#for the one person out there in the universe who might be tempted to steal my work despite all the barriers i've erected

[ihavesomejays]

GAMBA MAN!

AGAIN PLEASE COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME WITH ANY OTHER PENACONY CHARACTERS YOU WOULD WANT TO HAVE TSHIRT DESIGNS OF!

obligatory beg for yall to share this post because the individual cost of production goes down as you make em more in bulk = cheaper shirts for everyone!!

now that we got the GAMBA MAN shirt down for the fruity homies, comment or tag which character should come next!

[bamgyw]

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ c.bg; six nights ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

summary: six nights of emo boy gyu sneaking into your room without your daddy knowing. aberrational catholic guilt ridden catcher in the rye wannabe porn document. afab reader x softdom!beomgyu. warnings: everything, unfortunately. minors dni. heavy smut ahead. lots of pretentious writing, too. catholic guilt and imagery. abusive behaviour, parental neglect. drug use. violence. everyone is sad. i’ll keep on updating part-specific tags. index: prologue: the house of god, first night, second night, third night, fourth night, fifth night, sixth night, dawn of the seventh.

prologue: the house of god

when daddy wanted to hide something from you, he would turn to his beloved bible. and ever since you turned fourteen, he had been holding on to a passage that he would repeat to you every night before going to sleep: 

"let no one say when tempted, "i am being tempted by god," for god tempts no one. but each person is tempted when lured by his own desire. then desire gives birth to sin, and sin brings forth death."

that is the only sex talk your daddy ever gave you. it was more of a sex mantra than a talk, or a warning, or even a prohibition. just a rule of nature that he wanted you to have engraved in your mind: desire is sin, and sin is death.

when daddy didn't want you to do something, he'd blame the rule on god. and there's little you could say against that. 

as you grew up, you realised that god might not be real, but daddy most certainly was. a punitive, disciplinary god. and one feels much more compelled to obey divine rule when god lives under your roof. when you can touch him, and he can touch you.

when god lives in your house and his wrath can tear your flesh apart not in hell, not in heaven, but in this life; you become more cautious than the most devoted of christians. so even when everyone in your grade started drinking, dating, having sex; you had it very clear that the priority was to protect yourself. not from the dangers of drinking, dating, or sex; but from daddy, that is to say, from god.

none of your friends from school understood it, that the fear of god was not irrational. you had scars and bruises that god had given you which you could perfectly show them. but then daddy would get in trouble. besides, he wouldn't like you showing your body around. 

none of them could ever understand what living with god was like, so they were the kind of people who would ask that stupid question; if god loves us, why does he hurt us? 

the first person to understand god was a boy called choi soobin. 

daddy had remarried choi soobin’s mom the year before you started college. she was a beautiful woman, lively and hopeful to start a second life after becoming a widow. it must be thrilling to get a chance at a second life when your first one has gone wrong. soobin’s mom could have been very happy in another universe. you felt sorry that she had stepped into daddy‘s trap. 

you had always wondered how daddy had managed to get a woman like her. bright, cultured and affectionate. but then you figured that maybe, as he was god, he didn't necessarily need to be yahweh, or elohim. he could also be zeus and disguise himself as a swan to kidnap and rape leda. 

you found out later that soobin‘s mom had never fully recovered from the passing of her first husband, and she often suffered from major depressive episodes. daddy saw that void in her, and her urgency to fill it. he forced himself into the hollowness of the void, and obstructed her veins, bones, and heart with the word of god.

soon enough, soobin’s mom had no limb or internal organ she controlled herself. she had once had colours, you remembered; rosy cheeks, a hazel head of hair, lips tinted with vibrant red. but daddy had turned her grey. 

soobin’s mom had been kind enough to see the good sides of daddy, you had liked her for that. but you regretted that she hadn't learned to hide her colors so that daddy couldn't steal them away, like you did. 

she became a shadow of herself, an almost non-verbal phantom trapped between the real world –that is, the confines of daddy's house– and the world of hopeful prayers and the salvation of soul.

the boy called choi soobin would never forgive daddy for that. but it was alright. you understood. in a sense, he had killed his mom. you had to love daddy because he had created you, but you didn't think choi soobin was obliged to. 

people said choi soobin had changed, too. that he used to be a gentle kid, polite and sweet, but he had turned hostile. that, like most teens, he had become self-absorbed and belligerent without a cause or that he had gotten those adolescent mood changes so late in his life because he was an attention seeker. people say things like that when they don't understand what living with god is like.

you were the only one who didn't believe daddy when he said that soobin had a demon inside. you knew better than that, you knew that daddy saw demons everywhere. but soobin’s own mom believed it. when daddy tried to exorcise the demon away from soobin with fist and blood, she looked away.

all that soobin had wanted by acting up against daddy was to save his mom. to bring her back from the dead. but after that betrayal, he stopped trying. 

soobin had never been violent towards you, though. not once. not even mean. you were the only one who understood him, the only one who told him he wasn't evil. you knew that god's tyrannical rule could break a person, fill them with hate. and so soobin and you became close, often talking against god. every whispered defamation, every blasphemy, the danger of it felt so exciting. not because of the mischievous sin, or because of the disobedience, but because you felt like you could speak your mind at last.

your first kiss was soobin. you felt loved when it happened, something you realised you weren't used to. the feeling bloomed throughout the following week as you hid from god's watchful eye to be together.

soobin told you a hundred times that you were the most beautiful girl in the world, kissing all over your face, clasping you as close to him as he humanly could. he would sneak his hand under your skirt and whisper, "don't think about him right now. it's just you and me." and though his touch never went very far in the magnitude scale of sin and punishment, it was enough to breathe a new life into you.

you sensed that a big part of why soobin wanted you so bad was because he got turned on at the idea of defying daddy, and groping his holy daughter was the greatest offence he could commit. but that was alright. you felt the same way. and you hoped that that hate-induced lust would turn into love, in time. you could then be happier, even in the house of god. 

or you could have been happier. because god is omnipresent. and he would soon act to see you separated. the blossoming flower was brutally ripped from the soil.

when daddy found out, he locked himself into the master bedroom with soobin one morning and didn't let him go until the sun began to hide. soobin left that room broken and dead in life, just like his mom, but he didn't have one single bruise. maybe daddy really was god, after all.

soobin never talked to you again. spoken, yes, but it was hollow. you never felt loved again. you learned a lesson that day: your pleasure brings pain to everyone around. the mantra became true. desire is sin, and sin is death.

so if there was any need left in your body to touch, to kiss, to lick, to possess or be possessed; you confined it to the darkest pit of your ribcage, way past your heart, never to be accessed again. 

until choi beomgyu came around.

he was the second person to understand god. but he had brought his lesson learned from home. he knew god’s ways even before he met daddy. he had a god of his own. you called yours daddy, he called his ‘that narcissistic sadist’. but strangely enough, you felt like they meant the same thing. 

choi beomgyu was sort of soobin's friend, if you could even call it that. they never labeled each other as such, never sought out each other's company for the sake of friendship. they just wanted to live through their loneliness while sitting in the same room.

beomgyu’s dad was a dealer. he made a living out of ruining people's lives, as beomgyu saw it. growing up, he had promised himself that he would never be like that, the kind of person who doesn't care about poisoning someone's body if that meant keeping the cash flowing. but as he grew up, he learned that it wasn't all black or white. that all of those fools kept showing at his father’s doorstep, like they had no other choice. like they enjoyed hurting themselves. 

beomgyu, like soobin, had become hateful. one of the things that bothered him the most was the "why me?" question. how unlucky he could have been to be born of such a father. but then again, he could run away. he could sort his shit out, get a job, never see his father again. but he kept going back. like he had no choice. like he, too, enjoyed hurting himself.

his dad barely knew he existed, and if beomgyu ever tried to make himself heard, he would silence him in cold blood. so any semblance of love or validation beomgyu could aspire to, he sought out with mathematically strategised plans. he craved the drug of attention and knew exactly where to get it.

he'd linger around fancy schools and church events, scoping out a certain type of girl. there was always a few of them going through a rebellious phase, desperate to go out with a bad boy and piss off their high-official dad. 

it didn't take much effort for him to get what he wanted. he was handsome enough to make it easy, and even though he was a spiteful nihilist, he could be charming on command. just a smirk, a tousle of the hair, and some cheesy lines like, "i'm messed up, but with you, i feel like maybe i could be better," or "you're too beautiful for a screw-up like me." and he would have them wrapped around his finger. 

he would bring them over to his place and fuck them rough on his drug-money-bought mattress. if there was shouting, or a gunshot coming from another part of the house, he'd fuck into them harder, muffling their fear with a rough kiss, using their panic to fuel his own twisted thrill. you fucking scared? i've gone through this crap every day since i was a kid. 

if he could crack the shell of a privileged princess, dragging someone along with him down to his mud, his pain would slightly numb out.

for just a little, but never enough.

that pattern of behavior didn't lead to happiness. not even to satisfaction. it was a vindictive way of muffling his pain with the aching moans of someone who had it easier. but in reality, it only pierced what was left of his soul, making him even more hollow. it was soobin who made him realize that.

until that day, beomgyu saw soobin as almost a kid—pitifully weak and too sheltered. but when he told him about his exploits of going after posh girls, soobin didn't applaud in shared bitterness as he often did.

beomgyu explained to him how hard he got seeing the fear in their eyes as they realised that the life he led, that freedom of the rebel, wasn't as cute and bohemian as they had romanticised.

soobin responded curtly. "and then what? you cum, the spell wears off and you stare at the ceiling in silence, thinking of how miserable you are." he said. "and then you feel guilty for being a piece of shit and using that girl as a blow-up doll. and because of that you feel even worse about yourself, which means becoming more hateful and ruining more people. its not a you thing, you're not that special. that loop has been said and done. probably how your dad feels after beating on you."

beomgyu was taken aback. he didn’t even find it in himself to get offended. he remained pensive for a while before saying, "hyung. do you think i'm a bad person?"

soobin replied; "i think you can choose not to be."

and beomgyu took the advice. he put an end to the hunter-gathering of rich girls. he respected soobin from then on, too. soobin had therefore been a good influence, one could say. or at least an influence beomgyu was willing to accept. he started hanging around your house more, to the point of almost never leaving.

you learned about him as if he were a mythological figure—someone everyone talked about but whose existence you couldn't confirm. as a friend of soobin, beomgyu was bound from the start by an unspoken rule to maintain the least possible contact with you.

beomgyu was made aware of that rule very early on. what he didn't know, because he had been misled, was your age. that's why he didn't think much of it at first; he thought you were a kid. so, whatever—he couldn't talk to soobin’s annoying little stepsister. big deal. he didn't care about kids anyway.

this, combined with the prison-like structure of daily life in that house—minimal time in common areas and endless hours rotting in your own cell—fulfilled daddy's command to keep your life and soobin's, and therefore boemgyu’s, completely separate.

but even though you hadn't seen choi beomgyu in person, you had been able to construct a fairly accurate forensic portrait of him, pieced together from your father's warnings about people like him.

about the piercings, daddy believed that the body is holy, and anyone capable of mutilating within sin. about the music they played when locked up for whole afternoons in soobin’s room, he believed that god is serene, and disturbing that peace is a sign of the devil. he considered long hair on a man an abomination, and much like the eccentric clothes, a mark of a sodomite.

daddy didn't approve of him, and saw him as no more than a threat to the sanctity of his home. but beomgyu was quick to remedy the situation.

beomgyu was most acquainted to the ways of gods. he knew they were capricious, proud and pathologically narcissistic. so he made sure daddy could see he was a troubled young man and played the role of the lamb seeking guidance. he convinced daddy that he could abduct him, like he had done with soobin and his mother.

when soobin recounted the scene to you, his voice had sounded more hopeful, more full of admiration than you had ever heard. "he went to your dad and talked to him as if he was the buddha. said that he was lost and needed someone to guide him on the right path." soobin said. "he had some quotes from the prodigal son parabole learned, and he just delivered so naturally. not a trace of shame because when he lied to his face like that. it was like watching a play. your dad bought everything."

from then on, beomgyu became an unsung hero in your eyes. the boy who had outmanipulated daddy into having it his way. the boy who had defeated god.

around halloween that year, beomgyu and his dad had a terminal fight. it ended on a threat so destructive that beomgyu thought it was for the better if he stayed away from his father's place for a couple days. maybe a week. soobin, knower of the impotence and humiliation of having to sleep under the roof of the one who lacerated you and torn you to pieces, offered him shelter.

daddy's eyes lit up with greed. he saw the definitive chance to welcome a prodigal son into the fold. for beomgyu it was almost a joke. he was amused at how fast daddy allowed him in. so clueless and hasty, like one of the girls he used to charm into his bed.

in truth, beomgyu wasn't even to blame when he inevitably bumped into you. it had been daddy's mistake, he had let him in himself. you thought maybe that made daddy more human, somehow. that he forgot to close the back door to the prison and the devil strolled in.

but it wasn't really a matter of having let his guard down. daddy was still as stern, still as disciplinary, still as paranoid as he had always been. choi beomgyu was just much smarter than daddy.

he was a demigod, he was a promise. he was soon to make you his.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ please let me know if you think reading about booty sex is gross (i'm doing market research)

[peoniesnro]

In Another Universe

#10. The Other Woman

Synopsis – When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre – parallel universe / kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings- Language/SMUT- Making out/ Dirty talks/ Oral (f.recieving) Unportected sex/ Cum play/ Cum eating/ Office sex/ Word 'slut'/ Multiple orgasms (f.recieving)/ They are both assholes/ Hoseok is a little shit/ Angst / INFIDELITY

Word count- 20k

a/n- I was drowning in assignments up untill now. It's all over now. (Yay!!!). So I pulled this off within three days. Hope I've done good job. Thank you all for reading like always. ❤️

Taglist?

Chapter Index

Previous - Next

You really and very innocently had thought that you have finally fallen into a routine in your life. Even though it’s not normal. There’s nothing normal about waking up in two different worlds every other day. Still, you believed you now have an order. The part where things were unexpected was over. Then of course, it wasn’t. When you woke up in a darn school, you thought, yet again, it was for a one time. You should’ve known better, though. Since nothing in your life was a one-time thing ever since you woke up next to Park Jimin. No difference this time either.

The very next day after you came clean to the people you know; you woke up in your apartment. Safe and sound. The only hassle was explaining to Key that it somehow didn’t work. What a liar you are. Not that you had any options. Other than that, it all went normal. And you weren’t in pain either. Simply because you were in your space. Not Liya’s. It was your world. Then there came the day after that. Waking up inside a school was terrifying but waking up at a bus stop was nightmarish. You nearly had a stroke to see a woman with bright red lips staring at you as if she wanted to make soup out of you. Fortunately, though, you had your phone with you that day. No one has stopped to steal it from you. Then in a moment of panic and wanting to get away from that woman you had called the first person who came to your mind.

Park Jimin. Yes, it’ll always be Park Jimin, indeed.

And he came. Like he would. In a minute. Bed hair and puffy face. Had asked you if you were okay. Had made sure you were okay. Safe. Then finally you had that chance to talk. Get things clear. To plan out what you’ll do. Only if you haven’t wasted it. It went awfully to tell the truth. You two had talked about two things precisely. First, Jimin asked you what Liya had told you the other day. You honestly didn’t know if you should tell him. For some reason you decided not to. You answered with a simple, ‘nothing much, just talking’. Jimin had looked you in the eye. He knew you were lying. Second, you asked him how it went for him. He took his time just to say, ‘nothing, she understood’. You had looked him in the eye. You knew he was lying. And then that was all. Nothing less. Nothing more. An entire drive to Jungkook’s apartment in silence.

At the very last moment when you were about to drop off, however, he had stopped you. With a gentle tug in your hand. Had talked to you. Finally!

He wanted you to call him if it happened again. If you woke up in a random place in middle of nowhere. Well, you intended to do so in that moment. Until his phone rang. Caller ID read ‘Baby’ with a heart. A gentle reminder that you wanted to make things right. You had a plan to leave. Jimin wasn’t a part going well along with that plan. He is the very reason you’re still in this world. See now, you might not know what the hell you’re doing, but for fact you know the more you’re with Park Jimin, the more reasons you’ll find to stay. He’s a dangerous man after all. Tempting. Too tempting. It was your time to start doing things right. So, you did. When it happened again. When you woke up under a cherry tree you called Jungkook.

Jimin wasn’t happy. No, he wasn’t. Not the least. Had blown your phone out with hundreds of calls and texts. Had stormed inside Jungkook’s apartment like he owned the place. His excuse was that you never got back to his calls. Well, in your defense he never really gave you a chance to call back. Not even to send a text. You wanted him to leave the moment he invaded the place. But then there was that genuine worry in his eyes. Care. Affection. Panic. Was slightly shaking. Jimin always affects you in strange ways. So, you were forced to talk. Not much, however. And it wasn’t a two-way conversation. It was mostly you talking and him listening. Telling him about why he shouldn’t be running all around Seoul, saving your ass when there is a girlfriend waiting for him in his house.

See now, he never told you how it went with the said girlfriend and yes you knew he lied when you asked. But then, after loads of thinking you came to a conclusion. If he wanted you to stay after everything. Even after Liya is here and his request was still valid, he would’ve already asked you. He would’ve stayed that day. Like Liya said, nobody wants you here. Jimin has changed his mind.

Besides, you know Liya is a part of his life. And you think that part is inseparable. Five years isn’t a short time after all. Maybe Jimin never thought that your wish would work, and his girlfriend would be here. Maybe he is just a jerk who wanted to keep fucking you while Liya lived in a blissful lie. Maybe he is just a mess like you. In the end, you didn’t want to make it even messier.

Of course, you didn’t tell him that you’re partially scared of getting too attached to him. When you have to leave whether you like it or not. You just reminded him he has a girlfriend. And that you don’t plan to become the mistress. He said nothing. Absolutely nothing. How disappointing that was. You expected him to fight. Tell you that you knew what you were getting yourself into. But no. He accepted. He’s always more annoying when he does that. Gave a look to Jungkook who was lingering in his living room. Giving you space. You’ve no idea what Jimin was searching for. Assurance that you were safe. Maybe not. Then had simply nodded. Made a request. A request for you to text him every day. Single text message. Nothing much, just an ‘I’m okay’ would be enough. And left. Like that.

Leaving you with a painfully squeezing heart. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought that topic up. Should’ve let him to mess with your life as long as you can. The moment the front door closed it was only one thing that ringed in your mind. He made his decision. Just like you thought, he didn’t want you here. It had been a mistake he made. Asking you to stay. He decided it’d be Liya. Well, of course. That’s not even a choice. You and Jimin were nobody to each other. Just a fling that passed by.  Why were you hurting anyway? Why are you still hurting?

Oh, hell, you are hurting. Missing him. Painfully. Even to this day. Have no idea how long it has been. A week? Two? In the end, that was the last time you saw Park Jimin. And he never replied to your texts.

…………………………………………………..

“This shit can’t keep happening, Noona. Just think how dangerous it is. What if you wake up in a hideout of some fucking gang, or... or what if you wake up inside a zoo, inside a lion’s cage; what if you wake up with a snake?” Jungkook’s mouth goes adorably wide, along with his eyes. Yet you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Don’t be fucking dramatic Kookie, those kind─”

“Don’t tell me that those kinds of thing only happen in movies because look at you.” He points a finger at you. “I really believed aliens weren’t real.” Raises his brows. Slumps back on the chair. You’re at restaurant Kim. Just finished preparing the place for the day. Now just waiting here for the day to start. You look at Jungkook, pursing your lips. Well, you can’t argue with that.

“Yeah, but.. I don’t, I mean let’s hope something like that won’t happen.” You rub your eyes wearily.

“Hope isn’t going to keep you safe, and I want you, safe. We need to do something.” His voice is stern.

“Like what Kookie?” A sigh leaves your lips. You and Jungkook have been talking about this every minute you could spare. Like you and Jimin once did. Funny where all that planning and talking left you. Jungkook groans in reply to your question. Simply because he knows there’s nothing you can do. After everything that happened, you think that there’s no other way but to wait till answers find you. Exactly the same way how it happened before. It’s not possible to find a woman who dissaperated in front of your bare eyes. In that case, you’re back at square one. You’re in dire need of finding a way to live a life until you find answers. “Look, I really don’t know what I can do for this right now, but I really do need to figure out a way to manage my life.” You blow out a breath. Jungkook furrows his brows.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, I can’t keep waking you up every morning and ask you to pick my distressed ass up.” You genuinely don’t want to be a burden to him. It’s not okay. Besides you’ve learnt your lesson by depending on one guy already. Don’t want to make the same mistake again.  

“Oh, c’mon Noona, we talked about this.” Jungkook whines. Is telling the truth. You did talk. But talking always doesn’t mean you came to a decision.

“We’re still talking. I’m serious about this Kook. I need to find a job, I need money, a place to stay, I need to find a way to support myself.” You put down your fingers as you list the things you need to get done.

“You have a job here.” He gestures around the restaurant. It’s not really a job to be honest. You just lend help in exchange for letting you hang around. And the tips you receive are yours to keep. No fixed payments. “If it’s about the payments, I can talk with Joo─”

“No. No, Jungkook. You’re not going to annoy your friend again because of me. They are doing enough. You’re doing enough. I can’t keep living off you. Can’t keep crashing down on your place. I don’t know how long it’ll take me to find a way to go back.”

“But why? I enjoy having you here.” Jungkook whines. “I can make this job permanent for you.”

You open your mouth to protest. Or more than to snap when the door chime interrupts you. It’s still early and Kim’s don’t offer breakfast. So, you turn your head in expectation to see Namjoon. Who just left probably ten minutes ago. After yapping about how hard his life is to work with his annoying boss. You assume he has forgotten something and is back to pick it up. Only for your eyes to widen at the completely unexpected person at the doorway.

“Hey!” Hoseok waves at you and Jungkook. Is already heading toward the table you’re sitting at when you and Jungkook return the gesture. Barely. Just a slight wave of your hands. “Did someone say something about wanting a job?” Hoseok just causally asks as he pulls a chair to sit down. Next to you. As if this is very normal occurrence in your lives. You both squint your eyes at him.

“Why?” Jungkook is the one who suspiciously raises the question. Staring Hoseok down. The said man looks between you and Jungkook. Twisting his mouth.  

“Maybe because I have an offer.” Shrugs. And you practically throw yourself at him.

“Really?”

“Yes, if you’re interested.” Smiles. Tight lipped. There’s a glint in his eyes. Quite familiar to Jimin. Makes you suspicious instantly. Jungkook steals the attention before you can raise your suspicions, however.

“Why are you here again?” His eyes are just slits at this point. Almost comical.

“Ouch! That’s so fucking rude Kook. Aren’t we friends?” Hoseok gasps. Places his right hand on his chest. You and Jungkook chant ‘No’ in unison. “Wow! That’s even ruder. You guys are such assholes.” Hoseok lets his arm falls down. Pouts. But then is smiling brightly within a split second. “Well, I didn’t come here to offer jobs, but I overheard you guys talking about that. I just saw you two while I was passing by” Gestures to the outside.

“That’s an amazing ear you have. How did you even hear that?” Jungkook wonders while Hoseok wiggles his eyebrows cockily.

“And I’m just being nice. I mean we might not be that close friends, but c’mon I had you at my cottage Jungkook.” Hoseok says that to Jungkook. Good, since he thinks Jungkook was the only one who had been there. Apparently, Jungkook can’t argue with that.

“Yeah, fine whatever, so you overheard, and you just offer jobs like that? To anyone? What are you? A superhero?” Jungkook’s interrogation isn’t over yet. It seems.

“No not for everyone. But for my best friend’s, girlfriend’s, twin sister, I do.” Hoseok’s attention falls entirely on you. You shiver at his intense gaze. Gulp harshly.

“Yeah? Why would you do that?” Ask timidly. Just to earn a shrug.

“Because I’m nice pretty lady. That’s not the question though. The question is what- a daughter of Kim, and Kim Liya’s- the freaking CEO of The SE’s- twin sister, is doing at a restaurant and why does she need a job, or why she needs to find a job herself, when her father can buy her the entire country?” Hoseok quirks his brow in question. And you fight visibly not to contort your face in shock. Not to suck a breath in. Not to gulp down again. Not to rub your suddenly sweaty palms on your jeans.

“I- I uh..” You stutter a bit before your brain kicks something on for you. “I’m the family disappointment. The shame, you know. They don’t want to do anything with me. There’s a reason why you never knew Liya has a sister, a twin.” You breathe out. Lie through your teeth. That’s the thing about lying. Every time you lie it become easier. Hoseok purses his lips. As if in contemplation.

“Yeah? Why did she decided to tell us all of a sudden then?” Questions back.

For fucks sake!

“Because I made an appearance, and no one needs confusions Hoseok. Why are you interrogating me?”

“I’m not. I’m just asking out of pure curiosity.”

Or just being nosy. You want to tell that aloud but think it’ll be too rude. Hence, your slight nod. And just throw a nervous glance at Jungkook, catching him give you a nod. In approval, you guess.

“Okay…. so, what is this position you’re offering exactly?” Jungkook shifts the course. Folds his arms in front of his chest. Looks like a concerned father talking with his daughter’s boyfriend. Hoseok hums in answer to that question. Tilts his head. Bites down his pink bottom lip before answering.

“Mm... like uh... an assistant… yeah, that’s it. I am in need of an assistant.” Looks at you proudly. To which you squint your eyes, yet again.

“Wait, why do I get the feeling that this position wasn’t open, up until now?” Jungkook inquires as he leans over the table. Staring at Hoseok.

“It didn’t even exist, to tell you the truth.” Hoseok is so quick to fire back his answer. Too quick that you don’t even catch on to it for a second. Oh, the man is honest at least.

“Wh-what do you mean? You’re making up a job to give me? Why would you do that?” You gape at him in pure disbelief.

“Yeah, and it’s not like she can’t find a job.” Jungkook adds. You nod in agreement. Open your mouth to say that you indeed can do that even though you can’t.

“Well, will any of those pay you three million?” Hoseok leans back in his chair. Your words die in your tongue. Jaw dropping to the floor. See Jungkook’s jaw doing the same through your peripherals.

“Three what?” Jungkook whispers.

 “Million. And five thousand, forgot to say that part.” Hoseok just casually fills in for Jungkook while you and him are just gaping at Hoseok. That’s beyond pay rate for a student. No part time job or an internship will pay you that kind of amount. Hoseok must be crazy. To do all that for you. In fact, you should be very, very suspicious about this. You’re just about to raise those suspicions when Jungkook beat you up to it. Yet again.

“Hire me please.” He almost get to his feet. “I can be a better assistant, I swear.” Say eagerly when your head snaps toward him.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” You hiss.

“Yeah, I’m dead serious Noona. I mean I can drop out of college if someone gonna pay me that much. And you don’t have to worry, you know. Let’s get married and I’ll work hard to get promotions and let’s have kids─”

“Oh my god Jungkook, shut the fuck up! And stop saying you want to drop out of college all the time.” You roll your eyes to the back of your head. Jungkook pouts. Slumps. Hoseok snorts, grabbing your attention back to him. “And you? Why are you doing this seriously? Don’t tell me just because you’re nice because no nice person would do this. You barely even know me.” You point a finger at him.

“Because I need an assistant pretty. I told you already. I need someone to work for me, and it seems you need a job. Simple. What’s the problem here?” Hoseok’s words follows another shrug. Actually, you can come with dozen problems here. But Jungkook brings the most concerned one to the table.

“But she can’t work every day.” There’s a pointed look in Jungkook’s eyes now. He sounds concerned. And you know he’s not trying to steal your offer. No, he really do care.

“You can’t? Why is that?” Hoseok looks surprised. Genuinely.

“Sick. I’m sick.” You mutter even without a second thought. See, easy. To become a better liar, all you have to do is practice. That’s the lie you’ve told everyone. Namjoon. His parents. You don’t know if they’ve believed you entirely. What kind of sickness would make you stay away every other day. In the end, you stuck with the lie you made with Park Jimin. You’ve CFS after all. The fact that they all witnessed you reel with pain just aided you with your lie. Poor Jungkook. He has to be a part of every mess you’re creating. All the more reason to find your own life soon. And Hoseok’s offer is tempting. He is awfully quite though. Looking at you blankly. Well, there goes your opportunity. This was the exact reason why finding a job was hard for you. You blink at his face for moment. Then as you’re just about to avert your gaze away and accept that the offer is ruined, he speaks.

“Okay, that’s not a problem. As long as you don’t die.” Smiles brightly. You’re back to gape at him in disbelief. Is this guy for real. Hoseok places his palms on the cold table. “Well, now since that’s settled, move your ass assistant, we have works to do.” Stands up. Looks satisfied. Stares down at you now. Expectantly waiting for you to get up as well.

“Wait what? She needs to start working now? Like now, now?” Jungkook is the one who gets to his feet, in the end.

“Yes, she does. You’re hired pretty woman, c’mon move.” Hoseok bends down to grab your wrist. Yanking you into your feet. You just allow him, ignoring the fact that he had called you pretty too many times. Still very baffled. Jungkook rushes around the table instantly. Walking to you. Effectively grabbing your other hand.  

“You just can’t drag her away.” Says sternly.

“Why not? She’s hired. And her work starts now.” Hoseok points out the fact that you’re hired.

“Bu-but, what’s my job? I don’t even know what I need to do.” You try to stay on your ground as Hoseok tries to drag you away. Jungkook mumbles something similar to ‘exactly’ when Hoseok sighs heavily.

“Really? Even after I offered that much, you’re this hesitant? I thought you wanted a job.”

“I do but tell me what the duties are, Hoseok.”

“Like anything an assistant would do. Anything I asked you to do.” Hoseok jabbers, already trying to turn away when Jungkook tightens his grasp on you.

“Well, that sounds fucking dangerous.” He mutters skeptically. Making Hoseok turns back to face him.

“Relax dad, you got nothing to worry. Promise I will send your girl home by eight sharp. Or nine, maybe ten.” Clicks his tongue. Waves his free hand. “Doesn’t matter. All that matters is I’ll make sure your girl is safe, and I won’t ask her to suck my cock. Swear. Man to man.” Turns around again. You scrunch your face up. Jungkook’s cheeks are a bit red now. Embarrassed obviously.  

“B-but─” He stutters again when Hoseok this time turns to you.

“Do you want this or not?” Looks serious. All jokes aside. This is a moment to make a real decision. Well, it’s not that hard. You’re desperate.

“Ye-yeah, I- I do. Yeah. Course I want this.” You find yourself uttering. Paying your attention to Jungkook. To let him know you’re okay. He gives you a nod. You reciprocate. Hoseok grins.

“Then let’s move pretty.”

“What about my clothes though let me change first.” You asks again as Jungkook lets go of your hand.

“You look damn fine.” Hoseok urges you out.

………………………………………………..

No matter how much misery would follow you, you’ll never learn not to make rash decisions. No, you’ll never. Such a stupid, reckless fool. That’s what you are. When something like that happens, your main concern should be about where you would work. But of course, it’s too late when the question pops up in your head. It’s too late when you realize Hoseok indeed works for R.U.N. Too late when you remembered Park Jimin is the CEO of that darn company. It’s certainly too late to turn down your offer when you’re waiting to reach the lobby inside the elevator. Hoseok talking endlessly about something that doesn’t quite reach your ears. Ever since the moment he confirmed, in his own words- ‘of course, we are heading to R.U.N, where else would I work?’- you have not been a part of this world.

Oh god, this is not happening. You did not put yourself in such a hard situation again. There’s a good reason why you didn’t want to see Park Jimin. Even though you were missing him crazy, things were just going fine. The more you stay away from him, the more you can stay sane. The more you stay sane, more chances you’ll not ruin your wishes again. Then here you are. All because you’re reckless. It won’t be possible to hide from him while you’re both in the same space. His space, yet again. You’ll see him certainly. And what will happen then? What will he think when he sees you out of blue like this? It might be you who asked him to stay away- which you regretted on some miserable nights- he was the one who accepted it rather easily. No arguments. No protests. Nothing. Just never was there after that day. Which only means one thing to you. He thinks staying away is the best just like you do. What a great plan. Only that you’re about to ruin it.

“What are you doing? C’mon.” Hoseok’s voice startles you slightly. Making a ‘huh’ slips through your lips as you look at him confused. “We’re here. What are you thinking so hard?” He says again at your stupid state. Only now you’re noticing that the elevator doors are indeed opened. A spacious lobby filled with hurrying around people and sleek minimalistic furniture has emerged. LED walls towering. Some game scene playing on it. Holograph in the middle. Fucking futuristic. And you gasp. Quite loudly that it makes Hoseok chuckles. “What?” Questions but this time drags you away from the elevator. You��re holding it up after all.

“This is fucking... wow...” You whispers the last part quietly.

“Thanks, but we’re already late pretty. This way c’mon.” Hoseok turns to his left. You follow, forgetting Park Jimin for a moment. Eyes wandering around crazily. Grasping everything. Jimin really is something. No, it’s not just him. These people, including the one before you, really are something. And then they would act homeless. Would kill each other for free food. Amazing. Truly.

Hoseok takes your wandering eyes back to him when he suddenly stops. You notice that he has stopped in front of the recipient table. A pretty girl with the most flawless skin you’ve ever seen giggles prettily at something Hoseok says that you don’t catch. Then her eyes flash toward you. It takes her a second but soon her smile drops. A realization drawing upon her face. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what she’s thinking. Especially when a sting at your chest makes you wince painfully. The moment you become sacred that it would get worse, Hoseok saves you. Without knowing it. Probably has read the girl’s expression.

“Oh, that’s not Liya. That’s her sister.” Introduces you properly. “Twins.” Throws a hand around your shoulder. “And is my personal assistant now on. Say Hi, Susi.” Grins. The sting subsides slowly. Girl still looks very confused. You don’t know what she might think of this, but she bows to you, nonetheless. Which you reciprocate. Share a friendly smile with her before Hoseok is ushering you away again. Pulling you inside another elevator. And then you’re going up, up and up. Floor by floor. People rush inside and then outside. Everyone practically bows down to the floor when they see Hoseok. Most people don’t acknowledge you at all. You think someone’s gaze linger on you a little bit more than normal. Yet no one asks anything. There’s a slight pain in your chest. You ignore it. Completely overshadowed by the nervous feeling. Stomach churning and heart pounding. Thin layer of sweat covering your skin. Nervous about what might come next. Not wanting to see the CEO of this prestigious company. Wanting to turn around and run away. Hide.

You can’t hide. Not at all. There’s no place to hide. Before you know, it’s you and Hoseok who are exiting the elevator. Stepping out into another spacious space. No LED displays. No holograms though. Just a simple workplace that screams luxury.

“My office is this way.” Hoseok guides you. You’re not paying much attention to what he says. Head nervously spinning around. In a desperate wish to get away from here soon as possible. Even if it’s into Hoseok’s office. Want to remain a secret. Then you’d be the most fortunate person on earth to have a such escape. Then of course, you are very fortunate, aren’t you? The luckiest. You only get to take two steps toward the direction Hoseok shows, when you are faced with a tall figure. Making you abruptly stop to prevent colliding. Your eyes flicker to the newcomer. Meeting with pair of curious eyes and the lips that made you betray Park Jimin. Jin takes his hands out of his pockets just to point one at you. Surprise evident his face and you brace yourself to meet with the pain when he inevitably would call you Liya now. Only for him to surprise you. Greatly so when he mumbles your name. The name your parents gave you.

“What are you doing here?” Adds that question to the end of your name. He can recognize you like that now? Then nobody could do that when you were pretending to be Liya. Isn’t that funny? But then you think it’s the clothing. Yes, it is. Especially since Jin is eyeing you head to toe. Certain. You believe Liya would never walk into her boyfriend’s company wearing a tight ripped jeans and an oversized hoodie. No, she won’t. Only if Hoseok allowed you to change first. Hoseok answers Jin, on your behalf.

“Oh she? She works here.” Nearly walks away when Jin stops him.

“Wait, what? Since when?”

Hoseok scowls at him. Evidently not enjoying being held back again. “Since now Jin. Now will you please let us go. I haven’t even looked at that damn brief.”

“Of course, you haven’t, and I don’t give a fuck. How does she work here? She works as who?” Jin eyes you again. You feel like shrinking into an ant. Hoseok sighs.

“She works as my assistant. Personal assistant.”

“But why? You have a secretary. Why you need an assistant too?” This time Jin gives you an apologetic look.

“I do, but this is different. A secretary, Hyung, is not an assistant. Total two different people.” Hoseok pats Jin’s shoulder. You watch stupidly as Jin opens his mouth to disagree. But his words die on his tongue when a third voice reaches you. Loud. Right in your ear. Chirpy. And before you know it you are turned around. By a gleaming Taehyung. His hands on your shoulders.

“I knew it’s you.” He bellows as he takes you in. Of course, he did. You give him an awkward but a polite smile. With a slight blow. “What are y─”

“She works here apparently.” Jin doesn’t let Taehyung finish his question. “Hoseok’s assistant.” Gestures to Hoseok. Who looks smug for no reason. Taehyung gasps.

“Wait really? I didn’t know we can do that. I mean if he can, we can too, right? We share the same privileges.”  Taehyung asks Jin. Still holding you by shoulders. Jin gives him a look. Opens his mouth yet again to get interrupted for a second time. Even before he starts. This time the voice that interrupts you comes from distance.

“Hobba.” All four of you snap your heads toward the voice. Taehyung’s hands still on your shoulders. Gaping at the man who rushes forward with his eyes fixed on his phone. You feel everything slows down. Like in a movie. It’s slow when he takes his eyes away from his phone. Pocketing it. A faint smile on his lips. “Did you─” That faint smile drops. He freezes. This time eyes fixed on you. You feel your blood rushes in your body in extra speed. Heart beating in your ears. A painful tug at your chest at the sight of the blonde in front of you. Just few feet away. Feels like it’s been ages since you last saw Park Jimin. Oh, you’ve missed him more than you knew.

This is a fucking mistake.

“Lil?” Jimin breaks the uncomfortable silence which you didn’t know has fell. That must’ve looked really weird how you stared at him. You heart does a leap when he calls you. Mouth goes dry when he comes close. “What, what are you─”

“For the hundredths fucking time, she works here.” Hoseok groans.

“You’re what?” Jimin’s eyes dart between you and Hoseok.

“She’s Hobi’s assistant.” Taehyung fills in. “He says so.” Adds in at the glare Jin throws him.

