, except to remember something half-forgotten. Another body fallen from a height, another body with Wilford’s bullet in its gut. Everything feels like slow-motion, even as the pool of blood around Yandere creeps ever wider.

“It was an accident,” Wilford gasps. It’s all he can say.

Bim’s eyes widen with recognition as the Jims, having finally climbed down from the catwalk, run towards the group.

“We tried to catch him, we tried!” RJ exclaims, already in tears. CJ is crying, too.

“You can still help out,” Bim says, resolute and taking charge, “You two are the fastest runners here, go get Doc. Tell him what happened and that Yandere isn’t breathing.”

They nod before running away, so gangly it’s a wonder they don’t trip over themselves. But Bim’s right, the pair are faster runners than all but the androids. Dr. Iplier will arrive soon, but in the meantime, Yandere’s not the only one in trouble. Wilford is still frozen, still staring at Yandere with wide eyes, clouded over by the past. Ever since those videos Mark put out, all the egos have known about Wilford’s history, and Bim knows exactly what Wilford is thinking about now.

“Wilford,” Bim says, turning to his friend, “You need to get out of your own head. Where are you right now, can you tell me?”

“Was it my fault?” Wilford asks, voice small, accent nearly gone.

“No,” Bim replies immediately, “You didn’t know that would happen when you fired your gun, it was an accident.”

“An accident,” Wilford breathes, “An accident, that’s all it was…”

At that moment, Dr. Iplier comes running in, medical supplies in his arms.

“Doc!” Bim cries, relieved, “Oh thank god, where–”

“Back away!!” Dr. Iplier barks, rushing to Yandere’s side and dumping his supplies beside him. Bim scrambles away to give him space to work. “The Jims are getting Plus, I already know I’ll need his help with this.”

“Is Yandere–?” Bim asks, nervous.

Dr. Iplier checks Yandere’s pulse with two fingers on the nearest wrist, which happens to be the one covering his bloody stomach, and then leans down to listen for his breathing. After only a moment, he straightens up.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he mutters as he starts chest compressions, “I haven’t done a hundred surgeries on you just so you could fall off a catwalk and die.”

“What if his back is broken?” Bim asks, wincing at the force of Dr. Iplier’s chest compressions.

“His breathing is more important than his back right now,” Dr. Iplier answers tersely, though he does pull Yandere’s lower jaw down to give him rescue breaths instead of tipping his head back.

He does one round of compressions and rescue breathing, then two. The whole time, Bim looks on with increasing anxiety, whimpering to himself in fear. Wilford continues to stare, the only change being the tears that start rolling down his cheeks. His mind is trapped in the past, back in those hours he spent staring at a body that wouldn’t move.

Finally, in the middle of the third round of compressions, Yandere gasps awake, coughing slightly and beginning to struggle. He doesn’t seem able to speak yet, still so winded and in pain he hardly knows what’s happening around him.

“Hey, lay still, Yan,” Dr. Iplier orders, though a measure of tension has left his voice and demeanor. “You fell off the catwalk, you might have a spinal injury. Can you wiggle your fingers for me?”

Yandere does, curling them back and forth.

“Alright, how about your toes?”

It’s hard to see through Yandere’s shoes, but he does move his toes. Dr. Iplier gently puts his hand on each shoe, one at a time, to feel the toes moving underneath.

“Alright,” Dr. Iplier sighs, even more relieved than a moment ago, “You have no idea how lucky you are, kid.”

“So his spine’s okay?” Bim asks, breathless with his own relief.

“Probably,” Dr. Iplier says, “But he could still have some fractured vertebrae, so he needs to be moved very carefully. I won’t do it until Plus gets here.” The sound of running footsteps pierces the air. “Speaking of…”

Plus strides into the room at top speed, pushing a stretcher with a backboard on top. CJ comes running in after him.

“Where’s RJ?” asks Bim, finally getting some breath back.

“We split up to look for Plus,” CJ explains, “I’m not sure where he went, but I’ll text him that I found Plus already.”

“Plus, help me get Yan onto the backboard,” Dr. Iplier says. Plus nods and gets to work. Dr. Iplier pauses a moment. “Looks like I need a third pair of hands. Bim, come over here.”

“Me?” Bim asks as he comes over.

