#doodled this in a haze wait FUCK ITS 1 AM AGAIN

[butterfilledpockets]

When ronin meets the other turtles in the comic he will have a desire to protect all of them

obvisouly not going to give away how the first interaction goes-

but going by the "he asked for no pickles" dynamic for future reference,

ronin muttered that he didn't want pickles and the other three fought to get to the front desk and say the line-

oh wait look its visualised

POV you an employee at the Keya Mcdonalds

they all wanna be the one in the meme

[impalafortrenchcoats]

Coming Apart On Top of You : Ch 1

Author: impalafortrenchcoats

Chapter: 1/?

Summary: 

Seokjin is trying to piece together a life while tearing down his past one brick at a time. Namjoon is fighting to build his future while struggling to handle the present. 

It wasn't a very convenient time to fall in love. 

And when the skeletons in the closet are much more literal than most, the challenges of their relationship could prove deadly.

Ships: Namjin, Jikook/Kookmin, Sope/Yoonseok

Categories: Hitmen + Assassins AU, Coffee Shop AU, Non-Linear Storytelling

Chapter Wordcount: 3223

AO3 Link: here

It was late morning in the cafe when the man walked in. The morning swarm had finally cleared, and it was now the quiet before the sad, desperate souls of the afternoon crowd came stumbling in for their pick-me-ups. This was especially true for the pencil-pushers of the surrounding businesses, who came and left in a haze of overworked dead eyes. It really made Hoseok question whether or not to go into business like everyone else. Well, that was a problem for the future.

In the meantime, he was busy killing time, slowly refilling the straw stand one straw at a time, all the while contemplating the next part of his scheme to woo his ever aloof coworker, Yoongi. The first part had gone relatively well. After three months of working together, Yoongi finally knew his name and was no longer fucking it up.

Hoseok indulged in a giant mocha macchiato with coconut milk that day to celebrate.

Now, step two, small talk.

Okay, maybe that was too much. Best not get too greedy. One should always set realistic goals for oneself. Maybe just saying ‘hi’. That sounded good.

As he set about testing out different tones for the procedure, the familiar chime of the door rang and a tall figure ambled into the cafe.

Hoseok brightened when he recognized the man as a regular. He had only been working in the cafe for about five months or so, and he had no idea when the man started coming in for his coffee. But one thing was for sure, the man sure knew how to get the staff’s gossip mill going. A primary contributor to the constant gossip was the fact that, to this day, no one knew the man’s name.

At some point he was just dubbed Tall, Pink, and Handsome by some of the female staff, and the rather apt name stuck.

Nowadays, almost everyone who took his order just scribbled TPH on his cup, and that was the end of that. The man didn't seem to mind, and if the stories were to be believed, had even thrown a ridiculously cute aegyo at the person who had finally explained the meaning to him.

Hoseok was in the minority who decided to have some fun with the nameless one. After some hardcore nosing around and an aggressive application of his sunshiny charm, he had found out that the man had a soft spot for Disney, and the princesses in particular. He now made sure to write down some Disney character’s moniker on the cup, and when possible, he always tried to add a little bit of trivia.

It wasn't something that he would usually do for someone who was essentially a stranger, but Hoseok was good at reading people.

And something told him that the man was due some harmless joy in life.

It was easy to see when the man noticed Hoseok looking his way as he immediately smiled and waved as he made his way over.

Not to be outdone, he did his patented impression of the sun and returned the smile with interest, “Well, look who decided to show up! I was starting to think you were cheating on us with that new coffee shop down the street.”

The man gave a whinnying bark of a laugh before trying to give Hoseok a stern glare. It was completely ruined by the twitching of his lips as he tried to contain the smile, “How dare you question my loyalty, you uncouth rapscallion. I’ll have you know I was on a business trip and was barely holding it together without my beloved coffee. Your coffee beans were haunting my dreams.”

Hoseok snorted at the honestly cringe-worthy melodrama, “Uh-huh. So what’s it going to be today?”

“The usual. I need to get this body back on its usual regime. Something, something, my body, my temple, you know the drill.” He waggled his eyebrows at Hoseok and leaned on the counter, straddling the lines between social dumbass and creepy uncle masterfully.

Hoseok had to roll his eyes before saying, “you are so freaking lame, dude. This is why you're still single, even with that face.”