“Why? What’s the problem? I can’t hire an assistant?” Hoseok asks ever so innocently. To which Jimin furrows his brows. Eyes back on you. You force yourself to smile at him. Bow. Don’t want to appear rude to others.

“Of fucking course, you can’t. Why the hell do we have an HR department if we can hire people like that. I mean I’m sorry─” Jin mutters to you slowly before turning to Hoseok again. Your cheeks flush red. Embarrassed. This is uncomfortable. “But you can’t just drag in people you want.”

“Ugh… fuck you, Jin. She is not hired by the company. She is hired by me. I pay her. She works for me. Nothing to do with the company. Happy?” Hoseok gives all three men, a stern look. Well, you don’t think that justifies this. Makes it okay or fair. Still very against the policies. Still, nobody says anything again. Especially not Jimin. Looks too stunned. You don’t get to watch him longer when Hoseok drags you away. You manage a ‘bye’ right at time.

…………………………………………….

“Okay, this is not good.” You finally stand up from the little comfy couch at Hoseok’s office. Doing absolutely nothing but spinning in circles in your own head. Hoseok lifts his eyes wearily from the tab he has been looking at.

“What’s not good?” He sounds a little bit annoyed. Which you don’t mind. You close the distance between you and him. Standing beside his table.

“Look, what Jin said is totally true.”

“Don’t mind what he says. He has this thing to do the right thing all the time, you know, he is like uh... if you ask him not to eat your food he’ll not.”

“Well, that’s a good thing.”

“What’s good? I mean, who would fucking care?”

“Owner of those food maybe─” You look at him in disbelief. Sigh. “Oh my god, Hoseok, that’s not the point anyway. I mean I got this job very unfairly and everybody must be hating me right now.” You put your hands on the wooden tabletop. Bending down to emphasize what you’re saying. Hoseok finally puts away the tab. Sighs too.

“Who’s gonna hate you when they don’t even know you exist?”

“Oh, really?” You turn your head to the left. Looking out through the glass partition. Catching the man sitting on the table at the far corner of the outer office. Staring at you. Or more glaring than staring. Hoseok’s secretary. The person who rightfully earned that position. Unlike you. He’s been glaring at you for past thirty minutes. Hoseok follows your line of vison. Chuckles. Then takes the little remote from his table. Blinds the secretary’s view. You gasp. “Yah! Why did you do that? Now this might look like something else.”

Hoseok just clicks his tongue. Waves his hand. “Stop nagging sweetheart, so what? You don’t need this job now? Stop worrying so much. I can assure you no one is giving a single fuck as long as you stay away from company matters. Your only concern is me. Speaking of what, you should shut up, I didn’t hire an assistant so she can nag in my ear all day.” Hoseok picks the tab up again. You feel a gentle tug at your heart. Then a heaviness. Someone else’s voice ringing in your head.

Don’t nag all the time lady.

Jimin used to say that to you all the time. Once upon a time where you shared his life almost every other day. And you thought he was being rude. But maybe you do nag too much. You shake your head to force away the unwanted thoughts. You shouldn’t be thinking about him. Even though you’re currently at the same space, you think as long as you keep away from him you still can do this. So, you push yourself to keep going.

“Yeah, fine, but at least give me something to do then. I don’t want to get paid for doing nothing.” You straighten up. Your words forcing Hoseok to take away his attention from his work for the second time. He looks more annoyed now. Yet, still knits his brows. Thinks for a moment. Then smiles. Bright.

“Course you should work.” Mumbles. You watch as he picks up a file from his desk. Hands it over to you. You take it hesitantly, not sure what he expects you to do. “Take this to Jimin. I’ve been meaning to send this to him since yesterday. Thanks sweetheart.” Says hurriedly. Another bright smile and almost goes back to his work when you almost shriek.

“What?”

“What?” Hoseok jumps a little in his seat at your suddenly raised voice.

“You want me to do what now?”

Oh, for the sake of the mother of God.

This is not happening. Just as you thought you’d be fine as long as you stay away from him. No. Hoseok is not making you walk toward the very person you’re trying to avoid.

“That’s very concerning. That you’re talking to your boss in that tone.” Hoseok gives you a stern look. Boss. Yes. Of course, that’s what he is. But still, you can’t walk into Jimin. That’s not wise. You can’t do that.

“B-But do- don’t you─”

“I’m paying you for this pretty. You agreed to do whatever I say, as long as my cock doesn’t involve. Will you please do your job now.”

Technically, you agreed to nothing. Hoseok is looking at you with the same stern look, however. In the end, he is your boss. You’re his assistant. Even though you don’t know where your employee rights stand, this looks like something you should do. So, you gulp harsh. Force your maddening heart to calm down. Nod.

……………………………………………

You had no other option but to ask Hoseok’s secretary for directions. You have no idea where you’re headed. Good thing this pissed off man very reluctantly agreed to show you where Jimin’s office is.

“So, you’re Ms. Kim’s sister?” He asks as you walk down a hallway. Beautifully lit up with yellowish light.

“Huh? Oh, y-yeah. Twins.” You chuckle awkwardly. He scoffs.

“No wonder you land a job like that.”

“Excuse me, but that’s got nothing to do with this. I don’t even work for the company.” Your forced smile drops as you find offense grows inside you. Hence, you use Hoseok’s word.

As long as you stay away from company matters.

“What do you think you’re doing now? Making him coffee?” The secretary asks again but you don’t have the chance to answer when you enter a much larger outer office this time. Your eyes directly landing on the desk in the corner. Occupied by a middle-aged woman. Her’s snaps to you at the sounds of your footsteps. Her eyes instantly going wide as she gets to her feet. No surprise now when your chest ache. You wince in pain as she bows to you deep. You barely manage to bow back as the pain is slowly intensifying. You’re trying your best not to double down or whimper. It’s pure luck that Hoseok’s secretary reaches her table before it can happen. Interrupts her words.

“Ms. Li─”

“This is Mr. Jung’s assistant Mrs. Emi. She is uh... Ms. Kim’s twin sister- as she says, and she is here to deliver a file to Mr. Park. Would you let him know please?” He explains slowly. The woman, Emi, looks at you again. Eyes still wide. Visibly in quite surprise. Fair. Then at the Hoseok’s secretary’s second call she snaps out of it. Another bow. A quite whisper of an apology and she picks up the receiver in her table. Clears her throat. You watch as she mumbles a ‘hello’ the pain starting to subside finally. Fortunately, never reaching its peak point. A clear sign that she believes you’re not Liya. Good. But now there’s a whole new pain inside you. Churn in your stomach. Heart pounding. Feeling a slight discomfort in breathing. Hell, you’re nervous like a leaf in the wind. You absolutely don’t want to walk inside. Don’t want to meet him. Don’t─

“You can go in Ms. Uh... Ms. Kim.” She bows to you again deeply. You didn’t even hear how the conversation went. You let out a breath. Forcing yourself to return the courtesy. To say thank you. To both of them. You want nothing but to turn away and break into a run as you walk toward the closed wooden door. You really are regretting every life decision as you grip the door handle. You want to know how to dissaperate as you twist it. You desperately and stupidly wish he would not be inside as you push open the door. Take a one deep breath in and you fully open it. Step inside before you can change your mind. This is fine. It’s just Jimin; you know him. What could possibly go wrong.

Everything.

Oh yes, every fucking thing. The moment you let the door close behind you in a soft thud and your eyes avert to the desk right in front of you. To the man standing there. You know everything can easily go wrong. That painful tug in your chest comes twice powerful this time. Makes a lump in your throat. You try to swallow that down. Fruitless. You’re not able to push this weird painful sensation away. Not when you can see him like this finally. See, you’ve missed him dearly. Like he’s a part of you. You’ve missed those brown orbs. You’ve missed that blonde hair. You’ve missed those soft, pink lips. You’ve missed Park Jimin. And he is not helping that pain by staring at you like you’ve cast a spell on him. Is making it worse by inhaling shaky breath. As if he’s not been breathing up until now. Like he needed to see you to breath. Surely that can’t be true. No, it’s not. You’re imagining things.

“Lil.” Jimin breaks the trance. His voice hoarse. Steps away from his opulent desk. Nearly walks toward you. You mentally scold yourself to put your shit together.

“Uh.. Hoseok, sorry, Mr. Jung wanted me to give this to you.” You step forward as well. Not allowing him to make it to you. Meeting him in the middle of the spacious office room. Hold out the file in your hand. Hoping Jimin would take it quickly so you can disappear. He doesn’t. Instead, peer at your face.

“Lil, what’s happening?” Questions. Doesn’t make any effort to take the file away.

“Wha-what do you mean?”

“How are you- uh- how did he─”

You save him from his misery. “It just happened. It was very quick, I know. I’m surprised too but yeah, it happened.” You try your best to avoid his gaze. It does things to you. Makes you weak.

“Yeah? And you took the job like that?” There’s no accusations in his tone. No anger. Just asking. You shrug.

“Yes, I did. I mean, I needed a job. I can’t live off Jungkook forever.”

“I could’ve helped─”

“You don’t have to do that Jimin. There’s a reason why I asked you not to run around trying to take care of me. You- uh- you have a life, and I don’t want to be the reason it gets ruined. Besides, I can take care of myself quite well. I got a job now and Hoseok pays me well. I think this is good unless- uh… if you don’t want me to work here like obviously it’s your company.” You nearly bite your tongue as you realize you’re rambling. A nervous tick.

“No, no. I mean, uh- you’re his assistant… yeah, it’s fine.” Jimin shakes his head furiously. You finally take the courage to turn your head a little upward. Catching his gaze. Taking a good look at him. Feeling the tug intensifies. It’s been just few weeks. Then why do you feel like you’ve not seen him for years. Why do you notice these simple changes in him. Were those black roots always there? Did he always have those dark circles? Why doesn’t his lips are a bit pale? Is he sick? How might he have been?

You feel your hands itch. Itch to do what? You’ve no idea. You feel your lips tingle. That spell falling up on you two again. You should’ve never found the courage to look at him. Your heart is now beating erratically. Funny how you’ve not noticed how close you are. Your tummy has started do those weird flips. Oh, no this is not good. You promised yourself that you’re going to make it right. This, after all, is about to make it worse, yet again. You need to leave from his presences. Immediately.

“This. He wanted me to give it you.” You jerk your hand forward. Snapping your eyes away from him. Nearly push the file into his chest when he grabs it. “I- I should go. Thank you, Mr. Park.” You don’t think you’ve ever walked faster than you do now. Turning around and leaving without another single glance. Not allowing Jimin to say anything else.  

………………………………………..

When you returned to Hoseok’s office, you were shaking. Heart beating madly and in desperate need of water. Which led you to gulp down an entire bottle in one go. Making Hoseok worried that you might’ve met a ghost on your way. It had taken you more than thirty fucking minutes to calm yourself down. Twenty minutes inside the ladies’ room and ten minutes sitting in Hoseok’s couch. Staring blankly at a gaming character that covers an entire wall. Right across from the couch. You had to talk yourself out of it. Convincing. That it’s all going to be all right. That you can survive through this. Well, you were more than fine till you actually met him. So, as long as you don’t have to see him again, you’re going to be okay. You’re going to go home successfully without committing any more sins. And then all you have to do is make sure you’re following the same procedure in the future as well.

Easy. So easy. At least it should’ve been if everything had gone according to plan. According to how you’ve planned it in your head. A perfect plan to avoid Jimin at all costs. Which went down the drain just after that thirty minute. All the pep talk you gave yourself becoming null and void when Hoseok hands you a second file. His request simple.

“Would you mind taking this to Jiminie, sweetie.”

…………………………………………..

You minded. You minded, a lot. In fact, you didn’t want to do it at all. Yet you had to. Just like how you had to do it the third time. Like how you didn’t want to the fourth time, but you still did. Then the fifth time. You were positively losing your mind at the sixth time. Then this is the seventh time. Hell, even Jimin looks at you like you’re crazy when you put a to-go coffee cup on his table.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Jimin mutters, confused as you sigh. You look at the lines that appeared between his brows. He keeps his eyes on the coffee cup for a moment before looking at you. Expecting answers. As if you would know. See, it has been draining to walk between Jimin’s and Hoseok’s office fourteen times already. Seven times to Jimin, and seven times back. Yes, it is. You’ve even become annoyingly aware how large this one floor is. Then it’s uncomfortable how you had to face Emi seven times. Pretty awkward when you asked her to let her boss know you have returned. Again. But those are not problems for you. No, not at all. The problem is how your poor plan is miserably failing. It hasn’t even been a day yet. Why is it so hard to avoid just one person. Each time you visited Jimin, you stayed a minute longer than before. That is your problem.

You didn’t share smiles let alone laughter. There were no friendly words but just polite ones. Still, you said a word more each time. This is not good.

“You don’t have to bring me coffee Lil. Why are doing that?” Jimin speaks again at the lack of your response.

“Yeah, I know.”  

“Then why are doing it? Say no. You’re his assistant not mine.”

“Yeah, but he just wanted to send you a coffee. A friendly gesture. That’s it.” You shrug. Then straightly rub your forehead. Annoyed.

“Bullshit! That motherfucker has never once sent me a coffee in my life. Like what? Am I dying that he’s so concerned now? He could’ve emailed me that stupid letter, but he sent you over for it?  What is he thinking? Say no Lil, you don’t have to do all his stupid shit just because he’s paying you.” Jimin pushes the coffee back. “Please tell me he hasn’t send you all over the building.” Suddenly sounds so concerned. You shake your head slightly.

“No, no. It’s just you. I’ve been walki─”

“He hasn’t sent you to others?” Jimin interrupts you. Taking your curious attention on him as he furrows his brows even deeper. Giving you a suspicious look. “What about Taehyung?” Questions. You slowly shake your head again. Starting to mirror his expression as your own brows start to merge.  A realization starts to build up in your head. “Jin? Anyone else?” He is looking straight into your eyes. You give him another shake of your head. This time firmer. Precise. You’ve finished connecting dots in your head.

That little sneaky bastard!

“That little shit!” Jimin voices exactly what goes inside your head. You don’t say anything to him though. Just curse under your breath as you clench your jaw. Turn around your heels fast. Starting to practically run toward the door. Ignoring whatever Jimin is saying.

……………………………………………….

You ignore the sneaky side eye that Hoseok’s secretary gives you as you storm past him. Barging inside Hoseok’s office. Glad that his secretary still can’t see how you march toward his- and technically your- boss’ table. Like a madwoman. Fury running through your veins as you slam your palms on the tabletop. Causing Hoseok to startle and recoil against the chair. Eyes comically wide.

“What the fuck? Wh- wha─”

“What are you fucking playing at, Jung Hoseok.” You save him from having to stutter over his words. Looking directly at his wide eyes.

“Wh-what the hell─” He lets out a breath. Straightening up. As if he finally realized he got scared by you. Composes himself before speaking again. “What happened? You got possessed or something?”

“No, but I will if you don’t tell me what you are up to Hoseok. I don’t care that you’re my boss, you can keep you damn job.” You lean in closer. Hoseok scowls.

“I think you’re possessed. And you’re frightening.” He gulps slowly. In a different context, you would’ve laughed at that. Now though, you only glare at him harder. “I mean, what are you talking about? I’m up to what?” He sounds innocent. Innocent that you almost believe him. But you don’t.

“Oh, c’mon, cut the crap now Hoseok. You’ve been sending me to Jimin purposefully for no reason. Just to send me there, and I would like to know why? What are you up to.” You scowl harder at your own words when his scowl disappears. A ghost of a smile dances on his lips. Eyes lightly glinting.

“What made you think so? Because I assure you that I did not do such thing. You’re my assistant and I’m assigning you jobs. Thought that’s what you wanted.”  His confidence is back. That startle and confused look far gone.

“Oh yeah? Then how come I haven’t visited Jin or Taehyung yet? Or anyone else in that case. And I think Jimin clearly told me that you’ve never sent him a coffee before and you could’ve mailed him that letter.” You recite what Jimin told you exactly. Knowing very well they prove you right. Only that it doesn’t make Hoseok’s faint smile go away but makes it wider.

“Ah! So, that’s why it’s taking too long for you to come back. You’ve been chit-chatting with your sister’s boyfriend.” Hoseok grins this time. You really don’t like the way he put weight on the word boyfriend. No do you like how his eyes sparkle. As if he’s expecting good news. As if he knows the news is going to be good beforehand.

“N-no.. I mean, I wasn’t taking too long Hoseok. He just told me.” You feel uneasy suddenly. It wasn’t true. Even though you might’ve stayed a minute longer each time, you didn’t stay there for Hoseok to notice. Let alone worry.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m not scolding you here. I mean you can chit-chat with him all the much you want. I don’t care as long as you do your job.” He pushes away the tab he’s been hunched over for the entire morning. You open your mouth to defend yourself. Feeling stupid at how the tables has changed so quickly. You’re the one to stutter now. Yet Hoseok stops you before you can say anything. “Since that’s done now. Do you like to join us at Lunch pretty? I hope Jin ordered Chinese today.” He tilts his head in expectation while he stands up. You’re stupidly gaping at him though. Raking your brain for a good comeback. A way to return to your point since there’s no denying that Hoseok did that. Sent you to Jimin deliberately.

“No, I mean, I wasn’t chit-chatting with him. A-and don’t call me nick names Hoseok.” That’s what leaves your mouth. Stupid. Isn’t the point nor the problem here. But it is still something that budge you. So, you’ll get it over with since it’s out in the open now. “I have a name. Jesus what’s with the men in my life giving me nicknames─”

“Yeah? Like what, Lil?” Hoseok cuts you down midsentence. Your words freeze in your tongue as your eyes dart to his face. He is on his feet now. Hands inside his pant pocket. Is poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. Looks coy. Kind of remind you of Jimin when he’s amused.

“What?” You question foolishly. Feeling your mouth starting to dry.

“You said men in your life give you nicknames. So, like what nicknames? Like the one Lil?” Asks the same thing again. Is calm. Composed. Certainly, knows what he’s at. You feel a light pound in your head. No words coming to your smart mouth this time. Only gape at him when he mumbles your real name. Once. Twice. “No matter how hard I would think, your name doesn’t go anywhere close to the name Lil. You know when I first hear Jimin call you that, I really thought it was shortened for Liya. Cause it sounds similar. But then Lil, I’m positive I’ve never heard him call Liya by that name. Not before you or not after you. Because he doesn’t call her Lil. He calls you Lil.” Hoseok raises his brows. You yet again open your mouth for words that never leaves your mouth. “Don’t even try to deny it, he called you Lil even this morning. How stupid are you two? How stupid do you think we are? For not to pick up on something so obvious.” Hoseok steps away from his desk. Walks toward you. Forcing you to take a step back. His coy expression morphed into something serious. “Your stupid lies are so obvious Lil. Should I call you so? Why not huh? Even your sister’s boyfriend call you so.”

“No. I mean yes.��� You suddenly blurt. Inhaling a sharp breath. Think that staying silent is a stupid way of giving away. You need to at least try. Try to deny. “I- I mean, th-that’s my nickname…” Your words trail away. Hoseok’s lips breaking into a yet another cocky smile as you regret your entire existence. Just not your decisions. Should’ve stayed silent. Hoseok scoffs.

“Yeah? So, you admit it then?” Questions. You don’t answer. Just stay there rooted to the floor. Admitting is what you just did. You were supposed to do it the other way around. Denying. “You admit that’s your name? So, I wasn’t mistaken then. That’s how Jimin called you at the cottage. It was you.” Hoseok’s gaze is piercing. How stupid of you to just give away everything like that. And then here you thought you were getting better at lying. What a huge mess you are in? “I mean nobody with eyes and ears need that to know you weren’t her Lil. I- we knew her for almost as long as we knew Jimin.” Another chuckle. “And did that stupid shithead friend of mine thought he can fool us like that. You were- are nothing like Liya. You can be twins, but you guys are complete opposites.”

So, he still believes you are twins.

Then at what he’s getting at. You try not to wander your gaze away from Hoseok. To maintain eye contact. Gulping harshly as you can feel your heart in your throat. Sweat breaking in your skin. You try to come up with something. Another good lie. In vain, though. Your brain is empty. Completely empty at Hoseok’s mercy. All you can do is utter a weak question. In your hoarse voice. “Wh-why are you doing this? What do you want Hoseok?” You ignore what he’s been saying. There’s no point. This is Stupid. Taunting. Agonizing. Yet you stand there. Praying that this could not go any worse than this. Hoseok’s face softens for a moment. He takes a step forward again.

“What I need? I don’t know. Maybe it’s fun to see you two idiots squirm at each other’s presence like teenagers. Trying so hard to act like you don’t know one another that well─”

“That’s not true.” You finally find your voice. Your brain finally starts to work. Processing things and coming up with ways to escape. “Okay, so what if it was me, Hoseok? It’s not like─”

“It was you. Stop trying to deny. I’m not an idiot like you think. And before you come with another stupid lie, I hope you cleaned my kitchen island after you did- whatever you did.” Hoseok grits. Turns away from you. A loud gasp leaving your mouth. Jaw hanging open as you feel your entire body heats.

Oh god no. That’s what he’s getting at.

You really expect Hoseok to leave you in your miserable pit of shame. But unfortunately, he isn’t done confronting you. Isn’t done taunting you. “Trust me you don’t even want to know what I heard. But for what it’s worth, he kept saying the name Lil, not Liya. I was fucking drunk that day, but I know what I heard. Besides, Jimin acts completely different with you.” He turns around to face you again. You don’t look at him this time. Buring in shame and wanting to crawl up to a hole, you keep your eyes on your shoes. Still, Hoseok continues. “Maybe, I want Jimin to fucking see that he’s damn suffering. Maybe I want him to know he can do all these alone. And do you want to know why you’re here?” Asks but doesn’t wait for your reply. “I’m using you Lil. And you won’t back away.”

With that, he finally leaves you to bury yourself deep in your misery.

………………………………….

You won’t back away

Hoseok had said. Yet in reality, you know he has no power over what you decide to do ultimately. It’s not like he threatened you. No. He didn’t do such a thing. In the end, he can’t threaten you without doing the same to Jimin. If anyone’s going to be in a tight spot if Hoseok decides to bring the matter up, it would be Jimin. And you know for a fact that Hoseok loves him. Hence, nothing to worry about. You can give Hoseok the middle finger. Turn around and leave. You’ll find a way to solve the rest of your problems after that.

But the problem is that you haven’t done just that. That you’ve already worked there for three days. You haven’t turned around nor have you shown your middle finger to Hoseok. This time though, you know the exact reason why you’re still Hoseok’s assistant. Simple. Even though it’s embarrassing, the reason is the CEO of the RUN. See now, you knew Jimin is always going to be a reason to stay. The same way he’s the reason why you’re waking up in most random places and living a life where you could be dead in the next minute, he is the reason why you’re still tolerating Hoseok’s stupid tasks.

After the confrontation, you really planned on giving up. It was too embarrassing to face Hoseok after that anyway. Then you had walked out of his office. With no specific purpose. Just to stop your walking in the lobby. Because two men had interrupted your panicky mind going haywire. You had watched Taehyung saying something to Jimin. Something that is supposed to be amusing since he laughed hard. Jimin didn’t. Just a chuckle, before he shift his eyes mindlessly toward where you stood. Catching you staring. A warm smile tugging on his lips. That smile tugging on your heart. That pull you always felt. Making the world blur.

Then there were you on the next day at your apartment, convincing yourself that you’re just preparing work appropriate cloth just because there can be an emergency. Not because you planned on reporting to assistant duties at all. Then there were you at Hoseok’s office, convincing yourself, you’re there to resign formally. That formal resignation apparently took a whole day. You had to postpone it for another day. Then another.

That’s how you finally made peace with the fact that you’re not going to resign. No. You feel like a schoolgirl who hates school with passion but attends every day because his teacher is her crush. No. That can’t be. Jimin isn’t your crush. You’re not that stupid. Still, he’s the reason. You cherish every single moment you get to be in his presence. Every little and polite smile you share. Every word you exchange. Even though those words are anything but personal. Still, in the end, you like how you feel your stomach flip and heart flutter every time you see him. Then, isn’t that how someone would feel when they see their crush?

You groan audibly. Letting your head fall into your palms. Keeping it there as if it can solve your problems.

“Why the long face?” Jungkook’s sudden voice makes you raise your head. You catch him poking his head inside his kitchen. Hair still wet after his shower. Then he reveals his whole body to you. Enters the kitchen with a towel still around his neck.

“Are you telling me, I have a long face?” You smile softly.

“Yeah, your chin is touching your feet. It’s normal though, you’re an alien after all.”

“Fuck you Jeon.” Both of your soft chuckles fill the silent kitchen. You feel Jungkook stands beside you a second before his hands are on your shoulders. During the brief time you shared in his space, you’ve grown accustomed to the fact that Jungkook is touchy. He would squeeze you. Tickles you. Pick you up. And occasionally would start massaging your shoulders like now. Random. Everything about Jeon Jungkook is random. Like that mattress on his living room. You had moved yourself from his couch to that mattress. Eventually, it came in handy. You hum in affirmation when he starts to squeeze your shoulders softly.

“No but seriously, what’s the problem? Is that shithole giving you a hard time? He promised me he wouldn’t.”

“Nah uh, he promised you he won’t make me suck his cock.” You correct him. Eye lids slowly closing.

“Well, it’s still similar to it if he’s making you do all his stupid stuff. And he hasn’t made you suck his cock, right?” Jungkook’s hands freeze for a moment. You chuckle.

“What are you gonna do if he do that?”

“I don’t know. Making sure he won’t get his cock sucked ever again.”

“Okay, I don’t want to think what that means. But no, don’t worry. He’s just a tough boss.” And he knows your dirtiest secret. When you had asked him if anyone else knew. Or if anyone else has picked it up. He simply said that he has no idea. But his best guess was that anyone with a brain should. Still, no one except Hoseok confronted you. So, you’re assuming rest of your friends are brainless. Easy that way.

“Yeah? So, he still makes you run around the office?” Jungkook stops rubbing your shoulders just to sit next to you. It’s really silly how you two would sit in this same spot every night you’re here and recite everything that happened in your day. Except for the parts you can’t tell. Honestly, you haven’t told anyone about that. Not even Jimin knows. You don’t think you should run to him every time something goes wrong. And no have you told Jungkook either. “If it’s too hard you can quit you know. We can always come up with another idea.” Jungkook adds when you keep your silence.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just─” You look at your hands on your lap. You’re about to lie again. This isn’t about work at all. It’s about your stupid obsession with Jimin. It’s about your inability to make a decision. And you’re keep staying in that uncomfortable situation just because you want to see him. Fuck your life!

“Noona?”

“It’s just Hoseok knows it was me at the cottage back then and- and... then he... uh... you know Jimin and I─” Your words cut down when Jungkook harshly turns you around to face him. His eyes wide. You didn’t mean to tell him. Yet it feels good to have someone to shoulder some burdens with you.

“He knows? How?”

You peer at his eyes before slowly starting to explain how things went. He listens intently.  “And is he fucking black mailing you? Is that it?” Asks in the end. You shake your head.

“Of course, no. He hasn’t done something like that. But he told me that I won’t back away now.”

“Yah! That’s what you call black mailing. He threatened you. That’s it I’m gonna make sure he won’t get his dick sucked ever again.” Jungkook looks ablaze. Not believing you have disregarded that. So, you have to show him the reasons how it’s not really a threat. How it would ruin Jimin more than you if Hoseok do something stupid. “Then what the fuck he wants with you?”

“I don’t kn-know.” You don’t honestly. When he told you, he’s using you, it made no sense to you. It still doesn’t. What did he mean when he said, Jimin acts differently with you. This is a part you haven’t told Jungkook. Good thing since he would really go search for ways to make Hoseok dickless. “But I don’t care you know.” You add. Smiling. “Comparing to the pay, running around the office is nothing.” Shrug. Jungkook still looks unconvinced though. So, you nudge him with your shoulder. “Oh, c’mon don’t look so tense. That’s Hoseok, he can’t blackmail me. He asked me to take this tiny bug out the other day. Man was scared for his life. Trust me the most he can do is making me get him a coffee every thirty minutes.”

A tiny smile appears on Jungkook’s lips. It doesn’t take long for it to stretch into a grin. And then a laugh.

“Okay, I would trust you to kick his balls if he tried anything funny.” At last, he sighs. Just to compose himself after laughing.

“Course, you can.” You assure. Watching him getting to his feet. But bends down again to your level.

“Do you wanna bake something?” Questions out of nowhere.

“What? Now? Do you know how to bake?”

“No, but that’s why we have technology. C’mon, it’s going to be fun.”

Random Jeon Jungkook.

…………………………………………..

Fun it is. Too much fun in fact. It was exhilarating to go grocery shopping at night to buy what you needed to bake- as Jungkook says- Kook’s bliss. You made sure to gag every time he said the name. The guy wasn’t discouraged a bit, however. He keeps calling the cupcakes Kook’s bliss and is ecstatic about what you’re doing. You can see him visibly buzzing.

“Okay, we need to preheat the oven first.” You squint at the video to read the subtitles. Not that you can’t understand what she’s saying but you need to make sure you’re preheating the oven for the right temperature and time. “And then we have to mix all this stuff up.”

“Like that? It’s easy. Like eating cake.” Jungkook places his hands on his hips confidently.

“Uh huh. Let’s see about that.” You turn around to meddle with the oven, handing over the phone to Jungkook so, he can start.

“Okay, here we go, baby. Mixing everything up.” You can hear him mumble to himself. Makes you smile to yourself. You straighten up and turn around after setting the oven to preheat.  Pay your full attention to Jungkook. Walking right beside him at the right time when he start pouring the buttermilk to the bowl.

“You already mixed the baking powder and all? That was quick.” You say to him as you pick the phone up again. This time to check how to make the frosting. Only to get distracted when Jungkook suddenly stops. Head snapping toward you. “What?” You ask.

“Am I supposed to mix that first? Wait, is there an order? You told me we just have to mix everything up.” His eyes leave your face to stare at the bowl. Blankly. Stupidly.

“You didn’t?” You lean forward to peer at the bowl too.

“No, it’s just flour there. And I’m adding milk to it.” He shows you the obvious. You have to clear your throat to hide the annoying groan that is about to leave.

“Uh.. I’m pretty sure she told to whisk the flour, salt, and something else before milk. Evenly mixing or something.”

“Fuck, now what? We throw this away.” Jungkook’s eyes are too wide. Glints. Shifts those eyes to. Catching your own which are wide with disbelief.

“Nooo… Jungkook. That’s such a waste.”

“What are we gonna do then?”

“We’re gonna keep going, like─” You shrug, giving him a thoughtful look. “It’s not like it would make a huge difference now, will it? We would still be able to eat it. Let’s keep going huh?”

Jungkook doesn’t reply to you in words. Do it in a shrug before pouring the rest of the milk into the bowl. Well, it seems like you’re up to a good start here. Very good one indeed. Where you threw the instructions away as you start doing it in your own way. Turning everything into a funny mess. It definitely started with Jungkook putting the wrong foot forward, but you are the one who make the first mess. Accidentally, bursting open a packet of baking powder making the contents puff out. Showering you and Jungkook in the white dust. Filling the air with coughs that turn into roaring laughter soon after. Then it’s laughing more than working. Too much laughing since you’re wiping the tears away now when you finally put the cupcakes- or whatever you made- in the oven. You had to preheat the oven twice.

“Do you think they will be safe to eat.” You ask Jungkook after wiping your eyes with your T-shirt sleeve. Two of you are peering inside the oven through its tempered glass. Both of your hair still covered in white substances. So do the parts of your faces. The tip of Jungkook’s nose is adorably white at this moment. You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“Can’t guarantee. Maybe we should take some to Joonie and J, I refuse to die alone.”

“You’re not dying alone, you have me.”

“True, but do you want to be stuck with me forever? Joonie can be a good distraction when you get bored of me.”

“Sounds like a plan. Maybe I should take some to Hoseok as well.”

“Please don’t. Why would you want him to annoy your ass even after you die.”

You straighten up as another laugh leaves your lip. Jungkook follows your movements. Grinning from ear to ear. This sure is a good distraction for you stressing up mind. You feel fairly relaxed now. Not that you’re fooled that it’s going to last. Know it’s temporary simply. Yet, it’s good. You plop into a stool when Jungkook suddenly perks up.

“What’s that song? I like it.” He points at your phone.

“Yeah?” You look at the device as well. It’s your phone from your world. Your offline playlist on shuffle. Jungkook wanted to listen to alien music. Taylor swift’s Paper Rings has changed into Justin Bieber’s 2U. “Ah, that’s To You. Justin Bieber.” You answer his question casually when he snatches your phone away with great interest.

“I like this.” Mumbles to himself. Unlocks your phone to look at the album cover. Takes his moment listening to the song. Justine Bieber’s voice flowing across the kitchen.

When it comes to you,

Don’t be blind

Watch me speak from my heart

When it comes to you, comes to you.

Jungkook gasps. Those doe eyes blinking at your face. Are glinting madly. “I like this dude.” Says with such wonder that you nearly think he just fell in love.

“He was my teenage crush.” You let Jungkook know for no reason when he puts down the phone back. Walks toward you.

“Who’s your crush now?” Asks but doesn’t let you answer when he effortlessly pulls you to your feet. It’s good that you don’t get to answer. You don’t have a crush. At least, not someone other than Park Jimin.

Holy fuck, he is not your crush.

You mentally scold yourself as Jungkook places his hands over your waist.

“Okay, what are you doing?”

“Dancing.” He scrunches that white nose. You giggle when he makes you do a swirl.

“Really? This is so stupid.” You don’t mean that. Are having a hard time trying to keep your giggles controlled.

“That’s the best part Noona. Because it’s stupid.”

Random. Oh, so random. But you like it.

You like someone else other than Jimin in this world. You don’t want any more reason to stay. Yet Jungkook is slowly making a special place in your life. Is creating one more reason to love this life. It’s not that you have a choice but to return anyway. In that case, just avoiding Jimin won’t make it easy for you. Maybe it’s such a waste that you will not have any more memories with the person who you want to create them the most.

It'll be a waste. Surely.

………………………………..

Jimin had just one thing to do. One. And it wasn’t easy. Respecting your wishes not to see him again. You explicitly asked him to do so. Oh, it cut him when you said that. When you asked him to stop worrying about you. When you reminded how much of a prick he was to do so when he was committed to another woman. Then it wasn’t really his fault you popped into his life again, is it? True, he has been ecstatic to know you were hired. Even though it felt wrong and is wrong like Jin says. Even though you’re Hoseok���s assistant and not his. Even though, he knows Hoseok is into something. Still, he’s the happiest he’s ever been. Except for the time he woke up to see you adorably mumbling in your sleep.

 You don’t talk to him much. You always keep it professional. He hasn’t seen that pretty smile or heard those pretty giggles. Sure, you two have these strange moments where you would just stare at each other. Jimin swears he can see that starry night inside your eyes then. Only for a split second, however. You would always snap your eyes away from him. Then would dash away.

Oh, how bad he misses you. How desperate he is to see that smile. Giggles. How he is itching to just reach you whenever you’re in his vicinity. Close. He doesn’t need much. Just a touch of your soft skin. A fleeting brush of your lips in his. That would be more than enough. What’s wrong with him? It’s scary how he’s getting slowly obsessed. How he’s grinning stupidly when Mrs. Emi informed of your presence. How he feels like a boy again. Waiting patiently for his school crush. He forgets who he is. Feels bubbly and buzzing. It’s becoming torture to wait till you finally let those walls down. Till you call him Park again in your adorable, annoyed voice. Till you pout hard.

Oh fuck!

It’s not that he’s getting slowly obsessed. He is obsessed. How else he would explain driving to Kim’s, hopefully just to catch a glimpse of you. He promised himself he would drive away the moment he saw you. Then he ended up waiting there for hours. Like a creep. Watching you sauntering around. Serving tables and smiling wide. It had made him grin widely alone. To see your smile. Though, it wasn’t for him. Nine out of ten times it was for Jungkook. The dude following you like a lost puppy. Annoying. Gets Jimin’s blood boiling. Another reason why he’s happy now you have a job. You’ll never accept his help but since Hoseok pays you well now- despite whatever his intentions are- you’ll be able to move out soon. And he gets to see you every other day, like how he used to. Everything feels like going damn well. In reality, however, it’s not.

He understands why you asked him to stay away. You are a dangerous woman after all. It’s becoming unbearable with every passing day. With each day he’s getting closer and closer to losing control. For a fact, he knows one of these days, he’s definitely going to kiss you hard until you both can’t breathe. And that’ll be how it all goes down the hill again. That’s how mad you drive him. Especially since now you’re fully into this assistant thing. Wears damn button downs. And pencil skirts. He’s a man. A man who is incredibly attracted to you in that case. You always make his brain short circuit.

No difference for today, when he catches you step outside the elevator while he’s about to head off to Jin. You’re juggling with way too many some kind of boxes in your hand. Jimin’s eyebrows instantly merges at the sight. Especially, when Hoseok is stepping out right beside you with his hands beautifully free. Jimin is about to reach you. His mouth already open to yell at his dear friend when Taehyung beats him up to it. Emerging from nowhere.

“Yah! Hyung! Really? You’re letting her carry all this alone. What are you? Insensitive demon?”  Taehyung already reaches for the boxes you’re carrying when you skillfully avoid him. Makes Hoseok snorts.

“Try dealing with this stubborn hag Taehyung─”

“Yah!”

Jimin watches as your protests get ignored by his two friends. Well, he can’t argue with that one. Makes perfect sense if it was you who insisted on carrying all those by yourself.

“You think I gave her those? She nearly bit my hand in front of Susi when I tried to help her.” Hoseok throws an incredulous look at you. You smirk devilishly. Jimin feels his lips stretching into a smile. Of course, you did. Taehyung gasps.

“Really? You have a bite kink?”

“Oh, yeah, you want me to try it on you.” You take a step toward Taehyung. Probably assuming he would be scared and step away. Only to find out that Taehyung is looking at you expectantly. You don’t know his friend well, it seems. You stop, realizing it’s not going according to your plan. Scrunch your nose.

“Well, what did I expect.” Mumble to yourself.