“Someone has to put pressure on Yan’s bullet wound, it’s been bleeding too long already.” Dr. Iplier grabs a pack of gauze out of his med kit and hands it to Bim as he kneels down. He moves Yandere’s arm out of the way, revealing the wound. “Just keep pressing down on it with the gauze. If the gauze gets soaked through, tell me.”

Bim nods and starts putting pressure on Yandere’s wound, making Yandere whimper.

“Dad,” Yandere says, his first word since waking.

“You’ll be alright, hon,” Dr. Iplier tells him gently as he and Plus strap Yandere to the backboard and Bim keeps his hands pushing down. “Just keep staying still, alright?”

“Okay,” Yandere answers, too tired to do much else.

“Alright, he’ll be okay,” Bim sighs to himself.

“Doc,” Wilford gasps, speaking for the first time in a while, “Is it my fault?”

“Well…” Dr. Iplier says, unwilling to say “no.”

“What the hell, Doc!?” Bim cries, angry on Wilford’s behalf.

“Excuse me for not being very forgiving to the guy who shot my son and made him fall off a catwalk!!” Dr. Iplier snaps, beginning to wrap a cervical collar around Yandere’s neck. “It’s a miracle Yandere isn’t paralyzed, it’s a miracle he’s alive at all! So sorry for not pretending this wasn’t Wilford’s fault. I’ve told him a hundred times to be more careful with that gun.”

“I’m sorry,” Wilford murmurs, so quiet it’s hard to hear.

“That’s my line,” Dr. Iplier mutters, though most of the venom is gone from his voice as he focuses on Yandere.

Perhaps fortunately, Wilford doesn’t react. He’s still too shell-shocked to do much at all. Now his mind conjures memories of the dead body on the floor rising from the grave, getting back up and wandering to a mirror. The mirror cracked, and Wilford had, too. Not even in his nightmares has the image been as clear as it is now, watching Yandere get strapped to the backboard and a cervical collar get wrapped around his neck, hearing his voice. Yandere’s eyes land on Wilford, and he tries to smile reassuringly through his pain and blood loss. It makes Wilford move for the first time in minutes, but only to take a nervous step back. All he can see is a once-dead thing, moving with new, cursed life.

As if on cue, a burst of wind rushes through the studio as Darkiplier appears in the room with RJ beside him, who looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. And no wonder; Dark’s face is a picture of rage, but the screams and waving of his aura betray his inner fear. RJ must have ran into him while looking for Plus.

“What the hell happened to Yandere??” Dark growls.

“He got hit by a stray bullet while he was up in the catwalks,” Dr. Iplier explains, grabbing the backboard behind Yandere’s head as Plus does the same by his feet. “You’ve missed all the action, we’re just getting Yan to the clinic. He’s not paralyzed, luckily, and his time looks pretty decent for what he’s just been through.” He turns away from Dark to address Plus and Bim. “On three, Plus is lifting with me, and Bim, you’re following along and keeping the pressure on Yan’s wound. One, two, three–”

Plus follows effortlessly and Bim follows less so, but Yandere gets on the stretcher easily.

“Alright, Plus, you push Yan to the clinic, and I’ll take bullet wound duty from Bim,” Dr. Iplier says, stepping around the stretcher to stand in Bim’s place. Bim doesn’t need to be told twice, moving out of the way quickly. “He still needs x-rays and surgery,” Dr. Iplier tells Dark, “So you can’t have a moment with him yet.”

“Yami,” Yandere says, smiling faintly, seemingly too out of it to say much else.

“You’re alright, my love,” Dark murmurs to him, “I’ll see you soon.” He nods to Dr. Iplier, and he and Plus whisk Yandere away.

Left in the studio are Bim, the nervous Jim twins crowding around him, Dark staring after Yandere, and Wilford now staring at nothing. A moment later, Dark turns back to the others and sees the look on Wilford’s face. He sighs.

“How long has Wilford been like this?” he asks Bim.

“Since he realized he shot Yan by accident,” Bim answers, bracing for Dark to react badly.

Instead, Dark only sighs again. He understands immediately.

“You and the Jims go,” Dark says, waving them off, “I’ll deal with this.”

Bim is reluctant to leave Wilford in such a bad state, but he does, ushering the Jims out of the studio with him. Once they’re gone, Dark turns to Wilford, putting his hands on his shoulders. The touch makes Wilford jolt. He finally looks up at Dark, eyes churning with emotion.

