#crazy part is that wasn’t even the tipping point i just slept w someone n that did it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hollyhomburg · 6 years ago

Text

SANDCASTLES PT. 3

♡ PART 3: CAN’T CLOSE YOUR EYES ♡

← PART 2: LOST IN LOVE MAZE ← → Part 4: WIDE AWAKE →

(OMEGAVERSE AU) (POLYAMORY AU) (SOULMATE AU)

SUMMARY: Jimin loves you, and his Alpha’s know that, but how much he loves you and in which way is entirely up to Jimin. But you’re with Jackson... or are you?

PAIRINGS: Omega! Jimin x Omega! Reader x Alpha! Namjoon x Alpha! Hoseok x Alpha! Yoongi, Alpha! Jackson x Omega! Reader,

W/C: 10k

TAGS: Domestic abuse, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut mention, polyamory, infidelity, mentions of omega mistreatment

A/N: This is so freaking long- but I hope you guys like it, this story is finally picking up I've also set up my patreon over here if you guys feel like donating to me so that I can keep writing more stuff like this id really apreciate it! please enjoy ~

- Since Jimin officially started dating the 3 alpha’s he’s barely been at your apartment. You’ve barely seen him at all, sometimes finding evidence that he’s been home in a coffee cup left in the sink or in a pair of shoes left by the front of the door,

- It makes you feel forlorn, lonely almost though Jackson’s a near constant fixture at your side during any and all of your free time. And you don’t mention it during the few times that he does come back, to sleep or to get some time for himself

- It was a little bit overwhelming jumping into all that loving he admitted to you when you made time for morning coffee with him- postponing a meeting just to spend time with Jimin. It seemed like he was never home anymore, you missed him, and unbeknownst to you, he missed you too.

- The sleeping over started slowly, one night when Jimin accidentally fell asleep on one of the benches at the dance studio, a few days after he had officially joined their relationship.

- Hoseok had tried to wake him, but Jimin had just held onto his neck and cuddled into him, Hoseok had giggled and called Yoongi to pick them up, carrying Jimin to the car after locking up the studio, even giving him a piggy back ride up the elevator to their apartment when he still refused to unlock his hands from around Hoseok’s neck. Even Yoongi’s cheeks pinked up from how cute the omega was being, at his plush pouty lips and reluctance to open his eyes.

- to Jimin, being with the alphas was absolutely fantastic, he’d never felt so loved or felt so cherished, and each of them did it in a different way.

- Jimin had his choice of arms to cuddle every night and every morning, he could go for Hoseok- who was the least involved cuddler and often slept with his face pressed into Jimin’s shoulder, his hand intertwined with jimin, that was all Hoseok wanted, he moved around the most out of all of them.

- Or he could go for Namjoon, who would toss a strong arm over his side and pull him in close to shelter Jimin with his large body, with Namjoon’s warm front pressed to his back he could feel his chest expand evenly with every breath, and Jimin felt protected and safe.

- Or he could snuggle Yoongi- who became a literal vine when he fell asleep.

- The first night after he had woken up from sleeping over he had twitched a little unable to get comfortable while he was literally enveloped by Yoongi’s long arms, his chest expanding against his side as his surprisingly iron clad arms held onto his source of warmth.

- He was surprised, seeing as Yoongi wasn’t necessarily the most affectionate person in the daylight nor the most vocal with his affections, but he was always winding his legs through Jimin’s, wrapping both his arms around him and hiding his face in the youngers shoulder.

- The worst thing was that Yoongi never moved, unlike Jimin who needed to spend about a half an hour or so getting comfortable. But it was worth it on the mornings that Namjoon and Hoseok would wake up before them, hearing Hoseok giggle as Namjoon took a photo. Jimin started to stir, waking to Yoongi literally on top of him, his cheek pressed against Jimin’s chest, his leg half off the bed. Jimin would smile dopey from sleep, up at the other alphas, Who were cooing at how cute Yoongi was.

- Yoongi of course blushed and stammered when he woke up- going red from his ears all the way down to his pajama bottoms. Jimin just laughed and kissed Yoongi on the nose before he could get away.

- Hoseok made a kissy face at Yoongi and then darted away cackling when Yoongi made a grab for his phone. “I swear to god Hoseok if you don’t delete those photos I swear I’ll-“ “Never!”

- Jimin sat on the edge of the bed, Namjoon leaned down and gave him a kiss on the tip of his nose- an action that had become a little good morning ritual between the two of them, all of them really, an affectionate gesture started by Jimin.

- “Coffee?” Namjoon asked, taking in how his omega was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his cute little hands, “yes please.”

- There where other things, besides the cuddling that were good about It too,

- At night when the four of them would cook, or in the cold mornings sometimes when Hoseok would drag him and Namjoon on an early morning walk.

- And they would calmly plot through the drowsy city streets, each of Jimin’s hands clasped in one of theirs, and then they would come home with their noses cold and their cheeks pinked to a hot pot of coffee made by Yoongi who by that point was usually sitting at the glass dining table.

- His black hair mussed from sleep and his round glasses perched on the edge of his nose while he read the paper or a book, or even set up his work computer do edit from home.

- The way that Hoseok lifts him up and spins him around when he hears back from a talent agency, who want to hire Jimin for a month-long performance. the way that Yoongi smiles when Jimin tells him the good news, and the way that Namjoon looks at him proudly when he dances with Hoseok in their kitchen.

- Jimin is so nervous about the performance but its 2 months away, he has plenty of time to practice and get everything right. In the stolen hours of the morning, hoseok calms him, kissing his bare side and telling him that he’s going to do great, and Jimin tries his best to believe him.

- The alphas only want to take care of Jimin, and they do it so well. Jimin didn't know when the alpha’s apartment starts to feel like theirs but it already did.

- One night he gets a little teary-eyed over a sad movie, and Namjoon talks him through his feeling for hours while Hoseok feeds him vanilla ice cream, and Yoongi rubs his back,

- Maybe it was just their reaction to seeing him cry for the first time, but it makes all of their protective instincts jump, to see their omega in distress,

- And no matter how many times he tells them that it’s not a big deal guys, come on, they insist on treating Jimin delicately for a few days, it’s a bit of an overreaction, one that Jimin teases them about for a few weeks.

- It’s not that it gets overbearing sometimes, but sometimes, Jimin feels like he could use a little bit of a breather, just a little time for himself.

- Hoseok finds Jimin frowning and looking out of one of the studio windows one day and asks him what’s bother him,

- And of course- it’s you, it’s always you that’s bothering Jimin, and when he confesses that he feels like he hasn’t spent time with you recently because he spends so much time with the alpha’s, Hoseok chastises him.

- “Just because you’re with us now doesn’t mean you can't give her some of your time, you’ve got the day off tomorrow- why don’t you see if she’s free, we can handle ourselves for one day Jimin,”

- Jimin smiles and nuzzles into Hoseok’s shoulder before thanking him and texting you, and finds out that for once you are free!

- And it’s been a while since you’ve just had some time on your own, on the unusually warm spring day you and Jimin tour the just blooming flower gardens packing a lunch in and sitting on a bench in a field of flowers as you laugh and giggle and joke around like you used too.

- Hesitantly- Jimin confides in you about the alpha’s, the particulars of their relationship, and how happy it makes him

- You hate to admit it but you get a little jealous when you see the gentle way his eyes light up and how his shoulders relax when he talks about them.

- About this Namjoon with his quiet way of talking, about Yoongi- who seems irritable but loveable. And Hoseok, who according to jimin shits sunshine even when he’s in a terrible mood, and who dances with as much passion as Jimin does which you know is saying something.

- He’s already a little in love with all of them it seems and thought it makes you sad- to realize that for the first time he’s loving someone that isn’t you- it also makes you happy because Jimin is happy.

- Somehow your life isn’t so conducive to you meeting these alpha’s that have taken up residence in his heart- work gets more and more crazy ripping you away at the most inconvenient of times.

- 4 months into their courting Jimin you finally get around to meeting them- at your and Jimin’s favorite breakfast diner that has the best (and the cheapest) food.

- You’re a little nervous when you meet them, you wear your favorite long sleeve dress that goes down to your knees and a pair of tall black boots, but you know that Jimin’s the happiest he’s ever been with them so they couldn't be all that bad, could they?

- Meeting 3 successful alphas, was more than a little intimidating.

- But you don’t have anything to worry about, Hoseok is just as happy as Jimin described, and Namjoon is an assuring and strong presence that you immediate bond with, he asks you questions about your work and doesn’t mind when you ramble about translation a little bit.

- Yoongi next to them is a quiet presence, who only laughs and comments on things but rarely asks questions. You don’t mind him. And of course, with Jimin next to you, your happiness doesn’t feel forced at all. You and Jimin play off each other’s humor, reducing the alpha’s into giggles, you have the same type of humor.

- And they realize just how long you and Jimin have known each other- you share a lot of the same ticks- like pushing your hair back behind your for heads and sucking in your lower lips. And you nearly throw yourself over Jimin, hiding in his chest when you get shy the same way Jimin does.

- They are not surprised to learn that you share their omega’s love of breakfast food at all hours of the day and it doesn’t bother you one bit when you order waffles covered with Nutella and strawberries at 6pm.

- You seem to have quite a sweet tooth; Yoongi thinks its adorable how your eyes light up every time the syrup touches your tongue. He catches Jimin staring at you more than once with adoration, and a tender kind of fondness that he had only ever seen in the quiet sacred moments of the morning when his walls were fully down- which admittedly didn’t happen so often for Jimin.

- He had been slow to open up to all of them, but none of them minded.

- You get a little of powdered sugar on your nose and Jimin licks his thumb to wipe it away, you snivel your nose at him affectionately and nip at his finger making him laugh.

- The gesture is so practiced so loving that Yoongi’s eyes widen a little, his heart thudding as he takes in the way that you sit, your legs casually slung over Jimin’s legs, finding comfort in just touching him. Hoseok notices it a little too, the way that Jimin always seems to be touching you.

- And it doesn’t feel like you’re third wheeling or like they’re suddenly in on your friendship, you meld easily with them, the dinner is easier than breathing. when you part ways all of the alphas are surprised at how light they feel. he wants you to come back with them Hoseok realizes with a start, shaking it off after a moment as they wave goodbye to you and get into Yoongi’s car, Jiminie in tow.

- “Well, what did you think of her- did you like her?” Jimin asks animatedly as he flops down onto the bed between Yoongi and Hoseok, the sound of the shower running- Namjoon fills the quiet air of the alphas apartment. “I liked her a lot- it’s easy to see why you love her so much,” Hoseok says, Jimin blushes and looks down and away, laughing uneasily.

- “Yeah I mean- I’ve known her for so long, she’s closer than family.” Namjoon exits the bathroom and takes Jimin’s bare sides where his shirt has ridden up as an invitation, taking him unawares with wandering and tickling hands that dissolve the omega into giggles and flinches,

- “Do you mean to say Park Jimin,” Namjoon says as he continues to tickle him. “That if we made you choose you’d leave us?” Jimin knows that he’s just joking, but he can’t stop it- he freezes up, the light moment turning heavy. Jimin stops laughing abruptly, snatching Namjoon’s hands as he goes pale. “I didn’t mean that Jiminie- I”

- “It’s just-“ Jimin says biting his lip as he looks at the alphas around them. “My…uh… friendship with Y/n has gotten in the way of other relationships before and I-“ Hoseok shakes his head and runs a loving hand across his shoulder. Yoongi cups his cheek

- “Say no more Jimine” Yoongi say’s, as Namjoon counters, “forget I even said anything. We all liked her so much you don’t have to worry about anything-” Hoseok presses a kiss to Jimin’s shoulder as Yoongi’s thumb brushes Namjoon’s ankle in a longing circle.

- They all settle into bed, and Jimin truly is happy, happy as they all tell him in hushed voices that they really did like you- and that they’re more than happy that Jimin has a fixture like you in his life. Someone steady that makes him feel happy.

- Slowly they become a fixture in your life as well- once they see how well you meld, they spend nights cooking in your and Jimin’s apartment too- thought they rarely stay on account of Jimin’s queen bed- too small for all of them when they usually sleep in a king,

- Eventually, they even meet Jackson, though it’s a little bit of a tense meeting and more accidental than planned. Surprisingly Jackson doesn’t let a lot of his internal phobia show, doesn’t give a hint of reproach when they introduce themselves, though you do see him look away sharply when Namjoon pecks Yoongi on the mouth, his fists tightening.