“Does your manager know you speak this way to your best customer? And I'll have you know I'm hot shit. Civilizations have crumbled for less beautiful faces than this!”

“Let no one tell you you don't have self-confidence.”

“Who needs self-confidence when you got this face?” He even puckered his lips for emphasis.

Hoseok sighed and just called it quits. It was up for debate whether or not this guy was serious, and despite his people reading skills, he truly couldn't say. Instead, he just grabbed a plastic cup and said, “So, one iced almond latte, right?”

The man hummed his approval before trying to lean over the counter to get a better look at the cup. He asked, “What about you? What's it going to be today?”

Hoseok quickly pulled the cup away from view, “Nuh-uh. No peeking! You'll see it when the coffee's done!”

He then proceeded to scribble on the cup for a bit before scuttling off to make the drink. As he went about his business with heating up the milk, he could see the man loitering rather cheerfully by the pastries. The image of the man’s avid interest in the new batch of lobster-decorated cupcakes gave him the perfect inspiration.

He smiled to himself and added a few more scribbles to the side of the cup.

“How about a hint,” the man called. “The anticipation is just killing me.”

“You never heard of ‘delayed gratification’?”

“Wow. ‘Gratification,’ you say? Aren't you confident today. I'll have you know, I've been spoiled. It'll take more that a sad cat doodle and a barely legible ‘Mufasa’ to please me.”

“That’s it. No more business trips for you. You get too uppity after them for any one’s comfort. And what do you mean barely legible!”

“I'm sorry. Your handwriting is no good.”

“You wound me.”

“I'll leave a nice tip?”

“You heal me.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and when Hoseok finally finished up the latte, he tried to make a heart in the foam, but it ended up looking more like a lopsided pear. Mr. TPH didn't seem to mind and quickly turned the cup around to see his writing.

Ariel

The dress worn at the dinner is a combination of all previous princesses’ dresses.

Hoseok felt the bright smile the man gave him was well worth the effort of trying to fit all that writing onto cup. He took a sip of his latte, before waving his thanks and slipping out the door.

Once again, Hoseok was left alone to wonder about the mysterious TPH. At least, Ruth would be happy to know the man had returned. A significant portion of the staff had been mourning the lack of handsomeness in their work life.

Oh, well. That wasn’t his problem. He really needed to get back to his game plan for Yoongi.

+++

Journal Entry 1

March 21, 2013

Okay, so how am I supposed to do this? This is a journal, just to be clear, not a diary. Fucking Seulji said this shit helps clear thoughts and shit, but I think it's just a girl thing.

Okay, fuck. I don't know. Hi, this is Park Jimin, I'm 21 years old, a dance major, oh, and most importantly, a royal fuck up. So much fucking up to be had, I have sowed and reaped the fruits of my fuckery. My crops of fuck ups is plentiful. Oh my god, this is so stupid. Don't ever listen to Seulji. She's the queen of bad ideas.

HOLY FUCK! This whole thing was her fault; what am I talking about? Okay. You know what?

Summary of my recent fuck up: I may have met the love of my life at the club last night, because shit those legs were to die for, the arms as well, oh my god, his face. Who am I kidding? I met God last night. But I also listened to Seulji, who is the devil, and got fucking wasted. And am pretty sure I told Beautiful that I was flexible as fuck, and I was super down to fuck.

And proceeded to prove my point by kicking my leg up, and basically did a vertical split on the man’s shoulder.

Then, the lovely icing on the cake, I'm pretty sure I barfed all over the poor bastard.

FUCK YOU, SEULJI, THIS IS MAKING THE MEMORY WORSE NOT BETTER!!!!

So, thankfully I don't remember shit after, but according to the she-devil herself, this guy probably really has the patience of God, since he apparently helped her drag my sorry drunk ass home.

And now, I will end my misery with ice-cream because fuck you, Seulji, journals don't fucking help.

Worst part is, I won't ever see Beautiful, again, and I'm hungover and don't even have the sore ass to at least say I got a decent lay for my troubles.

I hate my life.

+++

The entire office building was supposed to be empty by this time of night. It was nearing 2 AM, so the fact a lone glowing computer screen was lit in a sea of black screens was an anomaly in and of itself. However, the eerie cast of the light from the screen as well as the dim glow of the exit signs and secondary lighting system made the figure seated in front of a computer seem otherworldly in appearance.