“Will you put those down. Please?” Hoseok interrupts you concernedly. You’re torturing yourself with those. Jimin can’t hear what you say to that but in a minute, you’re doing swirl. And walking backward in his direction. Waltzing. Hoseok giving you his signature judgmental look while Taehyung is grinning widely. Both of their eyes going past you and landing on Jimin. Finally, acknowledging his presence there. Taehyung raises his hand in a wave to him. Jimin nearly returns it when his eyes swift back to you. Right at the moment your back bump into his shoulder. Unexpected for you. Jimin has no time to move away either. You’ve already collided with him and are losing your balance. It’s too late when Jimin springs into action. Trying to grab you, when you fall back. All the boxes you’ve been carrying, flying into the sky before they fall on to you. A shriek leaves your mouth followed by a loud thud.

You curse aloud one time before it all goes into silence. Just Jimin dumbly staring at you who is lying there on the marble floor. Eyes scrunched shut and face contorted in pain. You open your eyes slowly. Catching Jimin’s eyes on you. Staring back at him. Face slowly starting to change color to a deep scarlet. Adorable. Oh, so fucking adorable.

“You’re flashing us.” Taehyung’s sudden voice grabs Jimin’s attention. He snaps his head toward him. Then back to you. You just slightly raise your head from the floor to look at them. Sure enough, you’re just doing that. That damn skirt has ridden up. To add more to it you’re bending your knees. Jimin has to gulp harshly first before glaring at his two friends. Who are shamelessly and obviously staring at you with their mouth hanging open.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry.” You hastily mutter as you try to get up. On your wobbly knees.

“Fuck off!” Jimin shouts at his friends meanwhile. Since they don’t look like going anywhere.

“What?” Taehyung asks Jimin first. “Do you need help baby?” Asks you, already starting toward you when Hoseok luckily grabs from his arm.

“No, she doesn’t you little shit.” Hoseok states as he starts to drag Taehyung away. Good. Jimin is glad.

“Why not? Yah! This is very rude.”

“No, it is not. You’re shameless, you know?”

“As if you’ve looked away.”

Their voices trailed off down the hallway. Giving Jimin the chance to pay attention to you. You’re already on your feet. Hastily collecting what you’ve dropped.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you there.” You softly mumble. Jimin bends down next to you. Helping you to collect the littered items.

“No, you didn’t, because you were dancing.” He doesn’t mean to embarrass you anymore, but you look like you’re about to explode. It’s completely unintentional how he grabs your hand, stopping you from picking up your fourth box. Makes you straighten up. Your wide eyes peering into him as you struggle to hold three boxes with one hand. Jimin should let your hand go. So, you can hold them properly. He doesn’t. He can’t. Your hand is soft in his. Feels like the first time he’s touching you. Squeezes it. “You’re red.”

“Huh?” You squirm slightly under his gaze. Look like you want to hide your face behind your hands. They are both occupied, however.

“Lika a tomato.” Jimin ignores your struggle. Hopes you remember calling him a tomato. “Cute” Adds as he finally let go of your hand. Not because you can hold the damn boxes properly. Because he wants his both hands to take them from you. You don’t even protest. Look thunderstruck. Isn’t it amazing how he can do that to you. Makes his head spin to think. You gape at him for few seconds. Then you’re doing it. Pouting. Fuck he wants to press his lips into yours.

“I swear to god, if you laugh, Park…”

You’re calling him Park. Not Mr. Park. No professionality. In your annoyed adorable voice. And Jimin thinks his heart is about to leap away from his poor rib cage. Isn’t it amazing how you can do that to him. He has to bite down on his lower lip to act like he is in fact not about to laugh.

“I- I’m not laughing.”

“Well, you’re about to.”

“I’m not Lil. Where do you want this to go?”

“To Hoseok’s. I’m gonna kick your ass if you laugh.”

That’s the final straw. He can’t help but let it out. Can’t help but laugh hard. You’re glaring at him hard. For a moment. Then the corners of your mouth are twitching as well. You try your best to suppress it but fail. Fail miserably when a chuckle escapes you.

“Fuck you, Park. Fuck you.” Say through your pretty giggles as you leave him. Knowing very well, he would follow.

………………………………………

“What’s in here anyway?” Jimin curiously questions you as he puts the boxes down.

“I have no idea. He had them in his trunk.” You answer honestly. Your laughter had finally died down and the situation slowly sinking into you. You and Jimin had finally broken the barrier of being professional. Back to calling him Park. Back to bickering. Back to being in the same spaces without trying to run away. All it took was a slip on your foot and a minute. Which is bad. After all, you still want to think you have a chance. Maybe keeping Jimin away won’t make it easy for you to leave this world one day. But that’s less of a burden on your life. He is still in a relationship. You still want to make things right. So, you want him to leave now. Or you should leave him here.

“Uhm... Thank you.” You blurt out before he can ask anything else. Making him turn around to look at you. You’re not trying to be rude here. But it might look like that.

“You want me to leave?”

No. Of course not.

“Well, I mean, you must have work to do Mr. CEO. Thanks for helping me. I should find Hoseok─” You step forward. This is awkward. And hurtful. That glint in Jimin’s eyes disappears. “─his coffee. Do you need coffee? I can take you, yours.” You ramble, gesturing at the door. You still need to try. The sooner you get away, the sooner your heart will calm down. When did it start going crazy? When your heart calms down, you can remember why you should not get comfortable with Jimin again. Yet before you can step away, Jimin clutches your wrist. Stopping you.

Fuck, too late!’

“You need to stop doing that. Thought you called me immature when I did that.” Jimin turns you around to face him. Softly. Your brain is starting to ring warning alarms. This is how it always start to mess up.

Get away now!

“Doing what?”

“Trying to avoid me. You were the one who told me talking is what we should do, not avoiding.”

“I’m not avoiding you Jimin. How can I avoid you when I walk into your office ten times in a day.” You try to free your hand subtly. He doesn’t let you. Like earlier. And deep down you don’t want him to let you go.

“Yeah? And you would run away like I’m about to eat you.” Jimin scowls. Isn’t he though? Not all the time, no. But sometime that’s how he looks at you. Give you the urge to spread your legs right then and there. You have good reasons to run away.

“I- I─”

“And you asked me to stay away from you Lil.”

This time it’s you who are scowling. Gasp. “When did I ever say that?” Jimin doesn’t answer you. Just give you a deadpan look. “All I said was that you don’t have to help me all the time.”

“Were you?”

“Well, it’s not like you replied to my texts. You don’t get to accuse me.” You don’t really feel mad. All you want is to leave. Every passing minute where you’re staring into his brown orbs, makes you greedy.

“You asked me to stay away.” Jimin repeats. This time more sternly.

“I did not.” You match his voice.

“That’s what you meant when you said that. You wanted to keep me away.” Last part leaves like a breathless whisper. Brushing past your entire body. Making you weak. You’re becoming weak. Chest squeezing. “You wanted me to stay away from you Lil. I was just doing that.” Jimin pulls you with your hand. Slowly. You take a step forward. See, weak. Greedy. His thumb is drawing comforting circles in your hand. How you missed his touch. Is watching you expectantly. Something in his eyes are forcing you to speak the truth. You’re losing it.

“I wanted to try Jimin.” So, you give up. Sigh. Allow yourself to become greedy and get bewitched in his gaze.

“Try what?”

“To stay away. We can’t- can’t─”

Jimin scoffs. “Want a piece of advice Lil? I already tried that, and it’s not gonna work.” Whispers. You don’t stop him when his free hand cups your cheek. Oh, here you go again. Like he said, it never was going to work.

“But- but we need to try at least.” You try to downcast your eyes.

“What did she say to you? Liya?” Jimin keeps your face in place. Never letting your eyes wander away from him. Truth. Something is pulling you to tell the truth. “She asked you to leave, didn’t she?”

“She has all the right─”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“It’s rightfully her place Jimin. And we can’t share it.” You try to reason.

“That’s why you wanted me to stay away?” Jimin ignores your attempts.

Your heart is pounding in your ribcage. You want him to bring you even closer to him. A silence fall down as you simply nod.

“Then you wouldn’t have asked me to do so, if it wasn’t for her?” Asks again.

“You’re in a relationship Jimin.”

“So what? I wasn’t in a one when everything happened. You didn’t know I have a girlfriend when you let me fuck you?”

You shut your mouth. There’s no answer for that than admitting. You knew. You can’t even be mad at Jimin for confronting you. He doesn’t sound like he’s accusing. Is simply asking you a question.

“I did, but─” Jimin cut’s you down by cupping your cheeks with both of his hands this time. Closes the distance between you.

“Then what difference will it make now?” His gaze drops to your lips. You’re certain, his lips would land on yours in a split second. And you’ll let him. You’re already anticipating that touch. But just before it happens, you find yourself stopping him with a question.

“So, you still want me here then?” You’re finally doing this. Asking questions that need to be asked. Jimin’s eyes shift back on to your eyes instead of your lips. A slight frown appearing in his forehead.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, even when Liya is here, you still want me? You still don’t want me to leave?” Your voice is shaky. Jimin chuckles softly in disbelief.

“Course I do baby. Why are you even asking that question?”

“You left with Liya that night.”

You watch as Jimin’s features softens. Contrast to how his hands tighten. “I didn’t know what I should do Lil.” Explains. You know he’s telling the truth this time.

“Do you now, then?”

A silence. A sigh. Deep one. And a shake of his head. “Honestly, no. I have no damn idea what I should do. I’m fucking lost.” Despite his words he brings his face closer to you. “Tell me what I should do baby.” You close your eyes to bask in this feeling. Loving the way his breathings tingle your face. “Aks me to stop Lil. Ask me to go away. Maybe, you should reject me, if you still want to try.” You open your eyes to find his hazy ones. Droopy. You want to laugh at his request. Jimin is an asshole through and through. Is so fucking selfish to ask you to do that. You can’t even blame him since he so graciously admitted he is. Well, if he can be selfish, you can too. There’s a bubble of annoyance that pushes you toward your greed. Pressing your lips into his which are so close to yours. You don’t care. Jimin hums in appreciation. A clue that he never wanted you to reject him. Immediately, starts to work against your lips. Lips slotting with yours desperately. Inclining your head for better access. His tongue poking at the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. You give him that. Allowing him to lap with your tongue. Allow him to kiss you until your lunges scream.

Only drifting apart for a long breath before attacking each other’s lips again. This is good. More than good. You had wanted, no, you had needed Jimin more than you knew. It’s good to see he wants you as much as you do. You’re clutching on to him eagerly. Kissing him back with a same kind of fervor. Moaning into his mouth. And you want to give him more. More than you need. Want him to know he’s driving you mad. You let your hands roam. Roam on his body. Starting from the back of his neck. Shoulders. Chest. His god sculptured abs. Touching him the best you can through the annoying clothing till your hand stops on his belt. You take a moment, just to tease him before you let it brush against his crotch. Jimin grunts and buck his hips instantly. Pulls away.

“Do it again baby please.” Moans.

“Like this.” You do it again. This time with enough pressure. Jimin lets out an inaudible gasp. Works in light speed when his hand falls on top of yours. Not letting you take your hand away. Guiding you to rub his hardening cock.

“Like that yes. Fuck. More princess please.” You whimper at his words when he keeps pressing your hand harder against his cock. You do as he wants. Like you always would. Squeezing and rubbing. Presses your lips against him once more when the light creaking sound of the door opening interrupts you. Suddenly. Your eyes go wide before you practically push Jimin away from you. In an inhuman speed. So forcefully that he stumbles. Barely catching his balance. You both turn around toward the door in right moment to catch Hoseok enters. Eyes landing on you. Freezing there for a moment since he clearly doesn’t expect to see you here. Surprised. You and Jimin do the same. Frozen and staring at your friend dumbly. Only for a moment, though, then Hoseok is smiling. Stepping inside to allow Taehyung to enter after him.

“Oh, you’re here? What are you doing?” Taehyung is the one who questions when he notices you and Jimin.

“Jimin obviously helped her like the true gentleman he is, while you gaped at her underwear Kim Taehyung. Is that even a question?” Hoseok is the one who answers that question. Only that he’s not looking at Taehyung, but his eyes are on you. And Jimin. Smirking. Oh, he knows. He definitely knows.

“What? I could’ve helped her if you didn’t drag my ass away.” Ever so clueless Taehyung argues while Hoseok keep his piercing gaze on you. You’ll have to let Jimin know. Specially now since Hoseok caught you for a second time. For now, however, you want to disappear.

“Your coffee, I’ll go and grab it” You rush past the two men standing at the doorway fast as you can. Hardly catching Taehyung grumbling that he needs a Fizz instead. Apparently, that drink is like coke. You have found out. You only nod without looking back.

……………………………………..

You’ve been on edge the entire day. Not surprising that you did. Firstly, you’ve been on edge due to how desperately you wanted to go back to Park Jimin. You were practically buzzing with anticipation. Your heart is not slowing down and the fire he lit inside you never dying down. When you went back to him with his coffee, this morning, your horny body and traitorous brain was eagerly hoping to start back from where you stopped. You could have probably. If it wasn’t for Emi being inside with him. Not leaving. Politely and awkwardly gaping at you when you bid your time there. Wait and see if she would leave you alone to no avail. In the end, you had no option but to leave. The only thing that happened from that painful encounter was that you became more desperate. Jimin is to blame since he most definitely fucked you with his eyes. Staring at you shamelessly. Expression fucked up.

Then you had to wait till you have your moment again. There wasn’t a problem since you normally have plenty of opportunities. Too much in fact that it makes you annoyed. But today, though, there were none. On the very day you wanted to go to Jimin, Hoseok didn’t ask you to play his personal delivery service. So, secondly, you’ve been on edge due to how Hoseok treated you. His little smirks and curious gazes. Watching you intently. Giving you enough work to busy yourself but never once asking you to go for Jimin. You were pretty sure he knew but you were too afraid to ask. So, you were playing dumb and hopefully waiting to take anything stupid, even a paper clip or stapler, to Jimin when Hoseok asks. He didn’t. Not for an entire day. Making you wonder what he was playing at again.

Playing was what he did. For no doubt. It became positive when he decided to make you attend a, according to him- very informal and a little- meeting with one of their very important sponsors. Your presence was not required at all. And it was against the policies. You need to stay away from the company matters. But then there you were. Stupidly sitting there while trying hard not to gape at Jimin. Trying hard to keep your mind not wandering away. Imagining things. The way he would kiss you again. Bite on your lips. The way he would sucks on your neck. Marking. The way he would squeeze your tits. Rolling his thumbs over your nipples. How he would suck on them. How good it would be to see his blonde hair tickling your thighs while he bury his face in your cunt. Kiss your clit and dragging his tongue along your slit. How he would make you warm his cock again. Twitching inside you. Throbbing. Oh, what would you do to have that again. Yet all you had was more desperation. Subtly squeezing your thighs together. All you had was glimpse of Jimin. Nothing more.

And you knew Jimin was struggling too. His eyes told you all. Was distracted through the entire meeting. Had mumble ‘Huh?’ more than twenty times during that sixty-minute-long meeting. Couldn’t keep his eyes away from you. Torture. Hoseok had put you in pure torture.

It's pathetic how horny you are now when the day is finally nearing an end. Your mind is going haywire as you wait outside the Hoseok’s office. Resting your ass against his secretary’s desk. You’ve warmed up to each other finally. He has long gone home. Building is getting isolated slowly. Silence spreading. It would be nice if your mind could go that silent as well. If it can shut up and stop thinking about hundred different ways Jimin can fuck you.

“You want a ride?” You don’t even hear Hoseok leaving his office until his voice erupts next to your ear suddenly. It doesn’t even startle you. Too distracted and fucked up. You just hum in reply. “I can take you home if you want to.” Hoseok says again when you just dumbly stare at his face.

Going home? That means this day ends. That means you would not see Jimin again. You would have to wait a day, and you’ll die. No. No, you can’t wait that long. You want him. Jimin. Fuck you need him. He hasn’t left yet now, has he?

“Li?” Hoseok mumbles again. Slowly. Suspiciously. As if he’s not sure whether you’re sick or not. You have no idea since when he started calling you that. Simply you can’t care. You just blink at his face for a long minute. Making up your mind. Perking up the moment you do. Excited.

“You go first. I have something I should take care.” You don’t wait for him to reply. Already walking away.

“Oh yeah? Good luck with that then.”

Can hear the teasing edge in his voice though.

………………………………….

Your mind is repeating one thing and one thing only.

Fuck it!

You need Park Jimin.

Fuck the rest of the world and everyone in it.

You’re going to fuck Park Jimin.

You don’t care anymore. No. Not at all. You’re breathing hard as you walk toward his office. Your heels clank loudly as you go since it’s all quite inside the building now. You’re shaking slightly in pure desire when you finally reach his outer office. Seeing Emi has gone already. You don’t even take a moment to think about what you’re doing. Nor do you wait to knock on his door either. Just pushing it open without a care when Jimin snaps his head toward you from his computer. His eyes go wide in surprise.

“Lil?” Mumbles when you’re already walking forward. You catch him licking his lips. Nervous? Anticipation? Excited? You don’t know. As long as he won’t stop you. You’re fine.

You let your bag fall onto the floor softly. Not giving a double fuck. Do the same to your jacket as well. Are already unbuttoning your button up. You don’t care!

This time you know Jimin licks his lips entirely in anticipation. Is looking at you with an open mouth. Breathing already shallow even before you reach him. He turns his chair away from the table so you can directly straddle him without further hassle. He catches you immediately. Welcoming you like you’ve come home. Head falling down to your cleavage. Burying his face there and inhaling deeply. Groans.

“I can’t Jimin. Fuck, I can’t. Want you. Need you to say Fuck it.” You whimper as you keep his head in place. Jimin chuckles.

“I said fuck it a long-ago Lil.”

You say nothing. Just thread your fingers in his hair. Pulling from it to get him face you. Jimin looks surprised at your sudden change. You’re the one who melts always. The one who waits till he gives you. You don’t reach. Well, you normally don’t but, you’re just a woman and have limits. And those limits snapped. Yet he says nothing when you nod and pull him into a rough kiss. Whimpering and moaning. Trying to hump your cunt into his crotch urgently. Getting annoyed when your stupid tight skirt is restricting your movements. Jimin takes the hint luckily, pulls the hem of your skirt up. Up through the curves of your ass. Bunching it up on your waist. Now you’re nearly naked on top of him. All the more reasons to be more needy. Feverish. Jimin kneads your ass cheeks. Pulling you into him more. Your aching cunt finally landing on where you want to be. Deliciously dragging along his pants. Driving you crazier. Your fingers leaves his hair to reach his shirt instead. To unbutton him. But he suddenly pulls away. Grabs your hand, stopping you from unbuttoning him.

“W-wait.” Mutters. Your movement falters. Eyes going big. Is he really rejecting you now? Has he changed his mind? The way he brings your hand to his mouth to kiss it tenderly says otherwise, however. “I need you to think.” Says. Voice thick with adoration. You’re very confused though. Frowning at him. Nothing makes sense to you.

“Think what?”

“If we do this now baby, you’re fucking stuck with me. You know, like I said, I don’t know what I should do. I really don’t have a single idea what I’m going to do. Still, if we’re going to do this, I’m gonna act like you’re mine.” Jimin rambles. Breathless. And so does he take your breath away as well. “I’m going to be fucking jealous and possessive Lil. There’s nothing casual here. I’m not going to say this is just sex and then watch you go on with other men. No. I’m gonna be so fucking annoying to you.” He presses his forehead against yours. You feel like your heart is about to explode from your chest. Why does this feel like a confession. “Even though, I’m in no position to do so. Well, I- I know this is so wrong to say bu- but I just can’t go and break up with- you know, it’s complicated─”

You stop him. By squeezing his hand. Just give him a few nods. It’s not like you came here for anything more. Despite the way you feel your heart breaks at his word. The painful realization of you’re never going to be the first, dawning on you. You’ll be the hidden secret behind closed doors and drawn curtains. But it’s okay. You don’t expect more. You’re already cursed. Cursed to be in this position with this man. So, you let him know you understand. Jimin brings his free hand to cradle your cheek. With the back of his hand. Softly.

“So, I need you to think Lil. I’m not going to let you go. Even though I have no right, I’m going to act like I do. I’m gonna say you’re mine, and mine only. It’s not fair baby. You don’t deserve that shit. I’ve already made your life a mess. I don’t want to drag you deeper into this shit. So, maybe this is not the right time to ask but think baby, be sure.”

You pull away from him. To get a better look at his eyes. Feeling torn between emotional and horny. See, Jimin is the most selfish jerk you’ve ever met. He doesn’t want to drag you deeper into this mess. No. He wants you to walk into that mess. Hand in hand. Selfish. Too fucking selfish. The imperfect Park Jimin. Just a human. And oh, how he’s perfect in your eyes. How you’re not feeling any anger. Remorse. How obsessed you’re with him.

“This is not just casual?” You finally ask after keeping him on edge for minutes.

“No. You’re only mine.” Jimin shuffles in the seat making your half bare chest presses against his clothed one.

“Then what about, uh.. what? Liya? Do you do this with─”

“No. No I haven’t for so long and I don’t think I will again. Not when─” He doesn’t complete his sentence. Instead puts his hands on your thighs. Slowly rubbing. You arch into his touch. Shivering. “Lil?” Gives you a fleeting kiss. Is looking at you hopefully.

Well, it is just like you think. You’re the one behind the curtains. Liya’s the one who will live life out there. The answer you give will determine whether you want to become that person. The mistress you refused to become.  But you can’t lie to yourself. Despite how hard it hurts; you love it when Jimin said you’re his. You love that he is jealous. Simply you will never get to say or feel those things in return. That’s it. And you’re fine. Fine as long as he would give you this. Not sex. No. Being with you this way even as a secret.

“I want you, Park.” You say sternly. No wavering in your voice. Clear and precise. Making Jimin’s breath hitch. He breathes out shakily.

“Are you sure?” Yet he asks again. “I’m not going to share you.”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“You’re not going to kick my ass later when I’m annoying you, will you?” There’s such a glint his eyes that makes your heart swell. You chuckle breathlessly. Nudge his nose with yours.

“I think I’ll love it when you annoy my ass.”

“Yeah?”

 “Yeah, will you please fuck me now? I- I’m just─”

“I know” Jimin whispers. Saves you from having to explain your desperation. Pulls you into another tender kiss. And that’s all it take. You’re practically savoring each other. Swallowing each other’s moans and humping like horny rabbits. You finally being able to unbutton his shirt at the right moment he stands up. Picking you up with him. The surprised shriek you make is yet again muffled by him. He puts you down on his table. Easily. Like you’re a doll. Your skirt is still bunched up in your waist and your shirt open. You prop onto your elbows to keep your balance when Jimin urges your legs apart. Cursing loud.

“Shit!” Bends down to catch your lips in a kiss again. “You have a fucking pretty pussy Lil.” Informs you before he straightens again. Just to peer at your cunt. “Take your tits out for me princess.”

You’re quick to comply. Pulling your bra down to reveal your hard nipples. He smiles in approval. Doesn’t touch them though. Ghosts his fingers over your cunt. Leaving barely there touches that gets you bucking your hips desperately.

“Eager, are we?” Taunts you.

“Oh, please Jimin you have no idea, how much I- oh god.” A gentle press in your clit makes your words turn into a moan.

“And you think I haven’t. I was rock hard all day. All because I couldn’t get this cunt out from my mind.” Jimin clicks his tongue. Gets you slightly jumpy when he hooks a finger inside your underwear. Curling it around the material. Forming a thin line out of the fabric. You watch him curiously and breathlessly. He just gently tugs the fabric up. In a way that it perfectly presses against your swollen nub. Your ass nearly laves the tabletop as you hurriedly grabs his wrist.

“No, no, I will cum Jimin. I can’t.”

“So, go ahead. Cum.” Jimin smirks sinfully before pulling the fabric down. You tremble. Then he pulls it up again. This time a bit harder than before. Not enough for you to hurt. Just enough to feel the pressure of it pressing against your clit. Keeps it there. Then down again. Up. Then down. With every tug Jimin making sure to rub the soft material on your clit good. Deliciously. Over and over again. Massaging your cunt with it.

“You gonna cum already princess?” He coos while you’re slowly starting to tense up your body. Hands frantically and blindly searching for purchase on something. To hold onto something to keep you sane.

“Yeah? You do? I haven’t even touched you baby. And you’re already coming? Look how much you’re dripping on to my table.” Jimin’s eyes are glued to your cunt. Doing a damn great job. Creates a perfect amount of pressure in your slit. All you can do is whimper. Moan. Spread your legs further. Allowing him to play with you all the much he want. “All I’m doing is tugging at your panties and you’re going to cum? You’re that desperate for me?” He shifts his gaze from your sloppy cunt to your face. Leans forward. Kisses you sloppily. Trails his hips down to your chin and then throat. Mouth into your skin. Getting drunk on you. Your smell. Pulls away to peek at your face, searching for something. Is making sure his words are not too much. You just know him. Nothing to be surprised anymore. You just nod. Greenlight. Jimin dips down again. This time to take one of your hardened nipples in his mouth. Sucking and gently biting. Pays equal attention to the other one, all the while his hand doesn’t stop rubbing your own underwear in your cunt. Pops your tit out of his mouth.

“You look so good spread out on my fucking office desk Lil. You look fucking gorgeous. Such a good slut hm? Fucking desperate. Do you realize you’re whoring yourself for me?” Fills your ears with filth. “Be a good girl and cum. You can cum like this, right? All you need is anything to touch your slutty clit. And you’re going to be a good slut and cum for me hard. Go on” Tugs a little hard on the fabric that is rubbing against your slit. Your head is spinning. Your body is tensing up. Tears start to blur your sight. And then that knot is exploding. Your back arching and your hands giving up on keeping you propped. “Yeah, like that. Cum baby, cum for me.” You fall back on your back. Accidentally, knocking something on Jimin’s desk to the floor. About which neither of you care. Jimin keeps rubbing your clit to drag your high as long as he can. Only stopping when you wince but you can already feel him tugging your panty down. Forcing you to open your eyes which you didn’t know you had closed. You raise your head hardly to catch him fall down on to his knees.

“J-Jimin.” You straighten up immediately. At the right moment, Jimin buries his face between your thighs. Causing them to shake. “Holy fuck, it- it’s─”

“More Lil. You can. You can cum more for me. Want to make you cum till you can’t anymore. C’mon again.” His words make your cunt vibrate. He wastes no time in starting to drag his tongue over and over your slit. Repeatedly. Working you up again within mere seconds. Latches his lips into your clit while peek up at you. He looks drunk. Just like the day at the cottage. This is exactly how fucked up and drunk he looked.

Fuck!

You can’t. This one is going to be even faster. Especially, since Jimin is ravishing on your cunt like a mad man. Loud embarrassing, slurpy noises filling the air. And then you’re really a goner when he slips a finger inside your quavering hole without any notice. You squeak. Press your cunt more into his face.

“Yes, oh god yes, Jiminie don’t stop. I’m c-close, so close, baby I-I mmhm”

He adds a second finger. Curles. Presses on that spot. You nearly make him suffocate on your cunt when he adds a third. Throwing you over your edge for the second time just as his finger starts to slip inside. He keeps licking and slowly pumping his fingers inside you for couple more minutes. Before standing up fast again. Doesn’t even allow a minute for you to catch your breath when he’s back at kissing you. Your own taste spreading across your taste buds. He bites on your lower lip. Looks mad. Eyes all pupils and face flushed.

“More princess, tell me you can take more. My cock hurts...”

“C-course I c-can Jimin. I-I want you. Want you bad, need your cock inside me. Now please.”

“That’s my girl.” Jimin pulls away to fumble with his pants. Belt thrown away and undoing the fly. Pulling down his suit pant along with his boxers. Freeing his throbbing cock. You’ll never get used to seeing it. Never will not be aroused at the sight. Never learn not to whimper impatiently when he wraps his slender fingers around the shaft. Mesmerizing. Your mouth is literally watering. Jimin stands between your spread legs. No more teasing, it seems. Is nudging his flushed tip against your sensitive, swollen nub immediately. Makin you both moan.

“I really want to see you choke on my cock baby, but I can’t wait anymore─” Jimin mumbles as he drags his tip across your slit. Rubs it up and down. You tremble in excitement. “─ but you know what’s good? We can do it the next time. And then again in the next and─” His words are muffled by his clenched teeth when he suddenly thrusts inside you in a one go. “─and next.” Lets out a breath of relief when you scream his name. Hands find purchase on his shirt sleeve. Pulling him closer to you so that his next words are whispered against your lips. “Because you’re mine, baby. Mine.” He pulls out his cock almost all the way out. “Mine.” Thrusts back hard. Splitting you open and stretching you wide. Good. Delicious.

“Oh god Jimin. Fuck.”

“Say you’re mine Lil. Say I can do this all the much I want.” Thrust. “Tell me.” Thrust. Harder than before the desk rattles under you. Jimin grabs your jaw. Making you look at him. “Say it baby. Say you’re my slut.” He slams inside you. It’s not that you’re not answering. Simply, your brain isn’t working properly. You can’t gather coherent thoughts let alone voice them out. “Say it.” He squeezes your cheeks as he slams inside you harder again. Pace slow but hard. Plunging deep inside you every time he moves forward. A tangled noise leaves you as you struggle to find your words.

“Y-you- yours Ji-Jimin. I’m y-your slut. I’m a-a-all.. oh, fuck.. I’m yours.” You don’t know what you’re saying anymore. They are all just sounds leaving your mouth. Jimin has picked up his speed. Evidently losing control, at your words.

“Fuck, that’s right. Mine. My slut. Gonna take a good care of you baby.” He urges your legs further apart. You give up trying to stay up right. Once again falling down to your back and taking each thrust Jimin gives you graciously. Greedily. Sucking up his cock. Clenching and convulsing around him. Trying to milk him out. His perfect pounding makes his cock head hitting your spot repeatedly. Melting you. Bringing you closer to another climax far too soon. You just need a little push. Sputtering and wailing, you weakly snake your hands between your bodies. Trying to chase that high. You nearly touch the bud when your hand suddenly pushes away. Harsh. Jimin leans over you instantly. Pining your hand next to your head tightly.

“No touching.” Growls. “Just take it like a good girl.” You suck in a sharp breath. “Yeah, fuck like that. Take it all baby. Fucking ahhhh.. take it.”

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling. His thrusts are turning animalistic. Is pounding you. You can hear him spill more filth, but all are becoming a white mess. Stars appearing behind your closed eyelids. You don’t need to touch your clit after all. Your third orgasm hits you like a shockwave. Making you choke on your sobs.

“Jimin... Jimin... oh, please…” You’re crying. Don’t even know why you’re begging. Body shaking. Wraps your legs around his waist feebly.

“I’m here baby. Let go. I got you. Like that, gonna cum too princess, shit, you’re squeezing me so tight. Mmhp… Fuck─” Jimin grits his teeth tightly as you reluctantly let go if him when he promptly pulls out. Ropes of his seeds shooting across your thigh. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jimin keeps cursing. Spilling every last drop he can give into your skin. Until he can’t hold it up anymore and nearly collapse on you. Hiding his face on your neck. You know his knees must be wobbly now. You gently thread your fingers in his hair. Softly scraping his scalp when he purr into you. Draws back after couple minutes.

“Are you okay?” Breathes. You just hum in reply. Lying there in bliss. Jimin slowly withdraws from you. Taking the sight of your wrecked figure, covered in his cum. You watch as he reaches for a box of tissues. Grabbing few to clean you up. Almost dab it on your skin when your hoarse voice surprises you both. You don’t know what demon has possessed you.

“That’s such a waste.” Your own eyes go wide when Jimin shifts his eyes to your face.

“Jesus, Lil, what?” He knows what you’re implying. You can see his gaze darkening once again. You’re insatiable, aren’t you?

“Your cum.” Your heart is starting to race again.

“Yeah? God you’re fucking dirty. What do you want then? Want me to do this?” Jimin throws the tissues away. Doesn’t hesitate a bit when he coats two of his fingers with the white substance spilled over your thigh. Doesn’t mind a bit when he brings those fingers to your lips. You open them willingly, allowing Jimin to push his fingers inside you. Laps your tongue around them. Humming at the salty taste. Watching how Jimin visibly loses his mind again. He takes his fingers back, just to coat them again in his cum and to feed them to you. And again. You suck them off his fingers each time. Staring to squirm and writh again. But what makes you cry out is when he gathers the remaining of his seed for the fourth time. And instead of pushing his fingers in yours, he puts them inside his mouth. Sucking while looking you dead in the eye. You almost cum again.

“Holy, fuck Jimin…” You curse loudly, hips bucking up involuntarily.

“Again?” Jimin asks the moment he’s done with cleaning his own fingers.

“God yes.” You nearly jump at him. Pulling him into a frenzied kiss. Opening your legs again without a care. Giving him everything and taking all, you can. You don’t care anymore. Not at all. You don’t give a fuck about being the secret.

“Fuck yes baby.” Jimin mutters as he plunges his already hard cock inside your spent cunt again. “My pretty slut. Mine.”

You just moan. Pathetic. Yet so good.

You’re going to live this life. Going to make peace with it. Going to make peace with being the person you are now.

The Other Woman.

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a/n- Leave a note if you enjoyed this one!

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Taglist - @chimmy-licious @graydolan12 @smoljimjim @likemeforme @sugas-baby-girl @canarystwin @jkayy @floboo6 @sunshinenmidnight @fiddlebiddls @unlikelycheesecakeenthusiast @mar-lo-pap @angelicsmilesworld @jimincrystal @datspjm @shakes0peare @butterymin

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

IZZY HANDS FIC RECS! (I want em', I've got em')

What is everyone reading in OFMD fandom right now?

I am currently mostly caught up on my 'to read list' and YALL. I'd love more recomendations!! I will take ANYTHING! I will read ANYTHING!

I'd love to start a chat, so I'd love y'all to leave something you've read recently down below!

I've also added some tasty ones I've read recently down below separated by ship! THEY ARE AMAZING!

Frenchie/Izzy:

The Poetry of Flowers: By Aletea [Rated:Teen. Complete]

Frenchie falls hard and fast. It takes Izzy a little while longer to catch up. This is the slow courtship of Izzy Hands, using flowers.

This fic was written for OFMD Aro/Ace Week 2024.

[Personal notes: OMG-It's so *GOOD*. This has a bit of S2, but mostly takes place post S2, if that tempts you, READ IT. This got me back into the hobby Frenchie does in the fic and AHHH]

you steal my breath away: By ChangeTheCircumstances [Rated: Mature. Complete]

Something is clearly off about Izzy, but when Frenchie sees him petting a cat, it finally clicks. Izzy is a fucking witch! In order to protect the crew, Frenchie makes the next obvious step in logic: he has to kill him.

[Personal notes: I feel this one is just 'if you like Frenchie/Izzy, you've READ THIS- but it's so earnest! SOLID fic the 'realizations' on both ends are really amazing and well written, reread it if you have]

Warnings from the Bottom of My Heart: By scrunglebungus [Rated: Teen. Complete]

Izzy likes Frenchie's voice. He appreciates his music and his long pretty fingers as they move across his Lute. He doesn't have a crush. He DOESN'T.

...and if he did, it's not like he's obvious about it.

(Spoiler: He is) AKA: 5 times Izzy is given the shovel talk + 1 time it's given on his behalf

[An alternate S2 fic written before S2! It leans a bit more 'Izzy needs to redeem himself' than I usually read, but all the Izzy & Crew interactions are SO in character it's scary. That and the Captains are so well realized on top of Izzy and Frenchie being great. LOVE IT]

Roach/Izzy:

Take Up Thy Stethoscope And Walk: bongbingbong [Rated:Mature. Complete]

Of Roach, the scientist - although, that those ghoulish practices he carries out should be called science is a subject on which some might disagree - I feel like I should speak with extreme terror. In laying down those events which transpired during that winter in the turning over of our century, it seems as though on paper they create an impression of little more than a tawdry tale, a freak show in writing for the morbidly curious. It’s no question that I spent a great deal of that time afraid for my life, and for my soul. And yet, I tell you - I have never felt quite so alive as I did during the days I have spent living in the graveyard.

I wonder what this might say about me. What a pair we make.

Izzy Hands dies. Roach brings him back to life. This is the easiest part of the process.

Written for the OFMD Reverse Big Bang 2023, with art from Tarouofthesea!

[Omg. OMFG. I love this fic. I love this Frankenstein'ian/Reanimator fic SO MUCH. It is just SOOOOOOO-! AMAZING characterization, stunning art, the way everything pays off plot/reference-wise! LOVE IT!]

Blackbeard's Roach: bongbingbong [Rated: Teen. Unfinished. 4/6]

What if Roach had ended up on the Queen Anne's Revenge before the events of the show?

(A alternative universe Roach who wears leather and cooks for Blackbeard's crew, and flirts outrageously with their first mate)

[ANOTHER bongbingbong Roach/Izzy fic!!! I love the way bongbingbong writes Roach/Izzy. It's not finished, but I am SO excited to see how it goes! In this one, even though it's unfinished, I feel it GETS the pre-Bonnet life Izzy lived on the Queen Anne. If you like probably autistic Izzy, READ THIS! That, and Roach and Izzy's relationship is SO GOOD. I won't spoil it, but the mutual trust is really strong!]

Stede/Izzy:

The Mount: rainingrenee [Explicit. Complete (WLW smut<3)]

Stede Bonnet enters the Revenge self defence class expecting to learn something.

She meets instructor Butch Dyke Supreme Izzy Hands and gets more than she bargained for.

[God. I love women. This smutty 8k fic is AMAZING and honestly any WLW in this fandom needs some love!]

When It Takes Hold: krill collins (krillcollins)[Explicit: 5/12]

Izzy Hands, a 90s heartthrob turned casting director with an impressively average back catalogue, never foresaw his career trajectory bringing him back to television. He certainly never would've guessed that his big return would be on Strictly Come Dancing. At least it breaks the monotony, even if he's paired with the insufferable twat, the Gentleman of the Ballroom.

It's the kind of fast-paced environment that Izzy was sure he'd long-since grown out of, and he's sure he's not going to make it past the first few weeks. Still, the more he finds himself enjoying it, the more he hopes he'll stay, and he finds himself more in love with life than he's been in years.

Still, the talk of the curse puts Izzy on edge. Bonnet is strangely captivating and seems more interested in Izzy than Edward has in years. Izzy may not believe in them, but that's the thing about curses: once they take hold...