- You give him a reproachful look and he relaxes incrementally, but he still fights with you later about it.

- Eventually, Jackson decides doesn’t like the fact that 3 other alphas are hanging around your and Jimin’s apartment, not because of the love they have for each other but because of the fondness they have for you. Though you don’t know what Jackson’s talking about.

- This comes after one night when he came in and found you sitting a little too close on the couch too Namjoon, though Jimin was practically sitting in his lap,

- But you shrug off his worries reminding him again and again that they’re with Jimin not you- that he has nothing to worry about.

- One day, Yoongi walks in on you and Jackson fighting- intent on just picking up some clothes of Jimin’s. He was going to stay over at their place that night but was teaching a class ‘till 10, so Yoongi offered to pick up clothes for him prematurely.

- Jimin had even sent him disgustingly cute text messages full of heart emojis and kissy faces that made Yoongi’s heart pitter patter no matter how many times he reminded himself that public displays of affection where gross.

- And his heart drops when your distraught and terrified face is the first thing he sees when he opens the door, And you’re crying actually sobbing as you lean up against your fridge as Jackson yells at you.

-Turning your face away, your eyes crinkling in fear as he steps literally yells in your face, he doesn't like it when you turn your face away, and he grabs your wrist in a viselike grip, you can feel the bones protest under the strain as a shock of pain jerks you forward.

- “You’re hurting me.” You say softly,

- “Then look at me when I talk too you bitch” he commands, a bit of saliva hitting your face, you flinch.

- Yoongi steps forward, instinctually putting a hand on his arm- “hey man I don’t think you should talk to her like that.” Yoongi says.

- Jackson throws it off violently and spits at Yoongi “who the fuck are you to think that you have a say in our relationship?” he lets go of your wrist though and you immediately hug it too your chest.

- And when Jackson sees the thankful glance you send Yoongi’s way, he snaps and says, “you know what fine- when you’re ready to start behaving like an adult instead of a child call me.” he says before storming out of your apartment. the slamming door makes you flinch.

- Yoongi comforts you by grabbing some tissues and pouring you a glass of water before guiding you to sit down at your small glass table. He tries to reign in his temper as you keep crying, giving you comforting words.

- “I know we don’t know each other that well- but why the fuck are you with that asshole?” He says as he hands you another tissue.

- Yoongi really doesn’t know you, but from what he can tell, based on the way that Jimin talks about you- there isn’t anything wrong with you, and Jackson’s words seem more manipulative than anything to him. And Yoongi firmly believes that no alpha should talk to their omega that way.

- “You know sometimes I ask myself that question but somehow I always find a good enough reason to stay,”

- “You shouldn’t have to look for reasons though,” Yoongi says, his thumb running across the back of yours. Your eyes flicker up to meet his, shit you’ve got beautiful eyes Yoongi thinks, without thinking about it Yoongi’s thumb brushes a tear off your cheeks, ”love isn’t supposed to be that hard.”

- His phone rings- and it’s Hoseok texting him, he and Jimin are on their way home.

- Yoongi asks if you want someone to stay with you- hinting at Jimin, but really Yoongi would stay too if you asked. You just shake your head and give him a kind smile telling him that you’re just going to go to sleep so there’s no need for you to ruin their night and drag Jimin away.

- Yoongi’s heart pangs as he tells you goodnight, taking in the darkness of your apartment, and doesn’t want to leave you alone.

- Yoongi hesitantly tells Namjoon what happened when the younger man gets home. Yoongi had been a little withdrawn and Jimin had noticed but been so tired for bed that he didn’t ask when Yoongi decided to wait up for him to get home, he’d been on the other side of town that night and his train was coming in late.

- “When I walked in he had practically cornered her Namjoon! She looked so terrified of him,” Namjoon shakes his head, taking a sip of his beer- he often enjoyed a cold one after work, Yoongi usually partook with him but not right now, right now he wanted coffee, the jump of caffeine in his veins always comforted him.

- “From what you stay it sounds like Jackson was really close to getting violent with her- I’m glad you showed up.”

- “Jackson got physical with Y/n” Jimin asks from the doorway, his baggy pajama bottoms pooling on the floor, he looks tired- like he’s just woken but-but he’s also he’s angry, his fists tightening and glowering,

- “No-no Jiminie,” Yoongi’s quick to say, “I just overheard a fight with them is all, and it seemed… pretty bad?”

- “Was she upset?” is all he asks, and he doesn’t even wait for their answer he just starts to put on his shoes and his jacket, pressing a kiss to each of their lips before he says, “I’ll be back in the morning, tell Hoseok I might be a little late tomorrow.”

- And he’s out the door before either of them can tell him that they’d rather he not walk across town this late at night alone, that he should just call you and talk to you, that you told Yoongi you’d be fine.

- Namjoon just sighs, “that’s why I didn’t tell him earlier” Yoongi sighs, even though he knows that it was selfish, to try and keep Jimin from you. Namjoon texts Jimin to ask him to text their group chat when he gets there safely. And Jimin does, and Namjoon supposes he can’t be that mad especially when Jimin apologizes for running out on them.

- Jimin crawls into bed next to you waking you up from your slumber, your eyes are red and puffy and he calms you down by whispering calm words, and in the darkness, you end up telling him about your fight and Jimin just pulls you in close to him. eventually demanding to look at your wrist, he seethes when he sees the bruise already forming, leaving shortly to get a little bit of soothing cream from his room.

- “You’ve gotta tell me if he hurts you ok? and you have to promise me you’ll leave him. I couldn’t bear to see you get hurt, I can barely handle this.” Jimin says, pressing a small kiss to the inside of your wrist. You sniffle and wipe your cheeks, and nod, your hair fanning around you. Jimin pecks your shoulder and snuggles into you.

- Though in truth you don’t know if you could, sometimes it’s like Jackson has you so wrapped around your finger you have tunnel vision. When he yells at you it feels like you’d knock down mountains just too get him to stop, and when he laughs you feel like he’s lifting you up.

- That man holds your self-esteem in his hands and deep down you hate it- but at the same time, you don’t know how to get out of it. You don’t know when your relationship became this unhealthy.

- That night you hold onto Jimin, never letting him move an inch away from you- wishing you didn’t have to let him go back to the alphas in the morning.

- the alphas do their best to forget the way that he kind of ran out on a night of snuggling because really- you needed him, and he was just being a good friend Hoseok justifies.

- Internally, Namjoon suspects that there might be more too your relationship than Jimin initially let on.

- In the following days, you never let anyone know that anything is wrong, putting up a false happy facade, you wouldn’t want to ruin Jimin’s birthday week after all.

- Jimin almost forgets, that the Next week his birthday, he only remembers when he gets an anonymous bouquet of flowers just before his first class on Monday.

- He’s in the front room making small talk with a few parents when the delivery woman shows up. All of them ooh and ahh and sing, “Hyungnim got flowers! Hyungnim got flowers” and dance around him as he accepts the flowers and tries to usher his students into a practice room. Some of the parent’s chuckle.

- The gardenias smell so wonderful, they fill your entire apartment with a light an airy smell. You smile when Jimin tells you what they mean- showing you the little card that reads, gardenia’s mean sweetness and joy.

- That night he confronts each of the alphas about it- he doesn’t immediately know that it’s Yoongi. But after he sees the side of his face quirk as he tries to turn away and hide his smirk, Jimin knows it’s him even if he won’t admit it.

- Yoongi surprises him with a bouquet of flowers on every day of the week for his birthday, each bouquet is carefully arranged, and tacked with a corny card detailed with the flowers meaning, Yoongi is so rarely mushy gushy, and it makes Jimin glow with happiness.

- He gets Amaryllis on Tuesday which means worth beyond beauty, spotted with light purple heather which means admiration,

- Aster on Wednesday symbolizing elegance, in-between deep purple irises which mean eloquence.

- Bird of paradise on Thursday are waiting on his bed in the morning which means joyfulness and wonderful anticipation, stuck between pink Camilla that translates to my destiny is in your hands.

- On Friday he gets chrysanthemum’s which mean optimism, joy, and long life,

- And on Saturday Yoongi presents him with a bouquet of 2 dozen red roses and a small happy smile that is just for Jimin Jimin Jimin. He gives Jimin the corresponding little poem for the flowers, written on a small slip of paper, over a quiet dinner of waffles and wine and it’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to him- that anyone’s ever written to him. And Yoongi hates poetry, but Jimin makes him want to write a book of it.

The flowers put into bloom, All of my feelings That are just little seeds for you, Hopefully, they’ll sprout, And soon you’ll see, Just how much you mean to me.

-MYG

- Jimin keeps the little poem and all of the cards forever, even tucking it into the corner of the mirror in their bedroom so he can see it every morning.

- Jimin paints rose petals on Yoongi’s creamy skin with his mouth that night. and Yoongi could write a thousand poems about the way that Jimin moans his name.

- Though the soft words aren’t what Jimin would expect from Yoongi at all, he’s so happy that he felt comfortable sharing that tender and soft part of himself with Jimin. Jimin knows that he doesn’t often write his own song lyrics.

- Jimin tells you about the notes and reads you the poem the next day as the two of you haul up in your living room for a cheat day, snacking on some ice cream and a bottle of whipped cream. You swoon when Jimin reads it, giggling when he blushes and tells you about their steamy night.

- Two mornings before his birthday, Hoseok wakes him up and surprises them with breakfast on the balcony. It’s amazing, the pancakes, that coffee, and especially Hoseok’s arms twined around his waist as they watch the sunrise.

- Hoseok then surprises him with the day off- for both of them! Hoseok takes Jimin on a trip around the city, to a flee market where they marvel over small found wonders and fresh food that they buy and eat in a small park.

- Jimin tackles Hoseok into a pile of the fall leaves and Hoseok laughs full-bodied, rolling Jimin over and pinning him among the orange leaves before he leans down and slowly kisses them.

- Kisses can be conversations, and if Jimin where to put words into that one it would have been something like thank you for lighting me up like the moon after a sunny day, Or holy fuck I love you a lot. It gets slower more sensual, Jimin gasps and reminds himself that they are in a very very public place.

- Namjoon takes him to an art gallery on the day of his birthday and they spend hours walking through the walkways and finding paintings that remind them of each other.

- Namjoon finds brushes of Jimin’s yellow hair in everything that’s happy. And Jimin finds calmness in even the darkest of portraits- the dark almost blue-black that always reminds Jimin of Namjoon’s eyes.

- Around lunch, Namjoon takes Jimin to a rollerblading rink and they spend ages clinging to each other and laughing before they get the hang of it. Jimin doesn’t think Namjoon thought this part of their date threw enough because he looks like a baby fawn trying to walk for the first time on a pair of roller blades. But Jimin giggles every time Namjoon almost falls.

- And by the time that the two of them get home his cheeks are almost aching from how much he’s been smiling, Jimin flickers on the light to the alpha’s dark apartment and almost falls over at how loud you and Hoseok scream “Surprise!”

- Yoongi jumps out too- wearing two party hats like their ears, doing a little silly dance with the two of you, and Jimin is startled but he quickly joins in, someone turns on the music.

- His birthday party is a night of ugly dancing, mixed drinks, cake, and stupid drinking games that the two of you haven’t played since you where in college,

- Hoseok bought Jimin a chocolate cake with strawberries after you spent the day making a different vanilla one with Yoongi- though it came out so drowned with frosting that it’s almost too sweet to be good.

- Hoseok picked up the second cake on the way back from work; he’d already ordered it a week ago- suspecting that Yoongi wouldn’t be half as successful at cooking it as he hoped when he said he wanted to try baking a cake for Jimin. (He wasn’t nearly as good at cooking as he thought he was).

- You’d end up taking over baking when he called you over early, requesting backup because he’d realized how out of his league he was (He should have listened to Namjoon when he told Yoongi that baking was not the same thing as cooking.)

- And you’d walked into their apartment to find half a dozen eggs cracked on the floor and a Yoongi that looked grey haired because of all the flower in his hair.

- Thought you’d already assumed the responsibility of decorating the apartment and picking up the booze, you easily assume the responsibility of baking as well, directing Yoongi to decorate the apartment when it becomes clear that he didn't know a thing about baking.