“Is it my fault?” he asks.

“Does it matter?” Dark counters, though his voice is gentle. “What happened has happened, it can’t be changed.”

“It can’t be changed,” Wilford repeats.

“But this isn’t like last time,” Dark continues, “Yandere survived. He’s going to be fine.”

There’s a silence as Wilford contemplates this.

“It’s too much to ask for forgiveness,” he finally murmurs, “It’s hard to even remember all that I’ve done.”

“What happened to Yandere happened minutes ago,” Dark reminds him, “Your memory isn’t that bad yet, my friend.”

Wilford smiles a little. His eyes look a little clearer, there’s a little more color in his cheeks. But a part of him is still far away.

“If it was my fault or not, I still…” Wilford trails off, as though he isn’t sure what he’s trying to say.

“This was ignorance and bad luck,” Dark tells him, “This wasn’t malice. Intent does matter.” He lets his heretofore stern tone drop into something softer. “You know how much Yandere loves you; even if you had killed him he’d still find some way to forgive you.”

Wilford laughs, quiet and surprised but genuine all the same. The last of the cloud leaves his eyes and his expression.

“Right you are, my friend,” Wilford chuckles, his accent fully returned. He blinks, looks around. “Say, where’s Bim? We still have a script to go over!”

“He left,” Dark says, taking his hands away from Wilford’s shoulders, “I doubt he’ll be in the mood to edit a script after all the…excitement.”

“Well, he’ll just have to deal with it,” Wilford huffs, though his tone is good-natured as he brushes past Dark. “We have a deadline to meet, and we’re burning daylight! He can’t have gone far…”

Dark watches Wilford leave the studio. Once he’s gone, he allows himself some sadness, lets his aura shudder and scream like it’s wanted to the whole time. After a few moments, he gains control of himself again and teleports away to the clinic to wait for Yandere, leaving the studio empty.

[thewayshedreamed]

This Time— Part 5

A Nessian Fan Fic

Fic Masterlist

This chapter was a tough one for me to write. I got stuck a few times with the order of things (for this chapter and the following ones). Once I decided on that, the angst in this one was a little emotional for me to write, then edit. So, proceed with caution. That’s the official angst warning!

On a more positive note, this is a definitive turning point toward resolution, so it WILL get better! Thanks again for all of you who have offered your feedback and followed the story. Knowing y’all are enjoying this little au with me makes it all the more fun to write 😊

Trigger warning for short depiction of grief.

——————————————————————————

Birthday breakfast was really more of a birthday lunch the day after celebrating at Rita’s. Elain was sitting at the small island of Nesta’s kitchen, nursing a Gatorade and holding her head in her hands. Feyre was next to her scrolling through her phone. She was doing intel on their group’s collective social media updates, and so far, there were no embarrassing posts to deal with.

Nesta was mixing pancake batter, periodically folding in chocolate chips. Chocolate chip pancakes were reserved for Archeron birthdays or holidays, and they looked forward to sharing them when the occasions presented themselves. She poured some of the batter into her skillet, absently watching for bubbles as her indicator they were ready to flip. After making the initial flip, she walked to her refrigerator and produced a bottle of champagne with orange juice.

“Who wants to open the champagne for birthday mimosas?” She set both bottles on the island, with glasses, before turning her attention back to the pancakes. Elain’s only response was a long groan. Feyre giggled, pulled the champagne toward her, and started untwisting the cage over the cork.

“What’s the expression, El? Hair of the dog? It may make you feel better.” She stood away from the island to pop the cork. The last things they needed were physical injuries.

“I guess it can’t make me feel any worse, right?” She picked her head up from her hands. “I’m going to go grab my phone,” she said, with a cringe. She padded away to Nesta’s room, returning seconds later. She was scrolling through her phone as she walked and stopped short once she met the threshold of the kitchen, a horrified expression on her face.

”Why the fuck would I have deleted all of my texts last night?!” Her voice was more shrill than normal, and her sisters’ eyes grew at her use of “fuck” during pancake breakfast.

It was Feyre who dared answer her. “Umm... I have no idea. Maybe it was an accident?”

”That’s a pretty impressive accident.” Nesta realized her comment wasn’t helping as her sisters glared in her direction.