[OMG. OMFG?!?!? Do you know how much I love 'Dancing with the Stars' AU? NO? Well. For every fandom I enter, my first tags I search are 'time loop' 'time travel' and 'dancing'. This fic is EVERYTHING I love about the trope. I have been following this fic from Day 1 and OMG. I love it. Can't recommend it enough]

The Island: triedunture [Explicit: 10/? Updates every Friday-SteddyHands but Izzy/Stede focused]

Stede Bonnet wakes up in the little cottage he and Ed share—except Ed's not there. Izzy is. Stede is somehow stuck in a world where Ed died and Izzy lived. As he struggles to get back to his real life, it becomes clear that things on the island are very different from what he first assumed....

Updates every Friday.

[A fic that, if the premise sounds cool-READ IT! It's a bit out there concept wise, but SO fun, and a great look at how Stede and Izzy interact in a 'do I want him' type of relationship. This fic has been my weekly bed time story, and I can't wait to see how the drama UNFOLDS!]

[isfjmel-phleg]

#i hope it's okay to reblog this #because i need you to know i'm obsessed with these two now #you gave me *another* arranged marriage to obsess over?? you are far too kind to me #and i particularly love this one because it flips the usual tropes of this type of plot upside down #usually she'd leave behind a charming true love and struggle to love this inferior awkward bumpkin #or he'd be this brooding antisocial misanthrope and she has to bring out the sweetness underneath #or *she'd* be the awkward one or the too-cheerful one that he has to learn to love #but no! #she doesn't like prince charming and would prefer the awkward one #he actually likes her (in his shallow way) #it's a completely different dynamic #perhaps a bit scarlet pimpernel-ish except that i doubt he's got any deeper altruism underneath #which i'm also kind of obsessed with #'glad he's not stuck with *gasp* the plain one' killed me #he seems like such a flake and i kind of love him for it #i need to see how their relationship develops #since they're in the 2nd generation that's supposed to fix the errors of their elders i can hope that things work out well for them #does he have some depth? does he learn to see *her* depths? #inquiring minds need to know #i hope you appreciate the level of self-restraint i am showing by not picking up a pen #and trying my hand at writing a (vastly inferior) version of this #it is a very tempting dynamic to steal because you are so very brilliant #i remain amazed at how you can spin such vast and fascinating stories for every single side character in this universe (via @fictionadventurer)

I am thrilled that you approve! I would like to avert common tropes with this relationship. It would be too easy, too boring to have the non-royal love interest be The Perfect Romantic Choice and the designated fiancé be exaggeratedly horrible. Ateva's officer had his good points, but he ultimately proves to be untrue, given the right motivation. Viori presents himself as having all the depth of a puddle, but he is ultimately a good person, and he will grow a lot--as will Ateva.

He does not have enough deeper altruism to lead a double life as a masked hero (as fun a plot as that would be!), but he is still capable of being very kind and thoughtful. He is a devoted older brother since he and his sisters were raised apart from their parents for most of their childhood and became close for support. He's especially protective and fond of his youngest sister Marela (the awful one!), and he looks out for his younger brother, who is getting to have the more stable home life that he didn't. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and that initially weirds Ateva out after growing up in such an repressed household--she's an emotionally expressive person who has had to learn to hold it all back, but he's so open! And so unashamed of it!

And he will learn that she's more than a pretty face and statuesque figure--that she's warm and intelligent and fiercely protective. They turn out to have more in common in terms of values than they initially realize.

If you want to put your own spin on a comparable dynamic, I say go for it! I don't own this type of relationship, and you are so good at infusing stories with your own flavor. I'd love to see what you might do--and chances are very likely you'd finish it long before I ever get around to this anyway!

A minor Blackberry Bushes spoiler, if you want, as a treat in lieu of content I should be giving you but haven't:

Obviously Ateva's romance with her officer was hopeless from the beginning. They both knew it deep down. She still hoped it could somehow magically work out. (I don't know what he thought, but it probably wasn't much of anything because he was rather an airhead). He married someone else, rather abruptly, and that was the end of that.

Despite multiple people's best efforts in Book 2, she does not marry Delclis. I have a different fate in mind for him.

Instead...remember the royal family of Norin? The one whose awful daughter Josiah gets stuck entertaining? Yeah, those people. Ateva marries their elder son, Viori. It's a hasty arrangement on Odren's part, done partially from spite at how things worked out with Corege, but it's an advantageous match, and it's all the press can talk about for months, and the wedding is highly publicized, and everything seems like a fairytale. One of the most eligible bachelor princes on the continent finally finds the perfect princess to settle down and have beautiful babies with, that sort of thing.

Ateva's not thrilled. Her officer was shy and soft-spoken and charmingly awkward and therefore the most attractive man alive, and the sophisticated social butterfly Viori is distasteful in comparison. He, meanwhile, is just relieved that he dodged the bullet of possibly ending up with *gasp* the plain Callon sister and landed the one who looks more like his type.

They've got a lot to learn about each other. And that's where she'll be in Book 4.

[wonlouvre]

more for forever | k. mg.

pairing: editor-in-chief mingyu x female reader genre: fluff, a little bit of angst, cliché (in the sense that mingyu is rich and likes to spoil his girlfriend) warnings: mentions of insecurity, food word count: 2.8k

💌: this is just pure indulgence and i really hope you all like this! please wait for wonwoo because i have something in store for him too ;) again, this is cliché please forgive me. please tell me what you think about it hehe i love reading your comments, feedbacks and tags! also a big thank you to @minkwans​ for sharing their ideas and giving this oneshot life! <3

The name Kim Mingyu didn’t ring a bell before. Not until his executive assistant reached out to you because apparently, the photographer slash writer read one of your blog posts and wanted you to take part for their sixth year anniversary issue. You know the famous magazine and publishing company, which is why you thought it was a scam or a ploy to steal your money. It’s a stupid assumption but you can’t blame your mind imagining the worse because you are not a fashion blogger at all. Why would a fashion magazine want you to write an article for them?

Sure, you regularly write and post blog entries on your website. But you write about your dog, your recently bought tea coaster and sometimes your skincare routine. Okay, maybe your occasional outfit of the day as well but nothing in detail. Again, why do they want you to write for them?

Kim Mingyu answered your questions and uncertainties when he personally emailed his contact details to you. You didn’t have to bite, but it didn’t hurt to confirm at the same time. You dialed the number and he indeed proved you wrong. He invited you for a meeting at his office and you accepted. 

Your visits to high-rise buildings, much more to the luxurious office of an executive, is rare to never. You were jaw slacked when your eyes took in the crisp architecture. The design, the furniture, the color, the everything was beyond what you could have imagined a publishing company’s headquarters could be. 

The meeting was nothing but short of an interview. He asked about your blog (which does not even have its own domain by the way), he asked what else you write about, he asked about your desk job (which doesn’t pay much but enough for you to get by), he asked if you have any background about fashion and one last question about your dog, Max, before talking about his proposal. 

To be honest, Mingyu’s offer was tempting. For one article, the commission would be enough for you to move out of your current apartment and move to a brand new and fully-furnished one. But you remained true to yourself and without thinking twice, you declined. 

You can tell that the editor-in-chief and his assistant, who stood beside him all throughout, was surprised by the looks on their faces. But Mingyu respected your decision and didn’t pursue any further. You took your stand from the chair and sincerely thanked him for the time and opportunity. You thought that would be it but when he followed suit with your actions and reached his hand out, it was your turn to be surprised. 

You didn’t hesitate to mirror him and shake his hand, firmly. After that, you’d figure that it’s the end and that you’ll probably get to see a glimpse of him only through your television or phone. But Mingyu proved you wrong once again when he sent an unexpected email three days later asking why.

What might be the reason why you didn’t accept his offer? 

You believed he deserved an explanation of your personal reasons so you disclosed them. And just like that the conversation on that email thread naturally progressed and eventually deepened. The professional emails became casual text messages, the text messages became phone calls, and the phone calls became actual face to face dates at late hours of the evening because he usually clocks out at 9 o’clock. 

The rest, as they say, was in the hands of history. 

Your first date with Mingyu was particularly odd. It was at a traditional Korean restaurant owned by one of his friends who introduced himself as Angel even though his real name is Jeonghan. You didn’t question him or anyone else why because that’s none of your business. But back to the date. It was odd because you have never been to a restaurant that’s completely empty and dead silent before (aside of course, from the typical music played in the background). You asked Mingyu if such an occurrence is normal and he just plainly answered that he rented the whole place all to yourselves. You have always known he’s rich. However, you didn’t believe that booking the whole restaurant was necessary.  

Nonetheless, that first date, in some way, was special for you because there were no distractions. You enjoyed his company and you can tell he enjoyed yours too because he’s quick to mention a second date and it didn’t take a heartbeat for you to say yes. 

But, by far, Mingyu inviting you to the behind the scenes of the making of the sixth anniversary issue that you turned down writing for is one of the most memorable dates the two of you had. It was out of the blue and you two were having difficulty in syncing your schedules. He was beginning to get busier and busier as the anniversary neared and the only way he could think of still making time for you is inviting you to his office. He called you and asked if you’re free to have lunch together. And you, being attracted to the handsome and tall man, didn’t hesitate to say yes. 

He was in the middle of ending his morning meeting when you arrived and you were almost caught off-guard when all eyes were suddenly on you, making you feel small. But Mingyu didn't care as his smile beamed, immediately standing up from his chair to walk towards you. The rest of his staff were still in the midst of walking out of his office when he grasped your hand to pull you inside and you have never felt so shy your whole life.

Since then, he made you tag along to the creative process and you witnessed how hands on he was with every article, every photo, every brand, every trend and every detail that goes to the magazine that he has built and loved with his blood, sweat and tears. He’s beyond dedicated in finding and doing what’s best for the magazine and most importantly, its loyal readers. 

You can tell that he really is deserving of everything that he has and is still receiving.

Mingyu being perfect also applies to your relationship. He’s always present despite being booked with fittings, meetings, photoshoots and business travels twenty-nine days of the month. He never fails to call, never fails to answer your calls. He never fails to offer the warmest hugs and the softest kisses. Well, he fails to be on time during your dates sometimes but he never once stood you up and his cuddles when he sleeps over are enough to apologize for the lost time.

The only flaw he has is that he doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. Most especially at times where he wants to shower his love in ways that cost more than your paycheck in a year.

Here are some examples:

You know that Mingyu pays attention to every word you say. Even if you just mentioned a passing topic, he will do his best to keep those in mind. With that being said, you mentioned once that you want to renovate the extra bedroom of your apartment and turn it into a study where you could work someday. Your boyfriend, being the rich man he is, offered to hire and pay a team that could help you bring the design you envisioned into life. 

That was during the first few months of your relationship and you were flabbergasted by how easy it was for him to do or much less say. Needless to say, you immediately turned him down and he respected that (but of course, he pouted about it like a child all throughout the day). 

But wait, there’s more. 

Do you remember how you mentioned that Mingyu travels frequently? Yes? Well, Mingyu always books an extra ticket for you just in case you want to join him. Sometimes it’s not even about the flight ticket anymore. It’s about him stopping by your apartment to pick you up unexpectedly as if France is only a drive away. 

It’s unbelievable, really. That’s why you always close the door on his face. But of course, you don’t forget to give him a long kiss and “stay safe” or “I’ll miss you” farewell. Mingyu, ever the good boy he is, lets you win and just return your kisses a little longer for the days he won’t be able to do so. 

Mingyu’s intentions are pure and you’re well aware that the man that you love is only doing this because it’s simple, he loves you. He wants what’s best for you, he wants to give you what you deserve. You can never blame him for being out of touch from reality at times, but you can learn and grow with him. Although of course, he still needs a scolding and a wake up call every now and then. 

Anything else? Yes.

You didn’t take into consideration that he’d remember, but one night while the two of you were about to fall asleep, you sleepily mumbled about your dreams of attending graduate school. It was a mere whisper in the late night against his chest and you even thought that he wouldn’t hear you at all because his eyes were already closed. You honestly didn’t expect that he’d send you brochures of different universities who offer various programs the following day. You had to calm him down as he excitedly talked you through it. You even had to shut him up with your lips and explain that you don’t have the time to study at the moment with your current job. He tried to encourage you with praises and admiration of your dedication, skills and knowledge. But no, you didn’t buy it and that’s the end of discussion. 

The gifts, however, are something that Mingyu is not giving up on. The first few instances he gave you gifts whether it be a high-end handbag, shoes, clothing, and even jewelry, you allowed him. Because there were only a few. But along the way, the gifts got bigger and more frequent. You had to sit him down to set limitations. It was a long conversation of him trying to get the upper hand. But you didn’t let him outsmart you with his hugs and kisses. It was either he was going to tone it down with the gifts or no gifts at all. 

Sometimes, as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, you can’t avoid getting insecure and afraid that the euphoric time you share with Mingyu is not meant to last. At some point, the fact that he's one of the youngest successful editor-in-chiefs of a multi-million earning magazine got overwhelming. You can’t help but feel that you’re no match for him. And again, you hate that your mind gets clouded with ideas that you’re just a charity case he enjoys spending his money on. Of course, you believe that he doesn’t look at you in that way.

It’s you who thinks so. 

“Hey.”

You release the bite on your bottom lip at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. Your lost eyes shoot to the stove where he’s cooking and you notice that he’s about done so you should set the table. 

You didn’t even answer Mingyu’s call which concerns him. He wipes the sauce off his hands on the apron he’s wearing and holds your waist before you could even round the corner to the cabinets. 

His warmth snaps you out of your thoughts. Your eyes blink up to him and he just raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Is there something wrong?” He asks and lowers the heat of the conduction. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you lie, shaking your head, “Let me get the plates. I’m quite hungry.”

You try escaping his strong arms and gaze, but he doesn’t let you go. Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist tighter. Your palms automatically land on his chest and the lean muscles make you gulp. 

“I’m going to ask again and this time, I want you to tell me the truth,” he says in a serious yet gentle tone. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh and lean your forehead against his chest. Mingyu also sighs and kisses the top of your head. It’s better to tell him now because you’re not going to get anywhere if you’re just going to keep it to yourself. It will be unfair for him too and that’s not what you want. 

“I just don’t feel so good about myself over the past few days,” you finally voice out. You sound weak, but Mingyu can hear you loud and clear. “I feel like I don’t deserve you.”

Mingyu had to pull away and hold your shoulders to search your eyes, his frown showing disbelief and sadness both at the same time. “Did I do or say something to make you feel this way?”

“No, no,” you quickly say and hold his cheeks. “You did absolutely nothing. It’s just all in my head.”

Mingyu becomes silent and you wish you could just drop it because the regret and embarrassment is slowly dawning upon you. You wish you didn’t bring it up anymore because why would you burden him with your problems? 

But Mingyu proves you wrong once again by holding your hand and carefully tugging you to sit on the dining table, saying softly, “Come on. Let’s talk about it.”

And talk you did. You let out your concerns, worries, fears and insecurities. You bore it all without hiding or masking anything. A tear or two slipped once or twice and some words were interrupted by your hiccups, but Mingyu was patient. He listened and held your hand, promising you that it’s okay. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to be worried. It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of him. It’s okay to trust him because he loves you. 

Mingyu loves you and his words and actions assure you that it’s okay to love him too. 

When there were no more words left to say, the two of you shared a comfortable silence. The weight on your shoulders and the sick feeling in your stomach immediately vanished and you have never felt so relieved. You have never felt so free and loved. You can’t believe that Kim Mingyu is real. 

“I know that this is unwarranted,” Mingyu breaks the silence after a while, “but I want you to know that I don’t think of you in any of those ways. To me, you’re the person I love and I am happy with regardless of our different upbringings, different jobs. Those don’t matter to the time and love we share together.”

“I know,” you affirm and kiss his cheek. 

Mingyu nods and smiles against the palm of your hand when a memory suddenly pops in his mind. “I’m not sure if I have told you this already. But the blog entry of yours that caught my attention is about your first ever blog post.”

Your eyes widen at his confession. You have never heard of this before. “You mean the one where I talked about why I love writing so much?”

Your boyfriend smiles and nods. “That one.”

“Gosh. That’s so embarrassing,” you groan and palm your face. 

“What do you mean embarrassing?” He argues, taking your hand to hold again. “That post was one of the most genuine posts that I have ever read. You explained, word by word, your passion, love and dedication to writing in the most honest way possible. Who wouldn’t be moved?”

You pout and unbeknownst to you, that makes his heart squeeze in adoration. 

“It’s not that special,” you mumble, eyes on your intertwined hands. 

“It is to me though.”

Mingyu’s eyes are dreamy and glossy as you meet them again and you could never be more in love. He holds your arms, coaxing you to stand up to straddle his lap. You giggle when he protectively wraps his arms around your waist. His nose scrunches when it grazes yours, but upon meeting his lips you feel it exhale a breath of relief.

You kissed and kissed and kissed. But when Max barks at the two of you, reminding you of the dinner you’re supposed to eat and share with him, the two of you burst into laughter before reluctantly detaching from each other. 

“You doting over me with material things is a perk,” you humor him and he gives you his signature giggle. “But, I wouldn’t trade sharing the same bed, cooking meals or taking care of Max together over any of those.” 

Mingyu nods gives you one last yet long kiss, a promise that there’s more for later. 

More for forever. 

---

a/n 2: this was supposed to be the header/poster of this story but it was too big lol

[husbandohunter]

What they love about you (part 1) [Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti x female reader

Part 2 here

(A/n): Okay okay I know I have some requests yet I decided to write something super indulgent. I'M SORRY! This past week I've just been writing so much angst *looks at inbox* AND MORE ANGST TO COME I really need that dose of Vitamin F(luff) 😭

===========================

Noctua's Heartbeat (Diluc)

For a man who had the whole world in the palm of his hand

With looks, fame and all the wealth he could demand

But what stole away his breath was something not to be bought

For it was merely the calming presence of your living and beating heart.

Your heart was a dignity born for empathy, so beautiful and magnificent with the kind of charm similar to white Cecilias blooming across Mondstadt's fields. Diluc would watch from afar, admiring their glow. It shines without reservation, blissfully unaware to a fault that he couldn't help but feel afraid knowing how the real world would simply pluck you from your roots and shape you in the way they wanted to. People who were tainted souls with tainted soles roaming from the shadows, constantly trampling on other's beliefs before leaving them to rot.

Ah but of course, Cecilias are wildflowers. No matter how many times they were stepped on, they could still withsand any force nature throws at them. Whether it'd be raging storms or scorching heat from the summer sky, you were the same through it all. Love. You were in love. You were in love with the wind, you were in love with people, you were in love with the world and everything that lives in it.

And so, Diluc wonders if that was the reason why everything suddenly began to shimmer.

He treaded on a path fated for loneliness while longing for the dawn to appear out of the night horizon-- where emotions once frozen until you came in to melt the ice. He blocked his heart but you tore down those walls. Diluc swore to never feel if it meant protecting himself and yet you held onto his shattered pieces tenderly, dearly, blowing the love of life and teaching it how to beat again.

Your heart was like a fountain of all the hopes he abandoned years ago and the dreams that no one had the courage to envision, cleansing everything within it's reach and freshening them anew. You were a being so in tune with your emotions that it sang through all that you did, laughing despite your obstacles and shedding tears when overjoyed, a single drop it was but still held the depth of the entire ocean. Diluc vows to protect you for your heartbeat was also his own. He'll gladly lay down his life because losing you deemed far worse than any death he could imagine.

~xx~

The other eye of Pavo Ocellus (Kaeya)

The knight's shining armour serves only as a disguise

When beauty from the surface is one's own demise

He used it to protect himself, decorating his words with pretty lies

But unmatched when facing against your truthful eyes.

They say the eye was an open window to a person's true colours. If that were the case then the painting inside him must have been an unsightly one.

Every once in a while the people of Mondstadt would speak about their Cavalry Captain's eyepatch, whether he was injured after being sent out on a mission or if he wears it for the sake of image. No one knows, it was rather unsettling, why someone would cover their eye despite not being injured. Secrets? Perhaps. Kaeya was known to be a man shrouded in mystery after all.

Your gaze was his Death After Noon. Sparkling upon the surface yet with the tasteful allure so captivating that it was almost dangerous. Just one glance and he was intoxicated, eventually leading to a slip of the tongue, revealing what was buried deep within his contaminated essence. Kaeya hated that you had the uncanny ability to see through his mask. Your innocence so contrasting, he felt like looking into a mirror, reminding just how much of an ugly person he truly was in comparison.

But mirrors are easy to break, no?

The thought delivers a sinister smile on his face. Pitiful-- is the state where you were. Pitiful-- it's what he is. How could he think of such things when all you offered was kindness? Unlike Kaeya, you were an honest person, always wearing your emotions on your sleeve and unaware of the devil's vicinity. He was tempted by the invite to crush you and run away like the coward he was meant to be. However as he stares deeply into your eyes he realized they weren't made of glass. They were gems. The most precious gems hardened by the pressures of experience.

In the shine of thine eyes resides the stars and the moon as if stolen from the Abyss, leading to the edges of the universe that was blessed within your mind. The look of curiosity filled with rich hues all held by a soulful stare while they pierced through the armour shaped around his heart. It was your ability to recognize beauty amongst the most wretched of things that he fell so hopelessly in love with you because for the first time someone had seen him-- his flaws and his faults, his abyss painted darker than black but loved him despite it all. As he drowns himself in the world of your gaze, Kaeya prays to never be the one who will steal away those stars or moon because they looked the most beautiful on you.

~xx~

The Winged Nemesis who flew towards the Sun (Xiao)

He looks at your face as if he saw spring for the first time

An unsual encounter, wondering how could something be so sublime

The yaksha stands upon the corpses while reaching for the sky

Seeing the sun in your smile that he wishes to fly

Xiao has dealt with the cards of death and won through many of it's games. But his life was a gamble as the karmic binds may one day bring the same fate that was done upon his comrades-- insanity, murder and corruption. So he swears an oath to his god and himself, ensuring the darkness only he could bear does not seep into the light.

A gust of wind sways in when you pass by, he was struck by pensive bewilderment because happiness was a feeling unknown to him. It was the expression you made whenever you greeted him good morning. The complexion you had while charging through life's challenges. And the face you wore even during the times where there was no reason to smile. Xiao has felt the might of the sun for her light will never be exstinguished by his darkness, he could only succumb to it.

But you were not just the sun, you were the flowers that bloomed beneath her heavenly sky and the birds that chirped upon those earth-like trees. You were a whole new world he didn't dare to touch because dreams were delicate and his cursed self would only devour them until nothing was left. Still, the mighty sun shines through it all, stretching out her rays like a welcoming embrace until the universe had been revitalized, giving birth to new life after winter's storm.

If pictures told a thousand words then he had a thousand reasons and more to love you. Xiao witnessed the sweetest joy decorated by pink petal blossoms dancing around him, the one who pulled him out of his spiraling trance of darkness. The breath he takes no longer felt suffocating and instead was replaced by the smell of nature's greatest gifts: you. Stay away, he says, because there were times where you shone so brightly that he had to look elsewhere. Your rays burned him and he thinks it might drill holes into his wings. Painful it may be but if the splendor of spring could only be admired after the harsh cold snow, then maybe pain and love were only two sides of the same coin.

A world without the sun--such unfathomable thoughts--is a death he does not wish to deal with.

~xx~

A song she sings for the God of Wind (Venti)

Man lives by the power of the tongue,

Whatever Man speaks is aligned with Man's choice.

Hearken when she talks for her words are to be sung,

Because not only was she lovely but so was her voice.

-Venti

There were many reasons why Venti loved music. The freedom to express oneself when words weren't enough, allowing one's spirit to flow out of their mouth and be with the wind. It was the feeling he had when he listened to you because your voice was sweeter than any song he sang or played.

When you speak it was as if the world around you danced, bringing them to the mercy of your stage. Like standing upon the soft grass while letting the sparks of dandelions dust against his own skin, Venti would close his eyes as he hears you speak-- it was you, just you and that was all he needed. He swears that no one in the world could sound as living as you did because it was the words you say that stole his heart away.

The vibration in your tone was fleshed with kindness yet so sure and firm to the point it could even bring a god to his knees. If he were a sailor then you were the siren, enchanting him with your bell-like voice and bringing him to a territory where he can never escape from. It was the spell of your divine song, his Carmen Dei, that tricked the trickster. Venti did not mind as long as he was able to feel the blessing amongst his ears.

[be-gay-do-heists]

hello yall :) the holy month of elul started last night, which is typically a time for contemplation, so since it is impossible for me to stop thinking about leverage, i decided to write an essay. hope anyone interested in reading it enjoys, and that it makes at least a little sense!! spoilers for leverage redemption

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Leverage, Judaism, and “Doing the Work”: An Essay for Elul

When it comes to Elul and the approaching High Holidays, Leverage might seem like an odd topic to meditate on.

The TNT crime drama that ran from 2008-2012, and which released a new season this summer following its renewal, centers on a group of found-family thieves who help the victims of corporations and oligarchs (sometimes based on real-world examples), using wacky heists and cons to bring down the rich and powerful. In one episode, the team’s clients want to reclaim their father’s prized Glimt piece that had been stolen in the Shoah and never returned, but aside from this and the throwaway lines and jokes standard for most mainstream television, there’s not a ton textually Jewish about Leverage. However, despite this, I have found that the show has strong resonance among Jewish fans, and lots of potential for analysis along Jewish themes. This tends to focus on one character in particular: the group’s brilliant, pop culture-savvy, and personable hacker, Alec Hardison, played by the phenomenally talented Aldis Hodge.

I can’t remember when or where I first encountered a reading of Hardison as Jewish, but not only is this a somewhat popular interpretation, it doesn’t feel like that much of a leap. In the show itself, Hardison has a couple of the aforementioned throwaway lines that potentially point to him being Jewish, even if they’re only in service of that moment’s grift. It’s hard to point to what exactly makes reading Hardison as Jewish feel so natural. My first guess is the easy way Hardison fits into the traditional paradigms of Jewish masculinity explored by scholars such as Daniel Boyarin (2). Most of the time, the hacker is not portrayed as athletic or physical; he is usually the foil to the team’s more physically-adept characters like fighter Eliot, or thief Parker. Indeed, Hardison’s strength is mental, expressed not only through his computer wizardry but his passions for science, technology, music, popular media, as well as his studious research into whatever scenario the group might come up against. In spite of his self-identification as a “geek,” Hardison is nevertheless confident, emotionally sensitive, and secure in his masculinity. I would argue he is representative of the traditional Jewish masculine ideal, originating in the rabbinic period and solidified in medieval Europe, of the dedicated and thoughtful scholar (3). Another reason for popular readings of Hardison as Jewish may be the desire for more representation of Jews of color. Although mainstream American Jewish institutions are beginning to recognize the incredible diversity of Jews in the United States (4), and popular figures such as Tiffany Haddish are amplifying the experiences of non-white Jews, it is still difficult to find Jews of color represented in popular media. For those eager to see this kind of representation, then, interpreting Hardison, a black man who places himself tangential to Jewishness, in this way is a tempting avenue.

Regardless, all of the above remains fan interpretation, and there was little in the text of the show that seriously tied Judaism into Hardison’s identity. At least, until we got this beautiful speech from Hardison in the very first episode of the renewed show, directed at the character of Harry Wilson, a former corporate lawyer looking to atone for the injustice he was partner to throughout his career:

“In the Jewish faith, repentance, redemption, is a process. You can’t make restitution and then promise to change. You have to change first. Do the work, Harry. Then and only then can you begin to ask for forgiveness. [...] So this… this isn’t the win. It’s the start, Harry.”

I was floored to hear this speech, and thrilled that it explained the reboot’s title, Leverage: Redemption. Although not mentioned by its Hebrew name, teshuvah forms the whole basis for the new season. Teshuvah is the concept of repentance or atonement for the sins one has committed. Stemming from the root shuv/shuva, it carries the literal sense of “return.” In a spiritual context, this usually means a return to G-d, of finding one’s way back to holiness and by extension good favor in the eyes of the Divine. But equally important is restoring one’s relationships with fellow humans by repairing any hurt one has caused over the past year. This is of special significance in the holy month of Elul, leading into Rosh haShanah, the Yamim Noraim, and Yom Kippur, but one can undertake a journey of redemption at any point in time. That teshuvah is a journey is a vital message for Harry to hear; one job, one reparative act isn’t enough to overturn years of being on the wrong side of justice, to his chagrin. As the season progresses, we get to watch his path of teshuvah unfold, with all its frustrations and consequences. Harry grows into his role as a fixer, not only someone who can find jobs and marks for the team, but fixes what he has broken or harmed.

So why was Hardison the one to make this speech?

I do maintain that it does provide a stronger textual basis for reading Hardison as Jewish by implication (though the brief on-screen explanation for why he knows about teshuvah, that his foster-parent Nana raised a multi-faith household, is important in its own merit, and meshes well with his character traits of empathy and understanding for diverse experiences). However, beyond this, Hardison isn’t exactly an archetypical model for teshuvah. In the original series, he was the youngest character of the main ensemble, a hacking prodigy in the start of his adult career, with few mistakes or slights against others under his belt. In one flashback we see that his possibly first crime was stealing from the Bank of Iceland to pay off his Nana’s medical bills, and that his other early hacking exploits were in the service of fulfilling personal desires, with only those who could afford to pay the bill as targets. Indeed, in the middle of his speech, Hardison points to Eliot, the character with the most violent and gritty past who views his work with the Leverage team as atonement, for a prime example of ongoing teshuvah. So while no one is perfect and everyone has a reason for doing teshuvah, this question of why Hardison is the one to give this series-defining speech inspired me to look at his character choices and behavior, and see how they resonate with a different but interrelated Jewish principle, that of tikkun olam. 

Tikkun olam is literally translated as “repairing the world,” and can take many different forms, such as protecting the rights of vulnerable people in society, or giving tzedakah (5). In modern times, tikkun olam is often the rallying cry for Jewish social activists, particularly among environmentalists for whom literally restoring the health of the natural world is the key goal. Teshuvah and tikkun olam are intertwined (the former is the latter performed at an interpersonal level) and both hold a sense of fixing or repairing, but tikkun olam really revolves around a person feeling called to address an injustice that they may have not had a personal hand in creating. Hardison’s sense of a universal scale of justice which he has the power to help right on a global level and his newfound drive to do humanitarian work, picked up sometime after the end of the original series, make tikkun olam a central value for his character. This is why we get this nice bit of dialogue from Eliot to Hardison in the second episode of the reboot, when the latter’s outside efforts to organize international aid start distracting him from his work with the team: “Is [humanitarian work] a side gig? In our line of work, you’re one of the best. But in that line of work… you’re the only one, man.” The character who most exemplifies teshuvah reminds Hardison of his amazing ability to effect change for the better on a huge stage, to do some effective tikkun olam. It’s this acknowledgement of where Hardison can do the most good that prompts the character’s absence for the remainder of the episodes released thus far, turning his side gig into his main gig.

With this in mind, it will be interesting to see where Hardison’s arc for this season goes. Separated from the rest of the team, the hacker still has remarkable power to change the world, because it is, after all, the “age of the geek.” However, he is still one person. For all that both teshuvah and tikkun olam are individual responsibilities and require individual decision-making and effort, the latter especially relies on collective work to actually make things happen. Hardison leaving is better than trying to do humanitarian work and Leverage at the same time, but there’s only so long he can be the “only one” in the field before burning out. I’m reminded of one of the most famous (for good reason) maxims in Judaism:

It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to neglect it. (6)

Elul is traditionally a time for introspection and heeding the calls to repentance. After a year where it’s never been easier to feel powerless and drained by everything going on around us, I think it’s worth taking the time to examine what kind of work we are capable of in our own lives. Maybe it’s fixing the very recent and tangible hurts we’ve left behind, like Harry. Maybe it’s the little changes for the better that we make every day, motivated by our sense of responsibility, like Eliot. And maybe it’s the grueling challenge of major social change, like Hardison. And if any of this work gets too much, who can we fall back on for support and healing? Determining what needs repair, working on our own scale and where our efforts are most helpful, and thereby contributing to justice in realistic ways means that we can start the new year fresh, having contemplated in holiday fashion how we can be better agents in the world.

Shana tovah u’metukah and ketivah tovah to all (7), and may the work we do in the coming year be for good!

------

(1) Disclaimer: everybody’s fandom experiences are different, and this is just what I’ve picked up on in my short time watching and enjoying this show with others.

(2) See, for example, the introduction and first chapter of Boyarin’s book Unheroic Conduct: The Rise of Heterosexuality and the Invention of the Jewish Man (I especially recommend at least this portion if you are interested in queer theory and Judaic studies). There he explores the development of Jewish masculinity in direct opposition to Christian masculine standards.

(3) I might even go so far as to place Hardison well within the Jewish masculine ideal of Edelkayt, gentle and studious nobility (although I would hesitate to call him timid, another trait associated with Edelkayt). Boyarin explains that this scholarly, non-athletic model of man did not carry negative associations in the historical Jewish mindset, but was rather the height of attractiveness (Boyarin, 2, 51).

(4) Jews of color make up 20% of American Jews, according to statistics from Be’chol Lashon, and this number is projected to increase as American demographics continue to change: https://globaljews.org/about/mission/. 

(5) Tzedakah is commonly known as righteous charity. According to traditional authority Maimonides, it should be given anonymously and without embarrassment to the person in need, generous, and designed to help the recipient become self-sufficient.

(6) Rabbi Tarfon, Pirkei Avot, 2:16

(7) “A good and sweet year” and “a good inscription [in the Book of Life]”

[cryingcow]

Nanba, Adachi, & Saeko - Get Back to Sleep [RGGO]

Part 1 / Part 2

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After the massive venture that was RyuHan, I am back to regular(ly irregular) unscheduled stuff :D Last month was RGG Online’s 3rd anniversary, and for that they celebrated it using Y:LAD, the one game that cannot be canon to RGGO’s timeline/universe. Why? Who knows, but their mindset seems to be that as long as Ichiban never physically appears in the Y:LAD stories, the barrier and space-time continuum between RGGO-Y7 and Y:LAD-Y7 remains stable :D

The main character is Nanba! I’ll be splitting this whole thing into 2 parts. Click on for the Prologue, Chapter 1-2, + Nanba’s Side Comments!

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Nanba’s comments on objects and places:

My weapon (Vinyl Umbrella) – “It’s my favorite weapon. To be clear, the endurance is quite low. But the biggest advantage is that you can find a replacement immediately.”

My armor (Clothes) – “It’s my favorite combination. I usually have the hood down, but when I pull it over, I’m in combat mode.”

Vending machine – “A valuable source of income for us. As you get used to it, you’ll generally know if coins have fallen before you look down to search.”

Mysterious stone [in-game item] – “A mysterious glittering fragment. By my intuition as a homeless person, I can tell . . . this is a good thing to take with you.”

Tricked-out dice [in-game item] – “In the homeless society, it’s illegal to deceive your companions. . . . But if you use this for someone other than your companions, it’s okay.”

Ijincho homeless shelter – “My headquarters. I don’t live here because I want to . . . I have a certain reason. Home is where you make it, even a place like this.”

Small restaurant – “A small restaurant run by Hamako-san. Well, it’s not cooking that’s being sold. It’s also a hideout of our party.”

Survive – “This is also our hideout. We received help thanks to the understanding master. But that master isn’t just a regular person . . .”

Nanba’s comments on people:

Ichiban – “A former yakuza who rolled in half-dead. He has a weird perm and his behavior is outlandish, but he’s strangely easy to get along with. You can’t hate the bastard.”

Saeko – “A strong hostess. She’s our only female companion. She huddles up together with us when sleeping and has nerves of steel. To be honest, I feel like escaping.”

Adachi-san – “The old man is a former detective. He foolishly rejected pension living and became a vagrant. But the strong sense of justice is truly that of a former detective.”

Blackmailing man [in-game enemy] – “We are socially vulnerable. We receive unprovoked violence. But I’ll do my best to fight the guy trying to steal money!”

.

----

.

PROLOGUE

|In the wake of the death of Nonomiya, the manager of Otohime Land, Kasuga and his party became friends with Mukoda Saeko. Pushing forward with the investigation, the death of Nonomiya seems to be related to Mabuchi’s hefty revenue source, ‘Yokohama Trading Company’—thus Kasuga and his party decided to sneak in as part-timers, and together with Saeko in preparation for the next day went to sleep in the hideout.|

Kasuga: “Uugh . . . I can’t drink . . . anymore . . .”

Nanba: “. . . . . .”

Saeko: “Zz . . .”

Nanba: “. . . . . .”

Saeko: “. . . zz . . . z . . .”

Nanba: “. . . . . . It’s useless. I can’t sleep at all.”

----

Nanba: “Ugh . . . Saeko tempted me into drinking too much . . .”

???: “. . . What are you doing, Nanba?”

Nanba: “. . . . . . Adachi-san.”

Adachi: “Man, the way Saeko chugs liquor was amazing . . . I accidentally drank too much . . . So . . . did you come out to vomit too?”

Nanba: “No . . . I was so nervous I couldn’t sleep . . .”

Adachi: “Nervous? Even though you drank so much, you were nervous and couldn’t sleep . . . what on earth are you nervous about?”

Nanba: “. . . I’m concerned about Saeko. Maybe that’s why . . . I can’t sleep at all.”

Adachi: “You . . . didn’t fall in love with her, did you? Stop that, we can’t have a love affair within the group.”

Nanba: “I-It’s not like that! It’s just . . . well . . . I’ve never been together with a woman since I became homeless . . . That might be why I get nervous whenever a woman is nearby.”

Adachi: “When a woman is nearby, you’re nervous and can’t sleep . . . just like a middle school student.”

Nanba: “Shut up.”

Nanba: “Haa . . . but it’s difficult being sleepy but not able to sleep . . . what’s wrong with my body . . .”

Adachi: “. . . This is surprisingly serious.  . . . We’ll be hanging out with Saeko from now on, it would be unpleasant if you continue being unable to sleep . . . Alright, it can’t be helped. Do you want to get used to a woman now, Nanba?”

Nanba: “Get used to a woman?”

Adachi: “Yeah. You can’t sleep because you’re not accustomed to women, right? Therefore, if you get used to socializing with a woman, you’ll be able to sleep soundly.”

Nanba: “Well . . . I know that, but where can I get used to a woman?”

Adachi: “Heh, at a cabaret club. A young woman sits nearby and talks, you’ll get used to socializing even if you don’t like her. Well, it costs money . . . but I found a nice and cheap club just the other day.”

Nanba: “. . . I think Adachi-san just wanted to go to one. But it sounds better than walking around without a plan . . . Adachi-san, lend me some money.”

Adachi: “Hehe, now you’re talking. Let’s go!”

.