- You like it though, and even Hoseok acquiesces that it wouldn’t be so bad if you put it in a milkshake,

- As the night progresses, the five of you stuff yourself on cake and get more and more intoxicated. You introduce the alphas to your and Jimin’s favorite drinking game; superlatives.

- “Most likely to accidentally end up in a foreign country,” you say, and each of them points to Yoongi- Yoongi ends up having to take three sips, one for each finger pointed at him, tough Namjoon drinks once too- you chose him.

- “Most likely to accidentally injure themselves,” Hoseok gets 2 fingers and therefore two sips, laughing as you cheers and bottoms up.

- “Most likely to use all the hot water in the morning,” Namjoon says, and Jimin tries to act indignant when every finger gets pointed at himself. “Alright alright,” he eventually acquiesces, giggling and downing his drink in one go.

- Eventually, the chocolate cake gets finished, and you yawn, Namjoon insists on calling you a cab after you protest, saying that you don’t need someone to walk you home. Ever since he’d been to your apartment and realized it was on the bad side of town he’d worried over you and Jimin walked home alone.

- It’s nearly 3am and Yoongi is already half passed out in the living room while Hoseok is taking sleepy bites out of the too sweet vanilla cake,

- You give Jimin his birthday present; a photo album, it’s cover colored with watercolors, inside is a collection of photos of the two of you, all of your favorite ones from your childhood onward, There is even a small section in the back of the book dedicated to the alphas (You got some of them off of Hoseok’s phone a few weeks back)

- Jimin doesn’t have time to look through all of it with you because your taxi is coming but he holds onto you for a moment and then lets you go. Jimin stays up with Namjoon, making mixed drinks as he pours through the book and tells him a story behind each photograph.

- And by the end of it, Jimin is crying, big fat tears gently drifting down his cheeks as he barely makes a sound, and he’s a little sad and happy too. Namjoon doesn’t ask him why he’s crying because he already knows.

- It doesn't change a thing though, doesn't make Namjoon love Jimin any less it just makes him upset that Jimin’s been hurting over you for so long. And If he’s being honest with himself he can see why Jimin loves you. There is something about you that is reassuring and freeing at the same time, something magnetic that even Namjoon can’t deny.

- He just closes the book and takes him to bed, where Jimin falls asleep in-between Hoseok and Namjoon, feeling more loved and more whole than Jimin ever had on a birthday before.

- But why were his drunk hands reaching out for a different smaller body? Why did he dream of you that night, curled up next to him? dream you wishes him happy birthday, leaning over him in nothing but a large shirt (maybe it’s one of Namjoon’s or Hoseok’s?) to press a kiss to his mouth that tastes like Yoongi and the too sweet vanilla cake.

- “Move in with me.” Jackson says over the night of your second anniversary, you push away the small box he gave you, a key to his apartment with a Burberry keychain attached to it.

- “I can’t,” you say, grabbing his hand as he tries to pull away, “you know I can’t leave Jimin alone-“

- “Why not? When he’s got three alpha’s to please him why would he need you?” the question stings you as you look for a reason, for a justification.

- “I just don’t want to leave him Jackson- he’s my-“ you try to explain, you can’t imagine living in a house where Jimin isn’t. Jimin is home to you.

- “God damn it- it all goes back to Jimin doesn’t it.”

- You need to explain it better maybe you think, but it doesn’t matter that this is the 20th time you’ve tried to explain to him who Jimin is too you, Jackson doesn’t want to hear it.

- He raises his voice in the middle of the fancy restaurant. The other patrons send you a concerned look, and you try to shush him, and he reacts negatively, raising his voice louder.

- “When are you going to realize that you’ll let your whole life pass you by if you don’t let go of your stupid Omega flirtation? Omegas don’t love other omegas or at least stay with them for as long as you’ve stayed. It’s just not possible for you to get what you want from him. You need an alpha Y/n, you need me.”

- “Are you sure about that?” you say with vitriol, slapping down some money onto the table, before you turn and walk away from him, not even bothering to tug on your jacket until you’re already all the way down the street, hot tears carving tracks down your cheeks ruining your makeup.

- But Jackson runs out to grab you. Pushing you up against the side of a building, you drop your jacket, your head hits the bricks, pain blossoms through your tears alongside fear.

- You’ve never been afraid of Jackson, but with the way he’s looking at you know, possessive and irate is frightening. “You don’t get to run away from me.” He says, hissing it into your ears, disgust and fear tares a white-hot trail up your spine.

- A pair of betas walks by, sending a single glance your way as you tremble. But they ignore your pleading glances as your stomach does flips.

- Jackson’s hands start to pull up the sides of your dress and you shove him away from you violently. “Get the fuck away from me Jackson.” You scream, in the same breath his open palm makes contact with your cheek,

- The slap echoes in the near-empty street.

- Your hand comes up to hold it as you gape at him, open mouth and wide-eyed, it doesn’t hurt yet- it’s still nearly numb from the impact. In truth you never thought that Jackson would ever hurt you- didn’t think he was capable of it.

- Jackson seems to realize what he’s done, his anger dissolving in a second, but the adrenaline is still flushed with your system, “Y/n I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me.”

- He takes a step forward, reaching out to you but you flinch back, running away as fast as you can leaving your jacket. By the time you’ve reached the crosswalk, Jackson’s lost you to the thrum of a crowd.

- You turn up a little later at the alpha’s apartment building, your feet sore and hurting, heals clenched in your hands and your stockings are torn through. Jimin had told you the address to the alpha’s apartment a long time ago, you’re shivering from the cold winter air in just your slinky dress and your fingers can barely feel the phone as you struggle to dial him from the lobby. You’re barely able to get words out through the tears that are still falling.

- Jimin was just starting to get tired, his body sore from a full day of being on his feet, sitting at one of the two barstools in the kitchen, chatting to Namjoon while he washed the dishes from dinner.

- he’s Telling him the story of the cute 6-year-old in his class who thought pirouettes where called parrots. And wouldn’t do them unless Jimin called them by their “correct” name when his phone rings.

- Yoongi wasn’t back from work yet and Hoseok was taking a shower to wash off the sweat from the workday- Jimin had showered too, and had been finishing up when Hoseok decided to join him.

- Namjoon can see the hickeys on his shoulder from Hoseok’s mouth and he can smell Hoseok on Jimin’s skin and Namjoon loves it. Jimin picks up his phone and answers it with your name on his tongue, he loves the way that their combined scent rolls of Jimin, it even makes Namjoon a little hard in his sweats but he ignores it when he see’s Jimin’s panicked expression.

- He stays on the phone with you but whispers quietly to Namjoon, “it’s Y/n, something happened with Jackson.” Namjoon’s heart drops into his stomach as Jimin toes on his shoes and leaves the apartment quickly. But he leaves the door open, doesn’t take his keys, so Namjoon guess’s he’s coming back.

- Jimin rushes downstairs to you, ushering you quietly up the elevator under the eyes of a watchful but concerned doorman- you know you must look like a madwoman in your expensive dress and the mascara lines on your cheeks rescued by a man in nothing but a hoody and silk pajamas that are clearly too large on him.

- Namjoon is halfway through making hot chocolate when you appear with jimin in the doorway. Jimin talks to you softly- like you're a cornered animal, taking your shoes from your hands and sliding your ruined stockings down your legs, and calming you down, with soft and careful words,

- Your sobs are quiet but deep, and Namjoon can almost feel your heart breaking with every ragged breath you inhale. There are few things other than a distressed omega that could make an alpha go into full panicked mode. And the red mark, a clear handprint on your cheek is one of them.

- Namjoon’s stunned, he didn't think Jackson was that kind of person but he was clearly wrong. his blood boils, but he reigns in his temper, worried you'll be able to tell how angry he is and he doesn't want to startle you further.

- Jimin carefully leads you towards the dark living room, sitting you down on the couch, You barely acknowledge Namjoon bring in the cups of hot cocoa and an ice pack wrapped in a damp kitchen towel, though Jimin sends him a grateful glance, and takes the ice pack gently dabbing at your cheek.

- You can barely hold yourself up, collapsed into Jimin’s chest just crying, he runs a hand through your hair and down your back. He whispers sweet nothings into your ears, as you quietly and disjointedly through sobs tell him about the fight with Jackson.

- Namjoon listens from the doorway for as long as he can without getting visibly angry, walking away when he can’t, he’s sure the last thing that you’d feel comfortable with his another angry alpha getting too close to you right now.

- Namjoon’s surprised at how much he wants to comfort you, and at how much he wants to hurt Jackson, though he never thought he had a violent bone in his body.

- Namjoon leaves just before Jimin’s fingers start to pull at the hair along your scalp, detangling what must have once been perfect curls- your scalp was one of the most sensitive parts of your body, he knows from experience, and though the shivers add to your shakiness it slowly starts to calm you down.

- “You don’t need him, honey, you don’t need anyone but me, and I’ll always be here for you, you don’t have to worry about keeping me because I could never leave you.”

- He’s with the alphas, you know that, but when he says things like that- it almost sounds like he’s with you. His fingers skim across the handprint delicately, like he was attempting to stroke the wing of a butterfly. “I’m going to break his jaw” he knows it’s the wrong thing to say by the way you shutter forward resting your head on his shoulder, “please don't,” you choke out, and Jimin knows that you're saying, please don’t get violent too.

- “Hobi,” Namjoon says from the doorway of the bathroom interrupting Hoseok. he’s brushing his teeth, a towel wrapped around his waist. Hoseok’s eyes are wide, it’s rare to see the elder so angry, Hoseok’s known Namjoon for so long he can see the tension in every muscle of his shoulders.“Y/n’s here and uh- Jimin’s comforting her in the living room.”

- Hoseok reaches out, grabs one of Namjoon’s hands, unfolding each finger of his clenched fist with a kiss, “Is she ok?” Namjoon shakes his head. “Jackson hit her.”

- Hoseok inhales sharply, that’s why Namjoon’s so angry.

- He doesn't often talk about his job at as a lawyer (confidentiality laws stop him), But Hoseok knows why he volunteers his time at the local family court, and takes on casework for omegas that couldn't afford it. Most of the time it was domestic violence cases.

- He’d stepped in front of his omega client once when his opponent, the omega in question’s alpha had gone irate that another alpha was standing so close to his mate. The Omega had cowered underneath the table as Namjoon caught the first flying in his direction. The judge had been so appalled by the defendant's behavior that the entire case had been resolved on the spot.

-Ever since then Namjoon’s accepted every omega that turned up at his door. some of them had Makeup barely covering split lips and black eyes. others trembled when he closed the door of his office, unable to meet his eyes, because he was an alpha, and an alpha had hurt them.

- The Alpha’s talk about it sometimes, How responsible they feel for other alpha’s treatment of omegas, how much they want to change it. Namjoon tries with every case he takes to heal some of the harm caused but he can only do so much.

- “Shit.” Hoseok whispers, rummaging in the drawer for some makeup wipes for you, running his fingers through his hair, “I’ll be out in a minute just let me put on some clothes.”

- “Are you sure- do you think that I-“ Namjoon doesn't want to scare you.

- “She’s important to Jimine so she’s important to us too now if he was in distress how much comfort do you think he would need?” Namjoon nods because Hoseok is right. “Fucking piece of shit alphas- thinking they can treat their omega’s like crap,” Hoseok spits, shaking his head, Namjoon’s jaw tightens as he agrees with him.

- You’ve calmed down enough to just sniffle when Namjoon lingers by the door to the living room. Eventually moving to sit behind you,

- “Honey,” Namjoon says, a slow hand running a line down your arm. You nod into Jimin’s chest and Namjoon’s heart warms, even now, at the cute gesture. you didn't flinch away from his gentle touch and he feels emboldened. “Can I see your face?” He asks softly, you turn to face him and lean back against Jimin’s chest so that Jimin is spooning you his arms loosely entwined around your middle.

- Namjoon slowly reaches for you, careful not to move too fast, he cradles your face in his as he tilts it skyward. “Close your eyes.” He commands softly. The first tender brush of the makeup pad against your face makes you flinch, but then you relax into Namjoon’s hands as he delicately takes off your makeup, erasing the lines of mascara.

- You lean into his touch, his calming presence washing over you as you stop shaking, Jimin traces shapes on your back. Namjoon doesn’t prod at you, doesn’t ask you what’s wrong or about the mark, and when you open your eyes and find him smiling softly down at you when he slowly wipes a fresh wipe over your chin and neck you find your lips parting.