Given the time, the man seemed unusually alert despite his eyes appearing glued to the screen in front of him. He sat with his back straight, motionless - waiting. The silence and stillness permeated everything in the sprawling emptiness of the office space. And time seemed almost frozen.

Then, in the distance, growing slowly but just as ominously and relentlessly as the sound of an oncoming train, echoes of screams drifted into the room, rising from the floors below.

It kept building, and the closer and louder it became, the muted blasts of gunshots and thuds of falling bodies became easily identifiable to the man’s ears.

Everything reached a crescendo, and as quickly as it came, the noises disappeared and silence rang once more.

The man let out a slightly shaky breath, but his face remained impassive as ever.

It was not until a ding from the hallway behind him alerted him to the arrival of the elevator and the subsequent hissing signaled the opening of said elevator doors, that the man finally moved, although it was just to take off his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose.

Without looking, he spoke, “You’ve really gone and made a mess of things, haven’t you.”

Silence answered him, but this time punctuated by the hair-raising feel of eyes on his back.

He sighed and continued, “I've been waiting for you. Figured you would come here first.”

He didn't expect a reply. Instead, with slow and precise motion, he tugged a USB drive from the computer and placed it to the side, away from him, all the while still not turning around.

“I tried to warn you. Headquarters always know; they always find out. If anything, I was surprised you all managed to keep it quiet for as long as you did.”

Just as he finished speaking, a hand came to rest on his shoulder, sitting uncomfortably close to his neck. He was made all the more aware of the dire circumstances by the thumb running slow, easy circles on the back of his neck.

He swallowed again, “For what it's worth, they didn't hear it from me.”

Finally, he received a response. A soft masculine voice answered him at last, speaking in an unnaturally light tone. If anything, he felt he could almost imagine the gentle smile on the other man’s face, “I know.”

It was readily clear that this was the only reason why they were even speaking, and that he wasn't another casualty to the night.

“What are you doing here, Onew?” The man’s tone was still light, almost jovial, as if this was a surprise run-in with an old friend at the grocers.

Onew would have tried to relax more if the tang of fresh blood wasn't clinging to the other man like an overbearing cologne.

“I wanted to give you this,” Onew indicated the USB. “Everything you want is there. Locations of all offices and safe houses, the comprehensive list of everyone employed, everything you would ever need to wipe them from existence.”

There was a pause, then the other man gave a short laugh.

Onew stiffened when the next words out of the man’s mouth were right next to his ear, his breath tickling the side of Onew’s cheek, “Thank you very much. But I can't help but wonder why you're doing this.”

Ignoring the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead, Onew tried to keep his voice steady as he answered, “My team. I want you to spare my team. We won't stop you; I'll take them out of this, I swear.”

The man hummed, the sound resonating through Onew from their proximity, “That would be a little incriminating for you, wouldn't it?”

“Then you would just have to be a dear and kill them all for me, if it's not too much trouble.”

He finally backed away with a snort, “Never thought you were the gambling sort.”

“Never thought I was either. Key thinks this is a suicide mission you're on.”

“How did you manage to convince him to go along with this?”

“I figure I would just say sorry later.”

Silence took hold of the room once more, and Onew waited on bated breath for the man’s decision. He almost wept in relief when, from the corner of his eye, he watched a hand take the drive.

“When I come for them, make sure you and your team are gone. If I see any one of you -”

“You won't.”

The hand on his shoulder patted him.

“How long do we have?” He couldn't help but ask.

“Now, now, Onew. That would be telling.”

Onew nodded. He didn't want to push his luck, this had already gone better than he had hoped. He felt the man back away, so he went to pick up his glasses.

“Oh, and sorry about the mess.”

Pausing in confusion for a moment, Onew put on the glasses and glanced to the side, taking in the dark, bloody handprint on his shoulder.

He shrugged, “It was an ugly shirt, anyway.”

As he listened to the man’s retreating footsteps, Onew turned to face him for the first time that night.

“Seokjin-ah,” he called and he waited for the figure to turn. “Please don't fuck this up.”

The man just smiled and nodded before disappearing into the elevator.

Onew sighed. Now he just had to figure out how to break the news to the rest of the guys.

+++

Good evening.

Tonight ten are dead after a fire broke out at a local office building on the outskirts of Seoul, bordering Namyangju. The building is one of many ran by Ayao Industries, a local shipping company owned by founder and CEO Lee Beomsoo.