-END-

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CHAPTER 1

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Cabaret Woman A: “Ahaha! Adachi-san is so funny~!”

Adachi: “Hehe, is that so? Gahaha!”

Adachi: (Oops, not good, not good! I’m the only one enjoying myself here! We came to get Nanba accustomed to socializing with a woman, but Nanba isn’t comfortable . . .)

Nanba: “I’m . . . Na-Nanba.”

Cabaret Woman B: “I’m Ayu. Nice to meet you, Nanba-san.”

Nanba: “Ye-Yeah . . . nice . . .”

Ayu: “Fufu, maybe Nanba-san is nervous? I’m actually the same when meeting someone for the first time!”

Nanba: “Ye-Yeah . . . that’s right . . .”

Ayu: “Ri-Right . . . ahaha . . .”

Adachi: (Oh no, that Nanba. He’s so nervous and stiff . . . Even though the Miss is trying hard to find a topic, the air is dead because Nanba can’t speak . . . well, he can’t do it because he’s not used to being with a woman, but it’s also hard for the Miss to make conversation in this atmosphere . . . In that case . . . do I help out . . . ?)

Nanba: “. . . . . .”

Adachi: “Oi, Nanba! Don’t be nervous! Relax, relax!”

Nanba: “A-Adachi-san . . .”

Adachi: “Hey, Ayu-chan! Actually, this guy isn’t used to being around women. He feels nervous, so please be kind to him.”

Ayu: “Fufu, so that’s why you’re nervous. It’s so cute that you’re not used to girls ♪”

Nanba: “Cu-Cute? Me?”

Adachi: “Oi oi, Ayu-chan. The old man wearing glasses with such a thickly haired head isn’t cute~. Rather than him, aren’t I more cute?”

Nanba: “. . . No, that’s not true. I don’t think Adachi-san is even cute.”

Adachi: “What did you say? This white hair, bulging belly, aged face. Like a cute mascot, right?”

Nanba: “No! What mascot would have white hair, a belly and an aged face?!”

Ayu: “Ahaha! Surely there’s no such mascot~!”

Nanba: “Ri . . . Right? Haha.”

Ayu: “Nanba-san is so cute and funny! Are you an entertainer?”

Nanba: “No, I’m not . . .”

Ayu: “Eh~! Then you should become an entertainer! I’m sure it suits you!”

Nanba: “I-Is that so? Was I that funny?”

Ayu: “. . . Yes! I’d say about 30 points!”

Nanba: “No . . . isn’t that boring?!”

Ayu: “Ahaha! Nice tsukkomi~!”

Nanba: “Hehe . . . . . . thank you, Adachi-san.”

Adachi: “Heh, don’t worry about that. Do your best now.”

Adachi: (Alright . . . for now it seems I was able to create an atmosphere that’s easy to talk in. The conversation seems to have taken off and afterwards remained steady even without me.)

Drunk Customer: “What’s with that attitude! I’m a customer!”

Adachi: “Hm? What’s that?”

----

Waiter: “Customer! Please calm down!”

Drunk Customer: “Shut up! You seated such an ugly woman! Where’s my favorite woman . . . . . . oh?”

Drunk Customer: “Ooh, what’s that? A beautiful woman! Come to this seat, you!”

{The drunk customer grabs Ayu.}

Ayu: “Ow! Wait . . . please stop!”

Nanba: “. . . Oi, stop that, you drunkard.”

Drunk Customer: “Ah? What, bastard. Are you complaining?”

Nanba: “Just because you decided . . . doesn’t mean Ayu-chan likes it. Let go of her hand.”

Drunk Customer: “Heh, who’s going to make me—”

{Adachi steps close and twists the customer’s arm.}

Drunk Customer: “Ow . . . ow ow ow!”

Adachi: “Ayu-chan. Get away from here now.”

Ayu: “O-Okay . . .”

{Ayu quickly leaves.}

Nanba: “Nice one, Adachi-san!”

Adachi: “Heh, you were cool too, Nanba. So . . . how is it, drunkard? How do you find the pain of having your arm forcefully grabbed?”

Drunk Customer: “Damn it . . . I’ll get you back for this! I have a black belt in karate . . . I’ll make you regret going up against and attacking me!”

{Nanba and Adachi throw hands with the drunk.}

Drunk Customer: “Guh . . . you . . .”

Adachi: “Now! Nanba!”

Nanba: “Yeah! I reserved this for you!”

{Nanba punches the drunk one last time, making him collapse.}

Nanba: “. . . Phew. It’s unexpected for you not to do it, old man.”

Cabaret Club Ladies: “Kyaa! Amazing! So cool! The Onii-chan with glasses is strong~!”

Nanba: “. . . Hehe.”

Adachi: “Phew, let’s go back to our seats.”

Nanba: “. . . Yeah!”

----

Nanba: “. . . Iyaah~!! That was fun, Adachi-san!!”

Adachi: “That’s right. Wasn’t everyone head over heels for Nanba-san, the club’s hero?”

Nanba: “Now that you mention it? Ayu-chan’s eyes changed when looking at me after that . . . anyways, it was fun!”

Adachi: “. . . I was worried at first, but it seems you managed to get accustomed to a woman.”

Nanba: “Yeah! Thanks to Adachi-san for helping me out. I enjoyed talking with Ayu-chan because of you! I wasn’t nervous at all when Ayu-chan asked for my cellphone number at the end.”

Adachi: “Cellphone number?! Seriously?!”

Nanba: “But well . . . I don’t have a cellphone . . .”

Adachi: “That’s true . . . well anyhow, if you could talk to woman so much that she likes you, I think that’s okay.”

Nanba: “Yeah. I feel like I was able to get used to socializing with a woman perfectly! I think I can sleep well with this!”

Adachi: “Hehe, then let’s go back to bed.”

Nanba: “Yeah! Thank you, Adachi-san!”

----

Nanba: “. . . . . . I couldn’t sleep at all. I should have gotten accustomed to women at the cabaret club . . . so why?”

.

-END-

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CHAPTER 2

.

|Whenever Saeko is next to him, Nanba notices that he can’t sleep. Thinking that it was because he wasn’t accustomed to women, Nanba went with Adachi to get used to being in proximity with a woman. As a result, he succeeded in getting used to a woman, but for some reason he still couldn’t sleep until the next morning greets him . . . And then, the next night . . .|

Nanba: (. . . Seriously. I can’t fall asleep at all . . . it’s already the third day. It seems I can’t sleep even tonight . . . Yesterday I slept a little when I fainted at dawn, but I’m still fatigued because I slept so lightly and poorly . . . . . . . . . it’s dangerous to continue like this.)

Nanba: “Hey . . . Adachi-san. Can you come with me for a moment?”

----

Adachi: “Yawn . . . what’s wrong, Nanba? Should we go to the cabaret club again?”

Nanba: “. . . No, that’s not it. Actually, I haven’t been able to sleep even after we went to the cabaret club . . .”

Adachi: “. . . What did you say? You didn’t get used to women even after playing around that much?”

Nanba: “No, I don’t know . . . I don’t think so. Maybe there’s another reason why I can’t sleep . . .”

Adachi: “. . . I don’t want to talk here and be questioned by Saeko. Why don’t we take a little walk while we talk?”

Nanba: “. . . Sure.”

----

Adachi: “. . . But this is bad. Your body won’t last if you can’t sleep for three days, right?”

Nanba: “. . . . . . Yeah. To be honest, I still feel dizzy. I don’t think it’s strange that my mind is floating away . . .”

Adachi: “Are you nervous because you’re concerned about Saeko . . . ? If there’s a reason you can’t sleep other than not being accustomed to a woman . . . . . . it’s because you fell in love, isn’t it?”

Nanba: “. . . That’s wrong. I think Saeko is certainly cute, but I’m not in love with her.”

Adachi: “. . . . . . Then I wonder why.”

???: “Wa-Wait! Don’t touch me!”

Adachi and Nanba: “. . . hm?”

----

Slender Punk: “Hehe, you don’t have to be shy, Onee-san. You can’t sleep, that’s why you’re having a midnight stroll, right?”

Large Punk: “You’ll be able to sleep well if you hang out with us until morning.”

Saeko: “I’m saying I’m not looking for that kind of thing! You guys are sick . . .”

Large Punk: “What did you say? How about we kidnap you against your will then?”

Adachi: “. . . That kid isn’t one you can handle. You punks.”

Large Punk: “Ah?”

Adachi: “. . . That kid is our friend. Find someone else to badly pick-up.”

Nanba: “Oi oi . . . don’t agitate them too much, Adachi-san.”

Saeko: “Nan-chan . . . Adachi-san!”

Large Punk: “. . . Badly pick-up? What’s this, old man, you looking to start a fight with us?”

Adachi: “. . . Maybe. I’m sick of witnessing such vulgar language.”

Saeko: “. . . And isn’t it a fact that you’re bad at picking up girls? Try again after you’ve washed your arms and your faces.”

Nanba: “. . . Haa. I think I’ll go do that.”

Large Punk: “What did you say . . . both the woman and the old man looking down on us . . . Are you pissed off? I’ll show you pissed off!! Die!!!!”

{Nanba, Adachi and Saeko beat up the punks.}

Large Punk: “Guuh . . . you . . . this won’t be forgiven . . . remember this!”

{The punks run away.}

Adachi: “. . . Heh, there aren’t a lot of people who say that who are worth remembering.”

Nanba: “I’m sleepy and dizzy, don’t pick fights, Adachi-san . . .”

Adachi: “Ooh my bad, my bad! I forgot about that!”

Saeko: “Sorry . . . Nan-chan. It’s my fault . . .”

Nanba: “No! It’s not Saeko’s fault . . . it’s those punks from earlier . . .”

Adachi: “. . . By the way, why are you here Saeko? Couldn’t sleep?”

Saeko: “. . . Yup. Nan-chan didn’t seem able to fall asleep, I got worried about that and stayed up.”

Nanba: “. . . !”

Saeko: “So when I saw Adachi-san and Nan-chan going out, I was curious. Nan-chan . . . you can’t sleep, right?”

Nanba: “. . . Eh?”

Saeko: “You couldn’t sleep since the day I came, right? Isn’t it possibly my fault?”

Nanba: “No, th-that’s not the case . . .”

Saeko: “. . . really?”

Nanba: “. . . . . . Ye-Yeah. It was just by chance. A coincidence.”

Adachi: “. . . Hey, Nanba. Why don’t you talk to Saeko about it? Don’t hesitate from it, you’re friends.”

Nanba: “A-Adachi-san . . . . . . I understand.”

Saeko: “. . . What do you mean, Adachi-san?”

Adachi: “Since Nanba seems to be having difficulty saying it, I’ll say it. It’s true that Saeko is the reason why Nanba can’t sleep. It’s not like he’s looking at you with indecent eyes, but he gets nervous when you’re sleeping together.”

Saeko: “. . . Is that so. I’m sorry I never noticed, Nan-chan.”

Nanba: “No, Saeko didn’t do wrong . . . this is my problem.”

Saeko: “But . . .”

Adachi: “Heh, don’t worry about it, Saeko. It’s no big deal for a grown-up to not sleep for two or three days.”

Nanba: “. . . Yeah. Even when I was homeless, there were days when I couldn’t sleep.”

Saeko: “Oh . . . . . . okay. Then I won’t worry if you both say so! . . . But can I help Nan-chan sleep instead? It’s difficult seeing a Nan-chan who can’t sleep!”

Adachi: “Ooh, that would be appreciated. We were running out of ideas.”

Nanba: “. . . That’s right.”

Adachi: “Hm? What’s wrong, Nanba? You’re squirming . . .”

Nanba: “I didn’t have the time to say it . . . but I actually need to pee . . .”

Adachi: “Haa . . . ? Then go quickly . . .”

Nanba: “I’ll be back in a moment!”

{Nanba runs off to do his business.}

Adachi: “Geez . . . well, while we’re waiting, can you think of a way for him to sleep?”

Saeko: “That’s . . . hmm . . . what’s good for insomnia . . . something like herbal tea or hot milk . . .”

----

Nanba: “That’s refreshing . . . I almost leaked there. Haa . . . why can’t I sleep when Saeko is nearby . . . even though I got accustomed to women . . . hm . . . it’s useless . . . my head is zoning out . . . as soon as I’m alone . . . the drowsiness . . . aah . . .”

Nanba: “. . . hm? A sofa . . . in such a place . . . it would be nice to lie down . . . but why’s the sofa . . . on a truck bed . . . I can’t go to sleep . . . but . . . just for a moment . . .”

{Nanba lies down on the sofa and immediately passes out.}

???: “Oi, let’s go quickly. Or those who are waiting at the wharf will turn numb.”

Suspicious Man A: “Hey, hurry up. You were in the restroom for a long time . . . !”

Suspicious Man B: “Isn’t that better than me shitting in the passenger’s seat? Stop complaining and let’s go.”

Suspicious Man A: “Tch . . . then drive fast.”

{The suspicious men get in the truck and start the engine.}

----

Adachi: “. . . . . . Who are those? Movers? They don’t look like civilians . . .”

Saeko: “. . . . . . Huh? Nan-chan?”

Adachi: “. . . Eh?! Nanba? Ce-Certainly not . . . where on earth is that guy . . .”

{The truck drives past Adachi and Saeko.}

Saeko: “. . . ! Adachi-san! The truck bed! I spotted Nan-chan just now . . . !”

Adachi: “What did you say?! Nanba is on that truck?!”

.

-END-

.

.

NOTES:

ナイスツッコミ= “nice tsukkomi”. When you point something out in a comedic manner, a witty comment in response to a joke. “Tsukkomi” refers to the “straight man” in a manzai comedy duo, in partnership with a “Boke” or “funny man”.

.

.

Part 1 / Part 2

Masterlist

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Heaven Sent

[[Draco x Reader]]

Summary: Draco and a golden trio’s friend against all odds become very close. When you take a very dangerous part in one of the Triwizard Tounrament’s tasks, he is forced to face the fact that he might see you as more than just a friend.

A/N: This is my first Draco fic and I have to admit, he is one of the hardest characters I’ve ever written for, there’s something about him that I couldn’t quite get right but I hope I did a decent job. This is set in the ‘Goblet of Fire’ era, for the sake of the story some things about the plot are changed but it stays over all pretty similar to the original. If this does well i’ll write a part two. Also, I’d love to keep writing for Draco so if you have any prompts or ideas let me know!!

Warnings: Language, a bit of angst here and there, a bit of fluff here and there.

~IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS DONT HESITATE TO ASK~

No one quite understood how you and Draco became friends, it happend slowly and gradually. In second year the two of you hated eachother for the issues he had with your friends. Harry had been your friend since the first day you stepped foot in Hogwarts, Hermione was like a big sister to you even though you were the same age and Ron was the one who was always there to make you laugh even when it seemed impossible. So naturally everytime Draco felt it was necessary to make a snarky remark about them, tease Harry mercilessly or call Hermione a mudblood, it made you see red with rage.

After one particularly loud class of potions, professor Snape decided to change all the seats before he ended up murdering a student. You had to leave your seat next to Harry and walk to the back of the class to be seated with no other than the Slytherin prince. You cursed Snape, the universe and anyone else who seemed to be conspiring against you in your head, then reluctantly took your seat.

At first, and as it would be expected, Draco and you had troubles getting along to say the least, but as days went by and as the two of you realized this feud you had was only making the situation more unbearable, the hostility was replaced with playfulness. You still teased eachother but the desire to hurt and offend wasn’t there anymore, instead being replaced with snarky remarks and witty comebacks.

A similar situation took place in your head. You didn’t understand why all of a sudden the hatred for the posh, bratty and rude platinum blonde wasn’t there anymore, but getting to potions class and teasing him about something new everyday just to get a laugh out of him was something you internally looked forward to. Even in the great hall while you were sitting with your friends it was hard to not steal a few glances here and there from Draco, and most of those times he would be looking right back.

Third year went by like that, class next to him, a few group assignments that required you to meet him out of class and the sporadic interaction here and there. That was it.

But when year four came by, Harry and Ron decided it would be a great idea to get into a fight right when things started getting complicated. Both of them were very proud, and for a few weeks after the contestants of the triwizard tournament were announced they wouldn’t even talk to eachother.

Hermione took the mom friend role and stuck with Ron during those weeks, you on the other hand could’ve stuck with Harry but he was so invested and consumed by the tournament he barely even had time to spend with anyone anyways so you preferred to leave him to his own.

You found yourself going to the library a lot more, something you loved to do but barely had any time to when you were occupied with the golden trio’s adventures. To your surprise, the idea of finding a place to scape everything for a few moments hadn’t only occurred to you, but to Draco as well. Some days you would only sit next to eachother and read in silence; others, when Draco would be in a particularly good mood he would talk to you about what was so interesting in the book he was currently reading. The way you would listen to him talk made the warm feeling in Draco’s chest grow more than he would like to admit. He could tell how when he spoke to you, you didn’t only listen out of basic courtesy or fear like his fellow slytherins would, you actually cared about what he had to say. Draco would go to the extents of looking for things to say just so he could see your eyes look up from the pages of your book and get hit by the light coming from the window behind him.

To you, Draco was a breath of fresh air, you loved your friends to death but everything seemed to be so complicated with them, almost as if you were always on a life or death situation, but with him things were easy, just casual conversations, sweet smiles and moments of blissful silence. You liked spending time with him so much you started to look for excuses to do it more often outside the library, tempting him to sneak into the kitchen for snacks on a dare for example, or challenging him to a race to the outer parts of the castle just to find a place to sit down together and talk.

The day of the second task, Draco had seen you at breakfast, you’d told him previously your two friends had finally made amends which meant it wasn’t weird to see you all sitting together once again, but this still made his heart subtly ache knowing that you wouldn’t spend as much time with him anymore. With that though in mind he’d asked you to sit near him during the tournament, something not obvious enough for slytherins to bug him about it but sufficient to have you close to him.

When he arrived to the wood platform that stood on top of the black lake he scanned the crowd for you, disappointed when he couldn’t find your face. He reluctantly walked to where all the slytherins were grouped up, not giving up on his search for you just yet. At one point he even caught a sight of Weasley’s red head of hair but you were no where around him, he seemed to be looking for someone too, Granger he assumed. The two of you must’ve been together somewhere else, which seemed odd but understandable. A thought ran through the back of Draco’s head, maybe you liked to spend time with him as long as it was in private, maybe the thought of being seen with him bothered you and you had decided to stand him up. He shook the thought away and tried to focus on what was going on in front of him.

The second challenge consisted of ‘recovering something that had been taken from them’ from within the depths of the black lake, the champions would be under water for an hour and would only count as winners if they brought the item back. He was eager to see how Potter would get out of this one. Once the four contenders disappeared under water there wasn’t much more to see, Draco tried to insert himself into the chatter going on in the group behind him but the image of you kept popping into his head, it wasn’t like you to just disappear, specially when your friend was just about to submerge into the black lake for an hour, but he tried to distract his mind elsewhere.

It was only when he saw Vikktor Krum come up with Hermione in his hands that it clicked for him. ‘Something that had been taken from them’ that something was a person, someone important to the contestant, and if Granger was with Krum and Weasley was waiting for them on the other side of the platform... then that meant you were under water, and Potter was still nowhere to be seen.

Draco’s heart started beating at a rate he thought impossible before that moment. He pushed his way through the slytherin crowd slamming himself against the second and first years and eventually getting to where people were expecting the contestants to resurface. The gryffindor girl was still trying to recover on the side of the platform, Weasly and a teacher giving her towels to dry up and get warm. Draco grabbed the redhead’s arm and pulled him up and aside aggressively.

“Bloody hell, what’s your problem, Malfoy? Can’t you see i’m busy?” he replied not even looking back at him and keeping his eyes on Hermione.

“Y/N, is she down there too?” Draco asked, pulling his arm once again to get his attention. “Is she the one Potter is supposed to bring up?”

“I know as much as you do mate” Ron said back freeing himself from Draco’s grip abruptly. “but yeah, by the looks of it she’s the one friend of Harry who’s missing, so i assume it’s her.” With those words Ron returned to his place next to Hermione and left Draco terrified and frozen in his place.

The one hour period was nearing its end and Harry was still no where to be seen. Every second from the moment Draco found out about you being tied up at the bottom of the black lake felt like an eternity, no amount of calming thoughts could make the brutal feeling in his chest go away. He thought back on all the times you two spent together, how you looked so carefree sometimes and so concerned and lost in thought others, how your face lit up when you laughed or tense up when he teased you about something, the many opportunities he had to tell you how he felt more than just platonic things for you, that he actually dreamt about you day and night but was too scared to do anything about it, and how he would be the happiest man alive if he ever got the chance to wake up next to you, kiss you and tell you how beautiful you truly are.

The young slytherin looked up to the sky and promised to anyone or anything that could help him, even just to himself, that if you were brought back to him safe and sound he wouldn’t waste another second with you, he’d tell you all the things he felt for you as soon as he got the chance, and if you allowed him he’d take care of you for the rest of his life, all he needed was for you to be in his arms once again.

As if the universe had heard his pleas, Potter came back up with not only you in his arms but Fleur Delacour’s sister as well. Draco ran to the edge of the platform to help you up as you were still gasping for air, Harry didn’t even question why he was helping as he pushed you up for him to grab you. You were still coughing out water when the platinum blonde boy wrapped you around with a towel and tried to sit you up so you could get it all out.

“Hey, hey, breathe, try to breath, you’re ok i’m here with you, it’s ok.” He tried to calm you down with his words while feeling you try to take deeper breaths with him.

“I think Y/N’s hurt, her leg... i think it’s injured.” Potter said from next to Draco where Hermione and Ron were trying to dry him up.

Draco’s hand immediately went to your leg, which was covered by your robe, but underneath it the uniform socks were ripped up and a pretty nasty wound could be seen causing blood to drip down.

The concern that filled Draco’s heart was quickly replaced by anger when he turned his head back to Harry. “How could you let them do this to her? How could you put her in so much danger? She could’ve fucking died down there and it would’ve been your fault, you really can’t do anything other than put everyone around you at risk, can you Potter?” His words were brutal and loud, loud enough for everyone around them to hear, even through the loudness of the crowd, but Draco didn’t care.

“Malfoy, shut it. This isn’t his fault, he didn’t chose for this to happen.” Hermione barked back while looking at him with a mixture of fury and confusion as to why he seemed to care so much about you all of a sudden.

“Oh yeah, that’s right. It’s never his fault is it? Cause he’s the chosen one and nothing that ever happens is his fault, it’s all an unfortunate occurrence that he never has to take responsibility for even though if it wasn’t for him none of this would’ve ever-” Draco’s words were cut off by your hand going up to his face, you felt freezing cold and soft against his skin and it was so unexpected it forced him to look down at you who were still on his lap.

“Draco... stop, not now.” you said still sounding out of breath. “I need you to take me to Madam Pomfrey, my leg hurts.”

Draco’s heart broke at the way your eyes looked at him, almost pleading, swollen and tired. “Yes, of course. Hold on tight, darling, let me know if I hurt you.”

He lifted you up and carried you in his arms, ignoring the shocked and confused looks everyone was throwing his way, also leaving Potter and his bunch behind, he’d deal with them later. Your eyes shut close once again and your face cuddled into Draco’s neck, looking for warmth and comfort. He briefly looked once again up to the sky, thanking whatever helped bring you back, not forgetting about the promise he’d made before. He would do it, once you were alright.

Madam Pomfrey had to force Draco out of the room to keep him from bombarding her with questions about your state. He paced back and forth in front of the door for around thirty minutes before he was allowed back in. You were laying on the same bed he’d set you on moments before, just now wearing a more comfortable attire. Your leg was wrapped up in bandages and raised up on top of a couple pillows. Once Draco got close enough your eyes drifted over to him, in your four years of knowing him you’d never seen such worry in his face. His hand looked for yours and held it tightly while taking a seat on a chair that was placed next to your bed.

“You have no idea how worried I was” He said still struggling to pace his breath down.

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Draco, I’m ok. It doesn’t even hurt anymore, I’m heavily drugged but at least it looks like my leg will stay in one piece.”

The blond slytherin chuckled softly and seemed to relax a little. “I’m going to murder your friend as soon as I get a chance, I hope you know that.”

“No you won’t.” Your eyes pierced through his while a serious expression took over your face. “We are not arguing over this, it wasn’t his fault.”

“You’re right, we’re not arguing over it, there is nothing you can threaten me with to keep me from putting him back at the bottom of the black lake” He said with his signature scowl plastered on his face.

“We can instead talk about what we’re going to tell the entire school once I’m out of here. That hero act you pulled back there is not gonna be easy to explain while keeping your reputation intact.”

“Fuck my reputation” He replied looking away. This took you by surprise, there were many things Draco Malfoy was, a person who didn’t care about his reputation or what others thought of him wasn’t one of them.

“Who are you and what have you done with Draco?” You asked teasingly.

He took a deep breath before looking back at you. “I’m being serious, Y/N.”

“So... you don’t care what Slytherins say about you being friends with Potter’s friend?”

“There’s something we need to talk about. I-” Draco’s words were cut off by the door swinging open behind him. Before he could even fully turn around to look at who it was, he heard Hermione’s rushed steps and her loud and piercing voice, Weasley following behind her closely.

“Oh, Y/N. I’m so glad you’re ok. We were all worried to death, I wanted to come right away but Professor Mcgonagall forced me to go dry up and change clothes, she said I would catch a cold otherwise.” Her arms were thrown over your neck pulling you up harshly.

“Mione, I appreciate the enthusiasm but I’m still a bit sore.” You said muffled by her hug.

“Right, sorry.”

The chatter that came after was barely heard by Draco, the thought of what he’d been so close to telling you started to weight on him. Doubt begun to take over, maybe it wasn’t the right time, maybe he was being stupid for even thinking someone as good as you could ever reciprocate feelings as intense as the ones he had. But he’d made a promise, and if there was even just a slim chance you’d feel a fraction of what he felt for you, he would take the risk.

Draco was fully willing to wait there until your friends left so you two could finish your conversation, but it was when Potter walked in he realized he wasn’t welcome anymore. The shock and unpleasantness on his when he saw Draco said it all. For your sake and his own, he decided to stand up from his place and leave the confrontation for later. But before Draco could get far your hand pulled his back to get his attention.

“Draco...” your voice was strong, not discreet or ashamed to address him in front of your friends, but loud and assuring. “Thank you, for everything.”

The way you took a moment to make sure he knew you were grateful for what he’d done for you, even with Potter and the others around, showed him he mattered to you, even just a little. It was all Draco needed to be confident in his decision. He was going to tell you how he felt, maybe not today, but he would do it.

“Any time.” Was all he replied before walking out with a smirk on his lips and the warm feeling taking over his heart again.

[wildlyglittering]

Love in an Elevator

Happy Sunday everyone!

Thank you to those who have liked, commented and re-blogged my pieces so far - you are *chef’s kiss* awesome. 

How’s the ACOSF discourse coming? I’m watching it all whilst slurping my tea but very much staying out of it. I’m cracking on with my fanfiction though, am feeling weirdly inspired lately which is rare but I’ll take it! 

In a few weeks I’ll probably ask if anyone has any requests as I’m feeling up for the challenge. I’m slow but I’ll get there in the end. 

In the meantime I hope you enjoy this one!

***

There was no getting out of the predicament she’d found herself in, no matter how much she begged - and she had begged.

She’d thrown in some negotiations and when those offerings failed, she’d feigned a nonchalance that was as transparent as water. The very last weapon in her arsenal had been to fling mean spirited insults but those spurred him on more.

Then again, she grinned to herself, didn’t she know they would?

Nesta’s arms were stretched upwards above her head, the backs of her hands pressed against the cool wall of the elevator. Two large hands held them in place with a grip that refused to relent, the skin of her captor so hot he must have been burning.

At some point his mouth had moved from hers to her throat, his head dipping down while she strained hers back, her neck arching to give him better access. She always provided an initial protest. I don’t want your filthy mouth on me. The waiter from the restaurant looked like he was able to provide more satisfaction than you and he could hardly stand. I think I should go home now before my evening ends in disappointment.

It was a game they played and they played it well.

That hot mouth travelled to a sensitive spot, lips skimming her skin to the point where they scarcely touched her. A whine escaped her, short and shrill enough that she’d hoped he hadn’t heard but from the quirk of his lips on her throat that she did feel, she knew he had.

“Patience is a virtue,” he trilled at her and her own lips turned into a sneer.

“I’m just trying not to die of boredom.”

Nesta’s voice was far too breathless for the barb to land and he chuckled.

“Sure,” he murmured, “and that’s why you sound like you’re a filly in a stable right now.”

“Shut up, Cassian.”

“Mmm. Make me.”

His mouth was on hers again, lips hot and greedy, tongue gliding against hers. He tasted faintly of the scotch he’d been drinking at dinner and he would be tasting red wine.

Cassian was somehow lazy and energetic with his kisses.

He kissed like his goal was to steal every breath she might ever make but he did it so leisurely, so languidly, like he’d managed to switch the passage of time off to allow for it. He pulled back his mouth to suck her bottom lip between his before soothing it over with his tongue.

One day he’d probably make someone combust from kissing them. Not her though, she’d built up an immunity.

Nesta squirmed; her muscles straining in her back. Thankfully yoga had made her limber over the years so that any discomfort was minimal but still, she needed to exhibit some form of protest.

Cassian slid his mouth from hers and glanced at her, it was a brief check in to make sure he wasn’t hurting her, his eyes quick to turn gentle even with his pupils dilated into blackness. She could tell all this from one look. Cassian had such expressive eyes.

Nesta mentally chased the endearment away and pouted. Cassian’s faced slipped from worry to amused, his lips tipping into an arrogant smirk. He chuckled and dipped his head down to suck on the skin of her collarbone.

“Nice try sweetheart, but it’s not going to happen.”

She let out a sigh, half irritation and half bliss, which turned into a moan when he doubled his efforts and sucked harder.

If Nesta had any decency, she wouldn’t be letting him doing this to her in the elevator of his apartment building. If Nesta had any decency, she would pull her body away instead of rubbing it against his.

If Nesta had any decency, she wouldn’t have been the one to make the first move as soon as the doors had closed.

Nesta’s eyes fluttered shut. Her heart pounded its rhythm in her chest and her blood rushed in her ears. Her pulse thrummed everywhere, everywhere, including the place Cassian hadn’t yet reached for.

Still, it was as though he read her thoughts, and he elevated some of the ache by pressing his pelvis against hers, his crisp dress pants rustling as he stepped further between Nesta’s legs.

He lazily flexed his hips against hers and she rocked back, her dress slipping further up her thighs, expanses of bare skin showing to an empty cube. His tongue pressed against the pulse point at the join between her neck and shoulder and she gasped, eyes flying open.

Every. Time.

Once Cassian had figured out what made Nesta’s body hum he’d seemingly made it his personal mission to turn a tune into an orchestral delight.

Her eyes refocused past the swimming haze that Cassian drowned her in and what she saw must have reached some part of her brain that hadn’t vacated her head.

The numbers on the elevator display kept increasing. Five, Fifteen, Fifty.

There was no danger of anyone calling the elevator, the apartment building was in an area of the city that was considered ‘up and coming’ which meant over three quarters of the complex were still up for sale. Cassian had been one of the first buyers and snagged the penthouse at a decent introductory rate.

Nesta’s eyes managed to sharpen into focus when they alighted on the black polished and exceptionally shiny tiles lining the ceiling, which, for all intents and purposes, acted like a mirror.

The tableau playing out did absolutely nothing to quell her thundering heartbeat.

Earlier Nesta’s hair had been preened into a slick French knot, teased into place by her hairstylist who implied Nesta had big plans for the evening. Nesta had dismissed those remarks with a wave of her hand and a scowl that could curdle milk.

Now, hours later, all was in disarray. Gold-brown strands fell onto her shoulders loosened by two firm hands that had buried themselves in her hair at the first available opportunity.

One of those shoulders was bare, the strap of her dress slid down when Cassian had made a beeline for the curve that contained the most freckles. His favourite shoulder, he’d once told her. She’d rolled her eyes at him on hearing that but made a point of wearing one-stap tops at family summer barbecues where he couldn’t reach for her.

At this vantage point Nesta was able to catch glimpses of herself from their mirror-twins but mostly what she saw was him.

Cassian’s hair was still in its low bun, which, unlike Nesta’s was messy by design. The expanse of his back covered her, his snow-white shirt stretched across solid back muscles. His jacket was discarded on the floor along with her bag and one of her shoes.

She’d managed to tug his shirt loose before he’d pinned her, the bottom of it now crumpled and ridden up at the back and in the shimmering, slightly distorted surface of the black tiles she saw his smooth, deep olive skin.

Her fingers twitched. She couldn’t wait to get into his apartment, to grab at the buttons and pull the fabric from him. Nesta had ruined, two, maybe three shirts of his now, not that he cared. With any luck she’d have him naked halfway across the lower floor of his open planned mezzanine. Maybe this time they’d make it up the stairs to his bed. Maybe they wouldn’t.

Cassian must have felt her fingers twitch because he shifted his hands upwards, from her wrists across her palms, to entwine his own between hers. They clung, entangled with each other, their knuckles surely turning bone white with the grip.

It wasn’t enough that she wanted to see his skin, she needed to feel it, smooth and warm underneath her fingertips. She envisaged her fingertips rounding over the muscles of his chest and abdomen and then drifting her palm over hard muscle to harder muscle still.

Every time they did this was like Nesta was receiving a present from the universe and it was a sobering thought that ultimately, they would have to decide the gift tree needed to stop gifting.

“Cassian,” she groaned and he lifted his head.

It always seemed to Nesta that she was more undone than him in these situations. Her clothes and hair were always mussed, her skin flushing red and her breath huffing from her mouth in harsh pants. Cassian always looked like he’d run a marathon without breaking a sweat.

There was lust in the way she’d said his name, of course there was. A man this decadent couldn’t hold his body against hers like this, couldn’t flex his hardness against her pelvis like this, for Nesta not to sound like she was about to unravel into a spool of thread.

But something else had crept in, something that sounded disturbingly like longing, like she wanted their ribs pressed as close as they could get so their hearts almost touched.

His eyes, half-lidded and hazy were staring into hers. Desire lived in them when he looked at her, but she also knew how he counted the freckles on her nose while he thought she was asleep and how he played with her hair when she dozed. Now his desire had a permanent room-mate who’d crept in uninvited.

These were things that would go unsaid. They hated each other, of course. They even had friends who encouraged the level of vitriol they could spew.

Cassian slipped back into arrogance as easy as he could breathe.

“That’s right, Nes,” he murmured, “say my name.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. If she could move her legs, she’d be tempted to give him a kick. “Bastard.”

The smile never left his face. “Oh, and don’t you know it.”

He kissed her again, shifting his pelvis away only to position one strong muscled thigh between her legs instead. She moaned against his mouth, feeling the determined throb of his erection through the fabric of his pants against her thigh. She ground down onto his leg, her hips rocking as she tried to quell her building ache.

Cassian moved both her wrists into one of his hands, freeing the other. His grip was looser now with just one fist holding her and if Nesta wanted, she could pull both her hands down and out with ease. She didn’t of course, despite her earlier protests. This game had well established rules.

Cassian’s free right hand slipped down to her bare knee, hooking behind it to draw it upwards towards his hip. They’d played this part of the game before too, Nesta instantly wrapping her leg around his waist, her dress indecently bunched around her hips.

There were many things to be thankful for in this world. The fact that Cassian’s apartment complex was semi-deserted. The fact that his frame shielded hers from any view if the elevator happened to stop and the fact that Cassian knew where the button was to turn off the security camera.

They’d learnt their lesson from experience.

Stern words had been directed to them both from the old security guard. “Please,” he’d pleaded, “no more sex in the elevator. I’m over 70, my heart isn’t so good. Make love to your girlfriend in your apartment.”

Nesta had been extremely quick to point out she wasn’t Cassian’s girlfriend which just made the old man raise an eyebrow in disbelief.

Perhaps Nesta was the only woman that Cassian invited over, perhaps she’d brought over an overnight bag once or twice and perhaps they’d hooked up after the cinema and a couple of dinners and even after a Sunday farmer’s market but it didn’t mean a thing.

“Ah,” Cassian sighed, pulling his mouth away from hers. “I know this pair – the red silk?”

His fingers trailed up her bare thigh and further until he reached the edge of her panties. The man had an unusual gift for accurately guessing her underwear.

The dress she’d chosen to wear out was a new one; sleeveless black lace with thick cut straps scooping into a scalloped neckline. Demure and elegant. Hints of cleavage and slight bare shoulders only.

The lower half was significantly shorter than what she would normally wear but pairing them with her highest heels had been worth it to see Cassian’s face when she entered the restaurant, his eyes skimming up her naked legs with an expression like he wanted to devour her.

This underwear was a particular favourite of his so she thought that tonight they should make an appearance.

His fingers, a maddeningly delicate touch, skimmed across the front of the fabric, pressing firmly with his thumb in just the right place for the briefest of seconds before pulling away.

Nesta’s body jolted and his eyes shone.

“Prick.”

“Hmmm pretty sure that’s Feyre’s pet name for Rhys.”

Well there was a mood killer.

“Ugh please,” she said, “please don’t mention my baby sister and that asshole while your hand is up my dress. I already spend enough money on therapy as it is.”

Cassian laughed, a sound that was rich and warm and thrummed through her. When Cassian laughed, he laughed with his whole body. “Oh, not finding Feyre and Rhys’ terms of endearment a turn on?”

She scrunched her nose.

“Well, that’s cute.”

“Shut. Up.”

Cassian grinned and kissed her again.

At first, when all this began, they didn’t talk about real life; Cassian’s job, Nesta’s job, weekend plans, friends or family. It was strictly skin on skin contact only. Those were the rules.

As time trickled past like sand in an hourglass, the rules warped until a significant portion had changed completely.

They ended up asking how the other was.

At first it was small talk, trying to be polite as they walked through shared the lobby of Cassian or Nesta’s apartment buildings but then Nesta had a bad day and Cassian seemed genuine in his question.

She told him about a potential client who no longer wanted her as their literary agent and how that rejection had stung. She’d believed in that book she told him, it was about sisters and redemption, and she explained how she’d cried when she first read the manuscript.

After that point they talked about their work. Nesta would glance at the architect plans Cassian had scattered about his drafting table and asked questions about how his projects were progressing and check her emails while he cooked dinner. There were times they sat opposite each other, Cassian while he drafted and Nesta while she read.