- You lean forward the last few inches lay your head against his chest softly like you're almost sure he’ll push you away. Namjoon flushes, His heartbeat is a steady even rhythm as your hands wrap around Namjoon’s middle. Behind you, Namjoon and Jimin share a special secret glance. Namjoon rests his cheek against your hair, taking in a deep breath. Breathing in your scent, almost sweeter than Jimin’s.

- In the darkness it’s heavy, Jimin sucks on is lower lip looking unsure. So Namjoon puts his hands around you as well his firm thumbs running up and down your sides. Namjoon and Jimin’s fingers meet for a moment. Namjoon squeezes his hand.

- “I brought you some clothes y/n.” Hoseok says from the doorway, “they might be a little big” he trips over the edge of the carpet, Jimin laughs while Namjoon chuckles, Jimin takes them from him.

- Jimin is surprised to see the alpha’s close and not Jimin’s (Jimin has more than a few outfits there by now- Hoseok could have easily gotten Jimin’s clothes but he chose to give you theirs) a pair of Yoongi’s sweats, a shirt of Hoseok’s, and a sweatshirt of Namjoon’s.

- Namjoon leaves Jimin to help you slowly undress (its nothing that Jimin hasn’t seen before, though he swallows when his eyes skim across the red lingerie knowing what and more importantly who it must have been for)

- And in the hallway, as Namjoon reaches the top shelf of the linen closet to get a spare blanket and a pillow from the linen closet, Hoseok back hugs him, as if to say thank you for comforting her, or good job or something else. Tenderness, a nameless pride that you can only get from watching the people you love surprise you in a good way Blossoms in Hoseok’s chest.

- Jimin sleeps with you on the couch last night, and the smell of sadness is so potent that Yoongi doesn’t even question it when he comes in late that night and finds Jimin on the couch holding you like someone is going to try and take you away, Hoseok wakes briefly when he stumbles into their bedroom and explains what happened, and Yoongi melts a little too.

- The concern keeps him awake to the point where he decides to forgo sleep altogether. he closes the door to the living room quietly (he doesn't want to wake you by making too much noise in the kitchen) and decides that maybe you might want food when you wake up.

- He remembers how much you loved waffles the first night he met you at the dinner but he doesn't have an iron so he decides that maybe blueberry pancakes will suffice.

- Ever since you helped him bake a cake for Jimin’s birthday he’s wanted to get better at cooking, it seemed like it would impress you and Yoongi’s not below trying to do that. He tries to justify it by saying that he wants you to like him because of how much you meant you to Jimin.

- But if he’s being honest with himself he just wants to make you smile right now.

- You wake to the smell of pancakes cooking and fresh coffee and find Hoseok and Yoongi in the kitchen. “If I remember correctly you have the same love of breakfast foods that Jimin does y/n?” Yoongi says, not asking why you’re here or query’s at your puffy face or the dull red mark that still persists on your cheek, though the swelling’s gone down significantly since last night, the ice pack helped a lot.

- He just gives you a small gummy smile and pours you a cup of coffee. you sit at the kitchen island sleepily and watch Yoongi cook. Hoseok sits down next to you and asks you if you slept well. Jimin wakes up a few minutes later, and you watch as he sleepily stumbles into the kitchen; you smile at him and whisper a hushed good morning.

- Jimin has always been at his most snuggly in the morning hours- you recall fondly the times in university, on the Sunday or Saturday after a stressful exam when he would demand cuddles from you from dusk till dawn. You expect him to go to Yoongi now, to wrap him in a hug, but imagine your surprise when his arms come to wrap around your middle and while he rests his chin on your head.

- “I could sleep for ten more hours” he sighs into your skin, the way you’re so close like that makes you blush, Jimin kisses the top of your head sleepily. Yoongi’s eyes widen a little as the reality of it clicks into place, but he’s not upset, surprised even a little but never upset as he takes in the way that you lean into Jimin’s touch.

- You’re grateful- more grateful then you can express at Their support. Their concern shows you how you should be treated, and you can't help but compare it too how Jackson did through the entirety of your relationship when Hoseok fills up your cup of coffee when he goes to get Jimin’s, and Yoongi spreads butter on a stack pancakes before sliding them across the island for you.

- So when Jackson messages you several days after your big fight, apologizing and begging for you to take him back, you ignore him- finally deciding that you’re done for good.

- The next day Namjoon turns up after work with a small toolbox to change the locks on the front door of your apartment. At the same moment that Namjoon knocks on your door Hoseok and Yoongi meet up for lunch as usual.

- “How long do you think Jimin’s been in love with y/n?” Yoongi asks Hoseok. Hoseok almost chokes on his water, “I thought I was the only one who noticed- I’d say a while from how they...” he looks for the word “moved around each other.”

- The dance he watches you two play is a careful and calculated one, you both know the steps, know just how far to push your friendship before it would become something more, You know the edge so well that sometimes it’s like he’s watching Jimin dip you over it then snap you back and twirl away.

- “They have known each other since they where kids…”

- “What do you think we should do about it?” Hoseok asks Namjoon during one of the few nights that Jimin has to stay at his own house and in his own bed. He has his debut real performance early tomorrow and all of them, including you, are going to attend and go out for dinner after it.

- “I think we should wait and see if Jimin broaches the topic.” Namjoon says, and after a little bit of deliberation, they agree.

- The next few days are a tangle of meetings and assignments for you, court dates for Namjoon, classes, and meetings with investors for Hoseok, meetings with idols for Yoongi, and a literal hell week for Jimin.

- Things have been so crazy recently that he’s almost forgotten to be anxious over his first ever real performance.

- He’s practicing his showcase at every available moment, opening night is this Friday night, and they’ll keep doing one every Friday night until halfway through next month. 6 performances and Jimin is so nervous for the first one that he almost throws up each morning before he heads to the theater across town. hoseok had given him the next month off basically only his advanced classes scheduled.

- He calls you more than once between set changes and each time you, Hoseok, or Yoongi talks him through his anxiety. He knows he’s starting to sound like a broken record at this point but none of you ever make him feel guilty for taking up your time.

- You wear a flows black silk dress that goes to your mid-thigh too the showcase and meets the alphas in the lobby, Jimin’s been their practicing since mid-morning. but he does come out to say hello for a moment, staying just long enough for the four of you to wish him well.

- You try to hide your flowers behind Yoongi’s back but Jimin sees them anyway. Even Yoongi thinks its adorable when you pout and give them too him early. He thanks you for the white lily’s before he gets dragged backstage leaving them with you.

- You sit with the 3 alphas in the front row. Next to you Hoseok’s eyes can’t help but linger on the silk that hugs your waist, as you prattle to Namjoon on your other side. You excitedly tell him about the new project that your employers have given you (the job of translating a high profile t.v show)

- Namjoon loves the passion in your voice, and it even makes his heart warm a little bit when you twist your hands as you confide in him about the trouble of lexical gaps when translating from Korean to English.

- Namjoon realizes with a start that he could listen to you talk about anything for ages and still be entertained. When the lights darken and the performance starts, Namjoon realizes that he thinks the same thing of the way that Jimin dances.

- It is a breathtaking performance; Jimin embodies emotion with every place and trail of his hands. The grey silk shirt on par with the monochrome mood for the night that’s parted to show a generous portion of bare his sun-kissed chest.

- The show gets a standing ovation and afterward, after Jimin appears from backstage, his hair sweaty and his muscles tired but his soul lighter than air, The 4 of you head to a local salsa club for the evening. Jimin even kisses you on your cheek when you congratulate him. The white lilies that end up in Namjoon’s car.

- Namjoon pays for overnight parking so that they can take cabs back later.At the salsa club. hoseok rolls up the sleeves of his red button down as Jimin unbuttons his shirt a little more with how hot it is inside. Margaritas, mojitos, and Moscow mules litter the table along with finger food as the 5 of you progressively get drunker and rowdier (though you’re certainly not the craziest in the club).

- Jimin even manages to drag Yoongi onto the dance floor during a meak tango as the 3 of you stay behind and watch as Yoongi fumbles and blushes with every sway of Jimin’s hips. “Yoongi looks like he’s about to pop a boner.” you say, Hoseok snorts a mixed drink out of his nose, Namjoon doubles over with laughter.

- Namjoon pulls Yoongi down onto his lap when he comes back, blushing and grumbling but smiling all the while- finding small joy in being ridiculous. Jimin sits next to you too, a hand hovering on your lower back longer than it should. You let your fingers brush his taught thighs in his dress pants.

- For a moment the liquor making you lax, as you tease Yoongi lightly about his bad dancing, “oh like you could do any better?” he jibes back, a lopsided smirk tugging at his mouth, his gaze a little too hungry.

- You raise an eyebrow at him and smile seductively at Yoongi as Jimin says “oh no now you’ve done it.” The song changes to a light but sexy tango, you hold out your hand to Jimin and grin, “shall we show them?”

- You should be far too drunk to dance but Jimin’s been twirling you around your kitchen since before he had learned how to dance, you know his steps like you know the rhythm of your own heart, though it has been a while.

- Jimin can’t help but mirror your seductive smirk, sucking in his lower lip. His eyes smoldering as they flash up to the alphas in a challenge. all of them are staring open-mouthed at your table on the edge of the dance floor.

- “Want to give them a show?” Jimin asks his voice sultry and sweet like syrup, and it’s been so long since that low lustrous voice was directed at you that it makes you melt against him as he pulls you roughly closer.

- The careful steps start out quick and punchy- an Argentine tango. You laugh as Jimin whirls you around and into his arms, letting you make it as showy as you want with the careful arching of your spine and the flick of your feet as you keep yourself raised onto your tippy toes.

- You even attempt a few of the moves that have Jimin practically supporting all your weight. Under your fingers, Jimin feels solid and steady, like he’s always been, his smile makes his eyes disappear as he looks at you like you're the only one in the room.

- he spins youYou catch a glimpse of your stunned alpha companions. And laugh so hard you barely remember to keep your hand curling around the back of his neck.

- He pulls you in closer and makes it slightly slower more sensual. “They’re looking at you-you know.” He says lowly, his warm breath tickling your ears, he spins you again only this time he makes your back against him and you realize he’s right; you catch a glimpse of the alphas.

- Underneath your drunken stupor, you’re well aware that omega or not your actions are a little out of line. You’re dancing with Jimin like he’s not taken, like the two of you are the only ones in the room. They don’t look angry like you’d expect, quite the opposite, they look hungry and aching, their eyes devouring you.

- Yoongi’s breath looks like it’s coming out heavy, as he looks at you from under his lashes and shamelessly licks his lips. His eyes following the sway of both your hips. Namjoon’s hands are tight on his slacks like he’s gripping them to keep them from wandering elsewhere, his pupils dilates and sweat beading on his forehead. Hoseok looks like he’s been lit on fire, his piercing gaze fixing on you as he bites his lip and smirks.

- At that moment he doesn’t want to be you pressed up against Jimin- he wants to be Jimin; holding your firm body against his. He wants to be the one guiding your moves, his control at the mercy of the brush of your hips, to run his fingers along your ribs underneath your breasts and make your breath hitch.

- Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the fact that people who can dance are his biggest turn on but Hoseok wants you so bad. He can feel himself growing hard in his skinny jeans. Beside him, Yoongi's hands trail across his inner thigh.

- “Don’t jiz in your pants Hobi” he mocks, and if Hoseok could tare his eyes away from you he’d see that Yoongi and Namjoon look just as wrecked as he feels.

- still, in the throws of the spin, you slide a little down Jimin’s front, and that’s when you feel it. His length is hard against you, aching and pulsating under a few layers of fabric, the realization that he wants you, that he’s hard just for you send a shock to your core and makes Goosebumps rise on your arms.

- The dance shifts to something that’s nearly as sensual as a salsa.

- You let him start to twist his hips against yours as his hands come down to guide your hips into the rhythm as his hands find the back of your dress, gripping handfuls of your ass that make you press your front against his chest. he nudges against your core and you gasp, Jimin bites his lips, moaning at the noise and at the friction, the lust in his veins burning more than tequila.

- Then you pull away, spin, and return to his arms for the rhythm of the tango. Jimin dips you as the song ends, drawing you up towards him.