The incident occurred in the early morning hours, when a skeleton crew had been reworking the building’s wiring in preparation for an upcoming remodel. According to the company spokesman, Cha Hakyeon, the fire had started when faulty wiring combined with materials on scene had resulted in the explosion which killed the men. Mr. Cha made it clear that all company personnel are cooperating with local officials as investigations continue.

Concerns regarding whether or not the building was up to code are central to the investigation.

This tragedy follows in the aftermath of another as Mr. Lee and family are still reeling from the loss of their son, Lee Byunghun, in a tragic car accident just three days prior.

Despite personal hardships, Mr. Lee remains adamant the company’s expansion efforts will continue, and construction on overseas offices in Vietnam will remain on schedule. The new location will be dedicated to his late son upon completion.

+++

Journal Entry 2 (Am I supposed to be numbering these?)

March 25, 2013

TALL, DARK, AND BEAUTIFUL SHOWED UP AT MY WORK TODAY!!!!

Apparently, I drunkenly invited him to the book signing, and Seulji gave him the details when I passed out.

Seulji. I may owe this girl some money. A lifetime of alcohol. My first born child. Nah, too much.

But I fucking owe her. O-W-E!

Can I just say drunk me is lame as fuck, though. A book signing? Really? They're giving out free snacks here, but I'm coming off as a real cheapskate, starving college student status notwithstanding.

Fuck, but the guy is hot as fuck. Like gorgeous. So, I already mentioned the hot bod. Like muy caliente. Burn me with your fire, hot, right? But, come on, I’m a realistic guy, and I know it could have been a combination of the club lighting and my beer goggles.

No. Not at all. Nope. He’s not just hot. He’s ADORABLE. He’s got these giant doe eyes and this boopable nose! Does he know he’s lethal cute! Like, he has this kind of face that should be dopey, but he fucken dodged that with a hard pass and slammed straight into wet dreams territory.

Basically, I don't know what he's doing coming to my crappy little bookstore really. Although, he did seem a bit out of touch. Who in their right mind would be that interested in hearing me talk about stocking books. He was probably just humoring me, honestly. I mean it's not much but it pays, not much I can do about that until I graduate. We can't all be international photographers or whatever.

At least I think that's what he does. We ended up ditching the book signing and he took us to dinner. I noticed some equipment in the backseat of the car and some camera stuff. It had gotten kind of awkwardly quiet, so I decided to break the silence by asking him if he had just come back from a shoot.

I think if there are any future outings, I might just have to suggest public transit because he clearly wasn't one of those guys who could multitask talking and driving. The guy almost missed a turn and drove straight into oncoming traffic. Yeah. I wasn't down for that kind of life. No Fast and Furious for this Jimin.

Also, he seemed kind of mad I asked. Though, A+ for hot side glare. I would put up with inexplicable mood swings, if I got to look at those eyes when things got hot and heavy.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not easy, but a guy’s got to be honest with himself. And I've dated enough art sorts to know they could be moody.

He wanted clarification apparently, so I had to explain the camera and what not. Maybe he really didn't want to be confused with the film sort. Who knows with these art guys.

Dinner was amazing, and he paid. I think I'm in love.

Feed me. That's all I ask.

Aw, shit. I am easy.

Only down side of the evening was the lack of a kiss. I feel like a kiss after getting dropped off would be mandatory after our rocky start.

Considering the disastrous meet cute, there was no point to being coy now. I want my kiss, damn it.

Whatever. I got his number.

Now, I just have to check the bank and see if I could afford something nice for Seulji. She deserves it.

I take back calling her a she-devil.

+++

“Well? What is your plan for the situation?”

“We had our people on clean up. The fire destroyed most of the evidence. Even if something slips, we have some of the investigators in our pocket. The public won’t know the truth.”

“I really don't give a fuck about the public. How do we get rid of our little problem?”

“You say ‘little problem,’ I say ‘critical disaster.’ I don't think you're taking this situation as seriously as should be warranted.”

“He's one man.”

“He's one of our best men.”

“You said he could be trusted.”

“It seems I was wrong.”

“And now you're saying you can handle it.”

“I will.”

“Let's hope you're not wrong, again.”

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

juvi-lockster, dharyism, and allourheroes for cleaning up my mess!

Next Part: here