That was the other thing. There were dinners. Lunches. Weekend plans involving brunches and early morning Saturday jog’s around the park.

The one thing that did seem to be beyond their new rules was discussing friends and family.

Cassian and Nesta rarely spoke about their mutual acquaintances, often refusing to acknowledge they even had any. It was strange for Cassian to bring Rhys into conversation but he was obviously on Cassian’s mind from the phone call earlier.

They were done with their starters and waiting for the main’s when Rhys rang, Cassian answering because if he hadn’t, ‘shit would look suspicious.’

Nesta could hear the conversation from both parties even as Cassian twisted in his chair, phone pressed to his ear hunched away as much as possible to try and limit the sound.

It was confirmation from Rhys that him, Cassian and Azriel were still on for their tomorrow plans; a morning of manly activities followed by ‘lunch with the ladies’ to celebrate Cassian’s thirtieth birthday as Cassian had told them he wasn’t able to celebrate tonight, on his actual birthday.

Of course, Nesta hadn’t been invited to the group festivities. As far as all were concerned, Cassian and Nesta loathed each other and so Nesta let it slide. Cassian had essentially fobbed off the ones he loved the most with a work-based lie to have dinner with her. She thought it was a poor and unexpected exchange on his part.

Still, she had promised him a lovely birthday treat to make up for it.

Nesta gently pulled back from his kiss and watched Cassian pout.

“Now, who’s looking cute.”

“It’s my birthday. I want kisses.”

She looked up at him as coyly as she could, flexing her hips forward into his, gasping as the action moved his fingers across the front of her underwear. “Well as you’re now such a big boy perhaps tonight we can do that thing you’ve always wanted to do. It being a special occasion and all.”

Cassian’s pout dissipated and his eyes grew five shades darker.

“You mean...”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, Nesta. What the hell floor are we on? Why aren’t we top floor yet, c’mon!”

Nesta laughed. They were in the world’s slowest elevator which wouldn’t be an issue but they definitely wouldn’t be doing the thing in here.

The birthday gods or whoever Cassian just offered a sacrifice to in his mind were in an obliging mood as the ‘ding’ told Nesta they’d finally reached Cassian’s floor.

Somehow, with super human speed, he’d removed his hands from her body, scooped up the jacket, bag and shoe from the floor and turned to her, hoisting her up so she clung to him like a bear climbing a tree.

Nesta laughed again combined with a shriek of surprise, her legs wrapping around his waist, her hands buried in his hair. With a fumbling grace, his face pushed between her breasts, one hand full of their belongings and the other on her ass, Cassian moved them from the elevator into the hallway.

Her back thumped against the wall by his front door as Cassian dug around for his keys. Nesta tangled her hands further into his hair, making his bun as messy as hers.

“You know,” she said, “you should really consider getting a mirror installed above your bed. I think it would add a certain post-modern aesthetic.”

He momentarily paused his search to look up at her, his eyes hazy. “Yeah, you think?” he rasped. “If you want, sweetheart.”

“Not for me,” she replied with an air of indifference, moving her fingers to skim along the muscles corded in his neck. “Some woman you try and pick up might go for it.”

Cassian gave her a smirk and kissed the skin of her exposed cleavage before getting back to find his keys.

“Hurry,” she pleaded to hear Cassian mumble back, trying.

The click of the lock turning was the best sound she’d ever heard and they were barely through the threshold and into his darkened apartment before everything in Cassian’s hands, aside her, fell to a clatter on his solid floorboards.

Cassian simultaneously slammed the door and her back against the wall, his mouth stretching up to claim hers while she grabbed the back of his shirt, tugging it higher. She needed to get to his skin, needed to peel off his layers and throw off hers. If they made it to the bed for the first round of this evening it would be nothing short of a miracle.

It was only seconds before the apartment flooded with light where it had been pitch black before. The realisation that neither of them had turned on the lights came a second too late.

There was a chorus of loud and happy voices to accompany the lights.

“SURPRISE!”

It petered out to stunned silence and gasps. Cassian pulled back from Nesta his eyes filling with horror. Nesta didn’t want to look, but she was facing them, she couldn’t not.

Balloons and streamers dotted the apartment, a huge banner stretched overhead to say ‘happy birthday,’ tables full of food and alcohol primed and ready to go. There they were in front, the collective loved ones they didn’t talk about with a few extra of Cassian’s friends thrown in for good measure.

They just stared, eyes wide and mouths open. Silence.

There was a throaty chuckle followed by Amren’s voice. “Surprise? Well, I’d say it is.”

[the-fae-folk]

What is a Fairy?

I suppose they probably need some explanation, especially nowadays. Fairies (Faeries, Fay, Fey, Fae, or even Fair Folk) could be considered a type of mythical being. Some have described them as spirits, others as ghosts of the deceased, some deified ancestors, prehistoric precursors to humans, personifications of nature, pagan deities, or even angels and demons in the way of Christian traditions. Often they encompass a metaphysical aspect, being depicted as spirits or beings who transcend the physical universe and world that we know. Or given features of the Supernatural, such as magic or extrasensory perception, which allow them to violate or go beyond the laws of nature. Even sometimes Preternatural, which something abnormal or strange and explainable but still within the boundaries of the natural laws of the universe (for example I could say someone is a preternaturally good cellist, and mean that they are impossibly good beyond expectations or even belief, but I’m not saying that they are actually magical...just that their apparent abilities and how they gained them are unknown and very strange to me.) But what is a fairy? Well you already know what some of them look like. Many people might immediately picture Tinkerbell from the animated Disney feature film, or even from the original Peter Pan novel by J. M. Barrie. And they would be correct, in part. Tinkerbell is a depiction of a Pixie, a specific type of fairy. But there are lots of fairy types, I don’t actually think there’s a complete list. (I should probably try to make one at some point, but no promises.) During some points in history the label of fairy was used to mean magical beings who had a mostly human shape. Gnomes, leprechauns, goblins, pixies, dwarfs, elfs, etc etc etc. And at other points it also included non humanoid magical creatures such as Unicorns, Dragons, Kelpie, Basilisk, and more (Sometimes these were referred to as Fairy Creatures). So where did they come from? Well the funny thing is that Fairies don’t actually come from only one area or set of myths. They are a strange combination of the folklore from all over Europe (and possibly beyond) and include ideas and stories from Celtic, Scandinavian, Nordic, Germanic, French, and English Folklore and Mythology. As these stories were passed around and intermingled and changed they brought about the collective creatures we know today as the Fae or Fairies. The Renaissance, Romantic Era, Victorian Era, Edwardian Era, and even the Celtic Revival Movement of the 19th and 20th centuries all had their influences on the stories and ideas connected with the Fairy folk, some significantly less helpful than others. Even the Fantasy Literature Genre, with Tolkien at its forefront, has added and changed much about people’s view on these creatures. So lets talk about some basic things you’ll want to know when dealing with Fairies. The first thing you might want to remember is that many people view the Tuatha Dé Danann (Supernatural gods, goddesses, heroes, and kings of Irish Mythology) as being the source for Faeries, or at least one of the strongest influences. Celtic Folklore and culture is easily one of the most visible bits of Faerie lore that you can find these days, but there’s a lot more that starts showing up when you begin to dig. Another thing to note is that the Renaissance, Romantic Era, Victorian Era, Edwardian Era, and the Celtic Revival Movement had a massive influence on how people saw fairies. They would mix folklore from different areas of Europe, attempted to prove the existence of fairies through scientific means, created artistic depictions of fairies, and much more. Often they sanitized and shrunk the fairies until they were mostly harmless or relegated to the outskirts of human life as a curiosity. Which brings me to the next point. In a lot of older folklore, from all over Europe, fairy beings are often depicted as being incredibly dangerous. Kidnapping humans or human babies, causing crops to wither, water to dry up, food to rot. They could lure people in with magic into a fairy ring of mushrooms and make them dance forever or make them forget their life. Sometimes they even played with time itself. A person could dance with the fairies only to find that they’ve been gone a hundred years when they try to go home. And many beliefs have depictions of some kind of Otherworld, a world apart from our own, or layered over it like an extra dimension we are unable to perceive or directly interact with. Sometimes its a land of the dead or a hidden underground kingdom, other times is a strange and fantastical country with its own laws and ways of doing things. As these stories meshed together we got what is known as Fairyland. The land which the fairies dwell in. Though some believe they simply live on Earth, hidden in the wild, or among us. Some reoccurring ideas are often connected with fairies, though not all have stayed the same as the original lore they were born from. The idea that Faeries, for whatever reason, are unable to or will not lie. This is a very important idea because the Folk are also simultaneously depicted as deceptive. Like particularly vicious lawyers they will play with words, never quite lying, but purposefully leading you astray or tricking you into a bad deal. They will often obey an oath, promise, or deal exactly to the letter, but ignore the intent behind it in order to twist it to their own benefit or amusement. Whether or not fairies are immortal depends entirely on where you draw your folklore from. Sometimes they are immortal; deathless, not mortal. Unable to die in spite of starvation, terrible wounds, age, or anything else. They are bound to life for all time. But some stories depict the stranger Fae Folk as being Eternal. Beyond time, always having existed and always existing, sometimes cycling, sometimes directionless and boundless and everything. Some tough concepts to get your head around, but nobody really agrees which one fairies are. In some folklore they’re even depicted as mortal, same as you and I, but a lot longer lived and harder to kill. A reoccurring motif in older Folklore is the need of humans to try and ward off fairies with charms and totems. When they were not depicted as outright malicious and dangerous, sometimes being thought to cause illness and death or bring about disastrous misfortune or steal a person’s name and voice, fairies were still mischievous and valiantly unhelpful. So people had all kinds of lucky charms to protect from them: like four leaf clovers, various plants, or actions like wearing your clothes inside out to confuse them. Iron is said in many beliefs to burn them, and certain herbs they view as sacred and will refrain from touching the bearer. A few more things. Christianity plays an important part in this discussion, though many people don’t like that. In many places myths and legends were wiped out by Christianity, either intentionally or simply by the very fact that it was trying to convert people in Europe and old pagan beliefs were seen as nonsensical. But still stories persisted despite this. Many old Myths and Folkloric beliefs were recorded for posterity by Christians, and some stories were altered and we are unable to see exactly how much (Beowulf). A lot of fairy stories remained too, only Christianity painted them as fallen angels or even demons of a kind, who could be kept away from Holy Ground, or were forced to kidnap humans to pay a tithe to Hell (or be taken themselves if they couldn’t pay). So folk beliefs, though generally discouraged by the church as superstition, remained quite strong all over Europe for a very long time. The last three things you need to know. One, there are many people who still believe in Fairies, though their beliefs often vary, sometimes wildly. Witches who claim to work with them. People who believe in them through their religions (usually pagans and other non christian groups). People who claim to have encountered or been abducted by them. And many others. While I personally do not believe in Fairies (though I like to keep an open mind, just in case), I do believe that the beliefs, cultures, and and rights of these people ought to be respected. Which leads me to other mythical beings that are similar to Fairies but hail from cultures and peoples outside of Europe. It might be tempting to label some of the spirits from various Native North American Tribes or from Chinese Folklore (or many others) as fairies. Don’t do that. If Fairies are real, you have to consider that there might be other mythical beings who fall under different categories and groups. And even if they are not real, it is extremely disrespectful to the people of those cultures to take their stories, myths, beliefs, and folklore and try to mesh it in with European Folklore. (this is exactly what the Victorian and Edwardian Era were guilty of.) And finally... Some people might tell you that they know everything there is to know about Fairies. Don’t believe them. Even I, who have spent years and years studying European Faerie Folklore, find new things about them every day. I have sources I’ve found and haven’t yet had the time to look into, areas of study I’ve had to neglect. There is so much about Fairies to explore that it’s quite literally impossible for any one person to know all of it. Personally I’m doubtful that a single person can even know an eighth of it all, you can hardly imagine how much there is. And while there is a great deal of it buried on the internet, there is even more offline. Books which are out of print or have never had their contents uploaded, cultural stories passed down in various European groups which are saved from oblivion only by the oratory tradition, and the remains of all kinds of long dead or vastly changed civilizations who believed in the Fairies and tried to work with or avoid or appease them. All the misinformation and personal gnoses out there also make it a lot harder to find accurate information about traditional folklore. And that’s not even counting the multitude of inventions and ideas spawned by fictional literature surrounding fairies. There is simply too much. But of course... Since when has something being impossible ever stopped a human from trying anyway? If you’re still interested, then who am I to discourage you? Go, jump right in. There’s so much to learn about the Faerie Folk.

[belit0]

Commission for @GlitterBomba!

Part 2 of this!! I don't feel it's as angsty as it should be, but for some reason, my creativity wanted it that way? It's been a long time since I've last written, and this was definitely a challenge... First part was produced way too long ago, so it was also challenging to connect with what I felt when I wrote it! But here it is, and I hope you like it, GlitterBomba. Thanks for trusting me!

My Ko-fi page~ Buy me a coffee if anyone wants part 3 ❤（っ＾▿＾）

It took you days to awaken from your deep sleep, days which became weeks, and weeks transformed into months. There was no hope for your life among the healers, but the tenacity and insistence of those elders who saved you forced them to continue providing methods and energy, herbs, talismans to keep you breathing.

Impossible to explain how that mortal blow did not steal your last breath, not when the perpetrator was the greatest tyrant in the current world, the monster everyone learned to fear and flee from. In the small place where you are kept hidden, rumor has it the treacherous one repented as soon as his hand affected your body, causing you not to succumb immediately.

It wasn’t until after he vanished, shrouded in lightning and hatred, when one of Ashura’s subordinates came upon the scene of your sad fate. A pool of blood acting as a bed over a pale body, devoid of any warmth and life. Everyone was quick to write you off for dead after such an event, and only when one of the village elders took your pulse did he find your incredible attempt to resist despite all odds.

Keeping you along with the new leader and his people would not be a good idea. Not when you barely escaped with your life from the beast. In case he came back and besieged his younger brother, it would be better if he didn’t find you there. That man proved to have an unquenchable thirst for revenge.

Tempting fate once is more than enough.

That led a group of elderly men, those who defended your slight pulse when everyone thought you were dead, to ask Ashura’s permission before disappearing and taking you to a safe place, making use of some of the village healers to ensure your health. 8 men of different ages vanish with you, swearing on their lives to do everything possible for you to open your eyes again.

Winters turned into warm seasons, and autumn leaves were waning. Two whole years quickly go by before your consciousness returns. The world is different. You understand through your guardians that life passed with you as a ghostly presence, a bedridden legend they fought all this time to preserve.

No one mentions what happened to you, though. No one names him.

To everyone’s surprise, you don’t really ask about the village; you don’t ask about your birthplace and your home. You don’t ask... about him.

Your healers discover you memory was damaged after exhaustive examinations beyond your comprehension. Theories why this happened are various in your little home; some argue the loss of blood hurt your brain, others believe the trauma of that betrayal forced you to block it all out, and there are those who think maybe you ignored the past on purpose.

Still, there is an unspoken rule forbidding the mention of what happened, of the village, of those two brothers. After experiencing hell, what would be the benefit of forcibly bringing you back to that horrible past? In this remote place, you have the chance to start from scratch, and your rescuers believe it is the least you deserve.

Little by little, you gradually learn everything all over again. Your own name, your age, information about those around you. You ask with animosity about everything you don’t understand, and the only thing there is reluctance to answer is when you want to know about who you were before... this.

Healers get the problem off their shoulders, rushing you to ask such questions to the older people. They shoo you out of their humble hut with nervousness and red faces, panic in their eyes.

Seniors sigh as they stare into nothingness, sadness and nostalgia, painting their countenances with something you cannot grasp. Some even drop a couple of tears to the rhythm of a depressing whisper, “oh poor child...”

The scene makes you feel so guilty you end up consoling them, assuring it’ s not a big deal and you don’t need to be told. That your life in this small place with them is all you need to be happy, past or no past.

Regardless, it is the scar monstrously painting your stomach which makes you uneasy. While tracing the edges of that sensitive skin with your fingertips, you feel its reason for existence is on the tip of your tongue. As if reminders of what happened to you are lingering there, buried in your head, but creeping closer to your memory every time you look at your navel.

What happened? What terrible thing could have left such an enormous mark on your skin, but not in your head?

It’s frustrating.

Eventually, curiosity to explore beyond your own narrow world peaks. It’s quite natural, considering four older men and four medicine buffs rarely make for an interesting group of company. Older men drink tea most of the day, when they’re not napping in the sun, of course. The rest read rigorously and debate among themselves about their newly gained knowledge.

Getting permission is a complicated task. They are terribly afraid of your departure, scared of your fate, frightened of what dangers you might encounter.

But how to keep you there forever, when you have seen the vivid movement the closest town has?

Perhaps it was your rescuers’ mistake for allowing you to go exploring within the boundaries they considered safe, yet you inevitably discovered such a place, so close and yet so far away, so full of people and... life. Persons of all ages walking from one side to the other, food you never saw before displayed in various stalls, children playing with each other, unaware of the surrounding universe. Everything looks completely natural, as if folks are used to this kind of lifestyle since long ago, and you wonder if you ever lived in a similar environment.

Just what hides in your past?

After insistence and great pleas against the overprotection imparted on you, they understand it is simply hopeless to make you give up your idea unless they expose all those shocking events, unless they explain from what kind of danger it is necessary for you to hide, from whom it is imperative you escape.

No one knew anymore about that demon after his disappearance the same day, and it is uncertain where he is. Whether he is hiding or far from your current home, it is unknown to anyone, and it would invoke bad luck if your guardians expected you to meet him face to face once you get away from them.

Preparation of weeks and many directions, you finally depart from your unnoticed hideout in the world, leaving behind anxious seniors and worried healers.

It was agreed you could explore for a couple of months, but your eventual return is a binding closure on the deal you reluctantly struck. Each new destination brings with it new discoveries, tastes, experiences. You always find charitable souls willing to help when you are short of food, water or shelter, people who offer to give directions when you get disoriented, people who share stories with you on lonely, nostalgic nights.

With each step you take in the outside world, less you understand what your guardians are afraid of. Everyone is well meaning, and no one seeks to take advantage of your innocence. It is incomprehensible why this was denied to you for so long, and every time you think of your precious little home, an emptiness grows in your heart.

Weeks slowly pass, and having experienced so much in such a short time, you find the need to recount it to those you consider your family. As initially agreed, it may be time to return, to prove the world is not as terrible as they feared.

A few miles from homeland, just as you feel you are walking the grounds of your family again, you stop at a stream to get a drink of water, determined not to slow down until you reach your destination. It is too much of a thrill to witness those 8 insane people bickering and arguing. You absentmindedly smile as you rinse your face.

In your distraction, you cannot hear footsteps approaching at your back. It’s not like you would have detected them if you were paying attention either, for the person stalking you is deliberately careful, calculating.

Turning, your face affects directly into a solid mass of muscle, sending you tumbling down the riverbank again. Any woman would have assumed the worst when connecting glances with a man who invades her personal space unannounced, but from your mouth comes a concerned “Are you okay?”

The man, who is watching you as if a ghost were sitting next to you in the water and you were unaware of it, bleeds. Profusely, indeed. Both of his hands are deeply cut, distinct wounds on his palms dripping thickly to the ground.

There is no answer to your question, and the man’s countenance is difficult to decipher. His eyes glow a red which fades too quickly to analyze, his complexion is completely pale and unhealthy, his hair points in all directions, forming a long brown tangle which you deduce has not been combed for some time. For moments, it is as if there are words trying to pierce his lips, but the stupor of the individual continues.

“Your hands... we really should take care of them, shouldn’t we? Aiya, let this humble one help you heal.”

There is no reaction as you stand up and take him by the arm, guiding him to a large rock away from the water and helping him to sit up. His gaze is still completely fixed on your face, searching for something you’ re oblivious to. His mouth opens and closes rapidly, agitated breaths accompanied by sounds resembling syllables.

“Look at this mess alone... sir, you should be cautious walking along the bed of these waters. They are treacherous, hm?”

Ripping off one of your sleeves, previously dampened when you fell into the water, you use the cloth to clean his wounds. There’s not much you can do here, out in the open and in these conditions, but judging by the man’s appearance, he was probably recently attacked. When you mention your little home a few miles away, the man doesn’t refuse or accept.  

Still, when you head back to the road, you find the fellow following you from behind, head down and staring at the ground. In his hands he tightly clenches the cloth of your sleeve, and blood stains the fabric completely at this point. You talk about the healers in your place, and how they can help him get better, but no matter how much you try, the man never responds. You ponder whether, perhaps, the situation he experienced before he ran into you may have been intense, and you attribute his perturbation to that.

After walking without pause all afternoon, your silent companion always keeping your own pace, your destination appears in front of you. From afar, you can see the elders sitting on the engawa of their cottage, sharing tea and quietly waiting for dusk. All is silent, and your announcement of arrival is the only thing disturbing the atmosphere.

Your arms wave vigorously to catch the attention of those you regard as family, a splendorous smile planted on your face, walking at an increased speed to catch up with them. An extended curtsey bow is given before them, and only after raising your head you dare to give them all a group hug, false formality forgotten as much as your guest.

The man slowly approaches this scene and analyzes the faces of those present as the embrace takes place. Had you not been turning your back on him, you may have noticed the change in his countenance, coldness creeping over his features from one moment to the next. None of the elders noticed his noiseless presence, not even having sensed it to begin with, and it is not until one of them finishes smiling and opens his eyes to come face to face with their worst fear.

Suddenly the hug is interrupted when this old man lets out a shriek, trying to back away and losing his balance. You follow his line of sight while turning, and find that innocent-looking stranger again, disoriented. There are screams all around you. Seniors are horrified and collapse on the floor next to each other, completely surrendered to the gaze of the demon fixed on them.

“Don’t behave like that! It would appear it wasn’t you guys who taught me manners... I’m so sorry, sir, they’re not used to dealing with travelers, let alone wounded ones... if you’d be so kind as to follow me?”

Throwing a withering glance at the group of elders, you direct your guest to the house the healers occupy. True, your little family is not used to encountering men in the state this very one is in, but you never expected such an exaggeration. A bit of unkempt hair and blood, pale skin, and they’re all screaming on the floor?

The reaction of the healers is not much different, and after reprimanding them for behaving so shamefully, you get them to treat the man’s hands. Leaving them alone so as not to disturb the setting, you make your way to the third and final cottage, your own. Since the other houses occupy four people each, it would be problematic to ask them to accommodate your own guest, and you take your time assembling an extra bed, improvising with blankets.

Nighttime is delightfully quiet, and as the door opens without warning, you greet the individual with a smile. Elders have taken the trouble to bring food for both you and him, announcing neither they nor the healers were in the mood to share dinner together.

The man’s hands are bandaged, his palms completely covered, and his thumbs trapped in the wrappings. He looks uncomfortable, and it shows in his inability to do anything on his own. His chopsticks are impossible to hold as he kneels on the floor and tries to eat, and after many urgings from you, he nods silently and almost imperceptibly, allowing you to help him.

“You see... you’re here, eating my food, under my roof, safe and comfortable... and I still don’t know your name...”

Teasing is imminent in your voice, hoping to relax him, if only a little. As he takes another bite and chews, his eyes are fixed on the table, like trying to hide from your presence.

After analyzing the end of your day alongside this presence, you assessed this man must be terribly shy, perhaps someone properly introverted. Still, observing his features, you get a strange familiarity, a feeling making you let your guard down and relax in front of him. A secret knocking at the door of your mind, demanding to burst in front of you but being invisible at the same time.

“... Uchiha...”

Without expecting an answer anymore, after several minutes, his voice surprises you. It sounds like that of someone who rarely uses it, raspy and rusty, as if it had been forgotten long ago, and not even the man himself remembers its ringing.

“Um?”

“Lord Uchiha...”

His name, you realize. Formal, a title.

Lord Uchiha continues in the same position, just like his words had been an illusion. It is impossible to keep giving him food, his attitude surly and refusing, and you wonder if he plans to spend the entire night in the same position if you allow him to.

Demandingly, you get him up and offer him your bed for the night.

He tries to take the spot you set up on the floor, and displays physical strength far beyond what you thought he had. There are firm muscles hiding under his stained white tunic, and they flex slightly every time he tries to change the course you both walk. He is probably holding back, you realize, for the way his forearm tenses. The stubbornness of this individual… as if he were someone unaccustomed to taking orders, leading rather than listening. Either way, he ends up tucked inside your room, buried under sheets and quilts so he doesn’t get cold.

You find your own resting place after closing the door and leaving your guest. There is not much room inside your small home, and yet, the greatest comforts are offered to those who really need them.

That night, a fearsome nightmare assaults your dreams. A pitch-black claw pierces your stomach from both sides, long nails tearing through skin and tissue like cloth. Blood pools at your feet, solidifying and making escape impossible. You feel your lips move in a choked scream, and a single word escapes your throat along with another red waterfall.

“... Indra...”

[woeisme-iamwoe]

an absolutely massive Haikyuu!! fic rec pt. 2

IwaOi this time around. My favorite ship. The world’s favorite ship...there’s so many

Undecipherable, by ioo (4k. G. canonverse)

 I’m pretty sure the author meant ‘indecipherable’, nevertheless! I am appalled that this work doesnt have more hits. Y'all are sleeping on it and that's not okay. 

The sound of the door slamming against the wall has Hajime startling back to the present. He looks at the source of the disturbance and finds himself face to face with Oikawa, red in the face with breathlessness and a leather-bound notebook tightly clutched in both of this hands. When he spots Hajime, he makes a beeline for the bench and slaps it down right next to him.

"Koi no yokan," he says. "The sense one can have upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall in love."

 primavera, by tothemoon (8k. T. canonverse)

All of tothemoon’s works read so beautifully 

They say it takes twenty-six years, for certain breeds to fully bloom. 

Learning to Walk (So That We Can Run), by ricekrispyjoints (27k. M. canon-divergence)

I've read this work so many times. Like, so many times and I’ve never tired from it. Gorgeous. The shift from friendship to romance felt so natural, love it. 

"I'm not healing like I should be."

In his second year of university, physical therapy just isn't cutting it. Oikawa's knee is getting worse, and he can't hide it anymore.

Or: the light angst, project-your-own-life-experiences-on-Oikawa knee surgery fic you didn't know you wanted.

 Priorities, by weirdmilk (2k. T. canonverse)

Kissy, kissy. 

‘I just -’ Oikawa begins, ‘it might be difficult to get married, sometimes, I think.’ He chews on his lip.

Iwaizumi makes a questioning noise.

‘Ah,’ Oikawa says, and then, in a rush, ‘if I didn't want a wife at all - what then? If I said that to you. If I told you I can’t see it. Like - the wedding dress. The bride. I just can’t see it.’

Iwaizumi swallows again, his heart beating much faster than the conversation warrants. He wonders whether Oikawa can hear it. ‘You’re eighteen. You aren’t supposed to see it yet.’ He snorts. ‘I mean - if we’re sharing shit, I’ve never even kissed a girl.’ He doesn’t mind admitting it. It’s not something that bothers him - he’s never prioritised girls very highly, and despite Oikawa’s largely undeserved status as Miyagi’s most eligible teenage bachelor, he doesn’t think Oikawa has ever wanted a serious relationship with any of his fan club, either.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi can't sleep before their first practice match with Karasuno.

 Before Midnight, by fathomfive (2k. G. canonverse)

Reads like a fairytale. 

The sky turns, the seasons turn over, and Iwaizumi and Oikawa track the movements of the stars. Nothing is ever quite constant, but it's close enough.

The grass is stiff with frost. They walk in silence past the raked-over vegetable garden and up the back hill, footsteps crackling, and stand side-by-side at the top of an incline that used to seem much bigger. Iwaizumi glances over but Oikawa’s already gone, eyes searching the sky with no hint of hurry, just a kind of reverent patience.

 make a bet, keep a promise, by raewrites (13k. M. canonverse)

Bet still on. 

Sometimes, in still moments, Iwaizumi wonders why out of all the people on earth he ended up with Oikawa Tooru. Why it’s his face that lingers on his fading conscious in the last moments before he falls asleep, in the first blurry seconds upon waking up again. Why when he looks to his side, he expects Oikawa to be there in the same way he expects to see five fingers on both hands, a natural extension of himself, ever present.

Why he can’t imagine a future without Oikawa in it.

It begins with a bet made between the two boys in the mid-summer of their eighth year. It starts with volleyball, but like with most things involving Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime, things are never quite that simple.

 our hearts still beat the same, by knightswatch  

 two birds, by thelittlebirdthattoldyou (5k. T. canonverse)

Of heartbreaking letters and paper crane wishes. 

Five months into the term, two months after he’s stopped replying to Oikawa’s texts, the first package arrives. A small square box, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, and Hajime almost trips over it on the way to his dorm.

There’s a letter attached.

Oikawa doesn’t know how many times he’ll have to put his feelings down on paper before Iwaizumi believes them. 

Through My Eyes, by anchoringsouls (2k. G. canonverse)

Okay! Okay, we were doing great with the soft, happy love up until the last part! That's great, just great!

“I think if you ever saw yourself through my eyes, you would fall in love with yourself the same way the way I did with you.” 

in time it could be ours, by deusreks (3k. T. canonverse)

Anyone wanna go back in time and make a time capsule with me only to dig it up years later and we’re actually in love?

Set post Seijou's match with Karasuno. There's a moderate amount of rolling in the dirt. No pajamas were hurt in the writing of this fic.

There, in their joint backyard, was Oikawa Tooru, clad in his silly luminescent space pajamas, digging a hole near a cherry tree.

“What the hell, Oikawa.”

Tooru stubbornly continued digging. He looked pitiful in that moment; everything that was grand about him in daylight was meaningless in the darkness. He was only a boy with a shovel whose broken heart mirrored Hajime’s own.

 we can do better than that, by spaceburgers (16k. M. canonverse)

Of course, of course, the IwaOi road trip fic. AnD thErE wAs ONly OnE bED!

Oikawa and Iwaizumi go on a road trip during the summer after their high school graduation. It doesn't go as expected, but maybe that's not such a bad thing after all. 

They Say it Rains Diamonds on Jupiter, by exsao (35k. T. canonverse)

I don't know, just gorgeous. Hajime’s so in love. 

"You're in love with him."

Hajime considers denying it. He considers deliberately choking on his drink to express surprise, to create a distraction by spitting onto the man in front of him's pristine white shirt and causing a commotion. Instead, he swallows his mouthful of soda and heaves a small sigh once his mouth is free.

"Yeah," he says instead.

He's never been good at lying, anyway.

 Midnight boys/sunset town, by carafin (10k words. T. Housemates AU):

The author says they played off of the fact that Oikawa oftentimes forgoes his sleep in order to work, and wrote it so that he doesn't sleep at all. This was so cute, kinda sad, mostly not. Love how Iwaizumi just goes along with whatever crazy stilch Oikawa is on. 

In which Iwaizumi Hajime grows a few chili plants, participates in an eating contest, breaks into a park, and falls in love with a man who doesn't ever sleep - not exactly in that order.

5 Reasons Why Iwaizumi Hajime's Flatmate Is A Complete Weirdo (An Incomplete List)

1. He's obsessed with that stupid bucket list of his.

2. He's the proud owner of seven truly ugly, criminally hideous movie posters with aliens on them, which he insists on pasting all over the damn living room.

3. He's always stealing Hajime's sweatshirts.

4. Sometimes, he wakes Hajime up for breakfast. At 5AM. On Saturday mornings.

5. He literally never, ever sleeps.

 The Best I Ever Had, by FindingSchmomo (62k words. T. Canon-divergent):

You’ve read it, your mum’s read it, your dog has probably read it (you really need to take facial recognition for him off your phone, he’s got some weird nighttime habits). So basically this fic caused me physical pain and then pumped me full of morphine and now I’m good! Beautiful read, hated Oikawa for a while, Iwaizumi is the only boy I would ever feel safe alone with. 

A story of separation and time lost. Oikawa and Iwaizumi lose contact, and life goes on. Now, a decade later and back in Japan, Oikawa wonders if he can pick the pieces back together, despite knowing Iwaizumi has moved on. A story of their past, present and future, pieced together by shaky hands.

 darlin', your head's not on right, by aruariandance (13k words. T. canonverse)

Again, I’m pretty sure anybody who's anybody has read this fic and for good reason! Super sweet realizing you're in love fic. Makes me reconsider wanting to get married. 

'“Our wedding,” Oikawa says by way of explanation, tapping his finger against his magazine more emphatically. “What colors should we use? Color scheme is important, apparently.”

Iwaizumi feels his lifespan shortening.

“I was thinking our Aoba johsai colors to go for more, you know, softer tones? Besides, I’ve always looked great in that sea foam green color. Oh, and I guess you look decent in it, too.” He grins, saccharine sweet, and Iwaizumi has never been so tempted to knock one of his perfect pearly white teeth right out of his stupid mouth."

or,

Oikawa teases Iwaizumi about a childhood promise he made to marry him when they were older, except suddenly it's not really a joke at all.

 the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle, by kittebasu (66k. T. canon divergent)

Is this one of the most famous Iwaoi fic? I don’t know. Looks like it, I know it's my personal favorite. Where Oikawa studies bugs for a living and can’t seem to come to terms with his feelings. Very angsty, love that in a fic. 

Tooru is pretty sure he could manage the mating habits of a mosquito. It’s the mating habits of people he can’t seem to get right.

 Terrarium, by sausaged (11k. T. Post-canon)

Honestly, I’m so surprised this fic doesnt have more hits! It’s so good! Made me ache! I love the memories and character growth shown through the growing of the terrarium, absolutely adore that kind of symbolism. So beautiful, give it some love because it's one of my absolute favorites. 

He's practically a professional at being proactive (lies, lies, and lies when it comes to Iwaizumi).

At this point, is he really happy with just staying best friends forever? Will he be writing journals and collecting rocks forever (he will, he knows, but that is aside from the point)?

Can he really tag his Instagram photos with #YOLO if he doesn't actually put that phrase into practice?

 A story about Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, plants, and rocks.

 Lips like sugar, by ohhotlamb (8k. T. canonverse)

Why did my childhood best friend never offer to help me practice kissing only for us to realize we were only interested in each other? I had a fake high school experience. 

Hajime is offered to learn the art of kissing from a true professional, one Oikawa Tooru. It's not as bad as he thought it would be.

 Falling Slowly, by bravely (commovente) (3k. T. canonverse)

So special, imagine loving one person, and one person only like this for the entirety of your life. This is getting too sappy, I want off of this ride. 

over the years, some things change; but over the years, some things stay mostly the same.

(alternatively, mornings with oikawa and iwaizumi over the years).

 No sleep in the city, by loveclouds (7k. T. canonverse)

Mass/volume = Iwaizumi, apparently. (Please. If anyone gets this absolutely horrific joke, lets elope).

Along their journey to find Tokyo's best ramen, Iwaizumi finds himself asked again and again why Oikawa is still single.

 Time, by surveycorpsjean (5k. E. canonverse)

Growing older together. 

When they're twenty-three, their story only begins.

 Everything With You, by Ellessey (14k. E. canonverse)

Came damn near to crying, you can just feel Iwaizumi’s pain. Fight scene was probably the most emotion evoking one I’ve read in a long while. 

‘Hajime still loves Oikawa, but he understands now. Oikawa can't look at him and see someone he could potentially date.

And that makes it easier to not focus on the little things that used to drive him crazy—Oikawa's long legs, the way he's always hanging off of Hajime, how his whole face changes when he gets ready for a jump serve, and he looks like he could take on the entire world and win.

This new arrangement though, this living together situation, is presenting a new set of variables that must be adjusted to, and the nakedness is one of them.’

--

For years, being Oikawa’s best friend has worked out fine. Hajime is hopelessly in love with him, but it’s enough. Then Oikawa—who, by all accounts, has never been anything but determinedly, assuredly straight—gets a boyfriend. Or a boy friend-with-benefits. Hajime doesn’t know, and he doesn’t give a shit about the definition.

What he knows is that remaining best friends is starting to seem a bit too painful (way too painful) to be considered a solid option.

 The Best Best, by rikke (12k. T. canonverse/future fic)

Takeru is a whole mood. Don’t want kids, but I do want domesticity and this fic feeds me well.

“Congratulations, Iwa-chan! You’re a dad!” Iwaizumi hears as soon as the door opens. He’s dealt with Oikawa for all of his twenty-one years of age now, but this declaration is still sufficiently disturbing enough that he turns from his place on the couch and braces himself for whatever Oikawa has done this time.

 Or the one where Iwaizumi and Oikawa babysit Takeru for a week.

 cheek kisses, by ohhotlamb (G. 3k. Future fic)

Sooo cute!! 

“Every time,” Hajime murmurs, “every time I see you again I remember how fuckin’ crazy I am about you.”

 Routine, by snoqualmie  (2k. T. canonverse)

Again, anyone wanna be my childhood best friend so we can put face masks on each other and fall in love? I died, truly. 

Iwaizumi is fourteen years old, horny too often and angry all the time, and he’s just starting to notice that Tooru’s legs are really long, that his lips are kinda soft looking, and his fingers feel good pressed under his jaw.

 Thirty Years and Change (the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad, by sunsmasher (19k. G. canon divergence)

Be wary, I would give this fic an upper rating to probably Teen and the follow-up fic is Explicit. But, Oikawa on the Japanese national team is just a dream as is, but add in a rekindling friendship and an angsty make out sesh? Mwah, delizioso. 

It’s July 10th, 2024, and Oikawa Tooru is an Olympian. His smiling face airs on an NHK promo every 45 seconds. He’s captain of the national men’s volleyball team, reigning star of the professional leagues, and he hasn't spoken to Iwaizumi Hajime in two years.

He has, however, sent Iwaizumi tickets for the 2024 Los Angeles Summer Games.

“So go,” says Matsukawa's voice. “It’s only a few weeks. You’ve got a whole city to hide in if it gets awkward, and if it doesn’t get awkward, well…”

It’s like watching the future reconfigure, like being in high school again, watching team after team fall to Oikawa’s faultless planning and shameless charm.

“I’ll get to watch a whole lot of volleyball,” Hajime says, and resigns himself to fate and/or Oikawa Tooru.

“Hey, when you get there, can you bag a gymnast for me?” Hanamaki asks, and Matsukawa squawks.

 Chasing Paper Suns, by carafin (10k. T. Future fic)

Again with the growing up and coming back together, this time with more angst than the last. Lovely, really lovely read. 