Elain continued. “I’ll tell you why. Because drunk me tried to hide something from sober me.” She paused for a second, blushing. “My evidence, in case you were wondering, is a text from Azriel that says: ‘*laugh emoji* Not cool. You had me worried there for a minute, Ellie. Goodnight. Hope you enjoyed your birthday.’” She glanced up at them in horror.

Nesta gave her a small smile. “Ellie, I’m sure it’s nothing. Even drunk you couldn’t have said anything too terrible. Maybe just talk to Az? It would be better than wondering.”

Elain sat down, her anxiety palpable in the small kitchen. She was quiet save for the nod she’d given her sister in acknowledgment of her advice. Nesta assumed maybe she could use a little more encouragement since she didn’t look wholly convinced.

“I really think it’ll be okay. Az is reasonable and has probably said his own fair share of drunken things he would care to take back.” She offered a short chuckle before sipping her mimosa. “You could call him, maybe, or—“

”Nes, are you really preaching to me about communication right now?”

Nesta blinked, taken aback by the irritation in Elain’s voice. “I wasn’t trying to preach, El. I just meant you didn’t have to worry and could trust Az to give you a chance to—“

”The same way you gave Cassian a chance to fix whatever the hell you’re holding against him? Why should Az be any more gracious than you’ve been?” Elain snapped. Her shoulders rounded a little at her own words, and Feyre’s eyes grew to the size of two steel blue saucers.

“Cauldron, Elain,” she said, looking from one sister to the other. Her back was straight, anticipating Nesta’s best weapons: her words.

Nesta took several seconds to reflect on their current situation. It was such an unexpected shift, where Elain was the one throwing insults, and Feyre, of all people, was defensive of Nesta. She wasn’t used to this type of interaction with Elain, and her words stung more than she was willing to admit. She finished her mimosa in one swift gulp and placed her dishes in the sink.

“Lucky for you, Azriel is nowhere near as disappointing, or shitty, as I am. I’m going to shower while you two finish breakfast. I’ll bring you home when you finish.” Her tone was neutral, dry even. By all measures, it was on the milder side for Nesta. She was halfway to the bathroom when she heard Elain’s wavering voice.

“Nes, wait. I’m sorry I didn’t mean—“

“Don’t ever apologize for saying what you mean, Elain,” she said, coldly, before walking the rest of her way. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough, wanting to leave the gaping wound that Elain had ripped open far behind her.

——————————————————————————

The following week went by fairly quickly. Elain and Nesta had made up within the day, Elain insisting that she had spoken from her own nerves rather than how she truly felt. She asked if Nesta wanted to talk about what happened with Cassian, but she declined, saying it wasn’t a big deal. She tasted the lie the second it left her mouth, but she shoved that down with everything else.

Her attention to the day of the week was higher than usual in anticipation of Wednesday. She was oddly preoccupied with a day that truly meant nothing to her, but it had haunted her since she overheard Cassian’s conversation with Alis. When the day finally arrived, she found herself ruminating over their conversation, letting her imagination run wild with the possibilities of how they were spending their time.

She told herself that she didn’t care beyond the fact that he would usually tell her all about these sorts of things. Gods, it bothered her to no end that she wasn’t his person anymore.

That Thursday, she found herself getting ready for dinner with Tomas. He had called her that Monday to see if she’d like to go out, and she didn’t have a reason not to. She may have even wanted to go. The downside, when the day arrived, was that it happened to be a particularly brutal work day. She was at home touching up and mentally preparing herself for a couple of hours of conversation. She would usually call Cassian for pep talks on days like this, but their non-friendship was a dealbreaker in that department. Not to mention, he likely wouldn’t have cared to give her a pep talk for this particular night. Gods, it bothered her to no end that he wasn’t her person anymore, either.

Dinner had been fine enough. Tomas looked handsome and seemed completely engaged with her the entire night. He was interested in her work, how her life had been since he’d last seen her, and her friends. He made brief mention of her mother and how he had been really sad to hear that she passed a few years ago. His condolences were sincere, but Nesta found herself oddly defensive at his mention of her. He hadn’t known her well, since their relationship hadn’t lasted long, and she felt like he couldn’t possibly imagine the void she left in their lives.

She resisted any response beyond a “thank you”, knowing that her reaction was likely due to her death anniversary coming up within the week. The rest of the night had gone well. The food was good, the conversation was fine, Tomas was fine. They had a fine time together. Everything was just fine.