He’s breathless, your face too close to his, his body hard and unyielding and holds you so that you don’t fall back, His eyes are heavy-lidded as he leans forward just a little too much.

- Because he can't bare it anymore- having you close like this. it’s been so long, he just wants to taste the sweetness of your mouth again, he needs too, so in that moment he doesn’t think about the alpha’s watching the two of you or what you might think.

- Selfish selfish selfishly, Jimin presses against your mouth in a scalding kiss.

- It makes you stumble, makes you forget the steps of the dance, you groan. His tongue pressing against the seem of you for only a moment trying to pry more delicious noises from you. the kiss makes your lungs swell and your head go light and airy as you taste him again. Jimin attacks your mouth as it opens in a sigh.

- You’d forgotten what it felt like to kiss Jimin. and he’d obviously kisses more mouthes and learned since the last time he kissed you when you were children, you can almost taste the liquor from Namjoon’s tequila sunrise on Jimin’s lips. Your heart thuds rushing adrenaline through your veins as the memory of the alphas, Jimin’s boyfriends cut through the kiss.

- The thought that you might be ruining not only the best relationship in your own life but the best relationship in Jimin’s life makes you feel so wrong.

- It was wrong, everything was wrong,

- Your heart is thudding in your ears as you pull away from Jimin, wrenching yourself out of his almost bruising grip. “Y/n- I'm sorry,” he says as he realizes what he’s done.

- Speechless, you turn away shaking your head, tears threatening to fall. You glance back at the alphas who seem shocked out of their trance, none of their initial reactions are mad but you don’t wait for them to get angry before you apologize furiously and grab your things off the table, turning away and disappearing through the throng of people.

- “Hyung’s” Jimin chokes out, tears treacherously beading at the edges of his eyes. Namjoon is the first to react, standing up so quickly he knocks over his chair and running after you, trying to weave through the throng of people like you did. Damn him for not being more graceful.

- The club releases him into the open air the same second that your cab door slams, his expensive shoes slapping against the sidewalk as he comes to a halt.

- Namjoon’s heated breath comes out of him like a cloud as he watches your cab pull away from the curb; just a second too late.

→ NEXT PART → PT. 4 WIDE AWAKE →

♡ SERIES MASTERLIST ♡ MASTERLIST ♡

Bonous: Inspiration for your and Jimin’s first (and maybe last?) dance

932 notes · View notes

imyourliquor-youremypoison · 7 years ago

Text

Hjem(løs) - Ivar x OC - Modern AU

*Hjem(løs) = Home(less)

Synopsis: It's Juleaften and Silje walks home from a late Christmas shopping spree. On her way back to her apartment, she makes an unexpected encounter.

A/N: Call me crazy but I'm writing a one-shot based on THIS commercial. It is neither set in the Vikings universe, nor based on Alex Hogh Andersen's real life, so I had to make a decision as to the name - I chose Ivar though he has nothing to do with the character of the show. Use your imagination, folks, it's a modern AU. I know it's only September but when is it not the time for a cute lil Christmas one-shot?

Word count: 10.5k

MASTERLIST

>>> Part 2

Silje mindlessly strutted down the streets of Vesterbro1, feeling the snow on her face. Why did Juleaften2 feel so magical compared to every other day of the year? Was it due to the Christmas lights and decorations ornamenting every shop and house? Did it have something to do with the sound of bells and soft Christmas tunes you could hear every time you walked past a store? Or maybe the emptiness of the streets in such a busy evening during which everyone was with their loved ones around a table full of delicacies?

Either way, tonight a little something made the air vibrate and Silje could feel it prickle her skin. Is that what they call the Christmas spirit? A few merry drunk young people celebrated with their friends rather than their family and happily stumbled from on bar to another, but it was a rather quiet night altogether. The wind blew hard enough to freeze the tip of her nose and make it go numb, but Silje liked winter and the cold sure as hell wasn't going to stop her from getting her Christmas gift. She had been submerged with work, assignments and exams during the past weeks and didn't get a minute to do her shopping. This year she would spend Juleaften alone since her parents decided to spend it in the Australian summer. Never would she trade her Danish winter for two weeks in the burning sun of Melbourne, not for anything in the world.

On the other hand, she could understand that some people sought out warmer weather; everybody didn't love the cold like she did. Most people, in fact, hurried from one store to the next to enjoy the heating system and not stay out too long. Silje sighed in content when she stepped out of her favourite tea shop and felt the wind blow against her cheeks red from how hot it was inside. There, she was done. It was almost closing time anyway so there was no time left to go anywhere else.

Her apartment was located on the other side of Vestre Kirkegård3 – she loved to stroll through it; her light, easy steps leading her astray and never letting her take the shortest way home. Despite it being a cemetery, it was a beautiful and serene place. Nature was ever present with the tall trees, leafy bushes and the pond – though everything was now more white than green and the pond was frozen.

Her mind was taking her elsewhere, as the quiescence and gentle caress of the wind on her face made her close her eyes. There was nobody here, which made a great difference to her, Silje felt as though she appreciated things better when there was no one around to see her. However, no sooner had this thought crossed her mind that an uneasy feeling overwhelmed her. Like she wasn't alone after all, even if she couldn't see anyone.

It wasn't weird for someone to feel watched when their walked through rows and rows of tombstones, but Silje's guts told her that it wasn't the dead but a living breathing person that was here with her. She sucked in a breath and looked around her, frantically searching for the other presence.

She let out a sigh of relief when she finally found it and immediately felt guilty for it. A young man was laying on a bench mere meters away from her, and it didn't take more than a look for her to understand that he wasn't just resting his legs after a day of sightseeing in Copenhagen. The way he hugged his backpack to his chest like it was his lifeline, his slightly dirty clothes and his lips turning blue raised all sorts of red flags in Silje's head. His total stillness made him look like he was part of the scenery. He was homeless, she concluded.

Snowflakes kept falling lightly from the sky, slowly covering him in a thin layer of white, no doubt soaking through his jeans and coat – it did not look rainproof to her, and suddenly she wondered if he was still alive at all. Surely no one could endure a temperature like this with wet clothes and no thermal blanket or roof over their head. During the short moment Silje stood there and stared at the man, a number of contradictory thoughts battled in her mind until finally she decided to act. She cleared her throat but he didn't react so she stepped closer.

Now she could see how much he trembled under the cold – at least he was still alive. As she approached carefully – she was a young girl walking through an empty park at night, she could never be too cautious around a stranger that slept on a bench, now could she? - she looked at his face. He was definitely young, too young to be out there on his own.

“Hello?” She said in a voice made croaky from lack of use and the cold.

He didn't seem to hear her and the snow kept falling faster and the wind to blow harder. Silje took out her umbrella to shield her face from the weather's vagaries. Her feet brought her right next to the bench and she held the umbrella above the young man, momentarily preventing the snow from hitting his face. She studied him for a minute, detailing his features. He had a slight beard and his hair needed a wash though it was mostly hidden under his beanie. His eyelids fluttered or maybe he was just shaking from the cold – anyway it was time to speak up again.

“Hello? Excuse me?” She called, louder this time.

A yelp escaped her lips when his eyes shot open and he abruptly sat straight, hugging his backpack even closer to his chest as he threw frantic glances around him, until finally settling on the young girl with the umbrella. Silje had stumbled back a couple steps but managed not to slip in the snow; her heart hammered loud and fast in her chest. He had scared her.

“W-who are you? What do you want?” The young man asked, obviously wary of the girl.

“Calm down,” she said, raising her hands to show that she didn't want him any harm. “I just wanted to check if you're all right.”

“If I'm- all right?” He asked, his brows knitting together in utter confusion. Why would she want to know if he was all right? “I'm freezing if that's what you want to know,” he almost spat at her. “And now I have to try and fall asleep again in this weather.”

“No, that's not- that's not what I meant,” Silje tried to explain, her cheeks reddening a bit. “I mean, why are you out there on your own during Juleaften? Don't you have some place to go? A shelter?”

“They are full,” he grumbled as she laid back down, breaking their awkward eye contact. “Why do you care anyway?”

“It's Jul, nobody should be alone in the cold!”

“So if we were any other day of the year you would've walked right past me?” He asked with a scoff and turned on his side so he would face away from her. “I don't need your pity, go away.”

“Have you always been this rude and grumpy or is it the weather that makes you forget your manners?” Silje snapped, her foot now impatiently tapping on the ground, messing with the immaculate blanket of snow. “I'm being a good person here and offering you a place to stay for the night, so you might consider showing a little politeness.”

“A place to stay? What, you live in a mansion and once a year you let a homeless dude sleep in one of your fifty guest rooms to make you feel better?” The man snapped at her. Silje's jaw dropped in indignation and she huffed, not knowing what else to say. She might have come across as a little condescending.

“Listen, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I just want to be nice. I don't have much to offer but I can at least provide you with a place to sleep, dinner, and a warm shower,” she said after taking a few seconds to calm herself down. After his little attack she needed a moment to make sure her voice would stay quiet and even and that she wouldn't raise it in annoyance.

He looked over his shoulder to meet her eyes while she waited for an answer but he stayed quiet. Obviously he wasn't going to say anything, he was waiting for her to add something.

“C'mon, the weather is getting really bad and they predict it'll be the coldest night of the year. How long are you going to pretend that you haven't already decided to come with me?” Silje teased him, earning a little smirk in return. When he finally abandoned his horizontal position and sat on the bench, Silje held out her hand and said, “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Why don't we start again?”

It wasn't the most easy task to hold up her umbrella and her shopping bags with one hand while shaking the young man's freezing hand with the other. But at least he did shake it and not simply stare at it before dismissing her again.

“I'm Silje,” she introduced herself, shooting him a smile.

“Ivar,” the young man said in return, nodding his head to show that he agreed to wipe the board and start over.

“Nice to meet you, Ivar. Now come, follow me or we'll both turn into ice statues,” the girl told him, tightening her scarf around her neck and diving her nose in it.

Ivar grabbed his backpack and carried it on one shoulder, rubbing his hands together in hopes to warm them with some friction, but the lack of fingers to his gloves wasn't helping. Silje suddenly stopped in her tracks after a couple minutes of walking in silence.

“Wait a second- you're not a drug addict, are you?” She asked, showing signs of panic.

“No- what? No,” Ivar said in a laugh. “You're only thinking about this now? After inviting me?”

“Well we're not there yet, I've still got time to change my mind,” she pointed out. “But if you're clean then I guess you're still welcome.”

They resumed their walking in a relative awkwardness, neither of them knowing what to say to the other. It felt like a first date while also being worlds away from anything akin to a date.

“So, no mansion?” Ivar asked hesitantly after another five minutes of quietness.

“Sadly no,” Silje sighed. “I live in a small apartment on the last floor of a five story building that doesn't have an elevator,” she added. “All those stairs spare me a gym membership and the climb will warm us up.”

The left corner of his lips twitched slightly upwards but it was a rather weak smile altogether. She merely wanted to ease the atmosphere with a joke but it seemed that she was not very good at it.

“It's not so far anymore, just two streets from here,” she informed him. “I'm a bit rambly and awkward, sorry.”

She made a funny face and shrugged her shoulders to show him that it was unintentional and that she would shut up from now on.

“It's all good, talk all you want, I haven't had a conversation in so long,” Ivar told her, somewhat embarrassed to admit that if the blush on his face was any indication. “People aren't exactly too friendly with you once they realize you sleep on the street.”

“It's terrible. It's not like it's your fault! I mean- you're not homeless by choice, right? You're not a runaway who could go back to mommy's basement any time?”

She would never forget the look on his face when he answered her.

“Believe me, nobody would do this if they had another option, no matter how shitty.”

Silje nodded in understanding and before she could find another dumb thing to ask him, they reached her building. Ivar was forced to admit that she did not lie about the stairs – they were steep and high and when they finally arrived to her front door, they were a little breathless and their cheeks were red from the effort. As soon as the door was open, Silje let out a victorious sigh and let her bag fall to the floor. She shrugged off her coat, stuffed her gloves in its pockets and then proceeded to take off her beanie, scarf and shoes.

“Go ahead,” she told him, gesturing him to walk in and not stay before the door. “You can leave your bag over there and take off your jacket, it doesn't look like it's keeping you warm anyway. I'll go get you clean towels so you can take a shower.”