Post-high school, Oikawa makes it to the national volleyball team but Iwaizumi doesn't. The next three years become an exercise in growing up without growing apart.

Some days Hajime likes to think of himself as Oikawa’s counterpart—the two of them blending into a single devastating unit, the invincible setter and his unyielding ace, the bond between them unbreakable and true. Other days he feels like he is chasing after a rising sun, always running and running with his eyes fixed on the distance, trying to cross a chasm that stretches on without end, caught in an endless and exhausting pursuit.

 the yellow room, by ohhotlamb (14k. T. canonverse/future fic)

Makki and Mattsun see bullshit and call you out on your bullshit. 

“I told you, we broke up like six months ago. We’re not dating anymore.”

Hanamaki eyes him suspiciously. “You live together.”

“Yeah, so?”

“There are pictures of you two kissing stuck to your refrigerator.”

Hajime shrugs. “That wasn’t my idea. Anyways, they’re good pictures. Good lighting.”

 the river runs, by tothemoon (11k. T. post-breakup)

My heart ACHES. Happy ending, promise! Just read it. 

One year since their breakup, Oikawa Tooru starts a list of daily reminders, tips, and tricks called HOW TO FORGET ABOUT IWAIZUMI HAJIME, and he’s determined to make it stick.

—

This is a firsthand account of how to deal (and rather spectacularly, at that).

 I sure hope that guy gets fired, by Xov (29k. T. canonverse/time loop au)

The only thing better than one confession, is MULTIPLE confessions. Oikawa trusts Iwaizumi unshakably, and that's beautiful. 

It was the fourth time experiencing the exact same day that Iwaizumi Hajime reluctantly admitted to himself that something was very wrong. 

 my only friend was the man in the moon (until i met you), by ohhotlamb (7k. T. canonverse)

Just so innocent and sweet. Oikawa said ‘effort’.

In which Oikawa has a life-altering revelation, and Hajime is starting to think it involves him.  

 Bet On It, by originalblue (13k. E. canonverse)

Tooru being nice for a week? That can only end one way… with a d*ck in Hajime’s mouth. 

Hajime knows exactly how shitty Oikawa's personality is, and has no scruples whatsover about betting Oikawa six thousand yen that he can't be nice for an entire week. 

 especially for tender ones like us, by viverella (17k. T. canonverse/post break-up)

Gods! See? See what I mean? How could I forget about a work as heart wrenchingly beautiful as this? Give it some love, actually, all of the love. 

The worst part of it all, Tooru thinks to himself sometimes, is that even as they fought and kicked and screamed and tore each other to shreds, it was never that Tooru stopped loving Iwaizumi any less. The worst part of it all, he thinks, is that loving Iwaizumi turned out to not be enough.

(OR: on finding the right person at the wrong time and learning how to pick up the pieces)

 sunset town, by skiecas (33k. T. canon-divergent)

Another work that I just CANNOT understand why it doesn't have more hits. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. I almost cried. 

In the summer of 2020, Oikawa Tooru returns home from his first successful stint as captain of Japan’s national volleyball team. In one hand, he holds the undisputed weight of an Olympic medal, and in the other, his unresolved feelings for a childhood best friend.

Two years down the road, reconciling his lifelong dream with his lifelong love proves to be the greatest challenge.

 of odd numbers and intimate regrets, by bravely (commovente) (5k. T. post-canon/one night stand au)

Basically, Tooru and Hajime sleep together after not speaking for seven years and of course there’s feelings and angst and a belated chance at happiness and a life together. 

Tooru’s spent the last seven years of his life in a carefully constructed schedule that is, he realises now, as much a habit as it was a way to forget about the person in front of him.

[or, the one night stand AU between two people more than friends but not quite lovers, measuring the passage of time in distance and long-gone memories, the expansion and contraction of the spaces between their fingers each time.]

 cross my heart, open wide, by acchikocchi (7k. T. canonverse)

Super cute, super short. Realizing you're on a date with the wrong person one-shot. 

For a minute Hajime doesn't know what to say. Everything and nothing crowds his mind, leaving no room to think. That he's never tried this. That volleyball's over. That he's graduating in five months. That it would be really nice, at least once, to go on a date with a good-looking guy.

 Hajime goes on a date. It's not with Oikawa. 

 Fernweh, by oikawashoyo (19k. G. canonverse/post time skip)

A mature(ish) Tooru?? I love works that show Tooru growing and living happily in Argentina and this one is just beautiful. (Plus! Plus, Skai did a piece on it as well and I love ALL their work so you can visualize everything). Love it. 

Argentina is stretching out before him, an opportunity, a challenge. He is reminded of his losses, his insecurities, his disappointments; sees them form a tall, tall wall blocking his path to success. He takes a deep breath and knows he is going to shatter it.

In which Oikawa's whole life is spent longing for the horizon — in the form of a dream, a home, and a boy.

 i breathe easily in your arms, by orphan_account (2k. M. canonverse)

Soft, soft sex

When, after completing their high school graduation ceremony and heading home to enjoy their freedom, Oikawa had pulled him into his room and pressed his lips hesitantly against Iwaizumi’s own, it seemed an inevitable development in the unfolding narrative of their shared existence.

Despite years of having a bed to himself, the sensation of another body taking up space in his sheets, curling against his chest, creating warmth, feels natural in much the same way.

 old and new, by Mysecretfanmoments (5k. T. canon divergence)

Finally a fic where they don't freak out on confession and it's sweet. 

“You seem—sad.” Was that the right word? Others sprang to mind: desperate, lonely, anxious.

Tooru looked away. “Are you going to make me say it?”

“Say what?”

Tooru folded his arms, sighed. “I missed you, of course.”

Hajime swallowed.

“No need to look that way. I told you, I’m not one of your macho man buddies. I’m allowed to say stuff like that without being embarrassed—”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Hajime complained. “No need to be so defensive. I’ve missed you too.”

“Oh?” Tooru seemed to get a little of his own back, leaning forward on his elbows. “What about me did you miss?”

((Going to separate universities, Hajime and Tooru learn the true meaning of "distance makes the heart grow fonder"))

 all i wanted was you, by spaceburgers (6k. E. college/fwb au)

This was more emotional than I thought a 6k friends with benefits fic could be, okay? Okay. 

Wherein Hajime and Tooru are fuck buddies, Hajime curses his treacherous heart, and Tooru is bad with feelings. 

 we shine like diamonds, by whitemiists (26k. T. canon divergence)

I couldn't not include this work. It deals with internalized homophobia so well and I really resonate with it. 

In all seriousness, I’m very lucky to live in a country where my sexuality is widely accepted and my heart goes out the LGBTQIA+ peoples who are forced to hide themselves. You are loved and your sexuality and gender-identity are not wrong and never will be.  

Oikawa is nine when he first hears the word. The boys on the playground whisper it like it's dirty, like the way they daringly mutter the word fuck and then look over their shoulders to check their parents hadn't heard.

"You know Abe-kun from class?" they snicker, hands cupped around their mouths like they're passing along a filthy secret. "I hear his older brother is... gay."

 Look For Him, by Leryline (18k. E. canonverse)

A collection of kisses. I love Hajime’s grandmother. 

She laughs gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so heartbroken before, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi sighs and prods at the mackerel with a chopstick. “Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s just different, you know? Like Oikawa pissed me off so much that now he’s not here I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“But you weren’t always annoyed with him, were you?” his grandmother smiles serenely and takes a sip of her tea. “My, my, Hajime, old women see everything. I saw you out there with my finches, when you were kissing Tooru’s nose. Your mother and father used to do the very same thing, you know, when they were younger. And look how long they’ve lasted. I hope you and Tooru last, Hajime. He’s very good for you.”

-

Oikawa has kissed Iwaizumi more times than either of them can count; it’s a constant thing, their lips never really leaving the other’s skin. There are, however, times when they’ve kissed that are burned into their memories. Eight of them, to be precise.

 film reel life, arsenicjay (8k. T. canon divergence)

Such a unique and creative idea! Reading from the eyes of a camera, so beautiful!

The only person Iwaizumi is lying to is himself, when he insists: I am not in love with Oikawa Tooru. 

 how to let your planets align, by tether (tothemoon) (15k. T. end of the world au)

This is the only remotely non-happy ending fic I will be including on here, and it's purely because it's a gorgeous read. And yes, I ached. Your lips, my lips, apocalypse. 

It is the last day on earth, December 2nd, 1985, when you realize you're in love with him.

[jimlingss]

Until Yesterday

➜ Words: 10.4k

➜ Genres: 75% Fluff, 22% Angst, 3% Smut

➜ Summary: You and Taehyung are hopeless as you are hopeless romantics. But five months after tying the knot and saying "I do", you're hospitalized after a car accident with him. But upon waking up, the doctors tell you that you don't have a husband.

➜ Notes: Inspired by the movie The Vow (2012) and a bit of The Notebook (2004). This is purely an indulgent fic for all my hopeless romantics out there, so it’s a bit different from my usual!

cr.

Marriage was nothing like they told you.   It’s true that not much has changed from when you were dating or engaged, that merely the title of your relationship has slightly altered, but you have no regrets doing it at all. They always told you to wait until the honeymoon phase was over — that you'll find yourself tired and driven crazy by him. They told you to wait a few years down the line when you’re not having sex anymore and you’ll be so sick of each other, it’ll be like living with an awful roommate-child than being a couple in love. You’ll be bored when something becomes a normal routine, they said.   But it isn’t like that at all.   If anything, you’re more in love with Taehyung than ever.    “We should put the couch right here.”   “Well, we need to buy a couch first, Tae.”   “Didn’t you like the leather one we saw today?”   “I mean...I didn’t love it and it’s a bit pricey, don’t you think?”   “It’s fine. Leave it to me and the bank account!” The blonde grins and pats his own chest and it only garners your scoff. “I’ll take care of you. It’s the least I can do.”   “I make the same as you, idiot.”   It took years of hard work and dedication for the two of you to get to where you are, to have landed your dream jobs and built your dream house together. But of all the sweat and tears, you wouldn’t trade the outcome for anything else.    The house was newly built in a developing neighbourhood, the scent of cut wood and paint still lingering in each room. The white picket fence surrounds the seashell home with the dark brown roof, glass windows large and bringing light into the open concept structure along with the skylights. It has the cherry wood door reminiscent to that of your old dollhouse and a swing out back tied to the tree that Taehyung wanted. It was all the two of you could’ve ever dreamed of and you’re eager to move in, to bring in your furniture and allow this home to grow with you.   “Why is the master bedroom larger than I remembered?”   Taehyung’s laugh echoes down the hall and you hear footsteps becoming louder against the wooden floorboards. “Maybe the construction team came in during the middle of the night and expanded the room for us for free.”   “Yeah maybe,” you playfully quip back at him. “Maybe they’ll consider expanding our backyard too, so we can put that marble fountain in. It might cost more than this house, but you said I could trust in you and the bank account, right?”   Taehyung peels you off of him when you glue yourself to his side and giggle. Batting your lashes at him has little effect. “Fountain is still a no-go, sweetheart.”   You grin at him and waltz to the adjacent room, peeking your head into the modest space. “We still need to decide what to do with this spare room, Taehyung. If we want to turn it into another bedroom for when your mom visits or maybe an office.”   Suddenly, arms wrap around your waist and you ease as your husband props his chin on your shoulder. It’s one of his many habits of his that you love. “How about we save it for a nursery?”   The corner of your mouth quirks and you turn your head. “Are you sure?”   “As sure if you are.”    You spin around in his arms to plant a kiss against his mouth — one where Taehyung steals the opportunity and deepens it, catching you off guard. He pulls you in by your waist when you threaten to pull apart and he smiles at the whimper that comes out of you.   When the pair of you finally part, you’re unable to resist the smile that spreads into your cheeks and your arms loop around his neck. “Kim Taehyung, aren’t you blessed? There’s no one I’d rather have a baby with than you.”   His mouth forms into a rectangular grin. “You shouldn’t tempt me when we’re going to be late for our reservations already.”   “Late?” Your lips fall and you check your watch before your eyes grow wide.    Taehyung laughs and strolls behind you as you rush out, grabbing your coat and screaming at him to get the car started.   It’s another one of those date nights. One where intimate conversations are shared over a candlelight dinner. Until Taehyung accidentally catches the tablecloth on fire and the candlelight is removed by an exasperated waiter and the intimacy in your discussion ends up with him doing something dumb and water nearly spewing out of your nose from laughing, and the other patrons are glaring at the ruined atmosphere.   Still, with a generous tip paid, you leave full and happy.   “Anything you want to watch tonight?” you ask as he’s driving. It’s peaceful with the roads emptier at this time of night and the radio playing some generic pop song in the back. You count the lamp posts that pass by.   “Hmm...how about we do something else tonight.”   Your head turns. “Like what?”   Taehyung steals a glance at you and smirks. “I was thinking that we would drive back to the new house and break in that mattress we just got. Maybe get that kid you were talking about.”   You scoff, looking straight out the windshield as you feel your face heat. Even after so many years with him, he still knew what to say to affect you. “It’s not that easy, you know, and that mattress is still wrapped in the living room.”   “It’s fine. Better start now than later. And it’s our house, we can taint it however we want to.”   It doesn’t take much for you to agree — and you do so in the midst of laughter.   You shamelessly stare at Taehyung’s profile, the strands of his blonde hair that desperately needs a trim, his long lashes that you’ve always been envious of, the slope of his nose and his thin lips that always knows how to kiss you right. Taehyung’s thick brow cocks when he notices your blatant staring, but you don’t care. You’re just filled with joy and at a loss for words at how he’s with you.   He’s yours.   The two of you are too wrapped up in one another to pay mind to the car behind you. To the piercing beam lights. The wheels that screech against the asphalt. The sheer speed of the vehicle and recklessness of the intoxicated driver.   So when the rear of the car is slammed into and you both lurch forward into the intersection of the road, it’s a shock.    //   The white fluorescent burns your eyes.    It’s hard to see and you can’t feel your body. Not even your fingers that begin to twitch. You’re disoriented and delirious, not sure what day it is, how long you’ve been out, where exactly you are. It’s all muddled in your mind. All you can discern is a constant rhythm of beeping beside you and the odour of disinfect filling your senses. You’re scared — but you’re overwhelmed with the thought of Taehyung.    Taehyung.   You jolt in your spot and the rhythm of the machine quickens until it’s like an alarm, sounding aloud and making you panic even more. But then there’s a rush of people entering the room, white coats and scrubs checking the machines and lines hooked up from you.   “Ms. Y/N, I am doctor Jeon.” There’s a man looking down at you and you blink blearily at him. “You’ve been in a coma for three days now. Is there anyone we can call for you?”   “M-My husband,” you cry out with a parched throat.   The doctor looks to the nurse but she frowns and shakes her head. “The patient doesn’t have a husband.”   You don’t have a husband?   At once, sobs wrack through your entire body and you thrash despite the aches in your bones and your ankle wrapped in bandages. The doctor and nurse are alarmed and you choke out the words— “I-Is he okay? Is he dead?”   “Ma’am,” the doctor calmly says, “you were the only one injured on the scene.”   Before you can utter a word, a man comes from the doorway. His hair is dark, matching the hue lined underneath his exhausted eyes. His features are soft and evidently tired like he hasn’t slept in the past few days. You don’t know who he is but he stares right at you — and then a relieved smile draws upon his features, one that is too comfortable and familiar.   “Y/N?” His voice is deeper than expected and he closes the distance. The nurse is visibly confused, but he quickly introduces, “I’m her partner, Min Yoongi.”   You recoil back before he can touch you, even when the hurt comes across his expression.    “I-I’m sorry.” You don’t know who he is. “I think you have the wrong person.”

It’s hard to cope — your entire universe has been flipped upside down and you don’t know what to think. Suddenly by opening your eyes, your entire life has been swept from underneath your feet. Everything that you loved and cared about is gone. And you’re left alone to deal with it.   “I-I remember being with my husband. We were driving back from dinner and planning to take a detour to the new house, but then a car rear-ended us and we were brought out into the intersection,” you recall.   But the doctor’s brows furrow. “I see. Well, I can tell you that you weren’t in a car accident, Ms. Y/N. You were injured after falling down the flight of stairs at the subway station. You’ve been in a coma for three days.”   It doesn’t make any sense and you squeeze your temples. But it hurts. Everything feels like a dream, like you’re floating and not truly grounded in reality. Your surroundings are hazy and you wonder if this is just a hallucination — a very frightening one, a world where Taehyung doesn’t exist.   “What year was the car accident?” the doctor asks suddenly and you exhale, trying to remember the date.    “It was late January of 2016.”   “Ms. Y/N, it’s 2020 right now.”   It’s a shock through your system. At first, you sputter, choking on your own spit. The doctor is kind enough to give you a moment but when you press your hand to your chest, you wince at the bruises around your wrist. Then you open your mouth and close it, finding yourself rendered absolutely speechless. Your brain is melting into itself and you have an urge to get up and scream.   “What?”   “It looks like you have a four year memory gap,” Doctor Jeon says as if he’s prescribing you with cold medication and if you weren’t bedridden, you might just throttle him to the floor. “It’s okay, these things happen with your sort of injury. It should be fine and only temporary. You can get your memory jogging again after looking at mementos, pictures, or talking to the right people.”   “Anyways, we’ll keep you here for a few more days just to monitor that head injury, but it looks like your ankle is healing nicely. There’s no cause for concern, really.”   The doctor ends up leaving and you repress the urge to cry again.   You don’t know where Taehyung is and you miss him.   //   Your so-called partner appears days later to help with your hospital discharge and pack up your belongings. You learn his name is Min Yoongi and that he’s two years older than you are. He works as a car mechanic in a shop and you’ve apparently been with him for a whole year.    Yet, you can’t help but stay guarded, watching him from the corner with your arms crossed while you try to decipher his impassive expression. The man is quiet, but not in an angry or frightening way. He never asks you questions, makes demands out of you or once appears exasperated with your distant behaviour. He seems gentle somehow.    You wonder what your relationship with him was like.   “T-Thank you,” you murmur as he packs the slippers he had brought for you into the duffle bag.   Min Yoongi turns his head and the corner of his mouth pulls into an oddly warm smile. His voice is husky when he says, “You don’t need to thank me. I’m just happy to see you walking around again.”   You’re taken aback.   You aren’t used to receiving this kind of love and affection from someone other than Taehyung and from a stranger no less. It makes you unsettled. Conflicted.   The car ride is smooth. Yoongi helps you into your seat and buckles you in without making you speak much of a word. You’re not sure where you’re going, but you spend your time looking out at the window and taking in what you’ve missed for four years, or rather what your mind no longer recalls.    Luckily, it seems like the world hasn’t changed too much.   The streets are familiar, lined with lamp posts and bike racks. There are different billboards and some buildings you don’t recognize, but it looks like many things have stayed the same. The street names, avenues and boulevards, the people jogging and walking their dogs — it hasn’t changed.   “Hey, Tae—”    Except for the person driving beside you.    You turn your head and blood drained from your face, realizing that it’s not your husband you’re sitting beside. “N-Never mind.”   There’s a moment of quiet.   Then Yoongi’s lips part. “It’s okay.” He glances at you and your eyes meet. “It’s okay,” he repeats with a small smile that makes you even more burdened.   The apartment is modest yet cozy. A living room with cushions out of place and souvenirs on the shelves next to the television. The kitchen is to the left, cups in the sink and refrigerator haphazardly filled with take out boxes. It’s lived in, full of memories that you don’t have. But above all, you notice there’s only one bedroom and there are male belongings assorted with yours.    Shaving cream. Gel. Cologne.    “You live here?” you ask Yoongi, coming to the living room where he was giving you a chance to look around for yourself, perhaps hoping that you would remember something.   “We live together,” he corrects with a tiny smile. “But it’s okay. I’m planning on staying at a friend’s place, so you don’t have to worry about me being here if that makes you uncomfortable.”   “You…” Your mouth opens before closing, startled at how considerate he is. “You don’t have to. I mean, this place is yours too. It seems unfair if I kick you out. You should...stay.” Yoongi smiles and you shy away from his attention. “I...might not be comfortable sharing a bed with you though…”   “Okay.” He nods. “I can take the couch.”   That night, you lay awake in the foreign bed, unable to sleep and staring at the ceiling. It feels like you’ve been asleep for four years anyways, although it’s technically only been three days.    Your brain is swimming in confusion. You’re not sure what to think. One moment you were with Taehyung and the next, you don’t have him beside you anymore and you’re with someone else.   Taehyung….   You reach over to the nightstand and switch on the lamp. A dim yellow light softly fills the room and you begin to truly investigate your surroundings. On a pinboard near the door are pictures of you and Yoongi, selfies taken where you’re both smiling with one another, one of you at a carnival and another at an aquarium. The vanity drawer holds jewelry that you don’t recognize, perhaps ones that Yoongi had bought for you. Your phone contains grocery lists and miscellaneous notes that make no sense. There’s nothing on your social media, no connection, nothing once you search his name up. All you discover is work-related things in your calendar, more pictures of you and Yoongi and affectionate texts between the two of you.    There’s no trace of Taehyung whatsoever.   But when you dig into the closet and find a box at the top shelf hidden away, your answer is found. It’s inside a box of paperwork — school awards, certificates of achievements, evidence of your first paycheck, your birth certificate, social security papers, and divorce papers.   You and Taehyung got divorced in April 2018.    Two years and eight months after getting married. And it’s been a year and ten months since.   The paper crumples underneath your hands and you gather your knees together on the floor as quiet sobs break through you once again. You don’t know what happened. Where it all went wrong.   //   When morning comes, you hope the swelling and redness of your eyes from crying so much isn’t noticeable. If it is, Yoongi doesn’t say anything and only regards you with a gentle smile.    “I was going to stay home today, but I thought it might be overwhelming for you,” he says before you can protest otherwise, “so I’ll be at work. Take it easy, okay? You can call me anytime you want for anything. My number is in your phone.”   You nod. “Thank you, Yoongi.”   His smile is sweet. “I already told you, it’s not a problem.”   But half an hour after Yoongi leaves, you prepare for your own departure. Hobbling with your weight on one foot and off the one with your injured ankle, you grab a coat and the car keys laying on the counter. It takes a moment to figure out which one is your vehicle in the lot but you find it after pressing the panic button. It looks brand new — apparently recently repaired and the reason why you had to take the subway and how you got your head injury in the first place.   It might be wrong to leave without giving a warning to Yoongi, especially when he’s so worried about you, but you can’t stay idle at the apartment. You can’t sit still. You need answers.   You drive to the house — turning down the familiar streets and roads before coming into the neighbourhood that feels like you had been in just a week ago when it’s probably been years.   But you don’t recognize it anymore. It's more developed than you last remembered. What once were empty lots have other homes built. All the sidewalks are paved, there’s an elementary school down the avenue, a new playground that shines, neighbours that have moved in.   What hasn’t changed is the house itself.    There’s still the white picket fence that surrounds the seashell white home, a shade you had personally picked yourself when building it. The roof is a dark brown and the front door cherry wood. The glass windows are large with baby blue curtains and you wonder if there’s still the swing in the backyard….   You get out of the car, feeling your emotions swell up to your throat and your eyes becoming watery as you gave upon the house. This was the place you had built with Taehyung. The place you both had planned to live in for years. The place you wanted to raise your kids, grow old and retire in.    It was perfect. The combination of your dreams.   Where did it all go wrong?   You close the distance, limping up the path to the door and knocking on it. After a moment, you ring the doorbell properly. But even then, there are no answers and you notice that the Kim nameplate under the mailbox is gone.   Of course. It’s been over four years after all.   You cross the street back to your car again, but not before catching sight of a woman bringing groceries up her driveway and towards her own house.    “Um, excuse me.”   She turns at your voice, brows lifted.   “Do you happen to know who lives there?” You point to what was once your home.   But unfortunately, she shakes her head. “Sorry, I don’t. I know that house has been sold a few times and the owners have recently changed again.”   “Oh. Thank you.”   It’s hard to leave the house behind you, but you keep your foot on the gas pedal and drive, never glancing out the rear-view mirror in fear of bursting into tears again.   You still have more questions than answers, so your next destination becomes downtown where Taehyung’s engineering firm is. The two of you had met in school, back when you were awkward and chasing after your ambitions of being a chemical engineer like your aunt while for him, he wanted to take his childhood lego dreams to the max and become a civil engineer.   Your neck hurts to look at the top of the skyscraper, the many windows reflecting the bright sunlight into your eyes and blinding your vision. If there was any place where you could find Taehyung, it would be here.    It’s his dream job. What he had wanted for so long and legitimately cried when he found out he got a position at. You remember that day, how proud you felt of him for achieving such a goal.   But when you approach the receptionist at the lobby’s desk, her response only fires the confusion further.   “Sorry. We don’t have a Kim Taehyung working here. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”   You miss him. And you wonder at what point, he wasn’t a part of your life anymore.   //   In an attempt to find Taehyung, you contact your friends and work your way down your list of contacts on your phone. They’re happy to hear from you, some even knowing about your accident and asking if you’re alright.    But when you ask about Taehyung, they tell you that they haven’t spoken to him since the divorce. That they’ve lost contact. That the months leading up to it, the two of you were distant from them and they’re unsure of the reasons for what had happened. It was frankly unexpected.   “You always told me it wasn’t any of my business, dear,” your mother says over the phone. “You actually got quite upset when I asked, so after a while I didn’t anymore. Do you want to talk to your dad? He’s watching the news right now.”   “No.” You press your temples, holding in your sigh. “It’s fine.”   Frustration overwhelms you.    No matter where you turn, you can’t seem to get the reasons for yourself.   You can’t find him.   “Is the take out okay?”   At once, you’re snapped out of your thoughts and you lift your head to meet kind, cat-like eyes staring at you.    “It’s good,” you try to smile and nod.   He seems to sense how disconnected you are. “I’ll learn how to cook. I know you like carbonara, so maybe I can find a recipe this weekend and try to make it, so we don’t have to eat out all the time.”   You stare at the man across from you.   How tired he seems, his dark hair shagging in front of his forehead, his downcast head facing his food as his fork scrapes against the bottom container, never quite taking a full bite. Yet whenever your eyes meet, his plump lips always tugs into a small smile and his eyes crinkle.   “I’m sorry.”   Yoongi’s brows lift at the sudden apology. “What for?”   “For not remembering you.” Even if Min Yoongi is a stranger, you can feel how intimate the pair of you used to be by the photographs you’ve seen, by the way he still regards you. You feel guilty for not being able to return his affections.   “It’s fine. It’ll come back with time, right? Don’t stress out about it too much. It won’t do you any good.”   “Yoongi.” You have his attention by the way you say his name like he hasn’t heard it uttered from your lips in quite a while. “I went searching for my...ex-husband today.”   It’s foreign to call Taehyung that. It’s unsettling and makes you uncomfortable.   But your eyes never divert from Yoongi’s. “I need answers.”   “I know,” he murmurs in a low voice, still playing with his food. As intimidating as he might appear on the surface, you’re quickly learning how considerate and soft-spoken he really is. “And I want you too. I don’t want you to have any regrets. I want you to know you’ve made the right choice by being with me.”   Your heart squeezes at his thoughtful nature and you sigh lightly before stuffing your mouth with some of the noodles, trying to alleviate the tension. “You’re a good man, Yoongi.”   He chuckles, gummy smile emerging for the first time that you can recall. “Maybe that’s why you chose me in the first place.”   //   The avenue is nostalgic, a street that you and Taehyung spent many dates at with its cheap street food and cute stores. And when you were both working, it was the halfway point between your workplaces and where you’d meet to have lunch on those special occasions. A few things have altered from when you remembered them, the stationery shop closed and that ice-cream parlor changed into a pancake café instead. But for the most part, it remains the same.   You aren’t sure what you’re doing here.    Of all your ways and methods in searching for Taehyung, even you know that it’s unlikely you’ll find him on a Tuesday morning at such an obscure location. But it’s where you’re drawn too, where your body told you to go and your mind followed.   Otherwise, you’re not sure what to do anymore or how you should contact him. You wonder if it’s too drastic to drive hours away to visit his mom on the off chance that she’s still living in the same place after four years. If she moved, the journey would be for nothing. But even then, if you somehow found him and reached out, would he even be willing to talk to you?   A sigh escapes your parted lips. You tilt your head up to the sky, wondering where on earth he is. And in your reverie, you fail to notice the strapping brunette humming to the music he’s listening to. Not until your shoulder collides with his as he’s walking the opposite way.    But instead of an apology spilling from your mouth, you’re interrupted by a call of your name—   “Y/N?”   It's shock that has taken hold of his expression. His hand rips out his earphones and the loud music becomes silenced from his world. With the way he looks at you, it would be like he’s seen a ghost. A stranger from his past.    In your mind, it’s only been a week since you’ve seen him. And you’ve been missing him so much.   On sheer instinct, you wrap your hand around his wrist, afraid to let go. “Taehyung.”   //   It’s awkward, the stiff air almost suffocating your lungs. You’re sure that the first date wasn’t even as bad as this. But you don’t mind whatsoever, even if he’s shifting uncomfortably at the intent way you stare and how it makes him break out into a sweat. Even if Taehyung hates you now, as long as you can see him like this, it’s enough to bear.   Taehyung clears his throat, diverting his vision elsewhere. “So….you look like you’ve been well.”   “Not really,” you murmur.   Taehyung is still a man of intense habit. His drink order hasn’t changed, a cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings. At the same exact coffee shop since you were dating. And he’s taken the same table in the corner of the shop too, the spot of your many study dates.    It’s these habits that have led you back to him.   “I heard you weren’t working at the engineering firm anymore,” you say after another tense pause.   Taehyung’s brows curiously raise. “I haven’t been working there in years. You knew about it.”   “Did I?”   He’s wary that you can’t recall. “Yeah….”   “What are you doing now?”   “I’m in animation.”   Your eyes widen, surprised. “I never knew you could animate— well, I knew you could draw, but you never even watched much animation.”   Taehyung shrugs. “It’s a good fit. I didn’t know I’d like it either until I tried.”   Your expression softens, a tender smile pulling into your cheeks. Taehyung’s gotten older but in a refined way. His hair is back to its natural colour, a few wrinkles set into his skin but his features are sharper and less rounded and boyish. He seems less mischievous and irresponsible too, a little more mature and quiet. Or maybe he’s reserved because you’re his ex-wife.    The thought makes you nauseous.   He sips his drink. “So...what have you been doing?”    “Not great. I recently got into an accident, Taehyung.” That seems to grab his attention and his eyes become rounded while you brace yourself. “Apparently I fell down a flight of stairs at the subway station and I was in a coma for three days.”   “Oh shit. That...must’ve sucked. I...I’m sorry to hear that.”    “I’m fine now.” You pause, clear your throat. “But the last thing I remember is us, Taehyung. We were planning to spend the night at the new house and we got hit by that car…”   “I remember.” He nods slowly and murmurs, “But the accident wasn’t that bad, Y/N. We were only bumped.”   “I don’t remember that,” you tell, earnest eyes connected with his that makes him believe you. Even after all this time apart, Taehyung can still tell when you’re lying and telling the truth.    Your voice raises in pitch, in frustration and exasperation. “And...and I’m trying to understand how this happened. I’m trying to understand how we…..how we ended up divorced.”   Taehyung’s brows furrow and he fiddles with the paper cup. “What’s there to tell? We fell out of love.”   “That doesn’t make any sense!” Your shrill voice garners the attention of other patrons, but you don’t pay mind to them. “We got married and were planning to have kids and we just built a house in a new neighbourhood—”   “We lost that house.”   Taehyung doesn’t look at you. His downcast head allows his eyes to stay on the floor. He looks small — shoulders slugging and frame slumped.   “I lost my job and then we lost the house. It went downhill from there and one day, you couldn’t do it anymore and packed your bags. You were the one who divorced me, Y/N.”   You’re stunned, unable to get a single word out at the revelation he’s given you. An answer to your questions that you had never expected. That you didn’t want to hear.   Taehyung’s eyes are saddened and he never once meets your gaze. “You’ll remember sooner or later. I’m sorry this happened to you, Y/N. I really am. But it was still nice to see you.”   He gets up before you can protest, leaving as fast as he came into your life again.   //   Yoongi arrives home visibly tired, his hair in a disarray and his navy workwear stained with oil and grease. Still, he greets you with a warm, sleepy smile that you still aren’t used to.   “I saw my ex today,” you tell him during dinner, breaking the silence by deciding to be open and honest. It at least alleviates some of the guilt weighing on your chest. “I found him coincidentally.”   Yoongi’s eyes flicker up, peeking at you. “How did it go?”   “It didn’t help. I’m still confused.” You can’t understand why you would ever leave him, even if you lost the house and he lost his job. It didn’t make any sense. “Do you know anything about the divorce, Yoongi? Did I….ever tell you anything?”   “You told me that he was pathetic,” he informs but without any malice like he’s simply stating facts. “He was unemployed for two years and didn’t get off his ass to find a job. Hey, your words, not mine.”   The corner of your mouth curls even when you’re still stupefied.   “Are you alright, Y/N?”   An exhale leaves your lips. “I’m not sure.”   That night, you find another box in the closet while alone in the bedroom. There are pictures of you and Taehyung from when you were younger and just friends, small mementos like movie tickets and keychains won at arcades while you were dating, and photographs of the wedding day, the two of you with enormous smiles and swollen cheeks.   But they’re buried underneath your belongings with Yoongi.   //   His expression is one of repulsion, like he bit into a lemon or something bitter. But you don’t pay any attention to it.   “What are you doing here?” Taehyung is incredulous to see you in the morning, standing in the same café as if you own the place.   “I’ve been waiting since eight,” you complain and he repeats his question with increasing skepticism. You suppose it’s not everyday your ex-wife is waiting to run into you, so you don’t blame him for his apprehension. “I’m trying to understand how the two of us got divorced. I know this is probably really weird since for you, I’ve shown out of nowhere after two years.”   “You think?”   You ignore his playful quip. “But for me, my last memory is still going on that date night and getting into that car accident.”   Before Taehyung can utter a word, the barista is calling him as the next person in line. “Can I get—”   A cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings.   “A cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings,” he says without missing a beat and your mouth tugs into a smile. Lots of things may have changed in the time that you no longer remember, but the fact of how constant he is comforts you greatly.    You wait with Taehyung at the counter, feeling his eyes glancing at you every so often. When your eyes meet, he realizes he’s been caught staring.    “Once I remember again and make sense of the situation, I’ll leave you alone,” you say even if it hurts, but the last thing you want is to be burdensome to Taehyung. “I just want to understand and get over it and move on like you have.”   Taehyung sighs, never saying a word.   He picks up his drink and you follow along with him, quietly as to not disrupt the comfortable silence between the both of you.   He walks down the street and enters the modest grocery store, beelining to the deli to pick up a ham sub. But he notices your quirked brow. “What?”   “No.” You shake your head. “Just reminds me of uni. You used to eat those too. Same brand and everything.”   The man scoffs lightly, but he knows. You’ve pointed it out to him many times in the past that he has a tendency to stick to specific habits — the odd quirks that you once said you loved about him.    “Like what?” he had once asked when you mentioned it.   “Like you always put your beverages on your left side and you chug half a glass of water before going to bed and you always close the entire toilet when you’re done going to the bathroom and you have the same brand of cereal every morning and after you sneeze, you always scratch your nose every time,” you had said in the midst of giggles and then lifted yourself up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry. They’re cute and it’s part of why I love you.”   The two of you walk together down the street. The early morning air is crisp and chilly, slightly nipping at his nose. He grips his drink still steaming to warm his hand and Taehyung can’t help stealing a glance at you, wondering if you’re cold too.   “How’d you get started into animation?”   “Huh? Oh. Well, if you really want to know then after you packed your bags and dumped me, it was a pretty good wake up call.” Taehyung laughs as if he’s recalling a funny memory, but then his expression softens, touched with sorrow. “I decided to get myself picked back up and get a job. They liked my personality enough at the interview to give me a chance. At first I didn’t know what I was doing, but I learned and I like it a lot.”   He turns his head when your silence is prolonged.    But his eyes widen when he finds your tender smile. “I’m happy for you, Taehyung.”   And you really are — even in spite of him not technically being a part of your life anymore.   //   The next day, Taehyung is not any more impressed to see you there at the café.    You enthusiastically smile and wave at him. And when the barista calls the two of you in the line, you have no hesitation. “Can I get a cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings? And just an iced americano for me.”   Taehyung eyes you when you pay and stroll to the other counter to wait. “Don’t you have a job to go to?”   “I’m still technically in recovery and it’s not like I can work if my head’s a mess.”   Taehyung scoffs lightly. “What do you want to know this time?”   He can tell by the look in your eye that there are questions on the tip of your tongue. And when you take out a whole laundry list like it’s things you need to buy at a grocery store, a rectangular grin plasters on his face. Taehyung wouldn’t expect any less of you.    “Hey, I was thinking about it all night, alright? I was afraid I was going to forget so I wrote it down.”   He leans over to look at the list but you move away. “Don’t peek.”   “Okay, okay.” He laughs and gestures for you to start.   “First question. What did I say before I left?” You look at him, eyes meeting his. “What were my exact reasons for the divorce?”   He hums a low note, staring off into the distance. “I don’t remember well. You called me a motherfucker though,” Taehyung chuckles and becomes solemn. “Probably something along the lines that I’ve stopped trying and that you were leaving. There was a lot of crying and screaming. I…..don’t really like to think about it.”   There’s a pause and you clear your throat, paper in your hand crinkling and forgotten.   “Why didn’t you ever do anything to stop it?”   A sigh leaves his lips and he runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m an idiot. But it’s not like I could’ve forced you to stay with me.”   “I’m sure if you had said something, I would’ve stayed.”   Taehyung’s smile is meek and sad, not at all like how it usually is. You wonder just how much you hurt him, how much you hurt each other. “A lot can happen in two years, Y/N.”   A lot can happen in the two years they were apart too.   “Have you been seeing anyone?”   “No. I haven’t,” he says.    It’s a question that tumbled out of you, one not on the list.   //   The evening comes and you hear the front door open and shut. Immediately, you call out from the kitchen, “Hey!”   Yoongi emerges from the hall with another tired smile. “Hey.”   “I got takeout for us,” you say while heating said food up. “How was work? Busy again?”   “A little.” The man comes closer to see what you’ve bought but before he’s able to assess, he mindlessly leans in and plants a soft kiss against your cheek. You instantaneously freeze, the muscles in your body becoming rigid and tense, and Yoongi realizes. “I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit.”   He pulls away, disheartened and guilt wells up in your throat. “It’s okay.”   Yoongi nods and he shrugs off his coat, walking back towards the hall to hang it up, but you stop him before your conscience can berate you, before you hurt him further—   “I saw him again. This morning.”   He halts. He stands still as you watch his backside.   The both of you know who you’re referring to.   “How was it?” Yoongi inquires hesitantly as if he’s not sure if he even should.    “It was good,” you murmur. “I got a few more answers.”   His head turns, the black strands of his hair sweeping against his forehead. Yoongi’s gentle eyes are glossed over, his tone low and husky as he quietly asks, “Can’t you get answers without seeing him?”   “I…..I’m sorry, Yoongi.”   You divert your vision, but from the corner, you can see the way his mouth curls gingerly.   “It’s okay.”   But you know that it isn’t. It’s unfair to him to wait for your memories to return, for you to continuously see someone of your past as he waits for you to come to love him as you once did.   The man retreats into the darkness and you feel guilt overwhelm you.   //   When Taehyung wakes up, does his daily routine and heads to the café, he opens the door and expects to see you. Standing there, waiting for him as if you were the owner or a barista working full time.   “Are you sure you’re not healthy enough to go back to work?” He grins, brows lifted and almost impressed at how adamant you are.   “No.” You loll your head to the side. “I’m still feeling tired.”   Taehyung scoffs lightly, noting that you always show up earlier than he does. “Tired, huh?”   “You must be tired too. Your shirt is inside out.”   “What?” His line of sight follows to where you’re pointing and Taehyung looks down to see that his shirt is indeed inside out. He groans in embarrassment as you laugh.   “Did you not notice?”   He doesn’t answer, grabbing his drink from the counter once the barista calls his name and he books it out of the shop. But not without you following behind him and still giggling.   “Are you sulking?” You quickly catch up to him and quirk your head almost to his shoulder. “I’m just teasing, Tae. It’s not that noticeable.”   “You noticed it.”   “Well I’ve always noticed everything about you.”   He clicks his tongue in feigned annoyance and stops, making you halt on your heels. “Don’t flirt with me, woman. Didn’t you say you were seeing someone?”   You scoff, continuing to walk and this time, he’s the one who follows after you. “Who says I’m flirting with you? I think you’re terribly mistaken and quite frankly, full of yourself.”   Taehyung grins. “It’s not my fault I was born this handsome and have so many people regularly flirting with me.”   “Uh-huh. You’re beginning to sound like Seokjin.”   “He’s not half as handsome as I am.”   You burst out laughing, knowing that your old friend would probably throw a fit if Taehyung openly fought him for the position of most handsome in your group of friends. “I beg to differ.”   “Then why didn’t you marry him back then?”   “Should’ve,” you sing-song much to Taehyung’s chagrin.   The pair of you stop in front of his building, the destination of every morning journey. You know this is where you’ll have to leave him off and see him again tomorrow, wait for just these ten minutes of conversations and banter. But unusually, Taehyung doesn’t bid you farewell right away. He doesn’t run away with his tail in between his legs, shooting you a playful glare over his shoulder.   Instead, he stops with you and smiles. Taehyung lingers on the sidewalk with you.   “Y/N…” He gazes at you.   Your eyes connect with his warm irises and something lodges in your throat, an emotion that only seems to come with him. “Hmm?”   There’s held silence—   “There’s a bug in your hair.”   “What?!”   His palm slaps your forehead before you can flail, not enough for it to hurt, but enough that you’re stunned. You lift your hand to rub the spot and at the same time, a rectangular grin spreads into his face. Taehyung laughs childishly. “Kidding.”   “Are you five years old?!” you shout but it only eggs him on more.   “Sorry, sorry.” He bats your hand away and his fingers come to rub the spot for you instead. “I’m pretty sure it was your face cream and not a bug.”   The proximity is closed. You can feel his breath against your face, count his thick lashes, draw constellations through the tiny freckles around his nose.   You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise into your cheeks and Taehyung catches it. For a moment, his eyes linger against your lips and yours follows down to the dip of his cupid’s bow to the corner of his mouth. There’s a thick tension between the two of you, a kind of intimacy not found between a pair of old friends on a normal morning. It’s a kind of longing that you recognize in Taehyung’s gaze as it’s similar to your own…   You lean in to close the distance completely. But then Taehyung abruptly pulls away.   His vision is diverted to the ground.   All traces of mischief are gone. His mouth has fallen into a straight line, brows knitted together as if he’s in physical pain. “What are we doing, Y/N?”   He doesn’t wait for a response. Taehyung turns and walks away while the knots in your chest constrict you. But you run after him. You take three strides before he can vanish from your life — like what you found when you woke up in that hospital bed. The thought of that returning is terrifying.   “Taehyung!”   “No!” He turns around to face you, shutting you down before the way you call his name can affect him. You’re taken aback by the hurt etched on his expression. “It took me two years to get over you and even now I’m still not over you,” he declares angrily and your eyes widen. “And then you come out of nowhere to make a mess out of my head, playing these games.”   Your brows furrow, upset at his accusations and you shout back at him, “What games?!”   “I know that the moment you remember again, the moment you get over your stupid fucking amnesia, you’re going to dump me!” Taehyung swallows hard. “You’re going to make me go through all of that again. It’s downright cruel, you dense woman!”   “Don’t call me dense!” Without conscious decision, tears begin to shed down your face and you shake your head. “You know that that isn’t my intention.”   “I know.” Taehyung sighs. “But it’s going to happen anyway.”   The pair of you look at one another and then the doors to the building open. A tall man with dimples comes out and is absolutely bewildered at the ruckus. He’s seemingly familiar with Taehyung, perhaps a colleague of his. “Is something wrong, dude?”   “It’s fine.”   “Who’s this?” the stranger asks curiously, smiling at you.   “She’s my ex-wife.”   The man is caught off guard, eyes becoming rounded. “I didn’t know you were married.”   “Yeah, well, I used to be.” Taehyung peeks at you in a silent farewell and you watch his backside leave.