Which is why, she assumed, that Tomas had tried to kiss her at the end of the night. He had driven her home, walked her to the door, and hugged her goodbye. As he pulled away, his cheek lingered next to hers, face turning toward her in slow motion. She cleared her throat abruptly and reached into her bag for her key.

“Well, thanks for tonight! I had a nice time.” She had the key in the lock, and she was already mentally selecting her sweatpants for the evening.

“Wait.” Thomas grabbed her elbow, turning her around. “Why are you being so weird? I thought we had a good time?”

”We did. I just said I had a nice time.”

”You seem to be rushing out pretty fast for a person having fun.” He paused for a few seconds to allow her to insist that she was having fun, or to invite him inside, she thought. She did neither.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Is it Cassian?”

She knew she was balking at him, but she didn’t have it in her to control it.

“Are you kidding me? Just because I’m ending the night without kissing you or asking you to come inside and fuck me, there has to be a man responsible? Could it be because this night has taken us as far as it was ever going to?” She rolled her eyes, turned the key, and walked inside. “Goodnight, Tomas,” she said, as she shut the door in his face.

She kicked her shoes off in her entryway and tossed her purse onto the small table next to her door. She removed her dress over her head as she walked purposefully to her bedroom and ripped her sweatpants out of the too-full drawer. She pulled on an extra large t-shirt and went to the kitchen to pour herself some red wine. She settled onto her couch, put on some mindless television, and tried to relax.

She reflected over the night’s events. She was honest when she told Tomas that they had a fine time. She had enjoyed herself tonight, and she started to feel a twinge of guilt for snapping at him in her doorway. He hadn’t done anything wrong before asking that question, and if she was honest with herself, she knew why it bothered her so much. It’s not that he wasn’t handsome, that he was unkind, or that he was disrespectful. It wasn’t even that he had misjudged and asked the wrong question. The truth hammered through her brain like an ambush, and she was utterly incapable of stopping it.

He’s not Cassian.

——————————————————————————

Nesta watched several episodes of a home renovation show as she worked through her bottle of wine. She decided that it was the perfect type of show to watch on nights like tonight, where she was knee-deep in her thoughts. Her earlier revelation had sunken its claws into her brain, and she was having trouble thinking of anything else. She wasn’t sure at what point she had stopped fighting it— either glass 2 or glass 3. She finally allowed herself to take a critical look at all these pent up emotions, and noteworthy memories of Cassian started to play through her mind like a montage.

She is sitting in the passenger seat of an older, black pick-up truck. Cassian is driving, and they have the windows down to feel the cool fall breeze. They’re going for a leisurely drive because he got his license just yesterday, and he loves the freedom it’s given him. He doesn’t have to be a slave to his home life or his abusive father anymore. He can just drive. She makes a joke, and he’s laughing now. His mid-length waves are dancing around his face, and he turns to look at her for mere seconds before looking back at the road.

She sipped her wine thoughtfully, noting the memory as the first time he ever took her breath with how beautiful his joy could be. She remembered how her chest had burst with pride at being able to make him laugh and smile like that, despite his pain. She noted now what she was too scared to admit then: there was little she wouldn’t do to protect his happiness.

It’s junior prom, and she’s posted against the wall with a bottle of water. Her date is a total jerk, and she’s hoping that maybe he’ll just leave. His departure would be better than pretending to enjoy herself anymore. She sees Cassian approaching her from her left. He looks so much more mature in his tux, half of his waves tied back in a knot at the back of his head.

“Hey, Archie. Where’s your date?”

She chuckles softly. “I don’t know. But I think I like it that way. He’s kind of the worst.”

Cassian frowns. “Well, he’s an idiot, then. Dance with me?” He extends his hand to her, palm up, and offers her a half-smile. He looks almost nervous, and her heart swells with affection for him.

“Always. You’re my favorite person here.”

She wiped the tears from her face, not sure of when she started crying. The feeling now so vivid; her favorite person. The truth of that statement refused to be downplayed. She shook her head, realizing it to be as accurate as ever.