She threw instructions here and there while Ivar looked around her snug little apartment in envy and admiration. Only girls could achieve this kind of cosiness. She didn't exaggerate when she said it was small – there was enough space for one person, two at most, and no spot was left empty. A bunch of books, plants, and picture frames decorated every horizontal surface; plaids and blankets hung over the back of the couch; several empty mugs stood on the coffee table, probably from the last few rushed breakfasts before going to class. It felt like a home – Silje had made this place her own despite the narrowness of the flat itself. To the left was a kitchenette and the most impressive display of cereal boxes and tea that Ivar had ever seen.

He had almost forgotten that he wasn't alone until Silje started speaking again from another room.

“I think I still have a razor too so you can shave – I didn't throw it away after my last breakup,” she said happily. When she found the packed object she waved it in victory, a smile on her face. “Here, you should be good,” she declared, her hands firm on her hips as she looked around. “And you have to take a shower, there's a problem with the bath plug, the water won't stay in the tub.”

Ivar gulped down and awkwardly stood there, not knowing what to say. The whole situation was new and unexpected, he wouldn't have dreamt of ending up here today – or any other day for that matter. It felt surreal, too good to be true – yet there was no denying the realness of the girl standing in front of him, looking up in expectation.

“Thank you,” he managed to croak out, a bit more emotional than he would have liked. “You don't have to do all this, so... thank you.”

In the most natural way ever, Silje placed a hand on his shoulder as she walked out of the bathroom and squeezed lightly.

“Don't thank me before seeing if there's still some hot water left,” she giggled. “I'll dig out some clothes for you, you can leave yours by the door and I'll wash them for you, okay?”

“Thank you,” he repeated, as if struck dumb. He couldn't find anything else, anything better, to say.

“Take all the time you need, I'll be in the kitchen.”

He didn't know what to add so he simply stepped into the small bathroom and closed the door. When he looked up before closing it completely she was already gone. There were no words in his vocabulary to tell her how grateful he was to simply not be outside anymore. The sheer fact of being inside, shielded from the wind, the snow, and the curious glances was priceless.

The moment he closed the door he did not want to take a shower, he wanted to sit on the floor and cry – except that he was scared that she would hear him. Overwhelmed and thrown out of his comfort zone, Ivar was at loss. Eventually he collected himself and stripped down, letting his clothes made heavy by all the soaked up humidity hit the floor and piling them up by the door. He let the water run for a minute to let it warm up and this time the tears almost spilled over when he felt the hot water run between his fingers. He stepped into the shower and let them flow freely for a solid minute before washing himself. He didn't even know what product to use among the several bottles of fruity smelling bath gels and shampoos and hair masks.

He washed himself a couple times to make sure he got rid of all the filth accumulated over the past weeks. It felt so good – he didn't even mind smelling like a bouquet of flowers because for the first time in fucking forever he was clean and warm. The bite of the cold was wiped away by what felt like the best shower he ever had. It probably was.

When he pulled back the shower curtain his old clothes had disappeared, replaced by new, neatly folded ones that no doubt smelled as clean and fresh as he did now. Wrapping himself in a towel, Ivar stood in front of the mirror and wipe away the steam. He winced – he did not look as fresh as he thought. That shave wouldn't be a luxury. He grabbed the razor and shaving cream and started his work. Once his beard was taken care of he felt like a new person. He had taken long enough already; Ivar grabbed the clothes and quickly put them on – the underwear, the socks, the sweatpants and the hoodie with fleece lining. Their were a little bit too large for he had lost weight since he lost his home.

“Hey!” Silje called in appreciation when he walked out of the bathroom with a shy smile on his face. “You clean up good!” She told him and waved him, gesturing him to come closer. “Do they fit? I didn't know what size you needed but I figured too large was better than too small.”

“It's perfect,” he said with a grateful smile. “What are you cooking?”

“Mmh-” she hummed, licking her fingers before grabbing a kitchen towel and wiping her hands. “I didn't plan on having a guest tonight so I was going to eat leftovers,” she explained. “But I can't invite you over and serve you leftovers now, can I? No, my mum would probably sense it and come all the way back from Australia just to kick my ass.”

“Australia, huh?” Ivar's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He did not think she was Australian.

“Oh they don't live there,” she told him when she saw his expression. “Something about spending Christmas in the sun.” She rolled her eyes at that, obviously not understanding the logic behind this. “I mean, who wants to sit on a beach at Christmas? If there's no snow where's the fun?”

“Well, I don't know, I kind of get the appeal,” Ivar replied with a little smirk. He was only teasing her but the way her eyes widened made him realise that she had forgotten about his condition for a second.

“Oh- sorry, I didn't mean-”

“I know, I was joking,” he reassured her. “I still don't know what you're cooking though.”

“Right!” She said, pointing at him. “So I improvised a meal with what I had in the fridge, which is not much if I'm being honest. But I found some chicken breasts so we'll have meat, so that's good. And I'm making a corn and parmesan cheese risotto to accompany the chicken. I'm usually a pretty good cook and if I had more ingredients I could do better but my food stocks are a bit low lately. Going grocery shopping wasn't my top priority during the last week, I had exams,” Silje hastily explained while expertly chopping shallots with a very sharp looking knife.

“You're a bit on the chatty end of the talking spectrum, huh?” Ivar asked in a low chuckle, watching a faint blush creeping up her cheeks and the apologetic smile she shot him. “Don't stop, I like it when people don't tiptoe around me or feel shy.”

“Like they are walking on eggshells?” She asked, putting the shallots in the pan with some oil. “It's annoying I know. Must be worst for you I guess.”

“Exactly. It makes everything a hundred times more awkward than they need to be. It widens the gap between me and- well people who are not homeless,” he said the last part a bit distraughtly.

“If we're not walking on eggshells does this mean I can ask nosy questions?” Silje said with a little smirk, looking over her shoulder to see Ivar's reaction.

A breathy laugh fell from his lips as he sat on the stool on the other side of the counter that separated the kitchen from the living space.

“Do your worst!” Ivar told her, ready to answer anything.

“Let's make this fair to you, you can ask me anything in return,” Silje proposed him as she put another set of ingredients in a pan along with a glass of water before putting the lid on. “So tell me, how long have you been sleeping in a cemetery? Which, by the way, is a terrible place to sleep on a bench; I thought you were dead at first.”

“Hey, don't bury me so quickly!” The young man laughed. “I've been in Vestre Kirkegård for a week now, before that I slept in various other parks all over Copenhagen. But I officially became homeless in October if that's what you're asking. Before you told me that we were Juleaften I had no idea what day it was.”

“And you were ready to face your first Danish winter out there on a bench without gloves or a right coat?” She wondered out loud, a bit shocked.

It was so recent, he must still be in transition – missing his former life, getting used to the new one.

“I told you, no pitying me.”

“I'm not. I'm saying it's reckless, you wouldn't have made it. Actually you might not even have made it through tonight.” The careless way she spoke was refreshing but still surprising. “Face the facts, I just saved your ass.”

Ivar frowned, not knowing on what foot to dance after hearing her say that, but the smirk that slowly stretched her lips told him she was only pulling his leg.

“God, don't look so serious I'm joking!” Silje laughed and opened the fridge. “Want a beer? A glass of wine? Orange juice?”

“Actually-” Ivar trailed off, his eyes scanning the row of tea bags on top of the kitchen shelf. Silje followed his gaze and smiled.

“Or maybe a cup of tea?” She asked, already reaching for a mug – Ivar thought it was a miracle she still had some in her cupboard since so many of them decorated her flat. He nodded. “Sugar? Milk? Lemon?” She asked as she grabbed a selection of teas to let Ivar choose from.

He picked the caramel black tea and Silje stored away the others.

“Honey,” he said. She hadn't offered him honey - but he knew that - and they both smiled at each other. “Other questions?”

“Yes, what happened? You don't have to answer if I'm overstepping some boundary,”Silje quickly added when his face fell.

“I would have been surprised if you hadn't asked that,” he groaned. The girl grabbed the electric kettle and poured the boiling water in Ivar's mug, then she placed the half empty pot of honey on the counter. “Remember-”

“No pitying you,” she cut him off. “I know.”

“Ready for the pathetic telling of my life story?” He asked, leaning on the counter with his hands around the mug.

Silje nodded without hesitation but she had to turn around again to watch the food.

“Okay then- I eh, I was in debt, that's the short version. My parents died two years ago. We've never been well-off, but it's only when I inherited our apartment and the car – which was all we had really – along with their debts that I found out just how deep in shit we were,” he sighed, still feeling the weight of his parents' mistakes on his shoulders. “I tried to pay off the debts but I couldn't balance out a decent paying job with my studies. They seized the car and the apartment after months of eviction warnings, thus wiping away my debts but making me homeless. ”

“Our parents' problems should never affect us like that,” Silje sighed. “You don't have any other family alive?” She asked, a little more shy this time.

“I have a grandmother but she's institutionalized because she has alzheimer. And my only other relative is a long lost aunt that I met once when I was five.”

“You've got to be the unluckiest person I ever met.” Silje winced and stirred the content of the pan. “No offence but it really makes me re-evaluate my own condition of broke student.”

“At least one of us finds solace in my situation,” Ivar snickered bitterly. “It's just so fucking unfair!”

“Of course it isn't. I'm sure you deserve a thousand times better. My dad always tells me that life's only tough with the people who can handle it.”

“So what? You're going feed me some bullshit like 'you're strong, you can overcome this'? Maybe I don't want to, maybe I'm tired of taking life's beatings!” Ivar began to raise his voice in anger but he settled down when he saw Silje's gaze on him soften. She set the stove on low heat and let the food cook slowly.

“I- euhm,” Silje began, turning around to face Ivar and leaning on the counter to be at eye-level. “I was not going to say that. I was going to change the subject because I honestly don't know what else to say. I can't pretend to know more about life than you- how old are you? Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three, okay. I'm one year younger than you and I never went through a rough patch nearly as bad as you, I have no life experience to share or advice to give you. But if you want to vent, go ahead. If you want to curse life, I'm listening.”

But Ivar only leaned away from her and shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

“You don't understand.”

“I know. I'm sorry,” Silje apologized. “I guess it's not something you can explain either.”

“No, I don't think I can,” he said. “Why don't we talk about something else? Where do these clothes come from? Do you have a box full of your exes' clothes in your room?” Ivar asked, completely dismissing her worries and trading his gloomy expression for a more joyful one.

“No!” Silje smiled and rolled her eyes. “I volunteer at the local charity organization and I'm in charge of collecting clothes. Some of the stuff my friends donated is still in my room, I haven't had the time to drop them off yet.”

“What do you say, I've been taken in by an actual do-gooder,” Ivar huffed jokingly.

“If you say it like that it sounds lame of course,” Silje pouted and went back to her pans. She brought the wooden spoon to her lips to taste it. “Five more minutes and it's ready.”

“How would you say it? You volunteer at charities and take in hobos like some people do with stray cats,” Ivar laughed, pointing at himself when he said 'stray cat'.

It was by far the best description of his condition that he could come up with. As for the smiling girl standing in front of him with a kitchen towel hanging over her shoulder, the only word that came to mind when he looked at her was angel. He was so cold only a couple hours ago, he truly did think he was going to die on that bench tonight. Therefore when he saw a beautiful girl leaning over his frozen figure, her long blond hair framing her face like a halo, the first thing that popped in his head was “That's it. I'm dead and this is an angel.”

“Yeah, well, I'm not a Saint,” she snickered in self-derision. “It's fair to say that I do this mostly to feel good about myself. I mean, the charity work, not you.” A blush coloured her cheeks a bright shade of red. “Seriously, don't take it wrong. You're not a charity case to me, okay?”

“What am I?”

“You were a stranger in bad shape, and now you're a new friend,” she stated plainly. “Anything else?”

Ivar remain quiet as she sat there, stunned into silence and staring wide eyed at his saviour. She didn't sound like the kind of person who would welcome someone into her home out of pity or charity anyway, but he was still confused about her reasons. Now he probably looked ridiculous sitting there with his cup of tea..

“Let me set the table, yeah? I feel useless sitting there,” Ivar told her when she turned off the stove.

“Look around you genius,” Silje chuckled. “There's no table to set, I have no silverware either, in fact, my plates don't even match because I'm a huge fan of flea markets and I don't want to encourage capitalism.”

“I expected more when you offered me dinner,” Ivar teased her. “What can I do then?”