When Taehyung wakes up, does his daily routine and heads to the café, he opens the door and then his breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t know why disappointment seems to overwhelm him when you’re not there and he wonders since when he expected you to be in the first place — standing there, waiting for him.   He stands in line by himself. Makes his order by himself. Picks up his lunch by himself.    Taehyung walks to work alone.   And every so often, he unconsciously glances to his side and then sighs when he catches himself. He’s not sure why he keeps anticipating you to be with him. Why he allows himself to feel frustrated when he remembers you’re not here.   You’ve become Taehyung’s habit.   And now you’re gone.

There’s a timid knock at the door.   A moment later, it cracks open. “Hey, dinner is ready….” Yoongi’s puzzled to find you standing on a stool, reaching to the top of your closet but he smiles, glad to see you lively again. “What are you doing? Do you need help?”   “It’s okay.” You grab the album you were reaching for and wipe off the layer of dust that covers it. “I just remembered I kept old albums up here. Jeez, it’s so dusty.”   Yoongi’s brow lifts. “You remember?”   You nod, smiling at him. “I do.”   The album is flipped open and you step off the stool to sit on the edge of your bed. Yoongi watches you for a moment and exhales softly. “Well, I’ll leave your food on the table.”   You thank him and he takes his leave, shutting the door.   You guess no matter how bad your relationship with Taehyung got, you never had the heart to throw away or burn the photographs. And you’re glad. The photographs of your wedding day are still in tip-top shape, images showing the pair of you glowing in the sunset with his arms wrapped around you. You remember that wedding dress and that suit of his that had to be tailored twice. You remember being late to the ceremony and having to run with Taehyung who snuck out to see you beforehand even though he wasn’t supposed to...…   There are also photographs of your honeymoon, a vacation to the Caribbean, and another trip of Europe that you went on during your university days. But above all, there are photos of the pair of you in front of the newly built house. Proud and ecstatic. The seashell white home with the dark brown roof and large windows and skylights standing tall behind you two. Ready to house your future.   Some things change but these memories won’t.   //   The sprinklers spritzes across the freshly mowed lawn, a sputtering hiss that leaves a mist in the air. You step up the stone path to the cherry wood door, noticing the golden nameplate under the mailbox, but you don’t dwell. In your haze, your closed fist comes to steadily knock at the door.   It swings open.   Inside, you find someone with warm eyes, brunette hair and a boxy smile. He encapsulates the sunlight itself, so bright that it’s hard to discern who exactly it is. But you feel like you know. Like you had known before you even knocked and the door opened.   The man calls your name.   And you’re shaken awake from the beautiful dream. And you wake to an empty bedside, tears welling up in your eyes. It’s the middle of the night, darkness surrounding you and weighing heavily against your body. But you fight against it and rip the covers off of your body, grabbing a cardigan off your chair and rushing down the hall.   Yoongi is stirred from the noise and gets up from the couch.    “Where are you going?” he asks in a husky voice, running a hand through his hair that’s sticking in all directions. But the sleepiness leaves the man as he watches you shake your head, struggling to put on your shoes with tears in your eyes.   “I-I need to go, Yoongi.”   But for the first time, he reaches out.    Yoongi’s hand clasps around your wrist to stop you, having an inkling that you might never return. “I won’t let you.” His foot is finally placed down, but the decision has long been made.   “I’m sorry, Yoongi.”   “Don’t say that,” he desperately pleads.   “But I am. It’s unfair to you. That I’ve treated you this badly while all you’ve ever been is patient and considerate and understanding. But I don’t want you to wait for me anymore.”   “You’re not going back to your asshole of an ex-husband. He was horrible to you.”   “Yoongi, what do you expect me to do?” It’s a genuine question that you ask. You’re at a loss and the words choke out of you, but you had these feelings the moment you had awoken in that hospital bed. “I love him.”   The pause draws on and you lower your gaze.   “It’s not fair for you to wait for me to love you instead. I’m in love with Taehyung.”   Yet in spite of your words, Yoongi still pulls you into him. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tight as if you might vanish between his fingertips. You come to realize that you never gave Yoongi a chance to express his love to you — you never kissed him or held him despite how long he waited.   You feel him tremble against you. The man who you had woken to presses his face to your shoulder, his quiet tears staining your thin clothing. You return his hug, arms lifted around his torso and grasping him close. You remember who he is. You know well.   He’s Min Yoongi, the man who you loved.   After a moment, he releases you. “Go.”   You nod. “I’ll always be thankful to you, Yoongi. More than you’ll realize.”   //   The car door slams shut.   You cross the street, approaching the house that still stands tall on the quiet suburban street illuminated by lamp posts. You’re not sure what you’re doing here at this time of night and you know you’ll just be disheartened when you see another family inside, living in the space that was meant for you and Taehyung. But you needed to see it.   It’s your home. What you made with Taehyung. Physical proof of your planned devotion to one another.   The house is dark and you assume that the people inside are long asleep. So you take a moment to gaze at it, heart aching inside your chest, and after ten minutes, you turn to walk away and leave your home behind. But then a car drives down the road. It’s a modest vehicle and as you wait for it to pass to cross the street, it instead pulls into the driveway of the house.   The headlights turn off. The engine dies. The car door opens.   And you freeze, watching the person emerge.   “Taehyung?!”   The strapping brunette man is unmistakable. He’s dressed in his work clothes, casual sweater and black trousers, his leather crossbody bag slung across his torso. He looks tired from what you can see with the glow of the many street lights, his hair messy and eyes weary. But he still has the energy to be shocked at your sudden presence.    Shocked as if he’s been caught in the act. “What are you doing here?”   You speak on an exhale. “Y-You bought the house back again?”   He bought it after the two of you lost it. Even when there’s no reason to.   Not unless it still holds sentimental value. Not unless the memories held in there were ones he still cherishes. Not unless he still loves you.   Taehyung murmurs your name, “Y/N…”   You run to him, closing the distance, throwing your arms around his neck. And you kiss the silly man breathlessly, pressing your mouth against his and swallowing the groan that leaves his lungs. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close and quickly reciprocating. His head tilts and his tongue slips into your mouth, drawing noises out of you like when you were young and still exploring one another.   But it’s a kiss of sadness and longing — yet still sweet even after so much time has passed.   After a handful of seconds, Taehyung pulls away.   “W-What are we doing?” He shakes his head, letting go of you.   But you grab hold of his hand. “I still love you, Taehyung. I love you.”   His earnest eyes search yours. “How….how do I know you won’t just remember why you wanted to leave me. How do I know it won’t happen all over again? We’re still the same people, Y/N. It didn’t work once.”    “I don’t care,” you spit at him desperately. “To me, it feels like it was until yesterday that we were still married and in love. And right now, right now I still love you, Taehyung. I miss you. I don’t care what happened, that you lost your job, lost the house and started to feel bad about yourself and gave up on us.”    Taehyung’s eyes are rounded and his lips part. “You….remember?”   You nod. “I have gradually for a while now.”   Bits and pieces had fallen together the longer you spent with him, the more you looked at pictures and mementos, and searched your memories. They were loose puzzle pieces, moments of time, until you fit them together to create a whole picture. To finally understand why things happened the way they did.   And you can finally recall the downward spiral of Taehyung all those years ago. How he abruptly got laid off, losing his dream job that he had worked so hard to obtain, how the two of you lost the house when your sole income was no longer enough and how depressed he became about losing that home. How he sat at his desk for two years in the dark, playing games and wasting time, giving up on searching for a job and refusing to get himself help in his poor mental state.   You remember how he ignored you until you felt like his mother and couldn’t take it anymore. How he pushed your sanity enough that you had to walk away before you were damaged.    But in spite of all that has happened…   “I still love you.”   He’s an absolute shit, but you love him.   Without being able to blink, Taehyung tugs you in by your waist and he presses his lips against yours, holding you close to him. You smile against his mouth before your hands lift to cup his cheeks, cradling his face as he deepens the kiss. It’s desperate, hungering to make up for lost time, fulfilling the yearning that has dwelled between the pair of you each time you spoke.   Taehyung kisses you like he’s missed you more and the pair of you barely manage to break apart to stumble into the house.   “I can’t believe you bought this place back.” It’s a whirlwind, nostalgia slamming into you as you step into the foyer. You’re overwhelmed with emotion, feeling a staggering urge to start crying.   “Had to do a lot of negotiating, but I did it,” he murmurs proudly, happy to show you how he’s picked himself up, how he found another passion and followed the path, that he’s no longer so pathetic. “All on my own too.”   “Taehyung…”   He kisses you again, less gentle than before. He’s merciless, hands placed on your hips and your back arches into him until the force of his body causes the two of you to fall backwards onto the floor. Taehyung catches your head so that it never hurts and he hovers over you, leg between your knees while he peels off his coat.    “I’m sorry,” he says softly, gazing into your eyes. “I never got to tell you that. I’m sorry for hurting you.”   You nod, grasping at his forearms that’s next to your head and he takes the opportunity to lean down. Taehyung lay pecks against your cheek until he moves his way down to suck bruising kisses into your neck. You cry his name, writhing against him as he palms your breast and leaves his marks all over you.   Taehyung eats you out on the cool tiled floors of the foyer entrance, filling the house with obscene sounds that make you embarrassed. But you can’t complain, not when you’re sobbing his name and your fingers are sinking into his hair.   You end up cumming all over his swollen lips and chin, and you bat at him when he grins and says it’s delicious. Before Taehyung can completely ruin the mood, you grab him and with little warning, his cock sinks into your cunt, head poking right at the entrance of your cervix. You feel full and he begins to pound into you, satisfying that itch you’ve had for so long.   Taehyung makes you look at him the entire time and as you hold him, it hits you just how much you missed him. Tears leak from your eyes and it only eggs him on to be rougher. His fingers sink into the meat of your thigh and his mouth leaves hickeys down the valley of your breasts to admire later. You cum again and then he presses his pelvis into yours and cums in you as well, painting your walls in white.   Despite being sweaty and sticky, Taehyung kisses you again and the two of you hold one another. He’s sweet and affectionate until he starts to push his cum back into you with his fingers when you begin to leak.   “Now you’re not even trying to hide the fact you want me to get pregnant.”   The man mischievously grins. “Last I checked, it was yesterday that we wanted kids.”   You burst out laughing, unable to argue with that but…. “We’re not even married anymore. What would your mom think?”   “She would probably cry tears of happiness if she knew we were together again. And marriage…” He interlaces his hands with yours. “We could make it happen again. If you want.”   You nod. “I do.”

It’s another chance. Another do over.   You wonder if you had never lost your memories and tried to chase them down, if you would’ve ever reached out to Taehyung again and reignite the spark between the two of you. Had you not found him again, you wonder if you would’ve known that he’s picked himself again and returned to the man you fell in love with. It’s hard to say but those things are yesterday’s problems.   Today, you look towards the future.   “Wake up, sleepy head.”   On any other day, you might kick him in the knee for waking you up on a weekend, but it’s been so long that you don’t mind whatsoever. Taehyung’s mischief is world’s better than waking up to an empty bedside or to someone you can’t genuinely love as much.   “Ugh.” You open your eyes and immediately slap a palm against his mouth. “Don’t kiss me. Morning breath.”   Taehyung peels your hand off, grins and smooches you anyway. You laugh and quickly reciprocate.   When it’s all done and over, he snuggles into you. “You know…” You’re wrapped in each other’s arms and you slowly blink awake, glad that you’ve finally woken up with him beside you. “...those brown walls in this room are going to have to change.”   Taehyung laughs. “Happily.”   There’s nothing been more certain of. You want to spend tomorrow with Taehyung and the day after that and the day after that.   Until eternity.

[unmaskedagain]

Daddy’s Little Villain

So this prompt I think I got months ago. I meant to work on it for quite some time but I never got around to it. I got inspired yesterday so I decided to take a shot. I went completely off memory for this. Its been a while since I watched Young Justice or any of the DC animated shows; apart from the new Harley Quinn one. So sorry about what I got wrong.

A clown with a killer punchline.

A lantern of terror.

The king of Metropolis.

The master of shadows.

A destroyer of worlds.

Different faces, powers, histories but all categorized under one name.

Supervillain.

           Ruthless, intelligent, powerful, charismatic, tempting; villains reflect just how easily and quickly this planet, if not the universe could fall under their might. However, none of them started out evil. None of them were born evil. No one is born to be evil.

           Marinette, however, came very, very close.

           Her biological father was one of the first that came to mind when anyone thought of a Supervillian. He personally had killed thousands, and arranged the deaths of tens of thousands more. He conquered kingdoms, destroyed dynasties, annihilated empires, controlled governments, and used presidents, kings, any old politician as puppets on strings.

           And he was a good dad.

           He made sure Marinette had the best of everything. The best tutors, the best trainers, the best bodyguards (though Marinette had only ever seen them out of the corner of her eye; hiding in the shadows).

He was even okay with Tom Dupain being a father figure to his daughter. Tom had married Sabine when Marinette was four. However, the acceptance of this came after several failed assassination attempts after the first time Marinette called Tom Papa. Sabine hadn’t been happy that to have protect her new husband from assassins sent by her jealous baby daddy.

Marinette spend most of her days pretending to be a normal girl. The rest of the time she was being trained by near unstoppable assassins in every manner of fighting style her body could handle, learning how to speak various different languages ranging from Spanish to whatever the hell Atlantians’ spoke, hacking and computer skills from former spies, and being taught strategy from some of the greatest military minds that could be bought. (And this was one top of her duties as Ladybug because her dad was still a bit of an asshole.)

He just wanted what was best for her. And he made sure Marinette knew she was loved. He sent her presents every week, letters every day, and she woke to fresh roses in her room every morning.

           The presents ranged from diamond tiaras to ancient samurai swords; anything she so much as mildly expressed an interest in was always found at the foot of her bed the next day. The letters were always thoughtful and kind; always wanting to know about her day, and how she was doing. They would appear in her desk sometime during the day. Marinette would leave a reply via email because she was a sane person of the year 2020. She’d wake to red roses every morning to remind her she was special to him. Sometimes she handed them out at school. Other times she gave them away to any pedestrian who looked like they needed a pick me up.

           He was a good dad, even if he was never actually around. They talked on the phone and over video chat as much as they could.

           He was busy. She understood that.

           Trying to take over the world wasn’t easy. It certainly wasn’t the average 9 to 5 job. The Light needed him.

           She forgave him for that; just like she forgave him for all the things he did to… ensure the future he envisioned became a reality. They were distasteful, immoral, and most of the time she didn’t have the stomach to listen to 1/12 of all the things he did or orchestrated.

           Marinette was always fine with staying out of it. Unlike most Supervillian kids, she never had any interest in taking her place in the family business. Or doing the opposite and doing everything she could to take their villainous family down. No, she had better things to do.

           And her father was just fine with that. He could forgive Marinette for wanting a normal life. He just wanted her happy, safe, and well cared for. He kept the Light and Cadmus out of Paris as best as he could.

           He could even forgive his little girl when she adorned a mask and became the Hero Ladybug. Though it did prevent him from recruiting Hawkmoth into the fold; he wouldn’t have been more than cannon fodder but still. As long as Ladybug kept out battle between good and evil that encased the rest of the world, the city of Paris, France could be hers. Hell, he would even give it to his baby girl as a birthday present should her desire for it arise. It would be good preparation should he need someone trustworthy and loyal to rule the rest of Europe.

           Still he was quick to stop any admiration for the heroes of Justice League. Or at least make sure his daughter didn’t put them on a pedestal like the rest of the world did.

“But they’re the good guys,” She remembered her seven-year-old self protesting. At the time Marinette hadn’t really understood that her father was considered one of the ‘Bad Guys.’ “The heroes.”

“I believe the Justice League’s actions leaves humanity weak,” He told her. “However, even if I didn’t find fault in them, they are only people. They make mistakes. There is good and evil in them; few realize just how easily one side could win over the other.”

           Marinette frowned, “You mean go bad. They won’t go bad. They fight for justice and what’s right.”

“What’s right is subjective,” He warned her. “And justice is in the eye of the beholder.”

“But-but they’re superheroes!”

“You know what’s more dangerous that a villain?” He asked her. “Someone who refuses to acknowledge that anyone can become one.”

           He would say more on the subject later until he was sure Marinette understood.

           He loved his daughter with all of his heart. And Marinette returned the favor.

           So when rumors spread, not long after Hawkmoth’s permanent defeat, that the Light’s founder had fallen; was dead, killed in action, murdered by superheroes, Marinette’s heart broke. She always knew the risks of her father’s job, the dangers this world had in it; it was survival of the fittest after all, that was what he taught her.

           Nevertheless, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt; that it didn’t burn. And for the first time, the darkest part of her, the part of her that was all her father’s daughter, wanted to make the world feel her pain. However, Marinette was better than that. She wouldn’t blame the world for her sorrows.  She refuse to set fire to everyone and everything just because she wanted to vengeance.

           No, she was smarter than that. Her father, had he still lived, would expect better from her.

           Marinette blamed the Justice League; wonder woman, superman, the Green Lantern. She blamed. Artemis. She blamed Aqualad. She blamed Miss Martian. She blamed Superboy. She blamed Kid flash. She blamed all of Young Justice who set up the plan to bring down the light. (Apart from Batman and Robin who been in Gotham because Robin had all but on his death bed after a fight with DeathStroke.). And they would burn for taking her father from her.

           …The only problem was that Marinette wasn’t a killer. She didn’t want to be one unless she had no other choice. So she had to think of another way to get her revenge.

           The plan had started out very simple. Slowly the hero Ladybug would start being seen outside Paris; fighting random villains’ here and there; captain cold one day, the cheetah next. Never seen in the same place twice. Rumors spread that she was looking for someone; her partner, Chat Noir. It helped that Chat Noir had been seen in months.

           It was just a rumor, of course. Chat Noir had been officially retired. All kwami were taken back. Marinette wasn’t using Tikki to power herself up. No, she refused to use them like Hawkmoth had done. Instead, they were put away and were very well cared for; like well pampered, spoiled pets.

           Marinette used her money to buy a replica of her Ladybug suit; better armored though. She used her private plane to travel around wherever she needed to go. The more villains she fought, the more the rumor of the heartbroken Ladybug hunting down the Light to find her partner grew.

           The only downside was that Ladybug was rapidly gaining enemies left and right. It wasn’t long before The Light sent people after her. Ladybug was quick to send their minions back to them all but in a body bag.

           She had been approached multiple times be members of the Justice League; even teamed up with them multiple times to save the day. They never even feel the near microscopic camera she puts in them. It degrades three hours after but it’s plenty of time for Marinette to get the information she needs.

           It took two months for Marinette to learn the identities of nearly every member of the Justice League. She’s quick to destroy any secret identity evidence for anyone who didn’t wrong her. The batfamily was spared. The Green Arrow and his family was spared. (One day soon Oliver Queen would thank his lucky stars that Speedy went solo instead of joining Young Justice. And that Cheshire, who had a thing for the redhead, was an old friend of Marinette’s, whether the older girl remember the bluenette or not.)

           The family of Steal would burn though. As would fastest family alive. The king of ocean and his sidekicks. The “human” identities of the worlds’ favorite Martians. Woman Wonder and her sidekick. The Green Lanterns.

           The Justice League never saw her coming. All they saw was a pretty fourteen-year-old girl with tears in her big blue eyes as she swore it was her duty to right this wrong. She would fight the light on her own. A young hero, they thought, who did realize just how over her head she really was. Pity was always clear in their eyes. Every time Marinette refused their offer of help, said she could handle it herself.

           Marinette was just biding her time. She still needed the identities of Young Justice. When she got that, she would strike. Hard.

           It only took three months, and Cadmus capturing little Miss Martian.

           By the time, Young Justice arrived Ladybug had already been on the scene. Marinette had already freed an injured Miss Martian and they were trying to fight their way out. The bluenette was beaten, battered, and bleeding.  The two girls did their best to fight the bad guys that seemed to come in a never ending storm. It wasn’t long before they were surrounded.

“Go,” She whispered to the green girl. Marinette had always placed the cameras. She didn’t need to alien any longer. “You can fly. Go. I’ll hold them off, okay.”

“I won’t leave you,” Miss Martian shook her adamantly.

           Marinette frown, “You have to. You know what Cadmus. You know what these monster will do to you. You have go before it’s too late.”

“I will not!”

“Don’t be a hero!” Ladybug snapped.

“Why?!” A new voice called. Robin landed in front of them. The rest of the Young Justice was “It’s our job.”

           The fight was epic. And Marinette could admit that the members of Young Justice were skilled. But they had to be to take down her father, so it wasn’t surprising. Still, she managed to put a camera on each and every one of them.

           When it was over, and it was clear more of Cadmus’ henchman were arriving, Young Justice made moves to flee…

           Until they realized Ladybug had no intention of coming with them.

“He’s not in there,” Miss Martian told her gently.

“You don’t know that,” Ladybug murmured.

“I do,” Again the pity was clear in redhead’s eyes.

           Ladybug shook her head. “You don’t understand. I can’t give up. I won’t!”

           Robin put a hand on her shoulder, “Chat Noir isn’t in there.”

“Getting yourself killed will not help him,” Aqualad stated.

           Ladybug nodded, gave them a small smile, and then made a break for the Cadmus lab. Then Marinette felt a sharp pain in the back of her head, and everything went black.

           She woke up in the infirmary of what she guess was the Young Justice headquarters. With a huff, she got up and marched out of the room. It didn’t take her long to find the teen heroes lounging in their living room. “You guys are jerks!” She yelled at them.

           Kid Flash snorted, “We saved you from yourself.”

“Oh you self-righteous little-” Marinette groaned. “I can’t believe you! I can take care of myself” She crossed her arms and stomped her foot.

“Oh yeah because that proves it,” Artemis laughed.

“I’m a hero too, you know?”

           Robin nodded. “Everyone knows about Ladybug. But you’re like thirteen.”

“Fourteen! And a half!” Marinette corrected. “Which is basically fifteen.”

           The older heroes just looked at her, and then burst out laughing.

           Marinette forced herself to think of her most embarrassing memory so that her face would heat up and it would look like she turned red from embarrassment. As if she care what they thought.

           The bluenette grabbed a slice of pizza and asked politely for someone to send her back to Paris. She needed to regroup, she claimed.

           They tried to convince her to stay. Or let Young Justice or the Justice League help her but she refused. Marinette was back in Paris ten minutes later.

           She had the identities of every member of Young Justice an hour after that.

           It was time.

           Ladybug “tracking” down the Light had been an experience. Technically, she knew enough to figure out various locations they used. However, she also knew enough to know that Ladybug just showing up there would get her killed. It was a move of an amateur hero. And Marinette was done thinking like a hero.

           So she put down her mask, ditched her Ladybug gear, and got on a plane. Marinette arrived in Metropolis on a windy Tuesday morning.

           It took her until Friday to hack into Lex Luther’s secretary’s calendar to figure where the King of the Metropolis was scheduled to be and another week to decipher the Light’s next meeting. Hacking into pentagon was easier.

           Marinette waited watched from the shadows of the remote island she found herself on. She watched as villain after villain arrived. Until Lex Luther, surrounded by bodyguards and personal assistants, arrived in his private jet.

“Mr. Luther!” Marinette called as she stepped out of the shadows where she was hiding.

           Guns were immediately pulled on her. The secretary, Mercy, hand suddenly became weaponized. The surprise on their faces were clear. Particularly when they saw the small teen girl standing there.

           Marinette smiled.

“And you are?” Lex asked, only mildly intrigued. He wondered just who the child was that managed to be sneak up his men and possible the rest of the Light.

“My name is Marinette,” She answered. “But you and the Light know me as Ladybug. I mean you no harm.”

           Lex narrowed his eyes at her. He could see the resemblance. Ladybug and Marinette had the same stature, the same eye color, and looked to be the same age. Still, it could be a trick.

“Two months ago, I broke into one of your building.” Marinette said. “The break in was the news but LexCorp assured that nothing was taken. That wasn’t true. I took the Cuban cigars out of the safe behind the Rembrandt painting. Please. I merely wish to speak with the Light. Somewhere… not even gods among us can hear.”

           Well, that assured the villain that it wasn’t a trick.  However, for the first time in his life, Lex Luther found himself confused. On one day, Ladybug had been a slowly become a thorn in the Light’s side. On the other hand, the hero had just revealed her identity and now just wanted to talk. About what, Lex yearned to know.

           Lex nodded, “Mercy will check you for weapons. Then you will be escorted inside safely. Whether you leave alive will be up for debate.”

           Marinette sighed in relief and raised her hands. Mercy, who the bluenette tried to figure out whether she was a robot or a cyborg, was very thorough. She even scanned Marinette’s phone for any traces of explosives.

           When it was done Marinette found herself escorted inside, and then found herself a cliché Supervillian lair staring down the greatest supervillains in the world. Ra's al Ghul, Black Manta, Queen Bee, Klarion, Deathstroke, Ocean Master, and their operatives Hugo Strange, Bane, Sports Master, and Cheshire all sat at a large round table. There was four pieces of glass hanging from the ceiling in front of them; monitors, Marinette figured.

And it was clear from the anger on the faces that the bad guys had been informed of exactly who Marinette was.

��          It was daunting, to say the least.

“You have our attention, Miss Marinette,” Lex said. “Do not waste it.”

           Marinette nodded, “I have information on the Justice League I thought the Light would be very interested in.”

“Why would a hero do such a thing?”  Ra's al Ghul asked. “Hoping to make a deal? Your information for the return of Chat Noir, perhaps?”

           The leader of the League of Shadows didn’t know why the rumor persevered that the Light kidnapped the Parisian hero. He had confirmed himself that it was highly inaccurate.  

           The bluenette giggled, “Chat Noir no longer exists. He was retired at the same time as Hawkmoth. The Light has never had him. Neither did Cadmus. It was just heavily implied.”

“Yet that didn’t stop you from destroying our labs,” Lex glared. “Ruining missions, capturing my associates. Months of research. Millions of dollars. Gone to hell.”

“You were a tool,” Marinette shrugged. “I used to you get to close to the Justice League. It was never personal.”

           Lex felt eye twitch. He should have Mercy shoot her on principle.

“You’re more annoying than Robin,” Deathstroke shook his head at the moxy of the girl.

“It was just business?” She offered. “I needed a way to make them pay.”

“Just… just business,” Lex pinched his nose. He was going to kill her. “What could you possible offer the Light that would stop us from destroying you and everyone you love?”

           Marinette smirked. She pulled out her phone and hacked into the monitors. Once she was done, and played a video. The villains watched on the screens with old mild interest on their faces. Slowly the interest faded as shock and astonished looks overtook it.

           Lex’s felt his entire body shake. The video had shown undeniable proof that Superman was secretly Clark Kent. It was what he dreams were made of. He could barely stop himself from snatching the phone out of Marinette’s hand and playing it the video over and over again.

           Lex forced himself to calm down. He looked at the bluenette hard. A part of him wanted offer to pay as much money as the girl could want for the video. Another part of him realized if Marinette had been a little older he would’ve proposed.

“Superman’s civilian name is Clark Kent.” Marinette smiled, “I have video proof of nearly every member of the Justice League’s secret identities; along with their sidekicks.”

           The statement was met with silence. Each villain contemplating the ramifications of what such information could mean; not just for them, but for the world.”

“I think that’s worth a little forgiveness,” Marinette slyly added. “What’s few million dollars in damages compared to bringing down the Justice League once and for all.”

           Klarion chuckled, “I suppose some things can be overlooked.”

“Why?” Black Manta asked. “That is what we should be asking. Why betray the heroes?”

“Justice,” Marinette shrugged. “Revenge. I blame them for the death of my father.”

“That’s a good a reason as any,” Cheshire said. Her mask still hid her face.

           Sportsmaster gave his daughter a side look, “You never tried to take down any heroes any of the times you thought I died,” He complained.

“Sorry,” Cheshire shrugged. “I was too busy eating ice cream and getting drunk off my ass; it’s how I usually celebrate.”

“Why come to us?” Ra's al Ghul asked still intrigued.

“Why wouldn’t she?” A new voice rang through the room. Marinette stumbled back in shock. She knew that voice. But that wasn’t possible. Right? “The Light is in her blood.”

           Door opened and in walked bane of nearly every hero in the world, the Founder of the light, Vandal Savage. “You’ve done well, daughter.”

           Her father looked exactly the same as she remember. He was tall, with broad shoulder and square jaw; three pale scars across his face. His hair was longer though, much longer, and was pulled back

           Marinette rushed over to him and threw herself into his arms. He hugged her tightly.

“I thought you were dead,” Marinette whispered. Tears stung her eyes. “Everyone said you were dead.”

           Vandal smiled gently at her, “And you decided to bring down the world’s heroes in my name. I’m truly touched,” He said. “I wasn’t dead but I was close. I got better.”

           The bluenette backed away from her father; realization slowly hit her.

“It’s been months,” Marinette ran a hand through her hair. “You have any idea what I’ve gone through, what I did! You suck! Ugh, I’m telling Mom!”

Sabine Cheng would show Vandal Savage a thing or two once she found out. She was the one who had to dry her daughter’s tears day after day once the news of Savage’s death broke. The Asian woman was possibly only one infamous Vandal Savage was afraid of.

           The others villains watched, entranced by the argument between father and daughter.

“You gallivanted around as hero,” Vandal reminded. “To get close the Justice League; leaving me to wonder if in my absence I had lost my daughter to the so-called forces of good. It turned out all my worrying was for naught.”

“You could’ve called!” Marinette complained. “Wrote. Something to tell me you were alive. Anything.”

“At the time it was best decision.”

           Marinette glared, “You seriously for even one second I’d team up with the Justice League? Really? Me?” She glared. “I’m NEVER talking to you again!”

“I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart,” Vandal assured the bluenette. “We can kill Superman together.”

“Actually,” Lex interrupted. “I have dips.”

           Vandal shot him a quick glare.

The teen girl crossed her arms, “Give me one reason I shouldn’t destroy everything I have on the Justice League?” She asked. “And before any of you threatened to kill me. I only brought the Superman video as insurance. I die; you will never get your hands of the rest of them. So again,” She hissed at her father. “Give me one reason I should hand over my Intel to the Light?”

“…Father’s day’s coming up?” Vandal offered.

“Dammit!”

           Marinette stumped over to an empty seat, next to Cheshire, and glared petulantly at the inhabitants of the room. She didn’t care that it made her look like a little kid.

           An awkward silence filled the room.

           Luther took the opportunity to finally start the meeting as it was the reason they were all there. It was long. It dragged on. Even with Marinette’s intelligence on the Justice League. Everything felt like a stuffy board meeting. Nowhere near as exciting as Marinette once imagined it would be.

           The meeting took a short break. Food was brought out. A small buffet. Marinette made herself a plate; she grabbed a fancy steak sandwich, some fruit and chips, and a rather large chocolate cupcake because she freaking deserved it. She thought she was done until her plate was grabbed by her father. He didn’t hesitate to put baked Brussel sprouts provided on her plate.

“Oh come on! No one likes Brussel sprouts,” Marinette complained. “Not even you’re that evil.”

“They’re good for you,” Vandal told his daughter. “And you will eat them.”

“You’re seeing this too, right?” Deathstroke, otherwise known as Slade, asked Bane. “It’s not just me.”

As they ate, the villains shared stories about what they’d been up to. Most just complained about the problems they were having with the Justice League; who fought who, who should they consider for Light membership, and anyone getting on their nerves.

“Some assholes decided to send the wannabe Villain current status moron after me,” Marinette cast a dark look around the room; making it clear she knew they sent the assassin. She didn’t get as much as a single sheepish look. “He kept trying to light me of fire. And then he was accidently pushed off the top of a building, twice.”

Ra's al Ghul nodded at the young girl, “I would like to mention that I have an heir not much younger than you. You would get along quite well, I believe.”

           Marinette narrowed her eyes at Leader of the League of shadows, “Are you seriously trying to get me to date your grandson right now?”

           Al Ghul didn’t answer her.

Marinette took the opportunity to excuse herself from having to come back, “I’m going to explore the island.” And then see if she could escape before her dad caught her.

“I always blew up your boat,” Vandal raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be taking you home myself.”

“You suck!”

“Love you too, sweetpea.”

           Marinette marched out of the room. She’d swim if she had too.

           It turned out she didn’t have to swim. Just hotwire Deathstroke’s ride.

           She got a video call fifteen minutes after taking off.

“Go for Marinette?” She answered cheerfully.

           Vandal Savage’s face appear on the screen, “You stole Slade’s helicopter.”

“Juuussst like you taught me.” Marinette smirked.