It’s her sophomore year of college, and her friends are at a local bar celebrating the end of finals. She hasn’t been able to see them nearly as often this semester, and she’s enjoying their time together. At a certain point, a guy she doesn’t know gets awfully too comfortable with her, and he’s touching her all over. She tries to walk away, and he grips her arm tightly as she fights against him. He’s so much stronger than she is, but her brain can only focus on getting away from him. Just before the panic sets in, she sees two familiar figures approaching from the side. Faster than she can note what is really happening, Azriel is separating the guy’s hand from Nesta’s arm and is shoving him too easily away from her. She’s immediately wrapped in a tight hug, her face tucked tightly into Cassian’s chest. She inhales his scent as she steadies her breath, and she clutches the back of his shirt like a lifeline. She isn’t truly crying, but tears are starting to pool in her eyes from the sheer relief of being safe with him. He pulls back only as much as he needs to cup her face with his hands. His brow is deeply furrowed as he scans her face in that knowing way of his, and his lips form a tight line. He is painfully concerned. He is furious. He is fighting all of those things to remain even for her.

“Are you okay? Nes, please. Talk to me. Tell me you’re okay.”

”I’m okay.” Her response is quiet, robotic.

“He’s gone. Azriel took care of it.”

She was yearning for a sense of normalcy, the intensity of his care becoming too much. She resorts to humor as she usually does.

“I’m surprised. It’s usually you who runs straight to the front lines. Forever the hero.” She cracks a small smile, hoping it’ll comfort him.

He’s still holding her face in his large hands. He drops his gaze briefly as he shakes his head, and when he looks back at her face, he’s wearing an ironic sort of smile.

“All I could see was you.”

The memory knocked the breath out of her, having been so long since she had thought about it. She understood his meaning then, but it hit her with a renewed vigor now. She superseded his basic instincts to protect, eliminate the threat. When it came to her, he trusted no one else and had to personally ensure she was okay. He would throw himself between her and anyone or anything that threatened her, and he would do it happily. Her heart clenched as she thought about how no one else could have made her feel comfortable or calmed her under those circumstances. Another tear rolled down her cheek at how careless she had been with his heart and how much she had taken him for granted. At how much she had always lied to herself. Because she was feeling particularly masochistic, she entertained one last memory, her tears pouring.

Her mother is terminally ill, and the doctors believe she will leave them any day now. It’s 3 AM, and her phone rings. Her father tells her she’s gone, and she holds herself together until she hangs up the phone. She is panicking; can’t catch her breath. Her father is calling Elain and Feyre, and they are supposed to meet at his house when they can get themselves ready. She doesn’t know how she will face this. She can’t do it. She can’t do it. She Can’t. Do. It.

Her fingers work automatically, pressing Cassian’s contact and putting him on speaker phone. Holding it to her face seems too taxing, and her tears will smear all over the screen. He answers in two rings, his voice gravelly with sleep.

”Nes?”

Her only answer is a choked sob, followed by several attempts at catching her breath.

“Nesta. I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me.”

She complies, finally mastering herself enough to say, “Momma” through her sobs.

“Nesta. Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I’m in the truck now. Please stay with me.”

Everything else is a blur except for hearing him come through her door. He opens her bedroom door swiftly, obviously in a hurry to get to her. He leaves the bedroom light off, allowing the hallway lighting to be his guide to her. His weight is shifting the mattress next to her, and he’s leaning against the headboard. He easily pulls her into his lap, and she’s tucking her face into his neck as she cries. She curls her legs into herself, and he holds her for what feels like seconds and years. She feels something wet soaking into the shoulder of her t-shirt and realizes his tears are falling as well.

He drives her to her father’s once she’s ready, holding her hand the entire way. He never leaves her side the days following, through arrangements, the ceremony, and family visitations. He makes sure she eats on somewhat of a schedule because time is all an illusion to her. He sleeps on her couch every night for the couple of weeks following, knowing bedtime is the hardest time for her, and she won’t want to be alone. She is so touched by his dedication, and she isn’t sure she could do this life without him.

She cried for a long time, only recovering when she felt like she had nothing left to give. She was hardly surprised at the landslide of emotions tackling her considering she had been repressing them for the entirety of their friendship. It was now apparent to her what should have always been apparent: she was in love with Cassian.

She was in love with him, but she had been myopic for so long that she may have finally exhausted his love for her.

——————————————————————————

A/N: Well, here it is. We’re nearing the end of this one, and I’m excited to get the rest up for y’all. As always, your feedback/ comments are welcome! If you’d like to be tagged, feel free to message, comment, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you to the tag list.

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