“Sorry to disappoint Your Highness,” Silje laughed. “Grab the cutlery and a couple glasses, will you? I'll bring the plates and the wine.”

“No wine for me, thanks,” Ivar declined politely.

Silje almost made a joke about his sudden politeness compared to the way he greeted her when she woke him up from his bench nap. The severe expression on his face dissuaded her though – she figured he must avoid alcohol to prevent any kind of addiction. A great many homeless people found solace at the bottom of a whisky bottle.

She wanted to laugh really – not an amused laugh, a bitter one – because in the last hour and a half Ivar had made a better impression on her than any guy she met in a bar ever did, even though he started off with the serious disadvantage of living in the street. Which wasn't exactly what a girl looked for in a significant other. When she walked to her couch with a plate in each hand, Silje took the opportunity to look at Ivar - really look at him – and all of a sudden she wondered how the hell she was supposed to simply let him go back to his life, knowing how much he dreaded it.

“Well I can't drink alone, that's sad,” she told him as she put the plates on the coffee table. “Bon appétit,” she said in a somewhat rudimentary French.

The first few minutes they ate in silence – to be honest Ivar had to put a conscious effort into not devouring the entire plate, but Silje saw how hungry he was and served him some more before he even asked – which he probably wouldn't have done because he already felt indebted to her for letting him come here.

“I don't need to ask if it's good I guess,” she chuckled after seeing Ivar eat the second plate. “I'd give you a refill but there's no more, I'm sorry I never thought you'd be this hungry,” Silje apologized profusely and then proceeded to list every kind of dessert she could offer him but Ivar declined.

“It's okay, it was perfect,” he assured her a hundred times before she stopped asking him if he was absolutely sure he didn't want cookie dough ice cream.

“You said you were studying before losing your home, what did you study?” Silje changed the subject. “How far in your studies were you?”

“I was half-way through my master's degree in History and Nordic Languages-” he scoffed and rubbed his face with his opened hands. “My dad always told me I should have chosen a subject with more job opportunities but I was too stubborn to listen to him back then. When I have my mind set on something it's difficult to make me stray from it,” he admitted. “I wish I'd listened now, but it's a little late for regrets, huh?”

“If you had abandoned your passion in favour of something more practical you would've regretted it too,” Silje pointed out. “You just said that you have a double degree, that hardly qualifies as wasted studies.”

“What does someone do with a simple degree nowadays though?” Ivar asked rhetorically. “I got nothing from it. And I never finished my thesis, so...” He raised his hands in defeat and smiled with no trace of humour. “But no more talking about my miserable life. What are you studying?”

“Cognition and Communication,” she said. “ Still working a bit on the communication part. I just finished my degree, and now I'm in the process of getting my master's degree too. Nothing fascinating about it, I chose my subject out of curiosity and lack of other interest.”

“Lack of other interest?” Ivar repeated with a look of disbelief painted on his face. “There are art, history, and culinary books scattered everywhere here, and you say you have no personal interest?”

“These are hobbies and I have lots of them,” Silje replied in a defensive tone. “Why do adults expect us to choose what we want to do with our life so early? I never understood that.”

“We are adults,” the young man pointed out.

“On the paper yes,” Silje laughed. “But I found out that I'm not very good at being one.”

“Too bad we don't have a choice.”

Ivar's resigned statement was followed was silence until he stood up and grabbed the plates from under Silje's puzzled eyes.

“What a-”

“I'm washing the dishes, it's the least I can do,” he said, his declaration leaving no room for protest.

The girl tried to give him a hand but Ivar blocked the access to the small kitchen with his body, constantly moving around so Silje wouldn't get to the sink. They laughed together and not even ten minutes later everything was immaculate.

“It's late already,” Silje said and nodded towards the digital clock of the microwave. It would be midnight in less than twenty minutes. “I wouldn't mind spending the whole night talking with you but you must want to sleep now that you have a warm place to rest. We can discuss again in the morning. Over pancakes, if you want.”

Before Ivar had a chance to protest and argue that she had already done enough and there was no need to make him pancakes, that she was spoiling him, Silje led him to her room and shoved a pillow and blankets in his arms.

“I don't have another duvet but there should be enough blankets lying around the flat to keep you warm,” she told him, still not letting him say a thing. “You're very tall, I hope you fit in the couch but if not you just tell me and we'll figure something out. If you're up before me you can watch TV or eat something, make yourself a cup of coffee, you just- you make yourself home. For the next few hours at least me casa es tu casa.”

While Silje rambled on and on, Ivar dumped the pillow and blankets on his bed of the night, then placed a hand on her shoulder. It effectively startled her into silence and she smiled awkwardly.

“I talk too much,” she muttered in embarrassment. “It's not so often that I have company I never know when I go too far. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight. I definitely did.” Suddenly, her phone chimed in her pocket, signalling them it was now midnight, and thus Christmas day. “And merry Christmas to you, Ivar.”

Silje had not thought this through. She didn't expect Ivar to be up before noon on a day he could sleep as long as he wished without fearing for his health or to be stolen from during his sleep. Except that she woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and pancakes burning.

“Ivar-” she said his name in bedazzlement, her eyes asking the question her lips couldn't.

“Yeah, I know I made a mess,” he laughed, gesturing to the war zone that was her kitchenette. “But I was hungry and you showed no sign of being awake, so...”

“And you made pancakes,” she said in admiration of the pile of small crepes on the plate next to him. “I thought you'd be the one sleeping in, otherwise I would have gotten up earlier.”

“Certainly not, woman!” He gently scolded her, waving the spatula around. “You literally picked me out of the gutter, if you do one more thing for me I will be indebted to you for life. I cannot have that.”

He handed her a cup of coffee that she immediately cradled in her hands and brought up to her chest.

“I kind of like the idea,” she admitted, a teasing smile already making its way on her face.

“Well, I do not, you already now I have a past with unpaid debts,” he reminded her.

“You have paid them now,” Silje told him. “Far too high a price. I wouldn't kick you out because you owe me a dinner and a night on a couch, I would... ask you to do the dishes, or help me change my bed linens.”

“Or have me make pancakes for breakfast?” Ivar suggested.

“I think I'm starting to pick up on your logic,” Silje giggled against her cup of coffee, revelling in the familiar smell. “Can you hand me the sugar?” She gestured to a red ceramic pot with sugar written on it in cursive.

When it sat on the counter before her, Silje reached out for a spoon and them sprinkled some powdered sugar on her coffee, watching it sink in the dark beverage. She offered her help but Ivar shooed her out of her own kitchen and demanded she sat on the couch and just waited for the food to come to her.

She laughed but did not complain, for one because she wasn't fully awake yet and also because it was very, very pleasant to have someone prepare breakfast for her – even more so when it was an eye-candy like Ivar. There sure were many things that went wrong in his life but his looks were not one of them – those definitely worked in his favour. She hadn't noticed before he took a shower and shaved but he was very handsome. He had a little something, a mischievous glimmer in his blue eyes that made her melt. Not that she would admit it.

“Here you go,” he said proudly, setting the plate of pancakes on the coffee table. It was followed by jam, chunks of fruit, and whipped cream that she didn't know she had in her fridge. Her mouth watered at the sight of this royalty breakfast. “I wish I could do more than just monopolize your kitchen and use all your ingredients to say thank you but I don't know how.”

Something in his voice made it sound like an apology and Silje did not like that. Her hand flew out before she could think about it and rested on his arm. Thank Gods she still had enough sense to stay still and not get further down this slippery road. She had to remind herself that he had other, more urgent things on his mind than girls, and that he felt like he owed her so if she decided to be bold and hit on him he might feel obliged to respond to her advances – which was the last thing she wanted. Had she not been sitting right in front of him, Silje would have smacked herself for her inappropriate thoughts. She removed her hand when Ivar's eyes fell on it.

“I invited you over without expecting any kind of retribution Ivar, I don't want anything in return,” she finally said, her mouth feeling dry. “The pancakes are nice though, thank you. I could definitely get used to this,” Silje added quickly, to finish on a happy note.

“Yeah...” Ivar whispered to himself though she heard it. “Me too.”

“To what?” Silje inquired, putting a generous serving of jam on her pancake before taking a bite.

“Mmh?” He hummed, sounding distracted.

“What could you get used to?” She precised, tilting her head slightly towards him.

Her hair was up in a bun that moved along with her every movement and Ivar found it quite endearing. Yesterday's make-up and well put together outfit had disappeared and Silje was only wearing lousy sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt with a reindeer pattern.

“This,” he simply answered with a shrug. He knew that it would automatically trigger the question of 'this what?' and she would ask it with her mouth full of pancakes, not even looking up from her plate as she devoured her breakfast. But he spared her the trouble. “Living like this. It's like I haven't forgotten a thing, like I just woke up from a really long and unpleasant dream.”

“What do you mean?” Silje asked lowly, slightly putting away her plate.

“Being homeless is quite literally a nightmare but it rarely ever feels like one. Because when you're out there by yourself, you know your mind can't come up with the harsh bite of the cold on your skin, or the soreness in every last one of your limbs, or even the loneliness.”

Silje put the plate back on the table in a loud clatter and shifted closer to Ivar. This time when her hand touched his arm it was deliberate.

“You'll make me cry,” she said in mock-compassion, giving him an unimpressed face. “Clearly you've rehearsed this in your head,” Silje continued. “Which is fine - we all do this. But at least let me finish my coffee before trying to elicit any kind of human reaction from me. Before my coffee I have only two emotions: exhaustion and sarcasm.”

“Sarcasm is not an emotion,” Ivar laughed out loud when she finished talking. He threw his head against the back of the couch and rubbed his face with both hands, all the while laughing wholeheartedly.

“Then why am I feeling it?” Silje asked rhetorically. This was flawless logic, he had to give her that.

“You're quite a number in the morning,” Ivar sighed when he fit of laughter calmed down. “But what I said is still true.”

“I know,” Silje replied in a serious voice. “I know it is, that's why I tried to make you laugh.”

He wanted to say something along the lines of “Congratulations, you succeeded.” but nothing came out. It sounded sad, even in his head. Everything begun to sound sad a while ago and now Ivar had no idea how to get out of this spiral. He missed laughing.

“What are you going to do after this?” Silje asked in a whisper. When Ivar's eyes refocused he found her staring at her cup of coffee and biting her lip. He knew what she meant by that.

“I don't know, I'll improvise like always. Call dibs on a bench and stay there until I get hungry.” Ivar shrugged and ate a pancake almost entirely in a single bite. Anger boiled right beneath the surface of Ivar's frustration, but Silje did not dig further.

There was something else she had not anticipated when she invited Ivar to her place at Christmas – a random visit from her brother who was not supposed to be in town. At half past one it happened. The doorbell rang, startling both Ivar and Silje who were now sitting on the carpet, playing a board game and drinking tea – a common passion apparently. At first he looked at her as if to ask 'should I hide under the bed?' without daring to ask aloud in case the person standing behind the door heard him.

“Stay here,” Silje told him as she made her way to the door and peeped through the judas.

She made a surprised face but opened the door. Though it was only half open the person on the other side must have considered it to be an invitation to come in because a second later there was a tall bearded man standing in the room.

“Well please come in,” Silje said sarcastically as she closed the door again. “And hello, I guess.”

“Hei little sister,” the tall man said as she engulfed Silje in a tight bear hug. “Merry Christmas!”

“What- why are you here? I thought you were spending the holidays with Margrethe in Sweden?” Silje questioned him when he finally let her go.

Ivar realized that he had lifted her off the floor and that made him swallow hard. The newcomer still hadn't noticed his presence and he might just crawl into the next room. Except that it would be ten times more suspicious for him to be found in Silje's bedroom rather than her living room.

“Yes, we were delayed because of her work,” he informed her. “I wanted to come by and see you before I leave. Do you need anything? Something on the top shelf you can't reach? A spider to kill?” He mocked her with a fond smile on his face. He reached out to mess with Silje's hair.

“Would you stop treating me like a child,” she scolded him in that maternal voice that all girls had even those younger than you. “I have a guest, you can patronize me another time.”

It was then that her brother turned around and that the two boys locked eyes. Silje would have sworn the world went silence and the air sizzled with tension when her brother's eyes landed on this strange boy sitting on her floor. He never was good with boys getting near her.

“Ubbe, this is my friend Ivar. Ivar, this is my brother Ubbe,” she introduced them. “See? That's why people call before dropping by.”

Ubbe ignored her and Ivar stood up to shake his hand. His grip was slightly tighter than necessary and his stare a little intense but Ivar held it up. There he was, in a pretty girl's apartment, shaking hands with her brother mere hours after meeting her – it's like living life in fast forward. A life that wasn't even his own. He cursed the Gods for playing this cruel trick on him, for giving him a taste of what his life could be, without ever indulging him.

“Pleasure,” Ivar said a bit stiffly.

“Likewise,” Ubbe replied, though it was easy to tell he didn't mean it.

It was the coldest, least amicable meeting Ivar recalled having. Meanwhile Silje stood there, wondering what kind of strange male strength display she was currently witnessing, and also pondering whether or not she should make them take a step back and let go of each other before fingers got crushed.

“Where's Margrethe?” She asked to break the tension. Ubbe looked away from Ivar.

“Doing some grocery shopping at the supermarket down at the corner,” he said. “For the trip.”

Margrethe's family lived in Stockholm so they had quite a long ride to get there.

“I should probably go since you found someone else to help you reach your top shelf,” Ubbe snickered. Ivar visibly tensed but Silje knew Ubbe said it without malice. He was a tender at heart despite the appearances and the least hostile person she knew. He was merely doing his big brother job by being threatening towards the boys in her life. She elbowed him nonetheless.

“Be nice! Ivar is keeping me company since everybody decided to celebrate without me this year,” she teased her brother who shot an awkward but apologetic wince at Ivar.

“Well it's your fault for going to university, otherwise you could be in Australia with mum and dad.”

“That is the last thing I want!” She protested. “No snow? No tree? What is left of Christmas if you take that away?”

“You really are a woman – never satisfied,” he joked and earned a smack behind the head, no matter how tall he was. “Ouch!”

“Get out of here and back to your girlfriend's skirts,” she scoffed. “Ivar and I have a game to finish and you are spoiling the mood with your dumb jokes. The Gods know how Margrethe deals with you all the time”

“I should drop by unannounced more often if that's the only way I'm gonna meet your boyfriends,” Ubbe kept teasing her, making her cringe and wish she was an only child.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, goodbye and merry Christmas Ubbe,” Silje said, holding the front door open. “Tell Margrethe and the others I said hi and glædelig Jul, will you? You still skype with them tonight, right?” He nodded. “Have a safe trip.”

It took a little more time and sighs and pushing him out, but Ubbe eventually crossed the door and stepped out leaving his sister be – at last.

“So sorry about that, he's- well, he's a big brother,” Silje laughed nervously as she sat back down next to the board game, waiting for Ivar to join her. “He's not the worst though.”

“Not the worst?” Ivar was confused. He sat down and stared at her.

“Yeah, he's actually sweet once you know him,” she said.

“Okay but, you said 'not the worst'. Not the worst of what?” He specified his question. “Of brothers?”

“No, of my brothers.”

“How many do you have exactly?”

“Four,” Silje said as she moved her pawn.

“Four?” He coughed out, nearly choking on the word.

It was stupid but it actually intimidated him for some reason Even though he knew his encounter with Ubbe was accidental and he would never get to meet any of the others, there was something inherently scary about a girl having four brothers. One was usually enough of a pain in the ass.

“And they are all older than you?” He asked.

“Yes,” she answered with a sly little smile – he must not be the first one to react like that. “They never ate anyone to my knowledge though. Ubbe won't come back with the rest of the gang and put your head on a stick because you play monopoly with me.”

“Oh, very reassuring, thanks. It'll help me sleep tonight,” he said sarcastically. “I don't have much but what I do have is my head on my shoulders – it'd be nice to keep it that way.”

“C'mon!” Silje rolled her eyes. He was being dramatic. “Ubbe was nice, you should be glad it was him and not Bjorn or Sigurd. Sigurd doesn't like people in general, and Bjorn, ha! He's something else! He's fifteen years older than me - my dad's son from his first marriage. He's a sergeant in the army and about twice as bulky as Ubbe. You don't want to meet him by surprise.”

“And the fourth one?” Ivar asked, eager to speak about something else than Silje's scary oldest brother.

“Hvitserk is only two years older than me. He's cool, not really the protective type. You'd have to try very hard not to get along with him.” A happy little laugh fell from her lips as she mentioned the youngest of her brothers with fondness in her voice. “Don't worry, there's no risk of them bursting through the door.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. They have all been deployed and are not coming back before another two months. Ubbe is the only one who's not in the military anymore – bad injury forced him to quit.”

“You have the scariest siblings in the world. You might want to consider this piece of advice: don't introduce them to a boy you like. How do you even get a boyfriend with four older brothers looming protectively over you?”

“I keep him a secret,” she said with a shrug. “It's the coward's solution, I'll admit that, but I haven't met anyone worth the trouble of convincing them all one by one not to chew him up. My most recent boyfriend actually left me because he got tired of me keeping him away from my family.” She said in with a laugh that sounded surprisingly genuine.

Silje didn't seem to realize what impact her words had on Ivar who just learnt that he already met more of her family than her last boyfriend, even though he had known her for a whole twenty hours at most. It was his turn to play but his mind wasn't in the game anymore.

“Oh. I said something I shouldn't have, didn't I? I can see it on your face that you want to run away now,” she tried to laugh it off but she winced a little bit.

“Not a chance,” Ivar replied severely. “I'm not the running away type. Besides, I'm not leaving this place until I beat you at this game.”

She was probably going to beat him since it was his first time playing, as crazy as it sounds. But he was a quick learner and he'll beat her next time, if there ever was a next time.

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves here.” Silje shot him an unimpressed look and gestured him to simmer down. “You're up against the Monopoly Queen.”

“I'm not talking to you anymore,” Silje grumbled. Her defeat left a bitter taste in her mouth, especially since Ivar couldn't stop smiling smugly since the end of the game.

“Don't be too harsh on yourself, strategy is my thing 'is all,” he laughed, the grin on his face widening when she looked over her shoulder only to glare daggers at him. “That's the subject of my thesis that I never finished – the vikings' military strategies.”

Silje rolled her eyes but turned around.

“It was a board game, not a battle,” she told him a bit condescendingly. “But I suppose I get your point. My pride is wounded.” Ivar shrugged.

“So? It's the same, there's a winner and a loser.”

“Are you always that competitive? Is that why you decided to get a double degree? Are you driven by a compulsive need to overdo everything?”

Curiosity shone through the cracks of Silje's frustration. He shrugged again. She expected an answer but he remained quiet.

“There are worse flaws I guess,” she finally said. “Come now,” Silje told him and put her hands on her knees before standing up with a grunt. “I am famished! Let's see what we can dig out of my kitchen.”

Except that it was getting late already, the sun was starting to make its way down, slowly but undeniably approaching from the line of horizon. Silje dreaded this moment, she had from the moment Ivar stepped into her apartment. If only there was something she could do to help him, if only she wasn't this broke student with no real means of helping someone in need. She would do anything to delay his departure for one more day – in hopes that she would win the lottery or find a miraculous solution to Ivar's problems within the next twenty-four hours.

“Silje,” he sighed from behind her.

She pretended she did not hear him though she did all too clearly. Even his posture was evident in her mind. They had known each other for a short time but she knew he was standing by the wall, slightly leaning against it with his hands in his pockets. It was such a typical boyish posture. He probably looked good too.

“It's half past six. I should go now or I won't have enough time to find a place to sleep before dark,” he explained. “Good sleeping spots are a priced possession in winter.”

“I know!” She snapped, jerkily opening a drawer. “I'll be quick. I can't let you go on an empty stomach. If you want to take another shower feel free to.”

Ivar nodded in gratitude and walked away, heading for the bathroom. He hadn't planned on abusing from her hospitality, he had wasted enough of her food, hot water and time. Which led him to wonder why one earth it felt like she was the one who dreaded the moment he would walk out of this cocoon of warmth. He did not need to shower but still turned on the water; his gut told him that Silje needed a minute or two alone. The way she had snapped at him when he reminded her of his imminent departure made him realize that she had invested herself too much in this.

When she offered him a bed and food he didn't think she would spend every waking minute talking with enthusiasm and laughing with him – he supposed neither did she. But now they were friends and it was parting time. Regardless how cosy he was here, he could not stay any longer. He was messing with the natural order of things; he had nothing to offer her, his friendship was worth nothing. He couldn't even guarantee her that they would see each other again.

It was best if they didn't anyway. A necessary evil for her to forget about him and move on – she had other things to think about than unfortunate underdogs like himself. He was not her problem, he was his own damn problem and Ivar refused to be her charity case.

This shower took significantly less time than the first one since there was no dirty to wash off. When he pushed the shower curtain aside, he found that his former clothes were waiting for him on the floor. They smelled clean and were still warm, as if freshly out of the tumble drier. He noticed that she replaced his underwear, worn out socks and stained sweater though.

“Ivar?” He heard his name being called from behind the closed door. It was followed by a timid knock. “We can eat whenever you're ready.”

He had to admit that putting on his old jeans knotted his stomach. He was about to answer but a lump in his throat prevented him from doing so, so he flung the door open, startling Silje. Her hand flew to her heart and she laughed nervously.

“Wow you scared me,” she said. “Looking good Ivar,” she added without any trace of humour.

They did not waste any time to eat and if somebody asked Silje she'd swear that dinner was over in the blink of an eye – she had not recollection of what was said, or if anything was said at all during the meal. She was not ready when Ivar set aside his plate and stood up. Words were needless , his expression said it all – it was time to go. He grabbed his jackets and shoes and put them on.

“I prepared a couple things for you,” Silje said and pulled out a plastic bag. “There's a Thermos filled with tea – I put some honey in it – and a pack of cookies, the rest of the pancakes wrapped in aluminium, a couple sandwiches, a bottle of water-” she kept enumerating all the stuff she had put in the bag for him but he stopped listening. His throat tightened to the point where he wasn't sure he could speak even if he found something adequate to say. “And I found some gloves that you can take too, and a scarf because I saw yours was ripped. I put them in your bag. I saw your laptop by the way, now I know why you clutched at your backpack like it was your lifeline,” she tried to laugh but she didn't fool anyone not even herself.

He was supposed to speak up now but Ivar still hadn't thought of anything worth saying. He wanted to say thank you but it felt redundant at this point. Silje looked ready to disappear in a mouse hole, she anxiously waited for an answer that didn't come.

“I don't know what else to say,” she finally told him just to cut short this unbearable silence. They stood there, facing each other without saying anything, like two idiots. “I wish I could do more.”

“I don't think you realise how much you've already done,” Ivar somehow managed to say without sounding too pathetic. His voice was brittle. Did she notice? If so she didn't show any sign of it. “And yeah, this laptop is my lifeline, sort of. It has all my research for my thesis on it.”

Silje nodded in understanding and handed over the bag of supplies.

“I'm terrible at goodbyes,” she warned him. A crooked smile fought its way on her sad face and Silje brushed her hair out of her face – it was more of a nervous gesture. “I hope things will get better for you and that you'll get to finish your master's degree. I had a great time with you, Ivar. I'm glad we met.”

“Shut up,” he finally told her. “Not another word,” he added when he saw the surprise on her face and how she opened her mouth to say something.

This time she seemed to take notice of his own sadness to part. With her arms crossed over her chest, Silje shot him one last of her bright and warm smiles when she understood. Without any warning she threw herself to him for a farewell hug. It was the last thing he expected to happen and also the one thing that made him lose his composure as soon as she closed the door behind him. Ivar angrily rubbed away the tears before he exited the building, knowing Silje was at her window, watching him and waiting for him to wave.

He didn't.

If you like my work please consider buying me a coffee <3

1 Neighborhood in Copenhagen

2 Christmas Eve in Danish

3 Largest cemetery in Denmark. Beautifully landscaped, it also serves as an important open space, popular for people to take a stroll, and look at the old graves and monuments.

A/N: Don’t forget that likes ar enice but reblogs are better. It took me days to put this story together while it only takes a handful of minutes to consume it. It would mean the world if you helped me share my hard work! <3

TAGLIST: @golden-guide @bathshebaa (t’as pas le choix, tu dois lire haha) @moonllily (je te tague à tout hasard, comme tu le follows sur insta ;) )

196 notes · View notes